#leaving a lose stranger to be poking out of the bottom left (our right) of his pants

[seastarryclouds]

Inktober Day 7 Dorro “Sun Planter”

I peaked here, in terms of lore and details of this picture and the symbolism, I’ve peaked here

[mandos-sluts]

The Visit Part Two

This is Part Two of a three-part series

The Visit Part One

The Visit Part Three

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Smut, dubious consent, fingering, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, hint of voyeurism, mentions of sex work

Summary: All you want to do is forget about your encounters with Din, so you go out with your friends in search of a quick hook-up to take your mind off of it. Upon seeing Din at the bar, you decide to try and give him a taste of his own medicine.

A/N: Please message us or comment if you want to be on our tag list!! Also we love feedback <3

You awake feeling well-rested. The sleep helped. You don’t feel as bad as you did last night, but you still basically want to crawl under a rock and die.

You can’t focus during your combat lesson with Luke, all you can think about is how much you want to erase the prior day from existence. Sensing your anxiety and distraction, your Master cuts the lesson short.

The two of you walk side by side out of the arena and down the corridor. Your sweating, your hair is a mess, and all you have on is a sports bra and spandex. All you want to do is get back to your room and shower.

You're walking beside Luke, looking down at your feet, barely registering what he is saying to you. You bring your head up and you almost faint at the sight of Din walking toward the two of you.

Panic engulfs you and you feel like turning around and sprinting in the opposite direction, but you’re stuck, stuck walking next to Luke, watching Din stride tall and confidently closer and closer.

“Din!” Luke says cheerfully as the three of you stop in your tracks.

“Hello, it’s nice to see you two again.” Din responds in his low voice as he brings his hand out and shakes Luke’s hand. You put on the saddest fake smile and shake Din’s hand, looking anywhere but into his visor.

“How was your visit with Grogu today?” Luke asks.

“It was great, thank you.”

“Well I’m very happy to hear that.” Luke says as the three of you continue your separate ways.

Your heart breaks at Din’s indifference toward you, and it makes you want to cry. It’s truly as if nothing happened between the two of you. He didn’t get the chance to fuck you yesterday so he went out and got a sex worker, and now, your existence means nothing to him.

Ugh why was he even here? Ever since you were a child the “no attachments” concept was drilled into you. Why is Luke letting this guy visit Grogu? Whatever. You need to do something to get your mind off of the situation.

*************************************

It’s Saturday night and your friends are forcing you to go out. At first you really don’t want to; your experience last night at the cantina was horrible, and you would prefer to avoid it all together. But you sip a few drinks with dinner and have a change of heart.

Instead of dwelling on this horrible situation, you figure that you should do something to distract yourself. Going out with your friends, letting loose, and hooking up with someone else will relieve your tension and hopefully make you forget about your regrettable encounters with Din. Screw him, you shouldn’t let yourself be sad over some random guy who didn’t give a second thought to you.

You decide to pregame the night, and are already quite tipsy by the time you and your friends arrive at the cantina. You look good, like, really fuckin hot. You’re wearing a simple, short, light pink silk dress.

The cantina is not as crowded as last night, but it’s still pretty busy. Your friends grab a table and you walk up to the bar to get a drink.

“Hey, y/n, how you doin tonight?” The bartender greets you.

“Great, thanks.” You say with a soft smile, thinking about what you want to order.

The bartender shifts over and continues talking to someone on the other side of the large Twi’lek standing next to you. “But yeah, wow, that’s really cool. You must get hot wearing all that–”

Just then, the Twi’lek grabs their drinks and walks away from the bar. You turn your head to see who the bartender is talking to, and it is none other than Din Djarin, standing just a few feet away from you. You don’t freak out as much as you think you might, and you have the alcohol in your system to thank for that.

“–Hey, y/n, do you know Mando? He’s visiting the Academy up the hill.” The bartender asks.

You turn to look at Din. “Mando? What’s th– ohhh. I get it. Mando as in Mando-lorian. Clever. Kind of. I mean, not really, but….Later!” You say to the bartender as you stutter your way out of that situation.

Fuck. That was so awkward, you didn’t even order a drink. You're embarrassed, but also hurt. Din didn’t say a word to you, not even a hello. His disregard for you makes you all the more determined to find a hot guy who can distract you from that beskar-covered jerk.

You do a lap around the bar, surveying your options. You spot a tall, handsome boy in a group of guys, probably tourists. Had you not been buzzed, and had that uncomfortable situation not just transpired, you would be very reluctant to just blatantly walk up to a stranger and introduce yourself. But you really don’t care; you know you’re hot and bagging him shouldn’t be any trouble at all.

His back is to you as you make your way to him, he’s talking way too loudly with his frat-boy friends. You gently run your hand down his bicep.

“Hi.” You say sweetly.

The boy turns around and his eyes widen as he looks you over. “Hey.” He says with an eager smile.

You grab his arm and get on your tippy toes, leaning in close to his ear. “Can you buy me a drink?”

“Yeah, a-absolutely!”

You and he walk up to the bar. Din is on the other side, and you notice he’s watching you. You do your best not to look at him, still you can’t help but glance at him every so often, and when you do, his visor is patently on you.

The boy you’re with puts his hand around your waist as you order your drink. “I’ll have a spotchka, please” You tell the bartender.

“Make it a double.” The boy says as he winks at the bartender.

You put your elbows on the bar in order to push your boobs up slightly. Gazing at you, Din observes one of the silky spaghetti straps of your dress fall from your prominent collar bone down your smooth shoulder. You make a point to leave it there a while before pulling it back up.

The bartender brings you your drink and you bring the glass up to your lips. Din watches as the boy puts his hand on the bottom of your glass and tips it upward, trying to get you to drink more. You swallow as fast as you can, trying not to choke as his hand continues tilting the bottom of the cup higher and higher. Din’s fist clenches at the sight of you coughing while some of the liquid falls out of your lips as your mouth overflows with the drink; it dribbles along your throat and runs down your chest. Coughing and trying to catch your breath, you set the drink on the bar as the boy looks at you with a satisfied half smile.

What a dick move. But honestly, you don’t care that he’s a asshole trying to liquor you up, you just need to get laid. In fact, if you’re going to be fucking this pretentious kid, you’ll need to be a little drunker.

“C’mon. Finish this and then let's go dance.” He says picking the glass up and bringing it back to your lips.

You chug what’s left and then, walking behind you, the guy guides you to the dance floor with his hands on your waist. You’re a little nervous as you realize that this area of the bar is closer to where Din is sitting, allowing him an even clearer and more direct view of you. His eyes stay glued to you the entire time you move through the cantina.

The boy pulls you against him and the two of you start grinding to the beat of the music. You can feel the alcohol warm your insides and ease your apprehension. Instead of trying your best to avoid looking at Din, you decide to do the opposite, and stare directly into his visor while you dance on this guy.

His hands are all over you. They make their way from your hips to your stomach, and they dance around your tits, pulling your soft silky dress as they explore your body. His lips are against your hair and he’s mumbling things in your ear that you’re not at all paying attention to.

It’s not too long before you feel his boner poking your ass. You bite your bottom lip promiscuously as you stare into Din’s helmet, the alcohol fueling your staring contest with him. *see gif* You’re relishing in this moment— in the fact that he is watching you dance on this hot guy.

To be honest, though, you really have no idea what Din is thinking or feeling, his helmet and his laid back position don’t tell a thing about where his head is at. It’s not even clear that he’s looking at you, but you can tell he is. You can tell that his eyes are locked on your form.

“Maker you’re so fuckin hot.” The boy whispers in your ear.

Din stands there watching you; watching this guy's skinny fuckin hands roam all over your pretty figure and smooth skin. He watches his hands run down your body and tease your inner thighs, right at the hem of the dress.

Then, Din observes him flick his head up, and turns to see that he is gesturing for his friends to watch. The kid's buddies are standing at the edge of the dance floor, elbowing each other, laughing and smiling, watching the drunk hot girl grind brazenly on their friend. Din looks at the stupid boys. He could kill them all so easily.

As he’s watching them, Din notices a few of their mouths drop, and looks back at you to find the guy you’re dancing on slowly lifting up your dress, exposing your black lace underwear as he nods at his friends and smiles.

Grinding on this guy, you feel slightly discouraged as Din breaks the staring contest to look elsewhere in the room. But then you see him abruptly get up and walk toward the dance floor. You lose him in the crowd, and then feel a large hand grab your upper arm and yank you away.

You trip over your feet but Din's hold on your bicep keeps you from falling forward. He doesn’t even look back at you as he drags you through the mass of people. Most move out of his way as soon as they see him coming, and those who don’t are shoved aside. He drags you out the door into the cold, dark air. Din finally propels you upward onto your feet after he turns into the dark alley next to the cantina.

“Din! What the fuck!” You’re finally able to yell.

“That fuckin guy was lifting your dress up in front of the entire bar.” He informs you in a frustration-laced voice.

“So?”

“So, you're okay with that? He was putting on a show for his friends.”

“….whatever.” You mutter looking down at your feet as your face turns red and shame creeps into your chest. You didn’t even realize the boy was doing that; you were so focused on keeping Din’s attention.

“Pfft, okay, if you’re fine with being paraded around by scummy guys–”

“I don’t need your slut shaming, Din. And speaking of sluts, why don’t you go find yourself one?”

Din pauses for a moment and you can feel the energy around you shift. He creeps closer to you, and you instinctively step back as he closes in on you until you’re against the brick wall, unable to move.

He lowers his voice. “Speaking of sluts, you said you were only one for me. So why the fuck are you letting that guy put his hands all over you?” Din says slowly as he grabs your shoulders and pushes you against the wall.

“Get off of me.” You return, trying to shake free from his grip and push him away.

Din grabs your wrists and slams your arms into the wall by your head, and he positions his knee tightly between your legs, inhibiting your movements completely.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Din purrs in your ear. “Were you jealous seeing me with that other whore? Aww, you left too soon, pretty girl.” He says as he begins rubbing his leg against your crotch.

“N-no...but I will say that it’s very audacious for you— a guest at the Jedi compound— to bring a sex worker back to your room.”

Din scoffs. “I’m not an idiot.” He spits out. “I didn’t bring her onto the estate. She sucked me off in the bathroom and then I left.”

“Well, congratulations.” Is all you can think to say

“I imagined it was you.” Din utters as he brings his helmet just inches away from your face. “Yeah, I imagined it was you on your knees on that filthy bathroom floor, gagging with my cock down your dainty little throat.” He says as one of his hands wraps around your neck.

You let out a whimper at his words, arousal shooting straight to your pussy as he continues to drag his thigh against your crotch.

“And then today, I jerked off the second I got back to my room after running into you and Luke. I couldn’t fuckin help myself, baby. It made me so fuckin hard seeing you like that. It was so fuckin cute how nervous and shy you were. You were panting and sweating, your hair was so messy, you were barely wearing a fuckin thing. I know that’s how you would look after I fucked you.”

His words turn you on more and more, pulses of arousal twitching your cunt.

“And I know that your Master thinks you’re a good little girl, huh. He doesn’t know how much of a fuckin whore you are, he doesn’t know that you asked me to tie you up and fuck you.”

A high-pitched moan flees your mouth, prompting you to take your bottom lip between your teeth as you try to keep it together.

“Come on, pretty girl.” Din growls as his hand slides down to your waist and grasps it tightly. “I said I’d show you how Mandalorians fuck, and I’m a man of my word.”

“Th-that why you hired a sex worker last night?” You say quietly, not wanting to let him off the hook for it just yet

“I didn’t know you were gonna be there, princess. I didn’t even know if I would see you again. I was ready to toss that bitch aside as soon as I saw you, but you fuckin bolted.”

Din moves his hand that was on your throat down to your groin, bringing his knee down slightly to make room for his fingers. You gasp as you feel his gloved digits rub your wet panties around your cunt.

“Come on.” Din breathes in your ear. “You’re dripping wet. You need to get a cock in this desperate fuckin pussy.”

“Ah-I have options.” You counter, trying to hold out for a little longer.

Din scoffs. “That boy in there can’t fuck you like I can and you know it.” He says as he pushes your panties to the slide, exposing your bare, wet pussy to the cold air. Din starts circling your clit as he picks up his head to watch your expression. Your mouth falls slightly open as breathy whines fall out.

“HEY!” You hear someone yell in the distance. “Mandalorian, what the fuck are you doing with my girl!”

Your head turns to see that guy you were grinding on approaching you and Mando. Great.

Just then, Mando starts pumping two fingers in and out of your hole fast. "Ah!" You inadvertently moan out.

“Get lost, kid.” Mando says casually as his arm clearly drives up and down under your dress.

Your mouth falls wide open at the sudden stretch and pounding of your hole, and you try your best to stifle your moans as you dig your nails into Din’s arm. You regrettably make eye contact with the kid as Din conspicuously continues his brutal finger fucking.

“N-no fuck you, we– we were dancing. Who do you think you are taking her from me?” Anger and offense cover the boy's face, pride shaken at the scene in front of him.

Din lets out an annoyed sigh. “If she wanted to go with you, she would. Now get the fuck out of here. Unless you want to watch her suck my cock.”

The guy grunts and turns around to walk swiftly out of the alley.

Din’s pace slows down just a tad, and you’re able to catch your breath. He leans his helmet against the wall next to your head. “Fuck. I wanna break that kid’s neck.” He whispers.

“Ah. You should.” You purr.

Din removes his hand from your cunt and takes a small step back. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s go back to my room” He says. Din walks to the center of the alleyway and then stops.

You take a few steps toward the street. “Okay...let's go.” You say softly, noticing that Din isn’t following.

“Come here.” He says holding his arm out.

Confused, you walk into his arm and he wraps it around you tightly.

“Hold on tight, okay?” He says as he motions for you to wrap your arms around him. Why is he taking you in for this awkward side hug? He just said he wanted to leave.

“Wha–”

Just then you’re lifted into the air, grasping onto Din for dear life as he jet-packs towards the Academy.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Visit Part Three

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Masterlist

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Taglist:

Permanent:

@pinkninja200 @raspberrymama @stevie75 @tacticalsparkles @kenoobiwan @shark-s @theamuz @blackrose8425 @beskarboobs @smutslutz @princess-djarinn @spideysimpossiblegirl @riot-rotten

The Visit Series:

@autumnleaves1991-blog @ikinmahlen

[moonmark98]

Falling for the Hot Security Guy pairing: SecurityGuard!Jinjin x female reader

Note:@lillywhatever wrote this and said if someone re-wrote it to tag her. I did it. Finished at 1:46am and I have school tomorrow :) anyways enjoy? I tried my best- I don't know the tags to do so I just copied hers... Credit goes to her, I just changed it up Abit and yeah, the idea is hers, but I just wrote my own version of it. Genre: SMUUUUUUTTTTTTTT Words: fuck if I know. Warnings: Smut, public sex, etc Tags: strangers having sex, sex in a tight room, falling for a stranger, hot security guy, fluff (?), Smut, au, public sex, +18. Starts below the cut~! Enjoyyyyy!!

"So this is guy says....wait....y/n are you okay? You don't look so well" Yuna said, stopping herself mid conversation. Noticing I had been holding my stomach for awhile and seemed a little pale. "Yeah I'm fine. My stomach just hurts... Continue though. " I gave her a half smile and nodded for her to continue what she was saying. She shook her head and moved to stand in front of me, stopping us from walking anymore and taking hold of my shoulders. "Let's go to the hospital to be sure. When was the last time you got a checkup?" I pouted and stood up straight despite the stabbing pain in my tummy. "But Yunaaaaa I'm finneee~! It'll pass in a few minutes." I whined, grabbing hold of her arm and shaking it like a child while she continued to look at me with a dead serious face. "I'm still taking you to the hospital and that's final." She said, grabbing my hand and dragging me to her car she had parked a while back before our walk in the park. After she shoved me in the car and made sure I buckled, she started off towards the hospital while I rested my forehead on the cool glass of the window, loving the feeling against my summer heated skin. After 20 or so minutes she stops and turns the car off and looks at me. "Alright, we're here. Get out and go get the check up. I'll be right here when you're done. And then we can go get ice cream, deal?" At the mention of ice cream my head unconsciously perks up and I look at her with a childlike gleam in my eyes. "Dealllll!!!" I swear I've never thrown myself out of a car so fast in my life just for a goddamn thing of ice cream but for once, its not on me and God knows I need it in this weather. I grab my phone and wallet from the console in the car before slamming her door shut and running off into the hospital. "Jinjin! You're needed in the west wing." A receptionist says over the speaker as I walk in and almost bump into a man whos attention was caught by the said speaker. I assume whoever this is, it's jinjin judging by the fact he rushed off in whatever direction had the west wing in it. My eyes never leaving his broad shoulders. After he turned a corner I snapped back into reality and headed towards the front desk. "My friend dragged me here since my stomach started hurting. She won't leave until I have proof I got a check up so I'll be having a checkup done." Upon hearing that the receptionist laughed softly and nodded before handing me a clipboard to fill out and nodding towards the seating area. "Just fill this out and we'll put you on the list." I sat at a faraway seat from the bunched up people and began filling my paperwork out. When I was finished I handed the paper, pen and clipboard back to the receptionist before sitting back down where I was at and looking around at the sterile, empty white walls that smelled heavily of cleaning supplies but no surprise considering where I was. after a few minutes of waiting a man in a security guard uniform comes in to check around the room. Eyes scanning around for anything that would need his attention. You felt a sense of deja vu upon seeing him and after glancing at his broad shoulders it hit you. The man from before, whom you almost ran into had it not been for you walking slowly. You took in his form. Scanning him slowly, from his tuft of extremely soft looking white hair to his laced up brown boots. Not realizing that it was oh so obvious that you were checking him out. Youre eyes kept coming back to his wide shoulders. His tight shirt not helping the fact it left little to the imagination. The top three buttons left undone, not bothering to hide a small batch of ink leading somewhere covered by the blasted shirt. His shirt tucked into his baggy pants, pocket showing a hint of a phone poking out and maybe the clip of a pen on the other side by nothing more. Upon finishing his check on the lobby he disappeared across the hall. Somewhere you'd assume is the East wing this time. You pouted slightly since you wouldn't get to see his broad shoulders or his possibly huge tattoo. Curious as to what it was. Inching

to snap those few last buttons to figure out what the shirt was hiding. Eventually it was your turn up next, not getting a chance to see the guy again as you entered the room for the checkup. After everything was done and you got your papers, you went back to the lobby, seeing as it was empty, you took the chance to sit your bag down and fold the papers up nicely and slid them in the front zipper so you won't lose it. Upon raising your head when you were done, you were surprised to see the security guard again. But even more so now than before seeing him a bit more bothered at this point. His hair a bit out of place, and his heavy breathing heard throughout the room. You were trying to think of how to approach him before the realization hit you once more. You didn't remember his name. You racked your brain for the answer before remembering what the receptionist had called him over the intercom. Jinjin. You walked over to him, forgetting your bag on the chair and put your hand on his shoulder and looked at him with a worried expression. "Are you okay?" He hesitated in answered you, taking a moment to swallow before looking away with a slightly flushed face. You're eyes still glued to where he was looking before, remembering how is Adam's Apple bobbed when he swallowed. "Yes just please leave here..." He mumbled, but made sure his voice was audible for you to hear. You contemplated on listening to him or not before shaking your head, "as much as I should listen to you, you don't look so well, so let me help you with whatever is going on If I can. I wanna make sure you're fine." Apparently he wasnt expecting that answer based on the shocked expression shown on his face. He hesitated on answering you, still surprised at your offer to help even though you two were practically strangers. "Whatever it is I'll try my best to help, I promise." You said again, to make sure he heard you while you placed a hand on his shoulder for reassurance. He took a deep inhale and didn't look at you as he spit the words out. A little too quickly for you to understand. "Can you repeat that a little bit more slower?" You asked gently, embarrassed that you didn't understand what he said. "I'm hard and I need someone to help me..." He said with his face turned. You noticed his ears turning a deep shade of red and giggled softly. You thought to yourself for a moment. It had been a while since I got some...it's a win-win situation. I get fucked, he gets helped. What's there to lose? "Would you like me to help you?" You moved your head in front of his face so you could see him clearly, a shocked expression once again, gracing his sharp features. "Wait...really? Even though we don't know each other?" You nod before answering again, "Why not? What's there to lose? We both get what we want out of the situation so why not?" He nodded, knowing he can't exactly argue or think straight with his throbbing dick in his pants. He glances at you before taking hold of your hand in his bigger one, gently pulling you to a nearby storage room, nobody paying any attention to you, all too emersed in whatever they were doing. After closing the door and looking at you, he lets go of your hand. "Are you absolutely sure about this?" You thought to yourself for a few minutes. He took those minutes to himself and took in your features. Taking note of how beautiful you looked before him. Wanting to run his fingers through your soft h/c locks while kissing your slightly wet lips. It didn't take long before his thoughts took a 180. From thinking about kissing you to bending you over one of the old bends and fucking you deep from behind while pulling that h/c hair and making you moan his name as he fucks you hard. "Yes I'm sure." With that he snapped back into reality and looked at your sparkling e/c eyes. He stepped closer to you, backing you up into a wall as he uses his thumb to trace your bottom lip, slowly pulling it down. You open your mouth slightly, wanting a kiss so badly but deciding to tease him a bit. You sucked his thumb into your

mouth and swirled your tongue around it like you would on a cock, bobbing your head slightly while maintaining eye contact. He groaned softly at the sight, feeling his cock twitch in his pants at the thought of you doing the same thing on the problem getting worse in his pants, before he pulled his thumb from your mouth, replacing it with his own mouth. You weren't slow in moving your hands into his hair, proving your earlier thought to be correct. His hair was soft. Extremely soft actually, so soft that you were curious as to his shower routine. It didn't take long for the air around you to grow thick with tension, and the sound of heavy breathing filling the room after he pulled away for both of you to catch your breaths. You eyes his swollen lips, hungry for another kiss and before you could think, you pulled him back down into a deeper kiss, hands tugging him closer to your body while you gently bit his bottom lip causing him to growl against them. He slowly dragged his hands down your body, reaching the hem of your shirt, fingers ghosting over the skin that wasn't covered before gliding up the shirt. Pushing it up a bit as he suddenly grabbed your tits, squeezing and sizing them up in his hands, tweaking your nipples above the fabric of your bra, causing you to moan against his mouth. He took that chance to start kissing down your neck, marking every patch of skin he could get. Moving between sucking, kissing, and biting. Eventually moving back to tug your shirt up over your head and placing it on a shelf before you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and pulled it off with some struggle as it had been skin tight to him. You placed the shirt with yours before catching sight of the ink covered skin. A crown with a lion in it covered his left peck. You couldnt help but feel more attracted to the man before you with the sight of the tattoo. It didn't help when you looked up and almost moaned at the sight of his messy hair and his kiss swollen lips. It's gotten worse as he continued kissing you before. He took in the sight of you before him, dragging his hand up your sides, drawing invisible patterns on your short clad hips. You decided to due something similar to him. Using your finger you traced the outline of his tattoo before slowly dragging it down to outline the defined curves of his abs. He pecked your lips before lifting you up and sitting you down on a table, getting between your legs. You quickly took your bra off after noticing how he was eyeing the skin. After that clothing restriction left your body, his mouth seemed to cover it once more. Sucking on one of your nipples while using his thumb and forefinger to play with the other one, often switching to give them both the same amount of attention. Relishing in the sounds of whimpers or soft moans leaving your mouth when he'd give a particularly hard suck or soft nibble to them. You grabbed one of his free hands and lead it down your shorts, not hesitating to move his fingers where you want them and grinding against them, moaning slightly louder than before at the newly found friction. He smirked and pulled away from your boobs, gliding his finger across your clit before moving them down to your entrance to gather up your wetness. He used his other hand to open your pesky buttons and you lifted yourself up enough for him to rid you of the clothing. One they were discarded, he watched your core hungrily as he moved his fingers through your slickness. Slowly pushing a finger into you, watching as it sucked him in and groaning at the tightness. You moaned as it entered you, loving the feeling of something long in you. Not long after he added another, causing a higher pitch moan to leave your mouth. He couldn't resist anymore and sunk down to his knees, pulling your panties aside and sliding his tongue up along your entrance, causing you to inhale sharply and your eyes to roll back. "Fuck Jinjin~" you drawed out in a long moan. He stopped what he was doing and looked up at you. "You know my name?" He said surprised. You flushed in

embarrassment. "I heard it over the intercom earlier and saw you rush away and figured that was your name." He chuckled. "Good that you'll know what you'll be moaning. So miss, it's fair if I know your name as well." "I'm y/n!" You laughed before getting cut off by a moan as he licked you again to stop you from talking. "You called my name babygirl, what is it you need~?" He said in a husky tone, eyeing your lips once more. "I-i need you..." You bit your lip before moving your hand to give his bulge a gentle squeeze through his pants, causing him to inhale sharply. "And I think you need me too." He stood up quickly, pulling a square foil packet out of his back pocket before sliding his pants and boxers off and kicking them to the side as you quickly shimmied out of your soaking underwear. He eyed your core for a moment once more before grabbing the foil again and tearing it open with his teeth and rolling it onto his hardened cock. He lifted your thigh to his hip and leaned down to your ear, "get ready Sweetheart~" he said, nibbling on your ear as he slid inside you. You moaned loudly at the stretch, moving your hand over your mouth quickly to stay quiet as you heard a soft groan from him. "Fuck your so tight princess." He panted, groaning as those words caused you to clench down on him hard. "Relax for me baby, or else we won't get much farther than this." You nodded and you both took deep breaths before he slowly started thrusting. You moved your hands to his shoulders and dug your nails into them as you felt him brush against that one spot that caused you to shiver slightly. This, however, didn't go unnoticed by him, as a smirk appeared on his face and he did his best to purposely avoid the spot, getting a soft whine out of you. You whined again and opened your eyes, "p-please stop teasing~" He chuckled before angling his hips so every thrust pressed against that spot, causing you to moan loudly. Slowly he picked up the pace until he was thrusting fast and deep into that spot, causing the table to start rocking from the power of the thrusts. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your orgasm drawing close. "J-jinjin! I-im so close~!" You moaned, hooking your other leg on his hip to pull him closer. "Not y-yet baby, wait for me" he panted out, grabbing your hips to move with his and pulling you closer so that you were chest to chest with him. You moved your hands to his hair and tug his head back and start sucking on his jaw and that was all it took for him to reach his limit. "Cum with me princess." As if on command you came, shaking from the harsh orgasm and from his thrusts that became harder and sloppy. Upon feeling your walls tighten around his cock, he came with a deep groan of your name, squeezing your hips tightly enough to leave bruises there for a few days. He runs his fingers through your hair after pulling out of you and tying the condom up and throwing it in the trash. Holding you close and kissing the side of your head gently to help calm you down. As he helps you get dressed before he does the same he looks at you. "Do you have a boyfriend?" He asks, inwardly face palming for not asking that before this whole thing. He sighs in relief after you shake your head no. "Then would you possibly like to go out for dinner some time?" You smile and nod, kissing his cheek gently, "of course I would Jinjin." He smiles and pecks your lips. You giggle and poke his chest before he lifts you up gently and places you down on the ground, you stumble a big from the weakness in your legs and hold onto him to stay balanced. "I think I'll need some help..." He laughs at your comment and lifts you up gently. You smile before freezing and your eyes widened. "Yuna is gonna kill me for this." He looks at you confused. "Huh" "I came in with my belly hurting, and now I'm gonna come out with my legs practically disabled and a hot guy carrying me. How do I explain that?" You pout once more and lay your head on his shoulder. He laughs and you feel his body shake with it. "Youre

adorable y/n."

[thebookreader12345]

Foster Parents

Pairing: Blake Gallo x reader

Summary: Y/N and Blake, who are both firefighters at Firehouse 51, save a little girl from a fire, and later that day, they discover that the girl’s parents didn’t make it, so both of them agree to foster her

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: mentions of death by fire

Word Count: 1,849 Words

“Whoa whoa whoa. What is this?” Mouch asked as he entered the common room, only to find Blake and I taking up the whole couch, including his seat.

“Leave us be, Mouch. We’re tired.” My words were muffled because my face was pressed against Blake’s chest, but I’m assuming Mouch heard me well enough because he didn’t let up.

“Okay, there is one rule in this firehouse, and it’s that the one seat on the couch is mine. You guys have never broken that rule, so why are you doing it now?” Mouch questioned. 

I groaned and sat up, pushing a few stray hairs out of my face. “The reason we’re trying to rest, Mouch, is because there’s a new construction project happening on the same block as our apartment, so on some nights, there’s so much noise that we can hardly sleep.” Just then, the alarm went off throughout the building, and the dispatcher announced that there was a house fire. I groaned again and stood up, stretching my arms and legs before running to the apparatus floor with Blake following close behind me. Everyone put on their gear, and we climbed into the truck ready to go. Stella turned on the engine, flicked on the lights and siren, and then we were off. A few blocks away from the fire, I could see smoke accumulating in the air, which meant this was a big one. As we pulled up to the address, I got to take in the full amount of damage. Bright orange flames were protruding from the windows on the second story, and the once white outside of the house was stained black from being burnt. As soon as we exited the truck, Matt was shouting orders.

“Kidd, you and I will take the top floor, L/N, you and Gallo take the bottom. Mouch, stay here and get the aerial ready just in case we need it,” Matt ordered. Once Blake and I put on our masks and had our gear all situated, we entered the house and started looking around the bottom floor. The first floor was barely touched by the fire, and there was only a bit of smoke that trailed down the stairs filling the rooms. After checking the kitchen, living room, dining room and bathroom and finding no bodies, Blake and I exited the house.

“Captain, the bottom floor is clear,” Blake spoke into his radio. For a few seconds, the radio was silent, but Matt finally said something back.

“Kidd and I have two victims up here. We’re bringing them out now,” Matt replied. About a minute or two later, Stella and Matt exited the house. Matt was carrying a woman in his arms, and Stella was dragging a man behind her. Both looked to be in their early 30s, but because of the severe burns on their bodies, it was hard to tell. As the paramedics went to help them out, a woman approached me.

“Did you guys get the kid out?” the woman asked me.

“I’m sorry?” I question.

“The family that lives here, the Jeffersons, they foster a daughter. She’s about 6 years old,” the woman told me. I scanned the scene, hoping to spot a little girl by the ambulances or near a firefighter, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Blake, there’s a kid in there,” I inform my boyfriend.

“All right. I’ll tell Casey,” Blake said.

“No. I’ll go get her. I’ll be right back,” I exclaim and run into the house, slipping on my mask as I ran up the stairs. I could feel the heat from the flames through my gear, but I pushed that away and continued moving. “Fire department! Call out!” I strained my ears to listen if someone responded, but I didn’t hear anyone. I poked my head through a few doors, and at the end of the hallway, I came across a child’s bedroom. If there was still a little girl in here, she had to be hiding in her room. “Fire department! If anyone is here, please call out.” That’s when I heard a whimper coming from under the bed, so I got down on my knees and peaked to see what was there. In front of me was a little girl with blonde hair, which was partially black from the soot, and she was holding a stuffed rabbit tightly to her chest. I pulled off my mask so that she could see my face, and I knew that wasn’t the best idea considering there was smoke everywhere, but if I was going to get her out of here, then this was the best plan. “Hi. I’m Y/N. Can you tell me your name?”

“Sarah,” the girl responded softly.

“Hey, Sarah. I’m a firefighter,” I tell her. “I need you to climb out from under the bed for me.”

Sarah shook her head and clutched her plushie even tighter. “It’s too scary out there.”

“I know how scared you are right now, but you and I have to get out of here. It’s too dangerous. You’ll be with me the whole time, and I promise I won’t let you get hurt. I just need you to come with me,” I explain. Sarah hesitated for a moment, but soon nodded and crawled out from under the bed. I lifted her into my arms and wrapped my coat around her to keep her face safe from the smoke, and once I grabbed my mask from the floor, I began making my way out of the house. It didn’t take long for us to get out of the house, and as soon as I did, I brought Sarah over to Sylvie and Emily. “Sarah, this is Sylvie and Emily. They’re going to take good care of you.” I set Sarah down and went to go back to my job, but Sarah reached out and grabbed ahold of my hand.

“Can you stay with me? Please,” Sarah begged. Sarah was practically shaking, and the way she was looking at me broke me.

“Of course I’ll stay with you,” I answer. As Sylvie and Brett loaded the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, I turned to my radio. “Captain, I’m heading with the little girl to Med.”

“Copy that. We’ll meet you there later,” Matt responded. I then climbed into the back of the ambulance, and we sped off towards the hospital.

......................................

“Hey. We got here as fast as we could. How’s the little girl doing?” Blake asked and pecked my lips, the rest of Truck 81 right behind him.

“Uh, good. Miraculously, she just had some minor smoke inhalation. Dr. Manning said she would be fine. I haven’t heard about the parents though,” I disclose. At that moment, Dr. Halstead walked into the lobby and made his way over to us. Maybe he had news about the parents.

“Hey, everyone. The parents both had severe 3rd degree burns on more than 50% of their bodies, and major smoke inhalation. I’m sorry, but there was nothing we could do,” Will informed us.

“Wait a minute. You’re saying they’re dead?” I question. Will nodded. “What about Sarah? Where’s she going to go?”

“Well, she’s in the foster system, so we’ve got to call social services down to take her,” Will answered.

I sighed. “Okay. Mind if I sit with her while we wait for them to get here?”

Will shook his head. “Not at all.”

“I’ll come with,” Blake spoke and took ahold of my hand, intertwining our fingers. I smiled at the action, and together, Blake and I walked to the conference room Sarah was waiting in. Her stuffed rabbit was sitting on the table in front of her as she colored on a piece of paper.

“Hey, Sarah. Have you heard about your parents?” I quiz.

She nodded. “I was only with them for a few weeks,” Sarah whispered and traded her blue crayon for a purple one.

“I’m sorry. This is Blake, my boyfriend. We’re just going to sit with you while the hospital calls over some people to help find you a new home,” I tell her.

“Okay,” Sarah said. After about a half an hour, social services arrived to take Sarah. It was hard seeing her go. Even if I had just known her for a little bit, I felt a connection with her. Blake had also seemed to take a liking to her, and while we had been sitting in the conference room, he made her laugh and helped her figure out what to draw next. Just as Sarah and the agent, Mrs. Delores, were about to leave the room, Blake and I shared a look. Blake had lost his family to a fire, and I was no stranger to death. My father had just died last year. We knew what it was like losing parents, and we didn’t want Sarah to end up jumping from home to home.

“Wait!” I call out, stopping Mrs. Delores from exiting the room. “What if we take her.”

“I’m sorry?” Mrs. Delores questioned.

“Blake and I, we could take her. We’ve got stable jobs, and when we’re on shift, my mother could watch Sarah. I know we’re not certified or anything, but Sarah knows and trusts us. If there is any way for this to work, Blake and I would like to foster her,” I state.

Mrs. Delores looked over to Blake. “You’re okay with this?”

“I am,” Blake replied.

“Well, it’ll take about 3-4 months before you can get approved,” Mrs. Delores pointed out.

“I have a friend who can take care of that. Please, Mrs. Delores,” I plead.

“This is unethical, but I see that you really want to take care of Sarah. And we’ll have to schedule a house check sometime this week,” Mrs. Delores added.

“Done,” I say. 

“All right then. You guys can take Sarah home,” Mrs. Delores declared.

One Week Later...

It had been one week since we had started fostering Sarah. Because Matt had been an alderman, he knew people that could speed up the foster parent process for us, so, as of now, Blake and I were official foster parents. Currently, Blake, Sarah and I were all relaxing on the couch watching a movie before bed. I was snuggled up against Blake’s left side, and Sarah was laying on his right, her head resting on his lap. She had been asleep for about 10 minutes and was snoring softly.

“I’m glad we did this,” I tell Blake.

“Me too,” Blake agreed and leaned over to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I reply. “Now, which one of us is going to be the bad guy and wake her up?”

“I guess I will, but if we’re going to make this work, we’ve got to take turns. I will not be forever known as the bad guy,” Blake confessed.

I smiled. “Deal.” I know that Blake and I were pretty young to be parenting a child, but in my mind, we were already amazing at it. Sure, we had a lot to learn, but as long as we work together to make sure Sarah is happy, everything will be all right.

____________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @anotherfan07​

[oristromboli]

If You Be Our Star, We’ll Be Your Sky | 1

Chapter 1: Haunted Memories

In which you grapple with past events bleeding into the present.

(Smut this chapter: none)

“The arrogation of mankind ends here.”

Things became a blur after that – your wings burst forth and you saw the twins take off in opposite directions as you split down the middle. Like some dance, the three of you wove between oscillating pillars of dark shapes folding in on themselves before all converged in on the imposing woman. She was no different from any other gate, any other obstacle you needed to cross between worlds; while you were often the one to suggest the quiet and efficient route, the twins charged forward with one clear goal in mind. Two-against-one were bad odds, especially when it was you between a rock and a hard-place – or, more accurately, squeezed between one twin and the other. You pitied the god as she braced for their combined onslaught, clearly unaware of what hell would rain down-

Except. Except, suddenly, you witnessed the twins suspended in mid-air, caught and strung up for their audacity.

You didn’t think, you couldn’t think, you dove for the first twin you saw and yanked them away from that void that crept from her fingers.

Lumine looked up, shocked and horrified all at once, and indescribable shame turned to ice in your blood. While you held on to Aether, you both witnessed Lumine become swallowed in that blackness, that.. nothingness, and you could only let go of Aether as he shot forward to flank the god.

His sword was drawn and in a flash of light did it seem to make contact. You quickly joined his side with hopes to see Lumine amidst the chaos. Everything would be okay again, you three could go back to adventuring, she would forgive the split-second decision, you told yourself. That is, until you saw the god tall and proud with barely a scoff as she looked at you two without even the decency of contempt. In that moment, you suddenly understood the impulsive twins’ tempers. You both dove towards the god, weapons drawn and red in your eyes.

Wait. Wait, no, that’s not right. The red was neither your anger nor panic, but the god’s powers enclosed on you both.

“Wait! Stop! Give my sister back!” Aether cried, and you closed your eyes, wishing to all the stars above that this was all a dream and you could stop suffocating –

 ---

 “Paimon! Paimon, get off of her,” Aether said, laughing as he lifts the fairy off of your chest and what the fuck Paimon.

“Aw, Paimon just wanted to help! She wasn’t waking up, so Paimon thought that shaking her would help,” she said, pouting as you felt her tiny paws release your shirt to only hang limply as she was carried like a sack of potatoes away from you. Emergency rations indeed.

“Okay, we need to have a serious talk about you and personal boundaries,” you mutter while you sit up, massaging feeling back into your collarbone. “If you don’t want to be designated as mascot number two behind our lil’ buddy, I suggest you start losing some weight before sitting on me.” You jerk your thumb towards Aether’s belt where a small glass ball hung and a golden Seelie flickered rhythmically. Is it snoring?

“Hey! Paimon is not mascot number two! And Aether’s cooking is too good…” she mumbles, flipping between indignant to having the gall to look somewhat guilty as she breaks free from his grasp. That didn’t last long, though, as Aether snickers with an incriminating finger poking the fairy.

“So, you admit to being our mascot?”

You very quickly tune their bickering out and set out about collecting your own bedroll before moving on to Aether’s. Most of your powers were sealed except for the few convenient ones, such as access to a subspace for storage and the ability to travel quickly within Teyvat, but otherwise, everything else was left for discovery. In that way, organizing your campsite became quick and easy work on the days that you weren’t woken by Hilichurls looking to turn your bedrolls into breakfast burritos.

Actually, scratch that. Hilichurls are better than Paimon ‘accidentally’ strangling you.

Aether’s laugh rings clear around you as he stretches his lithe body, already limber and prepared for the day. He never seemed to care much about comfortable beds – or, well, any basic comforts – but Paimon is right, he makes damn good meals. In your many months on Teyvat looking for Lumine, you both fell into a steady rhythm where he cooked and acted as a de facto leader while you archived everything you came across. Between the three – no, the two of you - you were often the one taking notes and painting the landscape around you in an effort to remember these adventures while Aether acted as the beacon of hope for the locals.

Even if Aether fills Lumine’s role easily, you can tell it was never comfortable.

You pause at that thought, glancing over to Aether who was making very exaggerated gestures to what you can only assume are his steps for Paimon à la carte. The ball holding your new friend bounces around with his movements, but the Seelie inside seemed unperturbed, if you were being honest. He never parted with the creature, and you were sure it was equally possessive of its new master.

In his own way, you think Aether tries to be subtle about it: between the Seelie’s ethereal golden glow and its headstrong personality, you can’t help but notice how he cradles the ball with a forlorn expression some nights. It was only polite to roll over in your pretend-sleep and very pointedly not comment. When he wasn’t wrapped around the ball, you laid next to him and held him as tightly in silent understanding, often falling asleep tangled like that.

The tear stains are always ignored the morning after.

You swallow around a sudden lump and turn around, fumbling for your own journal to see the next tasks for the day. Despite your own emotions, you know that Aether doesn’t blame you, he told you himself many times and says that there was only one of you. Still, you can’t help but wonder if - while he doesn’t blame you per se - he wishes it was Lumine you chose and not him. Ever the self-sacrificing big brother.

A red thread lies hidden in the page you left off, acting as a sort of make-shift bookmark. Wrapped in knots and with a sort of tender care for the regal dragon with amber eyes near the bottom is a single Starconch, dangling around with each gentle breeze. If anybody asks you, you would deny it vehemently, but you swore you could hear laughter from that conch sometimes from another big brother. Twirling the sapphire item, you can’t help the bittersweet smile that breaks out on your face against the stupid memory.

 ---

 You decided to stray from Liyue that day, most of your daily commissions done with Aether treating Paimon to dinner afterward. Like two parents, you switched days on who gets the honors of taking the overgrown child while the other relishes in time for themselves. It was natural; though you were used to traveling as a pack, sometimes you just… needed to get away.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one with that idea as you soon spied a figure lounging in the sandy beaches close to the city. When you were close enough to see the scarf billowing in the breeze, you stopped and immediately held your breath. Shit, shit, shit, did he know you were here? Maybe if you just quietly turned around, you could get away and leave the Eleventh Harbinger alone. Not that you were strangers to each other. Far from, actually, as you grew friendly with each other over the many weeks - or has it been months? Time flows differently in this world – spent together in Liyue.

“Hey, girlie,” he calls without looking your way and you freeze. Whelp, there goes that plan.

“H-hey,” you stutter, only to stop and tap your throat lightly before trying again. “Hey, Childe. Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

He snickers and turns then with a wide smile, yet it wasn’t as feral as you expected. If anything, he seems distant. “No, you’re fine. Looking for some peace and quiet from that stir-fry?”

“Oh, how did you know,” you say with a small smirk as you walk closer. Childe looks up at you and pats the sand next to him. No harm in that, sure, you could sit down. He was better company than Paimon at the moment, anyway. At that thought you grimace briefly, when the hell did you want to spend more time with a Fatui Harbinger? Still, you join him in watching the waters dance across the sand.

Okay, yeah, you can admit the view is gorgeous. Liyue never fails you in that regard with its mountains and crystal clear waters. The trees are always an explosion of color while the geography varies dramatically from one corner to another. You're certain Childe thought the same despite his incessant complaints about the heat.

Which, speaking of, he was unusually quiet and focused. When you glance at him, you only notice then he was thumbing a small, blue shell with a star on it. He catches your eye and holds up the conch. “Mm? This? You know, there’s an old legend in Liyue that says that if you hold the conch up to your ear, you can hear what your heart longs for,” he says as he flicks the conch to your hands. “For most, that’s the sea, of course. All the boats, all the business opportunities. Maybe you’ll hear the gremlin’s whining?”

You punch his shoulder lightly while he laughs, all the while eyeing you carefully. Maybe this was your cue to listen? However, when you hold the conch up, you didn’t hear the sea at all. Almost… suffocatingly empty, like… Your eyes widen, imperceptible to all except for damnably sharp Harbinger who you felt nudging against your foot from his own. “So? What’d you hear?”

“I hear… the ocean. The one between worlds,” you lie before you held it back out to him.

Childe guessed yours and Aether’s otherworldly - or rather, "not human" as he put it - status early on. You weren’t surprised coming from someone who carefully pointed out the use of elemental powers without visions, so you never bothered to obfuscate your stories from other realms too deeply. How Zhongli suspected, however, was beyond you at the time. The funeral consultant dismissed Aether’s questions with a lazy wave and this is no more strange than adepti in teapots.

Your companion shakes his head and wraps his gloves around yours, closing the conch into your fist.

“The ocean between worlds, huh?” Childe looks up then, something… something dark and inaccessible in his eyes again. You purse your lips and lower your eyes. “You know, I hear whales. The ones in the ocean here… They call out and follow each other,” he finishes, the pause in his sentence enough to be nearly visceral. He turns to you, eyes wicked and teeth bared in a wide smile. “Maybe they’re looking for a good kill?”

You snort. It became quite easy for you to dismiss these little moments of vulnerability, to close your eyes and forget. Ironic, considering you spent your waking days desperately trying to remember. “Maybe. Maybe there are some up there, looking for their next adventure. They’re… never alone, you know,” you murmur and ignore the curious look Childe gave you, “they have constellations all around them. To guide them home.”

“Sure,” he scoffs and stands. All of a sudden, that vulnerability was stamped underfoot like a stray pest. Did you say something wrong? Regardless, it’s unavoidable that some of the sand flies in your face from Childe’s movement, but you take the opportunity to swat him in fake annoyance nonetheless. Score one for you, zero for Fatui. Childe chuckles and offers his hand, which you take gratefully and will not comment on his tight grip while he dusted your back off, nope. You will not.

It wasn’t a long walk back to Liyue and the two of you fell into an easy banter. Well, easy for Childe since he ruthlessly pinpointed your pet peeves for exploitation, but you enjoy him nonetheless. This felt natural, dancing between the lines of friend and enemy.

Along the docks, the two of you run into Zhongli examining tapestries from a stand.

“Ah! Zhongli! What a surprise finding you here!... ” No it isn’t.

“... Just browsing, I see. What are you planning on buying?...” You mean what you are going to buy, Childe.

“... Is there anything we can help with?” Help the walking encyclopedia of Liyue? The entire time your face twists more in your incredulity at the implication of Zhongli requiring anything other than Mora. Still, you nod along, if only to hear Zhongli speak at length about the history associated. You are, after all, a curator of all things practical in knowledge.

The fact that his warm voice sends shivers to your core was just a bonus, honest.

Zhongli’s eyes shimmer as he looks at the two of you, crinkling faintly along the edges. “Indeed, I would greatly appreciate assistance in deciding which pattern to buy.” He turns back to the stand with a hand resting on his chin, and you flank Zhongli’s right while Childe goes to his left. “This design over here depicts Glaze Lilies in bloom, a wondrous sight most rare these days in Liyue. A moment preserved for all to appreciate. Over here, we see the clouds descending upon the mountains of Liyue…”

So you told yourself you were going to listen to Zhongli, but you suddenly can’t help staring at a long, crimson token. The strings appear to be woven in complicated patterns, but when you look closer, you realize that the patterns are dragon scales that meet on a wild head with Cor Lapis eyes. How curious. Once upon a time, you were sure a design like this would have adorned the walls of kings of yore, yet now it only serves as a cheap souvenir.

The single thought of pretty propels you grab it.

Of course, this does not go unnoticed by Zhongli and Childe. You felt the silence rather than heard it; in that moment, you look to their inquisitive gazes, eyes wide and face as flushed as the dragon. “I… I. I saw this and. It’s… Pretty. Pretty nice,” you lamely explain, suddenly at a loss for words when the full force of their combined gaze is set upon you. Stars and gods above, that was pathetic. Tourist trap sprung.

Childe’s smile grows indulgent and Zhongli’s tight-lipped expression never moves while his shoulders barely trembled. They… thought this was cute. Great. You purse your lips and turn away, mumbling obscenities under your breath. Still, a traitorous grin comes as you felt Childe’s hand settle on your shoulder as he not-so-subtly breaches your personal space after side-stepping the funeral consultant.

“A pretty token for a pretty girl, no?” he coos and leans forward to inspect the trinket in your hand.

“Childe possesses an expensive eye,” Zhongli agrees and his voice floods your other ear as the older man follows Childe’s lead. His rich timbre petrifies you, and you could only stand there with a white-knuckle grip while you listen to their appraisal. “In Liyue, an invisible red string is said to entwine the fate of all those caught in its distinct pattern, destined to meet regardless of time or circumstance. Never will it break, safeguarded by the divine itself. Even the tangled pandemonium it may cause would lead only to a grander, more intricate pattern at journey’s end. Perhaps this will lead you to your destination?”

“Zhongli, as much as I appreciate Liyue’s customs and stories, isn’t this a little too on the nose? Saccharine to the very end indeed,” Child snickers. Still, when he notices your crestfallen expression at his bickering, he gazes at Zhongli again before you hear your name called softly. “Hey. Let’s make a deal, yes?”

“What? No, no, no I am not making a deal with a Fauti Harbinger,” you immediately hiss and whip around. Damn the fallen Geo Archon, you will not be beholden to the whims to a Harbinger in the land that once belonged to the God of Contracts. In a desperate bid for allies, you beg your other friend, who was suddenly and conveniently interested in another token on the stand. Damn him too, you decide.

“Come on, pretty bird,” Childe says and pokes your side.

“I think I liked it better when you called me pretty girl.”

“Ah, no no, pretty bird because you always cry when the cats come over to play.”

“I do not, fuck you very much. And did you just call yourself a cat -?”

“I promise, this is a deal you’ll like. Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Fair enough. I’ll buy it anyway.” Childe waves his hand to the vendor to barter. Before long, he returns triumphant with the long thread in hand and gently lays it in your own in the same manner he did with the Starconch shell. “Y’ready to hear my deal?”

“No.”

“In return for me generously buying you this,” he continues, ignoring your very pointed is this how he treats you, Zhongli and the amused no, simply you in response, “I want your end of the deal to be carrying this with you, in that little journal you think we don’t see you scribbling in.”

Your face immediately flushes with indignation. “Like a bookmark? Why?”

“Because,” Childe says while he carefully wraps the end closest to the dragon’s head around the shell. By the time he’s finished, the dragon looks to be gripping the glimmering item and protective amber eyes gaze upwards to the heavens, ignorant to Zhongli’s intense scrutiny. “Because, sweet thing, I think Zhongli’s right. The Hero of Mondstadt, a Fatui Harbinger, and a funeral consultant all walk into a bar – “

“That is not how I remember our first meeting, Childe.”

“ – and forgive our dear comrade’s ignorance of Snezhnayan jokes. Point being, I don’t want you to forget this,” he says, winking when you blink owlishly. It’s hard to remember that you’re supposed to hate this man and hate his sentimentality.

“This… this is your attempt to piss me off, isn’t it? Make me never forget I’m friends with a Harbinger? Put a mark on my back that says ‘I.O.U.’?”

“Aw, now why would I do that? You wound me!” Childe pretends to be hurt before elbowing you with all the mischief you would see Aether give you before charging a Hilichurl camp. “Besides, you said it yourself, friend. I just want to be remembered. That’s the only debt you owe.”

As much as you wanted to hit Childe then, you both turn when you hear Zhongli’s rumbling chuckle. You lean forward against Zhongli opting to hit him instead and relish in his little grunt to your effort, clearly only putting on a show for humor’s sake. “Wow. Is this a gift from you too, Zhongli?”

“Hey! I paid for it!”

“Thank you,” you say fondly. “Except… Except I have nothing in return. Zhongli told me about how he gave you chopsticks, and you two gave me this – never mind how you even pay for Zhongli’s entire life. How can I…” You look down then, somber of the fact you are in the land of contracts.

(All must be fair in love and war.)

“How can I make this fair?” you settle, gazing up suddenly. Childe only laughs, characteristic of his lackadaisical attitude and oh stars you know this is going to bite you in the ass. You feel Zhongli’s hand rest on your hip and when you turn to him, he’s -

Oh gods he’s so close -

“Your company is enough, dear bird. Now come. I am in need of eyes tempered by travels outside of Liyue. It is refreshing to see these items anew.” He pivots on his heel and walks further along the docks without turning behind to check whether you and Childe would follow. You both do, of course, but not without half-hearted grumbles at his presumptuousness.

It became easier then, the bickering between you and Childe with Zhongli only stepping in when he cared enough to distract your verbal blows for opinions on his next purchase. That, of course, only led to the two of you turning on the refined gentlemen, determined to crack that stony exterior as punishment for his ridiculous disregard for money. How immature, how… childish. Damn it.

You hear your name being called. “Hey, hey, are you listening? Hey-“

 ---

 “Heyyy!” Paimon says, floating in front of your face while Aether snaps his fingers. Blinking awake, you snap to attention. Aether had gathered the rest of your supplies, and the three of you were ready to continue on your travels by foot to gather ingredients on approach to Dragonspine. “Hey! Paimon asked if you were ready to go?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah I am. Sorry, was just trying to remember our, ah… next commissions,” you mumble before putting the journal away. Paimon gazes at you sympathetically then. With a sharp turn on your heel, you began walking towards the mountain with a renewed bounce in your step and lame determination to ignore Paimon’s pity. “C’mon! Better to get there sooner rather than later, yeah?”

Aether jogs to catch up and flicks his eyes between you and Paimon in some grand conspiracy. “Think if Paimon eats the last of our goulash again, we can use her as a hot blanket?” You both laugh, whipping around then to stare at the aforementioned fairy who only gulps.

“Paimon, ahh, Paimon is going to go scout ahead! Can never be too careful!” she chirps before floating ahead at a speed you only ever saw her gain when she spies a fresh meal. You were thankful, though. It’s no secret how you hurt these past few months since Childe’s departure to Schnezaya after his release of Osial. In many ways, that disaster became old news with the citizens of Liyue eager to remember the event only as of the fond ascension of the Liyue Qixing’s power rather than the near-death blow from the Vortex God. The peaceful Rite of Descension held after solidified the transition into the age of men. Though rumors were abound of Childe’s – no, Tartaglia’s – involvement, they were quickly muddled with the Fatui emphasizing new business opportunities in an attempt to let it all be “water under the bridge.”

Rather, they attempted to save face while Ningguang squeezed them under her golden thumb as retribution. Ultimately though, nobody truly witnessed Childe himself summoning the god of old.

That doesn’t make his actions any better after knowing. If anything, you find it almost easier to forgive – bitter in your private admission – since he acted only within his nature, no more and no less. Understanding was swift after you and Aether were somehow roped into helping him wrangle Teucer, a spitting image of the stubborn Childe you knew and not bloodthirsty Tartaglia, before his return to Schnezaya. You couldn’t find it in yourself to truly hate him after the Fatui’s blatant trust in you two to keep his secret, even as you jot down a new quest afterward: ‘Strangle Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, at your next meeting.’

Before his departure from the Northland Bank, you even had the courtesy to warn him under your breath when you hugged him farewell. He naturally returned the sentiment and squeezed harder in emphasis.

Yep. Reasonable. Single-minded friends to the end.

No, you hate the Fatui more. Whether Tartaglia ever forgives his conniving comrades – and the Tsarista - is something for the stars to witness. You know how deeply he respected the Tsarista for her frigid yet imperial attitude, something borne from the experience of a true warrior who courted death head on, whose pale complexion was forever marred by the scarlet slaughter. The only time you saw light in his eyes was when he waxed poetry of her carnage, much to Paimon’s disgust.

His contempt for deceit often warred with his pragmatic attitude of “the ends justify the means.” Despite his misgivings, he acted within his orders perfectly. He even expressed his distaste for unnecessary power demonstrations, a complete contrast to your false assumption and Signora’s patronizations over his desire for chaos. The reward? Being used and tossed aside. With Tartaglia designated as a pawn in the Cryo Archon’s grand game instead of granted the bare decency for communication between commander and general, you couldn’t help but wonder where his opinions of her now lie. Even as he cursed Zhongli and Signora for leading him on, you heard humor lacing his words. You were sure that Tartaglia always suspected Zhongli to be more than a consultant, but the Tsaritsa’s blatant disregard for the Harbinger’s intelligence was offensive, even to you.

In the end, what Tartaglia really thinks of her now doesn’t matter. It never did.

No, you were – are, you desperately try to remind yourself – more disappointed with Zhongli, with Rex Lapis, the God of Contracts, the God of War, with fucking Morax. When you first came to Liyue with the intention of hunting down the Geo Archon, both you and Aether marveled at the Geo powers bestowed upon you from the first statue encountered out of Mondstadt. Surely, Aether pondered then, this meant that the Geo Archon approved of your Holy Grail quest. Instead, many months later and after some rather painful revelations, you both discovered that Zhongli – gentle, kind, and dear Zhongli – was none other than the stone-cold god instead. Aether tried convincing you for weeks that this was Zhongli’s nature, that as a god who walked Liyue for over six thousand years, he likely saw these as tactical maneuvers similar to the Archon War.

Aether, bless him, understood Zhongli’s reasoning deeply; after all, you two were likely thousands of years old yourselves despite stopping the count many centuries ago. You logically understand the desire for peace, but you can’t help the emotional betrayal.

Thankfully, Aether keeps most of his comments to himself. He knows you well enough to know why you were really upset, why your heart twists at the memories you spent with the former Archon, but he is wise enough to know when to pick his battles.

You still remember your bitter conversations with Zhongli afterwards, your rampage in seeking him out at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor for answers. Except, what answers could he give you that he didn’t already offer at the Golden House? Still, that didn’t stop you as you barreled forward, didn’t stop you from pounding against his stone-cold chest and meeting his irritatingly serene gaze as you demanded he sat down for what pitiful interrogation you could dish out on the God of War. Since that confrontation, you spent much of your time in Liyue attempting to harass – or reconcile? – with Zhongli.

As you approach the mountain’s base, you feel Aether’s hand on your shoulder and his soft voice, “She didn’t mean it you know. She’s worried about you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll bet you, I don’t think she’s forgiven him either. Paimon knows you’re trying, you’ve spent more time with Zhongli to repair things, but as much as she loves the fact that you’ve gotten him to pay for all our meals now, I'm pretty sure she’s still mad at him.”

You laugh then, and Aether perks up at your shift. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you close, matching his steps with yours as you snicker along. “Stars help the Lord of Geo, because he hasn’t face the fury of a hungry Paimon.”

 ---

 “Promise me.”

“I understand.”

“No, Morax, you don’t. I need you to promise me.” You scowl hard, hands slamming on the desk as you stare deep into his amber eyes. He only passively stares back, but you knew him better than that. Those months of connection, of deeper understanding – even if you didn’t truly understand then it was because of two immortals who subconsciously recognized eternity in the other – gave you some advantages, such as recognizing that flicker of guilt across his eyes before disappearing. You don’t relent in your assault as you both ignore Aether and Paimon in the background tensely watching. “You owe us. That explanation at the Golden House and Rite of Parting was crap.”

"But Mr. Zhongli told us everything - "

"He gave us half the story, Paimon," you growl. "Isn't that right? How deep in with the Fatui were you? What did you tolerate?" 

The air grows thick as memories of each Fatui camp obliterated run through your mind. You barely managed to stomach reading even half of the detailed accounts on the experiments conducted within Liyue. His eyes flick to the bags around your eyes, then towards the journal hanging by your side.

Zhongli’s fingers rap his table as his nostrils flare. Good. You got him on edge. Still, before you can say more, he relents and you try not to be disappointed. He knows when he is faced with an immovable mountain. With no more protest, Zhongli rummages for spare paper and ink before pulling both out and writes up a quick contract with a few lines of promises for total honesty. The pen narrowly avoids tearing the paper with the pressure. As he hands the paper to you, he never meets your eyes as he says, “It is important to me that you know I was authentic with you after Osial’s defeat. I hope this reassures and appeases your curiosity. If a physical symbol is required for what I have always given you, starlight, then so be it.”

Each word of his grows softer, yet only digs deeper daggers into your heart. Starlight. His own nickname for you to mirror Tartaglia’s pretty bird, yet you didn’t know why or how it came to be. Regardless, you take the contract and inspect his signature. Grabbing the pen from his hand – and with barely a flinch at his fingers lingering near yours – you sign your own name. “… Not always, clearly. It’s done,” you murmur and bring the contact with you to the fire behind him. All other parties in the room watch as you shuffle closer to the fire, ears straining for your next words that are nearly drowned in the incessant crackling. “You’re a lot like him, you know. Childe.”

Zhongli stiffens. “You have said so before.”

“You both see the world around you as means to an end, some limit to be pushed or some assessment to be passed. Is he… is he as bloodthirsty as you were, too? Back then?” He draws a sharp breath, though you don’t look behind you to see what expression he wears.

“… Yes. He is. I had expressed such sentiments to him before his departure. Childe only laughed, and… He told me that he knew there was a reason he liked me.” It takes all your willpower to not grip the contract any harder than you did, so you were proud of yourself, damn it. Still, you nod before tossing the contract into the fire.

Zhongli swiftly rises at that, and as you turn around, you watch his fierce eyes on you debate either questioning you or hurling a stone pillar towards you on pure instinct. Some habits die hard, it seems.

You only laugh, shoulders relaxing for the first time since Osial rose from the sea. “Zhongli.” He freezes, as if it were possible to become even tenser than he already is, and mouth parts lightly as you whisper his mortal name so sweetly. “All I needed to know was your willingness. I don’t care about contracts, I never even asked for it. Let’s not do that. It’s been six thousand years already, hasn’t it?”

He swallows thickly. “Yes. It has been.” Zhongli sits down and sweeps an arm out, gesturing for you three to take seats in front of his desk. Although you were the one to initiate the conversation, Aether and Paimon ask most of the questions while you keep your eyes glued to the desk in front of you. That didn’t stop you from feeling Zhongli’s eyes on you though, ever curious as to what was behind your own neutral complexion.

He taught you too well to hide your emotions; the thought alone is enough to crack the god of stone’s heart.

Unfortunately for the three of you, Zhongli can offer no explanation for their activities within Liyue. Although he was aware of some of their sickening actions, he was forced to turn a blind eye as he focused on the grander picture. Mortals needed to learn to handle affairs amongst themselves while he doubled his efforts in safeguarding what was personally important to him as he prepared to step down.

As you three were leaving his office – and after Paimon manages to convince Zhongli to pay for all her meals as recompense – you linger when you hear the former Archon call your name. When you turn back to see him, his own eyes aren’t meeting yours, but are instead taking the ring from around his thumb to place on the desk. What is the old idiot doing?

“I am not worthy of this gift,” he begins, closing his eyes as he shifts the ring forward. Copper floods your mouth from how tightly you bite your tongue then to keep from practically weeping at witnessing Zhongli attempt to give back the ring you gifted so many months ago. “You gave this to Childe and I as equal payment for our own gifts, yet you did this as promise to remain as true friends. I will not apologize for my actions, as I did what I believe to be right for Liyue as its Geo Archon.” His eyes open, resolute and vibrant. True to his word, there is no remorse for his manipulations. “As a mortal, however… I do not believe I have adequately upheld my end of the bargain. ”

Underneath his gloves, his knuckles go white from how tightly he clenches his fists in his lap.

“Zhongli…” You step forward to grab the ring before gently taking one of his hands. After unfurling his fist, you gingerly place the ring back in his palm. The ring you gave Zhongli is of a golden dragon wrapped around, biting its own tail. A symbol of eternity. For Tartaglia – Childe, you correct yourself, he was Childe then – you gave him a ring of silver and sea glass so brilliant, it acted as a mirror that could rival the ocean’s reflections. “Do you remember how Childe whined that my gift was impractical, compared to the utensils and bookmark?”

“Yes,” Zhongli says, smiling at the memory. “He complained that it would hinder battle as he gripped his bow.”

“Right. I said that it was so he would never forget how annoying I can be when I wanted to,” you giggle. “I gave this to you after you told me of how… of how all your friends forever shined like gold in your memories. I wanted to be like that too.” Before he could respond to your crack, you continue, purposefully cutting his thoughts off. “I know you promised to write Childe. He told me he made peace with you after bribery with some osmanthus wine. Something about learning how to be mortal, getting a chance to fight you, all that. He also told me he was ordered to keep you close as an asset, even if he didn’t understand why at the beginning. The Tsaritsa wants to keep tabs on your ‘progress’ and movements, I’m sure. For all of Tartaglia’s Fatuiness, he’s not very secretive about that sort of stuff. Guess he was glad to be done with those lies.”

Zhongli doesn’t respond and watches your face as you speak, so you took this as a cue to continue your speech as you withdrew your hands. You meet his gaze then. “I want you to let him know that I won’t try to make contact with him. I made my peace with him while Teucer was here, I harbor no bad blood. We were both pawns.” You ignore how Zhongli’s throat bobbed. “But I can’t keep contact with him. Not now, at least, not with where our mission is heading.”

After a long moment, the Geo Archon closes his eyes, before reopening to the imperial gaze the statues of him around the country forever etched. You both knew this was little more than a game, though. Nothing could make you bend the knee to any god before, why would you now? “Will you still visit me in Liyue?” he asks. For all of his age, you marvel at how lost he sounds.

A god who never learned how to be vulnerable, to be human.

“Yes, I promise, because you’re my friend.”

              ---

After that, the weeks crawled by, but you kept your promise. Ningguang saw fit to reward you, Aether, and Paimon with a reserved room in the finest inn at Feiyun Slope for whenever you passed through, as befitting of the Heroes of Monstadt and Liyue. Though the three of you collapsed on the floor in the apartment and wept honest-to-gods tears of joy of not having to open your wallet for once, you saw this as a cosmological suggestion for you to begin your journey of forgiving Zhongli.

Which, no, that was a lie actually. You knew deep down you already forgave Zhongli, that wasn’t the issue.

Long after Paimon retreated to her own bed tucked amongst an ungodly amount of pillows and blankets set in one of the larger windows, Aether sat you down in another windowsill to ask you honestly about your feelings on Zhongli and Childe. Thank the stars you knew Aether for centuries because he opened his arms instinctually as you sniffled and crawled over, burying your head into his chest as tears flowed openly for the first time since you both lost Lumine. After apologies and please let me wash your scarf I’m sorry I made it gross and no don’t you dare I ruin your shirts all the time, you began to confess how, for the first time, you felt dually matched tit-for-tat in these two men.

Tartaglia reminds you of the joys of adventures, of youth, of the difference between surviving and being alive while Zhongli gives you the stability that a mountain eternal would. He beckoned you through the history of Liyue with a warm smile, shared in your long conversations with Aether on the nature of life well into the night against the dawn, and stood steadfast as warden against your own anxieties of eternity despite not knowing then of his own timeless status.

Could it be helped that you fell as quickly as a star, set aflame with hopes of something more?

Yet, once again, luck proved to not be on your side. You remember in the days leading up to the battle with Osial at discovering how Zhongli and Childe would share long conversations or made time for meals regardless of busy schedules. Though you confessed to Aether that you recognize it was because both wanted to keep tabs on the other without revealing their ulterior motives, it didn’t fail to ignite anxiety, especially now that you knew Zhongli maintained correspondence with Childe, despite the former’s insistence that it was strictly friendly and contractual.

Stars, could you have felt any more like a selfish kid then? To want both men left you feeling equal parts angry with yourself and with them. How dare you allow yourself to get close to them? You should have left the socializing to Aether, fuck.

Combined with the fact that both men betrayed everyone involved and were shy of brawling each other in the Golden House, you couldn't help but feel that most - if not all - of the memories made were false. Bloodthirsty, warmongering, and ruthless in pursuit of their goals. Did they really care for any but themselves?

Aether held you tightly that night, singing songs in your shared native tongue that sounded of bells and twinkling glass to lull you into a fitful sleep. In the weeks after, you grew to become friendly with Zhongli once again, and if Aether didn’t know you any better, he would have said you moved on.

Except he did know you better.

Despite his own attempts at explanation, he knew you had to see for yourself what both he and Paimon witnessed during those long months spent in Liyue with Childe and Zhongli. He knew how frustrated the Harbinger and ex-Archon would grow, restless in their seats if you took too long escorting Paimon around the city to collect snacks. Aether got along like fire to a wooden house with the other two, all wit and not-so-professional humor. However, knowing that he fulfilled the diplomatic role to help others, you took the opportunity to try to irritate Childe where you could – at first because of his Fatui status, until it evolved into you and the Harbinger competing to elicit a laugh from present company without throwing hands.

While Aether certainly didn’t like to pry where it wasn’t his business – that was Kaeya’s modus operandi, thank you – he sometimes wondered if Childe and Zhongli viewed you and Aether as the guide to that murky area between mortal and divine. Their robust characters more than once reinforced his idea that Visions reflected personalities rather than the nation’s sovereign ruler. By extension, when he thought about how water crystalizes geo, he concluded that the speed Childe and Zhongli summoned shields and attempted to break them in a conversational dance whenever they were together was due to some deeper, instinctual urge.

That, or they were just nearly the same brand of deceitful, halfwitted idiots.

Perhaps that was why they felt comfortable constructing such a close friendship. To both of them, this merely played into some larger façade, all while convinced that the other was entirely fooled by the thick shield. Aether laughed to himself. The morons got so tangled in mental games, they unknowingly built a true and dependable relationship, if the blatant stress between them in the Golden House was anything to by.

Aether was not born yesterday. He didn’t survive these many millennium by not carefully observing the inhabitants of each world they visited. He is friendly, yes, but not ignorant. And how could he fault you for trying to find some sliver of happiness here, even if it was temporary? Stars above know his own heart ached each night.

That was why he was so sure you felt as comfortable around them as you did with Paimon and himself. The traveling troupe acted as a pacifying force for whatever the hell was going on between Childe and Zhongli being head deep in manipulations. In the little ragtag gang of the three travelers, none of you held tolerance for any bullshit and welcomed only peace, in whatever form a Fatui Harbinger and Geo Archon could manage.

He personally never doubted the authenticity of any sentiments, any stories expressed in conversations between all of you, even if you were now swimming with mistrust. The loneliness of not being able to trust anybody... He doesn't know if he can take much more abandonment after Lumine's entrapment. Everyone holds their own secrets, what they share always has a sliver of truth. Lies are built on that. By extension, Aether had no doubts that Childe and Zhongli were equal parts stubborn, righteous, and fucked up in their own uniquely Teyvaten ways. 

At this point though, weren’t you all? Aether glumly drew his gaze upwards to the peak of the mountain. All of this for a five-thousand mora commission? Whoopee.

When the three of you grew closer to Dragonspine, he fell behind to gather tinder for a cooking fire to shake himself out of these deeper thoughts. As Aether returned, he couldn’t help his open fascination as Paimon played dodgeball with the small stones you were hurling at her when she kept commenting on your stove-building skills instead of helping.

In a hidden blessing, some things will never change. While rummaging through his subspace storage, the smile on his face quickly falls when he realizes –

“Guys. We have a problem.”

-

notes:

1) According to the game, starconches let you hear the ocean, no matter where you are. In a lot of religious texts (Buddhist, Egyptian, Mesopotamian, etc), the oceans are referenced as the bridge between heaven and earth, i.e. "bridge between worlds"

2) In one of childe's voicelines, he specifically references the Traveler wielding a lot of unusual powers without a vision

3) One of the MC's voicelines also references how time in Teyvat seems to be quicker with the days being so short

love yall <3

[marvel-and-mischief]

Safe Haven Part II

Here you go, Part II! 

Title: Safe Haven

Words: 3000

Warnings: None unless you count a mean taxman being mean?

Synopsis: Introducing an antagonist! And Pero needs a place to stay, again. 

Part I

After helping Gwen with the making of the pastry (she was very thankful after you dipped into her warm milk this morning), you went in search of Addy. She helped you most days to keep record of anything you needed to buy from market. She was good at record keeping and counting money; without her you would have to do all of that on your own. 

You found her sat at a table in the front of the tavern. All of the tables had been cleaned and the floor swept, so Darcy must have been in and out whilst you were in the kitchen. 

You sat across from Addy who didn’t look up from counting the two small pouches of money on the table in front of her. You crossed your legs and waited until she was ready. You didn’t want to disturb her but you needed to know everything was in order before you thought about walking to market. It was already mid-morning and you didn’t want to lose out on the best meats and cheeses for the guests’ meals. 

Addy finally looked up at you with a content sigh, pulling the ties on the pouches taut and tying a knot on each. 

“We are up twelve pennies from the night before. That’s good!” She announces with an infectious smile. She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms before speaking again. “So who was that angry looking man I let out the front door this morning?”

You should have guessed she would ask. Addy was timid by nature. You would never see her speak so boldly in front of anyone she wasn’t comfortable with. But with you? She was too cheeky for her own good sometimes.

You tilted your head, feigning confusion “Must have been a guest.”

“Non, mon amie,” she shook her head from side to side, her smile growing to a smirk. “Guests use the guest door. He came through here and used the front door.”

“Yes. He did,” you sighed in defeat. It’s not as though anything happened. He was just a stranger you felt inclined to help. It’s silly of you to make something out of nothing. But you felt almost embarrassed that whenever you thought of him or he was spoken of, your heart gave a little skip. “He turned up just as I was closing the door last night. He had nowhere else to go so I said he could stay in the stable. That is all.” You shrugged and began to stand up when Addy put a hand on your arm. You saw concern in her eyes. You didn’t understand why until she spoke.

“You must be careful. He could have hurt you. Or any of us.”

You gave her a reassuring smile and placed your other hand on top of hers that was still holding onto your arm. 

“We have people stay here all the time-“

“In the guest house. Where they can’t get to any of our rooms-“

“If I thought he couldn’t be trusted I would never have offered him the stables. It was one night and we will never see him again,” you calmly insisted. 

“I know,” she began, “I trust you, obviously. I still worry.” She was frowning and chewing on her bottom lip, a habit you noticed she did whenever she was overthinking. If you thought you were protective over all three women, then she was more so. Her mother hen nature was admirable, but unnecessarily cautious sometimes. 

For a moment you saw the frightened, shell of a woman you found in the marketplace months ago. She has never said what, or who, she was fleeing from but you knew now this has something to do with that.

“Does he remind you of someone…?” You slowly asked. You didn’t want to pry, but maybe the stranger you let in last night brought back memories of someone else in Addy’s mind. 

Her head shot up and you knew you were right. “I’m sorry Addy. He’s gone now-“

“Oui, he has gone. I’m sure he was… nice.” And with that the new Addy was back. The one whose shoulders were a little more relaxed, who had a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. Albeit her smile was more forced than it usually is as she tried to move on from the conversation. But you preferred this Addy to the previous woman. 

You finally stood up and swept passed her, but not before softly poking her nose. She guffawed and slapped your hand away. 

“Do we need to go to market today?” You asked as you walked behind the countertop. You ran your fingertips lightly over your sharpened branch and surveyed the tankards. Gwen always cleaned them well but it’s a habit of yours to check over everything, just incase. 

“We don’t have to. You and Gwen could go tomorrow instead,” Addy replies over her shoulder. 

Just as you were about to agree, there was a pounding on the main front door. Addy looked to you and stood up, about to make her way over to the door.

“I’ll get it,” you insisted as you walked out from behind the door. “Take the money away,” you pointed to the pouches still on the table. It was probably some traveller asking about rooms. You still had none available which sometimes lead to a disturbance. 

You pulled across the bolts and opened the door just enough so your face could be seen but nothing else. It was then that you realised this wasn’t a traveller, but someone much worse.

“Taxman,” you grumbled. You looked him up and down. He was shorter than you, dressed all in black as though he were attending a burial. His eyes were small and beady but still felt like they were staring into your soul. His beard tried but failed to hide the blackened crooked teeth of a man who cared nothing about how he presented himself. 

You turned back to where Addy was about to leave and put a hand up to stop her. She rolled her eyes and placed the pouches on the countertop. 

“Please come in,” you said with a fake smile. You stepped to the side to let him pass and as he did so you had to hold your breath against the stench of manure. You guessed his previous visit did not go well. Addy noticed the look of disgust on your face and reacted accordingly; she quickly took a pouch of money and threw it towards the taxman who, to be fair to him, caught it one handed. This way he stayed a few feet away from Addy who didn’t have to smell what you just had to. 

“And the other one.” Smell forgotten, you looked at the taxman in confusion. He was pointing to the second pouch of money still sitting on the countertop. 

“I’m sorry? The usual amount is in there,” you stated as calmly as you could. You could see out of the corner of your eye that Addy was starting to panic. 

“The price has gone up. I have heard your guest rooms are never empty.”

“Yes but-“

“No buts! This is what happens when you work as hard as you do. You bring in more custom and therefore more money goes to the Lord.” He paused. “Did your late father not tell you this?” There was a smirk on his face that was unkind, cruel almost. His matter-of-fact tone was grating on you and he knew it as soon as he noticed your fists clenching. You would not give him the satisfaction of losing your temper however.

“I need the second pouch to buy more food and mead, otherwise no one will spend their hard earned money in my tavern,” you responded as calmly as you could. You took a deep breath and hoped to a God that probably wasn’t listening that this man would be understandable. 

He began to slowly nod his head and took small strides to stand directly in front of you. You held your breath.

“I understand,” he said mockingly. “But I also have to collect more money.” He pretended to think over the situation before settling on a solution. “How about I give you until the end of the week? Get me my money by Friday and we won’t have a problem.” 

You wanted to very much disagree. You wanted to poke his stupid little eyes out and feed them to his children, though you doubted, and hoped for their sakes, that he had none. You looked over to Addy who was gripping onto the second pouch of money like her life depended on it. And it did. All of your lives depended on that money to keep the tavern going. So you did what you had to. You nodded once, and that seemed to satisfy the pig in front of you.

“Great. I am so glad we could come to an arrangement.” He had the audacity to huff a laugh in your face mockingly before he stepped around you and left through the front door. 

You let out the breath you had been holding. Your first priority was Addy whose face was flustered pink and eyes clenched shut to stop from crying. You walked over and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, rocking her from side to side. 

“It is nothing to worry yourself over Addy,” you assured her. Although you think you were trying to assure yourself more than her. 

-

The most immediate action you could think to take would be to raise the prices on the rooms and the food. So you enlisted the help of Darcy and Addy to change the signs outside the front of the tavern. The townspeople were generally understandable. They all knew what it was like to deal with the taxman. 

One of the guests was displeased when you told him the news of the new price he would have to pay, demanding that if he wasn’t allowed to continue paying the original price then he would find custom elsewhere. In your annoyance, you helped him pack his bags. 

Which meant one room was available. One room that wasn’t being paid for. On a normal day you wouldn’t think anything of it. Someone always needs a room, even if it’s only for one night. But with the need for money, that was one more mouth that wasn’t buying your food or spending money on mead when you opened the tavern this evening. 

You looked over to the two girls working on a bench outside. Darcy was scrubbing a board clean of chalk whilst Addy was writing the new price on another board. Most people who came through the town could not read but many understood small numbers. And those that had been given the learning to read, had the money, which benefitted you. 

You looked over to the small buildings opposite. Most of the businesses could be found on the other side of the river in the marketplace. But here on the outskirts of town, you had the fisherman, a couple of bakers and their wives and the farmer who you got your milk off every morning before he set off to market. The tavern stuck out in amongst the other’s. It had belonged to your father’s father and was used as the family home before he turned it into a tavern. Then when he died, your father built the guest lodgings himself, having noticed the amount of travellers that passed through in the night that would have to carry on into the market town only to be disappointed that the taverns had taken in as many as they could. 

And now all of that was at risk. You couldn’t help but feel that it was your fault. Of course it wasn’t. And the women would insist you were being hard on yourself. But you felt so much responsibility. The thought of your father and his father watching over you and seeing you lose the tavern not even a year after taking it on. And to the three women under your care, you were the only one they had to look after them. Without the tavern they would be back to where they were before they found you; running, hiding, scared with nothing to their name, none of the respect they have gained working for you. 

You were in your thoughts so much you missed Addy clearing her throat to try and catch your attention. You didn’t know what was happening until you felt soft fingertips tapping your arm. 

You almost choked on your own spit when you saw it was the man from the night before. You were so shocked you didn’t think to school your features into something normal and instead your face lit up and made it very obvious that you were pleased to see him. You saw he was wearing the same cloak as before but you caught a glimpse of metal on his front. Some kind of armour perhaps?

“You.” Was the only thing you could think to say. You wanted to slap yourself in the face. You were not risking a glance to the two women to your right. If you did you would see Darcy grinning like a silly child and Addy trying to hide herself behind the wooden board she was working on. 

“Me.” He replied after a beat. You took a deep breath to try again. Maybe this time you could attempt a normal response. 

“I did not catch your name last night.” That was better, you thought rather proudly. His eyes were less hooded, more awake than last night. You could see the scar more clearly over his left eye and you found you wanted to trace it just as you had wanted to run your finger along his broad nose this morning. 

“Pero.” You liked it. You told him your name and he repeated it back to you to make sure he was saying it correctly. This was becoming a lot easier the more he responded. But as you thought about why he was here, you realised he could be leaving already. Was this just a small trip and he was going back home today?

“Are you staying?” You asked. You realised that may not have made sense outside of the context in your mind. But he nodded nonetheless. 

“I am working for the Lord for a few days. Was wondering if the stable was free again tonight?” You were surprised to hear there was nothing available in the town. This must have been his only option. How fortunate for you. 

“A guest left this morning so we have a room now. I could show you up?” You asked hopefully. And if you weren’t mistaken you think you saw the corner of his mouth tug upwards, only a little. 

He offered no verbal response but you understood. You looked over to where Addy was still ‘working’. You needed to make sure that she was comfortable. As much as your little fancy towards this man was fun, her safety and comfort was more important. 

Darcy saw you looking, poked a finger into Addy’s side and indicated towards you and Pero. You raised an eyebrow, silently conveying that this was her decision. Pero looked towards her also, probably wondering what on earth was going on. But as Addy looked him up and down, she gave an almost imperceptible nod and just as quickly hid behind her board again. 

You turned to Pero with a friendly smile and indicated that he follow you around the side of the tavern towards the guest rooms. 

-

“We bring a bowl of water to your door for washing first thing in the morning. If there is anything else you need, just find one of us and we will see to it.” You had shown him to his room. It was small; a bed against the wall only just large enough to fit him and a small table next to it to place his bag on, but nothing more. He seemed satisfied. You expect if he was a mercenary like you and Darcy had suspected then he was used to far less than this. 

He looked out of the window which overlooked one of the baker’s buildings, smelling the air of the freshly baked breads wafting into his room. 

“Do you mind the smell?” You enquired. He shook his head and turned to you. You expect he is waiting for you to leave him so you turn towards the door when he speaks up. 

“You are the owner?” It wasn’t asked in disbelief, more curiosity. You found you didn’t mind. 

“Yes. It belonged to my father but he died last year.” He looked away from you then, embarrassed that he had asked. You quickly thought of something to say before he felt too bad. “When I was a little girl I looked forward to the mornings when a guest would leave this room. I would come down with my father to help him clean but really, I just wanted to smell the sweet breads being baked across from here.” You giggled softly at the memory. You remember hardly helping your father clean the room at all. You thought you were being sneaky as a child but he must have known exactly why you were so keen to help him clean this particular room. 

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t see Pero smile in your direction. You only saw the look of mischief when he had spoken. “So you were a naughty child?”

You laughed then. In this moment you had almost completely forgotten about the taxman. You felt light and happy and you were so glad this man was comfortable here, in your tavern. You never wanted to leave. But the women needed your help to get the place ready for opening. And you didn’t think you should take up any more of Pero’s time. 

“I am sure you want to rest. I will be opening the tavern up in a few hours. You should come and have a drink.” He seemed to think it over. You didn’t need an answer. You left him standing by the bed as you went to work.

[k-writer1998]

Who Said Love Was Easy? (8/12)

      There are many different kinds of people who come and go from your life. Some will stay constant and sturdy like a river, growing alongside you, others will come like a whirlwind who wreaks havoc and leaves just as quickly, then there is everything in between. In this twisted maze of connections, that is where our story begins. A steadfast boy, a girl with a past, a little bit of alcohol, mistakes, and some love. Where can you go wrong with that?

angsty fluff

w.c: 1.3k

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      Taking a curious peek between the railing proved my suspicions to be right. Although he looked defeated, I couldn’t help but be happy to see Jeongin after going so long without. Moving from my little hiding spot I spoke up to draw his attention from burying his face in his hands. 

“Told you I’ll be seeing you around, stranger.”

      He jumps slightly at the sudden sound but relaxes a bit when he notices it’s me. When he made no other movement I sat down next to his figure which had crouched down on one of the bottom steps. Aside from the guilty look on his face, fatigue was written all over his features. 

“I thought you were supposed to be better off after going to a big company but you seem worse than when I last saw you.”

“Do I make it that obvious?”

“I mean… not that obvious, but I pay attention to these things.”

“You really know how to make a guy feel special,” he responded dryly. 

“I only ever tell you the truth. If that’s all it takes to ruffle your feathers you won’t be surviving in this corporate world but judging from the face you’re making at me, you already know.”

“I’ve practically heard all that can be said in regards to me using nepotism so yeah, I know,” he states as he rubs his face with a groan. 

“Okay but moving on from boring company things, what did you do?”

“You heard?”

“That and you practically look like a puppy who accidentally bit their owner.”

“I messed up. We were playing a drinking game and I kept asking Jaehyung loaded questions which may… have… pointed at… Gahyeon’s crush…,” he trailed off. 

      Knowing where it was going, I took a moment before speaking. There were thousands of things I could say, but only one which felt the most appropriate. I was never one to beat around the bush. 

“I see you went to the get together… You noticed didn’t you? That there’s been a change between them?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’m still a regular you know and I told you, I’m more attuned to these kinds of things. You’re scared of losing your chance aren’t you? Especially after everything…”

“Of course I am but that's no right to be a dick. I don’t know what came over me…” 

“You had alcohol. You felt the disparity of your chances stronger than normal because of it and you hated feeling helpless so you lashed out,” I stated nonchalantly. 

“How did you know? I mean it’s not a hundred percent but that was better than anything I could come up with to explain myself. ”

      And there was the proof of the alcohol. That first night we met proved that Jeongin was an honest drunk and it’s showing with how open he is right now. 

“That’s what I felt when Gahyeon was talking with those girls. It’s like rubbing salt into a wound, of course the normal response is to bite back.”

“That’s why I told you to not like me…” he mumbled. 

“That’s not the point of what I said,” I rolled my eyes as I poke his forehead irritatedly. “And I told you feelings don’t work that way… You know what? Stay here and don’t move.”

      I got up and made my way back into the café. Screw this project, I’ve put in more than enough work for the time being so now I'm taking a break. I made some half-assed excuse as I grabbed my stuff, ignoring any protests. They don’t get to have a say when they barely put in the work. After slinging on my backpack I made my way back to Jeongin who was waiting obediently where I left him. Grabbing his hand I pulled him up and started walking off. 

“C’mon, no more moping. I’m taking you somewhere.”

“Huh? Wait but-”

“Just trust me. If you keep stewing in the past, time won’t let you go back and fix it, so let it go and be in the present.”

      He stopped fighting me and followed willingly. We made a quick stop at the convenience store before making it to our destination, the park. I sat him down on the slide before handing him a water bottle and a snack. He looked up at me quizzically but I just leaned against the slide next to him, taking out my own snack and taking a bite before answering his unspoken question. 

“I want you to be sober enough to remember this time so drink up. ”

“Remember what? I’m not that drunk…”

“Remember us, this moment, hanging out together, I don’t know everything? Maybe because it’s been a bit since I last saw you and I’m kinda feeling sentimental… so just humor me will you?”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, not a couple years,” he responded flatly. 

“Hey I’m a creature of habit and patterns. My system doesn’t take to change well, sir.”

“How have you been though? Your family hasn’t bothered you anymore have they?”

“Nope everything’s been handled. You don’t need to worry about them, I always have things under control with those people.”

“Yeah cause that dinner looked completely handled,” he rolled his eyes.

“Okay not one of my finest moments I admit but you’ll just have to take my word for it. I have dealt with this for almost four years and lived with them for longer. I know how they work, plus my grandma is helping me so they won’t be coming around for a while.”

“They were throwing out some pretty ominous threats so that’s good to hear. Especially when you say they could get worse than that.”

“Yeah…”

      Thankfully he didn’t ask for more details and we fell into silence, basking in the white noise of the night: the squeaking of the swing, the occasional sound of a car driving by, the gentle buzz of nature. Looking over at Jeongin I could tell that he was getting lost in that head of his, probably still beating himself up for what happened earlier. He calls his actions childish but it's just something love makes you do sometimes. I’ve done plenty of embarrassing and childish things to Jeongin just to get him to properly look at me. Even now I want to act up because in this perfect atmosphere with just us two in the night ambiance, he’s still thinking of her. So that may or may not be what I did… I mean it’s two birds with one stone, and even I can’t be selfless all the time. I’m human after all.

“You know… you were like this that night too.”

“That night? You mean when we first met?”

“The one and only,” I chuckle lightly. 

“What? You're gonna say that if I remembered I would remember some words of wisdom you left me that time too?”

“Can you not ruin the moment with your mockery? I actually wanted to talk about it, thank you.”

"What made you change your mind? You've been milking it for months," he questioned skeptically. 

"I told you when the ambiance was right I would tell you,” I teased. He gave me a flat look so after taking a swig of my drink I added, “Eh, it's boring now and I'm tired of dancing around it."

      I shrugged, not looking at him. It's the truth… minus a few details. It is getting boring using it to make him think of me cause obviously it isn't working plus, it’s not fun talking about something only you know about. I could feel he wasn't completely buying it but his curiosity got the better of him. 

"Okay so when did it happen?"

"Hmmm, give or take a year and a half now? I forgot the occasion but it was busy that night and it was a pretty decent bar."

[cocastyle]

Change - Ch. 1 | F O U R

Pairing - Bill Denbrough x reader

Word Count - 5,294

A/N - yay another chapter! I thought I would sneak in a few cute Bill and Y/N scenes during this chapter so I hope you enjoy it! also, I have uploaded a few parts to my Stranger Things rewrite and plan to upload more soon! it’s called Wonderwall and is a Steve Harrington x reader :)) please leave a comment below letting me know what you think so far! it really helps me with my writing when I know what you all enjoy whether that be the friendships Y/N has or the small moments with Bill!

if you would like to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

C H A N G E

Change Series Masterlist

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F O U R   - Bust a Move

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Y/N hadn't known what she was expecting to do once she had arrived at the quarry, but stripping down into nothing but her underwear had definitely not been it. Why she hadn't thought about what she was going to change into was beyond her, but the moment she realized she would have to wear nothing but her underwear in front of the boys was the moment she became frozen in place by Stan's bike.

No one seemed to notice the young girl's hesitation as Y/N leaned against Stan's bike handle. She stared down at her blue floral sundress, gulping slightly at the thought of having to take it off as she began to nervously bite her lip.

As if sensing her nervousness, Stan glanced over at his cousin as he pulled his shirt up and over his head. He frowned at her state before taking a step towards her. "Hey, are you okay?" he whispered, his eyes flickering over her face as he seemed to search for some sort of explanation.

"Uh. . .yeah," Y/N said as she nodded while the other boys glanced over at the cousins. "I just-I didn't realize I would have to swim in my underwear."

"There's always the option of swimming naked," Richie smirked as he wiggled his eyebrows, earning a whack in the head from Eddie while both Stan and Bill glared at their friend.

"Ignore him," Eddie muttered as he shook his head at the boy before he looked to the girl softly. "Sorry we didn't make it more clear. You could've brought a swimsuit if we had thought about it."

"You don't have to swim if you don't want to," Ben piped up, the boy giving her the smallest of smiles as if he understood the shyness she was going through.

"I'm sorry," Y/N whispered as she looked down, lightly hugging her arms as she did. "I'm just a little shy is all."

"There's n-n-nothing to be shy about," Bill assured her before he blushed at his own words. "I mean. . ." His eyes flickered between his friends, three of which were looking at him with smirks, one who was narrowing his eyes at the boy questioningly, and the last being Y/N who had started to blush as she gave him a confused look.

Realizing there was no going back from what he just said, Bill quickly spoke up again hoping to get everyone to forget. "There's a path that leads down to the b-b-bottom and you can just wait for us down there if you want," he suggested.

"Oh," Y/N said, her cheeks still bright red as she stared at Bill. She gave him a small smile as she nodded her head. "Thanks."

Bill just nodded in response and was quick to look away as he finished stripping down to his underwear and walked over to the drop off with Richie, Eddie, and Ben. That left Stan who finally tore his narrowed eyes away from Bill before looking to his cousin with a softening expression.

"I'm sorry. I should've said something before we left," Stan sighed as he placed a hand on the girl's arm.

"It's okay, Stanley. It's my fault really for not realizing. I'll just meet you boys at the bottom, okay?" she said. Stan was silent as he gave her a small look. Y/N only gave him a soft smile and put her hand on top of his arm that was holding onto her and whispered, "I'll be fine."

"Promise?" Stan asked as he held out his pinky to the girl.

Y/N chuckled softly making the curly haired boy join in as they both thought back to the many times they would pinky swear on promises. It was the most serious of promises as they liked to say, so it was important to them.

The girl linked her pinky with Stan's before nodding her head, "Promise."

Stan gave her pinky a small squeeze and smiled before pulling away to take off the last of his clothes. He glanced in his cousin's direction once more before jogging over to join his friends by the ledge while they began a loogie contest, leaving Y/N to stand by his bike.

Y/N got lost in her thoughts as she glanced over at the trail Bill had been talking about. Why couldn't she just be confident for once and go into the water? After all, it was only her cousin and his friends. So why was she so nervous?

"Oh my god, that was terrible. I win!" Richie exclaimed causing Y/N to lose her train of thought. The girl glanced over to where the boys were all standing and chuckled slightly at the sight of them all standing there in their underwear arguing about their loogies.

"You won?" Eddie asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Richie said as if there were no question to it.

"You see my loogie?" Eddie questioned, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion as he wondered how Richie thought he could've won.

"Mine went the farthest. It's about distance!" Richie exclaimed.

"Mass. It's always been mass," Eddie insisted. Richie's eyes widened in disbelief and Y/N couldn't help but chuckle as she watched him throw his arms around for emphasis as he began to bicker with Eddie like usual. Sometimes they acted like an old married couple and Y/N found it to be the funniest and also the cutest thing ever.

"Y/N!" a voice greeted happily causing the girl to turn and see Beverly biking up to her.

"Beverly," Y/N greeted back before her eyes caught sight of the new hair cut the red head was sporting. "Woah. I love your hair!"

Beverly blushed slightly as she hopped off her bike, not really used to compliments. "Thanks," she said before she noticed that Y/N was standing by herself by the bikes. "What's the hold up? You not want to go in?"

"Oh, I do," Y/N assured her before she looked to the ground embarrassed. "I just didn't realize we would be in our underwear and am a little shy is all."

"Shy?" Beverly questioned. "You do realize it's like wearing a bathing suit, right? And it's only in front of those idiots."

She gestured towards the boys and Y/N let her eyes flicker over to them, catching onto the end of Eddie and Richie's fighting as Eddie said, "Who cares how far it goes when it's a measure of how cool it looks like it's green or it's white or juicy and fat?"

Y/N and Beverly both grimaced and let out small laughs as they looked to each other. "Fair point," Y/N nodded. "I just. . ." She trailed off and glanced down at her body. Beverly watched her in silence for a minute before smiling softly as she reached out to place a hand on the girl's shoulder, knowing exactly where the girl was coming from. After all, it wasn't like Y/N was the first girl in the world to be a little self-conscious.

Y/N glanced up at Beverly and saw her kind smile before the red head suggested, "How about we do this together? That way you're not alone."

Y/N was silent for a moment before she hesitantly nodded her head. Not being the only girl would definitely make her feel a little better.

Beverly smiled before gesturing towards the boys. "Come on. Let's show them how it's done," she said making Y/N grin.

"Alright. Who's first?" they heard Bill ask and Beverly quickly squeezed Y/N's hand in reassurance before yelling out, "We'll go!"

The five boys quickly turned around and Beverly smiled before letting go of Y/N's hand so that she could take her dress off. Y/N could feel the stares of the boys and she looked down before taking in a deep shaky breath.

"It's okay. There's nothing to be afraid of," Beverly assured her as she slipped off her shoes.

Y/N nodded before shakily slipping her dress off. She didn't dare look at the boys as she let her dress drop to the floor before her shaky hands moved up to her ponytail that was holding her hair back. She effortlessly pulled the tie out and it was only then that she let her eyes flicker up as she kicked off her shoes, her hair falling down in slight waves due to having been up.

Y/N looked to Beverly, not wanting to see the looks on the boys' faces and the red head was already smiling proudly at her. Beverly held a hand out and Y/N couldn't stop the smile growing on her own face as she took the girl's hand in her own, the two then running forward and towards the edge of the cliff.

"Sissies!" Beverly called out as they reached the edge of the cliff and Y/N barely had time to even look at the boys before the two had jumped off.

"What the fuck?" Y/N heard Richie cry out and she couldn't help but let out a loud laugh as she fell through the air with Beverly by her side.

It was only when they were about to hit the water that they let go of each other, each of the girls taking in a deep breath before plunging into the cold water.

"Ahhh, holy shit, we just got shown off by not only one girl, but two!" Richie cried out as the five boys looked down at the rippling water below them. "Also, Stan the Man, I don't know how it's possible, but your cousin manages to get hotter and hotter by the second."

That comment earned a glare from not only Stan, but the other boys as well, each of them not liking Richie's comment for different reasons.

"We have to do that now?" Stan asked as he looked back down at the water, watching in relief as he saw Y/N poke her head up and above the water, Beverly following not too long after.

"Yes," Eddie muttered nervously while the others looked down in disbelief.

Bill caught sight of Y/N looking up at them and he barely managed to see her smile from that far away before her voice called out to them, "Come on!"

"Oh shit!" Stan sighed, knowing that he would have to go in for sure now that his cousin had jumped.

The boys didn't stand there much longer before Bill had jumped off the cliff, the others all knowing he had only gone first to impress Y/N. It didn't take long for them to join him and before they knew, the whole group was down in the water splashing around with big grins on their faces.

Y/N had never felt as happy as she did in that moment where they were all engaged in a huge water fight. Joyous laughter escaped all of their mouths while they all splashed each other as much as they could while others tried to dunk some of them under water.

Y/N hadn't had many friends back home, not any real ones anyways. The only people she talked to were a few people in her classes who she worked with when she needed a partner for class or somewhere to sit at lunch.

But people to hang out with outside of school? She had never had anyone like that. She had only ever had Stan and the boys when she was visiting during the summer. But that had been five years ago and she hadn't seen Stan as much as she used to, so her friend count was basically nonexistent.

That's why she was so thankful for a moment like this. She needed it, especially with the whole divorce thing going on at home. Y/N had needed someone to make her happy, someone to keep her distracted from the shit storm life had thrown at her. And her cousin and his friends had been just the people she was looking for.

"Chicken!" Stan suddenly exclaimed, causing the group to stop their fighting and snapping Y/N out of her thoughts almost instantly. "Let's play chicken."

"What are you going on about, Stanley?" Y/N asked confused causing Richie to gasp out of pure horror.

"You don't know what chicken is?" Richie questioned in disbelief. "Stan, what are you teaching this girl?"

"Hey, don't blame me!" Stan insisted. "I thought she knew what chicken was!"

"Okay, see you keep saying it, but no one is actually explaining what it actually is," Y/N pointed out. "Saying it over and over isn't going to make me understand it any more than I already do."

"It's a g-g-game," Bill explained while the others nodded their heads.

"There are two teams of two and each pair has one of their people on the shoulders of the others. The objective is to basically try and knock the other off their partner's shoulders and into the water. First pair to fall loses," Eddie told her.

"Honestly, there's no use explaining it to her," Richie shrugged while the others looked to him. He smirked slightly before saying, "Everyone knows I'm the reigning champion. No need to get her hopes up in thinking that she can defeat me."

"Woah," Y/N laughed. "You sure about that, Richie? Who knows? Maybe I'm amazing at this game and you just don't know it yet."

"Yeah, and neither do you," Richie poked fun making both him and the girl chuckle.

"Well then let's find out," Y/N said while Richie gave her a surprised look.

"Oh, you're on," Richie laughed, a smirk appearing on his face. His eyes then lit up and he quickly yelled out, "I call Stan!"

"What?" Y/N cried out. "No fair!"

"No, what's not fair is you getting to have Stan as your partner because he's your cousin. Besides, I called him fair and square. He's my partner now," Richie insisted while Stan gave his cousin an apologetic look.

Y/N huffed in frustration and crossed her arms before yelling out, "Bill!"

Said boy instantly jumped in surprise at the fact that she was yelling his name before looking over at her. "Yes?" he said in a questioning tone.

"Want to be my partner and help me kick their asses?" Y/N asked, the fact that he had been her first choice after her cousin making him smile.

"It would be my p-p-pleasure," Bill laughed making the girl send a thankful grin his way before she swam over to him.

It was then that Bill seemed to realize that he would have to hold the girl up on his shoulders and he looked away with wide eyes and tried to control his nervous heartbeat as he went under water. He felt Y/N's feet graze against his shoulders before she sat down. Bill held his hands up and Y/N grabbed onto them, interlocking their hands as Bill stood up.

Their interlocked hands was the only reason Y/N managed to stay on top of Bill's shoulders as they tried to gain balance. And even when they had gained their balance, neither of them let go. It was only when Richie was securely on Stan's shoulders that they let go of each other's hands and Bill was sure to squeeze her hands in good luck before letting go, moving his hands down to grip onto her legs instead.

Y/N couldn't help but notice that Bill had chosen to grab onto her calves instead of her thighs and she smiled softly at how sweet the boy was before her kind nature turned into a menacing smile and narrowed eyes.

"You ready, Tozier?" Y/N called out making Richie laugh.

"You know it, babe," Richie winked at her.

"I'll flip you off right now if you call her that one more time," Stan threatened making Richie hold his hands up in defeat.

Bill chuckled softly and opened his mouth to begin the countdown. Y/N and Richie quickly got ready, both of them with their arms up in the air as they waited for Bill to tell them to start.

It was only when Bill had given them the green light that the two lunged forward, the intense game of chicken fight beginning. Their hands collided almost instantly and both began to trash talk each other as they tried their hardest to shove the other off of their partner.

Y/N didn't know how long they had been fighting for, but with her strength and Bill's tactfulness in the way he moved her forward at precise moments and would move out of the way enough to make Stan stumble, the two were eventually able to make Richie lose his balance so that he went flying back into the water, his leg ultimately dragging Stan underwater as well.

Y/N and Bill instantly let out a cry of victory while Beverly, Ben, and Eddie cheered the two on from the side. Richie and Stan eventually came back above the water only to find Y/N and Bill laughing and cheering. Richie rolled his eyes and slyly swam over to Bill without him noticing before taking his foot and gently kicking his knee from behind so that the boy's knee buckled.

This led to Bill losing his stance and Y/N wobbled on top of him before the two fell backwards into the water, screams escaping both of their lips as they fell. They came above the water with confused looks on their faces before they noticed Richie laughing with his hands holding on to his side.

Bill and Y/N both looked to each other and gave each other small nods before they turned and splashed Richie with as much water as they could. Richie fell silent almost instantly, his mouth wide open while his wet hair hung in his face.

Richie went to splash the two, but Stan quickly stopped him as he chuckled softly to himself. "Come on, Richie. Beverly and Ben want a turn," Stan told him, secretly winking at his cousin and Bill for having saved them while Richie frowned and turned to the boy.

"Fine, but this time I'm going to need you to work with me. How am I supposed to win when you can't fucking keep your balance?" Richie complained before he swam off with Stan, leaving Bill and Y/N to chuckle softly to themselves.

Y/N shook her head as she watched Richie and Stan start to fight against Beverly and Ben, laughter falling from her lips as Richie scolded her cousin for not doing anything to help out. Bill couldn't stop himself from watching the girl as she laughed, his eyes trailing over her face and the water droplets that rolled down her face and collected at her chin before she wiped them off.

The water seemed to make her skin sparkle in the sunlight, so it was pretty hard for Bill to look away from a view as beautiful as that.

But then Y/N was looking his way, having sensed his stare and Bill was quick to look to the water, acting as if he hadn't just been staring at her.

He heard the girl chuckle softly from beside him and Bill sighed before letting his eyes flicker back over to her, knowing that he had been caught and there was no use denying it. He was met with a stunning pair of e/c eyes and that Y/N Uris smile and a blush instantly spread onto his cheeks as he looked at her.

"H-H-Hi," Bill whispered, mentally face palming himself for being so stupid. Hi? Was he being serious right now?

Y/N didn't seem fazed and merely continued to smile at him, her eyes scanning over his features as she whispered, "Hi."

Bill didn't know how he hadn't noticed, but the two were a lot closer together than he had thought, their arms only being inches away. He didn't know what had him doing it, but with a sudden wave of bravery, the boy began to reach out, his hand brushing against the girl's arm before he began to trail down to her hand.

Y/N's eyes flickered down before she looked back up at the boy who was looking anywhere but at her face. Smiling softly to herself, Y/N also looked away before moving her hand up to brush against Bill's. The two were silent as their fingers brushed over each other's before they slowly began to come together, gently molding together until their hands were interlocked.

Neither of them dared to move, but each of them was trying desperately to hold back the smiles on their faces as they looked away from each other. What was going on was still a mystery to the two of them, but the only thing they knew was that it felt nice to be holding each other's hand. So they didn't bother saying anything about it.

But then Y/N's hand was jerking away from Bill's as she yelled out, "Ah fuck! What was that?"

Bill's eyes widened slightly and he looked to the girl like a lost puppy as he asked almost heartbreakingly, "W-W-What?"

Y/N's eyes widened as she realized what it must've seemed like and she quickly shook her head. "Oh, no. I. . .something bit my ankle," Y/N said, her eyes flickering over Bill's face as a look of relief took over his features.

He blushed slightly before saying, "Oh."

The others all seemed to have heard Y/N's scream and were swimming over to them in no time. "What's wrong? What happened?" Stan asked, his eyes filled with concern.

"Something bit me," Y/N explained as she looked down at the water confused.

"Something bit you?" Eddie asked in horror, his eyes wide as he began to swim around a little frantically.

"Calm down, Eds," Richie said. "She probably just grazed her foot against a piece of glass or something.”

"Glass?" Eddie squeaked out, his face getting paler by the minute.

Bill, who had been frowning down at the water, didn't even hesitate before taking in a deep breath and diving under the water. He came back up not even a second later with laughter escaping his mouth as he looked to Y/N amused.

"It's a turtle," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he tried not to laugh. The others all chuckled while Y/N narrowed her eyes playfully at the boy.

"Shut it, Denbrough," Y/N muttered while the boy chuckled softly. Y/N joined him not too long later and the two smiled softly at each other as their laughter died down. However, they barely had time to even blink before water was splashed against both of their faces, their mouths dropping open as they squeezed their eyes shut to keep the water out.

"Payback, motherfuckers!"

"Tozier!"

And that was how their second round of water fighting began.

- - -

This here's a tale for all the fellas

Tryin' to do what those ladies tell us

Get shot down cause ya over-zealous

Play hard to get females get jealous

Y/N didn't know how Beverly had done it, but some how the red head had been able to convince her to get out of the water to sunbathe with her. It was like all the insecurities Y/N had before jumping in had washed away and Y/N hadn't even thought twice before getting out of the water to lay in the sun, a small smile gracing her face as the warmth of the sun kissed her skin.

Her h/c hair spilled out all around her in slight waves from having dried long ago and she seemed to be glowing because of how happy she was. Her teeth sparkled in the sunlight as she smiled and mouthed along to the words of 'Bust a Move' which was playing on the radio the group had brought.

Okay smarty go to a party

Girls are scantily clad and showin' body

A chick walks by you wish you could sex her

But you're standing on the wall like you was Pointdexter

Bill couldn't take his eyes off of the girl, none of the boys could really. All except for Stan who kept glaring at the boys for staring at his cousin in that way while also sneaking glances at Beverly, not used to seeing a girl in nothing but their underwear. The boys all sat a little wide eyed with their mouths slightly open as they gazed at the girls, but Bill only had eyes for Y/N and found it impossible to tear his gaze away from her.

Y/N didn't even seem to notice the staring coming from the boys, too caught up in the song to be paying any attention to her surroundings. She probably wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for Beverly lightly nudging the girl and whispering, "They're staring at us."

Next days function high class luncheon

Food is served and you're stone-cold munchin'

Music comes on people start to dance

But then you ate so much you nearly split your pants

It was then that Y/N finally acknowledged the stares and she instantly blushed before both her and Beverly turned their heads to look at the boys. Their eyes all widened in surprise and they were quick to look away, some of them coughing awkwardly while they all pretended as if they hadn't just been caught staring at the girls.

Beverly and Y/N glanced at each other and chuckled softly before turning their bodies around so that they were propped up by their elbows. While they did this, the boys who were still a little red faced tried to find something to do to make it seem like they hadn't been staring.

Richie eventually caught sight of Ben's backpack and grabbed it before looking to the boy with an amused expression as he used one of his many comedic voices to say, "News flash, Ben. School's out for summa."

Y/N chuckled softly at Richie who winked in her direction while Ben looked to his backpack. "Oh that? That's not school stuff," Ben told him while Richie began to rummage through his things.

His eyes lit up at something and he was quick to pull a small postcard out of the boy's backpack before looking to Ben with a smirk. "Who sent you this?" Richie asked teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows at the boy.

Ben's eyes widened and he was quick to snatch the postcard from Richie before he could read anything. "No one!" Ben insisted while Richie smiled in amusement at the boy. Ben shook his head and shoved the postcard back into his backpack as he whispered, "No one."

Thankfully Richie didn't seem to want to pester the boy and moved on, pulling out a small blue folder from the boy's backpack and opening it up to reveal newspaper articles on the Black Spot explosion.

"What's with the history project?" Richie asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Oh well, when I first moved here, I really didn't have anyone to hang out with so I just started spending time in the library," Ben explained while Richie handed the folder over to Bill.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows curiously and was quick to pull herself up onto her feet and go sit next to Bill as she glanced down at the newspaper. Bill's eyes widened slightly at the close proximity and stared at the girl for a split second before gulping softly and looking back down at the newspapers as he tried to calm his nerves.

"You went to the library? On purpose?" Richie questioned in both disgust and horror making Y/N chuckle and roll her eyes at the boy.

"Some people enjoy going to the library, Richie," Y/N informed him making the boy give her a confused look.

"Why?" he asked, his nose scrunching up as he looked at the girl in utter bewilderment.

"Oh, I wanna see," Beverly said as she scrambled to her feet and went to sit in between Bill and Ben, not noticing the way that Ben tensed ever so slightly before looking to the girl with a blush dusting his cheeks.

"What's the Black Spot?" Stan asked, having caught sight of the papers for a moment and wondering what exactly it was about.

"The Black Spot was a nightclub that was burned down years ago by that racist cult," Eddie explained.

"The what?" Stan questioned as both him and Y/N gave Eddie the same confused look.

Eddie blinked slightly in surprise at just how similar the two cousins looked in that moment with their eyebrows scrunching together and the corner of their mouth twitching up slightly into a confused smile as they stared at him before he asked, "Don't you watch Geraldo?"

"Who?" Y/N questioned making the boy give her an appalled look as he put a hand to his chest like her question had physically wounded him.

"Your hair," a soft voice said making the group turn away from their discussion to see that Ben was staring at Beverly with wide eyes. It was obvious he hadn't meant to say those words out loud and Beverly looked to the boy almost nervously as she gave him a confused look. Ben finally seemed to snap out of his daze as he said, "Your hair looks beautiful, Beverly."

Beverly blinked in surprise before smiling as she brushed some strands of hair behind her ear. "Oh, right. Thanks," she whispered while Ben looked to the ground bashfully.

Y/N and Bill both glanced at each other in confusion before Bill shrugged. Y/N smiled and let out a small chuckle while Bill watched her in adoration.

Richie looked between the two pairs who were obviously crushing on each other and rolled his eyes, not being able to take it anymore. "Here, pass," the boy said, snapping the four kids out of their trances as Bill tore his gaze away from Y/N to pass the folder to Richie.

"Why's it all murders and missing kids?" Richie asked as he glanced at the folder once again before passing it to Stan so that him and Eddie could see.

"Derry's not like any town I've ever been in before. They did a study once and it turns out people die or disappear six times the national average," Ben told them, his words making all of them stop what they were doing to look at him.

"You read that?" Beverly questioned while the kids all shared looks with one another. It didn't take a genius for them to realize that the mood had grown just a little darker, but Ben didn't seem to notice and continued.

"And that's just grown-ups. Kids are worse—way, way worse," Ben said while Y/N and Stan locked eyes. Y/N could see the small trace of fear on her cousin's eyes and she was sure her eyes held the same as they both gulped.

"I've got more stuff, if you want to see it," Ben suggested and Eddie was quick to shake his head as he looked to his friends. But by the looks on their faces, it was clear they wanted to go see what Ben was talking about. So all Eddie could do was let out a small sigh while Y/N offered him a sympathetic smile.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

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[srhlsx]

Rewritten & Reposted March 23, 2021

 MASTER | Ch. 1 | CHAPTER 2 | Ch. 3

Daiki spoke up after the two newcomers introduced themselves. “(Y/n) and Rumi are third years too,” He interrupted himself with a small burp, causing Rumi to look at him in pure horror and you to bite back a chuckle of your own.

“Oh, nice.” Bokuto nodded along with Kuroo. “Are you both in a club then?”

What. You blinked once very slowly.

“Dude, they both pl-”

“Ah ah ah.” You immediately held up a hand in Daiki’s face to keep him from speaking any further. “Yes. We are in a club. But that’s not what is important.”

Rumi shook her head with a dark chuckle and quickly downed her drink. She mumbled something about finding more games to play before turning to walk back into the house you originally came from. (“This is fucking boring” was an exact quote.) The boy with bedhead hair, who you came to know as Kuroo, followed after her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

You shook your head as you watched after them, turning back and intending to strike up a new conversation with your schoolmates but all you were met with were their retreating backs. Daiki’s hands were moving dangerously low on Mako’s waist as they blended into the sea of people. 

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.” You turned to face the stranger standing before you, looking up and really noticing his golden eyes for the second time since he introduced himself.

You bit into your bottom lip and dragged your thumb across the skin as you leaned your weight onto your right leg as you gave him a once over. He was tall, much taller than you were, and lean. Not lean in the not-done-growing, can’t-control-your-limbs type of way; but lean in the sense that it was clear he was an athlete. His shoulders were broad and full under the athletic t-shirt he wore. His legs were long and you could tell there was thick muscle on them, even under the pair of baggy black joggers he had on. 

But beyond the fact that he was built like an absolute racehorse, the most eye-catching parts of him weren’t even below his shoulders. 

His smile had enough electricity to power a small town for at least a year, and that was a fact. His eyes, a shade of gold you’d never seen before - and were sure you’d never see again - looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that was worthy of holding his gaze. Then his hair - a wild cluster of bi-colored, thick locks that stuck up straight in all directions - screaming for your hands to reach up and run your fingers through them just to get an idea of if they were as soft as they appeared to be.

“Could be worse,” You finally responded after your thorough examination of his entire physique. It was pretty blatant that you had been checking him out, you might as well have asked him to wipe the drool from your mouth.

In any normal situation, the act of a girl so obviously checking him out wouldn’t send Bokuto into any kind of fit. In fact, he didn’t typically even notice those kinds of things happening. But with this girl who he just met before him, he couldn’t help the feeling of his heart clutching almost painfully in his chest. He cleared his throat, shaking his head just enough to clear away the haze he had found himself in and braced his hand against the wall of breezeblocks you both stood near. Bokuto was not trying to be subtle as he beamed down at you, opting to take a step closer. 

“(Y/n)...” He said your name in a tone you were sure you’d never get sick of hearing. “I feel like I’ve heard of you somewhere before.”

“I get that a lot,” You smirked, squinting your eyes up at him as you kept your answer vague. He easily could’ve heard your name in a number of different places, but you weren’t going to confirm or deny anything - it was too fun to toy with him instead.

“So you go to school with Daiki?” He asked, resting one hand in the waistband of his pants, making his t-shirt ride up just slightly. His other hand rested on the wall right by where you were leaning your weight against, making his body angle towards you and close the distance just a little bit more. 

It only took you a brief moment to realize that he was moving intentionally closer to you in what he probably thought was a smooth move. You made an exaggerated grimace on your face, acting as if the thought of the mentioned boy made you sick. “Unfortunately, I do. Been with the kid since primary school.”

“Tough luck.”

“You’re telling me.” You nodded with a laugh, looking out to the throng of people at the party who seemed to only be getting further and further away from sobriety. “Do you need a drink or something? You can have mine, I’m done for the night.”

“Are you trying to take advantage of me?” Bokuto asked, raising your cup and taking a long swig of the drink. You were impressed he didn’t even flinch as the beer in the cup was stale, flat, and cheap. 

“You should be so lucky,” You shook your head and jokingly poked a finger into his chest, a solid excuse to confirm that yes those muscles were as thick as they looked. “But no, I’ve got somewhere to be after this.”

“More studying?”

“Ouch okay,” You laughed. “It’s like that then?”

“Oh yeah, it’s like that.”

Your conversation stilled at that point. You definitely felt like a mutual interest was there between you and Bokuto, a pull towards one another, but the awkwardness of having no idea who each other even were overwhelmed you and left you in silence. You wanted to talk to him more, something about him just made you want to be around him. 

“Mako said you all were visiting for camp this week. You must play then?” Smooth, really smooth.

“Huh?” He started, shaking his head like he’d been in a dream before looking down at his shirt where you were pointing. “Ah, yeah! You know volleyball? Do you manage with Mako? Are you new this year?”

“I do not, but I’m familiar with the sport.” You responded vaguely to his onslaught of questions, not trying to let onto anything one way or the other. “Fukurodani...You guys went to nationals last year, yeah?”

“We did!” He said, eyes somehow lighting up even more than they had before. “One of my good buddies Akaashi is our setter, he’s so awesome, and I’m-”

“I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re already bragging?” The smooth voice of Bokuto’s friend returning dragged your attention away momentarily.

“Did Rumi turn you down?” You smirked with a raised eyebrow, knowing exactly how the conversation probably went.

“Brutally.” Kuroo chuckled.

Bokuto straightened up, looking like a scolded puppy. “She asked about the camp and I was just saying-”

“I’m sure it was brought up so organically,” Kuroo rolled his eyes, slinging an arm over Bokuto’s shoulders and leaning down closer to talk to you. “Did he also casually bring up the fact he’s a top five ace in the country?”

You looked up to Bokuto with knowing eyes, “I’m well aware of who he is.”

“Well, I mean-” Bokuto began to talk, stumbling over his words a little bit but never losing that air of pride he held. After a moment he stopped, realizing what you had said. “You what?”

“I don’t live under a rock,” You laughed at him, shifting positions to rest your chin in your hand like you were deep in thought. “It’s a real crime they didn’t put you in the top three, in my opinion, although I guess after Interhigh and how Ojiro-kun performed you can’t deny he deserved to be moved up.”

Bokuto and Kuroo stared at you for a moment. You were waiting for the points to click, for each of them to realize why exactly you knew so much about volleyball beyond just being friends with Daiki. When it didn’t seem like the connection was going to happen, you let out a soft laugh.

“But top five is really impressive!” You said, unconsciously reaching out to grab Bokuto’s arm and ever so slightly squeezing the muscles under your hand flexed and tensed, but when you saw the look in his eyes you could tell he was anything but uncomfortable. “Definitely the highest ranking player I personally know… At least for guys.” You added the last bit of your statement with a shrug, like an afterthought.

Bokuto practically preened with satisfaction at that point. 

You’d normally be turned off by someone so completely oblivious to the things you were saying, but the boy in front of you held an endearing aspect about him. It could also be because of the look of pride he had when you complimented him, like the words you were saying specifically were what he had been searching for the entire time.

You felt a rhythmic buzzing in the pocket of your bag as Bokuto and Kuroo started to pick up another conversation. Studying the screen of your phone for a moment before answering, you turned away slightly from the two boys. Bokuto’s hand grazed your arm as you stepped away, the feeling of his eyes lingering on you from behind was something you also noticed. 

“Hi Eiji,” You greeted into the device. “...Seriously? Ah shit, no... no. Tell her no, I’m leaving now.”

You appreciated that they quieted their conversation as you were on the phone, but the thumping of the party music really made no difference. The call was short and you looked up to each of them as you ended it with a heavy sigh.

You turned back to the two guys, a calm but mildly frazzled look on your face. “If you see Rumi, can you tell her I left?”

“Yeah, of course” Kuroo waved a hand in front of his face, brushing off your request like it was nothing. 

You gave his arm a gentle squeeze in thanks, then turning to Bokuto. “It was really good to meet you.”

You started to attempt making your way through the thick mass of bodies crowding around the house when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist lightly and pull you back.

“We barely got to talk,” Golden eyes stared down at you, showing a little bit of sadness mixed with an odd amount of excitement. “Can I get your number or something?”

“Ah, ha.” You laughed, reaching up and patting his cheek with a wink of your eye. “We’ll probably see each other again sooner than you think.”

At that you turned, having spotted Rumi distantly in the crowd and making your way to her. You couldn’t help but laugh with her as the two of you made your way around the house to leave the party, Bokuto swore he could hear Rumi say something along the lines of “He seriously had no idea?” and you simply shrugged and let out a big belly laugh as you waved a hand back at him over the crowd.

Not a moment later, Daiki returned looking to where both Kuroo and Bokuto’s eyes were watching your retreating forms. “I’m actually shocked she came out tonight,” He let out a chuckle and shook his head, “But I guess I would want to celebrate as much as I could, too.”

Bokuto slowly turned away, eyes not leaving your figure until you were well out of sight. “Whaddya mean?” He mumbled, mind still clouded with thoughts of this strange girl he met.

“Seriously?” Daiki asked, face scrunching up in disbelief as he took a drink from the cup he was holding. “You didn’t recognize either of them?”

Bokuto simply shook his head while Kuroo seemed to finally come to the realization. “No shit,” He mumbled, looking back in the direction you and Rumi disappeared to.

“What?” Bokuto asked, desperate to get some clarity.

“(Y/n) and Rumi both start on the girl’s team at Shinzen,” Daiki said slowly, both to humor Bokuto and because of the alcohol he was continuing to consume. “They, like… just won Interhigh. (y/n) is top rank-”

Daiki’s voice was lost in the shuffle of Bokuto’s mind. He felt like an idiot. He watched that game, how did he not recognize you?

[choupichoups]

Northern Lights [ 1/1 ]

On the down side, the boys get snowed in at some isolated cabin in the woods.

On the plus side, there’s a ring hidden somewhere in area.

Or: I saw this post at 1 in the morning and couldn’t sleep until I churned this out I’m sorry I’m rusty and good morning have a good Wednesday bye bye

–

Travel halfway across the world, they say.

It’ll be fun, they say. 

Lucas paces the length of the cabin floor, socked feet pit pattering in dull thuds as the little fireplace crackles in tandem with his movements. Eliott, bless his ever so chill heart, is sprawled all over the couch as if all is right in their world. 

“Eli,” Lucas mumbles, managing to reel in his stress for the entire two seconds it takes for his boyfriend to look up from the Hannah Montana puzzle he’s been poring over for hours. Eliott raises an eyebrow, soft sweater bunching up as he shifts, softer hair tumbling over his forehead when he stands. Lucas blinks away the distraction, frowning with all his might when Eliott has the gall to laugh in the face of his distress, warm arms wrapping around him to appease. 

And don’t get him wrong, Lucas is still annoyed, but it’s so fucking cold he’s convinced he might as well be cyrofrozen if he spends one more minute out of Eliott’s arms. Honestly, fuck Canadian winter. Why did they choose to fly here when everyone else is trying their darned best to run away from it?

“It’ll be fine, Lu. It’s just a little delay.” Eliott rubs his back, soothing hands running up and down the fabric of his sweater. Lucas slumps further into the embrace but refuses to give up his sulky muttering. 

“We’re only here for four days,” he says, muffled into Eliott’s collar. 

“That’s plenty of time.” Eliott laughs into his hair, no hint of concern in his voice. Lucas huffs, unable to believe that his boyfriend is seriously not bothered by any of this.

Must be nice. 

Anyway, he’s still stressed out. 

“We’re snowed in, dude,” he intones with emphasis, digging a cold nose into Eliott’s collarbone until he hears a ticklish squeak. He has to told back a smile as he continues with a deadpan, “And our friends are stranded in some airport in another province.”

“They’ll be here tomorrow,” Eliott mumbles into his hair, arms tightening as he starts walking them back towards the couch. “And then you’ll wish they’re still stranded back at the airport instead.”

And, well, he’s got a point there. 

“But we can’t get out,” he groans stubbornly, flopping down when Eliott drags the both of them down to sit. Lucas hangs onto his waist, refusing to unglue himself from Eliott’s side. Luckily enough, the notion is reciprocated so Eliott merely tucks him in closer and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

“I know,” Eliott says, and Lucas can feel a small huff of air above him as Eliott laughs. “Isn’t it romantic?”

Romantic my ass.

“Have you seen The Strangers?” Lucas retorts, indignant when he feels Eliott start to tremble with laughter below him. He punches Eliott’s chest in retaliation but it only seems to invoke even more laughter. “Eden Lake? Stop— stop laughing Eli— Backcountry? You don’t— hey, I’m serious!” Lucas personally thinks this is no laughing matter.

“Baby, what the fuck?” Eliott wheezes out.

Lucas is increasingly desperate over here. “Cabin in the Woods?!”

Eliott has to physically cover Lucas’ mouth to shut him up. “I think someone’s been watching too many shitty films, hm?”

Lucas licks at the palm obstructing his face, earning himself a squawk from his infuriating boyfriend. “Yeah, you.”

“Ouch.”

Lucas slumps back down with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. At least the fireplace is working. And the Wifi is spotty but still there. Oh and the lights. Lucas thinks he’d go apeshit if the storm messes with the electricity. 

A hand reaches over and pets at the back of his head, Lucas relaxing into the touch despite the thoughts running rampant in his mind. 

“It’ll be fine,” Eliott repeats, shuffling closer to kiss him lightly, effectively ending his subconscious gnawing at his lips. “Trust me, okay? No serial killer or demon or wild animal will touch you, they’ll have to kill me first to get to you.”

Lucas tears up. Like a moron. “Stop, that doesn’t make me feel better.” 

Eliott smiles, reaching over to wipe at the tears that haven’t even had the chance to fall. “Sorry, but seriously. I already contacted the airbnb host, they’ll arrive with a crew tomorrow when the storm lets up. They’ll dig us out.” 

“Okay,” he mouths inaudibly, eyes honing in on the stupid puzzle Eliott had been working on earlier. He’s only missing a few more pieces. “Have Yann and them responded yet?” 

Eliott feels around for his phone, pulling it out from under one of the couch cushions like he’d seen it fall into the abyss and had simply not done anything about it until now. Lucas can practically taste the warm fondness bubbling up his chest. Like a moron. “Yeah, they’ve been put up in a hotel and they fly here tomorrow morning.” 

“Okay,” he says again, thankful that he’s with Eliott through dealing with this. Had he been alone, he simply would’ve ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, accomplishing absolutely nothing. Like a moron. 

He might be freshly graduated from his master's program by now but you better bet his panic still knows no bounds. Speaking of, the actual ‘Yay! I'm Temporarily Free From Hell!’ celebration trip they’d planned for isn’t until a few days later— they’re supposed to fly down at a ski resort with, you know, civilization around them rather than being isolated in some remote winter wonderland. But Lucas is now questioning whether they’d be able to leave on time, or if they’d lose a whole chunk of money for missing the first few days of their reservation at the resort, assuming this damned storm would cause more delays for their flight.

They’ve only made a detour to Yukon to see the northern lights anyway. This is all Yann’s and Eliott’s fault, they’re the ones so insistent on seeing aurora borealis for the aesthetic—

“The weather should be good for the next couple of days so our flight out of here won’t have any problems,” Eliott says, now a mind reader apparently. Lucas’ shoulders relax further. 

Man, he needs a drink. Too bad their fridge only houses five bottles of sparkling water. Filthy Canadians. 

“What time’s the check in at the resort again?” Lucas asks, eyeing his own phone which he’d left by the kitchen counter. He’s way too cosy to get up and retrieve it. 

“Uh,” Eliott scrolls through his phone, brows furrowing. The pause lasts a little too long and Lucas looks over, watching Eliott’s blank confusion morph slowly into impatience. 

“Should be in the confirmation email, no?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to look for it.”

“Why do you have so many fucking emails?”

“I’m a real adult now, Lucas, all we do is send emails.” 

Lucas cackles, throwing his legs over Eliott’s thigh as he truly relaxes for the first time since landing in the foreign country. He curls over to prop his head atop Eliott’s shoulder as he holds a hand out for the phone. “Here, let me look.” 

He exits out of the folder Eliott has somehow landed himself into to search the entire inbox, typing in ‘confirmation’ into the search box— Eliott isn’t too keen on online shopping so there shouldn’t be much to go through there. 

Idly, Lucas scrolls, careful not to miss anything.

Order #45632 has been placed — Tealyra

Your order has been placed successfully.

Confirmation for Commission — M. Baudelaire

Thank you for the invoice. Looking forward to working with you on…

Contract Confirmation — F.S Studio

Please read over the attached files and sign…

Appointment Confirmation — Galeries du Diamant

See our 3 step process for hand crafted custom engagement rings…

Lucas blinks, thumb stuttering as it hovers over the email. Beside him, Eliott stops breathing. 

He keeps scrolling.

Trip Confirmation — SkiBig3

You’re going on a trip! Please read over the details to… 

“There.” Lucas hands the phone back over, allowing Eliott to read through the email himself. Eliott does so, but not before emitting a gigantic exhale. 

Lucas stretches over his head to grab the Rubik’s cube on the shelf, studiously beginning to solve it. They stew in the satisfying crick cracking of the cube before Eliott breaks the silence. 

“We don’t check in until the afternoon.” He zooms in on the phone screen as if to make doubly sure. “Our plane arrives in the morning so we should have plenty of time.” 

Lucas hums a noncommittal sound, working on shuffling the blue side into place. Eliott opens up his chats and the two of them descend into comfortable silence as they set about conducting their own business. 

He wasn’t going to mention it— he really wasn’t. But it’s Eliott who starts, so Lucas can’t be blamed for finally poking at the pink elephant in the room. 

Eliott’s chest starts shaking at odd intervals, and Lucas can only ignore so much of his strange little wheezing before he’s looking up at his boyfriend, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth, only to see a red-faced Eliott with his lips pressed tight together and his eyes shining with poorly concealed mirth. He’s already staring right at Lucas.

The dam breaks right then and there. 

Lucas lets out the ugliest snort known to mankind and Eliott’s tamed giggling quickly evolves into tear inducing laughter. Eliott has to lean back against the head of the couch to avoid meeting Lucas’ eyes and Lucas shoves his face into Eliott’s shoulder, muffling his own deranged laughter. 

“Why are we laughing?” Eliott struggles in between gasps, barely able to speak past his wide smile. 

“I don’t know!” Lucas manages to stumble out before dissolving into another fit of giggles. 

Eliott sniffs, helplessly wiping at his eyes. “You do know, fuck.” His breathing is laboured, and the way he stares up at the ceiling resembles that of a man who’s questioning his life choices. “Stop laughing.” He pulls at the ends of Lucas’ hair lightly. 

“You stop laughing.” Lucas pinches him on the side and Eliott wiggles away in protest.

They quiet down.

But then their eyes meet and they’re breathless all over again. 

–

Later, Lucas slides down to the floor, legs criss-crossed as he finds himself face to face, yet again, with the jarring colours of the Hannah Montana puzzle on the table. He starts picking at the remaining pieces, laughter tapering off into a grin as Eliott drops down to join him. 

“So… is it here?” Lucas asks, eyes bright, seeing no use in pretending he’s not dying over the fact that an actual engagement ring exists in this universe, just for him. 

Eliott’s smile is soft when he looks up from the puzzle, one hand lifting to brush Lucas’ unruly hair away from his face. 

“Okay,” Lucas continues, teasing. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

That gets him a blinding grin, Eliott’s eyes scrunching into half moons as he chuckles out a quiet, “Stop.” 

“Why?” Lucas whines out, using his feet to worm closer into Eliott’s space. “Can I see?”

And alright, maybe he deserves that judgemental look. 

He settles down for a blessed moment of silence before his tiny bird brain reminds him that there is, in fact, a ring (a ring!) for him somewhere in the vicinity and he could be wearing it right now but his boyfriend is playing. 

“Can we play that hot or cold game?” He drapes himself over Eliott and digs his chin into Eliott’s shoulder to be extra annoying. 

“Fuck no.” The exasperation rolling off of Eliott is almost tangible. 

“Please.” 

“No.”

“Just three tries per day?”

“No.” 

“Once per day?”

“No."

“That’s a lot of no’s coming from someone who wants me to say yes.”

“Oh my god, Lu, shut up.” 

—

The rest of the boys arrive the next day, and Yann is rightfully confused when he sees Lucas staring down at the pot of boiling spaghetti sauce in the kitchen as he asks Eliott ‘hot or cold?’ in the most pitiful of tones. 

Who the fuck wants cold spaghetti?

Eliott coos at him, leaning down for a kiss, and Yann walks away, not stopping until he reaches the backdoor to stare at the deer sneakily tiptoeing around the backyard.

—

On the third day, Basile almost dies of a heart attack when Lucas pops out from below Basile’s bed and cups a hand around his mouth to project a questioning ‘hot or cold?’ towards Eliott, who’s reading a book on his own bed like a normal human being. 

Eliott answers with a very pointed flip to the next page. 

Basile kicks at Lucas’ leg until he gets rid of the gremlin under his bed.

—

On their last night at the cabin, the boys take the portable heaters outside and lay out mountains of blankets in the backyard to watch the northern lights. 

Arthur bundles tighter into his own pile of blankets as he settles down beside Yann and Basile. Lucas and Eliott are a little farther off, Eliott claiming he needs a better photographic view of the lights and Lucas following after him with one of the mini heaters to protect his art hoe of a boyfriend from hypothermia. 

He keeps one ear on the hushed conversation between Yann and Basile and the other absently open to the curious shenanigans their local lovebirds are up to. 

Dusting off the little bit of the snow that collects over the blankets from all his shifting, Arthur looks up when the sky gradually illuminates, but the lights are not what has him choking on a gasp. Clumsy fingers reach up to straighten the glasses perched on his nose more out of habit than necessity as he gapes at the sight unfurling only a short distance ahead. 

“Holy shit.” He flails out a hand, blindly batting at the general direction of Yann and Basile, unwilling to look away in case he misses the big moment. “Holy shit!” 

–

Eliott is sweating. 

Which is utterly dramatic of him, to be honest. Because he knows, he should know, that there’s only one answer to the question he wants to ask. 

Lucas hadn’t been very subtle the past few days. 

But still, Eliott is sweating. 

Lucas is standing in front of him, ethereal under the aurora, eyes the texture of glass, the colour of the deepest ocean. His lips part soundlessly, long lashes fluttering against the light snow falling from the tree above. There’s a perfectly formed snowball in his gloved hands, clutched tightly against his chest as he admires the view above. 

Preoccupied with the phenomena in the sky, Lucas doesn’t move even after Eliott’s camera clicks once, twice, three times. Eliott would be tempted to raise the lens, look at the sky through the viewfinder, if only the beauty before him wasn’t so all encompassing.

“You haven’t asked yet,” he says, quiet, so as to not startle Lucas. But Lucas startles anyway, as if shaking himself out of a trance. Eliott is endlessly endeared. 

“Huh?” Lucas blinks back at him.

“You haven’t asked today,” he answers vaguely, knowing his boyfriend is too clever to miss the implication.

Sure enough, Lucas rolls his eyes, the blues ever shifting in the moving lights. Eliott wants to capture this sight, wants to capture it all, and he greedily takes it in, every movement and every sound. It plays like a movie in his head, much like a lot of moments in his life, except this one’s something nobody’s ever seen— it’s one he can’t wait to begin. 

Letting go of his camera, Eliott moves to fit his hands inside his jacket pockets. 

“Hot or cold?” Lucas asks, jokingly, giddily, clearly expecting another dismissal.

But Eliott smiles, heart in his throat, and answers, “Warm.”

[kyberphilosopher]

Chapter Fifteen

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

"What possessed you to just burst in there?!” Adamus shoves me enough to push my back into the gray, metal walls of the ship. Stunned, I blink once before regaining my focus and shoving him back.

“If you had such a problem with it, you should’ve said so when we were in there. I needed to talk to you, so I did, General.”

Angrily, Adamus grinds his teeth in such a way that reveals his sharp canines. His eyes flicker between my own quickly, like a birds flitting wings in flight. “You would be dead if not for me.”

“No. You would be dead if this ship hadn’t shot at me. I think you know that, Adamus.” I grip the sleeves of his robes tightly, nails near digging into the skin underneath. My voice has lowered dangerously, so our words are hushed and kept between us and only us.

I can tell he’s about to roar back at me, but an interruption stops him.

“Ah…General Adamus. We have that update on the blasters you wanted.”

Not daring to break eye contact, I push his hands off my shoulders and stalk away. I can feel his eyes boring into my back, but I don’t care. I make my way back to the main room- with the holo-table, I assume it to be the command center. Aheka sees me from across the way and excuses herself from her conversation before coming up to me. “Hey there. I found the supplies I needed for your-”

“Save it.”

I stomp all the way across the room and back to the room I woke up in. I lock the door behind me too, even though I have absolutely no right too. At this point, I’m being a jerk just to be one. I still don’t care.

It’s Adamus’s fault for snapping at me. Back in the meeting, he’d almost convinced me he could be cool. Instead I feel more like a hostage than ever.

In the left corner of the room from where I stand, there’s a mini area sectioned off. Inside, I find a bathroom and a shower at my disposal. Somehow, the sight of seeing the rebels have such a luxury irks me to my core. 

Gritting my teeth, I instead punch out the lights and climb back onto the padded surface I slept on a while ago. I’m not even sure I need to sleep or anything. I’m just so angry I can’t think of anything else to do with myself.

After lying still in the darkness for long enough, my eyes don’t fail to get heavy. I’m lulled into a warm sleep that eventually probes nightmares. It’s the same old level of terrifying.

One moment, I’m a younger version of myself, gliding through Coruscant, the next, I’m drawing my Sith touched blade on clone troopers. A voice tells me I’ve done a good job and calls me a good girl. Then a hand stabs me through my stomach and pokes out the other side, and I crumple to the ground wondering why.  

I know I didn’t sleep long by the time I’ve woken up. I turn the lights back on and rebraid my hair, but I don’t bother to touch the shower or bathroom. I vow that if I do, I’m not flushing. I’ll just drop and sprint, and laugh when the next person who comes in gives an audible ‘ugh’. I can’t wait.

As I exit the room, I see that all the lights are off. Someone is asleep on a chair in the corner, obviously meant to keep guard. The entire ship is dead silent, with only the blue glow from hyperspace letting in any light. My boots scuff against the floor with every step, though they are dry and soft in terms of noise.

Despite the stillness in the air, I can sense another presence wide awake. It is not me. Something tells me it’s not Adamus either. I squint my eyes in the direction of one of the hallways, just managing to make out the outline of a figure in the darkness.

The blue light betrays. It sweeps across the mans face, giving me a split second for me to lose my mind. Although I only saw a sliver for an instant, I saw enough to recognize him. Sharp cheekbones, amber eyes, square jaw, and tanned skin. A Clone.

Immediately, I whirl around and dive back into the room. The door slides closed behind me and I hurry to lock it- double lock it. Triple lock it. Then I stand in the center of the medical bay, eyes wide as butterflies shrivel up and die inside my stomach. My heart pounds against my Adam’s apple. My head screams with terror. My lungs, already sore from my injuries, wince with stress.

How did he get here? Is he the one with the yellow stripe? Does he recognize me? Is he going to kill me? I don’t know. All I do know is that I’m not safe. I let my guard down, and of course this is what I get for it. I should’ve expected one of them to be here. It’s my fault for being so stupid.

Yeah, yeah it’s my fault. I’m stupid. I’m an idiot. I can’t do anything right. And I’m guilty of serial murder.

I jump into bed, twitching. Then I grip the covers and pull them over my head, like I imagine small children do in fear. My eyes remain wide open and glance around quickly. My one good ear is ready to pick up on anything even remotely suspicious sounding.

I didn’t get any sleep the rest of that night. I never dared to leave my room so late again.

I must’ve closed my eyes at some point, though it was after several hours and closer to the middle of morning at that point. I wasn’t tired when I woke up. I was still alarmed and buzzing with paranoia from the night before. When I wrestle myself out from the covers, I slam them down to the bed. Then I stomp over to the door, biting my lip to keep my left handing from twitching.

The moment I unlock the door, I am face to face with Aheka. “Oh, hello,” she chirps, obviously not expecting such a sudden door opening. In her arms is a light gray tray with several colorful bumps on a plate. She sees me eyeing and immediately offers up an explanation. “I uh, thought you’d be hungry. I brought you breakfast… or lunch.”

After a silent debate in my head and a small eyeroll on my part, I slowly position my body to the side, offering her a way in the room. She looks at me quizzically for a second, sending me rushing to point out the obvious. “You can come in,” I explain, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

“Oh, oh yes of course.” She ducks her horned head and hurries to place the food on a counter. Aheka’s hands move around wildly while she whispers to herself, setting up my course as if I were royalty.

“You don’t have to do that, I can handle it.”

“That’s okay,” she says, though she stops at once, nervousness still present on her aura.

“I…” don’t say it, Keres. Don’t you dare say it.

"Don’t worry about it,” she finishes for me. “I get it. About yesterday.”

Oh. She thought I was going to apologize. I wasn’t, but I watch the tension alleviate from her shoulders, and I decide it’s better this way. Looking back to the tray of fruit she brought for me, a smile plays on her lips. “I bet your name is something really pretty,” she says aloud. “Like a flower.”

I narrow my eyes as she speaks. My hands ball into fists at my side. “Yeah. I bet it’s beautiful,” Aheka continues.

It’s hard to be angry with her. Even towards the end of our time together, it was hard to even imagine being angry with her. Aheka Shyn is not someone who just lets people be upset if she doesn’t think it’ll help. She’s the healer. The caregiver. The nurturer. She always would be.

"Keres,” I blurt out suddenly. My bottom lip sucks between my teeth as soon as the statement falls from behind them.

“What?”

I inhale sharply. “Keres. Vagor. My name is Keres Vagor.”

Aheka is still for moment. Her smile graces her lips again, and her eyes crinkle upwards. “Well, Keres, I was right. Your name is beautiful.”

I don’t know how to respond to this. My throat feels dry. I know I’m looking at her with a ridiculous blank expression on my face,  but I don’t know how to take compliments. I don’t get a lot of them that don’t directly translate to toxicity in my mind. Instead, I briskly walk over to the desk she set the tray on, keeping my head down in an attempt to cover my heated cheeks. Then I sit quickly, not daring move my eyes from the plate.

“So, Adamus. He’s pretty cute right?”

Blinking to make sure my left ear isn’t playing tricks on me, I furrow my brows. “What are you implying?”

“Aheka,” a male voice interrupts another one of my conversations. Just as it was getting important, too. “One of the men sustained a burn in the engine room and requires your attention.”

“Right away, Paux.” The lovely Togruta turns her head back to me. “Duty calls,” she nods. I watch her horned form leave and hear the door whistle shut behind her.

I was right. Your name is beautiful.

Aheka seems… kind. So far, at least. Kind people don’t really exist to me. They’re just unkind people looking for an entrance to my heart, and more often than not they get it out of sheer guilt. This is ironically what prompts me to accept the food. I tell myself it didn’t come from the Rebellion, it came from Aheka. For her sake, I’ll eat.

I wolf the colorful lumps down, savoring each more than the last. All of them are sweet, juicy- unlike any meal I’ve had up to this point. The berries are richer than the fish I speared on Endor. The seeds mixed in are crunchier than any meat I’ve ever cooked. If someone were to walk in at this very moment, I would have looked like a madwoman. Whatever, let them see. I feel like royalty with these foods.

I still don’t accept the shower or toilet. They can go screw themselves on that front.

When I leave the room, the command center is just as busy as it was when I first saw it. Everyone is bustling about, chatting, watching the holomap. There’s no Clone in sight. However, I can see Adamus nod his head at one of the men in uniform I saw yesterday while holding some papers. I make myself invisible in the crowd before he can look up and notice me- an art I’ve perfected from years on the run. The crowd carries me next to a large, circular arch showing off the fancy console and chairs for two pilots. In the window in front of it, the familiar blue and white blurs of hyperspace whiz pass. I sidestep into the nook and take a breath. I’d forgotten how much I dislike being so close to strangers.

“Oh, hello to you too,” a grumpy voice greets me. In the pilots chair, a man spins it around to face me. Just by his appearance, I instantly catch my breath in my throat. It’s not that he’s breathtakingly handsome or anything. He’s not like Adamus- not that Adamus is handsome by any means. It’s just that the pilot reminds me of someone I had tried to put behind me less than a rotation ago.

I internally scream at myself to stop myself from yelling out “Mur!” Because, it’s not Mur. No matter how much I may want it to be, it’s not. It’s just some other shmuck in Mandolorian-esque armor. He looks about the same age as Mur was- anywhere from early thirties to mid-forties, with dark hair buzzed down like a soldier. His eyes aren’t the same though. They’re amber and rung with tired circles. But something about the way this one clicks his jaw, the angle of his cheeks… it makes me think of him.

“You’re the one they caught on Endor, aren’t you? Heh, you look like it. Name’s Circe,” the pilot says, gruffly. He extends an armored hand out to me. I clasp it and give it a firm shake- just as I would to Mur.

"Keres.” He nods and releases my hand. 

“The mysterious Jedi,” he prods with a smirk, poking his tongue between his lips as he leans back and kicks his feet over the console. In this way, he is not like Mur at all. Mur would never let a stain anywhere near the control room, nor would he appear so vulnerable for even a moment.

I move my hand out in a slicing motion and step forward to interject. “Is that what they’re calling me? I’m not a Jedi.”

Circe’s expression changes smoothly as he leans forward and removes his feet from the console. His eyes bore into mine curiously, the ghost of a smile still evident on his lips. “You might want to tell that to about seventy percent of the population of this ship. I take it the Jedi screwed you over too, eh?”

I only raise my eyebrow at him questioningly in response.

“Heh, yeah. Me too.” Circe presses a button on the right side of the console and addresses me without taking his eyes off the space in front. “We’re only a click away from Ilum. Might wanna get saddled up.”

I nod and saunter out. He watches me go over his shoulder, thinking I don’t notice, but I do. The control room surrounding the holotable has cleared out significantly as the ship rocks and shakes. Overhead, Circe’s voice rasps out a piece of advice. “Passengers of The Harbinger, we’re approaching Ilum. I suggest you take a seat and secure yourself.”

From the ceiling, a handle drops to my height. I wrap my fist around it just in time as the ship lurches roughly. There is a slow drop, then a boom, another rock, and stillness. “Passengers of The Harbinger, we have landed.”

“That was the worst landing you’ve done yet!” someone calls out.

Static passes over the comms, and then Circe speaks again. “Calvin, I will end your life.”

A few people spill out from the many doorways of the ship, Aheka among them. Adamus pushes his way to the front, eyebrows furrowing when he meets my gaze. From the cockpit nook, Circe emerges, polishing his armored fist. He raises his eyes to see the entire crew looking at me.

“Keres,” Adamus addresses, dragging out the name like he knows my dirty little secret now. I would’ve been mad at Aheka for telling him if it wasn’t so busy thinking of all the different ways to skin him alive.

“Adamus.”

His eyes flick between mine, searching for something. “Back to your positions, all of you,” he commands. The crew bustles to life at once, Aheka giving me a small, reassuring smile before evaporating into the crowd, even with the horns on her head. “Circe, open up the door please.”

Circe shrugs and presses a button on the console. Behind me, a door slides open, followed by the ramp that springs to life. A rush of cold air swarms my senses, drawing me into a state of blissful nostalgia. I can see the purity of the bright, white snow through the door. I can see the wind racking against the ships metal. I can see… home.  

I take a step onto the ramp, hair immediately whipping around behind me. My eyes flutter in adjustment to the wind. In the distance, the more steps I take, I can see more of what I didn’t know I’d needed until now.

I can see the mountains in the North. I can see the sea of snow in the west, the lake (previously unfrozen) in front of me. It’s my home. 

I could… I could leave them here. I could find my cabin! Oh, my cabin! I’m certain it’s still there! I could pretend that… that Order Sixty-Six never happened. That the Purge was a dream. I could let everything go. No light side, no dark side. No nothing. Just me.

I turn back to face Adamus, whose eyes linger on me. “Nights on Ilum last as long as nineteen rotations. If it’s still light right now, I probably won’t be back before the darkness sets in.”

“Sounds like a long night,” he quips.

"It will be.”

Please let this be the last time we speak to each other.

“As a gentleman, I’m obligated to say that I’ll wait for you, of course.” Adamus’s eyes shift to the mountains behind me. “I take it you’re just here to… look around?”

“This and that,” I evade with a shrug. He already knows what I’ll be doing. He’s been here before, we both know that, too. He knows I won’t be coming back, but he dares me to do it anyway. He’s a smug bastard.

Adamus looks me up and down for what may be the millionth time. “You cold?”

“No, I’m okay. I’m perfectly okay,” I say. I am okay. That’s not a lie. The air is chilly, but I welcome it. Tatooine was a hot planet. Endor was much better. Neither were Ilum. Regardless, Adamus pulls off a thick aviator jacket that reminds me of Garreth’s and tosses it to me. I eye it suspiciously.

It’s soft, and after Adamus gently says “It doesn’t bite, I promise,” I tug it on. Admittedly, it does make me feel warmer- even though I didn’t need or want it in the first place.

“Thanks,” I say, slowly.

“I’m a gentleman, remember?”

Adamus catches my eyes and holds his gaze. It doesn’t take long for me to ease into it, slowly giving him a soft smile. This is the only time I’m not cringing at an interaction between the two of us. He returns it silently.

“When you get back…” he clears his throat, dropping his stare nervously. “When you get back, we’ll talk.”

“Right. When I get back.”

Never.

We hold each other’s eyes for a moment more. I’m the one to break it when I turn away from him to observe the path ahead of me. Then I set forth on my journey.

I missed the struggle of walking through snow. I missed the sharp winds and the flakes and the ice. I missed being here- being home.

[mistymark]

the one with the tattoo.

soulmate!au // mark lee x reader // 2.7k words // masterlist // send requests here

summary; in which y/n’s tattoo suddenly disappears and it might be because of the boy from the go-kart track

warnings; pure fluff, humour if u squint

requested; yes -- “So sorry for bothering you. Can you do a soulmate au with Mark Lee where they both have the first words they say to eachother inked into their wrist or something like that. It would be great if it was kinda fluffy and funny. Sorry for bothering you again. I love your work” (also you are not bothering me at all thank u so much for requesting)

notes; banged this out the same day I got the request how good am I not very good I still have 60 requests kefjhvkjfv im so sorry I just felt so inspired // also this is so unedited im so sorry

----

Excited squeals and the stomping of footsteps outside your room alerted you to your friends’ arrival, “Y/n! Are you up? It’s time for go-karting!” You could hear Chenle’s smile through the door.

“They have other things, too, Le,” Jaemin’s voice was quieter, but you could still make it out through the door. 

Renjun’s voice broke through the other boys’, “Y/n! Get up!”

“I’m up! I’m up! Promise,” you grabbed the last of your clothes and started getting changed quickly. “Someone wake up Jeno.”

“Oh shit, yeah,” Jaemin’s footsteps retreated from outside your door, while Chenle and Jisung continued pounding on your door, knocking to the beat of a song you couldn’t hear.

When you were ready, you stepped out of your dorm room, finding all the boys waiting for you, “What’s so special about this track anyway?”

“It’s the biggest go-karting track in the country,” Renjun whispered. “Don’t ask more questions. They’ve been talking about it for at least half an hour; I can’t take anymore.”

You laughed and pushed him towards the stairwell, ready to leave. Jeno was trying to tug on a denim jacket and lock his door a few doors down from you, his wallet in his mouth. “Jeno! Come on!”

He made a few sounds of exasperation as he finally tugged the key out of the lock, his words muffled by the wallet. He jogged to catch up with the rest of you as you entered the stairwell.

You tugged at your left sleeve, the material of your sweater stopping right at your wrist, where the small tattoo resided, leaving it exposed. Donghyuck noticed your movement, “You’d think your soulmate would have something more interesting to say than just ‘you, too, huh?’ when they first meet you.”

Rolling your eyes, you elbowed him as you continued your descent to the lobby, “Have you even met your soulmate yet, Hyuck?”

He glared at you, the circle below his right ear a soft blue, the temperature slightly cool and indicating his soulmate was still quite far away. It had taken your group months to figure out what the coloured circle was, having never had changed, yet a week-long roadtrip up the coast caused it to change to a warm orange and the boy to complain about how warm it was. He had decidedly said he never wanted to go back there again, not wanting to suffer from it, but Jaemin had mentioned Donghyuck had asked if they’d be interested in going again this year.

On the other hand, everyone just took a wild guess at yours from the beginning, the dark smudge on the inside of your wrist that you were born with slowly forming the words ‘you, too, huh?’. As far as tattoos go, this had to be the lamest one you’d ever seen. When you were eight, you’d already guessed they would be your soulmate’s first words to you, or else just a really random yet significant thing they would say.

You had mourned your tattoo until you’d met your current friends, back in seventh grade; Hyuck’s temperature gage and Jisung’s countdown, a timer that consistently counted down until he met his soulmate. Jaemin could hear his soulmate’s voice only when she wished for something, and Jeno’s eyes matched his soulmate’s hair colour (At least, you presumed they were hair colours, his eyes had been brown for a while, before switching to blue and then silver for a while. He dyed his hair white in hopes of getting the message to his soulmate, and the colour of his eyes returned to a deep brown after that). Renjun couldn’t see colour until he was nine, and he met his soulmate, but he moved after that and doesn’t remember what they had looked like. Chenle and his soulmate were able to share their dreams, and he said even though he had conversations and they had done all these things together, he knew he didn’t look like himself in his dream, and neither did they, probably. He frequently said it was frustrating to know everything about someone except for what they looked like, and never know when you would officially meet. 

It was after discovering their own soulmate tells that you decided yours probably wasn’t so bad, but it still aggravated you slightly when they made fun of how dumb the tattoo was. Having reached the bottom of the stairs, Hyuck poked his tongue out at you, before shrugging, “I know where she is.”

The group piled into the car, ready to drive to your country’s largest go-karting track (”And arcade,” Renjun pointed out). When you arrived, you booked your time slot and decided to play some of the games in the arcade for twenty minutes until your slot, which would be your group of seven and an additional five, making for a group of twelve drivers.

After dominating Renjun in dance dance revolution twice, and losing to Jisung four times (in a row, too), you made your way to the track’s entry for your briefing. Your wrist was aching a little, but you figured it was just from going a little too hard on the whack-a-mole game with Jaemin. 

Five other guys were already sitting on the benches, eager to get started, and the staff member talked you through the process. “Each of you will receive one of these,” he held up a small rubber bracelet, “which will have your helmet number, kart number and locker number on it, just so we can keep track of our helmets and so you don't lose any of your belongings. So, once I get Woosung out,” he cupped his hand around his mouth and called out to another employee, who you assumed to be Woosung, “we can get you guys suited up. Let’s go.”

He directed you to a makeshift pitstop, writing in your numbers into the bracelets. Woosung came and grabbed your bracelet, while the original staff member (who you now knew to be Dowoon) grabbed another, standing in front of one of the five strangers beside you. Jaemin bumped your shoulder in excitement, causing you to stumble slightly, your hand only just brushing against the stranger’s.

The staff members clicked on the bracelets around your wrists at the same time, and the searing pain in your wrist became evident as you gasped, cradling it in pain once Woosung had moved to Jaemin to repeat the process. The boy beside you seemed to have the same issue, rubbing his wrist around the rubber bracelet, “You, too, huh?”

Not realising he had been talking to you, you looked up at him, “Oh, uh, yeah. They put these things on tight.”

He cracked a smile, and you were momentarily stunned. His dark brown hair dangled over his forehead and his large eyes met yours, creasing a little at the sides as he smiled at you, “Right?” He laughed, “My wrist was already hurting from doing bowling.”

“We did all the arcade games before this, so, mine was sore from, you know, absolutely dominating the whack-a-mole game.”

He laughed with you, before his attention was averted onto the staff members, now instructing you to put on your helmets before getting into the karts.

The boy beside you shot you a playful smile, “Let’s get it.”

You wished him good luck before finding your kart, saluting Jeno as you climbed in, “Prepare to be destroyed, mother-”

The starting up of the engines drowned out your voice, and you could hear Jeno laughing from beside you. You used the distraction to your advantage, able to quickly pass him as soon as the lights above you turned green. Whooping in victory, you worked on passing the others.

Four laps later and you were third place, trying to gain on the kart in front of you, whose number you didn’t recognise as one of your own friends’. The person coming first was miles ahead, drifting perfectly around the corners and picking up speed along the straights, determined to win. The person only a few feet ahead of you, however, didn’t have such talent, and you were gaining on them.

When it finally got to the long stretch of straight, you took your opportunity, speeding up a little more on the bend than you normally would, cutting it tight on the corner to become level with second place. You were now racing alongside each other, both of you pressing down as hard as possible on the accelerators to try and pass one another. Out of curiosity, you turned your head slightly to the other kart, and were surprised to see the boy from before next to you.

He grinned at you slightly before furrowing his brows in mock competitiveness, hunching closer to the steering wheel as if that would make him faster. You laughed and adopted the same position, before pulling your foot off the accelerator slightly when you approached the corner, but going on the inside of the other kart and becoming tied once again.

You passed the finishing line and the screen above the track told you this was your last lap, so you decided to get a little risky with it. In the middle of a bumpy section, you nudged your kart over slightly, bumping into the boy’s and causing him to sidetrack slightly, and you were now second place, the boy only just behind you. 

He started drifting back slightly, and you thought nothing of it until he jerked his cart sideways, the front gracefully smacking into the back end of your own, causing you to lose control and fight to keep your kart pointing in the right direction. You glared at him before jerking your steering wheel to the left and pushing against the side of his kart, with him holding his to the right, the screeching of the karts unpleasant to the ear.

Coming up with an idea, you grinned at him, before stomping on the brake, causing the boy’s kart to go veering off to the right, and allowing you to step on the accelerator, overtaking him with ease. You heard laughter coming from another driver as they, too, overtook your opponent, and you whooped as you crossed the finish line; second place was officially yours.

You stepped out of your kart in the pitstop area, removing your helmet and receiving congratulations from your friends, Jisung clapping you on the back and expressing his awe at your driving.

“I saw you brake and I thought you were hurt!” Jaemin said, rushing over from where he'd stepped out of his kart, coming in second last. He looked at you carefully, before patting you on the head in congratulations.

You looked over at the other group, the other four chanting “Jaehyun! Jaehyun! Jaehyun!” at a boy with purple hair, who presumably came in first. A taller boy, who you noticed had come in last, was complaining to another, “My legs are so long I could barely fit in the kart! No wonder I came last.” He pouted and the smaller hit him in the arm, laughing.

Upon realising he was still holding his helmet, the boy you had been racing against jogged back to where your group was standing, “Hey, nice driving for someone with a sore wrist.”

You smiled, “I could say the same to you, no?”

He laughed and nodded his head, glancing at the floor, “I guess you could.”

Dowoon turned to him, “Right, thanks, dude. You can bin the bracelet over there.” He pointed to a trash can on the way out of the track. The boy nodded and jogged to catch up with his friends, releasing the bracelet gently from his wrist before throwing it in the bin.

“Are we ready to leave?” Renjun asked, releasing the bracelet from his wrist. Everyone nodded (except Jisung and Jeno, who still wanted to play some of the arcade games) and walked towards the exist. Somehow hot from the adrenaline rush, you rolled your sleeves up, fiddling with the bracelet mindlessly as you looked for your locker number.

Without looking, you binned the bracelet, grabbing the locker key from your pocket to get your things.

“That was fun,” Hyuck grinned at his phone, waiting for you to grab the last of your belongings. “I didn’t expect you to be such a badass on the track.”

You laughed with him, holding your locker door with one hand and putting the other on your hip, a jokingly sassy tone evident in your voice, “Are you saying im not a badass everywhere else?”

He looked up then, his eyes wandering from your face to your locker door before they widened in shock, “Y/n, what happened to your tattoo?”

Confused, you glanced at your wrist, “What do you mean- oh my god. What happened to my tattoo?”

Donghyuck grabbed your other hand, flipping it over to examine the inside of your wrist, “Okay, I thought I'd stuffed up which hand it was on for a second. But this,” he lifted both your wrists to your face, both of them bare, “this is not normal!”

The commotion drew the attention of the other boys, who all wandered back into the room, wondering what was going on. “Why are you taking so long? We have-”

“Y/n’s tattoo is gone,” Donghyuck said, showing them your wrists.

Jisung’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, “What?! How?”

Suddenly a thought came to your mind, “When we were getting our bracelets! I thought Woosung had just put it on too harshly, because my wrist was sore. It must’ve been the tattoo!”

Jeno shot you a confused look, “Does that mean Woosung is your soulmate? I mean, age is just a number but, isn’t he a little old?”

You frowned in thought, “Yeah.”

“Did he say it?” Renjun asked, peering at you from behind the giants you called friends. Everyone looked at him in confusion. He rolled his eyes, “The words. You know, the ones that’ve been tattooed on your skin for the past hundred years.”

You glared at him, “Not one hundred years. And, no, he didn’t.”

“Then who-”

There was a loud clanging sound as the door was pushed open, and the boy you’d raced against before stood in the doorway. His hair was tousled from the helmet, and his eyes wide, “Totally random question, but, um, did you have a tattoo by any chance? You know, one that just magically disappeared.”

The whole group was stunned, and Jeno placed his hand on your shoulder briefly before ushering everyone out, leaving you and the boy alone.

“No?” The boy deflated, and you noticed the sleeve of his flannel was rolled up on one side.

“No!” You yelled, watching as he turned to leave. “I mean, no, don’t leave. Yes, I had a tattoo.”

“Your sore wrist-”

“Must’ve been when the tattoo disappeared,” you nodded, your smile widening as you took in his face.

He whistled, “Thank God. I wasn’t sure if it had disappeared when you bumped into me, or when that other guy put the bracelet on.”

You laughed, “I thought my soulmate was Woosung!”

He shook his head, “No wonder we’re soulmates; we’re both idiots.”

You caught the twinkle in his eye as he looked at you for a moment, finally able to take in your appearance. Suddenly shy, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “So, um, I’m Y/n.”

“Oh! Right,” he stuck his hand out. You took it shyly. “Mark.”

You nodded in greeting, “Hi.”

“Hey,” he breathed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Do you, er, wanna get a hotdog or something? That’s all I saw they sold at the minibar so-”

“I’d love to,” you grinned, grabbing your bag and hoisting the strap over your shoulder. 

He glanced at you as you made your way the eating area, “You know this means I’m going to have to verse you again in go-karting, right? I was injured the first time, you know.”

“Ah, but so was I,” you smiled smugly at him. “But I’m up for that.”

Mark turned his attention to the boards of food displayed above the minibar’s counter, a small smile still evident on his face, his cheeks flushed slightly pink, “Great. It’s a date, then.”

[simonlovelazy]

Saeran/Reader Halloween Fic

This is my very late contribution to the Halloween craze!!!

(Hey, it’s still Halloween here, ok?)

Title: The One Without a Costume

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Pairing: Saeran/ Reader, Saeran/You

Tags: Teen and up audiences, mostly crack, attempt at writing something hot lol

Word count: 2452

Summary: You have a theory about people going to costume parties without costumes, but maybe Saeran will manage to change your mind?

takes place somewhere in the secret endings or whenever you want it to

   AO3 link

  The One Without a Costume

You would need way more fingers to count how many times you've heard the good old "don't judge a book by its cover" speech. But there is at least one situation when the rule does not apply. If you're at a costume party, a Halloween costume party to make the sin of dullness even more pronounced, and see a guy sporting his casual clothes, you know exactly what kind of story he is.

        You wait for Halloween the way kids wait for their Christmas gifts, and you’d happily buy yourself an Advent calendar counting down the days of October instead of December, but you don’t think anyone has ever come up with an idea to produce one. You always think what you’re going to dress up as in advance; it takes days to gather the supplies and fabrics, and then even more days (and nights) to sew and glue things together. While the process in itself is a joy, the costume party is the crowning moment, and this you enjoy the most.

          Some people can’t spend so much time or money on their costumes, or they simply don’t care as much as you, and it’s perfectly fine. A bandage mummy and a sheet ghost are not a repelling view – you enjoy the last-moment costumes and giggle at these conveying a pun.

        But the ones without a costume? They don’t attend these parties to have some fun, no, they’re here to announce how much they despise dressing-up, you, and the notion of having fun altogether. Excuse me, sir, but is this too much fun for you? Should we turn the music down? Or maybe, take our stupid costumes and get out?

        You shift from foot to foot. Who would have thought your mouth would turn into the Sahara after a song or two of dancing (and violent singing along)? And this guy! He isn't even pouring himself the damn punch!

        That's it. You readjust your protruding fang, grab a hold of your cloak, and march in the direction of the notorious punch-stirrer with a sense of dignity, head held up high.

        The tactic is to intimidate him with your sheer presence, so without a word, you stand next to him and wait. You have to give him that – even if nothing says “to hell with Halloween” more than a basic black and white raglan t-shirt, the atmosphere around him is saturated with gloom. You’re almost grateful he’s ignoring you and hasn't even looked up from the damn bowl. If his stiff posture and silent determination in stirring can be any determiners, his glare must kill on the spot.

        And so he looks up. "What?"

        You gasp.

        You were right about intensity of his stare. But boy, are his eyes a spooky surprise! One gold and one mint eye narrow at you. The only thing today you expected less than this was the guy who suddenly detached his hand and threw it across the room, scoring well-deserved three points and a little round of applause when it slapped the host across his beautiful face.

        Oh, and also:

        "You look just like this dude running around in a dress! The one with wings and a halo."

        He closes his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.

        "Take what you need and go away."

        You do a once- over at the table. Melting ghost-cupcakes, cookies with yellow pumpkins made of watery icing, and... you actually don't know what cups of dirt are supposed to resemble, or if they're edible at all. Really makes you wonder how much Zen splurged on catering this year.

        "Yeah, but no, just wanted something to drink. Are you done with this?" you ask, pointing at the punch. He hasn't let go of the ladle for a single moment.

        "No," he answers with a scowl. "Still haven't found it."

        "Found what?"

        "My other lens."

        Suddenly you're not thirsty anymore. How do you lose a contact lens in a bowl of punch is a mystery you don't venture to solve.

        "Are you going to put it back in your eye when you find it?"

        He actually dumps the ladle and throws you the most incredulous look you've ever been gifted. He has quite a repertoire of glares, you must say.

        "No."

        "Then, why not forget about it and enjoy the party? But first, maybe flush the whole thing down the toilet, 'cause if someone chokes himself to death, I'll be the first one to point at you to the cops."

        "At least if someone chokes, we’ll have one convincing ghost in here," he says half-smiling, which suits him in a devilish kind of way. And he’s kinda right – the ghost girls in short skirts may be cute, but they have small chances to scare anyone present.

        You're about to make a brilliant remark when he grabs the massive vessel and walks off.

        "Come on, you'll open the door for me," he throws without turning his head, and you find yourself scurrying behind him before you have the time to question it.

The trip isn't long which isn't surprising considering the size of the apartment. The problem is that there are more people squeezed on one square metre than it should be physically possible, and still more and more guests pours in and, naturally, at least half of the gathering is partying in the line to the bathroom. There's Aladdin and his Carpet (she's not having a good time, you can tell), a promiscuous cat, three colourful feathery beings, and yes, you have found Wally, and guessing by the colour of his face, he really needs to go in asap.

        "Kitchen?"

        "Kitchen."

When the punch is finally gone in the kitchen sink, or more precisely, spluttered all over the mountains of the dirty dishes (still no signs of the lens to be seen), you start shifting uncomfortably. It must be a Halloween miracle (or rather a trick of fate) because there’s no one in the kitchen save for you and the guy without a costume.

        Only the muted echoes of music reach in here, so when you clear your throat, the sound is deafening. “I think I should go now.”

        “Why so fast? Is anyone waiting for you?” he asks. He's leaning on the counter, the tap behind his back letting out droplets like a metronome. One silence, two silences, three silences...

        In the pale light of the full moon, seeping through the window on the side, the shadows on his face become more pronounced and sinister. Even though he's not wearing a terrifying disguise, or any disguise at all, he gets a shiver out of you.

        “I came here with a friend.”

        “But?” he initiates, raising an eyebrow. Maybe he noticed how you were dancing alone on the makeshift dance floor.

        “But the last time I saw her, she was getting handsy with a werewolf in the parking lot.”

        He hums thoughtfully. “She shouldn't have left you alone.”

        It may be an attempt at consolation, but the way he says it earns another shiver from you. Was his voice low like this earlier?

        You step back to lean on the fridge and fold your arms, trying to mirror his casualness.“What are you doing here, anyway? You don't strike me as a costume-party animal.”

        “Wasn't really my choice. I had to come because I'm in the same organisation as our Zen.”

        The only organisation that comes to your mind is the RFA, but again, he doesn't look like a guy doing charity work. Not that you have time to mull it over with him lazily leaving his spot and coming in your direction.

        Suddenly you understand the infamous toil of breathing in a corset.

        “And you? A musical actor, perhaps?” he asks, jumping on a counter next to the fridge. You don't like how his new spot allows him to look down at you.

        For a terrible second you think the hand he's reaching out will be placed somewhere on you, and you freeze in both panic and anticipation. You only allow yourself to breath out when it lands above your head and starts playing with magnets.

        It’s hard to tell if he's playing with you or being clueless.

        What was the question again?

        “Haha, no. The werewolves-favouring girl is. I'm just the unnecessary plus one.”

        He takes his hand away from the fridge, visibly pleased with the rearranged magnetic letters. You twist your neck to see better, and surely enough, they spell some nasty words. How old is he?

        A warm breath tingles your exposed skin where the high collar has slid down a little, the stranger still hovering above your head. You will yourself to face him again, but then, oh Lord, his playful smirk can't mean anything good.

        This time his hand aims for you, you can tell by how his funny eyes never leave your face. He's not hurrying anywhere, and you can't stand the anticipation; it's hard to stand still as he closes the distance between you even more, ever so slowly.

        Against your better judgement, you pucker up your lips, but his hand doesn't cup your face like you hoped it would. Instead, he gets the hold of your chin with his thumb, and the next thing you know, the soft pad of his index finger traces the outline of your lips. He brushes your cupid's bow with a feathery-like delicacy, grazes your bottom lip, and pushes it slightly down. You open your mouth just a little, paying no heed to the gasp escaping it in the process, and only then you realise that the poking out fang has been painfully biting on your lip the whole time.

        “I wouldn't say–”

        “Saeran!” Someone turns all the lights on. “Stop hiding out like that, my costume is incomplete without you!”

        You jump away from said Saeran, adjust the collar of your cloak in the name of decency, and wholeheartedly hope that your pale make-up manages to cover the blush underneath.

        Saeran's clone creeps in the threshold, clutching a hem of his white gown with an unexpected skill and grace.

        “Oh! Am I interrupting something?” he asks innocently, but comes a couple steps closer to the two of you.

        “Yes, yes, you are!” Saeran growls, straightening. You can't help but share his annoyance. What it was exactly and where it was going – you don't know – and now, you may never get the chance to find out.

        “Sorry~” Saeran's clone wears a mischievous grin which doesn't quite match the halo on his head. “At least put on these,” he says, throwing something in your general direction. Only when Saeran catches it, you can take a better look. It's a head-band with devil's horns attached to it.

        So he has a costume, after all. Not the most elaborate, but still better than nothing. He doesn’t look too keen to wear it, though.

        "No horns, no party!” the one in a dress yells enthusiastically.

        "I’ll choose ‘no party,’ then."

        "Not an option! Sorry, I’m not the one making the rules. So, suit up and come – let's get this party started with some conga line, whaddya say?” he's about to leave when he turns around once more, “The vampire princess is also invited~”

        And with the last wiggle of his eyebrows, the dress-clad guy is gone.

        You snatch the horns from Saeran's hands – it's the cheap-plastic kind of deal you can get at any festival. And surely enough, you find the switch. The glowing red horns land on his head, sticking out almost seamlessly from his dishevelled red locks.

        “And now you too?” He tries to throw it off, but you stop him.

        “Oh, c’mon! Make my millennium.” You step back a little to give him an assessing look. “Suits you.”

        Saeran shakes his head in a feigned disbelief, “There’s a special spot in hell for sinners like you.”

        “I’d love to find out what you’d do to me if I got there, but I’m afraid I’m immortal.” You say in, what you hope is, a seductive whisper.

        From this angle, the red lights glimmer in his eyes like a warning.

        “We'll have to make do with the time we have tonight,” he says.

        It must have been flirting done right because he grabs you by your waist, bringing you closer to him.

        “Wanna get out of here, princess?” he murmurs to your ear, the timbre of his husky voice shattering your facade of composure.

        You only manage to hum in response, but it’s enough, and soon you find yourself lead out the kitchen and through the crowd of sweaty bodies, his hand never letting go of yours. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you’re looking around afraid that Saeran’s brother will appear in front of you to ruin the fun.

        It’s been a while since you’ve done something spontaneous, and somehow Saeran seems to be a perfect person to be irresponsible with. God, you needed this. You run and giggle at how stupid it is that you’re dressed up as a vampire and yet feel so alive.

        When you finally reach the door, you still keep an eye on the surroundings, making sure you’re out of radar range while Saeran is skimming trough the overflowing hallstand. You came here wearing only your cloak, but something tells you, you won’t be cold tonight. He finally pulls out his leather jacket from underneath the tons of other clothes, but he’s not done there until he fishes out car keys from some other jacket’s pocket.

        “It’s not yours, is it?” you ask, but he only smiles in a truly devilish way and goes out.

        Yes, definitely, he’s not the bore you took him for. The party hasn’t even started yet.

        You only catch him up at the end of the staircase leading out of this weird underground apartment. He pushes the door open, ready to go into the night, knowing that you’ll follow, but you tag at his arm stalling him in place.

        “No, wait!”

        He turns to you with an adorably puzzled look, and you do the only logical thing. His jacket isn’t zipped up, it barely hangs on him, and it’s almost too easy to stand up on your toes and aim where every vampire would. The contact ends in a blink, but leaves you gasping for breath.

        Your dark lipstick leaves a mark on his pale neck. He looks pleased, but still very much puzzled, and the recognition lights up in his eyes only when you jingle the keys in his face.

        “I’m driving.”

~~

On that day, Yoosung promised himself that under no circumstances will he ever take care of party snacks again.

[poeticsandaliens]

A Pirate’s Life For Me Ch. 9

Pairing: Stella/Scully

Rating: M?

Summary: Aboard Spender’s ship, Stella makes a bargain for Mulder and Scully’s release.

Previous Chapters: 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Full Story on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11405793/chapters/25547709

This chapter owned me for so long; I’m relieved to see it finished. We’re getting towards the end, and boy it’s a journey. Tagging @today-in-fic.

Stella’s eyes swept the ship dangerously, softening as they met Scully’s unbandaged one. She hopped from the ropes, landing with a thump between Spender and Scully. Scully felt half a dozen swords poke into her back as the pirates surrounded them.

Stella, I hope you know what you’re doing. The odds stood unquestionably against them. If Stella made a sudden move, Scully was certain a rapier would stick her through. Maybe Stella couldn’t be killed, but the rest of them certainly could.

Spender blew a puff of smoke in her face. “You must be the Dutchman’s illustrious captain,” he drawled, gazing at her lazily. He licked his lips, and his cheeks crinkled into a sneer. “I know a man who’d pay any price to see you dead.”

Stella lifted her sword point to the old man’s neck. The redcoats closed in, bayonets raised, but Spender calmly held up his hand. He dragged from his pipe.

“Fetch me Paul Spector,” she snarled, low and dangerous.

Spender chuckled, clicking his tongue. “Now, Captain Gibson, you’re in no place to make demands of me. Even if I were to acquiesce, Captain Spector is on shore, digging up your heart. Davy Jones won’t dare chase her enemy onto dry land.”

He broke off into a hacking cough, doubling over, one withered hand on his knee, the other clutching his pipe. “Captain,” he rasped, his hunched body rising to meet her eyes. “What will you give me in exchange for your revenge? A heart, perhaps?”

“Only your own heart, still beating. I could kill you; I have nothing to lose.”

“Captain Gibson,” he clucked hoarsely, “let me tell you what I think. I think you’re bluffing, and in fact, you have everything to lose. I think that pretty little redhead came here on your ship, and I think you’ve come to care very much about her safety.” He nodded to a scruffy sailor beside Scully. “She’s already missing one eye. Even her out and take the other.”

Stella whirled like a viper, blocking the buccaneer’s strike. “Don’t you touch her.”

Scully writhed against her restraints. “He’s playing you,” she growled, shoving her captor with her shoulder. “He’s a coward.”

Mulder shifted uncomfortably. Careful, Scully. She knew he was thinking it, even if he dared not speak aloud.

“The captain knows I’ve played her, Miss Scully,” Spender said coldly. “Who would have guessed the Dutchman’s deadalive bastard could love something through those hollow ribs of hers?”

Stella returned her sword to Governor Spender’s throat. “Where is Paul Spector?” she snarled. “Tell me where he is and I’ll make you a bargain you can’t refuse.”

Spender cleared his throat. “Spector is ashore.”

“Liar. You would never send Spector to shore alone. He would put that knife through my heart without hesitation, and you want me alive. Spector, though…” she tilted her head, studying the enemy with an unnerving stoicism.

Slowly, Spender reached into the pocket hanging from his belt and procured a small, silver blade rusted at the tip and crooked from abuse. “You’re right. I would never send him ashore if he could kill you. But if Spector wants to stab your heart, he needs this knife to do so.” His lips curled into a distorted grin. “No hard feelings, Sea Devil.”

Stella lifted her chin. “Perhaps a bargain. Quid pro quo. You let Mulder and Scully free, and I take their place. You bring me Paul Spector and walk away the most powerful man alive.”

Spender eyed her, smoke curling about his withered cheeks. “You seem adamant that Captain Spector be at your mercy.” He studied her, then blew another puff of smoke. “Why?”

“He’s a murderer who will serve his punishment.”

“We are all murderers, Gibson,” Spender patronized, clicking his tongue.

“He raped and murdered a woman aboard the Ophelia, and as its former captain, it is my duty to serve him justice.”

Spender snorted. “There is no justice among thieves,” he drawled. “Allow me to clarify my meaning: why do you think I will hand over Paul Spector at the snap of your fingers? You have many demands, Gibson, and I’ve no reason to acquiesce to such an unfavorable bargain.”

“Oh, I think you do,” growled Stella. “Captain Spender, you wither before our eyes. You are old, marching toward the death that will take us all, and you never knew enough about pirate myths to find my heart on your own. You needed Spector; you needed his youth and physicality, and his pirate roots. Now, though, you need him out of the way. If he got his hands on that knife he would turn on you in a heartbeat, but you can’t let that happen.” She leered at him. Scully had never seen this Stella—the vengeful Stella, tracing circles about Spenders body with her sword. It discomfited her to witness the lawless, no-holds-barred pirate in Stella, even if it manifested to earn their freedom. Perhaps it was a flawless performance, but Scully suspected that while dramatic, this Stella was not altogether a fabrication. She could feel Mulder shiver, mirroring the tingles on her spine.

Stella turned on her heel, her gaze sweeping Spender and his crew. “You couldn’t command the Dutchman; you couldn’t live alone with yourself in exchange for immortality. No, you only want to hold me under threat and use the Dutchman as your pawn, to destroy any competition to your country and company’s trade under the guise of bloodthirsty pirates. You’re not a corsair; you’re a statesman.

“And for that reason, you would do anything to make Spector disappear. At the first opportunity he’ll make off with the heart and ship himself and leave you bleeding to death beneath his flag. You knew that when you recruited him. You don’t have the manpower to kill him and his crew, so until he’s gone he’s a wrench in your plan.”

She lowered her sword. “Let me propose this: you let Mulder and Scully free. The Dutchman brings them home, and I remain your prisoner. Then, I duel Paul Spector to the death. With him out of your way, you take my heart, and the ship of demons sails under your command.”

“Scully,” Mulder whispered sharply.

She craned her neck to hear him. “What?”

“I need to know—” his voice was urgent— “do you really trust her?”

For an agonizing moment, Scully hesitated. She had trusted Stella nearly the night she’d met her, but somewhere down the line she’d come to desire and even love Stella Gibson. Love was dangerous, volatile, would gamble her heart in the hands of strangers if it thought they would love her back. Stella, though—she trusted Stella before she loved her, not because of it.

She angled her lips to his ear. “Yes Mulder. I trust her.”

Governor Spender seemed to shrivel beneath Stella’s glare, his face sinking haggardly into itself. He pursed his lips, and his wrinkles folded into something bitter and unhinged. He teetered on the precipice of temptation—it was so much easier to give into her demands than to resist. It was so much more pragmatic, and Scully could see Stella had backed him into a corner. He sighed raggedly and dipped his head in ascent.

“All right, Sea Devil. You have yourself a deal.” He nodded to his men. “Free the prisoners, but not until the moment you have her in cuffs.”

Stella dropped her sword and held out her wrists, but as Spender’s men reached for her, she backed into the wall of the ship until she stood between Scully and the crew. Scully could smell the sea on her hair and the gunpowder on her skin, she was so close. She breathed in the comfort of Stella.

“I want their weapons down,” Stella ordered.

Scully could see Spender redden impatiently. “Very well,” he croaked, snapping his fingers.

Slowly, the redcoats dropped their swords and pistols on the deck. A young man stepped forward with cuffs, and Scully winced as they clicked around Stella’s arms.

Stella turned to face her, coat brushing coat, skin brushing skin, if only for a moment. “Pirate’s life,” Stella whispered hoarsely. “Don’t worry for me.”

Scully tilted her head, to catch a glimpse of Stella’s face through her unbroken eye. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m saving your life,” she murmured, tightening her lips, “and I’m avenging the Ophelia. We’ve both done what we came here to do, Scully. We can ask for nothing more.”

Scully felt her own cuffs come loose, and beside her, Mulder let out a relieved breath. A gruff pair of hands tugged Stella’s shoulder.

“Go home,” she said calmly, as Spender disappeared into the Captain’s cabin, and three of his men guided Stella below deck. They carried her rapier, her pistol, her hat, reaping her history like market goods.

Another man in a scarlet uniform pushed Scully toward the plank. She doubled over. “Stella—” but a rough shove cut her off.

“The Dutchman will come for you,” promised Stella’s rolling voice. And that was the last Scully saw of her before she vanished into the brig.

The Dutchman will come for us, she repeated as she and Mulder were hoisted onto boxes.

“Whatever happened to walking the plank?” she heard Mulder grumble. He stood to her left, but where her peripheral vision might have captured him, there was only a bloody bandage and an emptiness that consumed her if she focused for too long.

The Dutchman will come for us, as their captors pushed their shoulders over the wall, tossed their swords and pistols into the waves, piece by piece. As crystal water churned and lapped for them, straining against the ship. The Dutchman will always come. She didn’t give Spender’s men the satisfaction of seeing her flail when she leapt into the water.

The waves were comfortingly cool, but she struggled to stay afloat in drenched clothing. Her eyes squeezed shut, she dove to the bottom and felt around the sand for her possessions. A pistol brushed her palm almost instantly, and she recognized its engraved handle as her father’s. Otherwise, all she felt was silt and salt, engulfing her in clouds.

She rose again, sputtering. “Mulder!” she shouted, wiping the salt water from her eye. His blurry shape emerged further from the retreating ship, and she swam toward him frantically. “Mulder, are you all right?” She ran her hand over his soaked cheek and clung to him like a lifeline.

He coughed and shook out his hair. “Yes,” he croaked, “although it hardly matters.” He treaded against the Caribbean sea, exhaustion settling into his features. “We’re going to die here. Either we’ll be killed when we set foot on that island, or we’ll drown.”

“No. We will not die here. I came to save your life, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” She pulled him out to sea by his shirt, putting distance between them and the Claudius. Spender’s men stood like slender trees along the wall of the ship, watching them flounder at sea.

Stella. She couldn’t help but look back at the foreboding vessel. Stella, Stella, Stella, her lover’s name crawled up her throat and into her ears, and all she could imagine when she glanced over her shoulder at the Claudius was Stella locked in its brig. Or perhaps seated across from Spender’s lecherous face, inhaling his pipe smoke. She thought of his wrinkled hands mishandling Stella’s beating heart while she wasted below deck, bent to his orders. Would Stella ever let Spender take the Dutchman from her? Or would she rather he let some hapless soldier stab her heart, and be bound to her ship for eternity? She would think of holding them off until the Dutchman returned Mulder and Scully to Port Washington.

No. They wouldn’t go to Port Washington. Not without Stella Gibson.

The water bubbled beneath her feet, as if something—or someone—moved beneath her. Mulder startled from her grip, limbs flailing. He probably thought it was the fucking kraken. He swam out of the way of rising water column, coming to rest a few meters away.

“Mulder, come back!” she rolled her eyes. It was a familiar current, rolling beneath her. She knew what the bubbling surface of the sea churned up, and she welcomed it.

“Scully, you may not believe in merfolk,” he called to her, “but we don’t know what unearthly creatures live in this lagoon.”

The curled bow of a rowboat broke the surface with zeal, creaking and spraying sea foam into the air. Scully felt it rock against her feet as it lifted her out of the water, and its bucket began to empty the ocean from its confines. She was relieved to see her possessions—sword and all—tucked safely at her feet and didn’t bother to question their presence. Scully shivered at the sudden touch of wind as the boat slapped waves and drifted steadily toward Mulder.

Mulder was motionless but for his treading legs. His jaw hung open as he took in the barnacle-laden rowboat, elaborately crafted, its oars rowing themselves forward. Scully reached over the side of the boat and offered her hand. Wordlessly, he took it, and together they hauled him into the boat. A shiver slid his spine, and he drew his knees to his chest. Again, Scully was struck by his lanky frame, the weight he had lost and the dramatic sharpness of his angles. Composed of dark circles and tough bones, he needed rest. He needed food.

“Scully,” he breathed, shaking the saltwater from his hair and face. “Scully, where the hell are we?” He gazed at her through earnest eyes, always questioning.

She took a long, slow breath and looked at him—really looked at him, right through his skull the way no one else could. “We’re going to the Flying Dutchman, Mulder.”

She wasn’t sure, after months without him, if Mulder’s silence signaled acceptance or disorientation. There was something unfathomably lonely about his features in this light, and she softened to his attitude. Instead of puzzling over him, she watched the cliffs pass them by as they arced around a rocky peninsula. Slowly, the cliffs gave way to open ocean. Slowly, the Dutchman’s bare masts and Jolly Rodger fell into view. Its greened boards, suffocated by barnacles and slick seaweed, its bundled sails, its proud stern reaching for gulls overhead.

The Dutchman will always come.

The rowboat tucked into the side of the ship, and she reached for the rope ladder to pull herself over the wall. Mulder followed her lead, still quiet, still stunned. As soon as they had boarded the ship, the sails dropped around them, and she heard the anchor rise. Wind billowed toward the island, beating their sails relentlessly, and the Dutchman braced against it.

Mulder craned his neck to the flag. Scully remembered the owl perched atop the crow’s nest, now nowhere to be seen. As she gathered her sword and coat from the rowboat, where it hung over the side of Stella’s ship, Mulder wandered aimlessly about the deck, soaking wet and utterly confused.

“Mulder,” she called and angled her head to the Captain’s cabin. “Come on.”

He followed her into the lush cabin. Stella’s clothing was still strewn to dry over the fireplace. Stella’s bandanna rested on a chair. The bedroom door hung open, revealing tousled sheets, the smell of candles and rum. She hung her coat by the fire and went into the bedroom to change.

When she came out, bearing clean clothes and bottle of rum, she found Mulder seated in a dining chair, resting his chin on his hand and focusing intensely on nothing in particular. She tossed him an oversized linen shirt, the same shirt of her brother’s that she had stolen the night she stowed away. It landed on the table in front of him. “It’s dry,” she explained nonchalantly. A pause. “Mulder?”

He shook himself from a stupor. “I’m sorry, I just… I’m not used to this.”

“Not used to what?”

“This place.” He sounded affronted that she’d even ask. “This ghost ship, this pirate life, this—” he gestured between them. “—thing of getting used to each other again. I don’t know what to make of it yet.”

She felt for a moment as though she’d taken his place. Mulder was the man of myths and archives, and here she was striding about the home of Davy Jones, loving a living legend. And here Mulder sat, mere hours out of captivity. There was the loneliness again, seeping into his hazel eyes, and it only then struck her how long they had both been away from home.

Mulder had been gone for months, and the Scully who found him was not the Scully he left. She’d seen monsters of which he could only dream. She knew the sea like he’d never had a chance to learn, and now, he was alone in the Caribbean, re-learning the woman he once knew best.

“Mulder,” she said softly, sitting down beside him and taking his hands into hers. “You don’t have to be accustomed to me yet. I’ve lived like a pirate for the last few moons. Hell, I’ve lived with an undead pirate. I can’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through, and you cannot understand what I went through to get you back, but I would do it all over again. Every day, every fucking day of it.”

 At that, he grinned, lopsided and child-like. “You’re crasser than the Scully I left behind.” Gingerly, he touched the bandage wound around her eye, and his lip trembled. “I’m sorry for what happened, Scully. I’m sorry for your eye, and… I’m sorry for Stella.”

The cadence of his voice gave her pause. He was apologizing, but also asking—how close was she to Stella Gibson? She faltered, unsure whether she was prepared to answer.

“It’s okay,” she promised. She leaned forward until her forehead balanced against his. “It’s okay. I’m going to get her back.”

Mulder lifted his head, just barely. He nodded and asked, still running his thumb comfortingly over her hand, still holding her like he had so many times, “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

She couldn’t swallow the sob that seized her. It squeezed her throat like a kraken’s arm. Tears welled in her eye, threatening to spill and pool into the sleepless bags above her cheeks. Her lip trembled, and she allowed herself to sink into Mulder’s arms as she wept. Not just for Stella, but for her bloody eye socket, for Mulder’s gaunt face, for the life they were walking into. She wept for her mother alone in the house on the hill, for the nameless woman who died at Spector’s hand, and for Dani and Tom on the Ophelia listening to their captain sing as she sliced out her own heart.

Maybe, maybe, Scully understood now, why Stella locked herself alone in that cabin. Why she hunched against a rocking cabinet and sang to drown out her own pain when she shoved Padgett’s knife into her sternum. Why she took the chest from her father’s nightstand, why she sequestered herself on a ship of ghosts.

“I don’t know,” she croaked. Maybe she loves her. Almost, if only with more time and less urgency.

“Oh, Scully.” Mulder engulfed her in a hug, settling her chin on his head and stroking her shorn hair. “She would only do that for someone she loves unequivocally, you know that.”

She whimpered, tried too hard not to. “I know.”

“What are you going to do?”

What Stella would do. “I’m going—” a painful hiccup— “I’m going to save her. We’re going to save her.”

Mulder released her with a warm smile. “That’s the Scully I know and love.”

Shakily, Scully got to her feet. Her eye was beginning to throb, like tiny bullets pulsing through her skull. She swallowed hard and ignored the sting of salt on blood. “The Dutchman was ordered to take us home,” she told Mulder, slowly regaining her staunch confidence. “We’re going to change its mind.”

She snatched Stella’s bandanna off the chair and with delicate fingers, pulled the soaked rag off her face. That was where the rum came in—it would clean the salt and dirt from her wound, at least temporarily, and prevent the worst infections until she could properly look after it. One hand covered her good eye; the other topped the bottle with her thumb and dribbled it messily into where she thought the bloody socket would be. She winced as it touched her skin and squeezed Mulder’s hand. If she was hurting him, he didn’t protest. Satisfied the booze had done its job, she tied Stella’s kerchief around her head. It seemed the bleeding had stopped, at least, because all she smelled in the new tourniquet was alcohol.

She inhaled through her nose and exhaled through tight lips. “Let’s go.”

Ropes flew about the deck, and sails twerked and flapped, lusting after a tailwind. Scully climbed the stairs to the wheel and grasped its spoke, just as she’d seen Stella do so many times, wrapping her fingers around the smooth wood and angling her body to the horizon. Today, though, she tore the Dutchman away from the dome of a setting sun. She tugged the wheel toward the Hall of the Moerae, but it resisted.

Mulder hurried up the stairs. She beckoned to the wheel, “Mulder, help me out,” and he grabbed onto another spoke, pulling with all his might. The wheel didn’t budge.

“The Dutchman wants to go to sea,” he said defeatedly, letting go of the wheel and resting his hands on his knees. “Stella told it to take us home, and it only listens to its captain.”

Scully narrowed her eye. She folded her arms over her chest, arched her eyebrow skeptically. If this ship would obey Stella, it could listen to her. “Not today.” She lifted her arms and swept the ship with a hardened visage and a challenging eye. “You hear that?” she shouted. “You will listen to me! All of you! Every ruined soul on this ship will stop what it’s doing and listen!” She unsheathed her sword—Stella’s father’s sword—with a smooth snick, and raised it to the sails, curling her fist around the railing and planting her feet on the stern.

“If you ever want to see a Heaven or an Underworld, you will obey my command. Davy Jones isn’t here! I am! The wind’s on my side, and the Dutchman will sail for me. Now I want a full canvas, and every cannon at the ready.” She approached the wheel and gave it an experimental thrust. It creaked and spun, humming like a cricket on its axle, and the ship groaned beneath her feet as it banked starboard.

Scully narrowed her eyes at the approaching cliffs. “Mulder!” she snapped. He looked at her with a combination of pride and awe. “Get up to the crow’s nest, now!”

He nodded and with neither pause nor question hurried down the stairs, hopping on to the foremast webbing. He climbed like a spider. Scully followed him, clambering up the stale ropes until she reached the glorified bucket where she could overlook the island. “Now,” she told the ship, “Sink, undetected, until the only thing above water is our heads.”

Mulder looked at her as if she’d gone insane, but he didn’t protest. Slowly, the sea approached them, the Dutchman disappearing undersea as if it had never been more than a mirage. The sea lapped at her chest, but she kept her feet planted firmly atop the mast. They drifted past the white cliffs, past hordes of screaming gulls and back into the lagoon. The Claudius hadn’t budged. Then, as she surveyed the shoreline, her breath caught in her throat.

Specks of men in rowboats, approaching the Claudius. In the front boat, a man stood stiff against the whitecaps, carrying what looked like a treasure chest under his arm. So, he had found Stella’s heart after all. She stiffened, and underwater Mulder clasped her hand. “They knew where to look,” he murmured gravely.

Scully clenched her jaw. “He won’t open it. Not before I blow him to smithereens.”

“What about Stella?”

The wan smile that passed Scully’s lips was chilling, and she allowed it to be. “Stella can’t die.”

They closed in on the unsuspecting redcoats, creeping up until they nearly paralleled the Claudius. “Hold on, Mulder,” she muttered, then to the ship, barely louder— “Cannons at the ready, rise for battle.”

She gripped the flagpole with both hands as the mast rumbled, and the water at her neck roiled violently. The ocean shook like its gods were rising from the sand, and all Hell was coming loose. The Dutchman erupted toward the sky, arching backwards and then hurling its weight toward the bow. Scully could hear Spender’s men shout and curse, and in her peripheral, she spotted some of them scrambling chaotically about the Claudius’s deck. Others stood stone-still, as if they hadn’t believed the Dutchman truly existed. A surge of electricity ran through Scully’s veins, towering as she was beside the Jolly Rodger. Her lip curled; the ragged, rum-soaked ends of her bandage flapped in the breeze; she faced head-on the men who took her captain and her eye, as she bellowed from deep in her chest, “Fire all!”

Cannons rattled. The Claudius didn’t even have time to open its gun ports before cannonballs ripped through its flank. Flames erupted from the ballast first, barrels of gunpowder shooting into the sky. The ship’s starboard flank shone like a foreboding dawn, before it burst into splinters and ash with a force that rocked the Dutchman. Soldiers and buccaneers alike leapt into the water; wreckage flew in all directions. The sky turned the color of rotting wood as the ship smoldered. The mizzenmast was the first to fall, toppling into the quarterdeck with a resounding crack. Then, the other two poles, the black flag flailing with them. The ship split in half; fire burst from its underbelly.

The Dutchman fired its last row of cannonballs and sailed out of its way. Scully watched the destruction, her mouth set in a grim line. If you want to live, you have to be able to live your own actions, Stella’s voice rang in her head. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of burning wood. She could live with this.

[fii-nixx]

Where the Oceans Meet

Chapter 3: Where the Past meets the Present.

The morning sun crested over the tree line, and seeped through the leaves. The warm light caressed the scenery, only to be broken by the groans of an Elven hunter who is now lying prone on the hard ground. “Now what did we learn today?” I laughed at his misfortune. “Don’t question you when you say you can handle yourself.” “Don’t question me period. Come on, you just learned this?” I leaned down over him, smiling. “Glad to see you’re in such a good mood now. I was getting tired of your moaning the whole trip.”  I helped him up off the ground and grabbed our bags as he dusted himself off. “It’s always nice to get some of the frustrations of the road out in a healthy manner! I mean, it’s not like you’ll actually let me hurt you. You just didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.” Thendril laughed, “And that’s how you got the jump on me. You can’t say that you wouldn’t second guess your abilities, if you were in my position. You never had any formal training like I have, so how was I to know that you could kick my ass into the ground.” We laughed as we began our journey once again. 

The road began to get clearer, and more traveled as we got deeper into the forest. After a few more minutes, we began to come across more and more travelers. Their clothes became more fine and more earth tones the closer to the citadel we traveled. Thendril silently pulled me closer, going so far as to wrap an arm around my shoulders as if he was comforting me or shielding me. Bending his face down to mine, he spoke. “Please don’t fight me right now. We have eyes on us. They are watching us closely.” He has gone into Hunter mode now, his quarry now being threatened. He started to walk us faster through the square, voices shouting behind us, heralding the Prince’s return home with his presumed bride. The sounds of the Elven language harkened in a song that was hypnotic almost like that of a siren’s. 

Here he comes, back from war. The love he has beside him, beauty prevails on his line. Hail thine the Goddess bless, Thendril Starblessed, with his Elyia of the sea and sky. His life force strong as his heart beats undeterred, to make them two in Time’s eye.

“Fuck. Come on Illia, we must go.” He urges me through the doors as we enter what looks like a kitchen. “They don’t know how to keep their big mouths shut, I swear. Look at me. Look at me, Illia!” My eyes snap to his, wide and disoriented. “Oh what have they done to you?” His hand caresses my cheek as I lean into his touch. “I don’t know how I feel this way, Thendril. What did they do? What spell has been cast? I feel as I did before my sire betrayed me.” He sighs, running a hand over his face and through his hair. “It was a blessing from the priests. They’ve always assumed that I would become involved with a siren, like my father was alleged to be. That particular blessing would only have an effect on any with siren blood in them. To anyone else, it would just be random gibberish that sounds sweet.” “Why did they call me Elyia?” Thendril stops. “It means loved one, in my language. Usually reserved for family members, or close friends, or lovers. Why do you ask?” I shake myself out of this confusion, “That’s what your father called my mother in my dream.” The silence around us was deafening, as the reality of what was said bounced around our minds. While our senses were clouded by the effects of the blessing and the knowledge that was shared, we almost missed the soft clacking of heels on the stone floors, of them moving closer to us. In one fell swoop, Thendril pulled me behind him, shielding me further from the intruder. “So you have decided to return home, Brother. How unfortunate.” The stranger spoke with a scowl, disdain evident on their face. “Avaline. How have you been since I’ve been gone. I hope father hasn’t given you too much of a bad time, trying to have you fill in for my duties.” Thendril’s voice dripped with sarcasm, obviously he was not fond of his brother. “What are you doing here anyways, aren’t you supposed to be searching for that little inbreed of father’s? Wasn’t that the whole point of your little adventure? To find them, so father would love you again after all your mistakes, and not send you off to the Badlands.” This Avaline seems so full of hatred and anger. I couldn’t help but want to punch them in the face, which I would have done if Thendril didn’t have such a good hold on me. As if sensing my actions, his grip tightened. “If you must know brother, that was never the reason why I was sent, instead of you. Father knew that I could handle the situation delicately, unlike you and your kidnappings that almost tore the land apart. You had your chance and you blew it. Don’t take that hatred out on me.” He pushed past his brother, pulling me alongside him, still holding me in such a way that I was left clinging to him as we walked. “What was that all about?”, I asked after a while. “That, insignificant pill bug of a man, is my brother. Well, my half brother. He was my mother’s child before she married my father. It’s a long story.” He rushed through his words, as if to tell me not to push it.  My mind rushed, as memories flashed behind my eyes of beautiful women dancing through halls of stone. My head ached, as though these memories were being ripped through the deep recesses of my mind. As if I was never meant to see them. Spotted vision of dark ambers and blinding crismon, cloud my every thought as Thendril rushed me through the citadel. The color of my cerulean irises drained to black, the wisps of hair not tied back under the hood floating as if held under water. High above the city, a storm brewed and lightning struck the many parapets around the city.

All of this went by Thendril’s notice. It was until the sounds of thunder rolled through the halls, and the winds picked up their speed enough to knock the hood off my head, that he finally noticed that something was amiss. As he turned toward me, he was left speechless. I could only imagine what exactly it was that he saw to leave him in such a state. “Illia, is everything alright? You look different?” I blinked, and just like that, it was as if nothing had happened. Color rushed back into my vision, my hair stopping its gravity defying attributes. “I-I don’t actually know. I wasn’t myself for a moment there. What happened? My head feels like it’s been split in two.”  Thendril grabbed my face, not too gently I might add. He looked deep into my eyes, as if to see some sort of window that showed what was ailing me. Turning my head this way and that, even going so far as to tilt my head so he might see the back of my head to look for a bump. “You didn't hit your head and didn’t tell me did you?” His unexpected humor has me worried, as I had never heard him crack more than a scathing remark in my direction. “Are you sure that you’re okay Then? I’ve never seen you this worried over anything, not even when that crow stole the map.” I took his hands in mine, gently taking them off my face. I also took this moment to lightly butt heads with him, knocking him out of his reverie. “I apologize. I think you had some sort of episode, your eyes changed color, you could feel the magic in the air. It was quite electrifying.”

“Oh.” I glanced to the side. “Oh?” I shifted a little bit, in my position against the wall. “It happens sometimes, when I remember things from the past.” I refused to make eye contact, “I think it was another mom flashback. I think something bad happened here to her, something that made her want to leave in the end. I don’t think it was my sire that had her leave, I think them meeting here was an effect, not a cause. I don’t usually have these episodes while I’m awake, they normally happen when I’m sleeping. Sorry, I’m rambling, my head hurts so bad.” As I spoke, my voice got softer and softer, until eventually I grew silent as I lost consciousness.

The room I woke in was cold, colder than the bottom of the lakes I would swim in. Was it the room, or was it just myself that was cold, I wouldn’t know. It was then that I realized that I wasn’t in a room. I was in a fish tank, one that took up the entirety of the walls of the tower. I was floating lightly, at the bottom of this tank among the ferns and kelp that reminded me so much of my mother’s home. Glancing down, I noticed my fins were a much duller shade of my usual colors. The bright reds and greens, now a sickly grey. The only color that seemed to not be affected, was the black accents around the edges of my tail. I sigh, feeling the water fill my lungs and exit the gills on my throat. It’s been so long since I phased. I almost forgot that I could. Must have lost control again for it to be this bad. Slowly, I run my hands down my scales, wincing everytime I nick a loose one. I lost track of time as I went about cleaning my scales and putting order to my tail and fins once again. The color slowly returned as old and rotten scales were removed making way for the newer scales that were waiting to see the light. 

“You need to take better care of yourself Elyia. You never used to let a scale get out of place let alone lose their shine as you have. I hope you don’t mind, I’ve taken the liberty of having you rest in your old room. It seems it’s been a while since you have transformed into your true form, dear. You should know how important it is for you to be in water at least a few times a century, lest you forget how to swim!” This new voice joked and scolded me, as if I was an old friend. In a way I guess I was. “Oh, I forgot how beautiful you were in your youth Elyia. The change of shape may hide your memories of us, and has given you new features, but I would know the feel of your magic anywhere.” Poking my head out from the kelp and other deep sea greenery, I saw who was addressing me for the first time. “Hello, you must forgive me, but my access to my mother’s memories is limited. Can you please remind me of who you are?” His silver-grey eyes lit up in remembrance, his now long grey hair fell over his face as he bowed. “Of course, my dear. You may have remembered me as Jay, but my given name is Aldere Jaynearys.” I grimaced at this. Jay laughed, “Yes, your mother hated it too. Thought it was too much of a mouthful to say behind closed doors, so she took it upon herself to give me a nickname. Much like I hear you’ve done for my son.”  I hid my face with my hands, groaning. “Of course he would tell you that.” Once again, Jay laughed. “Don’t be too hard on my son. He only told me what he felt was necessary from his journey. And yes this included all of your whining, as well as the little episode you had that caused that storm we experienced. Before you worry, nobody was hurt from your little temper tantrum over the memories you saw.” I flipped over onto my back, wincing as I forgot the fins on my arms existed and caught them on the rocks around me. “When was the last time you were in that form Elyia? It seems as if you’ve forgotten what you have and don’t have.”

“That would be because I have forgotten. It’s been too long, I didn’t have half these spines the last time I shifted. In fact I think I missed some when I was freshening up. Is there someone who can help me get the scales on my back, it's very uncomfortable.” Jay thought for a moment. “Of course Elyia, you are after all a very important guest of mine. Your every need will be attended to for as long as you are with us. I will be certain to tell my son his attention is needed here. I am glad that you are back home where you belong, Illia, my promise to your mother is fulfilled.” With that, the lord brushed out of the room, deaf to my protests of having Thendril help with such an intimate area. Well kelp bits. That wasn’t what I was expecting at all.

[jarmes]

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Twisted Destiny Chapter 19 - Thunderstruck, Part 4

Masterpost - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter 

The Joestar clan walks through the graveyard, carrying the coffin over their shoulders. It isn’t raining, but water still drips down their faces. All of the Joestars are there. All but one.

Johana Joestar stands under a large tree, a quarter-mile away, smoking a cigarette. She watches the funeral procession with silent fury. She takes a deep drag and releases it, watching the smoke float away from her lips. It’s a bad habit, one born of rebellion.

Nero walks up to the tree. He wrings out his hands. “The service is starting soon,” he says.

“It is,” Johana replies.

“Grandpa Joe sent me to go get you.”

“Of course he did.” Johana drops her cigarette on the ground and stomps on it.

“I understand that you are taking Joshua’s death the hardest,” Nero says. “He was your father, after all.”

“That’s the thing, Nero. I’m not even sad. I’m just angry.”

“Grief affects each of us differently-”

“Did Grandpa Joe tell you what’s in that coffin? Because it isn’t his body. Leadbelly mangled him so bad there isn’t even a body left to bury. This whole stupid funeral, it’s just for show.”

Nero sighs. “Funerals can give closure, Johana, even if the body has been lost,” he says.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Dad sure as hell didn’t get any closure from Joespheine’s funeral.”

“Please, just come to the grave. It will mean a lot to the others.”

Without a word, Johana walks to the pit where her family has lowered the coffin. They stand around the pit in dark clothing, unsure what to say. The stone grave maker shows a large star. Within the star lies a sobering string of words: Joshua Joseph Joestar, 1964-2008. Friend, father, hero. A black cap with a gold star sits atop the grave.

Johana picks up the hat and holds it at her side. Her grandfather, an old man with a beard and a cane, begins his eulogy. “Joshua, my son, was a good man. One of the best I have had the privilege to know,” he says, his voice low and dry. “He was a loving father, a kind friend, a-”

Grandpa Joe glances at Johana and loses his train of thought. “Joshua, he understood the concept of duty,” he says. “Our family has been blessed with tremendous power. There are others out there who possess the same power as us but lack Joshua’s moral backbone, those who would use their power to harm innocents. Joshua, like the Joestars and Zeppelis of generations past, understood that it is the duty of those with power to protect those who have none-”

Johana walks away. She can’t stand to hear another word of this. Nero chases after her. “Where are you going?” he shouts.

“I don’t know, somewhere far away,” Johana snaps back.

“I understand that the funeral is hard to sit through, but-”

“This isn’t about the fucking funeral!” Johana shouts. She turns back to Nero; her eyes are red with tears. “I am so sick of this family. Always running off, throwing their lives away for strangers.”

“Johana-”

“When I was ten my sister died fighting against an enemy Stand User because it was her duty. My father abandoned me for five years to try and avenge her and all he accomplished was throwing himself onto the pile of corpses. Now Grandpa Joe wants to go up there and talk about the glory of his death, how great it was that he threw his life away? It pisses me off.”

“Please Johana, come back,” Nero mumbles, head in his hands.

“I’m not coming back. Not just to the funeral, to the family in general. It isn’t personal, I just hate all of you and never want to see you again.”

“Where will you go? What will you do for money?”

“I already told you I don’t know-”

“Then let me help you.”

Johana stops walking and looks back at Nero. “This life you have been thrust into, a destiny of fighting for the innocent, it is not a life anyone should be forced to live,” Nero says. “I will help you get away. I will set you off in some far off country with enough money to survive. Most importantly, I will make sure Grandpa Joe and my mother do not know where you are.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because, JoJo, you are my friend. And, if you never want to see me again, then that is a wish I must comply with, no matter how much it hurts my heart.”

This promise, as earnest as it is on the day it was made, will eventually broken. Three and a half years later, when Johana is attending university in London, Nero will learn via his mother’s premonition Stand that Johana’s life is in danger. He will break his vow and rush to rescue her. In doing so, he will doom her and drag her back into the violent world she worked so hard to escape.

And, as Johana attempts to escape London, she will meet a powerful Stand User named Sydney Young. She will make the mistake of leaving him alive. As her plane takes off, he will return and call down the fury of the sky on Johana.

+++

The burning wreckage of the plane lies in a thousand different pieces on the runway. The flames created by Young’s lightning don’t seem to go out, no matter how much rain falls upon them. The sounds of screams and sirens fill the air as Kan drags Johana out of the wreckage. The duo have narrowly escaped death, thanks solely to Kan using her Stand to open a hole in the bottom of the plane before the lightning struck.

Johana can’t move. Not out of injury, but out of shock. Death and destruction surround her and she knows it is her fault. How many people are there on a commercial airliner, how many innocent lives have been snuffed out by Sydney Young’s malice? Johana doesn’t know. She doesn’t want to know.

Kan grabs Johana by the hand and drags her away. Johana’s body moves without thought. “We have to get out of here!” Kan shouts. To Johana, she sounds like she’s underwater. “Young’s quills draw in electricity. If he hits us with one of them during a thunderstorm, we’re dead!”

Young walks down the tarmac towards the duo. He looks terrible, a mess of broken limbs and twisted appendages. Blood drips down from the countless gashes covering his body and splashes into the pool of water at Young’s feet. Dozens of his Stand’s quills poke out of his bruised skin, carefully placed in the center of important muscles.

His Stand Thunderstruck, a mummy with quills poking out from the bandages covering its body, appears next to Young. Thunderstruck fires one of its quills at Johana. Johana doesn’t move.

Kan shoves Johana out of the way, taking her place in Young’s line of fire. The quill strikes Kan in the stomach. The clouds above rumble as a bolt of electric death is pulled down to earth.

Johana is too shocked to move, but her Stand, the living embodiment of her instincts and fighting spirit, still has the will to fight. It appears before Johana and rips the quill out of Kan’s stomach, throwing it as far away as it can. The lightning bolt changes direction at the last minute, narrowly missing Kan and Johana.

The Stand grabs a piece of the plane’s wing and throws it at Young. Young jumps out of the way, dodging the piece of broken metal. The chunk of wing boomerangs back and strikes Young in the back, piercing his spine. He doesn’t react and keeps walking towards Johana and Kan.

“A few years ago, back when I was an assassin, I had a job that went wrong,” Young says. His voice is completely free of emotion. “I was hired to kill this old German guy. Things went wrong. He threw me off a balcony. I lived, but I broke my spine in the process.”

“I couldn’t move my body from the neck down. I was doomed to a life of suffering, waiting in a hospital bed for the grim reaper to rare his boney face and finally end my suffering with a swipe from his scythe. Then Woodstock showed up and stabbed me with the Arrow.”

“I don’t know why, but when Woodstock stabbed me, I regained the ability to move my body. I was able to walk again. I was able to kill again. The rush that had been denied to me for so long was finally back within my grasp.”

“The injuries you gave me are so great that a normal man would be unable to move right now. But, I am no normal man. The human body uses electrical signals to run every vital function. By carefully placing quills within my muscles and joints, I am able to keep fighting despite my injuries.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you did do a good job breaking me. Hell, I doubt I’ll live for more than another hour without visiting a hospital. But, there are more important things that living. Like brutally murdering you and everyone you care about.”

Johana’s Stand throws a flaming piece of the plane’s engine at Young. Thunderstruck fires a quill at the engine chunk before it hits Young, and a bolt of lightning arcs down and annihilates it.

When the flash of light created by the lightning bolt subsides, Kan and Johana are gone. Young spots Johana’s Stand running away, dragging Kan and its master by their wrists. “You think you can run away from me?” Young yells.

He chases after Johana’s Stand, firing quill after quill at the fleeing figure. Johana’s Stand dodges each quill, but only barely. The muscles in his broken legs move as hard as they can, free from the limits placed upon them by his nervous system. With the strength of a mother lifting a car, Young chases Johana.

He comes closer and closer as Johana’s Stand barely dodges his attacks. “You can’t run forever!” he shouts.

In the distance, barely audible over the sound of the rain, Kan hears a familiar sound. She looks back, at the tarmac behind Young, and smiles. “Throw us in the air,” she says to Johana’s Stand. The Stand follows her orders.

Young is confused for a moment. Then he hears the sound coming from behind him, the sound of a roaring car engine. He turns back just in time to see a white convertible, driven by Nero Zeppeli, run him over.

The convertible keeps going after hitting Sydney Young. Johana and Kan, thrown into the air by Johana’s Stand, land in the convertible’s back seat. The convertible races down the soaking tarmac, fleeing from Young.

“Are you okay?” Nero asks.

“Physically, yes, but Johana’s in shock,” Kan says. “What are you doing here?”

“We saw the plane get hit from the car park and figured you two were in trouble, so we drove through the fence to come save you,” Nero says.

“We?” Kan asks. Then she notices him, the man sitting in the car’s passenger seat, a man she didn’t expect to see again.

Sydney Young crawls to his feet and screams into the sky. Electricity jumps between the quills in his limbs as he sprints after the convertible. Fueled by rage, he comes closer and closer to the car.

The man in the passenger seat stands up and points his arm at Young. A bolt of red lightning shoots out of his glove and strikes the ground beneath Young’s feet. Young slips and lands on his face. “What’s that dude’s problem?” Machine Gun Kelly asks.

“Kelly? What are you doing here?” Kan asks.

“Well, I knew you guys were going to the airport, so I went by to steal my car back and ran into Nero,” Kelly says. “I figured I’d help save you, to try and make up for the whole attempted murder thing.”

“Thanks, I guess?” Kan says.

Sydney Young leaps out of the greased part of the tarmac. His clothes are completely soaked, as much in blood as in rain. He fires a quill at the white convertible speeding away; it comes up short.

Johana looks out the back of the convertible, at the cruel man raving in the rain. Then she notices it, something floating in the air, pushed back and forth by opposing winds. A black cap with a gold star, her only memento of her father.

Johana’s suitcase was destroyed when the plane crashed. But, my some small twist of fate, the hat survived. Set free of its suitcase, the cap twirls through the air.

Johana looks at Young again. He’s a man who lives only to spread pain and suffering, a man who will never stop killing as long as he draws breath. Johana clenches her fists and finally decides to stop running.

She leaps out of the car, using Hamon and her Stand to amplify the strength of her jump. At the top of her arc, Johana snatches her father’s cap out of the sky and places it on her head as she lands.

“I hate fighting and Stands and violence,” Johana shouts through the rain. “Most of all, I hate watching people die. I ran away from home, not because I hated my family, but because I knew I would see each and every one of them die if I stuck around. But I’ve realized that there’s something out there I hate more than watching people die: people like you.”

“I don’t know if this is what my father thought his duty was, but it's a duty I shall begrudgingly take. As long as people like you exist, people who live only to kill and cause pain, I will swallow my fears and fight. No one else is ever going to die so you can get your goddamn rush, Sydney,” Johana shouts.

Johana’s Stand appears behind her and roars. It slams its fists together as its revolver bracers spin up and create that jet engine roar. “This is my Stand, the Stand passed down by my sister and awakened by my rage,” Johana screams. “This is my Twisted Sister, the Stand that will defeat you!”

Johana and Young charge at each other, Twisted Sister and Thunderstruck floating behind them. Thunderstruck fires a volley of quills at Johana. “ORA ORA ORA ORA!” Johana shouts as Twisted Sister punches the air before her, creating a swirling gust of wind that knocks the quills off course.

Young fires three quills at Johana’s feet. Johana dodges by leaping into the air. Young follows, using his overcharged muscles to send himself flying at Johana.

Johana jerks her head back just in time to avoid being kneed in the face. Her Stand slams its fist into Young’s mouth, knocking out a mouthful of teeth.

Thunderstruck fires a quill into Johana’s shoulder. A bolt of lightning begins shooting down from the clouds. Twisted Sister slams its hand on Johana’s Shoulder, knocking the quill out and sending it rocketing down to the tarmac.

Twisted Sister grabs Young’s ankle and spins around. Its foot meets Thunderstruck’s chest. Twisted Sister kicks off Thunderstruck’s stomach and shoots towards the ground, chasing the quill and followed by the bolt of lightning. The bolt tears through Thunderstruck as Twisted Sister slams Young into the ground, right on top of the quill.

Johana jumps out of the way just in time to dodge the lightning bolt. Young isn’t so lucky. The lightning bolt crashes down into his chest and bounces between the quills in his body, completely destroying him.

Sydney Young - Age 33 - Annihilated

Johana stands over her felled foe and catches her breath. The quiet girl running from her past she was a mere day ago is gone. What stands in her places is something different, a woman reforged by the flames of battle.

Her purple raincoat and twisted blue braids flap in the wind. Bandages are wrapped around her fists like exercise tape. A black cap sits on her head, emblazoned with a star that matches the one on her shoulder. Her name is Johana Joestar, wielder of the Stand Twisted Sister.

The convertible pulls up beside her. Nero, Kan, and even Kelly run up to see if she’s okay. “I’ve decided I’m not going to run anymore,” she says. “Woodstock, his Stand Users, the police, even Leadbelly, I’ll take each of them as they come. If the Stand Users of London are going to fight, then I’ll be the last one standing. This path before me will be long and full of bloodshed. I’ll understand if you guys would like to leave-”

“I’ll follow you anywhere you go,” Kan says.

“I owe you for sparing me, it would be wrong to ditch you,” Kelly says.

“Johana, it is my fault that you became involved in this mess. I would be a monster if I abandoned you,” Nero says.

Johana hops into the backseat of the convertible. “Let’s get out of here, the cops’ll be here soon and I don’t feel like telling Inspector Sting that I actually killed this one,” she says.

The quartet drive off towards their destiny.

STAND STATS

Name: Twisted Sister

Dub Name: Twisted Destiny

User: Johana Joestar

Namesake: “Twisted Sister” (American Heavy Metal Band)

Appearance: Twisted Sister is tall and thin, with mechanical joints and iron skin. Its skin is covered in scratches and rust. It wears a pair of triangular sunglasses that cover its golden eyes. A mohawk made of red spikes covers the Stand’s head. Dozens of metal rods poke out of the Stand’s back. Red bands, like the cylinders of a revolver, cover the Stand’s wrists.

Abilities: By spinning its wrist gauntlets, Twisted Sister is able to generate rotational energy and send it into objects it touches with its hands. Using this energy, Johana is able to make objects spin. At higher speeds, the rotational energy is enough to tear objects and living beings apart. In addition, Johana is capable of making ropes bundle up and thrown objects boomerang back.

Stats: Power-A, Speed-A, Range: D, Durability-C, Precision-B, Potential-C