#like. I swear. he was supposed to be human six. but now I can barely call him that- /VLH

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Sometimes I look back at the early designs for characters I make, and I just remembered like. How did Seth end up like this.

Like when I first designed him, I wanted to make “Six. But human.” And made him look at least similar to my design for Six at the time. But now he. Shares VERY little resemblance to Six at all like.

How did this happen.

[cryptidcircuswrites]

LEAD ME UP THE GARDEN PATH

! - dubious consent in the beginning, monsterfucking, mentions of teeth and claws, drool, pollen as an aphrodisiac, rutting, non-consensual aphrodisiac, consensual sex, t4t, PIV sex, dom bottom // sub top, mild degradation and mild pet play, jack has multiple tongues and eats pussy, Brian has a vulva and it is referred to primarily as such (clit, pussy, etc)

“Seriously, what is this?”

“It’s literally just a flower,” Toby lies, voice muffled slightly through the gas mask he’d strapped on.

“Then why are you wearing that?” Jack asks, ducking away from the flower that Toby keeps thrusting in his direction.

“Just touch the damn flower!” Toby finally gets the pink pollen-painted petals close enough to Jack’s face for them to be inhaled.

The beast coughs, sneezing. “What is that, Tobias?!” it shrieked. The human laughs.

“You’ll find out.”

•••

Brian has been stewing the entire mission. He’s been moody for days, which means he isn’t getting laid. Tim knows him too well.

The target has been taking down the cameras the two had put up for surveillance. Brian is sick of it. There’s not only the lack of eyes on the target, but also the looming threat of the Operator getting mad that the job isn’t done.

Brian slams a camera against the cement wall nearby, the device already useless. He swears under his breath.

“Brian, can you fucking relax?” Tim snaps. He lights a cigarette and slips his mask off.

“How am I supposed to relax when this fucker keeps taking down the cameras?” he steps towards Tim threateningly.

“You sound like Alex,” Tim mutters, taking a drag on his cigarette.

Brian goes to slap the cigarette out of Tim’s hand, but the stocky man stops him. “Don’t compare me to Alex, yeah, I got it. You’re still being a prick. Go home and figure out how to get Jack to fuck you, or rub one out, or whatever the fuck you need to do because I’m tired of your bitching.”

Brian stops, because he knows Tim is 100% right. He relaxes slightly, pulling away.

“Fine.”

•••

Jack is in agony.

Whatever Toby had put on that plant had shoved him dick-first into the worst rut the creature can remember. Jack can barely even think coherent thoughts. It just paces the cabin on all fours, claws clicking against the wood.

Everything is hot. Jack hasn’t felt too hot in decades, not since leaving Mexico. It pants, its back arches, desperate to alleviate any of the tension anywhere in its body. Nothing is helping.

Jack is in agony, but Brian is a quarter of a mile away, and the wind is at his back.

Jack can wait.

It is an ambush predator, after all.

Brian walks into the cabin six minutes and thirteen seconds later, kicking off his boots. Jack counted. Six minutes and thirteen seconds of agonized waiting, and only a few more as Brian shuts the door, walking further into Jack’s web.

A few more steps in, and then…

Jack pushes Brian into the wall, hard. The beast growls, saliva dripping from the corners of its lips.

Brian’s heart races. He knows Jack is dangerous, he knows what Jack is capable of. He’s seen it in action once or twice; long black claws glistening with blood as it ripped through flesh so easily, jaws swallowing chunks of meat without chewing…

Jack notices Brian’s apprehension. It rests its forehead to the human’s trilling slightly in between heavy gasps. It’s so desperately trying to convey what it can’t verbalize in this state—

Please help me. Please don’t deny me. I need you.

Brian’s lips curl into a sly grin. He relaxes, wrapping his arms around the monster’s neck and shoulders.

“Well hello to you too, mutt.”

The monster chitters, pushing against him. Grey-tinted saliva pools in its mouth, dripping down its chin. Brian presses back, bodies hot against each other.

They’ve always fit so well together. Jack slots itself between Brian’s legs, desperate for attention. It feels so right.

Brian gasps slightly at the sensation. Jack is painfully needy right now; he can feel it through everything, hot and hard and throbbing.

“What in the world has you so riled up, puppy?”

Jack twitches, hips jutting against Brian’s crotch. It whimpers. It’s practically begging like a dog for Brian to make the agony stop.

He hisses, nails digging into Jack’s shirt. “Easy baby, take it slow for me. I’ve had a rough day.”

It whimpers into his neck, then kisses up his jaw. He pulls it by the scalp up to his lips.

Jack is still too hot. Brian’s lips against its mouth is like blessed ice, something finally putting out the fire of agony raging in its very soul.

It needs more.

It grinds against the human desperately. Brian moans into the kiss, grabbing at Jack’s shirt. The kiss only breaks to pull the shirt from the monster’s body, revealing the lean and long and grey torso.

Jack goes in for another kiss, Brian stopping it.

“Uh uh. You’re not fucking me against a wall, we’re doing this on a bed.”

Jack huffs, but picks the human up anyway. It drops Brian onto the bed and continues its assault on his lips. It desperately pulls at his clothes, ripping holes with its careless desperation.

Doesn’t matter. It can be fixed later. Jack needs relief now.

And in order to do that, it needs to get Brian worked up too.

He moans deliciously as thick wet tendrils swipe over his clit and pussy. It lazily works him over, teasing his clit and flicking over his hole. He grips Jack’s scalp, grinding against its mouth. It complies, sliding a tongue just inside his wet heat. The other two tongues continue to tease and pulse around his tdick and lips. He begs and whimpers and wraps his legs around Jack’s head, begging for more.

The monstrous predator teases him, refusing the friction he so desperately needs until he breaks.

“Jack please! Fuck!”

He breaks sooner than expected.

Jack pulls its tongue out, but not away; it teases and licks to keep him going while it fumbles with its pants.

Brian gasps as Jack’s mouth presses to his skin, moving up his hips and chest and finally hovering over his mouth. Jack is still breathing heavily, but it waits for those magic words.

“Please, Jack,” he whispers.

The creature presses its lips to his, pushing its length slowly into his pussy. He moans into the kiss, both relishing the sudden relief the sensation afforded to them.

Jack is desperate again, rutting in and out of Brian like a dog in heat. Lips crash against each other, teeth find flesh, moans spill from both mouths, Brian clenches and hips roll in a needy, sloppy rhythm.

Neither lasts particularly long, Brian going first and then Jack, gushing deep inside its lover as it bites down on his throat.

•••

“Better?” Tim asks with a stupidly smug grin the next morning.

“Whatever the fuck you and Rogers pulled? Don’t do that without warning me next time,” Brian says with a mock firmness.

That mischievous glint is back in his eyes, and Tim is satisfied that his friend is back to normal.

[catghoul31]

so why did vanessa and wade’s relationship fall apart?

so i’ve been thinking on this for a bit, and after watching the first two deadpool movies i 100% understand why some fans are confused by this development. they were so perfect for each other!! what could’ve possibly happened?

i don’t necessarily think their compatibility changed at all, but what i DO know is that trauma can get in the way of even the strongest relationships, and dear GOD has wade been through it… but clearly, him getting turned into a lump of cancer wasn’t enough to drive vanessa away or turn their relationship sour, otherwise they wouldn’t have been ready to start a family by the second film!!

personally, i think the point of no return was when vanessa died. oh, wade would have SO much guilt over this, it doesn’t matter how many people tell him it wasn’t his fault- he should’ve checked to see if he was followed. in his eyes, it was his impulsivity and carelessness inherent to him that got vanessa killed. the moment he gives her a second chance at life, he swears he’ll never let that happen again. so what does he do?

he stops being deadpool. but more than that- he stops being wade. he tries desperately to live the life of a normal human being, one who doesn’t kill for a living, even though he can barely comprehend what that’s even supposed to look like. in the wake of all this, he tries suppressing every aspect of himself that makes people look at him funny- can’t get a job if you’re a horribly scarred bald man making sex jokes all the time, right- and this eventually bleeds into his and vanessa’s personal life.

vanessa fell in love with wade. head over heels in love for everything that made him wade- everything he was desperately trying to shove down. he never gave her any explanations for the changes he suddenly made, that emotional repression habit he’d formed post-mutation rearing its ugly head every time she’d ask, but no matter how hard she pressed- begged wade to let her help- she’d get nothing. she was losing touch with the love of her life, and it was breaking her heart.

after a few too many arguments, it occurs to wade that there was something wrong in his relationship, that something being him. but obviously it had nothing to do with getting rid of all the nastiness within him (aka everything that made wade the person he was), right? he just had to find something to do to give their relationship that spark again! you can see where this is going- he tries and fails to join the avengers, and either way, it doesn’t help anything.

when vanessa finally ends things (as gently as she can, with a “for now” implied in seemingly every word), wade knows he’s to blame, but is still consumed by too much self-hatred and guilt to identify the actual problem. he wanted to be someone else- anyone else- and still chases this goal for six years on end, all the while vanessa is watching from the sidelines, hoping in vain that the wade she knows will eventually come back.

it was never about wade “not having a higher purpose.” when she tells him that he “never came back,” she’s not talking about the fucking avengers, for christ’s sake, but every day that she’s had to spend seeing wade decay from the inside since that one burglary incident so long ago. she can’t understand what it did to wade, since he won’t talk to her!!

she had to end it, because she finally realized that this wasn’t something wade was letting her help him with. they couldn’t get through this together, like they eventually did with his cancer and mutation, and above all, she couldn’t help him. vanessa and the fate she could’ve been subject to was the source of wade’s spiral, so she had to remove herself. but she would never stop caring.

this is why she’s just so happy when wade comes back with logan- because finally, there’s that spark in his eyes again. he doesn’t seem like he’s pretending to be someone else anymore, even in the quieter moments of his life. vanessa knows then that it was always worth it to stick around in his life, even during that dark chapter of it- because behind everything, there was her wade. maybe they wouldn’t get their fairytale ending, and maybe it wasn’t in the same way as it had been for so many years, but she still loved wade so much. and words can’t describe how relieved she was that the wade she knew was back.

and she’d totally be down for a polycule/threesome with wade and logan if they were

[hiroukeimou]

My thoughts on the (hopefully) season finale.

Let's hope I can keep myself sorted because I have had a long week in real life. Also, I'll be bringing up a few callbacks to previous episodes during this so bear in mind if you're super behind on the show.

Spoilers under the cut.

Right off the bat, let's tackle Rafael.

There is something I began to notice last episode in-between all the joking about his hair/posture: How much do we know about this antagonist from his own mouth? All we know about Rafael going into the finale is he might have been betrayed by his own comrades and fell into human hands (as per Shall concluding this without direct confirmation or flashbacks). There isn't much to go on about how or why he desires to be king over his own species other than for power. Because, if you think about it, if fairies betrayed him and humans subjugated him, why should he want to be king for anything other than power? And yet, in the finale, he's supposed to feel sympathetic in his final moments on screen. The problem is this is the final episode and he has primarily served as an exposition dump for the previous two episodes (outside of antagonizing Shall & Anne's relationship). Genuinely, I did not know if I was supposed to feel sorry for him or not because I know literally nothing about his person (of course, Lusul saying "I feel sorry for him" doesn't help). The worst part is he's been here for close to eight episodes…

The fight between him and Shall is… anti-climatic. There's an issue I had during this episode: The big confrontation they hyped up since last episode barely lasts two minutes in the episode itself. No joke, they trade blows for a bit then Hugh and Earl of Downing finally find their place (thanks to Shall) and Rafael simply throws himself off the fortress out of the blue. … … I'm sorry, WHAT!? That's it? This was my problem with the finale following the source material so faithfully because it shot itself in the metaphorical foot here. The animation is fire though; in fact, it's like that for basically all of this episode.

The lull after the fight feels alright. The downside of this small arc is I know none of the fairies names aside from Lusul and their time on screen is super short compared to the artisans earlier on. Regardless, at least they're free. I do have to question when and where Shall found all of their wings and still managed to catch up to them before the soldiers arrived. Especially since he was fighting Rafael most of the time...

The scene of Anne falling to her knees to hug Shall will forever live in my heart. The handholding scene, too.

The timeskip is a bit jarring since it goes from "soldiers incoming, explain thyselves" to "we're home everyone" within one cut. The reunion of Anne & Mythril was the most adorable thing. All of the artisans looking relieved also felt sweet. Even though it's a bit jarring everyone is acting like Anne was on vacation, I found it kind of cute how they all know Anne is worried about the sugar confections above everything else.

If I had not received vol.4 of the light novel on the day this aired, I would have found the conversation between Anne & Bridget odd. I'm not surprised she dissolved her engagement to Elliot or her relationship with Orland blossoming in the background.

Finally, Anne & Shall (plus Mythril at the end).

The ending of the show is bittersweet, of course, but it also isn't really uplifting either. The Holy Festival goes down without a hitch. However, Shall & Anne are now affected by Rafael's words and so there's no confession. The romantic tension of the previous six episodes has now died. It's sad because the trio themselves feels disconnected from every bit of plot that's happened in the last six episodes, I swear. They're optimistic for the future, and I love them for it, but I also felt so conflicted watching this scene in particular. There's something off about this bit of the episode, and looking at social media, I'm glad I'm not the only one feeling like this.

Hopefully J.C. Staff will come back to this. Until then, it's a long four-year wait until all 18 volumes of the light novels are finally released in English (provided Yen Press doesn't give up). Maybe I'll come back to this episode a bit more positive once I can read the volumes of the light novel these last few episodes covered. For now, this is all I can articulate.

[books-and-catears]

Right everyone hold on to your feels, you will shortly be boarding Angst Express 101. Just look at this brilliant and angsty ask I'm speechless. Even the pairings you asked for are so unique and well thought this is a perfect angst concept. And I really hope I could do this justice. Thank you so much for this ask @saltypaperdestiny

So very sorry for the delay, this was the longest ask I've ever written and boy was I delighted. Though I have to admit I had to cry through some of them myself. This is PART 1. Rest of the brothers and the newly Dateables coming soon in part 2.

Who loved you first? Pt1

Lucifer : Simeon

It was time, he decided. After months of being in your presence, his prideful heart had melted enough to recognise his feelings for you. You were the only he'd truly humble down for, because the affection and care you displayed was unparalled.

"MC please get dressed in something nice. I'm taking you to Ristorante Six as a thank you for helping me with Cerebus and the council paperwork" He says to you, barely containing the excitement. He couldn't wait to see the look on your face when he confessed and how you'd blush when you kissed your knuckles and your cheek and wait - What is Simeon doing in your room at this hour?

He didn't want to interrupt, surely it might be nothing to bother about. He patiently waited outside until he heard what Simeon said.

Simeon: MC... You look beautiful, what's the occasion?

MC: Aw thank you Simeon. You're always so kind. It's nothing much, Lucifer is taking me out as a thank you.

Simeon: Oh do you have to leave right away...?

MC: Oh no no. It's okay I have some more time.

Simeon: Well I originally came here to invite you to try Luke's latest attempt at some new recipes but now there's something else I feel like I must tell you. *Blushes* Something I've been holding back for too long.

MC: *joking* Oh what have you been hiding from me, angel? Speak I beseech you!

Simeon: *laughing and then going solemn* MC... *Takes your hands in his* I love you. I love you with all my heart.

MC: ....me? You love..me? But I'm not nearly-

Simeon: You're the most beautiful soul I've ever met. You radiate kindness and forgiveness and everything pure, overcoming the seven biggest evils you reside with. How can I not love you? Tell me, MC, will you accept me as yours?

Lucifer had a half a mind to storm in and laugh in Simeon's face. What a failure this attempt was going to be. His pride grew inside him as he stifled a laugh. MC was his and only his and now he would take pleasure in watching Simeon learn that. Surely MC was going to turn him down nicely but still. He creeped closer to the door, looking through the open crack.

MC: *in tears* Oh Simeon, I love you too! I never thought an angel could ever love me back!

Simeon: *kisses her knuckles* So... It's a yes?!

MC: Yes yes yes! Oh of course it's a yes! *Hugs him tight* My guardian angel who protects me in the dark, oh how I love you.

Simeon: *laughing as he picks you up and spins you around* Oh how happy you've made me MC! I'm the happiest being alive!

MC: *kissing his cheek* So am I, Simeon. I love you with all my heart.

It took Lucifer all his strength to not collapse or go into a violent frenzy. He balled up his fists so tight, the gloves started tearing at the seams. He watched you smiling so gleefully in his arms, looking so radiant. When Simeon dipped his head down to kiss you, the moonlight poured in through the window as if blessing your union.

It was supposed to be him. If only he made it to your room sooner, it could have been him. Embracing all your beauty, being the cause of the shining smile. IT COULD HAVE BEEN HIM.

At his best

"Are you really that happy with him?" he asks you later that night. The blush on your cheeks and that cheeky smile says it all.

"Congratulations MC." You look so joyous even at the thought of Simeon, how could he ruin that?

His temper is worse, more unforgiving towards all his brothers. He has to bear with your absence in the house all day. The fact that he knows you're at Purgatory hall, sipping tea and arm in arm with him pains him to think.

You bring Simeon along to the council to help him too. He outright denies and asks both of you to leave.

He only ever feels calm to see you alone, but that is even rarer with his brothers around to hog his remaining time.

Eventually makes his peace with it, maybe you're better off with someone as pure as yourself than a demon like him.

At his worst

His wrath is back. It's almost bad enough to birth another Satan. His sense of entitlement is through the roof.

He snaps three weeks later when Simeon and you tell everyone about it and decide that you'll be moving to Purgatory hall soon. Everyone claps and rejoices while Lucifer, drunk off Demonus, crashes the fun.

"Simeon, you dirty cheat, pretending to be all pure with your white wings and devious smile. How dare you?!" He says in calm and deadly rage.

"Lucifer... what's wrong-" You approach him to ask. He looks at you and you see the little tears in the corners.

"MC WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MINE THAT NIGHT. MINE. NOT YOURS. THE ONLY BEING THAT CAME CLOSE ENOUGH TO STEAL MY HEART AND YOU TOOK HER AWAY FROM ME."

Lucifer was louder now, hysterically angry, throwing his glass on the floor. "AND I KNOW THEY WOULD HAVE PICKED ME IF I GOT TO THEM FIRST! I LOVED THEM TOO DAMNIT." Simeon stood in front of you to protect you from Lucifer's rage. You hid your face in your hands, breaking down in sobs. What is happening? Where did you go wrong?

"Look at them, Lucifer. Look. At. What. You've. Done. And don't tell you've forgotten how many times you've threatened their lives before." Simeon said, holding you tight as you cried into his chest. "How dare you still feel like you deserve them?"

Lucifer sees you broken down, clutching onto Simeon for dear life, crying. You were smiling just a minute ago what has he done? Simeon blocked off his view with his pearly white wings. A reminder of what Lucifer used to be and cannot be again.

Mammon: Asmodeus

You were his human. And he was your first demon. No one was more territorial about you than him. So he finally made up his mind to seal the deal. No more lying about his feelings. He was going to claim you, once and for all. He imagined you smiling and running your hands through his hair and kissing him returning his feelings.

"MC! I brought the movie of the day!" He barged into your room excited, but you were nowhere to be found. Where could you have gone? It was your movie night with him. You were supposed to be waiting for him inside. He asked his brothers and they said you were with Asmo. He stomped his way up to Asmo's room and called out your name. No response. Not till he peeked inside the dark washroom. You were holding Asmo who looked very unstable and weak, sitting at the side of the bath.

MC: Asmo why don't you listen to me when I tell you not to drink so much!?

Asmo: I'm sorry MC *hic* I needed it today...

MC: Why? What's so scary that you don't have the confidence to do sober?

Asmo: MC do you think I look beautiful?

MC: Of course Asmo, you always do.

Asmo: Even with my runny make up, red nose and swollen eyes and this horrible complexion?

MC: *grabs his face* You're always beautiful to me MC.

Asmo: I...I stopped sleeping around MC. I couldn't do it anymore. *tearing up* Because to them, I'm only beautiful with a perfect covered up face.

MC: Asmo...they're blind and shallow demons who don't know anything! I know you, and I know how much more beautiful you are inside out. Don't listen to them.

Asmo feeling insecure about his appearance? What a big fat lie. Is this his new ploy to get to you? How irritating. It's not going to work, Mammon knows you're smarter than that. The Avatar of Lust can manipulate in many ways. Surely his human was smart enough to see through that!

Asmo: MC, I knew you were the one only who truly loved me. And today, I found the one I love too. Much more than I love myself. So I needed a drink to tell you this.

MC: Asmo...

Asmo: *holding your face gently* MC you saw past this pretty face. You saw the things I do more than what I am. Or what I pretend to be. I know it's hard to believe coming from the Avatar of Lust... But MC, I truly really love you. *looks down and sobs* But you probably can't believe me right?

MC: Asmo. Look at me. *You run your fingers through his hair and he looks up with teary eyes* I believe you. And I've loved you too. You're the only one who never hurt me. The one who willingly made a pact with me. You've been so sweet to me since I came. How could I love anyone else?

Asmo: MC I want you all to myself. Will you be mine? Only mine? I swear I'll keep you happy always!

MC: Of course Asmo. I'll all yours. I'm your little human. *giggling and kissing his head*

Asmo: *grabs and kisses you* MC, if you want, I can be your actual first tonight.

Mammon fell to his knees. He wanted to barge in and scream. He wanted to wrestle Asmo to the ground. He wanted to break his face for saying the words that were special to him and you. But your response had him paralysed. You...accepted him. You agreed to be his.

Silent tears streamed down his face as he watched you embracing Asmo, peppering kisses all over his face, running your hands through his hair, laughing and frolicking in the water with him. The colored moonlight through the stained glass danced on their skin like a scene from his favourite movie.

At his best

He cries to himself for days. Spends as much time outside as he can.

Maybe he is an idiot for thinking he had a chance with him. How could he compete with Asmo's charms.

Maybe it hurt more because Asmo didn't even have to use his charms.

Only ever tries to talk to you if he's sure your alone. One time he barged into your room and caught you and Asmo tangled up together and it broke him all over again.

He watched as you twirled around in a new outfit Asmo bought. He scoffs. He could have bought it for you too.

You both look so cheerful and in love, he decides to accept it. For the sake of his little brother and the human he loves.

At his worst

Breaks down and lets his emotions out in the worst way possible. Too desperate to win you back somehow.

Asmo and you were just telling Solomon and Simeon about your relationship when Mammon barged in through the doors of Purgatory halls.

"MC look! Look what I got you!" He came in all ragged. He knelt down and pulled out a ring. "Take me instead! I was your first wasn't I MC? Don't let him take my place please!"

"Mammon no... No please don't be this way...I'm sorry..." You kneel down next to him as he screams and sobs like a child. You feel guilty. You caused this. You lead him on. You fight your own tears as you keep apologising.

Asmo yanks you up and wraps his arms around you, staring down angrily at Mammon. "Mammon, leave."

Mammon lunged at Asmo. "I was going to tell them. That night was our movie night. You stole that night from me. YOU STOLE MY CHANCE AND MY MC!"

Asmo mocked at him with a sardonic laugh. "You still assume MC is yours without even telling them. You kept lying about your feelings and hurting them in the process. And yet, when they finally look happy, you come and make them cry. You are a scumbag Mammon."

Mammon looked at your tear stained face, nestled inside Asmo's arms and wings. He really felt like nothing but a scumbag.

Leviathan : Belphegor

Levi fell in love with you since your first act of kindness. As a shut-in whose only conversations were with his own eccentric and dismissive brothers, you were an angel who had brought him the gift of true companionship. Honestly he was okay being your best friend, until the day he started craving more. So he decided it was time to tell you.

'MC come to my room! I have a new game to show you!' It was a virtual dating game where he was going to confess digitally. You always loved his creative ways of doing simple stuff after all. He decided to play your favourite game while waiting for you. He even left the door ajar. Now he wished he didn't.

Belphie: MC do you have a minute?

MC: Yeah I was just heading to Levi's room what's up?

Belphie: I think I fallen in love with you, MC.

MC: .... Huh?

Levi almost burst out laughing hearing Belphie's confession. What kind of a bland confession is that? How can someone say that so easily? No that was definitely a joke on MC or something. Surely MC wouldn't take this seriously.

Belphie: I had a dream just now. About you.

MC: Uh huh?

Belphie: In that dream, we were up in the sky, among the stars. And you looked so pretty glittering along with them all. So I kissed you impulsively. And you kissed me back.

MC: ...that's a sweet dream. *blushes*

Belphie: *takes your hand* I woke up and my first thougt was I wish that was real. And then I realised it can be.

MC: ...

Belphie: I want to be able to kiss you always. I want to be able to take you far away. I want all your time. I love you MC. Be mine.

MC: Belphie I-

Belphie: I know, how can you possibly love your own murderer...? *Sighs* I cannot undo what I did. I'm sorry MC. I can only swear that I won't ever let that happen again.

MC: *smiles and cups his face* You were locked away for 3 millenia I can imagine your endless anger and grief for your sister. I forgave you long ago.

Belphie: So does that mean you'll accept me?

MC: You're already mine, silly. And now I'm yours. You're the only one I can relax with in the whole realm.

Belphie: MC... Come here. *holds you close and kisses you*

Levi's game screen displayed the message "GAME OVER: You lose". Levi couldn't see it clearly. His vision was blurred by the tears brimming on his eyes. You and Belphie looked to distant shadows on the moon.

He blamed himself for even thinking he had a chance with you. But maybe just...maybe if he had gotten there before? He stared at the screen and then at his spare console that he had declared yours. He picked up it, and locked it inside. Probably won't be needing it anytime soon.

At his best

He barely comes out of his room anymore. He tries to return your smile at breakfast but then returns hurriedly, leaving Beel to finish most of his food.

"Are you sure you want to play games? Wouldn't you rather go up to the attic" He mutters under his breath sometimes and then says it's nothing when you ask him.

Pains him when he sees you curled with Belphie in random places, dozing off. Might cover you with a blanket. Just you though.

Spites Belphie. A lot of people have said they look and act alike. But somehow you like sleeping more than anime and gaming?

Just accepts it as his fate. Atleast he's still your best friend, right?

At his worst

He's called the Avatar of Envy for a reason. He can barely hold it in seeing the both of you together constantly.

Belphie you and Beel were having a jolly time watching a movie and eating snacks while Belphie slept curled up in your lap. Levi happened to walk in while you were rubbing Belphie's head soothingly.

For some reason, Levi couldn't hold it in anymore. "UGH YOU FUCKING NORMIES!" he screamed out of frustration.

Belphie woke up drowsily when you stopped at stared at Levi holding back tears in the doorway. "Levi..what's wrong.." you call out to him.

He barges in and pushes Belphie off you and grabs your hands, tears falling and him screaming. "Why do you care, MC?! I'm a just disgusting shut in otaku right?! But guess what even as that I do more than just sleep and drool all fucking day! AND MORE IMPORTANTLY ATLEAST IM NOT THE ONE WHO KILLED YOU! So why him? WHY NOT ME MC?!"

"Levi...no..." You plead with him to calm down, tearing up yourself. You should have known. You should have known this would happen.

Belphie violently pushed Levi off you and grabbed him by the collar. "You were the first one to attack MC in this house. And I'm sure you would have killed them if not for Lucifer. So stop pretending you're better than me, you ridiculous creep. A shut in like you is worthless. The only thing you're good at is making MC distressed."

Levi looked at you trying to pull Belphie back, tears streaming down your face and hung his head low. It was simply an Otome game and MC didn't choose him.

Satan: Solomon

Satan took his time to fall. With late night studying session, every cat cafe date, every trip to the museum - he fell more and more each time. To the point where he wanted to spend every waking moment with you. And he was ready to tell you.

For a whole week, he kept writing and scrapping the perfect love letter for you. Then he realised you were someone who preferred simple honesty. "MC please wait for me in the library I'll be there shortly." He'd said before he dashed out to bring a boquet of your favourite flowers and a book which reminded him of you. He'd almost made it to the library, he saw you waiting inside for him eagerly. That was until someone flew in through the window.

Solomon? What's he doing at this hour? Satan peeked in through the half open library door. He wanted to be alone with you so he'd wait till Solomon was gone. He shouldn't have waited.

MC: Solomon! You scared me silly!

Solomon: *laughing* Your face just now MC...so adorable! Like a scared kitten!

MC: You wooshed in through the window!

Solomon: Okay okay my bad. Now what are you doing in the library so late at night. I went to your room and couldn't find you.

MC: Oh Satan called me out here. Told me to wait for him. Maybe there's a new book he wants to read.

Solomon: Do you guys do that often? Reading books this late?

MC: Haha yeah usually we just read in my room or his at night, in case we fall asleep.

Solomon: *sigh* So unfair.

MC: What's unfair?

Solomon: You and I are the only humans here. Why did they put us in different houses? Shouldn't we... be together more often?

MC: Well logically yes we should. Just classes and magic lessons aren't enough! You should live here too!

Solomon: I doubt Lucifer would be okay with that. But well.. here's the real reason I'm here now. *brings out a little basket*

MC: That's...that's a kitten! Hi baby! What's her name!?

Solomon: MC.

MC: Yeah what?

Solomon: No I named the kitten MC. This way I get to call your name as much as I want haha. The silly things us humans do for love, huh?

Satan had a sick feeling in his stomach. Watching you and him sitting in the moonlight, surrounded by books, cuddling a kitten and confessing...that should be him. Him not Solomon. He didn't like where this was heading. But just like you can't help but stare at disaster - he couldn't look away. What was MC going to say...?

MC: Solomon... *blushes*

Solomon: Does my affection scare you? *reaches for your hand*

MC: Of course not...I.. *gets closer and intertwining your fingers together*

Solomon: Is this your way of showing-

MC: *blushes* Yes. I love you too.

Solomon: I believe I've lived for a 1000 years just to hear those words. *kisses you against the bookshelves*

MC: I believe you've gotten 1000 years worth of romantic lines stored away in that head of yours. *Laughs and kisses him back*

Solomon: Let's take this to the moon shall we?

Satan watched as he took you and kitten in his arms and flew out the window. Satan rushed in not wanting to lose sight of you, dropping the flowers and books. Balling his fists, he choked on his angry tears as he watched you both laughing and kissing against the bright light of the moon. He felt like his own happy ending was stolen from him.

When you disappeared from view, he let out a blood curdling scream, pulling at his own hair and knocking over the bookshelf against which Solomon kissed you. The wrath inside him made him thrashing around in pain, burning him inside out. The flowers he dropped, lay there next to his sobbing body, wilting in his pain.

At his best

He manages to put on his best fake smile and go about his day. Tries hard to hide his annoyance if you bring him up.

But you seem so happy and you often invite him to new cat cafes and shelters. So despite Solomon's presence, he feels calm because of you and the cats.

Is secretly happy you get to spend more time with him than Solomon. Takes advantage of that and hogs you all to himself while in the house

While he can't hold or kiss you the way the Solomon does, you're here next to him, reading his recommended books. That's enough to soothe his yearning heart.

At his worst

The war for love is on. He doesn't care if Solomon already won. He will still declare his love no matter what.

It started out as subtle, he did what he knew Solomon couldn't. Cooking MC's favourite dishes whenever it was his turn to cook.

Tries to subtly reinforce his intelligence over Solomon when you're around. What's 1000 years of knowledge worth, Satan has been there since the first millenia ever

But the day Solomon and you announced you'll be moving to Purgatory Hall, he charged at him, his demon form angry and glowing. "How dare you think you can take them away from us? You think you can win against us... against me? You may have taken my chance with them but I won't let you take them away! They belong here with me!"

You inched closer to Satan's form. You'd never seem him this angry. "Satan please calm down-" Satan wasn't listening. He let out a feral growl and attacked Solomon.

Solomon held MC by his side and made a protection shield Satan couldn't get through. You started crying, watching his wrath take over, he must be in so much pain.

Solomon felt you curl up against him in fear and guilt. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed Satan by the scruff of his neck, like you'd do with a misbehaving cat.

"You say you want to protect them and yet look what you did instead." Solomon said. Satan looked helplessly at you, crying with your face buried in your hands. Glancing at his horns in the mirror, he called out to you sadly, "MC..."

Solomon creeped closer and said in a deadly low voice. "You love fairy tales right Satan? Well in the story of Beauty and the Beast, they could only be together because the beast was actually a human." And Satan was far from being a human.

Asmo : Mammon

It happened the day Asmo looked into the mirror and felt something missing. Suddenly his own reflection wasn't enough anymore. He pondered what it was when you happened to walk into his room and hug him from behind. And then he found the missing piece. You. He simply had to make sure you would become a part of him now.

Now contrary to popular belief, he did get nervous while thinking of proposing. This man is all about lust and a little kid when it comes to love. It's a whole new emotion and he's unsure how to deal with it. With some advice from Satan's romance books he lights your room up with candles, groomed himself perfectly, waiting for you to return to your room. Only you don't come. "What's taking MC so long?!"

He headed out and found you in Mammon's room instead. Asmo saw in the reflection off the mirror, Mammon's shirt off and him lying on his front as you poured ointment over his scars.

Mammon: Oi MC please don't be so upset...

MC: You didn't deserve this. You didn't. I did.

Mammon: MC, not again.

MC: You took my punishment. You took the blame for the broken vase for my sake.

Mammon: I didn't want ya getting hurt ya stupid human!

MC: Don't be calling me stupid and then go off doing stupid stuff yourself! *cries*

Mammon: MC...no don't cry. Please I'm sorry.

MC: Don't apologize for this! Mammon you're too kind... You keep taking blame for others, and the others just UGH.

Mammon: I've gotten used to Lucifer's punishments, MC! I'm more used to it than my brothers so I can take it!

MC: .... You're such a sweet big brother. You can't stop protecting the people you love, can you?

Mammon: *turns around to lie on his back* Now you get why I need to protect ya, don't ya?

Asmo's eyes flew open as did yours. Mammon just confessed to you. Albeit indirectly, but really did. But he felt pity for his older brother. Sure he was caring and sweet sometimes, but mostly he was a thief and a scumbag who constantly gets into trouble. He didn't stand a chance against Asmo's charms.

MC: Mammon... You silly demon. I love you too. *Lays their head on his chest*

Mammon: *blushes and coughs* Of course ya love the Great Mammon, human!

MC: *smiles against his skin* Swear to me, you won't ever do that again else I will fight Lucifer myself!

Mammon: *smiles* He's attacked ya thrice and yer face still loses its colour whenver he's around and yet yer thinking of fighting him for my sake, MC?

MC: OF COURSE!

Mammon: But I don't want that. Ya did too much for all of us when ya sacrificed your life to bring Belphie back. I should know, I held ya in my arms. *Tears up* Ya know ye were smiling still?? So calm and undisturbed as if ya didn't care what happens to ya now that all the brothers are together?

MC: You caught me...

Mammon: And I never want to catch ya like that again, get that human!? I will be a good protector as I was meant to be.

MC: Mammon... you're far too kind to be a demon. *Kisses him and gets on top of him*

Mammon: *grips their arms and holds them close* Stay with me tonight.

Asmo watched as you nodded and took off your top and lay down over him again, your skins in gentle and intimate contact and you both wrap your arms around and you presses kisses onto each other. The moonlight danced on your entangled bodies.

He stared and stared, his insides burning with an alien feeling. He hadn't known envy till you came along. His signature move would be to call both of you out and suggest a threesome, but what you both seemed to have was impenetrable. And in the mirror where he saw your reflections, he couldn't see himself.

At his best

This demon had never known love. He might have if Mammon hadn't decides to confess that very night.

But who cares? What's done is done. It's time to root for the both of you. He still has his followers to turn to.

"Mammon finally confessed huh?" He asked jokingly. Until he saw you blush and nod.

"You both must have fun together huh?" He says with a dry laugh.

Your hugs and headpats still keep him going. He takes you buy new dresses knowing it's to impress Mammon instead.

Tries so hard to conceal his tears and tantrums around you. He doesn't want to lose the small part of you that he had left.

At his worst

He cannot stay home. The sight of you both together makes him irritated and stressed both very bad for his skin.

He drinks and parties uncontrollably, bringing home demons and succubi that always seem to resemble you.

One night, Lucifer had enough and caught him by the collar, forbidding him to go to his room. Asmo giggled until Mammon and you showed up.

He swiftly escaped Lucifer's grasp and lunged at you, holding your face between his trembling hands. You look at him closely, his make up was messier than usual, the cresent underneath his eyes was darker than usual.

"MC...look at me. Look at only me. Just for a little while." Asmo said and his eyes glowed. He'd turned on his charm on full force as he leaned into you for a kiss.

Mammon pushed him back and stood before you protectively. Asmo fell back, laughing like a maniac. "Stupid Mammon they are with you out of pity! How long do you think you can make them stay with that stupid brain and sub par beauty?"

You teared up and screamed, "Asmo stop saying things like that! You dont even know anything about him!" Mammon hugged you tight, trying to calm you down.

And then in a lowly growl he said, "Asmo don't let me see ya laying a finger on MC again. Ya would see how people really see ya if you learnt to look away from your own reflection!"

But Asmo did. He did look away from his reflection. He looked at you. Only you didn't look back at him.

Keep reading Pt. 2

[phoenixyfriend]

Uhh for the prompt meme, 3 & 13 gives me Anakin and the Jedi Babies vibes, so Jango or Jaster & Anakin or Soka or Ben maybe?

390 Prompts!!!! 3. “Am I supposed to be scared of you?” 13. “BOOM! That oughta show you not to mess with me!”

IDK if I’ll get the actual line in but I’ve been meaning to write a bit about Jango and Sokanth, at minimum. Jango is just barely fifteen, Soka is two. She has very vague memories of her teen self.

EDIT: I GOT THE LINE IN

Objectively, Jango’s main connection to Anakin Skywalker should have been professional.

It wasn’t.

Jango hadn’t been one of the soldiers to bring in the little family. He’d heard about it after they’d already been taken to medical, arrived just in time to see them muttering about how fancy the prosthetic arm was as they removed it--frostbite risk, they said--and stripping the Jedi of his sodden robes. The man was only a few years older than Jango, and covered in battle scars. Attractive, maybe, but Jango wouldn’t be able to even think of that until he wasn’t staring at blue lips on a half-dead face.

“How did he know we were here?” he asks his father, stepping up beside the man at the overlarge window of the ‘secure’ medical room, and receiving half a glance in response.

“He didn’t,” Jaster says, looking supremely unhappy with the entire situation. “Had no idea who I was, when he saw me.”

“He talked to you?”

“For about five seconds before he passed out.” Jaster smiles, thin and grim. “We found an Ident card. It’s got a name, a few details that don’t make sense... we think it might have been prepared for a long-term mission in system with a non-standard calendar; the dates are in the future if we assume it’s Republic.”

“Weird,” Jango mutters. “He doesn’t look much like a Jedi.”

“Adi’ka, you’ve never met a Jedi,” Jaster scoffs, cuffing him on the shoulder.

“Jedi don’t wear black leather,” Jango argues, glancing at the nearest pile of cloth.

Jaster rolls his eyes. “He had four lightsabers on him, if that’s what you’re looking to ask.”

“Haran.” Jango whistles lowly, impressed despite himself. “What’d he need that many for?”

“The brown robes were too short for him,” Jaster says, voice not quite loud enough to carry. “And the other set were fit for a female youngling, even shorter.”

He hadn’t been alone.

And now he was.

“Bodies?” Jango asks.

“None dead,” Jaster says. “And the living are... far too young to match up.”

He gestures, and Jango belatedly sees the tiny, tiny things in cribs to the side.

Jango swears, quiet and angry. He’d heard there were children, but he hadn’t expected anyone quite that small.

Jaster takes the cursing in stride. “They’re estimating the human at six months. Togruta’s maybe two years. Jedi was damn near dead when they found him, but the kids seem fine. Medics are guessing it’s something to do with the Force, because neither of them were even that cold.”

“Any idea how he knows them?”

“Nothing yet, just that he cares about them like they’re his own,” Jaster says. “Scouting party claimed he said they were family. Even used Mando’a, called them aliit. We’re going to keep them together until we know more. No use accidentally enraging a Jedi by separating him from family, if that’s what they are. The Togruta seems to know him, at least.”

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to have families.”

“You also thought Jedi weren’t supposed to wear black leather.”

Jango huffs and turns away from his father, focusing in on how the medics are starting to pack in blankets on the man’s chest while they get to work on the thigh wound. It looks already cauterized, maybe a blaster, but that can still get infected damned easily. Jango’s seen it happen before.

“Can the togruta talk yet?”

“Only enough to ask for her... carer?” Jaster hazards. “She refers to him as ‘Skyguy’ and it’s been pretty much the only word she’s said that isn’t gibberish.”

Jango almost asks if they’re sure it’s not just Togruti.

Even as he watches the area below, the toddler starts crying. A few of the medics dart glances over, but they're busy with the adult. The crying starts increasing in pitch, heading to dangerous territory, and a number of people abruptly remember that a Togruta's cry is much more likely to destroy eardrums than a human child's.

Jango hesitates, but turns from his father and heads for the door. Nobody comments.

Jango slips into the room as quietly as a teenager in most of a beskar kit can, and goes over to the cribs that have been hastily set up. The human infant is quiet, blinking sleepily and furrowing their little brow, but the toddler has gotten to her feet, clinging to the bars and screaming her little head off. He stops in front of her and... tries to figure out what to do.

"Weks?"

He has no idea if that's a word. She's stopped screaming at least, is just rubbing her eyes free of tears and peering up at him. She hiccups.

"Hi," he says, unsure of what else to do.

"No weks," she seemingly decides, and her lip trembles. Kriff. "Obi-obi?"

"I don't know what you're saying," he tells her, but offers a hand that she immediately grabs for. "Do you know Basic?"

"Ya!" she cheers, and then starts trying to climb out of the crib. Jango panics and picks her up, because he's pretty sure this might be a Jedi baby, and if it's a Jedi baby, then what if she can float? He can't deal with an upset, floating baby. Better he just pick her up.

"Hi," he repeats, still unsure of what to do with this small child. She frowns at him, deep in thought, and pats at his face like she's trying to figure it out. "What are you--"

"Shi-ny," she suddenly insists. "Like Tup."

He has no idea what she's trying to say. "Sure."

She frowns harder at him, and then leans forward and drops her head against his beskar, seemingly unaware of how uncomfortable it's going to be. "Shiny. Weks 'n' Cody 'n' Echo 'n' vod."

"You don't even know my name," Jango says, panicking a little. "You can't call me vod."

"Shhhh now," she says, patting blindly at his mouth. He tries to crane his head away. He mostly fails. "Sleepy."

"Wh--okay," he decides. Sure. If it keeps her quiet, sure. He goes to sit down, and she immediately turns and tries to grab for her... fellow child? He has no idea what they are to each other.

"No!"

"Okay, okay, we can stay with the other baby!" Jango assures her, trying to bounce her up and down like he's seen new parents do, looking frantically for a chair to pull over. "I'm going to get a chair and we'll come right back, okay?"

She looks up at him, tears gathering. "Pwomise?"

"Uh, yeah, I promise."

He lets her bury her face back against his chest, and quickly grabs the nearest chair and drags it over to the cribs. He ignores the medics for the most part, just focuses on holding the toddler that he has, mostly against his own will, become temporarily responsible for. "Do you have a name?"

She just whines and cuddles closer. He sighs.

"Well, I'm Jango. So, you don't have to call me that other stuff." He moves a hand to pull her away from where she's about to topple off his lap. She grabs for it and pulls it to her face, apparently forgetting that she'd just declared herself sleepy. She examines the glove in fascination. "Please definitely don't call me vod. You have people here, and I just met you. Wait for your, uh, Skyguy? Wait for your Skyguy to wake up."

She bites his fingers. He pulls his hand away, swearing under his breath and panicking just a little. "Don't put that in your mouth, do you have any idea where my gloves have been?"

She bares her teeth at him and growls. Given that her teeth are barely more than nubs, this doesn't do much. "Am I supposed to be scared of you?"

"Ya!"

"I am not."

She pouts and whines and throws herself back against the beskar, causing a thunking noise as her montral hits the plate. She does not seem perturbed by the collision, just twists somehow closer and sticks her thumb in her mouth.

That is... also probably covered in germs. He looks over at the crib, spots a pacifier, and awkwardly leans to grab it without dropping the toddler in his lap or standing up and making it harder for her to start falling asleep again. There's a little togruta on it, which he figures means it's not going to be a choking hazard for non-human teeth. "Here, chew this instead."

She makes a curious noise and lifts her head. She wrinkles her nose at the pacifier, and then looks up at him. "Jan-Jan, no."

"Wh--you know what, no, you're a kid, I can't get angry at you for getting my name wrong," he sighs. "Take the pacifier, it's cleaner than your hand."

"No!"

"Please?" He tries.

She glares at him a little harder and then huffs. "Kay. Cuz shiny."

He still has no idea what that means, but if it gets her to fall asleep with this thing in her mouth instead of her dubiously-clean hand, he's fine with it.

(When he learns what shiny means, he will be much less fine with it.)

(It'll be far too late by that point, of course.)

[ditttiii]

gold rush. || kth {m}

⇢ summary: kim taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. all narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is everyone’s dream. after months of sharing an elevator with the man who makes your heart race until you can scarcely breathe when the chance finally comes; are you willing to risk it all for his touch? 

⇢ genre: porn with feelings, soft smut, angst, is unresolved tension and feelings a genre?

⇢ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

⇢ word count: 4.4k

⇢ rating: explicit / 18+

⇢ theme: strangers to lovers, s2l!au

⇢warning/s: public/elevator sex, exhibitionism, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (female receiving), lots of kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex? reader’s on the pill, swearing, tension and so much of it, unresolved-repressed feelings, taehyung is a certified dingus & reader is hopelessly smitten. 

⇢ a/n: betaed by @yeojaa​ who owns my heart and is the most precious bean ever. 

also have all my virtual, socially distanced cuddles @btsmosphere​ @papillonsgf​ @birbdae​ & @unoriginal-username15432​. if it weren’t for their support this wouldn’t be out today. my gratitude knows no bounds ♡ also big thanks to taylor for the fic title.

banner by @chillingkoo​ & moodboard by @today-we-will-survive​​ their art breathed life into this fic ♡ a belated birthday fic for one mr.kim taehyung & the beautiful @kerikaaria​.  this fic is also my submission for @thebtswritersclub​ january monthly project. 

lastly, i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope you guys enjoy it x 2021 here v go ♡

You wonder when the shame stopped making you hide behind a curtain of messy bed hair. When the smell of a man's cologne on you and a fruity fragrance on him started to feel normal; routine.

 The elevator closes with a 'ping', and your eyes track the numbers as they descend, the warmth of another human, the soft puffs of his breath, warming your shivering, scantily dressed body.

 "What happened to ‘she’s too old for me?’ " You grunt, slipping off your six inches of agony inducing footwear and pushing them to a corner.

 "What happened to you not being jealous?" You can feel his smirk, oozing of self-assured nonchalance and smugness that would seem ugly on anyone but fits like a well-tailored suit on him. From the corner of your eye, you watch as he leans back, hands resting on the metal railing while his tall, lean body slouches lazily, almost invitingly, and you have to force your eyes away from tracing the curves of his pecs. It's a tempting sight, but you aren't about to give him any more ammo to goad you with. As it is, he already knows too much, is far too keen. 

 "Of your sugar mama? I don't think so."

 Taehyung hums but doesn't refute the statement and the silence between you two stretches on. A burning ball of jealousy in your stomach continues to eat away at your peace, and with a clenched jaw, you allow your head to rest against the cool metal of the elevator and pretend that the proximity doesn't affect you. 

 It's always the same between you two, a constant game of tug and war, where one pulls too firmly, and then the other comes tumbling close until one of you comes back to your senses and then it's back to square one. Back to bickering and recounting the previous night’s escapades of half-truths and lies told from kiss-swollen lips and hooded gazes as you try your best to rile the other one up.

 It's stupid. You are in your twenties and this isn't like you. The lying, the pretence that you are still seeing your ex-boyfriend and biting and sucking your own lip until it swells; until you look properly ravished; none of this is you.

 You should have known the day he first stumbled into the elevator with a half-buttoned shirt and bite marks painted over the pale skin of his neck, a satisfied smirk curled on his dark pink lips, that he wasn't good for you. But no, like the absolute fool that you are, you fell for him. Fell knowing full well he wasn't yours to have, that back then you weren't his to have.

 The elevator comes to a stop with a shudder. Your eyes, closed sometime during the descent, snap open and your feet pause when the sight of the closed doors grace you.

 "You stopped the elevator." It's not a question, not when his hand is still hovering over the stop button, head tilted as his eyes stay trained on you.

 "I did." He admits to a question you never asked.

 Biting back a hiss at his insistence on being difficult, you twist on your heels, lips pulled into a smile whose edges sting like shards of a broken glass and parry, "And why did you do that, pray tell?"

 He doesn't answer, just looks at you with that half-lidded gaze and his silence only infuriates you more, makes the back of your neck feel heated as an angry flush rises from your chest all the way up to your cheeks and with a few angry stomps you’re in Taehyung's space, barely a few inches left between you two.

 "God!" You start, and the anger, the jealousy, the ugly ball of insecurity and lust and something you haven't quite found a name for yet all coagulate and rise up your throat, burning your heart in their wake until you are hurting and seething. “I don’t get you, nor do I want to anymore!" The words tumble out, one after another and half thought out but your chest still burns and the ugly ball still feels scorching hot in your throat and you can't bring yourself to stop, to shut up and think. "Stop doing this. Stop flirting with me and stop looking at me with those hooded eyes of yours and for the love of god, do you really need to lick your lip that often? Why don't you carry a lip balm if your lips are that dry, huh?"

 The cross of your eyes is almost painful, but you have started and fuelled by anger and unreciprocated feelings there’s no stopping your steam. "And now this! Stopping the elevator! What the hell is this supposed to mean?" His lips part as if to answer but without waiting for his response, you plow on, "What! Do you actually have an answer? Really? Let's face it; you think I’m some sort of challenge that needs to be conquered. Another notch on your bedpost. You and your stupid smirks and half-lidded eyes and that damn mole on your nose and god, can you just not—"

 The soft pad of his finger on your lips pauses your rant, leaves them parted and your heart hammering while unsaid words clutter the hollow spaces in your throat, tighten around your vocal cords like a noose until they become their own nemesis. 

 "I broke up with her last night," Taehyung says, and from where you are standing so close to him, his breath on your neck, cheeks, lips is too enchanting, too much like something you had hoped and begged and prayed for far too long now. Breathing out harshly you blink yourself back to reality because you must be hearing him wrong. 

  "Huh?"

 His hand slowly comes up to hold your chin, thumb running over your lower lip with a feather-like touch, "I broke up with her last night, went home and came back early because I didn't want to miss you." He says, and your chest feels tight, palms numb and it's only when his hand gently settles over the nape of your neck and you inhale painfully that you realise that you had stopped breathing.

 "Why?" You rasp out. 

  Don't hope. This means nothing. Do not hope. 

 Something twists in your belly, a thread tightens around your heart, and you know, despite it all, that you are hoping. 

 "Why do you think?" He asks instead, and you stifle the sudden desire to bash his head into a wall. 

 "Don't play games with me." 

 A sigh, his breath dancing on your lips and you barely suppress the tingles that burn down your spine, "I'm not. I don't want to, not anymore." The hand resting around your neck curls, fingers caressing the soft skin behind your ear.

 "What do you want then?" Your words are quiet, hope and longing laced into every syllable that you desperately hope to hide but fail. 

 Your heart hammers into your ribs with so much force you are half afraid it will leave them cracked; splintered just like your love for the man who is touching you, holding your entire heart in the palm of his hands while you wait for it to be crushed. Because it will, it's inevitable. Kim Taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. All narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is too good. Too good for the woman he was with and certainly too good for you. You would be happy if you looked half as good on your wedding day as he regularly does because he is that gorgeous. And unreal, and pretty and it hurts. 

 It hurts because you can never have him and any second now he will push you away and ridicule you for getting flustered so easily and he will never understand, and god it cuts. It tears at you because despite knowing better, you long for him, his touch, his warmth.

 Maybe even his love. But that is one hope you refuse to acknowledge out loud. 

 Your breaths mingle from where you two are standing so close, and part of you aches to reach out, to pull him closer and wrap yourself around him until you can sync the beat of your heart to his, to nestle your face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in, drown in the scent of that spicy cologne that you associate with him and nobody else. Because it's tempting, oh so inviting and he is so so close.

 You could touch his chest, caress the skin peeking from in between the dip of his low neck shirt and it would be easy, he would let you, you know that too but what about after? How do you come back from holding someone your soul is in love with and then pretend that being with them for one night was enough? How does your hope keep living on in the name of that fragment of love? His arms your shelter for one night and then you are back to being strangers, sharing elevators and bumping into each other at the grocery store, pretending all the while that you do not yearn to visit that one night you spent together whenever your head hits the pillow? 

 "I..." Taehyung struggles, chews the words before his lips form them because this is his last chance and if he loses you now, it's over; he knows that too. The pair of you are done playing cat and mouse. 

 "I know my words don't hold a whole lot of value. I could promise you things, but you won't believe me and that's fair. I get it." He admits, another hand coming up until your face is cradled in his open palms, fingers slipping behind the edges of your ears and you will yourself to not drop your gaze, to look into his eyes and search for...love? Honesty? You wish you could say you know what it is that you are hunting for, but held so close all you can think about is the chestnut brown of his eyes, the black that rims them, the high arched brows and the thin, smooth lips and that mole; that mole that you can only see when you are pressed close, a hair's breadth of space between you two. 

 "But...?" You ask, pray, and yet again, against your better judgement hope.

 "But I love you." He confesses, voice forever rich and deep and you feel the hum of his baritone from where your chest is still pulled tight to his. "My love for you is unlike any I have ever known, and it scared me; it still scares me because I don't know. I don't know what I will do if I ever lose you. I care too much, I—" His grip on you tightens and instinctively your hands snake around his waist, clenching the soft cotton of his shirt, nails biting into your skin as his words thread your hopelessly lovesick heart back together; piece by piece.

 "I love you too much." Taehyung whispers and the ice around your heart thaws, his raw confession lighting a fire in your nerves until you are left buzzing from the high of his admission. "Trust me. Just this once. Please." He is vulnerable in his plea, and for the first time you wonder if you had characterised him wrong. Boxed and stored him like a gift on a shelf without bothering to look underneath the paper wrapping.

 Taehyung doesn't have to beg, he doesn't have to try and persuade anyone, and for all the gibes you threw his way, all the daggered words about him dating only for money, you didn't truly believe any of them. Sure, the woman he had been with for the last few months was older (a voice in your head whispers wiser), but that wasn't because she was, as you would often insist, his 'sugar mama', but instead because their interests aligned. Kim Taehyung is a man of taste, whether it be his fondness for a violin's trill, fascination with modern art, or his love for jazz music. He is an enigma and with no small amount of embarrassment you think back to all the times you have bought a book after he made a passing comment on it, searched the pages and the characters to find some semblance of him.

 Maybe you are pathetic, perhaps you are far too infatuated with this man for it to be healthy. Just maybe...

 "No," Taehyung commands, his voice so determined you’re snapped back to the present, head thrown out of the haze your wandering thoughts had created.

 Seeing your obscure expression and strayed eyes (look away because you can't acknowledge how much he matters), he pushes, one hand sliding down to grip your chin and urge you to look him in the eye. "Don't." 

 Maybe he sees something in your eyes, spots your hidden insecurities, reads you like an open book and dog-ears the pages that hold your weakness. 

 "Don't what?" You deflect, gaze drifting away again as you pretend to not know what he means but secretly long for him to keep pushing, to keep trying—your denial’s a facade to hide all your pleas. 

 "Don't do this to me. To us."  

 "You'll hurt me." You protest, a half-hearted attempt at trying to protect your already doomed heart even as your fingers clench tighter, pull him closer.

 "No, I won't." He speaks with certainty that you don't wholly believe but fuelled by far too much love and longing, you don't protest any further and instead toe closer, rise higher, and breathe in the shaky exhale he lets out when your lips skim the sharp curve of his jaw. 

 "I've wanted this for so long." Unadulterated desire courses through your veins at his admission. Even if Taehyung is lying, even if he leaves you stranded after today, you'll live. You'll live on the high of this moment, the memory of his skin under your touch, the crisp of the cotton draped over his lean torso. 

 It's easier to let go and surrender yourself, easier to lay yourself bare because you have already come too far and there is no protecting yourself anymore—your heart is now his to do with.

 Your hands twine around his waist, slide over the vast expanse of his back like he is yours; as though if you try hard enough, you'll leave an imprint, a sign that he belongs to you. Mark him for the rest of eternity and brand him with your name on his heart. 

 Kissing him is easy, the slight ache of staying on your tippy-toes going by unregistered as you get lost in the sensation of his lips, his sighs on your chin, the tickle of his lashes against the high curve of your cheek. 

 The cradle of his palms around your face is gentle, almost careful, as though you are a porcelain doll and he is afraid one harsh move will leave you splintered. Chest tight, you push down the last remaining traces of hesitation clinging inside your throat and twist to catch his lips instead, licking a long strip from the soft cleft of his chin over to his parted lips, dip into the hollow of his mouth and slide over the soft flesh on the inside before you catch his upper lip in between yours and suck.

 His responding groan has you clenching your thighs and you break the kiss, breathing in to replenish the oxygen that doesn't seem as important when his lips are on yours. When your gaze catches his, for once you don't look away, don't force yourself to stop from swimming in the beautiful, clear pool of his eyes.

 "I love you too." Your admission is quiet, more a careful whisper than anything else, as though any louder and you'll break this spell and things will go back to the way they were. He will come to his senses and realise he doesn't love you after all and then you'll go back to being a pining, lovesick fool, only this time with a broken heart and no hope to cling to.

 His eyes grow soft—gentle in the curve of two crescent moons, and you smile your first real smile, the edges twitching and pulling into a gentle grin before you can bite it down and the answering smile that Taehyung rewards you with has your heart squeezing almost painfully inside your chest.

 "Yeah?" He asks as though he already knows the answer but just wants to hear you say it again, profess your love for him again and you do. You say it again and again, press your lips over every inch of his face and emboss the words onto the smooth, unblemished skin.

 Taking in a shuddering breath, you answer from around the suspended ball of disbelief and love in your throat. "Yeah." 

 When the clothes start coming off it’s a gentle, slow affair, the spaces in between filled with tender touches curious to explore the skin that they had desired for so long and open-mouthed kisses pressing promises of forever and happily ever after onto the naked expanse, leaving goosebumps in their wake.  

 Legs twined around his waist like ivy, you arch off the floor. A tug of your hand and his shirt slips low, and then your mouth is pressing warm, wet, kisses, tongue slipping out and desperately tasting his skin, his sweat— him. You lean back and then he's on you, low, low, low until his lips are close enough to skim the edges of your panties and you buckle, arch and push without meaning to as you ache for relief only he can provide. 

 "You are beautiful. So so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen." 

 His words are rough, less speech and more growl as he pushes his head closer to your soaking heat and inhales. "Fuck." 

 Breathes turning to hitches, words into gasps, you can scarcely keep your eyes open when he runs a long, slim finger through your folds and circles your wet opening before your walls are pulsing around him, sucking and pulling the finger in as deep as it will go. One and two then three, your cunt can't have enough of his fingers, his heat and him and oh— 

 His lips are velvet against your clit, your body a molten mass of gold moulding itself around his fingers, your sanity and restraint slipping and dripping down onto the carpeted floor from in between the spaces. With the last left strength, you prop yourself onto your elbows and the sight of Taehyung's mouth on your sex is almost enough to send you slipping back down again. His tongue laves across your folds with the desperation of a man parched, caressing every fold, greedily licking away your dripping arousal and moaning out obscenities too vulgar for how early the day is. 

 When you come, it's with a cry that sounds too animalistic to be yours. One that comes from your chest and leaves your back arched like the ends of a boomerang. "Good?" He asks with glistening lips, and you wanna scream, hysterical in your pitch— good? Is there anything better that exists in this world than his lips on you making you come? Again and again, until you can no longer stand the sensitivity? 

 But instead of screaming, or shaking him by his shoulders until it gets through his head, you reply with a spent nod and let your elbows slip. This is what being eaten out by Kim Taehyung feels like. The pleasure coursing through your veins is something far more potent than any you have ever felt before. The blood in your veins thrumming, almost sizzling under the thin layer of your skin. 

 He presses his forehead to yours, rests to catch his breath and with every shuddery inhale you breathe your arousal in, a swipe of your tongue across his glistening lips, and then you can taste it too. It tastes of nothing and yet everything. Coming from his lips, it tastes of what your dreams are built from, like liquified recklessness and yearning and above all —Taehyung. 

 It tastes of him and his smirks and all the kisses you couldn't have and all the kisses you now hope for. 

 His fingers are gentle when they tuck your hair, eyes bright behind the curtain of messy, ink-black strands, "There's a law somewhere that says when you love someone with all your heart, you are unavoidably loved by them as well. Amor ch'a null'amato amar perdona." 

 Your eyes search his, frantically rove all over his face, search the lines under his eyes, pause at the small mole on his nose, and then stop at the sight of the one on his lower lip, the one that your eyes would always drift to every time he'd smirk or grin in the past. Now he's smiling, lips stretched into a soft boxy curve, the mole evident against the edge and you raise a trembling hand, run your thumb across it. Cup his face with both your hands until your vision blurs and then your lips are on his. Locking and licking and your mouth is a leaking faucet of I love you's, hands working to the back of his head and getting lost in those perfectly long, wavy strands. 

 You hope this is the real thing when you wildly take off your dress, rip off his shirt unmindful of the last few buttons that clatter to the floor and undress until the both of you are as bare as you were the day you were born.

 The steel railing is startlingly cold against your rear but before you can wince Taehyung's large hands are on your waist, pulling you closer until all that's on your mind is the feel of him, hard and hot against your dripping heat. His mouth is on your breast, lips sucking marks into the flesh and tying you to him, leaving traces of his presence behind until you can no longer differentiate the ache in your heart from the burn in your belly. 

 Somehow through the haze of want and compulsive need, you collect yourself enough to tell him you're on the pill when he remembers the lack of protection in his wallet, and then he's inside you. The thrust inside is fluid, and you are moaning, keening at your wetness, at how long he is, at how unbearably, entirely full you are. 

 Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, like the last words of a man dying an untimely death, desperate and hurried and like if he takes a second too long he might never get the chance again. The scratch of your nails against his back must hurt, the grip of your heels around his sides must be painful, and still you can't bring yourself to let up; to let go. 

 The air inside becomes humid, reeks of sex and sweat and everything that shouldn't seem so right, and yet does. 

 You come first, hit your peak and crash through it like a ship in a torrential sea, hot and volatile and like something vital that you'll retain even in the afterlife. Taehyung–sweet, sweet Taehyung – helps you ride it out, makes your body sing with the honed practice of a pianist who has spent more decades playing than he can recall. His tongue is on your neck, stroking that one sensitive spot in the hollow of your clavicle while his hand brushes your clit, builds the pleasure and lets it drift, unhurried and soft until you are crying from the overwhelming rightness of it. 

 With a shudder, you finally push his hand away from your quivering heat and bring it to your lips, kiss the bony knuckles and let it rest on your thigh from where he wraps it tight around your waist and drives to chase his own high. 

 Sated you watch Taehyung, catalogue all the features that you had never seen before but up close can. Just in case—just. File them all in a part of your heart where only he resides, a piece you will always come back to, regardless of if the man in your arms chooses to stay or not. You will be selfish with these memories, hoard and treasure them in secrecy until the day you can look back upon them with nothing more than nostalgic fondness. 

 The appearance of a deep furrow on his forehead, between those long arched brows and the breaking rhythm of his thrusts, alerts you to how close he is and you clench. Clench with all the love and devotion you nurture in your heart and hope that somehow it will be enough. If not forever, then at least until you can have your fill, until you can love him for a life's worth and live off on those memories. Live on them like a late mother's half-finished perfume bottle that you take out and sniff on your sorriest days, a push strong enough to keep you going. 

 One more day, then one more and then just one more until you can finally meet him in the afterlife, old and having done all that you had been sent to do. Except for love. You doubt you can ever love like this again. 

 Kissing him after feels like the best kind of heartbreak because you know, somewhere deep in your gut where you house your intuition and insecurities, you know this won't last. 

 Yet you wouldn't take back anything. Your lips form words on Taehyung's shoulder 'i love you so much. i always will', and you tighten your arms around his waist. Anchor him to the present and pray that the defence will be strong enough to keep him with you for a little while more. 

 Just a little.

a/n: the end is up to your interpretation, you are free to imagine whatever end you’d have liked to see. If you enjoyed reading this please let me know through comments, reblogs, tags or asks. the feedback makes me insanely happy and i love hearing from you guys ♡

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt.9

Summary: Darkling’s secrets are soon to be unveiled, just in time for a trip to the Fold.

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol, implied sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight  

=================================

The Darkling walked with a spring in his step. Residents of Little Palace have gotten used to his skulking in black keftas he wore like second skin. Never before had they seen him smile as much as he did on this particular day – as if he found the secret to happiness.

In truth, the Darkling refused to let himself hope for much. He simply hoped she’d allow him to kiss her now without receiving a death threat for it. It felt incredibly dangerous how foolishly addicted he is to his fickle wife. He never wanted anyone as much as he wanted her.

“General”, Fedyor joined him on his right, while Ivan silently took his left side. They both kept a reasonable distance from Kirigan, two steps behind at all times.

“What reason did you have to knock on my door this morning?” Kirigan’s voice is leveled, but his words are a death trap. There’s nothing more the general hates than his Grisha interrupting his private time – regardless if Y/N is with him or not. Unless there’s a burning issue at hand, he disliked being bothered unnecessarily.

“We’ve intercepted a few interesting stories you might like”, Ivan responds calmly, unafraid of his temperamental general. After all the years they’ve known each other, Ivan could read Kirigan’s mood easily. Despite his discontent, Kirigan is chipper for the first time in a long time. In fact, Ivan can’t even remember the last time his general was this happy...or happy at all.

“What kind?” Darkling asked, but his attention was undeniably divided as he caught sight of Y/N. 

She walked across the hallway with a purpose – determined to raise hell and he found it incredibly sexy. She paused for a moment, her gaze meeting his briefly. When she pursed her lips, his twitched at the corners – a smile starting to form.

“Sun Summoner kind”, Fedyor spoke in a hushed voice.

Kirigan’s smile falters, his eyes leaving Y/N’s. “Follow me”, he barked on order before walking in the opposite direction. 

All his life, the Darkling had been searching for the Sun Summoner. Every whisper of their existence turned out to be nothing but a fabrication, but something felt different now.

Once inside the map room, he leaned with his palms on the table. Kirigan didn’t say anything for a moment or ask for more information, but then his mouth moved on their own accord.

“Is it true?”

Glancing at each other, Ivan and Fedyor silently argued who should deliver the news.

“I asked you a question”, the general growled out, looking at them over his shoulder and the intensity of his glare had erased his earlier happiness.

“Nothing is confirmed yet, but we have quite a lot of accounts from the people surrounding the forest.” Ivan replied.

The Darkling made a sort of a grunting noise that Ivan didn’t know what to make of. The shadows covered the windows swiftly, engulfing the room in darkness as his left eye narrowed ever so slightly.

“The forest?”

Fedyor clears his throat, “Near the border.”

“Near the fold”, Ivan adds.

“I want”, he paused. Running his fingers through his hair, his shadows killed every source of outside light. “We need to prepare for a trip to the armies stationed at the fold.”

Nodding, Ivan looked to Fedyor and his deep-set frown.

“Are we to cross?” Fedyor asks.

The Darkling’s face is stone, his eyes unblinking. “Would it be a problem for you?”

Breath caught in his throat, Fedyor’s heart started to race. “No.”

“Good”, Kirigan remarked. “Prepare everything for departure in no more than a week.”

Sending them off, the Darkling sat in his chair. He wants so many things. His fingers graze his chin as he sighs – there would be no leaving without Y/N following. It’s not in her nature to do nothing and if she learns of the reasons behind his departure, he might lose her. The path of less resistance is to convince her the trip is to prove he’s honored his promise to her. He had sent the instructions yesterday and while she did force his hand on it, he didn’t hate her for it. If he’s bound for hell, at least it’s not a false one. She hates him, but she’s honest with him. He appreciated that.

Finding the Sun Summoner will change everything – for once, he will have a partner who can understand the weight of his past choices. He regrets too many things he’s done, but he was rarely given a choice. They broke the wrong parts of him, in the end, he showed them what happens when they laid a hand on those he cares for. That included Y/N now. If anything, she was a priority. Y/N is the only one he has left in this world.

While the Darkling pondered on the possibility of a Sun Summoner being true, Y/N sat in the library with a pile of books at each side.

The lingering effect of Aleksander’s gaze upon her and his devilish smirk had warmed her up in a way she least expected. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if time stopped or her heart did.

Shaking her head, she flipped the page in frustration. Her skin still burned bright from where he touched her. No amount of bathing can erase the fact she belonged to him now.

Swallowing thickly, she groaned. In all the books she had found, barely few had any information on the shadow summoner. Aside from Morozova creatures that serve as amplifiers, Y/N found mere mentions of a black heretic and the creation of the fold.

Her neck hurt, her eyes felt like they’re being pierced with needles and there was no saving her mind from all the theories she concocted. Leaning back in her chair, she huffed. Rubbing her eyes, she slammed the book closed before standing in frustration.

She didn’t want to love Aleksander, to risk her heart and life. She didn’t want to lay in bed, always afraid of what he might do if one day she’s not careful enough and he learns the truth. Naively, she hoped he’d either stand with her or just walk away but that’s not the Kirigan she knows. He wouldn’t forgive, it’s not in his nature.

Placing the books where she can find them in the morning, she headed to her room. Genya was kind enough to send a servant with lunch, but Y/N missed dinner entirely. Engrossed in books all day, she hardly felt any hunger.

At least not the kind of hunger food could satisfy.

Walking into the room, she hadn’t expected to find Aleksander sat at the bottom of their bed….shirtless.

Standing, he narrowed his eyes at her. “You weren’t at dinner.”

She raised a brow, “Wasn’t hungry.”

Kirigan crossed his arms over his bare chest, the movement making the muscles in his stomach flicker.

“Get dressed”, she quipped.

He smiled, “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“I’m surprised you don’t have a mirror in every corner of this Palace, since you love yourself so much.”

He laughed wholeheartedly as she just turned away, clamping a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t let herself laugh with him. Every moment like this feels like the world is spinning, making her resolution fragile. She’s aching to let him in, but it would be a mistake. She feels it in his bones, he’s not honest with her.

Caring for a man like him is dangerous, like standing in the eye of a hurricane.

“We’ll leave Little Palace in a week”, Aleksander speaks, “Just as you asked of me.”

She stares at him, disbelief and joy colliding. And it’s the look in his eyes, the hopeful, terrified look in those dark skies that disarms her.

“Why do I feel like there’s a catch?”

Running the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, Aleksander takes a step closer. “You’ll ride with me.”

Pursing her lips, she nods without ever breaking eye contact. “And?”

A breathless chuckle passes his lips, “You’ll have to wear a special kefta. One that won’t let you get hurt easily.”

Taking a deep breath, she tilts her head up, “And?”

Suppressing a smile, he raises an eyebrow. “You’ll be equipped with a weapon of choice. I believe you’re more than familiar with guns as a soldier of the First army.”

Raising both eyebrows in response, she takes a step closer to him. “Swords”, she notes.

Humming, his eyes widen ever so slightly as he waits for her to continue.

“I prefer swords”, she touched his face gently with the back of her hand.

“Of course”, he breathes out. A soft smile spreads across his lips, “Draw your swords if you see an enemy in sight.”

“Even if it’s my husband?” Her lips remain parted, her eyes flickering to his chest where she raised her hand to.

“I don’t care, as long as you keep yourself safe.”

She held her breath as his words resonated with her mind. How can he be so callous one day and then offer up his life for her to take. No game had ever made her question every single word that left someone’s lips before. Sometimes she’d look at him and see through the mask he shows the world and other times she couldn’t see anything other than her own reflection in his eyes as if his soul didn’t exist at all.

“Since when do you care?” She frowns, gnawing on the inside of her cheek.

Letting out a heavy sigh, his eyes flicker to the hand she splayed against his bare chest. Just the simple touch of her hand made him want more. It was becoming too hard to pretend he hates her. What he truly hates is how human she is – what is he supposed to do when her hair turns grey and he’s still young? How will he survive when someone takes her to exact vengeance against him? Will he be too late to save her then?

When your world comes to a stop and the value of life is amplified by those dead before their time in gruesome ways, it feels like an earthquake shakes the very foundations life is built on. But when the walls start falling, past and future no longer exist, only the moment you’re in and the first person that comes to mind when those walls are gone is what your life is all about. For Aleksander, that person is Y/N.

Looking into her eyes, his hands cup her face, “Since I had to spend five days believing you’re dead.”

He wanted to wrap Y/N in his arms and tell her he would never let her walk away, not after he had a taste of what it means to be with her. He wanted to tell her his love is unconditional and that his soul is hers, even if she didn’t want to give him hers. He would wait, as patiently and as stubbornly as he did by now and that she will never lose him because even if he wished, he can’t scrub his heart clean of her. And he never wanted to.

“I thought you’d protect me?” She raised an eyebrow, teasing him.

She had become his heart, his reason to live. She lit a fire within, something he had lost over time and while she’s completely unaware of it, if the world tried to take her from him, the Darkling would wage war to make sure she remains by his side.

Blinking slow, a faint smile upon his lips, the Darkling tilts his head slightly to the left. “Would you allow it?”

There is nothing in the world he wanted more than to kiss her again, but this time around Aleksander decided to let her make the move. She is tender, but fierce. To understand a woman like her, one must realize that the former is who she is and the latter is what life demanded of her.

“Not likely”, she remarks and he throws his head back, chuckling.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she wets her lips in thought and he can’t help but think this is a well-designed trap for him to say the wrong thing and for her to use it as excuse to put distance between them rather than face her own desires and he was almost certain those desires included him.

“You want me”, he whispers in her ear as his fingertips slide up her spine and to the back of her neck, “And it’s killing you.”

“Physical attraction means nothing”, her voice is low, but unwavering.

Aleksander bites the inside of his lower lip in anticipation of her pushing him away and storming off, but even as he waits, he feels her hips press closer to him as if she’s telling him he won’t be left alone. Not again.

“Yet you’re here”, he grins. Tucking her hair behind her left ear, he admired how firm she stands in her opposition.

“So are you”, she quipped,. 

A cocky smile appears on his lips, tiny wrinkles forming around his dark eyes as he holds her gaze bravely, unwavering even when her gaze becomes a glare.

Biting her lower lip, contemplating the right move, Y/N could hardly fight her desire for him. Her head knew he it would be unwise, but her heart screamed at her to kiss him and those butterflies in her stomach felt more like killer bees as the need to feel him inside her had taken over every rational thought she generated.

One hand caressing his lean cheek, she gave into her primal instincts as she slammed her lips against his and Aleksander’s own heart leapt inside his chest. 

Their need for each other was urgent. Y/N grabbed a handful of flesh and muscle on Aleksander’s back. He gasped and laughed throatily at her haste. When her hands clawed at him again, he grasped both hands in one of his and held them over her head. She struggled to free herself, but he was too strong. When he entered her, she gasped, then moved her hips up to meet his.

He released her hands and she pulled him closer and closer to her. They made love quickly, almost harshly, before they found the sweet release they longed for. Aleksander collapsed on top of her, their bodies still joined as one when their minds gave in, slowly drifting to sleep.

Just like the previous morning, he remained in the bed, his arms wrapped around her tightly. 

She barely saw him during the day as the week progressed, but their nights were spent together – entangled mess of limbs, desperate moans and needy pleas neither held back. She’d close her eyes in his embrace and begin her day the same way.

“You don’t have much time”, Genya warned as Y/N dressed in haste. She decided to dress for the trip, it was the only way she could fit in a few hours in the library.

“I won’t be long”, she smiled at her friend.

Licking her lips, Genya took her by the hand. “What is it that you’re looking for?”

Y/N clenched her teeth, wondering if she should tell Genya. Something inside her warned against it – she didn’t tell anyone his name is Aleksander, feeling privileged to know such information. If she’s wrong and she can trust him, she didn’t want to poison anyone else with her doubt beforehand. A single book remained unread on her pile of very thick books she went through.

“Just trying to learn”, Y/N shrugged.

Nodding, Genya smiles, “In case we don’t see each other before you leave, I have to implore you to reconsider David as an ally.”

“I will”, Y/N promised and she would. Someone in Aleksander’s inner circle could be of use to her.

Going through the pages, she felt exhausted. Spending all her time in ancient books didn’t seem to be of use, but for once the text made sense. It spoke of the black heretic and the many names he’s been called in history.

“He walks the earth with a power only the saints could possess. They call him The Black Heretic, The Shadow King, The Starless Saint, Staski, Eryk, Leonid – numerous names that he exchanged for each lifetime he was given and by now it must be at least a few hundred lifetimes of darkness. His name – true name was lost throughout the centuries, occasionally heard as a whisper carried in the wind.”

Wide eyed, she read through the text of a scholar who described the Black Heretic and his powers, his entire lineage being his mother who remained unnamed and…him.

“He has no descendants?” Y/N’s lips quiver. If he has no descendants and his line begins and ends with him, how would Aleksander even exist?

Unless…

No.

It would be impossible, would it not?

“Numerous names that he exchanged for each lifetime he was given”, she reads aloud only to cover her own mouth in face of a startling epiphany. It was as she noticed the dark connection between the great mystery, the horrific realization set in.

“Pardon me, miss, but General Kirigan has sent for you”, a servant frightened her.

Taking the book in haste, Y/N stood on her shaky legs. Mouth dry, she pressed her lips in a thin line.

“Thank you”, she walked out so quickly, barely containing her quick and shallow breaths. Sweating profusely, she felt as if the black kefta she wore weighed down on her like battle armor.

Was it not her armor? Was this not a constant war she’s struggled with?

Aleksander…Kirigan…The Darkling…who is he?

“Are you ready?” Aleksander is waiting by the door with a small smile on his lips. His hand is opened for her to take, but she ignores it. If she took his hand, he’d feel the shakiness she’s trying so hard to steady.

Mounting his black stallion, she tucked the book safely inside her inner pocket.

“I’ll take the reins”, she informed him as he took his place behind her.

She heard him scoff, “I’m the general.” 

Is Aleksander even his real name?

Are the stories about him true? 

“On this side of the fold, so am I”, she gripped the reins and the stallion obeyed.

Riding a horse always helped her clear her mind, but this time it seemed impossible. 

When she married Kirigan, she believed she would marry an old, unattractive man…As it turns out, she got the old part right.

=============================

A/N - I’m not quite happy with this chapter, but I wanted to post today to keep my streak going. Also, i suck at writing a summary, like WHY IS THAT?! xD It’s Eid, so I’m tired and sleepy, forgive my grammar and prepare for things to heat up in the next chapters. Thank you all for sticking with the story and all the feedback, it honestly gives me life and will to keep writing. I also finally found the books in my native tongue, at least the Grisha trilogy and Six of crows duology and I’m really excited to dive into it and further my understanding of Darkling as a brilliantly written villain that is a multi-dimensional being with, let’s be honest, actually good points. I may not be happy about his willingness to commit mass murder, but I kinda see where he’s coming from and I really can’t wait to know more about the situation as it is in the books.  

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon  @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06  @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren  @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld​

PART 10

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls Extra 2

- ao3 -

“Jingyi?” Lan Qiren repeated, looking down at the child tucked into his arms. “A good name.”

“Isn’t it?” Lan Yueheng said, beaming. “A-Xin thought of it!”

“You don’t say,” Lan Qiren said dryly. “Just the way your wife named all the last six?”

Lan Yueheng grinned bashfully. “She’s better at it!”

Lan Qiren shook his head, amused, and tried to offer the child back to his father.

“No, no, you should hold him longer. Babies are calming, and you’ve been having bad dreams recently, right?”

“Babies are not calming,” Lan Qiren said. There was a limit to how many times someone could play the same joke on him, and yes, he was mentally glaring at Wen Ruohan, Lao Nie, and Cangse Sanren as well while he thought that. “You’ve had six already, you should know that. Can we at least agree that this is the last one?”

Lan Yueheng and Zhang Xin had put off having children to help Lan Qiren raise Lan Xichen and then Lan Wangji, once he’d come around, no matter how much Lan Qiren had argued with them to the contrary. They’d laughed him off, saying it was nothing, but he’d been terribly afraid that they’d miss the window for it and end up childless, with no one to sweep their graves on Qingming except his nephews, and that in the end they’d blame him for it.

Naturally, despite his fears, it turned out in the end that they hadn’t had any trouble at all. Their first had been born when Lan Wangji had been three and Lan Xichen six, and they’d had six more after that, one after another like a bunch of maniacs – a girl, two boys, another girl, and then the twins a few years later, at the very end, just when everyone had thought they were already done. Lan Wangji had already been nearly fifteen, then.

Of course, the whole bit about ‘just when everyone had thought they were already done’ being about the twins was rather outdated: that was before the arrival of little Jingyi.

Nearly ten years after all the rest, even the twins; a belated and extremely unexpected child, as if Zhang Xin and Lan Yueheng and the heavens had all conspired to make fun of Lan Qiren for his previous worries. Zhang Xin had already been in her forties, yet she’d gotten through the entire process with a smile and no apparent discomfort, puttering around in her garden and managing her storehouses and scolding her children without any disruption. Not even the pain of labor would bring her down, even if she did have a tendency to mangle Lan Qiren’s hand and shout his ears to deafness in the process.

Lan Qiren’s ears and hand, because he’d helped oversee the births of his nephews – Han Kexin had resolutely refused the aid of any competent doctor, male or female, mockingly reminding him that she was supposed to be in seclusion, so he’d learned up on the basics himself while retaining the option to call in a proper doctor if something went wrong – and since he’d managed it well enough, naturally Zhang Xin wanted the same, impertinent brat that she was. And of course, she wasn’t going to hurt her husband’s precious hands in the process, never mind that he’d been the one to cause it in the first place.

At least they’d all been more or less easy births.

Little Lan Jingyi had been the easiest of the whole lot. Zhang Xin had barely made herself comfortable before he was coming, and before Lan Qiren had even really accepted that he was coming, he was already here.

Look at the rush to get going, as if he’s afraid to miss out on all the fun if he’s not here! Zhang Xin had laughed. He’s going to want to be part of part of everything!

“Last one, I swear!” Lan Yueheng promised cheerfully. “Anyway, we needed one around that age – that way he can be friends with Wangji’s boy! You know, the one he’s raising with Wei Wuxian, the one who used to be Wen sect.”

Lan Qiren snorted. As if he didn’t know the one in question. Wen Ruohan had been altogether too pleased to offer up some of his own blood to join the Lan sect when it turned out that Wei Wuxian had gotten attached to the orphan child of Wen Ruohan’s kinsman – eager as he ever was, really, to entangle himself irrevocably into Lan Qiren’s life, as if he still thought there was a chance, however remote, that Lan Qiren would find some reason to reject him or cut him out of his life once again. And never mind that it’d been years and years since anything like that had even come closer to happening!

“Yueheng-xiong,” he said patiently. “Mathematics are one of your favorite subjects, so I know you know that that means that your son will be friends with my grandnephew.”

Lan Yueheng scratched his nose. “Not your grandnephew yet,” he said, grinning; he didn’t look even remotely ashamed of it. “Wei Wuxian’s the one that adopted him, and Wangji’s not married him yet!”

“He’s working on it.”

Wen Ruohan’s “help” – in the sense of agreeing to let the Lan sect adopt little A-Yuan and not allowing Wei Wuxian to do it on his own – was probably doing more to impede it than anything else.

Lan Yueheng sniggered. “Should I offer to help?”

“Most certainly not. Save your fireworks and flares for the actual marriage.” Lan Qiren rubbed his forehead. “Cangse Sanren is being deliberately obnoxious about negotiations over it, I swear.”

“Cangse Sanren is always obnoxious, Qiren-xiong,” Lan Yueheng reminded him. “Always – and it’s only gotten worse since she had her doom stolen away by Lao Nie.”

“Don’t remind me,” Lan Qiren grumbled. He didn’t even want to know how the two of them had managed to swap fates, or what the consequences of it would be in the end. For some reason, Wen Ruohan seemed oddly insistent about blaming Lao Nie’s second wife, despite her having been perfectly nice as far as Lan Qiren could tell, if somewhat strangely obsessed with food. Possibly he was just annoyed that poor Wen Zhulio had saved Cangse Sanren’s life a dozen times over so far and yet Lao Nie was getting the credit.

At any rate, neither of them had died so far, which was all to the good.

“I’m getting to the point that I think looking for her master and asking her for permission might be the easier course,” he added irritably. “The boys want to get married! What’s the point of tormenting them over the details?”

“Please don’t go out looking for an immortal mountain, Qiren-xiong,” Lan Yueheng said, laughing, and finally condescended to pluck little Lan Jingyi out of his arms. “I’m going to put him to bed. You should rest, too. No more work today! And only good dreams!”

Lan Qiren shook his head and watched him walk away.

For a moment, the image was replaced with another, a remnant from the terrible dream he had been having the past few nights, the one that still lingered: Lan Yueheng, still laughing but walking with a limp, his right foot gone from beneath the knee – the one he’d lost when the Cloud Recesses had burned, and because of the mess that had ensued it hadn’t been treated for far too long, becoming infected; every year thereafter he had gotten sick from a recurrent and worsening illness, driving Lan Qiren and Zhang Xin both crazy with worry.

Lan Qiren’s chest hurt just thinking about it, his own injuries aching, the remnants of the vicious wounds from the terrible beating Wen Xu had ordered with his eyes curved in a mean smile as he watched them try to break Lan Qiren’s meridians out of sheer spite; one day, in that horrible future foretold by the dream, Zhang Xin would worry too much and fail to pay attention, walking on something she shouldn’t and poisoning her blood, and when she went Lan Yueheng would follow her away, the two of them going side-by-side into the next world as they had gone through this one, leaving Lan Qiren to raise their youngest child the rest of the way himself. No matter how tired he was, he wouldn’t put that burden on their other children, all of them abruptly orphaned, the final belated victims of the desperate war against the Wen sect to stop their tyrannical conquest…

Lan Qiren shook his head abruptly, clearing it.

What am I thinking, he wondered. There’s no war against the Wen sect – if da-ge ever got something like a war of conquest into his head, I’d scold him until my face turned blue. Anyway, even if he did do something like that, A-Xu would never dream of ordering someone to beat me! Didn’t I half-raise him and his little brother both, taught them swordsmanship and music and ethics even as Wen Ruohan taught Xichen and Wangji arrays and talismans and how to understand people?

Anyway, A-Xu’s a sweet boy, underneath his superficial arrogance; he knows better than to put on a face like that in front of me…nor is there anything wrong with Lan Yueheng’s foot, or Zhang Xin’s blood, for that matter. Lan Jingyi’s going to grow up in a large family, loud and screeching and thoroughly inappropriate, and unlike my dream his parents will be at the head of the table to oversee the whole thing.

It was just a bad dream.

Lan Qiren shook his head once again.

Maybe Lan Yueheng was right, he reflect. He ought to get some rest – and not just today. After all, he was already half-retired, with Lan Xichen taking over more and more of the tasks of sect leader and excelling in them; Lan Qiren already spent one month out of every three out of the Cloud Recesses, whether wandering around the cultivation world playing his music or visiting with friends and acquaintances, pretending all the while to ignore the Wen sect and Lan sect and Nie sect guards being too busy socializing with each other to remember that they were supposed to be hidden guards.

He could go again now, even. Wen Ruohan had said something about Lao Nie visiting the Nightless City, the grin on his face leaving little question as to how he planned to spend the time with him; by now they should have worn each other out and were probably capable of something resembling human speech.

Yes, he should go visit them, he thought, and realized once again that he was happy – truly happy, not just content. He would go visit them, and complain about the prospect of yet another of Lan Yueheng’s brood running rampage through his classrooms for however long it took to educate them.

It seemed like each one was louder than the next, but at least little Lan Jingyi, whether in a rush or otherwise, and even in conjunction with Wei Wuxian’s little A-Yuan or Jin Zixuan’s little A-Ling, couldn’t possibly be more disruptive than the twins.

That was simply impossible.

Right?

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - We’re Coming Back Home

A Drifting Stars AU one-shot, the last one I plan to do, in collaboration with @clownwry.

1st, 2nd, 3rd.

~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow, miraculously, through all of Ford’s traveling, through countless dimensions, his Quantum Destabilizer remained on his back and fully intact.

Okay, well, mostly intact. Partially intact. 

When he was finally ready to attack Bill and put an end to his reign of terror, his plans had been put on hold when a crack in space-time opened. He didn’t dare hope that it was a way home, but maybe if he aimed correctly, the shot would not only kill Bill, but fly him home. But no, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a young girl fly out of the hole, and with reflexes he developed over thirty years of staying alive in the worst circumstances, he hooked his Quantum Destabilizer onto his back, caught the girl, and swam through the gravity-less air for safety, hiding behind an asteroid, putting a hand over the girl’s mouth and hissing for her silence, swearing she would be okay, and they barely made it out as Bill’s words echoed through the Nightmare Realm.

“Sixer’s caught a Shooting Star, boys!”

Ford had no idea what that was supposed to mean at the time, but now a month later, he thinks he finally understood. His niece, Shermie’s granddaughter, Mabel, loved stars, and was very much like one herself. Always shining. Always so bright and full of hope. Many times in history, and even today in other dimensions, runaway slaves used the stars as maps to guide them to a better place. Ford often wondered if Mabel was his star, maybe not guiding him physically to a safe haven, but guiding him to a happier mindset. Guiding him to a life that isn’t completely isolated. Guiding him to a life that included love.

The last few weeks have been challenging, sure, but not that much more challenging than traveling alone; Mabel was a fast learner, and while she refused to use a knife or gun (“Cuz those hurt, Grunkle Ford!”), she was perfectly comfortable with pop-rocks and making foes lose their footing and fall down so they couldn’t attack. And she was very good at hunting for food and water and other reliable resources. 

In fact, Ford would easily say the last few weeks have been the happiest of his life. Maybe only tying with when Fiddleford joined him in Gravity Falls, before work on the portal became dangerous, but after he realized that maybe the woods had been too quiet the last six years.

After just a day and a half, Ford was fully-aware of his attachment to his niece and how much it would ruin him if he lost her. Mabel was everything a good person strives to be: kind, sweet, a pleasure to be around, but not a pushover, either; Mabel Pines knew how to stand her ground.

And so the last month was littered with so many happy memories. Ford was a little hurt when she “borrowed” two broken fishing poles and fixed them up so they could fish, but he very quickly enjoyed sitting on a log by a river and fishing with Mabel. Ford found it brought her much comfort to brush her hair, and he also discovered he enjoyed a calm brush himself. Ford found he didn’t mind the extra weight of his niece on his shoulders; quite the contrary, he found it comforting, and he was always swallowed with peace when she was so relaxed with him that she fell asleep, using his fluffy gray hair as a pillow.

No longer was Ford met with suspicious looks when he walked down the street of a market alone, face hidden. Quite the opposite. He was always met with smiles and warm greetings, and sometimes a little extra food was thrown into a purchase for free. Be it because people saw him as a parent with an adorable child, or because of Mabel’s charm. Or both.

The dimensions they came across were random and different, just like it was when Ford traveled alone. Some dimensions were like an alien sci-fi movie, completely different with no humans. Some dimensions were scaringly like home, with a small difference here and there. Ironically, the alien-like dimensions were typically safer, because they were used to travelers and weird-looking creatures. 

But Ford guessed it would be okay if he and Mabel stepped into a normal grocery store to buy some food.

They had come across a “normal” dimension, and while Ford’s first thought was to retreat for the woods, he heard Mabel’s stomach growl, and he decided her health was more important. So they stepped in and kept to themselves.

Ford and Mabel were picking up crackers when the little girl grinned at rows of cereals behind them. “Grunkle Ford, can I please pick a cereal?” She asked politely.

The old scientist thought about it for a moment. Cereal would definitely cover a few meals and be light and easy to carry, and it wouldn’t get hold too quickly, and he had wanted to get her at least one nice thing while in the store, so he nodded and said, “Yes, dear, you may pick one box. Any flavor you want.”

“Thank you!” And Mabel took the time to hug him before skipping over to the cereals to look.

Ford chuckled and picked some crackers, then decided to browse the fruit snacks, debating if it would be wise. Probably not, because if they get stuck in another desert climate the gummies could melt and make a mess, but they could make a good snack for Mabel. He held his chin, debating the idea, while a couple was also looking over the cereals.

“Which do you think Dad would want?” The yellow-haired woman asked.

“Honey, who cares what Rick wants? Just get a cereal you’ll like.” The husband said with an eye roll.

Ford froze at that name. No no, that was most definitely a different Rick. It was a common enough name, and there were billions of dimensions. There was no way Ford and Mabel somehow managed to stumble into C-137. He ultimately decided against gummies and he then looked at the trail mixes and granola bars. Both were always a good option.

“I know, but I want him to feel welcome, you know?” The wife said as she picked a box. “He’s been travelling in space alone for years…”

Oh no. No, no, no. Ford quickly chose some packets of trail mix and several granola bars and hurried back to his niece. He was not going to do this today. Nope.

Mabel grinned at him, a box of cereal in hand, and she held it out to him. “Look, Grunkle Ford, do you like this flavor? I can pick a different one if you want.”

“Oh, thank you, my dear, but I like the one you picked.” Ford did a decent job masking his uneasiness and he took her hand and smiled. “Why don’t we pick up some fruit for today, and then we’ll go fishing for dinner?”

“Yay! Sounds great!”

Ford didn’t miss the yellow-haired woman smiling at them as they left the aisle. If that was who he thought it was… She really didn’t look anything like him. She might have just favored her mother. Who else would have spent years traveling space? Bastard.

Ford may have hated him for many reasons, but choosing to abandon his girls was at the top of the list.

At the checkout line, Ford nervously watched the total of their purchase go up with each beep. He recounted their cash and made a small list of items in his mind for them to go down if they couldn’t afford everything. A few granola bars can go. And, maybe they could find band-aids elsewhere and “borrow” them.

The worker rang up the last item and Ford smiled when he saw the total was 29.89. He had thirty. But then the worker pressed the total button and taxes were added. Shit, right. That made their total 35.45. Ford winced. Mabel looked up at him worriedly, but she smiled and stood on her tippy-toes to see the worker better.

“Hi, I’m Mabel! Can you please put the cereal back? We don’t really need it.”

Ford looked down at her, surprised and also a little disheartened. He had really wanted to get her at least one nice thing, but truth be told the cereal was the most expensive item, so it made sense to get rid of it first. Still, it sucked.

“Total’s now 32.14.”

Ford bit his lip. “Very well, may we please put the band-aids back, too?”

The worker nodded, seeming tired and annoyed, but they didn’t say a word. Blissfully, the total went down to 29.99.

With hands full of bags, Mabel and Ford paused at the beginning of the parking lot to move their groceries into their backpacks. While they worked, the old scientist said, “I’m sorry I could afford your cereal, Mabel.”

“Oh, it’s okay!” The girl said instantly. “I’ve got something even sweeter.” And she grinned at her grunkle and gave him a warm smile.

Ford smiled back at her tiredly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes you do.” Mabel insisted and hugged him around the neck, nuzzling her face into his shoulder and determined to sink as much comfort as she could into his skin. “I love you Grunkle Ford. Please don’t beat yourself up, m’k?”

Ford hugged her back and petted her short brown hair. It was certainly easier to feel better with a ball of sunshine in his arms.

They both heard rustling behind them as a buggy rolled from the door to the parking lot. They both looked behind Mabel and saw a bag with the cereal and the band-aids in it. They looked around and saw no one, except for the yellow-haired woman and her husband going to their car.

Mabel grinned and hollered to them, “Thank you!”

They didn’t respond, but the woman did smile and wave before putting groceries into her car. As appreciated as Ford was for her kindness, he wanted to get as far away from her as possible. No offense to her. She seemed like a very lovely lady.

But then it hit Ford like a pile of rocks. What was it he had said before he had pulled out his gun and left Ford to travel alone? “And hey, if you ever wanna travel without customs or waiting for wormholes to open, don’t come looking for me.” And then he winked and fell backwards into a pool of green, leaving Ford to curse his name.

If this was like before, when Ford was alone, he wouldn’t dare. But if he could help get Mabel home…

Ford took Mabel’s hand and muttered, “Come with me.” And she followed without question.

Beth felt good helping the old man and the little girl, and she didn’t expect anything more. Really, it was only five dollars worth of stuff. But she was happy when they started to walk towards her, so she trusted Jerry to finish loading up the car and she smiled at them.

“Excuse me, miss, I just want to thank you for what you did.” The old man said.

“Oh, you’re welcome, it was no trouble at all.”

“I… I hope I’m not being too invasive, but… but I believe you know someone I know.”

Beth smiled. Small world! “Really? That’s great! Oh, are you a relative of Dave’s? Or, you know, I do know a lot of people indirectly from the horse-track.”

“Er, no.” The old man gave her a more serious look, and then asked quietly, “Do you know Rick Sanchez?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Beth was so excited to give Stanford Pines and his niece, Mabel, a ride, and to invite them to dinner, not only because she thought seeing an old friend might make her dad smile, but maybe she’ll learn more about what he’s been up to all these years. The man was very polite and the girl was as sweet as can be, both of whom looked rough and in need of a cozy bed and maybe a soothing bath. Jerry was a little unsure, not wanting “more Ricks” into his house, but after a huf from the girl and a cheerful greeting, Jerry couldn’t help but tell the girl she was more than welcome, so now he was roped in.

Mabel noticed that her uncle looked distracted. He was looking out his window, but his eyes were elsewhere. He was thinking. So she decided to try to help him with his thoughts. “Grunkle Ford, who’s Rick Sanchez?” She asked quietly.

Ford looked at her, sighed quietly, and muttered, “He’s an intergalactic scientist. He’s ridiculously intelligent and clever, and… a bit…” Ford pursed his lips. All the words that came to mind he didn’t want Mabel hearing, so he settled on. “... mad.”

“Oh. Is he like a real mad-scientist?” Mabel asked, eyes sparkling with interest.

“Yes, but with less laughter, more slurs and sluggish demeanor, and even less consideration of other living things.”

Mabel noticed his cold tone and grew concerned. “You don’t like him, do you?”

Ford bit his lip. No, he didn’t. But there was a more important reason why he didn’t want to see Rick today. 

Mabel leaned in closer and whispered, “Is he mean?”

Trust Mabel to sum it up perfectly for her uncle. “Yes.” Ford said just as quietly. “And I don’t want him meeting you.”

“Why?”

Ford hesitated. But being blunt and honest seemed to be working, and it was best for Mabel to prepare herself for the lion’s den they were walking into. “I don’t want him to hurt your feelings.” a bit elementary, but it was the best way to explain it to a child without scaring her too much.

Mabel, however, grinned. “Grunkle Ford, no one can resist the Power of Mabel.”

Ford smiled and ruffled her hair softly. “We’ll see…”

“So, if you don’t like Mr. Sanchez, then why are we going to go see him?”

“He’s an expert on interdimensional-travel.” Ford informed her. “He might know how to get us home.”

Mabel’s eyes widened and she “oh”ed as she realized what was going on. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The garage door was open to let in good lighting and fresh air. But that wasn’t an invitation to come in whenever people feel like it; Rick will have to work on a security system to keep nosy neighbors away. He was opening a box and getting organized when he heard his daughter’s car roll into the driveway. He didn’t bother to look up, instead waited for the sounds of car doors opening to say something.

“Hey sweetie, welcome back.”

“Dad,” Beth said, sounding giddy. Rick hated giddy. But he had only been here for a week and he didn’t feel like making his daughter hate him just yet, so he settled for rolling his eyes and continuing what he was doing. “I have a surprise for you!”

“Wow! You have a nice house! Cool garage, too!” A young voice said.

Rick was halted. He turned in his chair and raised an eyebrow to find a young girl with short brown hair and braces holding hands with an old nerd with fluffy charcoal hair, glasses, and six fingers.

“Oh my God!” Rick laughed. “Holy-...” A dark look from the old traveler made Rick stop; he can piss him off later. First he needs to figure out why the hell he is here and what the hell he wants. “Jeez, you look terrible, Fordsie.” The mad scientist snorted as he leaned against his desk with his hands in his pockets.

Ford rolled his eyes and said, “And you still look like a soft breeze will blow you away, Sanchez.”

Mabel bit her lip and quietly, “Oooooh”ed, like she was listening to a rap battle.

“So,” Beth stretched, clearly hoping for more information or a more satisfying reunion, but she wasn’t getting it naturally, so she decided to push a little. “How do you two know each other?”

“The Multiverse is a pretty big place, sweetie.” Rick answered. “Don’t worry, I’ll have this nerd gone before you finish unloading the car. Don’t want to risk another mass genocide.” He sneered.

Ford’s face turned red and he yelled, “I didn’t know it was a planet! It looked too similar to a sandwich for it to be a planet!”

Rick laughed and looked at the little girl. She looked maybe a little younger than Morty. “Who’s that you got with you?”

Ford closed his eyes, debating if he should tell Rick it wasn’t any of his business, or get the introduction over with. But before he could make a decision, Mabel beat him to the punch.

She let go of Rick’s hand, hopped to him, and looked up at his bean-pole stature and smiled and waved. “Hi! I’m Mabel! You’re a scientist, too? Cool! I like your hair! How old are you? Have you ever met a dinosaur? What’s your favorite food?” 

Rick blinked like a startled lizard at the girl, glanced up at Ford, and then looked back down at Mabel. Rick smiled and sat in his chair to be closer to her level, and held out a hand to shake, which she happily accepted and shook a little rough. “Hey there, I’m Rick. Yes, I’m a scientist. Thank you, I like your hair, too. Yes, I’ve met a dinosaur, several in different dimensions. And, pancakes.”

Mabel’s eyes sparkled. “I love pancakes, too! Maybe we can make some together!”

“Maybe, but I’ve got the feeling that’s not why you’re here.” Rick suggested kindly. And no, Ford wasn’t at all suspicious that he was being kind to Mabel.

“Oh! Yeah! Grunkle Ford thinks you can help us get home.”

“Huh. You’re great-uncle, huh? Sure, okay, let’s get started.” Rick rolled over to a cabinet and took out an odd machine. It came with a tiny needle and was attached to the machine by a small black wire, and the boxed machine had a screen of some sort on the side. “Mind if I prick your finger?”

“Sure!” Mabel held out her finger to him and Rick carefully held her wrist and pricked her finger, so small she hardly noticed it. “What for?”

“I need a blood sample to find your home dimension. Gotta send you to the right dimension.” Rick explained. “Fordsie, lemme get yours, too. How’d you two find each other, anyways?”

“I was in the Nightmare Realm when some idiot opened a portal and this little starshine fell into my arms.” Ford explained, stepping forward and giving Rick his finger.

“Okay, got it.” Rick said. “Well, there’s a possibility that you two come from different dimensions. Nothing too different about your homes, but there’s millions of dimensions. The probability that you two came from the same timeline and reality… there we go. It’s a match. That makes things easier.”

The small heart attack Ford was having went away. The idea of his starshine not being his was a nightmare. His life was complicated enough; he didn’t need his girl to not actually be his.

“Dimension 41’\. Huh, okay, gimme two seconds…” Rick pulled out his trusty portal gun and plugged it into the machine. A long list of dimensions popped up, and Ford prayed 41’\ would be on the list. “You two are lucky. I can go as far as 42’\, but the other 40s are out of range. Huh, i’ll have to work on that.”

“So,” Mabel grinned. “You can get us home?”

Rick smiled smugly and shrugged as he stood. “Yeah, sure.”

“Grunkle Ford!” Mabel cheered and hurled herself into his arms. “I can’t believe it! I’m gonna see Dipper again! I can’t wait for you to meet him!”

Ford smiled softly. He couldn’t believe it. It was all happening so fast and effortlessly. He was going to get Mabel home. They were both going home. Suddenly the idea of seeing Stanley again, meeting his grandnephew and all of Mabel’s friends and her pet pig sounded… a lot. He didn’t realize it, but he was becoming anxious and spacing out. But Mabel noticed, and she kissed his stubbly cheek and brought him back to reality.

Rick shot at the wall with his gun and an oozing green portal appeared. “There we go, 41’\. Wait, sh-oot, gimme a location.”

“618 Gopher Road.” Ford stated as he let go of Mabel. “Gravity Falls, Oregon. USA.”

“Got it.” Rick made the last portal disappear and shot a new one. “There. Now get-... Go on home.”

Mabel stepped up to Rick and said sincerely, “Mr. Sanchez, thank you for helping us.” And she hugged him around his tall skinny legs.

Rick pursed his lips awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to such positive energy and kindness. The old scientists looked at each other, Ford giving Rick a warning look, but something hidden in his face or eyes told the drunk that the nomad was actually grateful for his illegal device.

“Uh…” Rick settled on patting Mabel’s head and said, “Y-Y-You’re welcome.”

Mabel let go of Rick and held out a hand to Ford. “Ready?”

“Nope.” Ford took her hand and squeezed it. “Let’s do this.”

And without another word, the Pines walked through the green portal.

[lennydaisy]

EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER SEVEN.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

               “Care to seize the day, my friend?”

   Outer Banks 

                                                     Season 1 - 

                       FEM OC! x ??

Here is a link to CHAPTER SIX incase you missed and also the SERIES MASTERLIST. Hope you enjoy :)

Also TW, there is quite a few swear words in this chapter.

I feel like I've been in this situation before. Correction. I have most definitely been in this situation before.

One day, just one day, I would like to just come home, kick my feet up and not have to be lectured about the decisions I make.

Do I make the best decisions? No. We established this ages ago, some people really need to get with the times. And you would think that John B, my literal twin of all people, would know me by now, but clearly not.

My cycle back to the chateau was a thoughtful one. Why is everyone being so weird today? It's barely even noon and I've already had enough human interaction to last me the rest of the week. 

"Ugh, why are you all here?" I sigh, swinging open the mesh door to spot them all sitting around my house. Don't these people have better things to do, they have their own houses, why can't we hang out there instead?

The look on Pope's face who is sitting on the green couch with his elbows on his knees is enough for me to already know what happened, "Why?"

"They peer-pressured me, okay," Pope finally lets out in a quick breath, "Kie can be very threatening when she wants to be."

"You're suppose to be on my side, Pope" I remind him, throwing my backpack in the corner, kicking off my shoes before plopping myself down on the floor.

"We're suppose to be a team," John B corrects me, pushing himself of the wall he was leaning on walking closer to me, "Why did you go to Mrs Grubbs house without telling me? Without telling us?" He asks, gesturing to the rest of the Pogues who look at me in anticipation for my answer.

"Do you want me to answer that honestly?"

"Preferably, yes!" John B exclaims, his hands slapping against his sides as he nods his head.

"You're not the best people person, okay John B. You just march up to people with no filter and expect them to give you what you want," I stare him in the eyes as I confess, "Mrs Grubbs husband just died yesterday. What were you going to do? March in there and demand a sobbing women whose under duress to give you answers?"

"She does have point," Kie adds after a few minutes of silence, "you're not the best at reading the room, John B."

Why did that seem a bit more personal than what I said?

"Okay enough of John B's lack of empathy for other people," JJ chips in, wanting to put an end to the conversation, "What happened at Mrs Grubbs house, May?"

"I already told you what happened?" Pope's head flies in JJ's direction.

"You told me the safe for work version. I want the really stuff Pope. The not so safe for work stuff," JJ winks causing Kie to groan in disgust and I roll my eyes playfully at the boy.

"Long story short:," I start, mindlessly playing with a thread on my shorts, "Pope and I go Mrs Grubbs house. We hear shouting, crying, banging. Two seconds later these two guys walk out and we go to check on Mrs Grubbs who is sobbing on the ground with her house trashed."

"Shit," Kie whispers under her breath at the scenario that I had just shortly painted out for them.

"I think we should file a police report," Pope lets out, looking in my direction but I just shake my head, "You heard what she said Pope, no cops."

"I think if there is two men going around beating up widowed women, we should report it to the cops," Kie exclaims, taking the side of Pope.

If this was any other situation I would be the first to side with Pope in going to the cops, but right now myself and John B have to stay out of any trouble if we don't want ourselves landed in foster care. These men are dangerous, they proved that themselves, not only after raiding Mrs Grubbs home, but also by shooting at us the other day on the marsh. We can't go to the cops, not yet at least.

"Macy's right," John B surprisingly agrees with me, "If we go to the cops, it's just going to cause more trouble than it's worth."

"Why were they at Mrs Grubbs house in the first place?" JJ asks and this question hangs in the air for a few minutes.

Guess it's time to confess.

"They were looking for this," I answered quietly, pulling out the compass from my backpack behind me.

It's a beautiful compass. Solid gold. Was it real gold? Probably not, but with the way that my dad babied this thing like a real life child, it might as well of been. I remember when I would sneak into his office at night I would always catch him polishing it and smiling at is own reflection on its back.

I remember him telling be about the back of the compass-

"I told you not to touch this Mason," the compass is snatched out of my hands before I could voice my sudden thought. John B now holding the compass in his hands as he inspected it for any damages. I'm not that untrustworthy, am I?

"And I thought you learned years ago that I never really listen to you," I shrug, trying not to act like the compass being snatched away from me hurt my feelings. It was my dad's compass too, not just John B's. And before he gives me that bullshit of 'Oh it has been passed down the male generation for centuries' bullshit, I think he needs to remember that dad didn't pass it down to him yet.

"And you," John B points a fingers a JJ who is still leaning again the fireplace with an unlit cigarette in this mouth, "You told me that you had it."

"Well, that's because I knew May wouldn't listen to you and I didn't want you to blow up on her like you are kinda doing right now," JJ shrugs, watching as I fiddle with the bracelet on my wrist.

"So you trust JJ more with our dad's compass than you do with me?" I mutter out, refusing to look up at John B.

"Hey, what's that suppose to mean?!"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Whatever," I whisper, not wanting to argue with John B anymore. It feels like that's all we do now a days. Ever since dad went missing, John B has been funny with me. I know it's typical for brothers and sisters to not get along all the time, but that was never John B and I. I could tell John B anything and him the same. We were two peas in a pod. Stuck together for life.

I know its bad for me to think this, but I feel as though John B blames me for our dad going missing and I don't know why. It's just a feeling that I can't shake away.

It's a stressful time for us. With the DCS threatening to come, Peterkins constantly on our backs, our dad's compass appearing on a dead mans boat. I have so many questions, but so little answers.

I know one place that can give me answers.

Without saying a word, I push myself up off the floor and make my way through the house. I couldn't help but let out a little laugh as I heard the stampede of feet following behind me.

"Look, Macy, I'm sorry okay. I'm just under a lot of-"

"Would you shut up for just one minute, John B," I interrupt his apology. He doesn't need to apologse to me, I get it. I know what he is going through. But I just wish that he would understand that I am going through the exact same thing that he is.

He was my dad too.

"I forgive you, okay?" I assure him, holding my hand out for him to shake, call it weird but we call it a truce. An end to any stupid fighting that we have.

Nodding his head with that same dumb smile that has never changed from when we were kids, "Oh and if you are looking for the key," he starts pointing to the door that I was making my way towards, "give up, I already tried-"

"Cleary not hard enough," JJ laughs as he watch me jump to reach the top of the door frame where my fingers graze against the all too familiar key. I could help but snicker at John B's face as I unlock and the push the door to my dads office open.

Just as I left it.

If there was one place that made me feel the safest in the world, it was this room. I remember complaining to my dad to crack open a window because as you can imagine, a man curled up in this not exactly spacious room, sweating over research papers and figures, it tends to gather up quite the smell. If anything now, the smell gives me comfort more than ever. This office is well lived in for sure. Endless night of watch the light dance from under the door letting me know that he was still awake and working away. I would always walk in, a cup of coffee in hand, sitting myself in the wore leather chair in the corner as I listened to my dad ramble like a mad man about a sunken ship and it's missing treasure.

I still visit this office, even after my dad went missing. He might not be here in person, but something about reading his chicken scratch writing scribbled on pages upon pages for research puts me at ease. My dad has put so much time and energy into his research about the Royal Merchant and has been doing so since I was learning to walk. It has always fascinated him. The story of the phantom boat with £500 million in gold just suck to bottom of the ocean. Hearing story after story, you begin to find yourself entranced with the idea of the boat yourself.

My dad didn't do all this research to just go missing at sea. That's how I know he'll be back. He'll come back. Back to this office where he will tell me the other theories that he has thought up on his long, long journey.

Whilst he has been gone, I have been keeping myself busy. I've been preparing for the debates that I will have with him. I have all my facts compiled up in a neatly written notepad that is sitting patiently on his desk. I can hear him now, 'If only you put this much effort into your actual school work, Ladybug.'

'But my teachers aren't as interesting as you.'

"It stinks in here," Kie complains, holding her hand over her nose as she looks around the disaster zone that is my dad's office.

"Welcome to our dad's cave," John B jokes as he looks about the room himself. John B has never been really interested in our fathers research about merchants and the Royal Merchant itself. John B use to laugh when I would say 'The day we find that gold, you aren't getting any of it for being such a debbie downer.' But, dad, being the mediator as always, would reassure John B that when we found the gold he would get his share.

"All of our dads research about the merchant is in here," I explain to our group of friends whose face seem to be confused as they look around the office, "It's mostly untouched," I laugh to myself.

I watch as Pope circle around the back of my dad's desk and picks up the notebook that is placed neatly on the endless piles of papers, 'Macy's Merchant Research,' "It's for when he gets back," I smile at Pope who looked confused at the title, but a tight smile twitches onto his face at my comment.

Feeling a hand clasp on my shoulder, I look round to see JJ nodding his head at me, asking me if I'm okay. I nod back with a smile, not understanding why I wouldn't be.

"Here, take a look at this," John B say's catching out attention, placing down the bulletin board on the table that is littered with books and loose paper, "This must be the original owner," John B reasons, pointing at the picture pinned to the top of the board.

Looking at me for confirmation, I nod my head reading out the name written beside it, "Robert Q. Routledge," I tapped on the picture that showed a man wearing the compass in question.

"There's your lucky compass," JJ points out, peering at the picture from over my shoulder, his hand still resting there from earlier.

"I wouldn't say lucky," I tilt my head, "he was shot after he bought it."

The sound of JJ sucking air through his teeth cause me to giggle a little, noticing the boy tense up at what he now probably believes was an inappropriate comment to make. I pat his hand on my shoulder letting him know that it was okay, it's not like I personally knew the guy anyways.

Before I could read out the next name, I let out a groan at the all to familiar noise. Just ignore it Mason. It's only a stupid roster, that never shuts the fuck up, but it's fine, really.

"It was then shipped to Henry," I started looking back at the board again, "Henry died in a crop-dusting ancient days after having the compass."

This isn't beginning to sound very good, especially considering that we now have the compass in our possession. I'm sure we'll be fine.

"After he died, Stephen was next. He died in Vietnam with the compass."

"Let me guess," JJ rests his chin on my shoulder, looking at me through the side of his eyes, "he died in action?"

"No, uh," I know I shouldn't laugh, but come on, "he was actually killed by a banana truck," can you really blame me. A banana truck of all things.

"Wait, how do you know so much about these guys?"John B looks at me in a daze after the information that seemed to be all new to him.

"I dunno," I shrugged, "Dad told me."

"Anyways," looking at the final picture pinned to the board, I couldn't stop the wave of emotions that flushed over me, "Our dad was the next one to have the compass."

"There seems to be a reoccurring theme here," JJ plays dot the dots with the information that he just now learned. Turning to watch me walk over to sit down on my dads chair with an offend look in his eye's as if to say 'how dare I not stand there forever and let him lean on me.'

"You guys have a death compass."

"No, we do not."

"Yes you do, get rid of it."

Ignoring the bickering boys, I quietly take the compass out of John B's back pocket, twirling it around in my hand. Twirling it a few more times before stopping, looking at the back of the compass where the metal seems to be more worn out than the rest.

The compartment. How could I forget.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Kie crouches down beside my chair, watching as I twist the back off of the compass. Kie's question seemed to catch the bickering boys attention as they all stop to see what I was doing.

"I remember in history class," I start, grinding my teeth at the feeling of the old metal rubbing against each other in an unsatisfying way, "Mr. Sunn mentioned how soldiers use to have little compartments in the back of their compasses, y'know to keep notes and stuff in."

"You actually pay attention in history class?" JJ raises his eyebrows at me as he leans back against the desk, not believing for a second that I sometimes willingly pay attention in class.

I do. Sometimes. Just not all the time.

At least I don't fall asleep or ditch class like John B and JJ, for one I would get caught and in trouble straight away. Plus, I don't think my dad would be very happy if both his children didn't end up with the bare minimum of an education. Someone has to be the smart twin. And with only two options, and John B displaying time and time again how much of a bimbo he is, that only leaves me. God help us all.

"Sometimes," I shrug, smiling in triumph when I finally get the lid off the compass, shaking out the little metal holder.

"What's that?" Kie questions point towards the writing, or more like carving into the compass.

That wasn't there before. At least I don't think it was.

"That's dad's handwriting," I hold the compass out for John B to take a hold of and look. John B squints a little at the writing before nodding in agreement.

"How are you be sure?" Pope objects, finding it hard to believe that we could recognise our dad's writing so quickly. I did say earlier that his writing is that of a chicken scratch.

Speaking of chicken scratching. If that rooster goes off one more time, I'm putting it up for adoption. Noris can go and annoy someone else.

"Because he can't write the letter R like a normal person," John B says, passing me back the compass. It might be a simple act. He just handed me something back. But it makes me smile because it shows that John B is hopefully starting to trust me when it comes to finding out what happened to our dad.

"Can I see it?" JJ asks, holding his hand out for the compass and I carefully place it in the palm of his hand. I couldn't help but snigger as I watch the boy squint at the compass, his nose all scrunched up as he tried to read my dad's writing, "Red- Rout- R,"

"No, I think that's an 'A'," I reason, stretching my neck up to look at the compass again. Noticing my uncomfortable position, JJ hands me back the compass.

"It says Redfield," Kie interrupt softly, a smile on her face when JJ and I turn to look at her before we look back at each other, nodding our heads in agreement.

"Right, right."

"Yeah, I total see that."

"Shut up, you thought it had an 'A' in it."

"Roug- roug- rou," I start to mimic JJ's attempt at the word a few minutes ago, stuttering over my words like he was. Not finding my joke to be very funny, JJ reached over a pulled me out of my chair, locking my head between this arm as he rubbed his knuckles on the top of my head. I hate when he does that.

"JJ," I shriek, wiggling to escape his lock around my neck. Surprisingly enough, JJ lets up quicker than usually, but instead of letting me return back to the chair that I was sitting in oh so comfortably a few seconds ago, he pull me back between his legs and wraps his arms around my shoulders, chin on my shoulder.

I felt myself relaxing back against his chest trying to ignore the little flutter in my stomach at the action. It's probably because he's made my head all fuzzy with the knuckie. Yeah. That's why.

Too busy looking down at my odd socks, I didn't notice the looks that where been thrown in JJ's and I direction.

"Okay, well what's Redfield?"

"Besides the most common name in the county-," Pope starts but doesn't get the chance to finish before John B interrupts him, "Maybe it's a clue?"

"Maybe it's a clue to where he is hiding," John B continues when he receives no response, looking around the room before his eyes settle on me, "y'know?" but all I could do was shrug.

"A clue?" Pope laughs a little at John B, "come on that's-"

I don't know what made Pope not finish what he was saying. It might have been the ignorant rooster that has not shut up since we got here or it could have been the sound of someone clearing the throat.

I'm not dumb. I might act it sometimes, but I'm not. I refuse to be known as that girl who has to be tiptoed around even by her friends just because her dad has went missing. It's not like I haven't notice it. Pope tries to not use his logical brain as much even though I know it is killing him to not spit out facts about disappearances to me even two seconds. Kie has always been nice to me, we've always been close, but the last nine months she has been scarily nice to me and it's a bit concerning. And JJ, well he's still JJ, but he's been more, I don't know, comforting and sweet since my dad... y'know.

Don't get me wrong, I love my friends and I love how patient they are all being with myself and John B, but I miss being able to hang out with my friends and not know that I am getting pity treatment half the time.

Seeming to notice that I was in a daze, JJ start to rock us both from side to side, slowly gaining my attention back on the conversation before me, "Yes, perfect. An anagram. You need paper."

"What's an anagram?" JJ whispers quietly into my ear causing a shiver to run up my spine.

"I don't know?" I answer honestly as we both watch the three of our friends huddled around one another across from us. JJ and I are clearly the brains of the operation here. I have a cheek to call John B the bimbo.

"How can you concentrate with that thing cawing at you?" Pope finally snaps at the annoying rooster outside, clearly struggling to think with the agitating sound.

"I've been trying to get rid of Noris for years, Pope," I express, stepping out of JJ 's arms and walkover to fix the ornament that John B clumsily knocked over when he grabbed the bulletin board earlier, "but JJ loves the rooster."

"What do you have against my rooster?" JJ questions looking in my direction, but I couldn't help but shake my head with a laugh. His rooster. Really.

"Other than the fact that it's annoying, it smells, it wakes me up every morning way more early that I would like, it's feathers-" I begin to list of the reasons why I dislike Noris so much, using my hand to dust of some of the things at the window ledge.

"-Don't talk about his feathers, okay," JJ butts in on my rant, his voice going high in defence, "he's insecure about them and you know that."

"Insecure?" I laugh out, turning to look at the blond boy who is just sitting there with his head held high, "He's a fucking rooster, JJ."

"Yeah well, he still has feelings and I know if he heard what you, his mother, just said about him right now, he would be so upset with you."

What the actual fuck? Wait hold on, mother?!

"Well, you know what," I start pointing a finger in JJ's direction choosing to personally ignore the major details that I am just now finding out from JJ's argument, "At least I gave him a name, you just call him rooster."

"Well, I'm sorry that I didn't find Noris to be the best name for our son" JJ expresses, his face turning red as he talks with so much passion about the little feather freak in my backyard.

"Would you two shut up," John B exclaims, his head in his hands, trying to decide what was more annoying, the cawing rooster or his best friend and sister bickering like an old married couple.

"Macy, Noris stays-"

"But-"

"-And JJ, stop referring to Noris as you and my sisters son, it's a bit weird-"

"But-"

"Sorry," JJ and I say in unison at the look that John B is throwing us before looking at each and saying sorry again. Neither of us could help the stupid smiles creeping onto our faces at our petty argument. I know it's childish, but I had to, I stick my tongue out in JJ's direction when John B wasn't looking before turning back to the window, trying to ignore the effect the JJ's small laugh had on me.

No one ever really visits this side of the cut. Not a lot of traffic usually reaches us, let alone our driveway. Usually its just John B's van and sometimes JJ's bike, but that's it really. The road leading to our house only just leads to our house, no where else. That's why when I spot a black SUV pulling up outside, I couldn't help but be confused.

"Guys?"

"Didfiel- Colours? No that's stupid."

"What about Ritchiesalin?"

"Can someone please tell me what an anagram is, I wanna to play too."

"Guys!" I said more loudly interrupt the game of guess the anagram that my friends where currently having, not taking my eyes off the window, "Someone's here."

"DCS?"

"God, I hope not," I breath out, moving over a little when I felt John B's hand on my elbow as he looked out the window beside me, "John B was suppose to clean the house but didn't."

"Now is not the time Macy," John B sighs watching the SUV park next to his van.

"Macy?" Pope questions from behind me, all of us now looking out the window, "Isn't that those guys from earlier?"

Shit. We all watch as two burly men dressed in black slam their car doors closed and make their way round to the front of the house.

"Is that them?" Kie asks, panic evident in her voice as she looks at us all for a quick answer. The lack of response must have given Kie her answer as she starts to breath heavier, backing away from the window.

"This is suboptimal," I hear Pope say under his breath, moving away from the window too, not liking this one bit.

"Now is not the time for your fancy words Pope," I start to fidget with my hands, unconsciously speaking faster than usually, "just say 'we're fucked' like the rest of us."

"Okay Macy, We're fucked!"

Oh shit. That's when you know we should be scared, we Pope swears with little to no peer-pressure or convincing. We are well and truly fucked.

The sound of a soft bang on the wall causes me to stop nervously fidgeting with my fingers, not even noticing that I was completely deaf to the babbling JJ until my brother had pushed him against the wall, "JJ, shush," John B holds up a finger in JJ's face, "where's the gun?"

"The gun? uh the gun is- uh the gun is-," turning into a babbling mess again as he tries to remember where he left the fire arm that has already caused him so much trouble and it's only been in his possession for a day.

"You don't have the gun? The one time we need the gun?" Kie is in a frenzy, clearly uncomfortable and scared at the thought of the men being in the house. I know it might not be much of a help, but I place my shaky hand on her back, trying to calm her nerves. At this point I don't know whose nerves I'm trying to calm, hers or mines.

"It's in my backpack," JJ brighten up when he finally remembers where he left it.

"Your backpack?"

"Which I left on the porch," JJ sigh out looking at John B who is patting him quickly on the shoulder ushering him to go and get it.

"Be carful," I whisper so quietly that I doubt anyone even heard, watching the blonde open the door quickly and quietly, making a dash for the porch just to return back as quickly when he hears shouting enter the house.

They're in the house.

"Come on out now, Johnny boy!"

"We're not going to hurt you little girl."

"Routledge!"

The sound of these two smugglers yelling out to John B and I is making me sick to my stomach, sucking in a breath as I take a step back from the door.

"Where you at boy?!"

"Come on out, little Mason, we just wanna talk!"

Oh I'm sure you just want to talk, I can tell by the way you a yelling for me and by the sounds of it trashing my already messy house. Y'know what, I take back what I said earlier about being upset that John B didn't clean the house when that was his only chore this week because by the sounds from outside this door, they have probably trashed the entire house. I would never hear the end of it. That would be his excuse to never clean again; 'but what if smugglers come and ransack our home? What's the point in cleaning if they are just going to mess it up again? Blah blah blah'.

Okay, I'm nervous rambling but I can't help it. When I'm nervous I tend to take that as the prime opportunity to call people out on things that they have done to me in the past. I like making situations worse if you couldn't tell.

"JJ help me with this," I call out quietly to the boy who runs over to the window, helping me as we both try to pull it open. It won't budge.

"Get it open!" Kie is still panic, pacing the room behind us which really isn't helping at all, "Why isn't it opening?"

"It painted shut, okay?" JJ snaps at the girl, having enough of her in his ear.

Looking around the room trying my best to ignore the sounds of stamping feet and clattering drawers from the other side of the door which John B has took the liberty of guarding with his back, his face tinted red as he holds is hands on his head. Rushing over to my dad desk, rummaging through the side drawer before my fingers grazed against the letter opener.

Perfect.

Rushing back over to JJ who is still trying his best to push up the window, huffing and puffing with all his strength. I gentle nudge him to the side when I show him what I found before jabbing at the seal between the window and the ledge.

"Come on, come on, open it," Kie ushers as she watched me chisel away at the paint. I don't know if she thinks that by trying to rush me more than I already am myself is helping, but it's really not. And JJ seems to notice that her words of panic are only making me more nervous.

"She's going as fast as she can, Kiara," he breathes out, still trying to push the window up, groaning in annoyance when it still won't budge.

"Check that back room!"

"Your two better not be in there!"

Not bothering to look over my shoulder, just judging by the sounds, I can already tell its not good. The sound of stamping feet making its way to the office door, all of us tensing up in anticipation as John B signals for us to keep quiet. Not wanting to give up on the window, I continue to pick at it silently, my senses on high alert for any sort of sound.

"You better not be in there, Routledge," one of the men shouts as he starts to throw himself against the door after realising that it was locked. John B and Pope both jump at the thud but keep their backs pressed against the door to stop any chances of him getting in.

'So much for protecting the door' I thought, turning my head for a quick second when a particularly loud bang echos through the house. He is trying to kick the door down and is doing a pretty good job at it. John B and Pope both running toward the window when a piece of the door frame breaks off. The only thing separating us and these men are an old lock that is being given a good run for it's money.

"I got it," I whisper to JJ who helps me push up the window, the usually uncomfortable heat from outside was welcomed with open arms. JJ jumps out first, landing on the grass before turning around to grab my waist, helping me through the window and lowering me to the ground.

Grabbing his hand without a second thought, I pulled JJ in the direction of the only place we could all hide. Noris' coop. Hearing the sound of feet behind us puts me at ease knowing that we all made it out in time.  John B was the last to rush into the coop, squeezing himself next to Pope as he closed over the door.

The undeniable sound a gun being shot echos through the house and to where we are hiding. I couldn't help but flinch at the horrid sound of the round, my eyes watering at the thought of us justing being able to make it out on a fine hair. The reassuring squeeze on my hand is the only thing right now that is stopping my watery eyes from leaking. We made it out. We made it out.

A few minutes after the gunshot, the front door of the house was swung open as we all watched the two men making their way out with boxes in hand. That's my dad's research. They can't take that.

But there was nothing I could do but watch all my dad's hard work being stole by two smugglers.

The thought of them being out the house made me nervous, their car was just parked a few feet away from the coop. The same coop that we are hiding in. The same coop that seems to have started a riot since we invaded it. Noris and his buddies have not stopped clucking since we came in here. I could feel my hands start to shake again, as Noris continues to crow louder than usual.

We're going to get caught.

"Do some, Pope," JJ says through clenched teeth, his grip on my hand strong but not hurtful as his thumb rubs against the back of my hand, "Shut him up."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Pet it, or talk to it. I don't know," Kie cries quietly, looking at the rooster how seems to be getting noisier and noisier.

Looking through a small crack in the coop, I watch as one of the men looks in our direction clearly hearing all the ruckus, "JJ," I squeeze his hand not taking my eyes off the man, "he's coming over here. He's going to find us," I hold back a sob with my hand.

I know that I shouldn't watch. I should have turned away. But I just couldn't. I was scared. Scared that if I closed my eyes for even a second, those men would come marching in again.

Watching JJ as he scrambled after the rooster, catching it in both his hands, the hands that were latched onto mine a few seconds ago, and pinning the it to the ground. The rooster fights against JJ's grip, clucking louder in panic, before falling silent. JJ's hands now wrapped loosely around its neck.

Biting my lip and pulling my knees to my chest, I drop my head on my knee sucking in quick but quiet breaths. Trying to focus on my breathing, I barely felt the light touch on my shin. Just rubbing back and forwards, as I try to match my breathing to their rhythm.

Looking up, I probably look like a hot mess right now, locking eyes with Pope whose face is contorted with concern. Holding his hand in place on my leg as we all listened to SUV pulling away from the Chateau.

They're gone.

But for how long?

~

Don't ask me why the Redfield Lighthouse was my dad's favourite spot on the island. All I see is a tall pillar of white and blue paint with a spinning light on top of it. Y'know a basic ass lighthouse. But it meant so much more to my dad. He would come here every Sunday morning for hours and when I asked what he did there he would just say 'I'm watching the tide, Ladybug. Zenned out to the max'.

'Please never say 'zenned' or 'to the max' again, I'm begging you.'

I would do anything to be embarrassed by my dad trying to act like he was down the the kids. At least he was trying to relate to his teenage children. I just thought it was very uncool at the time but I'd do anything for it now. I'd do anything to have him back.

That's why when John B pulls up outside of the lighthouse, sure it took a bit of reassuring. Who am I kidding, JJ said he will call me a pussy for the rest of my life, if I don't go in the lighthouse. Say's him. He's not going either.

"I have my reasons" JJ swung his arm around Pope's shoulder who couldn't look anymore uncomfortable with the blondes sudden affection if he tried.

"And I have my reasons to stick my foot up your ass," I snap in his direction, before being pulled by both John B and Kie who take an elbow each, leading me towards the tall stature that is making my legs shake and stomach churn.

"Kinky," JJ calls out, watching me be dragged away with a stupid triumphant smile on his face, "but also uncalled for. Now I'm not going to catch you if you fall"

If I fall?!

"Remind me why we are here again," I begin to dig my feet into the ground beneath me, craning my neck to look up at my destination. It's a seems to be never ending set of spiral stairs with a bight white light at the top. Is that heaven?

"It was your idea to come here," John B and Kie both begin to huff and puff as they try to pull my dead weight towards the first step.

"Yeah, but I didn't think that I would have to go up there," I whine, spinning my neck back to the entrance of the lighthouse, watching JJ push away a smirking Pope with an annoyed look on his face.

"Well, we don't know what we are looking for," Kie grunts when I refuse to lift my foot onto the step.

'If I close my eyes tight enough maybe they'll think I'm-'

"Ouch," I whine when my knee hits the metal step, leaving an intent on my skin. 'What dickheads' I thought as I watch them both laughing at my now injured self.

I'm definitely not going now!

But before I could even get up to run back out the door, a pair of hands wrap themselves under my arms and another around each of my legs as I feeling myself being lifted up the stairs, "Come Macy, we've got questions to ask and answers to get."

What probably usually took the average person a few minutes to climb, took two teenagers carrying another against their will, 10 minutes. I'm not complaining, at least I didn't need to climb all these stairs. Who decided that this lighthouse needed to be this tall in the first place, its very unpractical. And all fashioned. Like get an elevator for crying out loud.

Normal I wouldn't be complaining about being carried about somewhere, but with how high we probably are right now, I would rather be anywhere else but here.

'But it was your idea, Macy' I minic their voice in my head

'Yeah well, we established years ago that Mason doesn't have good ideas-'

'Hey is that a bat? oh, it's just a pigeon.'

"You got her?" I hear John B breath out as he places my feet on the landing, Kie still not letting go from under my arms as she nods her head. I can feel the sweat radiating of her, it's kinda gross. Also, have you got her? Where else am I suppose to go? Jump out the window? Back down those stairs? I don't think so.

Watching John B as he knocks on the metal door, the sound echoing it way through the hollow tower. We wait a few minutes, but there was no answer, "Nobodies home," John B shrugs after no response, making his way back over to Kie and I.

"No," I shake myself out of Kie's grip and make my way with wobbly legs over to the door, "I didn't climbing all those stairs for 'nobody to be home'," I use John B's words against him as I bang the side of my fist on the door.

"You didn't climb shit Macy, we practically dragged you up here," I hear John B correct my statement from behind me.

"And, I am so thankful that you did," I reply with a frown on my face, but I snap on a cheery smile when the door cracks open revealing a stuffy middle aged looking man, his glasses hanging low as the eyes us all, "We're here for the lighthouse."

" The Lighthouse is closed," The man grunts closing the door back in our faces before we could protest. Well that was rude and very clearly a lie. When is the lighthouse ever closed?

This is going to be harder that I thought.

"Actually, we aren't here for the lighthouse," I call out again, know that the man can probably hear me through the door, "We're here for the Royal Merchant."

I couldn't help but smile when I heard the door being pulled open again, "Well you came to the right place."

"Watch your step now," the mans voice seems to have completely changed and perked up since the mention of the Royal Merchant, now leading us out onto the the rusted catwalk that had a few large holes in it with a few of the entire island.

Don't look down, Mason. Just don't look down.

You would think the cold and sharp breeze from up here would help with how much I am sweating, but if anything, it's making it worse. It's making me realise how high we actually are.

"I know more about the Royal Merchant than anybody else in Kildare county."

"Well you clearly haven't met our Macy yet," I hear John B speak to the man as I stand back with Kie, who had positioned herself more in front of me wanting to block the view. I couldn't help but play with the back belt loop of her shorts trying to distract my running mind.

"A bit of a Merchanteer yourself?" I heat the man call over to me, but I could only nod, "something like that."

"Now the Merchant," The man starts, "It disappeared in the graveyard of the Atlantic in 1829."

"With $500 million," I hear John B chime in with probably one of the only fact that he knows about the Merchant.

"That's correct," the man praises, "Are you sure you're not the Merchanteer yourself?"

"Oh we're sure," Kie chimes in, reaching her hand back and interlocking her fingers with mine. Closing my eyes as I feel the wind lightly swaying my figure from side to side... like the tide.

The man just grunts, geez this man makes a lot of weird sounds, "Follow me," I hear him say in probably the creepiest voice I've every heard, "I want to show you lot something."

"This thing goes higher," I whisper, mostly to myself as I feel Kie lightly tugging on my hand.

"It's okay," she reassures, "I've got you."

Trying my best to ignore the sounds of the crashing waves that sound so far away and the screeching of the seagulls that are looming a bit to close to my head, I attempt to focus on the facts that the bearded man is spewing as I dodge the holes in the catwalk.

"I've been working up her for 30 years," the man calls over his shoulder to us, "the views never changed. Until two days ago."

I've said it once and I'll continue to say it; Agatha was a bitch.

"One more storm like that and It'll take the lighthouse," he points out chuckling before nudging my brother with his elbow, "and I'll go with her."

'God, somebody needs a friend,' My eyes snapping up when I hear John B and Kie laughing, "Did I say that out loud?"

Choosing to ignore my comment the man continues, "Now if my calculations are correct, which I can grantee you that they are," he laughs, seeming so sure of himself, "the Merchant is somewhere on the south-side of the storm."

Huh?

"So, she's probably about 30 miles in that direction," I look up at the man for the first time since walking out here only to see him pointing in the completely wrong direction.

"That's wrong," I point out causing the cheeky smile on the mans face to fall, his features become stoic as he looks in the direction of my voice.

"I'm sorry?"

"It wouldn't make any sense if the Merchant was on the south side of the storm," I begin to elaborate to the man, "that would only push her out further to sea."

"Your point, little missy?" The man grunts, clearly not understanding where I am come from.

"It would make more sense if the Merchant was on the north side of the storm," I continue, looking at John B who seems to understanding what I mean by this, "which means it would be closer to shore."

"Exactly," I smile at John B, walking over slightly still holding Kie's hand, "meaning the Merchant is mostly likely 10 miles in that direction," I conclude pointing in the completely opposite direction that the man did minutes ago.

"Come with me," the mans voice low as he eyes me, walking into the small room behind him.

Letting me in first, John B steps aside trying to block the plunging view to the bottom the light house from my vision. I know I'm still high up, but not being able to physically see it anymore is really helping.

Stopping in front of a map of the point, the man takes of his glasses looking at me with a squint as he questioned, "So tell me, where exactly to you think the Royal Merchant would be, huh?"

Is he trying to make me out to look stupid. I'm sorry if I've hurt your ego my guy, but I didn't pile hours of my time into reasserting the Royal Merchant just to be belittled by a man who can't get his fact right.

It's kinda adorable, seeing all the scribbles on the map with grid points and numbers as to were he has once believed the merchant to be, but were it mostly likely is has been completely untouched on his map.

"Right about here," clumsily circling my finger around a patch of the ocean, it's hard to really see with how dark this small room is, "most likely 1,000 feet down."

"And who told you this information, sweetheart?" I couldn't help but physically cringe at the name I was just called, but I try and brush past it.

"My dad and I live for this stuff," I shrug, not really understanding why it is such a big deal as to how I know this information. I researched it, obviously.

"You're a clever one, aren't you," he complements, but I just walk back standing next to Kie where I feel more comfortable, away from the sweating man who is eyeing me up oddly.

"Do you know anything about this?" John B steps forward, taking the mans attention off of me as he pulls out dad's compass for the man to look at, "It says Redfield in the back in our dad's handwriting."

I watch on as the mans face twisting into one of realisation as he takes small steps away from John B and the compass, "I don't know why we are here, but it feel like we're suppose to be."

"Do you have something to give us or-" John B continues to push the man for answers. Remember when I mentioned that John B doesn't know how to read the room, this a prime and live example right her ladies and gentlemen. John B Routledge at his finest, making people uncomfortable.

"Where are you going?" He calls out, quick on the mans hells who made a mad dash for the hatch above us.

Looking at Kie who looks back at me with as much confusion, we both follow behind John B who is continuing to yell at the man, "Look, man I know this is weird, but we were really hoping that you would know something about this, alright please."

Oh, so we're begging now?

"You won't believe what these two have been through in the last 24 hours, sir," Kie decides to throw her pennies worth in too once she makes it up the ladder, "I mean threatened, shot at, home invaded-"

"Home invaded?" The man repeats with sheer panic lacing his voice as he looks between all of us like an animal how has just been caught by a predator.

"Could have probably left that part out Kie-" I start, but my eye catch sight of us being up even higher through the walls that are made entirely of windows, "Oh god, we're high up."

"Is there anything that you can think of that might help us?" I tried my hardest to stay focussed on the conversation at hand but I couldn't, it was all slowly becoming background noise as I continue to look down at the ground that is moving in a swirling motion.

"It was an accident, okay"

"Come on, we have to go," I barely even registered the voice as Kie's as she quickly pushes me in the direction of the stairs and away from the view. In a daze, I quickly climb down the ladder hearing the sounds of pain echoing above me.

"What happened?" I ask, but my question wasn't answered as I'm ushered down the spiralling stairs. Just don't look down. "John B, what did you do?"

"Nothing, it was an accident," I hear him yell from behind me over the sound of our thundering feet slamming down on the mental stairs.

When we finally make it to the bottom of the lighthouse, I prepare myself for the mad dash to John B's van as I hear the sound of sirens coming down the road.

"Are you kidding me?" I exclaim, watching our van driving away from the lighthouse. They ditched us.

Wasting no time, I sprint toward the fence beside the lighthouse and on shaky knees I haul myself over the picket fence before sprinting in any direction I could.

I keep running until I don't hear the sirens anymore, "I think we're good now guys," I place my hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath.

"Guys?" I call out when I hear no response from them, "Guys!"

Great.

Now I'm alone. I couldn't help but throw my head back letting out a groan as I making my way down to the beach in a strop. 'Hopefully they ran in this direction,' I thought, but was getting agitated as my feet struggle to move in the soft sand.

"Stupid sand," I grumble to myself, pulling of my shoes and clumsily pulling them along with me.  

The beach is mostly quiet on this end of the cut. A lot of stuff still littering the shore having been washed up from the hurricane. I'm really glad for the vacant beach though, it means people are less likely to see me having to dance my way through the sand as I dodge standing on the crispy seaweed.

Holding my hand above my brow, I squint when I finally see two familiar figures in the distance standing on one of the grass humps before the beach.

'Finally', I thought as I pick but the pace readying myself to call out and catch their attention, only to stop myself a few feet before them as I watch John B pull Kie in by her waist and kiss her.

Woah.

In public my guy?

Also, I know John B has had a little thing for Kie since she become one of the Pogues, basically everyone did back then, but I'm still not sure if Kie ever felt the same way about my brother. She would tell me that, right?

"What happened to no 'pogue on pogue macking'" I shout cause the two to jump a part as quickly as the met in the middle. I couldn't help but snicker as I watch John B's face turn a brighter shade for red than the bruise that is adorning his face. How sweet.

"I'm- um- I'm so sorry. Shit-"

"It's okay, John B-"

"I shouldn't have, I'm under a lot of stress-"

"It's okay. I didn't even mind."

"You didn't?" both John B and I say at the same time, but in two completely different tones. The pair turning their heads in my direction with a similar look in their eyes. Holding my hands up in defence, "I'll shut up," I say reaching down to put back on my shoes.

Before I could ruin the moment any further than I probably already did, the sound echoing sirens reaches our ears. And before when had to time to run, the police car was parking in front of us.

"Routledge," I hear an all too familiar voice call out. Not him, anybody but him, "I got you son."

'Maybe if I duck behind Kie slightly-'

"Don't bother hiding, Mason," Shoupe calls out and I can't help but cuss under my breath, "I can still see you."

"Now, why don't you just be chill and not make me chase you," Shoupe makes is way out of the car and walks towards us with his hands on his belt.

"Not like you could," I snort quietly, earning a nudge from Kie who tells me to shut up.

Was there really no one else working in the dog house today. Did they really have to send Shoupe. That man has it out for me. Not so much John B, his problem is Peterkins. But Shoupe, that's a different beast. And with the amount of run ins that I have had with Shoupe since he got the job, I've learned how to play his little game of bad cop to my advantage. Shoupe isn't that bad. If the thinks by lowering his voice by a few octaves and wearing those stupid sunglasses is going to make him look cooler; it's sadly not.

"You're already in enough trouble missy," he points his finger in my direction, "Now hands where I can see them. Both of you."

This is just great.

~

I hate it here. I've always hated it here. That's why I tend to run from the cops and not get caught. This place is like a doctors office, everyone is so serious, all anxiously waiting to be spoke to by the big law enforcers.

Seperating John B and I is never a good idea if you want to find out the truth. You are going to end up with two different stories and that is intentional. I would never rat out John B, and him the same for me. It's not just the pogue way. It's our way.

"If this is your way to try and get me to confess," I start, twirling around the pen that I nabbed off of Shoupe's desk moments before, "It's not going to work. I won't crack."

"I'm not expecting you too," Shoupe admits as he leans back in his chair with a sigh, his attention not leaving me for a second.

"What?"

This man is confusing, one minute he wants me to confess as if I've done the worst thing humanly imaginable and the next he's like 'nah, just forget about it'. This dude needs to make his mind up.

"I feel for you Mason," Shoupe says, "I really do. For you and your brother."

"I know part of you still thinks that he is going to just walk through that door and everything will go back to the way it was," it's scary how well this man seems to know how I think. Maybe after all this time of chasing me around has taught him something.

"He's been missing for nine months," he continues noticing that I am still listening to him as I slowly stop playing with the pen, "Your father is dead."

"You don't know that," I say sharply, slamming the pen back on his table as I push my chair back and move towards the window. Looking out the window where my eyes couldn't help but catch the sight of a little girl walking along the sidewalk holding her fathers hand with the cheesiest grin I have ever seen. It almost looks familiar.

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't," I turn around to meet eyes with Shoupe, "he's coming back, he would leave me," I feel so small as my voice cracks.

"The quicker you accept this Mason, the quicker you can heal," Shoupe says in a soft voice, "You're a bright kid, Mason. You are getting yourself in too deep, and eventually, you won't have anybody to come and save you."

"I know you have been having trouble with the DCS," I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the mention of them, but Shoupe interrupts my sigh, "but we are just looking out for you and your brother, okay?"

I nod my head, even though I couldn't disagree more with that statement. The DCS and Cheryl have been nothing but a pest to my brother and I for the last 9 months, especially now more than ever.

"The last place I want you to end up in is foster care," Shoupes confession makes me stop, "who else is going to keep me on my toes if not you?"

"Thought you didn't want me to cause any more trouble?" I lift my eyebrows not understanding the man one bit.

"Harmless trouble, Mason," he reminds me leaning his arms on his desk, "but what just went down was assault, okay? That's JD time."

I could stop the shiver that ran down my spine at the thought. I know I get myself in some messes every now and then, but never have I thought about the possibility of being locked away for it. That sounds worse than foster care. No, that is worse than foster care.

"So I can still cause trouble?" I try to joke sitting back in my seat, but it falls short when I see the look in Shoupes eye, "Sorry."

"Look, Mason," Shoupe pushes himself up from his chair, circling his desk, just to sit himself back down beside me, "I know you have the compass."

My breath hitches.

"Maybe not you," he corrects himself, looking down at his own hands as he continues, "but I know you found it on the wreck."

Deny, deny, deny.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I shake my head a little, hoping that my voice is staying steady.

Why does everyone want my dad's compass? If anyone should have it, it should be John B and I.

Hearing Shoupe sigh from beside me, I huff out a breath on last time, "I don't have a compass".

~

"If you skip out on your bail and I lose my money," Mr Carrera is a man on a mission as he leads the three of us out of the station, making a beeline for his car, "I will hunt you done and skin you."

That's a bit violent.

"Dad!" Kie stumbles over her feet trying to keep up with him.

"We're still cool right, Mr. C?" I ask the man who stares me dead in the eye before opening the car door and slamming in for effect. There's my answer, "I guess not."

Tugging John B's elbow before he could walk over to Kie, "I'm gonna take a walk," I say, pulling out my hair tie undoing my braid, "I need to de-stress."

"This is your way of getting out of cleaning the house isn't it" John B calls out, but I am already walking in the opposite direction.

"Sorry, I can't hear you," I shout picking up my speed into a small jog, "I think it's a bad reception."

"We're not even on the phone, Mason."

I don't know where I am going exactly, I'm just letting my feet take me where ever they feel like it. I need sometime alone. I love the people that I surround myself with everyday, and I wouldn't have it any other way, but sometimes I just need a minute to myself. Sometimes I just need to dissociate from the world around me.

I use to do this a lot when I was younger. I don't know what I had to be stressed about then, looking at my life now and the shit show that is this situation. I use to run away, in lack of a better term.

I have a secret place. A place that only I know. I have never shown, let alone even told, anyone about this place. Not John B. Not Kie or Pope. Not JJ.

Nobody.

It's my place.

I haven't really been there is a while, I hope nothing bad has happened to it. All I'm say is that: if God really loved me he would have asked Storm Aggie to give my spot a miss.

It's in the perfect spot, right between The Cut and The Figure 8, and that's all I'm going to tell you.

Right now though, I am god knows where. Some where in Kooksville, I can tell be the fancy cars with shiny new registration plates and also the presence of electricity. Screw these Kooks and their back up generators. It's almost like the storm didn't even hit here.

How do I get myself into these situations. I know Shoupe calls me trouble, but I never actively go looking for it. It just seems to follow me like a dark shadow.

Speaking of following, if I wasn't already on such high alert today I probably would have missed the sound of a car engine slowing down and stopping next to me on the perfectly tiled sidewalk.

"Hello poppet."

"Nope, not dealing with this."

"You can't run, little girl."

I don't even know where I am. Why is The Figure 8 so big?

Despite the blisters from days ago that are still healing on the back of my heels, I push myself into the fastest run I could muster. Not having to look back as I can hear pounding footsteps close behind me and the shady black SUV skidding into take off on the road.

My legs are feeling lighter and lighter by the second, tingles running up and down my body as my ears start to ring. The feeling of the warm air slapping against my face as I push myself further isn't a pleasant one.

Without a second thought, I make a quick turn down between the valley of two houses that probably cost more than I could ever imagine. Thinking quick, I grab at the two over flowing wheelie bins, as push them over on their side, hoping to buy myself sometime now only running from the man on foot, the SUV clearly taking the long way around.

Still not looking behind me, but hearing the man cuss loudly at my small distraction, I just keep run.

Just keep running Mason.

"Holy shit,"I yell slamming my hand the car that came hurling to a stop in front of me, skidding myself to a stop.

"Hey, watch where you're going," a male voice yells and before I had the chance to apologise and continue run, the voice sticks their head out the window, "Mason?"

"Rafe?" I squint in his direction, but I never get a minute do I?

Not having a moment to catch my breath, even after almost being road kill, I look to my left to see one of the men running full speed in my direction... with a gun. Did he have that the whole?

"I caught you now, Poppet."

"Do you need a ride?" Rafe rushed out, his eyes wild as he looks between myself and the man who is now getting closer and closer.

"A ride would be perfect," I breath out, wasting no time as I sprint over the the passenger side, the door already swinging open as Rafe leaned over to unlock it for me.

"Drive, please," I beg, slamming the door shut before Rafe speeds to a start, pulling us away from the man.

Both of us watch in the rear view mirror as the man stops in the middle of the road, shaking his hand that holds the gun, yelling doesn't that doesn't reach us.

I couldn't stop the sigh of relief that escapes me as I sunk back into the car seat, feeling the cool air conditioned air blowing gently on my face. I'm safe. Well, sort of. I'm currently in a car with Rafe Cameron who is driving at least 50 over the 30 limit and I don't have a seat belt on.

"So," Rafe eyes flick in my direction as I hurriedly put on my seatbelt like my life depends on it, because right now, with the way he is driving, it does. Rafe either noticed my discomfort at his speed or he just didn't want to get a fine, pushes gently on the break slowing us down to a normal speed, "You want to tell me why some guy with a gun is chasing you?"

"I said I didn't like his hat," I let out a nervous laugh as I fiddle with my bracelet, trying to ignore the way that Rafe keeps looking at me.

"Really?" Rafe laughs out, clearly not believing a single word that I am saying.

"Totally," I nod my head, "I said 'Hey man, shit hat', and the next thing I knew he was chasing me."

When Rafe doesn't say anything, it's my turn to look at him, I couldn't help but noticing how sharp his features are when he is focussed. Not that I've looked at him long enough to ever notice that. I feel my own lips twitch upwards when I watch Rafe's do the same.

"You are the worst liar in the world, Mason Routledge."

"A lair?" I say dramatically turning to look out the front window, when did it get so dark out? "I am not."

"Okay, Yoda," he shakes his head and continues to drive.

Did he just call me Yoda? Did Rafe Cameron just reference Star Wars? Is Rafe Cameron secretly a nerd? I have so many questions.

It's odd, but I feel calm sitting in this car with Rafe. I mean he did kinda help me out back there, even if he did almost run me over with his fancy Range. It's very unlike him. It's strange. He's being civil with me and I'm not use to that. I'm use to getting called names like; dirty Pogue. But I'm not going to complain. After the day that I've had, I just glad to have some peace for a moment.

Reaching over to turn up the radio that was quietly playing through the car when I recognised a familiar beat, "I love this song," Rafe smiles when he hears the melody of 'Someday Soon' by Harlem playing through the car speakers.

"Me too," I nod my head along to the beat trying to bite back my small smile when I hear Rafe say, "You've got good taste, Pogue."

I hadn't even noticed that Rafe was pulling up to the Chateau, too busy humming away to the catching song with lyrics that seemed to be too relatable at the moment, "Just pull up here," I point to the space just before the dirt path that leads done to the fish shack that I call home.

Shutting off the car, both of us are left with only the flickering yellow street light illuminating its way into the car, Rafe reach out to turn down the radio when the songs ends.

It's silent for a minute, but not uncomfortable.

"Thanks for the ride, Rafe," I smile softly in the boys direction, not wanting to over stay in his presence. I've just had a pleasant ride with him, and if I know Rafe Cameron, which a few days ago I thought I did, he will find a way to return back to the potentials asshole that I knew and hate.

Rafe just bites his bottom lip a little as he watches me unbuckle my seatbelt before pushing myself out of his car that seems to be so high up from the ground.

Walking around the car, I expected him to pull away the instant I got out, but it seems like Rafe Cameron is just filled with surprised these days, "Hey Mason," I hear him call out to me.

Turning back to the car, I see Rafe looking out of his now rolled down window, his arm resting on the ledge.

"Yeah?" I take a few steps closer to the car again, not wanting to be shouting out at this time of night. Not that we have neighbours or anything.

We seem to just look at one another for a while, neither of us knowing what to say. He's the one that called out to me. I feel myself getting shy under his blue eyes that seem to be soft, but unwavering.

"See you later?" his eyebrow quirking up at the question, an almost doubtful tone in his voice.

"See you later, Rafe," I smile at the boy before turning to leave this time. The walk down the dirt drive was one where I was trying to fight the small smile of my face, letting out a sigh as I hear the car tires rubbing against the loose stones before driving off.

That was weird.

Moment of peace never last long do they? Not when your name is Mason Routledge apparently.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I run over to John B who is casually lounging in a beating lawn chair with a small bonfire crackling in front of him. Holding stacks of papers in his hands as he carelessly throws them in to ignite the flame more.

"John B!" I yell again when I am next to him, but his face remains stoic, his features a fiery orange hue from the burning flame before us. I feel myself getting uncomfortably hot from the radiating heat.

"I'm letting go Mason," his voice deprived of any emotion as he continue to throw things into the fire, "and you should too," taking a swig from his bottle, letting out the most disgusting burp I have ever heard.

"Letting go?" I question, not understanding what is happening, "letting go of what?"

"Dad is dead!" John B kicks himself out of the chair before grabbing it and launching it into the fire. I couldn't help but flinch and step back as John B points his finger in my direction with wild eyes, "did you hear me? I said; dad is dead."

"I heard you," I whisper still not wanting to stand too close to my brother who seems to be slightly unhinged. Watching him, like a man turned mad, as he spins himself around cussing as he knocks over the countless amount of beer bottles at his feet. The amount of bottles explaining why he is acting like this. John B reaches down into one of the many boxes he has pulled from the house, tossing more stuff into the fire without a care, 'is that the stuff from dad's office?'

"Good," he slurs, watching the fire dance brighter, small sparks filling around in the cold air, with a drunk smile on his face, "you need to stop acting like a little girl Mason and just get over it already. I mean look at me. I've accepted it and I'm doing just fine."

Just fine? I would have laughed at my brother hadn't the sight been too sad. He is a drunken mess who is clearly not in the right frame of mind. I couldn't stop my hands from reaching forward to steady him as he stumbled over his own feet, a little to close to the fire for my liking.

"Can you believe it, Macy? Dad is gone," John B laughs like what he has just said is hysterical, but I can see it in his eyes. Behind those drunk glazed eyes, John B still doesn't want to believe what everyone has been telling us for nine months. And no amount of liquid courage can hide that.

"Stop living in denial," John B kicks the empty box in to the fire and I'm having a hard time trying to figure out if his words are being aimed at himself or me.

"You were always the favourite," John B laughs out in spite, his eyes never leaving the fire, "Our little Mason can do no wrong, can she?"

"What are you saying-" I try to understand where all his is coming from with John B.

Believe it or not but John B really gets drunk. Sure he likes to get a buzz on every now and then just like the rest of us. But never have I seen him like this before.

"-oh and don't you dare try and deny it," John B voice slowly getting louder and louder but still not looking in my direction, "I can't have one thing for myself. You stole my friends. You work for the same family as me-"

Before I could even chime in on John B's drunken rant, "-You even stole my dad from me."

"What is that suppose to mean?," my voice to quiet I'm surprised that John B actually heard me over his drunken buzz.

"If you hadn’t fed into his fantasy of finding that stupid ship, maybe I would still have a dad."

There it is.

What I have been thinking for the last 9 months has just been confirmed to me.

John B does blame me for what happened to dad. Maybe he's right. Maybe if I hadn't been so involved and fascinated by the Royal Merchant and how finding that gold would fix all our pogue problems, then maybe he would still be here with us and not lost a sea.

Who am I kidding.

Dad's not lost a sea is he.

He never was.

"Maybe we should go and have a lie down," I step toward him, trying to not show how his words have effected me, John B slowly looking around for something else to launch into the flame as he takes another large swig from his bottle.

"And miss out on all the fun? No way, Macy," John B burps before picking up more items, looking in my approaching direction, "Why don't you have a turn, Ladybug."

Ladybug.

Choosing to ignore the way that John B said the nickname, he probably didn't mean for his voice to come across with so much venom. He's just drunk.

"Yeah, yeah!" John B grabs at my wrists with forceful hands as I try not to gasp in pain. Pulling me in-front of him and the flame, shoving a stack of papers into my reluctant hands before hurling them into the fire for me, "Little ladybug is letting go," he sings.

"Okay that's enough John B," I said seriously at the boy, shoving him back away from me, whose eyes seem to waver at my change in tone turning to look at me with softer eyes than before.

I don't like this John B.

This isn't my brother that is talking to me.

He would never do this.

He would never have said what he did.

"Come on," I push him, not caring that he's drunk anymore, he is being a hazard to himself and needs to go and sober up, "we're going to bed."

Not listening to his protest and comments about me being a party pooper, 'I'm just having fun, Macy, what's the problem?'

Throwing John B onto his unmade bed like a dead weight, I watch as the boy can't even muster up the strength to push himself out of the bed clearly not want to be there, instead he just sinks further into the softness of his mattress.

Walking over to his window, I open in slightly, letting the cool night air dance into the room before pulling the thin curtain to a close, "I'll go and get you some water-" my voice hushes to a whisper as I hear John B let out a small snore.

Grabbing a blanket from his closet, I gently throw it over his sleeping frame, pulling it up to under his chin. He looks peaceful for the first time in forever. I actually can't remember the last time he slept. He's been through a lot.

'But so have I'

Closing his bedroom door over after leaving some Advil and a bottle of water next to his bed, I walk back out to the fire that the drunken John B thought was a good idea. Alcohol and fire. You aren't the smartest are you Johnny boy?

Maybe he's right. I know he was a drunken mess, but you know the saying; drunk words are sober thoughts.

Maybe it is time to let go.

Maybe it's time to accept it and move on.

Maybe our dad is dead.

Feeling my eyes sting, not sure if it is from the burning how flames that are dancing in front of were I am comfortably sat on the grass or the thoughts that are running through my head. I look over to see one thing left that John B had clearly meant to burn.

I didn't want to think twice about it.

We're letting go, Mason.

Just like John B said.

Reaching over slowly, I grab the last thing for the fire.

'Routledge Family Tree'

A home made family tree crafted by my dad. The only this holding it together is thumb tacks and sellotape. Running my finger over the loose torn bit paper displaying names from my family that I have never met, let alone know. One name in particular however, catches my eye more than the rest.

Olivia R. Routledge.

Chapter seven: FIN!

I had so much fun writing this for the past week. It’s been the only thing I’ve been able to think about.

I’m worried that I’ve made Mason sound like a know it all in this chapter with the Royal Merchant stuff, but I’ll get into her knowledge about it more in a later chapter.

So, a lot happened huh. We got some Mason and JJ moments. We discovered Mason’s fear of heights and that she actually pays attention in school... sometimes. Also Rafe being weird and nice for a change??? And of course, John B being an asshole.

I’ve had really bad food poisoning for the last two days so that's why this chapter was delayed in getting posted, but it’s out now :)

What did you think?

The next chapter is going to be filled with angst, so just a prior warning.

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

I also might open up my TAGLIST again for the series, so if you want to be tagged when I post chapter 8 just comment or message me and I will totally do that for you :)

But yeah, thank you so much!

Lots of love,

Daisy<3

[symphonicmetal101]

After watching some anime, can I request the brothers and Side characters with an MC that makes really great bentos in their aesthetic with their favorite meals? MC could make Lucifer a fancy dish of steak done to his favorite temperature, side dishes are organized neatly, and the bento is red and black to match his design or she made pink/pastel treats for Asmo is a very cute bento that matches his style. I think it would make their day when they receive something so cute from the human

ABSOFRICKINGLUTELY! ANON! I LOVE YOU! THANK YOU! However, I write gn! Whenever possible, so I hope you don't mind. Also, I've only made bento once, so I did a tinny bit of research. Most of them stray from traditional bento, however I tried to make sure I had the four components, (protien, carbs, salad/veggies, and fruit) (except Asmo), and different cooking methods for each. Some of them I forgot to explicitly say what colour the box was, so I'm sorry about that. I didn't do Luke because he had a role in Simeon's, and I blanked. (Sorry) Also, some of them have links bc I started to lose inspiration and motivation to write the same thing over and over again bc brain juice went bye. Hopefully I did this justice, I may have gotten a little carried away...sorry for rambling.

MC Makes Bento For The Boys

Lucifer

Lucifer had been working non-stop for the past few weeks

You had barely seen him, as he was so busy going back and forth from the castle, meetings, and he had banned everyone from his office. It had gotten so bad that he would "postpone" his meals, but nobody had seen him eat in a while.

You had a lot of spare time, so you did meal prep for the whole week just for Lucifer.

It was a little past noon by the time you finished, (and made Beel swear he wouldn't touch the food because you would treat him at Madam Scream's later), so you decided to make a bento box for Lucifer's lunch today with some leftover beef and rice you had.

With your protein and carbs taken care of, you prepared some roasted asparagus to add some colour to the box as well as a couple of carrots. You also added an umeboshi plum on top of the rice to match the colour of the box. (A/N I personally don't mind umeboshi on it's own, but if anyone wants to try it, I highly suggest you eat it with rice or have water on hand 😂)(oh yeah, umeboshi is a small, sour, pickled plum.)

In the final box you arranged a couple of orange slices, strawberries and grapes.

Satisfied, you brought the box and a glass of water up to his study. You didn't even bother knocking, knowing he would just send you away anyways.

You were greeted by a low growl. "Get out."

You rolled your eyes. "No. You need to eat Lucifer, and I'm not leaving until I know you've finished this."

"I don't have time for this MC. I have to-" he was cut off by his stomach rumbling.

He blushed slightly, and continued to busy himself with work.

"Please? I hate seeing you overwork yourself like this. Have you looked in the mirror lately? When was the last time you slept? Eaten? Had something other than coffee? Have you even gone to the bathroom in the past 48 hours?"

He sighed, folded his hands under his chin and looked up at you through disheveled raven locks.

"...you really aren't going anywhere until I eat." It wasn't a question, rather a statement with a trace of relief in it.

You extended the bento box out to him once more, though this time he accepted it.

"....thank you MC.....this is quite delicious. Perhaps once I'm done my work I can take you out to Ristorante Six to show my appreciation."

You pushed his hair back and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Once you're done your work, you're going to sleep. That's an order, sir."

He silently cursed himself as he felt himself blush again

You were planning to stay until he finished, but then you heard Mammon and Levi fighting.

"I'll take care of that love. Make sure you drink that water too. Also, I prepped meals for the rest of the week for you, so you have no excuse to not eat. I bribed Beel, so they should stay there, but as an extra precaution I got Satan to teach me a protection spell. I didn't tell him what it was for, so it should be fine."

He watched you close the door behind you and wondered what he did to deserve someone like you.

Mammon

He was complaining to you because his actions finally caught up with him, and tomorrow he had to go out and repay some witches with time and favours, (being a bagboy), instead of money

He started belly-aching even more when you told him you weren't interested in joining him.

Luckily you were on dinner duty tonight, so you had a legitimate excuse to leave his pity-party

However while you were making dinner, you decided to show Mammon a little bit of sympathy, and set some rice and pork cutlet aside that you could use later.

After dinner, Mammon followed Lucifer, trying to convince him to give him money.

So you had ample time to continue working on his bento.

He had a three compartment wooden box

You scooped the rice into the box, put the cutlet on top, and two thinly sliced pieces of lemon on top.

You cut up some yellow, red, and orange bell pepper to put in the top left corner of the box

In the last compartment, you cut up golden kiwi, pineapple chunks, and a couple blueberries

You were about to put it in the fridge, when Mammon came screaming into the kitchen.

"MC HELP ME LUCIFER'S MAD I DON'T WANNA GET STRUNG UP AGAIN AND- wait, what's that?"

You sighed. "It was supposed to be a surprise Mammon! I made lunch for you for tomorrow, because you're going to be doing some running around and who knows when you'll get a moment to yourself? I was going to cast a spell on it to keep Beel from eating it, so it would have lasted overnight too... I just want to make sure you have something healthy to eat and so you don't have to spend money on take out. If you don't want it though, I'll just give it to Beel..."

He blushed furiously. "Ya don't gotta worry bout me, silly human. The Great Mammon can take care of himself! But-uh, I'll probably end up taking it anyways, because it's umm, it's free food! And Mammon ain't about to pass that up!"

He tried to grab it, but you pulled it close to yourself and turned, blocking him.

"You only want it because it's free? Ok. Fine. You'll have to pay me if you want it." You teased

He whined a bit. "Aw come on, ya even said ya didn't want me spendin money tomorrow! And ya said it was for me! MC, this ain't fair!"

"I didn't say you had to use money."

The next day while Mammon was out and about, trying to carry multiple bags of stuff for the witches, he happily ate his food, a light blush on his cheeks as every bite reminded him of the way you felt against his lips yesterday.

Leviathan

Levi had lost out on another draw despite having spent copious amounts of money on the tickets

As such, he had locked himself in his room to temporarily drown in his sorrows

You decided to make Kyaraben, character bento, for him. (Kyaraben can also refer to animals, real life celebrities, or natural settings)

(I would do Ruri- Chan but I have no fricking clue, so here's a link to a recipe for Pikachu Kyaraben because that's what you did instead)

Hesitantly, you brought your creation to his room and lightly knocked on the door.

"...I don't wanna talk to anyone right now."

"Levi, it's me. I brought something to cheer you up! At least let me give it to you if you don't want me to stay."

You could hear some scuffling and mumbling from behind the door. "I highly doubt there's anything a normie like you can do to help."

You tried to brush that off, because, ouch, but you knew he was upset so you tried not to take it to heart.

He was pouty as he opened the door, his demon form on display.

His expression immediately changed when he saw the bento in your hands.

"WOOOOOAAAHHH!!! THIS IS FOR ME??!! YOU MADE ME BENTO??!! This is something straight out of anime!!! Uh...uhm...d-do you maybe w-want to share it?"

The last part of his sentence had him blushing furiously, and he refused to look you in the eye.

"Sure. Maybe we can watch that anime you texted me about a couple days ago too."

His eyes lit up with joy as he used his tail to gently grab your wrist and pull you excitedly to his couch.

Once he had arranged everything to his liking, he sat down and bashfully accepted the bento.

At some point, he asked if he could feed it to you, however, there was only one pair of chopsticks

Blushy otaku very much enjoyed the bento, not only because it was like his anime, but also because it was you who made it.

He also got a couple indirect kisses, and could not focus on anything but that for the next few days.

Satan

You and Satan had been spending a lot of time together lately because he was helping you study for a test

Thanks to Satan's tutoring, you had managed to get a much higher score on the test than you had imagined.

As thanks, you wanted to make a kitten Kyaraben

You found him in the library at a desk, hunched over a book, studying some foreign language.

He was so engrossed in his studies that he didn't notice you right away, so you tapped him gently on his shoulder.

"Ah, MC. I'm afraid I missed you coming in. Are you alright?"

You smiled and nodded. You brought the box out from behind your back with your test papers on top, the mark clearly visible.

"I couldn't have gotten that mark without your help, so I made you some bento as thanks. I hope you like it."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Oh MC, that wasn't necessary. Spending time with you was enough for me, but thank you."

He slid the lid off the bento and chuckled when he saw what you had done.

"That's quite clever kitten. Perhaps next time you can show me how to make it?"

His pet name made you blush a bit, but that didn't stop you from agreeing.

You two spent the next few hours discussing different meals you guys could learn to make together.

Asmodeus

Asmo had been taking you shopping lately, hyping you up and helping you destress with spa nights

In return, you decided to make a dessert bento box in a pretty pink container.

It was a square container split into nine compartments.

Across the top three compartments, you arranged a rainbow of mochi.

On the bottom three you arranged a rainbow of macaroons.

In the two outside compartments left, you put a mini Wicked cupcake in each

Finally in the middle, you arranged Hershey's kisses into a heart.

Satisfied, you made your way to his room and announced your presence at his door.

"Come in darling~ I'm just finishing up my nails!"

You let yourself in and settled across the table from Asmo.

"I brought you something. I just wanted to thank you for helping me out lately and show you how much I appreciate you!"

You placed the box next to him so he could see what you had done.

His squeal of excitement almost decimated your eardrums, however moments later you were enveloped in a very tight, heartfelt, "smooshy" hug, but his elated expression made up for your temporary loss of hearing.

"Ohh MC! You're so sweet!!!! These look delicious, let's share them!! Just let me take a picture first with my favourite snack!!"

You sat back and expected him to pick up a cupcake, but yelped as he pulled you into the frame.

"I said with my favourite snacc MC, and I meant it!!" (Yes, he still took a picture of the bento)

Beelzebub

You wanted to plan an outdoor date for the two of you that wouldn't require you to excersize.

So you decided to try and make Koraku Bento, or picnic bento, but even bigger in hopes you would be able to temporarily satiate Beel's hunger

Because you were making so much, you needed multiple boxes, and a couple days to prepare, so you asked Simeon if you could work at PH so Beel wouldn't get to it early.

Of course, he agreed

Day one, you prepared five different fillings for the Onigiri you were planning to make: sha-ke (salted salmon),umeboshi (Japanese pickled plum), okaka (bonito flakes moistened with soy sauce), kombu (simmered kombu seaweed), tuna mayo (canned tuna with Japanese mayonnaise)

Day two you prepared three large protiens, (chicken, beef, and pork), each enough to fill about two containers each. You cooked each of them differently. You also cut up/prepared vegetables you wanted to use for tempura.

Day three you woke up early in order to be ready to take Beel out after his game. You made rice and finished making the Onigiri, (which Luke was adamant you let him make with you).

And Simeon helped you make the tempura and a beautiful salad to accompany everything else.

However, now there was a lot of stuff to carry and you wanted to greet Beel out of his game.

So the angels took care of transporting the food to the roof while you went to get Beel

"Why are we going to Purgatory Hall? Are we having dinner with the angels?"

"Not quite. The date I wanted to take you on had a slight change of plans. We just need to get to the roof-"

"Do you want me to fly us up there?"

You considered it for a moment then agreed. If nothing else, you would be avoiding Solomon.

Once you landed, appreciation for the angels swelled as they had laid everything out so beautifully.

"...oh. It looks like someone else is doing something up here. It smells really good, so we should probably go. I don't want to eat someone else's food and ruin their night by accident....again." He tried to leave, but you pulled on him gently.

"I'm glad you think it smells good. This is for you! I made it for you, and the angels helped me bring it up here when I went to pick you up."

His eyes widened. "...All of that...you made it for me?"

You couldn't help but smile and nod at his bashful expression.

He hugged you gently. "Thank you MC. I know that took a lot."

"It was worth it! You haven't even tried it yet. Come on, I'm hungry!" You giggled.

Beel's stomach growled in response, causing a slight blush to light his cheeks. You're so good to him❤

Belphegor (this has a bit of crack energy, I'm sorry. So will Solomon's😅)

"MC....can you pass me my D.D.D?"

"MC....can you give me a massage?"

"MC....can you switch my laundry for me?"

"MC....can you pass me my pillow?"

"Belphie, I love you. I understand you're the Avatar of Sloth. But what the actual fuck? Your pillow is under your arm, just move it under your head. I've already gotten up, like six times to do stuff for you."

He groaned. "But it takes too much effort!" He smushed his cheek into his arm and attempted to give you puppy-dog eyes.

"Sorry, only Beel can pull that off. If you want your pillow moved less than a foot, you're going to do it yourself. You of all people should now how frustrating it is to get up as soon as you sit down."

He groaned again and grumbled as he moved his own damn pillow.

You tried to relax a bit. Normally your time with Belphie consisted of cuddles, movie nights, planeterium visits, or just plugging into some music and enjoying each other's company, like you were trying to do now.

Until you made eye contact with him again.

He was going to ask something-

"MC........... can you get me a snack?"

Dear God, he was not gonna like this.

"Of course Belphie. I'd love to."

You made your way to the kitchen with new found energy.

You were going to make Shikaeshi Bento (revenge lunchbox)

Basically, it's supposed to be inedible or embarrassing, and be used to convey anger or overall dissatisfaction

So you grabbed his bento box, dumped uncooked rice into it, cracked an egg and left the shell in the box. You used purple food colouring to make a heart.

You brought the box up to Belphie, who was surprisingly still awake

"That was quick."

You grunted in response and walked out

"Hey why are you leaving?!"

A few seconds later, you heard, "MC! ...WHAT DID I DO??!! I JUST WANTED A SNACK!!...MC PLEASE COME BACK I DON'T WANNA GET UP!!"

Diavolo

So, usually Barbatos is in charge of making sure the Demon Prince eats

However, you told Barbatos that you wanted to make something special for Dia

"My Lord would thoroughly enjoy anything you made for him. He's been very busy lately, so I'm sure he would appreciate the kind gesture."

Barbatos graciously gave you precedence over the kitchen, giving you full access to everything you could ever need or want.

You decided to make him bento with your favourite protein

One compartment you filled with rice, using sesame seeds and an umeboshi for garnish

You arranged pieces of your favourite fruits in one of the smaller compartments

Then you made your favourite type of tempura, and prepared the sauce to go in the last two compartments

You asked Barbatos where Diavolo would be, and he escorted you to his office.

"My Lord, MC has come to speak with you."

Diavolo's head shot up and his face lit up with delight as he watched you walk through the door.

"MC! A welcome surprise. How are you? Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine! I actually just wanted to give you something." You gave him the black box.

"I made bento with some of my favourite things...you mentioned wanting to get to know me a little bett-"

You were cut off by Diavolo crushing you in a hug

"...My Lord, MC needs to breathe."

"Ah, my apologies MC. This is the most wonderful, meaningful thing anyone has ever given me. How can I adequately express my gratitude? Simply name anything you want, and it shall be yours."

Once you had regained your breath, you gave him a small smile.

"Anything? Could I trouble you for your time?"

"MC, Lord Diavolo must finish his work in a timely matter. I can clear his schedule for afterwards."

"Barbatos, could they stay long enough for us to share the wonderful meal they've prepared?"

Usually Diavolo's begging and sad eyes™ would be powerless against him, however the soft spot he had for you and your much- less-seen sad expression were enough for him to bend this once.

"My Lord, I'll be back in an hour. I'm afraid that's all the time I can allow."

He stepped out, and allowed a small smile form on his face as he heard the two of you celebrate, also knowing that later on he would be listening to a very happy prince recount everything you two talked about and how much he loved you.

Barbatos

You, the brothers, and the other exchange students had been invited to the demon lord's castle for another event

It wasn't for another day, but you felt your chest tighten as you remembered Barbatos

Did he even get to eat those days when everyone was there?

You didn't want to take that chance, and decided to set up a small, filling bento box.

It only had three compartments, so you stuffed each one.

One had rice and meat.

You made some sushi and tamagoyaki to go on top.

For the last compartment, you made a simple chickpea salad.

The next day, Barbatos welcomed you all to the castle, as per usual.

However, this time he stuck around once the brothers and others had left.

"I...Well you already know, but this is for you!"

He nodded and graced you with a smile. "My knowing does not take away from my appreciation MC. Admittedly, nights like this are very demanding. I will repay you later. Thank you."

He tried to walk away, but you yelled after him, "You're not supposed to repay someone for a gift! Just take it!!"

He smiled to himself as he started to eat some food.

Perhaps this night would not be as taxing as he thought

Simeon

You had been experimenting new dinner recipes with Luke at Purgatory Hall; you were watching him while Simeon was away.

"If we leave these leftovers out, Solomon will get to them and ruin them."

"....why don't we make bento for Simeon? He's coming back tomorrow, isn't he?"

Luke beamed at you. "Okay!"

He went to get a small bento box divided into fifths (two large bottom compartments and three small top ones).

"Ok, so in one of the big ones, we can fit the rest of the rice."

Luke nodded. "Can I use this?" He held up a star-shaped cookie cutter.

"Of course!" You helped him mould the rice into a stable star shape.

He looked so happy designing stuff, you let him take the lead.

By the time you were finished, it was easily the most stunning dish you had seen.

"Wow MC! We should do this more often!" He was very proud of himself, and rightfully so. "I can't wait to give it to Simeon!....Is it ok if I give it to Simeon? It was your idea, so it's ok if you want to do it instead..."

You just smiled at him. "You can give it to him, you did most of the work anyways. For now though, you need to get to bed."

He pouted slightly, but complied.

The next morning you woke up to Luke speaking very animatedly to Simeon.

"Yeah! We tried a bunch of new things, and then MC suggested we make you a bento box with the leftovers, and it turned out really well so I can't wait for you to try it!!"

You leaned against the kitchen doorframe observing the interaction.

"Thank you Luke, it looks wonderful. Good morning MC. I hope you slept well. Thanks for ba- for helping Luke while I was away."

He smiled gently at you before Luke was trying to get him to try the bento again.

He took a bite and smiled at Luke.

"It's delicious. You guys must have put a lot of love into it, as always." He looked directly at you at that point, but Luke was too elated to notice the silent exchange between you too.

Solomon

"Don't get mad at me! You agreed to test spells with me!"

"You asked me when I was half asleep Solomon! I also meant later, not right away!"

"Well, you're not a frog anymore, so I don't see what the problem is."

.... No, you weren't a frog anymore

That didn't mean you were happy about being a frog in the first place.

You texted Simeon, 'Who's on lunch duty today?"

"Me. Why?"

"I'll make us bento. We can picnic, the exchange students, that is."

So you spent the next little bit making normal bento for the three of you.

"Simeon said we should probably leave in five minutes" you thanked Luke and started on Solomon's.

You made Shikaeshi bento; you cracked four eggs and aligned their yolks into a rather phallic shape, added way too much fish oil, and threw a few sesame seeds on top.

However, once you made it to the picnic grounds, Solomon opened his box and gasped.

"MC, you know me so well!" And proceeded to drink right out of the box, the rest of you looking on in horror.

"I thought you were mad at me and you were going to give me something disgusting like Mac and Cheese. I guess all is forgiven. Thank you!"

At that point you couldn't even stay mad, that was just disgusting.

Aye, I hope you liked it anon, not sure if this is quite what you meant but....yeah.

Love y'all!

Masterlist

[cultgambles]

Nearly a Blip in Time

I love historical sukuna so here i am. Also i am lowkey so confused at his story. Like i know he was a sorcerer at one point in history but like when did he get all his arms?? BC according to the wiki he was killed and then became a cursed spirit and then his fingers were waxy (lol weird choice of word) ?? anyway, in this, hes not a people hes a monster.

He’s also OOC. first time writing for JJK, but i wanted something soft hehe. Reader bites the dust

Wc: 3033

Masterlist | Requests? open

“[Y/N], you can’t be serious. No way a person of your . . . stature . . . could research in depth about something as big as Ryomen Sukuna. In fact, I’d wager that you wouldn’t even get within 5 feet of his temple,” the local teacher scoffs, disbelief plain as day on his face.

“You wager? What if I do get within 5 feet, then? Will you take me in as your student?” You cross your arms, staring him down. “Do you accept the challenge? I mean, you said it to begin with.”

The scholar throws up a hand, blowing you off. “Fine, whatever. You have half a year to write an in-depth dissection of the demon lord Ryomen Sukuna, and you will report your findings back to me at this very hour once your time is up. I expect perfection.”

“And if I win?” You ask, writing down every word he has said.

“You won’t die.”

“And?” You shoot him an unamused glare.

“And I will take you in as a student. God curse your father for teaching you to read and write.”

“He knew it would be beneficial for me. Now, sign here so you don’t try to cheat your way out of this,” you thrust the wood block and paper attached towards him. The scholar grumbles, almost breaking the ink brush in the process of writing his signature.

You carefully tuck the contract under your arm and scurry off, not before telling him you’d be back.

His laughter echoes around you.

At home, your father was amazed and horrified to learn of this deal, but he knew nothing could stop you. You gave him one last hug for the time being and gathered what little belongings you had in a knapsack.

“Don’t worry, father, I’ll be back before you know it.” His warmth lingers on your person, seeping into your bones. You’ll miss this.

Sukuna’s temple isn’t far from your village, in fact, he was revered as a protector of some sorts. Perhaps one quick to anger and that changed on the dime. It was a couple miles up the mountain where the snow thinned in winter and where the flowers bloomed in the spring. You’ve been to it only a handful of times before, once with your father, and several with the other village ladies. A yearly tradition, you suppose.

The temple is always well kept, the torii gates painted a pristine red, the surrounding area swept and neat, no dust to be seen near the wells or on the floor. Some, like the scholar you had made a wager with, merely believed he was a spirit, a demon of imagination. Others, like you and your mother, really believed in his existence. Before it becomes too late, you decide to scope out the area and set up camp a ways away from the temple so as to not disturb him. You briefly wonder if he was here or away at some other village. Would he be wreaking havoc? or be somewhat kind and spare the folks living there? You decide to set up your small camp under the camouflage and protection of the trees, maybe fifty feet from the river. You’d be much happier to stay at home, but the paths could become treacherous for a young thing like you at night. Maybe a little bit of the great outdoors is what you needed, anyway.

Almost a week passes before you ever have the hint of seeing the demon in the flesh. It’s on one of the days where you bring a small offering. Not much since you can’t exactly go home and cook a nice meal every time, but usually a flower crown or other type of decor.

When you do see him, however, time slows to a crawl. You swear your legs feel like jelly as he glances down at you. Sharp-featured and arrogant, beautiful, all man. He stands tall, towering above you. He has to stoop to reach the depths of the temple from the doorway.

“Well, well,” he croons, “what do we have here?” His four eyes are the color of what flows through each being and his canines sharp as knives. Truly, he’s beautiful, sculpted muscles rippling under inky black tattoos, blazing red eyes.

You bow deeply and straighten your shoulders, gaze still downcast to be respectful. “I just wanted to make this offering to you. I know it’s not much, but I hope you will find it useful.” You raise the small gift above your head, feeling his gaze roll over your body, sharp nails lightly scraping against your skin, grasping the wreath.

“Peculiar,” he says. His thumb and forefinger tilt your head up and you struggle to avert your eyes. “What’s your purpose here, little human?”

“I made a bet with the town scholar. I’ve to write about you and return with my findings so I can become a real student there.”

“A student, eh?”

“Please! I’m fascinated by you,” you plead, feeling his grip on your chin tighten.

“I’m intrigued, if only slightly,” he muses, releasing you harshly enough you’re forced to regain your balance.

You soon learn his ego is massive, that’s probably the only reason he spared you. He’d just love something written about him, wouldn’t he? Ever the gracious god, he lets you stay in one of the temple rooms. You had offered to take one the furthest from his own so he could have plenty of space, but he put you up right across from his instead.

Something about you being near to always capture his persona. Whatever.

Life at the temple is never truly boring. there’s always something going on; whether someone bringing gifts, like an unlucky human sacrifice, or some warriors barging in thinking they could actually harm the demon.

Sukuna likes you watching him tear apart these people limb from limb the best. The first couple times you couldn’t stand it, but it soon became a natural occurrence. Sure, you felt bad for those folks, but they never came truly prepared.

“What’re you writing now, pet?” he asks you one day. You glance up at him. He’s wringing the blood out of one of his sleeves, the blood drip drip dripping to the floor in red rain.

“I’ve noticed you like toying with your prey. If you’re in a good mood, you’ll let them think you have the upper hand,” you tell him.

“And if I’m in a bad mood?”

“Slice them in half!” He nods. His black nails gleam in the sunlight and you watch a pair of arms reach up behind his head as a cushion as the other balances to sit next to you.

“I really like how the trees change color in the autumn,” he says nonchalantly.

“Because they’re the color of blood?” you offer. You draw a small leaf on your paper’s corner.

“Maybe. Their lives are so short, unlike mine. Not that I’ve been a curse for too terribly long.”

You bite your tongue. Is it lonely? bounces around in your head.

“What will I do when my little scholar leaves too?” You flush and stammer that you still have a couple months. Sukuna pauses in thought, then, a sinister smirk gracing his lips.

The more you get to know him, the more you realize that he’s much more bored with life. Killing random people stated his boredom and gave him something to do, it wasn’t until later that he learned to revel in it. The more you got to know him, the more you didn’t want to leave.

He taught you, too. Weird things, usually, but still, useful things. He wasn’t all that good a teacher, but he was patient and expected you to figure shit out on your own. Sometimes he took you down to the market and showed you how to best barter.

And to steal.

Other times, he would sit and watch you cook silently. He always says your cooking wasn’t crap, so you just take it as a compliment.

Six months have passed since you first climbed the mountain. Sukuna finds you in your room packing what little belongings you have.

“That time already?” he muses, leaning against the door. You hum in acknowledgement. “What if they don’t even accept me?”

“Then you’ll return, of course.”

“That’s a nice thought.”

Of course, little did you know, but to Sukuna, that was a command.

He didn’t just watch your figure walk away, no, he followed silently behind, taking in the way you’d stop to study a particularly interesting tree or follow the clouds.

Your village is still the same. Same rickety well, same sunken houses, same sort of dreariness when you left.

You make your way towards the school house, it’s kind of near the back of the village, backed up to the lush forest. “I’ve done it!” you call, standing tall. “Not only have I been within 5 feet of his temple, I’ve been inside. I’ve had actual conversations with the demon Ryomen Sukuna.” You fish out your copious amount of notes and dissertation, shoving it in front of you.

“I’m surprised,” is all the teacher says, “give it here.” You hand him the documents, and he flips through the pages.

“So?”

“So what? For all I know, this could all be made up.”

“What? It’s not! How would I make up his favorite fruit or the way he likes his meat cooked? Papaya and rare, by the way,” you cross your arms.

“Then you should have brought him down with you.”

“You called?” his deep, rumbling voice cuts through the silence.

“S-Sukuna? What are you doing here?”

“I told you, pet, you’d return to me.”

“Sukuna-sama!” the scholar bows. “This is all a misunderstanding, their findings were great! Very convincing!”

“Give them to me.”

“Yes, sir!” he wails, pressing the papers to the other’s chest.

“You didn’t think he would actually keep that bet, did you?” Sukuna asks you.

“Well, I was hopeful!”

“Aw sweet,” he mocks you lightly. “You don’t need to be surrounded by such inferiors. Come now.” It seemed just a snap and somehow the scholar’s head was lobbed off.

You nod dumbly, barely processing what exactly just transpired. Did he kill him? For you? Surely there must be something in it for him.

But the way he holds out one of his four hands for you to grasp sets a fire in your heart. It’s small, no grassland bonfire, but a smolder that you know will become a steady heat.

His hand is rough and calloused while yours only has a few bumps from holding your ink brush so tightly and for so long. Sukuna leads you back to the temple, guiding you back into the room you stayed before.

“Why,” you ask him softly.

He shrugs. “You’re amusing to me. I like the silly words you use.”

“So you like my company?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he chuckles, running a hand over your head.

“Hey! You’re gonna mess up my hair!” you giggle.

“Don’t worry, next time it will be because your head will be atop my bed.” Shameless. Truly shameless. “Just keep writing about me.”

Somewhere in between you returning to the temple and now is when you find yourself tangled in his sheets. Two of his arms wrap securely around your waist and hip, another caressing your cheek. If you’re being completely honest, it seemed as if he adored you. He never coddles you per say, but anything you’d mention off hand, he would remember. An object you wanted, or even that you wanted to take a bath later that day. Sometimes he would even brush out your tangles for you.

You’re surprised by the normality of it all, how he’s gentle with you, unlike others who dare to cross his path.

Waking up together is a part of your daily routine. (Every morning, he gives you a quick kiss on the forehead.) (You trace the patterns of his tattoos lazily.) You’d ask him about you and him sometimes, and he always responds that he’ll always keep his little one happy, that you belong to him. Sometimes, in the back of your mind, you wonder if he’s actually being truthful or he’s just passing the time. Maybe the truth is a little bit of both, but you’re happy anyway.

He likes holding you, the two of you sitting by the river in the flowerbeds, watching nature for hours at a time.

Other times, he lets down his walls in the four corners of the temple. Every time he comes home smelling of blood and decay, you drag him to the bathroom and run a hot bath. Your nimble fingers glide through his hair, stopping to pull out leaves and scrub away dirt from his skin. More often than not, he would pull you in with him, your laugh ringing in his ears like bells.

But happiness must come to an end.

Apparently.

It’s a weekday when it happens.

Sorcerers.

They come in doves, feet stomping like drums.

“I guess they’re tired of me wreaking havoc, hmm?” he muses.

“There’s a lot more than usual, are you sure you’ll be alright?” you whisper softly, cupping his cheek.

He holds your hand there, leaning in and closing his eyes. “Who do you think I am? Of course I’ll be fine. You will be too.”

“Okay,” you watch him leave, a familiar aura of danger seeping in like a thick fog.

But it’s not okay.

Someone finds you and they drag you out of the temple by the hair. You’re thrown to the ground harshly.

“What, a little harlot? That demon won’t bother saving you, don’t even look at him. You’re nothing to him,” the sorcerer tells you, pressing a steel toed boot to your throat. You’re gasping for a breath, any.

“Obviously you think I’m worth something since you’re dealing with me,” you struggle to voice.

His nostrils flare, eyes wide. “See you in hell,” he snarls. You’re feeling everything and nothing at once. Surely the wound in your chest as you bleed, but you can’t seem to think of anything good or bad. You’re clutching your wound, sputtering. As if sensing you, miraculously, Sukuna turns in your direction as his fist rips through someone’s chest. Faintly, you hear a roar of anger, and then the screams around you are deafening.

The dozens of sorcerers that tried to defeat Ryomen Sukuna lay at bizzare angles, each in their own pool of blood.

It’s this horrible humorless laugh, his open mouth desperate and hungry like he wants to devour the world in punishment for taking the one true thing he held dear to him. The last piece holding his humanity together. He doesn’t know how you even got out of the temple, that’s definitely not where he left you. You’re staring blankly ahead, but he notices your hand gripping the pendant he gifted you.

Sukuna sighs, kneeling next to you, holding you close to his chest. He doesn’t know what you would have preferred: whether to be buried or cremated, and there’s no point now. Ultimately, Sukuna places you in a bed of flowers. He makes his way back to the temple, stepping around the bodies that litter the floor. Maybe he can threaten some laymen to come clean up the mess.

When he returns to the main room, the first thing he notices is the shelf with all the books you loved. Papers strewn everywhere, pages bent.

Your findings about him on the top shelf are gone.

That’s not something he realizes until much, much, much later when he’s ambushed after terrorizing another village. It’s been years without you, and yet he still feels anger of how you were taken from him. He promised he would protect you, at least, in the sanctum of his own mind, never voicing it to you. And yet, he’s failed.

Your coping mechanisms suck, you’d probably say if you saw him now. But I’ll write it down anyway, and we can cross it out later, if you want.

Like your death, he’s not even sure how the sorcerers managed to defeat him.

His twenty fingers cut up, separated through time and distance. Dormant, for now.

—PRESENT TIME—

“Oi, brat, ask that blindfold asshole what those are.”

“Ask what are what?” his host, Yuuji Itadori quips.

“Over there, on display. The books.”

Yuuji hates to admit it, but he’s curious too. How important are they to be kept here, and in a glass case, no less? Anyway, he hardly ever gets to see cursed objects in the flesh.

“Gojo-sensei! What are those!?” he shouts.

“They’re books, don’t you know what a book is?”

“Okay, yeah, but what’s their use? Like, why are they here?” Yuuji pulls at his hair.

“Hmm, they’re written by a [Y/N]. Long ago, not much information about the author, but the writing is phenomenal. And all about that little curse inside of you,” Gojo smirks, running a finger down Yuuji’s forehead and bopping him on the nose.

“About Sukuna?”

“Pretty mundane stuff, if you ask me. I’ve been told the sorcerers that defeated Sukuna used those texts. Not sure how ‘he hates when food offerings have tomatoes’ was useful, but apparently it was,” he shrugs, looking at his watch. “Ah, would you look at the time, I’ve gotta go! Pressing matters with a special-grade. And the candy shop I want to go to closes in 30!”

“Later, sensei,” Yuuji waves. “You don’t like tomatoes?”--silence-- “What, no response? You’re suddenly shy now?”

Sukuna hears him, and ignores him as per usual.

So, my little scholar’s books were stolen, huh? Here, all this time?

[gojo-x-reader]

Red String of Fate

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Warnings: slight swearing, slight manga spoilers

Tags: Soulmate AU

AO3 Link: here

Words: ~2.3k

Request:  “Hello I'm actually not sure if I'm supposed to put put my request here? well, if its not supposed to be here, then please ignore it. Anyways, can I ask of you to share your thoughts on Soulmate AU w/ Gojo around 12 to 16 yrs old where he can see signs of who's soulmate is whos meeting his possible fiance who turns out to be his soulmate (I asked that age bc first meeting! he's from a noble clan and its really weird he doesn't have fiance or something) Sorry if its confusing and Thank you!”

Gojo Satoru was twelve years old when his Six Eyes began showing him the red strings of fate. Every person’s string was different. Some of them stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, almost seemingly never reaching the other end. Others were shorter, connected to the person they stood next to (whether they knew of their existence or not). And unfortunately, on some, Satoru could see the end of the string, but it dragged behind someone, unconnected to another human.

Satoru had told his mother about the strings as they appeared. Those are strings that lead one to their soulmate, she had explained to him. Everyone has a soulmate, but not everyone is in love with theirs. There are different kinds of love in this world.

Satoru’s parents were soulmates, but they did not love each other; that much was clear from how his father treated his mother. He never hit her or anything, but he didn’t treat her like an equal; more of a vessel that gave birth to an heir. He only interacted with his wife when necessary, the two not even sleeping in the same room at night.

For that reason, Satoru was scared to meet his own soulmate. He had one, that much was clear by the bright red string tied around his left pinky that stretched on for kilometers. He didn’t want to end up like his parents.

Gojo Satoru was fourteen years old when his father announced that he would be marrying you, a girl from the Kamo clan. You were the youngest daughter in the secondary branch of the family, just a year younger than him. Tomorrow, the two of you would meet for the first time.

You were nervous about tomorrow, for several reasons. Number one, you had heard the rumors about Gojo Satoru--the first member of the Gojo clan to be born with the Six Eyes and  Limitless, the two inherited techniques of his clan, in a hundred years or so. That meant, in a nutshell, he was much stronger than you could ever hope to be, as someone who hadn’t even inherited the Kamo clan technique (which is why you were being shipped off to another clan). Number two, you had heard rumors of his personality, somehow both cold and carefree at the same time, but one hundred percent a horrible personality to be combined with your timid and quiet nature. And number three, you almost resented him because now you were stuck in an arranged marriage and you saw how well that worked out for your parents.

Tomorrow arrived, and the maids dressed you up in the finest of kimonos, hair ornaments, and even makeup. You weren’t particularly into girly interests, more interested in training for when you enter Kyoto High in a few years; the feeling of foundation and lipstick felt foreign on your face.

You arrived at the main hall, escorted by your uncle (the head of the Kamo family), your parents, and a few maids. You normally didn’t wear a kimono often, except for very special occasions, and you have never been in one for this long. Graceful, you were not, and tripped a few times because of the geta chosen for you to wear with the kimono. Each time, the maids were swift to grab ahold of your arms and stabilize you. They even helped you sit down as you awaited your future fiance and his parents.

Gojo Satoru’s parents arrived before he did. They apologized on behalf of their son, citing that he was on he was back from a mission. You were jealous, he wasn’t even in high school yet and was already being assigned missions. While you weren’t powerful in comparison to Gojo Satoru himself, you could still hold your own against your older cousins and had a decent amount of cursed energy.

Gojo Satoru’s parents seemed nice enough, but the chemistry between them resembled that of your own parents; they tolerated each other, but that was it--no love, no spark, nothing. You wondered if his parents were also put into an arranged marriage. You could sympathize, but you also secretly hoped that the two of you wouldn’t end up like your parents.

You poured tea for your future in-laws, hands shaking slightly, a few drops of tea spilling. As you sat the teapot down, in came Gojo Satoru himself, dressed in a simple black kimono, but the sash was not tied tightly. His hair was touseled, and stained with either dirt or blood (you hoped it was dirt). Despite his unkempt look, he was gorgeous, with bright white hair and eyes blue like the sky matching neither of his parents. Despite the color differences, he took mostly after his mother with her soft features.

When he made eye contact with you, he froze, looking down at his left hand, and then back to you. Before you could even greet him, he immediately fled the room, both his parents calling after him, leaving after him.

That was a bit painful; your first time meeting him and he leaves immediately seeing your face. You weren’t sure how your self-esteem would recover after that blow.

About twenty minutes later, Gojo Satoru’s parents came back, empty-handed without their son. He refused to meet you, but they promised he would come around eventually. So, your family said your goodbyes and left the Gojo estate.

Once your family arrived back at the Kamo estate, your uncle slapped you across the face, blaming you for what transpired with the Gojo family. It was your looks, your lack of femininity that obviously scared your fiance away. Not even makeup or the finest materials could fix it.

So what, if you weren’t “feminine”? Being “feminine” doesn’t exorcise curses, now does it?

You grumbled an apology, leaving to your room and locking the door behind you. You started crying, ruining the makeup that took the maids hours to do, but not even bothering to care. It took a while to get out of the kimono, but you changed into sweatpants and a large T-shirt and left the offensive material on the floor. Neither of your parents bothered to check in on you, but the head maid did. She cleaned up your makeup and brought you some of your comfort foods. She was more of a mother to you than your own, and you were always grateful for her in your life.

The next time you would meet Gojo Satoru, there would be hell to pay for embarrassing you like this.

Gojo Satoru was sixteen years old when he next met his fiancee, this time on the battlefield rather than mitigated by their families. Kyoto was short by one for the Kyoto Goodwill Event, so you were allowed to join as the sole first year. You were glad for the opportunity because that meant you could finally pay back Gojo Satoru for the embarrassment you felt two years ago.

You were told you had great potential as a jujutsu sorcerer, already being promoted to Semi-Grade 2 as you entered Kyoto High. Of course, you weren’t even close to your fiance who was promoted immediately to Special Grade upon entering Tokyo High. While the power difference between a Semi-Grade 2 and a Special Grade was immense, you weren’t going to let that stop you. You held a lot of pain in your heart for how Gojo Satoru rejected you from one glance, refusing to ever see you again that day.

This was Gojo Satoru’s first Goodwill Event, as last year he was only a first-year and the spots were full from the second and third years last year. Since last year, Kyoto had won, the event was held at your school. Not a single second or third year at Kyoto believed they even had a chance to win this year, as Tokyo has not one but two Special Grade students this year participating in the event. There was only one Grade 1 sorcerer on the Kyoto side, a third-year, while the others were a Grade 2 or Semi-Grade 2. The goal was to stick together; power in numbers. While the two monsters Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru could take out the entire Kyoto team singlehanded most likely, the others on the Tokyo team were rather weak, at only Grade 3.

So, the Kyoto side would stick together, avoid conflict. The goal was to exorcise curses, not necessarily fight each other.

The six of you stuck together, exorcising curse after curse. It was strange, as several minutes passed and you hadn’t even encountered one of the Grade 3 Tokyo sorcerers. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, then a voice behind you announcing, “Hello~”

You turned around quickly, barely able to avoid an attack. There he was, Gojo Satoru in the flesh. He was much, much taller than last time you saw him, now towering over you like a tree. On his (admittedly) handsome face was a smug grin, his bright baby blues peeking out behind round black shades. He held his hands in his pockets in a carefree manner. Almost not like he just attacked you and your senpai.

You glanced back briefly. While you were somehow lucky to avoid the attack from your fiance, your senpai behind you was not. The attack left them unconscious, back against a tree and blood running down their head.

While reading headfirst toward your fiance probably was not a good idea, only rage flowed through your head. You may not have inherited your clan’s cursed technique, you inherited a similar technique but more closely to your mother’s Zenin clan’s technique. You could manipulate shadows, not to summon shikigami, but rather to form weapons.

You summoned the shadows to form a sword, raising it to strike Gojo Satoru. But it reached just centimeters away from his body before stopping, almost like an invisible forced kept it in place, unable to move it further. You stared at your hand in surprise.

“Now, now, is that any way to greet your fiance?” Gojo Satoru asked, grin widening.

“Are you really though?” You asked, jumping back cautiously before he could ready another attack. “You didn’t even want to meet me two years ago.”

He placed his hand onto his chin in thought. “Hmm, I suppose that’s true. Tell you what, land a hit on me and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Bastard,” you called to him, switching your shadow weapon to a bow and arrow, pulling back the shadow string, and releasing it toward him.

Gojo Satoru held up two fingers as the arrow stopped in mid-air, much like your sword earlier. “I don’t think that’s my name, sweetie. Bad luck for you today. Seems like we’re just a bad match.”

You were frustrated. How the hell was he doing that?

A siren sounded out through the forest. The match was over; Tokyo won, only because Gojo Satoru had distracted the Kyoto group while Geto Suguru handled the stranglers and the remaining Grade 3 sorcerers were able to exorcise more curses than your side.

Gojo Satoru disappeared before your eyes, but you heard a whisper in your ear from him, “I’m feeling generous. An hour before the individual matches tomorrow, meet me in the garden. I’ll explain everything.”

So, that’s how you found yourself out in the garden at 8 am, shivering from the morning chill. The garden was huge, but somehow you figured your fiance would be able to find you.

“Yo,” he called out, startling you from your thoughts. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“I don’t think highly of you,” you admitted. “You embarrassed me two years ago and my uncle thinks I’m a disgrace to the family now.”

“Yikes, that seems a little harsh. Not like I annulled the engagement or anything. I just was going through some good ole teenage angst then, nothing more.”

“Still going through some ‘teenage angst’?” you questioned.

“Oh, you know, just the normal amount. I died a few months ago and it reset me back to typical teenage angst levels.”

“You what? ”

“But that’s a whole different story. We’re talking about why I left two years ago after seeing you.” He brought a finger up to his lips. “This is top secret. Can’t tell anyone.”

You nodded.

“So, my Six Eyes. I’m sure you’ve heard all about them, being in the Kamo clan and all. It turns out I can also see the red string of fate that brings soulmates together. My parents are soulmates, but they have a shitty relationship.”

“Okay.” You could relate, your parents also have a shitty relationship.

“And they’re the only pair of soulmates I’ve ever known. So,” he grasped his left pinky in yours, “when I saw that red string of mine connect to yours, I panicked. Didn’t want to be forced into a relationship with my own soulmate and end up like my parents. Call me a sappy romantic, but I wanted to meet you and get to know each other on our own, not because we’re in an arranged marriage.”

You couldn’t help but blush. Here was Gojo Satoru, your fiance, one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers in the world, proclaiming that you were his soulmate. It seemed ridiculous, but you didn’t think he was lying. Suddenly, all the resentment for that time a few years ago left.

You took your pinky out of his, looking away from him in embarrassment, then stated, “There’s nothing that says we can’t do all that while still being engaged. Lets.” You took a deep breath, looking straight at those brilliant blue eyes past his sunglasses, then continued. “Let start over. Get to know each other the right way and see where this takes us.”

He grinned. It was the first time you saw him smile with pure happiness behind it. “I like that idea, soulmate.”

[coexiising]

Fade Into You - Chapter Five

SUMMARY ✦ Your feelings for Vader are starting to become harder and harder to control.

WARNING(S) ✦ a little suggestive, slight nsfw warning

MASTERLIST ✦ Here.

Sweat brimmed and trickled down the edges of your face, hair sticking to your forehead as you moved to the side, avoiding Vader’s blows with skillful accuracy. Kicking outward, your foot came in contact with his ankle and he was sent flying to the hard ground of the training. After what felt like a long time of training, you were finally starting to gain the upper hand. The two of you have been in the large training room for almost four hours now, the fatigue of your muscles starting to catch up to you as you try to regain some breath. There was a pause in movement, both of you acknowledging that you won this round fair and square. You stood above him, hands behind your neck to open up your lungs and took deep breaths, glancing down at the floor at Vader, who laid there face first, seemingly trying to access his mistakes in combat.

The days went by a lot faster now that he gave you something to do. As much as you didn’t want to spend all your time with a Sith, you would rather be training with him than sitting in your room doing nothing. You’ve been here for six days and six nights, meaning that almost a week had passed by after your supposed capture. Although you were a ‘prisoner’, you didn’t feel like one. If anything, this wasn’t half bad compared to your long extended times on Republic war ships during the war. It wasn’t like the temple, though it would have to do for now.

“I think we should stop for today,” Vader said, pushing his body up off the floor with his arms and standing before you. You gave a small nod, silently thanking the Maker that you didn’t have to pretend to fight him again. Vader was strong and good at complex blows, one hit and you were thrown backwards onto the ground. You were smaller than him and that allowed you to gain more of an agile advantage, but you were tired from training with this brute of a man, who obviously has spent a long time by himself in this very place, practicing his fighting style for hours on end.

He pushed past you, his arm coming in contact with your shoulder. Your skin seemed to buzz wherever he touched you, making you wonder if you had the same effect on him. It was hard to ignore the way that you felt whenever his hand would graze your thigh if he backed you up into a corner, or the way that you would blush every time he caught you staring at him for too long. And you knew it didn’t go unnoticed, Vader knew the way that you looked at you and yet said nothing. It was somewhat of an unspoken thing between the both of you.

Soon enough you were in your bathroom, stepping into the hot shower that awaited you, longing to feel the strain in your muscles be relieved. While the steam and water enveloped you, you got to work cleaning off the sweat of the day. Your fingers hit your waist and you trailed it over again, coming to that moment where Anakin had touched that same spot. He always took off his gloves when he was training and it was always his bare hands that touched you. You closed your eyes and did it again, pretending that it was his hands instead of your own. Even better, your thoughts took it to a new height and you pretended that the hand was replaced with his lips, pressing hot kisses to your stomach and hip bones. You almost trailed your hand farther down until you realized what you were doing, jumping slightly and opening your eyes, being met with nothing but yourself alone in the shower. Alone, fantasizing about the man that you were supposed to hate. It felt wrong and yet, a part of it was appealing to you. He was appealing to you.

“What is getting to your head,” You mumbled to yourself, shutting off the water and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a towel and making your way to the room. Vader had allowed you to have some books to entertain yourself, which you rarely did anyways since he started letting you out of your room, with you knowing that he could sense where you were any time in the castle. Not that you could leave anyways. You were sure that you could figure out a way if you were particularly crafty, though you never made an effort to. That was something that you were still unsure of, even if the reason why was deep within yourself. Dressing was easy, opting for a white shirt and black pants and brushing your hair out. From there you made your way out of your room, going to the kitchen attached to the dining room where you knew where he was. Not only could you sense his presence there, but you and him always ended up meeting in the kitchen of all places.

As expected, he was there, already sitting at the head of the table eating his meal.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” He said, glancing in your direction before going back to his plate. “I wasn’t sure if you got too carried away with yourself.” His tone was jovial, almost as though there were hidden implications behind it.

You thought back to the moment in the shower and pushed the thought from your mind. “What do you mean?” You asked, not exactly looking for an answer as you tried to make your shaking hands busy with something like fixing up a plate. Maybe you were just playing dumb so that he wouldn’t know what you were thinking.

“It’s strange. Now that you’re here sometimes I swear I can feel what you feel,” Vader explained. “Not all the time, just in cases of extreme.” You could sense it too. The worst was when Vader was angry alone by himself, you could feel it festering up inside of you as well, making you feel things that you didn’t want to feel. You were never an angry person, especially having the anger of a Sith. It wasn’t in your nature. Though you were becoming painfully aware that it was in Vader’s nature to be angry like that. What was he always angry about? What made him this way?

You knew what he was implying, whether you wanted to play dumb or not. Those feelings you got about him when you were alone, when you almost let your hand slip down your body. You weren’t sure if you should feel embarrassed that he had felt you at such an intimate moment, or if you should play his teasing game.

Playing dumb seemed to have a better effect. And then maybe you could get the feelings for the Sith to stop. “Are you saying you felt one of my emotions a few minutes ago?” You took your plate, which was now filled with different types of fruit and a piece of butter spread on it, and sat down on the opposite end of the table, taking note of his foot that grazed your own for a moment.

Vader’s gaze once again met yours, yellow eyes staring directly into your own. There was a playfulness about his nature now, unlike the one that he often had. If he was rubbing off on you, perhaps some of you was rubbing off on him as well. The human side of him was beginning to come out. The lightly tanned features of his face sprung up when you gave him the same look, feeling a sense of confidence run over you. A grin splayed on his features, “You could say it that way.”

“Well, are you going to elaborate?” You asked. “If we’re to truly get to the bottom of our connection, you should voice your findings.” The look that he was giving you, it was intoxicating, you could feel it go straight to your head and it was as though you were on cloud nine. There was something thrilling about his eyes never leaving your own. You leaned slightly into the table towards him.

Vader cleared his throat. “Something to do with my hands . . . Then my mouth?” The words left his lips and you shivered, the trance he seemed to have you in breaking and you were once again left in that state of panic of your emotions. The Temple taught you how to control emotions, the ones of anger and revenge and fear. But never these ones, ones that were purely animalistic and carnal, ones you hadn’t felt until getting closer with Vader. Was this the Dark Side tempting you? Perhaps this was his plan all along, to get you to respond positively to his touch and take you to the dark ways of the Sith. But the more you thought, this didn’t feel or seem like anything of the teachings in signs of the Dark Side that you had been conditioned to recognize. This was something completely different and so utterly human. “You know that the real thing is better than your thoughts, right?”

You didn’t know how to respond. Your body seemed to do it for you, clenching your thighs together to try and alleviate some of the pressure that was beginning to lightly build up. You had never felt this way before with another person, it was strange, but not unpleasant. You weren’t stupid, you knew what the desire was (The Temple wasn’t that useless about emotions), though you didn’t know what to do about it. Your face was blank, staring back at him.

His gaze faltered. “You haven’t ever-”

He was cut off by you standing up from your seat abruptly, the table bumping into your thighs and making the things on the table shake. You knew what he was going to say, You’ve never done that before? And you weren’t sure you wanted to hear him ask it right now. This was beginning to be too much for you. It was one thing to be thinking this way about Vader, though now that he knew about it, you weren’t sure what to do about yourself. You hadn’t felt this strongly about anyone before, especially in this type of case. You hadn’t ever felt the desire for another human. Sure, you knew that others were attractive and there were a few moments where you thought about the possibility . . . But nothing hadn’t ever gotten to that point before. It wasn’t supposed to get to that point. You knew that there were loopholes in the Jedi Code, that technically Jedi were allowed to engage in such activities, though you tried your hardest to take the Code to heart as much as possible.

You took your plate into your hands, steadying yourself on your feet. “I think that I’m going to eat in my room. Goodnight, Anakin.” You didn’t give him another glance and made your way to the exit.

“Wait, you’re just going to leave-”

“Goodnight, Anakin,” You pressed, walking out the door to your room which seemed one hundred times farther away than it actually was. The moment you reached your door, you opened and closed within a second of each action and set your plate on the table next to your bed, getting in under the covers and sitting there, trying to catch your breath.

You had to be more careful. That’s what you ordered yourself to do. You had to think back to the Temple and what your Masters would say about these feelings. That they could go just as easily as they came and you had the ability to speed up the process if you really put your mind to it.

Though as you tried to clear your head through mediation like you knew Master Obi-Wan or Master Fisto would tell you to do, all you could think of was Vader. You thought of his face and how good it would look while he was on top of you, how soft his hair would feel between your legs, and how his lips would feel on top of your own. The thoughts were addicting and soon enough, you didn’t even have the willpower to stop them, succumbing to the feelings and eventually slipping your hand past your lower stomach late at night when you were sure Anakin was asleep.

[fullmarvelheart]

Crossing Lines (6/?)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x fbi!mob!Reader

Word Count: 5,199 

Recommended: 18+ readers

Summary: A sudden and unsettling event rocks the underworld, and Y/N is immediately called in to prepare for what’s to come. What she isn’t prepared for is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as the new head of the Brooklyn mafia clan. When these two get shoved into a world of danger and deceit, will they ever learn to trust each other? Or will they be doomed from the start?

Warnings: Swearing, angst, a wee bit of fluff?, Grant Ward (because he’s his own warning), mentions of violence

A/N: Happy Black Widow Day! I’ve been waiting for this movie to come for so long and unfortunately I won’t be able to watch it tonight😢. But anyways, here’s part six with a surprise character😉 (literally didn’t think of adding her until yesterday). Hope you guys enjoy! This has not been beta read at all. All mistakes are my own. The GIF is not mine, so credit goes to the original creator!

Series Masterlist

“Skye, come on! Why the hell did you drive off to the middle of damn nowhere?”

“Just trust me.” She says calmly as she parks the car, completely ignoring my outburst in the process. “And stop complaining, Y/N/N. I know you had another fight with your dad, so I know you wanted to be out of the city.”

“Fine, ok. But what is going on? I’m guessing Ward has no idea what you’re doing.”

“You’re not serious, right? You know he hates me doing anything remotely dangerous.”

“Not that I’m against going behind your boyfriend’s back, but what did you do?” I ask my, running my fingers through my hair.

“So, you know how Ward mentioned HYDRA’s top runner, Crossbones, the other day?” I nod. “Well, I got curious. We know nothing about him, and Ward thinks he can set a trap for him. I just, I just don’t want him to get hurt when I could have done something.”

“And you know if you did this at the Bureau, he’d find out somehow and stop you. Or Gonzales would.” Now she nods. “Alright, but I’m helping you with this. I’ve got a weird feeling about the whole thing and as your partner, it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“You worry too much.” She chuckles. “Besides, I’ll practically be behind my computer screen the whole time. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“You’re right, I guess. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop worrying though. And why are you still with Ward?” I groan dramatically, causing her to laugh.

“Oh, be nice. He’s not bad once you get to know him.”

“I don’t know. Something about his arrogance just doesn’t settle well with me.” I shrug.

“You’re being over dramatic. He’s great!”

“He better be, he is dating my best friend after all. Now let’s find the next exit, I’m hungry!”

Her laughter echoes in my head as the car moves along the highway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stomp through the halls on a mission. The office was empty, and disturbingly dark and stuffy for nine in the morning. If he’s not in his office there’s only one other place I could imagine him in, his bedroom.

“Please, don’t kill me for this.” I mutter to myself before taking a deep breath and throwing the door open.

My eyes scan the room and zero in on the lump underneath the covers.

“Go away, Steve.” His usually pleasant rough voice is mixed with hints of sleep and something else. I can’t help it that my inner self finds it sexy while I try to stay concerned rather than turned on.

Now’s not the time for a daydream. Focus.

The door shuts with a soft click, giving him the impression ‘Steve’ left. You aren’t that lucky today. I’m no push over! My boot clad feet thud on the wooden floor as I march straight towards the end of the bed. With one strong grip at the end of the comforter, I yank the sheets off his body before turning towards the curtain clad windows.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He screeches, trying to pull the blankets back up to cover himself from the cold air of the room. That was nothing. “Hey! What the hell is this, Rogers?” I pull the curtains open; the intense sunlight illuminates the room causing even me to briefly squint.

After successfully finding a single blanket to cover back up with, I notice the fact that Barnes had curled himself into a human ball in the middle of his mattress to block out the light.

“Oh, for fucks sake.” I groan, grabbing onto an edge piece of the fabric. “Get up, now!”

I try to yank it off him in one swift motion, again, but he’s faster than I thought. He springs up into a sitting position, latching on to the blanket I almost had off him, commencing a tug-of-war over the stupid thing. The muscles and veins in his arms flex and bulge, and in normal situations, I’d be impressed. But I’m getting irritated.

“You’re an absolute child.” I grunt as I fight with him.

“Let go, you heathen.” He counters.

At his command, I let go, causing him to fly backwards and bounce slightly on the mattress.

“Dangerous mob boss my ass.” I chide, crossing my arms as he just looks at me with disbelief.

“What do you want, Fury?” He groans, rubbing his eyes.

“Too much for you to comprehend at the moment but let’s start with this. How about you get your head out of your ass, get out of bed, and do your damn job?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand, Fury. And you’re crossing a line here. Get out.”

“It’s Maximoff to you right now. And what don’t I understand, Barnes?” I ask, ignoring his other remark.

“You have some nerve, coming here, into my room. Now get out.” He growls, tossing the blanket away, exposing me to the fact that he sleeps only in a pair of boxers. Damn, suits really don’t do his body justice, but damn does he look good in either.

“You have some nerve thinking this doesn’t concern me.” I snap back, regaining my focus, glad he didn’t catch me staring or was too annoyed to notice.

“And how,” He starts, finally standing up and slowly walking towards me, “Does this concern you?”

His muscles bulge as he crosses his arms, stopping at the foot of his massive king-sized bed. Though, there is an unsway of his body, and the shakiness that was in his hands that doesn’t evade my attention. Where I once noticed stubble, an unkept beard lies in its place. His hair looks knotted, unwashed, and greasy. Overall, he looks like an absolute train wreck.

“How does it not? Furthermore, how does it not concern you?! Barnes when did you last have a full meal, let alone showered!?” I exclaim, looking him over more closely. I can barely see the fact that he’s lost weight, but it’s there, it’s noticeable. The lack of a hot shower is more than just noticeable though.

He scoffs again.

“This is none of your business. Leave.”

“Stop being so fucking defensive with me. And this is my damn business, or have you forgotten the deal you have with my father? With Brooklyn on uneasy ground, especially after losing their last leader, you’re a target for HYDRA to attack. Not to mention the threat of the other mafia clans. And you know damn well that if my father has any idea that your alliance will cost him more than benefit him, he’ll watch you be fed to the sharks. But it just so happens that his daughter is in your territory, which gives you just a bit more wiggle room. However, if you put me in danger, he won’t just watch, he’ll feed you to the damn sharks himself!”

“I know!” He yells, walking closer to me.

“Then start acting like it.” I hiss.

“You don’t understand!” He argues, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Understand what?!”

“I can’t do this without him!”

The room falls into silence, and I stare at him, stunned.

“Okay? I can’t do this without my father. Yes, he’d been preparing me for years. But I always knew I could get advice from him or help if I needed it, once I took over. But this, all of this. I don’t know how to lead my men; I don’t know how prepare us. I don’t even have time to grieve the fact my father, not my boss, is gone forever, and I don’t know how to do this without him.” He chuckles dryly, hands on his hips. “I told you, you wouldn’t understand.” And he’s turning away from me.

“You’re wrong.” I cringe at how shaky and quiet my voice comes out.

“What?”

“You’re wrong.” I repeat firmly. “To think I don’t understand.” The sting of tears forming in my eyes has me pausing to close them and take a deep breath.

When I open them again, Barnes faces me properly with a look of confusion and mild concern.

“No one knows exactly what to do in these situations. But from one ally to another, you have your training, and the people you trust to help you figure it out. And you have your friends. It might not always work the way you planned, but nothing ever really does. You aren’t the only one grieving the death of your father, the men also adored him. Keep that in mind.” I pause, watching him work through what I said to him. “But don’t you dare ever assume I don’t understand grief.” I sneer. “Or how to continue on with the weight of it constantly on my shoulders. You don’t know me. So don’t act like you do.” He gapes at me, like a fish. “Get your shit together Barnes, and get to work.”

I walk out of his room as quickly as I can, letting the door slam behind me. Two corners later and I finally let myself slump against the wall. I gasp for air I didn’t know I needed as I fight back the tears trying to escape. It’s been six months! It was just a stupid dream! Get it together!

When my breathing returns to normal, I pull out my phone. The message from the unsaved number glares at me as I ignore it, again, and type out a message to another party.

“Meet me at the shore this afternoon. More details will be given soon. Bring the info you have gathered and don’t tell the boss.”

The response is almost immediate.

“Understood. He’s getting antsy about the report...”

I groan to myself as I push off the wall. He’ll just have to wait longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The zippers of my backpack nearly shriek as I pull both of them together quickly. I’ve been frustrated with my more legal job before, but this is something different.

Why the fuck are they making me go to a check in with the case officer this early? A month! I’m supposed to have a month to gain traction and trust in the role they requested of me! They should know that it isn’t safe to possibly expose an undercover operative at all, why would they risk it this early on?!

I growl to myself under my breath as I lace up my boots, aggravated that they’re risking the objective of this mission. If I get made, my father will also lose the alliance, HYDRA might learn of my role in the government and go into hiding, and that’s a lot of fuck up that doesn’t need to happen. Gonzales better either know what he’s doing or have good intel for me.

I swing the backpack up on my shoulder, just as someone knocks on the door.

“Give me a second.” I call, letting the pack flop onto my bed.

I’m surprised to find Natasha on the other side of the door, waiting with her arms crossed patiently.

“Come on in.” I say before she can speak, nodding to the inside of my room.

She raises an eyebrow in suspicion but walks in anyways. She turns to face me just and the door closes.

“All I was going to say was that Barnes is requesting everyone to head to the warehouse, but I’m guessing there’s something else?”

I nod. “I got called for a check in.” I tell her with an eyebrow raised, not needing to tell her who I’m referring to.

“This soon?”

“I’m hoping to get something worth the risk for this, but my gut says otherwise.”

She hums to herself in thought as she processes.

“I can get you a cover this time.” She states sharply. “But they need to get their act together. The cover might work just enough, but there are still people in here who don’t trust you, yet.”

“They might never.” I shrug. “But I agree with your risk assessment. I’m prepared to chew out whoever it is.”

She smirks, then motions towards my door. “Get to the warehouse and leave your things here for now. I’ll make the arrangements.”

I give her a small smile before we’re both walking off in different directions.

The warehouse is packed with people, many of which I don’t recognize, all of whom are engaging in loud conversations. I begin to push my way through the crowd, though I don’t make it too far as I feel a hand grab onto my arm. When I turn towards the pull, Drax smiles at me, motioning for me to follow him. I laugh quietly to myself as people practically jump out of Drax’s way. When we stop, I spot Carol not too far away and walk over to her.

“For the record,” She says, not even looking at me. “This is odd for us too.”

“Is this everyone?” I ask, confused.

She scoffs. “No, there are still those on patrols or jobs that aren’t here. But I’m sure they’ll be brought up to speed, on whatever this is, later.”

I hum as an answer, my eyes scanning the crowd of faces, seeing who I’ll recognize. I just make out Rollins’ silhouette as the voices begin to fall silent. Barnes stands in front of the gathering on a small platform, Rogers and Wilson flank him on either side. He looked a lot better than what I saw earlier. His beard trimmed back to a five o’clock shadow, his hair washed, brushed, and tied into a small bun behind his head, and there was strength in his body showing that he was able to eat since I last saw him. If I hadn’t seen him this morning, I wouldn’t have believed anything was wrong in the first place.

Standing behind the three mafia men, I see Barton, the two Odinson brothers, and five other men and one woman that I don’t recognize. Natasha casually merges in with the group at the last second.

“Many of you have taken note of my absence recently.” Barnes starts talking, his voice booming across the warehouse, commanding everyone’s full attention. It sends a thrill down my spine that I suppress. “And I am aware of the rumors that have been spreading regarding such absence.

“I was reminded earlier today that I was as close to my father as he was with many of you, maybe just a little closer. And yes, I’ve been grieving. But that grief has not blinded me to the enemy that is still out there, just as it has not blinded you.

“The enemy that has let their guard down because HYDRA thinks it has weakened us!” Grumbles of disapproval make him pause. “But they have not weakened us! This clan, this family, is not weakened by the grief of our leader. We are angered, enraged, that they dare try to cross us.” He pauses, listening to the murmurs of agreement of his people. “They have no idea what awaits them. Since the fall of George Barnes, they’ve expected us to kneel before them, begging for mercy. But they will be the ones begging. Their days are number because we will find them, and we will bury every last one of them as we watch HYDRA burn!”

The men begin to shout out their support, the roar almost sounds deafening to my ears, but I follow their lead, yelling with them. Barnes holds up his hand, and the crowd silences.

“Get a move on. We have work to do.” The warehouse erupts in applause, shouts of affirmation, threats to HYDRA, and anything of the sort.

The men begin to clear out of the warehouse, and Carol motions for me to follow her before walking towards Barnes.

“It’s good to see you again, boss.” She tells him with a smile, one he reciprocates before glancing at me. “I was wondering if I’d be able to take new girl around for a drive. Just to show her around our territory.”

“That’ll have to wait, Danvers.” Natasha cuts in, before turning to me. “Let’s go.”

She’s walking away before Barnes or Danvers, who both share a curious glance with me, can say anything. I only slightly hesitate before hurrying after her.

“Thank you.” I mutter once we’re out of the warehouse.

“Don’t thank me, yet. The boss will have questions.”

“Hopefully it’ll be worth it. If it isn’t, I’m gonna chew out whatever unlucky soul is sent.”

“I have no doubt of that.” She replies, and I can hear a hint of a smirk in her voice.

We near one of the doors that serve as an exit to the base, and I see my backpack sitting at the bottom of it.

“Know you way around?” She asks as I swing the backpack over my shoulder.

“Well enough. It shouldn’t be too hard.” I say, shrugging.

“Good. If you do get lost, call me,” She hands me a piece of paper with a number on it. “And I’ll sent someone for you. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I nod, folding the paper up and slipping it in the back pocket of my jeans.

She nods back, then walks away. I take a deep breath before throwing the door open and walking out in the direction of the nearest subway. When I’m a decent way away from the warehouse, I pull out my phone.

“Brooklyn Bridge Park, Pier 2, two hours.” I press send on the text before placing a call, one I admittedly should have done earlier.

“About damn time!” I cringe at the tone in his voice but carry on as if I didn’t piss him off.

“I thought I wouldn’t have any contact with the Family. But everything’s going well. There was a slight issue, but I handled it and everything’s back to the way it should be.” I say over the noise of the street traffic.

“What issue? And why are you calling in public?”

“I was called in.” I grumble into the phone.

“Already?”

“Yes, but I swear if this is a waste of time, whoever I’m meeting is getting an earful.”

“I’d be concerned if they didn’t. But what issue?”

“It’s been fixed, it doesn’t matter, but I need a copy of the contract.” I state firmly, hopefully distracting him from the other thing.

“Y/N, you know-”

“Father!” I take a breath, so I don’t start arguing with him in public. “I need that copy. If I’m going to be doing this, I need to know every single condition, and every term.”

The other end of the line is silent, and I know he’s thinking things over.

“Alright. But in turn, when I ask for an update, you give me one that fucking day. Understood?”

“Yes.” I mumble, hating feeling like a scolded child.

“Good.”

“I’m getting on the subway, I have to go.”

“I expect an update tomorrow.”

“Yes sir.” I hang up the phone and let out a deep sigh before walking down the stairs.

As the subway approaches, my phone chimes and I glance at the text.

“Understood. I’ll see you there.”

The meeting place my case officer chose, a quaint little coffee shop, is two blocks away from my stop. The amount of people on the sidewalks has me wishing for my bike as I squeeze in between people, and there are several times I wished to shove the slow walkers out of my way when I couldn’t pass. Honestly being stuck in traffic was a bit more enjoyable to being stuck behind of group of gossiping women.

I come up to the corner of the street, where the shop is located, and spot its cute little sign. As I cross the street, I happen to take a glance in the window and immediately find a face I recognize.

“You got to be shitting me.” I growl to myself.

The door chimes as I walk through, and I head towards the table.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I grumble as I take a seat, using the heel of my boot to put pressure on the toes of his foot.

“Right, well,” He coughs, covering up a wince as he pulls his foot away from mine. I smirk to myself. “Considering I called for this, I’m not really surprised.”

“Ward, you son of a bitch.” I hiss, quiet enough not to draw attention, as I kick his shin sharply. “You’re an idiot. You better have a good reason for doing this Grant.”

He visibly winces and adjusts himself before clearing his throat to address me.

“As your case officer, I don’t need to explain this to you.”

“You do when you compromise my position. This was way too early!” I hiss before clearing my throat, remember not to cause a scene. “Do you have information for me or not?”

“We’ll get to that in a second. Look, if Skye was still alive, she’d want-”

“Yeah, well she’s not here. How does your new girlfriend, what was it, Kara, feel about you still being hung up on your dead ex?”

“Do not bring her into this.” He hisses, before straightening up and burying any hint of annoyance until there is barely any emotion visible on his face. I hate when he does this, it unnerves me how easy it is for him each time. “Here.” He states before putting a thin file on the table for me to grab. “This is everything that we’ve been able to find out about them recently.”

I swipe it off the tabletop and gently toss it into my backpack, without opening the folder.

“Hopefully, I don’t see you again anytime soon. This better not become a regular thing with you.” I mumble before getting up and ordering a cup of coffee to-go.

As I walk out of the store, I almost bump into a blonde woman that was on her phone. Luckily for both of us, the coffee didn’t spill. After a few seconds of hurried apologies, and foreign curse words on her end, I hurry to the station, hoping I won’t have to wait that long for my ride.

When I get to the park, I decide to wander around for a little bit. It feels good to be out in fresh air inside of being inside a building for the entire day. The clouds look fluffy and soft, the breeze is cool on my face, and the sun feels just warm enough to enjoy without sweating to death. I stop once I get to Pier 2 and just find myself leaning on the railing of the pier, looking out onto the river and the skyscrapers on the other side.

While I wait, I decide to enter Natasha’s number into my phone, then letting the piece of paper fall into the water of the river, the safest way to dispose of it. After I can no longer see the white of the paper, I return my gaze to my father’s city.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you like this.”

“Like what?” I ask, looking towards the voice.

“Content. Happy, even just a little bit.” She says with a small smile while moving to stand beside me.

“It’s the little things like this that make me happy, May. It helps me forget about the mess that is my life, even just for a few minutes.”

She hums and we just stand in silence for a moment.

“What have you been able to find?” I ask, breaking the silence and going into business mode.

“Not much. I doubt it’ll be much help to you.”

“A little may be what I need. I still have some of her research. At this point I just need anything on him.”

“Having nightmares about her again?” She asks, concerned.

It causes me to smile, even just a little bit. Sure, my father hired her, but she has always remained loyal to me, more so than to the family. Though, I have no doubt that if she had any concern about me, she’d go talk to my father.

“More like memories. Still, they leave me feeling restless because I haven’t been able to find a lead on this guy. Skye was getting close, I know that. Which is the only explanation as to why she was killed.”

She hums again. “Still not planning on telling your father?”

I scoff. “After he basically called me paranoid for looking into Ward? No. If he finds out I haven’t let this go like he thinks, he’s going to ask questions. Questions I’m not ready to answer. Not only that, but if he finds out I contacted you while on assignment, I’d get my head chewed off. I’m technically not even allowed to contact him, yet here we all are.”

She nods with a slight chuckle, then pulls a file out from underneath her jacket and hands it to me.

“I’ll keep checking in with my contacts on the street to see if anything new about him surfaces, but until then, this is all I have.”

I stare at the closed file for a moment, before sliding that into my backpack as well.

“Thank you again, May.” She smiles briefly before nodding.

“You should get out of here, before anyone questions why you’ve been gone for a while.” I nod and push away from the railing. “Oh, and Y/N?” I turn back around. “Stay safe.”

“You too, May.” I call back, walking away.

A flash of blonde hair in the corner of my eye has me pause for a second, but when I see nothing, I shrug to myself and keep going. It must have been in my head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to my room shuts and I feel my body sag from the exhaustion of the day. I let my backpack slip to the ground with a soft thud and shuffle towards my bed. When my back meets the cool sheets of the mattress, a deep sigh escapes my lips and I close my eyes, finally enjoying a bit of rest. But, there’s a knock at my door that has me groaning loudly.

“Of course.” I grumble under my breath.

When I open the door, I’m very surprised to find Thor standing on the other side with a slight scowl on his face.

“Follow me.”

I do so, hesitantly, letting the door slowly click shut before catching up to him. The walk is silent, and for some reason, I feel uneasy for the first time since I walked in here. He leads me through the halls, and I find myself recognizing where we are going. James Barnes’ office.

Thor opens the door and motions for me to step inside, and I do, trying to maintain a façade of confidence. And I’m grateful for it, because the glare Barnes wears as he watches me enter almost has me reeling backwards. He sits behind his desk, looking regal, deadly, and in charge. No trace of friendliness shows on his face.

What really throws me for a loop is the petite redhead curled on his lap, her well-manicured nails raking through his hair in almost a possessive manner. The sight makes something churn uncomfortably in my stomach, and by the smirk on her face, she knows it too.

I look away from her, finding Rogers and Wilson in their places behind Barnes, leaning against the wall. Natasha stands off to the right, near the only window in the office.

“Dot, leave.” He says stiffly, not removing his gaze from mine.

“But Bucky Boo-”

“Now.” He growls, ignoring her high-shrieked protest. This is the infamous Barnes I’ve heard about on the streets.

She huffs in irritation, untangling herself from Barnes’ lap and starts stomping out of the room like a child throwing a small tantrum. She brushes past me, giving me the death glare on her way. I simply raise an eyebrow at her retreating form until the door shuts behind her.

“Lovely person, Bucky Boo.” I mutter under my breath, turning back around. “I haven’t looked at the information I was given, yet. I only just got back to the compound.” I say to Barnes, assuming that’s what got him so miffed.

“How was the meeting?” He asks, completely ignoring my remark, irritation still evident.

“I wanted to shove Ward’s head through the window only a few times. So, fairly well, I guess. Still pissed off he’s assigned as my case officer though.” I shrug still not seeing the point of this.

I see Barnes’ eye twitch and hear the soft click of the door closing. I turn around to see the blonde that I almost walked into on the sidewalk from earlier, and everything falls into place. With a click of my tongue in understanding, I turn back around towards Barnes.

“You had me followed.” I state.

“Yelena Belova, Nat’s sister, was sent to keep an eye on you. Make sure you stayed safe.”

“Hmmm. Interesting.” I hum towards the ground, frustrated that I didn’t see that coming earlier, as my hands find purchase on my hips, my nails digging into the fabric of my shirt.

“Imagine my surprise when I got a message saying you weren’t on your way back after the drop off, but was going to meet someone else.”

“Yeah, and I’m not telling you why.” I fire back stubbornly, my hands still on my waist.

Barnes blinks rapidly, shocked, because I didn’t deny it, that I said no to him so easily, or maybe because of something else completely. Whatever the reason, he recovers quickly. A scowl now twisting up his features.

“We had a deal with your f-”

“I’m not the one that needs reminder of that deal, it seems.” I snap. “What I did today, was for reasons you aren’t entitled to.” His scowl deepens. “Now, I could give you some information about it. If you were to tell me something in return.”

“And what’s that?” He growls, but willing to play my game.

“The last crate I picked up on my assignment.” Recognition dances over his eyes. “Yeah, it’s about that. Tell me what was in there because I know for a fact it wasn’t the shit on the manifest. That was just a cover. You tell me what the shipment was, and I’ll tell you what I was given.”

He clenches his jaw, but doesn’t say a word. I wait for a moment before nodding, more to myself than him.

“You’ll get the info the Bureau sent me, once I make sure it’s actually useful.”

I turn and exit the office quickly, no one saying a word to me before the door closes. My nails dig into my palms as I stomp back to my room, pissed off at the day I’ve had. My door slams shut, and I begin pacing the floor of my room. Anger flows through my veins like a fire that can’t be stopped. I had at least thought I was gaining some ground with Barnes and even some of the others, but apparently not. The only reason he let me go free is because of that stupid deal.

One thing’s certain after tonight, though. James Barnes is not to be trusted.

 Part 7

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