#listen i was about to tell him but that guard kept idling near me and i was like welp cant tell him to just walk out with it 🤷‍♀️

[beepbeepkazoo]

ngl my friends friend shouldve just stolen from the gift store of the field museuem when they wouldnt let him make a last minute purchase

[mxvladdy]

THE WAY YOU FILLED YOUR FIRST REQUEST SHOOK ME?!?!?!? YOU BLESSED US!? Would you mind also imagining how Mammon, Luci and Belphie would feel with a MC who's guarded with themselves and their feelings to avoid hurt, so they try to keep these brothers at a friendly arm's length as they don't believe the brothers don't really care about them? It would make me so happy, thank you so much!

EEEEK! Sorry for the wait. It took forever and a day to get enough time to seat uninterrupted and then try to edit ;.;

I hope you like it! Apologies if I didn’t get the prompt just right!

Mammon

He didn’t hide his disdain for his human protection duty when you first met. The fact that you kept him at an arm's length was a devil’s blessing. Good! He is a busy demon after all, he doesn’t have time for some human. At first.

Then he caught the feels and it’s all downhill for him at his ‘cool devil’ act. Not that you ever NOTICED.

He tries to flirt with you. Before you, he thought he was good at it too.

He’s never had someone so civil with his advances. You smile and laugh politely at whatever complement he throws at you. You might even give him a few back in a teasing, but clearly friendly manner.

You stress it heavily whenever he comes on too heavy with his advances. You stamp down whatever feelings he evokes and try to keep your line clean and precise in the shifting sand of your relationship.

He takes you out one evening after school, determined to get an actual answer from you over some made up snack he lied about. You don’t think anything of it, happy for an excuse to hang out. You walk and talk, not taking notice of his steadily reddening face as he keeps making swipes at your hand each time it brushes his.

You make an off-handed (get it) remark about the closeness and offer to walk behind this was bothering him.

He is miffed and throws out all semblance of “coolness”. Just flat out confess. Face flaming hot from embarrassment and sweaty palms now shoved into his jacket.

It was a blink and you’d miss it kind of moment. Mammon’s cheeks start to heat gradually. A staunch look of panic growing behind his eyes.

The words just slip off his tongue. His lips forming a sentence you were dreading. You didn’t quite catch it all; his declaration lost in the wind of the open market. You try to catch his gaze, to make him repeat himself clearly, for what purpose you didn’t know. You don't particularly want to hear it again, yet it would give you time to compose some kind of response.

He refuses to look at you. No matter which way you bob and weave beneath him, he dances around you. His face always looking in the opposite direction of yours. His gaze permanently pointing at his feet. The uneven cobblestone beneath his scuffed boots was suddenly very interesting it seemed. "I'm sorry? I didn't catch that." You ask once more, grabbing on to the crook of his elbow.

He buries himself deeper into the flipped collar of his coat and whispers it again. "I-I like ya, ok? Like like like ya know?" He stumbles over his thoughts.

Now how in the hells were you supposed to dodge this? It had been easier to evade his blatant affections when even he wasn't admitting to them. "No, you don't." You step away with a dry chuckle. "Don't be silly." You back away shaking your head in denial. You were sure Mammon could feel your heart rate picking up. You need some space, more space than the street could give you. Somewhere away from your tall, sweet, white-haired problem.

"Oi!" He makes a grab for you as you turn to flee. He spins you around leaning down to meet with you face to face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We are friends Mammon," You try to wiggle out of his strong, yet gentle grip. "You're just mixing up the feelings." Bullshit. With him touching you, your joint pack acted like an amplifier. You very much felt what he thought of you. The yearning from his newfound mental clarity mixes with the panic of your rejection. It makes a bittersweet taste bloom in your mouth, so hopefully yet reserved.

He was not so lucky. Your feelings felt like ash on his tongue, a sour tang of fear and self-doubt building on his sense. You were afraid of the inevitable, or what you presumed to be the inevitable.

  You were supposed to be friends then disappear forever once the school year was up. Him, down here, and you back to being just another nameless soul in the human realm. No need to get the storyline all tangled. "Hey-hey," Mammon speaks in a rush. "It ain't like that, really." He coos shuffling you closer till you are wrapped tightly in his soft leather jacket. He pours more of himself into the pack, opening himself up in ways he never thought capable of from his demonic form.

"I'm stupid." You speak into his chest. The warm reassurance of his unspoken pledge soothing you. It lessens the tight feeling of uncertainty that you had grown accustomed to.

"Ah- now, ain't that supposed to be my job?" The taste in his mouth dissipates slightly as you let out an indignant huff. He flinches as you poke his side hard between his rib cage.

"Told you to stop talking down on yourself Mammon."

The demon hums noncommittally keeping you close. He rocks you both from side to side, oblivious to the throngs of other pedestrians forced to walk around you two. "Guess I forgot. Maybe you could remind me? O-on a date?"

He smiles down at the little sliver of your face and eyes peeking up from the darkness of his jacket. He could damn near feel the smile trying to break from your forced scowl. "Just one?"

"Heh- don't bet on it."

Lucifer

Welcome to the ultimate game of pleasantry chicken. The two of you know this dance by heart, but your footwork isn't synching up.

Lucifer is trying to keep this whole debacle as professional as possible. You are an esteemed guest and pact holder for all of his brothers and himself. This should be business as usual. He totally has his emotions and growing frustration at your lack of interest in him in check.

Yup. He's fine. He's great; glad you two have such an unspoken understanding of your standing in his company and in the house. The same book, same chapter, same bloody page.

You are a good friend. Just. A. Very. Good. Friend.

He breaks first. Not that he will admit it. But the weekly coffee breaks become a bi-daily thing as he tries to court you. He draws these evenings out now. Have you finished your schoolwork? No, allow me to tutor you. Perhaps you would like to listen to this new vinyl with me tonight? It is a complete demon rendition of Wagner's Die Meistersinger. A classic, you’ll love it.

You take it all in stride. Thanking him innocently enough and going along with it. You buffer every little turn of phrase and slightly off-color hint of what he wanted from you with grace. So tactfully done he begins to doubt himself. You couldn’t be misconstruing his intentions right? He hasn’t doubted himself like this in a long time.

Diavolo catches on quickly to the kicked puppy look Lucifer tots around in your presence. He’ll tease, but try to help. He’s a decent wingman truth be told. “How has Lucifer been treating you? I haven’t seen him this happy in ages. He is a great friend to have, yes?” Kinda backfires when you agree that he is indeed a good friend. Oops.

He’ll crack one night over a glass (or bottle) of something strong he pulled from his study. You had slipped into his room unannounced asking for a quiet place to read before bed.  The interruption to his musings leads to him running his mouth and pile driving his pride into the ground.

He can’t say no to you anymore. He really should. You were hell bent on keeping him at an arm's length, so he should too. Lucifer watches you like a hawk from behind his desk. His ungloved fingers swirling the dregs of his drink. The cognac inside of it looking up at him, his scowl reflecting in the rich red liquor. Don’t judge me. He scoffs at himself, was he that far gone that he was arguing with his glassware? Should have switched to the bottle hours ago.

“Luci?” You say again waving a hand in his face. “You forget to sleep again this week?” Your smile was warm, a little twinkle in your eye drawing a heat to his collar that had nothing to do with the spirits. You sit on the edge of his desk in your sleepwear. The baggy shirt and sweats reeked of his brothers.

“No.” He lies pushing his desk chair away. “Did you need something?”

You shrug hopping off the desk. “Not really. Wasn’t feeling movie night. You ok if I hang out here? It’s nice and quiet.” You slink off to the couch in front of the fire before he could answer.

“You could not do this in your room?” Lucifer snips. He tosses back the rest of his drink and rises to his feet. He grimaces at the burn spreading across his throat. “I’m sure it is quiet in there too.” He catches your eyes looking over the back of the lounge. While everything lower than the bridge of your nose was blocked by the black velvet he could feel the frown growing on your face.

“Well, yes. But I still want some friendly company. Just not rowdy company, I thought you wouldn’t mind...”  

Devils. There was that word again. "You assume to know me?" He cannot hide the venom lacing his words. The liquor had dulled his senses enough that he could not hide his rancor.

“I’m-” You leave the chair coming around it to give him your full attention. This wasn’t like him. Not anymore at least. But you were used to the odd mood swings that plagued your companions. "I don’t assume anything about you Luci. But if you want to talk-"

“I don’t want to have some idle friendly chit chat.” He could feel the tantrum coming. “Have I not proven myself capable of-” His jaw snaps shut with an audible click that echoes across the spacious chamber.

“Of?”

A noticeable blush grows on his pale cheeks. “More.” He sighs deeply, he feels light-headed at the admission. Whether it was from the drinks or from going against his nature and swallowing his pride he couldn’t tell. “Am I not enough to be more than a friend to you?”

That takes you by surprise. You had speculated that he harbored feelings for you. Diavolo all but cementing the idea in your mind. But, this was Lucifer. It felt like just yesterday you were at each other's throats, before he recognized you as something other than a threat to his family. You wanted to respect that little bit of trust he had given you. “It’s not like I never thought about it.”

“But?” He perks up slightly hearing the unspoken word in your inflection. He could see your apprehension yet there was a shimmer of something else underneath. Something he could work with.

“I was- I am scared.”

“Finally, a reasonable response from being around demons.” Lucifer snorts.

“Hey! You know that’s not what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. Explain it to me.” He invades your space waiting to see what you would do. Run or stay. He would have his answer either way. You don’t move, instead, you wrap your arms around yourself. Guarding yourself yet standing firm. One of the many reasons why he admired you.

“I feel like we just became friends. I didn’t think you felt the same and I didn’t want to mess this all up.” You confess. “I just thought it would be easier this way.”

Lucifer absorbs your words quietly, nodding at the logic behind them. “Messes are not something I generally like true, but," He reaches for you, careful of your defensive stature to lead you back to the couch. “If you are willing to iron out the bumps with me I’d like to see what we can make of it.”

If it meant he could have you he would take as much time as you needed.

Belphegor

It takes him the longest to notice that you were trying to keep him at arm's length emotionally. It was hard for him to see at first since you still readily accepted his invitations to snuggle and hang out.

He thought he was very blatant with his desire for you and your affections. The head pats and evening is the planetarium or his attic.

The fact that he had apologized for that little murder mishap. He thought that was a big bright neon sign. Yet you always seemed to try to invite someone else along to chill or leave quickly after an hour or so. As much as he loved his twin and tolerated his other brothers he was trying to get you ALONE.

He starts trying to see you outside the house now too. Lunch in the cafeteria? Pffft. You are going to eat and nap with him in the courtyard. After School activities? Could you help him with some council stuff instead?

Yes, he will go out of his way to do work if you are involved.

You are still too closed off though. You act around him like you do around any of the other brothers and it drives him crazy. You are just so friendly and cordial with everyone. How come he is the only one that becomes a flushing mess now?

He becomes your second shadow, almost as bad as Mammon. You start to get an inkling of his intentions when he starts wanting to sleep in your bedroom at night instead of his or the attic. You let him but offer up the couch or split the bed with a pillow.

He snoops when he gets desperate. Did you like someone else? Was that why you were constantly acting like his advances were just him being overly friendly? He doesn’t find anything, you act like this around everyone else too.

He gives up. Stops interacting with you entirely. He is 99% sure he can sleep through the next century without being bothered. Maybe he’ll get over you by then.

“Belphie? You up here?” The demon in question opens a bleary eye to his locked door. He should stay quiet, leave you hanging. Give himself some vindictive pleasure in snubbing you.

“Hai~” He rises from his nest of blankets and pillows. “Hold on.” Unlocking the door he opens it ajar. You smile around the large stack of books and binders in your arms. “What is that?” Please don’t say homework.

“Work you’ve missed sulking up here.” You confirm his worst fear. “Satan and I thought we would spot you a bit though.” Belphegor watches you struggle for a second to pull a folded piece of paper out from the middle of the stack. “We got most of the answers done for you. Now you just have to fill the worksheets in with your handwriting.” You wave the paper expectantly.

Hearing his brother’s name makes him sour immediately. How long had you been hanging out with him now? “Thanks, leave them at the door then.” He goes to shut the door and return to his dreamless slumber but it’s blocked by your foot.

“Ouch.” You wince hopping back on one foot.

“Idiot! Are you hurt?” He wrenches the door open crouching down to take a look at your sock-covered foot.

“Nothing I can’t walk off. Though my arms are getting sore- weak human muscles an’ all.” You hint wiggling the stack in your arms. He takes the work this time, still eyeing your foot. “Relax, I’ve stubbed my toe with more force than that before.” You whisk by him, using his brief moment of distraction to slip by.

“Did I invite you in?” Belphegor eyes you with a frown. He kicks his door close and dumps the pile of papers on his already over-encumbered desk. Hmm. How many days had he missed?

You ignore him plopping down on the still warm sheets. “Nope!” You pop the ‘p’ with a grin. “But that has never stopped you from sneaking into my room. So fair trade all around.” You pat at the bed, clearing inviting him to join you. “Come on. I’ll help you finish that work then we can chill.”

Oh, now you want to hang out. He felt a rush of bitterness wash over him.  “Don’t you have something better to do?” If this keeps up he’ll need another nap, alone preferably. “Doesn’t Asmo need a shopping buddy or something?”

“What’s gotten you all worked up?” You frown, hurt by his accusatory tone.

Belphie shoots you a wounded look. "We never hang out anymore." He sulks. "Alone, I mean. I'm tired of you always inviting Beel or someone else with us."

He glances over to you idly thumbing at one of the books on his desk. It's frustrating. This game of touch and go he accidentally got himself into. Ugh- why did this have to be so hard. "I want to spend more time with you. Just us, so why are you always avoiding that?" 

"I.” You look down at your feet dangling off the side of his mattress. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I just felt like- like things were going off the rails between us.” You weren't oblivious to his advances.

He cocks his head in confusion. "Mmm? What are you afraid of?" You read a flicker in his eyes, a haunting memory of cruel fingers around your neck darken his gaze. "Ah-"

"No! No that's not it!" You panic waving your hands up. Of course, he would immediately go to that. "I'm just worried. I know you like me, and-just what if things don't work out? What if you realize what a mistake this could be?"

Your admission gives him pause. So you knew this whole time? Not surprising; he wouldn't fall for someone stupid. "So, are you admitting to liking me back?" He feels giddy when you nod, covering your heating face with your hands. " Well then, what’s the problem? It’s not a mistake if we both are making it.” He grins slyly. “How can it not work out if the feelings are mutual.”

“But what if you are mistaken?” He wraps you up into his arms, flopping you both over onto his messy bed. He takes one of your hands and places it on the top of his head all while burying his nose in your neck.

“Please,” He yawns, feeling his body grow heavy. “I don’t waste my energy on ‘mistakes’.”

[aggressivelyclueless]

hey @phantombreadproject this one’s for you

happy holidays, have some grayghost heartbreak!

Valerie had to be close.  From her vantage point above the park, she could see everything: trees with muted and blinking lights on under the snow; the playground, and the string of half-buried fenceposts surrounding it; the lot by the street, which had been plowed earlier.  Only so many places a ghost could hide, she thought dryly, and yet.

At least the twin engines of her hoverboard were throwing off a little heat.  Winters in Amity Park were a bitch, and she'd heard it was supposed to go subzero overnight, if it hadn't done already.  The cold, she groused, was probably the thing throwing off the precision on her gear.  She hadn't gotten an exact reading on that damnable phantom all night.

She could hear it, though.  She'd been following it for the past half-hour - a skirmish here, crashing there - and she descended between a cluster of snowed-down trees so that she'd be out of sight and hopefully get a decent shot as soon as she saw the thing.  It'd be coming off the river, probably; she'd been following it long enough to gain a sense of its territorial patterns, and most nights it would come through this area.

Sure enough, the echoing crack of ghostfire was right on the banks.  Up came a smaller, fleeing ghost - and up came that phantom in hot pursuit.

Valerie let the board idle and held steady over the snow.  She watched the two spirits go back-and-forth for a moment, clashing and dancing around each other in the air.  Where Phantom appeared mostly in shadow, the smaller one was a fizzling specter of light, and she waited for them to draw each other closer.  Once the smaller one was taken down, and had done all the damage it could, then she'd make her shot.

The doomed spirit shrieked and disappeared, and Valerie fired.  Her aim was good; she struck the phantom behind the shoulder, and it pitched forward and dropped like a stone.  She coaxed the board up and over the trees again, keeping an eye on where it had fallen.  The tip of her blaster was still smoking, leaving a thin trail behind as she went, and she spotted the disrupted snow between a handful of pines where the wretched ghost had landed.  She brought the board down, still wary; she didn't trust one shot like that to take the phantom down, she kept the blaster aimed at the sprawling form in the snow.  The form looked up to the hum of the twin engines,

and Valerie's heart skipped a beat.

"Danny?"

It was him, alright - white as a sheet and wide-eyed, and staring up the wrong end of her blaster.

"Val?"  His voice was quiet, but as soon as the silence was broken it was as if he snapped out of a spell.  "Val, hold on, wait a second, don’t - "

"Danny, are you okay, oh shit that ghost didn't hurt you did it?"  She threw the blaster aside and dropped from the board, kicking up chips of flattened snow from underfoot as she ran over to him.  He looked unhurt, if still a little disoriented; that phantom must be hiding closeby, or have blown past him, she thought, but it occurred to her that he'd known to call her by name just then, despite that she'd still had her visor up.

And then it occurred to her how off that felt.

"Danny," she said carefully, not entirely sure what to expect but putting her guard up anyway.  "How did you know it was me just then?"

"What?" said Danny, propping himself up on his elbows in the snow.  He shook a dusting of it off his hair, frowning.  "Of course it was - oh.  Wait."  He glanced down at himself, as if he'd forgotten something, and let all the breath out at once in a heavy cloudy puff.  "Shit."

"You knew it was me," said Valerie, "You knew I was - "

"Hold on a sec - "

"How did you find out?"

"I can explain, sort of - "

"How long have you known."  She imagined him all of a sudden, sneaking into her room when she was grabbing him a soda from the kitchen or surfing through Netflix titles or any other thing.  She saw him rifling through her things and getting ahold of her blaster or the helmet of her suit or a spare lying-around part of the board she'd get around to fixing.  That must have been how he found out - she couldn’t imagine any other way he would.  And that really stung.

"Val.  I swear it's not - "

"How long."

Danny hesitated.  "The whole time," he said lamely, pushing himself up to sit cross-legged and avoiding her eyes.  "Since you got the outfit."

"What?"

Danny said nothing.

"Who told you about it?  How do you just - find out about something like that?  Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I - " Danny cut himself off.  He was doing some quick thinking; she knew that look, the twitching hesitation at the corners of his mouth and how his eyes darted about.  After a second he gave it up.  "Yeah.  Maybe I should have told you."

"Maybe?" Valerie snapped, "That's all I get, is a maybe?"

"Okay, yeah.  I should have told you."  He paused as the trees around them creaked in the wind; despite the cold, he sat in the snow as if it didn't bother him.  "Should have told you lots of things.”

Can't we talk about this later, she almost said, but stopped herself.  It wouldn't be any use; the ghost was gone, although that thought made her groan a little on the inside, and she wouldn't be doing either of them any favors by cutting and running after it.  It wasn’t as if she was going to let Danny off the hook, either - the more she thought about it, the more she knew that the conversation was overdue as it was.

Danny slowly got up to his feet, creaking in the cold like the snow-burdened trees, and didn't bother to brush himself off.  "Val, look.  I'm sorry, okay?  I should have said something, or maybe given you a hand or - "

"Yeah right," said Valerie, "You had to peek through your fingers at Dead Alive last week.  You'd be a shit ghosthunter."

"I'm serious, will you listen to me a second?"  He stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder.  It was freezing - wasn't it supposed to go subzero tonight? - and that made her pause.  He didn't act like the cold was bothering him but it should have been.  It must have been; all he had was the hoody, and he'd been pale as death the whole time.

"I want to make it up to you.  I swear.  Maybe I fucked up, kinda bad, but I promise I care about you," he was saying, but all of a sudden it could wait.  This was wrong, and the creeping-up unease in her gut refused to be ignored.

"Danny, you should get home," she said abruptly, "I don't even know why you came out here - but look at you, you're freezing - "

Danny dismissed it with a shake of the head.  "Valerie.  This is important - you're important, you need to know this.  Something I should have told you months ago."  There were the beginnings of frost on the sides of his face now, and although he was ignoring them she couldn't look away.  What was he trying to prove - did he want to freeze himself to death?  The cold was spreading - slowly, but it was spreading, and he just went on as if it wasn't there at all.  "I was there, Val.”

"Danny, what the hell is this."  Her hands came up to his cheeks, as if she'd brush away frostbite as easily as a tear or a stray fleck of snow.  She was certain, in that moment, that she was watching him freeze to death.

Horrible, and gut-wrenching, but a certainty.

“Danny, come on, this isn’t funny, you have to go - “

Danny's hands came up over hers, and the frost had all but taken over them.  Ice glinted and shimmered with every movement, but somehow he still was moving, and to her it was impossible.  "I'm sorry.  For everything that happened, everything I did.  You deserved to know."

Valerie was almost dizzy, almost sick.  She couldn't watch him die like this - but she couldn't look away, either, and he still had her hands in his own.  He slid them together over his chest, and she placed his uncanny stillness; he wasn't breathing, and even through the gloves of her suit she was sure his heart had quit.

"I know I should have fessed up," said Danny, even as the frost strengthened and solidified and turned his face as if to stone.  His skin had begun to spoil into a bitten off-blue, and the frost had all but sealed his lips together.

"Danny," Valerie whispered, nearly in tears, hoping please that it was some kind of nightmare, "You're - "

(I know) said Danny, his voice coming through to her in the wispy echo she'd grown to hate.  (Be mad if you want.  It's my fault, really, but please, please trust me when I say I never wanted to hurt you)

"Danny. . . what is this. . . "

He gave her hands a squeeze and then melted away into a fog, and all of a sudden she was grasping at the air; she pitched after him - tell me this isn't happening - but the fog soured into shadow and slunk lower against the snow.  The piercing eyes, unblinking, were still on her.

She stood empty-handed, teary-eyed, and in disbelief.  He's a ghost - he's the ghost - was the clearest thing in her mind.  Everything else was blurring together: all those times when he'd sat with her at lunch and just listened to her ramble about things, about anything, just to hear the sound of her voice; the utter surprise in the eyes of that accursed shadowy spirit the first time she'd stared it down rather than run; the way he'd wrap himself around her on the couch to stay warm when she had him over to watch movies; how many times she'd cursed out that haunt to his own face; and how he took it every time, without any hesitation or break in stride.

The shadow at her feet was near-formless, yet somehow still very clearly buckled on its knees.  Its eyes - his eyes - made her heart melt and break in equal measure.  I was there, he'd said, and now she understood.

She may never have caught that phantom but he'd been in her reach the whole time.

It felt like a betrayal.  He'd been right under her nose and any time she'd close in on him he'd just disappear.  The insidious thing was, though, that he wouldn't just disappear.  He'd be at her side, listening to her vent in the cafeteria, watching movies with her in her own living room.  He went on as if it was nothing.

As if he expected it to be okay.

"How could you."

His eyes were still on hers, round and green and pitiful.  (I fucked up, Val, I know I did, but please, can’t we fix this)

"How could you," she stepped back, breath hitching in her chest, feeling her cheeks grow hot and her blood boil.  "You knew - this whole time you knew and you let it happen."

(I swear I didn't want any of this - )

"Well what the fuck did you want, then?  Did you think it was just going to turn out okay?"  There were tears in her eyes and she couldn't stop them, but she'd be damned if she gave in.  "Did you think I was going to forget about it?  After all the shit you destroyed?"

(No, Val, listen - )

"And I'm supposed to forgive you now, right?  Just because you said you were sorry?"

(No) said the ghost, (You don't have to do that but please - )

"Great because I'm not fucking going to!"  She felt as if she was breaking.  The fire in her chest said shoot him, he deserves it.  For months she'd wanted to see him like that, all crumpled up and at her feet, and she'd wanted to put him out of his misery.

But she couldn't do it.

She couldn't do it, and no matter that it wasn’t fair, the fire in her chest was burning out.

(Valerie) the ghost - Danny - whispered, motionless against the snow.  (Please, I have to fix this.  I want us to fix this)

"I was supposed to trust you."  Her voice was strained and fraying, and just the sound of it made Danny flinch.  "I did trust you.  All this time.”

Danny hesitated, but the forming ice crystals in the corners of his eyes said it all.  He hung his head, and the whisper of his voice was barely there.  (I know)

“And you still think you can fucking fix this?”

(I don’t know) said Danny, withdrawing into himself a little.  (I want to.  Whatever it takes I just want you to be okay)

Valerie huffed.  “And I’m supposed to believe you now.  Because you’re sorry, right?”

(Val, please, be mad all you want but don’t - )

“Get out of here.”

Valerie couldn't stand it.  No matter that he was a ghost, or all the things he'd destroyed - she couldn't snap her fingers and quit caring about him because he was still human and it hurt.  Underneath the shadows and the wispy white hair he was still Danny-who-went-to-the-movies and Danny-who-made-her-snort-milk-at-lunch and Danny-that-always-had-a-spare-kitkat-because-he-knew-they-were-her-favorite, and to see him cry broke her.

(No, don’t - )

"Get out of here,” she snapped, with the last ounce of anger she had, “and don't you ever let me see your face again."

Danny said nothing.  For an unbearable moment he just stared up at her with those sad broken eyes, but with the wind and the creaking of the trees he was gone.

And Valerie sat on the idling hoverboard and let herself fall apart.

[pyrewriter]

Short Medical leave

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Eliksni name pronunciation: Sovrreik (Sov-rr-ike) 

 Uncle was ecstatic to see that we had not only made it through the night but managed to save all those that would have otherwise been left to their fate. The Dregs who assisted me in the trench were to be promoted for valiance as well as their display of loyalty and ability. Similarly to how my brother and I these Dregs would skip the rank of Wretch but they would not yet be vandals, moving directly to Marauders was a significant honor nonetheless. Ogethres had been thinking of rewarding them and my report gave him more than enough to use as justification. The fellow Vandal would not become a Captain but would be honored for their role in assisting defend the wounded. 

Deliberately I did not mention the Wretch who had earlier attempted to strike a defeated Risen's tiny machine. During the flight back in the Skiffs of a morning crew they approached me and expressed their regret, I scolded them but felt that was enough. There was no sign of deception in their words ,if there was they could not hide it from me, so reporting would be demeaning. I left them with wisdom uncle once told me once "An enemy defeated, be watched, but left well alone".

Uncle sent me to the infirmary just to be sure that I was not internally injured from prolonged combat. The medical staff asked me to lay down so they could properly examine me but when I tried my body refused to relax fully. While I was checked over I couldn't help but chuckle at the hilarity of how I most likely looked like one the old stone likenesses of humans often found in city remnants. Once the medical machines came up as normal the medics told me to avoid combat for a while just to make sure I wasn't on the brink of collapsing. 

Normally I would have simply thanked them for their care and advice before charging headlong into the next mission but I decided to listen to our medical experts for once. Fortunately there was always more than enough work that needed to be done, with my engineering skills I favored more hand on jobs. Sometimes younger Dregs that had heard of or seen my work in the field would murmur in curious clicks whenever I would dive for maintenance on submerged areas of our home. I always thought it sobering for the younger in the guild and humbling for myself as it kept me from discounting the effort of others or believing myself greater because of my station.

Brykis had similar sentiments but if one were to ask him he would tell them that he simply didn't like the thought of his brother being left out. I would often find him helping process collected salvage or teaching fresh Vandals how to use and maintain their equipment. Father Pyrrhaks was always busy with political squabbles as our uncle Ogethres trusted few others with such delicate responsibilities but they rather enjoyed more menial tasks. Often in luling times both Ogethres and Pyrrhaks would wear simple robes and chat casually or help with small unofficial tasks around the coast. 

A few days into our off time ,before Brykis or myself had even fully woken, our door opened, uncle's unhelmed face greeted us with a smile. "Come, relax today, little responsibility, Pyrrhaks join soon" he said nodding for us to follow him once we were dressed. During our medically required break, uncle seemed to realize just how long it had been since all five of us had been present at one time at the coast with little to keep us busy. Brother left first after wrapping himself in more relaxed cloth than our usual armor, I was still feeding on my morning Ether from Sekos-4 after wrapping myself. When I followed Brykis father was already with them so I was last but with all of us gathered now uncle revealed his intent.

"Long time since had much free-time, wanted to spend with family" he clicked with almost excited vigor, I smiled beneath my wraps and chuckled slightly. In my many years of life I had heard many recounts of the ferocity of Arkons, their amazing strength, how Risen struggled with an all but unguarded priest reclaimed from the Prison of Elders. All these stories are true yet they never tell of their lives off the battlefield or how they were as leaders. Sometimes I wondered if they were anything like uncle but from what I know of the times before House Dusk I doubted it. 

Following Ogethres we waved and warmly said hello to those we passed as we walked, the casual nature of our guild on full display. I've heard from wandering gangs and our usual traders that we are strange because of our lax attitude with a thriving gathering of Eliksni so close to the Great Machine. Whenever they remarked on such things I always compared us to when our people first met humanity, perhaps weak at a glance behind our walls but every maw hides teeth. Often such words would get me sideways looks and in truth I couldn't blame them, it was a human saying.

Uncle had walked us down near one the end of the wall that bordered our home where it met the waters edge. It was a rather quiet area while still having line of sight across everything to the opposite end of the wall. There were a small number of Dregs and Vandals milling about moving aquatic animals of all sorts of shapes, sizes, and colors that they had caught. Ogethres called with a loud clack that got the attention of a more round looking Captain who raised an arm in greeting before lumbering over to us. 

"Greetings my Arkon, how been, long time no talk" she clicked with a flemish voice.

Ogethres waved a hand "Been well, busy and well, apologies for little talk, much happened" he chuckled "should know, you part of that". 

"Bahg, so much movement, difficult move so much so quickly, thankful for you, Ogethres my Arkon" the Captain replied with clear gratitude in her voice. Bowing her head she turned with a wave for us to follow as she showed us a spot among other workers casually chatting or humming tunes. "Four sets, as requested, told other to treat same as any" the Captain listed, adding with a chuckle under her breath "Hehe, can't stop all though" she joked 

"Your effort enough, thank you friend, Great Machine bless" Ogethres told them with a low chitter and a hand over his heart. Pyrrhaks, Brykis, and myself bowed our heads slightly and rasped in thanks for the Captains effort to coalesce as well as allowing us to use their equipment for recreation. The Captain echoed the blessing before heading off to direct idle dregs to what needed to be cleaned or stuffed with coolant. "Come, let us 'fish' as it is called" uncle stated as he strode across the sand toward a set of poles with string dangling from them. I recognized such poles from movies I had stored in Sekos-4. 

All four of us were absolutely terrible at using the poles which led one of us ,often uncle, getting a sharp metal hook caught on themselves. Despite this however we continued to learn both through trial and error as well as tips from fellow Eliksni around us fishing around us. Once everyone was able to get their hooks into the water with relative consistency we were fishing as a family, it felt nice, a calm that I hadn't known for quite some time. We caught a fair amount of aquatic life but nothing astonishing, patience, luck, and knowledge were what made one good at catching water dwelling creatures.

Time felt like it slipped by while we sat enjoying the presence of each other and before we realized it the sun was setting over the horizon. We had managed to spend an entire day sitting in the sand with poles in hand to help feed hatchlings and sprog. Thankfully nothing that couldn't be handled by those uncle left in charge appeared during our time on the edge of the wall. While the rest of my family went off to rest or double check the feeds for anything that slipped through I went to fulfill my nightly duties. Slipping into my work harness I chuckled at myself ,it was a completely peaceful day for our guild, still I worked through the night consuming only enough Ether to not deprive myself. 

The next morning I found myself being woken by an engineering Dreg, apparently I had blacked out with my legs dangling from an access hatch. Laughing at their description of how they found me ,"Similar Arkon threw you during accession, right in hole", I thanked the Dreg before heading to my quarter. Luckily I had been awoken before most others so no one knew that I never made it back after they bedded down. Brykis did wonder what I was doing up so soon as I fumbled around trying to get my standard armor on. 

"On Ether crew, morning deploy" I told him, it was no lie, I did sign on to be escort for an Ether extraction at the earliest signs of day. 

He shook his head while rubbing a set of eyes with one hand "Doctor told no exertion, you against better judge?" he asked pointedly.

"Extracted before, same spot, quiet, go stretch legs, take light load" I reassured him grabbing only my dagger "Worry much, brother". Taking a moment to pay tribute to Esyra before leaving I set off to meet the other members of what would be my crew in the hangar to be told the details of our mission. During the brief I learned we were taking our Prime Servitor ,Sovrreik, which explained the larger than normal present crew. Ogethres thought it best to keep them within the safety of the ketch ever since the Risen had discovered our underground compound before. 

I found it odd that we were taking the prime servitor but before I could raise the question as to why we were taking such an important figure I got my answer. "Risen damage collection servitors, as see, taking extra guard, collected sector before, near coast, safe, pack light" the leading Captain clicked tossing aside a data pad. Most were fairly new Vandals but they had enough experience with combat that I was unconcerned about any wildlife we may encounter. Boarding our Skiffs and hovering as we waited for Sovrreik.

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[snowflake-apocalypse]

Gatekeepers of The Underground

Joss & Jay: Year 1

The Underground; 0012

On the hot pursuit of the night’s featured felons, the pair of Joss and Jay catch themselves in a long abandoned tunnel of Idle City’s subway station.

Well, Joss did.

“Joss, come on. There’s a reason no one stays on this side.” Jay cries from atop of the subway entrance.

Fists firmly at his side and eyes wide behind his domino mask. He watches his elder disappear into the grip of darkness, punctuated by the soft click of her footsteps.

Jay jerks his head left to right, quickly surveying the stillness of the dormant street. In a huff he tramps down the stairwell to his partner.

This is bad this is bad this is bad.

“Little buddy, if you’re scared you can take the apartment keys and head home. My Friday night plans include catching Illicit drug dealers.” Joss nonchalantly answers, shining her flashlight down the far reaches of the decrepit passage way.

Clutching Joss’ sleeve, Jay produces his own torch. “You shouldn’t be down here either. The gatekeepers guard these tunnels. They turn into copies of you and then disappear to another plane. Sometimes they come after you!”

Pressing on, Joss clears the cobwebs in her view. Minding the craters and cracks along the path.“And you heard this superstition from?” She has known the boy since he was an infant, well aware of him to be rational for his age so...

“Ms. Demko down at the coffee shop.”, Jay matter-of-factly answers. Now taking the woman’s hand, he falls in-step with her.

“Oh, geez. Figures she’d spin tall tales to a child.”Joss mumbles, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

“-Listen, the reason no one comes on this side is because the floods decades ago. All it left was wrecked tracks and a rancid-as-hell smell. Bad business area, good escape route.” Joss’ voice echos off of the walls as she tries to reassure her ward.

“Yeah, and you think that’ll stop half of the crooks in this city? Plus it’s creepy down here.”

“You didn’t have to come, y’know.”

“I’m not gonna leave you alone... ‘specially after how busted you came back last caper.”, Jay mutters. In his mind, Joss was a lot of things: selfless, brave, and caring... but also wildly reckless and strong-headed. He wasn’t witnessing that again.

Stamping through the puddles the two journey deeper into the winding subway. The air growing chiller as they progressed, Joss discovers two figures outlined by her light, about thirty feet in front of them. Her person-of-interest making the sale, she thinks.

“Domieco! Hey what’s the deal, brother?! I thought you said you were ditching the snow?!” Joss calls out the the silhouettes, breath visible in the fog.

No reply returns. Both parties motionless, like each is studying the other. The atmosphere turns heavy.

Suddenly, the unknown frames rush further down the corridors without warning.

“Come on, man. Just talk to me-.” Scuffing the ground, chases after in a huff. “-Jay, stay on my tail, I think we’re coming up on the Shoe Street exit.”

Boots now throughly soaked, Joss and Jay’s pursuit ends around the bend the corner. The shadows no where to be found.

“Wha-where’d they go?” Jay panting for breath, he focuses his beam center ahead of him.

Equally out of breath, Joss combs a hand through her russet shoulder-length hair. “Dang it! I don’t know. Maybe they slipped through a crack in the wall. The Underground likes those.”

Joss removes her mask to wipe the soot out of her eyes, “Let’s just get out to the next street. Maybe I’ll catch him around.”, she says, a melancholy defeat in her voice. Once again donning her mask, she beckons Jay along.

Trekking closer to the exit, the strange musk returns. Joss could feel something lurking around her. An unexplainable pressure. Regardless, she kept her solid resolve and eyes steadily ahead.

oss..

sss...

Jocelyn

Faintly hearing her name in the damp air Joss whips her head around, scanning the devoid area then settling on Jay. “Yo what’s up, bud?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Jay remarks, stuffing his right hand further into his trench coat pocket.

Leaving her a bit spooked, she pulls the child closer, giving her surroundings another cautious look. She was letting her emotions and the kid’s stories get to her head. She decides to pick up their pace to the exit.

“What is it?” Jay asks, noticing the vigor her steps.

“Nothing... I just want to get out of here. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one patrol.”

Nearing the exit, the pair can see the steps leading to the next street, in shambles like the rest of the underpass. The older woman urges Jay up the stairs and he hastily obligates. Following suit, she gives one last glance into the void of the staircase, Joss shakes her head.

The duo find a cafe’s outdoor area still displayed, and promptly crash in the cushioned chairs. They sit in tired silence for a while, collecting their emotions and wits. The night is calm, no stirring to be had.

After a few minutes the boy perks up, “You really weren’t scared?”

If she were to be honest, it wasn’t about putting any two-bit drug dealer in jail. Sure, she’d put away violent people who were too dangerous to be left perusing the streets. But this was about supporting someone into a better life. Helping a friend, she thought.

“No. I’m disappointed, though. Domieco promised me he was done bartering drugs. So much for a new leaf.”, Joss scoffs.

“I know. But we just do the best we can. Even if the others don’t meet us half way.” Jay gently expresses, reaching his hand across the table to grasp his mentor’s.

Sighing, she gives her ally’s hand a little squeeze. “Are you alright, though? I’m sorry I dragged you down there.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be okay. But we’re sleeping with all the lights on for a while.” Jay retorts, doling out a knowing look to Joss.

“Heh. Right, right.”

Remaining in their spots for a bit longer before a passing vehicle catches their eye. Not so much the car as the person behind the wheel. Closely observing them, the vigilante’s eyes shoot open with fury. Abruptly rising from her chair, Joss runs after it.

“Hey!” Joss roars, bolting in front of the black SUV crossing the intersection. The car screeches to a halt, only to have the livid woman strike it with a loud thud.

Throwing open the driver door, a lanky bearded man, dressed in a simple black and white suit approaches her.

“What the hell are you doing-?!”, Joss continues her rant. “Thanks for keeping your promise, man. Last time I stick my neck out for you.”

“What’re you talkin’ about? I haven’t been on the drug scene in weeks. I’m heading to pick up the boss.” Hands on his hips, the man arches his eyebrow. “...and why are you and the kid out here at three in the morning?”

‘Heading to pick up the boss, yeah.’

“Trying to chase down your ungrateful ass, that’s what. All the way down the northside tunnels.”

“Girl, so you’re crazy an’ stupid? Nobody sets foot in the northside of the Underground and I sure as shit didn’t, I’ll tell you that.”, he counter-grills the vigilante.

Taken aback, Joss yields. Examining the individual in front of her, questions gripping her mind.

When did he change clothes? Has it really been that long since we’ve seen each other? Where was the other guy?

Teal eyes softening, he sighs. “Look, I’m tellin’ you. I gave it up. ...I got gig as the Cavezza’s driver. I know it ain’t much better.. but I’m tryin’.”

Tilting her head slightly, Joss inches closer. “..But.. I was tailing you for the last two hours. I saw you and Landa dip down into the Cedar Street entrance.”

Criminal and criminal alike share a crushing silence, thoughts plastered on their confused and skeptical faces. Concern now etching the man’s features.

Were you?

After a moment of shuffling the evidence through her mind, Joss accepts the man wasn’t lying.. and comes to a realization.

“Aw, hell no! Nope, nope, nope!” Joss throws her hands up in terrified defiance.

“See! I told you! Now there could be some shadowy version of us running around! I’m going home-home.”

[talldarkandroguesome]

8th of Sun’s Height, Turdas

I spent the day exploring the city of Daggerfall.

Quite the bustling city, as one would expect of the capital of the Covenant. The sea breeze was all that kept the day from feeling oppressively hot.

I spent most of my time down by the docks, figuring it would be a place for those who were both transient and potentially criminal. And it took me little time to discover where the thieves of the city set up shop out of sight of the law.

I spoke with a few, they were more eager than the regular citizens to talk with me. I think some were genuinely less worried about the implication of a lone Dunmer. Others, I suspect, were seeing me as an easy mark.

So I decided to use such things to my advantage, as one is want to do when there is a Daedra whispering in their mind and keeping them stranded across Tamriel from home.

I played myself the role of gambler, one who had spent everything, save the clothes off my back and was looking for mercy.

It took little time before a pair of Bretons to sympathize and as if I should be looking for assistance. I knew it was actually a nefarious invitation. Though I was unsure what they were trying to get out of me.

But I played along, hearing the purr in my Daedric companion’s voice as she continued to offer suggestions of things I could potentially do to my new Breton hosts.

When they turned, I said quietly for her to please be quiet and let me do this if she wanted me to succeed. Which did work. And one of the Bretons turned and asked if I said anything.

I said I was just commenting on how nice the apartment they brought me to.

The man nodded and went back to getting the table tidied up while his friend got the cards out for us. His friend came back and pulled out a chair for me and she asked me if I would like a drink, to which I said I would indeed.

And I pretended not to look as I watched her as she got out wooden cups and a bottle of ale. The man bringing the cards to the table and beginning some idle chatter while I noticed from the corner of my eye that there was something she was putting into one of the cups, presumably mine.

So I made sure to wipe some of my lip color on the back of my hand. Then when the drink was set down, I offered a cheers, purposely knocking my cup a bit too haphazardly into the others, spilling it over the color on my hand. I apologized and scrambled to try and clean up the spill, noticing that there was no change to the color, it was not a poison. It was likely either a sleeping or paralysis drought.

So I made sure to appear as though I was drinking, though not. Then when a distraction was available, I swapped my cup with the one for the man, knowing it would take more for him to succumb to the effects, especially since they were likely putting in an amount based off my body and he was a rather muscular large man.

I also played at feeling a bit tired, saying that the alcohol was making me so tired, even as we continued to play the cards.

The woman offered me their bed to lay down if I needed to rest. It was clear then that sleeping drought it clearly was. I protested for a round before yawning and looking to be physically resisting the effects.

The man said that I should not feel ashamed, that I had been through a lot already and rest would be good. I feigned continued resistance, even as I could not keep my eyes open and the man hefted me up into his arms and carried me to their bed. I let my Prince’s boon show me what sort of person he was as he laid me down upon their thin mattress. I went limp and let my breathing go deeper and more even.

Then I listened as the pair discussed how mer were just as light weight as they had expected and asked one another what to do with me.

I knew from the man that they would trick people into thinking they had done something that needed to be repaid and get those they tricked to work and earn money that goes to them. Others they would simply sell into servitude.

They began to list through some of the contacts they had and what they thought I would be best suited to.

The woman opened up my tunic and the two of them began to inspect my body. It was hard not to move at their touch and to keep my body from reacting when they began to unlace the front of my trousers as well.

The Daedra began asking me if I had let myself be taken advantage of so soon. I thought to myself how much I wished she would just leave me to do my task and she responded as though she had heard it, saying she would simply continue to watch from her vantage point.

The woman asked the man if I would not make a nice play thing for a particular lady in Camlorn, who had recently grown tired of her latest toy. While it sounded as though it might be fun to spend a short while as a fine Breton lady’s toy for a bit, I had no time for all of that. I had work to do.

I let them do their poking and prodding and waited. And waited.

Until at last, the man seemed to be tiring from the effect of the sleeping drought.

The woman asked if he was okay and he said he was tired. That got them into a bit of a spat. I could hear some sort of physical exchange as they fought about how he could possibly be so tired.

Then I heard a loud thud and some snoring. I heard her yelling at him and failing to rouse him from slumber.

I heard her approaching me and felt her beginning to tug off my trousers completely. I slit open my eyes and made out her going for my boots next. It was hard to tell if she was planning to steal my clothing, or something else.

As soon as she had turned her back, I teleported behind her and held my blade to her throat. She cursed at her partner for turning on her.

As I smiled and told her that her partner was the one on the floor, I heard the Daedra squeal with delight, like a child who just received a surprise gift. 

I told the woman not to move if she valued her life. She started to try and spin her lie about me owing money and needing to pay them back, but pressing the blade against her skin was enough to stop her speaking.

I told her to strike her partner hard in the face. She did it, but still he slumbered on. Then I had her get her partner’s belt and hand it to me. I took it and then told her to bend down to tie his laces together.

As soon as she bent forward, I brought the belt around her throat and choked her with it. She put up an awful lot of fuss, but she was a slight enough woman that, sadly for her, she could not get a good strike on me, my shades summoned to hold her limbs from flailing.

The Daedra congratulated me and asked me what plan I had for the man. I told her that he was going to look as though he had gotten wounded in the struggle and bled out afterwards.

I went to their kitchen and got out a knife. I gave him a slash across the cheek to see if he would stir. He did not. It was a strong formula indeed that had been put in my cup.

I took the dead woman’s hand and  wrapped it round the handle, then held her wrist from below and jabbed the man in his stomach, aiming for vital organs. And I twisted the blade, pulling it out in a wide slash downward.

Then I let the knife clatter to the floor and laid her body back down near to it.

Finally, I went and retrieved my trousers and got dressed, found the key to the door, and took the third cup and placed it back into their cabinet so that it would only look as though two people had been there.

As I was heading out, I heard the man began to cry out as he felt the pain and then noticed the wound.

He saw me and asked what had happened. I told him to stay away after he had strangled his partner for stabbing him. Saying I was going to get the guard.

Even though he was shaking and seemed to be in a panic, he asked me not to get the guard, but rather, to seek out a medic. I told him I would send him one and not to move, so that he did not bleed out. He was looking for something to cover the wound with, but I told him that he needed to stay as still as possible and to close his eyes and concentrate on his breathing and relaxation so that he would bleed slower.

He sat back, crying out as he did and I walked him through a few deep breaths.

Then I walked out of the apartment, locked the door, then wedged a bit of stone into the door lock, so that it would be more difficult for anyone to unlock it if they tried.

The Daedra was waiting for me just down the street and she took my arm as though we were bosom companions. She congratulated me on the deception, but asked me about finishing off the man and why I had not simply slain both of them and been done with it.

I explained to her that I was in a hostile place and that I would be a likely target. I needed to make sure that if the law were to get involved, they have all the signs point to a lovers squabble, turned deadly. And since only those outside the law had seen me in their presence, the chances are, they would not come forward to say what they had seen of me.

The Daedra took this in and said that I was surprisingly detailed in my weaving of a web of deceit for a mortal.

I thanked her for the compliment and then asked if I had done enough to satisfy her.

She said that I had. For now. And that she would be back soon enough to check on me.

I asked if I could go home.

With a laugh, I felt the world spin and then suddenly, I was just outside of the wall to my manor.

I walked in and ignored the questions of my servants and headed immediately to my room, shutting the door behind me.

Now I shall sleep and deal with the questions in the morning.

[kbstories]

Ontological

on·to·log·i·cal (adj.) Existing as such; metaphysical.

Eustass Kidd and Killer, during and afterwards.

(Or: Alliances are made. Killer and Zoro take care of some unfinished business.)

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Violence (and SMILE), Worst Gen Reunion Pre-Party

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. No additional warnings apply. Read Chapter 4 here.

***

The Kidd Pirates arrive as one: Kidd up front, grim-faced and radiating Haki, with Killer to his right and Heat to his left and Wire trailing behind, eyes on their backs. Ahead, a handful of houses cluster around the slow trickle of a stream and cherry trees that dot the ground in gentle patterns. Everything about it whispers sweet promises of harmony, of a place to rest their weary heads and heal wounds barely starting to scar.

Kidd doesn’t trust any of it one fucking bit.

People are gathered in a loose group, conversations hushed and hard to make out from afar. A Marine’s wet dream, really, with how many bounties Kidd recognizes at a glance – or their worst nightmare, given Monkey D. Luffy is one of them.

That straw-hatted head turns and keeps turning into an angle that would snap any neck not made of rubber. A smile, bright with surprise.

“Oh? Spikey! And Spikey’s friend!”

Completely unaffected by the wave of tangible will Kidd pushes on them all, and after days of sharing a prison cell it just makes Kidd’s mouth tug into a grin. “Strawhat.”

(Through his mask Killer mutters, “Spikey’s friend”, like he’s contemplating if he likes it or not. Not that Strawhat would change a thing about it either way.)

Both Strawhat’s and Trafalgar’s crews are there, at least partially. Kidd spots the polar bear and those two idiots staring right at him – one of which jumps to his feet and runs inside – while that blonde guy with the kicks and Zoro flank their captain with little subtlety.

So they’re alive after all. Seems like Strawhat is not the only one capable of surviving an encounter with Kaido.

Still, Kidd isn’t here for handshakes and kisses. This is business and the way Strawhat’s expression turns a little pensive proves the brat has some braincells rattling in the attic, dusty as it must be up there.

“Where’s Trafalgar? We gotta talk.”

Strawhat just groans. “Another meeting? It’s lunch time! Sanji, you promised lunch.”

“That I did”, says Blondie around a mouthful of smoke. He nods at Kidd, curly brow raised. “You. Spikey. Any of you got a problem with eel? We’re having unagi.”

One more annoying than the other. Heat oohs behind Kidd, however, quiet enough it stays between them. That una-stuff must be good, then.

Kidd gives Killer a look; Killer tilts his head. Your choice. Kidd sighs.

“Fine, whatever. Hurry it up, we’re not staying.”

“Hey!”, the bear pipes up from the sidelines. The very moment Kidd’s eyes land on him, his frowned ferocity turns bashful and he looks to his feet, ears folded. “Sorry, um. I think we should wait for Captain.”

Strawhat makes an indistinct noise around the something-on-a-skewer he just shoved in his mouth. Once done, he uses the stick to point in Kidd’s general direction. “Nah, they’re okay. Right, Spikey?”

Before Kidd can utter the fuck you already on his lips, the swordsman to Strawhat’s right hums. “Luffy”, Zoro murmurs in that serious voice of his, one that demands to be heard without much effort. “Bepo’s right.”

And his gaze is focused on Killer, not Kidd, an arm casually coming to rest on his swords – there’s a similar tension in the way Killer holds himself, on his guard despite the lack of aggression in the air. (Breathing shallowly like he does when he’s trying to maintain the little control he has these days, like it’s better to go without altogether than laugh in company like this.)

Kidd glares. The metal around him starts to tremble.

“Eustass.”

Only one person says his name like that. The snarl on Kidd’s lips doesn’t go anywhere, especially with the indifferent glance Trafalgar Law acknowledges him with as he steps out of the shadows. All disgruntled like Kidd disturbed his beauty sleep or crashed a particularly boring match of chess or… any other thing a guy with that long a stick up his ass might do in his downtime.

 Eugh, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

“Trafalgar. Sure took your sweet time.”

The guy’s eyes narrow a little; Kidd smirks. The gears are already in motion under that ridiculously fluffy hat of his and well, Kidd did promise Killer he’d be civil. For the most part.

“You’re the one trespassing.” Trafalgar’s voice is all smooth disdain, no nonsense. “What do you want?”

Straight to the point. There are some qualities to be appreciated about him, arrogant prick or not. Kidd spits on the ground.

“Alright, listen up. Strawhat, you too.”

Strawhat actually does, giving him a curious look over the bowl of sauce-drenched rice he’s currently tearing into. Lunch time, right. Trafalgar merely blinks, unimpressed.

Rolling his shoulders, Kidd lets himself feel the ache of metal on scars, familiar, anchoring him in his body. The presence of his crew around him settles his senses, solid and always there in the periphery.

For days he’s breathed around the wrath in his lungs, spoken every word with the thrumming of his pulse in his throat. When Kidd smiles, it’s with lips red as blood and teeth bared like fangs.

There was a decision to make, and Kidd has made it.

“That war of yours? We want in.”

*

Later, much later, Kidd turns his back and Killer follows.

Heat and Wire are long gone, sent back to let the others know and prepare the Punk for battle. There’s much to be done still and little time to do it – Kidd thinks of the hell that will rain upon those who dared cross them and knows it will be worth it. This time, there will be no retreat. No mercy. Whatever the outcome, be it victory or death, it will be painted in shades of red.

Tomorrow, they sail for Onigashima.

Killer is next to him until he isn’t. Kidd blinks, stops, glances over his shoulder to see Killer's hand fall to the swords at his side.

“You.”

Amidst the sprawling fields between them and the hideout stands Zoro. The wind makes the grass surge like waves; it touches upon a face that has lost the guise of civility to reveal the demon underneath. This isn’t happening, shoots through Kidd’s mind, not again, and he growls as Haki gathers within him, ready to burst–

“Wait.”

Killer’s hand is on his chest, big and strong over the war drum of Kidd’s heart. “Wait”, Killer repeats and the calm of his voice cracks apart on a chuckle. Kidd’s gaze moves from the tension in Killer’s arm to Zoro’s eye and the recognition that sparks there.

Kidd remembers: Cuts across Killer’s chest, overlapping, all three of them deep and guaranteed to scar. Killer’s tightlipped silence over who did it, who hurt him–

“Come closer and I’ll tear you apart”, a venomous hiss more than strained with how hard Kidd’s jaw is clenched but he listens to Killer, always has when Killer’s this serious about something.

All Zoro does is stare at Killer’s mask, a gaze sharp enough to pierce layers of paint and welded metal. He says: “Those swords aren’t yours to wield. You should give them back.”

Killer huffs out an amused breath and for once, it’s genuine. “It can’t be helped. Someone took my scythes.”

An amusement that Zoro seems to share with the slightest uptilt of his mouth, “Is that so”, idle yet the threat in his stance goes nowhere. “What was it again? ‘Don’t talk down to the shogun’… or something along those lines.”

Killer’s fingers clench where they’re tangled in Kidd’s shirt. Zoro looks from that up to Kidd, smile growing all the more lethal.

“You didn’t tell him?”

Worded like a question when it’s not even close to one, and Kidd tries not to bristle, he really does. As if Zoro knows shit about anything, about them, about the living nightmare Killer’s been stuck in since–

Half a step and Killer shifts between them, sword half-way out of its sheath. Hisses, “Leave him out of this”, and Killer laughs despite the anger begging to be heard in there somewhere.

“Orochi means nothing to me. Nothing. He’ll die a dog’s death just like the rest of them.”

Kidd might not get what the hell they’re going on about but there’s real hurt in it, too, and suddenly all he wants is for Zoro to laugh. To mock Killer so Kidd can make good on the promise he gave his partner the day they went to sea and slaughter him like all the bastards that came before him.

Then… Zoro hums and that aura is gone, snuffed out with a blink and a scratch to bright green hair. “I kept the scythes, y’know. Would be a waste not to let them taste a fair battle.”

Killer doesn’t relax as much as he exhales a tired sigh. His sword is sheathed; a moment later his hold on Kidd drops and Kidd almost stumbles, only now realizing how hard he was pushing against the immovable line of Killer’s arm.

With steady hands, Killer unties the two shortswords from his waist and crosses the distance to hand them over. “A bit far to go for some stolen blades”, Killer tells him, an edge of annoyance there that Zoro shrugs off casually.

Kidd watches the interaction with narrow-eyed focus, waiting for the step out of line that never comes. Zoro meets his gaze only briefly, the eyebrow over his blind eye twitching upwards. As cocky and infuriating as his captain, Kidd’s mouth opens before he can stop himself.

“Try a stunt like that again and you’re dead, Pirate Hunter.”

The swordsman smirks, “I’ll take my chances”, before he turns to leave. Damn-near strolling back to his crew with a jaw-cracking yawn, and Kidd grinds his teeth and lets him.

Fucking Strawhats. 

Yet Killer is still staring after him, still hesitating. “The girl”, he calls after Zoro. “The one who laughed. Is she alive?”

Zoro stops, glances over his shoulder, a little puzzled. “Toko? Yeah, she’s safe.” A pause. “They executed her father. A good man.”

Killer’s head lowers. “What a shame”, he agrees, too quiet for the other to understand him. Zoro walks on and so does Killer, a step or two ahead before he tilts his mask at Kidd, waiting.

“You coming, Captain?”

Kidd banishes all thoughts of their rivals – allies, for now – out of his head and joins Killer.

And Kidd stays close, perhaps too close; their hands brush every few steps. With a fond huff, Killer’s fingers hook around Kidd’s and doesn't let go all the way to the Punk.

>>Chapter 4.

[psychadelicrose]

Day 1: Carefree

Written for @mastar-week 2020.

A self indulgent modern zombie!au for day one.

“The world is ending, but he just wants to keep her safe.”

Death is a presence. His friend had always admired Their tranquility. She believed that you could leave this world silently, but not lonely— that Death breathed with you. It spoke of comfort, that the balance of order is absolute. 

But death walked, and Maka had said to him, “It’s wrong.”

He called them deadheads. Others said zombies, or walkers, or wraiths (Maka had always shivered at that last one), but he preferred his own personal choice. The streets are littered with them, and humans have been pushed out of the cities and into the wild. Sick of breathing rotten air, he thought.

He knew of camps in the forest (they burn). He’s been told of the plains, where walls guard a stronghold (they fall). They hear about the government, with safe houses in Washington (they don’t exist).

For now, they’re holed up in some garage. It used to be a repair shop, but it's long been stripped bare. Black Star held his shotgun loosely in his lap, though always listened closely to whatever walked at night. With his legs stretched out, he sat with his back against the most secure wall. It wasn’t a restful position, but it wasn’t time for him to sleep, anyway.

Beside him, Maka slept lightly. She laid out on her side, victim to the hard floor, but grateful for any shelter. Her back was pressed to his right leg. Always touching, always together. He insisted they sleep in shifts to keep each other safe. He knew that Maka disliked the setup, but lately he’s been hard to sway.

Black Star stared at his best friend, thinking of how he hasn’t seen her carefree in months. The harsh lines disappear when she’s sleeping, however, and for this he’s grateful. All he can do is remember her lopsided smile, the one that comes out when she’s truly happy. Only one dimple would appear, and she often chided that it was uneven, but he wouldn’t change it for anything.

Something thumped outside the shop and Black Star stiffened. His shotgun must have made a sound, because Maka was stirring a second later.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was immediately quick, but he wished it was groggy and soft, unbothered.

He listened for more, dreading the possibility of a break in. The thought of a horde passing through had his stomach going up in roils, but when nothing followed, he relaxed against the wall.

“Nothin’. Go back to sleep.” Maka kept her head twisted to look at him, a new expression he can’t quite pin, but one that makes him uncomfortable nonetheless.

“Don’t do that,” she whispered to him.

“Do what?” he asked innocently, closing his eyes as though to fake nonchalance.

“Lie to me just so you can feel like you’re protecting me.”

He sucked in a breath, his thought process halted by her words. Instinctively, his jaw locked and he felt himself closing off. It clawed at something raw in his chest, a forbidden secret that didn’t want to come out. The silence of their shelter was perfect for her insistence because nothing could drown it out.

“You’re imagining things,” he told her. Maka’s stare didn’t waver from her place beside him. He refused to look back, but he knew his comment would only spurn her further.

She didn’t say anything more after that, but she did press her back closer to him, so he was fine with that. She adjusted her backpack to better pillow her head and laid back down. It was a minute or so until she talked again.

“You can lay with me, you know.” She spoke in a low tone, as if she was pouting.

“Yeah. Don’t want to.” He both felt and heard her huff from beside him, a sharp exhale that told him just how displeased she was. She sat up, heated and ready for an outburst, but just as it seemed she would turn to face him, she stopped. Her back was to him and her legs were still splayed on the floor, but now she was sitting up with her palms supporting her on the concrete. He could tell she was hesitating. It was fine, because he wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“I told you to--” Her head swiveled with ease. There was no force, no excessive show. She turned, and he shut up. Twin green bore into him, looking justified in their ire, and he was at a loss with how to handle the sadness in her eyes. Near monotone, she told him,

“Don’t tell me what to do.” With that, she pushed her bag away and turned towards him. Maka didn’t care for his protests when she lifted the gun from his lap and expertly handled it to the floor. With purpose, she swung her right leg over both of his so she could sit in his lap. It was a quiet affair, in which she seated herself silently and didn’t allow for objections. She wanted him to look at her.

When she was comfortable, Black Star could only try his best to deflect. She was staring at him again, no respite in those forest depths, and her shoulders weren’t strong, they were drooped. They caved forward to show how tired she was.

“You’re wearing yourself out,” she told him. It dropped like a stone in the empty shop, and he averted his eyes.

“Still dunno what you mean.”

Like a whip, Maka’s eyes flashed to something fiery and she fisted the front of his shirt. “You do know what I mean, stop acting stupid.” His own bullheaded visage came to the front at her quick words, feeling the sting and challenge they brought. His face twisted up into something stubborn, but he kept quiet.

“You keep…” she started. Her eyebrows bunched up, like she was unsure of how to piece together her thoughts. She struggled to find the words. “You keep putting yourself in the way, like you don’t trust me, or like I’m going to break. I’ve had enough.”

She is not untrustworthy and she is not fragile, this he knew. He knew, and yet he couldn’t go more than a few minutes with her out of his sight. It bothered him to think of sleeping and leaving her— but that’s just it, isn’t it? She could protect herself, but he was at odds with the desperation he felt. Black Star remained silent, and Maka did not budge.

“It’s just like you to take on the brunt and leave me behind.”

Shocked, Black Star looked up only to see the defeat on her face. Her chin was canted up, and she looked so disappointed.

He insisted, “I’m not leaving you behind. I don’t even know how to do that!”

“Yes, you are!” Her voice rose past a comfortable point and he shushed her. Somewhere along the line, his hands found her waist. “Don’t screw with me, you don’t want me doing anything that puts me in the way!”

“I’m just trying to keep us safe, Maks,” he said with composure. But the more he brushed her off, the more determined she became. It didn’t matter, though, because horrors rushed like rain before him. He remembered the river incident, and when he lost her in the apartments, and the time they were boxed in a convenient store. They all flash in front of him like a screaming reminder.

“‘There’s not an ‘us’ when you put it all on your shoulders,” she told him. “See? You’re still thinking of me in danger, but it’s never about you. What, do you not need it?” Her accusatory tone rubbed him wrong, but he couldn’t deny what she was saying.

“We’re alive, aren’t we?” he snapped, pointedly ignoring her question. Immediately, she was affronted, but listened to him speak. “I don’t know why it’s such an issue if we’re both still here.”

Maka took in another breath and fixed him with her steely eyes. In the next moment, she said quieter, “I get that you want to protect us—“ His nostrils flared and before he could interrupt she continued. “—but I’ve survived just as long as you have.”

They were two halves of a whole, equally as fierce as they were stubborn. He couldn’t name a person with whom he was more equally matched. They were deadlocked, both feeling the effects of their feelings, but Maka always had more to say.

“You can rely on me, too,” she told him. Black Star hung his head.

“I can do more than the both of us,” he maintained.

“That’s your ego talking, but what happens when you’re so tired you make the wrong call?” She tugged his shirt for emphasis. “What will you do when you’re so preoccupied with me, that you hurt yourself?”

“That won’t happen,” he tried.

“You don’t know that!” Maka looked at him with a desperate expression that felt shared. Unexpectedly, she started shifting like she was going to rise. “I should have known you weren’t going to listen—“ She pushed at his chest and he felt it too keenly to ignore.

Black Star moved on instinct. Just as Maka was moving back and away, he leaned forward so that he could bring her back to him.

“Stop it,” he chided. She responded with rejecting shoves, though none were particularly convincing. “Stop it,” he finally insisted. He brought her back to his chest and held her securely around the waist.

“Why?” she muffled into his chest. She was breathing a little more heavily now, and so he rubbed an idle hand up and down her back. His own nerves were still sizzling and teeming with words unsaid, worries left unchecked, but he could give her this. He knows she’d hate him if he didn’t listen.

He didn’t answer, and she didn’t press again, only continued to let him hold her. A moment of peace passed between them, ire dying down to something more manageable.

“I forgot how good you were at arguing,” he said after a while. It was an olive branch. She wiggled something impatient against him, but he wasn’t content with letting her go just yet.

“That’s something you forget?” she grumbled into his shoulder. His comforts appeased her, and if one of his hands reached up to soothe the back of her neck, neither of them said anything about it.

“What do you want me to do?” he finally asked. He sighed heavily, feeling a mountain’s worth of exhaustion weigh on him in the aftermath.

Maka sniffed once, and insisted, “Stop leaving me to sleep alone. I don’t like it, and you always lie when you say you’re going to wake me up.” Her own hands fiddled with his clothes, worrying the fabric between her fingers and picking at stray threads.

Black Star’s hand drifted father up her neck until it reached the hair on the back of her neck. Twin tails still adorned her head, and the hair ties she had left were treasures she guarded closely. He made a mental note to find her more the next time they hit up a store.

“I guess I can do that,” he conceded. Gently, Maka picked her head back up and lended him her vulnerable expression.

“Really?” she asked. His only answer was to lean his head back against the wall and nod, eyes closed in defeat. Maka’s own head rolled forward in relief, slowly coming to lay on his chest again.

“I’m so tired,” she told him. He knew that she meant in more ways than one. His quiet, “Yeah,” was all the agreement she wanted.

“You need to lean on me so you can be more carefree, dummy,” Maka whispered. Caught off guard by the phrase, he could only huff the smallest laugh. He smiled something small and knowing against the crown of her head.

“I’ll take you up on that, then.”

It was easy to maneuver both of them back down to the floor. They laid on their sides, with him behind her and pillowing her head with his arm. His spare was left to drape warmly over her middle, and she was more than happy to curl into the crook of his body. 

Maka released a grounding sigh. It was full bodied and teeming with respite, an untapped well of rest. “You’re sleeping, right?” she asked. His fingers, ever coaxing, slid under her bangs. Practiced, he lets his hand cover her eyes like a blanket. Her own fingers reached up to grab his wrist. It reminded him of soft toys, things held for security. 

“Yeah,” he promised.

He closed his eyes.

[dearosamu]

DESPERADO - EVLAVEIA

SYPNOSIS: she, a dancer with personified problems all the while more that intrigues osamu dazai who came into her life amidst the chaos that is [name] [last name].

WARNING/S: none

END.

"are you positively sure?"

"for the love of - jesus, dazai, yes!" [name] screeches exasperatedly at her phone. he's been constantly interrogating her of the decision of living with him. in which, she seems to no longer have any qualms of doing so. it was annoying having being spammed by various texts and missed calls first thing in the morning.

"listen, we'll meet you soon, alright? now stop bombarding my phone, you big dummy." dazai whines at her words, but she hung up before he could say another word. he was such a handful.

yumeno hurriedly rushes past down their old hallway, own luggage rolling behind him as he held marga on one hand. the female takes one last look around her small, old apartment, taking in the near empty space of what she previously called her home.

this house contained lots of memories. to struggles, to few happy moments she had with yumeno. to the mere memory of having lived here with yumeno's father.  even so, she probably won't miss it. the dull colors of the wallpaper feels unimaginative with life. it felt as if there was a somber air lingering around the place, recollection of old wounds somehow fresh in the mind.

things have taken a drastic turn once dazai and [name] have talked it out. on a much more deep and personal level. they've helped each other come in tune with their feelings more. they've settled on about it like adults. it was a good change, she thinks. at an ever so agonizing pace, she's begun to develop strong feelings for him. romantic feelings - as much as she tries to deny it.  still, upon learning they'd have a better home to live in, yumeno was ecstatic. it appears she wasn't the only one who felt an extensive amount of adoration for dazai. in yumeno's case, a possible father figure in place of the years he grew up without one.

ever the impatient of the two, dazai had convinced oda of lending her his chauffer to aid them with their luggage and transport - or in dazai's words, the operation of baby birds leaving the bird nest (quite silly and unnecessary, really). thankfully, oda had much obliged, seeing as how dazai really cared for the woman who now resides in his home.

dazai could be seen pacing back and forth beyond the gates of his. he was obviously tense yet very much impatient. yumeno ran into his arms as soon as the car was parked. a small but genuine smile curled up from the corners of [name]'s lips, the adorable sight in front of her sending a familiar feeling of warmth through her heart.

as yumeno departed from dazai, - who now speed-walked into his new house - [name] came up to him, greeting the male with a small kiss to the cheek. he takes her suitcase from her as he tries to not let it fluster him, choosing to wrap a free arm around her shoulders to lead her into their home.

"okay, so yumeno has his own room over there. you can choose any room that you'd like though." he plops the suitcase near the couch.

"does your room count too?" [name] giggles. dazai nearly choked on his own spit.

"i-if that's what you want, then sure."

the female once again cracks a wide grin, hunching over to muffle her chortles. "oh my god, stop-"

"stop what?"

"being such a baby. you're acting like a teenager with a crush," she snorts. dazai dismisses her comment, offering a lopsided smile.

"whatever helps you sleep at night, [name]."

"you can leave anything that involves affection with me instead. you don't have to force yourself to act different if you don't want to," she chuckles. "just be yourself around me."

"but i want to spoil you," dazai pouts. after countless times of being rejected from a while ago, he wanted to do more for her. he was deprived of love and want. he wants to be selfish with her, if that wasn't obvious enough.

"and you will get as many chances as you want. for real this time," she coughs as the brunette seemed to beam at her statement. he had a total switch for his little mood swings - something she personally found funny and stupid in a weird way. [name] moves to sit on the couch, nestling in comfortably in the spacey plush texture of the cushions.

dazai felt semi-giddy on the inside. she looked quite adorable sprawled out on the burgundy colored couch with a relaxed expression adorning her features. he wanted to give himself a pat on the back for thinking up and suggesting that she should live with him. not only was he going to be surrounded by the presence of two people he cared most about, he gets to see more of [name]. more of her vulnerable and soft side - the side he didn't think he'd be able to see.

and most of all, he'd be surrounded in more of her endearment.

yumeno came running back from his own room, a wide smile on his face as he rushed into dazai face first into the taller's abdomen. the former looks up to dazai, hands still having a tight grip on him as he hugged his legs. "thank you so much for my new room, osa-chan!"

"do you like it, q-chan?"

yumeno hums in approval. "mhm! i love it!" he released his hold on the brunette, diving face first into the arms of the woman situated on the couch. "hey, kaa-san, if we live together with osa-chan, does that make him my new dad?"

dazai stares at the child in [name]'s arms with wide eyes. the female sputters at yumeno's words, telling him to unpack his things back in his room. he giggles and wordlessly returns to his own room, leaving the two adults again in the living room.

"sorry if that bothered you. it's partially my fault yumeno let that slip," she scratched her cheek, avoiding his gaze.

dazai thinks nothing of it, silently chuckling to himself. "new dad, huh? it didn't exactly bother me. it's just surprising. i didn't really think of myself as a good father figure, much less have someone call me a dad."

"really? not even daddy?" she laughs as dazai's cheeks flushed with color, avoiding his hand that came up to flick her forehead. "kidding! don't flick my forehead - it gets so red and it's so annoying! - aH STOP!" she yelped as dazai lunges at her on the couch, wrestling with one another like children. nimble fingers tickle her sides, making her break into giggles as she pathetically slaps his arms to make him stop. after a while, he just laid on top of her, nuzzling in her comforting warmth, inhaling her sweet scent. this was nice, he thought. [name] gave up on her attempts of pushing him off, raising a hand to run her fingers through his soft, chocolate locks of hair.

it was a feeling like no other for him; to be able to dwell and mold into her body to his like there wasn't a problem in the world - to have his gaze fixated on her soul, painting a picturesque image of forever to capture her ever so captivating beauty. dazai's heart flutters with every fleeting moment. the serene silence comforting as he listens to her steady heartbeat. intimacy isn't just sex. intimacy is this. intimacy is her. to elicit the vulnerable-like state of him where he doesn't have his guard up for once is relaxing. it allows him to take a breather.

she allows him to let go of that facade he's kept up for so long.

"marry me," he mutters, voice muffled as his head was buried in soft material of clothing. her hand stills on his head, grip gentle as she breathes in slowly. she felt her heart beat faster. his words igniting a feeling of tenderness and bewilderment in the female. maybe even a bit of excitement.

"you want to what?"

"i want to marry you," dazai doesn't look up at her, still choosing to hide his face on her chest. it wasn't that he was anxious for her answer, he just didn't want her to see the expression he had. he felt a mixture of embarrassment and anxiety - maybe even a bit of hope. "let me marry you someday."

[name] was still silent. dazai stiffens against her, dreading on what her answer may be. was he going too fast? maybe he picked the wrong time to say it. fuck! he's such an idiot―

"you're asking me to marry you like this?" the sound of her giggle breaks him out of his idle thinking of doubt.

"do you not want me to?"

"i never said anything like that," she patted his arm as a way of saying to move, shifting into a sitting position. they both sat cross-legged on the couch, facing one another with stares of longing and apprehension. taking a hold of both of dazai's slender, calloused hands, rubbing circles on his knuckles as some way to calm his heart - more so like to calm her own.

"wanna know something?"

"what is it?"

"i love you, osamu." she leans in close to give him a small peck near the corner of his right eye, her soft, plump lips against smooth, vanilla-like skin. the pale complexion under the brunettes gaze blossoms with a tint of pink. silence surrounds them again, save for the rapid thumping of their hearts that ached in blissful pain against their chests. it felt like their hearts were about to explode from the sheer euphoria.

"really?"

the female gives a firm nod of affirmation, smiling wide. "i really do and besides," she crawls over to his lap, now burying her face on the soft material of his clothes. he felt so warm. he felt like a safe-haven in spite of the loathsome state of the world. dazai takes a hold of one of hands, laying small kisses on her palms as she continued.

"you shouldn't be nervous. i'll be with you on every step of the way."

"i couldn't have asked for much more."

he wouldn't change this for anything less.

[fc5holidayexchange]

Be Still

FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 FIC

‘Be Still’

Deputy Rook/Joseph Seed, Fem!Reader/Joseph Seed

On a night where Rook is injured, afraid, and cold, she finds solace in someone that she knows will keep her safe.

for: @another-bryk-in-the-wall

“Happy Holidays! You always bless everyone with that g o o d Greg content, so here’s me attempting to bless you with some good Joseph content!”

Everywhere she looked, there were butterflies flitting about. Their wings pumped erratically, carrying them through the air as they flew in circles around Rook’s head. In any other circumstances, she would call it pretty. She might even sit down in the dried grass and catch her breath as she watched the insects float around her. But right now, she couldn’t afford the luxury to sit in the middle of a field and take in her surroundings, or even stop to rest. She was hurt, cold, and terrified; she needed to get someplace safe as soon as possible. Rook had been debating hot-wiring a car, in fact she’d thought about it multiple times as the wind whipped against her skin, giving her a chill that ran deep to her bones. With the amount of butterflies and green haze clouding her vision, Rook knew she was more liable to get into an accident than safety with the amount of Bliss she’d been exposed to. So instead of borrowing an idle car from one of the many citizens of Hope County, she had just started walking.

It wasn’t until a small group of cultists had seen her, thankfully it was only about three or four, that Rook started to doubt her decision. 

“Catch the sinner!” One of the men hollered as Rook went from a slow, lame walk to a full-fledged sprint in seconds. Her legs flared with pain each time her boots hit the pavement but she had her sights set on a fallen log and was determined to make it to cover, no matter how much pain she was in.

Rook grunted as she dove behind the log just as shots started ringing out into what used to be a quiet night. She gripped her shoulder she could feel little grits of dirt entering a gash she’d acquired earlier on in the night, but she kept her back flat against the log so that she was protected by the rotting wood. 

Rook’s fingers fumbled over the clasp that normally kept her pistol holstered in place, but right now, as she struggled to undo the contraption, she felt like it was keeping her out. It was starting to frustrate her, and she couldn’t help but snort at the memory of John telling her that her sin was Wrath.

Once she had the pistol free, she clicked the safety off and poked her head out before firing off a few shots, hitting one of the Peggies in the arm, shoulder, then finally in his chest. One of the cultists’ shots landed near her elbow in the fallen trunk, so Rook quickly took cover again to regain her composure. Her heart was beating a mile a minute and she kept blinking to cry and clear the haze that seemed to be suffocating her. 

Under the effects of the Bliss, her aim was slightly off and she needed to compensate for it, but because everything was swaying and sparkling it was a challenge to determine how much compensation was needed. 

Rook closed her eyes, took a deep breath or two, then lifted herself back over the log to fire her gun once more. She tried not to think about the rocks digging into the cuts on her legs, the wood causing her shirt to scrape against the scratches and lacerations on her arms. She tried not to think about how her body ached with pain and exhaustion, longing for the soft comfort of a mattress, even if it was a makeshift one of blankets.

It took a few more tries of coming in and out of cover to finally finish off the three remaining cultists, but once they lay dead near their truck, the deputy gave herself a moment to sit and rest against the log she was hiding behind. From where she sat she could hear the Project’s music playing from the truck, and it was an eerie sound in the dead of the night when nothing else but the wind and rustling trees could be heard.

Before she decided it was safe enough to start moving again, Rook made sure to listen out for any more approaching vehicles or search parties. That was one of the more interesting aspects of the cult. When they sent out groups of Peggies to look for civilians wandering the land or missing members of the cult, they called themselves search parties. Searching for either poor unfortunate souls to bring into their fold or fellow friends either civilians or the deputy herself had put down.

From then on, the deputy moved whenever she determined it safe, making sure to avoid any street lamps or patches of light in general, main roads, and any other places where she was likely to bump into members of Eden’s Gate. She snuck through tall patches of grass, hid behind broken down vehicles, climbed into trees, or even laid down on the pavement acting as another casualty in the Seed family’s Holy War against Hope County.

After a while, her feet had started to carry themselves, sneaking around to keep their owner out of harm’s way as Rook made her way through the Henbane River and closer to somewhere very familiar to her. It wasn’t until she was leaning against a black wire fence with her fingers curled into the material that she realized where she’d led herself. Where in one of her biggest moments of fear, her mind thought she would find solace of some sort.

Rook followed the perimeter of the fence until she found the hole that she normally snuck through when she wanted to get into the compound undetected and couldn’t arrive by means of the water. Since it was so late, there wasn’t really anyone out and about on the compound. Normally there’d be guards as there was in the daytime, but if anyone wanted to try and take the compound in the dead of the night and risk waking all the people that resided there, you were considered dead the moment your foot crossed the fence line.

Rook didn’t bother creeping through the area once she was far enough inside. If anyone woke up to her presence they would just go fetch Joseph anyways, the cultists wouldn’t risk starting a fight so close to their homes and families. In the end, that’s one of the things the cult seemed to value above all: family.

Her boots crunched against the gravel, one of her shoes slightly dragging through the small rocks because now that the adrenaline had worn off, her body was beginning to hurt even more now. Oddly enough, it triggered an old memory of when she’d gone camping with some friends. The sound of her footsteps in the gravel was similar to that of when she’d need to slip away from the campsite to use the campground restrooms. She’d shuffle into her flip flops and zip up the tent, then her shoes would disturb the gravel as she walked too and from her campsite. That memory seemed to distant and like such a luxury compared to how things are now.

Rook found herself standing in front of two wooden doors and she raised her fist against them. Not so loud that she’d wake every single person within the compound, but loud enough to wake the person inside of it if he was indeed asleep.

The door swung open and the man standing in front of her was holding a candle holder, the small flame sitting upon the wax being the brightest light source between the two.

“Deputy? What are you doing here?” Joseph’s voice was soft and full of concern as he took in the sight of the woman before him. As his eyes searched her, he realized her appearance answered his question. Her skin, what was visible of it, was either littered with cuts or bruises and sometimes a mixture of both. Her eyes were slightly teary, either from the wind or emotional distress he did not know. What he did know, is that she resembled an animal that had been backed into a corner one too many times and had finally fought back, but was still scared out of her mind.

“I…I didn’t know…I didn’t know where else to go.” Rook tried to hide the tremble in her voice as she shrugged, her arms coming up to wrap around her stomach while her shoulders hunched up. Normally Rook was all sarcasm and wit, but now she had shrunk into herself and for a moment Joseph hardly recognized the woman before him.

“Please, come in. Please.” Joseph held out his arm for the deputy to hold on to as he stepped backwards into the house. Without hesitation, Rook looped her arm through his and curled her fingers around his forearm, deciding that she was going to take the support he offered and use him to help keep weight off her knees.

Once he had the doors closed, he led the deputy towards the back of the church. In any other situation, she would probably be a bit more worried that she was so secluded with Joseph, but she was too tired to care. Plus the church had excellent heating, because she could feel her fingers thawing out as they walked, or maybe it was Joseph’s touch. She didn’t know and quite frankly didn’t care.

He led her to a door that was slightly hidden by the angle of the wall and a bookshelf perpendicular to the door frame. Joseph made sure the deputy was balanced on his arm before opening the door, which led to a small room. Rook didn’t know what to expect, but she wasn’t expecting such a neat little space that no doubt served as Joseph’s living quarters a majority of the time. A desk sat against one wall, a small bookshelf underneath a window, and a sofa against the wall opposite Joseph’s work desk.

He helped the deputy into the room, leading her towards the sofa with a gentle guiding arm. His skin was warm underneath her fingers and she had to admit, it was heavenly compared to the cold she’d previously been experiencing.

“I hope that this will serve for decent accommodations while you recuperate, Rook,” Joseph aided her in sitting down on the sofa, making sure she was settled before walking back over to his desk and dragging his chair closer to the sofa. “May I ask why you came here? To my church of all places, deputy?”

As she got settled, she contemplated her answer. She straightened her legs before curling them into her body, the position aching at first but eventually feeling comfortable. Rook shimmied as she tried to settle into the cushions, the fabric faintly smelling of sandalwood and citrus.

“I…I don’t know. I was walking through the Henbane and I found myself here. I needed some place to stay while I…I don’t know.” Rook curled into a ball on the sofa, but cushioned her head so that she could watch Joseph as she got comfortable. Her eyes were on him as much as his were on her, but it wasn’t the normal watchful gaze that a predator might share with its prey, but rather a gaze used for adoration.

Instead of responding to the deputy’s answer, Joseph hummed softly to himself and turned back around to work on sermons for the next week or so of mass. He only stopped when he heard the deputy clear her throat, then say his name. He turned his head to look at her, only to find her eyes half-closed and a slight smile on her face. Joseph wished it was wider than that, as he’d seen before, but he knew the deputy was in pain.

“Will you…do you mind laying with me?” Rook asked in a soft voice, one that Joseph rarely heard, but he nodded and got up from his chair before pushing it back under his desk. His bare feet were silent against the hardwood flooring, but the springs in the sofa creaked as he climbed onto it, taking his place behind the deputy. He rested his arm on top of hers, using the other one to trace gentle lines on her skin in an attempt to soothe her.

“Sleep my dear Rook, you’ve earned the rest.” Joseph’s voice was enough to lull her to sleep as she could hear him very softly singing one of the cult’s songs. Before long, Rook was fast asleep with a slight smile on her face as she snored, her fingers curled around Joseph’s arm as if she was keeping him there. “Goodnight Rook. I will always be here when you wake up.”

[thewritewolf]

Eating Habits Chapter 5: The Storm

The gang goes to a Jagged Stone concert and everybody gets a little more concerned about Marinette.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (Final)

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The roar of the crowd helped to drown out the sound of Marinette’s heart pounding in her chest. It had been ages since she had gotten to go to a concert. There had always been something going on to stop her, whether it was akuma attacks, studying, or helping at the bakery. And while she was sure there was probably something she should have been working on, what was she going to do? Tell Jagged Stone, ‘Sorry, can’t go. I’ve got some embroidery to finish a week ahead of time. I’m sure you understand.’

And Jagged probably would have too, but he’d also have been sad, and that was the last thing Marinette wanted. It would have been a poor way to repay him after he had helped Nino get his internship with his production company.

As she flashed her VIP pass to the security guards standing at the backstage, Marinette smiled. At least this wouldn’t be like attending just any old concert. Jagged Stone had made sure to give them only the best seats in the house and backstage passes besides. He always liked when she visited before the show started. Something about her being his lucky charm. If only Jagged knew the half of it…

Marinette lead the four of them through the ordered chaos that was the dimly lit backstage, straight for the source of the ordered part of the chaos.

“Hi, Penny! How are you doing?”

“Marinette, honey!” Penny wrapped her in a hug. “Now I know tonight is going to go smoothly, with you around.”

Marinette giggled. “Jagged finally get to you? Trust me, I’m not as lucky as he thinks I am.”

“Don’t confuse lucky and clumsy, sweetie,” Adrien said beside her. “You’ve got plenty of both to go around.” He kissed the back of her hand that he was holding while she huffed at him. Alya and Nino snickered behind them.

Penny smirked. An assistant rushed up and whispered something urgently in her ear. She cursed in English. “It was great to see you, but I’ve got to get back to it.” She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. “My hubby is over there if you wanted to say hello before we get started.”

“Thanks, Penny!” Marinette said to her retreating back. She guided them over in the direction Penny pointed them in, descending into the basement of the building. Once the roar of the crowd was dulled by the walls, it was easy to follow the sounds of idle strumming. It was never hard to find Jagged Stone once you were in ear range of him.

Marinette knocked on the door that had his name on it before gently pushing it open. On the other side, Jagged was checking himself out in the mirror while Fang slept on a nearby chaise. He noticed her arrival in his reflection and quickly turned around, a big grin on his face.

“Hey, love! You made it after all. And I see you brought me my tune master,” he said while fist bumping Nino. “Enjoying your day off, my dude?”

“You know it, boss man!” Nino finger gunned at him. “Decided to listen to some quality music tonight, ya know?”

Jagged chuckled. “And I bet the free seats from the little lady helped too, huh?” He looked past him to Adrien and Alya, who he quickly wrapped up in one armed hugs. “You must be the better halves, yeah?”

“Well,” Adrien said with a light blush, “I wouldn’t say that, but-”

“Hell yeah I am,” Alya grinned.

Still smiling, Jagged turned his attention to Marinette. His smile vanished, replaced by naked concern. “Woah, love. You’re looking less rock ‘n roll than usual. Are you sleeping? Maybe had a bite to eat in the last week?”

Marinette grimaced. Maybe it was to be expected - her friends had certainly been babying her recently, even if they were trying to be subtle about it. Jagged had always acted like a caring uncle to her, something that had only gotten more pronounced after Penny gave birth.

Plastering a smile on her face, she said, “Oh, you know. Uni has been pretty rough, but I’m hanging on. But I’m here to forget all that by rocking out!” She threw up metal horns and Jagged’s grin came back as he returned the gesture.

“Rockin’! But remember to take care of yourself, love. I’d like to keep my best concept artist in one piece.” He winked at her. “It’s been way groovy to see you all, but you’d better get out there if you want to be ready. I’ll make sure this performance is nothing to miss.” He strummed a power chord on his guitar.

“See ya later, boss man!”

Jagged grinned and nodded his chin at Nino as they walked away. The sound of his solo still audible through the door.

Marinette pouted as they made their way back to the concert area. It was irritating that he’d singled her out like that, but before long they were back in the crowd near its front. Being back in among the excited energy of the throng made sure that her irritation didn’t last long. They were playing some tunes to get people distracted, turning the crowd floor into a dance floor. Naturally, Adrien pulled her close as they rocked out to the music together and soon the only thing going through her head was the beat of the music.

It was pretty jarring when the placeholder music pumped out through the speakers stopped, but only for a moment as the real concert started. The experience of dead silence as Jagged Stone appeared on the stage in full Rock and Roll glory, only for the moment to suddenly break as hundreds of voices began screaming all at once… it was something that Marinette never got used to. The only problem?

Marinette was very short.

Even up in the front, it was starting to hurt her neck to stare up at the stage and peer between the few people in her way. She silently stamped her foot in frustration, plotting to find a better vantage point.

At least until Adrien caught her wrist. He motioned her towards him as he turned his back toward her and crouched down. Even without words, Marinette picked up on what he was trying to say and climbed on. While she’d certainly been in more dangerous situations before, rising up on her boyfriend’s shoulders and breaking above the crowd made her uneasy and she gripped his head to keep her balance.

She only hesitantly let go when she felt his strong hands gripping her bare thighs, an electric tingle rushing up her body at the touch. She was suddenly very glad that she’d chosen to wear shorts for this concert. Hoping to repay him a little, she ran her fingers through her wonderful boyfriend’s hair before turning her attention back to the show and her new vantage point.

The music pounding in her ears, the roar of the crowd that she could now see over, the feel of Adrien below her… it was all intoxicating. For just a few hours, she let herself not have a care in the world.

-------------------

Naturally, the cares really snuck up on her the following morning. She jolted awake a few minutes before her alarm went off, which was the least ideal time for her to wake up. In her panic she threw herself out of bed and rushed to get ready for university. If she wanted to catch up on everything she needed to do, she’d have to skip breakfast… and get greasy fast food. Even in her frantic state, she scrunched up her nose at that. The sacrifices that had to be made for art.

She burst into her living room and smelled something cooking in the kitchen. There was no wall between the two rooms, so she could easily see the source. Her thoughts came to a grinding halt when she saw Adrien laboring shirtless over the stove. As she froze, the floorboards creaked underneath her and he turned around, spatula still in hand.

“Oh!” His smile was dazzling, especially given how early it was. “Good morning, bugaboo.” His eyes swept over her hungrily. “You’re looking pawsitively stunning. Care to join me for breakfast?”

“Morning, handsome.” She crossed the space between them and snared his lips with her own, her fingers dancing across his bare chest. “And I can’t stay, I’ve got to go into class.”

His eyes were dragged downward just as his eyebrows rose. “...That so?”

Confused, she glanced down, only to let out a mortified squeak when she realized she had forgotten to put on pants. She struggled to pull her shirt down to cover herself, managing a glare when Adrien chuckled.

“You know I saw way more of you last night, right?” He waggled his eyebrows and gave her that cheshire cat grin that she had so thoroughly associated with her partner. It was hard to believe their identities had been a secret at some point. “Butt hey! If this is the latest fashion trend, then who am I to argue?”

She huffed and turned around to storm back into her room, which conveniently hid the smile she had cracked at his pun.

“Breakfast is waiting for you, sweetie!” He called after she shut her door.

After digging through her clean clothes pile, she fished out a serviceable pair of leggings and stepped back out into the kitchen. He looked her over and gave her a thumbs up. Deciding she didn’t want to waste the food Adrien had made for her, she took a seat across the table from him. His chin propped up on his hand, he watched her with an amused smile.

“Can you lock up behind you when you leave, Adrien?”

“I’m heading out at the same time you are. I’ve got a shift at the bakery today. I might be a little late today with all this excitement but…” he winked theatrically. “I’m in good with the bosses, so I think they’ll let it slide.”

She snorted. “You and your nepotism.”

“Aw, come on. I got in on talent alone! Who else would smile and bat their eyes at the customers like I do? And get them to buy a lot more pastries than they might have otherwise?”

“You’re a dork,” she said with a smile as he walked around to stand behind her.

“Your dork, maybe.” He kissed her cheek and kept walking to the refrigerator and pulled out a little lunch box like she might have had in lycee. “Anyway, I know you’re busy so I packed a lunch for you while I was at it.”

She blinked at the box. “...How long have you been awake?”

“You know I wake up early,” he said nonchalantly. “I like to see the sun rise.”

“Well… anyway, thank you. This is super helpful.”

He bowed. “I’m glad to be of service, m’lady. Are you ready to start the day?”

To her surprise, she was. It was the first time in weeks that she hadn’t felt desperate or like she was running out of time. They walked out of the apartment, hand in hand, sharing a kiss after they had to part ways outside the building. Marinette went to class with a spring in her step, excited to face the challenges that the day would bring.

-------------

“Tikki!” Marinette whined as she failed to get the stitching right again. “I hate design!”

From her vantage on the couch behind her, Tikki giggled. “No you don’t, you’re just tired and frustrated.” She floated forward and landed on Marinette’s shoulder. “I know you want to get this done, but I’m sure the person who commissioned this won’t mind if it isn’t finished by tonight. That deadline you gave was soft for a reason.”

“I know, but I can finish this tonight. If I just try a little harder...”

“It’s alright to take a break, Marinette. Maybe grab something to eat…?”

Marinette threw her hands up in frustration. “Now you’re starting to sound like Alya and Adrien!” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Tikki and pointed a ruler her. “You aren’t in league with them, are you?”

Tikki watched her and raised an eyebrow. “Well, if being on their side means talking sense…”

“Hey, I’m not a child! I’ve been taking care of myself!”

“You forgot to eat that nice lunch Adrien made you and then accidentally threw it in the garbage.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Marinette buried her face in the dress in progress. “It smelled so good… so briefly…” She sniffled and her stomach growled at the memory of the destroyed pasta.

“See? Your stomach agrees with me. Go get something to eat, Marinette.”

Irritation flared up. She was doing just fine on her own, not matter the hints they were giving her. Stupid overbearing boyfriend. Stupid overbearing best friend. Stupid overbearing kwami.

Grumbling all the while, Marinette dragged herself away from where she was working and opened her refrigerator. She was nearly brought to tears when she saw that there was an even bigger container of Arrabbiata pasta, her favorite, in the front. On it was a handwritten note by Adrien, which she read through grateful tears.

‘Missing you lots, wish I could be there to make this for you in person! I hope this is good enough! [badly drawn heart]’

She giggled at the poor sketch of a heart while hers was warmed by the gesture. While she heated up her pasta, she silently forgave Adrien. His heart was in the right place, at least. And if that meant she got more of his constantly-improving cooking… then so be it.

--------------------

A few days later, it was time for patrol.

At this point in their superhero careers, it probably wasn’t necessary. There weren’t any miraculous unaccounted for anymore and they hadn’t fought an akuma in over two years now. But somehow, it felt right. If they could keep the streets a little safer at night for the average citizen, then so be it. Even if most nights all they did was run across the rooftops, wind in their hair, the city open beneath them, and their worries left far behind them.

...Okay, so maybe the patrols were helpful, if only for their mental health. Marinette had tried to get out of a few of them to get extra sleep, but Adrien quickly realized she was just going home to work more.

Maybe it was because her thoughts were already being pulled in a dozen different directions at once. Or maybe it was because it had never gotten this bad before. But it didn’t occur to her that maybe such physical activity wasn’t best performed on an empty stomach.

Either way, she suddenly felt faint and would have collapsed to the street below if Chat Noir didn’t catch her just in time. The panicked worry in his emerald eyes was enough to pull her back fully into consciousness.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He took an extra moment to set her down somewhere relatively comfortable and out of sight. After a few minutes, he returned with a bag full of croissants.

“How’d pay for this?” She asked groggily.

He shrugged. “I threw a fistful of euros at them and hoped it was enough.” He shook his head and put a croissant into her hand. He patiently waited while she worked her way through a couple pastries. “When did you last have a proper meal?”

She was feeling better now that she had food in her, which meant that she was fully aware of the vaguely disappointed tone that had slipped into his voice.

Bashedly, she replied, “...When did you leave that pasta for me?”

He took a deep breath and sighed. “We’ll call patrol off for tonight.” He got to his feet and helped her up. “Looks like I should make you dinner more often,” he said dryly.

“...Fine, fine.” Not that she wasn’t looking forward to more of his cooking, but she didn’t like to admit she needed the help. Especially over something like feeding herself. There was no way she’d be able to talk him down after tonight.

“And remember our date for next week.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’m glad to hear it. Goodnight, lovebug. I love you.”

“I love you too, kitty.”

[laurelsofhighever]

Chapters: 45/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Chapter Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Fereldan Civil War AU, Romance, Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Summary: Something’s happened to Rosslyn.

-----------------------------------------

The dog lay with his head in Alistair’s lap, boneless from the sedative the horsemaster had given him, with only the occasional twitch of an eye as a broad hand passed soothing strokes over his ears. His wound had been treated with charcoal and merrybud oil to draw out the poison, and more oil had been rubbed along his gums so that the rich blood supply there might also be purged. Amell, the healer who had tended both Alistair and Teagan after West Roth and had travelled from South Reach with Rosslyn’s house guard, had offered hope that Cuno would recover, had murmured that if he had been smaller, or slightly longer away from medicine, the outcome might have been different. She had left only moments ago, with an apology that she couldn’t do more – venom was tricky for magical healing, because of the way it acted on the blood, she said. That left only Alistair under the canvas roof of the picket lines, curled up in enough straw that he hardly felt the cold, with one leg numb and his mind far enough away that he barely noticed anyway.

Rosslyn looked harder, sterner than he remembered, dressed formally in embroidered split skirts that matched the elegance of court attire with the practicality needed for the field, with cavalry boots and riding breeches underneath that clung to the shape of her legs. He shouldn’t have noticed. She had barely glanced at him, and when she had, the set of her eyes in her summer-tanned skin had retained all the snap of winter, the aloof cold that had set them so far apart at Aeylesbide, that spoke of worse things than mere offended pride, and that was, at least this time, entirely all his fault.

No, he reminded himself. Not mine. Eamon’s. He had thought himself angry when he confronted the arl in Orzammar, but having seen Rosslyn’s pain with his own eyes, the way she stood out of reach and contracted in around herself as if his very touch might burn, the urge to inflict that same pain on Eamon had curled tight in his fist and surged through his veins.

“At least she had you,” he muttered to the dog, and chuckled. “Although you certainly picked your time to be dramatic. I was this close to telling her everything.”

Cuno slumbered on, oblivious. His nose twitched.

Alistair smiled, his fingers idling in the loose folds of the dog’s ruff. “I can’t let it be like last time,” he confessed. “And I can’t lose her. I can’t –”

A rising tide of noise outside distracted the line of his thoughts. At first he thought the commotion must be some disagreement or excitement among the ranks, but as he listened, he recognised a tinge of alarm in the shouts, and a whisper of dread breathed across the back of his neck.

“No…”

Carefully settling the dog in the straw, and glad he hadn’t been given a chance to remove his sword, he emerged from the lines and set off towards the source of the noise. Others had been roused, too, but he ignored them. The grip on his sword hilt tightened. His pace quickened, until a distant, panicked shout broke him into a run, heart pounding, and he skidded to a stop in front of Rosslyn’s pavilion. The place blazed with light, the entryway thrown open with soldiers prowling about its insides like hounds casting for a scent.  

“Your Highness!” one of the guards cried when he was spotted.

“What happened?”

The woman, one of Rosslyn’s house guard, shifted on her feet. “Her Ladyship’s gone, Ser. Someone cut through the back of the tent wall. Looks like there was a canny right ding-dong, but they took her.”

“Where were the guards?” he snapped, already storming through to eye the evidence for himself.

“Drugged, Ser. We’ve put out the word – nobody leaves the bounds of the camp until Her Ladyship is found.”

Alistair had stopped listening. Panic rode high in his throat but he squashed the sick coil of his gut and forced his mind to focus. The back wall of the pavilion sliced; bedclothes scattered over the floor, in a trail towards Talon. The sword lay on the floor next to its stand, half out of its scabbard, as if someone had lunged for it and been interrupted.  

And then he spotted a gleam of something underneath the food of a blanket, and his heart stuttered. His dagger, the one he had given her, discarded in the middle of the fight with a congealing line of scarlet along one edge of the blade. Beneath the surge of hope it gave him to see she had kept it, his ears rang, and bile crawled up his throat.

No. No no no no no…

He grabbed a torch and strode into the dark, following the trail of blood.

-------------

“If you scream, I’ll cut that pretty throat of yours,” the assassin promised, in an accent delicate but unmistakably Orlesian.

Rosslyn snarled. “Why haven’t you already? unless you’ve realised that I’m your only insurance for getting out of here alive.” The words were slurred, a match to the unresponsive drag of her limbs, and the sweet taste in her mouth that remained from whatever paralytic powder her attacker had blown in her face.

Around them, the camp buzzed like a nest of kicked ants, bristling with stings and shouts, and yet somehow the small, slight woman at Rosslyn’s back was managing to stay out of sight, her arms pressing daggers against Rosslyn’s neck and stomach to stop her crying out, the stolen scout armour sharp through the single thin layer of her nightclothes. Feeling was returning, but she pretended otherwise, exaggerating the flail of her arms and the wobble in her legs – her captor was fast, it would take surprise and opportunity to be free of her.

The dagger at her side bit deeper.

“I suggest you be quiet, ma petite,” the assassin hissed.

“You’re the one who poisoned my dog.”

“How clever!” The assassin gave a brittle chuckle. “My employer warned me I could not touch you with that infernal animal on guard, and so I took steps to get it out of the way. Be grateful I am more used to human targets.”

Drizzle collected on Rosslyn’s hair, sheened her face like a cold mask as she swallowed her rage. They would know by now that she was the target, and people would be looking – dogs with her scent – even if the assassin made it to the edge of camp, going further would be near impossible.

“Baudrillard?” she tried, aiming for distraction.

The dagger poked her again. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Marjolane!”

The assassin froze. With precise deliberation, she spun around, dragging Rosslyn with her sharply enough that the blade held at her neck nicked the skin. Ten feet behind them, A figure stepped onto the path from behind a tent, bow nocked and draw-arm half pulled back, ready to loose.  

“Ah, Leliana,” the assassin crooned. “How lovely to see you again, chérie.”  

“I recognised your trick with the dog,” Leliana replied, casually, though her eyes were trained on Marjolane like a cat’s. “Though I am certain you meant the dosage of the viper’s sting to be lethal. You must be getting sloppy in your dotage.” She drew her arm back further. “Let her go.”

Marjolane chuckled again as she backed away. “Not even you are that good a shot, chérie. I would move her into the path of the arrow before it had a chance to reach me.”

Rosslyn stayed silent. She watched Leliana for any sign of movement, any indication that she would act, but forced her body to remain unresisting, heavy, a burden to her distracted captor, and all the while she measured the slow creep of the tingles up her arms as feeling came back to them.

“You would be left without a bargaining chip,” Leliana pointed out. Her draw arm was starting to shake.

“Perhaps,” the assassin answered. “But your desire for her survival is much greater than mine. You would not dare chance it. And nor would any other fool here,” she added, as another figure came barrelling into view through the nearest row of tents.

Alistair halted behind Leliana when he saw what was happening, his knuckles white on his sword and his face thrown into flickering relief by the torch he held aloft in his other hand. The snarl that contorted his features when his mind processed the details of the scene in front of him sent a shiver down Rosslyn’s back, but when she met his eye and shook her head, he held back.

“Good boy.” Marjolane had turned to him, was still backing away, but with her attention split in an extra direction, her options for escape were thinning.

“Where are you going?” Leliana called. Her blue eyes still burned, but the expression around them had crumpled into something almost desperate, the tension in the drawstring faltering. “You do not seem to realise, we have a score to settle. You framed me, had me caught and tortured. Why did you hate me so much?”

“Hate you?” the assassin repeated. The daggers at Rosslyn’s neck loosened, imperceptibly. “I never hated you. But did you think I did not know where you were, that I watched you? ‘What is she up to?’ I asked myself, as I saw you scrabble around in this country that smells of wet dog.” She snorted. “And then, of course, you wound your way into the confidence of this Falcon of Highever, and I saw – I saw that you planned to use this influence to set yourself against me.”

Rosslyn caught Leliana’s eye, a warning not to be baited, a signal to be ready.

“How fortunate it was that I found another who shared my concerns,” Marjolane continued, smug with her success. “Once I have delivered her to my employer, I will be free once more, and you will be free to crawl out of this filthy mud hole and come back with me, back to the life you were made for.”

Leliana shuddered, but swallowed her resolve. “I came to Ferelden to be free of you. Now I see my mistake. You’ve caused too much pain for too many people, Marjolane. It ends here!”

In an instant, Rosslyn dropped, twisting, her weight an advantage against the smaller woman. Above her, she caught the dull thud of an arrow hitting flesh, the breath of someone knocked back. A dagger came into her hands and she surged upwards again, driving the blade hilt-deep into the cavity beneath the ribs. An eternity passed and Marjolane clawed at her, gasping, her dark eyes wide with confusion then fury by turns, before finally she slipped off the steel and collapsed unmoving in the mud. Silence fell. Rosslyn stood and let the dagger fall from her hands. Her pulse roared in her ears, her breath a laboured rasp, as if her body couldn’t quite believe it was still working, and when she brought her hand to the sting in her neck, her fingers came away sticky with blood.  

A sob roused her from her shock. Leliana had sunk to her knees, her shoulders slumped and shaking, one hand over her mouth, leaning on her bow like it was the only solid thing in the world. She barely seemed to notice when Rosslyn knelt beside her to coax her into an embrace, and only wept harder at her stilted, murmured assurances that everything would be alright.

“It’s over,” she repeated, again and again. “She’s dead. She’s dead.”

“Come on, we can’t stay here.”

Half-entreating and half-hauling her friend upright, Rosslyn finally took stock if where they were. Her limbs still felt heavy from the poison she had been given, the lack of coordination unhelpful given she now supported Leliana’s weight as well as her own, but adrenaline steadied her, and she grit her teeth as she began leading the way towards the healer’s tent. Something warm fell around her shoulders as she took the first steps – Alistair’s cloak. She had forgotten him in the heat of the moment. His hands lingered just a little as he made sure the fabric covered her properly, his eyes tight at the corners, but to her relief he said nothing, only fell into silent step behind her as she led Leliana away. When the first guard found them, he took charge and ordered the man to find somewhere to keep Marjolane’s body, and again she was grateful.

Amell greeted them at the entrance to the modest infirmary, though whether she had been roused by the commotion or just hadn’t gone to bed was impossible to tell. She didn’t say a word as the three of them emerged from the gloom, only hustled them inside and laid gentle hands on Leliana’s shoulders to guide her to the furthest and most private pallet from the opening. The sobs had subsided now, and only the shining tracks across her pale cheeks betrayed the loss of composure.

“She’s had a shock,” Rosslyn explained as the mage ran a brief check of her patient. Without any occupation for her hands, she drew the edges of Alistair’s cloak closer, taking comfort in its fastness and the warmth of his scent on the collar, however much her better judgement warned her not to.

“Someone should send out, and fetch Captain Morrence.”

“Well it’s not going to be you,” Amell replied in clipped tones. “You’re not going anywhere until I look at your feet.”

“My…?”

She was barefoot. She hadn’t noticed before, with the combination of the knife at her throat and the soporific she with which had been dosed, but looking down now, every sensation crowded in at once; her toes burned with cold, her soles were bruised and bleeding, and to top it all, the loose trousers she wore for sleep were caked halfway to the knee in mud. Dazed, she accepted the healer’s fussing without complaint and sank to the nearest pallet, though she had to stifle a hiss as her feet were first rubbed clean of the worst of the dirt, then dipped into a bowl of warm water sharp-scented with herbs and vinegar.

“No lasting harm done,” Amell informed her with a smile as she sent a healing spell twining up her legs.

She was too tired to answer, the pain and the dregs of her resolve stolen away by the magic. “Will Leliana be alright?” she asked instead.

The healer shrugged. “Depends what happened. I gave her a draught so she won’t have to deal with it until the morning, at least.”

The chantry sister’s form, distinguishable only by the red shock of her hair, was already curled under the covers of the farthest bed. With a sigh, Rosslyn turned away and watched in silence as Amell cleaned the worst of the cuts in her feet, trying to ignore the faint headache growing behind her eyes that might have been the day’s stress or the paralytic, or even just the bright wisp-lights of the infirmary. After a moment or two, she realised Alistair had left, and berated herself for missing him. She said nothing, and Amell, satisfied with her work, went to discard the muddied water.

“Oh, Your Highness!”

Rosslyn turned. Alistair stood sheepishly in the opening, with a pair of boots in one hand and some spare clothes thrown over his arm. From what she could tell, he had had a narrow escape from the contents of the bowl

“I think they’re too big,” he apologised when he saw her looking. “But the quartermaster was very grumpy at being woken up. They should do, at least as far as, uh…” his smile faltered as he set them next to her, and she dropped her gaze.

“Thank you,” she said. “And you, Enchanter. It was lucky we brought you along.” Twice over, she added mentally, as her mind drifted to Cuno, resting under the horsemaster’s care. She didn’t dare ask if he was otherwise.

Amell smiled again, a pretty expression that brought out dimples in her cheeks. “I enjoy the excitement, though by all accounts of luck you should’ve had enough for a while. You’re cured, by the way. Off you trot.”

“I’m –? Oh, thank you.” She stood and tried her feet. They were still tender, but the lingering magic in her veins would probably take care of that by morning. The mud caked onto her clothes stuck unpleasantly to her skin, however, and her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“If Your Highness would like to excuse himself?” Amell prompted.

“What?”

“Her Ladyship needs to change.”

“I – oh.” He froze, eyes bugged wide as he gulped back his embarrassment. “I’ll, um – of course… But if I could – I mean, Teyrna Rosslyn should really have someone to escort her back. See she gets there.” His hands twisted together, and he peered at her through hopeful lashes. “May I?”

Her mind was too fogged to craft a proper refusal. She nodded.

And yet she took her time getting changed, making sure the boots were laced with proper tightness in case they slipped and gave her blisters, until she could no longer put off going out to meet him. He was waiting for her in the pool of light outside the tent, and fell into careful step beside her without a word, respecting the space she put between them. Even so, his gaze burned hot against the back of her neck, adding to the weight of the silence with every step they took, but she didn’t turn. When they finally did reach her pavilion and the guard posted outside, she might have cried with relief, because it marked the point where she could get him to leave, to drop her back into her certain loneliness where her actions were prescribed, the requirements of her easy to meet.  

One more day, just one, and I’ll suffer through whatever I must.

Servants had tidied away the mess, all the evidence, as if her fight with Marjolane had never happened. Talon stood in its sheath, back in its stand by her armour, with the scattered blankets once more laid neatly over the bed and the shadows chased into the corners by the steady light of lyrium glowstones. Even the tear in the wall had been mended, patched up with neat stitching like a darned sock.

Alistair still hovered behind her.  

“Of course,” she realised. “Your cloak.” She shrugged it from her shoulders, ignoring how cold the air suddenly seemed without it, and kept her gaze on the floor as she held it out. “Here – thank you.”

“Maker’s breath, I don’t care about the cloak.” He all but lunged across the space, taking the garment only because it was in the way. “How could I think about that when you might’ve been… Are you alright?”

Startled, she leaned away, shrugged, swallowed back tears. “fine.”

He inhaled as if to say something, but his gaze fell to the line on her neck where the assassin’s blade had broken the skin. Seemingly without thinking, he reached out to touch her, but she flinched away, the graze of his fingertips a shock that brought heat surging to her face. Her head felt squeezed, pressed in a vice, with her throat closing and her limbs held taut to keep from shaking. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She wanted him gone. She wanted to sleep, or to throw herself into his arms, or cry, or run screaming down the mountain that she couldn’t do this anymore, or –

“I’m fine,” she managed for a second time. “A little choked, is all. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

His hand still hung in the air where he had reached for her. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

Her patience snapped. “I already know.” Grief corded into a jagged lump at the back of her throat and she reeled away to put her desk between them, teeth clenched to calm the rage boiling hot enough to turn her stomach. “I know. Cailan isn’t exactly… reserved with his expectations, he’s made everything about it clear. And… you don’t need to worry, I – I understand. You owe me nothing. I’ll hold you to no obligations.”

The sigh of her name, uttered with a tenderness as if it had been waiting on his lips for months, set like a lance in her gut. But she stood her ground. South Reach had been worse than this, and she had endured.

“Rosslyn,” he said again, firm. “I’m not getting married.” When she didn’t move, a breathy, half-hysterical giggle slipped his tongue. “At least, not to Valesh. Really, I should have worked out sooner that’s what was planned but… well, if I’d gotten your letters…”

“What?” Her mind couldn’t focus, whirled with the chorus of an entire flock of starlings, so bewildered that when he eased a cautious step towards her, she forgot to pull away.

He swallowed. “Your letters – they were intercepted. I didn’t realise until I read the one you sent with Duncan, and then, well…” He turned, and brought something out of a back pocket, a pristine stack of papers tied together with ribbon, which he held out as cautiously as a traveller might offer an apple to a wild deer. “I left as fast as I could to find you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Eamon.” The name escaped as a growl. “He was trying to separate us, for the good of Ferelden, apparently. I am so sorry that I didn’t realise sooner.”

Questions tripped over themselves on her tongue. Uncomprehending, she traced the lines of her name written in a broad, meticulous script as he handed the package to her, as if the action might bring the clarity drowning in the blackened landscapes of her brain. So much had already happened. Her legs wobbled at the end of their strength, so she staggered like a drunkard to the bed and collapsed onto it without ceremony, still marvelling at the treasure in her hands. At least a dozen letters in his hand, hidden away, never sent. She had fortified her heart against his indifference, wrapped it in barbs and palisades and strong iron shields, and yet this one simple revelation was enough to bring the walls of her castle shattering to the earth.

Alistair followed her.

“All this time,” she croaked as he knelt before her, as his fingers brushing tentative across her wrist, the other warm on her thigh. “You wrote all these… even though you thought I wasn’t writing back.”  

He smiled like blossom in spring. “I did.”

“You didn’t get my letters?”

“None since the darkspawn attack.”

“I wondered, that’s why I –” She looked up. “And… and you’re not betrothed?”

This time, he laughed. “No – no, I’m not.”

What little air remained in her lungs left her in a lightheaded rush. It didn’t matter which one of them moved first, only that in an instant, she had her arms around his neck, wrapped in an embrace tight enough to block out everything but her relief. The scent of his skin hadn’t changed, nor his warmth, the softness of his hair against her cheek. She dropped the letters as she tightened her grip, buried deeper into his shoulder, because what did they matter next to having him here, real, holding her like he had ached for her just as desperately as she had for him? Her cheeks were wet but she didn’t care, it didn’t matter, he had never stopped writing at all.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathed. “I’ve –”

His breath caught. “I’ve missed you, too. So much.”

She wanted to laugh. “Why do I always end up crying on you?”

“I’ve just got one of those faces.”  

She denied it, shook her head, but still the tears kept falling. He hummed and stroked her hair, the most beautiful sound she had ever heard even through the dampness she felt trickling onto her own shoulder. Her breath shuddered. Time stopped. They rocked together in the thin confines of the pavilion, settling into one another’s breathing and the play of idle, self-assuring touches, sagging like winter branches laden down with snow with the weight of what had so nearly been lost. At last, everything lay quiet, and by degrees her grip on him relaxed, soothed along with the fear that he was no more than a wisp of smoke, bound to disappear again. Guards clanked past outside, rain pattered down, and still they didn’t move.

“Rosslyn?” Alistair asked eventually. “Are you asleep?”

For a moment he thought she might have drifted off, but then a tiny headshake and a mumbled no brushed against his pulse, and he had to remind himself where they were.

“You probably should be, it’s so late,” he replied, and pulled away. His hands went to steady at her waist.

Pushing her hair out of her face, she sighed and tried for a smile, but it faltered as her eyes flitted to the patched side of the tent, where the blade of her would-be assassin had first cut through. “I’m not sure I could,” she confessed, and dropped her gaze to her hands twisting in her lap.

“Hey…”

“Will you stay?” she asked. “Please? I – I don’t want to be alone right now, and Cuno…”

He laid a hand against her cheek, torn between wanting to offer comfort and knowing that the entire camp would hear of it by morning if he stayed.

“Please,” she repeated.

He couldn’t stand the sight of the tears on her cheeks. “If you’re sure, I have one condition,” he told her, covering for his uncertainty with the most officious voice he could muster. “You have to promise to get a decent amount of rest.”

She smiled back, but her attention darted to the wall again. “I can promise to try.”

“I suppose that will have to do. Here –”

Carefully, he reached down and unlaced the boots he had borrowed for her, nudging his cheek against her knee when a warm hand landed on his shoulder, and when she was barefoot, he guided her up the bed and under the covers. Their fingers brushed as he retrieved the letters to place on the desk and he smiled at her as she thanked him. After that, there’s was nothing to do but draw the curtains that divided the main area of the pavilion from the sleeping quarters.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He ruffled a hand through his hair. “Uh, do you have any spare blankets?”

“Why do you…?” Her eyes widened. “No. You are not sleeping on the floor.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” he argued.

“That’s a lie.” She sat up straighter, with the covers bunched in her lap. “You’ll catch your death this far up in the mountains. And besides, it’s undignified.”

“I’ve slept on the floor before.”

Her expression darkened. “Not when you were Prince of Ferelden and had a perfectly good bed available. If one of us is going to sleep on the floor, it should be me. You outrank me.”

“And you were nearly killed tonight!”

She flinched. Too far. The gap between them yawned again and he yearned to cross it, but the thought of what that might mean left his stomach tying itself in knots, doubting, giddy, terrified of stepping too far.

“It seems we’re at an impasse,” she said, reading the flustered colour blooming across his face.

“You and your damned protocol,” he huffed. “I don’t – I wouldn’t want to compromise…”

“People will talk no matter where you sleep,” she pointed out, with a blush of her own. She even shuffled sideways to make room for him under the covers. “You… might as well be comfortable. Unless – if you don’t want to do that, I’d understand, forget I said –”

“Hey.” He was by her side in an instant, the touch to her shoulder light but reassuring. “I don’t want to leave you alone. But… are you sure there’s room?”

“Cuno manages, and I swear he doubles in size when he sleeps…”

“He’s alright, you know,” Alistair said. “Just sleeping off the worst of it, I promise. The horsemaster said he’d make a full recovery.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots, then unbuckled his belt and the quilted jacket that had seen him warm from Orzammar – any more would be excessive, but this way he wouldn’t overheat, and there wouldn’t be any stray edges of metal to dig into Rosslyn’s skin. When he finally turned, he found her looking demurely away, as if he were taking off more, and for the first time the desperation of seeing her again was subsumed by the possibility of all the things he had imagined in her absence, everything he wanted to say but did not dare. Still, she made room for him, sidling to the far edge of the pallet and waiting for him to lie back on the overstuffed pillow before closing the space once more.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

He smiled. “Come here.”

The bed really wasn’t made for two people. Designed for light storage and travel, it creaked as they settled themselves, Alistair on his back with Rosslyn tucking herself as best she could into the gap under his arm, her ear settled above the pulse of his heart and her fingers tangled in the loose folds of his shirt. When she finally stopped wriggling, he plucked up the courage to lay his own hand against her waist. She didn’t move away.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Mmmm…” She was looking at the hole in the wall again; he felt her held breath.

“You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?” he murmured. “If something else is stupid enough to come after you tonight, they’re going to have to get through me.” He threaded their fingers together with his free hand, quietly enthralled by the way her body fitted against his. “And I promise they won’t get through me.”

Some of the tension unwound from her limbs, and quiet seeped into the space around them, the drum of the rain and the dull scent of mud soothing after the fraught hours of the day. Alistair tried to stay awake and be vigilant so Rosslyn might feel safe, but his eyes were scratchy and the weight of her at his side already succumbing to sleep lulled him towards the Fade, and somewhere between one slow blink and the next his last thoughts slid away into slumber.

[marshmallow-phd]

Sins of the Father

Genre: Mafia Au

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: Soon after your second birthday, your parents were killed and you were adopted by your father’s best friend, taken away to their home country where you lived your life in peaceful ignorance. As far a as you knew, your parents simply left you large fortune to be released to you once you reached your twenty-third birthday. At least, that’s all you thought you were inheriting. When a famously ruthless mafia boss discovers your existence, you are left at his mercy. While under his roof, you learn more about your father than you ever wished you had, including the part of your inheritance that made you the most valuable person in the underworld. Hidden in a bank in New York City were files that held the darkest secrets of the mafia families and everyone in their pocket. With another terrifying leader’s eyes trained on you, you’ll learn to watch your back… and guard your heart, before your father’s past becomes your doom.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I Final

**

Chen plopped down on the couch, loosening his tie and throwing off his jacket almost as soon as you were through the door of the penthouse.

“I hate wearing this,” he complained.

Snorting, your mood was slowly lifting now that you were back in a place you deemed safe. “You think you have it bad?” You motioned to the dress you were still stuck in and the shoes that you had kicked off the moment you walked through the door. “I’m getting out of this right now.”

Chen raised an eyebrow cheekily. “Right here in the living room?”

Throwing a shoe at him playfully, you warned, “You’d better watch what you say. Junmyeon might shoot you.”

The grin slipped from his face. Clearing his throat, Chen scratched the back of his neck. “You’d better go get changed. If you want, we can watch a movie until the others get back.”

In all honesty, you’d watched more movies than you ever thought you would care to since being here, but you didn’t have the energy to do anything else nor did you really want to shut yourself in your room. You were too wired up to try and sleep. A small part of you wanted to stay up for Junmyeon, to see if he’d had another run in with Junko.

Once you were in a much more comfortable oversized T-shirt and sleep shorts, as well as washed your face and brushed your teeth, you went back into the living room. Grabbing the blanket that was thrown on the recliner, you sat down next to Chen. You’d grown so used to platonic affection with the boys that you were confused when Chen scooted over, creating a large space in between you rather than letting you rest into his side like normal.

You pouted a little, thinking that now would be the time for any of the boys to give you a little bit of comfort after the night you’d had. Perhaps you’d just grown too used to them doting on you and now they were getting bored or uncomfortable with it.

Not caring about the selection, Chen put on some melodrama involving a fighter and a blind woman. You didn’t pay too much attention to the couple’s plight. Instead, you tried to figure out why Junmyeon made you go tonight. Why did he say that he needed you there? He didn’t keep you by his side - in fact he dropped you off like a child at daycare as soon as you arrived. Your only guess was he knew that Junko would be there, but hadn’t meant for things to escalate like that.

You made it through the first movie just to see that Chen had fallen asleep. His face was innocent in his sleep, like most people, and you kind of preferred it to his usual flirty demeanor.

Getting warm, you kicked off the blanket and placed it over Chen, careful not to wake him. It was well past midnight now and still no one had come back from the event. Chen had said they usually stay out well into the night, but you decided you would wait up for them, just to make sure that nothing bad happened.

**

Junmyeon could hardly concentrate on what the man across the table from him was rambling on about. They were supposed to be brokering a deal on a weapons shipment, but Sehun was having to do most of the talking. The man would have gotten away with an extra million won if Sehun hadn’t stepped in.

Junko’s threat plagued his mind. Would he really go that far for a conversation that had taken place twenty years ago?

Junmyeon would do everything in his power not to let anything happen your adoptive family, but Junko had resources that Junmyeon could only dream of. It wasn’t going to be easy to keep his promise.

If he was forced to be honest, Junko wasn’t the only thing that was making Junmyeon down the whiskey sours.

Something had stirred inside him when you had clung to his sleeve, begging not to be left alone. He’d never encountered someone who grew anxious because of large groups of people and he was at a complete loss of how to handle it.

At first, he thought you were just scared of the occupants since they were all here for illegal dealings. But then you explained how it was just the sheer amount of people in the room. It was slightly understandable considering there were over a hundred gamblers milling about.

The look in your eyes as you pleaded to not be abandoned had moved him. Or maybe it was more like a shove to comfort you. This morning had shown him a glimpse of what your lives together could be like and he’d actually enjoyed it. Earlier - before you ran to Yixing without hesitation - you’d felt so warm in his arms. He didn’t want to let you go. But he had business to attend to and he couldn’t drop it just for anyone, even you.

He kept the two of you in his line of sight, though. The way you were relaxed with Yixing as you danced slowly to the music had caused Junmyeon’s blood to boil. The doctor was just a natural comforter; he probably didn’t even realize how affectionate it looked from afar.

But if Junmyeon had noticed it, then so could have Junko. It was something he could exploit, to hold over you if needed. At least, that was the reason Junmyeon kept repeating to himself.  

Behind their buyer, Junmyeon could see Jongin at the high stakes table and they made eye contact. The master card player scratched behind his left ear, signaling to Junmyeon that he was up ahead their previously discussed amount. Junmyeon nodded, telling Jongin to walk away with the winnings.

One by one, the others wrapped up their jobs for the night and met back up near the entrance. It was past three in the morning and they were all ready for a little shut eye. Outside, Chanyeol checked to make sure the coast was clear before they walked back to the cars. They piled in like normal, but Junmyeon stopped Yixing before he could take his spot.

All the doors were closed to make the appearance of a private conversation, but he knew all them would be listening to every word and hopefully the message would get across to them all.

“What is it, Junmyeon?” Yixing asked, perplexed.

“What is the rule when it comes to (y/n)?” Junmyeon made sure that every word resonated with his authority as the leader.

Yixing frowned. “Nothing is going on with me and (y/n). I swear.”

“Good.” Junmyeon tried to not look as relieved as he felt. Yixing wasn’t one to lie and he always followed the rules. “But from now on, I don’t want you to be so affectionate with her. People will begin to talk and I don’t need anyone doubting her ties to me.” He opened the door for Yixing to get inside. “All of you get home and get some rest. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Minseok stopped him from closing the door. “Junmyeon, where are you going?”

“Just on a walk,” he replied. “I’ll grab a cab home.”

“At least have Chanyeol or me go with you.”

Junmyeon shook his head. “I’ll be alright. Get going.”

He needed time alone, time to get his head back on straight before he saw you again.

Slamming the door closed, Junmyeon walked off in the opposite direction. The engines just idled for a minute or two behind him before they finally drove off. After running his hand through his hair for about the fifth time tonight, Junmyeon took in a deep breath of mild night air, sighing.

He’d told you from the beginning that your marriage was to be purely a maneuvering choice. The files were the most important piece of his plan, everything else was just a secondary consequence.

The other side of getting married was that it proved his stability, showed everyone that he had roots and a reason to stay. A wife could also be a weakness, but Junmyeon had decided that certain measures had to be taken to assure that that would never be the case. One of those was to keep you at arms distance, to not show affectionate attachment towards you.

With a surge of rage, he kicked the brick wall of an abandoned warehouse.

Just a few weeks in, he was already losing it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get a sense of you. Normally, Junmyeon could read a person like an open book. But you... you were all over the place and he couldn’t get a grip on your thought process. At times, you could be sweet and quiet, but then you would lash out or throw some sarcastic remark his way. Perhaps it was that unpredictability that was drawing him in.

Most of the girls he’d seen in the past knew all about his line of work and the money in his pocket. They were straightforward and honest about being in it for the thrill of it or to hopefully get a hold of one of his credit cards. He knew their game and he wasn’t bothered about it. At least he wasn’t alone and they never lasted longer than a week or so, anyway.

But you didn’t care that he lived in a penthouse or had fancy cars or expensive suits. You were only there out of loyalty to your family and Junmyeon admired that. Part of him hoped that maybe there could be a small change in your reason for staying. Maybe… you could start to feel something for him?

“Now this wasn’t smart.”

Out of the shadow of an alleyway, Junko stepped out, smiling evilly at Junmyeon.

This was always a possibility when he decided to wander off on his own, Junmyeon knew it. Part of him was even hoping that it would happen. He couldn’t resist a chance to trade barbs with Junko.  

Putting his hands in his pockets, Junmyeon leaned up against the grime covered wall, not caring that it could ruin his tailored suit. “Can I help you with something, Junko?”

Taking a toothpick from his mouth, Junko twirled it between his fingers before flicking it away. “You know, our fathers hated each other, but I thought we at least could be friends.”

Junmyeon scoffed. “You’ve hated me since our days at private school. Friendship is the last thing on your mind. Now, my territory and control of the east shore, that, I’m sure, is really what you’re interested in.”

“You’re wrong actually,” Junko taunted, taking a few steps towards Junmyeon. “Sure, those things are important, but they’re not my top priority right now. You see, the first couple of years after (y/n)’s parents sadly passed away, my father kept an eye on her to make sure she grew up well... until Taegun succeeded in hiding her. She was always meant to be mine.”

“I don’t think she really wants you,” Junmyeon mocked. “Anyway, stop playing the romantic hero. We all know that you only want the rights to the files.”

Junko set his jaw. “Isn’t that why you snatched her up first?”

Junmyeon shrugged, knowing that every word that was about to leave his mouth was going to set Junko off. “The files will always be most important, but,” he added in a smirk for effect, “I am also a man. (y/n)’s not bad on the eyes, so I guess you could say it’s an added bonus. Something warm to hold at night….”

That did it.

Junko lunged, hitting Junmyeon right below the eye with his fist. Junmyeon landed his own punch on Junko’s face, connecting with his jaw. Unfortunately, the latter’s limbs were longer and he was able to land more blows than Junmyeon could counter.

Finally, the punches stopped, with Junmyeon on his knees, balancing himself on his palms. Blood mixed with saliva sprayed when he spat out the liquid that was filling up his mouth. At least he was able to leave a few cuts and bruises on Junko’s face as well.

“One way or another,” Junko heaved, “I’ll have her. And your name will never leave her lips again.” Before leaving, he landed one more kick to Junmyeon’s stomach.

Once he was alone, Junmyeon slowly stood back up to his feet, holding his side to try and ease the pain. A slew of curses left his mouth with each step he took. If he hadn’t drank so much, he might have actually been able to hold his own a bit longer.

Junmyeon knew better than to pick a fight with Junko. In their school days, fighting between the two of them was common and Junko, thanks to his height, usually came out on top.

It took a while, but he was able to catch a cab back to the apartment building. The driver kept sending him skeptical looks through the rearview mirror, but he smartly kept his mouth shut.

Back in the penthouse, the lights were still on. Jongdae and you were fast asleep on the couch, but  for once Jongdae was sitting a good distance away from you. Good. That meant he saw the daggers Junmyeon was staring at Yixing. He wouldn’t need to have a separate talk.

It took a bit of force to shake his vanguard awake. A whine escaped from the sleeping gangster, but he jumped up once he saw the face of the interruption.

“Hyung!”

“Shh,” Junmyeon hissed. “You’ll wake her up. Come on.”

Jongdae followed him to the kitchen, where the clock read that it was nearly five in the morning. Shit.

“What happened?” Jongdae whispered. “Where are the others?”

“I sent them home a few hours ago,” Junmyeon groaned, sitting down on a stool. “I just needed to go on a walk, but I ran into Junko. I guess you know what they say about poking the sleeping bear.”

“You egged him on?” Jongdae scolded. He shook his head disapprovingly. “Did you not learn anything from school?”

Junmyeon smiled. That was the strongest aspect of his inner circle. They all knew each other from when they were young; it’s what made their bond so strong. Sometimes, however, that meant they could bring up the past. Not that Junmyeon ever really could forget their school days.

“I couldn’t help it,” he shrugged. “He kept talking about (y/n) and how he was supposed to have her. I just wanted him to shut up.”

Jongdae opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of the idea and closed it.

“Go home and get some rest,” Junmyeon ordered. Nodding, Jongdae sighed and exited the kitchen.

As quietly as he could, Junmyeon stood back up and walked over to the freezer to find something cold to press to his face. Moving the perishables around, however, made too much noise. He went still when he heard footsteps echoing in the hallway. So much for not waking you up.

“Are you just now getting home?” you asked sleepily.

Since his back was still to you, Junmyeon let himself grin at your gravelly, just-woken-up voice. It was cute and it pulled at his stomach, how innocent you sounded.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I had some… things to take care of.”

Your bare feet slapped against the tile and Junmyeon had to maneuver to try and keep you from seeing his face.

“Chen said you usually get home around three,” you commented hesitantly. Your voice sounded dejected. “Did you, um, did you go somewhere else? Or maybe… never mind.”

Junmyeon frowned. “Or maybe what?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you whispered. “You should get some sleep.”

“No, (y/n),” Junmyeon tried not to be harsh. He already had a feeling as to where your thoughts were going. “What were you going to say?”

A few seconds of silence went by before you finally spoke up. “I mean, there were a lot of beautiful women there, so I thought that maybe you went home with one of them.”

By the end of the comment your voice was thick. You even tried to muffle a sniffle. Junmyeon’s shoulders dropped. Did you really care if he had gone home with someone else? The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind all evening, a first.

It was obvious that you had tried to wait up for him. You could have gone to bed, but you’d fallen asleep on the couch and had even asked Jongdae what time he usually came home. He never had a woman treat him that way. What were you doing to him?

His hand went to his face, knowing there really wasn’t any way he could hide this from you; not now or tomorrow. Turning around slowly, his eyes met yours and it was like a bolt of lightning hit him when shock and worry covered your face.

**

For a moment you were like a statue, unable to move, speak, or even breathe. Where you had expected lipstick smudges, there were bruises. Without even thinking, you ran forward, placing your hands on Junmyeon’s face, careful not to hurt him further.

“What happened?” you shrieked.

“I decided to try things your way and have a smart mouth,” he groaned, slightly bending at his waist.

As much as you wanted to hit him for that comment, you were too concerned about the split lip he was currently sporting. Shaking your head, you started moving him towards the hallway. “You need to lie down.”

It was a struggle, but you were able to hobble all the way to Junmyeon’s room, supporting as much of his weight that you could. You barely paid attention to how intricate the room was decorated as you sat him carefully down on his bed. If any blood got on the sheets, you would just wash them later.

“He might be sleeping, but I’ll call Yixing.” You started searching his pockets. “Where’s your cell phone?”

“No!” Junmyeon growled as he grabbed your wrist. His features softened at your stunned face. “I’m fine. I don’t need Yixing. There’s a first aid kit underneath my sink. Just bring that here.”

Reluctantly, you obeyed, running to the bathroom and tearing open the cabinet doors until you found the familiar white box under the sink.

When you got back to Junmyeon, he was in the middle of struggling to take off his jacket. Your heart hurt seeing the agonizing expression from such a simple action. Stepping in, you took the jacket the rest of the way off, throwing it in a random direction to be picked up later.

After you sat down next to him, you opened the kit and pulled out the peroxide. Once a small amount was soaked into a cotton pad, you gently dabbed at the cuts on Junmyeon’s skin. His eyes didn’t leave your own face as you worked at his wounds. He had his own supply of arnica gel and - learning from Yixing - you applied a small amount to the bruises on that were forming.

“Who did this?” you finally asked. The ach from seeing him so hurt was killing you.

“Your other fiancé,” he deadpanned.

“Junko,” you gasped. Your hands dropped to your lap and your eyes began to prickle. “So, this is my fault. He attacked you because of me.”

You hated how much you’ve cried in front of Junmyeon the past several hours. Why was everyone associated with you getting hurt or threatened? Why were you even affected by each injury you found on his face?

Junmyeon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “No, no. This is not your fault. I provoked him. I’m too cocky sometimes and I goaded him into it. No one’s to blame but me.”

When he started rubbing circles on your back you pushed away. Why was he being so kind to you? Staring up at Junmyeon in disbelief, you didn’t miss his flinching as he twisted his upper body.

You panicked. “Are you hurt somewhere else?”

He held his side, but he tried to play it like it was nothing. “I’m fine. I just need to sleep it off.”

Not putting up with his crap, you reached out and started unbuttoning his dress shirt.

He let out a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “You know, all you have to do is ask if you want to go that far.”

As much as you wanted to punch him, you settled for a glare. Your jaw dropped when you opened his shirt. Dark purple bruises as large as your palm stuck out against his tanned skin. Reflexively, you reached out, letting just the tips of your fingers touch the blemishes. The skin stretched over the muscles was smooth and soft. How could he be beaten so badly if he was in such good shape?

“(y/n).”

His voice was barely above a whisper. You looked up at him and there was an unreadable expression in his eyes that you’d never seen before. He placed one hand the one of yours that was still settled on his stomach and cupped your jaw with the other.

“Are you scared?” His face was so close to yours that you could count the different shades of brown in his eyes. Unable trust yourself to lie, you nodded. The corners of his lips turned up just a fraction. “Don’t be. I’ve had worse injuries. Really, just a few hours rest and I’ll be fine.”

That wasn’t the only thing that terrified you, but you didn’t verbalize it.

“Can I–” You bit your bottom lip, surprised on what you wanted to request. You shouldn’t be this concerned. Nothing was going to happen to him, right? There wasn’t any reason you needed to watch over him, was there?

But you couldn’t help think about what if he didn’t make it through night. What would happen to you then? If there was a choice between Junmyeon or Junko, it was an easy decision. And… you wanted to comfort Junmyeon like how he comforted you back at the illegal casino. His presence was starting to do something to you. You couldn’t explain what it was, but it urged you to stick around and try to figure it out.

Junmyeon cocked his head. “Can you what?”

“Can I stay with you?” You could barely hear the words that left your mouth, but the smile on his face told you that he heard every word.

He nodded. “Of course.”

Testing out each movement, he removed his socks and belt, but kept his slacks on before dragging himself to the top of the bed. He slid under the covers and then patted the space next to him.

You could feel the heat rushing up to your cheeks. Granted, you weren’t completely clueless or inexperienced and nothing but rest was going to happen, but you were still unprepared for this kind of thing. You never imagined this situation when you first entered this house.

For a split second, you considered changing your mind and just running back to your own bed, but you didn’t want to leave him alone. Giving in, you settled down on top of the covers until Junmyeon threw you a look.

“How am I supposed to sleep if you’re holding down the comforter?” he pointed out.

Huffing, you stood up and threw the blankets back. You cautiously slipped into the bed, lying down on your back and staring up at the ceiling.

“(y/n).”

You flipped over to your side to face Junmyeon. You held your head up, resting it in your palm as you propped up on your elbow. He held out a hand and let his fingers gently caress your cheek.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

With a heavy sigh, you pursed your lips. “Well, I couldn’t just sit back and let your wounds fester. You’re too stubborn to get help from the others.”

Junmyeon raised an eyebrow. “You presume to know me so well. It’s not like you’ve been around me for very long.”

It was true that he was hardly ever around for you to get to know him, but still…. “It doesn’t exactly take an expert to see how stubborn you are. But you’re right. I know the guys better than I know you.”

A crease appeared between his eyebrows. “Why don’t we change that? We could actually try to spend time together, get to know each other some more.”

“You don’t think we might kill each other?” you joked. While you meant it as a “haha”, you wondered if it might actually happen. Even breakfast only stayed peaceful for so long before it went to crap. Okay, it was mostly your own fault and how you reacted to the ring, but could you really be entirely blamed for it?

Junmyeon scooted closer to you, rubbing your upper arm. “I think we can get along, if we try.”

You actually gave it some thought. As much as you wanted to deny it, a small bit of you was attracted to him. And he wasn’t outright suggesting any sort of relationship, just that you try to get along and find out more about each other. That could make this sham of a marriage more bearable when the time came, right?

Internally, you snorted. Try to get along. Like a couple of kids forced into a playdate. Fighting over toys and what to watch on TV was inevitable, but the moments in between, you could make tolerable, maybe even memorable.

A wall was easy to build and hard to break down, but maybe the mortar hadn’t hardened yet. You certainly didn’t hate him as much you originally thought. You’d grown soft towards him, never really being the type that was good at holding grudges anyway.

Look at you, you were already tending to his wounds and watching over him. You could be such a bleeding heart sometimes.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I think I’d like that. But right now, I think you should get some sleep.”

Junmyeon laughed and then grimaced. “You’re right. You should get sleep, too.”

“Good night, Junmyeon.”

His smiled crookedly. “Good morning, (y/n).”

[dontenchantme]

the cynical fourth-born

Rated T, Satan x MC

he reminded her of a cat that didn't want to be picked up. she was stupid enough to pick him up anyway.

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She enjoyed watching him read. There was something strangely peaceful about his face when he was absorbed in a new book. For once, he looked almost open.

“I can feel you staring at me, you know,” he suddenly said without looking up from his book. “It’s distracting.”

She jumped. “Sorry,” she mumbled, averting her gaze, her cheeks warming. She heard a chuckle, then the blond demon put his book down and looked up at her with a faint smile on his face. She could feel butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“No need to apologise,” he answered, and his brilliant green eyes made her forget what she was thinking about. “I’m just surprised you’re not with Mammon today.”

“I’ve been hanging out with Mammon the whole week,” she said. It wasn’t really a complaint – Mammon was a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he was sweet, and he treated her well. Just that as a result, she couldn’t spend as much time as she'd like with the other brothers, and she found herself missing one of them in particular.

There was just something about Satan that calmed her down. Maybe it was because he seemed the most normal out of the seven demon brothers. While she enjoyed the many surprises the Devildom regularly threw at her, sometimes normal was nice.

Besides, Satan was the one who always suggested activities that were right up her alley. Visiting cat cafes, going to a museum or a bookstore, watching shows together – she enjoyed these kinds of things. Though she knew he only invited her to accompany him as a friend, she still liked these quiet moments they spent together, neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence with chatter.

“Then you decided to look for me instead?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how I feel about being the second option…” But the amusement in his voice took the edge off his words, and she sighed, turning to face him.

He was lounging in bed while she sat cross-legged at his desk. Her breath caught as she looked at him like this, his eyelids slightly lowered, a relaxed smile on his face. His blond hair was messy, probably from him running his hand through it to keep his fringe up while he read. She knew how much Satan valued his personal space, how he felt like his room was the only place where he could let his guard down and be himself, and she felt honoured that he would allow her into a space so sacred.

“You know you’re not a second option,” she answered. Satan raised an eyebrow, getting up from his bed – she continued to watch him as he walked over to her.

It was so difficult to meet his gaze. He had the most beautiful eyes. “And how do I know that?” he asked, stopping right in front of her. He was so much taller than her, and she found herself tipping her head back just so she could look at him.

“Satan, you’re my favourite person to spend time with. You’re the only one who likes cats as much as I do,” she raised one finger, “and also, you can listen to me rambling about shows and books without wanting to fall asleep.” She raised a second finger. “Why would you not be my first choice?”

“Mammon was your first, though,” Satan said, and she could hear the humour in his words. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“You know full well what he meant!” she rebutted, and Satan laughed, leaning against the desk. His nearness was making it a little hard to focus, but she tried not to let that show on her face. “Anyway. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Not really. But she blurted that out in an attempt to pull her thoughts together, and Satan’s eyes widened a fraction – he straightened back up, watching her. “Sure. Ask away.”

Her mind went blank. She hesitated, and he continued staring at her, tilting his head while he waited. “Um…I’ve been thinking. What’s your type?” she finally asked, her face probably red by this point, and she couldn’t believe she had the guts to say this.

Granted, she had been curious for a while now. She figured he had lots of admirers – all of the brothers did, being as powerful as they were – but she had never seen him show interest in anyone, and it made her wonder. But she always thought she’d be too embarrassed to ask something so personal. Satan blinked, looking surprised.

“Why the sudden question?” Of course, he never made things easy for her.

“Just curious.” She shrugged, though she was now painfully aware of his every word – she lowered her gaze, looking at his chest, his shoulders, noticing every breath he took. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she added when the silence stretched on for too long and it began making her uncomfortable.

It was strange because she usually didn’t mind staying quiet, but this was different – there was a sudden tension between the two of them that she had never felt before.

She heard him sigh and she lifted her gaze. “You know, I never really thought about having a type before,” he mused. “I don’t think any of us have one. Taking lovers isn’t something we focus on…unless you’re Asmo,” he added.

She inhaled. “Yeah, that makes sense,” she answered, trying to keep her tone light. She hadn't been expecting anything, but she still felt a little disappointed.

She wasn’t even sure when she first developed feelings for him. She just woke up one morning, looking forward to seeing Satan at breakfast with that sunny smile he reserved especially for her, and realisation suddenly rammed into her like a truck.

“You don’t look too pleased,” Satan said, and his voice broke into her thoughts, making her blink. He was studying her, and she wanted to answer but she didn’t know what to say. She could tell him that she liked him. And then what?

She wasn’t sure how he felt about her. They were friends, but that was the only thing she could say with any confidence. She had heard him complain one too many times about witches trying to flirt with him, and that made her nervous. If she decided to admit her feelings, then how was she any different from those women? She guessed he would let her down easy because they were friends, but she didn't want things to turn awkward between them.

“No, I’m fine,” she replied. “I was just hoping to find out. After all, knowledge is power!” She forced herself to smile, but Satan looked far from amused.

“There’s a difference between knowledge and idle gossip.” He shook his head. “And anyway, I can see that something is bothering you. Why don’t you tell me?”

When he looked at her that way it became very difficult to think. It was unfair that his eyes were so pretty. And she thought he was the closest anyone would ever come to her ideal guy – an animal lover who liked to read, who appreciated art, who liked to come up with theories for his favourite shows, who preferred to stay in rather than go out, who would sometimes look at her with the softest smile on his face when there was no one besides the two of them –

She wasn’t idealistic. Satan was far from sweetness and sunshine. He had issues of his own, and she had been on the receiving end of his rage before. She knew perfectly well how terrifying he could be when he was genuinely angry.

But at the same time, he worked so hard to channel that anger into other things. He cultivated interests, he pursued knowledge, he did everything he could so that he wouldn’t simply be wrath personified, always hurting, always destroying. The fact that most people wouldn’t even associate him with his sin was a testament to his efforts. She thought the way he kept trying to improve himself was inspiring.

“It’s nothing, really,” she whispered. His eyes narrowed at her, and something dark flickered in their green depths – his hand grabbed her wrist and she yelped, startled by the sudden contact. Her heart was in her throat.

“Look, we both know it’s not nothing. I don’t like seeing you upset, so just tell me what’s on your mind before I get annoyed,” he stated. “Did one of my brothers do something again?”

She shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. “I’ve just been thinking a lot lately,” she started. “About…well, you know how you told me about that witch who was flirting with you?” Satan nodded, and she inhaled. “I was just wondering if you...you know. Don’t like people in general.” She didn’t make sense, did she?

“No, I just didn’t like her.” Satan frowned. His hand was still on her wrist, though his grip had loosened somewhat – she could pull away if she wanted to, but the feeling of his fingers on her skin made her heart flutter. “You know the seven of us are the most powerful demons in the Devildom – if you don’t count Diavolo, of course. That’s what most people know me as. The Avatar of Wrath. I don’t like it when they try to get into my good graces knowing nothing but that. It’s disrespectful.”

For all of Satan’s complaints about Lucifer, the two of them were remarkably alike. She could imagine Lucifer saying the exact same thing. “So, you might not turn someone away if they got to know you first?” she asked, her heart thudding.

He blinked. “Perhaps.” After a moment, he abruptly let go of her wrist, as though he had only just realised that he was still holding on to her. “Why the sudden curiosity though?” He looked at her expectantly, but she had the feeling that he already knew what she wanted to say. He was smart and he was a good detective – if Satan hadn’t figured out her crush on him by now, she’d be truly surprised.

But that was the thing. She was fairly confident he was aware of her feelings – she blushed way too much around him – so it was strange that he never brought it up before. “I think.” She had to stop and draw a breath. “I think I might like you.”

She was met with silence. Satan didn’t react for a while, then suddenly he sighed and turned away – she felt her heart sink, but then he sat on the edge of his bed and looked at her. “Come here,” he said, patting the spot beside him, and she bit her lip, confused. No matter how many times she came to visit his room, she never sat on his bed. It was an unspoken rule, an invisible boundary between them.

Hesitantly she joined him, and when she sat, she realised just how close they were – if either of them moved just a little bit their hands would touch. “I always knew you had feelings for me,” Satan spoke first, staring at the wall. “I just hoped you might grow out of them, because…well, do you remember the time I offered to make a pact with you so I could spite Lucifer, and you turned me down?”

She nodded. That wasn’t something she would forget anytime soon. It was the first time she saw what Satan was like when he got angry. “That’s what I’m really like, you know. Deep down. I’m not as pleasant as you think I am.” He glanced at her. “And sometimes I’m afraid I might lose control again and hurt you. Or worse.”

She frowned. “That’s stupid. You’re not going to do that.” He exhaled, but she cut in before he could say anything. “Satan, I’m well aware of how dangerous you are. But your brothers are dangerous too. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend time with them.” She paused and noticed Satan watching her carefully, his expression unreadable. “That incident was some time ago. We didn’t know each other well back then. Things are different now. We’re friends, aren’t we? I don’t think you’d want to hurt me.”

“Just because I don’t want to hurt you doesn’t mean I won’t,” he answered. “Yes, we’re friends – but you don’t know how it feels like. The anger, I mean.” He placed his hand on his chest, inhaling. “It’s always there. Right on the edge of my consciousness. As though it could bleed out and consume me at any moment. The things I enjoy doing keep it at bay, but it’s still a part of me and it simply won’t leave.”

“I don’t want it to leave.” He stiffened, and she knew she had to tread carefully here – she took her time choosing her words, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “Satan, as you said, your anger is a part of who you are. I’m not saying that's a good thing, nor does it mean you should force yourself to be happy if you're not. It’s more of…” she hesitated. “It’s more that this anger is what birthed you, and even if you move on and you keep it concealed, you can’t forget your origin. I don’t think you should forget it, either.”

His lips quirked up. “I couldn’t forget it even if I tried,” he said. Then his voice quietened. “As a human, are you aware of how breakable you are? We wouldn’t even need to change to our demon forms to hurt you, to maim you. To kill you. And yet you live and laugh with us, as though we are…people. I don’t mean it in a bad way,” he added when she met his gaze, her lips turning down. “It just amazes me that you aren’t more afraid.”

“Well.” She exhaled. “I’ve lived here for a few months now. I think you all tend to underestimate how adaptable we humans are.”

“I could hurt you,” he repeated, but she felt his hand cover hers and she swallowed. Her heart was racing. It was funny how listening to him warn her about the danger he posed didn’t fluster her in the slightest, yet a simple touch made her breathless.

“Lucifer would be the first to get mad about that, not me,” she said. He laughed.

“That’s fair.” He paused. “You might regret your decision.”

“Let me come to that conclusion on my own.” She met his gaze, feeling surprisingly bold, and his eyes softened – he reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he whispered, leaning a little closer to her. She bit her lip, his nearness making her giddy.

“And that’s why I want to find out,” she answered just as quietly. He didn’t hesitate – the moment she was done speaking his lips were on hers, and she felt his hand on the back of her head, his fingers twining in her hair, pressing her closer.

She kissed him back, her eyelids fluttering shut. His lips were so soft, and it was exactly like how she imagined kissing him would feel. No, this was better. He whispered her name against her mouth and her heart sang.

Before she came to the Devildom she would never have imagined herself falling for a demon, but people changed, and she realised that the demons she met weren’t anything like the ones she saw in books and movies. His kisses were getting more forceful now, and she placed her hands on his shoulders, steadying herself as he leant into her, his weight pushing her down onto the mattress. He was warm and solid, and she liked feeling him on top of her like this.

“Satan,” she murmured his name as she parted from him, one of her hands fisting his blond hair – he responded by shifting down to her neck, her jaw, pressing gentle butterfly kisses along her throat. She shuddered as his tongue ran over a particularly sensitive spot, right where her pulse thrummed. She could lose herself in this – she could lose herself in him. Satan seemed to instinctively know where to kiss, where to touch so that she jolted beneath him, unable to withstand the sensations pulsing through her.

He was surprisingly gentle, given that he was the Avatar of Wrath – but whenever she managed to open her eyes, breaking free from the daze he lured her into, she saw the heat in his eyes and the way his fingers clenched his bedsheet and she realised that he was holding back, making sure that his touches were slow and soft. At some point he had slipped one hand up her shirt and she wasn’t complaining about that, but he left his hand resting on her torso and she did want him to start reaching a little higher.

“Satan. Just let go.” She caught his face between her hands and forced him to look at her. She heard his breath catch. “I want this. And I want you.”

“Moving a little fast, aren’t we?” he murmured, a teasing lilt in his voice, and she huffed, pulling him down towards her. She kissed him again and he sighed against her parted lips – his hand gripped her bare waist and she shivered, yearning to feel more of his touch. One of her hands reached up to brush his hair away from his eyes.

“I’ve waited long enough,” she told him, and he chuckled, catching her hand in his. He planted gentle kisses on each fingertip and she never knew it was possible to want someone so badly. She wanted it all – his smile, his gentleness, even the glimpses of something dark she could see whenever she touched him a certain way and he inhaled, his eyes narrowing at her.

“Another time, maybe.” Satan got off her and she groaned – he had wound her up and she was needy now. He was being unfair. But he smiled at her frustration and tugged on her hand, forcing her to sit up. “It’ll be dinnertime soon, and if we don’t show up the others are going to wonder what we’re doing,” he said.

“But I – fine.” She sighed. He was right. The last thing they wanted was all six of the brothers barging into Satan’s room, looking for them. “I want to say though, this is horrible timing.” She combed her fingers through her hair, knowing it was probably messy.

Satan reached up to push her fringe away from her face, and he kept his hand there for a moment, staring into her eyes. She fidgeted, unable to focus with him looking at her like that. Then he smiled and leant forward, bumping his nose against hers.

“We could always continue after dinner,” he said, so casually that for a moment she thought he was inviting her to watch shows in his room – then the realisation sank in and she blushed, averting her gaze. He laughed when she nodded, still refusing to look at him.

When she first arrived here as an exchange student, she would never have imagined that she’d end up dating one of the demon brothers, much less Satan. But here they were now, and if this didn’t prove that dreams could come true, she didn’t know what did.

[writtenwordsoffic]

Hiding - Grizz x Sam

A random dribble on a situation that's plausible for season 2 (ugh let there be a season 2...). Next fic will be Will x reader request.

Words: 2113 Warnings: None  

Masterlist

@idle-lanes  @sgarrett49 @moonlight53 @redhairedoddity @the-achievementhunter@superoptimist1997 @gswritings @misskarynie@pancakefancake @alwaysthefangirl @theserpentsqueen

------

Grizz quickly pushed Sam to the side of the walkway.

"Move...", He gave a whisper without thought to Sam hearing his volume. 

Sam barely saw Grizz’s mouth as a nearby street light was the only illumination around them. Grizz grabbed Sam by the arm, moving him into an alleyway off of Mainstreet. 

Both boys were out of breath, Sam more than Grizz. They made it as far as they could out of the house - trying to make as minimal noise as possible.

Sam leaned over his knees - trying to get his heartbeat to a normal pace. “Do you hear them?”, he signed to Grizz hoping he could see enough of his hands in the shadows of the night.

Grizz shook his head no while his index and middle finger met his thumb. Grizz walked in a small circle, looking out of the alleyway, trying to listen for a car. “Do you think Gordie and Bean made it okay?”.

Sam squinted at Grizz’s lips, making out what he could. He nodded, “they’re smart”. Grizz gave a reluctant nod as his lips pursed with the displeasure of their situation.

It had been a week since Grizz had returned from the venture of finding land - and with it, New Ham had gone corrupt. Moments before, Campbell had sent out his loyal lemmings to do his bidding - and anyone that had sided with Allie was in trouble - especially those closest to her.

Grizz saw the flashlight first at the house - the kitchen containing Gordie, Bean, Sam and himself figuring out how to help Allie and Will. They quickly split up, hoping it would increase their chances of escape. It was also the first time Sam and he had seen each other since he had left for his exhibition.

Sam had finally caught his breath as he found himself pacing through the alleyway, looking at doors around them of the small abandoned shops. 

“I didn’t think...”, Grizz tapped Sam’s arm to get his attention. “I didn’t think it would get this bad so quickly”.

Sam seemed heated as he looked to Grizz, “I told you, he’s smart. Allie should have done something about him before”. 

Grizz heard something in the distance, quickly putting his finger to his mouth for Sam to be quiet. They quickly went to the back of the alleyway, hiding behind a green dumpster - hunched over. Sam’s back was to the green metal behind him, giving small hope to that no one would find the two of them. Grizz had his face turned away, slightly peaking around the side of the dumpster looking for a light and listening for more sounds. Grizz began to hear an engine rev, he quickly looked to Sam and grabbed the hand closest to his. “Car”. Grizz gave a quick breath as Sam began to hold his own.

Grizz could hear the engine pass them, speeding in a hurry and not looking detailed enough. The silence began to take the wind again, Grizz giving out a large exhale. He looked down, seeing Sam’s hand clenched with his own still. Unintentionally giving a smile to the feeling.

Sam looked down, letting go of Grizz’s hand. Grizz looked to Sam’s face, seeing the word ‘sorry’ being signed back to him.

Grizz shook off the thoughts of what Sam’s eyes made him feel. He had to be in the moment - he had to be on his guard.

“I think we can make it to the hospital”.

“Did Kelly respond?”.

Grizz nodded, “she’s got it locked up. No sign of Gordie or Bean yet”.

Sam breathed a bit, the cold being warmed by his air. Sam’s nerves were on high for multiple reasons - he tried to relinquish continuous ideas of what he wanted to say to Grizz - fearful that one of them wouldn’t make the night. 

A small light glimmered from Grizz’s pocket. He checked his phone quickly, “Kelly says to stay out of sight for a few hours and then make it to her”.

Sam nodded, giving a sign of if they should get up.

“Hold on”. Grizz’s nature was naturally protective - especially of those who he cared about. He got up from behind the dumpster slowly. He walked to the edge of the alleyway, hearing and seeing nothing that would be a danger to them. Grizz made a motion for Sam to come out - knowing that he was watching his every move. He looked to the side door that led to the coffee shop. Sam stood up, following Grizz to the door.

Grizz tried the handle - it opened thanks to teens in the first week wanting to raid everything.

Sam followed in as Grizz closed the door gently behind them. Sam quickly grabbed a chair to block the door, Grizz doing the same to the front entrance. 

Grizz led them both as he ventured to the back, finding an office. It wasn't a large office, but it had a small window that was close to the ceiling. Helpful enough to see if someone was coming. Grizz locked the door behind Sam as Sam found a seat in a generic metal fold up chair. "You think we can stay here for a little?". Sam kept his voice low as he signed.

Grizz gave a knock with his fist as he nodded. "I think it's best for them to have some time to give up for a bit. Then we'll make a run to the hospital".

Sam looked over to Grizz's chest, seeing a mark come from his sweatshirt. "You okay?"

Grizz looked down, finally realizing there was blood on his shirt. He gently touched the area and flinched a little. "Must have happened when we jumped that barbed gate".

Sam gave a sigh, getting up from his seat. "Sit down, let me see if there's something to clean you up".

Sam unlocked the door as Grizz took a seat on the office table. Sam walked slowly and stayed low to the ground as he made his way behind the coffee bar. He quickly found a white first aid kit and made his way back to the office.

"Found this", Sam closed the door gently behind him, relocking it. "Take off your shirt", a small amount of silence followed his direction, tension lingering between the pair of them.

"I can do it my...", Grizz winced as he tried to get up too quickly.

Sam gave a judgemental quirk to his face, Grizz nodding knowing Sam was right to help him.

Grizz lifted his sweatshirt first, revealing a white tank, one that was slowly being soaked with blood near his abdomen.

Sam pulled the chair over to get a better look at Grizz's wound.

Sam ruffled through the first aid kit, finding some gauze and a small cloth to clean up the area. Grizz pulled his tank over his chest giving another wince of pain in the process. Sam applied pressure to the wound with the cloth, his hands lightly touching around the wound.

Grizz gave a small laugh, Sam looking up questionably.

"Your hands are cold", Grizz tried to keep his smile to himself.

"Sorry", Sam was short with his response as he was on too much of an edge still. Sam found some antiseptic cream in the kit. "It isn't bleeding any more. I'm going to put this on", he kept his eyes off of Grizz as thoughts encompassed him. Sam used a cleansing wipe, getting rid of some dried blood and then gently tapped some ointment into the wound. He then continued to use some gauze to bandage the rest of it up.

Grizz pushed his tank back down as Sam gave the sign for finished - all the while seeing Sam's expressions.

"How'd you know how to do that?".

Sam shrugged, "you know how too".

"Yeah but I was a boy scout...". Grizz tried to get Sam's attention again as Sam seemed to be somewhere else in his mind.

Sam met Grizz's eyes, "practice".

Grizz gave thought to the word, the explanation. Remembering months ago of the story that Sam had told the group of them. "Sam, can I ask you something?".

Sam had already moved his chair back, Grizz still towering over him by sitting on the desk. Sam just nodded in response.

"Was that bird...was it the only time you saw Campbell violent?". Grizz's eyes were locked onto Sam's.

Sam shook his head no, his eyes darting away from Grizz for a moment.

"Why didn't you tell us that too? Or...me?”, Grizz tried to not to make it about the lingering relationship between the two of them - one that had yet to be resolved.

"He didn't have control here. Not with Cassandra and not with Allie. And it's been a few years since....". Sam began to get tears in his eyes as he reflected back on his childhood. Words escaping him - inner courage resisting himself to shed a tear.

Grizz's heart began to sink. Taking in mind what kind of person Campbell was, terrified of what had happened to Sam over the years. Grizz got up, a wave of anger rising in him, deflecting the pain in his abdomen as he paced throughout the room.

Sam stood up, grasping Grizz’s hand to stop him. “I’m okay”.

“We’re hiding out in an abandoned coffee shop because of the guy!”, Grizz realized he yelled quite quickly - looking to the window to make sure nothing new was around them. Grizz’s nose went up as it sniffled looking back to Sam.

Sam’s hand still had Grizz’s in a grip - “I’m okay now”.

Grizz nodded, “okay”. Grizz looked down as their fingers intertwined.

"Sam...".

Sam looked at Grizz with soft eyes, appreciating how much care Grizz still had for him.

Grizz grabbed Sam at his back, bringing him closer to his body, his right hand going to Sam's cheek to pull in.

Their lips met, nerves shooting through both of them as they were anxious about their situation. Grizz leaned back to the edge of the desk, bringing Sam with him as their heights became closer.

Sam gently rubbed the side of Grizz's bare arm, Sam's body in between the opening of Grizz's legs. Quick kisses exchanged between them, an eagerness of pace heightening.

Their lips separated as Grizz gave a small hum while Sam kissed his jaw. Sam moved his mouth down to Grizz's neck.

Grizz gave a small gasp as he could feel Sam's tongue on his skin, his hands gripping Sam tighter.

A light beamed from Grizz's sweatshirt, still on the edge of the table.

"Sam...". Grizz didn't want to stop but he knew the situation they were in was more vital. Grizz pushed Sam off gently, making sure he could see him.

Sam looked questionable, a little afraid that he was doing something Grizz didn't want.

"My phone", Grizz pointed over to his sweatshirt.

Sam moved away, reaching the back of his neck, body turned away from Grizz.

Grizz reached for his phone, as he saw a new message from Kelly. He quickly tapped Sam's shoulder for him to turn around.

"Gordie and Bean made it. She says there haven't been cars around for a while. We should go now...". Grizz gave a reluctant sigh as he said the last of his words.

Sam nodded, turning away from Grizz again.

"Hey", Grizz reached for Sam's hand this time for him to turn back. Sam's eyes looked saddened as if he felt his actions weren't wanted. "We will figure this out when we're safe, okay?"

"We aren't safe with him in charge".

Grizz gave a nod. "Okay, we'll figure this out when we get to the hospital".

"I've made it too complicated. It's too much".

Grizz shook his head, lips pursing in disagreement. "That's how life is. Especially with it in a place like here. We'll talk later, but we have to make it to the hospital first". Grizz reached for his sweatshirt, putting it back on slowly as the pain came back to him while he stretched.

"Gordie can find medicine for that". Sam tried to keep his thoughts focused on leaving now.

Sam unlocked the door as Grizz followed him out.

Grizz reached for Sam's hand once again, as they both were low to the ground going through the hallway. "Sam. It's all complicated".

Sam shook his head, "this isn't the time".

"No but...", Grizz gave thought to his words as he knew what his heartfelt for the blue-eyed boy in front of him. "I wanted that too, in there". Grizz gave a small smile of reassurance. "Let's get out of here".

[fic-for-fic-sake]

To make you feel my love, Loki x reader

A/N: Literally sitting in the dark in my room listening to the Adele song To make you feel my love and I thought, wow, I should totally write a fic about this song because I’m some kind of sadist. So anywhere, here’s the oneshot nobody asked for but I delivered anyway.

When the rain is blowing in your face, and the whole world is on your case, I could offer you a warm embrace, to make you feel my love

You had been in love with Loki Odinson for as long as you could remember. In fact, you couldn’t think of a time that you /weren’t/ in love with him. You two had grown up together running through the palace hallways after each other. As a nobleman's daughter, you and Loki ran in the same social circles. The only problem was, Loki didn’t see you the way you saw him.

It was tragic but true, though you had never expressed your devotion for him, you were certain he saw you as nothing more than his very best friend. You two were closer than close, told each other everything. You saw the way he looked at attractive young men and women of the court and you knew he didn’t look at you the same way. But there was something you knew none of them had, his ear.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear, and there is no one there to dry your tears, I could hold you for a million years, to make you feel my love

He would bring people in and out of his chambers but they never stayed, not like you. You were one of few constants in the Prince’s life. Every time Thor annoyed him or Odin chose Loki as his personal punching bag, you were always there to help him through it. Often times he would ask you why you had never courted anyone for longer than a couple months at a time. How could you bring yourself to tell him it was because in your eyes nobody could hold a candle to him? That the only person you wanted in all the realms only saw you as a friend.

You would simply gaze fondly at him and ruffle his hair, something he would /never/ let anyone else do, and ask him about his latest conquest. No matter how much you felt like you were being gutted, it was better than having the attention on your and your affection for the younger prince.

I know you haven’t made your mind up yet, but I will never do you wrong. I’ve known it from the moment that we met, no doubt in my mind where you belong.

The day was fast approaching when Thor and Loki would have to choose brides to be by their side when one of them eventually ascended to the throne of Asgard. Though you saw Loki gallivanting with every possible bachelorette in the kingdom, none of them seemed to stick. You knew it was foolish but you had hoped it was because of you. But in truth, you knew it probably had to do with his restless and mischievous nature. Having a wife would tie him down and hinder his ways.

How badly you wanted to tell him that with you it wouldn’t be like that. You didn’t want to change Loki, you loved him just as he was. To you, he was perfect. How could anyone ask him to change something so fundamental about himself? Those who tried were all fools who didn’t want the real Loki, only the version they had projected onto him.

I’d go hungry I’d go black and blue. I’d go crawling down the avenue. No there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do, to make you feel my love.

Even though you lived outside of the palace you were there most nights because of Loki. Whenever he was having a moody day or just felt like it, he requested your presence. He said it was because having you near him focused him more. You always tried to hide the blush that would creep up your cheeks when he said this.

You recalled the first night you had permission from your father to stay over at the palace. Queen Frigga had said she would arrange for you but Loki wouldn’t have it, insisting that you spend the evening in his chambers with him. Once the two of you had decided to call it a night you walked down the dark hallways from the library to his chambers with only the flicker of torchlight illuminating the way.

You had been in Loki’s room numerous times before but this was the first time you were there past reasonable hours. When he shut his chamber door behind him, you had began to position yourself on his chaise lounge by the fireplace.

“Y/N, what in Odin’s name are you doing?” He had asked with a curious smile on his face.

“I’m getting ready for bed.” You simply stated, thinking it was quite obvious.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re not sleeping on that. You’ll sleep in my bed with me. There’s plenty of room for both of us.” He replied as if this was a normal occurrence for the two of you.

Your mouth went dry at the suggestion. He couldn’t have possibly meant that you two would share a bed. Yes nothing would happen but the mere thought of being in the bed with the person you were so enamored by was incomprehensible to you. When you were again able to form a cohesive thought all you let out was a measly “oh”. You then watched as Loki got on the left side of the bed and you went around to the right side and got in as well. You two weren’t touching each other by any means but gods were you aware of his proximity to you. You turned your body to face away from him and eventually you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

You awoke to something pressing against your back. A second of consciousness later you were aware that it was Loki. As you continued to wake up more you realized that his arms were around you and he was spooning you. Ever so slightly, you turned around to face him, careful not to disturb him. You saw as obsidian locks cascaded over the pillow and a few had made their way across his beautiful face. You observed as his chest softly rose and fell in time with his breathing as his long eyelashes fanned over his cheeks. You swore you could wake up to this sight every day for the rest of your life and never get bored.

A feeling of profound sadness washed over you in that moment, longing for something that you knew would never come. You slowly got up and found a book and began to read it as you sat in the chaise by the fire.

The storms are raging on the rolling sea, and on the highway of regret. The winds of change are blowing wild and free, you ain’t seen nothing like me yet.

A month later it had been decided that Thor would succeed Odin as King of Asgard. A decision that threw Loki for a loop. You stayed up with him night after night as he grew more and more enraged. He was sure he had proven himself as a true leader to Odin time and time again. He kept insisting that Thor knew nothing of diplomacy and would surely mess up the first chance he got.

You had talked him down from each one of his rampages, speaking soothing words and gently rubbing his back as he held his head in his hands. Your poor lost prince, how would he make it out of this one?

The day came for Thor’s coronation and the whole aristocracy was there to celebrate, at least almost everyone. While you were happy for Thor you were there for Loki. You had promised him that you wouldn’t leave his side for the duration of the day and he was thankful for it. As Odin spoke the words of Thor being worthy and a true heir of the throne of Asgard, Loki entwined his fingers with yours and gently squeezed your hand. You gave a reassuring squeeze back, trying to mentally tell him that you would always be there for him, no matter what.

Odin was about to end the ceremony when disaster struck. The frost giants had invaded and Thor decided he was going to break his father’s command and go to Jotunheim to teach them a lesson. As his brother, Loki decided to go with him. You were panicking and imagining the worst case scenario but Loki assured you that he would be fine.

“Y/N you always worry too much. I’ll come back in one piece, I promise.” Loki whispered to you between the golden columns of the palace, out of earshot of the guards.

“You’d better, if you come back in multiple pieces it’ll be harder for me to kick your ass for this.” You retorted, hoping your idle threat would cover up how scared you were. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing Loki to the barren tundra of Jotunheim.

Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, they somehow did. You were waiting with the Queen when Loki returned. You had learned of Thor’s exile to Midgard and you were terrified as to what this meant for the realm. Before you could even fully wrap your head around that, Odin had fallen into the Odinsleep and Loki was crowned as king of Asgard.

You were pacing around in the hallway outside of Loki’s chambers, itching to knock on the door but not sure what to say or do once granted entrance. Do you bow to him now? Congratulate him? That seemed inappropriate. Finally gathering your courage you knocked on the door but found there was no answer. That was odd, there was light coming from the other side of the door so you knew Loki was inside. You knocked again but yet still no answer came. Before you could think too much about it, you opened the door into Loki’s chamber.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see but the sight you were met with wasn’t it. Loki sat crumpled up in the corner of his once pristine room. It looked as if a tornado had come though and destroyed everything. Books were torn to pieces, furniture was broken, clothes and drapes were strewn across the room and the only sound came from Loki’s gentle sobbing in the corner. You instinctively ran over to him and crouched down on the ground so you were on his level. You embraced him in your arms and made soft shushing sounds as you slowly rocked him back and forth.

“Loki what’s happened, what is it?” You implored. You’ve seen him upset before but this was something different. He wasn’t upset, he was devastated and broken.

He pulled away from your embrace and you tried not to give in to the disappointment you felt at his lack of presence. He looked up at you with disheveled, matted hair. His eyes red and glassy from crying.

“Do you know what it’s like to be lied to your whole life Y/N?” He asked in a voice so harsh yet quiet you had to strain to hear the words he laced together. “To believe one thing and then suddenly find out another.”

“Loki, what are you talking about?” You asked in a soothing tone. You could feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes, Loki’s current state scaring you.

“My whole life has been a lie. All these years I’ve been nothing but a pawn in Odin’s twisted game.” He seethed, his voice lacing with venom at the mention of the Allfather.

“I don’t understand.” You replied, still dumbfounded.

Suddenly, Loki’s skin began to shift and change. Where his skin was once ivory and brilliant it turned a deadly shade of deep blue. The forest green eyes you spent countless hours staring into shifted into a dark crimson. All over his body were heightened ridges.

“I’m a Jotun Y/N!” Loki practically yelled, not at you but at the empty night air. “This is why father always favored Thor over me, because he could never have a frost giant abomination sitting on the throne of Asgard.” Loki roared. In his rage, more objects combusted in the room.

You know you should’ve had a strong reaction to this. Any logical or sane person would. They would run screaming straight out of the now King’s quarters. But you weren’t most people. You had been in love with this man since you were children. You had seen him through the highest of highs and now the lowest of lows. How could you abandon him after all you had been through together? Loki was the only person that understood you. You loved him for him, his true heritage didn’t change that. He was still Loki.

He seemed to realize that his rampage and blue form hadn’t scared you off. “Why are you still here? I-I’m a monster.” He trembled as he said the words.

As an answer to his question, you crawled the space between the two of you and feeling particularly brave and high off the moment, you climbed into his lap. You looped your arms around his neck and with a small smile on your lips told him your true feelings for him. As you rattled on and on about your constant devotion and love for this man small tears made their way down your face. Not tears of sadness, but tears of letting go. You knew that after this moment nothing would be the same. But somehow you knew Loki needed to hear this and he needed to hear it now. As you brushed a stray onyx lock of hair behind his deep blue ear, you told him that even though it felt like he was alone now, he wasn’t truly. You would always be there for him, because you loved him unconditionally.

I could make you happy make your dreams come true. There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do. Go to the ends of the earth for you, to make you feel my love.

With a mouth wet from tears, you slowly leaned in and kissed Loki for the first time. It took him a second but he responded by wrapping his arms around you and gently kissing you back.

To make you feel my love.

Tags: @lokixme @drakesfiance