#maybe i could sleep a dozen tranquil nights if i could hold your hand just once today;caleb & nathan

[mythvoiced]

⭐️ (I just GOTTA know)

@wantedformanysins | — for each “⭐️” i get, i’ll write a headcanon about our muses.

---

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING IT, I was hoping you would >:3c You sent only one but uhm... I’m going to be very loud about the ships/muse combos we’re discussing, so beware for Length™ below the cut. Note: in no way shape or form is there any pressure to accept any of these headcanons and I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on them, whether you agree or disagree with them, and just, all you’ve got to say, please ;W; Also, pretty sure I didn’t miss anyone (not included those we just recently started on) but, like, if I somehow did, shoot me in the face ♥

Going in no particular order.

-. Aziz & Nathaniel I like to think that, pre-wipe, they had a lot of unspoken agreements and settlements between them that were mostly of strategic and social nature, in the sense that, they naturally positioned themselves in ways physically and took on specific roles in conversations with new people (especially when they were up to no good) without having ever discussed who, for example, plays the good cop and who plays the bad cop. They were simply in sync with each other, naturally filling in where the other lacked, covering each other’s backs, backing up crap one of them made up on the spot, they worked together so astoundingly well without ever... sitting down and talking it out, they just completed and complemented each other’s ideas. This faded post-wipe because Aziz no longer remembered how to read Nathaniel, he’s meeting him for the first time again, and Nathaniel isn’t familiar with this Aziz either, but what if part of it is still present, what if subconsciously they still click with each other, especially when bullshitting their way out of things, in ways that would make an observant eye go “well damn, that’s a team, alright”. Now... that’d be lowkey neat, wouldn’t it.

-. Aziz & Diana When the one of them needs to talk, they just know. They walk into the room and the other just knows, from the way they walk in, from the look on their face, the way they hold themselves, they just sense it, when something’s wrong, because they know each other, but also because they care enough to be in tune with it, with the general energy, brightness the other is exuding. So whenever one needs to sit down and be held a while or get something off their chest, they just... know and open their arms.

-. Nathan & Caleb I don’t know where this one came from, but I literally deleted the headcanon I had written before it, just to write this in its stead, and, honestly, but late-night picnic on a spot overlooking a city and then sitting on the hood of a car to watch the stars, I don’t know why, but my brain would like this to be a date they went on at least once, to have it tranquil and romantic and loving, and there’s a lot of leaning on the other and hugging and soft making out - anything else could be done back at home - and enjoying one another’s presence and am I saying that this is the date Caleb would have proposed on? UHm........................ Absolutely

-. Nathan & Junghoon They keep in contact quite regularly even after Junghoon leaves the States, kind of coordinating time-zones until phone calls work, but before they do that, checking in with the occasional text, while Jung collects memes to send Nathan, and always keeps Nathan up to date with any news he gets on Nathan’s favourite artists if he has any, they get each other Christmas presents and basically just maintain this friendship in spite of the distance while Jung keeps telling Nathan that if he ever wants to fly in, he’s got a place to stay, and guaranteeing that he’ll drop in soon again, this time to hang out, though.

-. Aziz & Haniel Weekly meet-ups, or maybe monthly? Or, perhaps, unspecified time-span, but one thing is sure, every now and then Aziz and Haniel just get together to catch up (this when Aziz is with Nathaniel & Diana, so after Aziz & Haniel’s time hanging out together more regularly). They get together, sit down somewhere where they can listen to the wind or watch the sea, and they talk, it’s calm, it’s timeless, as if every time they sat together, the world would spin according to their needs, at their pace, and they’d talk, or maybe they wouldn’t, they’d sit there and enjoy the world breathing around them and one another’s company.

-. Aziz & Muninn They compare stories. Stories they accidentally eavesdropped on, or some tale they stumbled upon in an old book, or anything they might have picked up, when they’re not searching for stories together and when Aziz isn’t potentially too distracted by an episode to keep any in mind, they try to have a few at the ready to discuss when they’ll meet again.

-. Nathan & Chulsoo This one’s angsty and I need your thoughts on all of these, but mayhaps this one in particular, also in case I misunderstood Nathan in any way, but my headcanon for these two is that they spent a lot of nights awake simply lying next to each other without noticing the other was awake and doing the same thing, all the while pondering, and mulling their relationship over, just sleepless hours they dissected the past and the future of their relationship and got nowhere.

-. Emerson & Eunjae THIS ONE’S CUTE, OKAY, HOW ABOUT: exchanging bookmarks. Maybe they’re selfmade, maybe they have some sort of emotional value, or maybe they were bought for specifically this purpose, but what if Emerson and Eunjae got each other special, personalised maybe even, bookmarks as a sign of growing affection between them? Maybe the other’s name is written on it in stylised letters, or maybe a quote they relate to the other is printed onto it, whatever suits Emerson’s style more for what she’d make and what she’d like, basically.

-. Emerson & Catharina They become regulars at a very expensive restaurant that is traditionally or simply ‘usually’ frequented by man only, partly with the purpose to spite these men by navigating this place confidently and with zero shame, all while quickly becoming some of the best customers because they’re polite, treat the waiters with respect, and never showcase any of that stomach churning arrogance the other patrons do, heck, they most likely even memorise some of the employee’s names and just... become favoured because 1. they have the money, 2. they’re decent human beings who treat others with respect unless disrespected first. Also, they fking look amazing, they look like suits and gowns respectively were invented to be worn by them specifically, Emerson outshines every fella in the room by simply wearing what they’re wearing, just... better.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 || dark!Bucky Barnes & dark!Steve Rogers x reader

summary: a little fresh air never hurt anyone, right?

word count: 10.3k (yes, OVER TEN THOUSAND WORDS OF FILTH what is wrong with me)

warnings: noncon smut (incl. anal, oral m and f receiving, dp, and spitroasting), bondage/restraint (and a gag), some mild violence, lots of slapping, pussy spanking, forced orgasms, degradation/derogatory language, kinda kidnapping, a touch of stockholm syndrome?, very brief breeding kink, period-typical sexism (this is set in the late 60s but you wouldn't really be able to tell aside from that and the lack of technology)

a/n: the song that plays on the radio, and the song that just so happens to be the title of the fic, is by john lee hooker in case anyone wants the proverbial vibes

You needed a chance to clear your head every once in a while, that's what camping in the woods was for.  It was the perfect time of year for it, too; the leaves were changing, the woodland animals were beginning to prepare for hibernation, and the weather was almost warm with a refreshing breeze that promised to bring the winter chill soon enough.

It was far from your first time in these woods, you knew the drive like the back of your hand by now, just as well as you knew how to hike down to the best places to set up camp.  

You set down your pack and took in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air.  No sounds except for the wind in the trees, the trickle of the creek, and your own thoughts which you found pleasantly blank.  You'd chosen a spot by the creek, where you could spearfish on evenings that you felt especially adventurous, with a nice dirt patch perfect for a fire.  The most dangerous thing about camping in the fall was that the dry leaves could catch flame so easily, so one of the key stages of setting up camp was raking away any foliage from your firepit, lest it become unintentional kindling.

The next order of business was finding a few dozen smooth stones to surround the fire, along with some logs and sticks to burn.  

A knife and flint was just enough to speed up your firebuilding so that you had something solid going by nightfall, shedding your jacket to better feel the warmth as the flames grew and the sun set.

Sure, the woods could feel a little… creepy, at night, for lack of a better word, but it was more tranquil than anything.  Most of the wildlife that was so active during the day stilled and silenced, bar the occasional owl’s hoot, so the loudest sounds were the crackling of your fire and the ever-present trickle of the creek.  You heated your kettle for a cup of chamomile tea, something to help you get to sleep on the admittedly uncomfortable sleeping bag in your canvas tent.

The mug warmed your fingers as you filled and held it, and the steam warmed your face as you took a sip; but the contents warmed your chest, and your soul, as you contemplated the flavors; is it possible that tea tastes better when enjoyed in the quiet woods, mid-autumn?

You were already yawning by the time the mug was finished, so you set it aside and crawled into your tent, shedding the excessive layers and slipping between the fluffy down-stuffed layers of your bedroll.  It was chilly at first but you knew your body heat would make it toasty all too soon, so you ignored the way you shivered as you fluffed your pillow and laid it under your head.

It was dark with only the fading light of your fire seeping in through the thick-weave canvas; and it was quiet, being the middle of the forest and all.  One sound you didn’t expect were distant sirens, barely audible, which made you wonder if something had happened, but you couldn't know what so you didn't pay it much mind as you drifted to sleep.

The next morning came early, of course; as early as the sun rose, warm sunlight flooding through the canvas of your tent.

You enjoyed staying in the bed for a while, not so much because it was very comfortable (it wasn’t) but just because you wanted to relish having no need to get up yet.  No job, no cleaning, no chores… though you were pretty hungry so that inspired you to get up and see about breakfast.

Slipping on a few more layers to protect yourself from the morning breeze, you opened your tent and stepped out into the woods, finding your fire had been reduced to a pile of embers meaning that you would need to find more wood to get it going for breakfast-cooking purposes.  And that’s what you were about to do when you heard a snapping of twigs echo through the woods, making you glance up to the source of the noise.

Your back straightened instantly at the sight of two men, one with short blonde hair and the other’s dark and nearly to his shoulders, walking down the hill nearby just across the creek.  They were still pretty distant, and yet they were much too close for comfort; close enough to see that these were not men one would want to encounter while alone in the woods.

They had new clothes— baggy and loose, almost certainly stolen— but it wasn’t enough to hide where they must’ve come from.  They might as well have still been in jumpsuits with numbers on their chests.

The prison, just over five miles away.  Had they really hiked this far?  You kicked yourself now for ignoring the sirens last night.

You froze as they turned and caught your gaze, the three of you locked in a stare for a brief moment before one of them took a step forward: that was all the cause you needed to run like hell, turning on your heel and starting so fast you nearly slipped on the leaves beneath you.  You heard them call out, chasing after you, but you focused on staring ahead and trying to remember the path back home, or at least to the road where someone might drive by to help you.

A root nearly caught your foot but you kept running, hating that you could hear them gaining on you since it didn’t actually seem to help you run any faster.  You looked back and saw them much too close for comfort, but when you looked back ahead it was too late to avoid the tree right in front of you; you swerved but it still made you slip and almost fall.

But you didn’t fall.  Someone caught you, and grabbed you, and pulled you into his oppressive form.

His arms held you painfully tight as his hand covered your mouth.  "Gotcha," the man growled against your ear, licking the shell of it as you struggled against his grip.  

Everything everyone had told you about why a lady shouldn’t camp alone in the woods suddenly flashed in your mind, your eyes squinting shut as you wished you had listened.  All you could do now was kick wildly, swinging your legs in the air which didn't even do anything.

"Pretty little thing, aren't ya?” he purred as you saw the second man come into view— the blonde one, so you knew it was the one with long, dark hair that must’ve been holding you, giving you such a twisted compliment.  “Just beggin' to be fucked right."

"Don't look so scared, sweetheart, we're not gonna hurt you…” the blonde man explained, “just play nice and we will too."

"Speak for yourself, Rogers," the man holding you snarled.  "Been a long time since I got to feel a pussy, I wanna tear this little bitch up."

You sobbed and writhed as the one apparently called Rogers hushed you soothingly, trying to calm you.  "Hey, just do what we say and it won't hurt alright?  Just take it easy."

He stepped closer, reaching out towards you while you grunted and whined with every kick, smiling in a way that would’ve been soothing in nearly any other situation.  He motioned to his partner who slowly lowered his hand from your mouth, and though your instinct was to scream you just heard yourself panting and whimpering instead.

“Did you hear me?  We’re not gonna hurt you.  We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet… I’m Steve, and this here is my cellmate— uh, friend— Barnes.”

“But you can call me Bucky, dollface,” the man behind you added with a little smile that you could hear and feel with him pressing up so close to your face.

“See, he and I just came from an awful, terrible place—”

“I know where you came from,” you cut him off with a snarl.  “You’re criminals!  You’re scum!”

Bucky just laughed and held you tighter until your arms started to ache from struggling against him.  

“Hey now, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve corrected firmly— not angry, but stern.  “I was framed, I served seven years for something I didn’t do.  You’re innocent, too, right Barnes?”

“No,” he instantly answered, making Steve look disappointed.  “Oh, uh, sure.  Yeah, I was framed.  Real sob story,” he suddenly decided, not sounding like he was trying that hard to convince you.

“Point is, we were all alone for a long, long time, and we thought maybe you’d wanna be nice and take care of us, huh?” Steve offered.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“That’s sort of the idea,” Bucky whispered playfully.

“Let me go,” you demanded as Steve’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared, anger finally coming out when he suddenly grabbed your chin and held your face to look up at him.

“Let me make one thing very fucking clear,” he explained, nearly whispering so you were forced to stay still and quiet to hear him.  “You don’t get to pick what you want.  But you get to pick if you’re gonna make this easy, or difficult.”

You spat in his face; he slapped you for that, so hard that your ears rang for a moment while he grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve.

“Difficult it is,” he announced with ill-restrained loathing, coming even closer as Bucky covered your mouth again to muffle your screams of protest.  “Buck, I’m goin’ first.”

“Fuck you, pal, I was in longer and I saw her first,” Bucky replied frustratedly.  “I’m not gonna take long anyway, you can go after me.”

“I just got spit in my face!” Steve reminded him.  “And the breakout was my idea!”

“Your idea?!” Bucky repeated incredulously.  “What, you think you’re the first guy to think ‘hey, what if we just left prison?’ because trust me, if it wasn’t for my screwdriver—”

Their argument caused Bucky’s focus to slip, that must have been why the hand on your mouth loosened and you could speak again.

"You won't get away with this, my father's a sheriff!" you yelped, interrupting their negotiation.

They both laughed darkly and you instantly regretted saying it.

"Oh, sweetheart, your old man's a cop?  That's too bad,” Steve sighed.  “You know what they say: sins of the father…"

"Fuck the daughter,” Bucky finished with a cold, hollow laugh as he suddenly bit down on your ear making you wince and shudder, tears streaming down your cheeks already.

He tossed you down and pinned you to the ground, his strong, heavy body on top of yours knocking the wind out of you as he began to tear at your clothes and, annoyingly, not seeming to find them much trouble at all.  You whimpered when you felt your pants torn down your legs, hating how exposed and vulnerable you felt, hating the undeniable fact that you couldn’t stop this.

You tried to get up when he reached down to open his belt and jeans, but Steve’s boot came down on your shoulder and held you still again.  Bucky was rushed and brutal as he pushed his pants down and pressed his cock against your ass, guiding it between your legs as you hissed and tried not to think about what was about to happen.

He pulled back briefly to spit on your hole, spreading the forced wetness with the head of his cock before suddenly pushing into you as you gasped and choked on a sob.

"Oh, that's it baby,” he groaned, “scream if you want, nobody can hear you but us."

Already he was thrusting with wild abandon, his hips slapping into your ass as his hot breath came down against your ear and neck, his face pressing yours into the cold ground.

"Fuuuuuck,” he moaned lowly, “so tight, Jesus Christ… fuckin' missed this, went almost ten years without burying my cock in a wet little cunt like this.  Shit, it's even better than I remember."

You just cried and bit down on nothing, pain making violent shivers run up your spine as the width of him split you open, pushing deeper than you’d known anything could go.

Each thrust seemed somehow rougher and deeper than the last, pushing you further past your limits, making your toes curl inside your boots.  He was unabashedly using your body, treating you with less care than some men might a blow-up doll, moaning loudly as he split you open with every moment.

So why did it almost begin to feel good, now that the worst of the pain had faded?  Why was the ridge of his cock brushing over your g-spot just right each time he moved?

He pinned more of his weight on you as he changed his angle slightly, enough to add just that much more brutality to every stroke, the loud slapping of skin echoing through the desolate trees.  You could tell he wasn’t lying about how long he’d been celibate in prison, because he fucked you with every ounce of pent-up frustration, hissing through his teeth and holding you tight enough to bruise.

Everything he did, he did enough to bruise.

“Yeah, take it, bitch,” he moaned when you made a particularly pained noise.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna take long,” Steve remembered, staring down at the two of you from where he was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.  

“I’m almost done, you waited this long you can wait five more minutes,” Bucky dismissed, voice a little strained as he kept fucking you.

“Just stop and give me a turn and then you can get back to it,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, no fuckin’ way,” Bucky laughed, “feels way too good to stop.  Trust me, Stevie, this pussy’s worth the wait.”

“Get her on her knees then,” Steve instructed as he came closer to you and kneeled in front of your face; Bucky manhandled your hips into place while Steve pulled your hair until you yelped and brought your head up.  “I wanna fuck this pretty little throat.”

He cut off your protests with another hard slap to your cheek, tugging your hair again as you struggled to hold yourself up on shaking arms.

“Gonna teach this mouthy bitch a lesson,” he explained as he hit you again before using one hand to open his belt and jeans.  “You know what’s gonna happen if you try to bite me, right?  I’ll just knock you out and fuck your throat anyways.  So you’d better make it good if you wanna breathe.”

You tried your best to nod with his fist tugging your hair, gasping slightly when he pulled his cock out and stroked it right in front of your face.  

“Come on, baby, open up— this is the most you’ve kept your mouth shut all day,” he laughed, tapping the swollen head of his cock on your lips until you finally opened them.  The flavor of his skin on your tongue made your lips curl in disgust but he held your jaw and pushed deeper, quickly hitting the back of your throat.  “Fuck, so warm… come on, suck it, make it good for me.”

“She’s gettin’ wet,” Bucky informed Steve with a chuckle.  “She likes it— don’t you, little whore?” he prompted as he slapped your ass suddenly, making you cry out around Steve’s length.  “You like choking on a cock like you deserve?”

You made some sort of gurgling sound, and apparently they took it as a ‘yes.’

"Aw yeah, fuck, gonna fill up this little cunt,” Bucky promised.  Funny thing is, you weren't sure if "this little cunt" meant your hole, or you.

“You’d better not, m’supposed to go after you,” Steve reminded him.

“Fuck, I dunno if I have the heart to pull out,” Bucky admitted with a laugh, slapping you on the ass to make your walls suddenly clench around him.  “I know a sweet body like this just needs to be bred.”

Your sob was louder around where Steve’s girth stretched your lips, making Bucky laugh darkly.

"Oh shit honey, what would Daddy Sherriff say if he found out you got knocked up by a couple'a criminals, huh?  By murderers?"

Steve pulled his cock out just enough to let you sob weakly before shoving back in and penetrating your throat.

"Yeah, you like it don't you?” Bucky continued to taunt you.  “You like being bred by some strangers who caught you in the woods… dirty bitch."

Steve's head fell back as he started to thrust into your mouth faster and harder, the base of his cock flexing against your tongue.  You assumed it was a sign that he was close and it made you hopeful that this would be over soon, but he suddenly pulled out with an exhausted laugh.

"Oh no you don't," he breathed, "not gonna come yet, still need to feel that tight little pussy of yours… if Bucky would hurry the fuck up."

"Fuck, I'm close, I'm close," Bucky rasped.  "Shit, babydoll, this wet cunt is gonna make me come, aren't you so proud?"

Steve held your mouth open and rubbed his cock on your tongue, occasionally shoving two fingers in with it which were salty with his sweat. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," Bucky hissed, "oh god, fuck, I'm—!"

He pulled out suddenly, rubbing his cock against your clit as his seed shot onto the ground beneath you.  You sighed with relief although you hated the way your body was actually disappointed, craving more and clenching around nothing in protest.

Bucky was hardly even finished when Steve reached under your arms to pull you up and flip you onto your back, groaning as he settled between your legs and rubbed his cock over your folds.  He didn't waste any time pushing into you, and apparently being fucked by Bucky wasn't enough to warm you up for Steve because you hissed at the sting as he filled you.

"Fuck," Steve mumbled as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them down beside your head.  Already he had begun to pull back only to spear into you again, reaching deeper inside you than Bucky had until you were gasping and choking on nothing.

Bucky stood up and stepped back, pulling his jeans up as he watched you two on the ground.

"You got any cigarettes back at camp, sweetheart?" Bucky asked you, and it was hard to focus on his question but you shook your head.  "Damn," he breathed, pondering for a moment before coming up with his next question.  "You got any candy bars?"

"Do you mind?" Steve hissed, still thrusting into you— a bit slower than Bucky but not exactly more gentle.  "We're kind of busy here."

"No, I don't particularly mind," Bucky smirked.

"Can't you just entertain yourself for a few minutes while I finish this?"

"Why should I entertain myself when I've got this pretty little thing to entertain me?" Bucky smirked, kneeling down beside you as Steve buried his face in the crook of your neck.  "Wanna help me out here, dollface?  I'm still hard…"

He freed one hand from Steve's grip and brought it up to the front of his jeans so you could feel the hard bulge there.  He opened them for you, reaching in and pulling his hard cock out to wrap your hand around it.

Feeling the thickness of it in your palm now, you couldn't imagine how it ever fit inside you.

"Yeah, that's it, I'll teach you how to stroke it right…" he groaned.  "You know how many times I had to do this to myself, just imagining claiming a little slut like you?  Your hands are so much softer, sweetheart…"

His hand tightened around yours and guided every movement, which was good because you had no chance of focusing on anything while Steve was slamming into you and moaning right by your ear.

"So wet," he whispered to you, "so warm.  All mine…"

You felt your insides grip him harder and he smiled, lips tickling your sensitive skin.

"Yeah, you like bein' mine.  You like being owned, I can feel it.  I can feel that this is exactly what you needed.  Is that what you were hoping for when you came out to these woods all by yourself?  That a big strong man would show up and stretch out this pussy?  Well I'm here now, angel, and I'm just about ready to fill you up real good."

A few more thrusts, faster and harder than ever, were enough to send Steve over the edge as you felt each pulse warm you from the inside out.  Steve groaned loudly and buried himself as deep as he could possibly go, painting his come right onto your cervix while you gasped at the sensation.

Bucky stopped moving your hand and looked down at Steve.  "Are you fucking serious— did you just come inside?"

Steve took a moment to catch his breath before answering: "duh."

"How come you get to come inside but I don't, huh?"

"Cause I went second!"

"Yeah, that's some bullshit," Bucky scoffed.

"Will you just leave now, please?" you whimpered weakly from the ground.  "You got what you wanted, now just go."

"Oh, sweetheart, we are nowhere near done with you," Steve promised, sighing as he pulled out of you slowly.

You wanted to try to get up, but your limbs were weak and numb, and your head heavy with confusion.  It made it easy for Bucky to scoop you up and carry you back the way you'd run, your tent quickly coming into view which made you realize how pitifully short your chase had been.

“Looks big enough for the three of us,” Steve noted as he tilted his head to look at your camp.

“We’re not going in yet, I think somebody needs a little creek bath first,” Bucky smiled as he started to set you down on your shaky legs.  “Go ahead and strip, doll.”

You shivered, considering resistance but deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble as you started to peel off your shirt and jacket, then your boots and slightly torn leggings.

They both smiled and watched you, Bucky snorted a little when he saw how hard your nipples were.  “It’s chilly,” you defended meekly.

“Sure it is,” he nodded, “don’t stop, get in the water when you’re done.”

You nodded slightly as you tossed the clothes aside, trying to cover yourself with your arms as you slowly walked into the stony creek, wishing the water weren’t so clear so it would cover you better.

You made a weak attempt to clean yourself, watching goosebumps cover your skin from the cool water.

"Wash yourself up good,” Bucky instructed firmly.  “I don't want any of Rogers' jizz still in you when I take that pussy again."

With a grimace, you washed between your legs and winced when your touch reawakened the sting of soreness there.

“You’re gonna have to push it out, honey, it’s real deep,” Steve grinned pridefully.

You did your best to clean up, not for Bucky’s benefit but for your own, because you hated how it felt to have Steve’s spend still within you.

“How am I supposed to dry off?” you asked nervously as you looked around, knowing you hadn’t brought a towel as you hadn’t really planned on a full creek bath during your trip.  You hadn’t planned on any of this during your trip, shockingly enough.

“You can drip dry,” Steve suggested.

“So you want me to stand naked in the cold for an hour while I dry?” you realized, irritated but still scared.

“Something like that,” Bucky confirmed.  “Unless you want us to keep you warm…”

“I’ll freeze,” you decided, stepping out of the water as Bucky snatched your clothes away to make sure you couldn’t dress.  “Gimme those!”

“Come and get ‘em,” he challenged, leaving you to huff and cross your arms, teeth chattering as the wind picked up.

You couldn’t imagine why they cared so much about testing your will when they’d already proven that they could take you however they wanted.  Perhaps it was just that they wanted to know you’d accepted that.  Better yet, they probably hoped you would participate willingly if you understood that you never had a choice.

Closing your eyes didn’t help, you could still feel their hungry gaze on you; rubbing yourself with your hands didn’t help because it just spread the cold water around on your skin, rather than actually warming you up.

It was probably less than a minute but it felt like half an hour before you relented, walking up to Bucky and looking down to avoid his stare as you meekly requested, “can I have my clothes, please?”

“But I can think of so many better ways to keep you warm,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, Steve moving behind you to press his chest against your back.  You sighed with relief because even this was already making you feel better,  the warmth of their bodies taking out some of the chill while their size blocked you from the wind.  You mewled, ever so quietly, when you felt Bucky’s lips on your neck, your eyes falling shut as your head fell back onto Steve’s chest.  

They showered you in gentle touches and teasing kisses as they picked you up and carried you into your tent, the small space beginning to warm quickly with the heat of three people inside— or was it just you that was getting hot from what they were doing to you.

Steve was groping your tits and pinching your hardened nipples, while Bucky focused most on sucking your neck or biting just beneath your ear.  It was overwhelming, and impossible to ignore though you wanted so desperately not to be aroused.  There were only four hands exploring your body but it might as well have been a hundred because you couldn’t tell the difference, they were touching you everywhere all at once.

"Now, are you gonna behave or do we need to tie you up?" Steve asked quietly.

You shook your head wildly, tensing up just imagining that.  "Then say it," he instructed.

"I-I'll be good," you promised weakly.

Bucky grinned and slid his hand up your thigh, and though you didn’t mean to, when Bucky reached between your legs you tried to shut them and squirm away, it was instinct.

"Ah ah ah," Steve tutted.  "You said you'd be good."

"Think we oughta tie her up," Bucky nodded, feigning disappointment.

"No, please, I'm sorry—"

"Too late for sorry, dollface," Bucky smirked, grabbing a shirt from your pack and tearing it into strips like it was no effort at all.  

Steve held your wrists together for Bucky to tie, and they even tied your legs up bent and spread wide, finishing it off with a gag in your mouth.

Now you were helpless to Bucky pinching your clit, circling it with his thick and calloused finger, applying pressure to it until your eyes watered.  At first it was exploratory, delicate, but once he’d found the most sensitive places he began to rub your clit hard and fast, laughing every time you moaned and flicking the sensitive bud to make your body jolt.

"Yeah, this little cunt's getting all wet, y'like having your pussy played with?" he smirked.

He accentuated his question with a few sudden spanks to your clit that made you jerk and yelp.  The worst thing was that each slap made a wet sound that made you sure you were soaking by now.

“I know you want it so bad, don’t worry doll, I’m not gonna make you wait anymore…”

He caged you in and opened his jeans one more time, the process going much more quickly since he didn’t have to hold you down— you could squirm and cry, but that was about it.  

With a little grunt, he pushed into you, and with how wet you were it actually went it much more easily.  It was by no means painless though, especially since he was already moving and giving you no time to adjust.

"Yeah, that's better," he sighed, grinning as he watched you whine into the gag.  "Now I can really take my time with you, show you how good I can make you feel."

He was certainly more relaxed than the first time, his pace measured and calculated as he made sure his hips met with yours fully at the end of each stroke.  His width wasn’t as challenging in this position but his length certainly was, bumping into your sore and delicate cervix until you were forced to bite down onto the gag to cope.

But, in spite of the pain, or perhaps because of it, something deep and strong was forming inside you, tightening and twisting until it took all your effort not to let it spill forth.

He reached down and roughly rubbed your clit again, forcing a muffled scream from your throat as he grinned down at you.  “Close already, huh?  Good to know I haven’t lost my touch after all these years.”

You almost heard Steve scoff beside you, but it was hard to hear anything when your ears felt like they were full of cotton, only your own echoing heartbeat ringing louder than anything else.

"Yeah, I wanna feel you fuckin' come,” Bucky growled.  “Bet you get even tighter every time."

As much as you wished not to, you fell over the edge, back arching until your chest bumped into Bucky’s where he hovered above you.  He coaxed you along in his words and movements, your walls clenching in a nonsensical rhythm.  More than anything you just wished he would stop moving so you could catch your breath, but his pace never faltered and it felt like you’d never stop coming if he never stopped fucking you.

“That’s it, good fucking girl,” he groaned, “makin’ you feel so good, aren’t I?  Answer me.”

You hesitated, and sniffled, but finally nodded.

Even worse, your clit was so swollen now that he didn’t even need to rub it with his thumb anymore; his cock rubbed against it with each movement, the ridges of his shaft massaging you there until it felt like every part of your body had become the most sensitive place possible.  You shook violently beneath him, each wave of pleasure stronger than the last until you felt like you had lost all sense of time, and space, and really anything that wasn’t being fucked in this tent like the fate of the world depended on it.

"Get outta the tent, Steve,” Bucky instructed suddenly.

"Why?" Steve protested with a scoff.

"I can't come with you starin' at me!"

"I'm not looking at you, dumbass,” he sneered, “I'm lookin’ at her.  So pretty when she cries…"

"Whatever, either way, just go outside please?" 

Clearly irritated but relenting anyways, Steve grunted under his breath as he got up, stepping unceremoniously over both of you.  Bucky sighed with relief when Steve zipped the tent flap shut behind him, turning his attention back to you.  “That’s better, isn’t it?  Just me and you… way it oughta be.”

“I heard that!” Steve called from outside.

“Then stop listening!” Bucky suggested through his teeth before leaning down to whisper in your ear, holding your hips tight so he could fuck you harder than ever.  "I don't give a fuck what he says, I'm coming in you this time.  Not pulling out until I know every drop is in you, wanna see this pussy stuffed to the brim with my come… you want it too, huh?”

Another electrifying pulse inside you made your channel flutter around him, and how cruel that the moan he made actually turned you on more.

"Fuck, that's it, squeeze my fuckin' dick, honey.  Wanna milk all the come outta my cock, don't you?"

You nodded again, hearing him moan in that perfect way one more time before you started to feel him pulse and swell within you, streams of hot come pouring into you.  The amount was pretty impressive since he’d already come once, although you didn’t exactly feel ‘impressed,’ so much as horrified and confused.  And numb, from coming so many times.

Bucky smiled down at you with an exhausted sigh, smacking you lightly on the face a few times to try to rouse you from your blissed-out state, but all you could do was hum sleepily into the gag.

“M’gonna untie you now, you’re too out of it to try anything,” he explained, releasing the gag first before working on your wrists and your legs.  A rush of warm come oozed out of your abused hole when he pulled back, making your face heat up as he smiled and held your legs up to see it better.  “Yeah, filled you up real nice,” he informed you.  He gave a reassuring pat to your thigh before getting up and getting out of the tent, leaving you to stare blankly into nothingness for a while.

Eventually, you knew you had to face the world again, though you were more sure than ever that you weren’t prepared for it.  Grabbing a blanket from the floor of the tent and covering yourself with it, you took a slow breath to try to stabilize yourself.

For how slow time seemed to have passed so far, you were surprised to see the sun setting when you opened the tent flap and stepped outside.  You realized, with a sick feeling in your chest, that they had been using you nearly all day now.  And considering they were waiting for you around the fire, giving you a glance up and down as you emerged from the tent, they still might not stop for a while.

In fact, they’d made themselves very comfortable from the looks of it.  The fire was burning stronger than ever, three logs positioned around the sides of the firepit to sit on; a pot was over the fire, and you recognized the contents as some of the food supplies from your pack.  Best of all, Steve had found your battery radio and adjusted the station, blues quietly playing from the speaker as he used your hunting knife to whittle a stick.

Serves you right to suffer, the smooth voice crooned from the broadcast, serves you right to be alone...

For a moment, the three of you sat in silence as you took in the scene.  But when the wind changed and the heat of the fire no longer reached you, you remembered you had business to attend to.  

“C-Can I have my clothes back now?” you asked Bucky quietly, seeing them draped over the side of one of the logs.

“I think if you get dressed you’ll try to run again,” Steve mumbled, not even looking up at you.

“No, I won’t, I’m too tired,” you explained.  “I just don’t want to be cold.”

“Fire’s hot enough,” Bucky dismissed.  “Why don’t you just lay down a while, hm?  Get some rest.  You earned it.”

You weren’t just tired physically, but mentally, which is partly why you didn’t put up more of a fight before going over to the log and laying beside it, the blanket around you protecting you from the cold ground while you used your clothes as a sort of pillow on the log.

It couldn’t have been that you were asleep, because you could still hear the fire and the radio and Steve’s whittling (a constant reminder that he had a knife), but with your eyes closed and the darkness getting darker it was almost like sleep.  A draining, restless sleep that did nothing to shelter you from the memories of what you’d become.

So, you opened your eyes, staring into the flames instead and venturing the occasional glance at Bucky or Steve; the former always met your stare, the latter would only look up if a sound got his attention.

“You gonna take a turn?” Bucky asked Steve casually, motioning to you by cocking his head.

“Not yet, need a while to... you know, build up some energy,” Steve explained.

“Mind if I have another go then?”

“She’s all yours,” Steve approved, making Bucky grin as he got up and circled the log you were slumped over.  

“Y’hear that, dollface?  All mine,” he cooed, picking you up and adjusting you until you were bent over the log, facing Steve and the fire.  Your clothes kept your naked torso from rubbing against the bark, thankfully, but nothing could spare you from Bucky’s incessant touch, running up your back, over your butt which he spanked a few times for good measure, and finally to your entrance which he pushed two fingers into first.  “Mm, we stretched you out pretty good… you’ll be back in shape by the mornin’, but until then, I just slide right in…”

And he proved himself right with one long stroke that pushed his cock to the deepest parts of you, pushing your hips forward into the log as you tried your best to keep your breathing steady.

He was uniquely quiet this time, still moaning and grunting occasionally but otherwise sparing you from the constant taunts and filthy whispers.  Steve, meanwhile, was doing his best to look unaffected, but the subtle adjustment of his legs along with the increased vigor of his carving made it clear he was distracted by the sight in front of him.

Bucky’s strong hands on your hips were sure to leave marks, fingertips digging into your curves and pulling you back onto him, spearing you on his length.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he sighed, “gonna come.”

And it was actually a relief because this was going to end (for now), which was definitely the only reason you moaned in response.  He got more talkative after that, smacking you on the ass a few more times as he chuckled darkly behind you. 

“Fuck, take it, doll… take all my fuckin’ come.”

It was sort of a meaningless instruction, since you had to, but he seemed to enjoy reminding you that he was about to take his pleasure from your body one more time.  He made a weak little moaning noise, almost pained, as he filled you once again, slumping down on top of you and for the first time really showing signs of exhaustion after coming three times in a day.  You were so out of it that you hardly noticed his weight on you, or the little kisses he gave to your ear, whispering praises that tried your best not to hear.  

He pulled out and came back around to look at your face again, pulling you up slightly by your hair so you looked up at him.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned.  “Open your mouth sweetheart,” he instructed, spitting onto your tongue as soon as you’d done it, then lifting your jaw to make you close your mouth and swallow.

He tugged your hair harder before he kissed you, more possessive than affectionate, but unexpected regardless.  His tongue tangled with yours as he reached down to circle his hand around your neck, feeling your pulse but not going so far as to choke you.

A little groan from Steve caught both his attention and yours.  "You wanna fuck her, Stevie?"

"Oh god, I want that ass, I want that fuckin ass," he answered through his teeth, making you gulp as Bucky laughed.

"Go for it, man," he encouraged, and only a second after he stood up you both heard and felt Steve appear behind you, one calloused hand spreading your cheeks; you whimpered from embarrassment when you felt a finger circle your tight rim, before slowly pushing in.

"Fuck," you whispered, and it sounded much more like a curse of pleasure than you intended.

"Yeah, you want it don't you?" he asked through his teeth, giving you a hard spank that made you cry out.  Bucky slapped you when you didn't answer, grabbing your jaw roughly.

"He asked you a question," he reminded you firmly, the sound of Steve spitting into his hand and coating your hole and his length distracting you slightly.

"Yes, yes, I want it!" you sobbed.

"Where?"

"In my ass!"

Your body put up significant resistance against his swollen head, but it was no match for his rough thrust forward, the tip of him popping inside and stretching you painfully.  You bit your lip but it was impossible to stay quiet when he slid the rest of the way in.

You cried out as he moaned with satisfaction, already moving so much faster than you could handle (which, to be fair, was a low bar).

"Oh my god," he breathed.  "So fuckin' tight…"

The pain was sharp, and it felt like the base of his cock was impossibly thicker than the rest of him since you whined every time he pushed in.

"Aw, does it hurt baby?  That's my cock ruining your little hole, sweetheart…"

"Stop," you rasped, "please… please stop…"

"Nah, I think you like it… I think what you really needed was just to be put in your place, fucked in every hole so you know exactly what you're meant for."

Bucky appeared in front of you again, stroking himself in front of your face, still slick from behind inside you.

"See what a mess you made on my cock, dollface?  I think you need to help me clean it up," he groaned, holding your jaw open to stuff his cock into your mouth and stifle your sobs.  The taste of your and his come was potent and musky on your tongue, his head pushing right into your open throat when you tried to gag.

Steve held you tighter as he thrusted a bit more vigorously, Bucky simultaneously using your throat as he stroked your hair and cheek.  

You couldn’t remember how to do anything but just take it now.  At times their paces synchronized and you felt like you were being filled to the brim at both ends.  Other times they were in a syncopation where one pushed in just as the other pulled out, meaning you had no real breaks at all.

Bucky was too weak to come again, that much was obvious, but he was happy to choke you anyways; and Steve, well, Steve was moaning more now than he had from your mouth or pussy, apparently trying to hold himself back even though he had no reason to try to prolong this— unless he actually wanted to see you in pain more than he wanted to finish?

“You want me to come in your ass?” Steve interrogated you with a spank to your thigh.  “Beg for it.”

You shook your head around the length in your mouth.

“It doesn’t stop until you beg me for it, isn’t that what you want?  You want it to stop, right?”

Had you really fallen into his trap that easily?  

Bucky pulled back to give you the opportunity to meet Steve’s request, and you sucked in a lungful of air before finally whimpering: “Please, Steve… please come…”

“Where?” he pressed, ever-determined to make you remind him where he was fucking you.

“Please come in my ass…”

“If you say so, sweetheart,” he snickered before starting to thrust faster and more erratically, chasing his peak which you prayed was close.  It was, thankfully, though never close enough, and you forgot that the swell of his pulsating cock would stretch your tired hole even wider.

And, you forgot that he had no reason to pull out just because he’d come.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “that was good.”

You tried to kick him away but it was impossible with how hard he’d pinned you down to the log.

“Just stay still and keep my cock warm in this pretty ass of yours, alright?” he instructed, all the while Bucky stared down at you with a satisfied smirk on his face, combing your hair a bit with his fingers.

“You’re tired, huh?” he noticed.  “We’ll get you to bed soon.”

“Will you leave?” you instantly returned.

“We need somewhere to make camp for the night, too.  And since there’s already a perfectly good camp right here…”

“No,” you whined, “no, you’re never gonna leave me alone, are you?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, alright?” he offered.

//

It was truly a testament to how physically exhausted you were that you managed to fall asleep squished between your two personal monsters.

Bucky was behind you, essentially spooning you while Steve had an arm draped over your chest.  And even with the heavy weight on you, physical and metaphysical, you would’ve slept through the night easily if it weren’t for the feeling of Steve running his hands over your body, groping you wherever he could reach.

You opened your eyes but it was still pitch darkness, giving you no distraction from the physical sensations of Steve's fingers delicately grazing over your skin.  Behind you, the quiet stability of Bucky’s breathing made it clear he was still asleep and unaware.

“Steve,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Shh,” he soothed below his breath, right by your ear.  “He sleeps like a rock, we’re not gonna wake him up with a little fooling around.”  

Amazingly enough, that wasn’t exactly what you were worried about.  But you discontinued your dissent as he lightly suckled the lobe of your ear, fingers tracing abstract shapes over your hip.  You heard your own breath catch, and he must have too because he smiled and nibbled on your neck.

You shivered when he started to pull you closer, laying you back to reach between your legs and toy with your overly-sensitive folds.  His fingers found your clit and rubbed it in slow circles, making you writhe and jolt as shocks of pleasure shot through you.

“So sensitive,” he praised darkly, pushing against you harder.  “Gettin’ wet, honey?  Want you dripping before I put my cock in you.”

Bucky stirred beside you, pulling you closer in his sleep though Steve kept a strong hold on your lower half.  It was nearly claustrophobic being sandwiched between them like this, made even worse when Steve adjusted your hips and you felt his cock rub against you.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered in your ear, cradling your face in his large, rough hands.

“I— I want it,” you whispered back, biting your lip to stay quiet when he pushed in.  You were still sore, but the wetness helped ease his way as he filled you to the brim, groaning softly and thrusting much more gently than you expected.  It was all very relaxed, and languid, and… sleepy.  It was so much easier to pretend that you wanted this when it was gentle and patient like this, when you couldn’t see his face

“You two got started without me?” Bucky interjected, making you both gasp.   

"You seemed pretty busy snoring over there," Steve explained with an unamused tone.  “You know, Barnes, I actually broke out of prison so I wouldn’t have to sleep in the same room as you for the rest of my life.”

“Leave if you want, Rogers, I’ll keep the girl and you can take her battery radio, ya limpdick.”

“Limpdick?  Were you not here for the past twenty-four hours?” 

“Yeah, I was fucking this sweet little thing while you were out there by the fire doing your arts and crafts.”

And just like that, your sweet and gentle sex was gone; Steve was determined to claim you now, fucking you harder and faster until you couldn’t hold back your broken moans.  "Yeah, you like that?" he growled against your ear.  "You like gettin' fucked?  Say it."

"Y-yes, I like it," you gasped.

"We're gonna be on the run for a while…" Bucky mumbled against your skin as he kissed your shoulder, "sure wouldn't mind takin' you with us, keeping our own little pet to fuck whenever we want."

You tried not to stop breathing entirely when he said that, distracted by Steve slowing down slightly, offering some reprieve.

"Been so long without touchin' a woman," Steve added huskily, "I don't know if one day is enough."

"Yeah, plus we've already got you obedient, trained, fucked braindead and full of come," Bucky replied, biting down on your skin to make you whimper and he chuckled happily.

"Are you sure you can share, Barnes?" Steve pressed.  "I know if you had it your way she'd be ripped to shreds by now."

"Whatever man, you're the one who tore her ass up."

Steve scoffed slightly, while Bucky continued.

"You wanna come with us sweetheart?  We'll be real good to you, keep your holes wet and full for a couple months straight at least.  You won't have to worry about a thing, won't have to lift a finger, just keep your legs spread and you'll be peachy."

"Hey, that's what we'll call you: Peach," Steve decided.  "It's perfect, isn't it?  'Cause you're sweet… and soft… and I could just eat you up," he purred.

"Wanna be our girl, Peach?" Bucky prompted.

"No, please…"

You expected anger, you expected them to hurt you, but you didn't expect them to laugh.  "Looks like our sweet little Peach hasn't had a chance to realize how good it's gonna be with us," Steve announced.  

"Yeah, let's show her how much she wants to be our girl," Bucky snickered, holding your hips as Steve started to move inside you again.

Bucky, meanwhile, was grabbing handfuls of your ass and groaning as he rubbed his cock against you.  One finger explored your rim and slowly pushed in.

"Looks like you're still a little loosened up from when Stevie here gave it to you, huh?  He was real mean, wasn't he?"

You nodded, clutching harder into Steve's chest as he fucked you faster.

"Then taking me should be a breeze."

Truly, you had no idea how this was possible.  I'm the dark it all felt like a fever dream, but when Bucky pushed into your available opening while Steve was still fucking you… it was definitely real, the feeling was too overwhelming not to be.

'A breeze' was definitely an exaggeration but it was undeniably easier, especially since being half-asleep made your body so much more relaxed.  You still hissed when Bucky's hips met your ass, you still choked on a breath at the feeling of two cocks buried all the way inside you, but it wasn't from pain as much as being full beyond your wildest dreams

"You were right about this ass, Rogers, goddamn…" Bucky moaned, holding your hips tight and beginning to thrust.

"Fuck, can hardly believe you're takin' both of us," Steve sighed against your ear.  "I know you love it, Peach, I know you love bein' so full…"

Your lips fumbled with the desire to moan a name but not sure whose to say; so instead you just babbled mindlessly, sounded just as dumbfounded as you felt.

But they weren't having any problems speaking, in fact they were more talkative than ever, each whispering in a different ear and making shivers crawl up your spine with every word.

"You're making us feel so good, such a good girl, aren't you Peachy baby?"

"Such a perfect fucking whore, so wet already just from being used."

"Want us to come inside, huh Peach?  Wanna be full of come?”

Each time you arched your back, it only somehow pushed them both deeper, so deep you couldn’t think about anything else anymore.  Bucky was moving at a much slower pace than Steve, such that they would only occasionally thrust all the way in at exactly the same time— and when they did, you heard yourself moan but refused to believe it was you making the sound because it sounded nothing like you, it didn’t even seem like something you would do; enjoying this that much, that is.

“You’re close, huh?  Gonna come for both of us?”

You found yourself nodding, even though they couldn’t see it, but Bucky must have felt it against his shoulder because he laughed a little, grabbing your face and turning you back to kiss you hungrily.  When he moved his kiss down to the back of your neck, Steve captured your lips instead, less dominating than Bucky’s but no less intense.  The moan that undeniably signalled your orgasm was nearly lost against Steve’s tongue, but they both heard it and began to pump into you faster, keeping you suspended in your pleasure.

Steve lost it first, spilling into you with a choked groan and a tight grip on your arms that was sure to bruise.  Bucky was close behind, panting with each hurried thrust until he finally moaned and filled your ass with ropes of hot come, a sensation you never could’ve imagined, let alone predicted you would experience twice in one day.

Bucky rubbed your thighs while he caught his breath while Steve peppered your face in tender kisses, both of them showering you in affection you had no idea how to handle.

“Whaddaya say, dollface?” Bucky prompted as he kissed just beneath your ear.  “Y’like bein’ our little Peach, don’t you?”

You stammered over a few different responses, none of them very good, until Steve finally instructed you: “say yes.”

“Yes,” you repeated instantly.

“I can tell you do, you soaked my cock real good,” Steve praised with a grin you could feel against your cheek and hear in his gravelly voice.  “We’ll head out in the morning, alright?  Soon we’ll be somewhere where nobody knows who we are, what we’ve done… doesn’t that sound nice, Peach?  A chance to start over?”

A fresh start never hurt anyone, right?

//

Months on the run made the night all blend together, you didn’t even know what state you were in anymore and you couldn’t find the energy to care.

It was definitely harder to hitchhike with three people, and a disturbing amount of truckers offered to take you alone but not your companions— and obviously they would never allow such a thing.  At this point, you were better off with the devils you knew, anyways.  At least with them you knew what to expect.

Specifically, you could expect Steve to be aloof and brooding until he occasionally snapped and became possessive over you again, asserting his dominance over you and Bucky however he could manage— usually by covering your body in his marks and every once in a while by covering your face with his come.  You could expect Bucky to taunt and mock you, cornering you into consenting to his relentless barrage of pleasure and pain, over and over again watching you struggle to maintain your sense of denial and disgust, reminding you that you loved being fucked just how he wanted.

In fact, today was a pretty typical day while the three of you crashed in a motel, Steve staying silent and distant while Bucky kissed his way down your stomach that rose and fell shakily with each breath.

“Bucky, p-please,” you whispered, closing your eyes so you could more easily pretend it wasn’t you begging him for more.

"What's that, Peach?  Want me to lick up your juice?" he grinned.

You shuddered and he chuckled as he knelt down between your legs to give a long, slow lick over your sex.  Your entire body jolted when his rough tongue slid over your swollen clit, so he focused there until your legs were quivering and your head fell back.  

"Mm, so sweet…” he cooed.  “Come getta taste a’this, Steve.”

“I’m busy,” Steve refused, turning the page of his newspaper.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Bucky sighed, standing up straighter and leaving your pussy ignored; you whined a little, but it fell on deaf ears.  “I’d love to see what you’re reading that could possibly be more interesting than this.”

“There’s an article about us,” Steve answered sternly, looking up from the paper to meet Bucky’s gaze, before glancing to look at you.  “All three of us.”

Bucky huffed and stood up, leaving you naked on the bed as he crossed the room to tear the paper from Steve’s hands.  His eyes scanned the page until he landed on the part Steve must have been referring to.  “Holy shit,” he breathed.  “Look, Peach, you made the papers!”

He brought over the article for you to read, and you sat up straighter when you saw that a photo of yourself had been included alongside the mugshots of Steve and Bucky.

Two escaped prisoners, one missing woman, spotted in woods near Schenectady, NY...

“When is this from?” you asked nervously.

“The paper’s from today, but we were in Schenectady two weeks ago,” Steve explained.  “They aren’t anywhere near us.”

It brought back memories of TV broadcasts you’d seen in hotels, radio news Steve had turned off before you heard too much.  Phrases like ‘statewide manhunt,’ ‘federal investigation,’ and ‘trafficked woman,’ which had once been foreign to you, now represented your deepest anxieties.

Bucky saw the fear on your face and knelt down on the bed beside you, stroking your face gently.  “Aw, Peach, don’t be scared… they’re not gonna find us, I promise.”

“If they did… what would happen to me?” you asked weakly.  You truly had no idea if you’d be returned home and treated as the victim of a crime, or if you’d be arrested and charged as a perpetrator, as a collaborator who aided in the escape and continued flee of two violent criminals.  They’d already gotten you in on a few robberies, even one bank— could you defend yourself by saying that you were forced to do it?  

“Nobody’s gonna take you away from us,” Bucky assured sternly, not quite answering your question but making it clear that was all you were gonna get.  You reached up to rest your hand atop his where it held your cheek, letting your watery eyes fall shut before you looked back up into his enrapturing gaze again.

“Kiss me, Bucky, please,” you whispered, making him laugh and shake his head.

“No, Peachy, I would but I know where that mouth has been.  Steve woke you up in the middle of the night to choke on his cock, thought I wouldn’t hear, huh?”

You gasped a little and Steve crossed his arms where he sat in the chair.  Bucky turned his attention back to Steve with a look of challenge on his face.  “She’s scared, Stevie, won’t you come over here and make her feel better?”

Steve sighed but relented and stood up, crossing the room to stand beside the bed and stare down at you.  For a moment you didn’t know what he intended to do, until he knelt down and grabbed your hips, pulled your spread legs closer to the edge of the bed where he latched his lips onto your slick and swollen folds.

“Oh god,” you moaned, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his hair, his tongue pushing inside you right away, twisting and thrusting and licking right over your g-spot until your eyes rolled back in your head and your back arched up off the faded quilt.  Bucky grinned as he watched you, leaning down to kiss your neck, then suckle on a hardened nipple, then lick over your hips until finally he bit down on the inside of your thigh.  You yelped a little and felt him smile against your delicate skin.

“I told you we’d take care of you, babydoll,” he mumbled, voice all deep and throaty like it got when he was about to spend an hour reminding you who you belonged to.

Sometimes you dreamed of the life you had before this, of the person you were when you only belonged to yourself, but that life was gone forever and it wasn’t coming back.  Each day you mourned it in a different way.  At first it was just the loss of dignity, then it was the loss at any chance of gaining that dignity back.  You missed your friends and family, but you realized they wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms after this long.

You realized it was well and truly over the first time a man on the news called you an accomplice to the ‘rampant crime spree’ of Bucky and Steve.  Just a few weeks later, the stories changed from two prisoners and their kidnapping victim, to three prisoners.  And yes, you were a prisoner, but the police didn’t see a difference between you and them anymore.  You had no reason to run, no motive for escape.  They were the only thing keeping you alive and free now, even if this freedom wasn’t exactly overflowing with liberties.

So, you accepted as quickly as you could that this was your new life; every morning you banished the memories of who you used to be, and every night you prayed that your lovers wouldn’t be caught.  And it wasn’t so bad of a life to have, even if it wasn’t the life you would’ve chosen for yourself— there was something nice about it, really, never very calm but still having its moments of peace and domesticity.  Like falling asleep in the backseat of a stolen truck while Steve played blues on the radio.  Like sitting in Bucky’s lap as he told you all about the beautiful tropical islands they’d take you to someday.  Like when Steve robbed a jewelry store and told you he’d picked that one because they had the ring he’d seen in a magazine ad, the ring he decided he wanted you to wear from now on.  Like being Mrs. Barnes when Bucky introduced you to his criminal connections, and being Mrs. Rogers when Steve did the same the next night.

Maybe you’d forgotten how to be anything else but their sweet, quiet, obedient Peach, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad wrap after all.

[dreaminpetals]

Sfw Joseph with gender neutral S/O taking naps together? I think it'll be cute ><

💤 joseph napping with s/o . . .

♡ when joseph napped on his own, he would let sleep creep up on him as he read a book in his chair.

♡ when you napped on your own, it was after a draining match and joseph would tuck you in every time.

♡ it wasn't until you woke up that the idea struck you, rubbing your eyes to the pleasant sight of joseph fast asleep across the room. your bed was empty, why didn't he just join you?

♡ wanting to be closer to him, you nestled into his lap and a sleeping arm wrapped around you. even in his sleep, the photographer recognized you and wanted to hold you. a smile snuck its way onto your cheeks as your head rested in his chest and you dozed off.

♡ you woke up to joseph rubbing his hand from your head to your back, a smirk curling his lips. "so? were you cold, mon amour?" waking up to joseph during the day was something you needed to see more often, so you proposed the idea of napping with him.

♡ he loved it.

♡ you're always the first one to fall asleep during your napping sessions, joseph's cooing in french drifting you off to a dream filled sleep.

♡ joseph delights in being the big spoon or the little spoon, even with his cosmic height his home is in your arms.

♡ he hesitates to nap in public places but when you fall asleep on him in the garden, it's so serene that he can't help but doze off too.

♡ he appreciates all the extra sleep he gets when he naps with you, joseph is a night owl who has to wake up painfully early every morning so every minute of sleep helps.

♡ if either of you wake up, you stare at the other wonderstruck. joseph admires how tranquil you manage to be as you sleep, and you find it silly how such a refined gentleman can snore and drool so much.

♡ he might even snap a picture of you sound asleep.

♡ when he does.. the camera shutter stirs you awake and a devious grin plasters on your features as a plan forms in your head. you'd get a picture of joseph napping to see how he likes it.

♡ the picture embarrasses him unbelievably so, but he does compliment your photography skills. he's still red every time he catches you making heart eyes at it though.

♡ when he told you about the deluxe beds in the hunter side of the mansion, you instantly wanted to check them out. he was afraid of you getting hurt but managed to sneak you in by disguising you as axe boy. the dozens of pillows and blankets on his enormous bed made your jaw drop.

♡ it became routine for you to dress as him so joseph could guide you around until you actually did bump into axe boy.

♡ your identity was exposed but a lot of the hunters... didn't mind? they noticed joseph's steep improvement in matches and his mood, they all had a feeling you were involved somehow. the hunters were glad that joseph was getting more sleep and helping them win more.

♡ mary even threw a snide remark that maybe he'd be allowed in duos now. why are french people like that.

[arya-skywalker]

Eggshells (Swan Lake Sanders Sides AU Part 1)

Notes: new AU time! Loosely based on Swan Lake, influenced by a handful of different versions. Roman is Odette, Janus is Rothbart, Virgil is Odile (also Janus’s son).

TW: villain Janus (not 100% evil, not completely heartless, but not very nice), manipulation, terrible parenting

Virgil sprawled on the mossy bank, watching the swans glide over the tranquil lake. He blew a lock of hair out of his eyes and glanced at the sky. Any minute now....

There. The moment the moonlight touched their feathers, the swans started to glow, moving as one to the shore as the spell took effect. The light grew brighter until Virgil had to look away. When he could see again, a dozen men and women stood where the swans had been.

And one strode straight towards him. “I demand the curse be lifted! You’ve had your fun.”

“Oh, Princey, Princey, Princey.... so naive.” Virgil laughed, sitting up. “You know that’s not my call to make. Besides, you’ve barely been here for... what? A week?”

The ex-prince bristled. “So? They’ll be looking for me. You can’t win!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “My father always wins,” he countered. “The sooner you come to terms with your situation, the better you’ll feel.”

“Is this one giving you trouble?” Another figure glided towards the group, his voice unmistakable.

“No, Father, I have it under control,” Virgil said, ducking his head in respect as the others bowed or curtsied.

All except Roman, who stubbornly crossed his arms. “I demand you let me go this instant, you snake!”

“Snake? Oh dear.” Virgil’s father put a hand to his chest. “Oh whatever shall I do....”

Virgil stood, rubbing his arms. This wouldn’t end well. Just as every other time a swan stood up to his father.

“Let me go or I’ll kill you with my own two hands!”

Virgil’s father laughed shrilly. “Oh, you are hilarious!” He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “Do you really think you stand a chance? You don’t even have a sword, little prince.”

“I would rather die with honor than live cursed.” Roman glared at his captor.

“Oh really? Is that so? What about all you new friends, hm?” Virgil’s father tapped his chin. “If, by some stroke of luck, you do manage to kill me, you and all of them will be stuck as swans until death. Is that what you want, little prince?”

Roman froze. “You’re a monster.”

“Mmm.... maybe I am.” He shrugged languidly and took a step back. “It is abundantly clear you haven’t learned your lesson.... your human privileges are revoked for the night.” He snapped his gloved fingers.

The poor man barely had time to look horrified, a strangled scream escaping his throat as he was transformed back into a swan. Virgil almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“Virgil, come with me. There is something we must discuss.”

Virgil glanced at the swan, making sure the ex-prince wouldn’t try anything stupid, then shrugged and followed his father into their dark castle.

“The swans. Have they been bothering you?” His father asked without looking at him.

Virgil hesitated. “No more than usual, Father,” he said. “Well, other than the new one, but it always takes time for them to adjust.”

The door to his father’s study opened as they approached. His father took a seat behind his desk, gesturing for Virgil to take the seat in front. Virgil did so without protest, folding his hands in his lap.

“Do you enjoy tending to the swans?” His father’s unnatural yellow eyes met his own purple ones.

It was a trap. Virgil knew it was a trap. If he said yes, he’d never be given the chance to rise above being keeper of the swans. If he dared to say no, he would be lectured on responsibility. Not good. He took a deep breath.

“It’s alright. Sometimes fun, sometimes a challenge,” Virgil finally said, fiddling with the edge of his cloak. “There’s a lot to learn from them, but I can learn spells and stuff too.”

“Mmhm...” His father leaned back in his chair. “You’ve been studying, have you?”

Virgil nodded, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Y-yeah. Sometimes I bring a book or two out to the lakeside. And I’ve been experimenting with wards to alert me whenever the swans get too close. I’m getting better, really. And I can handle the swans.”

His father stared at him a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then he inclined his head. “Very well. You may continue to do so,” he said. “I will be away tomorrow night on business. I trust you will manage well enough on your own.” It wasn’t quite a question.

Virgil nodded anyway. “Yes, Father,” he said. “Is there anything else?”

His father stood and walked over, putting a hand lightly on Virgil’s shoulder. “You know why we live as we do. Keep up the good work.”

Physical affection and a verbal compliment. Gods his father was in a good mood. Virgil felt his face heat up, a smile touching his lips. “Thank you, Father,” he said simply, then bowed and returned to the lakeside.

The one remaining swan was very vocal about his displeasure, strutting about and honking. Virgil heaved a sigh and approached him. “Hey, hey, enough of that.”

The swan somehow managed to look indignant, spreading his wings. And he honked again.

“Seriously. Stop it. Yeah, it sucks that you’re a still a swan, but you deserve it. So shut up.” Virgil glared down at the swan, crossing his arms. “No, I can’t turn you back. Just try to get some sleep or something, alright? Tomorrow night you’ll be back to your normal bratty self.”

The swan lowered his head, clearly sulking. But luckily he stopped honking, settling on the marshy ground. Virgil leaned against a tree-trunk and glanced over at the the rest of the currently-human flock, idly listening to their chatter. Some talked of their homes and families. Others of their lost dreams. A handful were simply enjoying their human form in whatever ways they pleased. Virgil didn’t stop them. As long as they didn’t try to escape, he didn’t care. The flock was here for a reason. They were cursed for a reason. It wasn’t Virgil’s place to question why.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 5

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - Expert

The subsequent calm was something Lin Yan wasn't expecting. The thing seemed to have decided it tortured him enough and nothing else happened the rest of the night. Lin Yan changed back into his clothes and unplugged his computer. Even though he knew that that probably wouldn't do anything, the screen actually powered off and didn't come back on at all in the night.

Perhaps a new storm was brewing in the silence, but Lin Yan was too exhausted to worry about it. The alcohol that was left in his system worked as a great tranquillizer, and he rolled over and fell asleep.

While he was deep in sleep, something cold pressed itself on his lips again, but Lin Yan was too much a heavy sleeper to realize it.

When he woke up, the entire room was clean. All the red paint had disappeared, the light gray printed wallpaper and the screen wall painted by the students of the Academy of Fine Arts were intact, and the glass was spotless. There was no other evidence to prove that the absurdity of last night had ever happened except for the shameful traces of liquid on Lin Yan's body and clothes. He took a bath and threw the red clothes into the washbowl. Compared with the power of the invisible thing, he was clearly at a disadvantage. Instead of running around without a plan, it was better to observe what happens as things unravel.

After he finished packing things up, Lin Yan took out his phone and texted Yin Zhou about the meeting place. Unexpectedly, he got a reply almost instantly: See you at the school gate in half an hour.

Lin Yan looked at himself in the mirror. Within just two nights, he looked like he had been doing drugs for years, he had a scruffy stubble growing, and his eyes were red. The mint scent of his shaving foam made Lin Yan feel for the first time that his typically monotonous life was actually so much more beautiful than that. The blade was thin and sharp. Just one long stroke across his neck and there would be nothing left.

Humans were such fragile creatures.

"Shit. . ." Lin Yan hissed, sighing at his unfortunate luck and put his fingers under the water. His hand had slipped and he sliced his fingertip on the blade, red blood seeping out. Lin Yan wrapped a bandaid around his finger, leaning against the wall and pondering about how unlucky it was to feel the pain.

He didn't know what kind of dye was used on the funeral clothes, but it had bled dramatically in the water. After a while, the whole basin of water had been dyed red. Lin Yan glanced at it in disgust as he left and slammed the door shut.

At 8 o'clock, Lin Yan saw Yin Zhou holding a Scallion pancake and some fruit in front of the school gate.

The two of them regretted trying to drive. The roads were clogged with morning rush hour traffic to the point that they couldn't even see the end of the lines of cars. What genius designed this kind of urban roundabout? Five ring roads surrounded the main road and they were forced to convene together every morning and night.

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou were nearing the third ring road and they still didn't have any temper, so all they could do was turn on the radio and eat the breakfast that Yin Zhou brought.

"A 13-year-old boy from a remote village in Sichuan was found hanged at home wearing a red coat. The locals suspected it was most likely cult-related. It is reported that the boy's time of birth and time of death are both extremely negative times and very suitable for. . ."

Lin Yan snapped the radio off.

It seemed that everything in the world had been messed up overnight. Even this kind of unreliable news could be relayed to the public.

Yin Zhou didn't care. He swallowed the last bite of his pancake and hiccuped. He said with satisfaction: "I spent the rest of the night in the library. I was starving and I couldn't buy anything. It's great to feel full."

"There was no exam recently, what were you doing at the library?"

"I was studying the enemy's intelligence. This enemy works in the dark. Can we defeat it if we understand how it operates? What do you think, buddy?"

Lin Yan turned his face to look at the crowded traffic outside the window. He stayed silent for a while before he said softly, "Do you really believe that there are ghosts in this world? I feel like something is wrong with me. Maybe I should see a psychiatrist first."

Yin Zhou's eyes widened in surprise: "Come on, even if something's up with you, I'm totally normal, yet we both saw those clothes yesterday."

". . . At your house the day before yesterday, I was the only one who thought it was cold, and I was the only one who could feel ‘it’ in the house."

Lin Yan sorted out his thoughts and told Yin Zhou his experience of being choked by someone last night.

Lin Yan wasn't expecting it but Yin Zhou exploded after hearing this, and blurted out: "Fuck, that ghost was a rabbit master* during his lifetime?" He scanned Lin Yan's face over and over again: "Little Brother Lin, don't tell me. . . you can be considered a nice-looking guy if you look closely. He's dead and maybe he's lonely and wants to recruit you as his wife."

*because they would kill the rabbit by snapping its neck

"Fuck you. If you aren't going to be serious, get out of my car and leave. Don't forget to burn two boxes of condoms for me when I croak." Lin Yan said quietly. The car behind him honked its horn twice, and Lin Yan realized that while he was talking, a 5-6 metre gap had cleared in front of him. He hurriedly followed the line of traffic.

"Furthermore, in the middle of the night, I obviously saw that the whole house was covered with red paint, but in the morning there was nothing. It was as if I had been dreaming."

Yin Zhou dragged the backpack out of the back seat and hugged it in his arms. He said, "Hey, let me show you the results of my brother's research." As he talked, he opened his bag and took out a dozen crumpled papers from it and spread them out on his knees. He flattened them with his hands and started going over them from top to bottom.

"You can't take care of shit. I feel uncomfortable just looking at those."

"See, the attributes of a wife. This ghost saw it perfectly."

A grass mud horse roared and ran across Lin Yan's heart.

Sure enough, these geeks are something else.

"Listen carefully." Yin Zhou pushed up his glasses with his long fingers: "There are generally two modern interpretations of ghosts. The first is due to the discovery of dark matter. You know the law of conservation of energy?"

". . . Go on." Lin Yan gave him a blank look.

"The universe expands at a certain rate every year. If the law of conservation of energy goes as normal, where does the energy that supports the expansion of the universe come from? According to this question, modern physics puts forward the concept of dark matter and dark energy. It does not generate electromagnetic waves, cannot be sensed, and cannot be measured. The law of gravity estimates that dark matter and energy account for 96% of the mass of the universe, and the remaining 4% is what humans can now recognize."

"Many unexplainable phenomena are therefore attributed to the results of dark matter, such as meridians in traditional Chinese medicine, the power of the mind, and ghosts. There are many discussions on this field abroad, but it is obviously blocked in China and difficult to find." Yin Zhou spread out his hands.

Lin Yan nodded. This was a bit like a science fiction novel he had read once.

"And the second one?"

"The second type is attributed to electromagnetic waves. The environment in which the deceased died is not conducive to electromagnetic wave attenuation. The powerful thoughts it had before death form a unique energy field. If a person's own frequency is similar to it, it will resonate when they come into contact. The waveform of the original ghost is greatly strengthened so then the two can sense each other."

Lin Yan was stunned: "You mean I. . . resonate with the ghost?"

Yin Zhou said indifferently that it was possible. He turned and smiled mysteriously: "Do you know how to explain love at first sight using electromagnetic fields?"

Lin Yan's heart stuttered.

"It's just resonating. It's the same with both men and women."

Yin Zhou sighed: "I don't want to fall in love for a while. It's boring, it's like a ghost."

The cars finally started moving again, and they finally got off the third road ring after being stuck for three hours. Lin Yan turned on the navigation and stepped on the accelerator to hurry towards the destination.

He always thinks that love was just like a ghost; he didn't believe in either. He only understood the panic and anxiety he felt when he encountered it, but he has never imagined that ghosts were also like love, triggered by a specific reason in a specific environment and dragged forcibly into the abyss, unable to escape.

"Have you been in touch with anything special recently, or have you been to anywhere special?"

Lin Yan thought about it for a moment and shook his head: "No. Every day I'm in the study room, tutor's office, library, home, cafeteria, there's nowhere else. But I have come into a lot of contact with lots of things from several dynasties."

Yin Zhou clumped the pile of information in his hand, and put it into back his backpack despite Lin Yan's contemptuous eyes, and clicked the buckle shut.

"Impossible. The electromagnetic waves would have decayed early in a small object, even if the Maoshan technique was used."

A thought suddenly flashed through Lin Yan's mind.

"There was this one place. . .Last month, my old man arranged an internship position for me on an archaeological team. It was a tomb with small specifications. I was there for less than a week."

Yin Zhou's eyes lit up all of a sudden: "There's this show, we should wait and check it. . . what the fuck!"

Lin Yan slammed on the brakes. Yin Zhou's head slammed into the windshield with a bang, and he wailed in pain.

"What are you doing?! Braking like that is going to kill you. What if we got rear-ended?!"

Lin Yan looked at the empty windshield in shock. He pulled the car over and, when he turned to Yin Zhou, his face changed.

"You. . . didn't see that just now?"

"What!" Yin Zhou took off the glasses that had been knocked off-kilter, trying to push them into their original spot, and couldn't help complaining in grief.

"There was a hand. . . stretching down from the roof of the car."

Yin Zhou was stunned and looked up at the window glass cautiously. A truck came up from behind, went around their car and drove on.

Lin Yan was too scared to speak for a while. He recalled the stiff white hand that had slapped on the windshield from the roof of the car just now, but it disappeared in a blink of an eye. There were speeding trucks or tankers everywhere on the sixth ring road. He opened his mouth and looked at Yin Zhou. The other party understood his thoughts immediately. Yin Zhou took a breath and hesitated: "Then this thing. . . it wants a human life."

Lin Yan shook his head. He always felt that there was some motive behind everything that had happened, but he couldn't say it out loud.

They drove out of the city in a blink of an eye. The endless rows of poplar trees and the green border fields in the suburbs relaxed the tension of the two people in the car a lot. Lin Yan rolled down the car window, and the car air mixed with the fragrance of flowers and plants that poured in. Inside the car, the stuffy scent of the pancakes was blown away.

After the twist and turns the GPS took them on, the car turned onto a rugged path paved with stones. The surrounding buildings were replaced with independent bungalows and small farmyards. A yellow dog squatted on the steps and stretched its neck. Some hens gathered in groups lazily together. Every now and again, they passed by a white goose on the side of the road. Lin Yan slowed down and stared at the map displayed on the GPS. He glanced at Yin Zhou distrustfully.

"If I keep going, I'll have to turn around to go back to the village. Did your mother send us to a reclusive expert?"

Yin Zhou leaned over to study the map, then turned his head in confusion and looked out the window. He happened to pass by a house, a yellow mud bungalow, with a faded couplet on the door. The old man in front of it only lost two front teeth, and he was leaning back to watch the excitement. . Yin Zhou scratched his scalp suspiciously: "The address my mother gave is at the end of the village, and she said it was amazing. Let me buy some tributes to bring with me. I can't do it alone."

So Lin Yan stopped the car when passing by the market, and bought two gifts according to Yin Zhou's suggestion. . . that bastard.

"Are you sure about all this?" Lin Yan looked embarrassedly left and right, carrying a live turtle in one hand and walking back, Yin Zhou happily pointed at the turtle's head and said, "What do you know? , These kinds of psychic masters rely on this stuff to keep up with their lifestyle. Trust me."

Lin Yan threw the two bastards into the trunk, took out a bottle of mineral water and handed it to Yin Zhou. He also opened a bottle for himself and took a few sips.

The country cicadas cried one after another, and the green wheat was headed; it was a wonderful scene of peace and prosperity.

Several children wearing red and green were squatting on the ground playing fan cards not far away. Lin Yan asked Yin Zhou: "What did your mother saw that name of the expert was? I'll ask around."

He couldn't help but imagine a scene of a bamboo hut with a mantle drooping in front of the porch. An old man in white with his hand stroked his beard and smiled slightly. He and Yin Zhou knelt forward on one knee, clasping their fists and begging, "Master, please guide me!"

Yin Zhou took a note from his pocket. He squinted at it, and said perplexedly: "Second Immortal Gu."

Before Lin Yan had enough time to swallow, all the water was spat back out.

"Ahem. . . is that so?"

In a small courtyard in the northeast corner of the village, Lin Yan and Yin Zhou found the legendary Second Immortal Gu’s house. When Lin Yan saw Second Immortal Gu's respectable face from outside the door, the regret in his heart was like torrential rapids. There was an enclave in an empty black room; he didn't know which god was being worshipped. An old woman in blue flower cloth sat cross-legged on the futon with her eyes closed and rests her mind. The red cloth strip that was tied to her forehead was quite imposing.

"This posture rivals some of the best dancers out there!" Yin Zhou pointed at the scene inside and couldn't help muttering softly.

"Come on, this is who your mother mentioned. Be respectful." Lin Yan said embarrassedly.

"What should we do?"

"Let's take a look first. Maybe the real person hasn't shown up."

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou walked through the door. Hearing the movement, the immortal woman lifted her eyelids slightly, and hummed from her nose aimlessly.

"Oh, ahem. . ." Yin Zhou couldn't hold back his grin and quickly concealed it with a cough.

What happened later was a farce. After receiving the turtle and two hundred yuan brought by Lin Yan, the woman suddenly became energetic. She worshipped the gods with incense and poured a bowl of clear water on Lin Yan while muttering words. After turning around Lin Yan more than ten times, she finally opened his eyes sharply. Lin Yan was so frightened by her that his body was shocked. The only thing she did was shout: "Aha! I saw it!"

"There is a little girl standing behind you!"

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou looked at each other, each holding their breaths.

"Oh, this baby girl died terribly. She said that she was locked up and could not be born. She didn't have money to buy clothes, and she didn't have money to pay her way through death. That's why she's gotten involved with you. . ."

"Wait, I'll ask her how to resolve this. . ."

The immortal woman closed her eyes and began to sing. Lin Yan pointed at the door to Yin Zhou and said: "Do you need someone to grease your feet, what are you waiting for?"

After reciting a long list of words, she opened her eyes and saw that there were no longer two other people in the room.

The immortal woman had no choice but to touch the newly collected two hundred yuan and shook her head, muttering that the young people nowadays are really impatient. Then she staggered around to pack her things up.

When she picked up the bastard turtle, she couldn't help but give a long sigh.

[himbowelsh]

The Great Speirs's struggle not to fall asleep and The Great Lipton struggle not to hug him.

ya know i had to do it to em

The longer this goes on, the more Lipton wonders how long he can bear it.

They’ve been doing paperwork for hours now, which is enough to weigh anybody down… but Lipton didn’t volunteer to help for his own enjoyment. There are a dozen things he could be doing with his Saturday night that don’t involve sitting with Captain Speirs around a table cluttered with company reviews. This isn’t part of his duties as First Lieutenant. He’s earned a night off, same as everybody else, and Speirs even said he ought to take it.

If helping out some of the burden off their CO’s shoulders, though... there’s nowhere else Lipton would rather be.

Honestly, he isn’t fed up with the tedium. The paperwork isn’t the problem.

It’s… well, it’s Speirs.

Somewhere past midnight, the problem starts to become apparent. The man’s been up since dawn — Lipton knows, because he found Speirs at his desk, apparently there for hours already, when he woke up at a rational hour. On the rare occasions Lt. Dike could be found in Bastogne, they’d sometimes find him dozing in some random foxhole… but Speirs doesn’t nap. He never takes time of his own to rest. Chasing after a company like Easy can drain a man’s energy — Lipton knows from experience — but up until tonight, he’d never even seen their captain yawn.

Speirs leans his head against his palm, elbow crumpling a letter from the colonel, and hides a massive yawn behind his free hand.

Lipton doesn’t comment.

It wouldn’t be right. Speirs wouldn’t appreciate it. He wouldn’t appreciate it, in Speirs’s shoes… though, to be fair, if Lipton were working himself to the bone, he’d trust every last Toccoa man to say something. With an imposing figure like Captain Speirs… well, no one would dare. Not even Luz, who’s never kept a thought to himself in his life.

Who looks after Captain Speirs, then, if he’s too busy to look after himself?

The thought plagues Lipton through the next round of paperwork. He keeps one eye on Speirs, just observing. The way the man’s head lolls against his open palm speaks for itself… but exhaustion pulls at his eyes, too, dragging them shut no matter how determined he is to force them open. Speirs blinks rapidly down at the stack of papers in front of him, not really appearing to see any of it. After a long moment, he sighs through his nose, turning his face into his open hand. Lipton watches in silence as Speirs massages his brow, determined to chase sleep away by bullheadedness alone.

Typical paratrooper, he thinks, warmth filling him like hot chocolate on a winter afternoon. Stubborn to the end of the line.

The longer this goes on, the more unbearable it gets. Speirs’s exhaustion is palpable. It weighs him down, turning his movements sluggish and his signing hand clumsy. Not only is he slowing down their work — every time he yawns, Lipton feels the urge to do the same. It’s downright inconvenient.

Maybe it’s interesting, too, to see a side of Speirs he’s never shown off before, but Lipton won’t admit that out loud.

Something has to be done, he decides — before Speirs falls asleep at the desk.

“It’s getting a bit late, sir,” he finally suggests, keeping his tone mild. When Speirs looks up, he finds his companion’s gaze trained on the paperwork between them. Lipton allows a casual moment of silence to elapse before looking up, perfectly unassuming as he meets Speirs’s gaze. His brow is furrowed, lips pursed in a questioning frown. Lipton offers him a small smile in return. “Nearly one in the morning.”

“Is it?” Speirs sounds surprised. “Huh.”

“We could… pick this up tomorrow, if there’s nothing urgent.”

“All of this is urgent, in the eyes of whichever major or colonel’s expecting to find it on their desk. It’d be urgent if we were filling out their dry cleaning receipts.” Speirs huffs, running a hand through his dark hair; effortlessly, it goes from messy to downright disheveled, Lipton can’t help the way his gaze lingers. 

When Speirs looks up, his tired eyes catch Lipton’s own. “We’ve come this far,” he remarks, offering a twitch of his lips.

“We have,” agrees Lipton. “And miles to go before we sleep.”

Speirs’s eyebrows quirk. “Frost?”

“Afraid so.”

He breaks into a real smile, then — soft around the edges, cracking with exhaustion, but so genuine and unguarded that it feels like the air’s been punched out of Lipton’s chest. “Lieutenant, if you’re tired —“ he starts, but Lipton quickly shakes his head.

“Not at all, sir. I’m here to help as long as you need me to.”

“I need my best men in peak condition. Well-rested.”

We could say the same thing about our captain, Lipton thinks… but holds his tongue. Instead, he only meets Speirs’ gaze, and picks up another sheet of paperwork.

Speirs sighs, and returns to his own work once more.

Lipton keeps a close eye on him after that. Before, he was at least putting in the effort to be subtle... but at this point, he doubts Speirs would notice if Doc Roe walked into the room in clown makeup leading along a dancing circus bear. Speirs concentrates on his papers fiercely, as though glowering them into submission. His brows are knit close together. He holds himself up as though an iron rod has been set in his shoulders — but even Speirs cannot deny the gravity weighing his eyes down, forcing him to blink more rapidly as his breathing levels out.

Lipton waits until the rhythm of Speirs’ exhales have become steady. A few moments are spent on the work, forcing himself to focus when he’d so rather be paying attention to something else. When he looks up again, he’s unsurprised to find Speirs in the exact same position… with his eyes shut.

“Sir?” Lipton says softly. No response — not even a sigh.

Speirs is slumped forward, head bowed low, mouth open. Every soft exhale ruffles the papers in front of him; his hair hangs in his face, unruly, but beneath the curtain he wears an expression of utter tranquility.

Something clenches in Lipton’s chest like a fist. It’s the same feeling he used to get visiting his neighbor’s newborn chicks, or playing with his schoolfriend’s litter of puppies. Slowly, he pushes the paperwork aside and rises to his feet. In a matter of moments, he’s cleared the table, arranging the finished and unfinished work into separate piles and setting them aside. He lowers the lights, makes sure the windows of their occupied house are shut, and finally turns back to his lone companion.

“Captain Speirs,” he says, placing a hand on his shoulder. To his surprise, Speirs doesn’t stir. Lipton knows Speirs to be a light sleeper — they’ve shared rooms before, even a bed in Haguenau, when Lipton’s desperate coughing kept Speirs up half the night without complaint — so for him to be this far gone, he must be truly exhausted.

Lipton ought to have noticed sooner. Brows creasing, he makes a silent note to keep a close eye on their captain, to make sure he’s getting the rest he needs. Leaning a bit further, he places his free hand on Speirs’s other shoulder, jarring him softly.

“Capt—“ The word dies on his tongue. Like an echo through a tunnel, he recalls Speirs’s voice from earlier in the evening — how, as Lipton sat down across from him, Speirs smiled his close-lipped predator’s smile, and said, “I appreciate it, Carwood,” — while holding his gaze, as though the informality meant something implicit.

“Ron,” he says softly, shaking him. “Wake up, now.”

Speirs shifts, and then raises his head. For a moment, he appears lost; bleary eyes, their usual sharpness dulled by sleep, blink up at Lipton until he gets his bearings. Speirs sits back in his chair with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as Lipton steps away.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean to nod off.”

“The rest of the work can be saved for another day,” Lipton replies, biting back a smile. He is professional as ever as he steps back, nodding his head towards the stairs. “It’s late enough… and I think you’ve earned your rest.”

Speirs’s gaze lingers on him as he rises. Lipton catches the briefest flicker of… something, Speirs’s expressions always border on enigma, but in the flash he’s sure he recognizes gratitude.

“Same goes for you,” says Speirs. “Get some rest, Lipton. That’s an order.”

Finally, Lipton allows himself to crack a smile. It feels natural on his face. “Yes, sir.”

Speirs makes his way up the stairs towards their requisitioned rooms, movements languid and unhurried. Lipton lingers for a patient moment before following in his stead.

[gotemsayingw0w]

Bed

Look, mom, I finally finished the damn challenge two months late!! Ao3 FFN

Kyo has a crooked nose. It was one of the first things Tohru noticed once she had full access to staring at his face, though she had spent plenty of time before they were ever together staring at his face as well. The place where the bridge of his nose deviates from its traditional path is a dead giveaway.

For a long time, it really bothered her. When she first reached out to gently trace the jagged slope with her finger, Kyo smiled at her. A side effect of having it broken at least a dozen times in his life.

It wasn’t the shape or aesthetics of his nose that were the problem, it was the fact that anyone would ever dare hurt him. She cupped his cheek in her hand and frowned, trying to ignore her temper simmering under her skin. It wasn’t as if she actually had the capability to protect him, especially not physically, but nevertheless.

Kyo assured her that he thoroughly deserved to have his nose broken. He reminded her that a handful of times it happened was when she was actually present. It was all Yuki and Haru, he told her. Coupla’ assholes. Although, of course, he at least broke Haru’s nose in return. He never did get the chance to return the favor to Yuki. Maybe one day. Either way, Kyo just laughed it off.

Shishou showed her a picture of what he dubbed ‘the worst Kyo has ever looked.’ It was a middle school class picture. He stood in the back row, a scowl on his face. His eye had a deep, purple crescent moon underneath it. It was taken only a year before they met.

His nose wasn’t the only giveaway of the tumultuous childhood he had. He had plenty of tiny scars all over his hands, proof that he’d been known to punch through unsuspecting windows. He had a puckered spot on his shin, which he blamed on Kagura knocking him into a boulder. But just below Kyo’s left eyebrow laid a deep groove, only about a centimeter long. 

Tohru only received a very cursory explanation of that mark. It was clear Kyo was not keen to talk about it. A permanent reminder of the abuse he’d received before the age of five. His mother had a matching one on her cheek. A dinner gone awry; that was all Kyo wished to explain. Tohru didn’t need the details anyway.

The marks on his body made her want to cry. She couldn’t stomach the thought of anyone intentionally hurting him. And she especially couldn’t stand the physical reminder of what he’d suffered mentally as well. The years of ridicule, abuse, victimization, and fear he had to face. Sometimes it made her cry to think about. While Kyo would assure her that he was fine, that it was all in the past, that he’d let it all go, it still tore at her heart.

“Everyone’s got scars, Tohru,” her mother had said to her in middle school. “Even if you can’t see ‘em, they’re there.” Her mother assured her that scars weren’t a bad thing. They were just evidence of the past. “It’s what you do after you’re hurt that matters.”

But if those physical reminders of his past pain bothered Tohru, her scars bothered him even more. 

Her hands were littered with tiny pockmarks. Burns from pans or the racks in the oven. Tiny punctures from poking herself with a knife on more occasions than she was willing to admit. She had a piece of pencil lead permanently buried in her palm from a mechanical pencil stabbing her while she dug through her bag back in high school.

Her knees had permanent marks from the amount of times she’d tripped and tore through her tights. She gritted her teeth not just because she’d have to buy another new pair of stockings, but because she could never quite believe how she was so clumsy.

Those weren’t the scars that bothered him, especially seeing as she continued to be clumsy well into adulthood. It was the scars she found him tracing in the middle of the night. The scars he would fix his gaze on when she was able to wear summer clothing again. The scars that their son asked about on occasion, only to be met with two adults who couldn’t fathom a way to answer.

Just as Kyo assured her that his scars were nothing to worry about, she did the same for him. It didn’t stop him from pressing three of his fingers to the three parallel lines on her shoulder. It didn’t stop his face from twisting to a look of pain that broke her heart. It didn’t stop him from repeating over and over out loud how sorry he was and it certainly didn’t stop whatever awful things he was saying to himself in his head. 

He had a different reaction whenever she caught him staring at the scar on her opposite side. Long and thin, but deep; the tiny suture marks still very much visible even years later. When she caught him staring at that, she could feel the tension radiating off of him. His jaw would set, teeth clamped together, mouth set in a scowl. No matter the weather, Tohru always made sure to wear long sleeves whenever Akito and Kyo were together with her in a room, though that had only happened a handful of times since they’d left home. 

They were a patchwork quilt of defects, but her mother had, of course, been right all those years ago. It’s what you do after that matters.

And after all of the trauma, the injuries both physical and emotional, what they did together mattered more than ever. Because they created Hajime. And Hajime is the most perfect little boy she has ever known.

Hajime does not know anger. He does not know rejection or exclusion. He does not know judgement or loneliness. Hajime is surrounded every day by love and, in turn, returns it to his parents and those around him. He is kind, empathetic. He is precocious and articulate at only the age of two. He is everything she ever could have dreamed of.

True, that she and Kyo spent hours when he was an infant just staring at him as he slept. At his porcelain face, framed by vibrant red hair and his tiny, cherubic hands. Even now, Hajime’s parents find tranquility in simply watching him play, basking in the smile on his face and returning it back wholeheartedly. Hajime is the center of their world. He melts any residual anger and soothes the pain that lingers in the two of them. 

They are inseparable, the three of them. Hajime joins both of his parents at work every day, following papa around the dojo between classes and playing at Tohru’s feet when the after-school crowd comes rushing in. He helps cook meals, as much as a toddler can, and grabs each of their hands as they go for walks along the shoreline in the evening.

As of late, he winds up in their bed at dawn every day. Sometimes being held by Tohru, other times by Kyo, but oftentimes placed squarely in the center, where both of his parents can cocoon him and squeeze another hour of sleep out of the morning before they can start their day together.

Today, Hajime rose from bed earlier than the sun, and Tohru heard through thick, sleepy ears the sound of Kyo plucking him up by the arm and hauling him up to their bed to share his pillow. She felt the blankets shift subtly as the two boys snuggled in close to succumb once more to silence and calm.

It’s a shrill cry that wakes her up. She bolts upright in bed next to Kyo, who is pulling Hajime up from the floor. Hajime screams in agony as Kyo wraps him up in the blanket, rising to his feet in a hurried panic. Tohru looks on in horror as Kyo holds a corner of the blanket over Hajime’s face, which is profusely bleeding, and she leaps to her feet.

It is a deep, albeit small cut under his eyebrow. Once Hajime’s panicked parents figure out that they alone will not be able to stop the bleeding, Tohru throws yesterday’s dress from the laundry basket over her pajamas. Kyo grabs his t-shirt from the floor and they hurry out to the car, where Tohru sits with Hajime to keep him calm and keep the now-soiled blanket pressed to his face.

Hajime leaves the hospital with three tiny stitches, a swollen eye, and a frown, all courtesy of the sharp corner of the bedside table he collided with when he rolled too far toward the edge. 

At home, Hajime curls up on their bed with the two of them, safely in the middle, a parental shield on either side of him. He falls asleep for an early nap, no doubt a result of the morning’s trauma and the child-sized dose of medicine they gave him to calm the pain and swelling.

After an hour of just watching Hajime sleep, Tohru rises to heat up a late breakfast and returns, two steaming bowls of ramen on a tray in her hands, to find Kyo staring fixedly on the mark, tears in his eyes, as he grabs his son’s hand as gently as possible so as not to wake him. Tohru rests the tray on the offending nightstand and curls herself into Kyo’s lap.

“It’s gonna leave a scar,” Kyo whispers, brushing his lips against her hair. She can’t fathom a supportive response, so she just nods against his chest. “I don’t want him to have a scar.” She nods once more. She doesn’t want Hajime to have a scar, either. She doesn’t want him to ever hurt. She doesn’t want the reminder of doctors stitching him up while he wailed. 

“Now’s the time when you’re supposed to give a positive Kyoko/Tohru spin on things,” Kyo suggests, wrapping his palm under her chin, tilting her head up to meet her eyes. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. He’s trying to cheer himself up, too. “Didn’t your mom have a whole speech about scars?”

Tohru returns his slight smile. “She did, but I think she was referring to being mugged with a knife or in a fight.” She giggles softly, picturing her mom’s speech if she were here right now. “But she once fainted when I had a bloody nose, so she would be no good in this situation.”

They fall silent and Tohru returns her head to his chest. As they sit there in contemplative silence, a tidal wave of guilt crashes down upon the two of them. She can feel it well up in her chest and she can hear Kyo’s breathing give him away. 

Scars are a part of each of their lives, but not what either of them ever wanted for Hajime. Logically, she knows that kids get hurt all the time. She used to work in a school and now that they both work at the dojo, bandages and first aid kits are a part of their daily lives. But seeing her own child hurt, bleeding, and marked, even though there is nothing she could have done to prevent it makes her feel sick to her stomach.

Tohru breaks the silence and asks “Do you think a sparring helmet would fit his head?” Kyo snorts and she smiles, though she is partially serious. “Really!” She exclaims, a little too loudly and he hushes her. “At least until it heals...we don’t want it to get worse.” She whispers the last part.

Kyo hugs her tightly into his chest again. “I’ll try to find one his size.”

*   *   *

The same night, Tohru sits on their bed folding laundry. From the baby monitor, she hears Kyo read Hajime a bedtime story, her heart melting, as it always seems to, whenever he gets into it and switches up his voice for each of the characters. She hears the gentle thump of the hardback closing and being set up on the bookshelf next to Hajime’s bed. She continues to listen as Hajime and Kyo both yawn.

“Papa?” Hajime asks, his little voice floating through the monitor like music. Kyo prompts him to continue and Hajime says “Papa match?” Tohru rises to peek out of their bedroom door across the hall, curious as to what Hajime is saying.

“Match what?” Kyo asks, puzzlement lacing his tone. 

Hajime sits up and reaches his hand out to point to Kyo’s left eyebrow and the scar that sits just below it. With his other hand, he touches his own stitched up brow, though his is on the right side. Tohru smiles as she looks at her husband and Hajime. Hajime points out the scar with no mal-intent and no judgement, just making an observation as he tends to do.

“Yeah, guess we do match, huh?” Kyo responds, smiling and kissing his son gently on his injury. Hajime returns the favor, missing Kyo’s scar entirely and landing a kiss on his temple instead. “You know what mama always says when we match…” Kyo says, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he settles Hajime back down under the blankets. “Aw, so cute.” Kyo croons in a high-pitched voice.

Hajime giggles, a musical sound, and recites a toddler version of her frequent catchphrase “I take a picture.”

“I love you, Hajime,” Kyo whispers, kissing the crown of his son’s head.

“Love you, too,” Hajime breathes, cuddling closer to his side. “So cute.”

[teyrnacousland]

If you cannot tell me another way...

Do not brand me a tyrant Anders a villain. (A List by Me.) 

This line does not work for Meredith at all. She had tons of options, one of which was to just. Not do all of the horrible things she was doing? Nothing she did was in any way necessary.

Anders, on the other hand, had no other options. People who say he was wrong seem to conveniently forget this. It’s been eight years since DA2 came out and I still can’t think of anything else he could have done. Even people who are quick to condemn his actions rarely offer an alternate course of action he could have taken. But I have seen some people try, so I’m going to go over every alternate suggestion I’ve seen and explain why they’re wrong and it wouldn’t have worked. 

1. Do nothing. 

 Do I need to explain why this one is a terrible idea? Meredith would have called for Annulment eventually. Maybe even right then and there. Meredith says herself “my patience is at an end”, and the way Orsino snaps back implies that his is too. What would Meredith have done if the Anders hadn’t interrupted? Perhaps Orsino would have given in (or the Templars would have made him stand down by force) and Meredith would have searched the tower. What would she do when she didn’t find the secret blood mage hideout she thinks she’ll find there? Would she just stand down and apologize for being wrong? Or would she, paranoid as she is, take that as a sign that there’s no way to root out the problem and the only solution is to throw out the whole Circle?

But even if it didn’t happen then and there, tensions like those in Kirkwall don’t just disappear. Things would have gotten worse and worse. Meredith would just get closer and closer to snapping as she continued to search for a conspiracy that doesn’t exist, and as the red lyrium continued to affect her mind. Maybe another apostate or maleficar would have done something she saw as an attack, or Orsino would have pushed too hard out of frustration and desperation, or something would happen that would lead Meredith to using the Right of Annulment in retaliation. Maybe the Divine would have approved her request, and she would do it the second that approval got to her. Maybe Meredith would have eventually decided it was the only way to keep the peace and call for it out of nowhere.

No matter what, the Right of Annulment was always going to happen, because it’s always been her ideal ending. She’s wanted it for years. When Elthina refused, Meredith went above her head. Even if the Divine ended up refusing the request, Meredith would have tried to find another way or just done it anyways. Even if she had to break the rules to do it. She’s been raised to worship a martyr, and she would have no problem risking becoming one herself.  It’s her “divine right”, her “duty”. She would never have been satisfied until she did it.

And when she called for it, she wouldn’t give the mages a warning or head start. They wouldn’t have time to prepare themselves and recruit help. The mages would all be locked away in their cells when the Templars came. Maybe they’d do it at night while they were sleeping. They would open the cells one by one and kill every man woman and child, one at a time so they can’t fight back.

And when it was over, she would tell the rest of Kirkwall, Thedas, the Chantry, that she had discovered something that justified it. (We know she’s the type of person who would do this; when she turns on pro-Templar mage Hawke she says “The people of Kirkwall will mourn your loss, but I will tell them that you died battling the mages. A righteous cause.” She plans to lie to the world then, and she’d no doubt do it now.) And Elthina would have backed up her story, because her other option at that point would be to lose her pawn slash partner, and also admit that she let this happen right under her nose, that Meredith and the Templars were out of control. (And it wouldn’t be the first time permission for a Right of Annulment was granted to cover up a Templar’s genocidal Templar’s rampage.) 

The Gallows mages would all die, and nothing in the world would change. 

2. Kill Meredith. 

Best case scenario, Elthina would have appointed a new Meredith and nothing would change. Or she would have promoted Cullen (and even if you like him you have to admit that Knight-Commander Cullen, with the way he was back then, would Not be Good. Remember, Knight-Captain Cullen supports Tranquility, at least considered the Tranquil Solution, and in DAO he wanted you to help Annul the mages in Kinloch Hold). 

Worst case, the Divine would have stepped in now that the situation in Kirkwall had advanced to murder of a high up Chantry figure and they would send over a new Meredith along with an army and official permission to Annul the Gallows. (And again, this wouldn’t be a fit of rage declared in a public place with no preparation. It would be calculated. The mages wouldn’t know until it was too late.) It’s also possible she would have even declared an Exalted March and killed everyone in the city.

3. Kill Elthina.

First of all, how would he do this? Elthina is protected, by Templars no less. Anders’ options are magic, which would be shut down by said Templars, or get close enough to use a blade, which would also be prevented by said Templars. What’s he going to do, tell Elthina he just wants a hug? She’s not an idiot. Anders is a rebel and a freedom fighter, she must know he’s a threat. She would never let him within stabbing distance. 

But let’s say Anders found a way. Let’s say he assassinated her when no Templars were there to stop him. What impact would that have on Kirkwall? The people would hear that Elthina was dead. No one would really know what happened. It would be a tragedy, sure, but it wouldn’t have the same impact. No one would be forced to think about why she was murdered, what led to that. That’s if they were even told it was murder, if it wasn’t covered up to prevent panic, to keep up the chantry’s illusion of control. 

Meredith would still find out. But she would likely be alone. She would be told, not be witness to it. It would hit less hard, and she’d have time to think and plan. She would likely still call for Annulment, but quietly, privately. See scenario one, everyone dies, and the world doesn’t know, doesn’t change.

Assuming he did it publicly (if that’s even possible) Meredith would again possibly have responded the same way. Let’s say she called for Annullment immediately. Ideally, this murder would have to happen when Meredith and Orsino was nearby, so he and the Gallows would have warning. (That would be pretty hard to arrange too, probably even impossible, since Orsino would never just happen to be in the chantry where Elthina is. Meredith, who is his jailer, specifically doesn’t want him going there, she tries to stop him in the scene before the chantry boom.)

If Meredith succeeds (more likely in this scenario than in canon, since no one is distracted by the chaos of the chantry explosion and no one is occupied with damage control) then it’s just back to Scenario 1, so let’s skip that and say the mages win. Now what? The world still hasn’t changed. They were never forced to acknowledge the problems in the Gallows, were never made aware of it by an apostate standing in Lowtown and shouting about it loudly as fire rains from the sky. Anders couldn’t make his speech before killing Elthina because then he’d be stopped, and he couldn’t make it after because he would no doubt be dragged away or executed on the spot. So no one knows the story. No one knows what happened. It’s the Kirkwall mages’ word against the Chantry’s, and which one do you think will sound more believable? Which one will reach the most people? And since the word would never reach the other mages, Fiona wouldn’t have gotten enough votes to declare independence, and this window of opportunity that let the mages push for freedom in canon would have passed them by.

Also, the Chantry would be perfectly intact, and that’s a problem. In this scenario, they don’t have to worry about the message Anders is sending (since he hasn’t sent one) or deal with the increased tensions Anders’ very loud and public rebellion caused in Circles all across Thedas. The Chantry would be free hunt the Kirkwall mages down in full force. (I’ll go into this more in the next point.)

It’s also possible, if not likely, that Meredith wouldn’t have called for Annulment right away. A single murder probably wouldn’t have caused the same level of outrage and wouldn’t have pushed her into making such an irrational move as to announce her intentions in public and give the mages time to prepare. And again, see Scenario 1. 

4. Sneak the mages out of Kirkwall

First of all, again, this would be incredibly difficult. Anders would either have to kill all the Templars (which, impressive as he is, I doubt he could do on his own) or distract them (again, near impossible, especially alone. There’s so many of them. They’re like ants in the summer.)

But let’s put that aside and assume that Anders could somehow get the mages out of Kirkwall. Let me introduce you to this fun codex entry: Codex Entry: Apostate’s Courage

It’s about an apostate named Caleth who ran from the Chantry with a group of fellow mages and hid in the mountains. The Chantry sent an army of Templars and hired mercenaries to bring them back, and they were forced to surrender themselves to be made Tranquil. 

The Chantry can’t let a small group of apostates escape their grasp, let alone an entire Circle. First of all, look at how focused the Templars in Awakening are on Anders, a single apostate. They act like his a personal insult. These divine narcissists can’t stand the idea that an apostate outwitted them and isn’t forced to obey them. 

And second, the reason the Chantry would devote so many resources to bring back what couldn’t be more than a dozen or two apostates (since it says Caleth’s group was only his most loyal I imagine it can’t have been too many): It sends a message that escape is possible. It inspires others to try for freedom. It undermines the Chantry’s authority and the image of control they’ve so carefully cultivated. Imagine what message it would send if a whole Circle escaped?

If Anders hadn’t destabilized the Chantry in a major way, increased tensions between the Chantry (and Templars) and the mages, forcing them to focus resources there, the Chantry would have hunted him and the other Gallows escapees down with all the force they could muster, for the rest of eternity. Because they would have to. Their system relies on complete control, or at least the illusion of control. Once they lose that, as we see in canon, they lose everything. And they know it.

Basically, in short, here are the list of requirements for a good plan:

It has to be something Anders can do. Alone. Anders probably can’t  walk into the Gallows’ Templar hall and assassinate Meredith. Anders probably can’t walk into the chantry and kill Elthina. And even if he comes up with a plan, if he tries and is caught or stopped and then executed, it was all for nothing. (See scenario 1.)

It has to give the mages in the Gallows warning the moment Meredith decides to invoke the Rite of Annulment. This means it has to be a public event, where both Meredith and Orsino are present, and it has to be big enough that Meredith will react irrationally and declare her intentions in public.

It has to destabilize the Chantry, since if they’re not affected they’ll pour all their focus into shutting down the Kirkwall mages, and also making up a cover story, as fast as they can.

It has to get attention. Anders wants the world to acknowledge what’s happening in the Circles. Anything small scale will be seen as an isolated incident and promptly forgotten about. Or worse, it’ll be covered up and twisted by the Chantry.

It needs to affect the other Circles. If it’s small, they might not even hear about it, let alone see its effects. This is possibly the most important point, since Anders’ overall goal isn’t just to save the mages in the Gallows, but also to make a spark that someone like Fiona can fan into a flame. And Fiona’s plan requires the mages to see that they can’t just stay in the Circles and play the good mage, so they’ll vote for independence. This almost requires things to get worse, since that’s likely the only way the Aequitarians (and others) would realize this. 

Until you can suggest to me a plan that satisfies these requirements and doesn’t run into any of the pitfalls and walls I’ve mentioned, do not call Anders a villain. 

[weeping-petals]

Shadow Rabbit

Word Count - 2,493

The Crystal Gems need to have a talk about their encounter with the hostile Spinel, and send Steven off on a quick ‘errand’ to pick up doughnuts. By the time he returns home, he has even more questions.

“That can’t be right. You didn’t just fall asleep.” Pearl began, promptly when they return to the Crystal Temple.

 The blast of light faded, and each member of the Crystal crew stepped off. Pearl followed close behind Steven, still aboard the ‘you’re wrong and I must be correct’ train. Behind the Pearl, Amethyst made a face.

 “Maybe fell on your head,” the lilac gem posed. “Or got dropped, tossed, hurtled. Maybe a fist collided with—”

 “Would you guys stop it!” Steven burst. He tugged off his hoodie and threw it aside. They weren’t listening, and hastened to judge ever sentence that popped out of his mouth. All throughout the hike back, they boggled him with interrogation of what happened, how he felt. The trio was uncharacteristically clingy, more so than if he had fallen into actual peril. “That’s how it happened. We were sneaking around, well, she was sneaking. I stopped paying attention, and… yeah, it was really boring.”

 Amethyst shrugged. “No, that doesn’t sound like Spine. Try again.”

 Pearl disregarded the coat on the floor (very unusual) and knelt on her knee, to examine Steven once more. “You must’ve suffered a concussion. You shouldn’t have been sleeping, in fact, you should stay awake for the next few hours. To be safe.”

 Steven was at his wits end. “I didn’t FALL! The complete opposite of interesting happ—”

 “I could use some doughnuts,” Garnet blurted. She put a hand on Pearl’s shoulder, stole her away from Steven, and set a hand on Amethyst’s head. The two gems went along with the gesture, grasping a hidden meaning. “Steven, you’re the best at catching doughnuts. Do you mind running a quick errand?”

 This was a universal request to excuse them for a short spell. Steven toed the floor with his sandal and pouted. “Sure. Any special requests?”

 Pearl raised a finger. “Two bakers dozen.”

 Amethyst piped up next. “Filling. And coating. Lots of sprinkles. BACON!”

 “Red and blue,” Garnet wished, clasping her hands together. “You better take the wagon.”

 It hurt a little more than it should have, despite knowing it was gem business. The topic always spooked his dad, but it fascinated the pants off Steven. He should have been a part of it; he was the one kidnapped, but he also wanted to help Spinel. The time he spent in her company (or captivity?) felt like days, though it was only a few hours. The sun was rising on the tranquil shores of Beach City, the denizens emerging from storefronts or meandered their way along the boardwalk to begin opening shop. The Crystal Gems spent a whole day and night out in the forest.

 The wagon was easy to haul off from the beach and to the road. He ventured to the front of the Big Doughnut and hurried inside.

 “I need a bakers dozen! ASOP!” He whooped.

 “Whoa-whoa!” Sadie, opening shop today, struggled with two large boxes of merch. “I barely got the displays set. Can ya kinda give me a sec?”

 Steven immediately chilled. “Oh. Sorry! Forgot what time it was. What time is it, by the way?”

 “Barely got in, if that’s a good ref,” she offered. She set the boxes on the counter and began opening, pulling out pre-packaged pastries. “You’re up early for a Saturday.”

 “So, time doesn’t flow differently in the magical petrify forest. Huh?” Steven tried to sound clever, stroking his chin as he crossed to the counter. “In-teer-esting.”

 Sadie smirked as she rose up from behind the display case. “Magical forest? Time flow? Is this more of that gem stuff?” If Lars was here he would be groaning at her, to not get Steven started. But it was nice to have some positive company while she was setting up, and Steven was always getting into some wild adventures. It kept him out of trouble.

 “It was cool,” Steven enthused, eyes starry. “We – the gems and me – went out to check on this rock forest, where this temple was bein’ built. There were crystal trees, bigger than the city, bigger than the temple and the city combined!” He swung his arms up, exaggerating details. “It was sunset there, while here it was middle of the day! Oh-oh! And there was a gem there! A real gem, like Garnet, Pearl, or Amethyst!”

 “A gem person? Y’mean, other than those gem monsters….”

 Steven broke from his whirlwind showman and gawked. “Why does everyone keep hating on her? She’s not a monster!”

 A loud thump resounded from the counter, likely from Sadie bumping her head. “Hold up, take it easy.” She straightened, rubbing her crown. “I’m going off on all those stories you tell, and the fact the other gems are always fighting these… monsters.” She cast her eyes away, hesitant. “And, aside from you, your friends, and… your mom – I had no idea there were other gems, gem people, around. So….”

 “A bakers dozen! Make that two!” Steven announced. “I have to get back, so I can ask them about her.”

 “I gotcha the first time, kiddo.” Sadie resumed ripping packages and lining up the inventory. “That’s like twenty-six doughnuts, and we’re not officially opened yet. What sort of doughnuts you want? I can go through the boxes and get started.”

 “My dad!”

 Thump!

 “Maybe he knows something about her!” Steven did an about-face and raced to the door. But halted. “Wait, Amethyst might be upset if she doesn’t get her doughnuts.” He did a little dance at the door, indecisive about what he should do and fighting the urge to blast out to the carwash. Even worse, what if his dad didn’t know anything?

 “Yes, do that!” he harped.

 Sadie sighed and dropped her forehead to the countertop. Adorable as Steven was, he sure was a mess.

 “So,” she said, after hauling out the third box from storage. “Did you catch the name of this new gem?”

 Steven sat at one of the tables, swinging his feet under the chair. “Spinel.” He was twiddling his thumbs on the tabletop, focused intently. The crash of the box snapped his attention back to Sadie.

 “Spindle?”

 “Spinel,” Steven repeated. Sadie gazed at him, expression perplexed. “Hmm?”

 “Sorry. I’m sure I’ve heard that name before.” She shook her head. “No idea where.”

 “My dad?”

 “Nope.” Sadie collected up the boxes and made progress on filling up the order. “That’s half my stock. Anyway, I think it was… Sour Cream? Certainly not Lars. I think it was around Halloween, we were sharing creepy stories about stuff that frightened us, y’know, when we were kids. That guy Sour Cream told us about this imaginary friend that was a kind of variant of this crooked man, and he called it Spindle—”

 Outside the Big Doughnut, Steven burst from the doors screaming, “SOUR CREAM!”

 Sadie was not close behind, didn’t catch Steven, and stood at the threshold. “Steven! YOUR DOUGHNUTS!”

 For the better part of the day, Steven raced across Beach City checking every nook and cranny he laid eyes on, every shady alleyway seeking the ‘Cool Kids’. He ventured to the abandoned warehouse, but the nights activities ended hours before dawn. In desperation, he tried hammering away at Lars door, but the father of Lars answered and spoke on behalf of his son that “that boy is still sleeping.” Steven raced off, exploring all the likely cool places the Cool Kids would meetup. He had no idea where Sour Cream lived, let alone other go to hangouts. He didn’t want to race out to the cliff.

 At long last, Steven began a desperate patrol of the shoreline. And there, near the pier of Funland he spied the Cool Kids in the midst of a round of hacky sack. And there was Sour Cream, balancing the lumpy satchel on his knee.

 “Sour Cream!”

 “Huh?” He balanced the sack on his elbow, right before Steven nearly bowled him over. “Brah! What gives—” He passed the orb, and Jenny managed to nab it on her ankle. “I guess I’m taking two!”

 “I have questions! Questions! And you have answers I need! Please!”

 Reluctantly, Sour Cream let his arm get tugged by Steven, and went along with the pre-teen. “I was in the middle of something. Do you get bad reception at your house? Texting is a thing.”

 Steven stalled. Above, the noises from screaming ride goers spilled down as the coaster careened through its track. “That’s… true. I’m used to talking face-to-face though. Heh.”

 Once Sour Cream liberated his arm, he jammed his hands in his pockets. “That’s more direct. I see the appeal.” He nodded. “I can’t help but catch those vibes of tension radiating off you. You got something you think I’ll help you with?”

 “I don’t know.” Steven was beginning to second guess. He was in such a hurry to locate Sour Cream, a task deemed all but possible, he didn’t gather up a good question. Or beginning. “Uh… did you ever know a gem?”

 “Amethyst? Yeah. Forever a long—”

 “No-no-no.” Steven took a breath. And stalled. Amethyst? He shook his head. “A gem named Spinel?” The bafflement that met him was disheartening.

 “Sorry lil dude. Aside from Amy, I don’t know any gems.”

 “Well,” Steven cupped his chin and considered. “What about the crooked creature? Spindle?” At first Sour Cream shook his head, but then, recognition lit up in his eyes.

 “Ooh, yeah. That thing.” He turned his gaze up thoughtfully. “This critter used to hang around the city, I’d see it lurking in the shadows sometimes. Kinda spooked me, but I didn’t get the ambiance it was dangerous.” He stooped on the sand, and began sketching out a face, grin, bent body, and tall ears. “It was sort of like a rabbit, made of ramen. Say, who’s been telling you my stories?”

 Steven didn’t answer. He was mesmerized by the crude picture, and could see how Spinel could be mistaken for a rabbit. Minus the fluffy tail. “Spindle?”

 “Yeah! Er, don’t know where the name came from.” Sour Cream weaved his arm in the air, fish like. “It did this deal, sort of slithered up and down walls. I’d see it, but no one else could. Meh. As I got older, I stopped seeing it. One day, I guess.” He shrugged and stood. “I grew up.”

 The story was very strange, but there was no mistaking what was staring at Steven from the sand. “Thanks Sour Cream. That really helped.”

 “Really? I didn’t do much.” He wiped the sand from his hands.

 Steven waved, as he took off. “That was all I needed. Sorry for stealing you from the game!”

 “No prob. Don’t do anything I would!”

 It was a long hike back to the Big Doughnut. Long, because Steven was halfway to the Crystal Temple, before he realized he’d forgotten the goods. He hurried back to the shop and raced inside.

 “Where’d you go?” Sadie asked, upon coming from the back storage.

 “No time to explain! I hope I’m not too late!” He grabbed the doughnuts, nearly forgot to pay, and went back to the cash register.

 “Too late for what?” she was getting panicked. Steven was sweaty and red, from running around too much in the sun. “Are you okay?”

 “Thanks for the doughnuts! I’ll see you tomorrow!” Steven blew out of the store, nearly plowing into Lars.

 “Crud, what is it now?” Lars barked, scuttling aside. “Don’t they feed you?”

 “I was just leaving!” Steven threw the boxes onto the wagon and took off, leaving a cloud of dust.

 Lars scratched his head. “Weird. Usually he tries to hug me… or something else weird. Sadie!” He entered the shop. “Did you give him caffeine again?”

 “Again!?”

 Racing a second time back to temple winded Steven. He managed to not lose a single doughnut or box on the uneven, and soft surface of the sand. Local seagulls took an interest in his cargo, and a few brash winged beasts pursued prepared to tear apart the precious goods if the boy stopped for the barest of moments. It raised the stakes for Steven’s skirmish back to the home, but he managed.

 “Shoo! Rawr!” He swung his arms at the seagulls, as he unloaded the boxes. They were still following him, gracefully gliding on wind current, while Steven ascended the steps. “AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 Steven plowed through the screen door. Boxes went flying, a few doughnuts scattered, and seagulls poured in through the gaping portal. “Hey guys!” More seagulls swooped in, settling on the confectionary treats slain in the madness.

 The Crystal Gems gawked with varied stages of horror. Except Garnet. This was not the scenario she anticipated, but it was no less what she would’ve expected.

 “My DOUGNUTS!” Amethyst roared. She shifted form mid leap, and a large liger pounced on the crushed boxes, hissing and swiping at the laughing gulls. One bit her on the nose. “OW!”

 Steven rolled away before he got stepped on. He still had a lone box in his hands. “Salvaged one!” He scampered up and held it out to Pearl.

 “Aw, uh, thank you… Steven.” She took the box and handed it to Garnet, whom just held it. “It took you longer than we expected.”

 “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRR!” Liger Amethyst shook her mane. Seagulls had overrun her, while she competed with them for eating the doughnuts. The birds were stealing the crumbs from beneath her jagged teeth. “THAT’S MINE YOU SEA RATS!”

 Pearl grimaced and clasped a hand over her mouth. Garnet sighed.

 “I think that’s enough of that.” Garnet handed the box back to Steven. “Cover your ears.” Pearl did that for him, but Steven was concerned, and dropped the doughnut container to set his hands over Pearl’s.

 Garnet formed the gauntlets and walked over to the doorway, where Ligerthyst combated the bold avians. She raised her hands over her head.

 “OUT OF OUR HOUSE OF SUFFER MY WRATH!” She screamed. That was it. She was loud, and commanding, and terrifying when needed.

 The seagulls screeched and flapped, vacating the premises in a white cloud. In their wake, feathers covered everything, including a scratched and scuffed up Liger. “ooOow.” Amethyst pawed at the boxes, tears formed in her eyes.

 Steven shifted his head to view Pearl. Her hands went tense, and were uncomfortable on his head. He couldn’t hear, but Pearl looked super upset and paler than usual. He pulled away from her grip.

 Amethyst sniffled. “Nothings left. It’s all gone. Everything. Gone.”

 “Look! We still have one box here! TADA!” Pearl snatched the box off the floor. She barely got the lid off, before Ligerthyst lay siege to the contents. She sighed, relieved.

 Steven almost expected vultures to descend, it looked like one of those nature documentaries in the veldt. Anything would be more pleasant than those seagulls. “Um, so… did Spinel live in Beach City, too?”

 The room went silent, and all three gems looked at Steven. Ligerthyst had crumbs all over her muzzle.

[mypassionfortrash]

Do More of What Scares You: Parts 7, 8 & 9 of 11

Things go from bad to worse when you find out what Roger really gets up to on tour.

◾️Catch up: 1&2 ~ 3&4 ~ 5&6 ◾️

Warnings: Smut!

[7/11]

Your heart pounded as you wandered through the cabin. The last time you were on a plane was when your parents had decided on a disastrous holiday in Tenerife when you were still at school. It wasn’t that long ago, but it felt like it had been an eternity. There were, however, a few differences this time.

You would be spending longer inside this floating tin can. The best part of a day, apparently. You could already feel the germs in the air clawing at your skin.

And then the dull chatter of your fellow passengers. That was going to be difficult to avoid. Even with ‘Soothing Sounds for Anxious Minds,’ blaring away in your ears at full volume. The tape was Roger’s idea. You doubted it would have any effect, especially if you had to have it up so loud to hear it.

On the plus side, Roger made sure you were traveling First Class. Something you hadn’t realised until you were on the plane, showing a stewardess your ticket. She immediately sprang into action, “Come with me.” 

You had to fight your way through the rabble of the Economy cabin, fearing you might spontaneously break out in hives or faint. You struggled to keep up as she expertly darted through the horde of screaming children and adults towards the front of the plane. Finally, she pushed through the curtain. The great divide into what felt like another world. By contrast, this one was quiet and tranquil. Plush leather seats, champagne and canapés. “You’ll be in here, Miss, at the request of Mr Taylor. Is there anything I can get you?”

The cabin was empty. It took you a moment to register that this was where you would be spending your day. With wide eyes and an open mouth all you could muster was a quiet, “I need a drink.”

“Of course. What would you like? It’s all complimentary.”

It was so easy, in the lap of luxury to go for something more outlandish than your social standing would allow. Normally a vodka and coke would suffice. But this wasn't normal. Not by a long shot. Without thinking, you droned, “Champagne.” Not even a 'please' in sight.

You lost count how long you spent cooped up on the plane when it touched down at LAX. The champagne was, seemingly, the only thing you needed on the trip. And the self help tape was surplus to requirements. You wondered, packing up your belongings, why you didn’t do this more often. You could get used to being shipped off abroad to join Roger on tour.

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

“No! You go and hide in a bloody bar somewhere. I don’t want her coming all this way to be mobbed by you three arseholes!” Roger screeched. He felt like his entire body was going numb as he fretted over every last detail of your arrival. He could barely hold on to the wilting bouquet in his hand.

Roger was no sooner in the private car to the airport but Brian, Deacy and Freddie had climbed in behind him. Much to his annoyance. He needed your reunion to go down without a hitch. And this wasn’t going to help his case.

“Oh, don’t be such a bore, darling!” Freddie retorted. "Who wouldn't love us?!"

“I mean it. If my girlfriend flakes out because of you lot-”

“So she is your girlfriend now?” Deacy said. “Interesting.”

Roger sank back into his seat, eyeing his bandmates. “Yeah, I guess she is.” Then, he jolted forward again. “But that’s not the point!”

Brian turned to Roger, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Look, Rog, we’ll go off and hide somewhere, if that’s what she needs.”

“We’re doing this for her, not for you, remember that,” Freddie huffed. “I still can’t believe she’s going out with you.”

Roger clenched his jaw. “It’s a bit cramped in this car. I’m going to call another one for the ride back,” he muttered.

“So you don’t even want us to meet your girlfriend?” Freddie pouted.

“Not until you’ve all calmed down. Stop being so hysterical!”

Deacy kept his face smushed up against the window, watching the world go by as his bandmates bickered. “That’s rich, coming from you,” he muttered.

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

Bags in hand and successfully through immigration, you waited in the Arrivals Hall for Roger. He was late. Fifteen minutes late. He was never late.

Your stomach churned, wondering where he was. Maybe he had forgotten all about you. Maybe he was back at his hotel, cosied up with a bunch of groupies. All those hours on the plane would have been for nothing. You began to pace back and forth. The urge to run off and lock yourself in the toilets to bawl your eyes out was so strong that you had to sit down. If your legs moved any more, then they may well have carried you off to the next flight home. Slinking down the wall, you hit the floor with a thud. The rushing in your ears had reared its ugly head again for the first time in weeks. That self help tape didn’t seem so bad now.

On the other side of the airport, Roger was breaking a sweat as he power walked through the crowd of travellers. His bandmates weren’t far behind.

“I can’t believe I always listen to you lot. I told you where she’d be, and you’ve led me on a wild goose chase. This is brilliant. Exactly how I wanted this to go!” He whined, his cheeks turning scarlet. “She’s somewhere in here on her own, going out of her mind, thanks to you lot!”

“Rog,” Brian began, pulling at Roger’s arm. 

Roger’s first instinct was to turn around and glare at him for holding up his mission. 

Brian was having none of it. “Do you want her to see you like this?”

“Like what?” he scowled.

“You look like an angry chihuahua, dear,” Freddie remarked, breezing past Brian and Roger.

“Come on,” Brian said, “take a deep breath. And bin those flowers. They look more pathetic than you. I’ll get on the phone and have some ordered to your room.”

Roger huffed, beginning to see reason. “You’re right.”

Deacy took his time catching up, but when he did, he noticed the state Roger was in. He whipped a handkerchief out of his jacket and, like a mother hen, began dabbing at Roger’s brow. “Don’t worry. Brian and I will see to it that Freddie behaves himself.”

Brian nodded in agreement. 

“Thanks,” Roger said, slicking his hair back, a coy smile on his face. Then he became aware of the situation again, looking around him. “Where is Freddie?”

You had resigned yourself to the fact that Roger wasn’t coming to get you anytime soon. Your legs had gone numb from the perishing cold floor and all you could focus on was the breathing exercises droning away in your ears. Eyes closed. Breathe in. Breathe out. Now, imagine you’re in your happy, safe space. Fuck.

You flung off your headphones, and opened your eyes.

A figure loomed over you, immediately catching your attention.

“Oh good, you know I’m here! Excellent. Let’s find your boyfriend,” he said, pulling you to your feet. 

“I don’t… Wait, where’s Roger?” you asked, grabbing your bags.

“Nice to meet you too,” Freddie grinned. “I dumped him somewhere along here with Brian and Deacy.”

“Everyone’s here?” Your voice cracked. Your legs stalled, rooting you to the spot.

“Yes! We wouldn’t have missed meeting you for the world.”

“Of fuck,” you sighed, looking down at the floor, feeling like it was curtains for your excursion abroad. 

“Oh, thank god!” 

Now, that was a voice you knew. 

Roger burst from the crowd out of nowhere, throwing his arms around you. He picked you up and spun you around so ferociously that you feared the champagne from the plane might resurface. You could feel his heart fluttering next to yours. But you didn’t feel panic. Not anymore. 

Plonking you down, he littered kisses everywhere he could. “I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m so sorry I’m late. These bastards insisted on coming along and I brought flowers but-” he held you out to get a good look at you. “God I missed you.”

You sighed, giggling away. “I missed you too.”

“Was your flight ok?” He asked, looking concerned. “Did they treat you well?”

“Yes, it was perfect,” you said. “I was getting a bit worried there.”

“I’m so, so sorry,” Roger said, hugging you again. 

You buried your face in his chest, slowly taking in his cologne like it was part of those god-awful breathing exercises. “You’re here now.”

The pair of you were forced apart by Freddie clearing his throat, much to Brian and Deacy’s disdain. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

[8/11]

“Are you sure you don’t want to be there?” Roger asked, slipping into a crisp white t-shirt.

You wrung your hands together on your stomach, staring up at the ceiling. The bed had accepted you as its own, and in your state of exhaustion, you huffed. “I’m not really up to it, tonight. I’m still jet-lagged.”

Roger threw himself down beside you, taking one of your hands and giving it a kiss. “Will you come out tonight?”

Being cooped up in a tour bus with Roger and his bandmates for ten hours forced you into some semblance of being comfortable around them. You paused, thinking for a moment. “Let me sleep this off, and I’ll see what I can manage.”

Roger left for the night, leaving the name and address of the club where Queen’s afterparty was to be held, and the promise of having a brand new outfit sent to his suite, just for you.

Thumbing the card in your hand, you considered his offer before you succumbed to the jet-lag and drifted off.

Four hours later, you woke up to find your room dark and empty. But there was something that called out to you from the far side, over by the dining table. Draped over one of the seats was a crimson dress. Beside it, on the table sat a pair of gold heels, a dozen roses and a bottle of Moet. You ambled over to your gifts on shaking legs and picked up the note nestled in your flowers. “Ask your mum if you can come out tonight. Love, Rog. x.”

As much as you wanted to stay in bed all night and wait for him to return, you were overcome with the urge to put on your new clothes and be a different person. Just for one night.

And so your mind was made up. An hour later, and looking your best, you strutted into the bar. Heads turned as you delved further into the cloud of smoke that blanketed the place. The regret, the panic, the rushing. It all took hold so quickly. You couldn’t ignore the eyes on you. So you kept your head bowed. It did you no good. You hit a brick wall.

“Hello, my love!”

You looked up, recognising that voice. It was Freddie. But, you needed to find Roger before the room suffocated you. “Hi darling,” you said, giving him a hug and a fake smile. “Do you know where Roger is?”

“We have a lounge through in the back,” he began, pointing towards the curtained entrance at the far side of the dancefloor, “but it’s more fun out here, don’t you think? Would you like a drink?”

That smile of yours was real now. You peered over Freddie’s shoulder, at the entourage of moustached men behind him.“I’ll bring him right back out, Fred. Then we’ll come party with you lot.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, hauling himself up on to a bar stool.

You nodded, speeding off into the swarm of partygoers. The music in the room was so loud that it made the ground shake like an earthquake ripping through the building. But as you approached the entrance to the lounge, you could hear laughing. Roger was laughing. You reached out and gingerly pushed back the velvet curtain to peer inside.

What you saw felt like the most vicious gut punch of your life, knocking all the air out of your lungs, sending your head spinning.

There he was, lying on an opulent sofa, with a model on each arm, competing for his attention. You needed to get out of there fast.

The following morning, bags in hand, you wandered out of the hotel towards the bus. Only for Brian to catch your arm. “I wouldn’t go on there if I were you,” he said, giving you a sympathetic look.

You sighed. “I know what he got up to last night.”

“If it’s any consolation, he’s an idiot. We’re going to give him a right bollocking when he wakes up.”

“Fuck when he wakes up. I’m giving him a bollocking right now,” you resolved, wiping your eyes and standing up straight.

Deacy was next to leave the hotel. “Bollocking? Oh, you mean Roger?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Good for you.”

“Well, since you’re feeling brave, can you get rid of those girls too?” Brian half-joked. “Don’t want to smuggle them back into Britain or anything.”

“I’ll deal with them.”

The noise in your brain seemed to escalate as you marched on to the bus. Bottles lay strewn over the floor along with a trail of clothes; men’s and women’s leading all the way to the lounge area. Dragging the beaded curtain aside, you were met with a similar image to the night before. Roger was precisely the same, but the girls were different. The three of them lay on the sofa, half naked and sound asleep; you thought it ironic as you hadn’t slept a wink for worry.

You searched the lounge for something - anything - to disrupt the scene. You hand finally found the neck of a vodka bottle. It was already open. You doused them, emptying it completely.

The girls quickly woke up, realising what was happening. They wordlessly scurried through the bus, gathering their clothes and bundling them in their arms as they left. They had clearly done this before. 

But Roger refused to budge. He was still snoring away in his underwear, mouth agape, head lolled back against the window. It infuriated you. You decided it was time to get vicious.

“Wake the fuck up!” you roared, grabbing an empty beer bottle. You lobbed it at him. Instead it smashed on the window.

Roger’s eyes fluttered open. “Hi darling,” he droned, still in a drunken haze. “Feeling better?”

“Better? Better?!” Tact was never your forte. But to get any meaningful response from him, you didn’t need it.

He looked around, completely missing the severity of the situation. “What’s wrong?” He asked, scratching his head, blinking at you.

Your heart sank. Either he was willingly trying to deceive you, or he was so wasted the night before that he had no idea what was going on. You didn’t even want to imagine the other scenario. 

Maybe this kind of thing was so prevalent in his circles, that it was an unspoken thing you merely had to accept. You crossed your arms, pacing in front of him. “Who were those girls you were with? Who were you with last night?”

Roger’s face fell. “I don’t remember anything.” He was quiet, sober, now. “What did I do?”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes. All your pride melted away. “When I went to the bar last night, I came to find you, and you were in the back with…” you trailed off, throwing away the last of your sentence with a flap of your hand. Great, wet tears made tracks through your makeup. Your legs threatened to give way, while your heart was working overtime, thumping away against your ribs. “And then this morning. You were here. With different girls. What the fuck, Roger?” you sobbed. “Has that happened before?”

Roger leaned forward, staring at the floor. He ran his hands through his hair and gave a deep sigh. “I don’t know what to tell you.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at you; if he did that, he’d be acknowledging a cold, hard truth. He had let you down. In the cruellest way he could. 

“I really trusted you.”

“I know.”

But it was as if he could sense your mind beginning to race. To entertain the thought of going back home. And the worry about how you could afford it. He didn’t miss a second. 

Finally, he looked up. For a moment, he just took in the state of you; facing the fact that he did this do you. “Can we get back from this?”

Footsteps came thundering through the aisle of the bus. You turned towards the noise to find Brian poking his head through the divider. “We’re leaving now, so I’ve just popped your suitcases up front,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” you sniffed.

“Everything alright?”

Roger was quick to pipe up. “We will be.”

Brian shot him a questioning look, before turning his attention back to you. “If you need us, we’ll be down the front, having a game of Scrabble. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thanks, Brian.” When he was safely out of earshot, you and Roger resumed crisis talks. “All this time you’ve been away, has that happened before?” you pressed.

“You’re not going to go home, are you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m fucking stranded here with a boyfriend who thinks it’s ok to get shitfaced and cheat on me! Of course, I’d like to go home. But you dragged me all the way to a place I can’t get back from!”

Roger propped his chin against his hand, sinking his front teeth into his knuckle. For someone with so much verve and presence, he looked utterly defeated. “If I get you a plane ticket home, can we try again when I get back?”

You shook your head. As upset as you were a moment ago, it dawned on you that if Roger got his way, you’d run the risk of falling into a routine. Things would be hunky dory for a month or two. And then a tour would come around, and Roger would be back to thinking he’s a free agent. As much as you hated yourself, you weren’t prepared to put up with that, even if the good times were almost divine. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Roger nodded, unable to speak.

“I’m going to…” you began, pointing towards the front of the bus. The last of that sentence escaped you.

[9/11]

Brian, Deacy and Freddie desperately tried to look busy as you approached the front of the bus. But even you, in your sad and panicked state, knew their game of Scrabble was all a ruse. They were eagerly awaiting details of the conversation you and Roger just had.

Flopping down beside Freddie, you tried to gather your composure again. But it was no use. Your body shook as you descended into a fit of sobbing.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Freddie asked, draping his arm around your shoulder. 

“I don’t know if-” you began, sniffling. “If we’re going to be ok. I want to go home.”

Brian and Deacy sat at the opposite side of the table. They exchanged a look, before nodding in agreement. “We’d be happy to pay for your ticket,” Brian suggested.

“It would be no trouble at all,” Deacy added.

“Plus it would give you and Roger some time apart. You never know, you might be able to pick right back up when he gets home,” Brian explained, trying to summon as much cheer.

“I couldn’t let you do that,” you said as Freddie ran his fingers gently under your eyes, catching your tears. “And besides, it’d take a miracle for me to trust him again.”

Deacy and Brian nodded. They knew you had a point. Even they weren’t blindsided by the fact that their friend had hurt you terribly.

“Do you know what I think you should do?” Freddie asked, shuffling in his seat to face you.

“What?”

“I think you should stay.”

“But I can’t-”

Freddie held up his hand to shush you. “Stay. Have some fun. Make Rog see what he’s been missing. He won’t do that again, I can assure you.”

“But he’s been-”

“On his best behaviour, actually,” Brian said, not quite finishing the sentence you started. 

“Since he met you, anyway,” Freddie added.

“Old habits and all that,” Brian concluded.

Deacy was quick to impart another detail. “He really does care about you. We’ve even seen him cry over you.”

“I was so sure he’d been sleeping around,” you mused, shaking your head.

“Oh, believe me, Roger used to. But not anymore.” Freddie smiled at you warmly. “Let me take you shopping. We’ll have you out of those drab clothes of your’s in no time and flirting up a storm with someone even more handsome than Roger.”

You looked down at your outfit, tugging at the neckline of your top. Blue jeans. A plain white t-shirt. A pair of blue loafers. It wasn’t fancy, but it was comfortable. “Drab?”

“I quite like your clothes, actually,” Brian said quietly. 

“Thank you,” you said, turning your attention back to Freddie. “There’s one glaring problem, here.”

“Oh, I know. Your anxiety sometimes gets the better of you. Well, Brian has a stash of those self-help tapes, don’t you, darling?” Freddie pressed.

“I thought that was Roger’s idea?” you laughed.

Deacy rolled his eyes, leaning into the table. He was growing tired of the conversation, so he got straight to the heart of the issue, putting you on the spot in a way that almost terrified you. “Do you love Roger?”

“I did.”

“Would you like to get your relationship with Roger back on track?”

“In my own time,” you squeaked.

“You don’t have to go out every night, throwing yourself at every man who looks at you,” Freddie said, softening his tone. “Just get drunk, flirt with someone and make sure Roger see’s.”

“And then what?”

Finally, Deacy and Brian were getting on board with Freddie’s plan. “And then you stick around until the end of the tour,” Brian added.

Rounding off the plan, Deacy concluded: “To keep tabs on him.” 

“And do you think this is going to work?” You asked.

“It bloody better!” Freddie began. “There will be no living with him if he loses you.”

“Vested interest. Lovely,” you remarked, realising that Brian, Deacy and Freddie had succeeded in talking you down. No more tears. Just scrabble and talk of outfits you were going to wear to make sure Roger’s eyes didn’t stray again.

 —————————————— 

As it turns out, the following night’s show was one of the worst of the tour. 

It all started when you ignored Roger’s pleading for the two of you to share a room. He cornered you in the lobby, still reeking of booze and sweat and sex, trying to apologise. Begging for ‘one night’ to make it all up to you. Instead, you were going to sleep in the master bedroom of Freddie’s suite (he had elected to take the sofa bed in the lounge area, despite your insistence he take the bed). 

He showed up outside Freddie’s suite that afternoon with another bouquet of roses, but you and Freddie had gone out shopping together. He even trawled around the entire crew’s rooms in search of you. 

Eventually, he binned the flowers. 

Roger kept his distance for the rest of the day. 

You laughed and joked with Brian, Deacy and Freddie, doing their hair and applying their makeup, while Roger sulked on the other side of the dressing room, wearing a sour expression.

When it was show time, you watched from the side of the stage. You had never been to a concert before. That wasn’t to say you had never wanted to go to one. You adored music and always went about your business with your headphones blaring your favourite cassettes in your ears. 

But concerts? 

The vast expanse of bodies?

The sweat and the heat?

And the sheer amount of noise?

It wasn’t for you. 

But you had the best spot in the house, and you were safe, with a clear exit planned out if you needed it.

You didn’t. In fact, your eyes were glued to the band. Brian, Deacy and Freddie were all on top form. However, Roger was having the night from hell.

During your dates, he would always bleat on about how the drummer was the heart and soul of a band, half-jokingly, but that night, you truly understood what he meant as he meandered his way through the night. It was like a car crash in slow motion right until the final song.

As the packed venue erupted into thunderous applause, Roger got up and began to haul over his drum kit, sending each item flying across the stage. He didn’t even acknowledge the audience, storming off when ran out of things to wreck.

After the show, Roger disappeared. It played on your mind as you and Freddie got ready together. “What if he doesn’t show up?” You asked, knocking back a shot of vodka, admiring the clothes Freddie held up against your figure. 

“Well, you’re going to have a great fucking time anyway. Fuck Roger.” Freddie was so matter-of-fact as he rifled through the mountain of clothes he insisted on buying you earlier. He maintained he knew what Roger liked to see on a woman and made your style choices accordingly. Even if most of them weren’t to your taste. “I know this is a little bit out there for you, but why don’t we go a bit more colourful?” Freddie suggested, taking out a bright pink silk shirt, dotted with blue brushstrokes. 

You scrutinised the shirt. “What am I going to wear that with?”

“I got you some lovely blue leather trousers, remember?” he said, pulling them from the rail. 

“Uh-huh. And the shoes?”

Freddie pointed at the shoes you were wearing. Your comfy blue loafers. “Those are perfect.”

“I can’t help feeling like I’m your little pet project, Freddie,” you giggled. Shrugging out of your clothes was easy now that you were sufficiently drunk. You weren’t even sure if the outfit Freddie had chosen for you looked objectively reasonable, or if it was just the vodka telling you lies, but you didn’t hate the image you saw in the mirror. 

Freddie wandered up behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders. “It’s because I have a vested interest, my dear.”

“When Roger suffers, everyone does?” you guessed, crossing your arms. 

“You said it, not me!”

You and Freddie arrived at the afterparty fashionably late. In stark contrast to the previous post-gig shindig, this venue was surprisingly tame. Brian, Deacy and the crew congregated around a table in the centre of the room, unbothered by other patrons. “Can you see Roger anywhere,” you asked, clutching Freddie’s arm, walking further into the room. The pair of you stopped. Searching.

“There he is,” Freddie said quietly, pointing towards the bar.

Roger sat alone, surrounded by empty glasses, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He gazed off into space, getting lost inside his own mind. 

“See anyone you like?” Freddie asked.

You sighed. “I almost feel bad for him.”

Freddie looked horrified. “Well, don’t! He’s harbouring enough self-pity to last him a lifetime. He doesn’t deserve any of yours.”

“Ok,” you agreed, scanning the room for someone else. 

“What about him? He’s much more muscular than Roger,” Freddie said, pointing towards a man who epitomised the term ‘frat boy.’

“He looks like a brute.”

“Fine, I’ll have that one! What about…” Freddie gave a dramatic pause before drawing your attention to an older gentleman, quietly sipping a pint a few places along from Roger. “Him?”

“I’m not looking for a sugar daddy, Freddie.”

He shot you a perplexed look. “What’s wrong with that?”

Then someone caught your eye. The bartender. He was tall, well over six feet, and broad. With thick, dark hair, and charisma that was palpable in every corner of the room. You nodded in his direction. “What about him?”

“Free drinks all night? Works for me,” Freddie shrugged. 

You and Freddie scurried towards the bar and hauled yourselves up on to some stools, a few feet away from Roger.

He was still knocking back his drinks with a surly look on his face. His sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose; you had no idea if he knew you were there. With the mood he had been in all evening, it was probably best not to disturb him.

Freddie quickly got the attention of the object of your desires, but you froze when he leaned in to take your drinks order. He had such a warm, welcoming smile and the kind of eyes you could get lost in for hours. Where Roger was lively, this man was dreamy. You tried to commit every detail of him to your memory, from his strong arms to the half-buttoned dark denim shirt that contained him.

And you couldn’t talk to him.

It was sod’s law, really, that Freddie would be the one to introduce you to him and to order a vodka on your behalf. 

He served you quickly, whacking down an entire bottle of the stuff, along with some shot glasses, in front of you and Freddie. There wasn’t a ring on his finger. “I’m James, by the way,” he said with a wink. Looking around the bar, he realised that there weren’t any customers waiting to be served, so he leaned over in front of you and Freddie. “I know why you’re here,” he began, nodding at Freddie before turning his attention to you. “But what are you doing so far from home?”

You quickly gulped down a shot, and tried to think up an answer that didn’t make you sound like an idiot.

Again, Freddie was quick to swoop in. “She’s in a kind of ‘fella done me wrong’ situation.”

“Really?” James said, raising his eyebrows. “What did he do to you?”

Freddie pointed over to Roger who was minding his own business. “You see, she went out with Rog over there, our drummer,” he explained, taking a sip of his own shot. “But he’s been a bit of an arsehole.”

You rolled your eyes. “More than an arsehole,” you said under your breath.

James’ face lifted, forming laughter lines around his watery blue eyes. “She speaks!”

“Oh she’s a timid little thing,” Freddie said, slapping your thigh. “But she bites. Be warned!”

The ice had well and truly been broken between you and James. Feeling bolder, you decided to ask him about himself. “So do you own this place?”

“I do,” he said, smiling. “I actually inherited it from my father and his before that. This place has been going for well over a century!”

You listened intently as you poured yourself another shot. “That’s wonderful,” you said. “Would you like a shot?”

James smirked, considering your offer. “Why don’t you and I have a couple of drinks together at the end of the night?” He suggested, pointing to the clock on the wall behind the bar. “It’s an hour until I close anyway.”

You glanced at Freddie, whose eyes were wide. He urged you on.

“I’d love to,” you beamed. 

Someone at the other side of the bar was trying to get James’ attention, but he was so taken with you, he failed to notice. The realisation of what you were doing hit you like a ton of bricks. Suddenly your words dried up.

“Um,” you began, pointing over James’ shoulder, “you should probably…”

“Oh,” James said, looking around. He seemed to have turned into a bumbling idiot, just like you. “Fuck, I should, yeah…”

When he was safely out of earshot, Freddie leaned into you. “Look at you!” He squealed, shaking you by the shoulders. 

“I can’t believe that,” you grinned.

Freddie took another shot, and you drank in the view of the bar, gazing around at the revellers in the room. Brian and Deacy were still having a civilised time with the crew. Groups of people were dotted sporadically throughout the place, including members of Freddie’s perpetual entourage, but no one was disruptive. Until you clapped eyes on Roger. 

He was sitting there staring at you. You weren’t sure how long he had been doing this for, but as soon as you looked him, he clenched his teeth together, desperately trying to form a smile. Then he waved. 

“Fred?” You said, your voice low with renewed nervousness.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Do you think Roger saw all that?”

“Wasn’t that the plan?” He asked, turning around in his seat to face you.

“Yes, but he’s looking right at me.”

“So?”

“What if he tries something? Oh god…”

“What?”

You and Freddie watched as Roger snapped his fingers to get James attention. And then looked on in horror as Roger grabbed James by the collar, like a chihuahua trying to wrestle an Alsatian. You slid off your seat to intervene, but Freddie merely put out his arm to stop you. From what you could gather, Roger was snarling something at him, his face viciously screwed up.

James remained calm, removing Roger’s hands with ease, before leaving the space behind the bar to join Roger on the other side.

By now, Roger’s face was scarlet as he squared up to the bartender. He got the shock of his life when James grabbed him by his hair and dragged him towards the door. You couldn’t help but laugh as Roger shrieked from the street outside: “Don’t you know who I am?!”

You and Freddie exchanged looks when James returned triumphantly to his post. “He wasn’t hassling you, was he?” you asked him.

He raised his hand and shook his head. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Good. I know he can be a bit hot-headed,” you began, only for him to cut you off.

“I’m thinking about closing early, do you want to stay for a bit? Have that drink?”

You glanced at Freddie, knowing full well you had his support. And then back at James. “I’d love to.”

In the space of ten minutes, everyone had filed out of the bar, leaving you and James alone together. A bottle of whiskey sat between you in one of the booths closest to the door.

In front of patrons, he seemed like the chattiest man in the world. But alone, you could feel the tension radiating from him. 

He eyed your lips intently when you spoke, or slurred, about your trip. Once you got started telling him about everything that had gone wrong, you couldn’t to stop. But he grew more and more impatient with every word.

Finally, when he couldn’t take much more of hearing you lament your relationship with Roger, he swooped in. Deep and passionate, he kissed you so fiercely that you had to cling on to the table to stop yourself falling backwards. Not that it did much good. As the moment intensified, James pulled you on to his lap and began to undo the buttons on your shirt. 

Even in your current state, you were still lucid enough the know what was about to happen.

James took off your shirt, sending it flying over the divider of the booth. The bar had a coldness to it now that it didn’t have before and it seemed to drag you into the abyss, in your head, at least. 

Sure, you went along with everything James did, right until he finished. 

But the only reason you did it was to tell Freddie about it in the morning, in the hopes that Roger overheard. 

But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t thrilling. All you felt was cold, icy detachment. He wasn’t Roger.

It was always the ringing that drove you to despair. Spent, drenched in sweat and hastily throwing your shirt back on, it even followed you out of the bar and into the street.

You felt sorry for yourself, wandering off into the night, following the streetlamps back down the road to your hotel. The fresh night air shot a bolt of clarity into you. 

Freddie meant well when he suggested this stunt to make Roger jealous, but if you were honest, it hadn’t achieved anything. It only made you feel even more worthless. Your heart sank.

Maybe you should take Brian and Deacy up on their offer of a ticket home, you thought.

“What are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death.”

That familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned around to find Roger loitering outside the bar with those ridiculous sunglasses still on his face.

“What are you doing, Roger?” you asked.

“I didn’t want you walking back to the hotel on your own,” he admitted.

You couldn’t help but get defensive. “If this is your way of-”

“Making sure you’re safe,” he said, holding up his hands, “that’s all it is.”

You sighed. You didn’t want to fight. You didn’t have the energy for it. “Fine. Walk with me.”

Roger didn’t need telling twice. He was glued to your side in seconds. Keeping quiet as you wandered.

The silence didn’t last long. “Do you care about me?” you asked.

“You’re all I care about.”

“Well, why did you do that, then?”

“It’s a bad excuse, but we all do terrible things when we’ve had one too many. Me, more than most… I’ve been trying to be better.”

“I think I’ve been a bit worse. I don’t know why I did it.”

Roger looked at you questioningly. “It worked though.”

“What?”

“When I was sitting outside that door there, listening to you and that bloody bartender. God, it made me sick.”

“You heard that?”

Roger nodded.

“I just want you to know that I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Why? He was handsome.”

You sighed. “He wasn’t you, though, was he?”

“I still feel awful about what I did. And I can’t even remember what it was that happened. That’s the worst part.”

Finally, you reached the hotel. The warmth from the lobby soothed your bones as you and Roger waited for the lift to the suites on the top floor. You looked at him from the corner of your eye. His gaze was fixed to the floor.

“Roger?”

He looked up. “Yes?”

The lift doors pinged open, and you got inside, backs against the walls, facing each other. “Freddie’s probably asleep by now. Can I stay the night with you?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

“Thanks. I don’t want to wake him. He seems to like his sleep.”

Roger nodded. “Oh, no. Of course. That’s no problem at all.”

You looked each other up and down in silence. It had only been a short time since you and he slept in the same bed, but it felt like an eternity. And so much had changed.

The doors slid open again. Faced with a fluffy, dusty pink hallway, you followed Roger’s lead towards his suite. It was much smaller than Freddie’s and he hadn’t bothered bringing his luggage inside from the bus. Just the essentials - underwear, aftershave, toothbrush. It wasn’t like Roger at all. 

Neither was the nervous figure he cut in the centre of the lounge, clasping his hands together and looking around aimlessly. “If you need something to sleep in-”

“My underwear’s fine,” you said, shedding your clothes on your way to the bedroom.

“Do you want me to take the couch?” Roger asked.

You shrugged and spoke calmly, while your insides raged. “We’re both adults.”

Roger slowly began stripping down to his underwear while you did the same. 

You could see why girls fawned over him everywhere he went. In fact, it was all you could see.

“Ok,” he said, standing at the other side of the bed. “Goodnight.”

You sank your head on to the pillow, paying him very little attention as he crawled in beside you. Your eyes drooped closed as if he wasn’t there at all. “Goodnight.”

It felt like centuries, lying next to each other in silence like two dead bodies laying in wait. In reality, it had only been ten minutes. “Roger?”

“Hm?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I.”

“Can you cuddle me?” you asked, rolling on to your side.

You felt Roger turning around next to you. Before you knew it, his arm was around your waist. He pressed a few quick kisses to your shoulder, his breath was electric against your skin. “How’s that?”

“It’s perfect.”

But there was something in the way. Roger huffed. “I can smell him all over you.”

That statement made you tense. Half of you wanted to scold Roger and remind him that it was he who cheated on you first. But the other half of you was desperate for him to reclaim you. The truth was, you didn’t want James lingering around on your skin or in your mind. 

Roger’s hands began to wander, and, eager for them to explore you more, you turned on to your back. He gently undid the front clasp of your bra, exposing your chest to his touch. Drawing feathery strokes around your nipples, he marvelled as they began to harden. “I forgot how much I adore you,” he mumbled against your side.

You ran your hand through his hair, letting out a quiet laugh. “I think you should show me how much you adore me.”

Roger shifted, looming over you, and placed long, luxurious kisses down your stomach. He dragged your underwear, still damp from James’ efforts at the bar down your thighs as his mouth moved lower. Urgent and feverish, Roger’s tongue got to work, eradicating any trace of his rival from your flesh. 

Second guessing what was going through Roger's head at that moment was part of the thrill for you as he ardently lapped at your clit. He was hell bent on showing you that you were his, burying his face against your cunt, fingers clawing at your hips. The noises he made were feral. They sent glorious vibrations through your body. You could only respond with a breathless beg for him to fuck you. 

His movements ceased for a moment, looking up at you. “Are you sure, darling?”

You were desperate to be back in his arms again, so desperate that you couldn’t help but whine. “Please, Roger.”

“Ok, baby,” Roger whispered, his face now inches from your own. “I’m here.”

The relief you felt at having him close again was better than any fucking you could do with any bartender. Having Roger slowly push into you was even more blissful. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him by his hair in for another chaste, breathless kiss as he gathered momentum. 

Then, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, overcome with how incredible you felt around him. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” you whispered in his ear, your cunt grasping at his cock. “I bet those girls don’t feel nearly as good as this.”

“Oh fuck,” Roger hissed, thrusting harder into you. “You feel fucking incredible.” He leaned back on to his haunches, grabbing your waist to hold you up as he pounded you mercilessly. “Let me see you play with yourself, darling.”

You did as Roger told you, and began to circle your clit in time with every one of Roger’s sharp thrusts. He was stroking just the right spot inside you, winding you tighter every time, making you milk his cock. Coaxing release out of him. 

You got there first. Seeing stars as tears stung your cheeks, barely able to get a breath.

He wasn’t far behind, collapsing over you as his passes became jagged. He buried his face into the pillow, and with one low growl, he was spent.

Lifting his head to get a good look at you, he wore an angelic expression. “Are we ok?” Roger whispered. His voice still shook.

“We’ve got a lot to figure out. But I hope so.”

[villlainarc]

To Fall in Love

Now and Ever After

Summary: In which Roman moves on, Logan returns to the grotto once more, and they both wish for something impossible.

Pairings: Logince

Warnings: entirely too much angst, and finally the ending of bittersweet unhappiness

Word Count: 1806

A/N: i apologize in advance for any excess pain this chapter may bring.

and, fun fact, the myth in this chapter is entirely made up with zero basis in fact besides the names, which are names of real deities in slavic mythology

More A/N: this is a secret santa gift for @ari-the-anxious-ace and as such, is already completed (and can be found at this very moment on ao3). but so as not to spam you, chapters will be posted every three days.

special thanks to @cringeless for beta reading :)

masterpost || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6

read on ao3 or below the cut

find other stuff i’ve written under #writings from the stars

It has been exactly a month—down to the hour—since Logan left him here. Alone. And not a day goes by that Roman doesn’t miss him. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t return to the grotto, hoping he’ll see him once more.

🌊

Every day for nearly a month, Roman had gone back, full of new hope. And every day for nearly a month, he returned to the ship, full of the same confusion and numb sadness that had been haunting him since he’d last heard Logan’s voice.

Roman had been lethargic, refusing to move from his bed if it wasn’t to swim back to the island, scarcely eating, unable to properly sleep. He hadn’t been able to feel anything but a gaping hole where his heart was supposed to be and the cruelest of hopes. He’d been listless and miserable for the better part of the month before something within him had cracked.

That one crack had let loose an overwhelming rush of feelings, and Roman had finally confronted his emotions. The final shattering of his heart had allowed him to truly feel his sadness for the first time since Logan had left, bringing with it a torrent of tears. He’d cried for hours, broken sobs that no one else would ever hear. He’d grieved for a relationship that had barely begun, for a love that he’d barely gotten to know before he vanished into the night.

Roman’s heart still ached with longing for something he no longer had and its brokenness hurt more than he could possibly describe, but with the pain came a sort of calm. Nothing felt right, but at least now, Roman had accepted that.

With his acceptance came determination—determination to figure out why Logan had left. Because while he had accepted that he may never see Logan again, he would never accept that Logan had broken his heart without reason.

It was then that Roman had remembered the books laid out on his desk and the strange way that Logan had reacted the night before their last song together. He’d set his focus firmly on reading everything he could about dreams in those mythology books for two days, pausing only when he had to. Those were the only two days that he hadn’t gone to the grotto in the past month, and in the late hours of the night, he wondered sometimes if he would have seen Logan one more time had he gone. (He wouldn’t have. He knew that, deep down. Logan wasn’t going to come back.)

Despite that, he read on, ignoring the temptation to stop. The answers would be worth it once he found them.

And they were. Just before Roman was about to give up on the second day, he’d found a story.

Rusalki’s Tale

It was still near the beginning of time when Rusalki was born, the forbidden daughter of Mesyats and Tiarnoglofi. Though she was hidden away from the world as she grew up, quickly, she proved to her parents that she was just as powerful as any fully formed deity. And Rusalki, knowing already that she was special, wanted to see the world and prove to it that she was more than just her parents’ daughter. Refusing to be kept a secret any longer, she left the protection of Mesyats and Tiarnoglofi, subjecting herself to the mortifying ideal of being known.

The people of nearby kingdoms immediately took a liking to her with her sharp wit and silver tongue. She was also a beautiful goddess by all accounts, but that wasn’t what set her apart. No, that was her ambition. She wanted so much more intensely than any other deity, and the mortals saw pieces of their own desires in hers. They gave Rusalki the oceans, and they prayed to her for tranquil seas and realized dreams. In return for their generosity, Rusalki granted the mortals these things.

Even after being gifted the title of Goddess Of The Oceans And Ambitions, fittingly enough, Rusalki still wanted more. This wasn’t a thing fueled by greed; she didn’t want power or influence or recognition, she just wanted for something she couldn’t explain.

The seas sensed Rusalki’s unrest and responded in kind. Though her ambitions weren’t intended for ill, the humans felt her desires and, being naturally greedy creatures, twisted them to fit their own needs. Rusalki’s immense power was growing, feeding on the response of the oceans and mortals alike. She may have been powerful and clever but without control, Rusalki was dangerous.

Other deities saw this in her. Some grew worried, but others grew angry at Mesyats and Tiarnoglofi for defying the laws of nature. These angry deities were the ones who decided that something had to be done before Rusalki single-handedly destroyed the world. They were the ones who took the fabric of her being and tore it apart. Without preamble, these angry deities ripped Rusalki’s ambitions from her.

It wasn’t supposed to be a painful process, but taking a part of someone that is so integral to who they are could never have been done without consequence.

The screams of the sea goddess echoed across the world, mourning the piece of herself that she’d lost. They whipped through the waves of the ocean, forming beings of water and pain.

Rusalki’s cries had formed the sirens. Their songs held just as much promise as she once had, and they entranced all those who could hear them.

Rusalki’s lost ambitions dispersed into mortals everywhere, and she wanted them back. She still does to this day, and she will never be satisfied. This is why sirens are said to feed on the dreams of mortals, hoping to steal back what their creator had once had.

The story officially ended there, but Roman had been just barely able to decipher a hand-written footnote near the bottom of the page.

Perhaps one day, Rusalki will have enough but until then, we pirates would do well to stay wary of songs that tempt us and voices that promise things that we’ll never have.

So it seemed that Logan wasn’t a mermaid after all. It seemed that Logan had left him for a good reason.

To protect him.

🌊

That had been one week ago. Each day after that, Roman had gone back to the grotto, whispering what he’d learned to the memory of Logan, hoping that he’d know one day that he understood. That he still loved him, would always love him.

Then, one month after Logan had said goodbye, Roman moves on too.

He decides to leave. No longer can he stand staying in a place that had once held so much promise for him, not when that promise has been stolen away. So he’s not going to.

He’d thought about singing today, trying one last thing to bring Logan back, but ultimately had decided against it. Roman is content to let the song they’d sung together a month before to be their last. Instead, he speaks.

“Logan,” he starts, taking a breath. “I miss you. I love you, and I understand now why you left. I love you for choosing to protect me, for being the most wonderful man I’ve ever met, for being… you.” He swallows. “I’m here to say goodbye, for real this time. I never got the chance to before, and I think I should. I think it will help.”

Roman sits down at the edge of the pool, closing his eyes briefly before blinking them open and staring out into nothing. “Goodbye, Logan,” he says to the still air of the grotto. “I will never stop missing you, nor will I ever forget you. I refuse to stop loving you either, with your heart of gold and eyes of starlight, a smile like quicksilver and a voice more beautiful than anything I’ve ever known. I’ll love you in all your perfect imperfections, always.”

Roman allows a single tear to overflow from the dozens gathering his eyes and trail down his cheek, falling into the water and leaving only the smallest of ripples behind. “Always,” he whispers again.

“So goodbye, my love. I wish I could—” Roman’s voice goes quiet. Selfishly, he doesn’t want to voice this one hope. Just once, he’d like to keep this for himself. “I wish you more than all the joy you’ve brought me,” he says instead, reeling his true dream back into his heart, protecting it from the world.

He stares into the depths of the pool that had once been Logan’s home, hoping more than he thought possible that his love will be there. That he’ll answer, that he’ll come back.

Roman shakes his head and stands up. He knows it’s impossible for that to happen because after all, Logan’s goodbye had been very final. No matter how much he wishes it weren’t so, Roman knows that his love is gone for good.

But still, he holds onto the wish, the hope, the dream that maybe someday… Maybe someday things could change.

Maybe someday.

🌊

It has been exactly a month—down to the hour—since Logan left Roman. Alone. And not a day goes by that he doesn’t regret it. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t wish he could return to the grotto in the hopes of seeing him once more.

Now, at long last, he has.

And now, after so long spent wishing, he regrets it.

Logan watches helplessly from behind an outcropping of rock on the other side of the grotto as Roman turns around, tears still glittering in his eyes. He wants to reach out, to sing to him, to comfort him. He can’t of course, and he regrets ever allowing himself the temptation.

Logan hadn’t heard what Roman had been saying, but he’s sure it caused him pain. He’d been crying when he’d stopped, after all. If it had been about Logan, about him leaving… then he hopes deep within his heart that one day, Roman will understand why he had to do what he did.

More than that though, he hopes that one day he’ll be able to see the one person he’s ever loved again.

He knows it’s impossible because after all, sirens can’t stop being sirens. No matter how much he wishes he it weren’t so, Logan can’t do anything but hurt Roman.

But still, he holds onto the wish, the hope, the dream that maybe someday… Maybe someday things could change.

Maybe someday.

---

taglist: @thewhiteraven73

[emybain]

Total Fluff Where Nova Surprises Everyone

I previously posted something about a mother coming up to sketch’s team in public and asking them to hold her baby while she did something, and the baby is crying and all of that, and no one can calm them down except for nova, much to everyone’s surprise and amusement. I decided to write it because i have nothing better to do with my life. Im gonna say it takes place post-archenemies but pre-reveal so…. Here. 

Edit: Holy heck I did not mean for this to be so long Im so sorry. Warning: this is unedited bc im tired.

Nova’s eyes followed Adrian as he paced back and forth. They were in the lounge, waiting to be called in for a patrol shift. Oscar and Ruby were playing Battle to the Death, like they always did, and were volleying insults to one another. Danna was...well...stuck in swarm mode still. Nova’s stomach churned at the thought. Her butterflies had disappeared after the gala a couple of weeks ago, according to Adrian, and hadn’t made an appearance since. Nova was constantly checking her surroundings whenever she was alone to make sure that one of them wasn’t following her the way the one currently trapped in the room she shared with honey was. She tried to push down thoughts of Danna, and how if her trapped butterfly somehow got loose, it would all be over for Nova.

    Nova wanted nothing more than to be done with the Renegades, but she still had a mission. A mission that was supposed to have ended two weeks ago, had it not been for the arrest of her uncle, Ace Anarchy. This hero charade was running itself dry. Nova was back on track; her uncle’s arrest reminded her of that. She was expecting Leroy or Honey or Phobia to tell her any day now that she could put Nova McLain and Insomnia to rest. That she could become Nightmare, fully, again.

    She waited for that day with anticipation, fingers itching to grasp it. It was only a matter of time before the Renegades caught onto her game, also. Too many clues, too many reckless mistakes, had been left behind the night of the gala. Then, she had thought her time parading around as a Renegade was over. She hadn’t cared about what she did or the damage she left that would lead the Renegades busting down the door to her home and arresting her. She cared now. Every step, every maneuver, every breath, was taken with precaution. Even now, Nova’s eyes left Adrian’s pacing form to glance at the elevator doors, at the exit signs, at the room full of Renegades that could easily outnumber her. Every time the elevator buzzed open, she expected more experienced and higher up Renegades to come bursting in, armed with powers and weapons and handcuffs and Agent N specifically for Nova.

    Adrian passed her for the umpteenth time, and she grabbed his hand, which had been used to amplify his rant about Nightmare. She had only been half listening to him, as it was stuff she had heard a thousand times before, how much he hated her and how she would pay for what she did to Max.

    Max, who was currently hidden away in his quarantine. No one was allowed to visit him, not even Captain Chromium. After barely surviving being ran through with the chromium spear, and having to go through a surgery that lasted hours, Max had been transported back to his quarantine to avoid the media and to prevent prodigies from being affected by his power. He was on strict bed rest, and would be that way for many weeks. Nova’s heart tugged, and she longed to tell Adrian that it wasn’t Nightmare who almost killed Max, but Genissa Clark, who was no longer a Renegade after being tranquilized by Nova herself. However, there was no way for her to tell Adrian without revealing her true identity and ruining everything. Not that it would matter much if he knew the truth, anyways. He still hated Nightmare with a burning passion.

    Ironic, really.

    Adrian paused in his ranting, mid-sentence about how in the hell did Nightmare even have access to Agent N and how she was able to take down Frostbite’s entire team alone. Another thing that could trace itself back to Nova.

    Adrian looked down at their hands, mouth open slightly. He stopped pacing, finally, too surprised by her confidant gesture. Nova took the opportunity and pressed her luck more, covering the back of his hand with her other one, sandwiching his together between hers. She squeezed his hand softly with the one holding his palm and stroked his knuckles with the thumb on her other hand. She gazed up at him, trying to feign a worried face. She batted her eyelashes, opened her eyes a little wider, raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips. It wasn’t hard, as she was truly worried about him. About his obsession, his lack of sleep, his constant Nightmare this and Nightmare that. He was worrying himself sick over the same person he was letting hold his hand.

    “You need to stop, Adrian.” Nova insisted. “You’ve been going on about Nightmare ever since we set foot in here, and you’ve been obsessing over her ever since that night.” He flinched, down casting his eyes.

    “You don’t understand,” he muttered. “I have to find her, Nova. She tried to-”

    “I know.” Nova sighed, a little frustrated. She pushed down the negativity, though, and stopped her stroking to stand and nudge his chin so he would look at her. He jumped at the contact.  “You need to get your mind off of her.”

    Adrian tugged her closer, making Nova’s heart race. She ignored it. Mostly. “I’ve tried. It’s just...it’s hard to after what she did.”

    “I know,” Nova repeated. They were inches apart. For all Nova cared, they could be the only two people in that room. In the entire world. “How do you think I felt after my family..you know..” she trailed off, then shook her head. “I was angry for a long time, Adrian. I’m still angry, but there’s nothing I can do about it to change what happened.” When his eyes started to drift away from hers again, she placed a desperate hand on his chest. “Adrian, Max is still here. He was very lucky.”

    Adrian stared at her for so long that she shifted, feeling his eyes bore into her, making her feel bare. Then, he closed his eyes, let out a slow breath, and pulled the hand that was still holding his to his lips. The soft press of his kiss on the back of her hand was so intimate that it sent a shock through Nova’s body. She felt her cheeks light up. He held her hand there for a second, then pulled back, letting their entwined hands fall between them. She instantly missed the contact, even though they were still holding one another.

    “You’re right,” he finally said, with a slight nod.

    Nova pressed a smile to her lips. It was tight. “I have an idea: let’s take a walk. Maybe go to the park? They clearly don’t need us here right now if we haven’t been called in yet, and if they do, we’ll get a message through our communication bands.”

    Adrian seemed to ponder it for a moment, then nodded again, this time firmly. “Alright. Should we tell Oscar and Ruby, or should we let them continue their bickering?”

    They both glanced over at the pair, who had moved onto another arcade game that Nova was unfamiliar to. It looked like some sort of racing game, with seats and steering wheels. Ruby was trying to mess Oscar up by swiping at his steering wheel, causing his car to veer off-course. He cursed her and swatted at her hand, shoving her away, although not harshly. Ruby cackled, trying to do it again while controlling her own wheel, but Oscar was able to keep her away this time. He kept glancing at her, and if it was out of precaution or affection or both, Nova had no clue. She shook her head.

    “I think they need some fresh air, too.”

    Nova and Adrian trailed behind Oscar and Ruby, hand in hand. Oscar must’ve made a bad joke, because he threw his head back laughing while Ruby groaned, face palming. Nova caught a glimpse of a smile on her face, however. She also noticed Oscar’s failed attempts to reach for her hand, as Ruby was animated and used her hands whenever she spoke. A pang of sympathy went through Nova for Oscar.

    “When are they going to get together,” Nova said under her breath, shooting a smile to Adrian. He chuckled and shook his head.

    “When they decide to fess up to each other.”

    “So never?”

    “Probably.”

    Nova shook her head, watching the two in front of them. She thought back to her conversation with Oscar back at the gala. He really was charming, despite, well, everything he did. And it was clear that Ruby liked him back; he was just too in-denial to see it.

    A breeze blew through, sending goosebumps down Nova’s arm. The weather was starting to turn, becoming chillier every day. The issued Renegade’s uniform wasn’t exactly made with material for winter. Nightmare’s disguise would’ve kept her warm, she thought smugly.

    Ahead, Oscar and Ruby slowed to a stop and looked behind them, waiting for Nova and Adrian to catch up. When they did, the four of them started walking again.

    “Have either of you heard anything from Danna?” Ruby asked, worry lacing her tone. “Oscar and I were just discussing that, and how her swarm won’t fair well with this weather.”

    Adrian shook his head. “No. Nothing since the gala, when I last messaged her.”

    “Yeah, we haven’t heard anything since we saw her butterflies at the cathedral.” Ruby shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

    Nova opened her mouth, about to feign having not seen her either, when a young woman with a crying baby in her arms rushed over to them. The group stopped, all four surprised.

    “Excuse me,” the woman said, clearly stressed. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but there are no other mother’s around, and I saw the uniforms. Can you watch my daughter for me for like five minutes? My son just ran off and I can’t catch him while holding her.”

    Adrian was the first to speak. “Of course, ma’am.” He smiled at her pleasantly. “Do you need any help finding your son?”

    Relief swept over the woman’s features. “No, I know where he’s going, I just need to grab him before he gets there or I’ll be in huge trouble. He’s done this dozens of times that I know his route and how fast he goes, so it won’t take long.” She hurried forward and pushed the baby into Adrian’s arms, forcing him to let go of Nova’s hand, much to her dismay. “Thank you so much! I’ll be back in a minute!” The woman waved a hand over her shoulder as she dashed off in mad pursuit of her rogue son, shouting his name.

    Adrian looked to Nova, then to Ruby, then Oscar, panic written all over his face. His shoulders were stiff, and he held the baby at a distance from himself, awkward. The baby continued to cry, harder than before now that she was separated from her mother.

    “Help,” was all Adrian said. Nova’s mouth twitched, and she bit her cheek to keep from smiling. It was too comical.

    Oscar was less nice about keeping it in, and bust out laughing. Adrian glared at him. Ruby rolled her eyes and stepped forward, muttering about how useless boys were. She took the baby from Adrian’s arms without question, cradling her close to her chest and making shushing sounds. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet, rocking back and forth.

    The baby continued to cry, fisting her hands against Ruby’s uniform.

    After a minute, Ruby looked up with the same panicked expression as Adrian. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she stammered out, “I used to hold my brothers all the time when they were babies, and I could usually get them to stop crying. Oscar?”

    Oscar backed up, eyes wide. “Hell no. I love kids as much as anyone, but me holding a baby is bad luck.”

    Ruby groaned, shifting the infant in her arms.

    Nova had an idea. A terrible idea, really, but one that would work. She debated for a bit, arms crossed and biting her lip, then stepped forward, arms outstretched.

    “Give her to me.” She beckoned for Ruby to place the crying child in her arms. Ruby looked at Nova as if she had grown a second head. Adrian and Oscar held similar gazes.

    Nova’s face reddened at the staring. Her jaw tightened in defense. “What? I had a baby sister. I knew how to calm her better than my parents.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She spent multiple nights using her power on Evie to keep her quiet in their tiny apartment.

    Ruby hesitated, then sighed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to do. She placed the baby in Nova’s waiting arms, unfurling her little fists from her uniform. Nova held the infant close to her chest, cradling her beneath the head. Her pudgy face was scrunched up and scarlet from crying. It didn’t look like she would be giving up anytime soon, either.

    Nova glanced at the others, who were watching her closely. With a great sigh, and a small tinge of regret for what she was about to do, Nova cleared her throat. Her Papà used to sing her and Evie to sleep when they were having rough nights. She distinctly remembered one lullaby that always got her to fall asleep quickly. And if that didn’t work on this baby, well, she had her power.

    Reluctantly, Nova opened her mouth, and sang.

“Ninna nanna, ninna oh

Questo bimbo a chi lo dò?

Ninna nanna, ninna oh

Questo bimbo a chi lo dò?”

    Out of the corner of her eye, Nova saw Oscar’s jaw drop. He elbowed Adrian roughly, whispering. Blushing furiously, Nova turned her back to them, swaying from side to side to the rhythm of the song.

“Se lo dò alla befana

se lo tiene una settimana

Se lo dò all’uomo nero

se lo tiene un anno intero.”

    The crying from the baby had stopped, thankfully, and the little girl’s eyes were open. Their deep brown orbs stared up at Nova in wonder, mouth open. Nova cracked a small smile, sad, as she thought of Evie.

“Se lo dò al lupo bianco

se lo tiene tanto tanto

Ninna nanna, nanna fate

Il mio bimbo addormentate.”

     The infant did not close her eyes as Nova had hoped. Instead, she reached up and tugged at Nova’s hair. Nova ignored this, remembering that Evie used to do the same thing. She started the lullaby again, doing a little dance now. She kept her back to her teammates, not daring to look at them. When she got near the end of the song, she let her power flow through her gently, like with Evie. She stroked the baby’s soft curls, smiling at her as the baby’s eyes grew droopy, then closed. The baby girl relaxed instantly, curling into Nova. Nova hummed the lullaby, pretending that she was still trying to get the baby to fall asleep as she turned to face three wide eyed Renegades, mouths opening and closing like fish out of water. She avoided their gazes, continuing to hum and rock and look at the baby’s features. The baby was pretty adorable when she wasn’t screaming her head off.

    “Thank you so much!” Nova looked up to see the mother, now sweaty and out of breath, coming towards them with a squirming toddler beside her. Nova could see how white the woman’s hands were from holding her son so tightly. He looked very proud of himself, mischief in his eyes. “Oh my goodness, you got her to fall asleep?” The mother gaped at Nova, then glanced down at her child, still fast asleep in Nova’s arms.

    Nova laughed nervously. “Um, yeah. I sang to her and she just passed out. I used to sing to my little sister all the time when she was a baby. She was always crying, and my parent’s could never get her to sleep. But, whenever I held her, she would fall asleep almost immediately.” A partial lie, but the stranger didn’t need to know that.

    “She hates going to sleep!” the woman exclaimed, still staring at her baby in wonder. “It takes me hours to get her to even close her eyes. You have a true gift!” She turned her attention to her son, made him promise to not run away again, let go of his hand, and took her daughter from Nova, slowly to avoid waking her. “If you ever need some extra money, I would love to have you as a babysitter.”

    Nova’s eyes widened, and she shook her head vigorously. “Oh! Um...I would love to, but...I..I’m already so busy with Renegade work and my studies and things at home.” She smiled sheepishly. “But thank you for the offer.”

    The woman’s expression fell for a moment, and Nova felt bad. But what was she to do? Nightmare becoming a babysitter was the last thing Nova needed, even if she could bring in some money for the Anarchists.

    “Well, okay. If you change your mind, my name is Liliana Hemmings. I walk through this park every day around this time, so feel free to come find me.” She smiled brightly then at all four of them, gratitude written across her features. “Thank you again so much for the help. It’s always good to know we can count on the Renegades. Have a nice day!” She waved to the four of them, and they all said their goodbyes. Nova bit her lip in irritation at her comment. No one should count on the Renegades. They only brought disappointment.

    Oscar whistled loudly, moving forward to clap an arm around Nova’s shoulders, which she pushed away instantly. He snorted, unbothered. “Well, would you look at that? Our vicious and antisocial little Nova not only knows how to rock a baby, but she can sing too!” Nova glared at him, then cast her eyes downward. When she didn’t reply, Oscar continued. “And did you guys hear that vibrato? I say she’s a solid soprano.”

    “Shut up, Oscar.” Nova rolled her eyes, annoyed, yet trying to keep a smile from blooming on her face.

    “No, but seriously, where did you learn all of that, Nova?” Ruby raised an eyebrow, amused.

    Nova shrugged, shrinking under so much attention. “My dad used to sing all the time in Italian. And like I already said, I used to help put my sister to sleep all the time because my parents always had a hard time.”

    They seemed to ponder this for a moment. Then, all of their communication bands went off.

    “Looks like they need us.” Ruby beckoned them. “C’mon, let’s head back.” She and Oscar started walking, and Nova was thankful, for the first and last time in history, for the Renegades for saving her from further embarrassment. She started to follow behind Oscar and Ruby, but was pulled back by Adrian. There was a teasing smile on his face that burned her cheeks, yet she still allowed him to pull her against him. He wrapped his arms around her waist confidently. Through their uniforms, she could feel his heart beating against hers.

    “You have a beautiful voice,” he murmured, moving a hand to cup her cheek. His hand was cool against its heat. “I had no idea you could sing.”

    “Oh, we’re being Mr. Suave now, are we?” Nova tried to keep a neutral voice, but she couldn’t hide the shaking in her tone. Adrian grinned, much to her frustration, pleased at the not-compliment. The hand still at her waist squeezed, and she bit her lip to keep from gasping. Her arms remained at her side, balled into fists. She would not be drawn into his antics.

    “I’m feeling much better because of you, Nova. I wanted to thank you.” His voice turned sincere, and he pulled her closer, tilting his head down. Nova’s eyes betrayed her, flitting down to his lips. She glanced back up at him.

    “You’re welcome,” she said, although it came out hoarse. She could feel Adrian’s breath on her chin. Unable to control herself anymore, Nova closed the space between them, pressing her lips against his. He grinned and returned the kiss, deepening it slightly.

    “We’re in public.” She pulled back slightly, just to have Adrian chase after her lips.

    “And?” He moved both his hands now to cup her face, kissing her tenderly. Nova wrapped her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into his hair. She could go on like this forever, wrapped in Adrian’s warm embrace, cuddling, kissing, enjoying every second life had to offer.

    And then Oscar had to ruin it.

    “Ay, lovebirds!” he yelled, almost twenty feet away. The people around them turned their attention to Nova and Adrian. Nova pulled back instantly, but Adrian leaned in for one final peck, lingering a second too long for Oscar’s liking. “Can you keep your faces apart for two seconds or am I gonna have to come over there?” Nova turned, glaring. She wanted to slap that smug smile from Oscar’s face. Next to him, Ruby held her face in her hands, probably embarrassed for Nova and Adrian.

    “We’re coming!” Adrian called back, tugging at Nova’s hand.

Not two (2) days later, in the lounge before a night patrol:

    “You guys remember that time Nova showed her soft side by singing in Italian for a baby in public?”

    “Oscar if you don’t shut up now I will throw this pillow at you.”

[jaythevoid-dnd-characters]

The Danger in Tranquility

Short Story about a Spectrium exploration group landing in California(technically). Enjoy!

The old ship creaked as the whistling winds and crashing waves of the night tested its resilience. Despite its age, this fine old vessel had endured many a voyage, and this one would

just be another for the records. But unlike the previous trips, this time the ship would not be returning home. This time it would find new home.

The ship would not be the only one in search of a new home; among the worn wood slept a few dozen voyages, young and old alike. This was the way of their people, the Spectriums,

endlessly in search of new worlds, becoming one with the land just before departing once more. Of course not everyone would leave the new realms they found though it was to be expected of their younger civilians. The thirst for exploration only grew weaker with age.

So it was no surprise that someone was too excited to be sleeping. Capering around the deck, young Zoru Idiopsy thought it was better to duel one of the military training dummies rather than rest. He would rest when he was tired, now was practice. Some evasive footwork, a quick glide to the left, and STRIKE!

If that were an opponent, they'd be bleeding out right now, Zoru smirked. He pulled his father's spear out of the dummies' neck, twirling it in his grip.

"But I need to be quicker. I probably left myself open for too long." He sighed. A warrior's form needs to be perfect in and out of training; if not, it could cost one's life. That's what his father always told him. He'd probably be saying something similar right now if he was awake, Zoru thought.

"You forgot to lunge with your strike again. Still not perfect."

Speak of the devil.

Zoru knew that nagging tone all too well. "I thought you were asleep," he remarked,

turning to face his audience.

"You underestimate how quiet your grunts are." His father was unfortunately a bit of a

light sleeper, so this was not too surprising. It was better if a warrior could leap into action if they could hear it coming. His father walked over to him, gesturing for the spear. Zoru obliged, returning the weapon to its original owner.

"Now, you want to step into the strike. Get the full force of your body into your attack," his father said as he stepped forward with the spear. "And give yourself a foundation to push off of so you can maintain your distance." He then swiftly returned to his initial stance, effortless and strong. Zoru nodded.

"Use your young energy. It is your greatest weapon." His father handed back the spear. "Perfect your form and none can stop you. Get some rest now." He turned to leave, heading back below deck.

Zoru knew he must be tired. His father served in the military for many years back in Aquavine. He was well known and respected throughout the entire city, and his reputation was to be inherited by Zoru.

It would be high standard to uphold.

I'll rest when I'm tired, he decided, taking stance in front of the dummy once more.

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

The dummy less resembled a humanoid and more so a sheep. Stuffing was spilling out of

several tears, and had made its way to the floor. Zoru himself was starting to get sloppy with his movements. It wasn't helping that the winds had picked up and waves crashed against the sides of the boat, making the deck damp and slippery. Or was that the rain's fault. Wait a moment, when had it starting raining? Zoru didn't have time to answer his own question before a giant waves bombarded the ship, knocking him off his feet.

"Get below deck!" Lanpher shouted, securing one of the sails, "We've got a storm blowing through here!"

You don't need to tell me twice. Zoru grabbed the spear and making his way to the stairwell. He hadn't made it further than a yard before he saw a wave as tall as an oak tree

seconds from crashing into him and the ship. Zoru braced himself but it was no use. The force of the water was unbearable, cold and crushing, as it ripped his hand away from the railing of the ship. As he was plunged into the icy darkness, all he could hope was the others would be alright while everything around him faded.

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

Zoru awoke slowly, feeling the ache from his training earlier. At least this sand was

warm and soft. Wait a moment, sand? Zoru's eyes shot open as he stumbled to his feet, groaning. It was morning; he was on calm beaches that lead into a lush forest a little ways ahead. He looked down at himself. His bracers and right shin guard were still on him, but his chest plate and helmet were gone. His clothes were a bit tattered in places, too. Oh no, did he still have his father's spear? Zoru searched frantically at his feet and around where he had been lying. There! Stuck in the sand a few yards away, the spear seemed just fine.

"Thank goodness," he sighed, "I can defend myself properly. Not sure what I'd do if I lost this." He twirled the shaft in his hands. Zoru turned back to the waves. They were so gentle it was weird to think that there had even been a storm.

"I wonder if everyone else made it through alright." He pondered for a moment. I think we were heading north east. Maybe the others are close? The party had left home in search of a new island, continent, or whatever was beyond the ocean. Zoru squinted, searching the horizon. The smooth waters glistened and sparkled in the morning sunlight. No ship though. He relaxed his eyes and plopped down.

"Should I stay here and wait, or travel up the coast? They may be further north."

His stomach growled. How long had it been since he had eaten last? Standing, he turned his attention back to the forest. There'd be something he could catch and cook in there.

"Let's see what this new land has in store for me."

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

The sun shone warm through the trees as Zoru got a small fire started. He had returned to

the beach as to avoid a forest fire, and was certainly lining a ring of stone. The pile of wood and kindling he had gathered was minimal but it would suffice. What was important was that he had found a rabbit borough, and had managed to spear a couple.

Having finished the stone ring, he stacked the twigs and dried leaves he found in the center. Now, some flames. Zoru didn't know how to start a fire from scratch however his mother

had taught him a simple spell; a weak lightning spell that was intended to be a last resort in combat. Maybe I could use the heat and sparks to catch the kindling alight? Placing his hand just

above the pile, he recited the incantation.

"Spítha!"

A small jolt of electricity jumped from the palms of his hands, shocking the kindling, and setting them alight. Zoru yelped, jumping at the raw energy that sparked out of his hands, leaving his fingertips with a minor stinging sensation. Upon further inspection, he noticed tiny lightning-like streaks across his fingers. I guess that spell has a bit of a drawback. Trying to shake away the sting, he reached for the small pile of wood and began stacking sticks around the new little flame.

While the fire grew slowly, Zoru constructed a simple spit to cook the rabbits on with some of the sticks. Having placed it carefully over the flames, he began skinning the rabbits with his spear. After he had finished the first one, he noticed himself squinting. Looking up from the rabbits, he realized sunset was already approaching. Hunting and scavenging had taken longer than he would have thought. Well, I guess this will be dinner instead of lunch. He got back to work on the second rabbit, put them both on the spit once they were both skinned.

The sun dropped lower as the rabbits cooked. Zoru had found a spring that bubbled up near the beach which he had a drink from. As his dinner neared doneness, he found a large leaf to try and use as a plate. Eating the rabbits, which were pretty tasty considering that they weren't seasoned, Zoru watched the sun finally set. Finishing the last one, he added some more wood to the fire. Even though it was late spring, the fire was still a comforting source of warm. As Zoru fell asleep next to the flames, he could have sworn he saw a tiny light on the northern horizon.

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

Zoru awoke to the sound of a low growl coming from behind him. Opening his eyes to darkness, he slowly turned to look behind him. Less than ten feet away were three grey wolves, snarling viciously in the dawn light. But one of them looked a bit strange; it was noticeably larger with piercing green eyes, and what appeared to be a pair of small horns....and did it have two tails?

The strange wolf approached him, its eyes locked on Zoru's. Though he was scared, he tried not to show it. He knew that when confronted with a wolf the best course of action was to hold your ground. His hand slowly reached for the spear behind him.

"Don't try anything you might regret." Zoru's train of thought halted suddenly. Where had that voice come from? Was that the wolf!?

"Why have you come here?" There was no questioning it as Zoru saw the bizarre

wolf's mouth open slightly at that comment, displaying razor sharp teeth.

"I...um...we came here in search of a new home," he stammered out. The wolf's ears

perked up.

"We? There are more like you?"

"Y-y-yes. But we are but a small group, mostly just family."

"And you claim to have come to live here. Does that include tearing my home apart?" "No! No, no, no! We have no intention of harming your forest, quite the

opposite. My people are that of researchers, we hope to learn about this new world. Even help it if it is suffering." Zoru knew he sounded a bit little like he was pandering, but it was true; for

generations his kind traveled throughout the universe studying unique life forms wherever they found them.

That seemed to satisfy the wolf enough. It turned its back to Zoru, and began returning to the brush. Before it made it too far, it turned back to look at him.

"I hope you keep your word, lest all of nature see to it that your people perish."

Then it vanished.

Zoru exhaled deeply, not realizing he had been holding his breath. That must have been

a guardian or god of this land. Thank goodness it decided to spare me. He stood finally. Stretching slightly before he turned back to the shore and-

"THE SHIP!"

There it was, not too far north from him! Making sure the douse the remaining flames of his campfire, Zoru grabbed his spear and took off in the direction of the boat.

As he got closer, Zoru could see that the ship had survived the storm, but only by a hair. The sails were torn in places, some of the wood was damaged, but nonetheless it was holding together.

"Father! Mother!" He cried out as he drew nearer. He had been running for some time now, throat sore from the cool morning air, but he didn't care.

"Zoru, is that you!?" No doubt it was his mother. She sounded overjoyed yet worried at the same time.

Zoru stopped at the shoreline nearest to the ship, roughly a hundred meters out into the water. He could see people's heads peering out over the railing, calling to him excitedly. In a few moments a row boat was lowered, soon making its way toward him as he caught his breath. He could clearly see his mother and father on board as well as Lanpher, the crewman from the night he got swept of the ship.

"Zoru! Oh, thank goodness you're safe!" His mother cried as the boat reached the shore, running over to hug him. Zoru returned the hug gratefully, relieved to be with his family once again. As quickly as his mother had hugged him, she pulled away.

"Are you hurt? Have you eaten?" His mother scanned him, "Oh goodness, and your armour! What happened? Oh, what does it matter? You're alive! We can make new ones."

"I'm safe, I'm fed, I'm ok."

He looked over to see his father approach.

"I'm so glad to see you alright. We've been so worried," his father sighed, embracing

him firmly.

Zoru returned the embrace, feeling his mother join in once again.

He was home. Safe.

"Oh, there's something I should probably tell you...everyone, actually."

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

"So, a demon approached you?"

"No, I think it may have been a god of this land, at least a guardian of some sort. All it asks is that we not harm to forest while we're here." Zoru repeated, perhaps for the third time.

"How can we do that? Wood is fairly essential in building," a crew member questioned, others nodding in agreement. "Perhaps we could build more with stone and glass, and just try to use already fallen trees and branches," Zoru suggested."That way we'd have strong sturdy buildings while not disturbing the nature of the forest."

"That sounds like it could work," Zoru's father commented, putting a hand on his son's shoulder.

"From now on we shall construct glorious settlements out of stone and glass, as to appease the guardian's desires," he declared. He turned to Zoru, "Did the beast ever tell you its name?"

"No, perhaps we could find a name for it," Zoru proposed, "It was a wolf with two tails, horns, and bright green eyes. Perhaps......Shiritua?"

"Shiritua...yes, that sounds like a name worthy of a god. I wonder if there are any rituals we should perform to appease it?" Zoru's mother concluded.

"I'm not sure, I think respecting the forest is a good start though," Zoru declared.

Everyone nodded in agreement, to which Zoru's father raised his spear. "Then may our people flourish in this new land, and may we learn the many secrets of this land!"

[lisatelramor]

All Caught Up With Nowhere To Go

Have a PWP. Situation has a bit dubious consent due to it being Kid/Saguru with handcuffs involved

There was a heavy finality in the click of the handcuffs circling Kid’s wrists. Saguru and Kid were both panting, but it was Saguru who had come out the winner of their cat and mouse this time. Kid’s arms were caught, stretched too far out on either side of his body to allow him to reach the other wrist, or even his own side with its plethora of pockets. As an extra measure, Saguru ripped Kid’s gloves off before the man could slide any of his picks from the pockets in their palms and shoved the sleeves of his suit as far up as he could manage.

Kid, with a dawning flicker of panic in his eyes, lashed out with his legs, but it was too late. He was caught, unable to do more than futilely jerk his arms a few centimeters toward himself in either direction. For a second Saguru saw Kid’s face curl into a snarl, like a feral dog caught in a corner before it smoothed away into Kid’s usual unfazed expression.

Saguru stared. Kid stared back. This had been Saguru’s plan, but somehow he never thought it would actually succeed. Kid’s suit was rumpled from their struggle, his wrists already starting to bruise between Saguru’s rough treatment and the metal cuffs circling them. The hat on his head was skewed, but the monocle had yet to slip. Saguru could reach out and pull them off. He could unmask Kid in a second, and while Kid could probably manage to dislocate a thumb to get the cuffs off still, it would be a last ditch effort, and one he’d likely try to spring at an opportune moment.

The corner of Kid’s eyes tightened—anger, fear, irritation?—and he licked his lips, for all appearances calming completely, utterly relaxing into his predicament. “So. You finally caught me. Congratulations, Hakuba-san. Now what are you planning to do with me?”

“Arrest you,” Saguru said. This, in his plan, was where he was meant to call Nakamori and only Nakamori, and have Kid carefully escorted into police custody, perhaps with the help of a tranquilizer should the need arise. Saguru didn’t reach for his radio.

“Arrest me,” Kid echoed, dry and the edge of sarcastic. “What an interesting setup for an arrest. A bit out of the way, isn’t it? You must have spent hours coming up with this. Where to place the traps. How to herd me here. How to get me far from the police on the other side of the building just to confront me alone.” Kid smiled. It was a cold smile with a few too many teeth. Saguru took an uncertain step back and regretted the show off weakness immediately as that smile got an increment wider, more dangerous. “And how does this go from there, Hakuba-san? You call in the cavalry on your radio? We both know how well that has worked in the past. Or maybe...” Kid licked his lips again, just the flicker of tongue, but Saguru’s brain caught it and stuck on it, like it was an important clue instead of a bodily response to too much running and a bodily struggle. “Maybe you wanted to be alone. Chasing me has always been personal hasn’t it?”

Kid’s gaze burned into him and Saguru squared his shoulders. Banter was a distraction. “I’m doing a public service,” Saguru muttered, “in putting you behind bars.” He stepped back closer, refusing to let Kid intimidate him. Kid didn’t try to kick him again as Saguru rolled back white and blue sleeves more neatly—there were hidden pockets in the cuffs; flash bombs and smoke bombs and tiny vials of knock-out gas. Slim lock picks sewn along the sleeve seam. A scarf, impossibly thin, folded tight into a compact square in the left sleeve. He was close enough to feel Kid’s body heat and hear how his breath was just a bit too fast. Saguru hesitated with one hand on Kid’s hat brim, almost eye to eye with the thief, his height putting him just a bit taller so Kid had to look up to stare him in the face. To challenge with nothing more than a cold smile.

“You never expected to get this far,” Kid said, “did you?”

Saguru pushed the hat off. It clattered to the ground before rolling a bit away. Kuroba’s wild brown hair was beneath it like expected, a bit squashed from the hat, a bit tangled from sweat. It wasn’t quite Kuroba’s face free from shadows, but Saguru knew enough about prosthetics and stage makeup to see where Kuroba could have used makeup and adhesive prosthetics to change the contours of his face. He looked older, for one. A squarer jaw, makeup to make his cheekbones look higher and sharper than they naturally were. This close it was clearly makeup. Saguru rubbed a thumb along the shape of Kuroba’s actual cheekbone. His hand caught the monocle charm and with a twist of his wrist, he pulled that off too. Kid—Kuroba—face bare before him. “I’ve thought about this moment a lot,” Saguru said. It didn’t hold the giddy triumph his fantasies usually held. This was tense, heavy like the air itself was pressing down on them.

Kid snorted, eyes narrowing in challenge. “I bet you did. And how does it go from here, Hakuba-san? You check my face for masks? Knock me out with my own tricks?” Kid shifted, suddenly dropping to his knees. His arms twisted a bit, pulled tight and tense above his shoulders now. Saguru froze, pinned by the intense look shot up at him as Kid tilted his head up, back, craning to keep eye contact. “Or maybe things went more like this. Maybe you caught me and had me at your mercy. Maybe you pictured me on my knees the whole time.”

“I...” The monocle fell from nerveless fingers, clinking on the hard tile floor. Saguru couldn’t move.

Kid’s smile went vicious and confident like he wasn’t chained helpless. Like he was in control. He leaned forward, nose brushing Saguru’s inseam, stopping just before the position would become truly indecent. “How many of your thoughts went like this?” He pressed harder, tilting his face up—

Saguru choked, taking a step back onto to be stopped by Kid’s teeth snapping shut around a mouthful of his coat. “What are you doing?!” He yanked on his coat but Kid’s grip was firm. Saguru didn’t actually want to hurt him, and if he kept pulling it would hurt, between Kid’s teeth and the way his arms were strained up and back as he leaned forward. Saguru tugged again, not as hard. “Stop that. What is wrong with you? You don’t just...just...”

Clearly tugging wasn’t working. Saguru pressed a thumb against the hinge of Kid’s jaw to try and make him let go and Kid did—only to turn and take Saguru’s thumb into his mouth. Saguru froze again, a warm, wet tongue laving over the pad of his thumb. What. The. Hell?? There was a soft scrape of teeth, but no pain of a bite and why wasn’t he biting? Kid was... Kid was... Saguru’s face flushed and somehow he couldn’t bring himself to pull away or push Kid back or even call up words to protest.

“How many late night fantasies of yours feature me on my knees, detective?” Kid said against the palm of Saguru’s hand. “How many involve me tied up, held down, completely at your mercy?”

Half a dozen vague musings done in the transitory moments between awake and sleeping were apparently enough to count because arousal hit like a punch to the gut. An embarrassingly high pitched sound squeaked from Saguru’s throat and his hand gripped Kid’s face reflexively. Kid pushed forward, toward Saguru’s crotch again and Saguru moved one hand to Kid’s shoulder. “Wait.” Push, but Kid pushed right back, breathing against the growing tent in Saguru’s slacks. “Wait, you don’t actually want to do this...” Saguru should let go, walk away, call Nakamori, anything other than stand frozen and letting this happen. He couldn’t unclench his fingers from there they were on Kid’s head and shoulder. “This isn’t...”

“I don’t want this, detective?” Kid pressed his face into the crease of Saguru’s hip and thigh before looking up, up with damn too-sharp eyes. “Hakuba-san, you should be protesting what you don’t want.” Kid somehow leaned up and undid Saguru’s button with his teeth. Saguru stared down, disbelieving and the most turned on and conflicted he’d ever been in his life. That same mouth pulled down his zipper and just the pressure from that had Saguru’s knees feeling weak.

“Fuck,” Saguru said.

“Exactly,” Kid said. He opened his mouth against the cloth of Saguru’s briefs, hot and wet and awkward in the angle but far too much for Saguru to handle with Kid’s intent stare up at Saguru’s face.

Saguru looked up, away, shaking. Push Kid away, he thought. Push him and get control back or...or... Saguru couldn’t finish the rest of the thought. Kid’s teeth scraped his abdomen as he tugged on Saguru’s underwear.

“You could make this a bit easier,” Kid said, sounding out of breath, strained. And oh, his arms twisted up and back, an uncomfortable angle to work from. “You could just take the chance and fulfill those fantasies. Let me guess, you fuck my face.” Another press of tongue, more teeth scraping as Kid fought with elastic. Cooler air and hot breath on the tip of Saguru’s erection where it slipped past the waistband of his underwear. “Just.” Kid licked at the tip and Saguru’s hips jolted forward without his consent. “Hold me still.” Another lick, more of a suckle and Saguru was shaking, breathing like he’d run up ten flights of stairs in the last few minutes instead of having spent most of the tail end of the heist waiting here. “See if I take it or if I gag.”

Saguru made the mistake of looking down. Kid wasn’t staring at Saguru for the first moment of this whole thing, his focus on the dick in his mouth. There was a faint flush across his cheeks, and Saguru realized it was showing through a layer of makeup and that Kid’s—Kuroba’s—slacks were tented just like Saguru’s. This wasn’t just a head game, or if it was, Kid was as caught up in it as Saguru was. Saguru’s hips twitched forward hard, the hand still cupped against Kid’s head pressing him closer.

Kid made a startled sound in the back of his throat and then Saguru was lost, shaking with the force of an orgasm.

When he could think again, he heard Kid coughing against Saguru’s thigh, held there by an iron grip on his hair. Saguru let go and all but collapsed to the ground as his legs finally gave out. “Fuck,” he said again.

“A little warning would have been nice,” Kid—no, right now Kid’s personality was stripped away and it was just Kuroba looking at him, still trapped and spread out by the cuffs, with a strand of saliva dripping down his chin. He looked... debauched. Red lips, disheveled hair and clothing, and shifting on his knees to get comfortable even as he couldn’t touch his own arousal. Saguru had smeared some of the contouring on his face and it was clearer now that it was undeniably Kuroba.

Just as undeniably, Saguru knew he couldn’t arrest him after this. Really, really could not arrest him after this. If Kuroba wasn’t just as aroused as Saguru had been moments ago, Saguru would have thought that that was all there was too it, keeping Saguru from turning him in. Clearly there was more than Kuroba saving his own skin involved though. Saguru covered his face for a moment, desperately pulling himself back together. What was he doing? What had he just done? Saguru was supposed to be a detective and all it took was a bit of sexual tension and he caved like the teenager he was. He peeked at Kuroba who was still shifting uncomfortably. The flush was more pronounced now, clearer around his ears and throat where the makeup was thinner.

“What the hell was that?” Saguru asked, muffled by the hands on his face.

“What do you think, Hakuba?” Kuroba shot back.

“I cuff you and you suck my dick?”

“I got caught in the moment!” Kuroba was definitely blushing. “I thought you were going to back out.”

“Clearly not! You could have stopped at any moment!”

“So could you!” Kuroba glared. “Ugh. You’re the one who fucked my mouth in the last seconds.”

“You were goading me to do it!”

“Look, can you just...?” Kuroba twisted, unable to get comfortable and Saguru looked at the bulge in his slacks. Fair was fair, and he had fantasies like this too. ...Saguru was never going to be able to wipe this from his brain, was he?

“Let me...” Saguru palmed Kuroba’s erection. Kuroba groaned, pushing into his hand with desperation.

“Yes. More,” Kuroba muttered. His eyes slid shut, face pinched with a mix of need and discomfort.

Saguru half expected Kid’s pants to have a trap or trick worked into them, but they opened just as easily as Saguru’s had. Kuroba’s erection was flushed and heavy, damp from precum, showing just how close Kuroba was already. It was flattering, and if Saguru hadn’t just had the most mind-bending orgasm of his life, he would be well on his way to getting hard again. As it was, Saguru knew that this also was going to show up in his late night fantasies for a long time to come.

It took barely thirty-four seconds for Kuroba to come at Saguru’s touch. His body went tense with every muscle locking up tight before curling as far forward as his restraints would allow. Instead of the moan Saguru expected, Kuroba was almost entirely silent, a breathy gasp wrenched from him as he spilled over Saguru’s fingers. He slumped, held up by the cuffs on his wrists, as Saguru used the handkerchief he found earlier to clean the mess off Kuroba’s skin and his own hand.

“I can’t feel my hands,” Kuroba said a minute or so later, when he could finally pull coherent thought together.

“Sorry.” Saguru undid one cuff immediately. Surprisingly, Kuroba made no move to get free of the other one immediately, instead shifting so there was enough slack from the chain to let his arm move back to his side. There were bruises on his wrists, deep ones. Some of them were in the shape of Saguru’s fingers and there was a cascade of guilt in the back of Saguru’s mind.

When he looked up, Kuroba had Kid’s face on again, wary and distant. It was baffling considering everything that just occurred.

“You let me go,” Kid said.

“Do you really think I could sit here and call Nakamori in here after what just happened?” Saguru asked, incredulous. “It’s astounding that we haven’t already had the task force burst in here and arrest me too for misconduct.”

“They’re not going to come looking here,” Kid said. He finally reached over to his other hand, pulling a lock pick from somewhere too quick for Saguru to catch. He rubbed his newly freed wrists and rolled his sleeves back over them. “They’re probably far away chasing a dummy I set loose by now.”

Saguru blinked. That was terribly convenient. Too convenient. “Did you plan...?” He waved a hand, indicating the room, them, the remnants of their activities in the form of a scrunched up handkerchief and a pair of discarded gloves.

Kid scowled. “Of course not. Why the hell would I plan something like this?”

“I don’t know, why would you do something like this?” Saguru gestured crudely at his crotch.

Kid went pink in the ears again. “It worked didn’t it?” Kid stood up, transforming in one fluid motion from familiar to a much more imposing figure as Saguru was still on the ground. Kid’s cape made him seem to fill more space. All of Kid’s control was back and tightly in hand as he studied Saguru with narrowed eyes. “Of course you caved first, Hakuba-san.” It was a reversal of the last few minutes, Kid looming above and Saguru still on his knees. Kid caught Saguru’s face in the palm of his hand. It was still bare, callused in odd places that Saguru could only attribute to Kid’s magician and athletic skills. “I wonder how this will change things.” His thumb passed over Saguru’s lips.

Saguru imagined opening his mouth to it as Kid did earlier. He turned away from Kid’s too-knowing eyes. “I’ll still chase you.”

“And what will you do if you catch me again?” Kid said, voice pitched low and seductive. “Arrest me?”

There was a high probability that Kid in handcuffs was now linked to Saguru’s libido. “I suppose that’s Nakamori-keibu’s job,” Saguru said finally, willing his heart to slow its frantic pace. “I just get to catch you.”

“But never to keep,” Kid said. He let go and the lack of touch was almost as dizzying as the brush of skin had been.

Saguru wanted that hand back, but he said nothing and Kid went to retrieve the rest of his things from the ground. With the hat, gloves, and monocle restored, there was almost no way to tell that Kid had spent the last twenty minutes with Saguru. Just the slight redness to his lips. They hadn’t kissed and all at once Saguru desperately wanted to.

Would Kuroba act differently tomorrow? Would Saguru be able to look him in the eye at all after seeing him on his knees?

“Kid,” Saguru said before Kid could just stroll out like nothing game-changing had happened in this room.

“Hmm?” Kid tipped his head to the side, face shadowed by the brim of his hat once more.

He didn’t retreat when Saguru walked over. Didn’t move as Saguru traced the line of his jaw again, fingers brushing past the monocle without disturbing it. He didn’t react at all as Saguru brushed lips against Kid’s, pressing lightly before his courage failed.

“I’ll keep chasing you,” he said. It was a promise, not a threat. He knew he wouldn’t be any more likely to actually arrest Kid next time than he had today, but he couldn’t help wanting to chase.

Kid was blank for so long that Saguru thought he’d made a mistake, then Kid laughed softly. “Fine. I look forward to it, Detective. Keep me on my toes.”

Kid didn’t kiss him back, but Saguru hadn’t expected him to. It felt odd to let Kid walk away without stopping him, but Saguru stayed where he was. Eventually he had to clean up what evidence might remain. He’d see Kuroba at school in the morning anyway.

*somewhere not too far away, Kaito has a mild breakdown, re-examining their every interaction*

[fabriziofusco80]

Saying Goodbye to My MotherPart Two

I've been journaling daily about the journey of helping my mother through the rebirth we call death. Although these moments are intensely intimate and personal, I am sharing them publicly (with the permission of my mother, who before she stopped communicating clearly, told me If it helps others, use anything about my story, my illness, and my death in your blog, in your books. If I'm going to leave this planet, at least let my life and my death live on through the hearts of those who might learn from it.). Mom even said, Maybe I'm dying so you can learn how to help others fall sick and die with trust in God. The other day, she said, I have a synapse to God. You have a synapse to me. We can bring others along with us.

Many who are following this journey on Facebook have said, There are so many who are about to experience this journey with loved ones, who might benefit by your sharing. I know that losing a loved one is a private, deep experience of the most intimate heart, but it is also a universal human experience. So I share this process with you all, in case it helps you deal with your own grief, your own illness, your own journey through the death of a loved one, or your own fall into grace. It comforts me to trust that such deep, universal human experiences blow open the heart, if we can simply stay present with the full adventure.

10/25/17

My daughter Siena and her father Matt left my dying mother's bedside this morning so Siena could get back to school and life. Last night, as she was going to bed, Siena shared with me the Nana Mojo Grief Tips that Mom shared with her before she stopped being able to communicate. The first in a long list of How to Gikuyrieve advice was that she wanted Siena to give herself permission to feel good, that grief comes in waves of sadness, but that between the waves, we're allowed to be happy, to do fun things, to feel good. Siena took that to heart. She has been such a trooper, staying in the intensity of the grief, being so present with her Nana, crying, laughing, feeling instead of running away from the intense emotions. And then laughing, playing, gathering fall leaves with me last night on our walk to create an art project with the bounty of autumn color.

I have watched in awe as my daughter has spent hour after hour, sitting-undistracted-beside her Nana in patient silence, just watching her beloved grandmother's raspy breath. Few adults have the resilience and strength to do what my 11-year-old is doing. She will be quick to heal because she is not fighting what life is offering to her and she has no barrier to the love that is all around her, now and always.

I will miss having Siena here as we wait for my mother to transition. My little Buddha goddess has been a breath of fresh life as we usher another life out. In her last moments, she asked to be alone with her Nana. From behind the door, I could hear her whispering her last love stories to the grandmother she adores and weeping her grief into her Nana's cheek. I can't remember crying that hard in my whole life. When she felt complete, Matt and I held each other and opened our arms to her, the three of us still family, resting in each others embrace.

After Siena left, I opened my mother's closet to get a sweater, and I was struck, as if with a thousand bricks, with the horror of seeing a closet full of Christmas boxes and realizing that my mother would not be around to distribute the hundreds of Christmas gifts she insists on buying every year. (The purchases usually made six months to a year ahead of time!) I sorted through a box of things I'm sure she intended to put in my stocking, as she has done for 48 years. This will be the first year of my life that my mother doesn't stuff my stocking. It sounds so trivial to my mind as I write this. Such a small thing, the discovery of the stocking stuffers, and yet, if you knew my mother, you would understand that such things were not trivial to my mother. Her love language is gifts. It frustrated her that she raised a family of minimalists.

This is what grief does, I suppose. You walk around, just living your life as if everything is normal, drinking your coffee, tending to the dishes, answering emails, and then you stumble upon something that humbles you to your knees. And you breathe. And you surrender to the emotion as you breathe. And you beg for mercy from what feels like unbearable pain, and yet you know you can't skip it. You know the only way to get to the other side is to go all the way through it without bypassing one bit.

And then, just as a labor contraction passes and you feel relief when you're giving birth, the grief passes, and the sun comes out, and there is love all around, and you find gratitude in everything that's still here. Unspeakable joy is only one or two breaths away from the agony of loss.

A sign on my father's memorial in my mother's home says, Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. I say-go ahead. Do both. Cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. Hold the tension of the paradox and open your heart to how deep being human can go if you let it.

10/26/17

Last night, I curled up in blankets and looked at the stars over the lake at my mother's home. I remember my mother teaching me about all the constellations when I was a little girl-and how excited she was to show me the Southern Cross this past April when we were in Africa on safari together as her bucket list trip after her terminal cancer diagnosis. Mom and I were alone with our safari guide in the Land Rover, all curled up in the freezing cold under heavy wool blankets. Our guide turned off all the lights so we could gaze at the most magnificent African sky-an enormous show of shooting stars and constellations I don't recognize, set to the soundtrack of African bush animals.

This time, Mom is sleeping in the bed where she will die in her home and I was on the deck, feeling a jumble of emotions-gratitude, grief, joy, relief, tenderness, impatience, love, sadness. It brings to mind Rumi's poem The Guest House.

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

10/27/17

As a doctor, I have attended many deaths, and as a woman, I have been with about a dozen people who were dying outside of my work. Sometimes, as when my father passed, it is a peaceful, transcendent place. The death process itself is a holy meditation for those who witness it. This is not so much the experience I'm having with my precious mother. The between worlds place my mother is inhabiting isn't so rose-colored these days. When the inevitable time comes to lose a parent, we pray it will be quick and easy, a time of angels and tunnels of light, of professions of undying love, a time of transcendence. But it isn't always that smooth.

There is deep love at my mother's bedside. There is humor, as when my mother, eyes still closed, did a glorious fist bump after my aunt told her that my adorably messy sister, who lives with my mother, finally cleaned her bedroom. There is a lot of music. We spend most of the day singing to my mother, and she still sings along with us when she can. I think I sang the entire John Denver repertoire to her yesterday. Annie's Song made her smile the most.

But I don't want to sugar coat what is happening here at my mother's bedside either. There are agonizing moments, moments I can't un-see, moments that haunt me when I close my eyes to go to sleep, wondering if she will still be with us when I awaken. Last night, my beautiful mother put her hands to her face, like a child playing hide and seek. Are you in pain? I asked. She shook her head. Then clear as a bell, she said, I'm really hating this.

Tears. Helplessness. I feel so impotent. I want to make it better, but there are only so many John Denver songs.

My mother Trish thinks there are bugs biting her. At one point, she said, We're infested with mice. I told her that could never happen because she's the Trishinator. (We always joked that no bug or rodent could possibly survive her presence because she's always bombing the house with all kinds of scary poisons intended to get rid of everything but humans!)

Mom is busy in her mind, making to do lists, asking me what the schedule is. When I asked her if she's excited to go to heaven, she nodded, but then she added, I'm anxious. Hospice added some medication to help calm her nerves and settle the hallucinations that often accompany end of life. I succumb to their guidance, but like my mother, I really hate this. I think we overmedicate everything painful. I'm fine with optimizing Mom's pain medication, but I hate tranquilizing my mother in her last moments. I want her to be fully present for what is about to happen, but then, this is not about me. This is my mother's journey, and of course, I would never want her to suffer needlessly.

I told my 79-year-old mentor Rachel, who is also a physician, that I'm having a really hard time staying present with all this, that I have a strong (though I'm aware it's also pathologic) impulse to make it better, to ease her suffering, to DO something. I've spent 10 years in therapy interrupting my Savior Complex, so this feels like the ultimate pattern interrupt. I cannot save the woman I would most want to save. In fact, any attempt to do so dishonors her and disrespects her autonomous journey. But jeez, this is an intense initiation.

The death watch is brutal. Unlike a birth, which has a due date and a past due date, there is no due date on death. The waiting-breath by precious breath-is part of the journey. Rachel said, Alas the due date here is shrouded in mystery but no one dies on the wrong due date no matter how it appears to us. I believe that everything that happens in this period has deep meaning and value and is a profound learning in response to the events and conditions and beliefs of this lifetime or, even more likely, a learning related to a previous lifetime. I often wonder if the events of someone's death are even a service to others and final teaching transmitted to others in unforgettable terms. My own mother said that people die only when they are complete. We may never understand that completion, but it is profound, no matter how it looks to us. It is very very hard to watch but it does not need to be fixed. Our way of death of all things is not meaningless any more than our way of birth. As painful as it seems, it is in all probability a gift/teaching to carry forward to a better lifetime. Hard to be a doc at such times, isn't it? And even harder to be a daughter. I have really come to believe that control may not be the ultimate offering here, but your love and your trust of the unknown probably is. As long as she is not in pain or alone, all is well dear Lissa.

Rachel's words comfort me. My opportunity here is to simply be present with my mother, to resist the impulse to distract myself from what is so hard to witness and feel fully, to find meaning and joy in the moments of deep connection, to bask in the plane of love that washes over me every few moments and fills me with light and gratitude. Rachel says my love and my trust in the unknown may be the ultimate gift I can give my mother. This I can give. I trust the Great Mystery. I do. I never doubt it, not even on my darkest nights. Divine Beloved, this journey is yours. May whatever is aligned with Your will come to pass.

Love,

Enjoy this post? Subscribe here so you don't miss the next one.

Follow Lissa on Facebook

Tweet Lissa on Twitter

Feel free to share the love if you liked this post

[berryargento]

Withering Blossoms; fragment V

AO3 link

previous chapter; fragment IV

Notes: It has been a while since the last fragment is posted! The chapters are progressing nicely, don’t you think? Thank you for reading and passing by per usual! I hope you’ll enjoy and look forward what we have to bring~

I need to remind you that this project is brought to you by me and @eulyin-senpai, if you haven’t checked her illustrations for this fic, you better go to her page now!

Summary: The girl was lost, not to be found. But the guidance tried to seek her, wanted to lead her future.

Amidst the busy hours of people coming and going through the main street in the day, most alleys of Numazu city always silent, covered in blissful tranquility away from crowd. That being said, however, those empty alleys are not void of business. Several houses or buildings were looking plain from the main road, with some of dealings were coming from the back alley; it has been one of activities that merchants mostly done, overlooked by people who refused to know about it or by any normal humans whom have no business with these sellers.

Takami Wondrous Shop was one among them, located far deep in alley of the maze of city houses, known by little to none, housed several items that would make you cringe – well, it was the owner’s way to make the shop sounds mysterious, which is not exactly helping.

“Good morning, Guten morgen, Buon giorno, Chika whatever-it-is-called shop!”

The orange-haired owner didn’t expect anyone to burst her back door open so early in the morning, about time she’s doing a stock operation. She didn’t recall hanging the sign of shop’s closed, so she shouldn’t be blaming the hyper guest to come in without even knocking.

“One language is enough, Mari-chan, I don’t know what you are saying, anyway,” the owner tucked down her hood, seeing her guest smiling from ear to ear. “Oh, and it is Takami Wondrous Shop for you! The almighty granter of your dreams!”

Mari, just like any other costumer, of course didn’t bother to hear Chika’s description, bolting to see the nearby box contained things the owner haven’t put to the over-capacity shelves.

Chika back alley shop is a small, cramped (but she says, ‘homely’ and ‘grand’) square contained only two shelves beside the back door to showcase her items. There’s a table by the center and a cash register by the other side of the exit-a very simple layout for the shop existed and not exactly eye-catching to any customers. Though it is called ‘wondrous’, the shop sells recycled things, hobby items for anyone practicing witchcraft and used books, not as magnificent as the name rings.

Some might wanted to ask what the purpose of this back alley shop the moment they set the foot in, really.

“What do you want today? Isn’t the morning sun burning your skin?” Chika glared Mari to put the doll the vampire suddenly took out from the box. “You’re not with that little thing today.”

“But I’m here for ‘that little thing’.” Mari chuckled, eyes twinkled. “And no, who do you think I am, chickening out for a little sunburn?”

“Bring that little thing then, I missed her pouty face when I lured her with cupcakes!”

“You sly prankster,” the blonde pureblood mused. “I want Mikan to conquer my thirst. Please. Do it quick.”

The password. Chika licked her lower lips. She then bowed before the vampire. “Certainly.”

A table by the center (mostly for Chika to throw in a box of Mikan for unknown purpose aside her several newer items) is where an access to the underground cellar located.

Mari knew there’s someone who has been supplying a creative way to administer blood to vampires around town, it took her awhile to discover the shop after a little coercing to little vampires out there, though. The underground cellar says it all: stacks of different types of sweet is there, among them also bottles of wine and beer and even canned fruits—what makes it different is that all of it is made of blood.

“Lollipops, right? For Ruby-chan?” Chika confirmed the items to Mari before she waltzed to the shelves of candy and snack bars. “How much?”

“One dozen stalks will do for now, I think.”

Mari wondered how Chika’s business has grown this big, all she was doing to the once-nearly-closed-fixture is to give the mikan-loving shopkeeper the access to Ohara’s blood bank. Chika always say that she’s ‘only an occult geek passing by that loves thrills’ but it really surpasses Mari’s expectation. The Duchess of the Old Mansion was elated by the discovery of a human crafted another way for vampires to enjoy their palate, though there is times when Mari asked herself why she gave Chika a chance for this long. Maybe her vampire ego—one to seek solace—is dulled, or it is of pure curiosity, Mari doesn’t know the answer.

“A blood wine?” Mari pulled one of the casket to get a better view. “It is, like, 100% pure blood in?”

“Of course not, I’ll be bankrupt in no time,” Chika said. “It has more of grapes, but I tell you that most customers loves it. You might want to take one home.”

“Maybe later, I’ll take you up on it.”

Mari continued to examine nearby shelves on her reach, watching in awe that Chika got bigger and wider selection. Some of it already have a ‘reserved’ tag, also there’s a label for trial products. Chika is really thorough with her items.

“You know, there’s something odd going on in the city lately,” Mari shot her eyebrows up. She turned to see Chika has yet moving from the sweet shelves on her left, digging to several boxes for candies. “This one vampire customer of mine, he suddenly had an outbreak during the night, five hunters needed to take him down.”

“Oh, really?”

“You don’t know?” there’s a tint of surprise in Chika’s voice. “Though you’re considered to be the vampire’s ruler here?”

“Come on, Chikacchi.” Mari strikes with a playful tone. “Sometimes humans will not inform me if it’s just a single outbreak. He must be really hungry and went out of control.”

“Well, there have been several cases with this kind of outbreak lately, newborns were worried and come to shop often—not like I’m complaining, though!” the shop owner laughed. “Can’t say that it’s ‘usual stuff’ anymore.”

There has been no new information from few of her informants around the town, or news from Elder Kurosawa either. Mari feel the need to ask around bars and shacks she frequently visited, but she wasn’t there for it today.

Chika got back with a carton bag, twelve stalks of said lollipop popping from the opening. “Here. On the house.”

Mari hummed, “Now it’s rare for you to be generous.”

“You need to bring that little one next time, say that I have a bag of thousand candies or rainbow cupcakes or something!”

For now, she should keep Chika’s information in mind. She could gather more later about this ‘odd vampire outbreak’ or she could wait until someone come to tell her everything from her information web. Although, the ‘vampire movement’ Chika mentioned is suspicious, Mari doesn’t want to indulge more today, she’s in a mere ‘picking candy’ errand today.

“I’ll take my leave now, then, I’ll see you next time, Chikacchi. I hope some new information from you later.”

“Takami Chika, at your service!”

When opening her eyes, the first thing she saw is Yoshiko up-close, squinting her eyes.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Yoshiko said with a sulk.

Ruby reflexively covered her face. “P-Pigii!”

“I said I’m not into eating vampires.” There’s a groan, before she continued. “My lady ordered me to check up on you since you’re ... well ... sleeping a lot.”

Yoshiko floated away as Ruby got up, seeking for any clock available or windows open to tell her about time. Finding none except books’ shelves and closed curtains, Ruby turned, “W-What time is it?”

“Afternoon, I guess? I didn’t check,” the devil shrugged. “I’ll call my lady to say that you’ve woken up. Stay there.”

Ruby watched Yoshiko left, before she let out a sigh. Is there a point to go back home, really? she thought to herself. The face of hatred on her sister’s face is engraved in her memory and doesn’t cease to disappear.

Her eyes tried to find a comfort through the silent library she is in. Surrounded by bookshelves lined like a maze is something new, though she could say she’s getting dizzy to try and look at how many books available in one shelf. Kanan’s presence and smell are nowhere to be found near, the doctor must’ve been returning to her duty by the city since Yoshiko said that it is already past the noon.

Not long with her reminiscence, the door swung open revealing Maru with Yoshiko and the tray containing two cups of tea. Seeing the crease on Ruby’s forehead, Maru took her seat right beside the vampire, holding the cold hands that stayed on her lap. Yoshiko put down the respective cups and floated back, staying idle.

“Are you okay now?” is Maru’s first question. Ruby watched those chestnut-colored eyes were clean, sincere. It was like when the first time they met.

“I’m okay, thank you for your help, Maru-chan.” Ruby clasped Maru’s hands back, entwining their fingers. “Oh, umm ... don’t you find it strange to touch cold hands of mine?”

“Is it?” Maru tilted her head. “I find it nice. It’s a great discovery to get in close with a vampire.”

“Really?” Ruby squeaked. Maru nodded in response.

“Though it must be hard for you, right?” the chestnut-haired woman fiddled their tangled fingers. “You’re the pride of Kurosawa’s hunter family, too.”

“It’s Onee-chan, not me.” Ruby gave a curt reply, feeling a bitter tang on her tongue as she spoke about her older sister. The woman beside her must have noticed, for her to give Ruby another squeeze.

“Ruby-chan,” Hanamaru shot a knowing look. “No one will hate you of how you changed, believe me. You are doing it of your free will and good reasoning. Please don’t hate yourself over it.”

It was as if Hanamaru knew everything without bothering to ask, or perhaps her behavior and uncertainty were too easy to read. Maru has been enigmatic during her librarian duty as long as Ruby remembered, she would be elated by the new discovery yet she is having a great knowledge about past history that would make anyone astonished. There were several times when Maru being called out to fill in the task of deciphering old archives or explaining history of hunters to the new recruits; Maru has this air of a sage, while showing herself to be a perfectly plain librarian.

The friendship they shared during that short time of working together in the library is like a miracle for Ruby, to see herself now being saved by her hospitality and bits of advice.

Yoshiko, who remained static as a third party all the time, spoke, “Enough about this sappy mood, why don’t you two drink your tea and calm down?”

Both Ruby and Maru looked at Yoshiko in unison, turned to the waiting tea and back to the groaning devil. “Why are you giving me that look? The tea is getting cold, y’know?”

Dia busied herself to clean her sword when there’s a knock to the front door below. She has been locking herself since morning to check several untouched reports the Guild sent to her and cleaning her sword, took her some time before she noticed that someone knocked. She thought Ruby is back and that she’ll open the door herself when she knew the door is unlocked, but the knocks keep on going.

“... I wonder who.”

Messengers from Guild never knock the door, just to slide the paper beneath the door, so it is highly-unlikely that the guest is from her line of job. There has been no one from Kurosawa family bothered to give her a visit after she moved in there with Ruby, so it might not be them. The raven-haired huntress promptly descended from her room to welcome the guest.

One click. The door is open. The day already breaks by the orange sky and on her eye level, a certain blonde smiling back at her.

Dia quickly shot the door close reflexively.

“Dia~” she could hear the whine outside.

What is the vampire doing here in broad daylight? It is in the afternoon but still a bit far from nighttime, the vampire shouldn’t be walking around and even visiting her, it’s ridiculous—

“Dia~ open the door~”

She heaved a sigh, Dia leaned to the door. It’s not like Mari would go away with her warning, she knew how dense the vampire sometimes. “What do you want, Mari-san? You know that I’m not even close to forgive you.”

“I need to give something important~”

“Talk to my sword."

“I’m serious!” her voice is nowhere near that, though. It’s more like her usual teasing, high-pitched tone which made Dia cringed. “Open the door, please?”

Even when Dia came out with her sword ready, Mari has the same goofy grin ever. Maybe for an old vampire like her, being threatened with weapon wasn’t something new; she must have lived during the dark days of war between supernaturals, or something Dia won’t love to pry.

Mari about to take her step, “One step and this blade will take your head.”

“Okay~” the vampire walked back.

“You have five minutes to state your reason for coming here.”

Mari opened her paper bag, showing the content to Dia, stalks of candies. “Trick or treat!” Dia is ready to slice her silly hair twirl into half. “Wait, wait, wait, I’ll stop joking!”

With a grunt, Dia gave Mari another glare, lowering her sword to Mari’s relief, tucking it back to the scabbard.

“I take that Ruby is not home because of the full moon yesterday,” the vampire began, Dia’s eyebrow twitched at the mention of ‘full moon’. “So I’ll give this to you for your little sister.”

Mari handed the paper bag, Dia quickly took one stalk to see the actual shape of the candy inside. Round red lollipop wrapped in plastic cover with mikan mark on it, with an orange-colored ribbon tied.

“Don’t eat it, Dia. It’s a candy made with blood!” Mari warned. “I have it specially made because Ruby refused to drink from a human when she transformed.” Dia squinted, watching Mari with disbelief. Though, Mari paid no mind on it and continued. The raven-haired hunter examined the candy once more. “Candy is Ruby’s favorite, right? So I asked for the supply of it to my network.”

It took her back that Ruby has a sweet tooth. She’d be back with sweets, be it little candies to confections along with her other things every time it was her turn to shop for dinner. Ruby won’t forget to buy something for her sister, too, and it would make a good dessert after the dinner.

“Yeah ... she loves sweets,” Dia murmured, closely taking notes on how Mari gestured. “So, that’s it?”

Mari nodded. “That’s that.”

How many times has passed since both of them had been living ... happily?

After the tea and several times of pondering inside her mind while talking casually with Maru (and Yoshiko occasional interruption and silly remarks), Ruby decided that she will be going home. She had left her sister with no certain explanation, not to mention that it was of her will to live this way.

The vampire couldn’t say to Maru that she has a bit of worry swelling inside her heart after the light and happy talk. A part of her doesn’t want to share about her sister and how hard her life have been. Ruby acknowledged Maru as her friend; she’s able to express herself openly in front of her, but she felt that the issue between her ‘identity’ and her ‘will to live’ are for her to resolve, not for her to share.

They passed the road of flower garden in Maru’s front yard. Collection of small flowers bloomed coloring the garden, it was a beautiful sight in the eye of winter. No speck of snow or coldness covering the front yard, Ruby wondered whether it was one of Yoshiko’s power of illusion or something along the line. Ruby crouched down to try pick one of the shrubs. She thought that the flower will disappear, but it was real, it felt so real that she couldn’t help but to try and grasp it with her palm.

“Aren’t you curious how to make these bloom?” Maru asked when Ruby looked around her garden in awe.

“What flower are these? It’s so pretty. I never know there’s a beautiful flower growing in Winter.”

The chestnut-haired woman nudged at Ruby’s arm. Ruby turned to ask when Maru, who’s sitting beside her on the lush of the garden, tucked her hair behind her left ear to place some pink flowers on its wake.

“Azalea,” Maru breathed. “These flowers bloom in spring. It’s my power enables me to grow flowers outside of their season.” Ruby reached for the pale pink petals, slowly her lips stretched into a smile. “This flower suits you, Ruby-chan. I hope you’ll grow like how these petals bloom.”

Maru was sending Ruby out alone, Yoshiko is nowhere to be seen accompanying them. The crimson-haired vampire sensed the urge to hurry before the sun disappeared from the horizon, but she found herself lazing around the green garden, lying herself down and Maru plopped right next to her.

She wasn’t ready to go home, but-

“So, have you calmed down?” she asked so suddenly.

Ruby tried to give Maru the widest smile she could as an answer, “Mm. Thank you for everything, Maru-chan.”

“It’s the least I can do,��� Maru said. “You’re always welcome for the tea, Ruby-chan.”

-she must return, she doesn’t want to make her sister worry. After all, it is also her drive to stay living.

Dia and Mari exchanged silence for some time, Dia still checking up on each and every stalk that Mari brought for Ruby.

How many times has passed since both of them had been living happily?—the question popped inside her mind, swirling without her bothering to answer. Ever since that night coming, she’s no longer seeing Ruby as the same; she didn’t know what to say, what to ask, what to do with contradictions living in her heart.

“Mari-san?”

“Hmm?”

“How’s she after she’s being turned?” Dia wasn’t trying to be thorough in her question, she didn’t want to.

A soft smile played on the vampire’s lips, Dia held her stare sharp and unfriendly. “She’s miserable,” Mari paused to see Dia’s expression stays. “She’s not suitable to be a vampire, she wanted to stay human.”

The raven-haired hunter response is a blink, unfazed.

“Didn’t I say to you don’t be too hard on her?” Mari hummed. Dia was still, rigid. “Though it’s ... up to you. I never experienced to be an older sister who lost her little sister before.”

“... you know my creed, Mari-san.”

Behind the vampire’s back, the sun is about to go down. Loud beaks of birds leaving the forest could be heard from afar, the forest grown quieter as the afternoon current swept branches of trees and clouds darkened.

“Oh, the little girl is home~”

Dia moved to put away the bag when Mari turned to see the crimson-haired huntress coming from the direction of the forest. Her clothes a bit tattered but it wasn’t dirty or torn, she was okay from head to toe. Mari pressed a bit about full moon earlier, maybe Ruby sudden outburst last night is due to the moon. Dia doesn’t want to indulge for details, though, at least not today.

“I’ll stop here for today,” Golden speck of dusts warmed to her once before the vampire bowed, setting her foot aside and ready to leave. “Good day, Dia.”

Ruby was baffled to see Mari there but she didn’t raise any voice to greet the vampire guest as she brushed past. The crimson-haired huntress looked at the door way to see Dia stood still, blandness colored her facade.

“Good luck, little vampire.”

The little vampire didn’t look back to where the whisper went; with the small hope she clenched in her fist for everything to be okay, she steeled her way.

“I ... I’m back, Onee-chan.”

Not even a minuscule shift of the usual warm, welcoming smile was present, of course, that has to be expected from her sister. Those emerald examined her, then Dia handed the paper bag she’s holding to meet her gaze; Ruby only blinked.

“It’s for you, from Mari-san,” it was off, void of any emotion. “So you still have your sweet tooth.”

Ruby received the bag, checking the popping stalks of candies from Takami Wondrous Shop inside. Dia turned back to hug the direction of her room, but with a pause. “How long do you intend to stand there? Come on in. The night will be here soon.”

The raven-haired huntress finished her part, Ruby was beyond surprised, watching the back disappeared to ascend the stairs and to the door of Dia’s room.

.

.

.

 How many times has passed since both of them had been living happily?—the question popped inside the huntress’ mind, swirling in the direction where her heart speaks.

 Dia clutched the contradiction in her heart, her staggering mind, and her own answer.

{‘I can’t accept her / I wish the things can change.’}