#more in-depth tw descriptions on ao3

[gwenie-creates]

Petals Of Death

A Landoscar FBI Au

TW- mentions of r@pe, torture, child abuse, vomiting, and descriptions of violence (usual amount)

read on ao3 here!

Chapter Thirteen

Lando couldn’t remember what happened. 

 One minute he was standing next to Oscar, hands intertwined, the next, he was on the floor. 

 He could feel the tears streaming down his face and the sobs ripping from his lips but it felt as though they weren’t his own. Like he was looking at someone else. Watching someone else crumble from the inside out.

He could hear the others. Feel their hands on his, trying to pull them from his hair. His mother's distressed shouts echoed around his head. 

A sudden hand grabbed his face. “Lando. Lando. Lando.” The last call of his name sounded almost desperate. 

Lando looked up, vision cloudy with tears. His eyes landed on the figure in front of him. The worry-filled chocolate brown eyes and the small bunny teeth sinking deep into their bottom lip. 

 Oscar. 

It was like a shock to his system. Everything all at once came rushing back. The notes, the flowers, the bodies, how Oscar had read the notes last night, seeing the deepest darkest depths of Lando’s soul. The things he's kept hidden for seventeen years. 

He flinched away, feeling cracked open. Raw. 

“Hey. Hey,” Oscar reached forward again, lightly grabbing Lando’s chin, forcing them to meet eyes. “I need you to calm down for me. Ok, Sweetheart? You're going to make yourself sick if you don't.” 

Lando nodded despite barely being able to grasp onto the words. But only one word mattered. Sweetheart. It reverberated around his head, each time sinking deeper and deeper, making him feel more awake. 

Oscar seemed to notice that Lando was becoming more lucid because he quickly grabbed his arm, hoisting them upwards. “Let’s get you out of here.” He whispered into Lando’s ear, feeling the slight shiver that Lando gave in response, before looking over towards where Agent Verstappen had been standing, attempting to placate Lando’s parents to no avail. “Max, we need to get them out of here. I'll call Lewis when we get in the car and tell him to send over as many deputies as we can spare.” 

“But-but, what about our house?” Cisca asked, a distressed look on her face. 

“You will be given a room at the hotel near the police station. Deputies will be stationed outside of your room twenty-four seven.” Oscar looked down towards Lando who was still in his arms. “Lando will be placed in protective custody and kept either at the station or with one of us until this unsub is caught.” 

Cisca made a face, clearly not liking the fact that her son wouldn't be staying with them. Before she could voice her displeasure Oscar added, “My team is staying at the same hotel as you so at most we will be a couple of doors or a floor away.” That seemed to settle Cisca somewhat as she made no further move to argue. 

“I need to call my daughter and inform her of what's happened. She's been at her boyfriend’s and is supposed to come home today.” Cisca said, reaching to pull out her phone. 

“And I need to grab some things. You can’t just expect us to leave our home and go stay in a hotel with no clothes or anything.” 

Oscar sighed, “I'm sorry. We've already been here too long, the longer we stay the more vulnerable we are. We need to leave now.” The ‘now’ was punctuated by Oscar turning towards the door, gently helping Lando along with him. 

Lando went along without complaint, too drained to put up a fight and barely even able to walk, giving most of his body weight to Oscar and depending on him to get them to the car. 

Oscar slung an arm around Lando’s waist. “You really gonna make me do all the work?” he asked, a small smile on his face, trying to get one out of Lando too. 

Lando shrugged in response. “You look like you can handle it.” He poked at Oscar’s bicep, feeling the hard muscle. A shiver ran down Lando’s spine, heat pooling in his stomach. Not now Lan. Now is not the time to let your stupid size kink be known. Shame pooled in Lando’s stomach. He already knew Oscar was much bigger than him. You could tell just by looking at him. But he hadn’t realized just how much stronger Oscar was, which really was quite stupid of him considering Oscar had easily scooped him up last night and carried him to the bed. Great, now Lando was thinking about Oscar in his bed. Could his stupid brain just shut up for a moment!? 

Oscar shifted Lando in his arms, moving to open the door and place him into the back seat. Once Lando was seated Oscar gently shut the door and went over to help Agent Verstappen herd Lando’s parents towards the car. 

Lando sat there, embarrassment making his cheeks flush a bright scarlet red. God, I’m being so needy what the fuck is wrong with me!? Oscar’s just trying to do his job, not babysit me. It’s bad enough I already make George and Alex take care of me, now I’m making some random FBI agent who’s just trying to do their job do it too. I’m such a fucking burden. 

Lando’s self-deprecating thoughts were interrupted by the door to his right opening, revealing his Mum’s worried face. “Oh, honey,” she shook her head sadly and got into the car reaching to cup Lando’s cheeks. 

Next to get in was his dad. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” Adam asked, irritation becoming clear in his tone after no one answered his earlier questions. 

“We’ll answer your questions on the way to the station,” Agent Verstappen replied, closing the door and moving to get into the driver's seat. Oscar rounded the car and hopped into the passenger's seat. He looked back towards Lando through the rearview mirror. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but shut it, as though he thought better of it. 

Agent Verstappen started the car and pulled out of the driveway. A suffocating silence settled over the car. Lando sat there still as a statue, hoping that if he didn’t move his parents wouldn’t ask the dreaded question he knew had been on their minds ever since that damn box was opened. 

Of course, with Lando’s luck, it didn’t work. 

“What did the petals mean?” his mum asked. 

Lando swallowed thickly, making no move to answer as he seemed to have lost the ability to talk. 

When a moment passed and no one had answered, Oscar cleared his throat, slightly turning so he could make eye contact with Cisca. “The petals represent what we call the Unsub’s ‘signature’. He leaves a flower crown made up of different types of flowers on each victim's body.” 

A horrified expression crossed Cisca’s face. “But–but why would Lando react like that then? I mean the blood was creepy but…” she paused, turning towards Lando who seemed set on looking anywhere but her. “You reacted like the petals meant something to you. Something personal…” she trailed off, letting her statement hang in the air. 

It felt as though the air had become electric and if Lando moved a single muscle he would be electrocuted. 

“Lando?” Cisca prompted. 

“It’s nothing Mum,” Lando replied, voice small and reserved. 

“Oh, don’t give me that! That reaction you just had? That was not nothing.” She said ‘nothing’ like it was an insult. Lando didn’t respond, curling in on himself and shutting down completely. 

‘Shutting down’ as his parents had dubbed it, was something he did from time to time. His therapist says it’s something his brain learned to do because of a traumatic event it’s trying to ‘hide’ him from. Doesn’t really seem to be very good at hiding considering I can still remember all of it. Perfectly. 

Realizing what was happening, Cisca tried to quickly rectify it. “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry I–” Adam’s hand gently landed on her shoulder, telling her to drop it and just let Lando be. 

Oscar and Max exchanged looks from the front of the car. The tension filled air made them shift uncomfortably. It wasn’t unusual for families to get into disagreements in situations like this, but this felt so much more painful than normal. Oscar had wanted to make a good impression on Lando’s parents and now they were all fighting and sending scathing looks in his direction. As if it was somehow his fault that Lando didn’t want to tell them what was happening. 

After another five minutes of excruciating silence and Oscar wishing he could turn on the radio to at least drown out the furious whispers of the Norris parents, but too afraid to get chewed out in case a pop song came on. Or worse, country. That would most definitely not fit the vibe. I mean can you imagine finding out your son is being stalked by a serial killer and then having to sit there and listen to Fast Car by Luke Combs? Oscar would rather not, thank you very much. Max slowed the car to a stop and cleared his throat. “Alright, we’re here.” 

***

Oscar was the first to exit. He sent a quick text to Lewis, letting him know they had arrived. The doors to the precinct quickly flew open, revealing Chief Cooper and at least ten other deputies. 

“Is he still there?” Chief Cooper asked, at the confused look Oscar gave him he elaborated, “Is the killer still at the Norris’ house?” 

Max, having snuck up behind Oscar, spoke first. “No. We never actually saw him but he left a box and note with Lando’s name written on it.” 

“Alright,” Chief Cooper looked behind him at his deputies, “I want all of you to go to the Norris’ house. Look in, around, and behind the house. I don’t care how long it takes. I want every inch of that property and the surrounding properties searched for this motherfucker.” 

“But Sir, the Norris’ have ten acres of woods behind their house.” One of the deputies interjected. 

“Yeah, it will take us all day to search them.” Another one complained. 

“Then you best stop wasting time complaining and start searching.” Chief Cooper said, voice final. 

The deputies quickly went into action and shuffled out of the precinct. Oscar heard a few crude words whispered behind his back. Something about how the ‘stuck up agents should have to spend their day searching for this lunatic too instead of sitting around in their cushy office and staring at a board.’ Figures that’s all the deputies thought they did. 

Oscar looked up at the sound of the door opening, Carlos stepped out and looked at him expectantly. “Are you guys going to come on or what? Lewis is getting impatient.” 

Oscar felt himself shiver. Lewis never got impatient. He must know something we don’t. 

“We’ll be right there,” Oscar responded, turning to look back at the Norris family. Lando was standing to the left, quiet as ever, head down. His parents were huddled close together, their eyes constantly flickering between Lando and the Agents, trying to figure out who to question first. 

Oscar looked at Max, unsure what to do about Lando’s parents. They clearly wanted to be with their son, but Lando had made it very clear he didn’t want his parents to know the details of his involvement in this case. Max looked over towards where Deputy Thomas was standing next to the coffee machine. “Deputy Thomas, could you escort Mr. and Mrs. Norris to the hotel and get them set up with a room?” 

“Oh, uhh, sure.” Deputy Thomas replied, glancing towards Chief Cooper for approval.

 Chief Cooper nodded. “Try and get them a room on the same floor as the agents.” 

“Of course Sir.” Deputy Thomas turned towards Adam and Cisca, “If you’d follow me–” 

“What? No. We want to stay here with our son.” Cisca said, face screwing up in displeasure. 

“Mrs. Norris,” Chief Cooper tried. 

“I’m not leaving my son,” she responded stubbornly. 

Oscar looked over towards Lando who was still standing there with his head down. Goddammit, this is getting us nowhere. 

“Mrs. Norris,” Oscar began, “I’m sorry to say but Lando is twenty-two which means he is a legal adult and you don’t have a say in whether you get to stay or not if he doesn’t want you here.” 

Oscar felt bad putting Lando on the spot like this but they were getting nowhere with the way things were going. 

“Lando?” he softly called, waiting for Lando to lift his head up and look him in the eyes. 

“Hmm,” Was all he got in response. 

“Would you like your parents in the room with you while we discuss the box the unsub left?” As an afterthought Oscar added, “And the note.” 

Lado quickly shook his head. “No, I want to do this alone” 

“What? Lando–” 

“Lando, honey–” 

Lando just shook his head, interrupting both his parents' pleas. “I don’t want you guys there.” He looked away so he wouldn’t see their betrayed and hurt expressions. It was better this way. 

Oscar nodded. It had been decided. “Alright, you heard him.” He turned towards Deputy Thomas and motioned for him to exit the room. “Why don’t you take them to the hotel now?” 

Adam looked like he wanted to argue further, but didn’t after he glanced towards Lando. Instead, both he and Cisca walked over to Lando and embraced him. Oscar couldn’t hear what they whispered into Lando’s ear but he assumed it was something along the lines of how much they loved him and how they were there for him. 

After they disentangled themselves from each other's arms, Deputy Thomas led them out of the precinct. Chief Cooper excused himself and said he was going to join his deputies in the search and leave them to finish their job. Oscar turned towards Lando and gently placed his hand on the small of his back. “Why don’t we go see what Agent Hamilton has to say?” 

Lando gave a weak nod and followed as Max headed toward the room and held the door open for them. 

This isn’t going to be good. Oscar thought, stepping through the door and letting it snap shut behind him. 

***

Lando stood there, his heart beating so fast he was sure Oscar could feel it where his hand was pressed against Lando’s back. Lando felt a mix of guilt and relief. On one hand, he was happy that his parents weren’t going to be in the room with him and find out the contents of those notes, on the other he felt horrible seeing the hurt on their faces when he had told them he wanted to do this alone. 

Oscar stood just to the left of him, so close that Lando’s shoulder was pressed against Oscar’s chest. “Would you like me to call Alex or George?” he asked, looking into Lando’s eyes. 

Lando shook his head. “No,” his voice broke slightly so he cleared his throat. “I don’t want them to know,” he whispered. Lando wanted to keep this a secret as long as possible, even though he knew the whole town would know about his secret soon enough. There was no way he got out of this without having to tell the whole story. 

“Ok,” Oscar replied, not pushing the subject. Someone cleared their throat and both of their heads snapped to look at where Agent Hamilton stood, expression hard to read. 

“I’m sorry we have to meet under such conditions again, Lando, but we really need to discuss some things. The unsub is getting bolder and we have to assume that he is no longer satisfied with using surrogates and instead is going after his true target of affection, you.” 

Lando shuddered, his knees going weak. Oscar wrapped his arm around his waist to steady him. “Let’s sit down, yeah?” Lando nodded and let Oscar help him into one of the chairs that sat in front of the big roundtable.

Once Lando was seated, Lewis continued, “So, I spoke with Violet again– remember the girl whose dad was a drug dealer?– And she said that a guy came by last night. She said he comes by pretty often but is a newer buyer.” 

“So?” Max interrupted, “People try different dealers all the time.” 

“Well, if you’d have let me finish I would have gotten to the point Max.” Lewis leveled him with an annoyed glare. “Anyways, the important part of this is that she’s noticed that every time he’s visited before, had been when one of the victims had been buying too. She said he would start a conversation with them and they usually ended up leaving together.” 

“Ok,” Carlos started, “so the guy’s clearly gay and open about it.” 

Lando interrupted, “It’s a pretty common thing here. No one cares so everyone is just open.” he shrugged before adding, “I’m gay myself and everyone knows.” 

Oscar felt Max’s gaze shift towards him, his expression suggestive. 

“Are there a lot of other openly gay people around?” Lewis asked. 

“I mean, there's a decent amount. It’s a small town so…” Lando trailed off, shifting his gaze so he no longer had to look Lewis in the eyes. 

“Right, well, Violet gave me a description of the guy so maybe you’ve seen him around before.” 

Lando nodded, “I can try but my memory’s kinda shit so I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be.” 

“That’s fine. She’s supposed to come in later,” Lewis paused looking down at his watch. “Actually make that in ten minutes– Max will you go stand by the door so you can bring her here when she arrives?” Max nodded and exited the room. “Anyways, she’s supposed to come in and help us get a rough sketch of what he looks like, so hopefully that will help aid your memory too.” 

They waited in silence for Violet to arrive. It wasn’t awkward but it wasn’t comfortable either. Oscar kept his distance from Lando, not wanting to come off as too obvious to his teammates, although he was already sure they knew about his feelings towards Lando. 

Lando wanted nothing more than for Oscar to come sit down next to him and place a comforting hand on his shoulder again, but he sat there quietly, staring off into space instead of voicing his desires. 

The sound of a hushed conversation and footsteps, one nearly non-existent while the other a loud presence against the vinyl flooring, flowed into the room, breaking the silence. Max entered first, holding the door open and motioning for Violet to enter. When she entered the room Lando had to press his lips together to contain his shocked gasp. Violet had a large bruise under her eye. Her arms were littered with bruises, some even in the shape of fingerprints. The most concerning bruise was the one around her neck. The very clear outline of handprints encircled her throat as if she had been strangled. 

The others in the room looked like they wanted to say something also but stopped themselves when Agent Verstappen shook his head. 

Violet let her eyes roam over the room before landing on Lando. “Lando?” she called, confusion lacing her tone. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Wait, you guys know each other?” Lewis asked, a bewildered look on his face. 

Lando nodded, eyes locked on the bruises littering Violet’s body. “Yeah… my Mum used to babysit her and her brother when they were younger.” 

The agents let the new information settle over the room before continuing on. “Ok, well I guess that’s good. At least now we won’t need any awkward introductions.” Lewis said, trying to lighten the mood as an odd air had enveloped the room ever since Violet had entered with her bruises on display. 

Lando looked over towards where Agent Verstappen was still standing by the door. His face was blank but anger simmered just barely under the surface, along with something else. Something close to understanding? 

“So, Violet, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll go grab the sketch artist so you can give us the description of the guy?” 

“Oh, actually,” Violet paused, moving to pull something out of her pocket. It was a folded-up piece of paper. “I already drew the guy so we could just use this,” she nervously glanced towards Lewis and quickly added, “or I can just tell the sketch artist the description.” She held the paper out towards Lewis, squirming nervously under the heavy gazes of the other agents. 

Lewis carefully took the paper from her hand and slowly unfolded it. His eyes lit up in surprise as he took in what was on the paper. 

“Well?” Carlos asked, trying to get a look at the paper. Lewis slowly turned it around so everyone could see it. 

“Holy shit,” Oscar whispered. On the paper was a sketch of a man, the sketch looked like a picture. You could see every detail of the face, each freckle, wrinkle, and blemish. The pencil lines were nearly non-existent making it look like a photo rather than a drawing.

“You drew this?” Lewis asked, shocked that the paper in front of him wasn't a photograph. 

Violet nodded shyly, bringing a hand to rub at the back of her neck awkwardly. “Yeah, I had some free time yesterday so I figured why not draw the guy and see if that would save us some time when I came in the next day.”  

Lando finally tore his gaze away from Violet’s bruises and looked at the drawing everyone was freaking out about. What he saw made his blood run cold. His brain filled with static and his lungs felt as though his chest had caved in. “No. No. No. No.” he said, reaching to pull at his hair but Oscar quickly intercepted, bringing his hands back down to the table in front of them. 

“Lando? Lando, what's wrong?” 

Lando shook his head, attempting to curl in on himself but Oscar’s grip on his hands stopped him from being able to do so. 

“Lando what’s–” 

“I’ve seen him before,” Lando abruptly interrupted, “Oh God, he’s touched me!” Lando stopped, turned his face away from Oscar, and gagged, bile rising in his throat. 

“Whoa! Hey, ok,” Lewis jumped forward, calm facade gone and panicked movements searching for a trash can. Violet moved backwards, eyes nervously flickering around the room and turning towards the door in an attempt to escape. 

“Not so fast,” Max said, gently grabbing her arm and moving so they were on the other side of the room, far away from the mess that was currently Lando and the other agents. 

“Let me go!” She weakly struggled to remove herself from Max’s grip, giving up when his hand pressed against one of the bruises, face screwing up in pain. Max quickly released her but motioned for her to take a seat at the table instead of letting her go. 

On the other side of the room, Carlos quickly thrust a trash can towards Lewis who held it out towards Lando just in time to catch the beginnings of his vomit. Both Lewis and Carlos cringed. Carlos moved a safe distance away while Lewis was stuck holding the trash can. Oscar sat to Lando’s left gently rubbing his back in soothing motions. “You’re ok,” he whispered. 

After emptying the contents of his stomach, Lando pulled away, whipping at his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater. Logan, who had been watching all of this happen from his spot at the table near the board, handed Lando one of the water bottles that was lying discarded on the table. Lando gulped it down greedily, trying to wash the taste of vomit out of his mouth. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

“No problem,” Logan replied, a kind smile on his face. 

Lewis set the trash can down, smoothing his face so his grimace wasn’t visible. “Lando, what did you mean he’s touched you? You know this,” he paused, pointing towards the sketch. “You know this man?” 

Lando nodded, “Yeah, he-he works at the flower shop. I went there the other day to buy flowers for my Mum and he was being all weird. He kept staring at me and saying weird shit. He grabbed my wrist really tightly and wouldn’t let go.” Lando rubbed his wrist while he relived the memory. “He-he called me a ‘pretty thing’,” Lando’s face took on a hue of green again and he leaned forward to gag before stopping himself and swallowing thickly. 

“You ok?” Oscar asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. He wasn’t angry at Lando–he didn’t think he ever could be– he was angry that even the thought of this guy caused such a reaction from Lando. 

“Alright, we need to go look and see if he‘s there,” Carlos said, standing up. 

Lando shook his head, “The flower shop is closed today.” 

Lewis sighed, “Ok, Carlos why don’t you call Charles and see if he can find out who this guy is? Tell him all we know so far.” Carlos nodded, pulling his phone out and moving to the hallway for some privacy. “Oscar, you and I are going to go with Lando and talk in another room. Logan and Max can stay here with Violet.” 

“Wait, why–” Lando started but Oscar shushed him, pulling his arm to get him to move. 

They walked out of the room and entered an office that was next to it. 

“What are we doing here?” Lando asked. 

Lewis sighed heavily, “Lando, I know this is going to be hard for you, but I need you to tell me everything.” 

“What? I-I don’t understand?” 

“Oscar told me about the notes.” 

Lando whipped his head towards Oscar, a betrayed expression on his face. Oscar hung his head. “I had to Lando. He’s my boss and this is important to the case. We need to know what those notes were about.” 

Lando shook his head. “No. No. No. You don’t get to do this! I’ve spent seventeen, seventeen years keeping this a secret! I’m not just going to suddenly start shouting it from the rooftops.” 

“And no one’s asking you to,” Lewis said, holding his hands out towards Lando in a placating motion. “But we need to know in order to understand why this unsub is targeting you. Don’t you want him to stop?” 

Lando shrunk in on himself. Oscar could see the cogs in his brain working, Lando’s face was like an open book, which is why Oscar saw the exact moment he started to shut down. “Hey, hey,” he said, snapping his fingers in front of Lando’s face to get his attention. “If you tell us, we can make sure this guy leaves you alone forever. We need to know in order to understand why he’s stalking you. No one else has to know. Not your parents. Not your friends. Just us. Whatever you say stays between us. 

Lando looked into Oscar’s eyes, searching. What he saw made his shoulders drop in resignation. “Ok,” he whispered. 

Lewis moved to pull out the desk chair and pushed it towards Lando. “Have a seat.” Oscar leaned against the wall directly across from him and Lewis sat on the edge of the desk, both their eyes trained on Lando, waiting to hear what he had to say. 

Lando took a deep breath before he began. “I met him when I was five. My family had been on a vacation in Pennsylvania. We were at some amusement park. I think, I don’t know, that part is all kind of fuzzy.” 

“That’s ok, just tell us what you can remember,” Lewis said. 

“I’d been wanting to go on this one ride but my brother wanted to go on a different one so my parents split up. My mum took my brother to the ride he wanted to go on and my dad took me to the one I wanted to go on. While we were walking there I noticed some strange man kept looking at me. At first, I didn’t think much of it but then I remembered how I had seen him around a bunch of different times that weekend. While my dad was taking me to the ride I wanted to go on we got stuck in a crowd. My hand slipped from his and suddenly I was lost in the swarm of people. A hand grabbed mine and I thought it was my dad but instead, it was the strange man. He put his hand over my mouth and ran in the other direction before I could even begin to scream. He threw me into the back of his car and drove us to some cabin out in the woods. When we got there a little boy exited the cabin. I don’t know how old he was but he was definitely older than me. When-when he saw me he-he asked, ‘Did you get him, Daddy?’ Like he had been waiting for me. Like he had picked me out. Chosen me.” Tears started to stream down Lando’s face as he relived the memories. Lando made no move to wipe them away, instead, he let them roll down his face, mapping rivers of tears across his cheeks. 

Oscar wanted to reach out and wipe the tears away himself, but he stayed put, knowing he had to let Lando finish or else they might never hear the whole story. 

“They say I was gone for twelve hours. Twelve hours I was stuck in that cabin with those lunatics. The entire time the man stood not even twenty feet away from me, torturing women. He would rape them and then carve out their hearts. He didn’t even kill them first, he-he would do it while they were alive. He made sure to go slowly so they would scream and whither in agony. He liked it when they screamed. He would make shallow slashes, deep enough so they would hurt but not enough to kill them or let them bleed out.” Lando paused, sucking in a deep breath before whispering, “I can still hear the sound of the knife cutting their flesh and the sound of their screams when I close my eyes at night.” 

Oscar felt sick. He knew just from the notes that the unsub was a sick bastard but this was another level. “What about the flower crown? And the boy from before?” 

“The boy gave me the flower crown. He made it while we were crouched in the corner of the cabin and he put it on my head when he finished it. It was made of orange rose petals, just like the ones in the box. After he placed it on my head, the man– his dad– told him to bring me over to him. I screamed and fought as he dragged me towards his dad. The air smelled metallic and the woman who lay dead on the table’s blood slowly dripped onto the ground, creating puddles of crimson red. I don’t know what the man had been planning to do with me because as soon as I got over there a radio went off. It was static at first but then the voices of police officers became clear. They were speaking about how a five-year-old boy had gone missing. I knew they were talking about me and so did the man. When they said my name the man quickly grabbed me and threw me back into the trunk of his car. He brought me back to the amusement park but before he let me go he promised that if I ever said anything about what happened he would do what he did to that lady to my mum. I promised not to say anything and when the police found me I told them I had just gotten lost. After that my parents hardly let me out of their sight and I never spoke a word about it. Two years later the notes started to show up. At first, they were meaningless. Just small little things, like compliments about my hair or my outfits. I liked them at first. They made me feel special. Then they started to get weird. They made references to that night and things no one else would know about. I hid all of the notes in a box under the floorboards in my closet and never told anyone a word about what happened. When it was announced that I had gotten into the Uni I had wanted, the notes suddenly stopped. They didn’t start coming again until now.” 

When Lando stopped talking, silence enveloped the room. Oscar and Lewis sat there, taking in the information they had just learned. Lando was five when he went through that. Fucking five years old. 

“Thank you, Lando.” Lewis started, “Thank you for telling us.” Lando gave a shaky nod and moved his sleeve-covered hand to wipe at his cheeks. 

Oscar swallowed thickly, unsure what to say. “We-we should probably go see if Carlos got the information from Charles.” 

“Ok,” Lando replied, avoiding eye contact with Oscar but making no move to get up. 

“I’ll just…” Lewis pointed towards the door, casting them a final glance. “Be out in five.” 

Oscar nodded and waited for the door to snap shut before turning towards Lando. Lando refused to meet his gaze. “It’s ok, I know you think I’m a freak now. You can go, I know I’m screwed up in the head.” 

“I– what?” Oscar looked at Lando confused. “I don’t think you’re a freak, why would you think that? Lando what happened to you wasn’t ok. It’s a horrific thing and to think that happened to you at five… I just– I can’t even imagine. You’ve had to keep this a secret for so long, I mean you’ve never had the chance to properly process what happened. But that doesn’t make you a freak. It makes you a survivor.” 

Lando sat dead still, trying and failing to make the lump in his throat go away. He silently willed away the burning in his eyes but it was no use. “I’ve been so scared.” He sobbed. Oscar felt his heart crack, he reached forward, his arms open in invitation. Lando happily flung himself forward into Oscar’s arms, burying his face into Oscar’s neck. Hands clutching his shirt like he was afraid Oscar was going to disappear. Oscar ran a hand up Lando’s back in soothing motions. 

After another moment, Oscar slightly pulled back. “Let’s go see if we can get this bastard.” He stuck his hand out and pulled Lando up, using his own sleeve to wipe away the remaining tears littering Lando’s cheeks. They exited the room and headed towards the others. 

***

“I’ve got a name,” Carlos said, the second Oscar and Lando entered the room. “Our guy’s Derek Miller. His father was Jacob Miller and he moved here with his grandparents when his father died. He’s twenty-seven and inherited the flower shop from his grandma. I’ve got his address too” 

“Let’s go get this fucker.” Max said. 

Oscar turned towards Lando. “Do you want to come or stay here? You’d have to stay in the car if you came.” 

“I want to come. I want to see his face when he’s caught.” Oscar nodded and directed Lando out of the room. 

“Max?” Lewis called, noticing that while Max was the one to say ‘let’s go’ he hadn’t moved a muscle. 

“Be right there,” Max called, his eyes locked on where Violet sat, idly chatting with Logan. Lewis nodded in understanding and exited the room. 

“Can I go now?” Violet asked, moving to get up from her chair when she realized almost everyone had left. Max laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, “I was actually wondering if you could stay.” Violet’s face screwed up at that and she moved to shrug Max’s hand off. “Violet, please. I know what it’s like. To be scared to go home. To have to pretend that the bruises aren’t from you’re fathers hands–” 

“Stepfather’s.” 

“–Stepfather’s hands. You have to understand why I can’t let you go back there. Think of your sister, she's just a baby.” 

“I am thinking of my sister. You think foster care would be any better? At least here I know what’s going to happen to me. Who knows what will happen at whatever foster house I’m placed at. They’ll separate us and I won’t ever see my sister again. I’d rather be beaten black and blue than let that happen.”

“Then just stay here. Just for now. Just until I can get back and then we can deal with this. I’ll help. You don’t have to do this alone. I want to help.” 

Violet looked as though she wanted to fight more but didn’t. Instead, she nodded, gently lowering herself back into her chair and turning away from Max. 

“Logan, watch her,” Max said, turning to exit the room. 

 “Uhh, ok?” Logan said questioningly, he’d been wearing headphones trying to listen to all the news broadcasts to see what was being said about the unsub, and had missed Max and Violet’s entire conversation. 

Violet turned so she could watch Max go, a small flicker of hope entered her eyes. ‘I want to help.’

***

Outside of the precinct, Max hopped into the passenger's side of the SUV. Oscar reversed and Max turned to look at the person in the backseat. “He’s coming?” he asked incredulously. 

“Yup,” Oscar replied. 

Max gave Lando one last look before turning around. “Alright then.” 

***

When they arrive at Derek’s house Oscar jumps out, pulling his gun from its holster. “Stay here,” he says to Lando who nods from the backseat. Max rounds the car so they’re next to one another. 

“You ready?” he asks, glancing back towards where Lewis had just pulled up. 

“Let’s get this bastard,” Oscar replied, moving up the driveway and walking up the steps. “FBI OPEN UP!” he shouts, kicking down the door. 

Max lets out a whistle of appreciation at his kick and quickly enters after him. They spread out, moving from room to room with practiced ease. The sounds of Lewis and Carlos making their way up the stairs are the only thing that interrupts the silence. 

“Couldn’t have waited for us?” Carlos asks with a smirk. 

“You know how Osco is,” Max replied, a smug expression on his face. “Lando gets him all hot and impatient.” 

“He does not,” Oscar replied, gritting his teeth together in annoyance. 

“He does.” Lewis chimes in. 

“What the hell Lewis?” Oscar asks, offended that one, Lewis wasn’t taking his side and two, that Lewis was even chiming in in the first place. 

“Guys, while I always love messing with Osacr, maybe now's not the best time. Y’know considering we’re quite literally in the middle of taking down the unsub.” 

Oscar feels his face flush but doesn’t respond. He turns to look in another room but finds it empty. “There’s nobody here,” he calls to the others. 

“Guys,” comes Max’s voice from farther into the house. Oscar rounds the corner to find him standing in the kitchen over the kitchen table. 

“What is it, Max?” Oscar asks. 

Max slowly turns, showing them pictures that were laid out on the table, orange rose petals surrounding them. One picture was of Osacr and Lando laying in bed together, another was of Oscar helping Lando with his curls in the bathroom, and the final was a picture of Oscar helping Lando into the back of his SUV. All of the pictures had Oscar’s face crossed out in bright red marker. 

Oscar felt his breath catch. His gaze locked on the writing at the bottom of the picture. ‘Catch me if you can. I’m at the place where these were taken. See you soon xoxo’ The writing was in the same cursive writing as the notes. “We need to go now,” Oscar said, no one argued. 

The agents ran from the house, jumping into their cars and speeding towards Lando’s house. Oscar didn’t care that this was probably a trap, he was sick of letting this guy jerk them around and play games. 

“What’s going on? Osc?” Lando asked, voice shaky. 

“The unsubs at your house,” Max replied when Oscar didn’t say anything. 

Oscar pressed on the gas pedal harder, not caring that he was most definitely breaking multiple traffic violations. They arrived at Lando’s house and Oscar jumped out, moving to the back door and ripping it open. “Come with me.” 

“But-but you said to stay here,” Lando replied, confusion clear on his face. 

Oscar sighed, “I know what I said, but it’s not safe for you to stay here alone. Now come with me.” He reached his hand out and intertwined their fingers, pulling Lando forward and out of the car. 

“And it's safer for him in there?” Max asked, pointing towards Lando’s house with his eyebrows raised. 

“He’s safer with me,” Oscar replied, not waiting for a response and pulling Lando with him towards the house. 

When they entered the house, Oscar pulled Lando near him. He used one of his hands to point his gun toward the kitchen and the other to keep Lando securely behind him. 

“I’ll search the living room and his parents' bedroom,” Max said. 

“Oscar nodded, “We’ve got the kitchen and his bedroom.” Oscar swept his gaze across the kitchen but nothing seemed out of place. “C’mon,” he said, pulling Lando towards his bedroom. 

When they entered, Oscar’s eyes immediately locked onto the overturned box and the shredded notes that littered the floor. Lando’s breath caught in his throat and he froze. A loud noise sounded from somewhere further in the house. Followed by a grunt and a gunshot breaking the once overwhelming silence. “Quick over here!” Oscar whisper-yelled, pulling Lando towards the closet and locking them inside. They stood chest to chest inside the closet. So close that Lando could feel Oscar’s breath ghosting over his lips. “Shhh,” Oscar said, trying to get Lando to keep quiet. 

Lando tried, he really did, but he couldn’t get his breathing to slow. Instead, it got louder, his breaths came out in quick panicked huffs. “Lando please,” Oscar pleaded, fear filling his eyes as he tried to get Lando to calm down “You have to be quiet.” 

“I-I’m trying,” Lando whispered back, panic lacing his voice and breathing getting louder. His breathing was coming in short gasps, loud enough that they echoed around the closet. Suddenly there was a pair of lips on his. Oscar leaned forward, capturing Lando’s lips with his own. Lando’s breath caught and Oscar used that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into Lando’s mouth. He deepened the kiss, gently lapping around Lando’s mouth. After a few seconds, he gently released Lando’s lips, letting them break apart for air. Lando’s breathing slowly returned to normal as he stared at Oscar in shock. 

“I-I’m so sorry. I-I wasn't thinking I just… I read somewhere that kissing could stop panic attacks so I–” Oscar was interrupted by Lando sealing their lips back together. “Mmff,” Oscar let out, pulling his hand up to thread it through Lando’s curls. 

They continued kissing until a loud bang resonated through the house. They broke apart and Oscar banged his head against the shelf that was behind him. A few Lego F1 cars came tumbling down and loudly shattered to the ground. “Fuck,” he whispers, attempting and failing to stop the cars from falling. 

“Shit, shit, sorry. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Lando babbles, reaching to feel Oscar’s head for a bump. Another bang comes from inside the house, this time louder. 

“Max!” Oscar suddenly shouts, remembering that his partner was somewhere in this house. 

Lando’s eyes widened, “Do you think…” he trailed off, afraid to speak his thoughts into existence. 

“I don’t know,” Oscar replied, moving to get around Lando and opening the closet’s door. 

“Wait! Don’t–” 

“I have to.” 

“But–” 

“I’ll be back,” And with that, Oscar pressed one last kiss to Lando’s lips before slipping out of the closet and heading toward where the banging noise had come from. 

Oscar wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to see, but the sight of a bloodied Max sitting atop a large man whose face was covered in blood and bruises was definitely not anything he could have anticipated. “Max what–” 

“This is him. The unsub you idiot!” Max replied, seeing the confused look on Oscar’s face. “The fucker shot me.” Max grits out, bringing his fist down and punching the unsub–Derk Miller’s– face again. 

Oscar felt pure rage consume him. “Oh, you bastard.” He moved forward, gently pushing Max off of him and bringing his fist down, punching Derek’s face repeatedly. 

“Oscar, Oscar, Oscar!” Max shouted, laying a hand on Oscar’s shoulder to get him to stop. “If you kill him, he’ll never get what he deserves. You’d be giving him an easy out.” Oscar stopped, his breathing heavy. 

“If you ever so much as even think of him again, I’ll kill you.” Oscar didn’t wait for a response, he grabbed the cuffs that Max held out towards him and cuffed Derek’s hands behind his back. Just as he finished securing the cuffs, the front door burst open and Lewis, Carlos, Chief Cooper, and ten other deputies poured in. 

“It’s about damn time you guys showed up,” Max said, pausing to spit a glob of blood onto the floor. “Missed the party.” 

Oscar looked at him incredulously, handing the unsub off to one of the deputies and leaning down to look at Max. “He’s delirious, probably lost too much blood from the gunshot.” 

“Oh fuck off, it was just a nick to the arm,” Max replied, swatting at Oscar playfully. “At least I was actually doing something. Loverboy over here was too busy making out with his boyfriend to actually help me take out the unsub.” 

Oscar’s ears went bright red. “What– how–” 

Lewis was looking at him with a mix of disappointment and relief? Why would Lewis be relieved– 

“It’s about time you finally stopped eye-fucking the guy and actually did something about it,” Lewis said. 

Oscar choked on his spit, sputtering incoherently. “I– he– what?” 

“Where is Lando?” Carlos asked, looking around the room. 

“Oh shit!” Oscar exclaimed, turning to run out of the room and towards Lando’s bedroom. He could hear the sound of the others' laughter behind him. “Lando?” Oscar called, making his way towards the closet. When he got no response, panic filled his chest and he ripped the door open. 

Inside Lando sat, surrounded by lego pieces, with his knees pressed against his chest. “Is it over?” he asked, voice meek. 

Oscar’s expression softened. “Yeah, it’s over.” He reached a hand out to pull Lando up. When Lando was standing in front of him Oscar’s gaze flickered to his lips. “Can I?” he asked. 

“Please,” Lando replied, surging forward and pressing their lips together. 

This kiss wasn't like the others. It was slow and full of affection, need, and promises. Promises that this wasn’t just a one-time thing. That this was something special. 

***

The sounds of sirens echoed around the neighborhood. Max hopped out of the ambulance, brushing off the paramedics' concerned hands. “Where’s loverboy?” he asked Carlos when he got close. Carlos pointed to where Oscar was sitting with Lando on the front steps of his house, waiting for his parents and friends to get there. “Ahhh,” Max nodded his head understandingly. He turned to look for Lewis but couldn’t see him. “And Lewis?” 

“Over there,” Carlos pointed towards where Lewis was standing by his SUV, phone pressed against his ear. 

“Alright, thanks,” Max replied, clapping Carlos on the shoulder with the hand that wasn’t currently in a sling and heading over toward Lewis. 

Lewis saw Max heading towards him and raised an eyebrow in question. “I'll call you back,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the phone. “What’s up, Max?” His gaze flickered down towards Max’s arm. “How’s the arm?” 

“I’ll live,” Max replied with a shrug. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

“Ok…?” Lewis said, looking even more confused. 

“How would one go about adopting two teenagers and a toddler?” 

Lewis’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You and Charles are thinking of adopting?” 

“Well… we weren’t,  but I talked to him and now we are.” Lewis’s face got even more confused so Max sighed, elaborating. “I can’t let her go back there.” 

“Who?” 

“Violet. She can’t go back there, Lewis. He’ll kill her. There’s a baby in that house. She’s only three. Three years old and living in that type of environment.” 

Lewis nodded his head in understanding. “I see.” He paused, before continuing. “So you’re going to adopt them?” 

“I’m going to try. If it’s something they want that is. Violet said she’d rather be beaten black and blue than go to foster care and I know what it’s like to live in a house like that. He won’t stop and one day he’s going to go too far and kill them.” 

Lewis nodded, “I’ll reach out to my lawyers and anyone else you’ll need to make this happen.” 

Max let out a breath, “Thank you.” 

Lewis smiled at him in return. “You’re a good man, Max.” 

***

Oscar sat on the steps next to Lando. Lando leaned heavily into his side. “Tired?” Oscar asked, a soft smile on his face. 

“Mhmm,” Lando replied, moving to bury his face deeper into Oscar’s shoulder. The sound of tires moving against asphalt brought their attention back to the present. 

“LANDO!” Multiple voices all shouted at once. They looked up to see Cisca, Adam, George, and Alex all running towards their direction.

Lando quickly removed himself from where he had buried his face into Oscar’s shoulder and ran towards them. 

“Oh my god are you ok?” 

“What the hell happened?” 

“Are you hurt?” 

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” 

Lando pulled back from the embrace. “I’m ok,” he said, glancing back towards Oscar. “Oscar got him. I’m safe now.” 

All eyes suddenly turned towards Oscar who felt his cheeks go crimson red. He waved lamely at them which made Alex and George break out into fits of laughter. 

“Can I…?” Lando asked, motioning towards Oscar with his head. 

“Sure,” Cisac replied with a smile. “But don’t think you’re getting out of explaining this so easily.” 

Lando nodded his head before returning to Oscar’s side. “So…” he stated but trailed off. 

“‘So’ what?” Oscar asked, tilting Lando’s head so their eyes met. 

“So what now? For us I mean.” A flush covered Lando’s cheeks as he spoke. 

“Us?” Oscar asked. 

“Oh, I-umm–” Lando started, stumbling over himself in embarrassment, horrified that he had completely misunderstood what this thing was between him and Oscar. 

“I’m kidding,” Oscar said, a bright smile breaking out onto his face. 

“You muppet!” Lando said, smacking Oscar’s chest. 

“You should have seen your face,” Oscar replied, clutching at his side, chuckles leaving his lips. 

“Arse-hole you are,” Lando replied grumpily. 

Oscar slung his arm around Lando’s shoulder pulling him into his chest. “To answer your question, now I have to head back to Quantico.” Lando’s face fell at the mention of Oscar leaving. “And you have to head back to Uni, breaks nearly over now.” 

“Oh yeah,” Lando replied dejectedly. He’d forgotten all about Uni and the fact that he and Oscar lived in completely different states. 

“But,” Oscar started, moving to tilt Lando’s head so their eyes met again. “I can come visit during my vacation days and you can come visit me during your breaks.” 

“So long distance then?” Lando asked. 

“If you want to,” Oscar replied, voice unsure. He hadn’t thought about how Lando might not want to do long distance. I mean, he was a college student for God’s sake, he probably didn’t want to be tied down to someone states away from him. 

“Ok, long distance it is then,” Lando replied happily, tilting his head towards Oscar with pouty lips, clearly asking for a kiss. 

“You want to?” Oscar asked, shocked. 

“Of course, I want to,” Lando replied, like it was the most obvious thing ever and he couldn’t believe Oscar had even doubted the fact that he would want to. 

“Ok, then, long distance.” Oscar pressed his lips to Lando’s, not caring that his team and Lando’s friends and family could see. 

 The kiss was filled with promises. Promises of a future. Of something special that would last. 

Lando was Osacr’s future and Oscar was Lando’s. 

This wasn’t just a spring fling, it was something special. Something that was going to last. 

They would make sure of it. 

[ps-cactus]

No Voices But Ours | HL oneshot

5,400 words | also posted on AO3 and Wattpad Ominis x f!MC, & Sebastian (unnamed MC, no appearance descriptions)

Thank you, the ever-amazing beta @accio-bagel

Tags and TWs: Major Character Death, Post-Canon (10 years later), Haunted House Vibes, Thriller, Mystery, Unreliable Narrator, POV Multiple, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Survivor’s Guilt, Redemption, Tragic Love, Tragic Friendship, Hallucinations, Implied Suicidal Thoughts, Found Family But Also Lost Family, Depressive Themes, Nightmares.

Summary / Preview:

If the past calls, can you ever ignore it? Should you run—or listen closer?

Ominis is right, of course. Sebastian Sallow died months ago, and she saw it happen. He’s gone. Completely gone, because this is certainly not a ghost. She recalls clearly from Hogwarts: ghosts are visible, faintly tangible, capable of conversation, and some even of heated discussions. Whatever voices reach her, whether in dreams or waking hours, they don’t truly exist. It’s nothing more than something perfectly normal that comes with grief—the wish that he were still alive. ... Tonight, he receives another reminder that it's not even a ghost. He knows what ghosts look like and how they behave... Sebastian crouches down but makes no effort to pick up the book. Resting his palm against the polished wooden floorboards, he feels this again. The faint, rhythmic pulses, like the ghost of a heartbeat. After all this time, he knows the pattern—once the rhythm fades, all the odd sounds fall silent too. Not forever, no, but for a while at least. Usually, it fades fast. And it's fading already. Good.

“Are you hearing him again?”

Familiar hands grip her shoulders firmly, bringing her back from the depths of sleep. They also force away a lingering echo of her own scream that still rings in her head. She lets go of the wall where she had probably instinctively clung to escape the familiar rhythmic pulses coursing through every surface in moments like this.

“Yeah,” she answers, feeling the scratch in her throat, and hastily adds, “I know. Just a dream.”

Ominis brushes a strand of hair from her forehead, and she knows he’s using the gesture to feel for fever. She watches his face, bathed in pale moonlight, and his eyes, where this light glimmers in fleeting reflections. It keeps her from acknowledging the never-ending shadowy hallway looming behind him. At night, this house always seems oppressively enormous.

“Just a dream,” Ominis reassures her, placing a light kiss on her forehead. The suffocating dread slowly fades, and sleep starts pulling at her again.

Ominis is right, of course. Sebastian Sallow died months ago, and she saw it happen. He’s gone. Completely gone, because this is certainly not a ghost. She recalls clearly from Hogwarts: ghosts are visible, faintly tangible, capable of conversation, and some even of heated discussions.

Whatever voices reach her, whether in dreams or waking hours, they don’t truly exist. It’s nothing more than something perfectly normal that comes with grief—the wish that he were still alive.

x

Sebastian doesn’t move, hardly even breathes, standing barefoot in the dark corridor. The moonlight carves a pale path beneath him. The screams have faded. Except for the ones that will never leave his head, of course. But in his mind, that same voice isn’t screaming. It’s casting spells. Calling his name sometimes. Spitting out curses occasionally.

But here, it’s always the same—a scream of fear, a scream of pain. He holds back from speaking to that voice again. Maybe there’s no voice at all. Maybe it’s just this old house driving him mad. Tonight, he receives another reminder that it's not even a ghost. He knows what ghosts look like and how they behave. This is a haunting punishment.

He checks a few unused rooms, just in case—filled with nothing but silence, as expected. 

Of course. He’s just going mad, plain and simple. Serves him right.

He leaves without another glance back, retracing his steps toward the bathroom.

x

The trees stand bare, having surrendered into an early slumber even before winter’s touch, yet she always finds comfort in strolling through the garden. Especially as soft strains of a piano drift through the air from a slightly open window. 

She is careful enough not to glance toward the far end of the grounds, taking an early turn to avoid the white tombstone among the old oak’s fallen leaves. Clutching the book she failed to concentrate on to her chest, she lifts her head, absentmindedly looking for the seagulls in the silent sky, but the island’s autumn fog is thick as wool, even at noon.

Lunch passes soon, as unremarkable as so many that came before. The house-elf follows every request, preparing the meals exactly to their liking, but they all taste like nothing to her. Just like the familiar groans of the floorboards, the whispers of the drafts in the old house are simply background details she doesn't even notice anymore.

But her cup slips from her fingers, rolling on the table and sloshing its remaining tea the moment she hears a sharp, furious thud from the room above.

x

Sebastian brushes the book off the table. Useless. Worse still, he can’t even leave to search for something more useful on his own, depending instead on booksellers he barely trusts.

But there is always this fear whispering to him: what if, by leaving, he risks the protective spells faltering or vanishing altogether? He doesn't trust his own magic anymore. Whatever that risk is, it isn’t one he can take. He has to finish what he started. No one must find him before that. He won’t be able to explain. No one could ever understand.

He barely understands himself these days. Least of all can he grasp what truly happened after she used the spell meant to rid them of the relic for good. But he just blacked out—no other term fits better. When he regained consciousness again, it was long past the moment it mattered.

Maybe the confusion goes back even further, because he still has no explanation how the relic found its way back to him after almost a decade.

He hadn’t looked for it, of course. That much was certain. The moment he saw it again, he knew only that it had to be destroyed. He had the audacity to ask his friends for help without having any semblance of  a plan. What a fool. How dare he even call them friends now?

x

She quickly says, "There's something upstairs," even though Ominis hasn't yet asked. He’s just frozen, worried, across from her at the table. “Something fell. Dusky, see what’s going on up there.”

The house-elf, having already cleaned up the tea from the table with practiced efficiency, nods and disappears with a sharp pop. 

x

A muffled pop, both remote and unnervingly near, makes Sebastian turn to the middle of the room. Nothing. 

A second noise, like the lingering reverberation of the first, makes him blink and peer at the empty space. Still nothing. Not a shadow, not a whisper. Not a ghost.

He almost wishes it were just a ghost. He wonders if just a ghost would even bother speaking to him. Or would it simply linger, observing in silence, with no words to give? Would it despise him? Or pity him?

He’d take hatred over pity any day.

x

“Nothing?” she asks sceptically, irritation rising as the elf shrugs and shakes his head. She knows he returned too fast. She sees he’s scared. “Are you lying?”

His frantic head-shaking intensifies, eyes flickering in panic for a moment before he dashes from the room.

“House-elves can’t lie,” Ominis notes calmly.

“Wait!”

The elf doesn’t stop, his retreating steps disappearing down the hall toward the kitchen. She turns sharply toward Ominis.

“House-elves can’t disobey, either.”

x

Sebastian crouches down but makes no effort to pick up the book. Resting his palm against the polished wooden floorboards, he feels this again. The faint, rhythmic pulses, like the ghost of a heartbeat. After all this time, he knows the pattern—once the rhythm fades, all the odd sounds fall silent too. Not forever, no, but for a while at least. Usually, it fades fast. And it's fading already. Good.

He frowns at the book on the floor before eventually placing it back on the table, where there’s still a little space left among all the glasses and plates.

Beneath the papers, Sebastian notices an envelope resting at the very edge of the table. This one holds nothing but more grief and pain. So be it.

He tugs at the corner of a letter a little. The recipient’s name stings his mind. His own handwriting looks foreign. It’s the last letter he ever sent here. He never should have written it. Even if it had been the last thing he ever did, he should have handled it alone. 

Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? That’s exactly how it will be now. Alone as he is, and with this probably being the last thing he ever does, he will see the relic destroyed. There are already a few ideas he’s considered. For instance…

A gust of wind scatters some papers from the table along with that letter, making Sebastian glance up, noticing the seagulls flying by again, their cries unusually loud today. With an annoyed flick of his wand, the window snaps shut, and the glass rattles in protest.

x

“...Or suddenly go mute! But all of this—” Her voice rises, frustration mounting with every syllable of a conversation they’ve already had too many times—until she stops. “Did you hear that?” 

Ominis doesn’t answer, focusing instead on making a genuine effort to understand, just as he does every single time she hears something he does not. As usual, for him, there’s only silence. Her chair screeches against the floor right before she darts past him out of the room. Soon, her hurried footsteps reach the top of the stairs.

Ominis hesitates before going after her. Whatever these ‘sounds’ are, they terribly exhaust her. She doesn’t know how to stop them or make some sense of them, and he has no idea how to help. All ever since that day.

He still remembers the rage that consumed him—his entire being, the whole world at once—when Sebastian, after ten years of a perfectly decent life, claimed that the relic had simply turned up in his house. How convenient, Ominis said then, because it was agonising to realise that every bit of faith he had in his friend’s redemption had been misplaced. 

However, she had always been the one willing to trust people, to believe in them. It’s because of her he agreed to listen to Sebastian at all. Now her faith is likely the reason she still can’t accept how truly catastrophic his mistake had been and why she can’t let it go. 

When Ominis finally follows her into the room, she comes to him at once. He searches for any disturbance, any inconsistency in the signals from his wand—but there’s nothing. Nothing but silence and stillness.

“There’s nothing.” Her voice comes out quiet, almost shaking, just like her hands. “I don’t know… Must have imagined it. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he squeezes her hand slightly, repeating the simple words that still seem to help them both. “It’s alright. It’s an old house; I used to hear things here all the time. It’ll pass.”

Later that night, Ominis leans over a sink in a bathroom far from their bedroom, gripping the porcelain with both hands. The rush of water fills the silence around him.

Yes, he still remembers that all-consuming rage. But the rage and anger are long gone. Ominis has had no will for anger in a long time. The little strength he does still have, he hoards for forgiveness but never quite reaches it. If there’s one thing he has in excess, it’s pain—so much that, deep down, he knows exactly what she feels, far better than he cares to admit.

Each time he jolts awake from that nightmare, detailed as ever, Ominis edges closer to acknowledging what she had always seemed to know. That the person coming to their house that day wasn’t a reckless teenager, but a man genuinely terrified of something he wanted to but couldn’t explain. Terrified of what came true after all.

Odd enough, Sebastian’s death had never once appeared in his nightmare. The final moment is never about him at all. And her dream is the exact same. There are moments when Ominis almost speaks aloud the theory forming in his mind. He may not hear voices or strange sounds, but he feels the way the silence here lingers unnaturally. It makes every room feel emptier than it should, stretching the time even. Or the way the fire in the hearth loses its warmth the more attention he gives it. The simple yet so complicated theory. Almost impossible. Rather insane.

“No. This is ridiculous,” Ominis murmurs, shutting the tap off. He presses his hands, insufficiently cooled by the water, against his face. Wrapped up in his own mind on this troubled midnight, he fails to notice that the tap seals itself shut, ceasing its quiet dripping.

x

Sebastian twists the tap tighter and hurriedly returns to his usual spot—the blanket spread out on the bathroom floor. Thick enough that he can’t feel the subtle impulses beneath him, though he knows, without a doubt, that they’ve started the moment the tap started dripping by itself. 

He sleeps right here often because the space is just small enough not to smother him with its hollowness and because, until now, this was the only place where they had never reached him. He always hears them from afar, from other rooms, but never here. 

Although now he would swear on anything, he just heard Ominis’ voice right beside him.

He isn’t afraid of such things anymore. He doesn’t even indulge in these imagined voices, either, weaving the illusion that he was never at fault at all. But lately a mere voice seems a rarity, because what he hears more often is the scream. And it gets closer. Just like the voice was right here in this room. As though any semblance of peace is vanishing from his reach completely.

x

“You’re gone… you’re not real… you’re gone…”

She rushes through the garden, her tears sliding off her cheeks just as fast. This time, she doesn’t turn away from that path. She is barely awake from yet another dream that returned the terrible, aching thoughts. 

She doesn’t even wait for Ominis to come back, so desperate is the need to see the tombstone again, to remind herself of reality, of acceptance, and—please—just calm down.

It’s too late to change anything. She must live on. Must focus on the future, or at least the present. Anything but the past. 

She steps closer to the white stone standing out in the darkness and wipes off the soggy leaves clinging to it. Her fingers trace the rough-cut letters briefly before they freeze.  

x

Sebastian hugs his knees closer, still sitting on the bathroom floor. Her voice. The deafening ‘No!’, as distant as it seems resounding straight from within his own head. He senses the faint, rhythmic pulses coming off the floorboards and walls. Stronger than he’s ever felt them. The pain is no longer confined to his chest; his whole body hurts.

He knows what’s doing this to him. Knows it’s punishing him and knows why. But he can’t take it anymore. No matter how—it just needs to be over. He has to act. He has to try. 

As he stands, he keeps his gaze on the door, refusing to acknowledge the mirror. One of the reasons is the grey in his hair. As if he has any right to still be here, growing older, when they will never get the chance.

Determined, he steps into the hallway. 

Each step down the creaky staircase is deliberate, and the grip on his wand is firm. 

All the resolve drains from him as he reaches the entrance to the vast, empty basement. Almost empty. He leans into the cold stone as his breath catches.

Is he really allowed to take another step? Will it let him even try? What if it already knows what he wants?

The house drafts feel much colder than before. He’s barefoot again, clad in only pyjama trousers and a thin shirt, but sweat drenches his skin.

x

As she drops to the ground, the wet leaves beneath her knees smear into mud. Ominis calls her name again and again, but her voice is just as lost as her mind might be. It’s only when he touches her shoulder that she jolts and tries to speak again, unsure, however, she will make any sense at all.

“Th—there…” She chokes out, unable to finish, her eyes locked on the letters on the white stone. “And you… your…” 

Ominis kneels beside her, dropping his wand on the leaves. One arm wraps around her, steadying her trembling body, while the other gently finds her face. 

“Shhh… I’ve got you, shhh… It’s alright.”

That’s when she notices that unlike her, he hasn’t even thrown on a coat. She doesn’t think when she starts to rise, oddly happy there is a reason to leave. She keeps swallowing her tears, trying to say, “It—it’s freezing. Why are you—”

“No, it’s not,” Ominis stops her. There’s tension in his voice, but it carries a quiet steadiness hers lacks. “Feel it. The wind, the ground—they're not cold. Please, just stop and feel.”

The request stuns her for a moment, but she lowers her hand to the damp leaves. Her fingers dig into them, seeking for the earth beneath, searching for a chill that should be there, that must be there—but isn’t.

“How? Why?” Her voice falters as her eyes snap back to the white stone. It doesn’t make any sense. She begs it to be some nonsense. Another nightmare. She finally speaks the words she had meant to, even as each one feels unbearable. “Ominis, the tombstone… It has our initials. Both of ours. Ominis, please… Why?”

“That dream we both have sometimes,” he says, drawing closer, his fingers skimming her cheek again. It hurts him too, to speak, but he can’t keep holding this in. “You had a feeling it was the truth, didn’t you? But something stopped you from saying. Like a word on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach, no matter how hard you try to grasp it, so you let it slip away.”

The truth. 

The truth is somewhere so painfully close.

It is in so many things she keeps both accepting and hopelessly missing. All this time, she had never questioned when their break from work, taken months ago, would end. There were no letters sent or received. No owls for so long. No seagulls in the ever-quiet sky, not once in months. 

And yet, she never questioned it. 

She had turned away from these questions, just as she had turned away from the tombstone, because deep down, she knew too well. Because even though Sebastian’s body and the relic had vanished without a trace, she knows that the stone was more than a memorial and that beneath it, the ground was not empty.

She knows why the nightmare always ends there. 

She understands why it always ends the same way.

x

Another drop of sweat trails along his temple, blending into the single tear streaking down his cheek as Sebastian steps into the basement. He lights a few torches along the walls.

The relic waits, undisturbed, right where he left it. 

A monument to his foolishness. 

Spells are echoing in his head again, desperate, never-ending. 

Slowly, he advances toward the small pyramid on the stone floor, more surprised at each step. It didn't even let him this near that day. 

Blink. A glance to the side—that’s where Ominis was. He was closer, so Sebastian reached for him first, fingers searching for a pulse. He hoped. Listened for breath. Heard nothing. Blink. His eyes dart to the farthest, darkest part of the basement—where she fell. Walking toward her, he knew already. Blink. He turns, just for a moment, toward the door. That’s where a curious house-elf was peeking inside, terrified. 

Sigh.

He raises his wand, aiming directly at the relic. He doesn't know if he could cast the spell or if he could even force out a single word and what might follow. 

He simply wants this all to be over.

x

She once believed that facing some kinds of truth can be painful enough to unravel someone completely. And still, even through the ache, her mind is sharp; it feels clearer than it has in such a long time. To understand, to recognise the truth, is now as effortless to her as drawing breath had once been. A pang of guilt and disappointment in herself stirs inside her—is she really so selfishly determined to deny her own destiny that she chose to believe it had belonged to someone else?

For so long, she had been spiralling, lost between reality and endless illusions, unable to comprehend whatever this is that’s happening to them. But now all her thoughts, both clear and still taking shape, flow down her cheeks in the form of tears… 

No, not quite. They flow onto the fingers that slowly trace her skin.

Ominis is here. Beside her, just as he always has been. Even as she pulled away, as she lost herself, when he had been struggling just as much.

“Ominis, I’m so sorry…” She whispers, leaning on his knee, clutching at the thin fabric of his pyjama trousers. “I’m so sorry…”

“No—Why?” His hand moves carefully as he brushes against a stray strand of her hair near her face before returning to settle beneath her chin. 

“I think… the last thing I remember before everything changed… Is using Ancient Magic. Something went wrong. That must be why we’re both… I’m sorry. I don’t know… Merlin, I just…”

"No, don’t say that," he says firmly, holding her tighter against him. "We made that list of ideas together, didn’t we? We all chose to take the risk. That relic was far more complicated." He breathes in deeply before continuing. "You remember when I said that if it found him, rather than the other way around, it could be worse than anything else?"

She watches as his hand trails down her arm, finding her hand clenched into a fist on his knee. Carefully, he unfurls it, weaving his fingers through hers. 

“I do. It would have meant this relic is so powerful and complex, it may have something like a consciousness of its own…” She looks up at him. “So… you believe him? That he didn’t try to find it again?”

“I truly don’t know. But if both he and the relic are gone, and that means he’s facing it alone somewhere... then I genuinely hope he can overcome it.”

“He loathes himself so much. There’s so much pain inside him. But whatever happened then, I know the relic has no hold over him anymore.” 

Her eyes drift back to the gravestone with six letters on it. It hurts more the more she understands; her mind is flooding with all the realisations she used to suppress. And yet, she still doesn’t fully get it. “You truly haven’t heard anything? Nothing at all? No thuds, no footsteps, no voice?”

“I swear, I didn’t hear anything,” Ominis says, as if regretting that it’s true. “No voices but ours, no footsteps, nothing unusual at all.”

“But you had the same dream as I did?”

“Yes.”

She grips his fingers tighter, and his thumb strokes hers in slow, steady movements. Her mind swirls with thoughts, and though some facts settle easier than others, they wound her just as deeply. 

Sebastian has some bond with the relic because he once wielded it, and she has one because she attempted to destroy it with magic she believed she understood. Could that be the reason she had heard his voice? 

But why—why is Ominis here? And the elf...? What if she is the reason they are all somehow trapped? That would be too cruel. Is there any part of this she can still change? Is there anything left for her to undo at all, or did all the possible moments pass beyond reach?

“What if… maybe this is all just another dream?” She breathes out, pressing her eyes shut, unable to handle the number of questions—some unanswerable, some too painful to even voice.

Ominis says nothing. He simply leans forward, pressing his forehead lightly against hers.

x

Sebastian clenches his teeth so hard it hurts—from sheer anger. Mostly, he is furious at himself. At the foolish fifteen-year-old boy who once decided this damned thing was the answer he needed. 

The relic had changed—there are no Inferi on its edges, it seems smaller, and utterly silent. And he didn’t black out after unleashing magic on it, spell after spell. 

Still, none of it worked.

The only thing left to try is the spell he had used the first thing back then. The relic had changed so much in the months. Maybe this time, it will work. 

Anyway—

He is so done he’s ready to tear the whole world down and himself afterwards just to make it all end. He takes a deep breath, his wand already starting the precise movement.

A flash. 

A thunderous crash.

He freezes, eyes narrowing as he notices something new. The smallest, almost invisible crack on the relic’s surface. He feels something he hadn’t felt in eternity—a sharp, unexpected jolt of joy that almost makes him laugh. 

x

Ominis lowers his hand from her face, his head tilting toward the house.

“There’s someone there,” he whispers, his words almost lost in the wind. “It’s not the elf.”

“True… Not an elf,” she whispers back, placing her palm to the ground again out of habit, expecting the usual pulses, but there is nothing. The shock of it—both the missing sensations and the man standing before her, whom she hadn’t seen for so long—is so great that it takes her a moment to realise she wasn’t the first to notice.

“Hold on, you actually heard it?”

The silhouette doesn’t move closer, stopping just a few steps away.

“Is that… Is that you?” The distant voice wavers, hesitant, uncertain.

“I hear,” Ominis nods. “It’s Sebastian.”

“Forgive me,” he still hesitates, as if afraid to take another step. “I fixed it. I think I did. Just… please…”

For the first time in forever, the voice doesn’t come from within her own head—it’s real, right beside her. His real voice. But the weight of the new suspicion is so heavy, so full of sorrow, that if they had been near the island’s shore, she is certain the grief alone would have pulled her under the waves straight to the ocean floor. From the way Ominis remains perfectly still and silent and only furrows his brow, she knows he feels the same. 

The brief hope they had is mercilessly gone.

x

The pyramid’s peaks emit a soft silver glow, their rhythmic pulses no more spreading through the ground and the walls. A faint light seeps from the crack, sluggish and indifferent, as though the relic knows it has no audience. And even if Sebastian Sallow weren’t lying motionless on the stone floor and was still able to be interested in anything, he wouldn’t have seen this glow no matter how hard he tried.

The glow pulses at the four peaks, climbing the ridges toward the highest, the only still unlit point. When it reaches the top, it gives a last, weak flicker. And fades.

A last, feeble shudder runs through the relic. Then, there is only stillness. Probably the kind that exists in the last fragile second before an unstoppable storm.

The relic cracks. 

One thin line becomes many, crawling over the relic’s surface like vines overtaking a house, claiming it entirely.

x

“He just vanished,” she murmurs in disbelief. She barely has time to process it before noticing something worse. “Ominis, the house—it’s fading. Something’s changed.”

The world transforms quickly. She doesn’t even have time to describe what she sees, but soon there is nothing left to describe at all. The wand on the ground is gone. Ominis’ arm remains wrapped around her waist, and she suddenly understands that she must not let him go, so she clasps his hand and presses it tighter against herself.

The house is gone. The elf is nowhere around. There’s even no earth beneath them anymore. No leaves. Nothing but the blackness where the world used to be. 

Beside them, on what looks like a floor made of black glass, lies Sebastian. In the vast, consuming darkness, the only glow emanates from beside him. Covered in an endless network of fine lines, the relic appears to still be whole only because of this soft, familiar glow.

“He destroyed it,” she realises, looking closely. “The relic. It looks slightly different now, and it carries a little trace of Ancient Magic.” 

“So using your magic wasn’t the wrong choice. Maybe that’s what altered the relic and allowed it to be destroyed. But why did he appear so briefly?”

“He’s… he’s here as well.”

She guides Ominis’ other hand to Sebastian’s shoulder, and he tightens his fingers uncertainly around the damp fabric of the shirt. 

“Tell me, is it just me, or…”

She knows. She doesn’t understand why, but she’s glad to know. “This is strange, but… yes. Maybe…” 

She glances around quickly, but there is nothing. Nothing at all. The void stretches on, endless, empty. The last traces of the faint glow continue to fade. 

“Nothing?” Ominis asks, but she can hear it in his voice—he knows the answer.

“Nothing,” she says, because she has to say it out loud. “If all this was tied to the relic, that means we… we’ll be…”

She knows, with unbearable certainty, what’s happening. There’s nothing they can do to change it. And the only thing that truly matters now remains unknown—what comes next.

“Hey. It’s alright. This is just a dream. Any moment now, we’ll wake up,” Ominis murmurs, lightly lifting her chin. “You hear me? There will be no more nightmares. All of them are over now.”

She watches the tiny reflections of light flicker in his eyes as she trembles in his arms again. She doubts it will happen the way he describes, but the way he says it soothes her.

So she accepts it.

And from acceptance comes peace.

From peace comes… hope. The last one. 

She reaches for the silver glow of the relic, if anything of the original relic remains at all. For the last time, she calls upon this magic, and it obeys, eagerly, almost as if it’s glad to. The glow drifts with her hand as she lowers it onto Ominis’ fingers, which have just returned to Sebastian’s shoulder, as if he had known exactly what she was about to do.

“It’s alright,” Ominis says, leaning slightly toward Sebastian. “It’s not your fault. None of us is to blame.”

“No more nightmares,” she adds firmly, watching as the edges of their fingers blur, dissolving within the dwindling glow. She looks away, squeezing her eyes shut, curling forward, her forehead pressing against Ominis’ chest.

The sharpest pain now comes from knowing that their final days, their last months together, had been filled with confusion and suffering. And that those months were truly their last.

“I… I wish we had more time,” she says.

“Let’s find each other again when we wake up, alright?”

She barely nods. “Alright.”

“Just please, don’t be too hard to spot. I’m not exactly great at hide-and-seek.”

A weak laugh escapes her as she sinks further into his embrace. His hand settles over her head. His other hand moves slowly, smoothing down her back in a measured rhythm—steady, unchanging, like the tide rolling in and out. Her trembling lessens with each pass of his touch, and at last, she feels safe, fully sheltered—not just from the endless emptiness that’s already around, but from whatever comes next.

x

The last traces of the silver glow fade away. The relic lingers only for a heartbeat more, as if offering a final farewell, before it shatters into countless fragments, each no larger than a speck of dust.

xxx

Sebastian Sallow’s pulse hammers against his ribs, wild and unsteady. Each breath he exhales pushes the tiny piles of dust away from his face. He doesn’t dare to move yet. 

He listens. 

The voices reach him, but for the first time, they bring no fear. There is no anger in them for some reason. No hatred. He doesn’t like that. He thinks back to his own thoughts, but the weight of self-loathing is no longer there somehow. It isn’t his choice—he doesn’t want any relief—but he lacks the strength to fight. His gaze catches on the scattered dust, and suddenly, he knows what it is.

He actually did it. It worked. The relic is gone.

As he steps outside on unsteady legs, he shields his eyes from the light that burns his eyes. It’s too bright and feels almost too warm for autumn. He looks toward the white tombstone. There’s no one there, of course.

He trembles, feeling his body surrendering to exhaustion. He stumbles back inside and sinks onto the first sofa he finds. 

He sleeps for hours, peaceful, dreamless, and unmoving. This sleep will definitely settle something inside him. When he wakes up, he will know what to say to people who keep asking. He will know how to return to work he once loved, and he will love it again. He will live.

And no one in this house will ever suffer another nightmare.

P.s. I couldn't have said in the beginning but it was partially inspired by 'The Others'. Thank you for reading, your feedback is very much appreciated ❤️🥹

[oporayamm]

The Beauty in Silence [Chapter 3]

Silco x Fem OC || Boss x Employee || He falls first and fell harder || Yearning, Angst, Slow burn, Acts of service ||

TW: Depiction of violence, Slight gore depiction, Blood, Panic Attack, Intrusive Thought, Graphic depictions of violence, including physical combat, descriptions of injuries, and death.

Summary:

Nishita has always been eager to help, taking on even the smallest tasks with determination. Over the years, her friendships with Jinx and Sevika have given her the confidence to stand her ground and occasionally speak up to Silco when necessary. As Silco’s assistant, she takes pride in her role, especially after he helped refine her reading and writing skills, complementing what she learned with Jinx. This guidance not only made her more capable but also heightened her awareness of her surroundings—particularly when it comes to Singed and his unsettling experiments.

side note: you can read the full in ao3 here :D

⋆.˚☾.⋅⋆༺𓆩🗡𓆪༻⋆ 𓌜 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 𓌜 ⋆༺𓆩🗡𓆪༻⋆☽˚.⋆

The job of being Silco's right blade—and occasionally his assistant—wasn’t too demanding for her. Yes, she's also Silco's assistant, occasionally , sorting through documents, summarizing key points, and adding notes for him so he doesn’t have to read every detail himself. It felt more like a game than actual work, for her. She skimmed over a new stack of papers, her eyes flickering with focus, when an old memory broke through, bringing an unbidden smile to her lips.  

In her first year under his employ, her role was simple: stand behind his chair, ever vigilant in case something went awry when they were outside. But standing there, idle and unproductive, wore on her patience. Eventually, she’d asked Jinx to relay a request—to do more than just pour his drinks and clear his ashtray. She wanted to be useful. Sure she had the occasional murder, threat, and stab here and there but that still is, occasionally . Most of the work goes to the goons when it's disposing of a body.

She remembered how Silco had looked at Jinx, his arms crossed, voice laced with irritation. “Can’t she say that herself?” His crimson and turquoise eyes flicked briefly to her, then back to Jinx.  

Jinx, always protective over her new friend, crossed her arms in defiance and pouted. “She could if you understood sign,” she quipped, adding smugly, “But she can’t read or write much yet. I’m teaching her now!”  

At that, Nishita hurriedly scribbled a note and handed it over. The writing was scratchy and uneven, but legible enough to get her point across.  

“Hell yeah, I am,” 

the note read, complete with a poorly drawn thumbs-up.  

Silco pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly as if trying to summon patience from the depths of his soul. “Teach her to write properly, Jinx,” he muttered. “I love you, my daughter , but there is no world in which I’m tolerating another set of your handwriting on my papers.”  

Jinx’s pout deepened as Nishita reached out to pat her head in silent reassurance, her smile hidden beneath her scarf. Jinx glanced up at her, then back to Silco, her determination reignited.  

“Dad, you should teach her! You’re a better teacher than me!” she declared, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.  

Nishita’s eyes widened as she immediately shook her head, gesturing wildly with her hands to emphasize her refusal. Her signs, less fluid back then, came one word at a time, [“He– busy- man– Jinx only!”]

Jinx watched her carefully, then signed back slowly, [“No!”] before turning her full attention to Silco. 

“Dad! She learns quickly! She’s got a good memory—she won’t test your patience, I promise!” She leaped onto his desk, sitting cross-legged as she stared at him down, her grin mischievous.

“And with her helping you, you’d have more time to spend with me…” She unleashed her most powerful weapon: wide, pleading puppy-dog eyes. Silco sighed, his stern resolve crumbling almost immediately. Reaching out, he ruffled her hair before gently pinching her cheek, a rare and familiar gesture of affection he reserved for his daughter.  

“Clever fox,” he muttered, a faint smirk curling his lips.  

Jinx grinned triumphantly, her confidence radiating. “I got it from my dad!” she chirped a glint of pride in her voice.  

Nishita smiled at them, a quiet warmth blooming in her chest that she didn’t quite understand yet. She placed a hand over her heart, as though trying to steady the unfamiliar feeling.  

“I’ll do my best to teach her, but if it doesn’t work, you’ll take over,” Silco bargained with Jinx, his tone dry but tinged with amusement.  

Jinx tilted her head, a playful grin spreading across her face. “If you throw in ten explosives, then it's a deal!”  

Silco smirked, indulging her theatrics. “And I’ll hand the lot to Singed if you fail.”  

“Deal!” Jinx declared, shaking his hand firmly.  

Nishita clapped her hands together, though confusion danced in her mind. She caught only fragments of the conversation—words like bargain , deal , and explosives sticking out. Wait... explosives?  She blink her eyes quickly while looking at them both, nervously.

“Okay!” Jinx jumped up onto the ledge of Silco’s office, her energy bubbling over. “Here are the books I got—” She flung a pile of books from the ledge, one of which Silco caught mid-air while the others crashed to the floor. Nishita scrambled to pick them up, carefully stacking them into a neat pile on his desk.  

“Nishita! Catch!” She looked up just in time to see a notepad and pen flying toward her. Reacting quickly, she caught them both, clutching them to her chest.  

“Okay, see you guys later! Byeee! Have fun, Nishita! Bye, Dad! I’m gonna blow up some people!” Jinx shouted, her voice echoing as she slipped into the vents with practiced ease.  

“Just make sure the explosives work ,” Silco called after her with a resigned sigh. His attention shifted to the stack of books now occupying his desk. He shook his head slightly, muttering, “She’s not teaching you much, is she?”  

Nishita shook her head but reached for one of the books. She held it up, pointing at the cover with an expression of curiosity, and giddy. 

“What is it? You like that book?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.  

She nodded, then pointed at him, motioning with her hands as though mimicking a mouth speaking. Silco’s sharp eyes followed her gestures, piecing the message together.  

“The book sounds like me?” he ventured, tilting his head slightly.  

She nodded again, her eyes alight with silent excitement.  

“How is it—oh,” he said, squinting closer to see the title. His lips curled into a small scoff as he recognized the book. Of course. It was his book—a collection of poetry he’d long since forgotten about. Jinx must have stolen it without even knowing what it contained.  

“That’s my old book. No wonder.” He reached out, and she handed it to him obediently. He flipped through the pages, noting that, miraculously, they were untouched by Jinx’s usual chaotic doodles and splashes of color.  

“I’m guessing you kept this safe?” he asked, glancing up at her. She nodded, already scribbling something on her notepad. When she slid it over to him, the handwriting was still scratchy and uneven, but he managed to decipher the words:  

“Like book, like you.”

Her soft smile accompanied the note, but as his eyes lingered on the message, her head tilted slightly, curious about his silence.  

“You… kept this book safe as you keep me safe?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful.  

She nodded once more, a small, affirming gesture. His scoff was barely audible this time as he tucked the note into the pocket of his coat. She watched him curiously, puzzled as to why he didn’t just toss it aside like he usually did with scraps of paper. Still, she shrugged it off and reached for a few other books she had read before—with Jinx’s help, of course.  

Carefully, she lined up five of them in front of him, her expression eager. He raised a brow as she scribbled another note and slid it across the desk.  

“Dictionary?”

She remembered Jinx had told her to start there and make sense of the words before diving into other books. Silco leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment before responding.  

“I have one,” he spoke. “You should read it alongside this book.” He handed the poetry book back to her before rising and striding toward his bookcases. After a brief search, he pulled a well-worn dictionary from the shelves and placed it in her hands.  

“Read by the couch. If you have any questions about the words, you can ask me—but only when I say I’m on break,” he instructed, his tone stern but not unkind.  

She didn’t seem to catch the latter part of his sentence, her wide, curious eyes already glued to the dictionary in her hands. Something about the book had enraptured her. She remembered holding something similar once—a scroll, perhaps—but now, its form had shifted to a book, a structured thing of pages and bindings. She had already read a few lines, fully engrossed, and hadn’t even noticed that Silco was still speaking.

“Are you listening?” he asked, his tone sharp, arms crossing as he waited for a response.

Her gaze finally flicked up to him, her eyes gleaming with excitement, though her thoughts were clearly elsewhere. She nodded quickly, clutching the books tightly to her chest as she moved to the couch. The moment she settled in, she was entirely immersed in her task, flipping pages and scribbling notes with an energy that was rare to see in the grim stillness of the office.

Silco watched her from his desk, one brow slightly raised. Though she didn’t make a sound, her happiness was unmistakable in the way her body shifted—leaning forward, focused, eager. Her unspoken delight at finding something new was almost infectious, though he didn’t say a word. He scoffed quietly to himself and returned to his own work, though his eyes drifted to her more often than he’d have admitted. She didn’t notice him watching, too engrossed in the pages of the book, lost in her own silent world of discovery.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

She finally snapped back to the present when she knocked over a pile of papers she had just tidied up, a small gasp could be heard from Silco's ear as she quickly tried to catch the midair papers and gather the ones on the ground.

“You haven't eaten, haven't you? No wonder these days you're out of focus.” Silco scolded her sternly again, she looked away from him as she put the papers by his desk again, sliding herself to her usual spot but he raised his voice.

“Nishita.” His tone was stern “Go down and eat your food, once you feel better you can finally use your brain for once.”

She just sighed at his words and nodded to him, scribbling something quickly before she put it by His desk as she left, closing the door quickly, he took it and read it,

“Sorry to burden you with my clumsiness, sir, I promise to do well next time.”

Wrinkles form at his brows as he puts it away not liking the other nickname she had of him, he gets another letter seeing the apartments he had wished to see in another viewing today with her.

Downstairs, she rested her face flat against the bar table, her arms tucked under her head. It was still early—barely past 11 a.m.—so the place was mostly empty, leaving her alone in the quiet.

“What would you like? Food? Drink?” Ron’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She lifted her head slowly, grabbing her notebook to scribble something before sliding it across to him.

“Just a sandwich and fries, please, with probably sweet juice.”

Her expression settled into a pout as she let out a soft sigh, and Ron glanced over her note with a chuckle. “Well, you’re certainly a rare one. No one around here says ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ much anymore.” He tucked the note into his pocket and disappeared into the back to prepare her meal.

She stayed seated, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the table while her mind drifted to Silco. What was making him upset again? The paperwork was caught up, meetings with clients had gone smoothly, and even the apartment viewing yesterday had turned out fine. It was difficult to pinpoint the reason for his dissatisfaction. After a while, she gave up trying to figure it out, her focus shifting to the plate Ron placed in front of her.

“There you go,” Ron said with a grin, watching as her face lit up at the sight of the sandwich. She took a bite, and the happiness was written all over her features.

“You like that? I’ll keep making it for you whenever you want—or maybe that ham sandwich the other guy left the recipe for,” he offered casually. Her head jerked up at the mention, a few bits of chicken dropping from her mouth as she tilted her head in confusion. Ron paused, scratching his head as he tried to recall the details.

“Oh, yeah. The last guy snuck in a hidden menu by the bread shelf. Ham isn’t on the shelf anymore, though, so I made it with chicken instead. That' okay?”

She nodded quickly, chewing and swallowing another bite. She didn’t want to linger too long, eager to finish and head back upstairs.

“Cool then,” Ron said with a shrug, returning to wiping down the bar. The silence stretched on for a moment, broken only by the clatter of dishes in the kitchen, until Sevika slammed her metal hand against the table. Ron jumped, startled, but she had already noticed Sevika’s approach. She didn’t even flinch.

“Warm soup.” Sevika barked, her voice gravelly and sharp. Without a word, Ron scurried off to the back to fulfill the request. Sevika groaned and let her head fall against the table with a dull thud.

Sevika’s hair looked damp and oily, her appearance slightly disheveled. Nishita watched for a moment before running her fingers lightly through Sevika’s hair, smoothing it down with a gentle pat.

“You’re lucky you don’t drink,” Sevika muttered, her voice muffled by the table. Then she let out a low chuckle, turning her head slightly. “But unlucky, since you’re a virgin. You're missing out.”

Nishita blinked at her, confused. She didn’t understand what Sevika meant by virgin but shrugged it off with a soft smile. Patting Sevika’s head once more, she stayed quiet as always, letting her presence speak for her.

“Shouldn’t you be on shift? Why are you eating?” Sevika asked, her metal fingers tapping the table lightly as the soup arrived. She didn’t wait for a response, immediately diving into the bowl, her expression softening as the warmth seemed to chase away her hangover. Nishita, watching from across the table, found Sevika’s small moments of enjoyment oddly adorable. Quietly, she scribbled something in her notebook, tearing out the page and sliding it toward her.

“Silco told me to eat after I dropped off some stacks of documents. I admit, I’ve been feeling lightheaded these days. I don’t know why.”

Sevika read the note, and one eyebrow arched. “What? You pregnant or something?” she joked, chuckling as she slurped another spoonful of soup.

Nishita’s eyes widened, and she immediately shook her head, furiously waving her hands to signal a definite no. Sevika froze mid-laugh, her grin fading. She thought she might’ve hit a nerve for a second, but when Nishita just kept shaking her head the way she shakes when she's flustered, Sevika let out a relieved sigh.

“Well, good,” she muttered, her voice lowering. She slouched over her soup, the tension easing. Nishita, as always, didn’t catch the shift in tone, probably assuming it was just Sevika’s usual exasperation.

“Either way,” Sevika continued, “you should see Singed after your shift. Could be nothing, or maybe you’ve just been eating good. But still, it's better to check in with him.”

Nishita nodded as she finished the last bite of her sandwich, quickly writing something else. She handed over the note, taking a sip of her soda while Sevika’s eyes scanned the words.

“I will, Sevika. Singed told me getting my period again would actually be good for me, but honestly, it’s been far too long since I’ve had one.”

The words made Sevika pause, her jaw tightening slightly. Alarm bells rang faintly in her mind as her sharp gaze flicked up to Nishita. The younger woman was busy wiping her hands with a napkin, seemingly oblivious to the gravity of what she’d just shared.

Sevika leaned back slightly, the note still in her hand. Nishita wasn’t the type to lie, she knew that much. If anything, Nishita rarely shared anything unless prompted. She was quiet about her past, always tiptoeing around it like the details didn’t matter. Sevika didn’t know much, but she knew enough—enough to piece together that Nishita had spent far too long scraping by in the lowest levels of Zaun, surviving on little more than scraps. It wasn’t suspicion that gnawed at Sevika now, but concern. Malnourishment was all too common in Zaun, but Nishita had been working under Silco’s wing for three years now. Three years of consistent meals and a stable enough life. By now, her body should have adjusted. Shouldn’t it?

Sevika tapped the note thoughtfully against the table, her expression carefully neutral. To Nishita, who glanced at her with innocent curiosity, she probably looked calm, even dismissively. “Yeah, definitely see Singed,” she said firmly. “Sooner rather than later.”

Nishita, oblivious to the concern lurking behind Sevika’s eyes, nodded again and smiled faintly before taking another sip of her soda. She kept the note in her pocket and nishta had finished her food and patted Sevika's shoulder as she went upstairs to Silco's office again,

Sevika made a mental note to hand the latest batch of Nishita’s notes to Silco. All her words went to him—it was an unspoken rule that everyone understood. Her thoughts, her actions, her very presence— they were his, she is his . Silco had made sure of that, in ways no one dared question.  

Everyone in the last drop, hells , the undercity knew better than to cross that line. Theo, the old bartender, was a brutal reminder. The man had been reduced to pieces, fed to the lowest dregs of Zaun, his remains scattered among the filth he once thrived in. And why? 

Because he dared touch what belonged to the lord of the underground.   

Sevika didn’t shudder at the memory—she’d seen worse. But she couldn’t deny the weight of Silco’s control. Nishita’s soft, silent demeanor fooled some into thinking she was untouchable because of pity. Sevika knew better. Pity had nothing to do with it.  

Sevika cast a glance at Nishita, who was quietly making her way up the stairs to Silco’s office—the serpent’s den. Entirely unaware of the strings that bound her life. Sevika sighed and downed the last spoonful of her soup. 

If there was one rule in the undercity, it was simple: everything Silco claimed, he keeps it. Fiercely. And Nishita? was no exception.  

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

After finishing her shift, Nishita waited until Silco retired to his quarters. Once the sound of his door closing echoed faintly through the office, she tidied his desk and straightened the scattered papers. It was a quiet ritual, one she carried out without fail. Before leaving, she carefully wrote a brief goodnight note, placing it neatly on his desk before stepping out into the dim streets of Zaun.

Her destination was Singed’s lab just down one level of Zaun from the last drop, a foreboding, shadowy place that seemed alive with the hum of alchemical experiments. Despite its eerie atmosphere and the man’s coarse, raspy voice, Nishita found a strange comfort in its familiarity. To her, Singed was not a terrifying figure but a brilliant one.

“If it isn’t Zaun’s most intriguing person,” Singed greeted as she entered. His tone, soft but laced with dry humor, echoed through the lab. Nishita responded with a bright smile, quickly sitting herself near his experiments. She scribbled a note and slid it across the counter for him to read as he worked.

“Hello, doctor! It’s been a while since I last saw you. How have you been?”

“The usual,” he replied, not looking up from his work as he read the note for a bit. “Making shimmer as the demand keeps growing, experiments here and there,” He glanced at her briefly, his brow raising. “I assume you’re not here for work?”

Nishita shook her head and began writing again, handing him another note.

“No, the quota is met, and the shipment will proceed tomorrow. I came to ask about my health. My head’s been spinning, and I haven’t gotten my period. I should tell you when things like this happen, shouldn’t I?”

Singed paused, skimming the note before setting his current experiment aside. His sharp, analytical gaze fixed on her as he folded his arms.

“Well,” he began, his tone clinical, “your health should still be on the upswing from the last check-up. However, this could be the result of nutrient deficiencies from your younger years. What about the supplements I gave you? Have they run out?”

Nishita rummaged through her sleeve, producing the small bottle he had given her. It still contained a quarter of the yellow-green shimmering liquid. She scribbled another note while he inspected the bottle.

“I’ve been taking it daily, as you instructed. While it’s helped my muscles grow stronger, but, I can still see my ribs and hip bones. Doctor, I think I’m a lost cause. Not even someone as brilliant as you can help me.”

Singed set the bottle aside, his expression unreadable. “You are no lost cause, dear,” he replied matter-of-factly. “As I’ve said before, all you need is a small amount of shimmer—just enough to enhance your health and strength without risking addiction.”

Her brows furrowed deeply at the suggestion, and she began tapping her notebook repetitively with her pen to get her point.

“I’ve told you before, doctor. I don’t want shimmer in my system.”

Singed sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he relented. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do, Little Blade. But it will take time.” Nishita nodded, her determination unwavering. She scribbled another note and handed it to him.

“As long as I’m not dying, doctor, I can wait,”

Singed let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “I can assure you, with the amount of food and exercise you’re getting, you’re in as pristine health as any Zaunite can hope to be.”

Hearing that, Nishita clapped her hands softly in delight, her expression brightening. She reached up, pulling down her scarf to reveal her face fully as she smiled at him. It wasn’t the first time she had done this, but each time she pulled away her scarf carried a quiet significance. Singed noted the small gesture, glancing at the burns that marred his own skin.

Over time, he realized this act wasn’t born from mockery or pity but from something simpler—kindness. Whether she did it consciously or not, it was her way of making him feel less isolated, less monstrous. Unlike most of Zaun’s hardened, survival-driven inhabitants, Nishita’s kindness felt genuine, untouched by the grime and brutality of the Undercity.

Perhaps Silco’s watchful guidance had shaped her into someone who could endure Zaun without losing herself entirely. Singed’s gaze lingered on her briefly before returning to his work, thoughts swirling unspoken.

Meanwhile, Nishita was already tidying his cluttered workspace, her hands moving with quiet efficiency. She could never stay idle for long, not even in the company of someone as deeply rooted in his experiments as Singed. He didn’t stop her, allowing her to take over, knowing it was simply her way.

“I’m guessing Silco has no issues with his eye?” Singed asked, his gravelly voice breaking the silence as Nishita continued sweeping the floor. He tapped absently at a vial, observing the subtle shimmer of its contents. “The dosage is less than what you picked up for him last time. I wonder why.”

She paused briefly before walking over, standing in front of him, her notebook already in hand. After scribbling a quick response, she handed the note to him.

“As far as I’ve observed and helped him with his injections, he’s been trying to take less and less, but I can tell he’s struggling. I don’t know why.”

Singed leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he hummed thoughtfully. “Drug lords often try to avoid using their own creations. Pride, perhaps, or a sense of separation from their product. But Silco? He has no choice if he doesn’t want his eye to rot entirely.”

She sat down beside him, her expression thoughtful as she quickly jotted down another message and slid it to him.

“Is the rot caused by Zaun’s polluted water, or by your shimmer? You explained once that shimmer restored his sight, but it also blackened his sclera and turned his iris red. It seems to be eating at him.”

Singed raised a brow, momentarily caught off guard. Her keen understanding and sharp deduction surprised him—three years of reading, learning, and observing had honed her mind in ways he hadn’t fully appreciated. There was a certain natural brilliance to her that shimmer-enhanced bodies could never replicate. She was rare, a product of unaugmented precision and intellect.

“It’s both,” he admitted with a low sigh, placing the note on his cluttered desk. “The shimmer restored his sight, yes, but Zaun’s polluted water exacerbates its side effects. Before shimmer, he was blind. I gave him vision, though not without cost.” He hesitated, then smirked faintly, his tone shifting to something drier.

“Still, if I could cut you open and study you, Little Blade, it’d advance my work by decades.”

Her response was swift and wordless. A glint of steel flashed through the dim light, her knife slicing cleanly through the air. It nicked his cheek before embedding itself into the experimental rat he’d been observing on the table.

“A joke, my dear,” he said, chuckling dryly as he reached over, dislodging the blade and handing it back to her. His tone betrayed no fear, only faint amusement. “Though your reflexes do speak for themselves.”

She took the knife back silently, her gaze steady and unflinching, flicking the blood and shimmer off it as she sheathed it in one fluid motion. Singed leaned back in his chair, observing her with a mixture of curiosity and grudging admiration. She was an anomaly—unpredictable, intelligent, and entirely unyielding, traits that made her stand out even in the chaos of Zaun.

And yet, there was something else about her that gnawed at his thoughts, something that didn’t quite fit. Was she truly of Zaun? The undercity was a patchwork of displaced souls, its population a blend of those born in its depths and those who had fled from elsewhere. But her origins remained a mystery to him.

How could he know? He, himself, was an outsider. A native of Piltover, he had long since cast off his ties to the City of Progress, but remnants of its influence still lingered in him—in his speech, his mannerisms, his methodical approach to his work. Though he’d made Zaun his home, he could always identify a fellow outsider. And Nishita, with her quiet resilience and the peculiar way she carried herself, didn’t entirely belong here, even if she blended in so seamlessly.

Still, it was a question that didn’t need answering, at least not now. She was a puzzle, and while Singed’s instincts drove him to solve mysteries, this one could wait. For now, she remained an intriguing enigma, one that he wasn’t ready or perhaps too wary to dissect further.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The next day, Silco postponed his usual mountain of paperwork to accompany Nishita on a scouting trip for an apartment near the Last Drop. The place they visited was modest by his standards, though it was well-kept and located near the toxic water's surface. It wasn’t far from the bar, a practical distance, and it offered enough space for Nishita to host Jinx or Sevika on occasion. Silco silently assessed the apartment while Nishita explored every corner with curious intent, her silent approval revealing more than words ever could.

The landlord, visibly uneasy in Silco’s presence, tried to maintain composure. "Everything has been fully fixed, cleaned, and is ready for move-in, sir," he said, voice trembling. Silco barely acknowledged him, his focus instead on Nishita, who eventually turned to him after inspecting the apartment thoroughly.

“So?” he asked, his tone sharp but measured. “Is it to your liking?”

She nodded, her expression softening as she perched on the couch with a small hop, already envisioning Jinx filling the space with her colorful chaos. Silco turned to the landlord, who visibly flinched as their eyes met.

“We’ll take it,” Silco said, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.

“G-good choice, Sir Silco,” the landlord stammered, hurriedly handing over the paperwork. Silco signed the necessary forms with a dismissive flick of his wrist and waved the man away.

As the door closed, Silco approached Nishita, who was still daydreaming on the couch, her thoughts seemingly far from the present moment. He stood beside her, his gaze critical yet curious. “Out of all the fancy options, a week of searching, you choose the most... ordinary one,” he muttered, rolling his eye, but its predicted she would pick it, she is a simple person after all. 

She looked up at him with a bright smile that briefly softened the sharpness in his features. Silco scoffed and moved to the couch across from hers, sitting with a practiced indifference. “Whatever makes you content, my knife. Now, do you have anything to move? I’ll have the boys handle it.”

She tilted her head, hesitant, before finally writing something down. Silco took the paper and read it, his brows furrowing as he processed her words.

“The clothes I’m wearing are the only ones I have, and there’s just an altar in my room. I would sleep on the floor back at the slums, i think the mattress isnt needed–. I think I can carry my altar myself—it holds sentimental value.”

Silco exhaled heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re moving here tonight,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Nishita simply nodded, knowing better than to refuse.

“The boys will accompany you. I have work to attend to, and Sevika is enough to serve as my guard for the day.” Silco stood, his sharp voice cutting through the air. Nishita rose immediately, ready to follow, but paused when he didn’t move.

He stood there, his piercing gaze fixed on her. Nishita tilted her head in confusion, lifting her hand slightly to get his attention.

“I was thinking,” he began slowly, “that you could use some new clothes. We’ll visit the tailor soon. I need a new suit myself.”

She let out her soft, breathy chuckle—a sound more cough than laugh—and quickly scribbled something on a slip of paper. Handing it to him, she waited while he glanced at her with mild suspicion before reading the note.

“My lord, you’ve been wearing the same style of suit for years. I don’t think you need a new set, considering you just wear the same thing over and over.”

Silco’s lips curved into a faint, fleeting smile—one reserved solely for her. “I see your sense of humor is improving,” he remarked dryly, slipping the note into his coat pocket. “Is it because of that new book you’ve been reading?”

She nodded and clap her hands softly too, scribbling something quickly and show it to him, 

“I love the comedy! Reminds me of you and jinx!” 

He scoffed and take it from her gently, “whatever you say nishita, now come, you need your stuff moved”

Silco strode toward the door with his usual purposeful gait, and she followed closely behind. Before crossing the threshold, Nishita paused, her eyes sweeping over her new home one last time. With a small nod, she pressed a hand to her chest, silently mouthing a prayer in her mind and heart.

“Jan'ahrem janna, aškrk ʿlī al-ʾslāmẗ, līǧrī al-ʾʾrīḥ kālmṣīr ẖīṭā–-"

“Nishita, come now.”

Silco’s voice echoed sharply from the hallway, cutting through her moment of reflection. She quickly turned, slipping out of the apartment and into the corridor where he waited. The prayer lingered in her mind as she followed him, thanking Janna for the gift of a new home. Deep down, she wondered if her words would be heard. After all, prayers from Zaun had rarely found an answer.

⋆.˚☾.⋅⋆༺𓆩🗡𓆪༻⋆ 𓌜 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 𓌜 ⋆༺𓆩🗡𓆪༻⋆☽˚.⋆

[Prequel || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || AO3 ]

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Adventures in Babysitting

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64498885 by Cthulhubelle Tony's been laid low by an injury. Pepper's exhausted. Peter steps in to babysit Morgan & help her understand how to deal with what's happening. *** Boarding school AU. More details in the author's note. TW: Some characters dealing with chronic illnesses and in depth descriptions of their loved ones who have anxiety surrounding that. Words: 2786, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Peter Parker & Tony Stark - Boarding School AU Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Pepper Potts, Tony Stark Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Pepper Potts Additional Tags: Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Injury, Chronic Illness, Hurt Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark, Protective Peter Parker, Babysitter Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has a Medical Heart Attack, Not Canon Compliant, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Precious Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Fluff and Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Good Friend Ned Leeds, Tony Stark Has a Heart read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/64498885

[ao3feed-peterparker]

Adventures in Babysitting

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/gYX8WbV by Cthulhubelle Tony's been laid low by an injury. Pepper's exhausted. Peter steps in to babysit Morgan & help her understand how to deal with what's happening. *** Boarding school AU. More details in the author's note. TW: Some characters dealing with chronic illnesses and in depth descriptions of their loved ones who have anxiety surrounding that. Words: 2786, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Peter Parker & Tony Stark - Boarding School AU Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Pepper Potts, Tony Stark Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Pepper Potts Additional Tags: Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Injury, Chronic Illness, Hurt Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark, Protective Peter Parker, Babysitter Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has a Medical Heart Attack, Not Canon Compliant, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Precious Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Fluff and Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Good Friend Ned Leeds, Tony Stark Has a Heart read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/gYX8WbV

[mellybaggins]

Oathbreaker Chapter 65

Vampiros

Astarion leads Morwen into the depths of Cazador's dungeons.

TW: I took what the game gave us and made it a little worse, so...warning for descriptions of some awful shit and a ton of angst.

Author Note: I've decided that I'm going to take a writing break for the month of November (No Write November instead of NaNoWriMo.) November 1st will be the 1 year anniversary of my starting to write this story, so it's time I take a little break. I will be posting at least one (hopefully two) more chapters in October, and then the next will go up December 1st. I'll still be writing, but at a slower pace so I can go Christmas shopping and catch up on shows I missed and clean my apartment. I'm so grateful for everyone who reads this little passion project of mine, and want to assure you I will be back to finish the story. This is going to be my deep breath before diving in to the end.

(Yes, I'm aware they should be wearing armour in the screencaps, I didn't feel like going back to fix it. Also, they're pretty!)

AO3 Link

[auroracalisto]

aurora's 2022 fic pick

hello, and welcome to my first post of the new year—my 2022 fic pick! i will be compiling some of the fics i read and loved from this past year below!! to make it harder on myself, i've resorted to choosing only three for each month. i guarantee i've read hundreds more.

TOTAL FICS: 36

included fandoms: marvel, american horror story, the last kingdom, the 100, the witcher, peaky blinders, law and order: svu, the umbrella academy, gotham, stranger things, the princess bride, top gun, hetalia, timewasters, original work

DISCLAIMER: SOME OF THESE FICS MAY CONSIST OF NSFW. please be aware before clicking on them. also, please read responsibly—i have not included all triggers to the fics, only major ones, so please be sure to check those before you read the fics.

there is one month (october) in which i only reblogged two fics, and i checked my ao3 history as well. i didn't read a single fic on ao3 that month. to try and make up for it, i have posted an extra for the month of december.

JANUARY

words left unspoken by adorin on ao3 - doc ock x reader - fluff and angst, character death, gn!reader - this fic was *chefs kiss* no joke i love it and i recently went back to re-read it. it gets better every time. Heartbeat by HanakoSpiritoftheToliet on ao3 - matt murdock x reader - pregnant!reader, fluff - this was so sweet. i am a sucker for fluff. Terrible Two's by writeyouin on ao3 - charles xavier x reader - parent!reader, fluff - like i said. a sucker for fluff. i can't help it.

FEBRUARY

Soulmark by @dyns33 - matt murdock x reader - a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff; happy ending - i remember reading this for the first time and absolutely crying when i read the ending. it was SO good. Lost In the Shadows by @7-wonders - vampire!michael langdon x fem!reader - part of a collection of fics, kind of spicy towards the end, but nothing serious - the series is seriously so good. i am 100% prepared to re-read it. Chivalry's Death by e_n_silvermane on ao3 - 2p!prussia x reader - hetalia, gore, mute!character - LISTEN. EVEN IF YOU DON'T LIKE HETALIA. this is SUCH a good fic. literally it is so good. there's so much depth to the story itself, and i absolutely love every part of it. like... the description, the guilt the characters feel—it's literally a piece of art and i will stand by that until the day i die.

MARCH

For a moment by @disasterofastory - finan x fem!reader - hurt/comfort, gore - LOVE. love this fic. all her fics are so good. almost like praying by @imaginearyparties - steve rogers x bucky barnes - gore, gay religious angst - i fell in love with this fic with the first paragraph. i knew i was in for a magnificent piece, and ilana never fails to provide. There are monsters and there are men by silverwolf7850 on ao3 - vampire!matt murdock x reader x werewolf!frank castle - fluff and angst, canon-typical violence, supernatural themes - this fic FUELED my love for both matt and frank. i literally loved every second of it and i wish there was more to it.

APRIL

Rescuing You by @violetrainbow412-blog - vampire!eddie munson x fem!reader - angst, kind of villain!eddie - bro this was IT. this was the fic that fueled my love for vampire eddie, and i've never been the same since. unnamed by @000ficlets otto x reader - fluff - this fic is literally only five paragraphs long but i loved it so much. like,,, you know how you just read something about you can just feel the love coming from it? yeah. this fic. beautiful. against all odds by @twistnet dmitri antonov x fem!reader - angst, fluff, possible tw due to violence - this was one of the first dmitri fics i read after becoming attached to the character... brb gonna re-read it AGAIN.

MAY

A Surprise Guest by JaskiersWolf on ao3 modern!jaskier x reader - first meetings, alcohol - bro. BRO. when i say this fic is so good, i absolutely love it. it's so soft and makes me feel all warm on the inside. 6 Meters Under and Back Part 1 by @onesaltyhunter - vampire!sihtric x fem!reader fluff? bloody vampire stuff - oh my gosh when i found this, i jumped on the opportunity to read it. i love vampires, and i LOVE sihtric. is there a part 3? i don't know if there's a part 3. It's good to see you! by @disasterofastory alfie solomons x reader - technically first meetings, anxious reader, being followed - disasterofastory always has amazing fics and this one,,, idk there's just something about it that i love to read. it's totally alfie and it's written well!!

JUNE

Scarrification by BruisesAndBuzzaxes on ao3 victor zsasz x fem!reader - fluff, meeting family, character backstory - this is a long fic, but it's *oh* so good. like it's literally worth every last word. i've read it a few times through already. i might go back again and read it one more time. Where Our Pieces Fall in Place by anotherwinchesterfangirl on ao3 - finan x fem!reader x sihtric NSFW, time travel, polyamory - so good. SO GOOD. i love time travel tropes and this one hits the spot, every time i read it. Imagine being chosen to join Wonkru in the bunker before Praimfaya [...] by @fanficimagery roan x reader, past!echo x reader - angst to fluff, typical canonical violence - ohhhh my gosh in a world of so little roan x reader fics, this one is a diamond in the rough. it's so good.

JULY

Peanut Butter Cookies by @eddie-van-munson eddie munson x reader - slight angst with a happy ending, jealousy, allergies - jealousy fics are so good and this one was just,,, too good. i love eddie. i love domestic eddie. please don't cry by @sickoherd john murphy x reader - comfort fic - short comfort fic with john murphy <33 it was sweet and simple and so good with just a few words. Selfish Jerk by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord jim hopper x reader - fluff, a little angst, taking place during season 2 - i looove hopper. this was the first fic i read in july that was jim hopper, and it definitely wasn't the last.

AUGUST

IF I DIE YOUNG by @imgoingtofreakoutnow steve harrington - finale-based fic; major character death. lots of angst. - this fic is so good. i remember reading it for the first time and i actually cried. multiple times. i loved getting to read how steve may have felt in the days after the season 4 finale. annie's writing is so good regardless. Darling by @no-mercy-bby ralph timewasters x reader - short fluff fic - one of the first fics i read of ralph and i absolutely fell in love with him. bby is an amazing writer and they've definitely captured my attention on more than one occasion. want me to kill him for you? by @froggywritesstuff diego hargreeves x gn!reader - short fluff fic - diego is amazing and the characterization in this fic is just as incredible.

SEPTEMBER

That Guy by YouGotThatWrite on ao3 rafael barba x gn!reader - fluff, meet-cute over coffee - my mom and step-dad watched the entirety of law and order: svu and i just so happened to watch most of the episodes with rafael in them. i already loved him. and then i read this fic. it's so good. The Eddie Munson Collection by Edtease on ao3 eddie munson x reader - blurb collection; somewhat nsfw - these were so good and i loved getting to read about a somewhat domestic eddie munson. some of them are a little on the nsfw side, so please be aware before reading. Imagine finding out that Rafael sometimes worries about your age difference by @svubloods rafael barba x reader - age difference, established relationships - okay so i'm not even gonna lie i love fics that take valid concerns and makes the characters live through it. that being said, i also love rafael. there's no questioning as to why i loved this fic.

OCTOBER

City Nights by @thebirdybrigade allen f. jones x gn!reader - possible tw for attempted s/a, violence, etc. slight angst to a bit on the fluffier side?? - oh boy the first hetalia fic i've included on this list. i genuinely loved this fic. it was written well, and i love to re-read this. the ending kills me, every time. goodnight, my love by eliwashere on ao3 original character/reader - major NSFW warning, vampires, original character, pwp - i don't even remember how i found this fic. i think i clicked on the vampire tag on ao3 and came across this. it's so good?? like i fell in love with the plot of the story, and then the smut itself was a bonus. AND THEN the author included a sketch of the character in the next chapter, and boom, i fell in love, AGAIN. i literally do not have another fic for this month. i was off of social media well until the middle of the month. i will include an extra one on december because i know i have enough for that month.

NOVEMBER

THOSE WHO ARE LEFT BEHIND by @imgoingtofreakoutnow steve harrington x gn!reader - platonic, mentions of death and mourning - the second of annie's fics i've listed. it's sad, but it's so good. it's the budding of a relationship and i absolutely adore every bit of it. attention by @imaginearyparties namor x reader - okay but let's talk about the fact that ilana ALWAYS has good fics, and this one just proves it?? it's so good. i hadn't even watched the new black panther yet and i had already fallen in love with namor because of how he was written in this fic. are you thanking me or your god? by @lazypeachsoul uhtred ragnarsson x fem!reader - meeting, budding relationship - uhtred is a babe and the way lazypeachsoul writes him is magnificent. i love him and this fic so much.

DECEMBER

Nobody But Me by @ohthatstragic tom "iceman" kazansky x fem!reader - jealousy, established relationship - THIS was the first iceman fic i read after watching top gun maverick for the first time and i fell in love with him. not to mention the writer did well with characterization. gonna come back to this fic at some point and re-read. Concussed by @topgun-imagines mickey "fanboy" garcia x fem!reader - slight angst, injury - fanboy is adorable and this fic (other than the injury he sustains) is so cute. i loved reading it. Dating Westley Would Include... by @bowieandqueen11 the princess bride westley x reader - dating headcanons - i need more princess bride fanfics. i've talked to a few mutuals about it before and i might just do it. this fic is so good, though. i'm so glad it's out there. extra since i only had two for october: Strong people aren't born they're built by meowmeowpumpkin on ao3 jake "hangman" seresin x fem!reader - angst, a bit of violence, major tw for some things; please be sure to read the author's warnings before you read. - bobbbb in this fic. i love it. and the 180 jake does when he realizes that something isn't right with his wife. it was good.

and a reminder for everyone reading:

[piggy-i-broke-the-conch]

LotF Iceberg Meme

I haven't seen one of these before so I decided to make my own. Full explanation under the cut! (art on second tier is by@/sinnamonralph and art on third tier is by admin huck of @/ask-jalph )

tw- brief non-descriptive mentions of rape/sexual assault

Surface:

jalph memes- kind of self explanatory, also just lotf memes in general

maurice is a memelord- the popular headcanon that maurice is a dank memer

character name puns- the many puns you see in lotf fans' usernames, e.g.- memerice, jackass merridick, etc

simon deserved better- he really did

1963 and 1990 movies- i think most people know about these two film adaptations. the 1963 version is objectively better

c sharp jokes- i just thought of this one while i was writing out the explanation and couldn't be bothered to go back and add it, sorry. jokes based around jack bragging that he can sing c sharp in chapter 1

Shallow:

lotf 100 minifics- a popular series of oneshots on AO3 by the user queencrank, largely centred around smut

roger x rocks- popular (?) crack ship, sadly i have been subjected to rule 34 of this

surname headcanons- since only jack and percival have canon surnames, lots of fans make up surnames for the other characters, e.g.- maurice hall, roger moore (both my headcanons)

magic conch- the subject of a spongebob episode which parodies lotf, appears in a lot of memes outside the fandom

lotf rejected by 17 publishers- lotf was initially rejected many times before eventually being published, i think this one is common knowledge

lotf based on william golding's time in ww2- his exposure to the horrors of human nature during his time in the war inspired the core themes of the novel, again probably common knowledge for those who have studied the book

simon is jesus- simon is heavily implied to be an allegorical figure representing jesus (the link is much more explicit in earlier drafts of the novel). william golding expands on this idea in his essay 'fable', i'd recommend reading it if you're curious.

roger and simon are canonically POC- i added this one because i often see fanart of them (mainly roger tbf, though i have seen some of simon as well) as white so figured it wasn't completely common knowledge. both are described as having darker skin tones in the novel.

all female lotf- the controversial all-female film adaptation of lotf announced back in 2017. the idea was scrapped (presumably due to backlash and staff changes) and it is now going to be an all-male adaptation directed by luca guadagnino! i'm so hyped for it!!!

pig's head is satan- the eponymous 'lord of the flies' is based on beelzebub, another title for satan (or sometimes a separate demon depending on who you ask)

piggy's real name is charles- not sure how common this is tbf but i often see people stating piggy's real name as charles in fanfiction. there isn't evidence for this in canon so i assume it is just a popular fan headcanon

Mid-Depth:

nopeimnotrussian art- i see art by this person literally everywhere when i'm looking up lotf fanart and i only found out who they were today. they make a ton of jalph content and generally seem pretty cool.

EDIT- ok so the art for this tier was supposed to be something by nopeimnotrussian but I messed up and used a picture that was drawn by someone else (aka sinnamon ralph, also a very cool artist with a nice username)! apologies, i'll make sure to be more careful in the future when using fanart. and thank you to the commenter who corrected me!

ask jalph- an ask blog i also see art from everywhere (particularly art by one of their admins, admin huck). also applies to lotf ask blogs in general, there are a lot of very cool and creative ones out there!

lotf stageplays/musicals- i was going to list a specific example but there are so many of these it was difficult to choose one. i really want to see one someday

retribution- another popular lotf fanfic written by circadian lily on fanfiction.net/AmRye on AO3. i'd highly recommend reading this one, it's so good

lotf is a fanfic- lotf is partially a satire of 'the coral island' by r.m. ballantyne and other similar coming-of-age adventure stories for boys which were popular at the time. the main characters are called ralph and jack in both works, and some phrases in lotf are taken almost word for word from the coral island.

piggy's real name is peterkin- the character peterkin in the coral island (see above) seems to have partially been the inspiration for both simon and piggy. the name simon may have been based on peterkin (as peter from the bible later took on the name simon), but i like to consider piggy's real name to be peterkin since it isn't already being used by another character as it is.

eastern bunny- an artist who made several popular fanarts i often see being reposted (such as one of jack and ralph holding child versions of the other major characters, and one of jack holding a spear up to ralph's neck). sadly i'm fairly certain their tumblr has been deleted, but they are very talented and i love their work.

ralph's mum- ralph's mother is mentioned to have been absent from ralph's life in the book but it is unclear whether she left her family voluntarily or died. i've seen different interpretations in fanfiction.

characters that only appear in the 1990s movie- there are several characters mentioned by name in the 1990s movies that did not appear in the original book, such as dominic. i always feel excited when i see people mention them (same for obscure characters from the book itself like stanley and walter)

irl lotf- there are actually multiple cases of events similar to lotf occurring in real life, the most well-known one being this one i believe

Deep:

1963 movie deleted scenes- there are around 2 hours of additional footage which were cut from the 1963 film adaptation of lotf, including several important scenes which were key to ralph's character development such as the interaction between jack and ralph in chapter 3 of the novel. while i sadly haven't been able to find a lot of these deleted scenes, you can see some of them online such as the one i just mentioned, which is available here.

fable essay- this essay was written as part of a larger collection of essays entitled 'dreams'. it is included in the back of the education edition of lotf which is widely available in bookstores in my country (england), although i imagine you can find it elsewhere if you want to read it. it provides some interesting insights into golding's thought process while writing the novel as well as some extra details on characters and themes.

original first chapter- lotf originally had an extra chapter at the start which expanded more on the nuclear war occurring in the background of the present novel and the circumstances behind the plane crash which triggered the novel's events. this chapter was later cut as many of the publishers who rejected the novel particularly disliked it. the original draft of lotf is currently being held by the university of exeter in england. it's my dream to go and read it one day.

living lord of the flies- a 2013 mini-documentary narrated by tom gaman (who played simon in the 1963 movie) about the production of the movie and his experiences during filming.

alkitrang dugo- a lesser-known filipino lotf movie adaptation from 1975. i haven't been able to find this anywhere so i haven't seen it sadly, but i know it had both male and female characters stranded on the island.

jack is based on younger william golding- i don't remember where i read this so admittedly i'm not sure how reliable it is, but i feel that there is some basis to jack being based on william golding himself. golding was fairly problematic when he was younger (and in general actually), having once attempted to rape a 15 year old when he was 18, for example.

continuity errors- i thought i made a post on this a while back but i can't find it for the life of me (it might have been on the since-deleted lotf amino actually)- essentially, there a couple of continuity errors in the novel which i think about excessively even now, i.e.- henry is referred to as a littlun and a bigun at different points in the novel, maurice's height is inconsistent, and bill is simultaneously in both ralph and jack's tribes for a bit.

Mariana Trench:

lotf is set in 1952- i've seen a lot of debate about when exactly lotf is set, and there is technically a canon answer to this. in the original draft of lotf, the novel ends with the time and date: '16.00, 2nd October, 1952.' however, it's possible that this would have been changed in the final version of the novel. i personally headcanon the year lotf is set in as 1954, the same year it was published.

beating scene in 1963 movie was real- this scene was based on the scene in the novel where jack orders wilfred to be beaten for essentially no reason. in the movie, the actor volunteered to actually be beaten for this scene.

irl roger- the actor who played roger in the 1963 movie, roger (!!!) elwin, was basically just his character in real life. apparently he used to throw live lizards into fans while on set. when the production staff asked him why he was doing it, he answered that he wanted to see how many pieces they would be cut into.

rape scene- the scene in the novel where the boys hunt and kill the sow that later becomes the lord of the flies is apparently supposed to resemble a rape, illustrated by phrases such as 'wedded to her in lust' and by the place roger stabs her in. i was pretty freaked out when i first saw this interpretation of that scene, it gives an already disturbing scene an even darker context.

william golding performed social experiments on his students- golding was a teacher at bishop wordsworth school in salisbury, england while he was writing lotf. during this time he frequently ran experiments on his students in which he split them into groups and set them against each other, much like in lotf. some of the characters in lotf may also have been based on golding's students.

deleted jalph ending- while the lotf fandom wiki seems to be a bit better maintained now, when i first joined the fandom about 4 years ago it was super chaotic and filled with random edits. one of these was a claim that there william golding initially wrote an alternate ending to the novel in which jack and ralph get together, which was later removed. i just thought it was funny so i decided to add it here.

Well, that's everything! This post took me like 2 and a half hours to make, so I hope it was at least somewhat interesting/entertaining. Sorry for my sporadic posting schedule as always, I've been really busy with university lately (that and I seem to only end up posting when I'm hit with a sudden deluge of lotf brainrot, like now). I do have another meme I started making and then didn't finish, I might post that at some point if I do actually finish it. Anyway, thank you if you managed to read all of this and I hope you have a great day/night!

[heroinejinx]

‘Sore subject?’ - Advices and Vices, part 6 of ? (CaitJinx Modern AU)

AO3 link.

Remember when I said things would get darker? Yeah, they sure did. 

Jinx & fancy parties do not mix. Neither do Jinx and most people. Love that for her lol enjoy the melodrama <3

Note: I’ve previously referred to Jinx taking Shimmer & Ketamine, but have now replaced Ketamine with a drug I’ve made up called ‘Fade.’ It has similar downer/opioid properties but is *not real* which gives me a bit more freedom to experiment with it. Hope the change isn’t too confusing!

TW: mature content, explicit drug use, description of a panic attack, suicidal ideation... all that fun stuff. 

(9,679 words)

Loaded on Shimmer, Jinx ambled down the street towards the party, her mind a web of questions and theories about the evening ahead. Would she see Caitlyn? Would Vi notice how high she was? Would there be cake?

If she knew Seraphine, there’d be a rainbow cake with sprinkles and strawberries. Mmmmm… Jinx imagined eating it as she skipped along.

Seraphine’s parents were Zaunites with new money. They’d made a name for themselves by owning a chain of factories, selling their wears across the bridge and throughout Runeterra, rubbing shoulders with the rich snobs of Piltover and corrupt wannabes of Zaun alike. Their so-called mansion looked out on the Pilt, about a mile upstream from Caitlyn’s place. The houses along that stretch of river were all built in the last decade, the only ‘fancy’ part of Zaun.  

Jinx had tolerated enough of Silco’s rants on the subject to know that the area was designed with the intent of extending Piltover’s influence across the bridge rather than bettering the undercity. She despised it; lost count of the dreams she’d had of burning it all to the ground. Every single house, including Caitlyn’s. Might’ve even lit the first match right on the entitled Piltie princess’ doorstep.  

For Seraphine’s parents to have bought into the fantasy showed several gross traits: they were gullible, spineless, greedy, delusional… the list went on and on. Their daughter wasn’t much better, but at least she knew how to slum it like a true Zaunite. Seraphine embraced where she came from. Sure, she was privileged and blind to the suffering and darkness that plagued Zaun’s depths, but she wasn’t cruel or arrogant about it. The bar was low.

Did Seraphine still party the way she used to? Jinx first met her years ago at a secret rave by the docks. Her long, bubble-gum pink hair flailed in the wind as she danced like a manic ballerina, and Jinx had to have her. Several shots and snorts of Shimmer later, they were all over each other in a blur of tongues and limbs and giggles.

Given her engagement to Vi, the ultimate Debbie Downer when it came to drugs, Seraphine’s fun days were probably behind her. Bummer.

Finally at the house, Jinx double checked she had the correct address. The place was huge. Much grander than she remembered. Not a mansion, but undoubtedly impressive.

She traipsed up the gravel drive, surrounded by fellow partygoers in their finery. Compared to their designer suits and gowns, her leather jacket, black skater dress, knee-high socks and gothic platform boots looked… well, kinda trashy.

Should’ve asked Vi about the dress code. But it was Vi, for fuck sake. Since when did her punk big sister give a shit about dress codes? Even Caitlyn didn’t care about things like that. Sure, the Kirammans did, but Caitlyn didn’t listen to them. Serrie and her pretentious parents must’ve really gotten under Vi’s skin.  

A lady Jinx didn’t recognise stood by the double-doored entrance, dressed in blue silk, champagne flute in one hand and scrawny cigarillo in the other. Her silver bob was coiffed and sexy, dark red lipstick flawlessly applied. As Jinx drew closer, she stared, both enamoured by the stranger’s beauty and feeling shitty about her lack thereof.

The woman caught Jinx’s eye, flickered a smug smile, and the spell was broken.

Okay, she was hot, but she didn’t have to be such a bitch about it. Rich snobs like that could never just be nice, could they?

Jinx flicked the woman a hostile glare and shoved past her to get inside, spilling champagne down the silk dress.

‘Excuse me!?’ The woman yelled after her. ‘This is couture!’

Jinx tossed her head over her shoulder and giggled at the outburst. Lingered long enough to see another woman rush over, making a fuss.

‘Oh my god, Evelynn! Are you alright?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ the woman, apparently called Evelynn, grunted.

‘What the hell is that girl’s problem?’

Oh, if only they knew.

Flipping them a playful little wave for good measure, Jinx properly entered the party.

Classical music serenaded her into the main room, like walking into a funeral. The decorations were modest, colour-coordinated, tasteful. Nothing like the crude banners and plastic bunting she was used to.

It gave her whiplash. Where was the keg, the beer pong, the buffet of beige carbs and neon candy, the red plastic cups filled with cheap booze? Why wasn’t she drowning in obnoxiously loud, heavy music, and that glorious ever-present smell of weed and body odour? Where was the fucking party!?

She wasn’t ready for this. She’d spent so much time obsessing over seeing Vi, and the vexing possibility of bumping into Caitlyn, that she’d forgotten to worry about the party itself.

People fenced her in from every direction. The Shimmer she’d taken before venturing out had waned enough to make her feel raw. A shockwave of overlapping voices hit her like a kick in the head. Hard enough to concave her skull. If she didn’t top up soon, she’d have to find a place to hide and curl into a ball. Maybe a nice closet upstairs, somewhere quiet. Out of the way.

‘Jinx!’

Seraphine’s flute-like voice knocked her out of her tailspin and into people mode. She smiled as a defence mechanism, while her ex gleefully bounded up to her and embraced her with a hug and a kiss to her cheek.

‘I’m so happy you came!’

Jinx wanted to ask why but kept it to herself. Seraphine was, of course, just being friendly. No need to scrutinise and dig out the truth. Not straight away, at least.

Seraphine pulled away to properly look at her guest. ‘Ugh, you look so pretty! That eyeliner!?’ She kissed her fingers to imitate a chef, ‘perfection!’

A beaming smile remained glued to her face, and Jinx matched it as best she could. It hurt her cheeks.

‘Heh, thanks,’ Jinx replied through a forced grin. ‘Didn’t get the memo about the dress code though. Whoops.’

‘Pfft, that’s okay!’ Seraphine waved her hand across her face to emphasise how okay it was. ‘It’s totally optional. You look great! Don’t worry about it!’

‘Okay…’

Jinx widened her grin even further. Might as well have split her face open. But she believed Seraphine’s hype; she did look great. Fuck it.

‘Where’s Vi?’

‘She’s in the kitchen,’ Seraphine replied. ‘I’ll take you; need to get you a drink!’

Seraphine linked her arm through Jinx’s jacket and marched onwards, but Jinx pulled back.

Nope, her racing heart cried out. Shimmer, stat.

‘I gotta pee first,’ she lied.

‘Oh, of course,’ Seraphine’s beam remained intact, oblivious to the deception. Naïve idiot. ‘D’you remember where the restroom is?’

‘Uh huh.’ She slipped out of Seraphine’s reach, melting into the crowd. ‘In a bit.’

***

Alone in the confined space, Jinx breathed in deep. The floral air freshener almost made her gag. She clutched the sink to ground herself. Didn’t dare look in the mirror. No time to let her nausea creep in or check her make-up and whisper self-loathing.

She fumbled around inside the breast pocket of her jacket. Baggies of Fade and Shimmer sat side by side, kept separate by the dollar bill she’d brought to snort them. She retrieved the Shimmer, saving the Fade for later.

With a steady hand and dry mouth, she tapped three rough lines onto the rim of the sink. It wasn’t a flat surface, but short of sniffing off of the damn toilet cistern, what choice did she have? She swiped her Jericho’s loyalty card from a different pocket and neatened the lines.

On some level, she must’ve known she’d start using like this again. Why else would she bring that card with her wherever she went? Something about its weight and thickness always produced the straightest lines. Her own brand of fucked-up safety blanket.

The pink powder glittered under the LED lights overhead. She didn’t dwell on how pretty it looked. Rolled up the dollar bill and took the first hit.

 ***

Three lines and however many minutes later, she left the restroom and made her way to the kitchen in an elated blur. Danced to the peppy violins of some vaguely familiar tune as she slipped through the rabble.  

The main room of the party branched out into a large dining area, separated from the kitchen by a broad, marble pillar. If what Seraphine said was true, Vi was right on the other side.

Jinx braced herself. Sure, they’d had a phone call the other day, but seeing her sister in person after so long was a different story. Harder to escape in person.

She bit the bullet and crept around the cold marble.

Vi stood behind an island countertop, kitted out in a suave burgundy suit and matching shirt, short cherry red hair smartly slicked back. Party mode.

Her face hadn’t changed a bit. No shred of make-up in sight. She didn’t even look older. She was just… Vi. Same big sis with the steely eyes, firm jaw and cheekbone tattoo that said she could do anything. And the scars on her bottom lip and left brow, reminders that even she wasn’t invincible.

She embraced Seraphine with that cocky grin of hers. Kissed the top of her head. Bubble-gum pink and cherry red; cute combination. They looked good together, like a team. Who’d have thought?

Jinx smiled to herself, giddy and bursting with nervous energy. She almost skipped forth to join them, but they had company.

Tall, beautiful company…

Soft, strong hands rested on the countertop across from Vi, adorned with several silver rings and an expensive-looking watch. Midnight blue, poker-straight hair pulled up in a neat, high ponytail exposed a slender, alabaster neck and silver filigree earrings. A killer dark mauve dress hugged her body like a second skin, making her boobs look like the best fucking boobs imaginable.

Jinx would’ve known that profile anywhere. Those hands alone. Long, supple fingers. All the things they could do. Places they could reach.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

All thought of reuniting with Vi abandoned her. Her knees almost buckled. Gut plummeted. She needed to get out of there. ASAP.

They hadn’t noticed her yet. A few steps back behind the pillar and she could’ve disappeared into the rest of the party without a fuss. But something compelled her to stay.

Conversation flowed between Caitlyn and Vi like water. The natural back-and-forth of two people who really knew each other. Seraphine’s interjections trickled in where they could, but she didn’t say much. The longer she listened, the more bored she looked.

What were they talking about?  

A fourth, unknown voice chimed in, swimming against their current. The tension of debate tinged the air, but over the din of the party, Jinx could only identify tones, not words.

She inched closer to the sound, picked out a few phrases. Politics was on the menu; no wonder Seraphine had disengaged.

The mystery voice mentioned something about the history of the bridge, how it divided people, how the council tried to undo the damage but struggled to enforce real change. Vi scoffed out something about enforcers being glorified attack dogs who encouraged the council’s prejudices.

Jinx agreed with her sister.

Caitlyn pushed her tongue against her bottom lip in silent protest but didn’t argue back. The whole enforcer thing was one of the many issues that polluted the reservoir during her marriage to Vi. Must’ve hurt to discuss it casually like that.

Jinx subconsciously lurched towards Caitlyn but stopped herself before getting too close. Stupid feet, thinking on their own.

More of the kitchen came into view, as did the owner of the fourth voice. Mel Medarda. Hard to forget the face of Piltover’s youngest and best-looking councillor. Her posters were all over Zaun, graffitied to shit. Some by Jinx’s own hand. Ha!

Propped against the inner wall, next to Caitlyn, the Noxian prodigy nursed a glass of white wine. She was ethereally gorgeous, even more so in person, face not sprayed across and spoiled. Her understated style oozed old money and class. Made that bitch Evelynn’s whole schtick look tacky.

What did that make Jinx, by comparison? Sump scum. Trencher trash. Not worth a cent.

Envy swarmed and multiplied like wasps preparing to defend the hive. Buzzed around her as she spied.

Medarda slid a manicured hand down Caitlyn’s arm and onto the small of her back. Too intimate for comfort. Her black and gold nail polish was perfect, unspoiled by any kind of frequent use of her hands. The only similarity with Jinx’s own bitten and chipped nails was the length: short.

For a woman with Medarda’s glamour to have nails that length meant one thing. Jinx envisioned those immaculate fingers gliding along Caitlyn’s smooth skin, in and out of her cunt. No doubt Medarda played the role of loyal, supportive girlfriend better than Jinx ever could.

The wasps became hornets, beastly and vicious.

It made sense, of course. Caitlyn had her fun chasing Zaunites over the years, and now she’d moved on to the type of woman befitting her station. The type of woman her mother would’ve adored and fawned over. Cassandra Kiramman never warmed to Vi, but Medarda…?  

Jinx scowled at the two of them. Heat prickled her skin. Disgust tugged her lip upwards in a snarl.

How dare they stand there like that, flaunting their relationship at Vi’s engagement party? What the fuck!? Why were Vi and Seraphine acting so okay with it?

Arms crossed and brows knotted, Jinx announced herself with a laugh of pure spite.

The silly political dispute stopped dead and all four of them looked towards the sound. The social smile Caitlyn wore in conversation dropped in an instant. Vi’s eyes lit up with a grin. Seraphine rested her head on Vi’s shoulder and tossed Jinx a small wave, none the wiser but no longer bored, while Medarda’s unnervingly pretty face frowned in confusion.

‘What’s this, the lesbian convention?’ Jinx sniped.

‘I’m sorry, who are you?’ Medarda cut to the bone with a voice as smooth as honey.

‘Jinx…’ Vi’s eyes dulled with disappointment, already done with her shit.

Didn’t take long for big sis to turn on her, did it? Some things never changed. Jinx gritted her teeth.

Caitlyn stared; face unreadable. What was on her mind?

‘Are you okay?’ Seraphine asked. ‘You took a while… Do you still want that drink?’

A while? How long did she spend in the restroom? Ten minutes? Twenty? Longer?

Were any of them close enough to see Shimmer’s tell-tale pink glow orbiting her blown-out pupils? Would they care?

She darted her gaze between them, met with judgement and icky concern. And worse, Caitlyn’s complete lack of expression.

Did Jinx’s presence mean nothing to her?

Too far up Medarda’s ass to notice.

‘Wait… Jinx?’ Medarda turned to Vi, brow raised in question. ‘As in Powder, your sister? The one who—’

‘Jinx as in Jinx,’ Caitlyn sternly interjected.

What? What was that?

In some small, poignant way, Caitlyn had stuck up for her. Why would she do that?

Caitlyn shifted away from Medarda’s touch and looked directly, unflinchingly, at Jinx.

It took a nano-second for Jinx to blink away.

Too long. The contact stung.

‘Whatever,’ she huffed and barged past them.

‘Jinx!’ Vi called after her. ‘Wait!’

She ignored her sister’s plea and moved faster, beyond the kitchen. Snatched someone’s drink as she made a beeline for the sliding doors leading out to the veranda and the garden.

A gentle summer breeze greeted her. Bliss. So much better than the stifling air inside. Ignoring the cluster of people near the door, she downed the sweet remnants of mimosa from the stolen glass. Lit a cigarette and descended the veranda’s wooden steps onto the overgrown path beneath.

Like everything about that stupid place, the garden was bigger than she remembered. Perhaps they’d extended it? And didn’t they used to have a pool? They must’ve redesigned.

Haphazard shoots of grass jutted out of the stone, softened the tread of her boots as she strolled along. A bird of prey flew overhead, momentarily eclipsing the sun with its wingspan. Down on the ground, the path became a small set of steps, then path again, as she followed it out towards a hedgerow. Hues of pink shone in the distance, but she couldn’t tell where they came from.

‘Jinx…?’ Came a curious male voice.

She turned towards it, but once she saw who the voice belonged to, nearly turned back around. Jayce Talis, dressed in all white, sauntered up to her.

‘Jayce.’

She twisted her grimace into a grin. Stared at him a few seconds too long. Was it the Shimmer, or were his eyebrows freakishly huge?

‘Have you always looked like this?’ She poked his cheek, investigating.

‘Uh…’ He smiled tightly and stepped back, out of poking distance. ‘I guess it’s been a while. I’m surprised to see you.’

‘Snap,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you s’posed to be Cait’s bestie? Whatcha doing here?’

‘Actually, Vi and I grew pretty close over the years,’ he said. ‘Cait’s here too, though… somewhere.’

And didn’t she fucking know it.

Before she could interrogate Jayce on how he’d convinced Vi to be his friend, another man cosied up next to him and handed him a glass of red wine.

‘Ah, Viktor!’ Jayce exclaimed, glad for the extra company. Somebody, save him from the weirdo! ‘You’ve met Jinx, right? Vi’s little sister.’

‘Less of the little,’ Jinx frowned. ‘Condescending dick.’

Jayce snickered at her hushed insult. She hadn’t meant to be funny; he really was the worst. Why the fuck was Caitlyn friends with him? Childhood nostalgia, familial obligation, charity, what?

‘Hmm,’ Viktor studied her in thought. ‘I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure, no.’ Balancing on an awesome set of customised black and silver crutches, he held out a bony hand.

She shook it with aplomb. Studied the veins bulging beneath his skin, mottled purple and blue from the repetitive strain of his disability.

What caused it? Had he been like that his whole life, or was it recent?

‘Why the crutches?’ She blurted out. Damn shimmer. ‘Sorry. That question was meant to stay in my head.’

‘Oh, heh, no need to apologise.’ He took her rudeness in his stride. Good sign. ‘I’ve, uh… I’ve been sick for a long time… I won’t bore you with the details.’

Bore her? He fascinated her. But she could take a hint.

‘Sore subject?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Hmm.’

Tilting her head, she studied the peculiar man before her. His accent was tricky to describe. It reminded her of someone… someone she didn’t want to remember. Kinda creepy. His hair was floppy and dark, skin sickly pale, eyes sharp and sparkling with intelligence. He wore a suit, but not the typical Piltie garb. Rather than a refined tailored piece, like Jayce’s, his was mismatched tweed, relaxed from years of wear. Tweed, in the summer? If he turned around, she bet she’d find patches sewn on at the elbows where the fabric had thinned and torn. She couldn’t tell if he'd owned it for years or if it was second-hand, bought on the fly for the party. She liked that she couldn’t tell.

This dude seemed way too cool and way too much of an oddball to hang around with a dorky poser like Jayce.

‘How d’you two know each other?’ She asked, genuinely curious.

‘Viktor’s my partner,’ Jayce said with pride.

‘In business, and in life,’ Viktor added.

‘Ohhhhh.’

Jayce was gay? Finally, something she could respect him for.

‘So, you and Jayce do the science together, huh?’ She wiggled her brows suggestively.

‘Something like that,’ Viktor said. He hunched over as he spoke, shying away from scrutiny by making himself smaller.

‘Parties aren’t yer thing,’ she observed.

Viktor winced and shook his head.

‘Don’t sweat it.’ She flashed what she hoped was a reassuring wink. ‘I don’t think parties like this are anyone’s thing. Nobody cool, anyway.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Jayce said, oblivious. ‘This is a pretty swell turnout.’

Viktor cringed with quiet embarrassment for his partner, and Jinx giggled.

‘Pretty swell?’ She mimicked. ‘Dude, are you sixty?’

‘What?’ Jayce looked to Viktor for support. ‘People still say swell, right? Young people…?’

Viktor shrugged, helpless to stop Jayce from digging his hole. A small smirk brightened his wan face and made his eyes twinkle even brighter.

Ah, if only he wasn’t gay and didn’t have terrible taste in men… they could’ve had fun together. But Jayce and his assholery stifled Viktor’s allure. Boring.

She bowed out of their chat and meandered further down the garden.

Where the path ended, bordered by hedgerow, stood a stone archway laced with creeping ivy and purple clematis. She crossed its threshold into a pristinely mowed stretch of grass. A cherry blossom tree grew at its centre. The pink hues. Beautiful.

Leaning against the rough stone, she slumped down until her bum hit damp grass with a light plonk. After another, much-needed Shimmer boost, she gazed up at the cherry blossom as it swayed and danced. Pinks and reds and whites swirled with the harsh yellow of the afternoon sun and the crisp blue of the sky.

Zooming in like a camera, she tried to focus on one blossom at a time. She’d return to the party, as soon as she’d captured and counted every tiny blossom in sight.

‘Hey, have you guys seen Jinx?’

God fucking dammit, Vi.

‘Down there,’ Jayce said.

In typical Vi fashion, she steamed ahead to find her sister, not stopping to wonder if said sister actually wanted to be found. The thud of footsteps grew louder and louder, then stopped altogether. A shadow loomed.

With a frustrated groan, Jinx took a long drag of her cigarette.

Here goes nothing.

‘Hey, sis,’ Jinx drawled and glanced up at Vi. Held out her cigarette as a token of good will.

‘Uh huh.’

Okay, Vi was angry. Understandable. Still took the olive branch, though.

She scratched at her temple. Sank one tattooed hand into the pocket of her tailored trousers, while the other brought the cigarette to her lips and held it there. She inhaled. Stepped in front of Jinx, blocking her view of the tree. Exhaled a plume of dark grey smoke.

‘Thanks.’ Vi handed the little death stick back to its owner. ‘I needed that.’

Jinx’s fingers grazed her sister’s calloused knuckles. She took another drag.

Vi hovered, watching over her. Discomfort lodged in her spine and made her shiver.

Breathing nicotine felt like air. Like nothing. She wanted more Shimmer but if Vi ever saw her using again…

Her collection of well-tuned defence mechanisms battled for dominance. Which would the wheel of her brain land on? Avoidance? Aggression? A sycophantic need for acceptance? All to play for.

‘Look at you in that suit,’ she praised. Okay, so, sycophantic need for acceptance. ‘Lil Serrie’s gotcha looking sharp.’

‘Lil Serrie?’ Vi shook her head and scoffed. ‘Would it kill you to say something nice?’

‘…didn’t I just pay you a compliment?’ Uh-oh. Aggression, standing by.

‘Yeah, at my fiancée’s expense.’ Vi paced on the spot. Flecks of soil and grass flew into Jinx’s lap.

She let the dirt sit there. She deserved it. Bury her alive and she wouldn’t have fought.

‘Come on,’ Vi urged. ‘This is an engagement party. Can’t you be happy for me?’

‘Happy for you?’ Jinx didn’t understand. ‘Because you found someone else to cling to?’

‘You don’t have to word it like that.’

‘Alright.’ She searched for something else to say. Something honest. ‘I don’t feel happy for you.’ Stubby cigarette between her lips, she breathed deep for the last hit. Relished in the heat of the smoke in her lungs and at the back of her throat. ‘I don’t feel anything, one way or the other.’ She exhaled hard and tossed the butt to the grass. Stomped it out with her boot. ‘Better?’

Vi snorted. Maybe Jinx’s answer wasn’t good enough, but it was the truth.

‘All I know about your relationship with Seraphine is that she somehow convinced you to wear a suit today,’ Jinx elaborated. ‘You look cute together, sure, but so did you and the C-word, so… doesn’t mean much.’

Vi flinched at the reference to Caitlyn. ‘What was that back there?’ She asked, tonguing her cheek in frustration. ‘That fucking stunt you pulled. What was that?’

‘What stunt?’

‘Is it because Caitlyn’s here?’ Vi demanded. ‘You don’t have to be around her if you don’t want. I told you that. It’s a big house. You could’ve just walked away.’

‘…isn’t that what I did?’

‘Sure, yeah, in the rudest way possible.’ Vi’s pacing increased; fists clenched in the bowels of her pockets. ‘Cait stuck up for you back there. And not for the first time, by the way. But you still treated her like the goddamn plague.’

Not for the first time? ‘What d’you mean?’

‘I mean you treat her like garbage, even when she’s the only person sticking up for you!’ Vi said. Yelled, actually. ‘Caitlyn correcting someone on your name at a party is a drop in the fucking ocean. She’s had your back more often than you know… mostly against me.’ Her expression fractured with shame.

Okay, too much. Stop. Stop talking about Caitlyn. Please stop.

‘You don’t get on as people?’ Vi persisted. ‘Fine. But she’s always respected you, and you’ve never done her the same courtesy. Even now. You can’t stomach being in the same room as her. Just had to make it a big deal and storm off, didn’t you!?’

‘Sheesh!’ A low chuckle rattled through Jinx’s ribcage. ‘Guess I’m the villain here, huh?’ Her aggression put on its marching boots, and out into battle it went. ‘And then there’s you: Vi, the White Knight… Defending Caitlyn’s honour like that, anyone’d think you were still married.’

‘Jinx,’ Vi warned, puppy dog face ready to bite. ‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’

Unleashing a wide grin that didn’t reach her eyes, she stared up at her sister. A challenge. If Vi dared to stare back, Jinx would see her sister’s conflicting tenderness for Caitlyn and the love she’d lost. The love Seraphine, with all her sweet smiles and naïve sentiments, could never replace. In turn, Vi would see Jinx’s Shimmer eyes. The failure they held.

Vi looked away. Challenge lost.

‘I’m only pointing out the facts,’ Jinx said. ‘Seraphine was in that kitchen, just like Caitlyn, yet whose defence did White Knight Vi instantly jump to?’

‘Jinx.’ Vi said her name like a broken prayer. ‘Stop.’

‘Not your precious fiancée’s,’ she pouted. ‘Nope. You’re still stuck on Caitlyn… Caitlyn, Caitlyn, Caitlyn.’

‘Stop!’

‘Why? Because I’m right?’

‘No. You’re wrong.’

‘Whatever you say, sis.’

She leaned back, gazed up at the cherry blossoms. They framed Vi’s head like a halo. Like her sister was an angel.

Angel. Caitlyn called Jinx that. Like she didn’t know her at all. Jinx was so fucking far from angelic. And she could prove it.

‘Did you know there used to be a pool out here?’ A cruel delight bubbled at the back of her throat. ‘Pretty sure your Serrie first went down on me by that pool…’ She narrowed her eyes at the pained frown creasing Vi’s face. ‘What a memory, huh?’

A lie. She remembered no such thing, just wanted to see Vi’s reaction when she said it. You know. Because she was such an angel.

With sombre eyes and a clenched jaw, brewing with fury, Vi looked Jinx dead on.

‘Are you…’ Vi glared. ‘Are you high right now?’

And there it was, that all-important question, at long fucking last.

No point denying it. Someone needed to see. Someone who might’ve tried to stop her. Shame it had to be Vi. But Vi was her big sister. She cared… right?

Maybe, if she told Vi how she felt, how she’d spiralled in the past months, Vi could help her get back on track? She’d force her to go cold turkey on the drugs and drag her back to Heimerdinger, and everything would be okay. Sure, it wouldn’t be easy, but she wanted to get better. Vi could help her get better, couldn’t she?

‘Guess the cat’s out of the bag.’ Jinx played it careless, but Vi would see. Vi would see her act, and she would know, and she would help. ‘Did you really think I’d survive this party sober?’  

‘Wow, I, I can’t…’ Vi’s tone flatlined, icy and detached. ‘I can’t believe this.’

Her nostrils flared in anguish. Hands flew to her head, clawed at her hair, messed it up, nearly ripped it out. Typical Vi meltdown. The only thing missing was violence. Vi liked to break stuff. Plates, chairs, noses. Whatever her fists found first.

‘I can’t put up with that shit again.’ Vi’s voice shrivelled into hopelessness, gearing towards an explosion. ‘I can’t… I can’t.’

Jinx brought her knees to her chest and cradled herself.

‘It’s not gonna be like before,’ she tried to argue. A pathetic, futile sentiment. ‘Things’re… weird for me… right now.’ Her voice sounded brittle, like she had a chest infection. ‘I… I need help…’

‘Save it. I don’t wanna hear it.’ Vi lowered her hands to her sides and half-snickered with scorn. ‘It’s always the same with you.’

Before Jinx could utter another word, Vi left. Off to find a good place to sulk and work off her temper.

Jinx cackled at the sight. Vi, twenty-nine going on twelve, brooding at her own damn party. Abandoning her troubled little sister for the umpteenth time. Vander would’ve been so proud. What a fighter. Ha! The more jarring and upsetting the moment became, the more erratic Jinx’s giggling fit. Tears flew down her cheeks as she belted out furious, broken rasps of twisted glee.

Time to go home. Avoidance. The only real choice all along. There was nothing left for her there but more of the same bullshit. Never should’ve gone in the first place.

She tore up the path, scanning the green for an easier exit. A high fence surrounded the garden, blocking it off form the street out front. The only way out was through. Fuck.

She leapt onto the veranda, skipping the steps. Her legs itched with adrenaline. Cheeks flared hot. Braids whipped at her back.

The revellers inside chuckled and drank and slow-danced like everything was fine. Like there wasn’t a tornado ripping its way through them.

She pinched another drink. Something dark and carbonated left idle by the buffet table, next to a bowl of cheese puffs. Cheese puffs at a stuck-up event like that? Vi had some sway, after all. She grabbed a handful. Stuffed them into her mouth and downed the drink. Wood smoke and syrupy soda flooded her tongue. Whisky and coke. Not her favourite, but it did the trick. Satiated, she carried on through the throng.

The room seemed smaller. Packed to the gills. Were there more people or was she more out of it? Her breaths came quick and tight. Couldn’t inhale enough air to make a difference. Stumbling through the fog of faces and bodies, she clutched at her chest.

Shimmer. She needed Shimmer. But she couldn’t focus. Couldn’t escape. Couldn’t remember where the exit was.

‘Jinx?’ Ekko. Where had he come from? ‘Jinx? Hey. Look at me.’

She did as he asked. Focused on the walnut brown of his eyes. The shock of peroxide in his brows and locs. The warmth of his face, the kindness held there.

Boy Saviour to the rescue, like old times.

She glanced down at the rest of him. Huh. He hadn’t worn a suit. Classic Ekko. His oversized t-shirt and jeans with chains hanging off them stood out just as much as she did. Thank fuck. He felt like home. Like the real Zaun. She leaned into him, letting him support most of her weight.

‘I’ve got you,’ he said. ‘You’re having a panic attack, but you’re going to be okay.’

He lay his hands flat on her shoulders. Him and his grounding techniques. Her own, shaking hands found his forearms and squeezed. Muscle and bone held firm beneath her grip.

‘Try to steady your breathing. In… out. In… out.’

The party dissolved into background static as she tried to follow his lead. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Always took a while to work. Rapid breaths and tears were all she had.

Her nails dug into his arm. Must’ve hurt, but he didn’t let it show.

After a shuddery start, her breathing levelled out a bit.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘You’re doing good.’

She kept on. Measured breaths.

He guided her away from the crowd, into an empty chair. Her clunky boots poked off the edge of the seat as her body constricted around itself like a snake.

‘What happened?’ He asked, crouching to her line of sight.

Too soon. She shook her head. Couldn’t talk. Buried her face in her knees.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘It’s gonna be okay, Jinx. Breathe… I’ve got you.’

‘Is she alright?’ A soft voice from the fray whispered. Or was it a yell?

Jinx couldn’t decipher. Probably some nosy randomer. Didn’t matter.

Breathe.

‘She will be,’ Ekko told the voice. Sounded like he knew them.

‘What’s wrong with her?’

Why did everyone always ask that?

Wait, that voice was different. Slick. Like honey.

‘Jinx?’ The first voice spoke louder. Closer to her.

‘She’ll be fine, Cait.’

Caitlyn?

Her heart rate doubled. She slapped her hands over her ears.

Not her. Not now. No, no, no, no, no, no, no—

‘Don’t crowd her,’ Ekko said. ‘She needs time… You’re here with someone?’

‘Mel Medarda, Caitlyn’s plus-one.’ Searing syrup dripped like lava into Jinx’s ears. ‘And you are?’

‘A friend of Vi’s.’ Ekko spoke with tight-fisted reservation. Animosity simmered.

Him and the upper-crust didn’t mix. He only stomached Caitlyn because of Vi, and even then, they’d had their fair share of disagreements.

‘Plus-one, huh?’

‘Platonically, of course.’ // ‘We’re just friends.’

Caitlyn and Medarda spoke in unison, spinning their little lies. They could deny it all they wanted, but Jinx knew what she saw in that kitchen. Where Medarda’s hands freely roamed. Friends didn’t touch like that.

‘Okay, well, whoever you are, you should go. I’ve got this.’

‘Ekko—’

‘Cait, I’ve got this.’ His voice raised an octave. Resolute. Protective. ‘Enjoy the party.’

‘He’s right,’ Medarda said. ‘She’s in good hands. Come on.’

A beat passed. Then another.

‘Come on, Cait.’

‘No. No, I’m staying.’ Caitlyn really was stubborn, huh? ‘Mel, go and find Jayce and Viktor. Tell them I’ve gone home early. Shouldn’t be too hard to convince them.’

‘…what?’

‘Please.’

‘Cait—’

‘Just do it,’ Caitlyn insisted. ‘I’ll make it up to you. Lunch, or something.’

‘You’d better.’

Heels clicked away into the distant din. Only Caitlyn and Ekko left.

Why didn’t Caitlyn leave with Mel? What kept her there?

‘Let’s go.’ The words came fast and sweet.

Go? Go where? With her!?

‘What?’ Ekko asked, equally confused.

‘My house is a few minutes down the road,’ Caitlyn explained.

No, no, no.

‘It’s quiet there. No people, no stimulation.’

Oh.

‘I won’t bother her. She’ll be able to relax, be alone.’

Shimmer! Maybe even Fade and a long nap? Oh, the possibilities!

‘If she feels better later, she can easily come back here to see Vi… if she wants.’

Nope. Never again, thanks.

Ekko sighed. Loud. Unimpressed.

‘It makes more sense than taking her all the way back to The Lanes, that’s all,’ Caitlyn reasoned. ‘I’ll look after her, Ekko. You’re the one who needs to stay; you’re best man.’

Oh, sure. Caitlyn was so practical and thoughtful. Nothing in it for her. Nothing she might’ve wanted from Jinx, just the two of them in that big gross house of hers.

Did she still want her after last time? How desperate was she?

Whatever. Didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Not even Vi.

In fact, Vi topped the goddamn list of things that didn’t matter.

Was there a prize for being the worst fucking sister in the world? Was there some competition Jinx didn’t know about? How many times did Vi plan on letting her down and bailing when she needed her most? They’d hummed along to that tune for way too long. Decades. It was a fucking hobby at that point. Recreational abandonment. Drilled into her brain.

Vi left. Vi always left. Jinx thought for once she might’ve stayed. Might’ve tried. Might’ve helped. But no. Of course not. That wasn’t their song. Their song was Vi leaving.

Why did Jinx always let her go?

Sing a different song, Jinx. Sing a different song. Without Vi. Just Jinx. Alone. Carefree. High as a cloud.

As long as Jinx could get good and high once they’d left, Caitlyn could do as she pleased. Argue with her. Fuck her. Chop her up and dump her in the Pilt. Whatever the lady wished. Hell, Jinx would take requests. As long as she got what she wanted out of it.

‘Cait, I appreciate your concern for my best friend, but with the greatest of respect—’

‘I’ll go.’ Did she say that? Was that her voice? The words flew out before she thought them.

‘You’ll go?’ Ekko asked in disbelief. ‘With her…? Jinx, I can easily take you.’

‘I said I’ll go.’

She unfurled like a cat stretching awake. Stood and enveloped Ekko in the biggest goodbye hug her small arms could manage.

‘You gonna be okay?’ He worried into her hair. ‘It’s Caitlyn. Kiramman…’

‘Yeah, I know who it is,’ she snickered into his ear. ‘I’ll be fine. She’s right. Makes more sense this way.’

‘I guess, but… you really wanna go?’

Of everyone in her life, Ekko would’ve understood her reasoning even less than Vi. She couldn’t explain why she was willing to leave with the enemy. Tightened her hold around him instead.

‘You really need to stop worrying about me.’ She pulled away and squished his cheeks, just like she did when they were kids. ‘But thanks, dude… I owe you.’

‘Nah,’ he said. ‘Just answer the next time I call, okay? I miss you.’

They didn’t usually speak so openly. She didn’t know what to do with his feelings. He missed her. Okay. Why? What did he expect her to do about that? She couldn’t change. Couldn’t answer his calls or reply to his texts. Not lately. Never consistently. His feelings on the issue just seemed… redundant.

Maybe that made her heartless, or a bitch. She’d done and thought worse. Much worse. Not concerning Ekko, though. He was good to her.

She swallowed her apathy and smiled. ‘Miss you too. We’ll hang out soon.’

Did he know she didn’t mean it?

Ekko opened his mouth to reply but she left before the words came. Gathered her bearings enough to find the exit.

When Caitlyn joined her outside, Jinx studied the ground. The glare of the tarmac. The obsidian black of her boots. She couldn’t look up. Couldn’t risk the sight of Caitlyn’s face in the blinding evening sun.

They walked on.

 ***

 ‘Jinx?’

She didn’t reply. Bolted ahead. Walked and walked and walked. Too fast for Caitlyn to keep up. Not in her heels, at least.

‘Jinx, please… slow down!’

Caitlyn’s whines propelled Jinx forwards. Faster and faster.

‘Why are you constantly running or pushing me away?’

Jinx barrelled down the road like a missile cutting through the sky.

‘I just want to help you,’ Caitlyn protested. ‘Let me help you!’

‘Help me!?’ Jinx exploded with a fierce screech. Stopped still in the street and turned to confront the source of the complaints. ‘Why!? You think I need to be looked after like I’m some dumb kid?’

In her rage, she dared to look at that face. The low-hanging sun obscured most of it, but Caitlyn’s lips remained visible, open, imploring mercy.

Caitlyn moved forward a few paces, out of the light’s path, and the rest of her features came clear. Jinx couldn’t look away, but she wanted to. Needed to.

‘No,’ Caitlyn urged. ‘Of course not, I—’

‘I can take care of myself,’ Jinx spat. ‘Been doing it since I was eighteen.’ Since they took Silco away. ‘Didn’t need anybody back then, and I sure as shit don’t now. Especially not you.’

‘I, I didn’t mean—’

‘Save it. We both know the real reason you swept in tonight. Taking me back to your place because it’s so close by?’ She snorted in disgust. ‘You’re pathetic.’

Jinx spun back around and resumed her strides. Caitlyn’s footsteps followed, more quickly this time, a fresh determination in her gait.

‘If that’s what you think, why agree to come with me?’

Jinx smirked at the question. ‘I dunno. Maybe I’m pathetic too? Maybe I don’t give a fuck?’

‘Bullshit.’

‘Bullshit!?’ She bit. Venom laced her tongue as she looked back at Caitlyn once again.

The gap between them grew smaller and smaller. Part of her ached to close it completely. To pull Caitlyn in by her neck and break it. Break her, like she’d broken Jinx.

‘You wanna know what’s really bullshit, Caitlyn? Your totally platonic plus-one. You and Mel Medarda are just friends, huh?’

‘We are just friends.’

‘Stop lying!’

‘I’m not!’

‘You were eye-fucking each other all night! She touched your back like she fucking owned you, and you only moved away when you saw me standing there. Caught in the act.’

‘The act? What act!?’

Oh, Jinx needed to get a proper glimpse of Caitlyn’s face. How it distorted and crumpled and lied, lied, lied. She needed to see it in vivid detail.

In a flash of speed, she lunged forwards, leaving just a few inches between their panting bodies. Caitlyn’s heavy breath ruffled the stray hairs on Jinx’s face. Her dark blue eyes shone, nervous and determined and furious. Her lips puckered, ready to fight.

‘Jinx, I don’t know what you think you saw, but—’

‘I told you. She touched you!’

Her hands moved in sync with her words and reached out, grabbed onto Caitlyn’s shoulders. The elastic straps of that killer mauve dress and the warmth of Caitlyn’s skin sizzled beneath her fingertips.

She flinched. Pulled away before she could adjust to the sensation. Met Caitlyn’s questioning gaze. Blinked off into the distance.

‘Sometimes friends are tactile with each other,’ Caitlyn reasoned. With a shiver, she wrapped her arms around her torso. ‘It doesn’t have to mean anything.’

‘And when we—’ Shut up, Jinx. Shut up. ‘Did that mean anything?’

‘…how can you ask me that?’ Caitlyn’s voice splintered. Wounded.

Good. She wanted Caitlyn to feel just as lost and hurt as she did.

‘I’m just a little confused, Cait,’ Jinx pressed, callous and taunting and insistent. ‘Which touches mean what? How many of your other so-called friends are all over you like that? I can tell you my answer. None. People don’t touch me intimately like that unless I’m fucking them.’

‘And Ekko?’ Caitlyn countered. Her words brimmed with a calm self-assurance. ‘When he held you… was that not intimate?’

‘That’s different.’

‘Is it? I don’t think so.’

‘He’s my best friend and I was having a panic attack.’

‘I know,’ Caitlyn maintained. ‘You needed support, and he was there to help you, to comfort you… what you witnessed with Mel was the exact same thing.’

Jinx’s head spun. Caitlyn could play her like a violin. She felt insane. She knew what she saw in that kitchen.

‘Liar!’ She screamed. ‘Why the fuck are you lying about this!? Just admit it!’

‘It’s the truth, Jinx. I’m not lying.’ Caitlyn stepped closer. Too close. Not close enough. ‘But even if I was dating Mel, why would you care?’

‘I wouldn’t.’ Her voice cracked.

‘No?’ Caitlyn half-smirked. ‘You’re not jealous then?’

‘Of Mel stuck-up bitch Medarda?’ Jinx’s mocking tone had nobody fooled. ‘As if,’ she added sheepishly.

Caitlyn snickered and bridged their distance even further. Took hold of the lapels on Jinx’s jacket, stared down at the leather in her grip and smiled.

‘I didn’t want to go tonight. I thought going with Mel—a friend—might help. I told her how shitty and weird I felt about it. She reassured me…’

Caitlyn’s tentative hands slipped under Jinx’s jacket. Clammy against Jinx’s skin, they slithered over the ridge of her collarbone, up to her neck.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Only feel. Hot, sticky feelings. She burnt up in Caitlyn’s orbit. A fever ignited her skin, obliterated her senses. Heat and discomfort were all she had left. She wanted to run away and never look back, but Caitlyn kept her still, transfixed.

‘In the kitchen,’ Caitlyn continued. ‘What you saw… Mel sensed my discomfort at the topic of conversation and reached out to help me through it.’

She cupped Jinx’s face like it was porcelain. Delicate and breakable and precious. Fingers ghosted over her jawline, hovered over her cheeks. Eyes darted between lips and pupils.

‘A friend supporting a friend… that’s all it was.’

‘And then?’ Jinx gulped. ‘When you saw me, you didn’t even react. You didn’t… you didn’t care.’

‘Jinx, I was in shock.’ Resentment flickered beneath Caitlyn’s mask of composure. She applied more pressure to the pads of her fingertips, holding Jinx’s face with more force, more gumption. ‘I had no idea you’d be there. It’s been six months. Six months since…’

Caitlyn didn’t complete her sentence, but Jinx got the gist.

‘Since the biggest mistake of your life.’ She gritted her teeth in a mad grin. ‘Must’ve been a really rough time for you, crying on Mel Medarda’s perfect golden shoulder.’

‘That’s not…’ Caitlyn’s eyes emptied. ‘It’s been hell.’

‘So dramatic,’ Jinx drawled. ‘Why? Can’t live with yourself knowing you fucked Vi’s crazy little sister?’

‘Oh, the guilt over Vi has been the easy part, believe me!’

Caitlyn lowered her hands, away from Jinx’s face. Not ready to lose contact, Jinx locked their fingers together and brought Caitlyn back to her. Held her hands fixed to her cheeks, so tight it might’ve bruised. Edging a fraction closer, Jinx tilted up on her tippy toes and bumped their noses together. Caitlyn shuddered and leaned into the embrace, closed her eyes.

‘And the hard part?’ Jinx muttered.

‘Take a wild guess.’

‘Tell me.’

‘We connected, Jinx.’ Caitlyn’s voice wobbled. Her eyes flickered back open. ‘Then you disappeared, and I didn’t know why. I still don’t know.’

How could Jinx describe it? Show Caitlyn the fucking DSM-5 and highlight all the relevant sections? Her myriad issues weren’t easy to explain, even if Caitlyn had a vague grasp on a few of them. In that moment, Jinx had neither the mental capacity nor the resolve to fill in the blanks or accept accountability for her fuck-up. Whether Caitlyn liked it or not, that conversation had to come later.

‘What did you mean?’ Caitlyn’s voice tremored, her lips shaking on the cusp of tears. ‘All those things you said to me before I left… what did you mean?’

‘I don’t have the words.’ She sighed. Twirled Caitlyn’s silky ponytail round and round in her idle fingers. ‘It’s complicated. Bad brain shit, y’know?’

‘Yeah. I know.’ For a second, Caitlyn’s gaze darted to Jinx’s lips. ‘Do you ever think about it…? That night.’

Their eyes met, willing the other to be gentle and honest.

‘…all the time,’ Jinx whispered.

A few tears broke the threshold of Caitlyn’s tight-lined lashes and rolled down her cheeks, clashing with her understated make-up.

‘Same,’ Caitlyn sniffed.

‘…do you think about me when you’re fucking Medarda?’ The question landed on the flirtatious side of sarcastic. Jinx chuckled, hoping Caitlyn would see the funny side before more tears fell.

‘Again: just friends,’ Caitlyn insisted for the hundredth time. But it did the trick. Suppressing laughter of her own, Caitlyn leant down and bumped Jinx’s nose again.

Their lips grazed slightly on impact. Jinx swallowed a moan at the full-body tingle that followed, fighting the urge to pounce and devour.

Out in the open like that, anyone could’ve walked past and seen them. People heading home from the party… Vi. Anyone.

She stepped back, reinstating personal space. Smiled meekly as Caitlyn’s face fell.

‘I almost told her, actually… about us,’ Caitlyn confessed.

‘Medarda? Why?’

‘I thought it might help.’ Caitlyn sidled up to the nearby hedgerow separating the street from someone’s front drive. Leant against the wall of tiny leaves and tiny branches. ‘I thought… maybe she’d understand and have some advice. I don’t know… something to help me sleep a bit better at night.’

‘Her pussy doesn’t help?’

‘Dear god, will these jokes never end?’

‘Who said they were jokes?’

‘They bloody better be!’

Caitlyn pushed away from the hedge. Swung her arms out wide and began pacing up and down the patch of street.

Jinx scoffed, digesting Caitlyn’s little outburst. Why did the concept of her and Mel hooking up bother her so much? If anyone should’ve been bothered, it was Jinx. But Caitlyn? Guilty conscience?

‘Why didn’t you tell Mel about us?’ Jinx had to ask. ‘Were you ashamed?’

‘No.’ Caitlyn folded her arms with another wave of hostility. Kept pacing. ‘We agreed. It’s no one else’s business.’

‘Right, so, you didn’t tell anyone?’

‘No one… Did you?’

‘Technically,’ she grimaced like a naughty school kid. ‘But my therapist doesn’t count.’

‘Your therapist,’ Caitlyn nodded in relief. ‘Of course.’

‘Who the fuck else would I have told?’ Jinx balked. ‘Have a little trust.’

‘Sorry, but it’s impossible to know with you sometimes.’ In contemplation, Caitlyn paused her steps. Stroked her hands over her smooth, slicked back hair. Held them in place above her head. ‘What did your therapist say?’

Staring at the armpits and side-boob on display, Jinx malfunctioned. Imagined burying her face in that flank of skin, biting down on the soft flesh and hard muscle. Her teeth would leave a red mark, glistening with saliva, spoiling the pallid landscape like blood on snow.

What did Heimerdinger say? Fuck, she couldn’t even remember her own damn name.

‘Sorry, I forgot.’ Caitlyn’s hands returned to her hips; trance broken. ‘No therapy talk.’

‘Oh… right…’ Jinx shook out her limbs. Bit her lips instead of Caitlyn’s body. ‘Well, doesn’t matter, anyway,’ she chuckled darkly. ‘I stopped going.’

‘Jinx.’

Caitlyn moved in closer again, reaching out for another embrace. Like all their problems could be solved by touching each other.

It didn’t work like that. Some issues could never be fixed.

‘Don’t.’ Jinx backed away, teetering on the kerb. ‘Don’t get all concerned and annoying. I’m fine.’

‘Yeah, you seem it.’

‘Ugh! If we’ve circled back to the whole wanting-to-help-me schtick, don’t fucking bother. You don’t know me, Caitlyn! Why the fuck d’you think you can help me!?’

Why was she still entertaining this? She needed Fade and a long bath, not the headache of a night spent one on one with this insufferable woman.

Once they reached the house, there’d be no chance to slink away, no alone time like Caitlyn had promised. They’d fall into bed and fuck until they passed out, or worse, stay up until dawn talking about their fucking feelings. The signs were all there. Desire and scrutiny manifested in sour words, blistering eye contact and enduring touches. A heady craving to consume and pick each other apart until only bones remained.

The road to Caitlyn’s only led to mistakes and pain. Before they left the party, Jinx thought she wanted it, or that she didn’t care, but the crisp evening air sobered her enough to make her doubt.

Maybe she’d call a cab and head home? Or walk? A couple hours’ exercise might’ve worked off the aching urge swimming low in her belly, teasing and wetting her core. Caitlyn sent her body into overdrive, chaotic and frenzied.

She needed calm. Quiet. Her own bed for the night. Her own space.

She shoved past Caitlyn. Tried to picture the route back to her apartment and block out the hurt and betrayal dashed across that beautiful Piltie face. Fuck. She had to pass the house, there was no other way. Unless she scaled the roofs and leapfrogged over the houses and buildings, there was no shortcut.

Wait, could she…? She’d always had a knack for climbing. Hmm. Maybe if she jacked up on Shimmer first? It would certainly make her bold enough to try.

Tempting… But nah. Jumping over the tops of buildings? Sounded like something from a fucking videogame. Whatever. She’d take her chances on the ground; couldn’t avoid it.

Onwards bound, right foot hovering mid-air, Caitlyn grabbed her wrist. Forced her to stay.

‘Okay,’ Caitlyn asserted. A tired rasp tugged at her voice.

‘Okay…?’

‘You’re right. I can’t help you.’

Caitlyn let go, and Jinx’s wrist flopped to her side. Free to run, she remained rooted.

She wanted to leave. Why the fuck couldn’t she leave?

‘But I care, Jinx. I care about you.’

Caitlyn cared? Even after Jinx fucked up. Had she forgiven her?

How much did she care? If Jinx ran, would she follow? Would she take off her heels and sprint barefoot across Zaun? If she saw Jinx getting high, would she stop her? Judge her? Storm off like Vi?

How far did that care extend? What could break it?

‘Please,’ Caitlyn urged. ‘Don’t push me away. Not again.’

‘Maybe I can’t help it? Ever think of that?’

‘No. You have more self-control than that.’

‘I really, really don’t.’

‘You can practice.’ God, Caitlyn really believed her own bullshit, didn’t she? ‘You can try. If you want to.’

‘Who’s to say I want to?’ Hands in her jacket pockets and a nasty scowl on her face, Jinx stepped into Caitlyn’s personal space. ‘Maybe I want nothing to do with you.’

‘Maybe.’ Caitlyn raised a sceptical brow, not intimidated in the least. ‘And maybe I’m fucking Mel.’

‘Why would you say that!?’ Jinx’s mouth fell open in shock at Caitlyn’s cruelty. She balled her fists and clenched her toes. She felt like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

‘Because it’s equally fucking ridiculous!’ Caitlyn laughed, shrill and abrupt.

‘What!?’

‘I swear to Janna, look at us, Jinx! What the fuck are we doing, arguing in the middle of the street like a couple of wankers!?’

‘Wankers? Speak for yourself.’ A new wind of sarcastic asshole ripped through her. She giggled, short and sharp. ‘…or not. I guess Mel’s been a real help in that area.’

‘Fucking hell!’ Caitlyn doubled over in a throaty cackle, hands on her knees. ‘I missed this. I actually missed this!’ The stream of chuckles continued as she straightened back up and started pacing again. ‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’

‘What d’you want? A list?’

‘What do I want?’ Caitlyn mimicked. ‘Well, I don’t fucking want Mel, for starters!’

‘You don’t?’ Jinx didn’t believe it. ‘You have eyes, right? They work?’

‘Shut the fuck up! Yes, they work!’

Jinx held her hands up in surrender. ‘Just asking.’

‘They work,’ Caitlyn repeated. Took a second to level out her breathing. ‘You just… you have no idea what they see.’ She clutched her hands to her head again. Squeezed her skull. Her gaze stuck on Jinx; eyed her up and down. ‘You haven’t got a clue, have you?’

Jinx couldn’t stand it. Looked back at her boots. ‘…about?’

‘About me! About how I feel!’

‘I’m sensing anger.’

‘Oh, my fucking god, I could strangle you! You’re infuriating, did you know that!?’

‘It’s been said.’

‘You are. You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met! You’re intolerable, rude, thoughtless, reckless… You treat everyone around you like pieces of shit!’

‘I know.’

Jinx throbbed at Caitlyn’s words. That ol’ degradation kink, working its magic. She glanced back up. Studied the blind fury and unquestionable lust of Caitlyn’s dilated, shaking pupils, flushed cheeks, neck and chest aflame. A wide grin bloomed.

‘And yet, you missed me.’ The grin became a breezy laugh.

‘Oh, I wish I didn’t!’ Caitlyn wailed.

Jinx’s laughter receded to silence. There was Caitlyn, offloading all this pain and frustration, and Jinx got off on it. God, she was such a fucked-up asshole.

‘I wish I didn’t miss you!’ Caitlyn continued. ‘I wish… I wish that just one day during these past six months wasn’t wasted on missing you.’ Ouch. ‘Fuck it, one hour. One minute… You’re all I’ve thought about.’

‘…why?’ Jinx fractured. Not quite there, not anymore.

‘Because I like you, you complete and utter dickhead!’

‘Caitlyn.’ A helpless snicker passed Jinx’s lips. She hugged her arms tight around her torso. Stared back down at her boots and the concrete below, more reluctant to look at that face than ever before. ‘You’re supposed to be smarter than that.’

‘Well, I’m not!’

‘Clearly.’

Fuck, she really needed to leave. Go. Just fucking go.

‘See, now, this would be the part where you say you like me back, you know… so I don’t feel like such an idiot.’

Move! ‘Yeah…’ Fucking move! Get out of there!

Jinx took one last glance at Caitlyn’s face, marred by tears. The water made her eyes infinitely bluer. They dazzled like crystals. Like the sea at sunrise reflecting light.

Her fingers itched to wipe the tears away, but the rest of her wailed and howled in protest.

She’s too perfect. Don’t do this again. Don’t ruin her. Just go!

Numbness welcomed her like a friend. She looked towards the road. The way back to herself.

Go home. Get safe. Get high. Forget this ever happened.

And so, she did. She walked so fast she almost sprinted. Caitlyn’s cries died with the distance.

The second she could, she filled her tub with hot water and her brain with Fade. She didn’t want to feel. Didn’t want to remember. Didn’t want to exist.

Asleep in the sanctuary of an endless bath, her head emptied to all but a few vital memories.

Her mother’s laugh… Vi’s piggy back rides… the warming tobacco of Silco’s cigars… Caitlyn’s infinite blue.

[oporayamm]

The Beauty in Silence [Chapter 5]

Silco x Fem OC || Boss x Employee || He falls first and fell harder || Yearning, Angst, Slow burn, Acts of service ||

TW: Depiction of violence, Slight gore depiction, Blood, Panic Attack, Intrusive Thought, Graphic depictions of violence, including physical combat, descriptions of injuries, and death.

Summary:

Silco didn’t want to admit it—not to himself, and certainly not to anyone else—but the truth had taken root deep within him. He had feelings for her, feelings he thought he had buried long ago in the ruthless pursuit of power and survival. Yet, somehow, without even a single word, she had unearthed them. She brought it up effortlessly, with her quiet presence, her determined actions, and the way she softened the edges of his world without even trying. While he stood there, lost in his thoughts, silently reevaluating everything he thought he knew about himself and what he wanted, she was far away—out of sight but never out of his mind.

side note: you can read the full in ao3 here :D

⋆.˚☾.⋅⋆༺𓆩🗡𓆪༻⋆ 𓌜 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 𓌜 ⋆༺𓆩🗡𓆪༻⋆☽˚.⋆

That night, Silco sat alone in his office, the air cold and heavy with silence. He leaned back in his chair, his mismatched eyes fixed on nothing in particular, though his mind was far from empty. It churned with thoughts of her— his knife, his warmth —despite his best efforts to ignore the gnawing sensation clawing at his chest.

He had touched her for the first time. 

Her skin, her face .

His hands lingered on the memory of her skin– soft skin, warm, alive. Janna , those eyes. He could swear they held the faintest trace of purple, woven delicately into the depths of her gray and onyx irises. A glimmer of something indefinable, yet unforgettable. Her hands, impossibly gentle despite the scars—oh, those scars. They didn’t lessen her beauty; they enhanced it, each one a story etched into her being he wished to hear.

He longed to trace every one of them, to map the journey of her pain and survival. Her warmth had seeped into him that night, like the glow of a fire reaching into the coldest depths of his soul. It was maddening, this need to know every scar of her, to feel her once more .

And her face— gods , her face.

If he’d dared to let his thumb brush against her marred lips, would she have felt how soft they were? How it tasted? Would she have known what it did to him ?

His jaw clenched as he thought of the way her face had felt beneath his fingers, velvet smooth despite the imperfections that only deepened her beauty. When he’d cupped her jaw, guiding her gaze to meet his, something inside him had cracked open. A dangerous fissure.

Half the time, his thoughts of her were already far from dignified , but buried beneath layers of control. But now? Now that he had touched her, felt her , had come so unbearably close, the line between admiration and something far darker had blurred.

And it was maddening .

She was maddening.

Her mere presence had wormed its way into the cracks of his composure, a persistent hum in his mind that drowned out almost everything else. The way she wrote, leaning down next to him, her hair falling slightly forward, her delicate fingers clutching the pen—it was intoxicating. His eyes would trace her form without permission, drawn to how her clothes fit snugly against her body, how every subtle movement seemed to taunt him with something improper.

How he would love to rip those clothes away, to lay her bare across his desk, claiming her in ways he had imagen countless of times. To hear her pants, her moans, filling his office as he unraveled her inch by inch, her flustered face glowing with heat and her teary eyes trembling as she surrendered completely to his will—

He jolted upright, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

He blinked, the hazy remnants of his dreams clinging to him like cobwebs, their weight pressing against his temples. His heart thundered in his ribcage as he took in his surroundings. He was still in his office, slumped over his desk with papers scattered when he jolted awake. The room was dim, the faint glow of a street lamp outside casting shadows across the walls.

A dream. Only a dream.

He pressed his hands into his face, dragging them towards his hair, combing his hair and he tried to calm his head, the coolness of his palms calmed the heat in his head– his mind . He cursed himself under his breath, frustration mingling with the lingering ache of desire that pooled in his gut.

He slammed his fist to the table, paper scattering about again.

This wasn’t like him. He was a man of control, a man who ruled with precision, calculation, and a cold heart. And yet, this woman—this quiet, maddening presence—unraveled him piece by piece.

He lean back in his chair, exhaling deeply, trying to purge her from his thoughts. But the phantom memory of her warmth, the imagined sound of her soft breaths, lingered like a ghost he could not banish,

"going to Babette's like sevika does should make me control my…self." Silco muttered under his breath, 

But as he turned his head, something caught his eye—a pair of grey flats resting by the foot of the couch.

He frowned, stepping closer. Her shoes . She must have forgotten them in her haste. He picked them up, his long fingers brushing over the fabric. The ties dangled loosely, and he found himself absently intertwining them between his fingers and he walked back to his chair and admired it, the material soft, linen and silk. If he remembered the order correctly, he requested it from the shoemaker so it wouldn't hurt her feet after all.

For a moment, he simply stared at them, his mind wandering against his will.

“Like Cinderella,” 

he mused quietly, a faint scoff escaping his lips. The thought tugged at him—her fascination with those old fairy tales. He remembered seeing her nose buried in one of Jinx’s well-worn copies of the Brothers Grimm stories, covered in Jinx's colorful drawing but the text pages were left untouched, likely so that Nishita could read them. It was an odd image, this deadly blade of his, engrossed in such childlike tales. 

But how can he blame her, she’s reliving a childhood memory she never had.

He turned the shoes over in his hands as he walked to his bedroom, the small, delicate things somehow grounding him as much as they unsettled him. Lying his back on his bed, he held one shoe up, turning it this way and that, admiring its size and the simplicity of its design.

"So small," 

he mused, his voice barely above a whisper. Her shoe fit the palm of his hand, small– yet strong. Her ability to endure and adapt despite the harshness of her past was something he both admired and resented. She had a softness about her that shouldn’t have survived the depths of Zaun.

And yet, it did.

He sighed, draping an arm over his eyes, her shoe still loosely cradled in his hand. The tie fabric wrapped around his arm, a ghost of a gesture he’d wanted to complete—putting it back on her, gently peeling it away from her foot as if unveiling something delicate and precious.

The memory of her reading that fairy tale surfaced unbidden, her eyes alight with a flicker of emotion he couldn’t quite name. It was unsettling, how something so simple could captivate him. How easily she slipped between that quiet, guarded demeanor and moments of unsuspecting warmth, leaving him unmoored in her wake.

The thought of visiting the whorehouse to drown out this maddening fixation lingered, but the idea felt hollow, devoid of appeal, if not downright unnerving . They could never be her . None of them had her quiet resolve, her haunting gaze, or that maddening grace that kept him tethered to a strange, volatile yearning. It's called a brothel for a reason. Quick and easy .

Silco let out a scoff, his fingers fumbling with the tie as he hurriedly unraveled it. He aimed to toss it onto the bedside table, but his hand hesitated mid-motion. Instead, he placed it down carefully, his gaze lingering on the shoes once more, trying the fabric to a bow as he sat at the edge of his bed again. Every glance brought her face to mind, unbidden and vivid, as though she were standing there. It gnawed at him, this absurd fixation. 

"Ridiculous," he muttered,

his voice low and tinged with frustration, more at himself than anything else. But as he lay there, his mind betrayed him, conjuring images of her—her small hands brushing his as she handed him another note, the soft smile she reserved for Jinx, and sometimes him, the way her head tilted ever so slightly when confused. And in the stillness of the night, with her forgotten flat resting by his side, Silco realized that she wasn’t simply maddening—she was dangerous . 

Dangerous in the way she made him feel something he thought he had long since buried.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The next day, he waited for Nishita as he always did. Her absence was unusual. At first, he rationalized it—perhaps she was shaken by what had happened the night before, likely what happened the other night with him. An hour passed, then another, yet she still did not come. A gnawing unease began to churn in his gut, but he forced himself to focus on his work, masking his growing concern.

The sound of pounding footsteps broke his concentration. His office doors flew open with a slam, and Sevika strode in, her expression grim. Clara followed closely behind, supported by Sevika’s arm. Her face was pale, eyes red-rimmed, and she coughed weakly as they approached his desk.

“They got Nishita,” Sevika announced bluntly, her voice taut with urgency.

Silco’s gaze snapped to them, his outward calm belying the storm brewing inside. He rose slowly, keeping his composure even as an icy rage began to build beneath the surface. 

“Who?”

Clara tried to speak through her trembling and coughing, her voice barely audible. “I-I don’t know… it happened so fast… but the message—”

Sevika took over, tossing a stack of photographs onto his desk. The images showed Clara’s boutique, smashed and ransacked, along with the scrawled message:

“The knife is ours.”

“She was just trying to sleep,” Clara murmured, her voice breaking. “Oh, the poor child—you have to help her!”

Sevika’s expression hardened. “If he does, it’ll ruin his image, Clara,” she said sharply. “I don’t suppose you understand—”

“No, I don’t!” Clara shot back, her tone fierce despite her frailty. “What’s so hard about helping your friend? Let alone someone you held dear? ”

“If he goes after her himself, they’ll see him as weak,” Sevika explained, her voice firm but tinged with exasperation. “And weakness isn’t a good title for the crime boss of Zaun.”

Clara’s tearful eyes locked onto Silco’s. “I thought you loved her!” her voice raised at him, 

The words struck like a thunderclap. Sevika blinked, stunned by the outburst, while Silco’s mismatched gaze flickered with some annoyance at the two, mostly to his tailor.

“You love her?” Jinx’s voice rang out as she watched from the ceiling beam above, silco looked up slightly and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Clara wasn’t finished. She reached into her bag and pulled out the notebook she gave for Nishita to write, flipping to a specific page and slamming it onto his desk. “That night, all she could talk about was you.”

Silco picked up the notebook, his fingers brushing against the familiar handwriting. The words on the page weren’t accusations or grievances. They were soft, caring, and thoughtful, that's how he knows it's her writing it.

Clara’s voice trembled with equal parts anger and despair. “I don’t suppose you feel the same. Devils like you don’t have hearts, do they?”

“Clara.” Sevika warns her, trying to pull her back by her shoulder, but Clara shakes her off, stepping closer to Silco’s desk. Face to face with him.

“You can play the big, ruthless crime boss all you like,” she said, her voice trembling but firm, “but somewhere in that rotten soul of yours, you must care for her.”

He didn’t respond, didn't even care to looked at her, his focus was on Nishita's writing. His silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating–for Clara at least. Clara let out a frustrated sigh, turning on her heel and storming out of the room.

Sevika exhaled deeply, watching Clara storm out before shifting her focus back to Silco. Jinx jumped down on his desk, snatching the book from him and flipped through the notebook with wide, mischievous eyes. “Well, this just got real interesting,” she said, tapping an open page with a smirk.

Before she could read further, Silco reached over and snatched the notebook from her hands, snapping it shut making a small thud.

“Not yours to read, Jinx,” he said, his tone calm but firm.

Jinx pouted at him, crossing her arms. “Why not? She’s my friend too!” she protested.

“It contains… adult material,” he replied smoothly, amusement flickering in his mismatched eyes.

Jinx froze, her expression twisting with disbelief and a hint of horror. “Never mind then,” she muttered, shuddering at the thought. “Never thought she had it in her to write that kind of stuff.”

Silco chuckled, watching her blanch and fold her arms tighter, clearly repulsed by her own imagination running wild.

Sevika’s voice broke through the moment, tinged with worry. “What do we do about Nishita?”

Both Silco and Jinx turned to look at her, for a moment, confusion flickered between them as though the answer should have been obvious.

“What do you mean, ‘What do we do?’” Jinx said, shrugging her shoulders. “The weaklings fell for the bait.”

Sevika frowned then relaxed her eyebrows after a while understanding what weakling meant, crossing her arms she sighed. “Another one of your plans, huh?” she said, the irritation clear in her tone. It wasn’t the first time she’d been left out of this.

Silco leaned back in his chair, his fingers tracing the edge of a cigar before he clipped the end with practiced ease. “There have been questions about my power and influence,” he began, his tone cold, 

“and it’s become apparent that I’ve been showing my knife far too often, displaying her rather than using her.” He lit the cigar, drawing in a slow breath and exhaling a cloud of smoke toward Sevika, away from Jinx. 

“So, I decided to use her as bait. The cowards always reveal themselves when they think they’ve struck at something vulnerable . Once they’ve been drawn out and dealt with, we’ll move on to the so-called masterminds behind these little uprisings.”

Sevika’s jaw tightened as her frown deepened.

“Originally,” Silco continued, his gaze piercing as he leaned forward, inhaling some smoke, “I had considered you for the role of bait.” Blowing another stream of smoke, he added with a wry smile, “But you’ve had your fun. It’s Nishita’s turn now.”

Sevika huffed in frustration, she wanted to argue, to demand why she hadn’t been informed of the plan earlier, but Silco’s gaze dared her to challenge his authority. She gave up anyway, no point in challenging him.

“So you used her as bait?” she asked instead, her metal hand tightening into a fist.

Silco didn’t flinch, taking a long drag from his cigar before exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted lazily through the room. “She plays her role in Zaun’s survival, just as you and everyone else do. It was a calculated move. One that will reveal our enemies before they strike.”

Sevika’s jaw tightened, but she held her tongue, though her narrowed eyes betrayed her simmering frustration. “And if something happens to her?” she pressed, 

“Then I’ll deal with it,” Silco replied evenly, his calm demeanor as unshakable as ever. He leaned back in his chair, resting his hand on the closed notebook. 

“I got a reliable doctor and she’s far more capable than you give her credit for. This isn’t her first encounter with danger, and it won’t be her last.”

Jinx tilted her head, twirling one of her braided blue hair around, it's the length of her chest not yet to her feet, eyes focused on sevika. “Kinda harsh, Lefty . You’re acting like Nishita’s a damsel in distress or something.” She grinned, hopping off the desk. Standing in front of her, smirking as if mocking her for being weaker than nishita. 

“She’s tougher than she looks. Besides,” she twirls, making the braid's follow through too, “she’ll probably scare the crap outta whoever grabbed her before you even get there.” Sevika turned her glare on Jinx, turning her around to stare at her but the teen seemed unbothered, bouncing on the balls of her heels, like a jack in a box. 

“it's not just about that,” Sevika said, her voice colder now. glaring at Jinx then to Silco, “It’s about trust. You didn’t tell her she was bait, and now she’s out there, alone, she's probably thinking she’s just another pawn in your game.”

Silco’s gaze darkened slightly, though his tone remained controlled. “Every piece on the board has its purpose, Sevika. You of all people should know that, and you know she's fully aware of it.”

Sevika crossed her arms, “Fine,” she said after a long pause. “But if she comes back broken because of this, that’s on you.”

Silco said nothing, his mismatched eyes flicking to the notebook in his hand. He tapped it once with his finger, circling the plastic jewel in the middle. 

“Whatever. I’ll get the boys ready,” Sevika muttered, turning to leave.

“Do that,” Silco replied simply.

As the door slammed shut behind Sevika, Jinx planted herself on Silco’s desk once more, leaning forward with her signature grin. Mischief danced in her eyes as she laced her fingers under her chin.

“So, boss ,” she cooed, her voice dripping with exaggerated innocence, “wanna let me in on the big plan now?”

Silco cast her a sidelong glance, his smirk faint. “You’ll know when you need to, Jinx.”

“Booooring,” Jinx groaned, slamming a hand on the desk with a theatrical sigh, making the papers fall, for a moment, her grin turned wicked. “Sooo—when’s the wedding?”

Silco scoffed, setting his cigar down in its ashtray. “Whatever gave you that ridiculous idea?” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement, 

Jinx cackled, hopping off the desk and spinning around to face him. “Oh, come on! You do love her! Aww, daadda—”

“One more ‘aww’ from you, and I’ll confiscate your gadgets for a week,” Silco interrupted, his voice carrying a dangerous edge, playful in her ears but still dangerous whenever it involves her gadgets. 

Jinx raised her hands in mock surrender, her grin unwavering. “Fine, fiiine. But you do love her!~ You loooove her!~ You really, really loooove her!~” She sang the words in a taunting melody, skipping out of his office before he could retort, her laughter echoing through the stairs.

Once the room was silent again, Silco leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling to the notebook on his desk. Slowly, he opened it, his sharp eyes scanning Nishita’s familiar handwriting. The words were raw, each stroke of the pen carrying the weight of her emotions.

"I tried to get away. My whole body is full of scars, as you’ve seen before, and I didn’t want him to see me like that—so imperfect—"

He skimmed through the passage, his chest tightening as he absorbed the vulnerability etched into the page. Her words lingered in his mind, each line a reminder of the depth of her insecurities and the trust she had placed in him, even unknowingly. Silco exhaled deeply, closing the notebook with a deliberate motion. His fingers lingered on the worn cover,

“yet you are perfect,” he muttered,

He set the notebook aside, his mismatched eyes flickering toward the faint glow of Zaun’s cityscape beyond his window. He already missed her presence, the quiet assurance of her being there, a steady anchor in the chaos of his life.

“Let’s hope you don’t disappoint me,” he murmured, his voice low and reflective. Yet even as the words left him, Silco knew his concern wasn’t rooted in her skill—Nishita would survive; of that, he was certain.

What lingered instead was an unspoken fear, buried beneath layers of ego and calculation. A fear that if she didn’t return the same, there would be no way to make amends, no way to bridge the chasm that might form. But what was there to doubt?

She was his knife. sharp, unyielding and she never missed her mark.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

A bag covered Nishita’s head, her world spinning faintly, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Voices filtered through the thick fabric—a chaotic mix of chatter, laughter, and the sharp clatter of coins and cards. She flexed her wrists subtly, feeling the coarse rope biting into her skin.

“A rope. Seriously? A chain would've held me better.” She spoke in her thoughts but then thought back to why she said that, silco and jinx is really rubbing off on her.

She can feel herself weighting less, Her knives were gone her, body bare of her usual arsenal, yet vulnerability was the last thing on her mind. If anything, their mistake amused her.

“Is she even alive? The boss wanted her alive,” a voice spoke—young, almost Jinx’s age, perhaps a little older.

“You go check if you want, but she’s breathing fine. Now place your bet,” an older voice replied, gruff and dismissive.

She tuned into the sounds surrounding her: creaking wood under heavy boots, damp air laced with industrial smoke, its smell was pungent; she's closer somewhere then, and the muffled hum of distant machinery. A mental map began forming in her mind. The outskirts of Zaun—cold, forgotten, and steeped in shadows. This had to be one of the chem barons’ domains, Chross . 

Chross’s territory? The thought lingered. Chross was an unusual suspect for this—an ally of Silco, or so it seemed. He never acted out of line like Finn. But assumptions were dangerous. She wasn’t about to gamble on guesses, not yet. A sigh escaped her lips as she slumped her shoulders, feigning defeat. The bag was yanked off her head, and she blinked against the dim light filtering through gaps in the building. Morning. The faint glow of a sun struggling to reach Zaun.

“Oh, she’s awake. Forgot you can’t talk and all that,” one of the men said, leaning in for a closer look. His face twisted into a smirk as he studied her.

When his hand moved toward her, she growled low in her throat, snapping her teeth at him like a cornered wolf. He jerked back, laughing nervously.

“Feisty one. I like it—”

“Don’t play with her. She’s for the boss, remember?” A woman’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding.

Nishita turned toward the source. From the shadows, she can't make it out much. 

“Well, we did catch her, so what’s the harm in having a little fun?” the older man said, his smirk curling into something ugly as he backed just out of her reach.

Nishita kept her expression blank, her sharp eyes darting to each voice in the room. Counting. Six of them, no weapons in sight, odd. 

The woman stepped closer, her silhouette outlined faintly by the morning's pale light creeping through cracks in the walls. 

The woman’s voice stood out, cold and commanding. “If you don’t want to get paid, that’s fine by me,” she said, her tone cutting through the room like a blade. The older man grumbled but stepped back, his confidence dimmed.

Nishita tilted her head, studying the woman who seemed more level-headed than the rest. She filed away the details: height close to silco's, sharp eyes, probably the leader of this awful pathetic of a group.

“You’re awake,” the woman said, folding her arms. “Good. The boss wants to see you alive, so don’t try anything stupid.” she said in a mocking tone, considering she was stripped of her knife.

Nishita heard that and her mind wandered to her other nicknames, yes, people remark on her, recalling the whispers and jeers that had trailed her in the Undercity. 

Silco’s lapdog. His beloved trophy. His ornament blade. She’d shrugged off those labels, her silence a shield against the noise. Let them talk. After all baba's lesson is still deep in her core memory, 

“Let people say what they want. As long as you show them something else, they’ll only see their own jealousy.”

Nishita sat still, her eyes closed, when she heard the rapid thud of boots. Someone was running.

“That quick? Did we get a reply to the fake ransom note?” the woman’s sharp voice cut through the murmur of the group as she approached.

“Not exactly,” the runner said, holding out a crumpled paper. “They didn’t send money—”

“What?!” The woman snatched the paper from him, unfolding it with a scowl. There was silence after that, Nishita took a peek and see that the woman stared at the note, baffled, her brow furrowed. 

Before she can see what the note read, the old man tried his luck again, reaching for Nishita’s face.

Nishita’s foot shot out, slamming into his chest with a sharp crack. He stumbled backward, and before he could recover, she twisted her body and threw herself at him, chair and all. The impact sent him sprawling, and the wooden chair shattered beneath her weight, freeing her arms.

The commotion alerted the rest of the group. Weapons were drawn, and the woman barked orders

“Get her! You’ll get twice the pay!”

One of them charged with a knife– her’s –but Nishita moved like a shadow. Her hand shot out, grabbing the attacker’s wrist, twisting it with a sickening snap. The knife clattered to the ground, but before it could fall far, she caught it. A quick motion ended the attacker’s struggle as their neck twisted unnaturally. In one swift motion, she hurled the knife at a man trying to sneak up behind her. It struck true, embedding itself in his forehead. He crumpled instantly. Nishita moved with deadly precision, her speed and fluidity making her almost impossible to track. The remaining captors were left scrambling, their overconfidence replaced with fear, and their screams echoing through the warehouse.

By the time the woman-leader reacted, it was too late. Nishita was already in front of her, her cold, unyielding gaze fixed on her target.The woman fumbled for her gun, but Nishita was faster. With a swift strike of her blade, the weapon was knocked from her grasp, clattering uselessly to the ground. Before the woman could scream or flee, Nishita's blade was at her throat, the cold steel biting against her skin. Her grip was steady, unyielding, a predator’s hold on its prey. The woman gasped, her chest rising and falling in panicked rhythm, her wide eyes locking onto Nishita’s face. The scarf that once obscured her features was pulled down, revealing what lay beneath.  

It was worse than she could have imagined. The jagged scars carved into her skin, the hollow, lifeless gleam in her eyes—it was as if death itself had taken form. The woman’s breath hitched, a single word escaping her trembling lips.  

“Monster…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, quaking with fear.

Nishita didn’t flinch. She held the blade firm for a moment longer, letting the word hang in the air. Then, with a deliberate motion, she struck the woman’s neck with the butt of the knife, knocking her unconscious.

As Nishita slipped her scarf back into place, she took a minute and sighed, she takes that as a compliment than a lap dog, honestly. She crouched and hoisted the unconscious woman over her shoulder with ease, Her sharp eyes swept across the room, quickly spotting her knives amidst the scattered debris and lifeless bodies. She let out a small, exasperated sigh, already accustomed to this routine. It seemed every time she was kidnapped, her captors had the same idea—to steal her knives and sell them off as quickly as possible. 

Thankfully, she retrieves them quicker than those who try to sell it, their familiar weight grounding her as she secured them back into place. Leaving the carnage behind her back. 

Her barefoot squelched against the blood-slicked floor, leaving a trail of red ichor prints behind her.

 

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

As she walked the street, her mind wonder if jinx is missing her right now and sighed at how she's going to get nagged for missing their hang out time, she could imagine jinx's pout and voice screaming at her and nagging her, she smiled slightly, she's the only one that doesn't see her as monster, atleast, not yet . Who knows when the time comes, for her to see 

“Nishita!” The familiar voice cut through her thoughts, halting her steady walk. Nishita glanced up to see Sevika jogging toward her, with Adam and Todd trailing behind.

“We were just going to look for you—” Todd began, but Sevika raised her arm sharply, silencing him. Her sharp gaze fell on the unconscious woman slung over Nishita’s shoulder.

“That’ the last one?” Sevika asked, her tone neutral but her eyes fixated on the girl then her.

Nishita nodded and, without hesitation, dropped the woman onto the ground with a thud. She might look dead but she still has a pulse, she is needed for information after all. Nishita glanced around. The streets were eerily quiet, but that was no surprise—Zaun's underbelly only came alive at night. Here, in the pale remnants of the day, it was deserted.

Sevika stared at the woman for a long moment before snapping her fingers. Adam stepped forward obediently, hefting the woman onto his shoulder without complaint.

“put her in the warehouse,” Sevika’s voice firm. 

Adam nodded, and Todd followed as they headed toward Silco’s domain.

Sevika turned her attention back to Nishita, her hard expression softening slightly as her eyes took in the bloodstains smeared across her clothes and hands. Nishita caught the subtle change in Sevika’s demeanor and, with a playful glint in her eye, gave a small twirl to show she was fine.

Sevika scoffed, rolling her eyes. “What a shock—you live,” she muttered in her usual gruff tone, sarcasm in her words and the faintest smirk tugged at her lips.

Nishita nodded, her smile lingering as she adjusted her scarf.

“Still have your insides?” Sevika asked, her voice tinged with dry humor.

Nishita nodded again, but as her hand moved to check her pockets to reply to sevika, her expression shifted. Her notes and pencil were missing. She hadn’t thought to search for them earlier—her knives had been the priority.

“The notes are gone?” Sevika asked, her sharp gaze catching the change in Nishita’s demeanor. “Any important shit in there?”

Nishita stayed quiet to think but then shook her head, it was just notes on how silco likes his food and her grocery shopping list, her actually important shit was in her apartment beside her altar. Sevika’s tension eased. “Good. Go on, then. Jinx has been whining to be with you.” She rolled her eyes, though there was a flicker of amusement in her tone.

Nishita’s face lit up, excitement replacing her earlier worry. With a small skip in her step, she headed toward the Last Drop, leaving Sevika shaking her head behind her.

Sevika watched her from behind, taking in the trail of bloodied footprints Nishita left behind. Her appearance was unnervingly stark—like death itself had walked through these streets. No wonder the area was deserted. With a sigh, Sevika fell into step behind her. They were all heading to Silco’s anyway,

⋆.˚☾.⋅⋆༺𓆩🗡𓆪༻⋆ 𓌜 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 𓌜 ⋆༺𓆩🗡𓆪༻⋆☽˚.⋆

[Pre-quel || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || AO3 ]

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Adventures in Babysitting

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64498885 by Cthulhubelle Tony's been laid low by an injury. Pepper's exhausted. Peter steps in to babysit Morgan & help her understand how to deal with what's happening. *** Boarding school AU. More details in the author's note. TW: Some characters dealing with chronic illnesses and in depth descriptions of their loved ones who have anxiety surrounding that. Words: 2786, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Peter Parker & Tony Stark - Boarding School AU Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Pepper Potts, Tony Stark Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Pepper Potts Additional Tags: Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Injury, Chronic Illness, Hurt Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark, Protective Peter Parker, Babysitter Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has a Medical Heart Attack, Not Canon Compliant, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Precious Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Fluff and Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Good Friend Ned Leeds, Tony Stark Has a Heart read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/64498885

[thebigqueer]

Solangelo - "Promise?" - One-Shot

Summary: Will and Nico are in Tartarus, and Will's hurt.

TW: slightly graphic description (just cuts); SPOILERS: Tower of Nero

Word Count: 1595

Read on AO3

Heat pulses in the air, boils over Will’s skin, strips him of his stamina. The world is tilting around him, and he can’t find a place to keep himself steady. His knees fall to the ground. He’s helpless, tired, done. He just wants to lie down and never get up again.

Distantly, a desperate voice calls his name, but he can barely comprehend what it’s saying. He’s drifting from consciousness, drifting from reality. Exhaustion pulls at his eyes and he has to fight to keep himself awake. It’s possibly the hardest battle he’s had to deal with, even after going against a countless number of monsters.

The voice is louder now, calling to him, but he’s falling into unconsciousness. The ground rocks his body back and forth, but he doesn’t have the energy to stand up.

And soon he gives himself up to the darkness. He’s done.

~

Ever since Will’s collapse, anxiety and guilt has been eating at Nico’s heart like a parasite. He knows that Will will be alright - Bob and Damasen told him so - but even then, he can’t help the churning in his stomach, the nervousness in his blood. Every time he looks at Will lying in the bed, with his curls plastered to his forehead and gashes all over his body, with his eyes scrunched in pain, a spiked rope pulls at Nico’s heart and makes him lose his breath.

Lucky for both of them, Nico was able to fight off the dracanae just in time for Will to pass out. He tried to call the blond’s name, to keep him awake for just a few more moments, but he was falling too far. Just as the last dracanae fell, so did Will, and for a few very long moments, Nico almost believed he’d lost his boyfriend forever.

Then Bob leaned down and picked him up, checked up on his breathing, and assured Nico that he was alive - just barely.

So together, with Will dangling over the shoulder of the Titan, they ventured further through the boiling depths of Tartarus, down to the small house of Damasen. All the while, Nico’s heart thudded in his chest. He and Will had barely eaten anything, and while Nico didn’t even have the appetite, he knew that if he didn’t get something soon he’d be pretty much useless.

Now, as Will and Nico reside in Damsen’s house and Bob helps the other giant to make food for the boys, the son of Hades finally takes the time to destress. He knows that this relief from the depths of Tartarus will only be short-lived, but he’s grateful to have it anyway.

He just needs the time. He needs. He needs. What does he need? He needs space. He needs to think.

Being back in Tartarus hasn’t been easy on him. But Nico supposes he was expecting that anyway.

There’s a constant buzz underneath his skin, simmering over his muscles, and he just wants to run, run, run from here. Why is he here? Why did he do this? Oh, yes. It was Bob. He needs to save Bob. Bob. Bob. Bob.

Nico’s mind feels on edge, curling in over itself. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to be here.

Taking a deep breath, he steps over to Will’s limp body, taking his pale hand into his own. Heat emanates from his body, and not the comfortable kind - it’s feverish, red, painful. Gazing up at Will’s face, Nico’s breath hitches. Sweat gleams over him in the firelight and a greenish tint has come over his skin. His curls no longer look soft and golden - they look pale and bleached, like he’s been dyeing it over and over. His body has thinned out so much that Nico is almost convinced even a puff of air will blow him away.

Will whimpers in his sleep, begging for mercy from all the new nightmares, all the new fears. He looks so pitiful. Tears prick Nico’s eyes.

The son of Hades runs his hands over the gashes on Will’s body, starting from the bandages on his shoulder and forearm. The blond flinches and hisses, so Nico lets go, afraid of causing him more harm than he needs to. Instead he turns to the slashes against his torso, running his fingers over the ripped fabric of his orange CHB T-shirt. Blood soaks through them, green tinging the edges of the wounds. Nico grimaces.

Nico sighs and rests his head against Will’s shoulder. The heat of his skin spreads into the son of Hades, down to his very core, and his heartbeat quickens even more. He sighs. “I’m sorry, my love,” Nico whispers softly, pulling his fingers into the dampened curls on Will’s head. “I hate seeing you like this. You don’t deserve any of this pain.”

Will doesn’t answer. But as Nico speaks, the crease between his eyebrows lessens its strain, just for a little bit, and a trickle of relief drops into Nico’s body. At least he’s still semi-conscious.

Nico stands and releases his hold on Will. He starts wandering around the little cottage, soaking up the terrifying familiarity of the place. The glow of the fire, the scorching heat, the scent of smoke and meat. His eyes land over Damasen and Bob, and suddenly he remembers why he’s here.

“Bob,” he says, but his voice is scratchy and dry. “Oh, gods, Bob.”

The Titan looks up, fixing his silver eyes on the son of Hades. Seeing him, a wave of emotions flows in Nico’s stomach, catches up to his chest, rises up his throat. He rushes over.

“Bob, listen,” he chokes out. “You have to come back with us. I… I’m sure that you’re the one who’s been calling to me. I’m here to take you out of here. You… you don’t deserve life in Tartarus.” Then Nico fixes his stare to Damsen, who’s watching Nico with pitiful eyes. “You either. You both deserve the outside world. You both deserve to see the sun, breathe fresh air, to… to live.” He staggers forward, forcing urgency into his voice. “You need to. You helped us, and now it’s our turn to help you. Will you come?”

Damasen and Bob turn to each other, carrying a conversation between their eyes. Bob’s mouth curls into a frown.

“Nico,” he says, almost as if tasting how familiar the name is in his mouth. “Tartarus is hard to get out of. Bob isn’t sure… The last two demigods tried and failed. It is not worth bringing Bob up.”

Dread trickles down Nico’s throat. He blinks. “What? But… weren’t you the one sending me the voices?” Confusion pricks his head, threading itself into his thoughts. “Who else could it have been?”

Before either Damasen or Bob can reply, though, a soft moan echoes from somewhere behind. With a start, Nico realizes it’s Will. He jumps and rushes over, anxiety pulling his hard into a chokehold.

“Will!” he exclaims, placing his hand over the blond’s bicep. “Hey, are you awake? Can you hear me?”

Will groans. “Pain,” he mutters. “Help.”

Nico presses his hands to Will’s curls in a hurried attempt to try something to soothe him. “Is there anything you want?” he asks. “Like, something you need?”

“I want… up.”

It takes a moment for Nico to realize he means to sit up. He entangles his right hand with one of Will’s own feverish ones and uses his other arm to guide him into a sitting position. With a lot of struggle and hissing from the blond, the boys manage to get him into a more comfortable position.

As soon as Will’s sitting up, he groans and holds a hand to his head. “Ow.”

Nico bends on his knees and balances his fingers over Will’s jaw, tilting his face just a little. “How are you feeling?”

Will only offers a hum of disagreement, which Nico takes to mean he doesn’t feel good. “Nico, it… hurts.”

“Your cuts?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah, I know. But we put salve on them the moment you got here. It’s much less now than it was then, trust me.”

A look of doubt flashes across Will’s eyebrows but he says nothing more. He only pulls into Nico’s body, looking for some kind of refuge from the cruelty around him. Nico wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders, and for a second Will’s found himself in bliss again, safe from the world around him. He rests his aching head against the son of Hades’ shoulder and sighs. Nico’s own skin feels feverishly warm, but at this point, Will doesn’t care. He just needs to know that he isn’t alone.

“Nico?” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry you had to go through any of this in the first place.”

Nico’s body flinches at his words. Then gentle fingers slide down Will’s back. “It’s okay. At least this time we’re together, right?”

“Nico?”

“Mhm?”

“Don’t let me go here. I promised you we’ll ride or die together, and that’s what I intend. Just… don’t leave me, okay? And I won’t leave you. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“One more promise.”

“What?”

Will raises his head, his glazed eyes trying to catch a hold of Nico’s. “We’re only riding. We’re not dying. Promise me that.”

Guilt flashes against Nico’s face. “Will, I-”

“Even if you can’t promise, at least lie. Make it sound like the truth.” Hot tears scorch Will’s eyes. “Please,” he urges.

Nico nods and pulls Will to him again. “We’re not dying. We’ll make it out of here, my love. I promise you that.”

[alittlebitgoofy]

that’s not me. (inti/arantxa)

this came about bc of a mix of love for drag race espana and the representation on that season, my love for arantxa and inti and my own experiences with dysphoria, TW for description of body issues, body and gender dysphoria. also sorry if it gets confusing, I use she/they pronouns for arantxa and they/them for inti :)

I hope people enjoy this, it's pretty personal to be posting something like this but hopefully it can be enjoyed :)

thanks to @goodemornting for betaing, couldn't do it without you :) ao3 link

Inti stared ahead blankly, not sure what they were seeing anymore.

That wasn’t them, that couldn’t be them, absolutely nothing felt right. This body — it wasn’t theirs, it hurt to see. Things faded around them, the corners of their vision growing blurry and faded. The room felt like a black hole, sucking them deeper into torment at what they felt. It was uncomfortably constant, seeing that sent an otherwise good day into pure hell.

They wanted nothing more than to shed this prison, it felt like a punishment for something that they couldn’t help. How could one’s body be so wrong, nothing felt right it all was too much to cope with—

“Inti?” That angelic voice rang through the clouds, pulling them from the desperate depths, giving them the air they needed to survive. Arantxa looked worried, prodding their side trying to get any sign of life.

They breathed in, trying to steady themselves. It wouldn’t take much to veer her off the questions Inti could feel coming. Sometimes they envied their partner, so carefree most of the time, happy with their body and not craving to change it to feel like themself.

“Who is this?” They spoke shakily, staring back into the mirror at the person before them. They couldn’t recognise them as hard as they looked. Nothing felt right. Everything was overwhelming, plunging, sinking deeper into this burning dread.

“It doesn’t feel like you?” Arantxa questioned softly, hands slowly moving to rub their back. Inti blinked back at her, trying to sort through her thoughts.

How did she always know exactly what the problem was? It was as if they lived the same experience. They definitely dealt with similar things, but the smaller blonde just seemed to know what was happening without the torture of trying to verbalise it.

Inti could only nod, letting themself fall into the supportive grip of the one they loved. In their arms, they felt like they were floating though now it was mixed with the torment of reality.

It always came back to this, the lingering pain of existence. The promise it would get better feeling fleeting the more they saw of this tainted world.

They had a light, someone to cling to. It hurt, but she was always there, ready to support and loving no matter how they felt. Sometimes Inti wondered how the world could create someone as pure as Arantxa, she rarely seemed phased by any of life’s challenges, going along with things as they came and always smiling, even at their worst moments.

They’d asked before, how she stayed so bright in the painful depths Inti walked. She just shrugged, claiming to just not take things seriously, enjoying who she was without more to it.

There was a pang of jealousy, that someone could look at themselves and just accept it, no flaws hurting them, just going along with how they are and not feel detached and pained by their physical form. But just as they envied the blonde, they valued her even more. Having a force so very full of love right beside you, it was magical. She was etherial to their pained eyes, a creature that someone blessed the world she lived in while deserving so much more than it was capable of giving her.

That was their motivation during the darkest of times, wanting to give her a fraction of what she deserved. Hold her gently and be the one to kiss her goodnight, it kept them hanging on.

“I love you.” Her voice barely above a whisper, Arantxa ran a hand through Inti’s hair before pressing a kiss to their forehead.

They could only let out a small hum, though their angel could still comprehend it.

Arantxa let Inti stay in her arms as long as they needed, knowing how much it hurt to feel this way. No one deserved to suffer this way, it hurt their heart to see someone they treasured so deeply in such pain. She felt powerless against it sometimes but resolved to stay by their side, offering whatever she could to help her beloved partner just as they had helped her figure out the complexities of identity.

Inti moved their head, facing the mirror once again with a sullen expression.

“This doesn’t feel right, where do I even start?”

Arantxa looked thoughtful for a second before her eyes lit up, at the best of times that was a sign to be wary but she looked so sure of herself that Inti couldn’t help but follow her lead and she grabbed their hand and pulled them into their room.

She sat them on the bed, away from the view of any reflections, and rushed to open a drawer, pulling out something with an accomplished huff as she puffed her chest out.

“We can get rid of it for now, though don’t sleep with it on, we can figure something else out for tonight.” Arantxa handed the binder to Inti, helping them through the right arm straps to compress their chest.

“Make sure you pull them up, so you don’t damage your chest.” She chimed as they just about got the binder on, Inti nodded, glancing down at their chest with a pained look.

Arantxa slowly moved her hands, making her actions clear as day if they needed to be stopped. She tilted Inti’s head up, kissing them to distract from her readjusting their breasts into a safer position.

“Does this look better?” She asked, watching as inti looked over themselves in the mirror, eyes scanning every inch of their body for all minor details

“That’s me.” They nodded, relief flooding through them at not having to see the cause of this panic. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but when the lights went out they could cope, especially with someone with them every step of the way always ready to help and shower them with love no matter how they felt about their body.

[birdhouse-of-shadows]

   If I’m going to angst jail, I’m gonna go for a good reason. Buckle your seat belts and prepare for some real angst. Also half way through this I came up with a title for this so maybe I’ll put this on Ao3. Also I managed to use the word assfuck for the stupidest reason so I’m happy. 

Side note: HCDISHBKFJ I KEPT FORGETTING THIS WAS HERE BUT ITS FINALLY DONE SO- 

“The Ghost and the Moon God” 

TW: panic attack, mentions of abuse 

It was only two weeks after the war had ended. Many pros were still recovering from their injuries, and Hawks was no exception. His back was healed, but he suffered some severe nerve damage. It was going to take months of therapy to relearn how to fully use the left side of his body. However, the ex pro hardly cared about rehabilitation. Since he had been in the hospital he had not been allowed to see his intern, or rather, his intern was not allowed to see him. 

Tokoyami had to endure questioning about what had happened to Hawks, and whatever else he knew about the villain, Dabi. It took a long time for the teen to say anything at all. He had internalized so much, and would only give broad descriptions of the event. He was so conflicted about what he had done, was it really right to save a murderer? It was his job as a hero to save his mentor, right? Aizawa was busy recovering, so he couldn’t help in coaxing the answers from his student until a week into the investigation. The teacher knew well that Tokoyami would need comfort before he could answer any questions. They were only together for 5 minutes before Tokoyami was crying and spilling his heart out to his teacher. 

Once the Commission got wind of what Tokoyami had seen, they knew that had to do something about him. They decided it would be a waste of potential to simply get rid of him. The HPSC decided instead to invite him to join their program. They thought that the young boy would be absolutely honored to have the opportunity to receive the same training as his mentor. Unfortunately, they were completely right. 

Tokoyami received the invitation personally. He had finally gotten to talk to Hawks and catch up. They 3 hours just talking to each other, venting, crying, apologizing, making jokes, laughing, with just each other. They would always be bros, even if one of them had lost their feathers and couldn’t be considered much of a bird. After he finally departed Tokoyami was met outside of the hospital by the president of the HPSC and principal Nezu. The meeting was a total coincidence, the two were originally going to speak to Hawks. It was quite the stroke of luck because they’d be able to get two birds with one stone. 

“Tokoyami Fumikage, am I correct?” The president was the first to greet Tokoyami. Principal Nezu was next to speak.

“My dear student, I’d like to introduce you to somebody! This is the president of the Hero Public Safety Commission! I assume you’ve spoken to Hawks, yes? We came here to speak to him, but it’s good that we ran into you. We’ve got a proposition for you!” Tokoyami wasn’t surprised when he wasn’t able to get much of a word in, the principal was known for his ramblings after all. Principal Nezu explained that the Commission was grateful for Tokoyami’s involvement in saving Hawks and they wanted to offer him private hero training. It would be the same training that Hawks was given, the training that helped him rise to the top so quickly. 

The young hero was absolutely astonished and humbled at the offer. However he was still hesitant. What about UA? Would he be able to get the same quality education? He would also have to speak to his family about this. The president assured him that the education would be an even higher quality than UA. Nezu agreed, albeit losing a little pride in the process. Tokoyami happily agreed to inform his parent and get a meeting setup. With that, the three went their separate ways. ‘

Hawks was tense when he saw the president entering, but confused when he saw the small mouse creature. No, wait, that’s Tokoyami’s principal. Why would these two be together. Hawks’ mind immediately began racing with thoughts and theories. He was stopped mid-thought when the his intern’s principal climbed onto his hospital bed. Nezu seemed to have a reassuring smile on his face, which brought down Hawks’ anxiety a bit. He opened his mouth to greet the pair, but was interrupted by the small principal. 

“Hello there Hawks! My name is Nezu, though I’m sure you already know that from Tokoyami! We actually ran into him on the way in. I have come here with the HPSC president to propose an offer! I’ll let her take from here.” The cheery little animal swung his feet over the side of the bed, and looked over to the president. She cleared her throat and began to speak.

“Hawks, as I’m sure you know, your injuries are going to prevent you from returning to your hero work. While you could return to your office and simply do paperwork, we believe that would be a waste of your talent and knowledge. We would believe that it would be in the best interest of the future that you pass your knowledge onto the next generation.” She paused and looked back over to the principal. 

“So I am offering you a position as a teacher at my school!” Hawks was a bit shocked at the proposition. A teacher at UA? He could be around Tokoyami and watch him grow. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement. He could create more bonds, similar to the one he has with Tokoyami. The ability to help children see their true potential. As soon as Hawks came to this conclusion, he accepted the position. The joyful tone was not meant to last. 

“Principal Nezu, would you mind letting me have a word with Hawks on my own?” The president joyfully agreed let the president have her moment alone and exchanged his farewells with his new employee. The President watched the small creature leave before approaching the side of the bed. 

“Hawks, I am sure that you already picked up on the fact that I am not here just to tell you about a new job position.”

“Yes ma’am. I’m almost excited to hear the news.” Hawks tried to let out a small laugh to cover his fear. He already knew what this would be about. The boy who had saved his life, but in the process got far too close. 

“Its about your former inter, Tokoyami Fumikage. We both know that he knows far too much about you and your position with the league. He will need to be taken care of. It would be a waste to prevent him from being a hero, so we’ve decided to be merciful. We have invited him to join our training program to become a top hero just like you, just like his mentor.” Hawks could only listen as she spoke, he knew that he had no opinion on the matter. His heart sank as she continued, he wanted so badly to protest, to cry, to scream, but he couldn’t. With or without him, with consent or not, Tokoyami would be going through that training program. She finally began to conclude her lecture. 

“Hawks, do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am”

“Oh, I have one last thing to inform you of. Since you are no longer a hero, you are no longer Hawks. Keigo Takami, I am looking forward to seeing your work as a teacher. Have a good day.” With that, she was gone. Takami let out the breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding in. After that sigh, he could hardly breathe. His kid was going to go through that same hell that he went through as a child. Takami began getting flashbacks to the training. He remembered the blood, the injuries, the abuse, the punishments. He spent hours just crying in that hospital room by himself. 

- 3 weeks later - 

It was finally time for them to go their separate ways. UA was holding a large scale party celebrating those who fought in the war. Here it was announced that Takami would be joining the staff, here it would be the last time he saw Tokoyami Fumikage. They sat outside together, away from everyone else, simply watching the sun go down. That was until Takami broke the silence

“Tokoyami, I’m proud of you. I am looking forward to the hero you’ll become”

“Thank you, but why say this so suddenly?”

Takami looked over to the confused face of his friend. He was hoping the next thing he said would be the last time he would have to lie to Tokoyami. 

“I just wanted to...” He didn't just want to, he needed to.

“...I might not see you for a while. With you going off to that private training and all. It was pretty tough when I was there, and I’m proud of you for stepping up to the challenge.” He knew he wouldn’t be seeing Tokoyami again. It wasn’t just tough, it was hell, no child should endure it. Takami realized that maybe that last part wasn’t a lie. He was proud of his little bro, but he was also terrified. There was a slim chance that maybe, just maybe since Tokoyami already had some hero training, the commission would go easy on him. There was also a possibility that since Tokoyami only had a year and a half left of school, that the Commission would be harsh, in order to make Tokoyami a top hero in a matter of months. 

“Well again I thank you Ha-, I mean Takami Sensei” 

“Don’t call me that, kid.  Its way to damn formal. Remember, we’re still bros.” Takami smiles, he hadn’t done so genuinely in such a long time. Maybe it was all of the memories that he had with the bird headed kid, maybe it was the fact that he was happy to be near somebody he cared for. He didn’t care about the reason, he was just happy to be happy. 

“Are you two done?” Takami almost fell off of the bench he and Tokoyami were currently sitting on. Aizawa has come out of the very depths of assfuck nowhere and scared him. Tokoyami, as one of Aizawa’s previous students, was used to these sneak attacks. The ninja teacher spoke again, 

“Ah, sorry, you’re gonna have to get used to that. Tokoyami, the Commission is here to pick you up.  Hurry and say bye to everyone before you leave” Aizawa jumped in his sleeping bag and disappeared again.

 “D-does he always do that?”

“Yes, Aizawa-Sensei is known for it. You are never quite alone here at UA. That fact could be good or bad depending on the type of individual you are”

“Great, that’s great.” Takami couldn’t help but feel nervous about working with somebody like that. He didn’t have long to feel nervous about that though, he remembered why his fellow teacher had come in the first place. It was finally time. He had to say goodbye.

Takami looked up to his friend, who had already stood to leave. He wasn’t sure what to say. This goodbye is only hard for him, he’s the only one who really knows what is happening. He could stop this now, couldn’t he? Why not stop it before it starts? That’s right, he’s not allowed to, if he does things could be worse off. He let out a soft sigh as he stood, hoping that maybe it would cause some kind of butterfly effect, and save Tokoyami. 

“So, I guess that’s that. My time at UA is over. It was fun while it lasted, and I met many great souls.”

“Are you sad to be leaving?”

“Dark Shadow more so than I, he says he’s going to miss all of the affection he gets here. I believe I will miss people, but I am not sad. I will see them again, even if it’s not within UA’s walls.” The soft sigh that followed seemed both sad and reminiscent. Tokoyami began to speak again, but was interrupted by something warm. It was a hug. Takami was holding him tightly, and didn’t seem to want to let go. The teen hugged back in a moment of understanding. They knew that wouldn’t be seeing each other again for a very long time. The two stood there for a long time before finally letting go. 

“So I guess this is goodbye for now, little moon god”

“Moon god? That’s a new one.” Tokoyami chuckled “But I don’t consider this goodbye. It’s not like the Commission is going to kill me. I mean, you’re not dead. Unless you are a ghost and I didn’t know that. Are you a ghost Takami?”

Takami couldn’t help but laugh. He knew that Tokoyami had been trying to lighten the mood. 

“As far as I know, I am not a ghost. I might just die if you leave me for too long Mr. Moon God.”

“Oh goodness, you seem adamant about this new nickname. Fine then, ghosty. 

“Ghosty?”

“I am convinced that you are a ghost and I’ll be joining you in the afterlife once I am done with my training” The word training snapped Takami back to the reality of the situation. Tokoyami also seemed to come back to reality. There was a small silence before the older of the two spoke up. 

“Seriously Tokoyami, I am going to miss you. I’m not the only one whose gonna miss you though. Your classmates are waiting for you.”

“Right then. I’ll be seeing you then, ghosty.” With that Tokoyami finally turned around and opened the door to go back inside. With one last parting look, he went inside. There was a small black feather that was sitting on the ground next to the door. Takami could only watch as the wind caught it and floated it away. 

- 3 Years Later - 

“All right everyone, that's all I’ve got for you today. You’ve got English with Mikey next. Bye now”. Takami began to leave his class when the sliding door slammed open. 

“TAKAMI! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!” Present Mic managed to sound cheery and angry at the same time. “I’VE HAD TO TELL YOU THAT SINCE YOU STARTED WORKING HERE!” 

“Okay, okay sorry” Takami seemed to be genuinely apologetic until he finally made it safely out the door “Mikey” 

“TAKAMI I SWEAR TO G-” Takami had already shut the classroom door in Mic’s face. He let out a slight chuckle before turning around to head to the faculty lounge. A voice came from behind him. 

“Takami.” 

“CHRIST! AIZAWA STOP DOING THAT. You know I hate that”

“Well, I recall that somebody told you to get used to that years ago. That person is also here to see you.”

Takami turned to face Aizawa with a confused look on his face. “Who? There have been far too many people who have warned me about you.” 

“I would assume he was the first person to have told you” 

Takami seemed to be even more confused. Who was the first person to tell him? How was he supposed to remember who told him something over three years ago? Three years ago was when he had become a teacher for the old class 2-A, Tokoyami’s class. They had all graduated a year ago. Wait, wait a minute, Tokoyami’s class. 

“TOKOYAMI? IS HE HERE?”

Aizawa simply spressed himself against the wall and prepared for Hawks to bolt down the hallway. 

“Meeting room 2-A, please don’t run anybody over on the way there.” Aizawa’s plea went completely ignored seeing as Takami had already bolted down the hallway. He was on the fourth floor, and on the wrong side of the building. He quickly calculated the quickest route to Tokoyami. Left, right, down the south hall, another left, avoid All Might, remember to apologize later, down the stairs. His mind ran on simple instructions. There it was, 3-A! One of the few things Hawks had retained was his ability to move quickly without running out of breath. He stood straight and composed himself, tears nearly slipping out. He took a deep breath and slid the door open. 

The sight that awaited him was something he hadn’t been prepared for. Tokoyami sat looking at him, his eyes dead. There was a large scar across the bridge of his beak. The typical black shirt of his hero costume was replaced with one with the Commission’s emblem. It was the same branding that he had to wear when he had been a hero. Upon seeing the young hero, Takami knew that was no longer the kid he used to know. 

The President sat next to him, as serious as ever. There was a glint of curiosity in her eyes. It was obvious that she wanted to know what Takami’s reaction would be to this new version of Tokoyami. The sick curiosity made Takami’s heart sink. He knew what had happened to Tokoyami, he knew that the teen would never be the same. 

“Hey there, you two. Its been a while, hasn’t it?” Takami moved to sit down. 

“Yes it has, and in this long while Tsukuyomi here has become a wonderful young hero.” 

Tokoyami said absolutely nothing. 

“We’ve come to visit you because next week Tsukuyomi will be having his debut as a hero. We would have done it sooner, when the rest of his class had graduated, but creating a hero is like making a fine wine. More time results in higher quality, wouldn’t you say?” 

“Of course” Takami knew that she didn’t mean that. He assumed that the Comission had issues with getting rid of Tokoyami’s emotions and previous training education. There may have also been issues with how complex Dark Shadow was. Usually the shadow was around whenever Tokoyami was greeting somebody familiar. There was no sign of him, meaning that there was a high possibility that Dark Shadow was only allowed out for combat reasons.

“I have nothing else to talk to you about. I am going to leave you two to catch up, alright?” The president just left without saying anything else. At this point Takami could hardly think. After his peaceful 3 years of teaching, he would have to face Tokoyami and his 3 years of hell. 

“Tokoya-”

“Don’t call me that. You and I both know that is no longer my name.” Tsukuyomi’s voice was dry and harsh. It was obvious that the training had destroyed his personality. He spoke up again, 

“I don’t have much to talk to you about. You already know what the training was like. While I am quite please to be seeing you alive and well, I can’t help but feel betrayed when I look at you. You knew exactly what I would be put through, and you did nothing to warn me. I remember the last interaction we had. You had so many chances to say something, and yet you didn’t. I remember how we joked about how the Commission's training had killed you, and maybe you were a ghost. I almost wish that you were dead, then I never would have met you. However, you did help me with some things, so your life has some value. I hope that my training does not become a waste. That’s all I have to say. Goodbye, Takami.” 

Takami couldn’t get a single word in before Tsukuyomi left. There were absolutely no words to say. Tokoyami Fumikage had been killed by the Comission’s training. The only thing that was left was the vengeful moon god, Tsukuyomi. 

[chillahead-bridge]

grave mistakes

inspired by @arrival-layne‘s good good angst art for jim, a mini-au about a what-if scenario about the grave sand having some... side effects on humans. (AO3 version)

TWs: body-horror, mouth horror, blood, description of injuries and violence. enjoy and stay safe!

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

Grave sand burns.

It’s bare seconds, passing in a painful flash- but Jim feels the grit scrape against his sinuses, leaving his airways raw as he hacks, lungs struggling to supply him air. And then it’s over, just like that, and a surge of energy washes over him. Like stepping into the cold depths of a pool, diving deep downwards.

“How do you feel?” Strickler asks him, watching him with sharp eyes.

“Angrier,” Jim replies, voice rough. He feels himself smile. The energy- the emotion- it’s pulsing through his veins. It’s incredible. It’s intoxicating.

“Good,” Strickler says, bursting into brilliant green arcs of light as his body twists and changes, horns curving over his skull as he raises his head. “Use that anger,” he encourages with a grin of deadly fangs.

Jim can feel himself shivering, deep inside, at the blatant challenge. An invitation to fight. The Amulet responds to his silent call- wrapping him in its armor and power, forming Daylight in his grip. Another flash of light and Jim glances over his shoulder, seeing Nomura stalk predatorily towards him with her blades.

Two highly skilled opponents. Both of whom have fought him to a standstill before. Jim feels no fear. He snarls right back at the changelings, reveling in the way he feels. He’s stronger, he’s faster, his heart races and his throat aches, and he meets his mentors’ attacks with zero hesitation.

It’s a blur, for a few euphoric moments, where there’s nothing but Jim, his weapon, and the changelings he’s beating back. Jim growls, shouts wordlessly- he kicks the larger, heavier changelings across the floor more than once, keeping up and surpassing them as they clash. Strickler has no close-range weapon, he falls back all too quickly. Nomura is brutal and unyielding, but she doesn’t expect the strength Jim has now. Her swords clatter against stone, her skull impacts against the wall he shoves her into, her claws shriek over the metal of his shield and Jim presses harder-

The interruption that comes will be something he’s grateful for, later. In the moment, however, Jim steps back from Nomura and turns to his first and dearest mentor, and all he sees is someone interfering with his victory.

Jim points his blade at Blinky. He takes swings at him, though they’re not truly meant to harm. Just intimidate. His words come between coughs, the energy in his body beginning to hum fiercely, urging him to fight more, to give it outlet-

“Master Jim, look at me,” Blinky says, holding him carefully but firmly. Jim tries to pull away, but the troll keeps talking, keeps him close and still. The words that come are warm, soothing, “-for your human heart,” and it pulls him back up from the depths.

Jim steps back, coughing harder as the corrosive enhancer in his body shifts. The Amulet’s power recedes, the armor vanishing; releasing him from the bloodthirst. He’s sickened, as his head clears, by the fact that he’d fallen so deeply into that desire.

“I’m- sorry,” Jim rasps, coughing still, “I- I lost myself.” He tries to say thank you, but the coughing won’t stop and he bends, pounding a fist against his chest.

Blinky turns on Strickler, launching into an angry conversation with him. Their clash of mentalities grows distant as Jim keeps coughing. His ears are starting to ring. His throat aches.

“Jim?” Nomura’s voice asks, a hand touching his back. Jim tries to respond but can’t get a single word out. He’s beginning to hyperventilate, but he can’t stop, coughing as the grave sand does something- else. Before it’d been flowing through him, circulating the unnatural aggression and energy. Now it’s- it feels like it’s seeping into something deeper, like it’s forcing itself into the rest of his body-

A lightning strike of agony abruptly explodes in his chest. Jim can’t even cry out, robbed of air.

“Jim!” shouts Blinky, but Jim can’t raise his head and look to him. The pain radiating from his ribcage is climbing, spreading outwards.

His fingers, his jaw, his eyes- Jim only hears the thundering of his own heart as he clutches at his mouth, deaf to whatever is happening around him. Oh god, the pressure is building, pushing to escape, make it stop, he’ll do anything, just make it STOP-

Something gives, a sweet relief of pressure for a split second, and then iron liquid fills his mouth and a new kind of throbbing pain takes the other’s place. Jim doubles over completely and heaves, red and spit splattering the stone. Jim coughs and shudders, tears blurring his vision as he gasps raggedly.

Little white pearls fall into the slurry, one by one.

Those are teeth, Jim thinks outside the pain, just as his eyes roll back and he passes out.

 -/-

 “For what it’s worth, young Atlas… we were unaware these particular side effects could occur.”

Jim doesn’t look at Strickler or Nomura. He keeps his eyes fixed on a corner of the room, focused on the rough-hewn walls of it.

“We’re already looking into a way to reverse it,” Nomura adds in a subdued tone. Jim still doesn’t answer, or acknowledge their presence.

“I swear it,” Strickler says, low and sad, “we will fix this for you, and I am deeply, deeply sorry for allowing this- to happen, to you.”

Jim curls his fists into the blanket covering his legs.

“Leave,” he manages to say, throat hoarse. “W- we’ll talk. Later. But for now…”

“Of course,” Strickler says softly, and that’s the end of it. The two changelings walk out, drawing the curtain closed; leaving Jim to sit in Blinky and Arrrgh’s bedroom, wrapped in an overlarge blanket and shadows to hide within.

Gingerly, with a hesitant hand, Jim reaches to poke at his aching jawline. The claw that’d burst from under his nail throbs in time with the teeth he presses against.

Jim hasn’t looked in a mirror, but he knows. He’s already searched his face and body- he knows about the teeth, the claws, the point to his ears, the way his vision is perfectly suited to the dark room he’s in… He knows what it all means, what it all looks like.

He drops his hands to the blanket and twists them into fists again, hunching over his knees and shaking. Tears drop onto the fabric not for the first time today, an echo of his teeth falling out of his mouth.

The parallel forces him to unlock his clenched jaw and let out a wounded cry. His voice wavers and cracks, the internal damage done by the grave sand persisting still. Jim doesn’t spare a thought of concern that he might worsen the injuries; the noise pours out of him and he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to.

The curtain is suddenly yanked open and he hisses, flinching and covering his sensitive eyes. “Oh- shit, shit, I’m sorry Jimbo,” says a more than familiar voice, and the curtain is hastily closed again. Jim doesn’t even have time to blink the spots out of his vision before two sets of arms are thrown around him.

“Blinky told us what happened,” Claire rushes out, fingers already shifting to touch the ruined parts of him, searching, caressing- “Oh, Jim, how could they? Why- god- I’ll, I’ll strangle them both-”

“Should’ve never left you alone with them,” Toby says to the crook of Jim’s shoulder, squeezing his middle so tightly it hurts, but in a good way. “I should’ve- we should’ve been there, maybe then we’d’ve been able to steer you off this fucking- this horrible idea, what were you thinking?”

“I- I just-” Jim stutters, trying to answer both of them. His hands hover, not quite touching them, keeping the claws away from their human skin. “I need to get stronger,” he says, the mantra he’s been repeating for what feels like ages now. “They were just helping me, I asked them to, and- I’m the one who, who let Strickler- it’s my own fault.”

“Bullshit,” Claire curses, eyes blazing. “They did this, they hurt you and I’m going to- to-”

“Drop them into the shadow dimension forever?” Toby suggests in a dark tone.

“Yes,” Claire hisses vindictively.

“Guys, no, we need them, they were just doing what I- what I asked them-” Jim breaks off as he loses his voice, biting his lip and slicing into the thin skin immediately. Right, he has fangs, small but sharp fangs that jut up over his lip in an overtly inhuman way, something nothing short of removing them can fix, and oh god how will he hide this from his mom? How is he supposed to hide his ears? His eyes?

“What am I gonna tell my mom?” Jim whispers harshly, and starts crying in earnest.

Claire makes a wordless noise of anger and sadness, carding her fingers through his hair and letting a few of her own tears slip free. A tissue is pressed gently to his bleeding lip, held in place by Toby as he looks at Jim, brushing away his tears while ignoring the ones on his own face.

Jim wants to curl up and hide himself, cover up the pieces of himself he tainted, cheating for power. But he’s held between his two closest confidants and he can’t bring himself to pull away, instead slumping into the hold, burrowing into their comfort and care and clinging to that safety.

 -/-

 Sometime later: Claire holds his hand without fear of the claws that’ve grown there; Toby pokes the tips of his ears and jokes about Lord of the Rings. They beam at him pointedly until Jim will nervously smile back, not letting him sink further into his mire of self-loathing.

The adults shuffle back and forth behind the curtained entrance, unsubtly checking on the three of them. Sooner than later, they’ll be pulled out of the safely shadowed nest they’re huddling in. But not yet, as stated firmly by Claire when Blinky comes to ask after them.

Jim huffs, embarrassed by the fuss everyone is making over him, pressing his face into the softness of Toby’s sweater vest to hide his flush. Claire’s lithe arms wind around his waist and hold him like wrought iron, refusing to let him slip away even a little. Toby’s arms are warmer, stronger, wrapping around both of them best he can and helping their trio lower themselves gently onto the wide pillows that make up the bed.

Jim’s future has become even more uncertain, another trial added to his seemingly endless path to their ultimate goal. But for a moment between the three of them, tangled up and shielding themselves from that uncertain future, he can breathe easy.

[latent-thoughts]

First lines of last 10 fics

Post the first line of your last 10 published fics, then tag 10 people. (I was tagged by the lovely @philosopherking1887.)

This post made me aware of the fact that I have, in fact, more than 10 published fics now. Ha! And I’m obviously presenting more than a line, to give it more context. The link to my AO3 page can be found in my profile’s description.

1. Loki and the Minion (Loki/OFC, romance, humor, UST)

Victory… Conquest… Subjugation…

Merely words concluding the struggle between two parties in opposition. A simple enough concept, but a rather difficult accomplishment. You win at it once, and everyone thinks you invincible. You fail at it once, and everyone takes you for granted.

2. Fear and Other Related Emotions (Loki/OFC, romance, drama, erotica, angst, action)

When Tony Stark contacted Reva Anderson, a young psychologist, she was rather stunned. He had been cryptic about the reason, only telling her that he needed a 'session'. 

3. Thirst (Loki/OFC, romance, humor, erotica some angst)

“I have no more of either food or water.”

Loki hunkered down at the mouth of the cave they had found to take shelter from the harsh heat of the realm. If not for its shaded location and depth, they’d have been baked under the intense twin suns.

4. Ravished by a God (Loki/Reader, erotica, noncon play, kink galore, romance, action)

It was a bright, sunny day, and you were making the most of it by going out and enjoying it. It was also your day off, an added advantage. You went for a walk in the park, had lunch at an outdoor café and finally did some much needed shopping with a friend.

5. Closure (Gen, Endgame fix-it fic, Loki centric, angst, fraternal love)

Not for the first time in the last few years, Loki stared into the Tesseract, agonizing over what it had revealed to him. It wasn’t the first time he was seeing it all, and he knew that it wouldn’t be the last.

6. Magic Potion of Mischief (Gen, humor, family, Loki being a true mischief maker) (Co-authored with @lokilover9)

Loki arrived in his private chambers within the palace via a portal generated by his magic. He had kept himself consistently concealed from Heimdall, for no other reason than having his privacy. Ever since he had entered his youth, the fact that Heimdall could see all of his activities had rubbed him the wrong way.

7. Dead Letters (Gen, Loki centric, heavy angst, filial love and rejection)

Mother,

My memories fail me. It is not clear what is real and what is not. I want to remember… I want to keep memories of you, but they’re being stolen from me.

I know you loved me. This, I somehow remember.

8. With a Greeting (Loki/Jane (mainly) + Loki/Jane/Thor, erotica, kinks galore, taboo)

"Hello Jane..." is his usual, perfunctory greeting with her, always. And her response is almost always to give an equally unfeeling 'hi' back. This is like a tradition now, after months of her visiting and staying over in Asgard. Jane tries to steer clear of him, but inevitably, finds herself in a situation where she can't avoid him.

9. And Untamed Hunger (Loki/Reader, TW: noncon, erotica, kinks galore)

When the Tesseract exploded and brought the strange man in, you just knew that something very bad was about to go down.

As a guard, it was your duty to come forth and try to stop any hostile individuals, but this particular hostile individual was not any average goon or criminal. He had come from a different world, and he had, in a matter of seconds, taken down several SHIELD agents right in front of you.

10. Mischief in an Elevator (Tom/Reader, Loki/Reader, crack, humor, erotica)

Magical. Magical is the only way to describe it.

It’s an event that’s celebrating the Marvel movies. Two sisters are in attendance, exited to see their favorite characters in so many ways! And not just characters, but the wonderful people who played them as well!

I’m tagging @mastreworld @nildespirandum @ohhhmyloki @pedeka @nuggsmum @caffiend-queen @hurricanerin @lokispettigerr @lokilover9@iamhisgloriouspurpose @sabine-leo @queencfthestarsdrfoster