#nee i think has been here almost since the place opened and she still only makes like 16.... which is insane

[nomaishuttle]

guys remind me to watch la bamba later

[whynot-tryit]

Angel of Small Death: Chapter 1

John Price x female! reader

Summary: Laswell convinces Price to hire a team medic. You spend your first day meeting each one of the men and you take an instant liking to the captain, and he does so too.

Word count: 5,528

Warnings: inaccurate medical stuff, mentions of blood, insomnia, body parts, body touching, lmk if there’s anything I should add.

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“John, in the past six months your team alone has made up almost forty percent of overall med bay visits. I’m not saying your team isn’t fit, I just think you should hire a team medic.” 

This isn’t the first time the idea has been brought up to Price during his and Laswell’s debriefings in his office. His hands run over his face, racking through his mutton chops before laying them down on his desk with a grunt of annoyance. “I know you guys can take care of yourselves on base and out there on the field but come on John, you guys need someone. You need someone to help you.”

Price wasn’t fond of asking for help but it was starting to get on his nerves with how much Laswell was bringing this up. “I already said no, Laswell.” His annoyance makes his words come out gruffier than usual. Laswell rolls her eyes and rests her back against the chair posted on the other side of his desk. “How about I choose for you? If you hate them then you’ll never hear me talk about it again.” 

The sigh that rolls through Price’s chest is the only sound that radiates through the small room for a couple seconds. He hasn’t had the time to finish the mountain of paperwork on his desk along with the daily training regime for the team, along with all the meetings he’s been dragging his feet to day in and day out. Maybe some help would be nice. Did that mean he was unfit in his role? His eyes come up from the papers on his desk to Laswell’s. Her eyes seem to read his mind and her eyes get softer trying to voice her thoughts.

He was good at his job, getting help wouldn’t be a bad thing, he deserved it. The bags under his eyes and stiff shoulders were a tell tale sign of how much he worked, an extra set of hands wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

“Fine. You pick ‘em.” 

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

You were an experienced medic, having been stationed in multiple locations, saved a multitude of civilians and soldiers. You were proud of your work. Moving around so much, feeling like you were being tugged in one direction to the other was getting quite exhausting. Once the rumor of a job opening as a team medic passed through your small base you hesitated for a small moment, you had no idea what team, where, but you knew it would be good to get some fresh air and maybe to have a new place to find stable ground for a foreseeable amount of time. It took months of rigorous interviews and paperwork but they chose you. Laswell, chose you. You had asked her why the captain of the team didn’t pick you, asking why they weren’t present for any of the interviews if you were going to be working with them. She had only hinted that they seemed to be a close friend of hers who needed the extra hand and didn’t have the time to pick someone themselves, so she was doing them a solid.

You had always liked the idea of helping someone, that's why the idea of being a medic, a doctor, was one you had had since you were a child. One that you worked very hard to make a reality, so the thought that whoever it was that you were going to work for really needed you made you even sounder in the idea of taking the new opportunity. 

Duffel bags are still packed and laying on the floor of your new living quarters, hands on your hips and eyes trailing around the four walls, all the way to the small bed and desk. This would have to do. Since the process of getting here had taken so long you wanted to jump right into introductions. You hadn’t heard a single thing about the team, 141. Cute name, you thought.

Unpacking and making the room somewhat livable for your needs was going to have to wait, changing into your scrubs and grabbing the four manilla folders you made your way to the medical wing on base. Laswell had helped you set up one on one meetings with the team so you could go over their medical files. Military medics, especially ones who didn’t work with the team directly and personally were always known to look over things and forget to file symptoms and problems properly so you wanted to make sure you went over some things. You wanted to do your job properly. 

First up was Kyle Garrick. 

As you walked towards the curtain which separated your little appointment room for your little meet and greets you noticed the feet underneath the small sliver of space made by the floor and the bottom of the curtain. He’s early, 15 minutes early to be exact. That earns a check in your book.

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves and reach out a hand to pull the curtain to the side and take a quick step inside before pulling it back to its place behind you. “You must be Kyle.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

You greet the soldier with a kind smile, moving to place the folders in your arm on the small side table in the corner before pulling out the rolling stool from underneath and taking a seat, scooting yourself a little closer to the cot located in the middle of the room, closer to Kyle who is seated right on top. 

“You don’t have to call me ma’am, makes me feel older than what I really am.” You say with a small chuckle. He doesn’t seem to be much older than you, a little younger than the other members in 141, you presume. Your eyes make their way from his eyes down to his shoulders, then to his arms, hands interlocked in his lap, all the way down to his legs and feet. “You can call me Gaz then, that's what everyone calls me around here anyway.” You file the nickname into the back of your mind. 

You splutter out a greeting, a more friend like one at least, your name and medic title. “I already went through your medical history and you seem to be pretty healthy or at least your file is a lot lighter than some I’ve seen.” You mentally flinch when you realize that it might come off as you think he’s inexperienced in his field, new to the military, although his age hints at him being quite the opposite. But Gaz smiles, “Means I’m good at my job. Don’t get hurt too often, at least I try not to.” Oh thank God, you think, he didn’t take it that way.

“Well then, I guess me and you are gonna get along just fine then.” You chuckle. “Is there anything you wanna tell me though? Anything like trouble sleeping? Appetite problems? Joint Pain? It doesn't seem like you’ve complained about anything, ever. At least according to your records.”

A deep hum can be heard coming from his chest as he seems to run through his own mind, trying to come up with anything he would deem reasonable enough to complain about, at least to a doctor. As he’s doing so you take note of his clothes, the medical wing is set up like most hospitals, AC blasting, it’s cold, sure, but not enough to be bundled up for. Your eyes focus on his shoes, more specifically his socks, they’re not the military issued kind. They seem to be wool socks, which is odd, not something you see that often. Maybe his feet get cold, at least to a level that he takes an extra precaution to keep them warm. 

While you’re finishing reeling in your thoughts after noticing your observation, Gaz finally finishes rummaging through his mind for anything to tell. “I don’t have anything I think is worth complaining to you, Doc. I mean if complaining about the food on base to you can actually change anything then that's about it.” A deep chuckle makes its way out of his throat. You smile.

“Can I see your fingers?”

The odd question makes Gaz raise a brow but he pulls his hands from his lap and lays them out to the space between you and him, palms up. You take a soft hold of his fingers, wrapping yours around them almost like you would grip onto a handle of something. They’re oddly cold. You take note of it in your mind and move his hand to be palm down so you can take a look at his fingernails, softly running your thumbs over them.

Gaz stays silent, watching you as you bring them level to your eyes as you take note of the very subtle vertical lines that run through his nails. You let a slight hum almost like an aha moment and Gaz is very confused. “What is it?” The question comes out with a slightly worried tone. 

“Do you get cold easily, Gaz?” 

“I don’t think I get any colder than the average guy, why?” 

You finally drop the hold you had on his hands and scoot to the desk, opening a drawer to quickly take a pair of gloves out and slip them on before scooting back to your previous position near him.

“You wear wool socks, which aren't really military issued so I’m guessing your feet get cold easily and your fingers too. Your fingernails also show symptoms of an iron deficiency. Is it alright if I check your eyes and gums?” You always try to explain the best way you can, talking slower than you normally would- trying to come off as understanding as possible. He gives you a nod of approval before shifting closer to the edge of the bed so you can do your little investigation. 

You take a hold of his face, placing your thumbs underneath his eyes before pulling down his water line to get a good look underneath. The spot is oddly void of red, a classic sign of anemia. You move on to do the same with his mouth, pulling on his bottom lip to look at his gums which are a pale pink- not the exact color that they should be.. 

Retracting your hands and pulling the gloves off you scoot to the manilla folder, pulling out a pen from your scrub pocket to jot some things down. “I think you’re anemic, an iron deficiency, nothing too serious since it doesn’t seem to affect your work but I’m gonna order a blood test to confirm and to see if it’s just a dietary issue or if you need a supplement to get you to normal.”

Gaz is kind of taken aback. He felt fine, or at least he thought he did. Sure, his feet and hands got cold but he had trekked through waist high levels of snow and water. The soldier thinks of how he gets winded when moving from one sparring match to the next. Was that what that was? “You got that because of my socks?” 

Shit, you’re good. 

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Next was Johnny MacTavish, or “soap” at least that's what the red mess -doctor handwriting, right next to his real name on his file read. You had stayed in the curtain enclosed room after Gaz had left, writing out a referral for the blood test you had mentioned when you heard the slight squeaking of boots on the shiny floors headed right your way before they stopped right on the other side of the curtain. You looked up right as they were pulled aside and a friendly face greeted you, and a mohawk- which surprised you. 

“You must be the new Doc, names Soap.” He greets you and steps inside, extending a hand to shake yours. You take it, giving him a light shake before introducing yourself and directing him to sit on the cot. Soap’s introduction didn’t seem rushed yet happened all before you could even stand up from your seat. It somehow exuded this confident aura off him, which somehow in your mind explains the haircut for you. 

“I see here that you're a demolition expert?” To be frank, when you had read that in his file while going over all the men’s information, and seen all his med bay visits you knew he would be the one that would take up most of your time. You had seen first hand the aftermath of the explosions his people have dealt with. On enemies and on your very own. The thought and images are quickly pushed to the back of your mind. 

“Yes ma’am.” He laughs, it's deeper and louder than Gaz’s. “You are the second person to call me ma’am today, please just call me anything else.” 

“My bad, Sorry, Doc.” He raises his hands in a mock surrender. “I’m guessing you also know that your file says that you frequently find yourself in the medical wing.” Soap winces, a hand coming to rub the back of the neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. Kind of comes with the job. But, hey! We’ve got you now, so no worries.” 

Yep, you had your work cut out for you on this one. “I guess you do, can’t wait to see what you get yourself into that I have to bandage you up for.” 

Soap enjoys your replies, the banter settles nice under his skin. His smile doesn’t seem to fade, maybe slightly but never fully gone. “I’m guessing that since you’ve been at this a couple years you know about the annual hearing tests you should be taking.” 

His smile drops instantly. “What.”

“You did know that all personnel that deal with explosives regularly are supposed to be given a hearing test once a year while for others it’s every 3, right?” 

A laugh bubbles up in your chest, past your rib cage right near your spine as you watch him gape at you- like he’s grappling to find the words that he clearly doesn’t have. “I’m pulling your leg, your file doesn’t have anything on them either so I'm guessing you never had them.” Soap lets out a sigh before shrugging, flashing you a sheepish smile. 

You chuckle, “Alright, I’m gonna have you do one for me and let's just hope to God you’re not deaf yet.” That earns a chuckle from him, again. He was a lot more talkative than Gaz yet around the same level of openness. Thank god it seems like you got a good team, no weirdos so far. 

“Can I ask you one thing, lass?” Your eyes dart up from your folder where you were jotting down your notes. “Yeah, of course.”

“How fast does hair that's been burned off, by let's say- an explosion- take to grow back?”

Oh boy.

………………………………..

It had taken a while to finish up with Soap, he had too many questions for his own good. But the interaction puts a smile on your face at the thought. Your next patient was already waiting outside, Soap greets him right on the other side of the curtain before he comes in.

“You must be Ghost.” 

You had heard of him before, small whispers of a skull masked man who never showed his face. To be honest with yourself, it wasn’t quite unfamiliar to have a soldier that preferred to cover their face most times, so the thought of it that wasn’t unsettling to you in the least. Even as his huge frame slips past the curtain before moving to the other side of the room, or at least to the other side of the bed. You suppress a frown, he’s purposely distancing himself from you- normal in his case, you try to tell yourself. There's a long moment of silence where you’re at least expecting him to somewhat introduce himself but it doesn’t come. Alright then.

You introduce yourself instead, trying to get rid of the silence. “Did you know that most of your files are almost completely redacted?” His eyes finally meet yours after making their way across the room. “Yeah, I know.” 

There's silence again, this isn’t gonna be easy.

Ever since you were a kid you had always been able to read people, their eyes, their hands, the way they walked. You look at his eyes and the skin around them, at least the small amount you could see through the baklava he wore. They move down to his neck and shoulders, they’re stiff- almost painfully so. Then onto his crossed arms. 

“So, how often do you get nightmares?”

Even Though you can’t see his face you know he’s surprised. “Excuse me?”

You give him a soft smile, “Your eyelids are kind of droopy, you have serious under eye bags, both indicative of an inadequate sleep schedule and your right shoulder is higher than your right even though you're standing straight which tells me you sleep on your side very often. It's actually an effect from what we call a sleeping soldier position. You lay on your side, one arm under your head and the other most likely holding onto some kind of weapon.”

He doesn’t answer straight away, it almost seems like he’s sizing you up. Trying to guess if you’re serious, if you’re being condescending in some way but Ghost can’t seem to find anything behind your eyes except kindness. It almost scares him more than what he was expecting. You know you're right, you’ve worked with dozens of cases of PTSD, diagnosing it and treating it. “What have you tried in order to help?” 

You almost think he’s not going to answer you, that he’s just going to storm out of the room and somehow you’d lose your job before you even got the chance to do anything about it.

 “I don't know how to fix it.” It’s a quiet, muttered reply. You almost miss it. 

Ghost feels like he’s out of his comfort zone, sure soldiers had nightmares and maybe he had had them when on a mission, sleeping just a few feet away from his teammates but you were new and somehow could see through him. “Does your captain know?” You hoped the answer was yes because then it meant you wouldn’t have to tell his superiors about his personal problems and you could just help him without anyone having to know and judge him which is what you guess is making him uneasy. “Price knows.” You nod- they seem to be the closest in age on the team so you guess they’ve known each other for at least a decent amount of time, knowing things about each other that only a close friend would. “Then I can help, I don’t have to tell the captain unless he asks and neither do you.” 

“No drugs.” Ghost had lost hope on ever truly resolving his problems when he lied awake at night thinking about it. Drugs would be written down, stored and used against him. He’ll be seen as an unstable soldier- a sick man. 

“I can do that.” You offer him a small smile, at least you’re getting somewhere- doing your job.

Soap might not be the one to worry about, you thought.

—----------------------

You let out a quiet sign to yourself, the back to back meetings have had you cramped inside the room for hours. The team seems to be a good one, funny and kind, thank god. The last meeting was with the captain. You were nervous even though he had hand picked the three men you had met earlier so he couldn’t be too far off in comparison. But the thought that you were going to be working with him and he hadn't been involved in choosing you was gnawing at you. If he hated you or thought he didn’t need you he could have your bags packed in an hour tops. You try to take a deep breath, he couldn’t be that mean- none of the boys seemed to warn you about him so that means he had to be nice or else they would complain about him somehow. 

The thoughts in your mind seem to be clouding your senses, you barely hear the steps coming towards the curtain and how they come to a halt right before the fabric is slowly pushed to the side. 

Still lost in your thoughts and sitting in the stool, it seems like you’ve been glued to the whole day at the desk that's been housing all the manilla folders, referrals, and notes you’ve been working with for hours on end- you don’t hear the steps get closer and the figure who they belong to standing just slightly past the threshold. Price knows he should probably make himself known, maybe clear his throat or rustle the curtains so you know he’s here. 

He plans to, or at least that's what he tells himself, he can’t help taking your form in, your back to him- legs crossed, seated, elbow resting on the desk, chin in your hand. He gulps, he hasn’t seen your face but somehow he knows that you’re beautiful. He would bet money on it without you even having to turn around. Surprisingly, it's the very gulp that makes him let out a small cough that finally has you turning your head to face him. A part of him wants to back out of the room and call Laswell, curse her out for this idea of hers but that thought seems to slip out of his mind as your eyes meet his. 

You’re quick to stand up, wiping your hands off on your thighs before reaching one out for a greeting. “Shit, so sorry. I didn’t even hear you come in. You must be the captain.” Price takes your hand but his eyes don’t leave your face- that smile that he can already feel is going to get him in a load of trouble and gives you his own. “It’s alright, love.” You try to hide the sharp inhale you seemed to have involuntarily made when the name hits your ears. 

His hands are calloused, not in a way that scratches you but feels sturdy, warm, somewhat comforting. The grasp he has of your hand lasts a little longer than what anyone would deem normal and you stutter out a soft command for him to take a seat on the cot. 

Price does as you say and lets go of your hand before taking a seat, interlocking his hands in his lap. You take the time to turn and rearrange your papers, trying to get your breathing under control, of course no one mentioned he's handsome. Fuck.

“I hope my men haven’t given you a hard time so far.” You finally turn around after hearing his voice, it matches his face- handsome, charming. “ No, they're nicer than I expected.” That makes Price raise a brow, questioning what you mean by that and you catch on. “Gaz doesn’t like talking so much, Ghost is an enigma of his own, and well soap is one hell of a character.” You chuckle while taking a seat on the stool once again and scooting over til you’re a few feet away from him.

To be completely honest, Price had almost forgotten about the deal he made with Laswell. She had come by to drop your file at his desk- for him to look over- but in reality, he had forgotten. He feels what he thinks is guilt eating at him in his chest. He had been adamant for so long on not needing a team medic, that they were a waste of time and money- yet here you were, nice, beautiful and he didn’t hate you one bit. 

“Well, Gaz is called Gaz for that very reason and well Simon is Simon, and soap- well he’s most likely the reason you’re here.” Soap had been the sole reason for 141’s increased med bay visits which is what had tipped off Laswell to initiate the month long debate of hiring someone. 

“I’m glad you did, it doesn’t seem like you guys have been keeping up with protocol.” 

“What do you mean, love?” Concern is laced into his words, the thought of his men not getting adequate help makes the knot in his chest grow tighter. 

“I’m having Gaz checked for anemia since he’s got some of the tell tale signs. Soap hasn’t had a hearing test in over five years and Ghost has a severe case of insomnia.” You know that not a lot of teams have the opportunity to have a team medic, often resorting to rotating med bay doctors who aren't very keen on prevention and treating for mundane things. The look of guilt spread across the captain's face, his brows furrowing and lips taut. “It’s not your fault, I’m here now so I’ll be taking care of you guys and I’ll be trying my best, captain.” 

Your words seem to settle the man down but you can tell he still seems anxious over his men. You place your hands on your knees, “Let’s worry about you right now.” You offer him a kind smile before standing up from your seat and taking a few steps forward before coming to a complete stop when you're standing right in between his spread knees. Your hands are held up a few inches from his face, silently asking for permission. Price pushes the feeling of apprehension to the back of his mind before tilting his chin slightly up, granting you to do so. 

“Any past surgeries I should know about Captain?” The tips of your fingers press into the skin right below his ears, feeling the tension underneath while you slowly make your way down his neck, dotting your fingers into his hair clad skin. 

“No.” You don’t know if it's in your head but his reply almost comes out as a whisper, your fingers run back up his neck applying pressure directly under his jaw on both sides of his esophagus. You hesitate for a moment when you don’t feel the usual clump of cells that should be there. You spare a glance at his eyes, taking a second too long to remember the shade of blue you find yourself trying to jot down in your mind. “You sure about that?” Your voice sounds softer, closer to the whisper he seemed to have let out before.

You slowly remove your hands from Price’s head and reach for the pen in your scrub pocket and turn to write something in your manilla folder that's laid out on the desk. “I think I would remember going under the knife, love.” 

A small smile graces your lips while you finish writing your notes, scooting back to him. “Well Captain, I’m sorry to break the news to you but you don’t have tonsils.” You try to keep a straight face looking at the man sitting on the medical wings cot, barely a foot away. Your knees brushing up against his. “What does that mean?” You hear what sounds like a hesitation of concern laced in his voice and it almost makes you break the stoic look you’re trying to maintain. 

“Either someone drugged you and ripped them out of your throat in your sleep or you had them removed when you were a kid and you didn’t remember and no one ever bothered to check or write it down. I'm gonna go with the ladder so you can sleep better at night.” You let out a little chuckle at your imaginative story to pull his leg. Before Price seems to catch onto your joke you ask a follow up question. “Do you smoke?” 

“Does that matter?” He looked like the type to smoke, maybe not exactly a cigarette but maybe a cigar, your eyes flash down to his hands and look at his fingers which are laid out on his knees. Yep, he looks like the type to smoke cigars. Your eyes come back up to meet his.

 “Cigars?” 

Price doesn’t have to answer your question, the look on his face alone answers for you. Before the words reach your ears you’re already back to writing some notes in the folder. Sparing a glance back at the man you notice how out of place he looks. His dark clothes stand out against the pristine whiteness of the blanket laid out on the medical bed, and the slightly off white colors of the walls, the freshly mopped shiny floors. You have the sudden urge to comfort him even though he’s not here for any actual type of medical treatment. 

You can see the questions brewing underneath his lips and behind his eyes. Turning your body back to face him, inching your stool a little closer til your knees are almost back to pressing against his. 

“If you got your tonsils removed as a child you have a slightly increased risk of upper respiratory infection and you smoking- even if it’s an occasional cigar increases that risk even more.” You try to show some sense of empathy through your eyes while they meet his. A sense of understanding seems to cross his face from your words and it causes a warm smile to find its way on your face. 

“It's not that big of a deal but since it’s now in my job description to make sure you and your men are as healthy as can be I just want to make a note of it in case of anything.” 

“Alright, love.” 

The gruffness in his voice makes you fight back a shiver. “Do you not like doctors, Captain?” His eyes wander around the room, taking note of the fluorescent lights and sketchy wallpaper with a not too fond look on his face. “Not exactly, just not fond of the medical wing itself.” You nod, “yeah I can agree with you on that, not exactly friendly.” John smiles, it's small but something and you feel a tightness in your chest just from the sight of it. “Well since I’m your doctor now we can always just meet in your office instead of here, as long as I can just bring my supplies when needed.” 

Price doesn’t understand why you’re trying to be so understanding, so comforting. It’s strange, out of the ordinary for the man, especially in his line of work. His eyes rack your face, down to your hands where you’re fiddling with your fingers. “I’m here to help you Captain, that's it.” You can tell he’s thinking, trying to take you in- read you. 

Price decides he likes it, likes you.

“You gonna cook me dinner too, love?” He chuckles. You let a small laugh slip past your lips. “Ask Laswell to see if you can upgrade to the doctor deluxe package and maybe I will.” You’re enjoying this, and judging by Price's reaction he seems to be enjoying himself too. 

“Deluxe package?” 

“Yeah, cooked meals, back massages, the whole nine, Captain.”

“Sounds like a dream if you tell me, love.” 

You both break out into a chorus of light laughter and quiet chuckles. The room doesn’t seem so small and suffocating like you had thought a mere thirty minutes ago and that pit in your stomach has seemed to all but dissipate. You finish going over some more of his medical records, confirming some information and filling in some gaps before you realize that it's been over an hour and the day is coming to a close. It doesn’t even hit you until Price brings it to your attention by looking down at his watch. 

“I’m so sorry, I’ve probably kept you here for longer than you planned.” You say with an apologetic smile, nervousness etched into your words. “It’s alright, love.” 

The boys were most likely waiting for him in his office for the past twenty minutes but he didn’t have the heart to tell you. Your eyes seemed to have glued him to the cot and your voice lulling him into a daze. Maybe having you around wasn’t so bad after all.

He stands- you follow him. “Well, it was nice meeting you, captain.” You hadn’t had time to take him in when he first came into the room. He’s tall, wide shoulders, tapered waist, and a nice strong set of thighs you have to force your eyes off of. 

“John.” You raise a brow, lost in thought from seeing him in his full form. “You can call me John.” His smile is warm and it's almost like the warmth of it radiates onto you and you feel a rush of heat crawl up your neck. 

“Okay, John.” 

“It was nice meeting you, love.” Price gives you one last kind smile, the crows feet along the edges of his eyes come out at the gesture as he walks towards the curtain before pushing it aside and stepping out. The curtains don't go back to their previous place. You watch him as he walks away until he’s out of eyesight and you finally feel like you can catch your breath. Fuck, your captain is hot. 

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

Taglist: @sharkiestory

[ficbrish]

To Belong

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 6th - Collar/Leash]

[[TW/CW: Dom drop, cptsd, blood, alcohol, smoking, choking, service, oral]]

Summary: Astarion and Vistri seek the help of old friends for a bit of kink coaching.

Takes place during post-canon (about 4 years after). There are SPOILERS FOR THE ENDGAME OF BG3 directly under the line!

Penance is my friend's OC and we co-wrote the group scenes. The AO3 link has more information and where you can find their companion smut to this. Which is ❤️‍🔥

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

Astarion had a roguish glint in his eyes and a smirk on his face. His hands were hidden behind his back, and it looked as though he were holding something as he strutted over to Vistri in their bedroom.

“Uh oh.”

He smiled, concealing a cheeky chuckle, “I haven’t even said anything.”

Vistri stepped closer to rest her hand on him. Her fingers found their home on his chest, and she appreciated the beating of his undead heart. It fluttered as if he were nervous.

“You don’t have to say anything. I can just tell.”

Like they shared some sort of secret, Astarion leaned forward and bent low to speak in her ear, “Now that I’m here, might as well give us a kiss.”

Vistri moved a curl away from his forehead, positively beaming. Astarion wore that soft, mischievous look of his; one of many ways he showed his adoration. So she brought her mouth up to his. That little moan he always let out whenever their lips met made, “I love you,” slip from Vistri’s tongue as she pulled away.

“I don’t think I caught that. Be a dear and repeat it for me.”

“You didn’t hear?” she teased, “Let me get closer then.” Vistri nestled her lips against his earlobe and whispered, “I love you, Astarion.”

He shivered pleasantly, just a little bit. Then she kissed his cheek affectionately before taking a step back.

The way he was looking at her was worth a whole other fight with another Netherbrain.

“And I love you, dearest Vistri,” he declared with his entire heart in his eyes.

Humming with satisfaction, she asked, “What is that behind your back?”

“A delightful little surprise,” he brought his hands around to present her with a box that was wrapped up in pretty paper.

Vistri couldn’t help the smile on her face, “You thought of me?!”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I think of you all the time! A normal, healthy amount. Just every morning, noon, and night—And all the seconds inside them.”

Laughing, she tore at the giftwrap, “I only meant it’s not a holiday or anything.”

“I don’t need a special occasion. Just you, my love, to inspire me. Now stop staring at me and open that gods damn box before I get too excited and spoil the surprise!”

“I’m opening it! Gods!” Vistri protested, feigning offense.

She lifted the lid and moved aside the tissue paper. Vistri looked back at Astarion with the biggest eyes, “You didn’t!”

He seemed genuinely pleased with himself, “I just wanted to make another of your dreams come true.”

On top of a velvety bed sat a collar. And not just any collar, but the collar. It was made of dragon scale leather and inlaid with opals and pearls.

“It matches my face!”

“That’s not too macabre, is it? I thought it was cute, but then I thought—”

“Astarion! It’s perfect!”

Vistri enveloped him in the biggest bear hug her little arms could manage, smashing into him with such force that Astarion almost toppled over. He could feel her hot breath seep through his clothing. Speaking with her face still tight against his chest, she asked with muffled concern, “But… Are you sure?” 

They’d talked about doing something like this a few times over the years. Vistri yearned for his collar ever since she fell in love with him, but Astarion had been traumatized in a kennel. Astarion, being the person he was, tried to convince her he’d be fine, but Vistri didn’t want it if it wasn’t for him too. Being owned and belonging to him in the way a collar represented came from a resilient need for restoration and reclamation. It wasn’t just about Astarion feeling ready, he had to want it in the same way. It couldn’t be something he put himself through just to make her happy. It had to be something they both re-enacted in order to heal.

“I want us to have fun and live our lives the way we want,” Astarion answered, “I’m tired of Cazador still having his way with parts of my mind. I want to take back everything he’s taken, and I want to do it with you.”

Vistri had tears in her eyes, she was so happy, “It means everything to me that you trust me with this, and I promise to do everything to keep you safe.”

Astarion held her tight, resting his head on top of hers. They stood there embracing for a good few minutes before breaking apart.

“And I will do the same,” he promised.

They started slow, with Vistri simply wearing the collar around for a few days. Astarion could see her in it, knowing what it meant, and sit with how that felt before getting into anything more intimate. She’d wear it for benign conversations or reading a book. She’d take it off for any serious moments or prolonged physical contact.

Years ago, Vistri consulted Shadowheart about eventually navigating something like this with Astarion.

“It’s not that I lack experience in this…”

“Area?” Shadow suggested, “Field of study?”

“Exactly!” Vistri continued, “It’s just, all my experiences were with people who took what they wanted and didn’t consider me.”

Karlach would have scooped her into a sweeping hug, but Shadow just passed the wine and explained everything she could. And that was exactly why Vistri was admitting this in Shadow’s tent versus anyone else’s.

She explained concepts to Vistri like aftercare, Dom drop, and the simple idea of taking things step-by-step in your own timing.

“It can be easy to fall into the trap of feeling like the villain,” Shadow admitted, “The healing part is… I don’t know. Maybe it’s just doing the things that were done to you, but with everyone feeling good and okay instead of… what it actually was.”

During their trial period, as Vistri and Astarion referred to it, they would check in with each other a lot to see how things were settling. One night as they sat together on one of their sofas, Astarion answered, gently toying with the collar around her neck.

“It’s absolutely stunning on you.”

The feeling of his fingers lightly brushing along her throat drove Vistri wild, but she needed to stay grounded if she was going to keep Astarion grounded too.

“I love it almost as much as I love you. Your taste is immaculate, my dear.”

Astarion giggled happily, warm and secure, “I could have picked any old bit of leather, and you would wear it like perfection.”

“But you didn’t just pick any old bit of leather.”

“I did not,” he chuckled, “I searched and searched until I found the very best one, because you deserve no less.” He playfully poked the bridge of her nose for emphasis on the word, you.

Vistri stroked his hair, “I’ll happily be your prized pet.”

“My beloved, cherished pet…" Astarion smiled dreamily, "I rather like that.”

“I like that too.”

“Is that what this is then?”

“Do you want it to be?” Vistri checked, “That—Does it feel good to you?”

“It feels sort of wonderful, actually. Does it feel good for you?”

“Oh, it feels lovely!” she answered affectionately.

After discovering what it would mean to them, they decided to take it a step further. Vistri would wear her collar, and they’d go about their evening as usual. This time, however, Astarion would ask her to take off bits of clothing until she wore nothing else.

Vistri sitting by the fire was the picture of contentment. Flickers of light caught on the opals in her collar, making them dance. And Astarion would stare at her.

Before saying something like, “And now your shirt, my dear.”

Her eyes grew more eager with every article shed. Astarion kept asking how she felt, knowing each time the answer would be the verbal manifestation of everything sitting in her expression.

Then he’d tell her how that made him feel, “I love watching you choose to do what I want you to do.”

Since that went so well, they got confident. A couple nights later, Vistri was again left wearing nothing but her collar. Swept up by her existence that night, Astarion gave her a new kind of command.

Every moment between them was a little more intense than usual. They saw each other a little brighter, felt the ache of their love in a different way, and that filled them with the rush of brand-new lovers. It was just one of those days where they looked at each other with fresh eyes and were stunned by the sheer perfection they found in front of them. The heat on Vistri’s face grew as abundant as the slick between her thighs.

That night, she moaned every time Astarion asked her to take off another piece of clothing.

It made him feel greedy.

“Come over here,” he beckoned with a nod.

Vistri stopped performatively searching the bookshelf and turned with a smirk. “I know that tone,” she teased.

Astarion patted the spot on the sofa next to him and pouted, “Come be a good girl for Daddy.”

Vistri blushed and walked over immediately.

Astarion laughed appreciatively when she sat down, “Oh, you liked that. I can tell.”

Speechless, she bit her lip and smiled.

“Now why don’t you lay back for me, darling? I want to admire your form, and I can do it so much better when you’re in that position.”

She did as he suggested.

“That’s it, love.”

Astarion performed that predatory expression he wore so well; the one she trusted so much. “Now spread your legs for me,” he demanded with a sweeping, vampiric wave of his hand.

She did as he asked. Smirking, he moved closer, and she whimpered as he stroked her thighs. The anticipation of his touch almost outshined his actual touch. Her body knew his as the source of years of passionate ecstasy, and on top of that, it was the safest one hers had ever known. It gave itself to him entirely at the barest brush, at the least bit of attention. And here Astarion was, paying her every drop of attention and holding Vistri in both hands.

She cried out his name and wriggled under his fingers. All he had to do was run his palms up and down her thighs, and her want for him turned into madness. It was delicious enough to earn her praise, “How you purr for me when I pet you…”

“Please,” Vistri writhed, helpless; begging, “Take everything. I’m all yours.”

Astarion played with her until he couldn’t help himself. He ordered Vistri to help him undress, then claimed the home he found between her legs. They left her collar on for a while, but Astarion took it off to sink his teeth into her neck. It was the one thing they owned that they couldn’t afford to ruin with bloodstains.

Completely carried away with each other and the moment, they went a step further. Vistri screamed his name so sweetly it inspired Astarion to say, “That’s it, show us who you belong to.”

She shouted his name at every thrust, and once she started crashing around him, Astarion groaned and muttered, over and over, that he owned her. He fucking owned her. It went on for a while before he whined, spilling into her. As he rode out his pleasure, Vistri joined him in it and screamed that she was his. She was completely his.

It was a wonderful moment, but it settled over Astarion afterwards in a weird way.

Not immediately after either.

They checked in with each other as usual, and both felt fantastic. They kissed each other’s fingers and held each other; talked about everything and nothing for hours. Then they went into their trances, blissfully wrapped around each other.

It wasn’t until the next day, when Vistri secured the collar around her throat, that either of them noticed he was bothered. Astarion was excited one moment and in the next, shuddered, almost imperceptibly.

“Are you all right, darling?” she asked immediately.

The corner of his mouth lifted with a little smile, but Astarion was obviously shaken. “I’m not sure,” he questioningly stated.

“Why don’t we sit for a bit?” she suggested, carefully taking off her collar, “Hold on, it’s stuck.”

“Let me get that for you,” he tapped her shoulder, and she turned around for him to finish undoing the clasps.

Astarion looked lighter once it was off. Like some weight had lifted.

“What changed?” she asked, concerned.

He sat down next to her, “You know, I’m really not sure.”

Resting his head in her lap, Vistri played with his curls. She made a concentrated effort to hold her tongue, wanting him to have the silence he needed, and wouldn’t speak until he was ready to speak.

“It’s not like we really did or said anything we haven’t done or said before…” he started before trailing off.

“But not with a collar.”

“No, not with a collar."

Vistri swallowed the guilt and blame bubbling up over her reason. His curls were her final tether to reality, petting them gently to steady herself, “We don’t have to—”

“But I want to! That’s the tricky bit of it all. I like what we did, and it made me feel… I don’t know… Powerful and powerless all at once. And the powerlessness snuck up on me. I didn’t even know it was there until I saw you put on your collar again.”

“I’m so sorry, love.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Neither do you,” Vistri assured him. Then she asked, “Do you know what made you feel powerless?”

He thought about it, “It’s not about hurting you—You enjoy it too much for those kinds of thoughts to take purchase. Visibly, audibly—”

“Astarion!” Vistri laughed, more from relief than anything else. If he was joking again, he was starting to feel better, more himself.

“What? You just really, really, obviously adore the things I do to you. And I think that deserves to be stated out loud as often as possible.”

She raised an amused brow, “You’re getting off-topic.”

“Right!” he agreed, “Where was—Oh! Right. The powerless thing. As I said, it’s not about hurting you or doing something to you that you don’t want. It’s more about… I feel wrong for wanting you to belong to me. It isn’t about doing something that I don’t want to do. It’s about me wanting to do it in the first place.”

“It’s perfectly okay to want those things. Even with everything that’s happened.”

“I know. It just feels that way anyway.”

They just sat in that together.

Eventually, Vistri had an idea, “You know who we could always ask about this?”

Astarion chuckled, knowing exactly what she was about to suggest, “Jenny and her pretty Penny?”

“Yes! It’s about time we have them over to stay again.”

v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v

The four of them were absolutely delighted to see each other. Shadowheart and Penance looked the same as they always did, but entirely different too.

Shadow’s shock-white hair was even longer but rather than the tight, chained style she’d worn when they traveled together, she sported a softer braid. Penance had hers pulled up too, but neither had a hair out of place despite the dirt on their cloaks indicating a recent scuffle with something nasty. Penance towered over Shadowheart even more than Astarion did Vistri. His shoulders were broad, but Pen’s were broader. They were a visual contrast that made Astarion and Vistri look matched in comparison. All this to say, the tiefling was quite big. It even looked like she’d put on more muscle in the past six months. She had a few new scars too.

But it hadn’t been that long. Not really. Half a year, actually, but when you all used to live and fight together, even a week apart felt like a few years. The last time they’d all seen each other had been at Shadow and Pen’s farm, so seeing them again at their manor made it feel like even more time passed than it did.

Exclamations, hugs, and kisses exploded from the open door. Shadowheart was unusually animated, handing out such physical affections freely. Peace seemed to suit her; living in its safety had brought her to life. Penance, her stalwart sweetheart, was far more subdued by comparison, but no less affectionate. She offered Astarion a warm handshake and Vistri a kiss on the cheek. Even through their various greetings, Shadowheart and Penance always had a funny way of devoting a corner of their attention to each other at all times, as if there was an invisible tether between them.

“May we come in?” Shadowheart asked with a wink to Astarion.

“Why aren’t you a sweetheart! Yes, please step inside.”

Vistri noticed Pen wasn’t wearing her collar yet, and put her hand up to hers in blushing embarrassment.

Shadowheart could see Vistri’s discomfort for what it was and reassured her she wasn’t doing anything wrong, “It’s fine that you’re already wearing it—Moonmaiden’s mercy! It’s absolutely stunning! Astarion, what did you do? Sell a whole city?”

He laughed as they all stepped further in, “How little you think of me! I’d rob half the Upper City before selling anything.”

Everyone could feel Penance, the staunch Paladin of Lathander, tense up a little at the idea.

“Now, now, Pen,” Shadow purred, “Remember our friends and their little jokes.”

Vistri and Astarion shared a look from the corners of their eyes.

Penance insisted on taking their bags into their room despite the abundance of well-paid servants that swarmed them in the foyer.

“It’s no trouble,” she insisted, blushing under her blue-grey skin as she dismissed them.

They had a before-dinner catch up in the lounge by the fire. The deep glow of the Underdark shone through the windows.

“Sorry about the lack of sunlight, Pen,” Vistri apologized, noting their slight unease, “And the moon, Shadow.”

Shadowheart waved off her concern, “Darkness still has its moments. As for Pen…”

Her shoulders were tense, and she cleared her throat, “The light of the Dawnfather comes from within just as much as without.”

Shadowheart chuckled a little and took her hand to kiss it as if to say, What am I going to do with you?

They got the usual conversations out of the way first. Shadowheart had brought a new litter of kittens to the farm. Penance had just finished a new addition to the estate. There’d been a bit of drama between Astarion’s brothers and sisters. Lae’zel was still at war, but it was going well. Gale confirmed again there were no signs of new Elder Brain activity. They’d all gotten the same box of cigars from Karlach and Wyll.

“Well, now that we’re basically all caught up,” Shadowheart segued, “Let’s talk about why we’re all here.”

“You mean other than just to adore you two in person?” Vistri remarked with genuine flattery.

“Shadowheart said you two were exploring and that we could help. Right?” Penance asked.

Shadow placed a hand lovingly on her knee, “Precisely, love. Not to mention dinner.”

“Speaking of dinner,” Astarion said, “We still haven’t dismissed the cook in case you need any help preparing it, Pen. I know you’ve insisted, but you can always change your mind.”

Penance shook her head resolutely, “I will not change my mind. I’ve been planning this all week.”

“She wants to, Asty. Besides, Penance loves to show me all the ways she can serve, don’t you?”

The large tiefling shot her a million-gold smile. She did.

Astarion crossed his legs and languidly sat back, “Well, far be it from me to get in the way. When should we officially begin?”

“First, I’d like to reiterate what I’ve said before. However the two of you decide to explore is perfectly fine. For us, the collar is a symbol of our devotion to one another. I ordain and Penance serves. While her collar is on, she defers to me in all things. Her focus is mine. She is mine,” Shadowheart said.

Penance hung on to every word and a grin slowly spread across her face. The air shifted around them ever so slightly, charged with anticipation.

“Exactly so,” she added, “My primary attention will be on Shadowheart, so forgive me if I’m not much for conversation.”

“Typically, we keep to our roles quite strictly, but since this is all new for you, we’re happy to make exceptions as you learn,” Shadowheart finished.

Astarion tipped his head genuinely, “Thank you.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Penance smiled.

It was so easy to see why those two served the sun and the moon. Brightness poured out of the Paladin, and the Cleric was more than happy to soak up her every ray and reflect it right back. They tempered each other, complimented one another.

“You are our friends, and you know us well,” Shadowheart warned, “but we are a bit different when we’re playing formally. If anything happens that doesn’t sit right with you for any reason…”

“Safe word is ‘Barcus’,” Vistri finished for her.

“Right. Ours is ‘Netheril’.”

“Rest assured,” Pen said, “It pleases me greatly to serve.”

Gods, Shadowheart practically giggled, “Isn’t she darling?”

Penance leaned in for a kiss that was met with equal fervor.

“They are so sweet,” Astarion said to Vistri.

Vistri had a smile on her face she couldn’t get rid of, “Do you think we’re that sweet from the outside?”

“We can hear you talking about us, you know,” Shadow said.

“We know,” Astarion quipped, “That’s why we’re saying it.”

Penance gave Shadowheart a final peck and then made for the kitchen. There was work to be done and she was eager to do it. Not to mention the fact that, though she loved Vistri and Astarion dearly, she could never quite settle in their presence. They were always unpredictable and bursting with energy; difficult to keep up with at length. Rather than trying, she preferred to show her affection in other ways.

A servant approached her on her way to the kitchen, but she waved him off.

“No need to fuss over me. You will have to plate everything though. You know that’s not my gift,” Penance winked.

While she cooked, Shadowheart went over everything a second, third, and fourth time. But it was nice because it gave Astarion a chance to talk to her about what happened the other night. Vistri tried her best to just watch and not chime in. Shadowheart could understand him in a way she couldn’t in this instance. Shadow and Astarion were the people who held the leash, and they were platonic friends instead of sexual partners. As Astarion’s expression shifted from anxiety to relief and then joy, it became easier and easier for Vistri to sit back and stay quiet.

When Penance finally came back into the room, she was holding her collar.

Hers was the complete opposite of Vistri’s but commanded just as much presence. Made of restored leather and backed with reinforced steel; it was plain except for a singular moonstone. It was well-worn and loved even before they’d found it in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, and since having it repaired, it was obviously well-worn and loved again.

“Oh, that’s lovely!”

Penance politely dipped her head, “Thank you, Vistri.” Then she approached Shadowheart and presented the collar to her.

“This means she’s ready,” Shadowheart explained, “Are you two ready?”

Vistri and Astarion looked to each other and nodded.

“Yes,” they both said.

Shadow looked from them to Penance. Once her eyes were on her lover, she needed only to nod. Penance lowered herself to her knees. Even so, she was still so tall.

“Can you be good for me?” Shadowheart asked.

“Yes.”

The air between them was thick with trust and care. Shadowheart smiled and buckled the collar around Pen’s neck. For a brief moment, it was as if the world around them had ceased to exist and was born anew between them. As the moment passed, Shadowheart turned to Vistri and Astarion.

“Pen gives me her collar to let me know she’s ready. And then I put the collar on her as my way of letting Pen know I’m ready.”

Vistri looked to Astarion. There was a thoughtful, delighted smirk on his face, “Hmmm, I think I like that.”

“Would you like me to take it off so you can put it on me, my dear?” Vistri asked.

Astarion smiled warmly, “I just might!”

Vistri turned around so he could unclasp it. Once it was off, he offered it back to her. She accepted with a bright smile before giving it back to him.

He smirked, “Come sit on my lap.”

Vistri felt her heart flutter as she took to her perch. His smell was all around her. She could feel his chest against hers, and the movement of his relaxed breath.

“There you are,” he said as he secured it back around her throat, “Now the whole world can see how darling we are to each other. And by the world I mean Shadowheart, Penny, and the servants.”

Penance glared at Astarion before she could stop herself. Astarion froze. He forgot that “Penny” didn’t actually like to be called that and that only Shadowheart could actually get away with it in her presence.

Shadow corrected her before Astarion could stumble over an apology.

“Penance.”

The effect was immediate. Penance looked back at her like a guilty puppy.

“I came here to show off my perfectly trained pet, and here you are glaring at our hosts.”

Shadow’s voice was stern and icy. Vistri and Astarion knew they’d be stepping into roles, but they were also facing the experience and familiarity that came with years of this kind of play between them.

Vistri squeezed Astarion’s hand, Are you okay?

He squeezed it back and nodded an, I’m all right, love. Thanks for checking.

They watched the other couple resolve their conflict. Penance bowed her head in shame and Shadowheart clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

“Misbehaving is rare for her. We do apologize.”

Astarion bowed his head, “No apologies needed, darling. It was my offense. May I offer your dear pet an apology?”

“If you must,” Shadowheart smirked.

He made eye contact and said, “I’m sorry I called you a name you don’t like. I’ll be more careful.”

“Thank you,” Shadowheart said for her as Pen bowed her head to express it, “Now, shall we admire her for a moment?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he smirked.

Anyone could spend hours singing Pen’s praises. She was tall and broad even for a Tiefling, the result of many years of hard discipline. Her silver-blue skin was scarred and her hands calloused, evidence of her love for hard work. Her pale pink hair was shaved down on the back and sides with the rest tied back in a neat ponytail. She was terrifying to behold, and half it was just from being so beautiful.

“I cannot fathom another person who compliments you better, Shadowheart.”

“I suppose she’ll do. My great beast,” she observed.

“A mountain that greets the sun!”

Shadowheart smirked and circled Penance like a displacer beast around a hunk of raw meat. She ran her fingers over the tiefling’s biceps.

“She is quite striking, isn’t she? Well endowed,” she purred.

All the while, Penance stood perfectly still, waiting for an order and silently enjoying the attention. She was rather terrible at appreciating herself, but Shadowheart was more than happy to make up for it.

“I always knew you were a size queen,” Astarion teased.

Vistri looked up at one of the servants as he stepped into the room. He wasn’t one of the spawn, just a big fan of vampires. He was just George.

“Hello, George!” she waved.

He waved back, “Hello! Dinner is ready, by the way. If you would all please take your seats.”

As George left, Astarion stopped them all from moving to the dining room right away.

“Let’s not forget about my little dragon,” he offered Vistri a hand and pulled her to her feet.

“Exciting!” she said, “I’ll go stand next to Penance so you can admire us both at the same time.”

Shadowheart smiled at her dearest friend and Vistri smiled back. She was much warmer with Vistri, knowing discipline wasn’t as suited to her tastes as her own pet.

“Well, now, Astarion. I think you’ve got some competition. Vistri’s even prettier than you are.”

“I’d take offense to that, but I completely agree.”

Penance looked over at Vistri and winked, offering just a little encouragement of her own.

As they all moved over to the dining room, Astarion watched Shadowheart pull Penance to the side to check in. He took his cue to do the same with Vistri before sitting down at the table.

They pulled off into the room’s entryway and spoke low.

“Are you doing all right, love?” Astarion asked as he moved hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

“It’s a little weird, but kind of a good weird. You know?”

He chuckled, “That’s how I feel too. It’s a bit startling at times, but it’s more exciting than anything else. So, you’re doing okay?”

Vistri nodded happily, “Yes. I’m perfectly content. Are you okay?”

“I’m wonderful,” he admitted, a little shyly.

“Kiss me,” she suggested.

Astarion leaned into her, pressing her back into the wall as he pressed his lips against hers.

They found themselves at the table before Shadow and Pen.

“Everything okay?” Vistri asked when they finally joined them.

Shadowheart nodded her head, “We’re fine. Pen isn’t totally used to an audience, but it’s well in hand. Leave her to me.”

Vistri put her hand to her heart, “We’re adjusting too, darling. Don’t fret about it.”

Penance nodded.

“It’s kind of exciting though, right?” she went on, “I mean, it’s all so new, but I’m already having a wonderful time. Plus, I get to share it with you and Shadow.”

Penance nodded again.

“Though, it is a little strange too—I suppose that’s the case with anything new though… What do you think?”

Penance sighed patiently, “Vistri, I’m trying to focus.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Penance took her duty so seriously that it was hard for Vistri to feel like she wasn’t slacking in some way. Maybe she wasn’t doing this right, not paying Astarion enough attention or giving him enough deference. Vistri looked to him for reassurance and he beamed back at her. So she looked over at Shadow, but she had no criticisms to offer. Besides, she’d reminded her over and over again that pets are individuals and dynamics are unique. Pen can be as staunch as she wanted to be, and Vistri could just be Vistri.

“No need to apologize,” Shadowheart smiled. She turned to her beloved pet, “Shall we eat?”

Their first course was a salad made with crops from their garden on the Surface. As the servants brought it out, Shadowheart explained how important it was to Penance for them to have a taste of the sun.

Astarion was genuinely touched, “Thank you. I truly appreciate that.”

Food didn’t sate his hunger, but he could still taste and admire it. More importantly, Vistri would enjoy it. He looked over at her happy expression from tasting one of the tomatoes. Even though Vistri grew up in the Underdark, Astarion always felt guilty for depriving her of the Surface and its food. She loved Surface crops, and the ones traded to the Underdark were never as fresh, or grown in the wrong soil down here. Astarion couldn’t put into words how grateful he was they’d brought her some picked just earlier that day.

So instead, he gave Penance and Shadow a toothy grin and said, “I remember this dressing. You made it all the time back at camp.”

Vistri agreed, mumbling and chewing, “Mmmpphh.”

“Don’t try to talk with your mouth full,” he chided playfully, “It’s rude and we have guests.”

Vistri glared back at him but there was a glint in her eye.

“Careful, Asty,” Shadowheart warned, “If you don’t tame your pets, they get wild.”

He turned to Vistri with a devilish grin, “All the ways I can think to tame you, beloved. My mind is rushing with the possibilities.”

She answered with a hellish look that complimented his, “In honor of our wonderful chef, how about a little penance?”

Astarion raised his eyebrow, “Oh?”

Shadowheart crossed her arms in amusement, waiting to see where her friends were going to take this. She looked over at Penance and could see, by the slightest twitch of her eyebrow, that she was critiquing her food and making mental notes adjusting the recipe for her dressing as she chewed.

“You did perfectly,” she said to Pen from the corner of her mouth.

Penance wiped her mouth with her napkin and smiled at Shadowheart. Then her eyes grew wide as her moment of pleased contentment was interrupted by Vistri’s next words.

“How do we all feel about blood at the dinner table?”

At least this time they were asking.

“Not while we’re eating!” Shadowheart protested, “Excuse yourselves for a moment and go do that in another room like civilized people.”

“It’s not that taboo here,” Astarion said, “We live in a city full of vampire spawn for gods sakes.”

“We live with animals that have more restraint,” Shadowheart sighed.

He stood up dramatically and giggled as he held his hand out to Vistri, “Come, pet. This is lovely but I need some real sustenance and you need to be punished. If you’ll excuse us for a moment or two.”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes happily at the sight of them skipping out of the room. Penance finally let herself chuckle at her moonbeam’s little zinger.

“Laugh it up, devil. I’m saving your punishment for later,” Shadowheart mused.

On the other side of the wall, Astarion pushed Vistri’s back into it with an eager kiss.

“You’re supposed to punish me,” she laughed, still pressed into his lips.

“I know,” he purred, “But I do so like misbehaving with you.”

He tangled his tongue with hers and Vistri tasted their wine and Pen’s salad. She felt his hands roam over her breasts, his lips move to her neck.

“I can’t wait to fuck you,” he growled as he licked her throat.

She sighed, “Bite me.”

Grinding his hips against hers, he sunk his teeth into her neck. Just a shallow cut he’d gladly lick up until it closed. Vistri wriggled between him and the wall, trying not to cry out.

The next course was already on the table by the time they got back. Roast duck with carrots and a colorful arrangement of potatoes. It smelled divine.

Shadowheart spoke once they sat down, “Got a little bit of red on your collar there, Vistri.”

Astarion stood back up at once, “Shit!”

Vistri leaned into him as he tried to rub the stain off with his fingers, but that only spread it around.

“Fuck it!” he said, bending over to put his mouth on her collar and suck off the blood. It was just easier that way! And even if dragon scale didn’t stain, he didn’t want to tempt it.

It was quite a sight, Astarion sucking on the collar around Vistri’s neck. Shadowheart laughed, “Gods, you’re like this even when you’re not trying to be.”

“Like what?” Vistri asked, head tilted with Astarion’s mouth still hanging on her neck.

Thankfully, the collar didn’t stain.

As dinner resumed, Astarion took note of how Shadowheart interacted with her pet. It almost seemed like she was ignoring her at first, since Penance wasn’t really part of the conversation, but every once in a while she would look over at her or touch her idly. 

“Penance. Astarion’s cup is empty.” 

Without wasting a moment, Penance wiped her mouth with her napkin and rose from her seat. She took the bottle of wine from the servant nearby, as if he was the one behaving strangely, and refilled Astarion’s cup.

With her task complete, she paused, looking to Shadowheart for guidance.

“Vistri, would you like more wine?” Shadowheart asked.

“Please!”

Penance filled her glass and then waited, once more, for further instructions. Shadowheart looked at her, holding her attention in the palm of her hand, knowing she could hold it there forever. After a long moment of this aching, glorious tension, Shadow nodded.

“You may sit.”

Once seated, Penance was rewarded with a hand on her cheek and a soft, “Good.”

Astarion watched them with rapt attention. Seeing Shadow and Penance act the way they did took away that wrong feeling. Around them, he felt validated and free to play. These people understood power and how its exchange was more than just cruel or petty; it could be so much more. He could, for lack of a better description, be a kinder Cazador to Vistri than he ever got. He could do similar things that were done to him, but from a position of power, and with the person he trusted and adored the most wanting him to do it.

He was truly confident and playful after dinner. He and Shadowheart were also tipsy enough to start showing off.

“Penance, show them how easily you can pick me up,” Shadowheart demanded.

She swept her into her arms like Shadow was a leaf. Blushing, she stared at Pen like she was dessert.

Astarion looked over at Vistri.

“I could try?” she shrugged.

“You don’t have to try. You sweep me off my feet every day without having to lift a finger.”

Shadowheart cleared her throat and leaned into Penance’s chest. “Put me down before I get you in trouble,” she said huskily.

Penance placed her gently on the ground, but Shadow’s cheeks were a little darker. Her breath a little tighter.

Astarion twirled Vistri into the middle of everyone’s view, “She might not be able to pick me up, but her honeyed tongue could talk a devil back to the Hells. And she has! Quite a few times, actually.”

Shadow walked up and pat Vistri on the head, “I was there for that, and you were so impressive.”

Penance let out an impatient noise. Shadowheart snapped her eyes to her.

“I see,” Shadow said tightly, “You want to be punished. The way you’re carrying on while I dote on my best friend is most unbecoming.”

Penance let out a long, tense sigh.

Astarion pouted, “Darling, I’m hurt! I thought I was your best friend.”

“You’re a different best friend!” she laughed, her firm manner melting away immediately.

“My, my, Shadow,” Vistri grinned, “Everyone’s fighting over you tonight.”

Astarion came up from behind and picked Vistri up. They fell back on the couch, laughing.

“Come lay down in my lap, you sweet thing,” he whispered into her ear.

He slowly stroked her face and hair as Penance served them brandy. She didn’t imbibe herself, but she did take some water over to Shadow’s side and knelt by her knees. Shadowheart leaned down and whispered something to her that made her swallow thickly.

Astarion, eyeing the box from Karlach and Wyll, was struck with an idea.

“Vistri, darling?” he called.

“Yes, love?”

“Would you be a dear and light us some cigars?”

The glint in her eyes reflected his.

“Gladly.”

Vistri got up to grab a cigar from the box, and the back of her neck tingled in the most delightful way. It wasn’t Astarion’s orders per say, so much as it was seeing him confident and unafraid. Figuring she’d bring it to him in the manner that would most please him, Vistri sat on his lap and told him to open his mouth.

"I think I'm the one supposed to be giving the orders, my darling," he corrected.

Vistri pulled a face and Astarion clicked his tongue, “Now don’t pout love. It’s Ladies first, and we don’t want to be rude. Besides, you’ll want to save the best for last.”

He gave her bum a squeeze as she leapt off his lap to put his cigar aside and present one to Shadowheart, who then placed it in Pen’s mouth. Vistri snapped her fingers and a little flame shot up from the tip of her thumb. She held it steady at the end of Pen’s cigar until she puffed it into steady life.

“Good girl,” Astarion purred, “Now come over to me.”

She grabbed the cigar she’d put to the side and paused before bending over to meet his smirking grin. He opened his mouth, and she placed it between his teeth. She fell into Astarion’s eyes, and kept staring into them as she snapped her fingers and bent to light his cigar.

He used the opportunity to capture her, sweeping Vistri into his lap.

Penance was already turning the room into a cloudy day.

Astarion took a generous puff before taking the cigar out of his mouth to kiss Vistri. She giggled and he growled.

“Share it with me, darling?” he asked her.

She nodded, and Astarion brought his cigar to her lips. Lingering on each consonant, striking them with emphatic warning, he told her, “Take it,” and pushed his thick cigar into her mouth. Grabbing the end of it between her teeth, she did as commanded and sucked. He held it there until puffs of smoke began to billow out of her mouth, making her eyes water.

Taking it so harshly without coughing once earned her another, "Good girl," whispered low by her ear.

Shadowheart didn’t particularly care for cigars, but the wine coursing through her veins had made her peckish, and since she couldn’t feast on Penance just yet, she settled for the smoke. She looked down at her pet and cleared her throat, batting her eyelashes. She patted the spot on the sofa next to her, and Penance hopped up with a grin.

Slowly, Shadowheart parted her lips and snaked her tongue just past the edge of her mouth. An invitation that Penance answered reverently with the end of her cigar. It was maddening to watch her inhale, but that madness was its own pleasure, and it was made even sweeter knowing that it was shared.

Shadowheart stared deep into Penance’s eyes and exhaled. It took every bit of the tiefling’s self-control not to lean in and devour her, but that would have been overstepping. So, she took the cigar back and sucked down a huge lungful of smoke before letting it drift slowly from her nose.

“I don’t know how you bear it, but then I remember you’re an infernal beast,” Shadowheart said evenly.

Penance’s eyes offered plenty of searing reply, “Your infernal beast.”

“You know Astarion,” Shadowheart mused, “Do you remember how I mentioned that wild pets need taming?” Astarion reluctantly pulled his gaze from Vistri.

“I do.”

Shadowheart pushed Penance gently off the couch and back onto the floor. Their eyes stayed trained on one another, and it was clear the time for company was coming to a swift end.

“I was speaking from experience. My pet may seem well-behaved now, but she’s got a devilish streak in her that must always be carefully minded. Shall I show you how I handle such a brute?” she asked.

Astarion leaned in close to whisper in Vistri’s ear, “Why do I feel like I’m in trouble too?”

Vistri giggled and kissed his cheek. “So scary,” she murmured back, “Reminds me of all the times we misplaced her eyeliner.”

Shadowheart snapped her fingers and Penance went entirely still, like a coiled spring.

“Pushups, I think,” Shadowheart said, pointing to the middle of the room, “Go on.”

Penance got to her feet and took a long pull on the cigar between her lips, never dropping her gaze. The length of the puff looked almost painful, but she didn’t so much as flinch. She took another, letting the smoke shoot out of her nose in long plumes. A devil indeed. Then she passed it to Shadowheart and made her way to the middle of the room.

“A beast needs a firm hand lest she start to forget herself.” Shadowheart said firmly.

Without skipping a beat, Penance dropped onto her hands and began slow, measured pushups. Her short-sleeved shirt gave an excellent view of her corded arms as they pumped. For a few moments, no one spoke. Everyone simply watched this display of powerful submission until the sound of Pen’s breathing became too much to bear.

Vistri twirled around in Astarion’s lap with the full intention of making a joke, to relieve a little of the thick tension in the room, but misjudged the force of her shoulders and her throat pressed into his mouth. He froze. Under usual circumstances, he would simply indulge in Vistri’s blood, with her permission, of course, but not in front of their guests.

He had to restrain himself in present company and that proved quite difficult with her so close and so sweet in his nose. Despite himself, he let out a soft, low moan.

Penance stopped moving, her attention similarly pulled to Shadowheart who had…also let out a rather telling noise.

The evening was promptly dissolved.

“Ahem, I think we should all retire before we lose what’s left of our reason.” Shadowheart announced.

Astarion took a moment to stand up and bid them goodnight. He turned to Vistri and commanded her to do the same.

“Say goodnight to our guests, pet.”

She blushed and bid them sweet dreams.

When Penance and Shadowheart left, they were alone.

He tackled her onto the couch, kissing her deeply and whining from his throat. Vistri met him with a fury that was hard to contain. They tasted like brandy and smoke.

“Take me to bed,” she begged him.

“Naughty, Naughty,” Astarion chided, full of heat, “We haven’t even settled our little bet.”

Their own cigar was smoked about halfway, but the ashtray with Pen’s was completely ash.

“Well, it's all gone but that took about ten minutes, so I say we both lose.”

v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v

They had a leash for Vistri’s collar they hadn't used yet. It wasn't near as grand; just a fine, black leather whose simplicity complimented the collar's grandiosity. After tonight’s dinner, Astarion felt ready. He put on the airs of a vampire lord to command her, “Come bind yourself to me, you sweet, delicious treat.”

Vistri gladly walked over to be taken. He fit her leash into the loop on her collar, and she was tethered.

He reached out for her face, caressing her cheek, “You just want to please me, don’t you?”

She nodded, “More than anything.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

“Your happiness.”

Astarion kissed her, then said, “That’s about me again.”

“I know.”

She was so sweet he had to kiss her one more time, “Then if you really want it all to be about me, you’ll serve.”

Vistri ran her hands along his chest, “I want to sate every desire. Until you feel perfect.”

“Believe me, my dear. You will.”

He fingered the leash between them, then tugged it to bring her closer, “You like this?”

She nodded with enthusiasm, “Oh, I like this.”

Astarion smirked, “Then get on your knees.”

His tone was firm, but still warm. Vistri kneeled and he towered over her, looking down and running his hands all through her hair. He positioned her head between his legs at the level of his hips. Vistri could see the hard imprint of him through his trousers and needed to put it in her mouth.

He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, then grabbed her chin to make her meet his gaze. Tightening his grip on the leash shortened the give between them, and he wrapped the leather around his fist a few times, “Now you can’t get away. Any regrets?”

Vistri crawled on her knees until she was pressed into him. Her face rested on his thigh and nuzzled it, “No regrets but that you are not yet buried deeply into my ache.”

Astarion grabbed a fistful of hair at the top of her head and pulled. She gasped pleasantly.

“Now don’t be so vulgar, darling. At least not yet.”

He let go of her hair to play with her lips again. She kissed his fingertips as they danced across her. He only abandoned them to undo the lacings on his trousers, and Vistri’s breath caught on her throat anticipating the sight of him.

He was stunning. His head pushing boldly passed his foreskin was art. His thickness was both threat and promise. Vistri turned her gaze back to his face and saw his fangs bared in his grin. So many parts of himself that he sank into her. She wanted them all, wanted all of him; to be devoured and taken over, owned.

“I long for it, Astarion,” she moaned, nestling her cheek into his palm.

He grabbed hold of himself and pressed his tip against her mouth, just like he had with the cigar. He watched her open up to take it, and held it just there between her lips.

His eyes rolled back for a second as her tongue flickered along it. He sighed, “Now that’s not fair.”

Vistri stopped.

“I didn’t say stop.”

She did it again.

“That’s better, pet,” he ran his hands through her hair.

Astarion took himself in hand again to push further into her lips. Just passed her teeth, just like he did earlier in the evening.

“You have to open your mouth so wide to take me, my dear.”

The sides of his lip twitched as she played with his head, now completely nestled on her tongue.

“Oooh,” he moaned, “You treat me so well.”

Vistri felt him take a slightly wider stance and tug her leash even tighter, bringing him even deeper into her mouth.

He grabbed hold of her chin again. He loved to cradle Vistri’s face in his palms with his cock in her mouth. He loved seeing himself disappear into her lips and come out coated in her sweet taste.

“Would you like the whole thing?”

She moaned her desperate consent, and he thrust himself into her throat. Steadily, his hips rocked against her lips. Slow, rolling thrusts in and out; languid.

Astarion watched, looking down at her, holding her leash. He felt… good. Like he had all the power in the world. Like she was his servile spawn and him a true lord.

And that didn’t feel bad.

He didn’t feel bad.

Astarion stared, drinking in her show until the drool started to drip from the corners of her mouth. Then he pulled himself out very slowly, just free of her lips, keeping himself right in front of her.

“Swallow,” he commanded.

Vistri caught her breath and swallowed the combination of his and her salivations.

Astarion patted her on the head as a reward, “That’s a good pet.”

There was still wetness dripping down her face, at the corners of her mouth and a little on her neck. He wiped her off with his fingers, and licked them, tasting her on his hands.

“Sod it! I can’t take any more of this,” he said, scooping her up to throw her onto their bed, full of rakish charm.

Vistri landed on her back. The bed bounced lightly with impact as Astarion crawled over on his knees to straddle her. He tugged the leash tight between them and pulled until she sat up to meet his lips. Astarion let out the hungriest groan and pushed her back down after adding more give to her tether.

Vistri was putty. Begging, writhing putty.

He stroked the spot on her neck that he drank from earlier. With the dragon blood running through her veins, it had already healed.

“We’ll just have to mark you again right after this. You did promise to sate my every desire, did you not?”

“I want the same thing,” she said thickly.

Astarion smirked. He was going to have to satisfy her to set her mind right. She was literally lost in her want.

The sight of her so helpless to him made him feel like he really belonged somewhere.

He pried apart her knees and leaned closer, his hands crawling up her leash. As he put himself inside her, after they both shouted out with closed eyes and opened them again to behold each other, he made another offer.

“Would you like me to wrap this around your throat as I fuck you?”

“Please,” she begged.

Astarion unhooked her leash and wrapped it around her neck like a scarf. Keeping her safe would require just enough concentration that he wouldn’t have to worry about losing himself. It was a lingering threat that allowed Vistri to let go completely and Astarion to stay grounded.

The collar was firm, and the leash was tight without being restrictive. Both pressures on her neck only made Vistri more eager for his teeth.

With one hand on her leash, and the other caressing her waist, he pumped into her. It was overwhelming. Trust was made more explicit and exposed their raw cores. The leash and collar wrapped around her were his arms cradling her heart as she exploded like a star. Vistri made Astarion feel so safe, he could just toy with her and take; to be a tyrant without being horrible.

He could fracture her, and she could fracture him, and at the end of it, know themselves and each other better.

Astarion screamed, “Thank you,” over and over as he came. Vistri was so spent by the time that happened, her voice was too rough to do more than whimper with tears in her eyes.

They panted and smiled at each other so wide they ended up laughing. He unclasped her collar before she left to refresh herself. When she jumped back into bed and into his embrace, she offered him her neck.

“You greedy thing,” he spoke against her skin before sinking into it.

v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v

Shadowheart checked in with Astarion the next morning.

“So,” she took a careful sip of her hot tea, “How is everything now that you’ve…”

“Fully stepped into my role?”

She nodded her head.

His voice was light, “We got out the leash last night!”

“How very exciting!” she smirked.

Astarion took a sip and adopted a serious face as he put down his cup.

“Uh oh.”

“Why is everyone always so quick to say that to me?”

“Because you’re you,” she smiled, “Now what are you on about?”

“I really… I really appreciate you and Pen for—”

She shook her head and waved her hand like it was no big deal.

“But it is a big deal. To me. So, I thank you,” he bowed his head, “You really made me feel better about myself, more myself. Does that make any sense?”

Shadowheart reached forward to give his knee an affectionate tap, “It makes sense, Astarion. And I’m happy for you. Truly.”

Penance and Vistri came over in an unusual chorus of laughter. Pen’s deep, rolling cackles were broken up by Vistri’s loud, pitchy squeals.

“What’s so funny, love?” Shadowheart asked.

Vistri squeezed her shoulder in greeting and winked, “Pet stuff, darling.”

“Oh, how ominous!” Astarion teased, “Dear Shadowheart, I do believe they’ve been talking about us behind our backs."

"Unlike you, mosquito,” Penance said, “The things I say behind people's backs are exactly as I would say to their faces."

Before Astarion could protest, Vistri hopped over and kissed the top of his head.

“I quite cherish the things you do behind my back,” she smirked.

Penance gave a little snort and looked over to Shadowheart with a wink, who just stared back.

“Don’t fish for compliments so early in the day,” she sighed. The smirk on her lips was more than enough regardless.

That evening, Penance and Vistri wore their collars again. Astarion and Shadowheart were seated on one of the couches as if it were a shared throne. Penance and Vistri held out their collars to their respective partners, and Astarion and Shadowheart smiled at each other as they secured them around their necks.

Dinner was just the same as last night but with everyone a little more settled. Everything more okay because they’d done it once before.

“A toast,” Astarion offered, the wine in his glass a bit thicker than the others, “To friendship, and above all…” his eyes sort of welled up, and he had to pause before continuing, “To family.”

The women raised their glasses, smiling warmly at Astarion as they met his toast.

“To family,” Vistri and Shadowheart said, and Penance nodded.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch. 2

Ch. 1

Summary: Cassanda Awkward Asshole Dimitrescu

---

After a couple weeks of doing normal maid chores, Nicole was not expecting to see the dungeons again. Not after Cassandra’s little “failed experiment”. But all good things must come to an end eventually, don’t they? And to an end they came when a faint buzzing reached her ears mid-mopping the floor in one of the main halls.

 Two gloved hands were placed on her hips, pinning her in place, while Cassandra's chin came to rest on her shoulder. She inhaled deeply before finally speaking. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" 

Yes you very much are. 

"Of course not, my lady." 

"Good good. Sadly my study is quite a mess again and I was wondering…" one hand came to teasingly caress Nicole’s cheek. “You aren’t busy tomorrow, are you?”

She wasn’t. In fact, tomorrow was Nicole’s day off, something that she would bet on a lifetime supply of coffee that Cassandra was well aware of. It took every ounce of self control not to let a groan accompany her next words.

“I am not.” Asshole.

She felt herself being spun around, Cassandra’s face uncomfortably close to hers. “Be there by ten then.” And, with the sickle now under Nicole’s chin, “Don’t be late.”

And just as easily as she appeared, Cassandra dissipated into a cloud of flies and made her leave. A sigh of relief got caught in Nicole’s throat when she noticed the other two sisters standing in the doorframe opposite from the one Cassandra flew out of. They both gave her an amused look, seeing the faint blush on Nicle’s cheeks and, to her dread, they both approached her. Bela was the first to speak, thankfully keeping her distance.

“So what exactly is your deal? Immune to all the blood and gore, hm,” she hummed, eyes inquisitive .

“It’s been a while since Cassie was so dead set on scaring someone,” Daniela chirped in from behind and Nicole had to force herself not to snort at the nickname.

So that’s what this was about. Lil’ old Cassie was throwing a hissy fit because one person in this castle wasn’t cowering and bowing at her feet the moment they saw some blood splattered on her otherwise beautiful face. If she had to work in this hellhole of a village, then at the very least she could get some mild satisfaction out of annoying the family sadist. With the other sisters however, there was no point in hiding what her “deal” was. 

“I worked as a medical examiner.” At a raised blonde eyebrow she specified, “I used to examine dead bodies. Autopsies and all that.”

Bela’s face turned from mild shock to amusement, her eyes darting to the younger sister who straight up started laughing while the eldest, at least trying to keep her composure, chuckled. 

“Oh this is gonna be interesting,” the redhead said through giggles.

---

Nicole really had hoped that Cassandra meant 10 pm, with how the Dimitrescus were nowhere to be found during the early day, and she would still have the day to herself until night came. That idea went completely out the tinted windows when, at nine thirty, the head chambermaid came to remind her of the change in schedule. She quickly downed the remaining coffee from her cup while mentally cursing and bolted to her room to change into proper attire, then out the door she went. 

Where was she even supposed to meet the brunette? The doors to the dungeons were bolted shut and she doubted Cassandra would oh so graciously escort her this time. Then again, Lady Dimitrescu did say that she had to be supervised. She got her answer when the doors opened with a click and a drawn out groan from the heavy wood. Cassandra was standing there, eyes scrutinizing as ever while giving Nicole a once over. Then she pulled out a pocket watch that looked at least a century old.

“You’re…” eyes narrowed at the small silver object. “Seven minutes early. Oh you’re as annoying about being on time as Bela aren’t you?”

Well you did make it a point to tell me to be on time, you absolute hypocrite. Instead of voicing her opinions though, Nicole settled for following the other girl deep into the castle’s undergrounds, through damp and oddly warm corridors. The giddiness was back into Cassandra’s demeanor, golden eyes occasionally turning to the small redhead walking behind her with an expression of barely concealed glee. This was definitely not good news. 

It took about .5 seconds to notice what got the brunette so happy when they entered her study. The room was definitely cleaner than the first time, only a handful of devices were dirty and the floor needed some mopping. The tables however... One was covered in fresh blood and the other had a dead body sprawled on it, partially covered by a stained sheet. Oh the irony.

While Nicole was cleaning the unoccupied table, she was facing the brunette, somehow trusting her even less with a scalpel in hand than with a sickle. Not that watching her absolutely botch an autopsy was much better mind you. 

Has nobody taught you about the Y incision?!

That's too dee- congrats you’re making a mess.

That cut needs to go lower. What, are you afraid of some balls?

Oh my god are you trying to take the heart out before even taking care of the guts-

“What is it?” Cassandra’s voice came with a low growl, then a slight cock of the head. “You’re staring.”

“N-nothing,” Nicole stumbled over her reply, realizing too late that her hand had stilled on the rag she was using to clean the blood.

“One thing that I hate more than being disrespected is being lied to.” The warning was clear in her tone. “So I’ll ask again: what is it?”

Nicole was sure that being criticized was something she would hate even more, so she made the split second decision to go with a white lie.

“I just...find autopsies quite fascinating.” Well, in a way she did.

“...You do?” Golden eyes widened in what was probably the first truly genuine emotion Nicole has ever seen on Cassandra’s face: surprise, and a hint of curiosity. 

When Nicole reaffirmed her reply, the brunette’s eyes stayed on her for a few long seconds, trying to find the traces of a lie. When she found none, she just dismissed the other girl with an awkward cough and a “Those knives won’t clean themselves.” 

A tense silence fell on the room, only disturbed by the occasional clink of metal tools or the sloshing of organs being handled by the brunette. After the table was wiped to a reflective surface, Nicole moved on to mopping the blood trails on the floor. She was grateful for the chance to step away from Cassandra, if only for a bit. After the floor too was clean, it was time to wipe the few dirty blades, thankfully not as many as last time. She took a dagger from its holster on the wall and carefully ran a piece of cloth over the blade, washing away dried crimson clots. 

As much as it was probably a bad idea, she couldn't help throwing a subtle glance behind her at Cassandra. A few organs were placed on the table at the body’s feet, and she was taking notes in a leatherbound notebook that looked well used. The idea that she had any interest in the bodies beyond being food gave Nicole an oddly nostalgic feeling. It sent her right back in high school, when one of her friends who took art history classes was telling her all about how da Vinci used real dead bodies in order to study anatomy. Yeah, da Vinci but the more attractive versio- fuck.

She hissed and retracted her hand as she felt the sharp blade cut her wrist and almost dropped the dagger. The effort to conceal the pain was there, but useless as Cassandra was by her side in mere seconds. 

"Oh did you cut yourself?" She asked with feign concern, and grabbed her hand. "Here let me help you with that." 

"Oh no I'm okay really no nee-" 

Nicole's words died in her throat when Cassandra stuck out her tongue and dragged it, slowly, across the cut, collecting every last drop of blood. To top it off, she let out a low moan and gave the soft skin there a small nip, successfully making the redhead’s breath hitch. Now any normal and sane person would think I still have a knife in my hand, I should use it, but Nicole would be lying to everyone and then herself if she said she didn’t have a thing for danger. And it doesn’t get much more dangerous than this, now does it.

“Mm...you taste wonderful.” 

Was she supposed to thank her?

“You’re lucky you intrigue me, otherwise you would make for some fine wine.” She finished with her trademark cackle.

Oh she was definitely not getting a thanks now. Nicole rolled her eyes slightly, tugging her hand away. She was half expecting Cassandra not to release her, but instead she let go of her wrist and, with a giggle, she returned to her work without another word.

---

That night, Nicole made damn sure to wash the cut until her skin felt like it would have a permanent sensation of pins and needles. Once a bandage was securely wrapped around her wrist she sat down with a cup of tea, not quite ready to sleep yet. How ironic would it be if she died of an infection while living in a castle where people are literally turned into food and wine.

Although in all honesty, she was quite certain her death would be far more entertaining.

[kagedaddy]

you meet again - haikyuu!

Warnings: none

boyfriend scenarios [2] [masterlist]

daichi sawamura

You were regretting your decision, why did you think it was a great idea to bring a bento for Daichi Sawamura.

Oh yeah it was your apology gift.

Your captain had given you a lecture and because you felt really bad when you saw him a few days after, where a large bruise had formed on his cheek.

You sighed before straightening yourself out, what’s so scary about apologising.

Trying to quietly slide the door open, you peek your head in scanning the room until you meet eyes with the men’s volleyball captain, he looks at you in question and you enter the room.

“Uh hi.”you greet and the two males seated next to him turns to him in amusement,”(last name), what are you doing here, can I help you?”he smiles brightly, how can he be so happy to see me when I’ve rammed a door to his face.

“I’ve brought you a bento as an apology for the bruise on your face.”you move the bento in his view, his friends beside him whisper to each other glancing between you and their friend.

A deep blush tints your face and all the more his friends smile with widened eyes,”oh thank you, (last name).”his cheeks burn the same shade as yours he takes the neatly made bento and a grateful smile graces his lips, you can’t help but swoon at it.

“Do you want to join us for lunch?”he stammers which makes his friends snicker at the poor blushing male,”I’ve already had lunch.”you shake your head and politely bowed before you leave.

Your movements are halted when you feel his hand take yours, you turn to face him quirking your eyebrow in question.”Let me walk you back to your classroom.”he smiles awkwardly but you found it charming.

You just nod your head and let him walk you to your classroom.

sugawara koushi

It had been a week since you had started in Karasuno High, it definitely had been an interesting week and it wasn’t as bad as you thought. Though it was difficult at first to settle into the classes but you had a few people help you out.

You were a little bit bummed, you weren’t seeing your grey haired as often because of his club activities, he was the first friend you made in your new school.

The class before lunch had just finished and you couldn’t be more happier, you had skipped breakfast this morning and your stomach was surely grinding itself, to simply put it you could eat a horse.

“(last name), do you wanna have lunch together?”the familiar soft voice of your grey haired friend pulls you out of your thoughts, you turn to the male flashing him a smile,”sure,”you happily agree before getting up and following wherever he was leading you, he pushes open the roof access of your school.

You both sit crossed leg across each other and unbinded your bento boxes, pulling out the compartments,”いただきます。(thank you for the food)”you clap your hands and quickly taking a bite of your lunch, swaying around and almost moaning in satisfaction.

“You’re so cute, (last name)”Sugawara softly chuckles as he takes a bite from his lunch, your cheeks heat up and you quickly swallowed your food.

You stare up at the male before you, hazel eyes boring into yours, you both look away with flushed cheeks,”uh do you wanna try some?”you move your bento closer to his, he nods before plucking a pork cutlet out.

He moans as he takes a bite,”wow! It’s really good!”he gushes, as gentle smile resting on his lips,”thanks, I made them!”you say proudly and his eyes shine impressed with your product.

“Nee (last name), make me some next time,”he playfully winks but next time you were definitely gonna make more to share with him.

asahi azumane

“Asahi and (last name) can you please collect the activity form from all the third years, thank you”Shinra sensei pulls you out of your thoughts as you heard your name be called, oh no you were partnered with Asahi.

He was scary.

You nod your head to the sensei and he continued on with the last announcements for homeroom. Once he finished you walked over to Asahi, still hesitant to face the intimidating male especially from the last encounter when you bumped into him.

“Asahi, when’s a good time for you to collect the activity sheets?”you asked the long haired male, he looks down at you his height towering you by a lot. 

“We can do it now.”his voice was gentle very different from his appearance which takes you aback, you shyly nod and follow his lead on collecting the activity sheets.

You observe the male before you, with his towering frame you would think he has a scary personality but how wrong you were.

The male was practically so nervous to speak to his peers that you had to step in, stifling a tiny giggle as you continue to watch him.

“Asahi are you alright?”the male looked like he was having an anxiety attack, you put a comforting hand on his arm and help him with his breathing,”breathe in, breathe out,”you set a pace for him and he relaxes.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that (last name), I’m not too good with dealing with people,”he lowers his head in embarrassment cheeks flushed.

“It’s okay Asahi, it happens to the best of us,”you flash him a reassuring smile and he returns one though it looked uncomfortable.

nishinoya yuu

“(last name), wait up! Let’s walk to class together!”you whirl around to meet the source of the sound only to be met by the rolling thunder male, you slowed your pace and waited for him.

“You actually waited for me.”he says excitedly as you now both walked side by side, bumping into you slightly you couldn’t help but giggle at the energetic male,”Why wouldn’t I? You asked nicely.”you turn to him in confusion and he just shakes his head,”Everyone says I’m annoying.”

“I think you’re just full of energy.”you giggle as you both enter the gates of Karasuno High, people staring at you both as Nishinoya continues to bounce around beside you.

“Oi Nishinoya is she your girlfriend now?”the baldy called out, you face turns red and so does Nishinoya’s, you remembered him he was the guy Nishinoya trampled over,”Baka Tanaka, she’s just my friend. We’re walking to class together.”he sticks his tongue out at the bald male and laughs loudly earning odd looks from our peers.

“Sorry about him, he’s always like that.”Nishinoya turns to you shyly pink peppering his skin, you wave it off,”its okay!”

You arrived at your classroom and like a gentlemen he opens the door for you, bending over as if he was a butler,”oh thank you dear sir.”you play along and his smiled widens.

Taking your seat at the second row, Nishinoya pulls out the chair beside your seat and brings it to your table,”I was wondering you’d wanna catch lunch together?”

“sure but is it okay if (friend name) joins, we always have lunch together”

“yeah, I’ll bring Tanaka too and I can show you more of my rolling thunder.”

tanaka ryuunosuke

The cafe was empty today except for the usual customers who studied here until closing time which were still few, since it was not busy this evening you take a seat in one of the booth and pulled out your homework, working on them so you didn’t have to do it later.

The soft jingle of the bell pulls you out from your work and you’re surprised to see the bald male from the other day. You walk over to the counter to take his order.

“Hi, what would you like this evening?”you smile at him and his face flushes a bright shade of pink,”I’d like your number!”he blurts out, blushing more and you giggle at him amused by his antics.

“Uh, I’ll have a latte please.”he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, quickly paying and leaves to find a seat, he smacks his head and you silently giggle more.

Once you finishing making his drink you serve it to his table,”one latte for the MVP of the game,”you had recalled the name of his cup last time and a smile graces his lips before accepting the coffee from you.

You return to the booth you had been studying at and immersed yourself in your homework once again.

A looming figure casts a shadow on your work and you look up to meet the bald male,”uh hi, can I keep you company?”he gestures to the free seat across you and you nod your head, a wide smile plasters on his face.

“What school do you go to?”he looks at the papers spread out on the table,”Shiratorizawa Academy.”you answered as you continued to scribble on the sheets,”oh! I heard it’s a tough school to get into, I’m from Karasuno High.”

“I can tell from your jacket the other day.”you smile at him and he blushes and laughs awkwardly,”oh yeah!”

You both continue to talk back and forth, just enjoying a light conversation,”Oh shoot, I have go! I’ll see you around.”he looks at his phone and begins to stand.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around”,you scribble on the paper before ripping it,“here you go, since you asked for it”you hand him the paper with your number written down on it, his eyes widen in surprise before jumping up from his seat.

“Yes!!”

You can only  laugh as you watch his giddy figure leave the cafe.

kageyama tobio

You groan as your phone sounds for the millionth time, finally deciding to reach for the device on your night stand, popping any eye open you scroll through the different notifications and you stop at the message from Kageyama Tobio.

‘(last name)-san sorry practice was running late. I’ll drop by my place and then I’ll head straight to yours.’

Your eyes widen as you read the message, sent 15 minutes ago. You jump out of your bed and rush towards the bathroom to quickly make yourself look presentable, brushing out the tangles of your hair and applying light makeup to make your face less ‘I literally just woke up’ look.

Just as you slip on comfortable shorts the doorbell goes off. You run to the front door before straightening out your clothes before opening it, he’s dressed in casual clothes, he’s in a dark plain tee and possibly volleyball shorts with his Karasuno Volleyball Club jacket.

“Kageyama, please come in.”you move out of the way to make space for your guest and he quietly enters removing his outdoor shoes and slipping into the house slippers.

He stands awkwardly at the foyer,”uh let’s work in my room?”it comes out more of a question and your face heats up looking away at the towering male, you’ve never invited a guy into your room before.

You lead him in your room and settle on the floor table,”what should we start on?”you ask flipping through the pages of the material given,”wait what exactly are we meant to do?”he asks face full of confusion and you stare at him before blushing a the fact that you also did not know what to do.

You giggle at his confused face and his turns a shade of red before looking at the material given again,”we’re meant to be watch a film every week to discuss and make a report about it.”you explain pointing at the section where there’s a list of movies.”oh okay”

“Let watch the first movie,”pulling up your laptop and finding the film on some random website, once you found the movie.

You and Kageyama squeeze beside each other, the male blushing madly at the proximity and your face mirroring his, shoulder brushing with each other as your try to watch in the screen of your computer.

With both of your faces flushed red, you click to start the movie.

hinata shouyo

“(last name), I’m ready to start the tutoring session,”the orange haired male looks at you with determination, popping his head through your club room door.

You look up from your paperwork and beckon your classmate to join you,”that’s good to hear Hinata,”you say cheerfully and he takes a seat right beside you.

“Alright, let’s review on the lesson today so it’s still fresh!”you pull out your notes from today,”do you have any questions from today’s discussion?”

“Yeah I have a question, what did we discuss about?”he scratches his head in confusion and you can’t help but laugh at his cluelessness,”don’t worry, that’s why I’m here to help,”you reassure the male as his shoulders slump in discouragement.

You both slowly try to go through the discussion today, the orange male trying his hardest to pay attention.

After half an hour of trying to pronounce the English words and still not getting it quite right,he was so close but he gives up.

“I can’t do it,”he slams his head on the desk, wailing about his failure, you watch him amused, he was easily disheartened.

You rub his back gently as he continues to wail in sadness,”Hinata, it’s still the first tutoring session.”he pull his head from the table and you guys begin again.

Doing better in the second half of the hour but he was still down in the dumps.

“I don’t want to not play volleyball,”his eyes widens in realisation, you ruffle is orange head smiling at the male.

“Then we’ll work hard to study Hinata!”

tsukishima kei

“(first name), dear. We’re having visitors over for dinner.”you hear your mother’s soft voice through the loud music blaring from your room,”okay, who’s coming over?”you ask turning the volume down of your music,”our neighbours two houses down, the Tsukishimas.”

“Oh!”you had wondered why all of a sudden your mom had invited them but that was how she was, always inviting people over. You weren’t too bothered to see the blonde male, he was mean but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

After awhile you hear your mom answer the door and you fully turn down the volume of your music and changing into a more presentable outfit for the guests. 

You exit your room to politely greet your guests.

You see three sets of blonde hair and your mom ushering them to the living room,”(first na)-”your mom cuts herself off as she sees you in the hallway,”Good evening,”you bow your head respectfully making Mrs. Tsukishima gushes over you and you flush from her sweet words.

“(last name)-chan, do you know my son Kei.”she pulls on the lanky male whose face is set with a scowl,”yes, he helps me reach my books in the library, Tsukishima-san.”you smile nicely at the woman who looks too sweet to know her son’s snake tongue.

“Awwe my Kei is too sweet. This is my other older son Akiteru.”she pulls the shorter blonde male who in turn flashes you a smile which makes blush more.

“Let’s have dinner before the food gets cold,”your mom ushers all of you to the dinning table where a spread of food had been prepared, you take a seat by your mom,”Kei, sit beside (last name)-chan so her mom and I can chat, the younger blonde just grunts in response and awkwardly sits beside you.

“いただきます。(thank you for the food),”you all thank your mom for the food before digging in the meal before you. 

Dinner was silent except for the occasional chats from both your moms and form Akiteru asking you about school, which you were polite to answer. 

While the younger Tsukishima just kept giving you side glares to which you stared back to, not backing down.

“Kei, why don’t you walk (last name)-chan to school everyday.”his mother says, you flush pink in embarrassment.

“Fine.”

yamaguchi tadashi

“Hey! I’m Tanaka, you’re a cute first year.”an intimidating bald male approaches, you step to create some distance between you two as he started to make you feel a little bit uncomfortable.

“Hi, Tanaka-senpai.”you say bowing to your head slightly in respect, the male lights up,”she called me senpai,”he takes your hand and swoons over you, awkwardly trying to remove his hands from yours.

“(last name), shall we get going?”Yamaguchi waves you over and you sigh in relief before politely excusing yourself from the second year. 

“Nee Yamaguchi, she your girlfriend?”the second year turns his attention to the both of you and blush in embarrassment,”No, I’m just tutoring her Tanaka-san,”Yamaguchi stammers but the more his face burns red, the bald male looks doubtful but drops the topic.

You walk side by side with Yamaguchi towards the library, you both take a seat at the farthest part of the library, where there were barely any students,”alright, let’s get started.”he pulls out his notes and you lean close to him so you can see what he was explaining.

After an hour of studying, you guys were in the same position but both of you seated very close to each other as you had completely leaned your body on the male.

The green haired male becomes very flustered and blushes madly,”Yamaguchi, are you alright? Your face looks like its burning up.”you tilt your head in worry, reaching over to touch his forehead his eyes widen and moves away blushing even more.

“You look feverish Yamaguchi, we can call it a night.”you smiled at the male as you decide to pack for the both of you,”uh yeah.”he quickly shoves everything into his bag and you both walk out the library.

Before Yamaguchi could open his mouth you cut him off,”don’t worry, you don’t have to walk me home. Get home safe!”you waved as you walked to the opposite direction as him.

“Hope you’ll feel better Yamaguchi-kun”

//

heyya! finally on the second boyfriend scenarios and i know it’s late hehe. if you guys enjoyed today’s post please leave a like and comment, thanks and have a great day! 

all the love xx

[goodlucktai]

a little room to grow

@natsumeweek 2021 day 5; freedom/possession

read on ao3

(previous part)

x

Hinata takes one look at them and says, “Holy shit. Get in here, Natoris.”

So they must look pretty bad, then. 

Takashi is uncharacteristically quiet, going right to the sofa and gathering Hinata’s cat up in his arms. 

Hinata watches him for a moment, turns and stares directly into Shuuichi’s face, and then heads into the kitchen to snatch up a takeout menu that she keeps permanently stuck to the front of her fridge under a huge Cinnamoroll magnet.

“Sit,” Hinata says with a jerk of her chin towards the table. She tucks her cellphone between her shoulder and her ear and unfolds the paper menu with a business-like snap. “I’m ordering enough junk food for all three of us, and then you’re going to tell me why you look like that.”

Shuuichi sits. 

Hinata lives with her single mother, who works thirds, and her aunt, who doesn’t work but often has somewhere else to be. It’s unlikely either of them are going to make an appearance tonight.

The TV is on in the living room, playing what sounds like Sailor Moon. Takashi is watching it just because it’s already on, but he’s slowly becoming more invested the longer he sits there—Shuichi can tell from the way his hand on the little cat in his lap slows its petting, the way his round brown eyes become fixed on the screen. The sounds of traffic and rain outside are muted, the outside world hardly existing past what little pieces of it make it through the open window in the kitchen. 

It’s peaceful here. It’s almost home, even.

Hinata puts the phone down, sits across from Shuuichi, and crosses her arms on top of the table. Her silence is expectant.

Shuuichi says, “I don’t think I’m going to university.”

His friend inclines her head, an invitation to go on. 

“The university my father wants me to go to is almost an hour away from here,” Shuuichi says, clenching his fists. “And it wouldn’t be possible for Takashi to transfer there, because someone in the school district administration is a cousin of his or something. Word got around about his behavior, and they don’t think he’d be a good addition to their student body.”

“Takashi’s relatives haven’t had anything to do with him since he was five,” Hinata says hotly. “What the hell do they know about his behavior? He’d be the best thing to happen to that school in the last hundred years.”

Shuuichi, who completely agrees with her, says, “You’re biased.”

“I’m right.” She taps her fingers anxiously against the table. “Let me guess, your dad—”

“Doesn’t see the problem. Told me I was going anyway.” Shuuichi barks a tense, humorless laugh, sitting back and pushing a hand through his hair. “Could you imagine? Me, leaving Takashi in that house, with those people? With no one but ghosts to talk to?”

It was inevitable that Hinata would find out about Shuuichi and his brother’s ‘gift,’ given how much time they spend together and all the odd things Takashi says on a daily basis. The most remarkable thing to come of the ultimate reveal was the solid three months she spent relentlessly trying to bribe, coerce and blackmail Shuuichi into using his paper magic to send her notes during school hours, because they were put in different classes in their third year. 

Now, she frowns deeply, and says, “No. That won’t do. So what’s the plan?” 

“I’m working on it,” Shuuichi replies. 

“I would be okay,” Takashi pipes up. Shuuichi looks up to find his little brother standing by the table with wide, grave eyes. He’s tugging anxiously at the cuffs of his sleeves. The worry on his face doesn’t belong there. It doesn’t fit someone his age. “If you had to go.”

Shuuichi pushes his chair back and lifts his arm. Takashi rounds the table and allows himself to be tucked against Shuuichi’s side snugly. 

“Maybe you would, but I wouldn’t,” Shuuichi says. “I’d miss bugging you too much.”

“I mean it,” Takashi says stubbornly. “I don’t want you to get yelled at anymore.”

“I mean it, too,” Shuuichi replies. “Dad can yell all he wants. You’re stuck with me, squirt.”

Saying it out loud settles something anxious that’s been rattling around in his chest. Knowing what he has to do makes it easier to focus on the steps that come next. For now, he tilts to the side so that he can rest enough of his weight on his little brother that he starts to sag underneath it.

“Nii-san! Stop, you’re heavy!”

“What was that?” Shuuichi says loudly, tilting farther, half out of his chair at this point. “I’m heavy? Is that what you said?”

The doorbell rings, and Hinata says, “No no, I’ll get it, don’t let me interrupt your intricate bonding rituals,” which is a cue that they should stop messing around and go help her carry in the frankly staggering amount of takeout bags a weary-looking delivery boy is wielding on the porch. 

“Munchkin, will you get some glasses and the iced tea?” Hinata asks. “Let’s eat in front of the TV like slobs.”

Takashi slides back into the kitchen, skidding a little too far in his socks and knocking the paper towels off the counter, and Shuuichi snorts. It feels like the first time he’s smiled in a year. 

Hinata touches his arm. “Hey,” she says seriously. “I’m going to visit Isamu on Thursday, and I’m staying for about a week. You two should come with. Stop thinking about all this stuff for a bit and give yourself a break.”

“I don’t want to bother you guys—”

“Try not to be an idiot for once in your life,” Hinata says with an exaggerated air of total exhaustion. “You know it wouldn’t be a bother. Besides, Isamu has a little sister Takashi’s age, and she’s into all kinds of weird stuff. They’d probably get along like a house on fire.”

Shuuichi thinks a week in the country sounds pretty good, actually. He’s mulling it over when Takashi comes running; with a stack of colorful plastic glasses in one hand, a pitcher of tea in the other, and a box of Koala March tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Can I have these, nee-san?” he asks brightly. He looks nine years old again instead of ninety, all that worry from earlier finally unseated. 

“Oh, I guess,” Hinata says with deep reluctance, as if she didn’t buy them specifically for Takashi in the first place. She doesn’t even like chocolate. “Dinner first, though! Put those koalas where I can see them!”

She cares about Takashi like it’s effortless. Like it just makes sense to make space for him in her home and keep his favorite snacks in her kitchen. Considering the place they came here from, it disarms Shuuichi completely.

“We’ll go with you,” he says without thinking.

“Of course you will,” Hinata replies immediately. “I was only asking to be polite. Now eat your food.”

And that’s how they wind up in Hitoyoshi, Kumamoto, of all places. It’s unmistakably beautiful but Shuuichi only gets a brief moment to appreciate the scenery before Hinata is dragging him—and by extension, Takashi—out of the station to the street outside, where a familiar face is waiting. 

She releases Shuuichi in order to fling herself bodily at Isamu, who doesn’t so much as bat an eye. Hinata is much taller than her boyfriend, which Shuuichi thinks is just typical of Hinata, but Isamu doesn’t care. She could be seventeen feet tall and weigh a thousand pounds and he would still find a way to hold her. 

“Hey,” he says over her shoulder, lifting one hand to wave at the Natoris. “Hug train is pulling out of the station, get yours before it’s gone.”

Laughing, Shuuichi says, “I’m good. Takashi?”

“No, thank you,” Takashi says politely.

“Your loss.” Hinata sniffs, and busies herself with picking up the bags she’d flung to the ground. “Is your sister at home?”

“Mhm,” Isamu says, taking one of Takashi’s bags and slinging it over his own shoulder. “She’s shy. I’m amazed she agreed to meet you guys at all. Bribery was involved.”

Takashi shuffles, glancing sideways at Shuuichi. 

“I’ll bet you two-thousand yen that you’re best friends by the end of the day,” Shuuichi says at once, to make the situation a win-win. That always works.

Sure enough, Takashi holds out his hand. “Deal.”

They shake on it solemnly. 

Isamu gives Shuuichi a deeply approving look and says, “I’ll have to remember that one.”

Tooru and Takashi are actually best friends within about an hour and a half. 

Once the Natoris have been settled into a large guest room and wandered around on a cheap tour of the estate, and Hinata has dumped all of her stuff in her boyfriend’s bedroom, Isamu drags Tooru out of hiding to eat a late lunch with them. 

Tooru shuffles into the chair across from Takashi and makes her polite introduction, and then mumbles that she only has a couple of friends so she isn’t sure what they ought to talk about. Takashi blithely replies that he doesn’t have any friends, because he can see yokai and people tend to think that’s strange. Shuuichi and Hinata are both frozen, holding their chopsticks halfway to their mouths as they wait to see which way this is going to go, but Isamu just takes an unhurried sip of tea.

And then Tooru lunges across the table to seize Takashi’s hands, shouting, “You can see yokai? You have to come meet my grandpa!” and all but drags him out of the kitchen, their lunches left untouched. 

“You might never get your brother back,” Isamu says mildly. “That’s okay, there’s enough space here for two little weirdos.”

“So you believe in ghosts now?” Hinata demands. 

“I don’t believe in things I can’t see for myself,” Isamu replies. He waits a beat, rolling a thought around in his head like a marble, and then adds reluctantly, “But if three people I trust can see them, maybe that’s just as good. I already apologized to gramps for thinking he was just a delusional old man.”

“You did not say that to your grandpa,” Shuuichi says, horrified. 

“I didn’t say it, I just said I was sorry for thinking it.” Isamu sits back in his chair, frowning at his plate. “Tooru never needed any proof. She believes him just because she loves him. I think there’s value in that. Figured I’d give it a try.”

When Shuuichi tracks the kids down later, they’ve multiplied. Sasago and Urihime are supervising as Tooru, Takashi, and two little boys of a similar age chase each other around the garden, a half-dozen little yokai running underfoot. 

Takashi spots him and brightens, breaking away from the game to jump up onto the porch and slam into Shuuichi’s side. Shuuichi ruffles his hair, because it’s already a windswept mess, and it makes Takashi wrinkle his nose in annoyance. 

“Taki-ojisan wasn’t feeling well, so he’s taking a nap,” Takashi explains. He’s flushed from the sun and grass-stained. “We had fun, though. All of his yokai friends had lots of things they wanted to say to him so we played telephone. Mostly they were teasing him, which didn’t seem very nice, but it made oji-san laugh a lot.”

“And who are those two?” Shuuichi asks, nodding at the unfamiliar boys. 

“Tooru’s friends from school. They were coming by to see if Tooru wanted to go to the river with them, and she introduced me.” Shyly, Takashi adds, “They’re nice.”

“Hey!” the russet-haired boy calls over. “Are we going swimming or what?” 

“Can we, please?” Tooru asks, folding her hands together.

His brother gazes up at him with eyes that are big and hopeful, a look that has worked for him for years. Shuuichi shakes his head ruefully. 

“As long as you stay with Tooru, and don’t let your phone get soaked,” he says sternly. “And you know to answer when I call, right?” 

“Right,” Takashi says, without attitude, because that’s one of their most important rules. “Can I take Urihime with me? She’ll throw Satoru in the water if I ask her to, Sasago won’t.”

“For that reason alone, you’re taking Sasago,” Shuuichi replies. 

It’s a noisy circus troupe of kids who finally leave, armed with towels and a bag of snacks pilfered from the kitchen and an entourage of rowdy spirits that only one of them can see. 

Shuuichi leans against the gate, watching them go. He’s wary of the unfamiliar yokai, but with his shiki nearby and clearly unbothered, he doesn’t see a reason to break up the strange congregation. Over the years, he’s had to get used to the way Takashi attracts these things. They come to him like moths to a flame. 

Most exorcists hate yokai, but Shuuichi doesn’t. How could he? His little brother is a medium, and some of the only people he can count on to babysit for him are his familiars. Yokai are so much a part of his life that to hate them would be to fill his heart with hatred, and he doesn’t have room in his heart for all that. It’s too full of other things. 

Hinata joins him by the door. 

“You know,” she says carefully, “I was going to bring this up later, but…the university that Isamu and I are going to is only a half-hour away from here. And the schools here are really good.”

Shuuichi stands in the sun, watches his little brother laugh with children his own age, and exhales.

[yandere-society]

Ih-pif-uh-nee

Synopsis: After successfully finding matches for humans for a millennia, Cupid grows irritated when he repeatedly fails to find YN’s soulmate. He decides to go undercover and disguise himself as a normal human to attempt to get closer to her, only to become convinced that HE is the mate he’s been searching for all along.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Admin: @chimchimsauce​

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, stallking

Cupid is on cloud nine, staring up into the painted sky, the soft coldness of a cloud caressing his large, folded wings. As the sun slowly begins to sink, the god of love rolls onto his stomach, dragging his finger through a passing cloud.

Another day, another match made in heaven. Satisfaction warms Cupid’s heart as he thinks of the young couple he recently paired up - a rich girl from a very influential family and a poor young man struggling to put himself through college. Pairings like that have always been Cupid’s favorite. Unlikely love always blooms faster, roots deeper into the lives of those he strikes with his arrows.

As the sun falls completely beneath the Earth and the moon rises to shine, Cupid sits up, reaching into the sky to pluck a falling star from above. The star shines brightly in his cupped hands, glowing before Cupid cracks it open like an Easter egg to reveal his latest assignment.

While the god is ultimately in control of his matches, every so often, Aphrodite will send tell him of someone special, someone who will require a bit more than a few well-timed coincidental meetings and an arrow to the chest. His mother’s always been a bit of a know it all and a meddler, so it’s not terribly unusual for her to push her own agenda through her son.

Cupid sighs. It’s nearing Valentine’s Day, so hopefully, he’ll have a bit more luck with this assignment than he did with the last one. Last time it took Cupid a fortnight to get the seed of love planted deep enough between a cynical old man and the lady he’d worked with for over two decades. But still, Cupid’s never been unable to make a spark between two people, not even when he was younger and would shoot arrows at random people just for fun.

Of course, he’s matured significantly since then. He doesn’t play such games anymore.

Reading the note he pulls from the star, Cupid reads the name.

YN LN

There’s nothing particularly remarkable about the name. He’s heard it before, used by other people throughout the years. The photograph he’s been given also does not stir anything in him. He wonders briefly what his mother is planning, sending him this assignment without any context. Usually, she’ll at least send some background information on the person and who she wants them to end up with, but there’s nothing else in the star but her name and photo.

Cupid seals the star back, tossing it as far into the sky as he can, letting it return to orbit. He places the photograph into the folds of his angelic garment, standing up and stepping off of the cloud, plummeting towards the Earth’s surface.

He might as well get started now.

Cupid lands gently on a large hill overlooking a sleepy college town, bare feet touching the soft grass. He disappears into the night as he descends upon the town, slipping between dimensions as only gods can do.

It practically takes him no time at all to locate her, YN studying diligently at a library that looks as old as Cupid himself is. Quietly, he lets his presence rest beside her, eyes going over her form, trying to figure out what’s so special about her that she caught his mother’s attention. She’s pretty enough for a human but her face isn’t anything you’d double take on. She almost seems . . . plain.

Cupid can’t help but be a little disappointed. He’d hoped this assignment would be interesting, but it seems like it’ll end up being a bore after all. He’s half tempted to just shoot her and be done with it, but he has a feeling his mother won’t be pleased with him if he does that.

Deciding to give this assignment his all (if for no other reason than not having to put up with one of his mom’s hissy fits) Cupid spends the next few days trailing YN, figuring out her habits, likes, and dislikes. He even sets up a few matches - the guy in her class, one of her pretty friends, a worker in the local grocery store - but to no avail.

Despite shooting the girl with three arrows, not even a lick of love sparks within her. YN just continues her monotonous life, boring the hell out of Cupid.

After an entire week of this, Cupid grows impatient and decides to handle this matter even more personally.

Transforming into human form, Cupid feels the elements against his skin for the first time since . . . he shakes that thought out of his head. A little bit of persuasion is all it takes to get him a new identity and set up at a small bed and breakfast just a few minutes’ walk from YN’s dorm.

He has it all planned perfectly. He’ll run into her at the coffee shop she works part-time at and befriend her, using their time together to find her perfect match. He’s never had to put in this much effort before.

But as soon as Cupid walks into the coffee shop, the little bell over the door rings and the two of them lock eyes, the god’s breath catching in his throat. She smiles at him, the very first time she’s smiled since he’s been trailing her.

Something pulls at his subconscious, just out of reach. Whatever it is is familiar, comforting to him. He doesn’t realize that he’s staring until she clears her throat uncomfortably.

“How may I help you?” she asks.

“I . . . just a coffee, please. Black,” he says once he’s regained a bit of his sense.

“Sure thing. What name would you like me to put it under?” YN asks, already beginning to create the drink.

“Jimin,” he says before he can stop himself, his true name tumbling out between his lips.

Because she’s faced away from him, YN doesn’t notice the shocked look on Jimin’s face. His hand covering his mouth. He can’t believe he said that!

The name ‘Jimin’ was given to him over a thousand years ago, by someone he can’t remember. His mother forbade him from using it and he’s gone by Cupid ever since. So why . . .

“Your total is $3.50. Will that be all for you today?”

“Yes,” Jimin says, rummaging through his pockets to pull out some money he’d manifested earlier that day.

The coffee shop is empty besides the two of them, Jimin choosing to sit by the glass storefront while YN hums quietly to herself, wiping down the counters and tidying up. Soon though, it becomes apparent through his side-eyed watch that she’s out of things to do, just sort of idling around. It’s only then that he god of love remembers that he’s on a mission.

“So uh,” he speaks up, the coffee cup warming his hands, “I’m new in town and I was wondering if you knew of what all there is to do?”

Jimin hates how unconfident he sounds. It’s so unlike him.

“Well,” she begins, grateful for a distraction, “There isn’t all that much to do. It is a rather small town after all.”

“Surely there must be something,” Jimin pushes, really eager to speak with her.

“Hm,” she begins, “There’s actually this very pretty underground lake. You can only see it once every couple of weeks because the cave it’s in is usually flooded - it rains here a lot by the way - but it’s absolutely gorgeous,”

“I’ll have to go sometime,”

Over the course of that singular trip to the coffee shop, Cupid completely forgets that YN is supposed to be an assignment. He becomes completely and utterly enthralled with her and her boring little life. The gods always have something going on, some drama or scandal or fight. It’s so nice just to be able to relax with someone - to actually become close to someone. Jimin sees YN every day. First, he just stops by to get a morning coffee, but soon enough he ends up walking her home after her shift ends and helping her study at the library.

Every expression of hers he has memorized. He lies awake at night and thinks about her, anxious to spend time with her again. It consumes his entire being, is his motivation for his every decision.

Until . . .

Until . . .

Until two months later, when the most gorgeous woman alive is at his doorstep. His mother catches the attention of everyone who walks by, sending one gentleman a flirtatious wink and causing him to walk into a pole.

“What are you doing here, Mother?” Jimin asks sharply, less than thrilled to see her.

“Checking on you,” she says, eyeing him up and down with a hand on her curved hip, “It seems you’ve gotten rather . . . distracted.”

Jimin bristles, growing visibly upset.

“I assigned you to find this girl a mate, not to fall for her,” Aphrodite says, her tone leaving no room for debate.

“I’m not falling for her,” Jimin hisses through his teeth, the lie obvious even to himself.

“You have one more week,” she threatens, “Or else.”

She doesn’t need to elaborate. Jimin knows his mother well enough to know whatever she has planned is awful.

As soon as she leaves, the god has an anger fit, trashing the small rented room he moved into just three weeks ago. He has to see her - he has to go be with YN. She’s the only thing that can calm him down enough for him to make a gameplan.

But as Jimin hurriedly makes his way to her house, he stops when he sees someone - an unfamiliar man - sitting on one of the dorm porch swings and chatting with her. The stranger looks up briefly, catching eyes with Jimin.

“Apollo,” Jimin curses, vision turning red from how pissed off he is.

Before YN can even blink, Jimin has Apollo by the throat, ignoring YN’s panicked cries.

“Stay away from her,” Jimin warms, nails digging into the other god’s skin, “You run and tell my mother to keep her nose out of my business. I’m done doing her dirty work for her.”

He tosses Apollo to the ground, unaware that he’s partially revealed his true form to the terrified young woman behind him. Apollo flashes away, clutching his own throat, fear in his eyes.

When Jimin finally turns towards YN, she’s petrified, a scream caught in her throat.

What’s going on? What had just happened?

“Oh, baby, no, don’t be worried,” Jimin coos, taking YN into his arms.

He doesn’t care that she’s as stiff as a board, immobilized by fear.

“The bad people are gone now. It’s just us, okay. You don’t have to be worried.”

His overly calm tone causes YN to snap out of her reverie, trying to pull away from the man she thought was a friend - the man she thought was human.

“I’m in love with you, YN,” he says, ignoring her attempts to flee and crushing her to his chest like a small child, “I didn’t think I could fall in love, but here I am. I think about you every waking moment, desperate to be around you, desperate to touch you. You feel it too, don’t you, YN?” Jimin says, a crazed look glossing his eyes.

Tears well up in YN’s eyes as she looks at him and realizes what danger she’s in.

“I know you do,” Jimin says, falsely taking her silence for agreement, “Kiss me.”

It’s a command, one she’s much too afraid to ignore. Trembling, Yn shakily presses her lips to his, unaware of the visions she’s just spawned in his head.

All at once, his memories come back to him, hitting the god-like a pile of bricks. He pulls back from her only briefly to wipe her tears away before recapturing her lips in a deeper kiss, never wanting to be parted from her again.

Psyche. His Psyche. The one he’d fallen in love with all those millennia ago, only to be ripped apart when his own mother killed her and their unborn child. No wonder she felt so familiar, so comforting. YN is his soulmate, no one else’s.

He wipes away every one of her continuously falling tears, moving to kiss her forehead.

“Don’t worry, darling. We’re going to be together for the rest of eternity . . . right after I kill my mother.”

[seasonsofeverlark]

Menorah Lights, Blessing of Life

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: I would LOVE to see some Everlark Hanukkah fluff there’s way to little out there right now. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T - for non-explicit: adult situations, childbirth description, and breastfeeding. 

Canon typical violence. Vague reference to a war zone/conflict. 

This work contains religious and cultural imagery and traditions. There’s also some use of the Yiddish language, as well as some Hebrew. There will be a glossary and more in-depth commentary at the end of the fic, when this piece gets cross posted to AO3 in a few days. Peeta makes a quick reference to 1 Samuel 1:27 towards the end part of the fic.

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for this prompt. I have to be honest, and disclose I’ve never witnessed a Hanukkah celebration personally, and most of the events depicted in this story concerning the festival is a product of hours of research. I apologize for any inaccuracies or if I’ve inadvertently misrepresented any cultural or religious aspect of the holiday.

Extensive thanks to @rosefyrefyre​, who was kind enough to beta read, spell check my Hebrew, direct me to some great sites to aid my research, and serve as the best resource for Judaism accuracy I could’ve asked for! Rose, I always learn something from my interactions with you. I’m grateful for your willingness to share your knowledge. 

***Hannah: Hebrew origin. Means: ‘grace’/‘favor’; attributed meaning: ‘He (God) has favoured me with a child’.***

Happy Hanukkah to those celebrating the holiday! 

————-

The house is reverently quiet, despite being crammed to the gills with all our family and friends.

  Peeta checks his watch nervously for the fifth time in ten minutes. He’s so rigid, I know his leg will bother him so much tonight, he’ll take hours to fall asleep. 

  I smile at him, making a mental note to warm some lavender infused oils to massage the stump of his leg. It’s the least I can do for my husband. 

  Peeta lost his lower leg protecting me from shrapnel during an attack while deployed to the Middle East some 16 years ago. I was rendered deaf in my left ear on the same attack…we are a perfect match, my husband and I; he has to wear a prosthetic leg to get around, I have to wear a hearing aid, and that doesn’t even begin to cover the burn marks and other scars we sustained in the service. 

  “I think we should…” he says quietly, motioning to the small table we placed by the window earlier. 

  I turn to my cousin, Johanna, and nod. 

  Jo winks at Peeta and shuts the lights off, while I pull back the curtains from the windows and tie them up, revealing a waning sunset over the rooftops of our neighborhood. 

  Peeta stands a pace behind me, transfixed by the slim line of flaming orange in the horizon being swallowed by deep purples and indigos of the falling night. It’s Peeta’s favorite color. 

  “Almost time, Katniss!” he whispers, giddy, placing a match box on the table at the foot of the menorah. 

  There’s a soft buzz behind us, which means everybody  is shuffling closer to the window. Outside, the world is busy with cars driving by, splashing the dirty slosh of melted snow accumulated on the ground from days ago; a dog barks somewhere in the distance, and a couple of people hustle home; but the thing that really catches my eyes, is that in a few houses down the street, candlelights start to flicker to life on windows and front porches, announcing the start of Hanukkah. 

  “Should—should we do it?” Peeta asks leaning closer to the window pane, clearly seeing the other houses already lighting their candles. 

  “There’s still a sliver of sun. They just can’t see it because they’re facing our way, against it.” I mutter back. 

  This is Peeta’s first Hanukkah as a host, so he’s a little eager. In fact, my beautiful husband was beside himself when everything fell into place for us to host tonight’s celebration. If he could’ve gotten his way, we’d have everyone over to light the menorah the whole eight days of the festival. But, we are expecting the arrival of our very own little miracle any day now, so hosting the first day was a very generous compromise with our family. 

  The thought warms me inside, and I caress my protruding stomach absentmindedly, staring at the darkening sky. 

  The sun finally sinks. “Now!” I grin at my other half. 

  Peeta grins back, handing me the candles. Two of them, to be precise; long and blue. If my Tatte —my father— were here, he would’ve insisted we used olive oil and wicks instead, but it’s only Peeta’s first Hanukkah leading, and he’s so nervous about the whole thing already…candles are perfectly acceptable. 

  First, I place the shamash— “Shamash means helper candle, Katniss,” Tatte would explain— in the middle peg of our menorah, so it sits higher than the rest. Then, I place the one other candle in the rightmost holder, to signify today is the first night of the Festival of Lights. 

  Peeta passes me the matches, and I light the shamash. I smile at him, encouragingly, and mouth the words: “Your turn,” 

  He takes a deep breath, wiggling his fingers at his sides, and then starts reciting the first blessing: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Asher kid-shanu bi-mitzvo-tav vi-tzee-vanu, Li-had-leek ner shel Chanukah.” 

  His Hebrew isn’t perfect, but he recites the whole prayer exactly as we practiced. 

  My mother, who’s standing with Peeta’s family, translates quietly, to not disrupt too much, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Chanukah light.”

  Peeta waits a moment, and then recites the second prayer: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Shi-asa nee-seem la-avo-teinu, Ba-ya-meem ha-haim baz-man ha-zeh.” 

  Again, my mother translates, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time.”

  Peeta’s blue eyes shine joyfully in the dim of night. 

  “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Sheh-he-che-yanu vi-kee-yimanu vi-hee-gee-yanu laz-man ha-zeh.” 

  He finishes the third blessing, which we only say on the first night, with utmost reverence, and holds my gaze for only a second. 

  My mother translates this prayer as well, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.” She explains this one we only say once, during the first day, but the first two, we recite every night. 

  I take the shamash from its holder and tip the flame into the wick of today’s candle, so it starts the mitzvah of the night. After the light has been kindled, we —the ones in attendance who speak Hebrew— sing Ha-nerot Halalu together. 

  When we finish, my sister, Primrose, starts singing Maoz Tzur, and Peeta turns puppy-dog eyes on me, because he loves my singing.

  I chuckle ruefully before opening my mouth and letting the lyrics spill like second nature. The rest of the attendees join in singing, and suddenly everyone is participating in some way. When the song ends, another one starts, and the atmosphere grows animated and joyful the longer it goes. As it should! 

  Peeta’s brothers came with their families, so he goes to them to chat. My mother has been sitting with them, explaining the proceedings, since it’s the first time they’ve joined us for Hanukkah. 

  The candlelight flickers from the menorah, the only light in the room, just as we finish another song, and then Uncle Haymitch staggers into the middle of the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. The children peer up with interest, because most of them have known Haymitch long enough to guess what’s to come.

  Haymitch moves his arms just a fraction, and all the kids slip out of their seats like an exhale, and then, the paunchy, ol’ grump is throwing small, shiny, gold disks up towards the ceiling, crowing: “Gelt! Gelt! Gelt for everyone!” 

  “I think he believes he’s some kinda middle-aged, Jewish Oprah!” Blight, Johanna’s husband, cackles somewhere behind me, as the children descend like locusts on the chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil scattered all over the room. 

  Peeta encourages his younger nephews to get in on the fun. 

  Between all three of our siblings, Peeta and I have seven nephews— two of them are teenagers— and one niece. 

  The adults shake their heads and smile from the sidelines, watching the children in merriment.

  When all the gelt has been collected from the floor, Peeta asks the children if they would rather: eat, play dreidel, or hear a story. Since the oldest child in attendance is 8½, the kids settle on a story pretty quick. 

  I sink into the cushions of our plushest chair to watch my husband corral the little ones onto the rug for their story; one of my hands rests lazily on my heavily pregnant belly, while I hold a half eaten sugar cookie in the other one.

  “So…who can tell me what we’re celebrating for the next eight days?” Peeta starts.

  There’s a soft chorus of kiddy voices calling “Hanukkah!”

  “That is right!” Peeta agrees, his eyes are wide, excited, merry, “and Hanukkah is a very important party, because it reminds us of the Miracle of Lights and the victory of the Sons of Israel over the mean ol’ gentiles—“

  “Mamme says gentiles aren’t ‘all’ bad!” cries out Bekka, Johanna and Blight’s little girl, who looks like a carbon copy of her mother, except with long, wavy hair. 

  “Um…you’re right, I should’ve said ‘Greek invaders’ instead of gentiles…my bad—”

  “Uncle Peeta…” one of our nephews— on Peeta’s side— blinks owlishly at him, “What’s a gentile?” 

  “Non-Jewish people,” says Asher, one of Prim’s twins. 

  “Oh…like Muggles are non-magic folk?” asks another of the Mellark boys. 

  “I guess so,” answers the other twin, Aspen.

  “I don’t think we are Jewish,” comments one of Peeta’s nephews, turning inquisitive blue eyes to my husband and then to his own parents, “Are we?”

  “No, buddy, you aren’t a Jew—“

  “Uncle Haymitch says gentiles are helpless,” interrupts Aspen, shaking his head sadly, “He says the goyish thing gentiles do is putting mayo in their pastrami sammiches! So, if neither of you don’t put mayo in your pastrami, then you’re alright. You’re mishpachah, Bran!”

  “Um…what does that mean?” asks Bran.

  “We’re your mishpachah, right, Mamme?” inquires Asher.

  “It means ‘family’,” explains Prim, making the Mellark boys look relieved, and even proud. 

  “Are you a gentile too, Uncle Peeta?” asks Asher, “Uncle Haymitch says you used to be his favorite Shabbos Goy of all times before you married Auntie Katniss.”

  I almost choke on my cookie. 

  Peeta wheezes out a tiny chuckle, but is interrupted by my enraged sister.

  “Boys!” Prim rushes from her chair, her daughter half asleep in her lap; she dumps the toddler into her husband’s arms to stand in front of the twins with her hands on her hips. “That is not nice! What have I said about repeating all the mishegas Uncle Haymitch says?”

  “Not to…” the twins mumble contritely. 

  “Oy! I’m sitting right here, Sunshine!” Haymitch calls out. “Plus, kinder wisdom,” he pronounces it the Yiddish way, like the start of kindergarten, “it’s still wisdom!” 

  The twins are 7, but they can be a menace and clever to boot.

  Haymitch continues, “Everybody knows the Boy used to be pretty helpful back in the day. I was almost sad when Sweetheart finally snatched him up, despite it being the smartest thing she’s ever done,”

  “Haymitch…” I ground a low warning. 

  It’s a well known fact I kept digging my heels in against Peeta’s subtle advances for years, despite having feelings for him myself; I’m grateful my beautiful husband persevered though, because looking at him now, I can confidently say that our marriage, our family, would’ve happened anyway, despite my deep seated fears, the physical and mental toll being in a war zone took on us both, and all the heartbreak in between… 

  Unlike my mother, Peeta did not convert to Judaism in order to marry me. He did that on his own, way before I agreed to make our odd relationship official. I tried to persuade him from converting though— he does love Christmas and bacon— but again, he was committed to our faith with an iron will only the grave can quell. 

  “Eh!” Haymitch waves me off, “Nobody can win with you girls. Not even kvelling about one of your husbands!” 

  I sink deeper into my chair, sufficiently mollified. The old man can gush all about Peeta all he wants, as long as he doesn’t comment on me.

  But Haymitch has a big mouth; he used to give me a hard time for my apparent ‘prickly personality’, often telling me I was so surly, I was practically gornisht helfn—beyond help—and once, he even said, I was as charming as a slug. I retorted he was probably looking at a mirror, and that was the end of that.

  When Peeta started hinting at wanting more out of the casual arrangement we’ve had since the Army, and to my chagrin, two more suitors sprung out of nowhere, Haymitch had the gall to tell me that before Peeta, I was as romantic as dirt. Peeta gave him an earful for that one, though. It was glorious seeing Haymitch properly chastised by his favorite Shabbos Goy.

  I giggle at the memory. 

  I finally relented a couple of years ago, letting my fears go. Haymitch was the first to congratulate me when I announced I was dating Peeta, like a normal couple. My uncle fixed me with a stare that said he expected me to really try, because this boy was a true catch, or as he called him then, “a mensch if he ever saw one.” 

  I happen to agree. 

  I sigh, massaging my ribs where the baby is digging its tuchis in. 

  Haymitch gets away with a great deal of things on the simple account that he was the only person who actually accepted, and welcomed our mother into our family, when she married our father. Everyone else called her an opinionated shiksa behind my parents’ backs, probably thanks to my Bubbe…dear old Grandma really disliked the idea of my father marrying a gentile girl, despite being clear as day how much they loved each other. 

  My sister glares at Haymitch too, then turns to her sons, “It’s the first day of Chanukah, nu?” The boys nod in affirmative, “Then be good, so Uncle Peeta can finish the story—“

  “But, Mamme…we know the story!” 

  Prim gives them The Look and shuts them up right away. “Bannock, Graham, and Bran don’t know the story. They’re our guests, and we are called to be hospitable to everyone, right?” 

  I stare at Prim with mild amusement. She’s such a MOM! 

  “Yes, Mamme.” 

  I wonder if I’ll be able to master ‘the stare’ as well as my baby sister has? 

  Prim told me once, that everything she knows about mothering, she learned from the years in which I took care of her, after our father died, and our mother fell into a debilitating depression that almost killed us all from starvation and hebetude. 

  I have mixed feelings about that assessment, first, because: At first I was just trying to keep our situation hidden from others, so I made sure Prim and I were clean and presentable for school, that all homework was made on time, that we studied our Torah lessons, and that we attended Hebrew school without missing a class. I made sure Prim ate at least once a day, even if that meant I went without.

  There were things I couldn’t provide for my sister, simply because I didn’t know how, and when the pantry was empty, I started secretly raiding the trash containers behind the stores in our neighborhood.

  I was 11 then. 

  That’s when the first and only interaction with Peeta— or as I knew him then: the baker’s son— occurred before the Army. 

  Peeta had been watching me steadily lose weight and figured something wasn’t right. Then he saw how I dove out of his folks’ bakery’s garbage container and emerged empty handed, because trash had already been collected. 

  Instead of sneering, bullying me or calling the police, Peeta gave me two, fresh loaves of bread— the chiefest of foods in our culture— and thanks to his generosity, I figured out how to keep Prim, mother and myself fed when money was tight, hunting squirrels and little birds, long enough for my mother to find the strength to get the help she needed to get better.

  Secondly, in my adult life, I’ve learned to appreciate our mother’s position. She had a really hard time with life in general. Her family turned their back on her when she converted to Judaism, yet people in our community mistrusted her because of my grandma’s own prejudice, the fact that my mother was a nurse and every now and then her hospital wouldn’t (or couldn’t) honor her religious freedom to observe the Shabbat didn’t help her case. People started trusting her after they saw her care for the sick in the community, often paying from her own pocket for their treatments. 

  Peeta never struggled fitting in with my family. Then again, he’s so sweet and friendly with anyone, always so happy and ready to lend a hand…why everyone in our community loves him, and welcomed him with open arms as one of us. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to picture my loving, sweet husband as a seasoned Army veteran, who’s seen his share of destruction and death…then again, maybe it is because he’s seen humanity at its worst that he makes the extra effort to stay a pacifist and he chooses to show The Lord’s love unto others. 

  “Sorry, Peeta, please continue with the story. You’re doing a lovely job!” says my sister.

  I chance a glance at my husband, and see the mirth in his bright, blue eyes. 

  “Thank you Prim,” he says, turning back to the boys, with wonder in his voice. “But, I was thinking, and this might be the best idea I ever had! What if we let the boys tell the story of Hanukkah tonight, since it’s true, they know it better than I do? They are incredibly smart young men!” 

  “Avadeh!” exclaims Haymitch from his spot. 

  The twins wiggle with excitement, and both of them turn eager, hazel eyes to their mother, seeking approval.

  Prim takes a deep breath and nods. 

  Both boys turn their bronze haired heads back to Peeta, enthusiastically. 

  “Alright, go on then, tells us what happened!” Peeta encourages. 

  Asher starts, “The brave heroes, called the Maccabees, kicked out the Greek gentiles that wanted to make the people of Israel pray to their gentile gods! Then the priests came to ‘re-medicate’ the Holy Temple—“

  “Rededicate!” Thom, Prim’s husband, corrects from the back of the room, but the boys are on a roll now.

  “‘Redadecate’ the Holy Temple, by lighting the menorah. So, they looked all over the place, but found only one jar of ‘puridified’ oil—“

  “Purified!” 

  “Yes, what Tatte said! They only found enough of the good oil, to light the menorah for one day!”

  Asher pauses for effect, while all the adults react to the suspense accordingly, gasping and murmuring. 

  Aspen continues the narration after a second. 

  “At first, the priests thought: oh no! We don’t want to light the menorah for only one day, it needs to burn all the time to clean all the filth the Greeks left behind, so we can praise Adonai again!”

  Hushed voices comment their approval. 

  The other twin picks up the story. “But they decided, that even one day, was better than none at all, so they used that little bit of oil, and fired up the lamp, and the lights burned for eight times straight!”

  “Eight days…” corrects Thom.

  “Eight days straight!”

  “It was a miracle!”

  Everyone claps, excitedly. 

  “The priests had time to…” Asher cranes his neck, seeking his father in the crowded living room, and then smiles, enunciating his word with precision, “‘purify’ more olive oil, to add to the menorah from then on!”

  “That’s why we celebrate Hanukkah every year! To remember how our people defended their freedom,”

  “And won back the Holy Temple,”

  “And The Lord accepted their effort with a miracle of lights!” 

  The whole room erupts in cheers and song. Everybody hugs each other in celebration. 

  After a moment, our auntie Effie calls out, “Oh what wonderful storytelling, Tattelles!” She rushes over to the twins and smacks loud, wet kisses, on both of the boys’ cheeks, leaving red lipstick all over their wincing faces. 

  The twins wipe their cheeks with the backs of their hands, and Prim just sighs, hugging her sons to her chest. “Well done, Asher. Well done, Aspen.”

  Peeta pats them both on the head, and ever the attentive host, directs everyone to help themselves to the many treats he made. 

  “Is everything fried?” asks one of Peeta’s sisters-in-law.

  “For the most part,” I hear my mother say, fondly. “To commemorate the miracle of the oil, traditionally, Hanukkah food is fried.” She explains, patiently. “Everything is delicious, and Peeta and Katniss made quite the spread.” 

  My mother busies herself, setting up a stack of napkins on the table where we placed all the food; she then serves latkes to the Mellarks.

  Haymitch grabs her hand and pulls her to sit by me. “Come rest, sit with your daughter, enjoy the lights. I’ll shmooze the bakers now, nu!” 

  My mother comes to sit next to me. She smiles tiredly, “How are you feeling, zeeskeit?” 

  I grin, she’s using the same term of endearment Tatte used to call us. It means ‘sweetheart’.

  “I’m alright. Just a little tired. My back is killing me and I think I have gas, ‘cause my belly keeps rumbling and tensing up.” 

  My mother arches a dark blonde eyebrow, “Maybe the baby is on the way?” 

  “I suppose that could be a possibility,” I shrug. I’m 6 days shy of my due date, but the doctor says I’m healthy, and he expects no complications, whatsoever, plus first time mothers can be early. 

  Thom brings out a dreidel to play with the children. 

  My toddler niece rubs her eyes grumpily— she’s got gray eyes, like my father did. Like mine. Mother and Prim are blonde and blue eyed, but I favored my father in appearance…I wonder who my child will like? I hope it’s a little of both Peeta and I— the girl clings to her father’s arm, watching her brothers and cousins spin the top, suspiciously. Once she realizes gelt is involved in the game, she perks up a little, and tries to spin the dreidel to mixed results. 

  Everyone sits around the children, eating latkes dipped in applesauce or sour cream; Peeta decided not to serve any meat tonight, so we could eat dairy products. Effie is dipping hers in salsa…what an odd woman! 

  Johanna is eating an entire block of cheese, noshing on it like a mouse. 

  Peeta brings me and my mother sufganiyot; he smiles sheepishly. “These were a hit.” He says, “they’ve already disappeared from the tray.”

  I stare at him with wide eyes. “Why does that surprise you, babe? Your cooking is amazing!” 

  Peeta rubs the back of his head, bashful. “Eh, it would be embarrassing if the baker couldn’t handle jelly filled donuts, nu?” he whispers, kneeling in front of my chair. 

  “Nonsense,” I say equally quietly, “you are the most talented person I know.” I kiss him on the forehead, after pushing back the ashy waves of hair falling into his eyes. 

  I hope our child has wavy hair like Peeta does! Mine is boring…not so much the dark as ink color, but the way it’s so thick and straight, the only way to keep it up is in braid.

  Peeta gazes at me with so much love, my heart skips a beat. 

  “Have I told you recently, just how grateful I am to have you as my wife, lover and partner in life?” He reaches up to caress my face, and suddenly the hubbub of the party fades, leaving us in a bubble of our own. 

  “I’m grateful too!” I say, curling my sugar coated fingers around his, cupping my cheek. 

  It’s a veritable miracle that Peeta and I are here today, married and with a child on the way. 

  We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and frequented the same places; yet, despite crossing each other’s paths often, and outside the lone time with the bread when we were eleven, we never truly interacted with each other until we found ourselves deployed to the same base overseas.

  Peeta enlisted in the Army fresh out of high school. I enlisted much later, when it became glaringly obvious that if I was going to pursue any higher education, it would have to be paid for by the military, since every penny Mother and I made, went straight into Prim’s Med school fund. 

  Prim took a couple of breaks from school while building her family, but she’s a pediatrician now, beloved by her patients and their parents. 

  Thom is in the field as well, as a Physical Therapist. He was Peeta’s PT for a while; that’s how him and my sister met. They married years before we did. 

  Call it chance or providence, Peeta and I had no idea we were in the same camp, until our names got chosen for some grunt duty I can no longer remember. We recognized one another instantly, and became very close friends while in the service. Close enough to share cots and knock boots when the itch was too unbearable to ignore. We discovered we had more in common than just our hometown, and then…the worst day of our lives happened, cementing our dependence on the other, like only tragedy can. 

  While on a mission, our unit got attacked. Our Commander, a burly man named Boggs, called for extraction while we ran for cover from a volley of bullets raining on us. In the confusion, Boggs stepped on a landmine that blew off both his feet. 

  I rushed to him, pulling him back to safety. I didn’t think of the shrapnel flying everywhere, but Peeta— who had located me a second earlier— did. He made it to me somehow, and shielded my body with his own, earning a mangled leg full of lead for his troubles. 

  Boggs was beyond medical help; the poor man bled to death in my arms in the transport back to base. Peeta was badly hurt, losing blood quicker than anyone in the transport could stomach. I tried to help him as best I could, wishing I had my mother’s touch or Prim’s cleverness; I placed a tourniquet on Peeta’s thigh. It saved his life, but cost him his leg. 

  It wasn’t until we arrived back in camp, and the adrenaline and terror left my body, that I was able to feel my own wounds. I had second degree burns in several places of my body; the fire and heat miraculously spared my face. Then, I noticed the ringing in my left ear wouldn’t go away, and when it did, no other sounds came in. 

  I was honorably discharged for my damaged ear, but I requested to stay close to my buddy, Peeta Mellark, until he was stable enough to go back home. When questioned about this, I simply replied, “We protect each other. Is what we do.” 

  Peeta was discharged too shortly after. We got shipped back home to America together, which is how we’ve been ever since.

  Peeta and I survived against the odds.

  It took us months and lots of counseling to be able to sleep through the night without waking up screaming. 

  It took him years to convince me it was okay to let my guard down around my heart. I was always so scared I’d lose him to some unseen danger, and like my mother, fall into such a deep depression I could harm any potential children we had together, because in my heart of hearts I knew Peeta was it for me.  

  It took us five, ten, fifteen years to be where we are at, and that in itself is a miracle I’m grateful for. 

  “Peeta, darling, the candles are almost out,” says Effie, who apparently is eager to turn the lights back on. 

  “Alright, let’s see…” I stand up to check just how consumed those candles really are, and as soon as I do, my incompetent bladder releases all the pee I have in my body, and then some. “Feh!”

  My mother gasps and pushes Peeta back, who was still kneeling close by. “Katniss, your water just broke!” 

  “What?! Already? Whatdowedo?!” Peeta is frantic, practically jogging in place, hands hovering uselessly around my belly. 

  Effie screeches in a very uncharacteristic fashion. “Oh! What a big, big, big day this is, darlings! Katniss, doll, you might get to hold your very own bundle of joy in your arms on the first day of Hanukkah! What a blessing!” 

  “Well, first things first,” says my mother, going into nurse mode. “Everyone, calm down! This child is not about to drop just yet. Second, Katniss needs to get out of these clothes and into clean ones. Then we need to get you packed and ready to go to the hospital. Peeta, dear, you need to call the doctor, and let them know your wife’s water broke, and you’re heading to the hospital soon.”

  “Okay! Yeah…on it!” says Peeta chewing nervously on his lower lip. 

  He reluctantly steps aside to make the call. By then, my sister is moving people around to get me through the room.

  Delly, Peeta’s sister-in-law, comes from who-knows-where with an armful of towels to mop up the floor. 

  “Thank you,” I offer embarrassedly.

  Delly waves me off, “Oh no, honey, don’t you worry about it. I know how these things go. You have more important stuff to think of right now. We will clean this place up, and probably call on grandma and grandpa Mellark, to let them know.” 

  I give her a hug, because she’s the nicest person I know, and barely hold back an ugly sob. 

  Peeta comes back from calling the doctor just as my mother is helping me into a pair of baggy sweatpants. Prim’s going through my bag triple checking what I packed, despite my protests that both Peeta and I have been checking on it every day for the last week. 

  “Everything is ready, Katniss. The doctor is on the way to the hospital. There’s a triage nurse already waiting for you, our paperwork is being processed as we speak, so all we have to do is sign it when we arrive, and Effie and Haymitch are taking over hosting duties from us.”

  “Oh great!” I sigh, “you can say goodbye to all the wine in the house if those two are in charge,”

  “Is that sarcasm I detect? That means the contractions aren’t even painful yet…” says Prim dryly. Then she and my mother giggle. 

  I glare at them, rubbing the back of my hips, my bones back there kind of burn. 

  Peeta seems confused and wisely keeps his mouth shut. He grabs the hospital bag I packed for me and the baby, a week ago, and shoulders a backpack for himself, he packed almost a month ago. 

  My mother rides with us to the hospital, and since everyone knows her and my sister there, I get extra pampered by the nursing staff. 

  My obstetrician, Dr. Aurelius, checks on me as soon as I’m put in the hospital gown; he’s a little concerned about my blood pressure, so the nurses keep an even closer eye on me. At 32 I’m not at any greater risk of things going wrong than any other mother-to-be, but this is my first child, so I endure their over prodding gratefully. 

  Labor itself goes quickly, only a couple of hours from the water breaking to the crowning. Peeta holds my hand through it all; he tends to me lovingly, feeding me ice chips, blotting sweat from my face and neck, whispering sweet nothings and encouragement into my ear, and when he’s not talking to me or the medical staff, he prays. 

  After surviving a war zone, second degree burns and a few broken bones, I think that giving birth is perhaps the least painful experience of all. Not in the literal sense of course— giving birth physically hurts like a mother!— but in the psychological-emotional sense. I’m going through this trial for love, with the expectation of meeting someone amazing in the end.

  But when it’s time to push, a fear older than time itself chokes me up. “I can’t do this! Let the baby stay in my belly…I can keep the child safe here, please!” 

  “Sweetheart, look at me,” says Peeta cupping my face in his hands, “You are the bravest, most selfless person I know. I’m not denying how scary this is, bringing an innocent into the world, but you’re not alone…we have each other, and we will face this fear like we’ve faced any other fear, and we’ll beat it into dust!” 

  “Together?” My voice wavers.

  “Together!” he vows. 

  “Katniss…the baby’s crowning,” says Dr. Aurelius, “This is it! On your next contraction, I need you to push real hard, alright?”

  I nod, exhausted; Peeta squeezes my hand in his, and I squeeze right back. 

  “Here it comes!” I bear down with all my might and growl all the breath out of my lungs, and suddenly, the best sound in the world fills the delivery room: the meowling of my newborn reaches my ears. 

  “It’s a girl!” calls the doctor from between the stirrups holding my legs up.

  The man holds the screeching child up, so we can see her, and my whole world shrinks to her tiny shape. 

  Peeta is crying. 

  I’m crying too! 

  My mother is somewhere in the background singing something I can’t quite catch, and everyone around is bustling to get my brand new baby girl cleaned up and measured. Then finally she’s placed on my chest, and my husband and I can’t stop staring and caressing her. 

  “Shalom, sheifale,” I sigh in contentment, kissing my baby’s forehead.

  “Welcome, little one!” Peeta murmurs. Our daughter wraps her whole hand around her father’s index finger and holds fast to it. 

  Again, it feels like we are in this hermetic bubble, where only Peeta, myself, and now our newborn, exist. Meanwhile the doctor and nurses are still working on me, but that doesn’t matter. My family is finally whole, and that too is a miracle full of light!

  “Mazel Tov, my dears!” says my mother, smiling at Peeta and me. “I’ll go tell the people in the waiting room the good news…do you have a name picked out already?” she asks tentatively, her face lit with happiness and relief. 

  “Hannah!” says Peeta right away. “For I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted my plea.” Peeta’s eyes widen, then he looks down at me sheepishly, “unless, you have something else in mind?” 

  “No!” I laugh, “Hannah is perfect!” I hold the babe higher on my bosom, and tilt her head towards my mother, “Hannah, say hello to Bubbie Lily, she’s my Mamme, and I am yours!”

  My mother giggles, “Happy birthday, Hannah Mellark, and happy Hanukkah, zeeskeit.” My mother leans closer, and gives Hannah’s head a peck. “Next time I see you, there will be others with me…your mishpachah, who are eager to meet you, sheifale!”

  “We’re almost done here, and you can see some of your family. But be mindful of visiting hours!” says Dr. Aurelius, pushing back from the instrument table. 

  We all say our thanks to the staff, and my mother goes to talk to our family in the waiting room. Peeta’s led to the nursery, to give Hannah her first bath. Once the baby is dressed and swaddled into a hospital blanket, Peeta snaps a couple of pictures of her with his smart phone and sends it to everyone one we know. The caption reads: “Hannah Mellark, because G-d favored us with a child!” 

  The nurse helping Peeta, takes two of those thin hats they give all the newborns, and fashions it into a single hat with a big bow on the front. Our daughter’s head will be warm and stylish.

  Back in the room, Hannah latches onto my breast easily enough, and to our surprise opens her eyes, to show deep blue peepers, like her father’s! 

  “Look, Daddy, she’s got your eyes!“ I exclaim. 

  “Can she call me Tatte?” Peeta asks quietly, as if asking permission.

  I nod, “Hannah, your Tatte gives the best hugs in the world!” 

  The visitors file in. My mother-in-law falls in love with Hannah, her first and only granddaughter. Peeta’s father tears up a little bit, and hugs his son, kissing his temple. I’ve never seen the Mellarks so happy and moved. A baby would do that, I guess. 

  After our siblings come to visit, Effie and Haymitch make a quick appearance. Haymitch holds Hannah the longest; he sings her a song in Hebrew, then says a blessing over her. 

  Effie pulls Peeta aside, “What we discussed…” she says demurely, smiling softly, and hands him a bag. 

  Since she already gave us practically half of Buy Buy Baby at our shower, I have no idea what else she could’ve gotten, but my husband’s entire demeanor lights up like fireworks when he peeks in the bag. He hugs Effie and thanks her profusely. 

  I fall asleep after a while.

  When I wake up again, the room’s mostly dark, except for a soft, flickering light. 

  Hannah is not in her bassinet, so I sit up with a start, only to find the most wonderful scene in front of me: Peeta’s holding the babe by the window looking down the road. The blinds are open, and on the sill sits a child size menorah. The shamash is lit, but the day one candle is not. 

  “Peeta?” I call softly.

  My husband turns, smiling, “You’re awake! We didn’t want to disturb you. You had a hard, busy day, but…” he shrugs, “It’s Hannah’s first Hanukkah, and I figured you wouldn’t wanna miss it,” 

  No, I wouldn’t. 

  I get up, gingerly, and shuffle towards my family. 

  I cock my head and study the candelabra, which looks suspiciously like the kind business owners put in their offices along their Christmas trees and other wintry decor to show how inclusive they are. This one is smaller than regular menorahs, made of plastic, with a cord sticking from the side which is plugged into the wall besides the window. The flickering light I thought at first to be a real flame, is just a small bulb with a candlelight effect. 

  “Where did you get an electric menorah?” I ask skeptically.

  “Effie,” my husband blushes. “She said it was okay, as long as we lit a kosher menorah, which we did at home,” he says a little defensively, with a lot of pleading generously sprinkled in between. 

  My father would’ve frowned at the decidedly un-kosher menorah. 

  Reading my expression, my sneaky husband harrumps, “This is a hospital, Katniss. I don’t think they’ll be thrilled to find there’s an open flame in a room housing a newborn, no matter what holiday you’re celebrating.”

  I sigh. He’s right. Safety protocols should be observed, and we did light a traditional menorah already; plus, this one is practically a toy for the baby…technically a Hanukkah gift. 

  I relax my stance. I wasn’t aware that my shoulders were so tense during that exchange. 

  “Fine,” I acquiesce, “show me how does the thing work?”

  Peeta grins, looking at ease holding our daughter in one arm like a pro. No wonder he’s always our nephews’ and niece’s favorite uncle. 

  He pulls a couple of bulbs from his pants pocket, and holds them on his palm for me to peruse. “All you do is screw these in the small sockets, just like placing the candles in a regular menorah. Then, you press this button, and it lights up!” He points at a small button at the base of the toy. 

  I nod, accepting his explanation. 

  Hannah wiggles a bit in her father’s arm, then makes an aggravated noise. Peeta adjusts the child against his chest, and looks at me, expectantly. 

  “Hannah’s waiting, and she’s probably getting hungry. I should know, I’m her Tatte!” 

  I snort a reluctant laugh. The man can drive me crazy, in an endearing sort of way. How can I deny my family anything?!

  We say the blessings together, then Peeta whispers all the ceremonial rules on lighting the candles to our baby.

  Hannah has her fist wrapped around his finger again, so he picks up the pretend shamash with the same hand, and touches the tip of the bulb into the opening, so— according to him— Hannah is lighting the day one candle herself…symbolically. 

  He screws the bulbs in their right places, and switches the candlelight on. 

  I must admit, it’s not as tacky as I feared it would be. I make a mental note to let Peeta know I’m glad he thought of this, later…probably tomorrow. 

  We sing quietly, not to disturb anyone else on our floor. After the ceremony of the candles is done, we hold onto each other, watching the flickering lights, while Peeta narrates the story of the Maccabees to Hannah. 

  Everything is quiet after that; Hannah fusses once, so I take her into my arms, and sing a lullaby. 

  Peeta has been staring at me all night like I hung the moon in the sky. He gazes at our daughter like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen, and I’m sure my eyes reflect the same feelings as his.

  “I wish I could freeze this moment, right now, and live in it forever.” 

  I smile up at him, who in turn is gazing at our daughter and me with adoration; my heart fills to bursting!

  “I do too!” I stand on tiptoes, and kiss his cheek. “Happy Hanukkah, Peeta. Happy Hanukkah, Hannah.”

  “Same to you too, sweetheart, and thank you Lord, for blessing our family with the miracle of life.”

[927roses-and-stuff]

Miracles in Gotham: Chapter 7: A Brewing Storm

A/N: So, with Season 4 of Miraculous Ladybug officially starting, this is a reminder that this fanfic is non-compliant with any events after Season 3, even with the added lore in canon. I know this is also a crossover so that’s to be expected, but because this fic is also dealing with Miraculous lore, I feel the need to put this up. Please don’t comment about canon disproving any of the material here, because I am already fully aware of the fact. I don’t really care for the show anymore, and the only thing keeping me in the fandom are the fanworks. Like many in the Maribat fandom, I discovered the more vast lore of DC through this, so there is a mix-up of canon from different worlds/universes (e.g. Young Justice, New 52, and Prime Earth), I just don’t care enough to discern which wiki I’m getting my info from.

That said, thank you to everyone who is taking the time to read this fic, and I hope that you like it. An extra thank you to everyone who has given this a kudos, bookmarked, and/or commented. I appreciate you all so much.

Also, shout out to jackmand1, Sp8cefluff and BenRG who commented on ways to open the box (getting Bunnyx to get the tablet before Hawkmoth, and asking the box to open), which is all mentioned in Marinette’s diary entry.

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: : @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn @iloontjeboontje

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Dear Diary,

There’s still no luck with the Miracle Box. After we tried Chat’s idea of dropping it from the Louvre using the chew toy as a pressure point, we tried hitting it with our weapons (didn’t even make a dent!), Chat asked the box to “please open don’t close up on us like my dad did” (we had a talk about that but he didn’t want to delve too much into it, and it didn’t work), the kwami tried phasing through it (thank god kwami don’t get concussions), and we even tried contacting Bunnyx, but goodness knows where she is and after Chat Blanc, I didn’t really want to see her anyway. We gave up sometime in the early morning, and now it’s shoved in one of my luggage carts, ready to bring to Gotham tomorrow. I hope it doesn’t trigger any of the airport security.

In better news, it’s been a few days since Chat and I officially introduced our new Ladybug and Bee to the scene. For the most part, I think they’re doing well- better than I did when I first started, anyway. It took a bit of time for Luka and Kagami to get used to the new set up, but Chat and I were there to help them, so it wasn’t too bad. Luka, or Bleu Acier, took a while to get used to the yoyo (who knew Luka had a fear of heights?), but he’s gotten used to it...after we had to convince him he wasn’t going to splat into the pavement or anything like that. Kagami, who decided on the name Shūyō, had to adjust to short-range fighting and not using Venom too soon, but she managed to navigate the top and cause a lot of damage to the akumas that we dealt with in the last few days. I think Hawkmoth has some idea that Bustier’s class is on the move because we’ve had an akuma attack every day so far. I’m hoping it’s just Hawkmoth becoming more desperate, although hopefully Bleu Acier and Shūyō threw him off a little bit. As of right now, I’m using the Snake Miraculous as Couleuvre, so it’ll be easier to-

One moment, Marinette had been settled comfortably in her chaise, and the next, a large crash through her bedroom walls threw her across the room, her back hitting the wall hard enough that she felt pain upon impact. When the world around her gained focus, she spotted a large woman-like figure in front of the hole in her wall cackling. The woman’s glassy skin that was translucent, yet she could also see a muddled reflection of her own face. Upon her head she wore a heavy silver crown adorned with gems that was reminiscent of her skin and a white, flowy dress that trailed behind her from the waist. In her hand was an open contact mirror that contained no reflection except for her own blue-bell eyes.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! I am Mistress Mirage! Soon, I will show you the darkest parts of yourself, the secrets you hide behind your so-called truths!” she bellowed, her voice echoing in Marinette’s ears. In the background, she could barely hear her parents’ muffled screams and bangs against her bedroom door.

“Who-” she hissed, trying to balance herself and stand up. “What did I do to you?”

As far as she knew, she hadn’t angered anyone in the last hour she had been home for lunch.

Mistress Mirage zoomed towards her, her face shoved near into hers, her burning cold fingers choked her. Marinette backed into the wall, grabbing onto Mirage’s marble wrists, a pain shooting up her spine. Marinette could only struggle in place, her legs kicking listlessly, as the glassy, bright green emeralds Mistress Mirage had for eyes stared into her very being. The longer she stared into the empty gems, trying .

“Your weaknesses, your darkest secrets will be mine, Dupain-Cheng.”

Her voice, tinkled within Marinette’s mind, and she watched as the woman’s glassy skin shifted and soon she was faced with a kaleidoscope version of herself, blue sapphires glinting harshly, her breaths now ragged and shallow.

“Wha-” Marinette tried taking a deep breath, but Mirage’s fingers tightened their hold. “Why?” she managed to weakly choke out.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Mirage’s voice, no longer bellowing nor echoing, but now a whisper right in her ears, sounding eerily like her own. “That you aren’t enough? That you will never be enough?”

Marinette shook her head, trying to ignore the voice as it taunted her endlessly.

“What are you hiding, Marinette?”

“Why do you hide from the world?”

“How pathetic. You claim to hate liars,” Marinette felt Mirage’s fingers tighten around her. “But aren’t you a liar too?”

Tears stung the corner of her eyes. She didn’t know what was going on- Mistress Mirage wasn’t saying anything incriminating. If it were any other situation, she could brush off these accusations, but as Mirage continued to taunt her in her voice, doubts and fears, both new and old, she usually ignored were brought to the forefront of her mind.

‘I’ll fail as a Guardian- I’m not enough.

I’m abandoning my city to find a man who might not even be alive.

Chat Noir will never trust me again.

My parents want to send me away.

Why doesn’t Alya believe me?

Alya would’ve made a better Ladybug.

If Tikki could see me now she’d be disappointed.

What a failure I turned out to be.

“What a failure you turned out to be.”

Mistress Mirage’s emerald eyes glinted gleefully, a wide smile cracking into the glassy expanse of her skin. Her voice echoed Marinette’s thoughts and Marinette repeated her words as much as she could, her breathing becoming more shallow. Mistress Mirage couldn’t actually read any of Marinette’s secrets, however, she could read her psyche, a doubtful, anxious little thing, and she only said out loud what Marinette had already been telling herself to make her putty into Mirage’s hands. A neon violet butterfly appeared over her face, reminding her of her duty to get the Miraculous.

But for now, she had Marinette in her grasp. Once Marinette was in her trance, shaking slightly and mumbling nonsense as tears streaked down her cheeks, Mirage grabbed her and headed to the Trocadero, when three figures- black, steel blue and honey yellow- surrounded her in the middle of the street. The two new heroes stiffened at the sight of the girl in her arms. Chat snarled at Mistress Mirage.

“Marinette!” Chat yelled, rushing forward with his baton at Mistress Mirage. “What are you doing with her?!”

Mistress Mirage smirked. “If you want her, you’ll have to give me your Miraculous.”

She leapt out of the way only to stumble beside Shūyō who held her yellow top- flatter than Queen Bee’s with a long, black handle- the tip poised to the side of Mirage’s ribcage.

Before Shūyō could enact Venom however, Mirage turned and kicked the bee heroine away from her, holding out her compact mirror, creating a wall of mirrors that trapped Shūyō on the other side. She rearranged Marinette in her arms, ignoring the silent struggles of the bee thumping against the mirrored walls and swearing at her.

Chat Noir extended his baton towards Mistress Mirage. However, she jumped and landed on top of the baton, sending Chat sprawling through the air. Bleu Acier attacked at the same time. Mirage was quick and held out her compact to the two heroes, entrapping them in their own mirror dimension. The butterfly outline appeared again, and Mirage set off. She had special plans for Marinette.

Within the mirror dimension, Bleu and Chat were trying to navigate their way around crystallized walls which reflected everything around them. They had tried to find Shūyō, only to realize she was a reflection, then had almost been driven over by a car that had then disappeared.

“What is all this?” Chat muttered, nudging his surroundings. “It’s like, some of it are just reflections, but some of it is real.”

Bleu Acier nodded. “The reflections have to come from somewhere, so the real objects and people are in here somewhere.” He looked up and pointed a little ways forward. “Look, you can see our reflections.”

“Hope they’re getting my good side,” Chat quipped. “We have to get Shūyō and Marinette soon.”

Bleu Acier blinked, as he caught his yoyo when it hadn’t rebounded against a wall. “Do you know her personally?” He asked. He hadn’t been aware of Marinette’s close relationship with the Parisian heroes.

Chat gave a stiff nod. “She’s worked with Ladybug and I a few times. I met her when we fought Evillustrator.”

“So, do you and Ladybug often have civilians fight for you?” Bleu frowned. He scanned the area, and turned left.

“Only when we really need to,” Chat scoffed. “It’s not ideal, but it’s just me and m’Lady and sometimes we need help.”

Bleu could sense a resonating low, flat tone emanating from Chat. “That’s horrible. You guys look like you’re still kids.” Chat shrugged in response. As they walked onwards, investigating every inch of the way, Bleu noticed a figure dressed in a black and yellow-patterned fencing uniform, wearing a striped domino mask, thumping against a transparent wall. “Chat, look.”

Cat’s eyes widened at the sight. “Shūyō!” he yelled and rushed forward, only to be trapped in a corner with several reflections of the bug-themed heroine. Chat’s breath quickened. “Shūyō! Can you hear us?!”

Shūyō’ perked up and looked around. “I can! But where are you?” She shouted, her voice vibrating through the air.

“Shit.” Chat stared at his hand, before clenching it and turning towards Bleu. “I think we might need that Lucky Charm now.”

He nodded. “Lucky Charm!”

A bright red object with black spots dropped from the sky followed a series of chimes. Bleu Acier’s eyes widened as he held up the wind chime, eight hollow tubes ringing against the slapper in between, the clear, steady ringing piercing all around them. The wind chime was half the size of his torso, so fortunately, it was lighter than it looked.

It was a curious thing Ladybug had noted, that most of Bleu Acier’s Lucky Charms were sound or music-related.

“Well, this blows. You going to chime a pretty tune there, Bleu?”

He held back a chuckle. In the week he and Shūyō had been working with Chat and Ladybug, he had grown to appreciate Chat’s humour and the jaunty tune he associated with them.

“Maybe,” he said. Raising his voice, he addressed Shūyō. “Can you hear this?!” He asked, shaking the wind chime from its hanger.

They could see Shūyō’s reflection moving around, her eyes closed in concentration. “Sort of!” she answered, echoing slightly. “Are we able to use Chat Noir’s Cataclysm?!”

Bleu stared at Chat who was staring at his hand in deep thought. “Probably! We just need to make sure I’m not using Cataclysm on something real!”

“Maybe it is not my place to say as your junior, but this is not the time for hesitation!” Shūyō yelled back.

A beep echoed in Bleu’s ears. “We should hurry. I only have four minutes.”

Chat nodded. “Alright!” He looked around, scanning nearby walls until he found a reflection of himself- a sure way to make sure he hit the mirror. “Cataclysm!”

The walls around them crumbled in seconds, revealing the world around them. Chat smirked, and they scouted for Shūyō who met them in the middle.

“Why did you not use Cataclysm in the first place?” Shūyō asked, when they reconvened.

“I didn’t want to accidentally use it on the wrong thing,” he said, flexing his fingers. “Come on, we have less than five minutes. Don’t use Venom until you receive my signal.”

Shūyō nodded.

Chat turned to Bleu Acier and pointed to the wind chime. “Keep that on you and look out for opportunities.” He turned around and headed off. “Let’s go!”

In the end, Mistress Mirage was defeated quickly. In their absence, she had grown arrogant, and the three heroes found several clones of Mistress Mirage atop the Palais de Chaillot, a crowd having gathered at the bottom. Each clone had a Marinette bound in front of them, at the edge of the roof, standing listlessly. Despite this, Mistress Mirage was not prepared for the ambush of the three heroes. Bleu’s wind chimes were used as a distraction for the real Mistress Mirage while Chat and Shūyō attacked from behind.

“Shūyō! Use it now!” Chat yelled, as he grabbed Marinette and set her down on the ground below, and allowed the paramedics to deal with her.

“Venom,” Shūyō muttered. She dropped beneath Mirage and her top, stabbing her opponent beneath her ribcage. “Gotcha.”

Mistress Mirage froze mid-air, one leg in the air and both hands outstretched. Chat’s eyes widened when he didn’t see her holding the akumatized object. Chat pounced back onto the roof, ignoring the second beep from his ring. He noticed the satin sash that was wrapped around her waist.

“Shūyō, the akumatized object is the mirror she carries around. It should be in her sash,” he said, his cheeks tinged pink. “Can you- uh-?”

Shūyō nodded. “I do not understand your need for modesty at such a time, but it is commended.”

Chat’s cheeks reddened further. “It’s just polite! I don’t want to be touching anyone without their consent!”

Shūyō took out the compact mirror that had been tucked into the sash just above her left hip. She tossed it to Bleu Acier who quickly broke it and captured the akuma.

“It’s just the principle of it!” Chat squawked as the trail of tiny red ladybugs flowed throughout Parisian skies.

She snorted. “I understand. I was just teasing.” She turned to nod at Bleu then at Chat. “You two are close to de-transforming. I will bring both victims home.” Shūyō then grabbed Lila, who had been the akuma and was now disoriented, and jumped down to retrieve Marinette.

When Marinette had woken up from the akuma attack, she had been escorted home by Shūyō, who had fussed over any injuries she may have gotten before eventually leaving with a pack of honey macarons. Marinette smiled. Chat had made a good choice with Kagami. After, she had endured cuddles and hugs from her parents who were now even more determined to get her out of Paris.

Later that evening, after reassuring her parents and making sure the kwami were okay. She headed off to patrol where she had to answer for her absence, and where Chat had regaled how they did. Marinette smiled, knowing she made the right choice. After the patrol, which had been less of a patrol and more of a small goodbye ceremony, she returned home and recorded the events in her diary, slowly anticipating the trip.

The next day, she had just made it to the airport an hour before boarding. Everyone had gone through the usual airport processes and she was the last to arrive with her passport and airplane tickets in her carry-on shoulder bag. When she arrived to the waiting area where her friends were (with Adrien’s bodyguard nearby playing on his phone), she was met with a lot of mixed reactions.

Alya had rushed over and hugged her, frantically asking if she was okay. Several classmates had joined her, like Rose, Juleka and Mylene. She hugged them back and reassured them that she was alright, and wasn’t going to jump off roofs anytime soon (though she didn’t remember that from yesterday anyway). They then moved on and Alya asked her a question that stopped her in her tracks.

“Why were you arguing with Lila yesterday, anyway?” Alya asked, leading the two of them to sit down.

Marinetter furrowed her eyebrows and frowned. “What are you on about? I’m not talking to Lila at all.”

Alya frowned. “She told us that’s why she was akumatized yesterday. Apparently you called the mirror she got from Bruce Wayne as a birthday gift, fake.”

Marinette forced herself to not roll her eyes. “What? Why would I care about anything like that? She’s lying!”

Alya frowned even more. “Lila said you’d probably say that. Why can’t you two just get along?”

“Alya, you’re the one that believes Lila has a lying illness. Why don’t you believe me when I say she’s lying and that I didn’t even see her at all yesterday outside of class?” Marinette tensed. How petty did Lila think she was? How petty was Lila?

“She did get akumatized yesterday. Her story matches the events,” Alya said. “Marinette, you’re my best friend. That’s why I want to know why you did what you did.”

Marinette snorted. “And I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything. Is this what the whole class believes? That I’m so shallow that I would akumatize Lila over something as trivial as a mirror?”

Alya blanched. “No, of course not. We’re just saying you two had an argument and Lila got upset enough to turn into an akuma. We’re not saying it was intentional on your part or anything.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Look, my version of events is that I went home for lunch, was in my bedroom, got attacked by the akuma, and was out for it until that Bee hero Shūyō brought me home. Believe what you want, but don’t expect me to apologize to Lila for something I didn’t do.”

Marinette stood up and was about to go before she was stopped by Alya grabbing her wrist. She looked back and watched as Alya looked down at her clenched fist, biting her lip.

“I,” Alya sighed. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I’m not saying I don’t believe Lila either. Either way, both of you were the victims yesterday. I’m sorry I was asking you stuff like that.”

Marinette frowned and sat back down. She wasn’t sure what was happening between her and Alya. Alya had been spending more time with Lila, even ending up as her seatmate on the plane and her roommate for the hotel. It made Marinette uncomfortable that they were becoming so close, considering who Lila was. But, Alya was a good person- she just wanted her friends to get along, and it’s not like she could force Alya to cut off her other friendships, even if it was to manipulative lying rats like Lila. That had to be on Alya’s terms. All Marinette could do was be there for her and hope she’d return the sentiment.

She forced a smile. “You’re forgiven.” Alya looked up and smiled, reaching out to hug her. “Now, let’s hang out for a bit before we’re stuck in a plane for twelve hours.”

Alya smiled back. “Yeah! By the way, did you hear that Jagged Stone knows Bruce Wayne?”

And just like that, they had spent the rest of the hour waiting to board the place. The plane that would take them to whatever was awaiting them in Gotham City.

A/N: So that's the end to the first arc I guess, if I intentionally have arcs lol. The rest of this fanfic will be in Gotham. Thank you again for joining me this far and I hope you continue to read it!

Other notes: Bleu Acier is based on the Steelblue Ladybird, with Bleu Acier meaning Steel Blue. Shūyō has three meanings in Japanese, but here, it’s used to mean self-discipline (because that’s something I associate with bees and hard workers). Couleuvre is just another way to say snake in French because Marinette sucks at names.

P.S. I don't hate Alya. In fact, I think we often brush over the fact that Alya is fiercely loyal and in the show, doesn't have all the facts so she's not too suspicious of Lila.

[fangirlinsweden]

Nexus part 2

Part 2:  Secrets and Friends

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Secrets (think that is all)

Word Count:  About 4000 words

Summary:  Y/N is a pain in the ass according to Steve. She is brought on to missions sometimes by Fury when they need help, but she is wild and does not listen to orders. She does what she wants. Now Fury has given her a place in the Avengers. And Steve is not liking it. Having to deal with her every day. He hates her. Or does he? And what is Y/N relationship with Bucky? They seem to get closer and closer.

A/N: This takes place after Avengers: Endgame, but Steve never left. Tony and Nat are still alive.

This is written for Gab’s @buckysmischief Birthday Challenge. My prompt is:  “Did you bring us here to die?” “Obviously.” “I really can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

And A Big Happy Birthday to Gab @buckysmischief​!   ❤️

The mission with Nat and Clint went well. Nat and Clint had pretended to be married, something they were good at pretending and you had been Clint’s sister. After getting the intel you had set out to get, it was time to get back to the states. You missed your apartment, but had a feeling you were not going to spend a whole lot of time there now that you were a part of the Avengers. Clint had warned you that Fury and Tony would think it was best that you moved to the compound with the rest of the team. You knew that this was both a good and a bad idea. Living closer to Steve might not be the best idea, but maybe you would finally find out what had made him start avoiding you. And living at the compound would make it easier to train and go on missions with the team. But you promised yourself that until Tony or Fury asked you to move to the compound you would stay in your apartment in Brooklyn and commute. The thought of not living in the apartment also gave you a pang of pain in your chest. You've been living there since your grandmother died and left you the apartment. It was like a part of her and your grandfather was still in the apartment, mostly your grandmother. She been a big part of your life and you missed her everyday. 

Back at the compound you are tired and decided to take up an offer from Tony to use one of the empty rooms to sleep, before you go back to your Brooklyn apartment. Nat shows you the way and in the corridor the two of you meet Steve and Bucky. You greet and Steve turns to Nat. “How did the mission go?” Steve asks her, not looking at you at all. You roll your eyes and Bucky smirks at you. “It went well,” Nat tried to hold a smile back. She had obviously seen your eye roll. “The mission report will be on your desk tomorrow, Captain,” You smiled sweetly at Steve and Bucky had to clear his throat not to laugh. Steve looked at you and nodded. Without a word Steve walked away from you and Bucky followed him after saying goodbye. You walk after them and until they are out of sight. When you turn around Nat is looking at you with her head tilted light to the left side.  “Do you not think it’s time you tell him the truth?” Nat asked and nodded in the direction that Steve and Bucky went. You should not be surprised that Nat knew your secret, not really. She was one of the greatest spies in the world. So if someone was to find out you should have known it would be her, but still it took you by surprise. You had thought it would take longer for people who did not already know to figure it out.  “I can’t,” you whispered. “I need more time.” Nat nodded and put a hand on your shoulder.  “I don’t think you have anything to be afraid of,” Nat smiled at you and you nodded. She left you standing there alone looking after her. Your secret would soon be out, not that you thought that Nat would tell everybody. But it was getting closer to the time you needed to tell him. Tell them all. You took a deep breath. All you needed was a couple more days and you hoped that you would get it 

~* ~*~* ~*~

The next couple of days are spent training with Nat and Clint. It was nice with some down time, and getting to know the rest of the team. Because training with Nat and Clint meant that sometimes Wanda was there, or Bucky and Sam. It was nice and fun. But Steve was never there. When you asked Bucky about Steve he just shrugged and told you that Steve was busy with paperwork. You tried to ignore the nagging feeling inside you that Steve was using the paperwork as an excuse not to be around you.  After a few more days you had enough. Steve was supposed to be the team captain, but so far he had not trained with you once. In fact you haven't seen him since you got back from the mission almost a week ago. You walk to Steve’s office and when you are standing outside his door, you feel foolish. Maybe he was not ignoring you. Bucky could be right that he had a lot of paperwork. Although if that was the case, maybe you could help him with it so he could get some down time. The door to Steve’s office is open and you can see him looking over a file on his desk.  “Damn it Y/N” you hear Steve sighed. It made you smile. You walked into Steve’s office without knocking.  “Thinking about me much?” You asked and winked at Steve when he looked up.  “I don’t think about you at all,” Steve looked down at the papers in his hand. “Don’t lie to me Steve. I heard you,” you explain and tilt your head. “You have not filled out your mission report correctly,” Steve countered. “That was why I was cursing your name.” “It sounded more like you were moaning it,” You tease and see Steve’s cheeks heat up. “I do feel like that for you,” Steve looks tense and looks down on his papers again.  “It’s okay if you don’t like me,” you kept your eyes on him and saw him look up. “Not everyone has great taste.” you smirked at him and turned around. Sam and Bucky were standing behind you and they had heard it all. Sam’s mouth was partially opened so when you walked past you put your hand on his chin to close his mouth. Bucky smiled at you and you walked out of the room. It may not have been the conversation you wanted with Steve, but it felt like it was kind of telling, seeing as all the paperwork had been stacked on his desk. It suggested that what Bucky had said was true. 

Steve looked at his friends standing in the door opening looking smug.  “What?” He asked. Bucky shook his head, but Sam could not keep anything in. “You like her!” Sam blurted out.  “No,” Steve said fast.  “I think you protest to much,” Sam smirks. “Don’t you think Bucky?”  “I don’t really know,” Bucky shrugs. “Maybe he really don’t like her.” “See,” Steve points a finger at Bucky. “But in that case she is right,” Bucky’s face goes into a lazy smile. “Not everyone has great taste.” Steve sighs.  “She is a member of the team and that is all,” Steve moves over a file to a pile on the desk and opens the next.  “If you say so,” Sam looks over at Bucky and mouths: “He is wrong.” “Did you want anything?” Steve asks and looks up at is friends. “We wanted to see if you wanted to train with us,” Bucky holds back a laugh at Sam’s comment. “Give me half an hour and meet me in the gym,” Steve points at the papers. “I just needs to finish this.” Bucky and Sam left Steve alone with his paperwork. “How long do you think it takes before he understands that he has feelings for Y/N?” Sam wondered.  “The faster, the better,” Bucky looked back at his friends office door. “Want to place a bet?” Sam smirked. “No, knowing Steve it could take a long time,” Bucky shook his head. “He has never been a ladies man, and seeing as Y/N is different then anything Steve has met before I think it’s best to wait and see.” Sam nodes and they walk to the gym to warm up. 

You were running on the treadmill when Tony walked into the gym. He walks directly over to you and pulls the headphones from your ears. “I was just talking to Fury,” Tony smiles at you. “You are moving into the compound today.” “Just like that,” you smirk while running. “You are moving in.” “Yeah,” Tony winks at you. “It does not matter what I want,” You push a button and decrease the treadmill to walking speed.  “Nope,” Tony plops the p.  “Well, then I think I need to go home and pack,” You get off the treadmill. “Just like that?” Tony smirks at you and hands you your water bottle.  “Yes,” You drink a sip of the water. “Bosses order.” You smile. “What is happening?” Clint walks over to the two of you, clearly curious. “Y/N is moving in!” Tony yells out just at the same time as Steve walks into the gym. He stops in the door and the look on his face is priceless. It looks like he has been hit in the balls. The rest of the team come over and everyone starts talking in each other's mouths. Bucky puts his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to his body. “This means we can work out together every day,” He beams down at you. You see Steve glare at the two of you but ignore it. He clearly was not happy that you were moving in. “I can help you pack,” Wanda offers. “And Sam and I can help carrying furniture,” Bucky looks at Sam who nods.  “I can have movers at your place in an hour,” Tony offers.  “Guys,” you hold up your hands. “Slow down. I am not moving everything here. I am keeping my apartment, if only to use it as a place I can be alone when I have free time.” Bucky's shoulders slump a bit. “The apartment is important to me and I can’t get rid of it,” You explain and put your arm around Bucky’s body. “But I am moving here. It just means I will have to buy some new furniture.” Tony rolls his eyes and takes out a black card out of his pocket. “Go wild, Kid,” he smiles and gives him a kiss on his cheek.  “Thank you, Tony,” you say and look sound at your friends. No, scratch that. Your family. The Avengers were so much more than a team. They had all, except Steve, made you feel welcome and part of the family.  “We can help you with shopping,” Wanda pointed at Nat and herself. You nodded.  “Let’s go,” Nat said and took your hand. She dragged you out of the gym and Wanda followed behind.  “I need to shower first,” You pointed down at your body.  “Then let’s shower and then get a move on,” Wanda laughs and together you walk to the changing rooms. 

The next couple of hours goes by fast. Wanda and Nat drag you around furniture store after furniture store getting everything that you could possibly need. As well as some clothes stores. They told you that Tony would not mind. Then they dropped you off at your apartment with a a lot of cartons to pack up what you needed from there. They were going to go back to the compound and meet the deliveries and start setting up your room. It was decided that Sam and Bucky would come to you later that afternoon and get you and the things you had packed. 

When you walked into your apartment you looked around and started to mentaly think of what you needed to pack. On the walls there were a lot of pictures of your family, of happy memories. Some of those needed to move with you, others could stay. The first thing you did was go into your bedroom and take out an old wooden box you keep in your bookshelf. You open the lid and looks down on some of your favorite pictures. Old pictures from when your grandmother was young as well as pictures from your childhood. You lift out a picture of your parents wedding and run a finger along your mother's dress. A tear is tickling down your face and you let it be. You missed your parents and grandparents terribly. A missing that never seemed to pass. You closed the lid again and walked out to put it on the sofa, this box needed to come with you. After that you plocked down the pictures from the walls that you needed with you and put them down in a box. 

A couple of hours later you looked around your apartment again. There were five boxes with can’t live without things. Two big suitcases with clothes. One box with shoes. A duffel bag with your weapons. A box of books. There was a knock on the door. “Just in time,” You say as you open the door, but you were not expecting to see Steve on the other side of the door together with Sam and Bucky. He had his hands shoved down in his jeans pockets and he had a pinched expression on his face which was looking down on the floor.  “Happy to help, Doll,” Bucky smiled and walked into the apartment.  “Yes,” Sam smiled bright and pushed Steve in the arm. “What they said,” Steve grumbled and walked into the apartment after Sam.   “This is less than I thought,” Bucky says and takes the boxes directly.  “I am just taking the most important things,” You say and together you start packing in the things in the car they guys came with. After a few trips all that is left is the duffel bag with your weapons and the old wooden box with all your pictures. Steve goes to pick up the box, but you stop him.  “Please, don’t touch that,” You plead. It makes Steve stop and turn back to you with raised eyebrows. It gives you the time to go there and take it yourself. Bucky takes your duffel bag with weapons. You can feel Steve eyes on you as you hold the box tight, but you did not want anyone to look inside the box.  “Let’s get out of here,” Bucky says and you nod. After locking up and walking down to the car, Sam tries to get you to put the box down. But you insist on holding it in your lap during the drive. Bucky sits in the back with you and Sam drives. 

Back at the compound Wanda, Nat and Clint come out and help with the boxes and you walk to your new room. It was beside Wanda and bigger than your apartment in Brooklyn. You stop in the doorway. “Wow,” was all you could get out. Wanda, Nat and Clint had assembled the furniture and put everything in place. “Thank you guys.” You turn to them.“Thank you for all your help.” “We are not done yet,” Wanda smiles and puts down the box she was carrying on the floor. “We will help you unpack.” Wanda walks over to the wooden box you had placed on the bed. “No,” you almost yelled. Everyone looks at you. “I would appreciate it if I could do the unpacking myself.” You bite your lips. Everyone tells you it’s fine, but you can see Steve watching the box on the bed. He walks a bit closer, when Bucky takes his arm to get his attention. “How about I order pizza and we can eat together in an hour?” Clint asks and everyone agrees that it’s a good idea. They all leave your room and Wanda tells you that she would be by to get you when the pizza arrived. You walked over to the bed and sat down with a sigh. You stroke a hand over the wooden box. It needed a secure place so that people would not feel inclined to open it, without permission.

Steve looked at Y/N door and tried to understand why there had been some kind of pull for him to open the wooden box. It was obvious that she was hiding something in that box. Something that she did not want anyone to see. But what could it be?  “Are you coming?” Bucky asked and Steve nodded. “What do you think is in the wooden box?” Steve asked, not geting Y/n slightly panic expression out of his head when he almost lifted it. “I don’t know,” Bucky looked at his friend. “Maybe it’s her diaries. Or something other that she want’s to keep private.” “Hmm.” Steve hummed.  “I think you should leave it alone, Steve,” Bucky had a bit of an edge to his voice. “If she doesn’t want anyone to know what’s in it, then let’s keep it that way.” Steve nodded, but he was still wondering. 

~* ~*~* ~*~

The next day you take Bucky up on the suggestion to train together and you are sparring when Fury and Maria called an emergency team meeting. The two of you were still sweaty when you walked into the conference room. Bucky had his left arm around your shoulder. The arm was a bit cold against your skin, but you did not mind at all. You don’t see Steve’s face when you walk into the room, but Nat and Clint were behind you, they saw and it made them smirk at each other. Tony comes into the room last and he winks at you when he sees Bucky sitting next to you. You twist some in your chair and Bucky places a hand on your arm. When you look at him, it’s like his eyes are asking you if everything is alright. You nod and he turns his attention to Fury. “There are some rumors going around that Hydra has set up a secret base in New York,” Fury says and Maria hands Steve and Tony a file each. “The team needs to find out if this is true.” Steve read through the file fast and turned to Tony. “Tony start hacking, Peter look what you can find out on your patrolls,” Steve said and you cleared your throat. “I can help,” you say and Steve makes a sound before he stands up. “I don’t think we will need your help,” Steve does not even look at you. “Between Tony’s hacking skills to Peter’s ability to get across town quickly and then adding Nat and Clint’s undercover skills we have all the people we need on this mission.” You roll your eyes at this and Tony suppresses a laugh with a cough. Not really stealthy. Steve snaps his eyes to you. “I’m sorry, did I roll my eyes too loud?” You ask with a sweet voice.  “Agent Y/L/N, we will not need you for this,” Steve goes full Captain on you.  “I have a waste net of friends around the city,” You look at Fury. “I am sure they are happy to help in case they have seen something.” “Captain, I invited Y/N to the team because of her value and knowledge,” Fury stood up as well. “I suggest you use it.” With those words he and Maria left the conference room. You picked up your phone and sent a quick text to one of your friends to set up a meet up. Steve was glaring at you, but you just winked at him. Your phone plunged. It was your friend that gave you a time and place to meet.  “I have a meet up,” You held up your phone and turned to your right. “Bucky, care to join me?”  “Yes,” Bucky smiled at you.  “I am coming with you,” Steve crossed his arm. You rolled your eyes again and this time Bucky gave you a small shove.  “Fine,” you shrugged. “Meeting is tonight at 9. Meet me in the garage at 8:15.” Steve and Bucky nodded and you left the conference room. 

Steve was waiting in the garage by 8. He did not want Y/N to slip past him and go to the meeting on her own. Or just with Bucky. He did not put it past her. Bucky came down a couple of minutes later and he was whistling some tune. Steve recognized it, but could not place it. “What are you whistling?” Steve asked. Bucky smiled a big grin. “A song that Y/N played for me,” Bucky answered and took out his phone out of his pocket. He opens the app that Steve recognizes as some kind of streaming service that Tony set up for the team. Bucky pressed a playlist that said Y/N favorites and pressed a song called “Drink to That All Night” by Jerrod Niemann. When the tune started Steve recognized it as one of the songs he had seen Y/N dancing to in the kitchen one early morning when she came in for her morning workout at the gym. He had been standing there watching her dance around laughing and being happy. It was like he was watching a different person then the Y/N he knew, or more like the woman he had met so many years ago in the grocery store. Before he found out that not only was she living in the house opposite to him, but she was also an S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent.  Bucky leaned against one of the SUV:s in the garage. YN walks into the garage. Yet again her lips were painted red and she was dressed all in black.  “Scared I might go without you?” she asked and tilted her head.  “Yes,” Steve answered. There was no point in lying to her.  “I promised that you could come with me,” she lifted one brow. “I keep my promises.” She walked over to the SUV that Bucky was leaning against and hopped into the driver's seat.  “Are you coming or what?” She gestured to the car.  “Isn’t it better that I drive?” Steve wondered as Bucky took the seat beside Y/N.  “You don’t know where we are going,” Y/N fastened her seatbelt and adjusted the seat. “So, no.” Steve took the seat behind Bucky and off they went. He tried to keep up with where they were going, but at what feels like the hundred turn, he was lost. When Y/N parked the car, Steve looked out and could not see anything that he recognized.  But he had an inkling to where they were. Bucky looked at ease and relaxed. Steve just shook his head and got ready to meet whoever Y/N’s friend was. 

After you parked the car you walked out and started towards an alley a bit down the street. Bucky and Steve was following you, not saying a word. You knew that Steve was curious of who the three of you were meeting, since you had not said a word during the drive here. You walked into the ally and the guys followed you.  “Did you bring us here to die?” Steve lifted a brow and looked around the dark alley in Hell’s Kitchen.  “Obviously,” You sass at him and lean against the wall. Bucky follows your lead and leans against the wall opposite you. Steve is standing in the middle of the ally. Looking ready for a fight.  “I really can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not,” Steve huffs and narrows his eyes at you.  “Relax Captain, I promised Fury to be on my best behaviour and that means not killing his favourite golden boy and his one-armed friend,” you wink at Bucky who just covers up a laugh with a cough. You knew he took no offence with your messing with him. Bucky had told you once that he liked how you did not treat him differently. The last thing you would want to do is make Bucky uncomfortable or hurt him.  “Hey there beautiful,” a gravelly voice says from the shadows to your left side, deeper into the alley. “You did not say you were bringing company.”

~*~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~ *~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~

Everything Taglist:

@buckysmischief

@allaboutthebooz

Nexus Series taglist:

@dee-vn​

@readermia​

@mylifeiscrazy0423

@owhatshername-blog​

@taketimeandappreciate

[originalhybridloverfics]

Smut Prompt: Less Talking. More Fucking.

[SMUT WARNING]

Felicity looked up from her work as her office door was pushed open. Her eyes lit up as her husband stepped into the room. 

“I brought you lunch from Big Belly Burger.” Oliver held a brown bag up and the smells coming from it were amazing. 

Felicity’s stomach rumbled. “You’re a Godsend. I’m starving.” 

“I know. You skipped breakfast.” Oliver reminded. “Not for the first time this week.” 

“I know things I have been a bit crazy here lately but I’m sure things will settle down soon.” Felicity reached for the bag and set it on her desk. 

Oliver reached for her. “It’s okay, I know how important it is for you to finally get SmoakTech off the ground.”

Oliver curled his arm around and drew her into him, swooping down to place a kiss against her lips. “You forgot that, too, when you left in the morning.”

“Let me make it up to you.” Felicity stretched on her heels, bringing their lips together for a deeper kiss. 

She gripped him by his jacket, anchoring her self to him. She moaned as Oliver sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. 

Felicity slid her hands up his arms to his chest and further up, sinking her hand in the short strands of his hair as the kiss deepened, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and sliding along hers. 

Felicity had been so busy as of late she barely had time for her husband. It was only now pressed against the hard muscles of her husband’s body, his large hands roaming her back and slowly inching down that she realized they hadn’t been together in almost a week. 

Maybe that didn’t seem like a long time for most but it was to her and completely unacceptable. 

Since she and Oliver had been together, sex was almost every night, and more than once, most nights at the end of the day, they could barely keep their hands off each other. 

However this week by the time she got home, she would be so exhausted all she wanted to do is crash in their bed and sleep for hours. 

Just thinking about being with Oliver had desire coursing through her. 

She wanted to feel his naked skin against hers, his large hands pulling at her body, his tongue tasting her, his cock moving inside her. 

God, she wanted him. Now. 

She brought her hands to the opening in his jacket and start to push it from his shoulders. 

Oliver ripped his mouth from hers and stared down at her. “What are you doing, Felicity?”

“We haven’t had sex in over a week,” Felicity answered, pushing his jacket to the floor. She went for his shirt next and tugged at the hem. 

Oliver lifted his arms, instinctively allowing her to strip him of his shirt. He groaned as her hands slid over his chest, painted nails scrapping the edges of his scars. “I know, believe me, I know that.” All week all he has wanted was to have his wife withering beneath him, begging him for more or hell even her moving over him like the goddess she was, riding him. “But I know how tired you’ve been.”

Felicity looked up at him, her eyes were dark with want. “I’m not tired now.”

“You’re at work, Felicity.” Oliver reminded. “Your assistant is right outside the door and these walls aren’t soundproof.” 

“I don’t care.” Felicity slid her hand down and cupped him through his jeans. “I want to feel your dick inside me, I want to feel you claiming me, I want it to be so good that I leave marks down your back, Oliver. And, I don’t want to wait when I’m too tired from work to even move.”

Oliver’s eyes darkened with every word she spoke and it sent a shiver down her spine and the lust she saw staring back at her made her sex pulse. 

“Oliver, I want you to fuck me now.”

Oliver’s reaction was immediate, one arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her against him, his other hand gripped her ass tightly. 

He walked over to her desk and set her on it, his hands moved to her pencil skirt pushing it up her thighs.

Felicity opened her legs so he could step between them. 

His mouth covered her as he tugged her to the edge of her desk, his hands moved to drag her laced panties down her thighs, letting it dangle from her ankle. He pressed his palm against her hot sex, pressing it against her as he tugged at her blouse with his other hand. 

Felicity pulled her shirt off with urgency whimpering as his fingers circled her wet entrance. 

“I should fuck you against the door, let everyone who walks by see it shaking on the hinges again and again.”

Felicity’s core pulse with the picture he was painting. “Oh God,”

Oliver watched her chest rise and fell as her need grew. He sunk two fingers inside of her without warning. 

Felicity gasp, jumping, feeling his finger buried inside of her, moving at a fast pace, her mouth opened on a silent moan. He slipped a third finger inside of her than a forth stretching her, her moans grew in volume and her hips moved against his hand as she grips at his waist. 

“The doors unlocked, Felicity,” he whispered. “Are you okay with that?” 

Felicity knew he was talking, she could see his lips moving but everything but the feel of his fingers stretching her, the pad of his thumb rubbing at her clit was all she could focus on. 

She hummed along to whatever he was saying. It didn’t matter as long as he didn’t stop. 

Oliver chuckled and with his free hand, he expertly undid his buckle and unfastened his pants, in moments he had his dick out, the flesh red and angry looking, the vein running along his shaft prominent. 

He removed his fingers from her wet sex and gripped his cock, smearing her wetness over himself. 

Felicity whined at the back of her throat. “Oliver, I nee-” she broke off on a cry of pleasure as he suddenly surged forward thrusting into her without warning, her desk rattled and she slid forward. 

Oliver gripped her hips dragging her back, his hips thrusting forward as he pulled on her.

“Oh fuck,” Felicity's hands went to his back, her nails scratching down his skin with every hard thrust. 

Oliver grunted in pleasure as Felicity cried out her own enjoyment. “Anyone could walk in and see you spread out on your desk, screaming for me as I fuck you.” 

Felicity slid her hand up his back and curled it around the nape of his neck tightly. “Oliver, I love you but please, I am begging you, less talking. More fucking.”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed and he removed her arms from around him and pulled out of her. 

Felicity whimpered in protest. 

“Oliver, wha-” she yelped in surprise as he yanked her off the desk and spun her around, pushing at her back until she was bent over her desk, her bra covered breast pressing against the smooth wood. 

“Okay.” Oliver spread her legs further apart and thrust forward sliding into her with ease. 

Felicity cried out scrambling for the edge of her desk, he was deeper than before and it felt so good even as her hip dug into the desk. 

Oliver pulled back and snapped his hips forward. 

Felicity cried out louder as he hit the spot inside of her that had her seeing spots in her vision, her pleasure rising rapidly. “More, more, please.”

Oliver slid one hand beneath them, moving to her breast and slipping it out of her bra, squeezing, her pebbled nipple scraping against his palm. Oliver moved faster as her cries grew louder and louder, echoing off her office walls so loud there was no way the whole floor didn’t hear them. He couldn’t bring himself to care and the way his wife was giving him everything she had to give she didn’t either. 

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver,” Felicity chanted, her head hanging low, breathing through the pleasure coursing through her. “I’m so close.” 

Oliver bent his knees changing the angle of his hips and thrust hard, the desk scraping against the floor. 

“Oh God, Oliver!” Felicity cried out as he pushes her over the edge, pleasure flooding every nerve in her body. 

Oliver groaned as she came around him. “Fe-li-ci-ty.” he slammed into her a few more times before he felt his own release, filling his wife with his hot cum. 

Felicity laid flat against her desk, breathing heavily as she felt his essence sliding down her thighs. 

Oliver pulled out of her slowly, smoothing his hands up her back. 

Felicity hummed in contentment as he swept her hair aside kissing her neck and whispered in her ear. “Don’t move.” 

She felt him move away but he was back not two minutes later, taking a washcloth from her office’s private bathroom to her skin, cleaning her up before cleaning himself. 

Oliver tugged her up after tucking himself back inside his pants and turned her around, kneeling at her feet, and sliding her underwear back in place. 

Felicity smiled at him cheeks flushed as she pushed her skirt back down smoothing out the wrinkles. “I have missed that.”

“The orgasm’s or me taking care of you afterward?” Oliver asked as he retrieved her discarded shirt. 

“All of it.” Felicity slipped her breast back into her bra and took the shirt from Oliver, slipping it back on. 

“I love you,” Oliver leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. 

“I love you, too.” Felicity smiled, her hand moving to rest over his heart. “Think we have time for lunch still?” 

Oliver laughed. “I don’t think anyone will be coming near this office until one of us walks out of here. We were not quiet.” 

Felicity blushed. “I’ve got no regrets.” she was happily married and she was constantly busy, she was not going to apologize for having amazing sex with her husband for the first time in two weeks. 

“I’m glad,” Oliver grabbed the food and tugged her over to the couch in her office while Felicity got comfortable he tugged on his shirt and he started dishing out their food that was not as warm as he would like but completely worth it. 

He shot Felicity a look of complete affection as she curled into him once he sat down both digging into their food after working up an appetite. 

Twenty minutes later, Oliver was walking out of her office, tugging his jacket back in place and fixing his belt. 

He looked up to see Felicity's assistant. Timothy, red-faced, and wide-eyed. “Felicity said she was late for a meeting. Sorry about that.” he wasn’t really. “She told me to tell you that she’ll be ready in fifteen, she needs to freshen up.” 

“Of course!” Tim couldn’t bring himself to look Mr. Queen in the eyes. He wasn’t sure he would ever again. 

The sounds that had been coming out of his boss’s office was something from an intense porno. Nothing he thought he would ever be subjected to at work. 

He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to look at his boss again either for that matter. 

He watched Oliver walk away and he couldn’t help that his eyes drifted down. He certainly couldn’t blame Felicity. 

Oliver Queen was the definition of sex and from the sounds of it, he was really really good at it. 

That fact was only encouraged when Felicity stepped out of her office fifteen minutes later, ready to get to her meeting. 

She glowed like the sun. Sex with Oliver Queen must be unbelievable.

“Are you still feeling up for the meeting or do you need me to postpone, Mrs.Smoak?”

It was actually Felicity Smoak-Queen. She hyphenated her name but preferred to use Smoak in regards to her career. 

“No need. I feel amazing. It’s a great day today.” Felicity smiled, smoothing a hand through her hair. 

Tim handed Felicity the files she would need for the meeting, wishing he had an Oliver Queen who could make his day seem perfect.

He still felt awkward after all he heard in the last hour but he was happy for Felicity. She was a great boss and she worked harder than anyone knew. She deserved good things. 

A/N: Comments, Reblogs are loved and likes are appreciated. 

Tags:  @scu11y22 @almondblossomme @cainc3 @cruzrogue @1106angel @erika-amber @lageniuswannabe @hope-for-olicity @msbeccieboo @icannotbelieveiamhere @malafle @mariestark @eloiselili @afg65 @azaleapotterblack

If I forgot to tag you please don’t hesitate to remind so I won’t forget next time. 

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 48

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34 || CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40 || CHAPTER 41 || CHAPTER 42 || CHAPTER 43 || CHAPTER 44 || CHAPTER 45 || CHAPTER 46 || CHAPTER 47

NOTES:

-4.1k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

READ AM CONVERSATIONS AGAIN ON WATTPAD HERE

- notes: thank you for sticking up by me and this story! thank you for reading, commenting, reblogging... thank you also if you’re a silent reader, and I know there’s a few. I know this isnt over yet, and ill write a long thank you with the last chapter but i had to say it here. THANK YOU!

ALSO! this chapter has BOTH povs. so will the next 2 (and final) chapters!

TAKE A LOOK AT THE CHARACTERS HERE

Chapter 48

NIALL

December 2018

I had no idea how many pints we had swallowed but clearly, when we got out of the restaurant, I felt a sensation of happiness invade me and I was not really sure why. Louis said something funny and I laughed as we started walking down the street and I replied something that had to do with his girlfriend. He pushed with the side of his body and I started laughing again. It was a good thing we decided to get out to sober up a bit and I felt my eyes flutter when a cool breeze his my face.

It felt so good to be close to Louis again. I couldn't pretend I was totally okay with the fact that he had sex with Olivia but I knew it was a bit stupid of me to hold that grudge. It had been months and it was different now. it was completely different. I was with her and we loved each other, and I was going to ask her to marry me. Soon. Very Very soon.

"I wish I was there to see Liv's face when you'll ask her to be your wife." Louis let out as I glanced at him.

He was smiling fondly and it made me realize he was happy for her. He was happy for both of us. Suddenly, I knew exactly why Olivia had picked him as a best friend. They were so similar in so many aspects and if they hadn't had sex before, I would have said they could have been siblings... twins, perhaps. Not physically, of course, but mentally and emotionally, they were almost exactly the same.

"Definitely, you won't." I chuckled, glancing at him again as I pushed my hands in my pockets.

"Oh, I know." he shrugged, his lips still curled. "I mean, when you two started talking again, she told me she was going to get married with Dylan anyway but I could hear it in her voice that it's not what she really wanted. I told her that she should get married with you instead."

My eyebrows raised and I turned to him as we stopped walking. I was surprised that Louis said that since I was very aware of how mad he was at me after I broke her heart. It had broken our friendship in a way I thought could never be mended back together, but here we were, laughing and having fun the way we used to. He was the first one I told about the ring and somehow, it made total sense.

"Really?" I asked, glancing at him. "I wouldn't have thought but, thank you, Tommo."

"Look, no offense mate, but I did it for her, not for you."

It hurt slightly but I just nodded and licked my lips. It didn't change the fact that he knew Olivia had feelings for me, and most likely thought we were meant to be, and that was enough for me. I couldn't expect our friendship to be exactly how it used to be. Too many things happened, and we both had changed, but I still enjoyed this night and the fact that I was getting my friend back.

We kept walking slowly in silence and after a while, I frowned. I knew where I was and it took me a few seconds to realize why this place felt so important. My heart jumped in my chest and I held my breath when I saw the sign of the bakery a bit farther in the street. It was not lighted up but I could easily read it anymore and I stopped right next to the door.

"You okay Niall?"

I ignored him and moved closer to the door, leaning my forehead against the window just to look inside. I couldn't see the place I had seen her for the first time in over a year, but I could clearly see the spot where I had been standing. A bunch of feelings invaded me, the same feelings that had invaded me back then, when my eyes had fallen on her, and I had to swallow hard, as if my heart was threatening to jump out of my throat.

"Uh-oh," Louis started low. "Looks like it's about to rain."

I blinked a few times, staring some more seconds inside the bakery, and suddenly, something seemed to hit me. I had no idea why I had waited for so many months, I didn't know what the fuck I was thinking. I should have told Olivia that I wanted to marry her, I should have asked her to be my wife back in april, when I bought that damn ring. I had been ready to spend my life with her since that day I saw her again at the bakery and there was no reason to wait again.

I felt raindrops hit the top of my head and wet my shirt, but I just breathed in deeply and turned around, my eyes roaming on the empty and dark street.

"Mate, are you okay?"

Once again, I ignored Louis and without thinking, I started running. I could hear him yelling my name a few times behind me but I didn't stop : I just kept on running as te rain started falling even harder, pouring over me like a shower. I felt my white shirt stick to my chest and the sound of how wet my socks were as I ran on the sidewalk. I didn't even stop when I arrived in front of my house but for some reason, Olivia opened the door just as I was walking up the stairs. She was only wearing a shirt and panties and the sight made me swallow hard.

"Niall? Are you okay?" she asked with a frown, taking a step out as I shook my head, panting loudly, my lips parted and my eyes stuck on her.

"No, no Olivia, I'm not okay." I just let out.

She took a step closer and even if she was still protected somehow from the rain, I could see a few raindrops on her forehead. She brought her hand to my chest and saw her body quiver as a shiver crossed it.

"What's wrong?"

I could hear worry in her voice and it made me realize that no one in the world has ever loved me the way she loved me. No one in the world loved me as much as she loved me. No one ever would, and I didn't want anyone else to anyway. The love she was giving me in every word, every touch, every gaze... that love couldn't be compared to anything else I ever had the chance to get.

"I don't want to wait anymore, Olivia... I've waited enough." I pointed out, making her frown slightly and shake her head.

"W-What?"

"There's no reason to wait anymore!" I let out in an excited tone as I felt every fiber of my body boiling. "It's useless to wait! I love you! I want to spend my life with you!"

Her lips curled and her traits softened. "Me too, Nee." she admitted in a low tone, tilting her head and licking her lips.

"No, Liv, you don't get it." I let out, shaking my head, my lips curling even more. "I know i'll spend my life with you, I won't pass next to this chance a second time. I know I'll never ruin this again, because this is the most important relationship I've ever had and you're the most important person in my life. I want to share everything with you.. Every good morning's and good night's, and every grocery shopping trips, and... and netflix nights, and cleaning days. I want to be with you, and take care of you, and love you the way you deserve to be loved. I want us to know that as long as we have each other, we'll be okay, because we will. I want to complete you because you complete me, Olivia. I realized a long time ago that I can't live with you!"

"Niall," she started, shaking her head and frowning slightly again. "What are you saying?"

I reached for her hands and squeezed them hard in mine. I was completely drenched by then, but I didn't give a fuck. The rain kept falling on my face, sliding down my cheeks to reach my neck and soak me even more. But I pushed that thought away as I let go of one of her hands to dive one of mine in my pocket. I played with the ring with the tip of my fingers for a few seconds, making sure the small diamond was on top, and finally took it out. I felt her tense in front of me but got on one knee anyway, squeezing one of her hands again as I felt nervousness invade me.

"I should have done this a long time ago. I bought this ring in april, and I have no idea why it took me so long to do this. I wanted to find the right words, the right time, the right way. I just didn't realize that there was no right time, words or way. Because every moment is right. I could have asked at any moment and it would have been the right moment because you're the right person.

"Oh my... god." she whispered before swallowing hard. "Niall..."

"Liv, will you marry me?"

She stared at me and finally took a step closer. I held my breath when I realize she was now under the rain as it fell roughly and quickly on her. Her hair stuck to her cheeks and she looked down in my eyes, blinking a few times.

"Are these tears or is it just the rain?" I just asked, making her chuckle and shake her head.

"I love you so much, Niall James Horan!" she let out loud enough so I would hear her over the sound of the rain hitting the cement. "Of course I'll marry you! I've wanted to marry you since I was 6 years old!"

A wave of relief washed over me and I chuckled nervously as my whole body seemed to throb. I got up slowly, still holding her hand, and looked down at her as my lips curled into a fond smile. I really should have done that before, but they said 'better late than never', right?

"I'm in love with you." I whispered, touching her fingers to find the right one before sliding the ring on it without every looking away from her eyes. "Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me, I want to be your wife so bad, I can't even tell you how happy this makes me."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me closer. My eyes closed when I felt her lips against mine and suddenly, I realized that everything was perfect.

                                                      ---

OLIVIA

I kissed him deeply but slowly, feeling his wet shirt soak mine as he pulled me closer. I let the fingers of both my hands slip in his wet hair and pull on it gently, before two or three of my fingertips slid down to his nape, playing with the very bottom of his hair. It made him shiver against me and I whimpered low in his mouth.

"I'm so in love with you, Niall." I whispered, my lips still brushing against his.

My eyes fluttered open and I moved my hand a bit before moving my head back just to look at the ring on my finger. It seemed unreal and for half a second, I wondered if I was actually dreaming one of these very vivid and realistic dreams I had, sometimes. They used to happen so often after Niall broke up with me. Perhaps I was still just in one of those dreams where I'm happy and I get everything I've ever desired. The diamond shined a bit when I moved my hand because of the light from the living room and I felt myself tear up.

I stared at the only human I was ever in love with and swallowed hard. I focused on the locks of his hair sticking to his forehead and at how beautiful he looked. No one else had ever made me feel like he did, and the feelings inside me were so strong I started feeling them physically. Somehow, my hole body started throbbing and I felt my legs weaken at all the strong emotions reaching me.

I felt his palms press more on my back and bit my bottom lip before gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him inside roughly. My lips found his again and I kissed him a bit too hard, perhaps, pulling his shirt over his head before doing the same with mine so fast I almost tore it up. I felt his hands on my naked waist and realized I had been half naked the whole time.

His hands moved up on my chest and I felt his thumbs stop right under my breasts as we kissed. I wanted him so bad... I wanted him like it was our last time... or our very first time.

He pushed the door with one of his feet but it stayed half open as I undid his pants and pulled them down. We ended up laying on the floor in the lobby, his lips running all over me as fat as my hands traveled on his back, neck and in his hair. The moment he pushed himself inside me made my back arched and I moved my knees up, keeping my feet flat on the floor.

"I love you so much." he whispered, his lips pressing against my neck, near my jaw, before he pushed himself deeper inside me. "F-Fuck, you feel so good."

I tilted my chin up and closed my eyes, realizing that I could hear the rain pouring outside. From time to time, I even felt a few drops reach for my legs and it made me think that it was probably falling on Niall, too. I pushed my fingers in his back and my nails sunk in his skin as he thrust in and out of me slowly but deeply. I felt dizzy when an orgasm started building up in the pit of my stomach but I pressed my thighs on each side of him to hold him in place before moving on my elbows to kiss him harder.

I wanted to beg him not to move but I didn't have to. He stopped moving over me only to focus on the way he was kissing me, and I could feel my heart beat so hard and fast that I felt like I was about to cum anyway.

"Mm, Olivia, you're gonna be my wife yea?" he mumbled as we kissed. "I should have asked before but I was so scared you'd say no."

I felt my heart jump and twist in my chest at his confession and shut my eyes tighter. "I would have said 'yes' Niall." I whispered. "There's not a single moment you could have asked in this lifetime when my answer would have been 'no."

He stopped kissing me for a few seconds and finally rolled us around. I held my breath, a bit surprised, but ended up staddling him as his hands ran on my thighs gently. My lips were still very close to his and my hair was falling around us, hiding our faces like a curtain.

"I can't wait to be your wife, Niall."

His lips curled slightly in a fond smile. "I can't wait to cherish you, love you, and support you for the rest of my life." he added in a murmur. "Now ride me, petal."

My lips curled more and I chuckled before sitting up.I started riding him gently, staring down at him and biting my bottom lip. I could still see a few locks of his hair stuck on his forehead and the sight of him naked under me made my whole body quiver.

"This is what I want to see every single day for the rest of my life." he admitted in a whisper, letting one of his hands slide up until my breasts, running his palm on them and brushing his fingertips on my nipples. "That honeymoon is gonna be something else, petal."

I smiled more and bend down slightly, holding myself with my hands on his chest. "That honeymoon is gonna last until we die."

He smiled at me and nodded. "It will."

I started riding him again, harder and a bit faster this time, and when his hand reached between my legs to rub my clit, I started shaking over him. He groaned low, reaching for my thighs and grabbing them hard while he closed his eyes tight. We remained motionless for a few seconds, just panting with our eyes closed, but after a while, my eyes fluttered open and I sent him a fond smile.

"C'mere."

I lied down next to him on the floor, not even caring about how uncomfortable it was, and I moved my hand up to look at my ring again. It was unbelievable but I knew it was true. If someone had told me, when I was a kid, that I was going to marry Niall, I would have laughed. Heck, if someone had told me that a year ago, I wouldn't have believed it. Now, however, it just felt right. It felt like the accomplishment of a lifetime. It felt like the obvious outcome of my journey. It felt like the epic conclusion that was meant to happen.

"I bought this in Paris, when we were at your parents." he just said, making my heart skip a beat. How could his voice still make me melt after all this time? "I just woke up one day and I knew it was the right thing to do. It was so obvious to me I didn't even doubt it or question it. Not a fucking second."

I turned my head to look at him, noticing he was staring at the ring on my finger.

"You're the love of my life, we should already be married." he pointed out with a small shrug, making me laugh. It made him turn my way and he raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"I mean you? Niall Horan? Wanting to get married so soon?" I asked, the left corner of my lips raised up. "Who would have thought? I mean, you'll be the first one in your band to be married. Even before Louis... even before Liam! If you think about it, it's quite surprising isn't it?"

He stared at me for a few seconds, but his lips finally curled into a smile too and he chuckled. "Yea, maybe. i mean, if you weren't in my life, I'd probably be the last one to get married, you're right."

"So it's because of me?" I asked, raising my eyebrows and turning my body his way.

"Yea. I don't want to marry anyone else, and if you weren't in my life... I don't even know if I'd get married. Maybe in my late 30's? Or 40's? Who knows?"

We stared at each other for a minute or two in silence. I was coming up to the conclusion that soulmates were real, and I was lucky enough to have found mine. Even better, it seemed like I was his soulmate too, and nothing could be more perfect that that. I couldn't say I wouldn't have married anyone but him, especially since I was so close to marry an other man, but I could say that I would never be happy with anyone else the way I was happy with him. There was something about this relationship that I wouldn't be able to get though any other relationship. I never felt like that for anyone else in the world. No one could compare. No one was Niall James Horan, and he was the only one I wanted.

"This calls for champagne."

I chuckled and he got up before extending his hand to help me up too. I grabbed his shirt on the floor but grimaced at how wet it was. Instead, I grabbed all our clothes spread on the floor and brought it to the washing machine as he walked up to the kitchen completely naked. I grabbed a pair of boxers for him and one of his shirt for me and walked back to the living room, closing the door and locking it. It was still raining hard outside and I looked by the window for a short moment before finally joining him in the kitchen. He had picked a bottle of champagne and I smiled as I stared at him. He was there, standing completely naked in the kitchen, a bottle of champagne in hands, trying to open it, and I tilted my head. The sight was fucking incredible.

"I brought you boxers but I'm not sure I want to give them to you anymore."

He turned to me with a smirk and I couldn't help but let glance down at his dick. He chuckles and opened the bottle of champagne with a 'pop' before pouring some in two glasses.

"Clothing is optional tonight, my love." he let out, raising his eyebrows. "In fact, it's forbidden to wear any piece of clothing."

He handed me my glass and I pressed my lips together, taking it just as he snapped the shirt and boxers from my other hand. I held my breath as he threw them away and let out a short giggle. I was never at ease while being naked, especially around Niall because his opinion mattered to me more than anyone else's, but the way his eyes roamed on my naked form and sparkled as they got back into mine... that was something that didn't lie. So I didn't have the body I used to have, and I didn't have (and never did) the body of the girls he used to date and fuck... but apparently, it didn't matter to him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked in a low tone, licking my lips.

He cleared his throat and took his own glass before turning back to me again.

"You look at me too, darling." he pointed out, avoiding my eyes.

"I know but... I don't know, you were looking at me... in a special way."

This time, he looked out and our eyes met. He took a step closer and my lips parted slightly. Fuck, I loved him, I loved him so fucking much I could literally die.

"I can't believe how lucky I am." he admitted in a very low tone. "I'm gonna make love to you every single day for the rest of my life. I want to discover and remember every mole, every mark, every spot." I felt his free hand run on one of my breasts and slide down my stomach. "I want to learn the best ways to make you horny, to make you dizzy, to drive you crazy and to make you cum. I was looking at you because I find it scary how close I was to never get you back."

I stared at him, my mouth slightly open, as I let his words sink in. My eyes fluttered but I kept them open and he brought his fingers on my back, brushing his fingertips on my spine.

"And you say you're not good with words." I pointed out, tilting my head and making him chuckle again.

"I'm getting better at it, right?" he laughed, taking a step back. "You mad eme practice a lot, without really realizing it."

i rolled my eyes with a smile and shrugged as he brought his glass up. "To you and I, to this relationship that will last longer than a lifetime. To you, because you're perfect for me."

"To you too, because you're the only one I ever wanted."

I clinked my glass against his and swallowed everything, putting the glass back on the counter. He did the same and filled them up again.

"So, how are we gonna tell everyone?" I asked, bringing the now full glass to my lips again.

"We're not." he said, leaning his ass against the counter, taking a sip too and making me frown. "We're eloping. Prepare your stuff, we're leaving tomorrow."

[randomsevans]

PAIN OF BEING IN LOVE

Part 2

Chris Evan's x Reader

@jtargaryen18 30 days of chris 2020

summary: following the news of Chris's engagement you find your way back down memory lane . To the finding and first crack in your love for Chris that would only lead to the current pain you are in

The part couple of hours have been a blur ever since Lisa had announced that Chris was getting married to his actress girl friend ,Minka . You feel like your mind was somewhere as your body floated around not releasing what was going on , feeling numb . You dont know how or when but you laid on your bed under the covers in the pitch black . Finally letting the tears fall . You knew this day would come , but it doesnt stop the pain , the constant stabbing in your chest . You always knew loving Chris was bad for you , but you did it anyway, you still do . And you know deep down no matter what the future holds for you or who you have in your life you will love Chris . And you will always love the joy and pain he brings into your life , without anyone knowing, well apart from Scott now . And you know no one , ever , future ,past , present will have the same effect on you as those blue eyes do . You will always love chris , different love no one could ever be able to beat or match or even go higher But you kept it a secret long enough and it will always be . It's not like you expect somewhere down the line you two might end up together, that was never gonna happen . His to good for you , and his sees you as a sister . An Minka is perfect for him in every way . You are happy for him truly getting the life he has always wanted . But that doesnt stop the pain. You cant help but remember to the day you realised you love him and how he could never be yours , you never would allow it .

+++++++++++++++

Flashback

'The dickhead , errrrrrr knew it was too good to be true , I bet his getting a proper kick out of it ' 14 year old you was standing outside the cinema. The movie you were ment to be seeing playing, probably half way through now . Your date never turned put and to be honest your not that disappointed, he seem like an asshole anyway . Your just annoyed he probably thinks it's fun and thinks your crying. (You wouldnt allow your self to cry over something so pathetic in your eyes ) But you can't help on single tear roll down your cheek , this was ment to be your first date . You didnt want to go , you wasnt interested, but Scott kept pushing you to give it a shot. At least one lesson was learnt , dont listen to Scott but it's a lesson you already knew all to well .

To make things worst Scott wasnt picking up his phone . Probably to busy was something stuiped as always . Once you called him the 10th time you started to become stressed . How was you gonna get home ? You felt more teare escape due to the stress .

Scrolling though your contacts you came across Chris . You held your thumb over the name of awhile debating whether to call him or not . He was Scott's older brother ,you didnt want to make a fool of your self and seem like a little girl who cant look after her self but at the same time he said he you ever needed him he was one phone call away .

So that's what you did . With your phone now up to your ear you waited to see if he would answer. 'Hes probably busy with his new girlfriend '

But to your surprise he answered

"Hello "

"Hi " your voice cracked and tears began to run down your cheek at the sound of his voice.

"Y/n are you okay ?" You could hear the panic in his voice , you just let out a loud hiccup as your tried not to cry "... tell me where you are I'll come and get you "

"But ... a... arnt you .u busy ?"

"I'm never to busy for you . Now where are you ?" He demand as you heard on the phone and loud slam you could only assume a door and a seconde later you heard his car engine.

"Umm Chris it's fine, I should of called "

"Sweetheart tell me where you are ,or I swear I'll look on every street in Boston. "

"Umm but "

"Y/n " he warned

"I'm at the cinema 15 minutes away from your and Scott's "

"Okay I'll be there in 5 " he ended the call .

How can he be here in 5 , its 15 minutes away . Unless he is going to speed . He better not. Maybe he already knew where I was . Oh who iam kidding his nee girlfriend probably leaves 5 minutes away .

And with that you waited ,not much else you could do . Your tears died down . Still feel stuipid of crying over something or someone or somewhere you didnt even want to be

As if in a blink of an eye a battered dirt coloured trunk pulled up in front of you . The windows rolled down to show a very conserndier Chris showing lines on his youthful face as he frownd . "Get in " he muttered by in a tone that was not to be argued with . So you step forward hesitant at first but then you remember you did call him . As as you open the car door and I one footed jump into the truck , shuting the door behind you placing your bag in front of you , inbetween your feet as you fiddled with the seat belt .

"So ... " he began " why are stranded at the cinema "

"I was... um "

' Why am so nervous '

"I was ment to be on a date ..." it was then you final met Chris eyes that showed a flash if emotion as if he was almost hurt at the thought of you on a date . But it was probably because you interrupted his own . But you still felt a need to explain as if to avoid hurting his feelings.

"He ..he stood me up.. its not like I even wanted to go it was all Scots idea ." To quickly finished quite nervous as if you did something wronge .

Chris raised an eyebrow "Scotts ha ?" You nodded

"I tried calling him but he didnt pick up "

"So you called me ?" You nodded " so why was you crying if you didnt even want to be on the date ?"

"I was not!" You never like showing your emotions it made you feel weak and you are anything but weak .

"I heard you on the pho..." he chucked trying to lighten the mood

"I was just stress I didn't know how I was gonna get home "

"Well iam here now "

"So can you take me home ?" You questioned

"No !" You were shocked by his sudden answer.

"What ?"

"I'm not taking you home, not yet anyway " he said with his sights smirk .

"So where ?"

"Surprise!" He said starting the engine

"But ... but dont you have to get back to your girlfriend?"

"Pfff girlfriend?" He looked confused.

"Yeah Scott said you had a girlfriend "

"You shouldn't listen to Scott "

"I know that " you giggled now looking out the widow watching the world pass away. Unaware of certain blue eyes keep glancing at you with a smile only for you .

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

" you didn't have to do this you know " said while manching on your fries in a dinner Chris brought you to .

" I did !" He agreed with a mouth full of his burger ." I couldn't make you go home with a frown " he said with his mouth. You blush at his words but disgusted by his manners .

Throughing a scrunched up napkin you giggled playfully " dont speak you your mouth full "

He raised an eyebrow and smirked a little sorry .

"Why do you care anyway , why do this just to make me smile " you giggled certainly in a better mood , his blue eyes stared into your in awe and a quite mutter you just about heard " if only you knew " but you swear you heard him wrong some you moved on to your next question . As those also familiar butterflys return to your stomach when ever your around Chris .

" So is that your job to make me smile " you ask while putting another frie or two in your mouth .

"Among other thing "

"Like ..?" Your curiosity getting the better of you .

" Give me the punks name ? " he glared at you but still in a soft manner as if to tell you his anger wasnt towards you

" what ?"

" the idiot who stood you up I want his name " he demanded as if a man on a misson .

"Why? "

"Because he made a mistake standing you up "

"And whys that ?"

Because he stood up the best girl in Boston, I know I wouldnt if I was him" the last part came out a bit shaky and quite .

"It doesn't matter anyway " you felt the butterflies raise to your chest as your heart began to faster .

"Because it does "

You couldn't argue anymore , abit scared by his tone you gave him the boys name . But you were still under the spell of his blue eyes . And it was at that moment everything your mother said as a child when you ask about love , princess and prince, clicked in your head . She expain how the flurry feeling never goes away as their around, how theirs a smile on your face always. And how their a feeling. A feeling only there can make you feel . It was at this moment you realised

Holy shit I'm in love with Chris

As you stared at those blue eyes surrounding a 17 year old Chris you knew you always had a little crush on him . You were pretty sure half of the girls in school did . But it never accrued to you just how far those feelings ran .

"Why do you care ?" You titled your head .

"Because your Scotte best friend " he smirked with yet another mout h full of his burger. You giggled at his terrible manners .knowing full well he was doing it because he knew it annoyed you .

And it was in this moment you knew

'He will never be your y/n and keep it that way to keep both Scott and Chris in your life '

You put on a small smile , as the first crack appeared on you new found love for Chris that will forever be on you heart . If only you knew it would be the first of many. Leading to the one big hole you feel currently. But that's the pain of being in love

[houseisekai]

House Isekai: Shadowbringers Act 2, Part 1 - Withering Flower (Continued)

House Isekai Shadowbringers AU Masterlist Here

—

(Continuing from Part 1′s Intermission)

----

[A Promise - Fire Emblem Three Houses OST]

Byleth reached for his head and massaged it with the chaos that was erupting.

(Towa) “I-Instructor Sara, I think it’s a bit too early to start drinking!”

(Sara) “Bah, when you grow older sweetie, anytime is a good time for drinking! Besides, we’re celebrating and having fun tomorrow, so we can afford to loosen up tonight!”

(Sharon) “Shall I fetch more ale?”

(Byleth) “No do NOT do that, Sharon.”

It was the night before the ball was to take place.

House Isekai had voted Akira to be the one to represent them in the contest, and were no doubt training for that.

After the faculty meeting, the staff of House Isekai took to their classroom to discuss what they were going to do, which led to...this situation.

(Megumi) “Well, I guess she’s not wrong about that at least. It has been a while since we were able to relax, right?”

(Cocytus) “INDEED. THESE PAST FEW MONTHS HAVE BEEN QUITE TROUBLING FOR US AND THE STUDENTS.”

(Angelica) “Sorta makes you wonder what it’s going to be like after this one...”

Doomguy said nothing but shared the same sentiment by the way he crossed his arms.

(Sara) “Oh come on, what’s with the doom and gloom? Didn’t we JUST say we needed to be relaxing?”

Sara turned to the door.

(Sara) “And it’s pretty rude for you kids to be eavesdropping on us adults!”

Some scuttling was heard outside but then the rest of House Isekai poured into the room.

(Rean) “S-Sorry! We just um...didn’t really know when to come in.”

(Ainz) “And I am sure that some of us are older than you Sara.”

(Minato) “Hey, let’s not forget what we came in here for before we start throwing shit at her.”

(Kazuma) “Yuki, wanna do the honors?”

(Yuki) “Yup!”

Yuki ran up to Byleth and said her piece.

(Yuki) “Byleth-sensei, I overheard from the other Houses that they were planning to meet up again in five years from now for the Millennium Festival! So...I was wondering if we all could do the same!”

(Byleth) “Five years from now...Are you all still going to be around in five years?”

(Yu) “We’ve put some thought into it ourselves, but honestly? Even if we did find a way home before hand, I’m sure we’ll find a way back here to visit.”

(Ainz) “Gods above know that we aren’t done with this place by a long shot...”

(Yuuri) “I guess the real question is Byleth-sensei going to be still teaching?”

Everyone turned to him.

(Rean) “Hah, little hard to imagine Instructor Byleth teaching anyone other than us honestly.”

(Minako) “I wouldn’t feel special anymore, like...he has normal people to teach instead of us!”

Everyone laughed at that.

(Angelica) “Yeah, I guess we are a little abnormal for his standards, aren’t we?”

(Byleth) “But it wouldn’t be the same without you. Sharon scaring the heck out of everyone, Towa being our council president, hearing the bickering between you all and the other students.

Byleth closed his eyes and smiled.

(Byleth) “It’s going to be quiet without you all...That doesn’t sound too bad actually.”

Sharon giggled before clearing her throat.

(Sharon) “Regardless Master Byleth, I think we are all in agreement that we would not want to miss our class reunion for anything.”

Doomguy gestured towards Akira, and it took a moment for everyone to realize what he meant.

(Yuki) “Oh, Slayer are you asking about the ball tomorrow?”

Doomguy nodded.

(Sara) “Ohh that’s right. Have you kids gotten a dance partner tomorrow? If you can’t find someone I suppose I can take pity and-”

(Everyone) “Pass.”

Sara almost choked on her drink as the staff began to laugh.

(Angelica) “Dang, even Sylvain and I haven’t gotten rejected THAT fast before, Instructor!”

(Kazuma) “You’re gonna be too drunk to dance anyway! This is a fancy ball not some dance club!”

(Megumi) “Hah, well I suppose we’ll all find out tomorrow won’t we? That reminds me, Byleth have you ever danced before?”

(Byleth) “...Megumi, do I look like I have?”

(Yuki) “Oh, Megu-nee! You should dance with Byleth!”

Thanks to Yuki’s statement, House Isekai erupted into a shouting match of who was dancing with who, which was eventually joined by all the classmates instead of the House reps.

Though he was getting a headache, Byleth smiled.

He couldn’t have asked for a better House to teach...

...

...

...

Year 1, Ruins in Faerghus territory, nearing the border of the Adrestian Empire…

Byleth blinked rapidly for a few seconds, bringing him back to reality. He had been standing out in the open, staring at Sara’s pistol in his hand.

He sheathed it and shook his head.

If he continued to do that, he would get himself killed. He can’t go thinking of the past out in the open...

Byleth walked alone through the streets of this small town. He didn’t know what it was called.

All he knew was that it was destroyed in the last massive battle that took place here.

Imperial and Kingdom soldiers lay dead as he passed them by, not bothering to check if anyone’s breathing.

He stopped walking after a minute and reached for the Sword of the Creator.

Byleth activated the whip function of his sword before a voice spoke up.

(Man’s Voice) “I’m not here to attack you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Byleth slowly turned around and saw a man dressed in black, leaning against a wall.

It was nighttime and the area was almost pitch black, but Byleth could tell immediately what he was.

(Byleth) “Give me one reason I shouldn’t cut off your head right now, Agarthan.”

(???) “I can give you two, actually. One: Because I’m the first to actually talk to you instead of attacking, unlike the rest of the idiots who tried doing that. I doubt anyone who knew the reputation of the Ashen Demon would even come within a 100 mile radius of you.”

(Byleth) “And two?”

(???) “I can give you the power you seek to destroy the Church. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all.”

(Byleth) “…Just who are you?”

The man stepped forward and the light revealed that he was wearing a mask that covered his face.

(???) “You may call me…Lahabrea.”

(Byleth) “Lahabrea? Doesn’t sound like any other Agarthan name I’ve heard.”

(Lahabrea) “That’s because it isn’t. I refuse to associate myself with them more than I have to.”

(Byleth) “...So what exactly is this power you can give me to destroy Rhea and Edelgard?”

Lahabrea held up a finger.

(Lahabrea) “Just the Church.”

(Byleth) “Right. I forgot you were allied with the Empire.”

Byleth turned around and kept walking.

(Lahabrea) “They are...Well not for long anyway. We have you for that.”

Byleth didn’t respond as Lahabrea kept talking, slowly walking behind him.

(Lahabrea) “...Is that Sara’s pistol you have there?”

Byleth finally stopped.

(Byleth) “...How do you know it’s hers?”

(Lahabrea) “Hm? I thought it fairly obviou-”

(Byleth) “The Agarthans have been focusing their attention on the bigger threats like Valimar or Slayer. And plenty of my students own these weapons, and none of you ever cared enough to know anyone of our House by name, nor has Edelgard spoken much with Sara to know what her pistol looked like and report that to you.”

Byleth turned to face Lahabrea.

(Byleth) “How do you know it’s hers?”

(Lahabrea) “...Let us say for now that I know your friends a bit more than most.”

(Byleth) “...”

(Lahabrea) “It is getting terribly late, is it not? I recommend getting some sleep soon.”

With that, Lahabrea teleported away. Byleth didn’t sense anyone else, and if he would have attacked he would have done so by now.

Byleth sighed and looked at a nearby building with a roof still over it and went inside...

...

An explosion caused Byleth to wake up violently, eyes going wide instantly accompanied with heavy breathing.

After a few moments of silence, he slumped back and sighed.

A distant explosion brightened the dark skies as he got out of a ruined building, stretching.

He stared with indifference to the battle happening far below him.

Imperial and Faerghus soldiers clashed into each other, trying to gain this territory for the war effort.

Byleth would be long gone by the time this battle would end.

He passed by a man dressed in black who was leaning against the door.

(Lahabrea) “Finally awake, I see. And where are we going?”

Byleth walked silently past Lahabrea, holding tightly onto Sara’s pistol as he did.

Byleth did his best to try and push that memory away, but it would always come back to him. The battle of Garreg Mach had only been a month ago, so it’d make sense that they were still fresh in his head.

That fact didn’t make it any more comforting to him.

As he felt rain start to drop onto him, he thought about his plan on how to kill Edelgard and Rhea.

He was one man with a sword against 2 armies that controlled entire parts of Fodlan.

When the rain intensified, he put his jacket over his head and continued.

He heard footsteps behind him splashing in the rain but he refused to let his thoughts break off.

Even with his divine pulse, he would be severely out manned. Without help, he would die before he reached his goal.

(Lahabrea) “You’re headed the wrong way, you know-”

(Byleth) “Why are you following me?”

(Lahabrea) “I’d be lying to you, and you’d be an idiot for believing me if I said I was helping you for completely altruistic reasons. We both want to take Seiros down, but you need to focus hatred to the right people. We need Edelgard alive.”

That made Byleth stop in his tracks completely.

(Byleth) “…What?”

(Lahabrea) “Stop to think about it. Does Edelgard seem like the type to like what us Agarthans did, ESPECIALLY regarding Kronya, Remire village, and your fath-”

Byleth spun around and pointed Sara’s pistol at Lahabrea’s head.

(Lahabrea) “…Forgive my careless words. But my point stands.”

(Byleth) “…”

(Lahabrea) “Edelgard, like myself, actively voiced against attacking those innocents, and anyone of House Isekai. Why do you think she offered her hand to you so many times in the tomb?”

(Byleth) “So she could use us. We would have been tools for the Empire, just like we were tools for the church. Just like you Agarthans are tools for her.”

He stopped aiming the pistol at Lahabrea and continued to walk on his way.

(Lahabrea) “And so you think the Agarthans are completely loyal to her cause? We are to her, as I am to my own organization. We have the same goals, but different ways of achieving it. The demonic beasts that attacked the Monastery, Remire Village, and all those you encountered throughout that year was ours. Your hatred should be focused on the Agarthans, NOT the Empire.”

(Byleth) “Speak plainly of why you’re telling me this, Agarthan.”

(Lahabrea) “Because both Agarthans and Seiros must be put down before we end up blowing up this world all the way to the seven hells with the Javelin of Liberation.”

(Byleth) “…Explain.”

(Lahabrea) “Meet me at House Arundel’s territory, and I will reveal all I know.”

He began to teleport away, but looked at Byleth once more.

(Lahabrea) “Not only will you avenge your friends and family, but you can put an end to this vicious cycle of war that WE started, forever.”

With that, he disappeared.

Byleth stared at Sara’s pistol for a moment before finally holstering it, making his way to House Arundel.

A Few Days Later...

Byleth finally arrived near House Arundel, and found rubble everywhere. Strangely enough, there were no bodies or any sign of combat. Only weapons and shields on the ground where the debris was.

He slowly reached for Sara’s pistol and looked around for any other sign of what happened here.

(Lahabrea) “Ah, about time you showed up.”

Byleth kept his pistol on him as he turned around, but didn’t point it at Lahabrea.

(Byleth) “This your handiwork?”

(Lahabrea) “...No. It wasn’t.”

Byleth noticed that the levity in his voice had disappeared when he said that. He seemed to be as troubled as Byleth.

(Lahabrea) “It seems that this is the Church’s doing...Hmph. It’s worse than I thought.”

Lahabrea began examining the area as well, picking up the swords and looking around the area.

(Byleth) “The Church? But they’re still battling near the borders with Imperial forces. How could they have reached this far into Adrestian territory this early in the war?”

Lahabrea remained silent for a moment before answering Byleth.

(Lahabrea) “So you truly do not know what they’ve been doing?”

(Byleth) “How would I? I’ve always been kept out of the loop since I started teaching House Isekai.”

(Lahabrea) “Hm...Tell me Byleth, do you know about a tower at Zanado?”

(Byleth) “No, not a tower. I remember finding Class VII and the Phantom Thieves there, but no tower.”

(Lahabrea) “Perhaps that is a blessing in disguise then...”

(Byleth) “Enough with these vague answers. Tell me what are you on about, or I’m walking away right now.”

Lahabrea put the sword down onto the ground and sighed.

(Lahabrea) “Fine. Little pieces at a time then. There are weapons that the Church and Those Who Slither were never meant to have. If we do not stop them, then their conflict will obliterate our world. That’s the most immediate threat we have right now.”

(Byleth) “Then what about the other threat?”

(Lahabrea) “We can talk about that when the rest of your House has returned.”

(Byleth) “You have some means of bringing them back?”

(Lahabrea) “I do. But I need your help. Without it, we will not be able to save them.”

(Byleth) “Fine. Now, before we continue, what was that about a Javelin when we last spoke?”

Lahabrea shook his head, facing another direction.

(Lahabrea) “Are you mad? Showing him this crystal could possibly kill him!”

(Byleth) “I don’t think your...friend there is the one that’s mad.”

Lahabrea turned to Byleth. Although he had a mask on, Byleth knew he was glaring daggers at him. After a few moments of silence, Lahabrea turned to Byleth again.

(Lahabrea) “The Javelin of Liberation is a weapon that was supposed to be capable of wiping out this entire world with a single strike.”

(Byleth) “Was?”

(Lahabrea) “Yes. It failed and instead of killing us all instantly, it killed us overtime. It caused some sort of winter where it caused the temperature to drop, slowly freezing us to death.”

(Byleth) “You’re speaking as if this all happened before.”

(Lahabrea) “It did. We’re going to prevent that. Now the Church-”

(Byleth) “Hang on a moment, what do you mean it did? We’re still alive aren’t we? As far as I know, Faerghus is the only place with freezing temperatures-”

(Lahabrea) “It happens in the future, Byleth!”

Lahabrea motioned Byleth to follow him as he went towards the nearby ruins.

As he was moving the rubble aside, trying to find something in the wreckage he continued.

(Lahabrea) “The Agarthans plan to use the Javelin to wipe out the Church and most of the surface world while they continue to thrive underground. But what they don’t realize is that it will kill them too. They’ll doom us all.”

(Byleth) “...And you know for a fact that this happens in the future?”

(Lahabrea) “I was there when it happened.”

(Byleth) “...So, what was that whole bit about that war that ‘we’ started?”

Lahabrea finally cleared the rubble to reveal a stairway. He went down and Byleth followed.

It was a long hallway that they were walking down, Byleth couldn’t see the end of it.

(Lahabrea) “I will get to that in a moment. Now, the Church has access to almost the same technology the Agarthans do, but they’re using it differently.”

Lighting torches with a snap of his fingers, Lahabrea continued.

(Lahabrea) “They’re using ou...my research to modify and mutant humans into abominations that blindly follow orders, in this case, Seiros. What we saw out there is a small taste to come.”

(Byleth) “What so those monsters di-?”

It had just clicked for Byleth.

The reason why there weren’t any bodies or even sign of battle.

(Lahabrea) “They come in, strike quick, then leave as fast as they came. And this is only the beginning.”

Lahabrea finally stopped by a door at the end of the hallway and opened it.

(Lahabrea) “Good, they didn’t find these notes.”

Byleth went into the room and looked around. All there was in the room was a chair in the middle, and a table near the corner that Lahabrea was at.

(Byleth) “What’s on them, Javelin schematics or something?”

(Lahabrea) “No, crest enhancement. This will help us defeat the Church.”

Lahabrea motioned over to the chair.

(Byleth) “...Hang on a second, I didn’t agree to this. My crest is fine as it is. And I don’t trust my life in the hands of someone I don’t know.”

Lahabrea turned to his left.

(Lahabrea) “He has to know. Now, it’s this, or the hard way.”

Lahabrea brought out a small glowing crystal.

(Lahabrea) “Easy way is, I enhance your crest and tell you everything you want to know afterwards. Hard way, you listen to that crystal and experience the pain of several lifetimes at once.”

Byleth furrowed his brow and grabbed the crystal.

(Byleth) “What could it possibly contain to make me-”

“I don’t know if anyone will be seeing this message, whether that be myself or anyone else who comes into this godforsaken tower but…My name is Byleth Eisner. Son of Jeralt Eisner.”

(Byleth) ?!

[Footsteps in the Snow - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

Byleth’s mind grinded to a halt when he heard his voice emitting from the crystal.

When he looked up, Lahabrea reached for his head, softly rubbing it. He appeared to be feeling the same sensation as he did.

The moment that crystal began speaking, a throbbing feeling slowly became more and more present.

“We’re leaving this here in some hopes that this cycle can be broken, and to fix this mistake before it could ever happen…Our memories will be wiped after this, so we want to say everything we can before…before we forget.”

(Byleth) “What...What the hell?!”

As the message continued, Byleth dropped to one knee while Lahabrea did his best to shake off the headache.

(Lahabrea) “You only got yourself to blame!”

When it became clear that Byleth was experiencing the flashes Lahabrea was, Sothis appeared next to him, hands also on her head.

(Sothis) “Ya know, you-agh! Could’ve just told him?”

(Lahabrea) “Oh please, as if he’ll believe that we’re-”

(Byleth) “AAAAAAAAGH!”

Lahabrea and Sothis turned to Byleth, who had a pincer through his stomach.

(Lahabrea) “WHAT THE HELL?!”

He drew out the Sword of the Creator and leapt forward, slicing the attacker in two.

Sothis floated over to Byleth as Lahabrea looked at the thing that had attacked him.

It appeared to be a knight with a mutated pincer, cloaked in white-

(Lahabrea) “THE CHURCH IS STILL HERE?!”

Looking around, it seemed that the Knight was waiting for his moment to strike. He could hear more footsteps on the way.

(Sothis) “Damn it, I knew we should have just left! We can’t Divine Pulse either, he’s immune to it, and who knows what it’ll do to House Isekai! They’re in mid teleportation now!”

Lahabrea rushed to Byleth, putting the crystal in his pocket.

He was struggling to breathe as blood was rushing out, a white aura slowly overtaking his body.

(Lahabrea) “Damn it, we have to teleport him back to the tower!”

(Sothis) “Are you insane?! He’s in the middle of remembering WHILE being transformed into an ‘Angel’! Who knows what that’ll do!”

(Lahabrea) “OUR ONLY HOPE IS DYING IN FRONT OF US, SO IF YOU HAVE A BETTER IDEA I’D BE GLAD TO HEAR IT!”

Sothis shook her head and helped Lahabrea teleport out of House Arundel.

Once they were inside the Zanado tower, Lahabrea began to use a healing spell.

(Sothis) “Not working, it’s starting to spread to other parts of his body!”

Byleth’s hair began to turn white, which made Lahabrea swear under his breath.

The tower began to shake violently as echoes from the past became louder.

As Lahabrea was about to cast another healing spell, the Tower flashed a bright white, blinding all three of them.

When they opened their eyes, they were back at Garreg Mach’s roof, and it felt significantly colder.

Sothis’s eyes went wide as she looked up to the skies.

It was a bright white and grey, in combination with streaks of white light raining down to the ground.

Snow was falling to the floor and it was then she realized where they were.

(Sothis) “We’re in the future where the Javelin fell!”

(Lahabrea) “Damn it, 2 Byleth’s in here in combination of us experiencing the memory is making this even more unstable!”

Byleth’s eye color began to change before Lahabrea was left with no option.

Lahabrea raised his hand up, and a dark energy flowed out of it into Byleth’s body.

The Crest of Flames appeared on Byleth’s hand, slowly transforming into a bright red color.

(Lahabrea) “Sothis, did Yu ever tell you about Marie?!”

Lahabrea grabbed Byleth’s sword and Sara’s pistol as he jumped back. 

Sothis floated over to him and looked confused.

(Sothis) “You mean that hat girl in the Velvet Room? Only a little! What does this have to do with anything?!”

(Lahabrea) “He once told me that Marie was originally going to die, but they let whatever beast that was inside her take control, and beat that thing up to where they saved her!”

(Sothis) “Oh, don’t tell me you-”

Byleth’s body rose into the air, streams of light and dark energy mixing together.

(Lahabrea) “If this works, he’ll become our trump card against the Agarthans and Church!”

(Sothis) “But he’ll still have the angel blood in him, right?! Even if we save him, he’ll still transform!”

(Lahabrea) “We’ll find out a cure later, if we lose him, then all hope is lost!”

Lahabrea held Byleth’s sword tightly, and it powered up in response.

(Lahabrea) “Good, it still works!”

Lahabrea quickly put the pistol onto his belt before Sothis got his attention.

(Sothis) “Byleth!”

[Return to Oblivion - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

Sothis floated to Lahabrea’s side, bringing up a reflective shield around him.

Byleth stopped screaming as his clothes transformed into a dark blue, and his hair transforming back into green.

Wings sprouted from his back, tearing apart his body as he slowly turned into a bright white form, growing larger.

Lahabrea tried to shake off the voices that echoed in the distance, instead focusing on the fight that was about to happen.

“Why did you choose Edelgard, Professor?! Why did you choose to walk this savage, bloody path? I cannot shake this feeling of regret... Regret that I must kill you now.”

Byleth’s form now took on something similar to the Immaculate One’s form, which made Lahabrea hold his weapon tighter. There wasn’t any trace of Byleth in this new form.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Professor... I suppose you think you can defeat me. Is that right? But I will never give up. Even if my arms and legs failed me, I would still find a way to move forward. I will smash that false goddess and her minion into the ground! I will fight to free this world from her vile grasp!”

(Sothis) “Is it me, or are these voices getting louder?!”

(Lahabrea) “Ignore it, Sothis! 

Sothis tried her best to ignore it, and finally snapped back to attention seeing Byleth’s new form in front of her.

He was smaller than the Immaculate One, most likely barely half her size, but by no means did that make him any less deadly.

"Teach... You should have chosen me instead of Edelgard. No point in whining about it now, I suppose. Sorry, but I'll be taking the win today."

The angel form of Byleth roared with such force that it made the wind almost push the both of them off. Lahabrea leapt forward with both swords, making the first move.

Wanting, I lie

Too weary to die

His swords were met by a fireball, the heat melting the snow instantly as it forced Byleth back onto the ground.

Too lost to the ice for saving

My sins claim me, untame me

Sothis raised her hand and countered with another fireball that hit Byleth, making him fly backwards.

Eyes wet with tears

Her song in my ears

Byleth roared back and rushed them, claws swinging as he crashed through the railings.

Lahabrea rolled out the way as the entire roof shook, and activated the whip function of the swords.

Broken, faded, how long have I waited

To open my wings

When Byleth came back for another pass, Lahabrea swung the whips at his claws, making Byleth fly back.

Byleth’s mouth opened, shooting out another fireball.

Turn the light on

And let her in. Won't you

Turn the light on

Lahabrea let Sothis’s shield take the blow, pushing him back from the impact.

Sothis got in front  and held both her hands out.

(Sothis) “THORON!”

Turn the light on

You'll never win 'less you

Turn the light on

A stream of lightning rushed out of her hands, Byleth diving out the way and landing back onto the roof.

Turn the light on

The pain won't end 'till you

Turn the light on

(Sothis) “This is getting us nowhere!”

(Lahabrea) “We’re still in the Zanado tower, and this place was formed out of our memories, right?”

(Sothis) “Yeah, its a recreation of whatever happened before the others came into our world!”

(Lahabrea) “In that case- Heed my call...”

The soul longs for oblivion, 

Oblivion

“VALIMAR, THE ASHEN KNIGHT!”

A phantom of Valimar emerged from a dark portal, and hit Byleth with its greatsword.

Byleth roared before being hit by it again, sending it flying upwards.

Valimar landed and turned to Lahabrea before fading away into the same dark portal.

Falling too far for the fear to embrace me

A voice from the past screaming there is no end (no)

A slave to my fate, ever doomed to repeat this

again and again and again and again (yeah, I'm)

(Sothis) “What in the?!”

Lahabrea sheathed one of the swords to have an open hand, the snow drawing into it as he prepared a spell.

(Lahabrea) “Take out the wings with ice spells!”

Falling too fast, no it won't overtake me

A voice from the past echoes loud like a drum (oh, yes)

no more goodbyes, though my heart is still aching

Now open my eyes, one more time, Here I come

Sothis and Lahabrea fired spear-like icicles into the wings of Byleth, making him screech and fall to the roof.

Once he got up, he started to roar.

(Lahabrea) “If I can summon Valimar like that, then we can summon the others to fight with us!”

(Sothis) “Well, it faded away instantly, right?!”

Byleth swung his tail at them, hitting Lahabrea into the railing, almost breaking it and sending him flying off.

The ice made him slide down the stairs, getting stunned for a moment.

(Sothis) “Damn it! Tch, here goes nothing, HOUSE ISEKAI, ANSWER OUR CALL!”

As Byleth walked to Lahabrea, a massive sword suddenly struck his face and made him recoil back in pain.

When Byleth turned back, a phantom of Ainz donning Momon’s armor stood in front of them.

Byleth’s claws lunged forward, Momon deflecting the hit, then each swipe he managed to dodge.

(Lahabrea) “Agh, goddess that hurt!”

(Phantom of Nabe) “Get up.”

Narberal offered her hand and helped up Lahabrea before jumping to Momon’s side.

Before she could make an attack, Byleth shot a fireball point blank, incinerating the two into a dark energy.

Lahabrea activated the whip function and swung at the arm, making a deep cut and making Byleth roar in pain.

When Byleth tried to stand on the arm, he limped over.

(Sothis) “Just how powerful did your past self make that mutation?!”

(Lahabrea) “It’s not helping that it’s enhanced by church magic, or whatever it is!”

Byleth charged up another fireball, forcing Lahabrea to strain the Tower’s energy.

(Lahabrea) “PERSONA!”

Arsene, Thanatos, and Izanagi appeared in front of Lahabrea, all casting a protective spell around them as the fireball set the entire roof ablaze.

The two couldn’t even see the snow on the roof anymore with all the smoke and fire engulfing them.

Reason resigned

Dark seasons' design

“I'm...dying for someone else? I can't believe this.”

As the Personas faded away, Sothis, Byleth and Lahabrea tried to shake off the voices that had returned.

Spring's promise of sun is honored

When winter's weighed down on us

(Lahabrea) “Come on, not now!”

Darkness erupted from Byleth’s mouth, and it seem he was stunned.

Visions in white

Raw fury in flight

(Lahabrea) “The crest enhancements created an opening!”

He sheathed one sword and grabbed the pistol throwing it up into the air.

A phantom of Sara and Sharon emerged above them, Sara grabbing the pistol.

(Sara & Sharon) “ARCUS, ACTIVATE!”

Clear as diamond, yet fragile as ice

My heart is racing

Lahabrea was about to join them before being dropped to a knee, hearing more voices yell out.

“Your Majesty, I die so that...you may seize your destiny.”

“Your Highness. Somehow you must...”

The phantoms sped around Byleth, cutting at specific locations to make him drop to the floor, unable to fight properly.

Turn the light on

And let her in. Won't you

Turn the light on

(Sothis) “H-Hey! We’re supposed to be just beating him up, right?!”

(Phantom of Sharon) “Not to worry, Miss Sothis!”

Sharon pulled the wires in her hands back, completely enwrapping Byleth in them.

Turn the light on

You'll never win 'less you

Turn the light on

Sharon bowed as Sara winked, their phantoms disappearing.

The pistol dropped onto the floor as Byleth struggled to break free, clearly on the breaking point.

Turn the light on

The pain won't end 'till you

Turn the light on

(Lahabrea) “Right, let’s finish this! DO IT!”

Sothis began to glow a bright yellow as Byleth finally broke free of the wires and was about to charge at them before a phantom of Doomguy emerged from a portal and hit the side of his head, making him fall over.

He launched an ice grenade from his shoulder cannon as a smaller phantom appeared below him.

(Phantom of Kurumi) “I GOT THIS!”

The soul longs for oblivion,

Oblivion

The grenade exploded, freezing his back leg into place, making sure he wasn’t able to move for a few more moments. The phantom of Kurumi struck his eye with her shovel, making him stunned for longer.

They both nodded as they faded away.

Falling too far for the fear to embrace me

A voice from the past screaming there is no end (no)

A slave to my fate, ever doomed to repeat this

again and again and again and again (yeah, I'm)

Sothis cast one last fire spell that enveloped Byleth, preparing for the final hit.

(Sothis) “We just say the move and the tower will fill in the rest right?”

(Lahabrea) “Yeah- Wait, you’re not going to do what I-”

Falling too fast, but the fall will not break me

A voice from the past echoes loud like a drum (oh, yes)

no more goodbyes, I am tired of waiting

Now open my eyes, one last time, Here I come

(Sothis) 

“EXPLOOOOOOOOSION!”

A bright white ball formed in front of Byleth, then erupted into an inferno that blasted the entire rooftop apart, with Sothis barely forming a shield around them.

Their vision was completely enveloped into a blinding white as they felt their bodies tumble onto a smooth floor.

When Lahabrea opened his eyes, he struggled to get up as he winced in pain, looking over to Byleth’s location.

Byleth was extremely bruised, but other than that he was fine. Though the white hair was still concerning.

Lahabrea was looking around, and sure enough they were back in the Zanado tower.

[Tears in the Rain - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

Sothis collapsed onto the floor, heavily breathing.

(Sothis) “No...No wonder she always passes out after casting that!”

Lahabrea tried to warm himself up after fighting in that cold. He finally had time to realize just how low the temperatures were in that world.

And it also made him realize that those who weren’t killed initially by the blast most likely froze to death.

(Lahabrea) “...We have to ensure that our world won’t end up like that, Sothis.”

(Sothis) “...Yeah.”

She floated over to Byleth and began examining him while Lahabrea took off his mask and began casting a healing spell.

(Sothis) “Knocked out hard. But he’ll live.”

She then turned her attention to the Angel blood inside him.

(Sothis) “...For now. Whatever we did worked.”

Lahabrea finished healing and looked at his own hands.

(Lahabrea) “To be honest, I don’t know how I managed to summon everyone like that.”

He turned around and thought of the very first person that came to mind.

(Lahabrea) “Edelgard.”

An older Edelgard appeared in front of him, standing completely still.

Lahabrea waved his hand in front of her face, but she didn’t respond. After a few moments, she quickly disappeared.

(Sothis) “The longer we’re in this tower, the more questions I seem to have. How did any of this even happen?”

(Lahabrea) “It most likely has to deal with our memories. Since our past self remembered what the world was like when the Javelin hit, we were...transported there because of it I think.”

He pulled out the crystal again and stared at it. When he did, he heard the voices of that timeline softly echo.

(Sothis) “Maybe, Byleth was overwhelmed by the flood of memories that he created an area similar to it with the tower?”

(Lahabrea) “That seems likely. But it seems having two Byleth’s in here is too dangerous. We were lucky we didn’t get the other Sothis back yet.”

Lahabrea picked Byleth up and was ready to teleport him out of there.

(Lahabrea) “In combination with the memories, this angel inside of him may corrupt him into something far deadlier...”

(Sothis) “Then there’s a chance he may die.”

(Lahabrea) “...That’s something we’re going to have to risk.”

Sothis looked uncomfortable with that answer.

(Sothis) “His Sothis won’t be happy to hear that. Neither will House Isekai...”

(Lahabrea) “One thing at a time. We’ll tell them when they’re ready. For now, we must tend to his injuries in a safer spot.”

Lahabrea put the crystal into a nearby pedestal and teleported away with Sothis.

...

...

...

(Claude) “I think that’s the end of that...memory or whatever.”

Everyone looked away from the crystal mirror and tried to understand what they just witnessed.

(Yosuke) “So that Lahabrea guy we’ve been seeing...He’s Byleth?!”

(Teddie) “And Sothis is with him too!”

(Ignatz) “The Goddess doesn’t look anything like that!”

(Lorenz) “I suppose the question to be asking is what DO we know? This tower has never been here to our knowledge, Lahabrea is able to materialize your classmates into existence, AND has the power of the goddess and time on his side!”

(Kanji) “In other words, we don’t know shit...”

(Rise) “Eloquently put, Kanji...”

(Naoto) “They’re right. We need to keep investigating before we make any assumptions. The most we have right now is our memories future and past being displayed with echoes.”

(Yu) “Besides, we’ve just begun the investigation right?”

(Hilda) “Hey, I found that crystal that Lahabrea guy was talking about.”

As soon as she got near the pedestal, a door opened up behind it.

(Chie) “Uh...What’s that?”

(Yukiko) “Should we open it?”

(Raphael) “Well we aren’t going anywhere by not opening it.”

(Leonie) “W-Wait a second!”

Raphael opened the door and walked in, everyone rushing in behind.

(Lysithea) “YOU IDIOT, DON’T JUST GO...and...”

(Marianne) “By the goddess...!”

Everyone was awestruck by the room they had walked into.

The staggering heights the ceiling went to, with the crystal in the wall illuminating the entire tower. It was the most beautiful and sinister thing they had ever seen.

(Claude) “Well, it certainly won’t be a dull time that’s for sure.”

(Yu) “Everyone, let’s get moving!”

====

Part 1: END

[This Beautiful Cruel World - Attack On Titan OST]

Your dream is where your heart is

It’s something more fragile than life itself

No matter how many times you throw it away, you still find it

So rest in peace now

Your wish is violated by your pulsing urge

and as much as you forget about it, you recall it again

In this beautiful and cruel world

We only ask “why” we’re still alive…

Ah, what are we going to protect

with our strength and weakness? If reason no longer exists

TO BE CONTINUED IN:

[happyvoidharmony]

Just a look.5

rating : M (next chapter) pairing : Miraxus (Laxus/Mirajane) found : FF.net AO3 Chapter : 5/7

Two weeks had passed since that. Two weeks passed way too fast. Two weeks and one single thing wriggling in her mind. She thought about talking to him. Too much thinking had led her to a decision. Her ultimate decision. One made during one of these rare time of clear headedness when she wasn’t fantasizing about his goddamn’ too well defined lower back or his hypnotic gaze. How did she get in that state?  

And yet, she wasn’t lacking activities. The guild was increasingly busy with all kinds of visitors, more or less welcomed. New mages came to join, and fled after crossing the path of a runaway table, people from the town came to drink and have a good laugh, travelers… But no one managed to get her attention long enough to get her out of her thoughts. To the great misfortune of his sister, who found herself yelling more than once to get her to pay attention.

The situation was becoming more and more disturbing, especially since, despite her efforts, she couldn’t manage to have an alone conversation with the blond. He was always between jobs and spent very little time in the hall, somehow always managing to be there at the busiest time of the day, making it impossible to take a quick break. However he didn’t look bothered or embarrassed as she would have imagined. He simply walked around with his stoic look, ordered a single drink, then returned to his place before leaving the next day.

The white-haired woman was a little taken aback by his new behavior. She was still not really used to his playful comments and his mocking smirk, but his indifference bothered her even more. She had spent a lot of time weighing the pros and cons and now found herself without an audience to explain that she couldn’t afford go out with a guild member. Especially not with him regarding their explosive relationship whose fragile balance she could just not risk for the sake of the guild. Especially not now that her brother had started getting along with the Thunder tribe’s only woman.

So why did she wish to get his attention if she was planning on rejecting him? To put things straight. She reassured her tormented pride at the idea of being ignored by a man she intended to reject herself. What was wrong with fearing rejection? Everyone had experienced it at some point. Maybe, but twice from the same guy is a little too much. She scowled to herself. What an idiot. She cursed in a low voice. She felt so humiliated she barely prevented the tears from shedding on her cheeks. How did she get fooled again? And what kind of asshole gave false ideas to someone he had already rejected years ago? Even if she wasn’t planning on giving in.

“Mira-nee!”

Mirajane jumped when she heard the shout through the guild. Was that becoming a habit or?

“I already called three times!”

The eldest smiled in embarrassment as she realized the meaning of those words. How long had she been daydreaming?

“Sorry.” She apologized, embarrassed by the multitude of eyes studying her.

The youngest sighed in despair and asked if there were any bottles of alcohol left. The demonic mage sent her to get some in the cellar and got back to work to clean her mind. Unfortunately for her, a more than curious card mage had approached.

“You’re okay?” She asked between two sips.

The white-haired woman nodded with conviction and a reassuring smile.

“What were you thinking about?" The brunette went on.  

She thought of the dragon slayer, his indifference, his teasing smirk that twisted her stomach, his eyes that shone with a gleam of desire so sharp, and his chest that she found herself wishing to touch…

“You really are miles away.” She said, interrupting her friend’s thoughts.  

Mirajane sighed. Except I’m miles down in Hell.

It was at this moment that the large wooden door chose to open. Letting four figures including a particularly imposing one to walk inside the guild under the greetings of the other members. The master greeted them too and turned to the largest one for notes on their job. The lightning mage answered with a shrug and an almost inaudible groan. The old man sighed in despair and returned to his discussion with one blond constellations mage.

The white-haired woman felt the shiver on her back and her muscles tighten, not quite sure if it was of anger or desire. Maybe both. She heard him order a drink from her younger sister and turned to clean the counter while taking a quick look in his direction. He was turned towards the brunette asking him for details, a beer in his hand and a freshly lit cigarette in his mouth, almost completely turning his back to her without paying her any attention. Her body tightened even more in frustration, wishing to make him swallow back his arrogance.

Instead she swallowed her anger and once again managed to smile to Juvia letting her know she was going on a job. She turned her back to take out the register, her smile faded as she put it on the counter and began to write it down. She looked up at the blue haired woman allowing her to leave. Then she closed the book and wondered if she shouldn’t just to leave it on the counter since other mages seemed preparing to leave.

She did that and to confirm, glanced at the board to count the number of future departures. Suddenly, her eyes stopped when golden ones stared at her. The exchange lasted only a few seconds but it was enough for the immaculate to feel her body getting carried away when she turned her back again to find consistency. What the hell was he doing? She kept wondering as she served a drink. She put it on the bar and saw the blond push back his empty glass and got up to leave.

The woman's heartbeat was lost in a race again and she barely kept herself from stopping him. He looked down at her and they stared at each other for a few more imperceptible seconds. His gaze was serious. Far too serious. No trace of amusement swept over his pupils. Just a serious and deeply thinking look. It ended up remarkably quiet compared to hers.

The demonic mage was shaking and confused. She expected anything but that. Her thoughts swirled in her head as she went on with her usual task. What had he been thinking mind to be so utterly different? Perhaps he had followed the same path as she did. Perhaps he wanted to stop, whatever they were doing, and no longer wanted to talk to her. At least, until it all settled down. Maybe he never wanted to talk to her again because she had pushed him away.

Suddenly, she was no longer sure she was okay with that. She felt weak, helpless and a little betrayed... Wasn’t that what she wanted? End this nonsense story without hurting anyone? A story which had gone on for far too long? So why couldn’t she be relieved? Why did she feel so disappointed?

.

The afternoon had passed quite fast after Laxus was gone. The night was barely started and the demonic mage was left alone with Cana , still faithful to her position. Lisanna and Kinana had already gone when the number of customers drastically decreased. The woman was silently washing the last glasses of the day when Cana returned hers and stood up with a big smile on her lips.

“You’re leaving early?” Mirajane asked, surprised but amused.  

“Yeah.” She replied with a mysterious smile. “I have a date.”

The woman felt ecstatic and asked for details. He was dark haired, tall, funny, liked drinking and had a disarming smile. She had met him two days ago at some bar while trying to cut down her bill, and it was their very first date together. Mirajane wished her friend good luck with all her heart and watched her disappear through the half-open door.

She sighed. The day had been short after all. She cleaned the last glass, put away the register, raised the chairs one by one with unusual liveliness, and then went down to the library to put away a few books. The card mage’s happiness warmed her heart. This date seemed destined to be good, like the so many romantic comedies she and her sister had spent their evenings with.

But life is not a romantic comedy. Her small inner voice reminded her, making her recall the events of the day. She felt her good mood slowly die but stopped herself from feeling depressed. There was no way this idiot was going to spoil her night. She quickly walked up the stairs, overwhelmed by the joy of her early departure. She opened the door and froze. Her enthusiasm died and felt the tension growing again.

He was there. Sitting at the counter. Head towards the wood, smoking slowly. He lifted his head and looked at her with his amused glare. The woman hesitated between joy, disappointment and anger. What was he still doing here? She wanted to smile and gently send him home but rapidly changed her mind. There was no way she was going to remain silent this time.

“What are you doing there?” She asked in a troubled tone she meant to be a bit sharp.  

He frowned without losing his smirk.

“I knew you’d be the last one left.”  

The young woman stopped, she did not expect such a direct response and had prepared herself to make him speak the truth.

“And why is that?” She went on, still not sharp.  

“I just saw Cana leave.” He replied a bit mocking.  

“She has a date.” She said, shaking her head while getting her things back behind the counter. “But why are you here?” She insisted.    

He chuckled a bit more. Sighed and brought the cigarette to his lips to take another deep breath. His hand was shaking slightly. He was tense. He released the smoke for a long time and spoke:

“She didn’t end up on the floor?” He mocked, leaning his chest back without taking his eyes off the woman. “Now, there’s progress.”

She gave a wry fake smile but didn't say a word. She waited for the blond to continue.

“What would you say…?” he started between two breaths, as she stiffened to hear the rest. “if we went celebrating with a drink?” He finally dropped with a tense pout.                  

She remained silent, fearing her own desires had twisted up reality. Was he inviting her? On a date? Or to really celebrate Cana's alleged progress? There was little chance that he had come back at this time to celebrate an event he hadn't been aware of two minutes ago… Her heartbeat raced again as she realized his words.  

“You’re serious?” She asked, stunned.  

He chuckled even more, turning his head away.

“Only if you say yes.”

The young woman's breathing became more and more difficult.

“What if I say no?”

He looked again into her eyes and replied with a tone he wanted relaxed but betrayed the tension running through his jaw.

“Then, it’s just a joke.” He finally said.  

Mirajane didn’t know what to think. A few days ago she was determined to reject him if he tried anything. Then, a few hours ago, she felt terribly disappointed not to do so and now, she looked at him, without smiling, without smirking. She looked at him without being able to utter a word. Stuck between her mind screaming to run away and to forget his words, his burning gaze and all the incredibly tempting weird tension she could feel from him. But mostly stuck with the irrepressible urge to feel him against her, to rub against his chest, feel his fingers roam her body and her whole being burning with his touch.

She grabbed her bag, pulled out the guild keys, threw it over her shoulder, and looked at him again, trying to hide her agitation. He watched her do it without moving, trying to decipher an answer in her gestures.

“So, let's be serious.” She finally declared with a playful smile.  

His cheeks formed the same grin, he stood up and walked to the exit, not without giving her a look she had trouble to really understand. A little playful, a little enigmatic, perhaps relieved. But definitely sexy. The woman breathed heavily as soon as he looked away. Her stomach was twisting so hard she felt a bit sick. She breathed as deeply as possible, everything was going to be fine. With these words, she followed him without really believing it herself.

.

He took her to a bar she didn’t know before. Nick ' s. She read on the blue neon that lit up the entrance. It was located in a somewhat secluded street of the town. The white haired mage wondered how she could never have heard of it before, and remembered her tendencies to stay home these times. A strange atmosphere came from the building, she felt fascinated by the faded stone facade, lightly colored by the multiple neon light. It was, however, not the time to to pay attention to details.

There, among the tables, chairs and partygoers. She stopped. The room was quite large. Half filled with customers, some of whom were huddling around the stage sitting in the back. From it, came out a slow, heavy and overwhelming music. The singer, in her hoarse voice, made the air vibrate, accompanied by three men whose instruments seemed to sing along. All on a charming, intoxicating rhythm.

The woman remained hypnotized by the somewhat dream emanating from the blue or purple light of the neon’s. She couldn't tell if it was the music, the light, or the incessant talk, the whole thing, or just the atmosphere in the room that intoxicated her so much that she couldn't take a step.

“Mirajane?” She heard.  

She jumped and looked at the lightning mage who was staring at her with amusement.

“Sorry…” She stammered.  

He smiled. She swallowed. He could be so attractive when he smiled like that.

They sat down at the bar. The barman walked up to them, he greeted Laxus - who obviously knew him well - and exchanged some small talk with him. The latter seemed to know the surroundings as well. He leaned on the counter with ease, chatting with the boss as one would argue with a friend, relaxed. The mage noticed that, despite everything, he strummed nervously on the wood. Maybe he wasn't so laid back as he was trying to seem.

“What can I get you?” The bartender finally asked.  

“Scotch.” The blond answered without too much hesitation.  

The waiter chuckled. Obviously not so surprised by his answer. He turned to Mirajane.

“Cosmopolitan?” She asked, a little shy.  

“Coming right up.” He replied with a warm smile that somehow reassured her.  

She took a deep breath and turned to the dragon slayer who was watching the group on stage.

“Do you come here often?” She asked to get his attention.  

“Often enough.” He simply replied.  

She remained silent. What was his angle? First, he was inviting her and now he was practically ignoring her? Slightly annoyed, she didn't bother to reopen the conversation and turned to the stage to see the group. It was obviously a rock band. She noted. She didn't expect much else from Laxus. He had always been a big rock fan and was not about to change. But that didn't bother her. On the contrary, she loved it almost as much as he did. The only difference being she didn’t reject any other kind of music.

She remembered the time, soon after she joined the guild, when she used to join him at a table to ask him what he was listening to. Then he would suddenly put his headphones on her ears. Classic rock. Every time. That time, when she wasn’t a brawler yet and he wasn’t a self-centered bastard, hadn’t lasted very long. Just a few months. A few months where they had come to an understanding. Until she confessed to him, and they both became distant, except to spar.

She blushed with embarrassment and looked back at him, who had been staring at her for a while. She looked at him as she took a sip from her drink. Trying to divert her attention from his piercing eyes that looked right through her, making her shiver.

“Do you plan on being silent the whole time?” He finally asked with a smirk.

Her eyes widened, having almost forgotten how much he could be irritating.

“Just waiting for you to start the conversation.” She replied in the same tone.  

“You're the chatty one, here.”

Really irritating. At least he would be, if he wasn't absolutely cute when he looked over her slightly.

“If, by chatty, you mean a minimum social, then definitely more than you.” She retorted, a provocative little flame in her eyes.

He gave a small amused chuckle but didn't answer. His so rare laugh became captivating. The demonic mage gasped when reality hit her. She was flirting with Laxus in a bar where he had probably taken her to get his way with her. She had decided to listen to her instincts but it reminded her too much of what she was dealing with. God knew how many girls he had introduced to that bartender.

“I'll be right back.” She abruptly said as she stood up to walk towards the bathroom door.  

She rushed into the room, locked the door and sat down on the toilet, shaking. What the hell was she going to do? Why was she still thinking about that? Her whole body was dying from the fire, but her mind couldn't bring herself to give in. Was it because she was reluctant to be on his list of conquests? Did she want more than that? What was that anyway? Her head was full with so many questions that she couldn't quite hear herself.    

She finally gave a slight cry of annoyance, stopped, then looked up in concern that she had been heard. She looked down and uttered the words that had taken shape in her mind. I want to be somebody. When spoken, those words seemed to light up all his thoughts. She wanted to be someone for him. Not necessarily the one, but not one of his vulgar conquests that he would forget the next day either.

She left even more desperate than before. How was she supposed to be a little special in his eyes? She jumped when she passed the bartender who was arranging a few drinks. He looked at her with interest. There was innate sympathy in his dark eyes, and his smile was all that warm.

“You're also from Fairy Tail, right? Mirajane, is that it?” He suddenly asked.

She nodded, smiling, slightly embarrassed to be recognized like that. He held out her hand, she grabbed it. It was warm, reassuring.

“Sorry.” He smiled. “I just arrived in town, but I watched the Grand Magic Games. You were awesome.”  

She was blushing now. He was cute. With his comforting eyes and his almost black hair and his dimple in the corner of his lip. He had a quiet, comfortable, but yet manly presence. She released his hand a little fast.

“Don’t worry.” He said. “It’s just so rare to see Laxus with someone, so with a mage as famous as you...”

She suddenly looked up to him. Rare? Was she among the first to come?

“Really?” She said, hiding her surprise and her smile very badly.

He laughed.

“He actually always comes alone. And he comes often! I think he doesn’t like company with his whiskey.” He admitted.

She chuckled. Not very surprised by the lonely nature of the blond and at the same time surprised by it. She looked at him from afar, he seemed thoughtful. She was so eager to join him and at the same time terrified. Reassured by the man’s words and panicked by the reality of the situation. She wanted to join him, get carried away and fully enjoy it. But at what cost? Unfortunately for her, her feet had already brought her to the counter and her everlasting impertinence took on the show.

“Admit it.” She said to the blond while sitting down.  

“Admit what?” He frowned.  

“How much did you pay the bartender to make you look like a good guy.” She went with an insolent smirk.  

“I am a good guy in case you hadn't noticed, demon.”

She gave him an inquiring glare.

“10 000 jewels and a stripper, why?” He replied sarcastically.

She giggled and took another sip, feeling the alcohol free her thoughts a little. She wandered her gaze over the lightning mage and swallowed hard as she passed over his collarbones which sank under his shirt. She looked up, realizing he could see her and would certainly make fun of her for it. He was still staring at her, without a hint of mockery but with consuming intensity.

The mage felt her whole body inflaming. She finished her drink in one sip and looked at him again, blushing and visibly sweating.

“You’re okay?” He asked.

She nodded, trying to hide her shaking. He was close, too close. She had to prevent another shiver when she felt his fingers gently slide down her thigh. She looked at him. His golden eyes pierced hers and couldn’t help but to twist her stomach. Why wasn’t he trying anything? She felt her body getting carried by the music, the atmosphere and the warmth of his hand against her skin. She leaned closer and whispered:

“Do you mind if we get going?”

He stared at her, and she did not look away, trying to make her gaze as confident as possible but still failing to hide the turmoil and desire that drove her. Strangely, his was rather similar, he got up and looked at her again with burning eyes. She shuddered again and gave him a small casual smile before standing up and inviting him to follow her outside with a slight move of the head.

[riddlesandqueries]

Somebody Sure As Hell Messed Up (Part 4)

(In which Music Meister, nee Dennis Prowell, and The Toyman, rarely known as Winslow Schott, have a revealing conversation over board games.)

"I like to know as much information as I can. It helps things run smoothly." said the Toyman.

Dennis took a deep breath in, then out. No theatrics this time. "Fine. You want the real story. Here it is.”

“...This was a team effort: I was showing her a night on the town. After that whole 2000 scare I just thought a day to celebrate the New Year was what she needed. What I said about breaking in was true. We were stealing ... miscellaneous goods when your bowl arrived. It wasn't until the building started to crumble apart when she pushed me into the hand though. So there it is. Are you happy?"

"Really? She actually pushed you? That's something I'd expect her to do to me, not you. You two were supposedly pretty chummy." Winslow leaned in.  "Goes to show you, she's a dangerous one."

"Well I would've expected Lyle to be more of the type to do such a thing. But I softened him up. I suppose I just didn't have enough time to get close to Darci. At least not to the point of being as chummy as you'd think." Dennis made a meek attempt to whistle to fill in the silence, but the mic on him kept making the pitch off key and weird. Definitely something he stopped a few seconds in. "I doubt she'll come over for some tea. You got no use keeping me around if that's the case."

"Oh she'll come. I've got my best man on it right now. And you'll be staying for a while. I can't help but be a little suspicious, you know? And we can keep each other company until our little reunion!" said Winslow, failing to hide the excitement in his voice.

"Suspicious? Me? Perish the thought."  Shit. You blew it, Prowell. Dennis bared a smile that was more than a little ingenuine. "So. We're going to 'keep each other company?'"

"Naturally! I haven't had a guest over in a very long time. Tell me, do you like board games?"

A very long time, huh? "Board games are fun." Dennis tried to match Winslow's energy. In truth, Dennis was much more fond of scrapbooking news articles about crime than he had been about board games when he was a child. The only board game he's truly interested in is D&D, but that was neither here nor there.

"I have quite a few, but be warned! I've had a lot of time to practice." One of the doors to the room slid open to reveal a tall shelf full of colorful boxes.

"Ah, well! It looks like you've got a lot of things to keep us occupied. Ha." God. I wish Hartley were here...

"How about Battleship? Or Chutes and Ladders?" Winslow hopped down off of his chair and went to the shelf to peruse the collection. "Or maybe Connect Four?"

Yeah... Hart's just the person I'd want to see right about now. "Now, Battleship's something I know haha!"

"Oh boy! Sounds good to me!" He grabbed the box from the shelf and took his seat again,  pulling the screens out of the box and sliding one down to Dennis. Winslow began setting up his side.

Dennis followed suit. "So you haven't had a friend over in a long time?"

"No, not since Peter. And I can't even remember the time before that. Mostly, it's just me and the friends I make myself. Uh, just say when you are ready."

He gave a thumbs-up in response. "G7. Merkel? Oh! He's been over at Sel's a couple of times. Very fond of Twister I've heard." Dennis then stopped for a moment. "Wait, then how did you meet Darci? Was it a henchgirl for hire gig gone to pot?"

"M-miss; J4" Toyman’s voice stammered as he placed a piece in his water. "You... you don't know do you? That's... kinda funny actually. You haven't noticed anything, well, peculiar about her, have you?"

"Hit. B2. No, nothing that would warrant suspicion. But that's coming from a Gotham resident. Maybe that sort of stuff flies past me." He stopped, just for a moment. "Then she's got something wrong with her, huh?"

"Oh no, she's perfect." He paused.  "Well, correction: she was a little bit more rebellious than I expected. Hit! J5."

"Miss. B3" Rebellious, he says. Rebellious. Sure you can call a student or criminal rebellious. But a lover? Not unless you got something wrong with your own methods... "Is that so?"

"Hmmm, Hit. You sunk my destroyer! J3?" said Toyman, considering his move. "You think you've got someone figured out, and they go and manage to turn your life topsy-turvy. I just don't know how she did it, but oh boy, did she."

"Hit. A1. You could say that about anybody though. Everybody's kinda got layers to them you know. Like tree rings. Or cake."

"Miss. J2. I suppose that's true, but she really isn't just anybody."

"Hit. A5. Then who is she?"

"She is mine." said Toyman, pointedly, before clearing his throat. “Ahem. Miss. H3."

... Noted. "I'll rephrase the question. What was she like to you? Miss. F6."

"At the start, she was my perfect doll. Then a switch was flipped, and she fled. Eventually, that Big Blue Bully got jealous when I tried to get her back, but we fled together. I thought it would be different, or rather back to the way things were, but she was just as manipulative as she was when she left. Hit. J1."

"Hit. The ship has sunk. F5." ... This bitch is lonely. If I connect the pieces together, then he's probably been wallowing in his misery ever since. "That sure sounds rough. I totally get it. Is there anything you've done for yourself since she left?"

"Oh, you know. Just a lot of work around here. Trying to stay busy. I started my blog, but that didn't really pan out...Miss. E7?"

"Hit. C9." Bingo. "Maybe you could benefit from getting out more. I mean more than just a blog. Get some friends with different perspectives. Live a little. You discover more about yourself that way."

"I don't know where to begin with something like that.” replied Toyman plainly. “It's not like someone like me can just go out and try to chat with random people. People would take one look at me and want to run. It might be different over in Gotham, but over here, they would never. Miss. F6."

"You started off with your blog. And that got Peter to talk to you. That was a good starting point.

 Maybe you could do the same thing. But you know. Without any alias or villain names. Then you wouldn't limit the people who share your niche interests to just rogues. Hit. C4"

"Miss, G7, And I don't think I can. I'm not much else but "The Toyman" anymore. I've devoted my entire life to get revenge on one man, and some alien takes him out before I got to try again. I'm not sure I am who I was anymore because I've been me for so very long."

"Hit. You sunk my ship. G1." Maybe that's why Darci ran off. Tch. "Then... Let's start off even smaller. Yeah. Bake the layers of your cake before you make the frosting! We'll just have to find some hobbies that click. Then we can go from there."

"Well, obviously I like toys. Uhhh, mechanical engineering? And movies.” He seemed curious, despite the mask. “Miss. C3"

"I'm sure there's plenty of other people out there who like movies and engineering too. Ever thought about joining a STEM group? Miss. F7."

"Hit. C9? There probably are, but what if they don't like me, or they find out who I am?"

"Hit. F8. If they're really your friends they wouldn't care, would they?" replied Dennis easily, although as his words settled in, he couldn’t help but wonder… I'm sure there's going to be someone to get me out of here. Hopefully not Darci… What if they've already forgotten about me? Or that they wanted me gone this whole time and they're celebrating my death as the minutes pass by? ...But that couldn't be the case. Almost everybody loves me!...Right?

"Hit. C10...I'm... not sure I want to talk about this anymore." murmured Toyman, presumably glancing away. "Do... do you like any movies?"

"Hit. F9." It's your funeral. "Oh, sure I like movies." Dennis smiled.

"Hehehe! Miss! C8? Do you have a favorite movie? O-or maybe a favorite genre?"

"Hit. E9, and… I only ever liked Quentin Tarantino flicks." he replied, with a blissful smile to accompany his lie. "I've always been enamored by the harsh reality of crime. It's just so intoxicating. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Miss. C7? Really? That's quite an interesting revelation about you, Mr. Prowell. I would have pegged you as just a musical fan, but that's what I get for assuming. I must admit it might not completely be my cup of tea, but I did enjoy Pulp Fiction."

"Hit. G9. Oh yeah! Crime's always been a big part of my life. My folks have always been a big inspiration for me when it comes to that."

"Miss. C6. Really? Your parents were criminals, then?"

"Hit. E5. Of course. Fine upstanding people they are. Looong before Big Blue came to town. Their old names were Songbird and Fireball. That ring any bells?"

"Miss. C6. They sound familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it."

"You already played C6. Tch...They were part of an underground gang way back when. But they quit that sort of work before I came along. Never told me why though. Which is strange..."

"Oh, silly me. I meant to say C5. Hmmm... Where were they out of?"

"Hit. You sunk my ship. A8, and...The Intergang, I think. That place used to be big on recruiting metas back in the day. I know that for sure."

"They were INTERGANG? I don't blame them for leaving. Miss. D10."

"Yeah it had something to do with a mix up that led to members getting killed. Least that's what my Pop told me. But my kidnapping was when my folks were especially put off by the business. The first one. Miss. D1"

"'Mix-up?' I wouldn't be surprised if that's just what Mannheim said to cover his tuchus. I still wish I could have been the one to finally stop that bully. Miss. B10"

"Wait, you were after Manheim? Which one?"

"Bruno. That awful devil sent my father to prison and ruined my entire life."

"I was fucked over by Moxie Manheim! Damn old coot must be in his grave by now... Anyways! You know how there's an initiation to join?"

"Ha! Well, it's a small world after all! I think I heard something about it somewhere. Why?"

"Yeah, well... Moxie didn't really enjoy that Songbird and Fireball ditched the Intergang to start a family, so he decided to keep tabs on them. Their weaknesses and all that. Now, Moxie also had some new recruits lined up waiting to be official members." Dennis leaned in, conspiratorial.."He's got a big criminal brain as you know, so he thought it'd be real wise to make me a part of the initiation. Killing two birds with one stone, as they say."

"D-did they do it?" asked Toyman, on the edge of his seat.

"Of course they did it! Stole me away while my folks were vulnerable! Nothing much I could've done, figuring this was back in 1977." Dennis collected himself. "But they weren't having it! This was the last straw, Winslow!" He held up his index finger rather righteously. "And you know what happened?"

Winslow leaned closer in anticipation. "What?"

"They snuck in there and took me back! But not without a musical number first!" said Dennis proudly. Plain as day, he looked up to his parents: it showed in the glow of his smile.

"That must have been an absolute delight to see. So, you inherited your powers from a parent? Songbird, I presume? What could Fireball do?"

"She shoots a flare gun." he grinned. 

"Truly fascinating! Um, also, it's still your turn. B10. Was that the last they heard from Mannheim and company?"

"Miss. B10. Oh no. not at all. A bunch of failed attempts were made afterwards. And well, since Moxie's departure, Bruno was the guy looking out to see if they were any trouble. But now that Bruno's dead and Vito doesn't really care. There's some peace." Something, just then, just clicked into Dennis' mind. And oh how ironic it was. "Until now."

"Miss. B5.” sighed Toyman. "If you are referring to me, please don't be so dramatic. I mean you no harm, unless you mean it to me. I only want a little incentive for Darci to come here. And if she pushed you into my robot's clutches like you said, perhaps her final capture will be something you can relish as well."

"Miss, B5...Hmmmm.” thought Dennis, smiling a bit. "Well... I just find it hilarious that out of all the villains who I fall into the clutches of, it had to be the one that happens to despise the Manheims the most." He started fidgeting with a red piece in his hand. "Call it a hunch, but this seems a lot like destiny."

"It was quite the coincidence! As I said earlier, it's a small world. I might not say destiny, but who knows? Miss, D5?"

"Miss. E2. Well, nothing's impossible, kid."

"Miss. I8...Perhaps." Winslow fell silent, awkward.

"Miss. H1...For someone called the Toyman, you're not much of an optimist are you?"

"Miss. H8. For someone named Music Meister, you're not much of a musical film fan."

"It's not my fault that musicals are better on the stage." He smirked. “Miss. J6. Much more of an experience, you know? To go out and see something like that live and in the present."

"Miss. I9. I... see your point. But you're right, optimism isn't my strong suit anymore..."

"Anymore? Then that means there was a point in time where you were an optimist!" There's still hope!

"When I was a kid, sure. But after my father was sent away, well, it hasn't been very easy."

"Have you been to therapy for that?"

"No, my foster families never wanted to pay for something like that."

"But your foster families don't control you anymore, you're a free man! If you're able to afford it, at least give it a try."

Winslow buries his masked head into his hands. "But can a wanted man like myself just waltz into some therapist's office without a dozen people calling the police on him?"

"People wouldn't recognize you without...the mask, would they?" asked Dennis, curious.

He looks up with a shrug. "I'm 4' 10", and have a rather distinct voice. They might not know my face, but they still might know me. If I'm lucky, then everything would be fine, but if I'm not, then I might be in a lot of trouble.”

"Jeez, Metropolis has got some shit health care, doesn't it? If that's what's keeping you from healing... Hmm." Dennis tried to come up with an appropriate counter argument.

“I9. Being a supervillain isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"...But being an actor is! I've got it! And it's brilliant! Maybe we can't do much about your height, but you can do something about your voice and movement!...Oh. Sorry. Miss. H3."

"C-come again?" Toyman was genuinely surprised. "I don't... I'm not really... um...Miss. G2."

"Yeah, okay. You'd have to practice speaking from your diaphragm, but that's gonna be a sinch cause you got a performer around!" Dennis pondered. "Maybe change the names a bit for this new persona... That'd work so you wouldn't have to lie in therapy per se. We all know that goes nowhere."

Dennis made a square with his index fingers and thumbs to frame Winslow.

"I can totally see your persona now Winn! Hit! I10!"

"I'm not... sure... what you're talking about? I.....?" flustered the Toyman before sighing. "Miss. F2."

"You seem so deadset on people hating you, right?  And the inability to socialize and get proper therapy is what's holding you back from being a healthy and paranoid free individual, right? 

So, we just need to make you a persona so people won't know you're the Toyman! So people won't ‘hate’ you! It's a genius plan! I swear!" smiles Dennis, putting heavy finger quotes on the word hate, as  he genuinely didn't believe that everyone everyone hates him. “Oh! Hit! F10."

"I don't think... Let me just say: I don't want to be anyone else. I am me, no matter how awful my life has been, I can't really change it. If I try to make a new me, that can only take me so far before I just go back to being me. I can't make people stop disliking or fearing me. But I have been trying to change the way I go about what I do. I wanted to stop Mannheim from ruining any more families' lives, and I want to help make sure no more families are robbed of their lives because of some self-centered sneak!" Winslow’s voice slowly rose to a shriek, before he finally settles back down into his chair with another sigh. "Miss. H2."

After a brief pause, Dennis gently pat Winslow in the shoulder. "You're gonna lose your voice if you keep yelling like that." sighed Dennis kindly. "I get that you're trying to be noble and save families and whatnot, but if you keep going about this like a self-deprecating martyr, then soon there won't be much left of you to save any families. Hit. I4."

He shrinks away from the first pat, but eases on the following. "...Yeah, I suppose. But at least I did help, right? Miss. I2."

"Yeah. Yeah you did. Hit. H2."

There was a pause as Winslow looked down at the table. Without looking up, he muttered “Hit. E2...and...thanks."

There's the ticket. Actually, this time… "No! Noo! It's just what friends do." A warm, glowing smile swept across Dennis’ face. "If you really think people won't like you, then I won't push it anymore. But I like you. I like your motives too. So don't stress about it that much."

"Y-you like me? I'm your friend?"  said Winslow, genuinely taken aback.

"Of course!" Dennis said, minimizing the situation.

"I... I've always wanted a... a real friend..."

"If you wanted a friend, then why didn't you just ask?" Dennis gave Winslow that same warm glowing smile as he stood up.

Winslow sat still for a couple seconds before his emotions did finally catch up to him. He sobbed slightly but collected himself quickly. "Thank you so much!" he said, much happier than he'd sounded before. "So...E2?"