#none of these people know that i’ve been awake for sixteen and a half hours

[bestfluteninja]

walking through terminal 4 of new york-jfk feeling. insane

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us (Chapter 17: I Love You)

← Chapter Sixteen 

Warning: NSFW CONTEND AHEAD. MINORS DNI!

For my protection. That was his reason. The government had started following the Scouts extensively after the mission to reclaim Wall Maria. Soon after, they were only following Levi around, trying to find any way to purge him out of the government. He didn’t want me to get caught up in his mess, and he knew I would fight for him if I did, so he thought the only way was to leave me. He thought the only way was to hurt me so I wouldn’t come back because that’s how it used to work for him. Break their hearts and they’ll leave you alone. He also showed me a letter Jonas had written him a few weeks after their return. That coupled with the journal he read over and over was the tipping point for him. It would be better if I wasn’t around him, but he knew that the only way to make it possible for both of us was to build a barrier that we didn’t dare cross. 

Levi, 

She’s suffering because of you. Every day, I see her smile fade, looking out at the table you used to sit at. She cries at night when she thinks I don’t hear. She cried the other day, drunk on wine, thinking about what she had done wrong to make you act this way towards her. You need to let her go. If you aren’t going to come anymore, make it clear so she doesn’t have sickening hope to keep her going. She won’t keep going. She’s fallen in love with someone like you before, and even then she almost killed herself before she was let go. Let her go now. It’s the safest way. I’ll care for her. I’ll convince her. I’ll make her happy where you couldn’t. Just leave her to me and let her go. 

Jonas 

Yet, even with these excuses, the letter, and the journal, he apologized over and over again. Sometimes on his knees in front of me. Sometimes without words. At night, he would hold me now, having read about how many sleepless I had without him; lonely nights he caused. It seemed that two things had changed as a result of our “hiatus”. One, being Levi recognizing what was love and affection, and how he, indeed, needed it to survive now. He wasn’t afraid anymore, and behind closed doors was bold. He even stopped asking to do something, his timid self leaving and replaced with a more confident lover. Second, after the court hearing, he truly realized that I could take care of myself. Right there and then, facing death with one slip up, I was able to save him as well as the Scouts' reputation. It was this one strong act of loyalty that was enough to tip him over the edge. Levi was now completely mine. This was evident. There was to be no tip-toeing. There was no time to tip-toe anymore. We were to love and love vividly as neither of us had ever before. 

Still, my emotions were left untouched. While he was busy begging for forgiveness, the feelings I had in that year-and-a-half of isolation were pushed back in my mind. I didn’t want to ruin the time we had with what I deemed to be trivial. I didn’t want to remind him once again of the loneliness and desperation he left me with. The self-doubt. The self hated. All of these things. I left it for another day. Another time. And soon enough, it would eat away at me. In the near future, he would do it again. That was my resolve. He would do it again, leaving me alone with only my thoughts and a shirt of his, and these feelings would creep up inside of me.

I decided to wait until that happened. If it happened again, I would tell him what I was feeling. I wouldn’t let his apologizes and touches and kisses silence my wavering feelings of abandonment. I would tell myself that over and over again. I would tell him, yes. I would. I have to… but then his smile, vibrant and whole, would make me forget. Momentarily. His devotion. His touch. Love would come in place of abandonment. 

Sometimes it would scare me. I would wake in the middle of the night in his arms, his eyes staring down at me as he had yet to fall asleep, and I would feel this overwhelming sensation. I’d never felt this before. Not with any other man I’d been with. I thought I knew what love was until Levi and I started again. This was love. This was devotion. Willing to sacrifice ourselves for the other. The court case had made that clear. Still, it was scary to be this for another person. Those nights, I would tear up, remembering the lonely months previous, and he would brush my hair out of my face, holding me to his chest and humming me to sleep. How long until I lose him again? Was this overwhelming feeling in my chest only because I knew he would leave soon? Levi would never be permanently by my side. How can I keep loving someone like him this much without hurting myself? 

Levi was scared too, but for a different reason. He was scared of death. This was the demon that would always chase him. At night, when he found sleep, he would still jerk awake, sometimes sweat covered and tears falling down his cheeks. I would rub his back and sometimes get out of bed with him to talk it over a cup of peppermint tea. There was no hiding what he saw when his eyes were closed anymore. He would see me die. Isabel and Furlan. Erwin. Hange. His cadets. I realized during those nights how broken he truly was. How scared he was to love because of death, just as I was of abandonment. I’d reassure him over and over, rain hitting the windowpane above, but still, he would have this doubt in the back of his mind. Life made this doubt, and nothing was going to move it. I’d just reassure him enough to coax him back into bed and hopefully catch the last bits of sleep. 

Like Erwin had promised, Levi was given the month off. Which quickly turned into two at Levi’s harsh request and a nice letter I wrote to Erwin, attached to a box of freshly made cookies. How did Erwin expect for us to catch up in a month? The first month was for loving. The second was when we would actually talk over things. This was what I had determined. Erwin had sent back the empty box with only one note: Don’t get pregnant. I rolled my eyes at that and threw it into the trash.

“What did he say?” Levi gestured to the paper I’d thrown in the trash and I just shook my head. 

“Nothing important. Just a joke.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me in front of him as he sat down in a wooden chair. His hand let go of mine, moving it to touch my waist lightly. It was night time and the café had been vacant of people for a few hours. It was time to start preparing dough and fruit for the small batch of pastries and bread tomorrow. People were slowly starting to feel the effects of famine. Their stomachs and their wallets. Sadly, the only thing that seemed to keep me going was the reward Erwin had promised. With his money in my pouch, I went about the capital market with Hange, buying supplies I needed. They filled up the cart we had brought with us, but even now, only a month later, they were almost all gone. Reeve’s was suspending orders left and right, and soon they would start firing their workers. I was also getting to a desperate point as well. If people stopped coming into the café, remembering the hours I’d sat in the empty room this past month, I would close down and use the profit money for my own survival.

“What are you thinking about?” I looked down at him again, noticing how the tiny sliver of moonlight through an open crack illuminated his eyes to an almost silver color.

“The future.”

“That’s why I don’t do that,” he quipped back, dropping his hand to lean back in the chair, the front legs lifting up off the floor I’d just cleaned. I frowned and rolled my eyes at him, walking away to check on the rising dough. 

“Yes, we know.” He followed behind, rolling up his sleeves so he could help me. This time, there wasn’t enough dough to divide between the two of us, so he ended up cleaning the two tea cups we were drinking out of. 

“Why think of a future when you’re never guaranteed one?” I slammed the dough on the table, starting to take out my annoyance on it instead of him. 

“Ah, yes, because you’re one to live in the moment, Levi.” He just chuckled and ended up leaning on the sink edge, looking out at the single window that was opened. The moonlight was still reflected in his eyes. 

“You’re from the Underground. You should know why thinking about a future is dangerous.” 

“We aren’t in the Underground anymore, Captain Levi.” He frowned and I moved on to portion the dough.

“Stop saying my name like that,” he groaned out, turning his head to the side and looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He was more accustomed to his nickname now. Just Lev. When I said his full name or title, he knew I was mad or annoyed at him or something. 

“Thinking about the future gives me hope,” I used a knife to cut out four pieces of dough,  “It makes you want to live.” He held up his hands. 

“No one said I didn’t want to live.” I cut the next piece of dough rather harshly, making the knife slam against the cutting board.

“You’re content with dying.” 

“I’ve made peace with the idea, yes.” I grasped a small piece of dough that I’d just cut when hearing those words. Now I was angry. There was no drive in his voice. Made peace with dying? That just wasn’t acceptable. I threw the piece of dough at him and he just stood there, taking my assault. 

“Think about a future and then maybe you won’t be so content with dying, Levi.” He wiped off the leftover flour from his shirt, his expression unchanging. 

“Then what is your future? If you’re so adamant about it.” His voice had a hint of annoyance in it, trying to hold back from yelling at me for ruining his fresh shirt. This made me freeze up a bit. My mind went straight to one thing. One thing I know Levi has personally said wouldn’t happen. One thing I know that Levi could care less about. One thing he didn’t want. Therefore, I shook my head. 

“None of your business.” He turned to face my body, keeping one hand on the counter and the other on his hip. 

“You can’t just lecture me about this and then refuse to tell me.” This is when I realized the weight of his words before. Why would you think of a future when you know it won’t happen? I knew this future wouldn’t happen, and here I was mourning it. Fuck. He got me, and he knew he did. 

“No, I don’t have to tell you. It’s my future.”

“But I’m in it, aren’t I?” I dropped my hands, taking a deep breath in, “That’s why you’re so upset right now.”  I hung my head this time. Not wanting to feel tears welling in the corner of my eyes. I haven’t felt them for a month now, and they were starting to feel unwelcomed. How dare I feel sad at a time like this? I can’t feel sad when time is fleeting. 

“You’re in a lot of people's futures, Levi. Not just mine.” It was low, and he could tell by how my voice trembled that I was about to cry, but he wanted me to face his harsh reality. He wanted me to know the reality of the world. I couldn’t be optimistic about the future. No one in our world could be. I would just be disappointed. At least that’s what I thought. 

“Tell me then. What’s in our future?” I shook my head again, this time turning away from him and using one hand to wipe away the stray tears. 

“Tell me.” I kept my hand hovering over my mouth, hoping that if I started crying loudly, I’d be able to muffle them with it. 

“There are no titans. You and I, we run this cafe. We’re married and there are two little kids running around, knocking over empty chairs while people come in and out, smiling down at them. A boy and girl. The boy has black hair, the girl brown. Both have silver-grey eyes. You yell at the children, telling them to stop playing around. They apologize, looking up at you with your matching eyes, then back at me, waiting for me to soften your annoyance at them; releasing them to run around again as you groan because of my acceptance of their rowdiness… but then you look at the two of them and smile softly before being swept up in an order.” There was silence again, but this time it was dense. I had to put my hand over my mouth, muffling whatever whines were coming out of it. His silence was telling. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want it. I was the only one dreaming of these things at night, falling asleep in his arms. 

A hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing once, before drawing me into him from behind, completely enveloped with his chin resting on top of my head. He still didn’t say anything. He just tried to comfort me while I was mourning something I knew wouldn’t happen. He didn’t have to tell me. I knew. I knew. 

“I’ll try my best to give you what you want, but some of it is unattainable, Eva.” 

“What is?” He felt him swallow hard and his arms tightened around me. He wanted me to know that he was still here, even if the future he wasn’t going to be. He wasn’t going to try to promise me anything he couldn’t keep. 

“I’ll try my best.” That was his way of saying that none of it was going to happen. Sometime during my cries, he turned me around to settle into his chest. At this point, I wasn’t mad at him. I was just sad. Sad because I wouldn’t get to have what I wanted. Not with him. Jonas was right. At some point, I would have to sacrifice if I wanted to be with Levi. Erwin had told me that too. I just didn’t know at that point, almost three years ago, what the sacrifice was going to be. My sanity. My emotional clarity. A husband. Children. I was just going to be the woman who owns a cafe. I even have to sacrifice the public’s knowledge of my own relationship. I’d sacrifice it for someone who wasn’t at my side for most of the year. 

That was the scary part. The one that I’d think of over and over again at night. The scariest part was that deep down inside, I was ready to sacrifice it all for him. I loved him. Yet, he’d never said it back to me. Did Levi feel guilty for not being able to give me what I wanted or was this a struggle I’d have to get through alone? And I’d get through it alone… for him. 

That night, his grasp was a little tighter than before. He was still trying to make up for earlier. He was trying to show me what his feelings were, but he couldn’t say them out loud. That would be the nail in his coffin. That’s what still made me doubt. I’d look him in the eyes and just chant over and over tell me you love me. If he just said those three words, then I think everything would be all right. He’ll try his best. What did that mean? What was his best? At his best, was he still not able to say he loved me? 

The next few days, he would be closer to me when he could. He would hold me tighter when he could. He was trying to tell me that he was here in the present. He wasn’t going to leave right now. He was trying to compensate for the future he was convinced he couldn’t give me. He couldn’t give me kids and he couldn’t make me his wife, but he could try his best. Those words were a sting to my heart every time I heard it. His best would be leaving me at the end of every upcoming month to go out and try to kill titans while trying to not get killed himself. 

The next week, when he showed up from his weekly visit to the Scout HQ, rose balm in hand, everything in the past week seemed to be forgotten. The future, along with the emotions I had yet to tell him about, sat in the back of my mind. He bandaged my hands for me, applying the balm in a meticulous fashion, hoping that this time he would be able to get a big supply of it before he went on his expedition. 

“Erwin had gone to the capital a few days ago and Premier Zachary asked about you,” he informed me as he started with my right hand. I pulled a disgusted face and this made him glow with some semblance of happiness. 

“What did he say?” 

“According to Erwin’s short summary, he wanted to know more about you currently. Where you live, what you do. Things like that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sent someone here to find you out.” I could hear the anger rise in his voice as he applied the balm. 

“Is that why you haven’t been coming downstairs recently? In case they see you.” He nodded. 

“It would get both of us in trouble if they started to suspect something. I don’t care at this point, however. Even if they saw us randomly meet each other in the marketplace, they would report it as a relationship. While the people who wanted to persecute me would see it as more evidence, the rat-bearded bastard Zachary is only interested in finding about more about his prey.” I swallowed at the word prey and Levi noticed that he didn’t tone down his wording like normal. Around me, he tried to be more gentle with his words, substituting curses for other things, but other times it slipped out. According to Hange, Levi had quite a vocabulary and he wasn’t afraid to yell at the cadets with it. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just sa-” 

“I know, Lev. I just have to be smart and reject any advances in a way that doesn’t make him upset. He is your highest up boss anyways.” He slipped back into a smile and nodded at my words. 

“So smart,” he mumbled and his praise made my stomach fill with a few butterflies. Levi doesn’t praise anyone. I found that out by being stuck in the Scout HQ for a day. I assisted Hange and snuck around out of sight, but I was still able to observe the way he trained with the cadets. Once when a cadet performed a near perfect maneuver, cutting through three titan dummies at a high-speed pace, all Levi could say to her was “If you were going so fast, why didn’t you get a fourth one?” I guess he only had a little bit of praise in his body and it was all reserved for me. 

“The Garrison members stopped playing cards last week, so I guess we can take that as notice the news of the trial has spread to Trost.” He tucked the very end of the wrap underneath another, taking a piece of medical tape and securing it tight. I told him that since today was my day off, he didn’t need to wrap my hands, but he acted like it was another one of his duties. Everyday before I start work, he would sit me down, sometimes in a sleepy silence, and wrap my hands. Other times, he would pull me upstairs after lunch rush to take the dirty wraps off and replace them, asking about work or some random thing he thought about while doing leftover paperwork in the office upstairs. While Erwin gave him the month off physically, he still had mountains of paperwork that he brought back from his weekly meetings. Times like right now, he would use wrapping my hands as a distraction from the mountain of papers growing. The two weeks leading up to the expedition were going to be the busiest, so much so that he couldn’t go to bed the same time as me and I’d wait up for him, reading a book. Most of the time, though, he would have to wake me up and move from his spot on the bed since I was sprawled over the whole thing. 

“I’ve finally got the paperwork for it, so I’d assume so. I had to literally confirm every scar that you and Hange wrote down, so thanks for that.” He turned back to the desk and I leaned forward to look at the paper, an empty diagram of a body drawn on it. 

“I can help you if you want.” He raised an eyebrow, looking out of the corner of his eye. 

“Is this just another excuse to get me undressed?” I gave him the same type of look. 

“Hypothetically, if it was, would it work?” He gave me one smirk before shedding off his shirt. Even if I’d seen this many, many times in the past two months, it never lost its effect. Levi’s clothes hide years of fighting, ODM usage, and overall hard labor and work. Of course he was going to have every possible muscle defined. His shoulders were my favorite. Broad. Easy to rest my head on.

“Here,” he handed me the paper and a pen freshly dipped in ink, “starts drawing and labeling. Don’t miss one or we’re fucked.” I started with the scar near his collarbone. 

“I don’t know. Prison can’t be that bad. You could beat all of them up and become king.” He rolled his eyes, sitting back on the chair so I could get a full view. 

“I think the last place I want to be is in a military prison. They’ll just lock me up in a single cell for the rest of my life. I’d break out though. Shitty guards.” 

“A fugitive then. I’d hide you.” He smirked and huffed once in laughter. 

“If we mess this paper up, we’re both going to become political fugitives. Where should we escape to?” I turned his head so I could get the side of a small scar under his jawline. 

“A cabin somewhere. Maybe by Utopia District. No one likes to go all the way up there… I hate to ask you this, but do you think they want me to write down all of your scars?” He raised his eyebrow in confusion and I turned the paper to him, pen pointing to the legs. 

“Oh, uh. Just to be safe?” He stood up, looking down at me, and took his pants off in one swift movement, folding them to put on top of the desk. Now, he was just sitting down in a pair of linen shorts. He pushed them up too, pointing out some scars on his inner thighs. 

“How did you get these? I don’t see you wear shorts.” I poked a scar on his inner thigh and he squirmed when I did that. Was there a certain tension building in the room? Yes, but I chose to be naïve to it.

“Knives can cut through fabric. Most of the ones on my legs are from the Underground. Others are from cutting through trees with ODM too fast. I had to get used to branches since there aren’t trees in the Underground.” I nodded, staring intently at the scars of his legs, and I could hear him cough once before turning his head to the side. We stayed in this position before I told him to sit backwards on the chair so I could get the marks on his back, flipping the page. It didn’t get past me how uncomfortable he looked trying to get settled with his front pressed up against the back of the chair. There was something in the way. This made me smirk and I reached out to touch his back, tracing some of the larger scars.

“This one is from a titan?” I remembered clearly one in the center of his back was marked by medical tape from Hange. I traced down it, seeing his fists grab the top of the chair slightly, making sure he knew which one I was talking about. 

“I was saving a cadet and got caught on its front tooth. Had to shove a sword in it’s ugly-ass mouth so it would let me go.” I hummed, acknowledging his story and moving on. Again, his back was as marvelous to look at as his front. Here, one could clearly see the muscles he had from carrying the ODM gear and wielding the dual swords. I remembered back to the first time he’d exposed himself like this when I took the bandages off for him. Back then, I don’t think I was in a state of mind to notice all the scars he had on his back. I was unconsciously tracing them as I drew and labeled on the official paperwork. 

“What’s this one? I don’t know it.” I traced again, a small circle near the edge of his linen undergarment. I felt him shiver under my touch and he looked over his shoulder at me, jaw a little tight. 

“Bullet wound.” It was short and I could hear the strain in his voice. When he turned back to face the wall, I let my smirk come out. If I stopped now, would he be able to turn back around in confidence? With this, I just leaned forward, pressing my cheek into his upper shoulder blade, feeling how warm his skin had become. 

“Finished?” He asked, and I just nodded into his skin. 

“You have so many.” He snorted. 

“I was born fighting. Plus, I have to always save these cadets’ asses on the field. It’s only natural.” He didn’t turn around, just crossing his arms and slightly leaning back into me. I closed my eyes, feeling his touch and warmth again. At night, he always sleeps with a shirt on, so I rarely get to feel him like this. 

“It’s only fair you let me see the scars you have.” I opened my eyes and looked up at him, his head half-turned to look down at me. Something in my stomach stirred when he said that. 

“I don’t have half as many as you. The biggest ones are my hands.” He apparently felt composed enough to turn around, shifting to hide something stirring in his lower half still. 

“Let me rephrase. You made me strip twice, once in front of the entire military brigade of Mitras. It’s only fair.” He gestured his hand forward and it made me snicker. 

“You’ve seen me without a shirt on a few times, Lev.” He opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it again, thinking of a better rebuttal. 

“I haven’t had my hands tracing your back for thirty minutes trying to rile you up.” I rested my head in one hand. So he did notice. 

“What do I get out of this?” He tsk-ed, crossing his arms over his chest again. 

“You always want a reward. Fine, I’ll give you one. Just let me look at your scars first. An equal exchange.” I perked up when he said that, and I could tell he almost laughed at how willingly I took my shirt off, leaving me only in an ivory brassiere and my skirt. Then his hand pointed down as to say ‘that too’. Just like him, I stood up, but I slowly unbuttoned my skirt and let it slide to the floor. Now we were both sitting there, only in our linen undergarments. We’d been here before, really, but only in short, spur-of-the-moment type situations. One moment, my underwear would be off, and then just ask quickly he was putting it back on so as not to expose me so much to himself. He did the same with his linen shorts. This was much more… intense. He took time to sit back, his eyes scanning over every curve of my body. It made me twitch, my foot tapping waiting for him to reach out and touch me like he said he was going to do. 

“You have a considerable amount. I hadn’t noticed before. Turn around.” He made a circle in the air with his finger and I obliged, leaning forward to rest my head on the top of the chair. I heard him move forward too, his breath wafting over my shoulders. This sent shivers down my spine, making me sit up straight. Then, he reached out with one finger, tracing the shallow white lines and indents. With each movement, a jolt was sent down my spine and into my stomach. I had to lower my head to hide my blush and the heavy breathing. He was giving me back what I had done to him. 

“This one?” He traced a medium-sized scar up and down, right below the back of my brasserie. 

“I-I fell out of a tree when I was younger and landed on Jonas’s bicycle.” He hummed and I felt the air that came out of his nose gloss over the right side of my neck. When I turned my head to the right, looking over my shoulder, his face was right there. This made me swallow hard and the butterflies in my stomach started flying around even faster. It was comical how this small touch was making my mind fuzzy. I had seen him bare before. I had touched him. He’d touched me. But nothing like this. 

“And this one?” It was a whisper right in my ear and it made me physically jump. He felt it and I heard a small laugh come from him. The scar he was tracing was in the middle of my back, just like the one he had. His finger was just tracing it up and down, waiting for my answer. 

“The… t-the edge of a… a brick building,” I breathed out, the ending shooting up an octave as his right hand went around my middle, pulling my back right into his chest. His head was resting in the crook of my neck, but he was only looking forward, staring at the same blackboard that I was, filled with possible battle formations and other things he’d written about fieldwork. His other hand, the left, came and squeezed my thigh, slowly tracing again. Up and down. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t feel his newfound arousal pressing into my back. This made me think hard, heart beating fast. While this wasn’t the barest we’ve gotten, this was the most intimate in ways of sexual attraction. Was this going to be the night? 

“All these scars you got before you met me, hm?” He shifted just his eyes to look up at me. I swallowed, not trusting my voice as his hand coasted higher and higher on my thigh.

“E-except my neck.” This time he hummed, and I felt the vibration filter through my back. His hand slowly went from my thigh to my neck, lightly grasping the sides and rubbing that same finger along the thin scar the refugees had given me that day so long ago. The scar itself would be gone in a few years, not being deep in the first place. 

“I wanted to kill them. For some reason. I usually never want to kill humans.” His voice was softer, remembering the same moment I was. 

“I’m glad you didn’t.” His grip on my waist tightened and he pulled me back enough so I was completely resting on him. His skin was still hot to the touch, almost burning. 

“I’ll do anything to protect you, Eva.” I lowered my head, my thoughts instantly going to a week ago. He would do anything but marry and have kids with me. 

“Anything?” I felt him seize up, just a tiny bit, knowing what I was referring to. I had just ruined his nice moment. This is why I’d held back my feelings for a month. Reasons like this. If I had just kept my mouth shut, what would we be doing now? 

“I can’t give you children.” 

“I know.” There was a pause in his heavy breathing. I couldn’t feel it on my neck. I couldn’t feel the in and out of his chest on my back. He was holding something in. He was going to say something that he had to prepare for. 

“But… I’ve thought… over this past week...” He sat up, his head no longer resting in my neck. At this new angle, with me leaning back all the way, he could just simply look down at me. There it was. Disbelief. My eyes widened in disbelief too at the words that exited his mouth. 

“... But I’m not opposed to taking your hand in marriage in the near future.” I sat up right away, looking him right in the eyes. They were as dilated as mine. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really.” If he had a shirt on, I would have grabbed it to pull him to my lips. This time, I moved forward, my hands flat on his chest pushing him back against the chair. He moaned slightly at my sudden attack on his lips, but these kisses were deep. They weren’t like our various sessions on the couch or deep in the night when we both couldn’t sleep. I wanted to say thank you. Over and over. I wanted to say I love you. Over and over. And he responded, kissing me back with the same passion. 

He pulled me on top of him, my legs hanging off the chair on either side of his. His hands were slowly tracing up my back, leaving what felt like a path of fire with their ascent. I wrapped my arms around his neck, one hand in his hair and the other grabbing at the skin on his back, holding my composure. Usually, at this point, Levi would ask permission for a single thing. The only thing he would do that night. May I take your bra off? May I see you down there? Yet, there was no stopping. His mouth wasn’t pulling back from mine to ask a question, and if anything he was kissing me at a bruising pace. 

When he pulled my hips down on him fully, grinding up into the crevice of my inner thigh, I knew he wasn’t going to stop tonight. I tested it, arching my back into his chest, hoping to connect my core with his own. He whimpered once into my mouth when I did this, and still, he didn’t pull back like he did before. This made my heart burst, and something fueled me to push further. Levi was going to allow it. 

His lips detached from mine, going to my lower jaw, then my neck. With one hand, he moved my head so he had the complete amount of skin to work with. I held him close to me, my eyes fluttering closed as he found that perfect little spot at the base of my neck. 

“Levi,” I moaned, and I felt him smirk into the softness of my skin, not stopping his assault and leaving a small bruise, matching the other ones. Once his hands coasted over my waist, they went back up, stopping at the back of my brasserie, two thumbs slipping under the material to test the waters. I ground down on him again, letting him know that it was okay. His dick twitched up into me, excited by my given consent, and in one swoop he unbuttoned the linen fabric and threw it somewhere across the room. It was going to stay there. 

As soon it was off the heat of my skin contrasted with the cold air of the room, making goosebumps rise all over my skin. I arched my back again, giving Levi a full view of my breasts, which he was obliged to take. He just sat back, like he had when I’d taken my shirt off, and took in my body in front of him. This made my arousal grow, and I knew that at this point he could feel it seeping through the thin fabric of my undergarment onto his. He was just there, staring, not giving me any relief. This time, he wasn’t going to rush through things. One hand went up, his thumb glancing over the peak of my right nipple, making me shiver at the touch. He took that in too. The way my body was so ready to be under his. 

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, leaning forward to kiss the valley between both of my breasts, “All mine.” His voice was low and had taken on a new filter that I’d never heard before. His voice was making me drip. 

“Lev, please.” He looked up at me, face between both of my breasts, and slowly brought his other hand up to pinch my left nipple. I squirmed at this, my sense going overboard at just how little he was giving me. I tried to get relief by using his own arousal to rub against mine, but he had shifted back, only allowing me relief on his thigh. I would take it at this point. All of this sexual release had been building up the past month and a half. He would touch me so little, making me orgasm with his fingers or his mouth so quickly, and then move on with the rest of his day. He would never allow me to pleasure him either. It was like he was playing with me this whole time and I wanted it to be over. I wanted him to finally have his way with me the way I knew he wanted to. The way in which his eyes still lingered over my post-orgasm figure, wanting so bad to enter me. 

“Please what, Ev?” He whispered, teasing me completely. His elbows tightened around my sides, practically lifting me off his thigh so I couldn’t move anymore. Until I answered him, I was immobile. I bit my bottom lip, looking up at the ceiling as his thumbs just rolled over both of my nipples in tandem. He would make me sit here like this for hours if I didn’t answer.

“Touch me,” I groaned out, but he didn’t move. I tried to squirm again, motioning to him that I wasn’t having this, but he just chucked. 

“I am touching you, brat.” I outwardly groaned when he said that, letting him know just how dissatisfied I was with this current situation. The slow stimulation of my breasts was driving me crazy, and it was almost worse than this whole month-and-a-half of half-filled orgasms and longing touches. 

“Please fuck me.” This made his elbows go slack, but so did his hands, finding their way to my waist again, holding me there. It felt so demeaning having to ask him like this when he knew for so long that that was exactly what I wanted. Yet, he was still laughing, grabbing my chin so I had to look him right in the eye. He kissed the edge of my mouth, then my cheek, then my jaw, teasing over and over by pushing his thigh up into me at his pace. All I could do was sit there and take it. 

“I’m going to make love to you tonight, Evlynn. I’ll fuck you later.” He picked me up, standing from the chair, and carrying me a few feet into the bedroom. Slowly, he laid me down, coming to hover above me. He kissed me once, then twice, then descended to swirl one of my nipples in his mouth, the other being attended to by his hand. This time, I had nothing to grind into to relieve the aching in my core, and all I could do was rub my thighs together for some relief. He noticed this, and opened them, settling himself in between so I couldn’t rub against anything. 

“Any pleasure you feel tonight is going to be because of me,” he asserted, moving to my other breast. I just moaned under him, wrapping one leg around his hips to pull him closer onto me. His lips moved, kissing down my stomach, hovering over some of the scars he assessed earlier. While he was taking his time, moving so slowly, I had to relieve something, so I grabbed my breasts myself. Rolling them in my hands harshly to feel something other than his teasing, featherlight kisses. 

“Hands up!” He bit into my thigh. I blinked, looking down at him as he was directly between my legs. His eyes were blown out and intense, and he had given me that voice. The one he talks to the cadets in. He was ordering me. With wide, doe-eyes, I did what he said, not daring to go against his orders. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled into my thigh, moving his hands under them to give a better vantage point. Again, he started teasing me. The closest he got to my center was kissing the edge of my undergarment. Above him, I was a whimpering mess, trying to move my body so maybe his lips would slip somewhere else, but he moved his hands up to hold me down into the bed. For a third time, I couldn’t move and I had to take everything he wasn’t giving to me. 

“I want to take you in slowly. I’ve waited so long for this.” Even the breath he let out from that sentence missed my core, giving me no form of relief. I could only grab onto the pillow above me, his pillow, and pray he would give me it soon. I had gotten so accustomed to him just going for it, that now this was torture. He wasn’t giving me his fingers, his mouth; nothing. It had me groaning and whimpering under him louder than ever before. 

“Please, please, please, please.” I got some power and bucked my hips up to his face, which made him smile up at me and run one finger down my slit, feeling the wetness of the cloth covering it. 

“All for me?” I just nodded, my head having been thrown back by that one single touch, “Words.” He lightly slapped my clit, reprimanding me. 

“Ugnh - fuck!” He slowly circled my clit with one finger, waiting for me to answer his question. The way he was commanding me was setting a fire in my stomach and it made me mold to comply. 

“All for you!” I let out in one breath, a loud moan following as it gave my clit a single kiss, the fabric still in between me and his mouth. If he didn’t start soon, this bastard was going to make me cry. My eyes widened then, looking only at the ceiling in realization. He wanted me to beg. He wanted me to use my words. 

“Levi, please take it off.” He looked up at me, only the tip of his tongue circling my clothed clit, motioning to the reason why he hadn’t taken it off yet. My hands were at my sides, clutching the sheets. Slowly, I lifted them up again, crossing them above my head to try and secure them. 

“There we go,” he said, pulling off the only article of clothing left on my body. When he did this, he sat upon the bed, his hands going with him. There he was, looking down at me completely naked before him. His eyes were darkening still as he could see my wetness glisten just for him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he took one finger, always one finger, and dragged it down my slit collecting the juices that were already there, “My beautiful girl,” he pushed his one finger inside of me, “All laid out for me. Finally.” 

He moved his finger in and out, drawing moans from me. They were loud. They were whimpers. He was finally touching me in the way I wanted. Not fast. Not quick. He added a second finger, which made my back lift off the bed slightly and he moved to push me down with one hand. In and out, in and out, just stretching me. Only when he felt satisfied with how much I drenched his fingers did he move his mouth down. He took no time latching onto my clit, giving it kitten licks at first. As soon as he sucked on the bud once, then he allowed his fingers to curve, hitting the one spongy spot he’d studied the location of. My eyes were blown out, stars dancing in my vision. The way he was working his tongue over the most sensitive part of my body and using his fingers to get me up to my high had me spinning. He’d never used them in tandem. No man had ever used them like this either. I was shaking, my nails digging into my forearms, trying to keep them above my head. I didn’t want it to stop. If I dropped my hands he would no doubt stop. I wanted to drop them and shove his head down on me further. 

“Look at me.” I did, right away. Wasting no time and giving him no excuse to punish me again. I looked as his mouth was completely on my core, eating me like a man who had starved. No, he was a starving man, now getting full off of me. His tongue was giving long, harsh licks to my clit, and now his fingers had moved to a faster pace, hitting my g-spot with every thrust. I chanted his name over and over like a poem. Like one of those hymns, the Order of the Walls would sing on the streets. My song. Levi. Levi. Over and over again. He wouldn’t let me fuck myself on his tongue, one arm completely over my hips, and soon, I felt the knot grow in my lower stomach. 

“I-I’m… close!” I shouted out, and his eyes conveyed complete lust, looking up at me writhing for him to give me what I needed. I needed to cum like this. It was nothing I’d felt before. The knot was so tight in my stomach and I was yelling so loud, the neighbors a building over might come and knock tomorrow morning. 

“Please. Please, can I cum? Please!” His mouth came down once more, harder, sucking only on my clit. All it took was one harsh curve of his fingers coupled with a single, long lick, and I was coming undone on his tongue. This wasn’t like before. My hands came down, grabbing the sheets as I was sent into my high at a crushing pace. His fingers were still going in and out, overstimulating me as I shook from head to toe. The only thing on my tongue was his name. Once I started to jerk away from his fingers, tears welling in my eyes motioning to him that I had come down from my orgasm, he pulled them out, sticking them right in his mouth to clean them. 

“So dirty.” 

He moved back up my body quickly, latching his lips onto mine, giving me a taste of myself. His tongue slipped in too, now not at that slow and deep pace we had before in the office. This time, he was the one being tempted by a release. He ground down on me, my wetness covering his shorts again. This time, he was completely hard and when I put my hand down to rub him, to tease him like he did me, I relished in the fact that he didn’t move my arm away. He let out a grunt in my ear as I finally was able to move my hand inside his undergarments and grab onto his dick, hard and long. I felt it all. The veins, the ridges, just how big he was. Slowly, I jerked him up and down, using my thumb to tease his slit. His jaw tensed when I did this too like he had to hold back to urge to ravish me in the way he told me he wasn’t going to do. 

“Can I take them off?” I asked, and he went to kiss me, this time lighter as he looked directly into my eyes. He reached down and took them off himself, my hand still going up and down his length. Now, we were finally both naked in front of each other. Not just one or the other. I was finally touching him. He was finally letting me see all of him. I looked down, noticing the size and the redness he was displaying. I knew then what I wanted to do, but when I went to slide down to try and give him relief with my mouth, an equal exchange, he held me below him, a harsh grip on my hip. 

“I told you. This is about you.” He reached down and took my hand off of him, lacing our fingers together. The cocky captain that was ordering me while between my legs had left, and I saw the vulnerability in his eyes as he lined up with my entrance. I put my other hand on the back of his neck, encouraging him to push forward. 

“Are you sure you want me to?” He asked, a moment of doubt. He’d never made love to anyone before. 

“I want only you, Levi.” I pulled him down to kiss him, another deep and long kiss, and when he pushed into me completely, we both groaned into the kiss. It had been a while since I had sex, and he could tell by the way I winced softly as he pushed back in again. He kissed my forehead, then my cheek, his hand squeezing mine as he slowly started a pace in and out. After two thrusts, he hit the spot inside of me that sent my body reacting up into his. I was no longer in pain, and both of us were wrapped in pleasure. He angled his hips up expertly so he would hit my g-spot with every thrust, and soon his head was buried in my neck, whispering praise. 

“You feel so good. You’re so good. Mine. All mine. So beautiful, taking me like this. Perfect.” I threw my head back again, and he took my other hand which was digging into his back, putting it above my head. He used one hand to hold them up there, and the other to squeeze the sides of my neck, cutting off my air. This sent shockwaves to my core and my head. 

“Oh my, yes! Yes, yes, yes. Levi!” 

“Ugh, so fucking gorgeous with the moonlight on you. Fuck, you were made for me. Look how well you’re taking me. Pussy sent from above. Just for me.” His praises made me pant and cry with every thrust, making my body set on fire once again. The knot was ever-so tighter with him pounding into me, losing whatever slow self-control he had earlier. We were both chasing our highs for our first time together. I looked into his eyes, the moonlight shining into the grey, making them seem so bright. So open. He’s going to marry me. That’s the thought that was running through my head. This man. This handsome, gorgeous man was going to be mine. This man, who was whispering sweet nothings in my ear making me feel like some goddess, was going to be mine. 

“Oh my god, fuck!” He grunted loudly in my ear as his hips snapped harshly into mine. 

“I’m going to… I’m-” He took the hand off my neck, reaching down to circle my clit. 

“Me, too,” he breathed out. So close. So close. 

“Levi!” I called out, as he pinched my clit ever-so-lightly, sending me right into my high. This time, I couldn’t control how my body was moving below him, my second orgasm taking complete control of me. He was still pushing in and out, having to use the hand that was on my clit to hold my hips down. 

“Fuck, Eva. God, I’m going to…” He whined loudly in his ear, the overstimulation hitting me again, and this seemed to be what sent him over. Pulling out quickly, he came on my stomach, head thrown back in pleasure as his hand milked everything out of him. So much came out, painting my stomach in white. I was breathing too hard, trying to recover, to care. He still had his head buried in my neck, and I realized what he was whispering, caught up by the pleasure his orgasm had brought him. 

“I love you so much, fuck. Eva. Love you. So much. So perfect. Evlynn. God. What did you do to me?” This made me breathe harder, eyes watering finally hearing him say those words to me. I didn’t even move when he got up, turning the oil lamp in the bathroom up to go get a towel.

He finally said it. 

His feet padded against the ground, and I sat up on my elbows, looking at him standing in the door, one arm gripping the side frame. His eyes were still ever intense, looking at me down on the bed, towel in hand. My legs were still shaking, and the look he was giving me wasn’t helping. My chest was moving up and down now, but not because of the activity previous. To break the tension, he just smiled, coming over on the bed to wipe me off, folding the towel, his towel, and putting in on the top of the dresser to clean later. He grabbed the blankets, opening them to crawl underneath and pull me with him. I was lying completely on top of him and he had one hand rubbing my back, the other playing with my hair. It had been five minutes and we still hadn’t said a word to each other. 

“I love you,” he whispered into my hair, and I smiled, snuggling into him more. A few tears came to my eyes too, just like when he said he was going to marry me. 

“I love you, too.” He sighed and pulled me up higher so my head was in his neck this time. He pulled the blanket up higher so that I was covered up to my neck. 

“No one’s ever told me that before.” I gripped him tighter, sitting up so that I was looking down into his eyes. There it was again. Disbelief. Fear. I needed to get rid of that. 

“I love you, Levi.” He just nodded, smiling slightly up at me. 

-

“Oh god, fuck!” I yelled into the pillow, his hand pushing my head down into the mattress as he pounded into me from behind. I had to turn my head to the side so I could breathe with the force he was using. I knew I was going to have bruises on my legs from earlier in the night, but now that was going to be mixed with handprints as he found out quickly how nice my ass bounced when he slapped it. 

“Levi!” I called out at one aggressive thrust, hitting the spot I desperately wanted him to hit. He was being mean to me this morning, saying how I was so rude going to leave him in bed alone to go down to work after he’d just made love to me. He also said he promised to fuck me after. So here we were. Now, I was going to be late. At least there weren’t any customers who came in this early anymore. They would be hearing my moans loud and clear through the floorboards.

“That’s not my name, brat.” He took his hand off the bed frame and pulled me up by my hair, my body now flush against his chest. I let out another moan as this position made it so easy for his dick to angle up and give me the high I wanted. Another hash slap to my bottom told me he wanted me to correct myself. 

“Captain!” I yelled out, and this satisfied him, shoving me back down and starting at a relentless pace that made me and the bed move forward. I grabbed at anything to keep me stationary, and my moans were beginning to sound dumb, mixed with the saliva coming out of my mouth. I couldn’t catch my breath as he hit against my cervix with every thrust. 

“C-Captain! I’m c… coming!” He sped up, trying to fuck me through my climax, only to reach his own, pulling out to spread his seed over my bottom. After he was done, signaled by him going to get the towel he had folded up last night, I collapsed down onto the bed, stomach first. My knees were in pain from being in that position for so long, him using his dick to tease me into oblivion and submission.

“My legs…” I groaned to him as he cleaned me off and he just gave one masochistic chuckle, throwing the towel into the dirty clothes bin. 

“Should I sneak down and put a sign on the door that you won’t be open today?” I rolled over, now on my back, looking up at him, still bare, but one hand on his hip. He seemed completely unaffected by what he just did to me, other than being extra sweaty. I narrowed my eyes at him, not liking this sudden cockiness.

“Should I tell Hange you like to be called Captain in bed?” I smirked up at him and his smile dropped. He was now glaring at me, but the blush in his cheeks didn’t slide past me one bit. If I could sit up without hurting my guts, I would poke his cheek. 

“G-Get the fuck up… you brat. How can you have such a bad work ethic? Sleeping in for so long!” He grabbed a fresh pair of linen pants, sliding them on quickly, and walking out of the room to get away from me. 

“I love you!” I called out to him. 

“Thanks!”

Chapter Eighteen →

Chapter Masterlist

[metalbvcky]

Back in May, I made my first Stucky Ficrec post and months later, I’ve decided to make another since this fandom is hella talented. There’s a little over two dozen fics down below ranging from 10k-100k+ and everything’s categorized.

Do note that lot of these are Modern AU’s (I love those) and most of them are smutty. (yes hello, an asexual here who enjoys smut so very much) Also heed the tags once you click the link(s). Other than that, enjoy!!!

Key:  ♥ = My personal favorites, S = Smut, DS = Dom/Sub

a) CANON UNIVERSE

If You're Reading This, Steve Rogers by fallendarlings Words: 39,273 | Post/Canon Divergence 2012 Avengers/TWS, Recovery, Slow Burn

Nobody tells Steve it's okay to cry.

Nobody touches him.

Nobody remembers Steve Rogers is a person under the mantle. It's okay. He hasn't felt like a person since he watched Bucky fall.

don't threaten me with a good time ♥ by canistakahari - Words 10,106 | Post-TWS, Sick!Fic, Sick!Bucky, Cabin Fic

Steve's taken him on vacation to a cabin in Canada in the middle of winter, so it's obviously the perfect time for his body to go haywire. Bucky is determined to stick it out, though, partly because he's a stubborn bastard, but mostly because he feels some kinda way about Steve.

Higher Ground by EmilianaDarling - Words: 13,002 | Post-TWS, S, DS (undertones), Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

“S’okay,” Bucky murmurs quietly, and Steve sucks in a sharp breath at the brush of Bucky’s lips against his ear, his breath hot against the side of Steve’s neck. There’s a hint of a grin in Bucky’s voice; amused affection and confidence and something heated beneath it all, a familiar tone from so long ago that makes Steve’s heart clench and his cock twitch helplessly in his jeans.

“S’okay, Stevie,” he says again, and Steve can feel the curl of Bucky’s lips against his throat when he smiles. His metal thumb is rubbing circles on Steve’s shoulder. “M’gonna take care of you.”

A year and a half after the events of The Winter Soldier, Steve's been acting recklessly. Bucky deals with it as best he can.

The Simple Life ♥ from The Simple Life Series by howler32557038 - Words: 114,329 (Series Total: 337,273 + ongoing) | Canon Universe, MPreg, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"The simple life."

"You'll get there one day."

"I don't know. Family, stability...The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

Bucky wants to be part of Steve's life. He wants to be an Avenger. He wants to be a good partner. Unfortunately, sometimes that means not telling Steve everything.

a road less traveled by Claudia_flies, cyclamental art (cyclamental),maichan, zilia - Words: 75,396 | 2012 Timeline AU, Post-Avengers 2012 (Endgame Divergence), Domestic Avengers, Recovering!Bucky

Steve wakes up on the cold stone floor of the foyer. He scrambles up; there’s glass shards everywhere and they crunch under his gloved hands. People are staring, holding themselves back. They must have seen the fight, must have seen two of him.

His own voice rings in his head.

“Bucky is alive!”

Kept Safe by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 54,419 | S, DS, BDSM

Steve and Bucky are friends. Best Friends. If asked, Bucky would say he knows absolutely everything about Steve. Except when it comes to sex. Steve lives such a monastic existence that Bucky doesn't know if he likes girls, boys, or none of the above. For all he knows, Steve may have no interest in sex whatsoever.

But then a mission goes wrong, Steve is bleeding out from a wound to the femoral artery and Bucky is trying to stop the bleeding when his hand brushes against metal. Where there most definitely shouldn't be metal. Or a padlock. And most definitely not a torturously small cage.

48 hours by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 25,894 | Post-CW, S, DS, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Steve is keeping it together. No one would say he's keeping it together well, but he's getting by. Mission after mission, he goes back to his apartment in Wakanda and breaks down. Then he watches Bucky sleep and tries to not notice how everyone looks at him like he's the saddest bastard that ever lived.

But, this time is different. This time, Steve goes back to his apartment post-mission and Bucky is awake, out of cryo and making them dinner in Steve's kitchen. The breakdown is still happening. Bucky isn't pleased, but he does have a plan. For 48 hours after every mission, Steve is going to let Bucky take care of him or he's going to be on Steve's next mission. He can't risk losing Bucky again. Which should make the decision simple.

It isn't simple.

The Sex Therapist ♥ by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 179,941 | S, DS, DKink, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Current/Past Steve/Sharon

Sharon has given him an ultimatum- either go to sex therapy or it's over. Sex therapy sounds like normal therapy but more humiliating and expensive. It's total BS. He will go because she's making him, but he will also make everyone's lives miserable (Yeah, including his own) and never return again.

Do they have a lot of sex? No. Does Sharon want more sex? Yes. Does Steve do his best? Yeah, actually, he does. He can get it up, he just needs time. Alone. There's... preparation involved. It's not like one just 'is' aroused.

He can't explain it. And he won't. He definitely won't tell Bucky what exactly he thinks about to get worked up enough to screw his girlfriend.

Found My Place in Time - Cap_D, humapuma - Words: 12,492 | Post-EG (Divergence, duh) S, Fluff, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

“Buck,” he heard Steve say, “wake up. We’re here.” Bucky opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension out of his back. When Steve’s words sunk in, though, he turned and leaned forward, staring past Steve’s chest to look out the window. Beyond the wing of the plane, he found a beautiful coastline with white sand, blue waters, and palm trees, as well as rows of bungalows on the water. “Wow,” he murmured. “We’re staying in one of those, right?”

In which Steve invites Bucky on a trip to Fiji and they discover something a lot more than beautiful vistas and friendly locals.

Total Institution ♥ from the Institutions of Love and Incarceration series by thelittlestpurplecat - Words: 94,303 | Canon Universe AU, Prison!AU, Guard!Steve, Prisoner!Bucky, Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, WS Trial

The Winter Soldier has been sentenced to life without parol. His entire world had been condensed to a hot, cramped cell that he hasn't seen the outside of in the four years since his apprehension. It's hell. He has no means of escape, no means of terminating his suffering, and no means of distraction...that is, until he's assigned a new guard. Steve Rogers is assigned the Winter Soldier as his singular charge. He expects a sadistic, violent murderer. What he finds instead is a broken, tormented man with no memory of his past life, and no control over what had been done to him. He's a victim. Not a monster. And Steve won't stand to see him pay for crimes over which he had no control.

Raise Your Glass by minkeys - Words: 10,008 | Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Light DS, S, DKink

Bucky knows Steve in ways that his 21st century friends could never even begin to imagine. Or at least, they couldn't until tonight. It's about time somebody corrected all those historians that painted Steve as a straight-laced, God-fearing soldier, and what better way to do it than over a harmless game of "Never Have I Ever." What's the worst that could be said?

b) SHRUNKYCLUNKS

Waking Up Slow ♥ by odetteandodile - Words: 44,638 | Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic, Hurt/Comfort

In 1945 Steve Rogers crashed the Valkyrie into the Arctic Ocean and was never recovered.

In 2019 Bucky Barnes is walking along the beach below the decommissioned lighthouse where he lives with his sixteen month old daughter when he finds the body of a man washed up in the surf, half frozen but miraculously alive.

Bucky manages to revive him, but finds that the stranger has no memory of who he is or how he got here aside from a name: Steve. Snowed in by a blizzard soon after and unable to get Steve a medevac, Bucky discovers that the funny, good-hearted man slips into the fabric of his and Alice’s life faster than he would have thought possible. The two are undeniably drawn to each other, but as their feelings grow so does the looming possibility that the answer to the question “who is Steve?” might be much more complicated than either of them realized.

Isn't It Ironic? (Don't You Think?) ♥ by HeyBoy, Huntress79, imhereforgaysuperheroes - Words: 33,342 |  Jewish, Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic

Bucky is used to his daughter bursting into tears in the middle of department stores. What he isn't used to is someone braving the wails and actually being able to stop Becca's tantrum in its tracks. Oh, and he's also not used to that someone being Captain America.

AKA, how Steve Rogers calms a screaming kid in Target and falls in love with two more Barneses than he had bargained for.

in my condition love's the best physician by aniloquent - Words: 9,177 | Pharmacy!AU, Russian!Bucky

“This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts.

The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him.

Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?”

Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

c) MODERN AU

Home Is Wherever I'm With You ♥ by cydonic  - Words: 88,570 | Neighbors!AU, Slow Burn, Parent!Steve, Kid!Fic

This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he's hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he's ever seen in his life living right next door.

That House-Flipper!AU.

if only you could see me (for the pie that i am) ♥ by bitelikefire (theoleo) | Words: 35,121 | Baker!Steve, WeddingPlanner!Bucky

In which Steve is the proud owner of Frost; a semi famous local bakery in D.C. And despite the overwhelming insistence that it’s about time he start dating, Steve swears up and down he isn’t ready for that.

Or as of recently, just doesn’t have the time because of Mr. Barnes. The highly demanding wedding planner on the phone who keeps asking for nearly impossible deliveries and maybe Steve would like to personally strangle him. Maybe.

(There is pie. And misunderstandings. But a lot more desserts and eye rolls.)

So Alive ♥ from the Brooklyn Heights Books Series by GottaSaveBucky (Cosmic_Entity_1of4) - Words: 109,074 (Series Total: 165,440 + ongoing) | Bookstore!AU (sort of), Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, DKink

A man wearing a light denim jacket over a dark blue shirt came into the shop, a box tucked under his right arm. Despite it being late afternoon, he was wearing sunglasses with bright blue lenses, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy little bun. A few strands had escaped, framing his strong, unshaven jawline. The man looked into the café, smiled widely, and waved in Clint’s direction as he kept walking into the bookstore, and Steve’s mouth went completely dry.

Beautiful, was the only word to describe that smile; straight, white teeth framed by full, lush, red lips, bracketed by laugh lines and an adorable dimple in his right cheek, a charming little chin cleft just visible under the light stubble—Steve was struck literally speechless. And that was before he got a glimpse of the man’s backside. Slim hips and a round, firm-looking ass led to long, lean legs that were encased in snug, dark blue jeans.

“Guh,” Steve said, watching the dark-haired man continue on to the back of the store.

The Penthouse Suite ♥ by elle1991 - Words: 15,873 | S, DS, BSDM, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, Happy Ending

Bucky Barnes has the chance to earn $5,000 in one night. All he has to do is go to the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel and spend the night with his client, one enigmatic Steve Rogers.

The catch? Steve is a massive pervert, intent on using this one night to satisfy every single one of his many debauched kinks.

Even ignoring the big box of sex toys on the bed, Bucky should have known he was in trouble the moment Steve opened his mouth and said his first words: "My name is Steve Rogers, but you can call me Sir..."

Burnin' For You by GoldBlooded - Words: 15,753 | Firefighter!Steve, Detective!Bucky, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve Rogers is Fire Captain of Brooklyn’s very busy Station 118. He wants three things out of life: People he can count on, for everyone to get through their shifts safe and sound, and for Sergeant James Barnes to get the hell off of his arson scene.

James Barnes is Detective Sergeant of Brooklyn’s very busy 107th Precinct. He wants three things out of life: A decent cup of coffee, good leads to chase, and for Captain Steven Rogers to get the hell off of his arson scene.

Everyone knows to steer clear when these two have to deal with each other. Everyone knows about their mutual dislike and sometimes hatred. But what everyone doesn't know? How they got to be like that in the first place.

Collar Full of Chemistry ♥ from the Rich People Are Wild Series by 2bestfriends - Words: 188,437 (Series Total: 219,519) | Heavy BDSM, DS, S, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve is very rich and desperate to feel in control of his life again after a recent divorce has left him feeling bitter and lonely. When he keeps crossing paths with a disaster twenty-something, an unconventional solution presents itself. Steve's always been one for following his instincts.

Bucky is very broke and can't seem to catch a break, especially after some asshole fires him for one fucking mistake. So of course, it follows that he should sign a contract agreeing to do everything and anything that same asshole wants for a whole year in exchange for a payout that could finally change his life for the better.

Toothpaste Kisses ♥ by buckybees - Words: 18,736 | Dentist!Steve, Patient!Bucky, Amputee!Bucky

Sitting in the horribly antiseptic gateway to hell, otherwise known as the waiting room, Bucky was deeply reassessing his life choices. Maybe if he didn’t eat ice cream for every meal this wouldn’t have happened.

Steve's a dentist, Bucky's a patient. You know the drill.

Out of the Blue ♥ by IsabellaJack - Words: 37,564 | PreSerum!Steve, Detective!Bucky (and Sam!), Mystery!Fic

“Does she have family?” Barnes asks again.

Steve tries to remember. “I don’t know.”

“You sing her praises and don’t know a simple info like that?” Barnes huffs, looking irritated.

Love Is An Ocean Wide by fancyh - Words: 29,009 | Shapeshifter!AU, Orca!Bucky, Marine Biologist!Steve

When marine biologist Steve Rogers helps to rescue an injured orca from the marine traffickers Hydra, he has no idea how his life will change. Once rehabilitated, the orca is released and disappears, and a despondent Steve throws himself into his work, only to feel a spark when a new volunteer arrives, a man with one arm and curiously familiar blue eyes.

Bucky has lived in the ocean his whole life. But when his family is killed and his sister captured by Hydra, he is forced to turn to humans for help. One human in particular intrigues him, a man by the name of Steve. As Bucky comes ashore to search for his sister, he finds himself falling for the man, but dangerous secrets still stand between them.

Includes clueless-about-humans Bucky, heart-eyes-Steve, and lots of Very Important rocks.

Innocent Until ♥ by L1av - Words: 136,866 | Lawyer!Bucky, Defendant!Steve, DS, BDSM, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Bucky Barnes made a name for himself as the attorney who could get anyone off, but he still lives by the saying, "Innocent until proven guilty." Steve Rogers finds himself on trial for multiple homicides but he swears he was only trying to protect a girl. Bucky's been in this business long enough to know when someone's innocent, and Steve is innocent. Steve already feels like a monster and Bucky's worried this guy's going to lay himself on the sword come his trial. So Bucky offers up another course for punishment:

Turns out, chains and whips really excite Steve.

Brooklyn Syndrome ♥ by lordelannette - Words: 158,350 | DARKFIC, Dark!Steve (VERY DARK, heed the tags, you have been warned) Doctor!Steve, Writer!Bucky, Kidnapping, Slow Burn, Graphic Violence

Bucky's back was pressed against the cold floor and he stared through blurry eyes as Steve stood over him. He was trying to push himself as far away as he could, using his hands and bare feet to slide himself out from between Steve's legs but he couldn't find purchase against the wooden floor. Steve's legs were locked on both sides of his hips and Bucky couldn't move, couldn't get away, and the room was swimming before his eyes and he couldn't focus, couldn't think straight. All he could make out was the hazy figure of Steve towering over him and he lifted his arm to push uselessly at Steve's shin.

"P-please," Bucky whispered. His voice was weak, like him, and his jaw trembled as Steve reached down.

Steve slid down onto the floor and effortlessly gathered him into his strong arms, cradling Bucky to his chest as he leaned against the wall. "Bucky," Steve breathed. One of his large hands slid gently into Bucky's hair, the other curving against his spine and pulling him even closer. "You're mine now, remember?"

Steve's grip tightened then it all went black.

lay me down (tell me i've been found) by coffeeinallcaps - Words: 25,188 | Modern!AU, DS, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

The collar is a little on the heavy side, and incredibly soft against Bucky's skin. Even softer than he thought it would be. It seems to fit snugly, and for a second he feels like he can't breathe. Then, Steve slides two fingers under the collar and runs them along the inside, almost all the way around. Bucky shivers. Goose bumps spread down his back, his arms. "How does it feel?" Steve murmurs, hooking his fingers into the ring and giving a gentle tug on it. Bucky swallows. Nods.

(In which billionaire businessman Steve shows up and turns Bucky's life into an improbable fantasy.)

All Those Things You've Always Pined For by LavenderProse - Words: 92,142 | Family Man (2000) aka the Nicholas Cage movie AU, Domestic, Kid!Fic, PreSerum!Steve

“Steve Rogers. I haven’t thought about him in…God, at least ten years. Probably longer." “Who is he?” Sharon asks, and perches on the corner of his desk, hands folded in her lap. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Bucky clears his throat, tosses the sticky note onto the desk. “Steve was…my college boyfriend. We almost got married.”

It's been fifteen years since Bucky Barnes left Steve Rogers standing in a New York airport and never saw him again. Those fifteen years have brought him wealth and stability; everything his lower middle class Brooklyn upbringing had not provided. He is happy. He doesn't want for anything. He doesn't need anything. That's about to change.

Karma's A Fake Orgasm ♥ by daisymondays - Words: 51,637 | College!AU, Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Slow Burn

There’s another abandoned mug, festering with mould in the living room — Steve offically has the world's worst roommates. And complains about them. Often. Bucky, tired of his lack of action, decides it’s time to avenge Steve's sleepless nights and unsanitary conditions once and for all. They’ll pretend to be the world’s most annoying couple: excessive PDA, loud fake sex, and general repugnance. The plan sounds easy enough; it will be strictly platonic. Or will it?

I'll Be Your Shield by 17 pansies (17pansies) - Words: 23,332 | Bodyguard!Steve, Rich!Bucky, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"If he's just minor nobility, why does he need a bodyguard?" Steve shoved the folder which held Barnes' details towards the middle of the table. "He's not exactly prime kidnap material."

"His parents aren't worried about kidnapping," Fury said. "They need someone to steer him away from the dumb ass situations he keeps getting into."

"You mean he needs a babysitter." Steve sat back and folded his arms. "Seriously."

I think this is a pretty diverse list :) There’s a good sample of everything here, some old fashioned post TWS recovery fics, some good dom steve/bucky, slow burns, fake pretend relationships and so forth!

PS: I’m on AO3 with more bookmarks plus my own hurt/comfort fics if anyone is interested :P

[creampuffqueen]

Getaway Car - Cresswell, TLC Shipweeks 2021 (Criminal AU)

a/n: Hello!!!! TLC fandom! It's been quite a while since I did anything for y'all! But here I am, back from the dead, with an unholy amount of one single fic for the ship weeks. I was going to post this yesterday, since that was Cresswell's AU day (I think, I wasn't originally planning to post anything so I wasn't keeping track, but I listened to Taylor Swift's song Getaway Car and got a Vision) but sadly my ideas were too large to complete in one day! So take this now!

Word Count: 13142 (yes, I know)

Summary: In an alternate universe, Cress and Thorne are partners in crime, literally. They may also be in love with each other, literally.

Warnings: Contains mentions of guns, violence, underage drinking, cursing, and a lot of crime

~~~~

“Cress, you got me?” Thorne’s voice crackled over the speaker of the burner phone, right into the waiting ears of the person he needed most.

His getaway car, Cress Darnel.

“Loud and clear!” She replied, twisting the key in the ignition of the old car. The engine roared to life under her touch, and the young woman sped out of the alleyway. “Keep going, I’ll be there. You know what to do.”

“We’ve done this almost a dozen times; I know what to do!”

The blonde cracked a grin to herself, “Sure you do. You’d be lost without me.”

“You got that right! See you in two! Mwah!” With that last endearment, the line went dead, and Cress chucked the cell phone out the window with an exasperated smile. She was parked close enough that the rendezvous spot only took her one minute, sixteen seconds to reach.

Timing was of the utmost importance to this mission. Even a few seconds too late and everything would end.

This was proven approximately thirty-eight seconds later, when Carswell Thorne, renowned criminal, tore around the corner, half-zipped duffel bag slung over a shoulder. He had a gun, but both he and Cress knew it wasn’t loaded, it was just for show.

The doors were unlocked, the car had a full tank of gas, and Cress was a very good driver. “Floor it!” Thorne shouted, and Cress didn’t have to be told twice.

When the police arrived, approximately twenty-two seconds later, they, and all evidence, were long gone.

~~~~

After an hour of driving, it was getting dark. Thorne discreetly hotwired a new car in a full supermarket parking lot, and the duo was on their way.

Another hour of driving, and Thorne took over the controls from the younger woman, letting her nap in the passenger seat. She curled up in a little ball, so small she didn’t even stick out of the seat. When she was fast asleep with her cheek squished against the window, Thorne finally risked a glance over to his partner.

It was strange to think they’d only known each other for a few months. Well, six months, two weeks, and five days, to be exact.

He’d tried to stop himself from keeping count. It hadn’t worked. Six months, two weeks, and five days of Cress Darnel being in his life.

It was about nine o’clock, so the traffic was beginning to thin a bit. They were in one of the busiest parts of the city, easy to blend in with their average-looking car. Someone honked behind him, and Thorne gave a glance in his rearview mirror. Whoops.

The day had been long and exhausting. Time to start working on a place to hunker down for the night. Cress shifted a bit in her sleep, and a loud grumble cut through the car. Okay, time to find some food, too.

He drove around the city a bit more, making sure nobody was on their tail, before finally exiting to the more sparsely-populated areas. Where you paid for your room in cash and nobody asked questions.

It was eleven o’clock by the time he finally found someplace suitable enough. He drove through a fast food joint nearby, then finally parked the car. Nudging Cress awake as he exited, he wordlessly passed her the food before heading inside.

Most of the rooms were sold for the night, but they thankfully had one available with two twin beds.

He found Cress devouring her burger like she hadn’t eaten in years. And-

“Hey, fry-stealer!” He chuckled, snatching his bag, “Eat your own!”

She gave him a look with those big blue eyes and something inside him melted. “I already ate mine.”

Thorne rolled his eyes, but passed her a couple more fries anyway. “This means you have to carry your own bag, you know.”

That statement earned him another pout, but he ignored it, instead grabbing his suitcase and the duffel bag containing today’s goods.

He left Cress to her own devices, heading inside the room and grabbing the shower first. His food would be cold, sure, but at least he’d get all the hot water he wanted.

When he came out again, toweling off his hair and rubbing his freshly-shaven face, Cress was inside, passed out on top of her hotel-made bed.

Thorne sighed, but couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed. It was exhausting, having so much brainpower all the time.

He tugged off her shoes, placing them neatly by the bed, in case they needed a quick escape. Then, gently, almost reverently, he tucked her under the covers.

He couldn’t resist. Making sure she was fully asleep, he pressed a soft, tiny kiss on top of her perfect golden hair.

“‘Night, Cress.”

He was fast asleep himself before he heard her reply.

“Goodnight.”

~~~~

The pair made an early departure, before other residents rose from their slumber and possibly compromised their location. Since Thorne had driven for so long yesterday, Cress felt it was only fair that she drove. It was a bit strange, she admitted, usually she was the night owl and he the early bird. But yesterday had been hard. It took a lot of planning to pull it off that smoothly.

By the time the sun rose, the pair was at least an hour away from the motel. Cress got them both coffee at a little roadside place, then pulled off to the side so they could enjoy it.

“You always get my order right,” Thorne chuckled, leaning against her as they sat in the open trunk of the car. “I’ve got a very sensitive palette, you know.”

Cress snorted, “You sure do. That’s just pure sugar in a cup right there.” She took a big gulp of her own brew, which was almost pure espresso.

“I don’t know how you can drink literal dirt water!” Thorne protested, “It’s so nasty!”

Cress bumped his shoulder again, still smiling. He grinned right back at her, before turning his eyes back to the early-morning sun.

“You ever think you’d get to see stuff like this? Do stuff like this?”

Cress could think of a thousand different witty remarks to toss back at him, mostly along the lines of “Being a wanted criminal? Absolutely.”, but for whatever reason, she held her tongue, instead replying, “No. Back then I didn’t even know when I’d see the sun next.”

Thorne turned his blue eyes over to her, squeezing her hand in a silent comfort. This close, she noticed that he’d shaved last night. And was letting his roots grow out again. Her heart sped up, just a bit.

In the six months she’d known him, he’d changed his appearance so often she was losing count. He always did after a heist, no matter how big or small. He dyed his hair, let his beard grow out, or sometimes simply donned a pair of glasses. Cress hadn’t changed hers since the very first.

~~~~

“Hey, blondie, where are you headed?” Cress whipped her head around to the voice that sounded. Rumbling up beside her was a car, front window rolled down, to reveal a young man, only a year or so older than her.

“None of your business,” She responded warily, curling in on herself a bit.

“Are you lost?” The guy continued, “I could give you a ride.”

“Like I’d get in a car with a strange man. That’s, like, begging to be killed.”

The guy looked actually offended at that. “What? I don’t kill people!”

Cress just rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the offer, but no.”

She turned away, hitching her backpack higher. She’d chickened out again. Sybil would be home any minute and she needed to get home. Her pace quickened, and the car and the guy rolled off.

Little did she know, that certainly wasn’t the last she’d see of him.

~~~~

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.” Cress pulled the duffel bag of stolen material towards her, beginning to rifle through it while Thorne watched. The late afternoon sun filtered through the window, turning her golden hair into an illusion of fire.

They’d ditched the car yet again, this time nabbing one from a used car parking lot. Now they were in a small town that the highway ran through, alone in a back alley, the only company being an alley cat in the trash and a couple further down that were too caught up in each other to notice anything.

Inside the bag, Cress pulled out treasure after treasure. A lot of cash; Thorne had the employees empty all the registers, and a lot of what Cress needed: Computer parts.

She had an old, run-down laptop, one of the few things taken with her from her previous life in the quiet suburbs. She would have had Thorne steal another laptop, but those were too traceable these days, even if they were brand new.

So manual upgrades it was.

Computers were her specialty, always had been. And now that she was a part of this merry band of two, her computer and her skills were integral parts to everything they did.

As it turned out, the most recent robbery had yielded exactly what she needed, and more. She gave a squeal of delight after unearthing a certain part, hugging it close to her chest.

A little chuckle sounded behind her, and Cress whipped her head around. Thorne was grinning ear-to-ear, the kind of smile that made her face heat up. “Happy, Goldilocks?”

Her face burned, and she twisted her fingers in her shoulder-length locks of hair. But she met his eyes and nodded. “Really happy. This is exactly what I needed.”

Thorne’s smile softened. “Anything for you, Princess.”

And somehow, deep inside her, she knew he was speaking the truth.

~~~~

Cress sprinted along the side of the road, the grass scratching at her bare legs. Her whole head throbbed, and her left wrist was sprained for sure. Every step pulled at the bruising on her stomach, and it was a struggle to keep moving, keep the backpack on her shoulders, keep moving.

“I’m eighteen now, she can’t hurt me anymore. I’m eighteen now, she can’t hurt me anymore,” She murmured over and over to herself, a mantra to keep her sore legs moving. She needed to leave, needed to keep moving.

She risked a glance behind her. Her heart froze.

Car lights were coming up the road. Fast.

Cress started running faster, biting her lip to keep from sobbing, keep from just keeling over and dying right there. She could beat her. She could escape. She just had to keep moving.

It was the middle of the night, there was no way anyone else but Sybil was driving that car. There was nowhere to hide. All she could do was keep going, and hope that maybe she sped right past. It was foolish, but it was all she had.

Her foot slipped into a small dip in the earth, and her whole ankle screamed, sending her toppling into the dirt. Coughing and sputtering, she pushed herself up, stumbling forward. The tears came, fast and hard and unstoppable. The lights were nearly on top of her now.

And that’s when she saw it. Another car, coming towards her. Her last chance.

Cress nearly toppled over herself in her haste, tumbling into the middle of the road, in the path of the incoming car. As expected, it screeched to a stop, the driver slamming on the horn.

“Help!” Cress screamed, as Sybil’s car pulled up behind her, her face illuminated by the other headlights and frozen in fury. “Please help me! She’s going to hurt me!”

“Crescent Moon!” Sybil bellowed, and Cress backed up against the other car. The driver’s door opened. And out stepped the most handsome man Cress had ever seen in her life.

Okay, she was definitely dreaming. She gave herself a tiny pinch.

Maybe not.

The man… he seemed familiar, somehow. She couldn’t quite place it.

“Cress,” Sybil snarled, stomping over, “Get in the car, now.” Her tone left no room for argument. Cress curled in on herself.

“Hey,” The man replied, “Who the hell are you?”

“Her mother.”

“Foster mother,” Cress interjected softly. “And I’m eighteen. You don’t own me anymore.”

If Sybil’s face could get more furious, it did. The man glanced between them, brows creasing as he took in Cress’s limp, her black eye, the way she held her stomach.

“You heard the girl. She doesn’t belong to you, witch.”

Sybil lunged, grabbing Cress’s sprained wrist. She screamed in pain, and the man moved.

And suddenly he was pointing a gun at her foster mother. Everyone froze.

“Let her go.” He said, “Leave her alone.”

Sybil backed away. “I’ll call the police, boy. You can’t threaten me.”

The gun clicked. He armed it. He pointed it straight at Sybil.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s eighteen. And if she comes willingly, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

And Cress really couldn’t say why, exactly, but in that moment she knew that he was truthful. That his words made sense, and more than that, she would go with him.

“I’m going with him, Sybil.” For the first time in her life, Cress Darnel was being brave. And it wasn’t a dream.

The man turned to her, flashing a grin, and Cress recognized him then. The same one who approached her nearly a month earlier.

“Cress, right?” He asked, when Sybil had retreated to her car and driven away, “Nice name. I’m Carswell, but everyone calls me Thorne. Oh, and sorry to scare you like that. This thing isn’t loaded, never has been.”

Cress glanced down the road, at the car growing steadily smaller in the distance. “Thanks for all that, Thorne. You showed up just in time.”

He offered her a hand to shake. “My pleasure, blondie.”

Despite everything, Cress found herself cracking a smile.

~~~~

“So, where to next, milady?” Thorne beamed, spreading a roadmap before them both. They’d finally stopped for the night, and were sitting on some questionable carpet in an even more questionable motel, figuring out their next plan.

“Dunno,” Cress shrugged, “Wherever’s good, I guess.”

“I mean, where you do want to see?” Thorne elaborated. “What’s your dream destination, Cress?”

She gave him a confused look. “Why?”

“You can say Disneyworld. I won’t judge.”

That earned him a snicker and a shove against the shoulder, and he could almost feel his heart swell with affection. She really was adorable, sitting in a tank top and pajama shorts, thick socks rolled around her ankles. He’d do anything to earn that smile again.

“I’m not sure, really. I’ve never had the chance to really think about it.”

“Well surely you must at least know some places. A place you’ve heard, maybe?”

Cress sighed, leaning further against him. “I don’t know, Thorne. What about you? Where do you want to go?”

“Ladies first, Goldilocks.”

“It’s Disneyworld, isn’t it.”

“You could hack their system and get us free tickets! And fast passes for all the rides! It would be great!” He replied enthusiastically.

“I mean in theory, sure, but Disney’s kinda notorious for being fairly unhackable.”

“Damn it.”

Cress yawned, laying nearly in his lap. “Let’s think about it tomorrow, ‘kay?”

Thorne lifted her, bridal style, to her bed, amidst her soft giggles. She sounded like a fairy. “Goodnight, milady. I shall seek thee out in the morning.”

Cress laughed harder, which turned abruptly into a yawn as she tucked herself beneath the covers. “Goodnight, my knight in shining armor.”

~~~~

Over the next few weeks, they travelled to wherever they felt like. The car they had was stolen from a junkyard, so it wasn’t like anyone was looking for it. Sure, it was a piece of crap, but it moved and it did its job.

They moved intermittently between small and big towns, usually only spending a day or two before hitting the road again. Cash was hard to come by, so they mostly resorted to stealing purses and pickpocketing. Cress felt a little bad about it, but hey, they needed to eat.

Things between her and Thorne were… changing. She couldn’t exactly tell how or why, but she knew they were. The change wasn’t bad, but it was different. And strange. And a tiny bit scary.

She’d find her gaze naturally finding his at any given moment, catch herself staring when she shouldn’t. She laughed at his dumb jokes more, focused on the sound of his voice when she should be focusing on the road.

He hadn’t changed his appearance in a long time. His hair was its natural shade of golden brown again, and he kept his face clean-shaven. The dumb glasses had been broken and dumped some time ago.

And it wasn’t just her that was staring, either. She felt his eyes, sometimes saw them too, when he thought she wasn’t looking. He was doing more and more to make her laugh. And he wasn’t being as careful to make sure she was asleep before he kissed her head goodnight.

Cress didn’t really know what to make of these changes. She couldn’t tell if these were good or bad. She wasn’t used to this, these butterflies in her stomach, this heat in her face. Sybil kept her isolated her whole life, and she was just now starting to really experience the world. Was it right to fall for the first guy her age she met?

Because she realized that’s what it was. They were in a moderately sized town, and were walking around the downtown area, looking for a place to eat and also some easy targets to fund said meal.

Sadly, this wasn’t an easy crowd. They had eyes in the backs of their heads, and after nearly an hour, they only had a meager ten dollars to show for it between them.

“Hey, chin up,” Thorne grinned, “We’ll be fine. I think I saw a fast food place up there, follow me.”

He grabbed her hand, and Cress couldn’t stop the dopey grin that found a permanent residence on her face. He’s holding my hand.

Unfortunately, it was a high end fast food place. The kind that had “gourmet” food at a third of the price of a fancy restaurant. Even the cheapest item on the menu really meant one meal to split between them both.

“You should eat, Cress.”

“No,” She protested, “Let’s find somewhere else. We both need to eat.”

He shrugged. “It’s late. Just promise to give me a bite, okay?”

She would have argued more, but she was really hungry. So, begrudgingly, she made her way to the register and bought dinner.

That was when she really realized what they were. He smiled at her the whole time while she ate her fill, head resting on his hands. He took the bite she offered, and refused any more. She knew he was hungry. And yet, he let her eat.

Anything for you, princess.

~~~~

Surprisingly, the guy hadn’t killed her yet. Weird. It had been three days. And he was still being nice to her.

They’d stayed in a motel nearby. Two separate beds. He’d been a perfect gentleman the entire time. He helped her ice her sprains and bruises every day. He made sure she was comfortable.

“Are you sure you really wanna be hanging out with me, Goldilocks?” He asked on the dawn of the fourth day, “There’s nowhere else you’d rather be?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” She responded suspiciously. It’s not like she had anywhere to go, anyway.

“No, no, of course not!” Thorne insisted. “It’s just, weird, I guess. People don’t hang out with me willingly too much.”

“Why?”

He dramatically brushed his hair out of his eyes, “I’m just too good for them I guess.” Then he met her gaze with a serious look. “No, it’s because I’m a criminal.”

“Yeah, I kinda guessed.” Also she’d looked him up as soon as she had some time alone. It wasn’t hard to unseal his juvenile record, where she found he’d been arrested several times for theft. And once for grand larceny at seventeen, which was honestly kind of impressive. That also explained where all the money was coming from.

“Oh.”

Cress awkwardly looked away. “I mean, it’s whatever. I don’t care that much how you make money.”

“I promise I don’t steal from old ladies or hobos or anything like that.” Cress blinked at that. How had he known that was worrying her?

He seemed to also understand that, too. “You’re literally an open book, princess. You’re not good at hiding your emotions.”

That was their last interaction for the day. He left around lunchtime with an empty duffel bag, and Cress decided to look the other way, for now. She made herself comfortable the rest of the time, before finally falling asleep around nine o’clock.

She’d barely been asleep thirty minutes, according to the clock on the bedside table, when Thorne burst inside the room with a gasp.

“What’s going on?” Cress grumbled as he flicked on all the lights.

“Get up, we have to go. The police are right on my tail, I won’t lose them for long.”

Well, that was one hell of a wake up call.

Thorne was tossing his stuff haphazardly into his own backpack, shouting at Cress to do the same. The duffel bag on his shoulder was full, and Cress caught a small glimpse of green on the inside. Money.

Being inside the motel for four days, her things were strewn about. She was taking too long. With only her laptop and about half her clothes packed, Thorne decided it was time, and dragged her out of the motel room.

Cress was barely inside the car before he floored it, screeching out of the parking lot. His blue eyes were wide, but nearly as terrified as she expected.

Of course, she realized later, he’s an adrenaline junkie. He lives for these kinds of moments.

But at that moment, all her focus was on the road as Thorne sped through the streets, heading as fast as the car could go for the highway. In minutes, a police car was on their tail. Thorne pressed the pedal harder.

“How did this even happen?” Cress gasped, trying in vain to take her mind off the sirens behind them.

“Someone called 911 before I was done. I didn’t notice the phone until too late. Stupid mistake on my part.”

“You know,” She suggested, the seatbelt holding her tight against the seat as they screamed around a turn, “You could have just bought a signal blocker beforehand, that way nobody could call at all.”

“A what?”

“A signal blocker. They’re super cheap at like, any electronics store. Hell, I could have done it for you. It’s not that hard; it was one of the first hacker-y things I learned.”

Thorne turned to her with a grin. “You can do that?!”

“Yes. Eyes on the road!”

Many terrifying minutes later, they’d shaken off the police tail and made it to the freeway. Thorne’s smile was huge, and his attitude was becoming infectious.

“That was awesome! We totally knocked them off our trail!”

Cress chuckled awkwardly. “Yep. Except now we’re both wanted criminals.”

Thorne raised an eyebrow. “Both?”

Cress flushed. “Yeah, these windows aren’t tinted. They probably all saw me, and now I’m an accomplice to robbery.”

“Well then, Goldilocks, I think it might be time to show you my post-heist ritual.”

Thorne waved off her questions for another half hour, before he deemed it safe enough to get off the freeway and find a gas station. They parked and headed inside, keeping their heads down and both wearing hoodies. (This was the first of many of Thorne’s hoodies Cress stole).

In the abandoned bathroom, Thorne finally showed her what he was talking about. His hair, naturally a golden brown, was dyed black, and the stubble he’d been growing was shaved off as well.

Then it was her turn.

“Cut or dye?” Thorne asked, holding scissors in one hand and a box dye in the other.

She twisted a strand of her long, golden hair around a finger. Goldilocks. He called her Goldilocks. She liked that.

“Cut.”

“Awesome. I’m a great hairstylist. It’s my true calling.”

“So it’s not actually crime you’re called to?” Cress snickered as he began to snip.

“Well, that too. Crime and styling hair.”

“What a combo.”

When he was done, her hair littered the floor of the bathroom. Cress couldn’t stop staring, or running her hands through it.

“Does this make you my official partner, Goldilocks?” Thorne asked with a smile.

“I think it does.”

It was nice to be a part of something.

~~~~

“I’m bored.” Cress complained, splayed out on her bed.

“Uh huh,” Thorne replied, eyes flicking through a magazine he’d snatched that morning.

“I’m tired of pickpocketing.”

“I know you are, princess,” He turned a page, still not looking at her.

“Let’s go rob somewhere.”

That sure got his attention.

“I’m sorry,” Thorne started, “But did I just hallucinate? You want to rob someplace?”

Cress sat up to look him in the eye. “I mean, I don’t want to do the actual robbing. You do that. But I haven’t been your getaway car in weeks, and I’m bored.”

Thorne gave her a thoughtful look. “It has been a while. And I am tired of not being able to afford things.”

“So let’s do it!”

Her partner in crime glanced around the shitty motel room. “Not here. We need to find a better town.”

“Well, duh.” Cress fished around in Thorne’s bag and procured the road map. “It’s gotta be a bigger town than this hole-in-the-wall kind of place.”

So that was how the rest of their night went. Searching for a town nearby that was big enough to have a variety of places to choose from. A quick jog from the freeway, preferably, and with a low rate of crime to ensure police wouldn’t be super prepared for something like this.

It took another day of pickpocketing before they had enough for food and gas money, but they did it. Set out on the road, a plan in motion. Cress almost couldn’t believe it. She was the one who suggested robbery.

That beaten-down girl from the suburbs far away was long gone now. Instead, the new Cress was in her place. The Cress that was confident in her abilities.

And, of course, the Cress who was also hopelessly in love with her best (and only) friend.

They reached the town quickly enough. They’d driven for longer hours before. However, they’d set out later than they wanted, and as such reached their destination much later than they wanted. It was almost one in the morning when they finally pulled up to a motel just outside their chosen city’s limits.

“You got any rooms?” Thorne asked the night manager through a yawn.

“Yeah, just one though.”

“Whatever, we’ll take it.”

The rest of the transaction was quick and wordless. Cress was slumped against Thorne’s side, nearly asleep on her feet. He grabbed the room key and they trudged to the room, both half-asleep.

He unlocked the door. They stepped inside, just like they had dozens of motel rooms.

This one, however, was markedly different.

Instead of their regular two beds, this one only had one.

Taking in the scene, Cress woke up a bit, stiffening slightly.

“Shit,” Thorne mumbled, “This isn’t right.”

“It’s the last room available,” Cress reminded him.

“Right. Okay, I’ll take the floor. Just toss me one of those pillows and I’ll be good.”

Cress snorted. “I’m not doing that. You just drove all day. I’ll take the floor.”

“What? No way. Take the bed, Cress.”

“No, you.”

“No, you.”

“No, you.”

With a loud groan, Cress finally said, “Fine! We both take the bed! It’s not that big of a deal.”

Thorne’s eyes went a bit wider. Cress could feel her face start to warm. She looked away.

“I- no, that’s-”

“Goddamn it, shut up and sleep in the bed. We’re big kids, you take one half and I’ll take the other.”

And that was that. Neither bothered to change, as tired as they were, instead just slipping their shoes off and climbing into bed.

The first thing Cress noticed about sharing a bed was that it was warm. Really warm. This was fantastic, as she was always cold when she slept.

“Cress, what are you-”

“Shut up,” She sighed, as she curled herself closer to Thorne’s body, “You’re warm.”

“Oh.”

Not only was her whole body warm, but her face was burning. This was a bad idea. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Thorne was stiff in her arms, and she squirmed closer.

“Relax. I can’t sleep if you’re stiff as a board.”

“Sorry,” He whispered. He became a little less tense, which Cress decided was good enough.

In minutes, they were fast asleep.

~~~~

Cress woke up cold. Which totally sucked, because she’d gone to bed nice and warm. When she cracked open her eyes, she noticed that the bed was markedly empty.

Sitting up, she looked around for Thorne, but caught no sight of him. She sat up further, looking over the edge of the bed.

Oh.

He was sleeping on the floor, snoring very quietly. He took the scratchy blanket the motel provided, along with one of the towels and a pillow, and had made himself a place on the floor.

Cress’s face positively burned. Burying her face in her pillow, she let out a silent scream of embarrassment and frustration.

She’d thought into it too much. Of course he didn’t like her like that, why would he? She was just some random girl he’d picked up off the road, the brains of his criminal operation. He wasn’t secretly in love with her. He never was.

It was early. And she was still tired. But just to make sure she didn’t wake him up, Cress slipped into the bathroom to have the cry she so desperately needed, before tiptoeing back to bed and falling asleep once more.

She woke up many hours later, to the sun shining bright into her face. Thorne was awake, she determined by the shadow moving about the room.

“Hey there, Goldilocks,” Thorne chuckled, “Was that bed just right for you?”

“Yeah, it was fine,” She replied, not meeting his gaze. “What time is it?”

He snorted again. “Noon.”

“Damn.”

He tossed her a bag, which she caught quickly. “Lunch. Or, for you, breakfast.”

She couldn’t help the small laugh at that. “Thanks.”

The day passed slowly after that. Cress showered, thankful for the hot water to rinse off the grime and the feelings of the past few days. She and Thorne watched shitty reality TV that was on at three pm, laughing when he got way too into Say Yes to the Dress. Finally, they couldn’t ignore the rumbling of their stomachs anymore, and decided to go find dinner.

Of course, in order to get dinner, they needed money. Something they were in short supply of. Time to work the crowd again.

They had morals about who they pickpocketed. Or, really, Cress did. If she wasn’t around she was sure Thorne would definitely be an old lady purse-snatcher. But he always made sure to only steal from well-off people ever since Cress joined him.

Her gaze followed a man dresses in nice clothes from where they sat on a bench, Thorne’s arm slung over her shoulder in an effort to look casual. She nudged him, pointing at the target with her eyes.

“Nah, that Rolex is fake. He’s only pretending to be rich. But that guy over there-” He pointed out someone else, and Cress started up the act.

“Sir!” She chirped brightly, stepping directly in his path. The man started, taking in the tiny girl before him.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m trying to find my cousin, have you seen him?”

The man glanced around. “What does he look like?”

Cress stood on her tiptoes, gesturing as she spoke, “About this high, same hair and eyes as me. I just saw him, I don’t know how I got lost!”

From behind the man, Thorne gave her a conspiratorial wink as he plucked the wallet from his back pocket. The look was clear. Keep working him.

“I saw him over there last, do you see him? It’s hard to see with this crowd.” She pointed away, keeping his attention elsewhere as Thorne rifled through the wallet, stuffing bills and coins in his own pockets.

“No, I’m really sorry. Maybe try calling him.” The man gave her a smile, and began to walk away. As he retreated, Cress spotted the bulge in his back pocket, where the empty wallet had been replaced.

“Thanks for your help, mister!”

She turned to Thorne as they made their way to a more secluded corner of the street, “How’d we do?”

“Great, actually! That guy had a lot of cash on him. Let’s go eat.”

As they walked, Cress was suddenly aware of Thorne grabbing her hand, holding her close. She glanced up at him, heart pounding.

He just smiled. “Wouldn’t want to lose you for real.”

~~~~

“Drive!” Thorne shouted, slinging his whole body into the car.

“But-” Cress protested.

“DRIVE!”

“Okay, okay, geez!” Cress pressed the gas, but Thorne sat up behind her.

“Faster! Cops will be here any minute!”

Cress’s heart was in her throat as she sped up. “But I blocked the signal.”

“And you said it yourself, it only holds for as long as the satellite is in position, which it will be out of any time! We’ve gotta go! Faster!”

So Cress went faster. At Thorne’s instruction, she did her best to throw off the tail of anyone who could be following. Screaming around turns, suddenly going back the way she just came, tearing through alleyways and side streets. She ran every red light she could, narrowly avoiding accidents multiple times.

“Maybe you should drive,” She suggested after a few minutes, but Thorne shook his head with a smile.

“Nah, you’re pretty good at this. I knew you had it in you.”

Eventually, they made it out of town, a bag full of stolen cash and goods. Thorne took over driving, but only after Cress stopped the car and demanded it.

“So, you hungry?”

“Huh?”

“Are you hungry?” Thorne repeated. “You did great today. You deserve a treat.” After a glance at a sign on the road, he asked, “Does Sonic sound good?”

“I guess. I’ve never had it.”

His jaw dropped. “You’ve never had it? Jesus Christ, your life is sad.”

Cress wrapped her arms around herself, glancing down. Thorne seemed to realize his mistake. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s fine,” Cress lied, not meeting his eyes. “Let’s get this Sonic thing or whatever.”

“You’re gonna love it, Goldilocks. Promise.”

He was right. She did love it. And as they sat, eating greasy fast food beneath the stars, the earlier argument was forgiven and soon forgotten.

Cress promised herself that night that her life would never be sad, not ever again.

~~~~

“This is literally the worst idea, idiot,” Cress groaned, standing awkwardly outside a place she really didn’t belong: The local liquor store.

“Relax, it’s fine,” Thorne assured her, hauling along a case of White Claws. “You’re eighteen, that’s old enough to have a little drink, I think.”

“You’re not even old enough to legally buy it!” She protested.

He smirked, waving a little card with his other hand. “Fake ID, blondie.”

They made their way back to their motel, still arguing.

“We’re going to be here for a while during the planning part! We can at least have a little fun! It’s not like I’m going to a bar or anything.”

“Yeah, but if the cashier knew it was a fake ID and called the police, everything could be done for!”

His eyes narrowed. “Wait. So you’re not against the principle of underage drinking itself, but rather the fact we could get caught?”

She looked away. “I mean, it’s whatever.”

When the door was locked, Thorne opened up the case and cracked one open. “I like the lime ones the best. You’ll probably like the lemonade one better. Or maybe the raspberry. They’re sweeter.”

Glancing between the curtains and the blinds shut tight, Cress assured herself that nobody was outside, nobody was watching. With a sigh, she opened up a White Claw of her own. “You’ve thoroughly corrupted me, Carswell Thorne.”

“It’s what I do best, sweetheart.”

That was a new one.

They got a little planning done as they drank, but as the night wore on, and they both indulged themselves in another drink, then another, they started caring less and less about the upcoming heist.

Cress noticed she felt different by White Claw number two, but had another, just because she wanted to try all the flavors. Lemonade so far was the best, raspberry a close second. Mango, despite being a good flavor on its own, was actually disgusting. And Thorne had claimed all the limes for himself.

Everything around her was fuzzy. It felt like she was swimming in her own head. And everything was also really funny, too. At one point Thorne burped loudly, and while normally Cress would have groaned and scolded him, this time she began to giggle hysterically.

Thorne shot her a concerned glance. “Okay there, Goldilocks?”

Cress snickered. “You’re funny.”

“Right. And you are drunk. How many-” She noticed his eyes widen at the two empty cans, and the one in her hand. “Shit, Cress, that’s enough.”

He snatched the can from her, and she flopped onto the floor, still laughing. “Everything’s so spinny, Thorne.”

“Yeah, I’m getting you some water. Stay right there.”

“Sir yes sir,” She slurred, then giggled at her own voice.

Water began to run in the little bathroom. What had Thorne said about water again? Curious, she pulled herself up, then stumbled towards the sound.

He doing something at the sink. Cress slipped behind him, then in a sudden burst of immense confidence, wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his strong back.

“Cress?” His voice came out almost strangled. “What are you doing?”

“You’re warm,” She mumbled. “I like hugging you.”

Thorne sighed. “Not that I don’t like hugging you too, you need some water, maybe some Advil, and then you need to go to bed.”

He tried to pull away, but Cress held on tighter. “Noooo, don’t leave,” She whined.

Thorne managed to maneuver himself so instead of being wrapped around his back, she was facing him, chest to chest. “C’mon, Goldilocks, drink some water.”

She gave him her infamous puppy dog eyes, but he shoved the glass in her face. “Drink up.”

“You’re mean,” She muttered, but did as he said and drained the glass. She looked up again, her blue eyes meeting his own. “You didn’t wanna be my snuggle partner last night, and I got cold.”

Thorne looked away, and if she wasn’t so buzzed, Cress might have noticed the blush.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay? Can you dress yourself?”

She definitely had too much liquid courage. “You could help me, if you wanted.”

Thorne pulled away. “No thanks. You seem capable enough. He stepped out of the bathroom, and passed her a pair of pajamas from the outside. “Drink some more water while you’re at it.”

When she opened the door again, she instantly latched onto him again. “Cress,” He chuckled awkwardly, “I can’t move.”

“Then you can’t leave,” She murmured. For some reason she felt really sad now, almost to the point of tears. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never, Goldilocks. Let’s get you to bed.”

He tried to move, but Cress held tighter. “You’re gonna have to drag me,” She warned.

“Not a problem.” In one motion, Thorne swept her off her feet, literally. Carrying her bridal style, her arms wrapped over his shoulders, he carried her effortlessly to the bed. The single bed, that they both shared.

She was laid down on the bed gently, but Cress refused to let go. “Don’t leave me,” She whispered, over and over again. With nowhere else to go, Thorne finally gave in and laid down with her, letting the smaller woman curl against him.

“Goodnight, Cress.”

Her eyes were heavy, but she looked at him anyway. “You always kiss my head goodnight.”

His face flushed harder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She unlatched one hand, tapping the top of her own head. “Right here. Almost every night.”

He couldn’t resist the puppy dog eyes again, she knew. With a sigh, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss on top of her head. Cress gave a happy sigh, and settled down on the pillow.

Neither of them moved all night.

~~~~

Everything hurt the next morning. Her stomach, her joints, her head.

“What in the fuck happened last night?” She mumbled into the shoulder of the person next to her.

The… person in the bed with her.

Cress shot up violently, instantly regretting it as her head throbbed harder. The person the shoulder belonged to groaned, opening up their eyes. Their familiar eyes.

“I feel like shit,” She sighed, as Thorne sat up next to her.”

He chuckled. “I kinda guessed that you would. You overindulged, princess.”

Things were coming back in bits and pieces, though everything was still fuzzy. “Why’d I have so much?”

“You wanted to try all the flavors.”

Right. “Mango tastes like shit,” She lamented, “I’m never drinking again.”

“Then who’s going to help me finish off the case?” Thorne chuckled.

“I would have helped you with the limes if you didn’t hog them all for yourself.”

“Princess, if I let you have a fourth you would have woken up in the hospital.”

“No, not a fourth, I mean instead of the nasty mango-”

Suddenly, as she leaned closer, Thorne winced, and backed away. “Whoa. Hangover breath. You need a shower.”

Cress’s face flushed. “Yeah. I’ll go do that.”

As she washed off the feeling of last night’s mistakes, more memories came back. But not quite everything. She was still missing a chunk: why she and Thorne had woken up in the same bed, after he’d left her alone the night before.

She got dressed, brushed her teeth, and drank some more water, before stepping out of the bathroom with the towel still wrapped around her dripping hair. Thorne stood up to take his own shower, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Hey, did… anything… happen, last night? I can’t remember everything, and if I said something weird-”

“Nah,” Thorne replied with a shrug, “You just got giggly, then suddenly weepy and clingy. You were really set on me not leaving you alone.”

She ducked her head, blushing. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Thorne assured her. “I mean, you’ve never been drunk before, it’s not your fault you didn’t know how you’d respond.” With that, he stepped away, into the bathroom, which was soon filled with the sound of running water.

Cress sighed, glancing around the motel room. Last night’s activities had left it trashed. So while she waited, she cleaned up.

About twenty minutes later, they were both back in the car, on their way for some coffee. Thorne had even decided to get black coffee for once, in an effort to ward away the hangover.

“So…” He started awkwardly, and Cress’s heart stopped. What was he going to say? Had she really embarrassed herself last night?

“You wanna talk about why you were so obsessed with me not leaving? I mean, I know before all this your life was pretty shitty, so I get it if you don’t want to talk, but-”

“My dad left when I was seven.” She stated simply.

“Oh.”

They got their coffee, and headed back to the motel. Thorne met her eyes again with another awkward smile. “You also seemed pretty upset that I slept on the floor the other night.”

Heat rushed to her face. “It’s not that big of a deal, it doesn’t matter that much.”

“Drunk Cress had other things to say.”

She didn’t answer.

Back inside the room, Thorne spoke up. “You wanna know why I slept on the floor?”

She shrugged. “It’s whatever. It’s fine if it was too much or something. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

His blue eyes got big. “No, no, that’s not what happened. Look, Cress, have you ever slept with anybody before?”

“What?!” Her entire face went red, and Thorne’s did as well, when he realized his words.

“Shit, no, not like that. I mean have you ever shared a bed with somebody before?”

“Oh. No, I haven’t.”

“Listen, Cress.” Thorne leaned in close, and her heartbeat somehow sped up and stopped at the same time. “I liked sleeping in the same bed as you. But…”

Oh no.

“You kick. Like, a lot.”

What?

Cress nearly spat out her coffee. “That’s why you slept on the floor?!”

“Yes!” Thorne laughed. “It was all fine and dandy until you kicked me in the groin at three in the morning!”

Her face fell into her hands. “Oh my God.”

“And I mean, I had to save the boys-”

“Shut up! Stop talking!” Thorne gave a loud cackle, and Cress gave into her own hysterical laughter. “That’s what this was all about?”

Things fell back into place easily after that. In fact, they seemed to fall further into place. They plotted and they schemed, searching out their target and making their plan. They never went in blind, and they weren’t about to start now.

And when they slept, they slept in the same bed. Thorne tucked her into his chest, arms holding her steady, and she never felt cold or alone while she slept. To keep from kicking, Cress twined their legs together.

Neither mentioned the obvious shift in their relationship. But they both knew it was growing deeper by the day. They woke up in each others’ arms. Thorne came up behind her randomly during the day to wrap himself around her waist and rest his head on her shoulder. He kissed her head before they slept each night. Cress was never asleep.

The day came, the day they’d been planning for weeks. They were ready. Whatever happened today, they knew that no matter what, they’d always have each other at the end of the day.

~~~~

“Cress, you read me?”

Sitting in the car, ready and waiting for his voice, Cress replied, “I read you. How’d it go?”

“Without a hitch! Incoming in about three minutes.”

“I got you, captain.”

“Ooh,” Thorne chuckled over the speaker, “I like that.”

Cress rolled her eyes. “Focus on running, doofus. I’ll be there.”

“Mwah!” The line went dead, and Cress tossed the burner phone like she always did. She arrived at the rendezvous in two minutes, eight seconds, leaving the doors unlocked for their quick exit.

Thirty-four seconds later, and the familiar sight of Thorne running for his life arrived. With a wild grin, he threw himself and the bag inside, and Cress sped away. At this point, she was an expert at losing the police.

“How much?”

“Close to five thousand!” He beamed. “It’s gonna last us a long time!”

“You’re fantastic,” She grinned back.

“Nah, sweetheart, it’s all you. I’d totally be in jail by now if I hadn’t met you.”

“I mean,” Cress giggled as she sped out to the freeway, “Prison’s always still on the table.”

“Then don’t get us caught, blondie.”

“You wanna stop at a gas station and change your look?”

Thorne glanced in the mirror, seeing they weren’t being followed. “No, I think the ski mask was enough. Plus, I wore the lifts in my shoes just like you said, so they can’t see my real height.”

“Cool. So, where to now?”

Thorne leaned back in his seat. “Wherever your heart desires, milady.”

Cress smiled softly, finding his hand over the center console. “Okay. Let’s go.”

~~~~

They switched cars that night, then kept driving. The adrenaline was keeping Cress going, even as Thorne finally dozed off. She’d forgotten how good that rush felt. Thorne had fully turned her into an adrenaline junkie, the same as him.

During the planning phase, they plotted their escape route thoroughly. There were multiple directions to exit, and they scoped each one out to see what worked the best. In the process, she’d looked extensively at the road map. And for whatever reason, the tiny, blip-on-the-map town called Farafrah was calling to her.

So that was where she went. It wasn’t too far away, but far enough that they’d be safe from the police of the other city. They could lay low for a bit before continuing on. There were so many other places to go. Cress wanted to see it all.

This time, it was Cress who drove through and got dinner. Cress who rented the motel room for the night. And it was Cress who urged Thorne out of the car and inside. Where the single bed was waiting.

They had their routine down pat. They rinsed off, even though it was eleven o’clock, changed into pajamas, and settled down for the night. Cress curled into Thorne’s side, her safe place.

“Goodnight.” Tonight, his kiss was on her forehead. And tonight, it lingered. Cress was smiling as she fell asleep.

Many hours later, she was woken up by another gentle kiss to her head. “C’mon princess, you’ve had enough beauty sleep.”

She rolled over, a contented smile on her face, even if she had to squint at the light coming in through the curtains. “Morning,” she whispered, voice raspy from sleep.

“I’ve found a nice brunch spot. I think you deserve something nice after everything yesterday.”

Cress sat up, scrubbing the sleep from her eyes. “You spoil me.”

“You know it, Goldilocks. I bet this place is gonna be just right.”

That earned him a pillow to the face, Cress rolling her eyes. “You doofus.”

“OH! I’ve been mortally wounded by my dear lady!” Thorne groaned from the floor. Cress peered over at him, only to have the pillow chucked back at her head.

“You don’t know what you’ve just started,” She warned with a smile. Within seconds they were in a full on pillow fight, flinging pillows bath and forth as they screamed with laughter.

After a few minutes Thorne managed to get the upper hand, smacking her right across the face with a pillow. Cress was knocked down on the bed, and he pinned her down with a laugh. A moment later his fingers found purchase under her arms, and he tickled her until she squealed.

“Stop! Stop! I forfeit!” Cress giggled, squirming away. Thorne was panting with laughter, still sitting on top of her.

“Learned your lesson, princess?”

She smacked his face with another pillow and escaped to the bathroom with her clothes.

Finally, nearly half an hour after she woke up- a new low for the duo who could get up and out in three minutes- they made their way to a little brunch spot in the middle of the littler town.

Their waitress was a woman about their age with a prosthetic hand named Cinder. She had a lot of personality, and had enough sarcasm to rival each of Thorne’s witty remarks.

About halfway through the meal (which was delicious), a little idea began to form in Cress’s mind. When Cinder came back to refill their drinks, Cress decided to ask her a question.

“How’d you end up here?”

The waitress shrugged. “Car broke down. Stayed to get it fixed, ended up making some friends and decided to stay. I could ask the same of you two.”

Thorne and Cress glanced at each other, before Cress replied simply, “Travelling through.”

Later, when she came back to deliver the check, Cress asked another question: “If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?”

Both Thorne and the waitress gave her a quizzical look. Thankfully, neither asked for elaboration. Instead, Cinder donned a slightly puzzled look as she thought.

Finally, she responded, “I want to open up a mechanical repair shop. For all kinds of machines.” Her dark eyes lit up as she began to ramble a little bit, about all the kinds of things she could do, what she could learn. But after a minute, her voice took on a slightly somber tone. “But, that’s not gonna happen. I’m always worrying about rent nowadays, I don’t have enough to save for anything.”

“How much is your rent?” Cress continued. The waitress stiffened.

“Why do you want to know?” She asked suspiciously.

Cress squeaked, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, but…” She scrambled for a quick lie.

Thankfully, Thorne picked it up for her. “We’re thinking of moving here. We just wanted to know how much rent was.”

Cinder relaxed. “Oh. Well, it’s about $600 a month.”

Cress smiled, taking the check from their waitress. “Thanks, Cinder. It was great. We’ll fill this out in a minute.”

Clearly dismissed, the woman offered them a smile before departing. When they were alone again, Thorne turned a questioning gaze over to her. “What was that all about?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. I just… wanted to know. She seemed nice.”

“I agree. I’ll give her a good tip.”

Cress’s smile got big. “Wait, let me run back to the car real quick. I want to give her a big tip.”

She came back just two minutes later, her pockets stuffed. Thorne’s eyes got big. “How big a tip do you mean?!”

Cress methodically smoothed the $50 bills out, keeping them out of sight below the table. She tied the stack with a hairtie she kept on her wrist, and stuck it inside the little checkbook left on the table. Just to make sure they were really clear, she scribbled out on the receipt, “The money is for the meal. The rest is for you. Good luck.”

Primly, Cress stood up, brushing her leggings off. She offered her hand to the man sitting next to her, whose jaw was pretty much on the floor. Almost in a daze, he took it, and she led him out to the car.

Finally, back in the motel, Thorne rounded on her. “What the hell, Cress?! How much money did you give her? A thousand? Two?”

“Two thousand.”

“What the fuck! Why?!”

“Because,” Cress took his hand, looking deep into his blue eyes, “She needed it. More than we do, really. Thorne, whenever we run low on money we pickpocket and we steal and we rob. That girl, she’s too good for any of that. And if something like that didn’t happen, she was going to spend the rest of her life stuck in that restaurant, in this town in the middle of nowhere where she’d never grow.”

Thorne sighed heavily, rubbing the back of her hand with her thumb. “I wish you’d at least told me before you did it.”

“Why?”

That gave him pause. “I guess… we’ve been so in sync for months now. I feel like I know you, Cress, more than I’ve ever known anyone. And yet, I had no idea you were nice enough to just give away two thousand dollars to a stranger.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re that nice too, Thorne.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

Cress gave his hand a little squeeze. “If you weren’t that nice, you’d have taken the money back. You like to pretend you’re this big bad hardened criminal, but you’re still good, deep down. You show me that every day.”

At that, he pulled her in for a hug. “It’s because of you, Cress. Blondie. Goldilocks. Princess. Every day, you remind me that there’s still good in the world. Even if it’s not us doing the good. But you… you make me want to be good.”

Cress might have been crying. Thorne was definitely crying, his tears falling into her golden hair. “You saved me. Carswell Thorne, you saved my life that night. I always dreamed when I was little that someday I’d be saved. You’re my knight in shining armor.”

Thorne pulled away, still holding her, still sniffling. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Cress. I hope you know that.”

“I hope you know you’re the same to me.”

~~~~

They decided to stick around in Farafrah for a few more days. They had a bit more money to burn on fun before they got moving again and needed to get back in the swing of their criminal ways. The pair spent the day exploring the little down, taking in the sights. And at night, they cuddled in bed, watching whatever happened to be on TV until they got so tired their eyes were falling closed.

It was the morning of their second day when the objective suddenly changed.

Thorne came into the room, bringing coffee and croissants with him. As well, he’d managed to procure a local newspaper, which he handed to Cress alongside her breakfast.

The pair sat in comfortable silence for about twenty minutes, simply basking in the other’s presence as they ate. When she finished with her croissant, Cress opened up the paper.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

“Cress?” Thorne glanced over when he heard the soft gasp. “What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, she passed him the paper, pointing out an article. It wasn’t hard to miss, in big, bold letter along the top: LOCAL ANIMAL SHELTER UNDER INVESTIGATION DUE TO CLAIMS OF ABUSE AND NEGLIGENCE.

“Shit,” Thorne muttered, “That’s awful.”

“Those poor animals,” Cress lamented with a sad sigh. “I wish we could do something about it.”

For Thorne, he thought that was the end of it. He headed out to go explore some more, but Cress opted to stay behind. He didn’t think too much of it; she was a fairly antisocial personality and had done a whole lot of talking to strangers the past few days. She probably just needed a day to herself to recharge.

What he didn’t expect, however, was to come back several hours later to find empty coffee cups and a couple RedBull cans strewn about, and Cress hunched over her laptop looking nearly frantic.

“Whoa, what’s all this?” She glanced up, and Thorne took a step back. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot.

“Thorne. I’ve got it! I know how we can do something! We can save all those animals! Come here!”

Cautiously, he took a few steps closer. Cress grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him over. She was surprising strong for someone so petite.

And what he saw pulled up on her screen…

HOW TO MAKE A HOMEMADE BOMB

“Whoa! Cress, slow down!”

“But I figured it out! Sit down, I’ll go over it with you!”

He yanked his arm away. “Cress. Look at me. Listen to me. We cannot blow people up because they might be abusing some shelter animals.”

Her blue eyes hardened. “Well, that isn’t the plan. We’re not blowing up people. Even if they deserve it.”

“When did you get so violent all of a sudden?” He took another glance around the room. “I’m never letting you have a RedBull ever again.”

“But-”

“No. No bombs. The police will take care of whatever’s going on with the shelter.”

Cress gestured around the room, almost violently. “How can we trust that?! The police haven’t caught us yet.”

Thorne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. What the hell. Tell me your plan.”

She almost squealed with delight, but he cut in- “That doesn’t mean we’ll do it though. And if you go solo and get caught, I’m not bailing you out for your own mistakes. We don’t bomb. We rob.”

“Okayokayokay, listen up. Here’s how it goes…”

~~~~

It was exactly two months since they’d met, and the new duo had just completed their third heist. They’d robbed a fast food joint after it closed. Cress was really good at finessing the alarms so they didn’t sound as they emptied the registers.

Now, they were still driving. It was late, and Thorne was beginning to doze off. He needed to find a rest stop soon, or risk running them right off the road.

As for Cress, she was quickly headed in the same direction. Her head would tilt forward as she fell asleep, just for a few seconds, then rapidly jerk back, and she’d go back to fighting sleep.

“You can sleep, you know, blondie,” Thorne offered. “I’m looking for a rest stop so we can sleep for a bit.”

“But you’re driving,” She protested through a yawn, “I don’t want you to be alone.”

He cracked a smile at that. “I’m not alone. I’ve got you now.”

“No, but-” Another yawn- “You won’t have anyone to talk to. I’ve gotta keep you awake so you don’t kill us both.”

“I’m not gonna kill us both.”

Her eyes flicked up, out the windshield. “You’re drifting.”

“Shit.” She was right. He rubbed at his eyes, wishing they’d stopped at that gas station a few miles back to grab an energy drink. The rest stop was about two miles ahead, but Thorne was really beginning to struggle.

“Can’t fall asleep…” Cress mumbled, just as her head tilted forward again. Thorne snorted when, once again, she jerked up with a groan of frustration.

“Just sleep, Cress,” Thorne urged gently. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

She gave a cursory glance out the car, seeming to check and make sure he was still driving correctly. Finally, after another long minute, her head titled. She was falling asleep again.

This time, however, she dozed off with her head against his shoulder.

Maybe it was the time of night. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. But for whatever reason, having Cress against his shoulder, safe and sleeping, felt right. More right than anything else had in his nineteen years of life.

They made it to the rest stop ten minutes later. Thorne pulled off to the side and put the car in park before turning it off. Cress snoozed on.

Finally, he could relax. Thorne leaned back with a contented sigh, smiling a bit to himself as Cress nestled further against him.

He wrapped an arm over her shoulder, keeping her close by. And, for whatever reason, that felt right too.

Maybe it was the same reason that caused him to plant a tiny, barely-there kiss to the top of her golden head.

Yeah. It was just the sleep deprivation, for sure.

~~~~

They were doing this. They were actually doing this. Thorne was going crazy. Why had he agreed to this again, exactly? He shot a glance at the blonde woman at his side.

Right. Her. Since when had his judgement been so addled around her?

Always, idiot, his brain reminded him.

Shut up, brain.

They were inside the largely-contested Farafrah Animal Shelter. The same one that was under investigation for abuse and negligence.

Holding his hand, Cress smiled brightly at the man leading them among the cages. Her other hand gripped the straps of her purse. To everyone else, the smile was genuine, but to Thorne, who knew her best, it was as fake as could possibly be.

“And these are all of our felines we have at the moment. Do any of them possibly interest you?”

Cress shot Thorne a smile, this one a bit more real. “Let’s look around, darling, shall we?”

“Of course, my dear.” He gave her his best impression of an adoring look. Little did he know it was about as real as it could get.

“I’ll give you two a moment. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Cress squeezed his hand harder and dragged him to the farthest cage in the room. As they passed cage after cage, they saw the same things they had with the dogs: matted fur, frightened animals, some so scrawny their ribs were evident even from a distance. Neglect. It was bad. They reached the end of the room, and Cress took a glance inside the cage they stood next to.

Instantly, her face lit up as she took in the cat. It was a black and white thing, scrawny really, the nametag reading “Boots”.

“He’s so cute!”

“No.”

“But-”

“That’s not why we came,” Thorne sighed, making sure the man was really gone.

Cress sighed. “But he’s so cute. And wouldn’t it be nice to have a little companion?”

“A cat? As a roadtrip companion?”

“A cat is better to your criminal look, you know. So you can turn around in a chair dramatically while stroking his fur and say ‘I’ve been expecting you’.”

Thorne rolled his eyes. “Life’s not a TV drama, princess.”

“Life is its own drama! Make it your own!”

“How would we even take care of a cat on the road?”

Cress dragged him closer to the cage. “Just look at him. Look at his sad little face. He’d be the perfect roadtrip cat. I just know it.”

Thorne opened his mouth to protest again, but then the black and white furball gave a plaintive mewl and all the thoughts left his brain.

“Okay… he’s kind of cute… I guess.”

Cress nearly squealed with delight. “He is! Besides, think about it; we need a plan to get into the office. It’s the perfect ruse!”

Boots the cat meowed again. “You wanna go commit crimes with us, buddy?” Thorne asked.

“Meow!”

“He says yes,” Cress whispered conspiratorially in his ear. “Let’s get him.”

As they walked to the office, Thorne hung his head in defeat. “I can’t believe I just let you talk me into getting a crime cat.”

The blonde had a bounce in her step, swinging their joined hands delightedly. “You’re fully at my disposal.” Oh, she didn’t know how right she was.

It took a few minutes to reach the office from the kennels, but they both knew that. Cress had hacked the blueprints for the building several days ago, and they’d both memorized them from top to bottom. The offices were the furthest away from the kennels, likely to keep the noise down.

Finally, they reached their destination. Cress knocked politely on the door, bringing out her most innocent look. The one that always served the perfect distraction while Thorne expertly stole their wallet.

The man answered the door after one knock. “Have you made a decision?”

Cress and Thorne locked eyes, then turned back an nodded in unison. “We have.”

The paperwork was extensive, and Thorne was sure he had to sign his name at least a hundred times. He made sure to read carefully, though; Cress had warned him about possible legal traps. By law, animals shelters were required to vaccinate all their animals before adoption, and strongly push the idea of neutering. But in the paperwork, vaccines were of no mention. The entire time, the man simply sat silently with a small serpentine smile.

Finally, after the paperwork was signed and handed back, the man stood, offering Thorne a hand to shake, which he took reluctantly. “I’ll go pick up your new lovebug, okay?”

“May I come with you? Please?” Cress employed the puppy dog eyes. They were about eighty percent effective on Thorne, and that was after he spent months working to resist them. The man stood no chance.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

“I can’t wait! Darling, hold my purse; I want to hold the precious kitty.”

The man herded Cress out of the room, leaving Thorne to sit quietly by himself.

Or so he thought.

When he was sure they were gone, the young man sprung into action. Inside Cress’s purse was a small package, hardly bigger than his hand. A homemade bomb she’d spent days researching. It was activated by a remote control, so it could be jostled as much as he desired and still wouldn’t explode.

It was important it was planted in the office. They would detonate it after hours, so no people would be injured, and it was far enough away to keep the animals unharmed. Their only goal was to make the place unusable, which would then force the animals to be relocated to other shelters where they’d hopefully receive better care.

Thorne moved quickly and efficiently, like he always did with his missions. There was a reason he was such a successful robber; he didn’t get distracted, and he always got the job done. After a minute of rifling around the room, he settle on hiding the bomb in a bookshelf on the far wall. This office’s wall was also an outside wall, so it was nowhere near another living soul. Perfect.

Five minutes later, the pair returned, Cress carrying a new cat carrier. “Here he is, darling! The newest member of the family!”

The goodbyes were quick after that. They made it to the petshop part, where they bought some food and the most important part: a cat leash. They walked out with their new charge, both of them pretending to ignore the front desk lady’s comment of “such of cute couple!”.

“Phase one, complete!” Cress said with a smile, still holding his hand. In the cage, the cat, Boots, seemed to give them almost a grateful look. Almost like he was saying thanks for getting me out of there.

Thorne gave a glance behind him, to the retreating animal shelter. “Phase two in t-minus eleven hours.”

Cress leaned against him as she walked. “Aye aye, captain.”

~~~~

Phase two of their master plan commenced, as said, eleven hours later. The duo spent the next several hours getting acquainted with their new cat, whom they hadn’t even intended on buying. As it turned out, Boots was a fantastic cat. Affectionate and sweet, he warmed up to both of them instantly. And he didn’t seem to mind the car either, one of the most important factors.

Later in the evening, they packed up. Their motel room was paid for another whole day, but that was just a countermeasure. They already had a secondary vehicle in waiting, and would abandon their current one in the motel parking lot. As always, they had everything planned down to the last detail.

Now for the big finale, and the most difficult part, too. Sneak close enough to detonate the bomb, then get away fast enough to not get injured in the blast and not caught up in the investigation.

The sneaking part was easy enough. They’d done that plenty of times. Sure, Thorne had to boost her over a few fences, and they had to do some real super-spy action in a tree to get over a sleeping dog’s head, but they made it without a hitch.

The concrete walls of the animals shelter loomed before them. They tracked around it once, scanning for anyone who could get in their way, and came up empty. Time for the moment of truth.

Cress and Thorne met up at the point, the spot Cress had calculated earlier to give them the best chance of success based on the bomb’s location.

She took a deep breath. Now or never.

Silently, Thorne’s hand laced with her own. Cress held the detonator out in front of her.

And she pressed it.

~~~~

Smoke. Smoke and fire. Smoke and fire and haze and blood and pain-

“Thorne-” Cress gasped, throat rasping, “Something went wrong!”

There was no answer.

Cress suddenly became aware that she was alone. She was lying in the dirt, still gripping the detonator. And Thorne wasn’t with her.

A massive section of the wall was complete dust. Fire and smoke billowed out, clearly originating from the point where the bomb must have been. A few stray papers fluttered about, before they were quickly seized by the flames.

“Thorne?” Her voice was quiet.

“Thorne!” Louder.

“THORNE!” Cress shoved herself up, testing each limb. Everything was in working order. Despite that, she knew something was wrong, so wrong.

The explosion shouldn’t have been that big. She calculated it over and over again, even explained the math to Thorne so he could do it himself. They both got the same answer.

This was not their answer. The fire was spreading quickly. Alarms went off inside, but the spray of water was doing little to quell it.

Nearly robotically, Cress pulled her burner phone from her pocket. She and Thorne had gotten them in case of emergency. They hadn’t expected to use it.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“There was an explosion at the animal shelter. There’s a huge fire. Hurry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Don’t let anyone get hurt. Please.”

She hung up before the operator could speak again. With all her might, she hurled the phone into the fire. By the time they found it, it would just be an unusable hunk of metal.

And then she ran.

All the scheming, all the plotting, all the plans went out the window. It was the dead of night, and Cress ran. She didn’t dare yell for Thorne; she had that much sense left. But with every step she felt it.

Something had gone horribly wrong, somehow. She must have forgotten something in her calculations. Maybe her information was wrong.

If both of them got out unscathed and unarrested, it would be a miracle, she knew it.

So lost in her own thoughts, she nearly ran face-first into someone who had stepped out onto the sidewalk. With a scream, Cress came to a screeching stop, standing and panting as she assessed the situation before her.

The woman was young, with dark hair and eyes and tan skin. And her hand… it was strange. A flash of recognition appeared in her eyes.

“Cinder…” Cress breathed. The other woman startled.

“Oh my God. It’s you.”

“I- it’s not what it looks like-” She followed Cinder’s gaze. Right to the detonator still in her hand.

“I swear, nobody was supposed to get hurt. I already called the fire department, if they get there in time they’ll save the animals-”

“Cress,” Cinder whispered, “Stop talking. Just go. If I see police I’ll cover for you. I promise.”

She stood still. Flabbergasted. “W-why would you do that?”

Cinder shrugged. “Because I know you’re a good person. Maybe you’ve got a convoluted way of showing it, but you’re good. Besides,” she cracked a tiny smile, “It’s thanks to you I might have a shot at my dreams.”

Then her voice took on a note of sudden seriousness. “Get out of here. The Farafrah police are no joke. Take the back alleys.”

Cress nodded numbly. “I will, I just have to find Thorne first.”

Cinder stepped closer, pulling her into a sudden hug. “Thank you. Both you and your dummy boyfriend.”

Cress found herself blushing, despite the situation. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

The other woman smirked. “He should be. He’s madly in love with you. He’d move the heavens and earth for you. Maybe consider telling him how you feel. Of course, after you’ve gotten out of here.”

“Right.” Cress chuckled. “Bye, Cinder. It was lovely meeting you.”

With that final goodbye, Cress began to sprint. Just as Cinder suggested, she took the back alleys. Thorne would be okay. He had to be. He’s okay. He has to be.

By the time she made it to the abandoned parking lot, the rendezvous point, police sirens had joined the firetrucks. The stolen red car… it was on! Idling in one place, waiting for her.

“Cress!” Thorne shouted, flinging the door open and throwing himself at her. He pulled her into his strong arms, pressing his face against her soot-stained hair. “God, I was so worried. I couldn’t see you in the dark so I headed back here. I was just about to go searching.”

Cress didn’t want to let go of him. Not now, not ever. But… “We’ve gotta go.”

“I know,” Thorne breathed, “But I was just so worried. It made me think… what if I lost you?”

She pulled back, just slightly, just enough to see his face in the dark. “What do you mean.”

“I mean, I started to think about you, Cress. How much I’d miss you. And how much I’d regret it if I lost you, and I hadn’t even done this…”

His voice trailed off, and Cress was about to ask what on earth he meant, when suddenly his lips were on hers.

Carswell Thorne is kissing me. Kissing. Me.

Her brain might have short-circuited, just a bit. But after a moment of frozen hesitation, she was kissing him back with just as much fervor, taking his face in her hands to pull them impossibly closer.

Thorne’s head tilted, and their lips fit together like they were always meant that way. His hands stroked at her golden hair, the hair he loved to much. What the hell; the girl he loved so much.

He might have told her as much when they finally came up for air, and she might have said it back. But all words were forgotten moments later, when they both spotted the flashing lights in their peripherals.

A police car, heading to the scene. If they were seen…

“Hey,” Cress whispered, beaming so wide her face hurt as she tugged on Thorne’s sleeve, “How about you be my getaway car for a change?”

“Yeah?”

She stood on her tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Risky, in their situation. “Yeah.”

Thorne brought her hand, so small and delicate, to his lips. “For you, Cress, you know I’d do anything. Crime for the sake of crime. Crime for the sake of justice. Whatever it is, wherever life takes us, just know that you’ll always have me. I promise I’ll never let you feel alone, ever again.”

He stroked a stray tear from her face. “C’mon, Goldilocks. It’s time to make our grand exit.”

She made herself comfortable in the passenger seat, glancing where she knew the gun lay, tucked inside the glovebox, just for show, never loaded. The gun that saved her life.

Thorne tore out of the parking lot, speeding down the streets of the tiny town at three am, just begging to be chased as they passed the animal shelter. The fire was nearly out, animals being evacuated by the second.

She caught his gaze with her own. Blue on blue. “Police chase, huh?”

He smiled, gripping her hand in his own. “You know I like to show off.”

Sirens blared behind them. Cress’s grin grew. “Then let’s give them a show.”

Thorne leaned down and kissed her over the center console. “I thought you’d never ask.”

~~~~

a/n: Oh my gosh. I cannot believe I just wrote that. All that. I haven't written in a month and this felt fantastic!!! I hope y'all enjoyed! Reblogs and comments are so appreciated! <3

[assumingminds19]

anastasia's mate

“Anyone can play, right?”

Kara felt like she was going to bounce out of her own skin, finally daring to do this, sitting on her chair and whispering to the white-bearded man next to her. Eagerness vibrated against her ribs alongside her heart. She’d asked the same man she’d seen the dark-haired woman playing the most, watching from far away. But her eyes were on the woman herself, standing back as the row of old men set their boards.

“Of course, moy dorogoy,” he answered through a thick Russian accent, his hands shaking over his pawns. “But be warned, poteryannaya printsessa is playing all quickly today.”

“What-“

Before she could finish, the woman was suddenly in front of her, Kara’s breath and question caught in her throat at finally being so close. But she didn’t even look at Kara, only at her bright, shiny and unused board for a second, before making her move and rotating back down to the end of the line.

Even though she was playing seven of them at once, Kara could barely keep up, losing first, embarrassment twisting in her gut. The rest fell in quick succession, and before she knew it, the men were packing up. The woman had vanished, leaving Kara wondering what’d just happened.

“That’s it?” She asked. “But I-“

“Don’t be upset,” the Russian replied. “She always wins.”

Kara blinked, looking back to her board and the pattern of her loss.

“Does she ever speak?”

“Da,” he laughed. “Sometimes.”

xxx

The next time they played, it was just the two of them. Kara hadn’t been expecting to play her at all. For the past month, the woman had switched only between the Russian and another man with a thick scarf. But today, before Kara had even finished setting up her board, the woman landed in the chair in front of her, waiting silently. Kara’s mouth gaped, her eyes darted towards her new Russian friend, panicked. The man’s lips twitched, and he nodded in encouragement before returning to his own game.

Kara hesitated, waiting for some cue from the other woman, but she was still just watching Kara quietly. Kara rushed to set up the pieces, feeling obligated to give the woman white as thanks for choosing her.

It was the longest game Kara had ever played, all of fifteen minutes. The woman’s moves slow and deliberate enough for her to clue in that she was giving Kara a game without pressure. An unachievable goal, Kara barely able to focus on the pieces, distracted by the lavender smell her nose caught on the wind, wondering if it was the woman’s perfume.

Still, once she’d lost, Kara frowned at the board, trying to understand.

“You shouldn’t have castled.”

It was a lovely voice, smooth, husky and crisp all at once. Wrapped around the consonants and tilting them up in a distinctly un-American way. Kara had trouble believing it was directed at her.

“I’m sorry?”

She winced at the way her voice squeaked, but the woman didn’t seem to notice, just kept watching her with vibrant green eyes.

“In your game.”

Kara’s foggy brain tried to catch up. She looked back at the board, trying to see what the woman was telling her.

“I needed to get the rook out.”

The woman didn’t wait, fingers reaching and darting over the pieces, resetting the play.

“You lost your advantage,” she answered, moving the carved wood. “I played pawn takes pawn, you couldn’t take back. Your problem was your queen knight.”

Kara blinked, still not seeing it. At her non-answer, the other woman let out a soft sigh and stood.

“Think it out.”

She breezed away with the chill wind before Kara could reply, leaving her frustrated and mournful watching her go.

A deep laugh sounded. Kara looked to the old Russian, finished now and shaking the hand of his opponent.

“You are like sobaka chasing its tail.”

Kara scowled, annoyed and began to pack up her own pieces.

“What is with her?” She grumbled.

“Fascinated?” He teased standing, board under his arm. “You’re not the first, even though you are the first she’s shown how they lost.”

Kara scowled, feeling the butt of a joke she had no part of.

“She’s good, so what?”

The man’s bushy eyebrows reached his hairline.

“She’s three times international champion before she was sixteen, devushka,” he answered, making her feel thick for not knowing. “She beat Petrovick in Paris before she was a grandmaster. You’ve been playing with Bog shakhmat, my dear. The Lost Princess, God of Chess. Don’t wonder how you lose, just be glad she picked you.”

xxxxx

Lena Luthor was her real name. From there, Kara spent half a day googling everything she could about her. Chess champion, a child prodigy, winning more competitive games before she was fourteen then most played in their career. Article after article calling her the greatest chess player to ever live. All until her final match at sixteen, the first loss of her career, when she seemed to vanish from the chess scene and the earth. Except she hadn’t. She was here, in National City, playing in the park with old men and Kara.

Kara’s cursor hovered over the video of an old interview, Lena’s young face so sombre and severe for a child of twelve.

“It was the board I noticed first. It’s an entire world of just sixty-four squares. I feel safe in it. I can control it. I can dominate it. And it’s predictable, so if I get hurt, I only have myself to blame.”

“And what do you do for fun?”

“I stay awake as long as I can, reading my books, learning the Sicilian Defence. There are fifty-seven pages about it in the book I’m reading, with one hundred and seventy lines stemming from P to QB4. I’ll memorise them and play through them in my mind.”

“There’s more to life than chess, you know.”

“Is there?”

Kara absorbed the words, her curiosity ferocious before she closed her laptop screen and picked up the second-hand, dog eared book on chess openings she had bought, settling back on her couch to reread it again.

xxxxx

The third time they played, Kara was the one to choose Lena, marching right up and sitting across from her before Lena had the chance to choose anyone else. It sent a mutter through the crowd of old men, but Lena took it in her stride, a ghost of a smile on her lips and didn’t say a word as Kara set up the board, this time choosing white.

Kara made her first move deliberately, watching Lena’s face as she did, daring her with it. Lena’s eyes raked the board, then Kara’s face in turn, sparkling before she made her answering move.

It was long and complicated, and Kara spent more time hung up on moves that should have been simple when Lena countered with something that sent her in a whole new direction. By the time the game had stretched into an hour, none of the men were playing anymore. Instead, they gathered in a small crowd around them, watching quietly as their match ebbed and flowed.  

Once, Kara was convinced she was going to lose, seeing Lena’s path to victory in three more moves when suddenly, Lena did something completely unexpected. Sacrificing her queen and leaving her king exposed. At first, Kara thought she had missed something herself, wondering if she had tripped into a mistake. But the more she looked, the worse it all became for Lena. It caught Kara off-guard. It would be a brutal play. It would be the kind of thing Lena did to other people, and for a minute Kara wondered if she should do it at all. But something was pushing her in the back of her mind—an urge for this to be more than a pastime. More then a compulsion or an addiction, and Kara wondered when this had become less about knowing Lena and more about knowing herself. It was a demand, an obsession—a thirst for something more.

Kara made the play, her fingers unable to let go of her piece as she watched, recalculated and watched again before she let it go. Kara saw it in Lena’s eyes then, a softness. An acceptance. And then, Lena was holding out her hand for Kara to take, her king in her palm.

“It’s your game,” she whispered. “Take it.”

Kara did, her skin tingling where their hands touched, a part of her was too dumbfounded to realise that the roaring in her ears was the sound of applause from the crowd around them. Lena dropped their joined hands with a smile and melted back through the group. Kara tried to follow as the men held her back, offering their congratulations. In an undoubtedly rude move, she ignored and pushed past them, head twisting around, scanning the people in the park, finally spotting Lena’s back as she walked away.

Kara ran after her, calling out.

“Hey, wait!”

Lena stopped, turned around, an eyebrow arched when Kara slid to a stop in front of her. Without the barrier of chess between them, Kara found herself at a loss for words, caught in Lena’s green eyes.

“I… uhhh… hello.”

It was all she could dumbly manage.

“Hello.”

There was a long pause, too long beyond comfortable, before the only thought Kara could think spilled from her lips.

“Did you let me win?”

“No.”

Kara hesitated, the insecurity mixed with the flush of victory banished at Lena’s quick answer. Somehow knowing without knowing that Lena wasn’t a person who’d lie.

“But you did before,” Kara continued instead, pressing, searching for something to hold onto. “Your game… when you were sixteen.”

Lena looked out and away from her for a beat.



“Yes,” she answered quietly, looking back.

Kara’s mouth worked silently, tasting the answer on her tongue.

“Why?”

Lena took another pause before she replied.

“When winning takes everything, what are you left with?”

Kara shouldn’t know what she meant. How could she possibly? But part of her felt it in her bones anyway.

“Chess isn’t always competitive though,” Kara whispered. “It can also be-“  

“Beautiful.”

The bare branches of the park dusted light through their snow-covered boughs. They haloed them perfectly, Kara thought, capturing this moment, frozen eternal.

“Why did I win?” She needed to know, not fully understanding herself. “You’ve been playing all your life, I’ve only been playing for three months.”

Lena didn’t seem to think her question stupid, or ridiculous, or any of the things Kara feared it was. She just stepped forward, an inch, but enough to make a point, her eyes darkening to a deeper green.

“Because I was only playing chess, darling,” the final word rippled down Kara’s spine. “You spent three months learning to play chess with me. You’re very good. Raw, unpredictable… when you’re not overthinking. You made a marvellous recovery today.”

Kara knew. She’d almost opened herself up to check in five moves. But the fact that Lena knew that Kara knew and fixed it made her preen, a blush filling her cheeks.

“Thank you. I… I’ve been watching you, for a while on my lunch break,” she admitted. “You were always here, the only colour in a sea of silver.”

“You were fascinated by it.”

“Not it,” Kara quickened. “You.”

Lena’s head tilted, and not for the first time, Kara hungered to know what exactly was going on under that pale and beautiful mask.

“What’s your name?” Lena asked, voice soft, welcoming and unexpected.

“Kara. Kara Danvers.”

“Would you like to go out to dinner?”

“Like a date?” Kara blinked, wondering if she’d misheard.

“Yes,” Lena smiled.

“Ye.. yeah!” Kara stumbled, unable to reign in her enthusiasm. “Umm, tonight?”

“I have a standing engagement.” Before Kara could feel disappointed, Lena countered. “Tomorrow?”

Kara nodded, head bobbing like she was on the dashboard of a car.

“Ok.”

One second. Then two.

“Your number?”

“Oh, yeah…” Kara blushed again. “Here, I’ll um… put it into your… yep.”

She typed it dutifully into Lena’s outstretched phone, sending herself a text to make sure, before handing it back.

“Tomorrow then,” Lena answered, phone safely back in her pocket. “Kara Danvers.”

She leaned forward, brushing her warm lips against Kara’s cheek, her hand giving Kara’s arm a small squeeze through the fabric of her winter coat. Then she was floating away once more, Kara staring after her.

“Wow.”

That night Kara dreamt of rooks and castles and lost princesses, found again.

[anna-justice]

Lost or Found - 21

Summary: As Jay, Hailey, Kim, Adam and Kevin start their junior year in the wake of a tragic summer, the past year of their lives comes back to haunt them. If you enjoyed Pretty Little Liars, this is for you! *UPSTEAD/BURZEK High School AU

...

21 - No Body, No Crime ...

Jay stirred, waking up to Hailey’s head on his chest. They must have moved in their sleep, because he was now on his back and Hailey was using him as a pillow. He peered over her to see Adam and Kim still on the floor, he was the first one up. Hailey shifted next to him and Jay wrapped his arms a little tighter around her. 

“Good morning.” She groans, hiding her face in his chest. 

Jay chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “Good morning. Did you sleep okay?” He asked. 

“Great.” Hailey said, smiling up at him, but it was only half true. As much as she loved falling asleep in his arms, she couldn’t shake the pit in her stomach. Sleep didn’t come easy with her mind all over the place. 

“So,” Jay said, grabbing her attention again. “There was something I never got to ask you last night.”

Hailey smirked, “Oh?” She asked, sitting up.

Jay pushed himself up and moved to sit across from her on the couch. “Hailey, will you be my girlfriend?” He asked. 

“I don’t know Jay, I’ve got a lot of offers-” He cut her off with a kiss, both of them smiling into it. Hailey pulled away, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah, yeah I will.” Jay pulled her into him, deciding that he could take this one moment to be happy before he dropped the bomb waiting in his basement.

There was rustling on the floor, and then a groan. A few seconds later Adam popped up off the ground. “Hey.” He said, stretching. 

“Hi,” Hailey said laughing.

Kim stirred awake next and the four gathered in the mini kitchen, trying to make a decision about breakfast. Somewhere in between pop tarts and pancakes, Jay sighed. “So, there is no easy way to say this, actually I don’t know how to say this at all…”

“What?” Kim asked.

Hailey watched her (now) boyfriend carefully, hoping he was going to spill whatever the hell he was doing last night. “Um. Erin’s alive, and she’s at my house.” 

…

Thirty minutes later, Hailey sat in the front seat of Jay’s truck waiting for him. After he dropped the basically nuclear bomb in the kitchen, Adam and Kim bombarded him with questions but Hailey stayed silent. She had been there when he got there last night, he dropped her off and went back to Erin. She knew that jealousy was the last feeling that she should be having right now, but all rationality was gone.

Jay slid into the driver's seat, prepared for the fight he knew he had instigated. He was waiting for tears and yelling, but all he got were Hailey’s sad eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked calmly, her eyes searching his for any explanation. 

“Honestly Hailes,” He said, hitting his head against the headrest, “I thought when I got back she wouldn’t be there.” 

Hailey sighed, it was a terrible excuse, which is why part of her believed him. “You still should have told me…” She said, looking straight forward.

“You’re right.” He rushed, “You are so right, I shouldn’t have lied. It was just such a terrible night and I didn’t want to wake it worse.”

Hailey shook her head, leaning back and running her hands through her tangled hair. “There is always going to be a terrible night Jay.” She said, “When are you ever going to realize that? There is nothing left to protect me from.”

“Hailey-”

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Hailey said quietly.

Jay looked at her, dumbfounded. “What?”

“We don’t work Jay.” She said, shrugging. “Everytime anything good happens between us, something gets in the way. Maybe we are fighting for something that isn’t there?” Hailey had been through more in her sixteen years than most people in their entire lives and as much as she wanted to be with him, she was sick of fighting for things she would never have. She was sick of everything she loved being ripped away from her.

Jay shook his head, “No, don’t do this.” His chest felt tight, like someone was sitting on it.

“I don’t want to…” Hailey said, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Then don’t.” Jay said, grabbing her hands from her lap. “You are right, there will always be a worse night. I have absolutely no idea why Erin is back or even why, I have no idea who is hurting us…” He trailed off. “But, I know that I love you, and I want to be with you.”

“And I want to be with you.” Hailey confessed.

Jay shifted in his seat, hesitantly reaching out to cup her cheek. He felt desperate, he was so desperate to make her understand. “I know you're scared, so am I. This is terrifying, but I know that it is worth it.” 

Hailey nodded, covering Jay’s hand with hers. She looked down, trying to hide her teary eyes. “I do too. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Jay said, nudging her chin up so that he could look at her. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.” He leaned in and kissed her gently, letting his lips linger. “Are you okay to head over?”

“Yeah,” She said confidently. “Let’s go.”

…

“Erin.” Kim sighed out, breaking out into a run as soon as she saw her. The two former best friends met in the middle of the room, embracing each other. “I missed you so much.” 

Erin laughed, holding her tightly. “I missed you too.” Soon they broke apart and Erin made her way to Adam, “Hey.” She said, giving him a short hug. “Hailey.” She said, grinning, before hugging her. 

Hailey was taken aback, she wasn’t sure their reunion was going to be warm and happy. “I’m so glad you’re alive.” She said honestly, hugging her back. It calmed her nerves a bit, she was so worried that Erin was going to hate her even more than before. Apparently presumed death helps with forgiveness. 

The five of them found seats around the room, Hailey tucked in Jay’s side. She wasn’t sure if it was for her comfort or his. They all caught up, well, they caught Erin up. She retold the majority of her story from the night before and the rest of them went into more detail of their own horrors, including the night before. 

Jay watched cautiously, something seemed off and after the last twenty-four hours he wasn’t sure if he even trusted his own gut. It was crazy, just the morning before he was in Hank Voight’s house thinking he was crazy for thinking Erin could be alive. That didn’t age well. “Erin.” He said, speaking out of turn.

“Yeah?” She asked, her head snapping up to look at him.

“Were you at the dance last night?” He asked.

Erin shook her head, looking confused. “No...why?”

Jay shrugged, wanting to palm himself in the forehead. “Uh, nothing.” Obviously she wasn’t, but he felt like he at least had to ask. 

“So, where’s Kevin?” Erin asked, sitting back in her chair.

Kim looked at Adam, looking for help. He was none. “He didn’t go to the dance, family stuff.” She explained vaguely. She figured telling her that they all had a huge fight about her the night before was probably a bad idea. 

“That sucks.” Erin sighed, “Are Vinessa and Jordan okay?”

Adam took that one, “Yeah, they’re fine. His mom just needed help.” 

“Speaking of Kevin.” Jay said, standing up. “ I think I’m gonna go over there and get him. He doesn’t know about Erin.” He grabbed his keys off the coffee table, silently checking with Hailey if it was okay for him to leave, she nodded her head slightly.

“Yeah, okay.” Adam said.

Jay made his way towards the stairs, “I’ll see you guys in a little bit.” He was about to leave when a board he hadn’t looked at in a long time caught his eye. The same strings and print outs still attached, so much had changed since then. 

Hailey shifted in her seat, she felt a little less comfortable with Jay gone. “Jay told me what happened in the garage.” Erin said, grabbing her attention. “I’m so sorry, I’m so glad you guys are okay. That must have been terrifying.”

Kim nodded, “Us too,” She glanced at Hailey. “We got lucky that the boys found us.”

Erin sighed, giving Hailey a sympathetic look. “And Hailey, it must have been so hard to see your parents after so long. Jay told me that your dad showed up at the hospital.”

Hailey froze. “What?”

Adam watched the exchange, he knew that Hailey’s parents showed up, so did Kim. But none of them had told Hailey and he wasn’t sure why Jay would have told Erin. Kim caught his eyes across the room, giving him a look, silently agreeing to admit to knowing nothing.

“You didn’t know?” Erin asked, “I’m so sorry, I assumed you knew…” 

Hailey gave her a small smile, “It’s fine. He didn’t tell me, I guess he thought it was best I didn’t know.” While she appeared fine to everyone else, she could barely breathe. She was somewhere between crying and furious. She was sure Jay had his reasons for keeping it himself, one of them being that even several weeks later the thought of her father seeing her so lifeless and vulnerable still made her stomach churn. But, the fact that he chose not to tell her, but told Erin, that cut deeper than she ever thought it could.

…

When Kevin opened the door, Jay was almost sure he was going to slam it in his face. “What?” He asked.

“I have some news.” He said, “Can I come in?” Kevin took a step back to let him through, eyeing him. “First, I want to apologize for last night. I could have handled things better.”

Kevin sighed, “Me too man. I’m sorry. We cool?” He asked, holding out his hand.

Jay shook it, smiling softly, “Yeah, we’re cool.”

“So, what’s up?” Kevin asked, falling into his couch.

Jay chuckled, “You are never going to believe this.”

Kevin laughed, “Try me.”

“Erin’s alive.” He deadpanned. 

Kevin’s face fell, “What?”

“She’s alive and in my basement. I know it’s crazy-” Kevin jumped up and ran into the other room, “-what’s wrong?” Jay asked as he came rushing back.

Kevin held up a notebook. “I-” He started. “I wrote everything down. Every text, everything. Ever since Vinessa had that doll I’ve been writing down theories and I-”

“Kev, what are you saying?” Jay asked, his heart beating faster.

“Jay.” Kevin sighed, “What if it’s been Erin this whole time?” He asked. 

“What?”

“Just think about it.” He said, flipping through the notebook. “Hailey said the only person that knew about her dad was Erin. Erin knew that Hailey didn’t want us to know. No one else knew. And you, you were the only other person to know about Nadia and Mr. Sampson, Erin knew that. She also knew how good Nadia looked for it all. She set us all up Jay. She gave Vinessa the doll and told her that we would see her soon.”

Jay’s head was spinning, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “No-no, she told me that she was getting threats too. That’s why she ran…”

“Do you have any proof?” Kevin asked.

Jay thought back to not thirty minutes ago when he saw the board, he had combed through every message on Erin’s phone and there were no threats, no blocked numbers. Why would she delete them? “No…”

“She left her phone for you to find! She knew you would come after her, she set us all up! She had to have killed that girl and put her bracelet on her. She wanted us to think she was dead.” Kevin explained. 

Jay collapsed on the couch. “There’s no way…”

“Jay.” Kevin snapped, “It’s Erin.”

“Ohmigod.” He said, running his hands through his hair. “It’s Erin...Shit. Hailey, Adam and Kim are with her right now.”

…

Adam felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, pulling it out he checked the caller ID. “It’s Jay.” He said, standing and walking to the other side of the room. “Hey man.” 

“Are you still with Erin?”

“Yeah, why?” Adam asked, lowering his voice. 

“You guys need to leave right now.” There’s a pause. “Adam, it’s Erin.”

“Huh?” He huffed, not really comprehending. 

“Erin is the one behind the texts. Make up an excuse and get the hell out of there as soon as you can.”

Internally, he was freaking out, but Adam played it cool. “Okay. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” Adam hung up the phone, his hands shaking as he fumbled for keys. “Hey guys, we gotta go-”

Pop.

…

A/N: I’M SORRY. I’m so sorry. The next chapter will be up soon, I promise! Thank you so much for reading! <3

@lissethsrojas @fuckyeahkillianemma @puckluck28 @chilly7188 @thebigapocalypsewolf @karihighman @ruzek-halstead @anotheronechicagobog @snowwhite013 @tracysupton @angelsjedi

[dustedmagazine]

Dust, Volume 7, Number 8

Big Thief

Our August collection of short reviews contains more big names than usual with singles from Big Thief and Dry Cleaning, a digital compilation from Thou, live music from Obits and a side project from members of the Bats and the Clean. Never fear, there are obscurities as well, including an improv guitar player even Bill Meyer had hardly heard of, a Norwegian emo artist in love with Texas and a death metal outfit verging into psychedelia. Our writers, this time including Tim Clarke, Bill Meyer, Jennifer Kelly, Ian Mathers, Chris Liberato and Jonathan Shaw, like what they like, big or small, hyped or unknown. We hope you’ll like some of it, too.   

Marc Barreca — The Sleeper Awakes (Scissor Tail)

The Sleeper Wakes by Marc Barreca

Odd connections abound here. One might not expect the usually acoustic-oriented Scissor Tail Recordings to make a vinyl reissue of an electronic ambient music cassette from 1986, any more than one would expect its maker to currently earn his crust as a bankruptcy judge. So, let’s just shed those expectations and get to listening. Unlike so many lower profile electronic recordings from the 1980s, which seemed targeted for a space next to the cash register of a new age bookstore, this album offers a profusion of mysteries that compound the closer you listen to them. It’s not at all obvious what sounds Barreca fed into his Akai sampler. Japanese folk music? Church chimes? A log drum jam? Tugboat engines? One hears hints of such sounds, but they’ve been warped and dredged in a thin coat of murk, so that the predominant experience is one of feeling like you’re dreaming, even if your eyes are wide open.

Bill Meyer

Big Thief — “Little Things” / “Sparrow” (4AD)

Little Things/Sparrow by Big Thief

Who knows how much more music Big Thief might have released in the last 18 months if the pandemic hadn’t tripped them up? Given the creative momentum generated by 2019’s UFOF and Two Hands, it’s fair to assume the band have plenty of music waiting in the wings. “Little Things” and “Sparrow” arrive with no sign of a new album on the horizon, so are probably being released to promote Big Thief’s upcoming US and European tour. Both songs clock in at around five minutes and handle musical repetition in different satisfying ways. Reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everything,” but hyped up on caffeine, “Little Things” feels like an exciting new direction for the band. It cycles through its whirlpooling, modulated acoustic guitar over and over, the frantic little sequence of chords never changing; the interest comes from the ways in which the rest of the instruments bob and weave in the ever-shifting, psychedelic mix. “Sparrow” is a more traditional Big Thief song, sparse and sad. Its melancholic sway is enlivened by some beautiful wavering vocal harmonies as Adrianne Lenker paints a picture of a Garden of Eden populated by sparrows, owls and eagles, culminating in Adam blaming Eve for humankind’s fall from grace.

Tim Clarke

Simão Costa — Beat Without Byte: (Un)Learning Machine (Cipsela)

Beat With Out Byte by Simão Costa

Piano preparation often makes use of modest resources — bolts and combs, strings or maybe just a raincoat tossed into the instrument’s innards. By contrast, Simão Costa’s set-up looks like took all of the entries in a robotics assembly competition and set them to work agitating a snarl of cables that met the pirated telecommunication requirements for an especially crowded favela. But whether it’s twitching motors or Costa’s own hands doing the work, the sounds that come out of his sound remarkably rich and cohesive. He stirs drifting hums, metallic sonorities, and stomping rhythms into a bracingly immediate sonic onslaught.

Bill Meyer

Cots — Disturbing Body (Boiled)

Disturbing Body by Cots

Disturbing Body is the low-key debut album by Montreal-based musician Steph Yates, who enlisted Sandro Perri to produce. Where the songs are pared back to mostly just vocals and peppy major-seventh chords on nylon-string guitar — such as “Bitter Part of the Fruit” and “Midnight at the Station” — comparisons with bossa-nova classics such as “The Girl From Ipanema” inevitably arise. Where the tempo is slower, the chord voicings are less sun-dappled, and Perri’s arrangements call upon a wider palette of instrumental colors, the songs venture into more interesting terrain, calling to mind a less haunted Broadcast. There’s an eerie sway to the opening title track, backed by rich piano chords and clattering cymbal textures. Fender Rhodes and the light clack of a rhythm track give “Inertia of a Dream” an uneasy momentum. And forlorn trumpet, percussion and piano situate “Last Sip” at closing time in a forgotten jazz club. There’s something evasive yet subtly intoxicating at work here, the album’s ten songs breezing past in half an hour, leaving plenty of unanswered questions in their wake.

Tim Clarke

Dry Cleaning — “Bug Eggs” / “Tony Speaks!” (4AD)

Bug Eggs/Tony Speaks! by Dry Cleaning

A few months on from the release of their excellent debut album, New Long Leg, Dry Cleaning have put out two more songs from the same sessions, which are featured as bonus tracks on the Japanese edition. For a band whose unique appeal is mostly attributed to Florence Shaw’s surreal lyrics and deadpan delivery, it’s heartening to hear further evidence that it’s the complete cocktail of musical ingredients — Shaw plus Tom Dowse’s inventive guitar, Lewis Maynard’s satisfyingly thick bass, and Nick Buxton’s driving drums — that alchemizes into their winning sound. The verse guitar chords of “Bug Eggs” are naggingly similar to New Long Leg’s “More Big Birds,” while the instrumental chorus has a yearning feel akin to album highlight “Her Hippo.” Maynard’s bass tone on “Tony Speaks!” is absolutely filthy, swallowing up most of the mix until Dowse’s guitar bares its teeth in a swarm of squalling wah-wah, while Shaw’s lyrics muse upon the decline of heavy industry, the environment, and crisps.

Tim Clarke

Flight Mode — TX, ’98 (Sound As Language)

TX, '98 by Flight Mode

In 1998, well before he started Little Hands of Asphalt, Sjur Lyseid spent a year in Texas at the height of the emo wave, skateboarding and going to house shows and listening to the Get Up Kids. TX, ’98 is the Norwegian’s tribute to that coming of age experience, the giddy euphorias of mid-teenage freedom filtered through bittersweet subsequent experience. “Sixteen” is the banger, all crunchy, twitchy exhilarating guitars and vulnerable pop tunefulness, its clangor breaking for wistful reminiscence, but “Fossil Fuel” waxes lyrical, its guitar riffs splintering into radiant shards, its lyrics capturing those youthful years when anything seems possible and also, somehow, the later recognition that perhaps it isn’t. It’s an interesting tension between the now-is-everything hedonism of adolescence and the rueful remembering of adulthood, encapsulate in a chorus that goes, “Well wait and see if there’s no more history/and just defend the present tense.”

Jennifer Kelly

Drew Gardner— S-T (Eiderdown Records)

S/T by Drew Gardner

Drew Gardner has been popping up all over lately, on Elkhorn’s snowed in acoustic jam Storm Sessions and the electrified follow-up Sun Cycle and as one of Jeffrey Alexander’s Heavy Lidders. Here, it’s just him and his guitar plus a like-minded rhythm section (that’s Ryan Jewell on drums and Garcia Peoples’ Andy Cush on bass), spinning off dreamy, folk-into-interstellar-journeys like “Calyx” and “Kelp Highway.” Gardner puts some muscle into some of his grooves, running close to Chris Forsyth’s wide-angle electric boogie in “Bird Food.” “The Road to Eastern Garden,” though, is pure limpid transcendence, Buddhist monastery bells jangling as Gardner’s warm, inquiring melodic line intersects with rubbery bends on bass. Give this one a little time to sit, but don’t miss it.

Jennifer Kelly

Hearth — Melt (Clean Feed)

Melt by Hearth

This pan-European quartet’s name suggests domesticity, but the fact that none of its members lives in the country of their birth probably says more about the breadth of their music. The closest geographic point of reference for the sounds that pianist Kaja Draksler, trumpeter Susana Santos Silva, and saxophonists Ada Rave and Mette Rasmussen’s make together would be Chicago’s south side. Their dynamic blend of angular structures, extended instrumental techniques, and obscurely theatrical enactments brings to mind the Art Ensemble of Chicago, even though the sounds on this concert-length recording rarely echo the AEC’s. But it is similarly charged with mystery and collective identity.

Bill Meyer

Klaus Lang / Konus Quartett — Drei Allmenden (Cubus)

Drei Allmenden (translation: Three Commons) treats the act of commission as an opportunity to create common cause. For composer and keyboardist Klaus Lang, this is a chance to push back against a long trend of separation and stratification, with musicians bound to realize the composer’s whim, no matter the cost. Invoking works from the 16th century, he penned something simple, flexible and open to embellishment. Then he pitched in with Konus Quartett, a Swiss saxophone ensemble, to get the job done. The three-part piece, which lasts 43 sublime minutes, amply rewards the submersion of ego. Lang’s slowly morphing harmonium drones and Konus’ long reed tones sound like one instrument, enriched by tendrils of sound that rise up and then sink back into the music’s body.

Bill Meyer

Lynch, Moore, Riley — Secant / Tangent (dx/dy)

Secant | Tangent by Sue Lynch, N.O. Moore, Crystabel Riley

Electric guitarist N.O. Moore is barely known in these parts. I’ve only heard him on one album with Eddie Prévost a couple years back, and the other two musicians, not at all. But on the strength of this robust performance, which was recorded at London’s Icklectick venue, it would be a loss to keep it that way. They combine acoustic sounds with electronics, courtesy of guitar effects and amplification, in an exceedingly natural fashion. Each musician also gets into the other’s business in ways that correspond to the one spicy suggestion made by one cook that elevates another’s dish to the next level. Susan Lynch’s clarinet and flute compliment Moore’s radiophonic/feedback sounds like two flashes of lightning illuminating the same dark cloud, and her vigorously pecking saxophone attack mixes with Crystabel’s cascading beats like idiosyncratically tuned drums. This is one of the first albums to be released on Moore’s dx/dy label; keep your eye out for more.

Bill Meyer

Maco Sica / Hamid Drake Tatsu Aoki & Thymme Jones—Ourania (Feeding Tube)

OURANIA by Mako Sica / Hamid Drake featuring Tatsu Aoki & Thymme Jones

Ourania is named for the muse associated with astronomy in Greek mythology, and the album has an aim for the stars quality. In 2020, Chicago’s Mako Sica lost not only the chance to play concerts, but one third of its number. Core members Brent Fuscaldo (electric bass, voice, harmonica, percussion) and Przemyslaw Krys Drazek (electric trumpet, electric guitar, mandolin) could have just hunkered down with their respective TV sets. Instead, they booked themselves three other musicians who make rising above circumstances a core practice. The duo convened at Electrical Audio with Hamid Drake (drums, percussion, Tatsu Aoki (upright bass, shamisen), and Thymme Jones (piano, organ, balloon, trumpet, voice, recorder, percussion), rolled tape for a couple hours, and walked out with this album. The 85 minute-long recording (edited to about half that length on vinyl, but the LP comes with a download card) exudes a vibe of calm, even beatitude, with twin trumpets and Fuscaldo’s echo-laden, nearly word-free vocals weaving though a sequence of patient grooves like migrational birds on the glide.

Bill Meyer

Mar Caribe — Hymn of the Mar Caribe (Mar Caribe)

Hymn of the Mar Caribe b/w Rondo for Unemployment by mar caribe

Some musicians burn to make something new; others generate attention-getting sounds designed to maximize the potential of their other earning activities; and others, well, they just want you to sway along with their version of the good sounds. Mar Caribe falls into that last category. This Chicago-based instrumental ensemble has spent most of the last decade maintaining a robust performance schedule, and it would seem that recording is pretty much an afterthought; a photo of the test pressing for this 7” was posted in May 2019, but the release show didn’t happen until August 2021. Sure, COVID can be blamed for part of the delay, but one suspects that mostly, these guys just want to play, and they didn’t bother to stuff the singles in the sleeves until they knew when they’d next be leaning over a merch table. The titular suspends anthemic brass and pedal steel over a swinging double bass cadence, and if there was a moment during the night when the band invited the audience to pledge allegiance to their favorite drink, this is what they’d be playing while they asked. Guitars lead on the flip side, whose busy twists and turns belie the implied laziness of the title, “Rondo For Unemployment.”

Bill Meyer

Mint Julep — In a Deep and Dreamless Sleep (Western Vinyl)

In A Deep And Dreamless Sleep by Mint Julep

These songs traverse a hazy, dreamlike space, diffusing dance beats, dream-y vocals and synth pulses into inchoate sensation that nonetheless retains enough rhythmic propulsion to keep your heart rate up. “A Rising Sun” filters jangly guitar and bass through a sizzle of static, letting tambourine thump gently somewhere off camera, as voices soothe and reassure. “Mirage” pounds a four-on-the-floor, but quietly, angelically, like a disco visited through astral projection or maybe a really rave-y iteration of heaven. There’s an ominous undercurrent to “Longshore Drift,” in its growly, sub-bass-y hum, but glittering bits of synth sprinkle over like fairy dust. This is indefinitely gorgeous stuff, ethereal but surprisingly energizing. Dance or drift, take your pick.

Jennifer Kelly

Monocot — Directions We Know (Feeding Tube)

Direction We Know by Monocot

Directions We Know is an LP of free-form freak-outs generated by an instrumental duo that includes one musician who you might expect to perpetuate such a ruckus, and one that you might not. The more likely character is drummer Jayson Gerycz, who may be known for keeping time with the Cloud Nothings, but has shown a willingness to wax colorizing in the company of Anthony Pasquarosa, Jen Powers and Matthew Rolin. The happy surprise is Rosali Middleman, whose singer-songwriter efforts have kept her guitar playing firmly in service of her songs. She doesn’t exactly abandon lyricism in Monocot, but the tunes serve as launching ramps for exuberant lunges into the realm of voltage-saturated sound. On “Ruby Throated,” the first of the record’s four extended jams, Middleman lofts rippling peals over a near-boil of  drums and churning loops. By the time you get to “Multidimensional Solutions,” the last and longest track, her wah-wah-dipped streams of sound have taken on a blackened quality, as though her overheating tubes have burned every note.

Bill Meyer

Obits — Die at the Zoo (Outer Battery)

Die At The Zoo by Obits

Few aughts rock bands held more promise than Obits. The four-piece headed by Hot Snakes’ Rick Froberg and Edsel’s Sohrab Habibion emerged in 2005 with a stinging, stripped-back, blues-touched sound. Froberg’s feral snarl rode a surfy, twitchy amplified onslaught, that was, by 2012 a finely tuned machine. I caught one of the live shows following Moody, Standard and Poor at small club in Northampton the same year this was recorded (so small that I was sitting on a couch next to Froberg, oblivious, for 20 minutes before the show), and what struck me was how well the band played together. The records sound chaotic, and that was certainly there in performance, but the cuts and stops were perfect, the surfy instrumental breaks (“New August”) absolutely in tune. At the time this set was recorded in the Brisbane punk landmark known as the Zoo, the band was near the peak of its considerable powers—and regrettably near the end of its run. Die at the Zoo is reasonably well recorded, rough enough to capture the band’s raucous energy, skilled enough so you can understand the words and hear all the parts. It hits all the highlights, blistering early cuts like “Widow of My Dreams,” and “Pine On,” the blues cover “Milk Cow Blues,” and later, slightly more melodic ragers like “Everything Looks Better in the Morning” and “You Gotta Lose.” The guitar work is particularly sharp throughout, its straight-on chug breaking into fiery blues licks and surfy whammy explosions. It’s a poignant reminder of a time when American rock bands played ferocious shows halfway across the world (or anywhere) as a matter of course and a fitting eulogy for Obits.

Jennifer Kelly

A Place To Bury Strangers — Hologram (Dedstrange)

Hologram EP by A Place To Bury Strangers

A Place To Bury Strangers returns with a new rhythm section and renewed focus on the elements that made its version of revivalism the loudest if not brashest of the New York aughties. Sarah and John Fedowitz on drums and bass join Oliver Ackerman on the five track EP Hologram which is the most concise and vital APTBS release for a while. For all the criticism of copyism thrown at the band since their early days, APTBS has always been as much about Ackerman’s production skills and feel for texture as musical originality and the songs on Hologram sound fantastic at volume. Beneath the sonic onslaught of fuzz and reverb, not a brick is misplaced in this intricately constructed sonic wall. True “I Might Have” is pure Jesus & Mary Chain and “In My Hive” a Wax Trax take on Spector but Hologram is an endorphin rush of guitar driven noise bound to make one forget the world, if only for a while.

Andrew Forell

Praises — EP4 (Hand Drawn Dracula)

Jesse Crowe’s work as Praises has been ongoing since 2014, but has shifted in tone, instrumentation and emphasis since then. While the first two EPs have more of a full, rock band feel, the third one and 2018’s full-length In This Year: Ten of Swords took things in a more electronic, sometimes industrial direction. It was an even better fit for the rest, probing creativity evident in Praises’ work, and 3/4s of the new EP4 are in a pleasingly similar vein. The echoing, ringing denunciations of “We Let Go” and “A World on Fire” are fine examples of Praises’ existing strengths, but the opening “Apples for My Love” is immediately captivating in a very different way. Gauzy and rapturous, it’s a reverie that keeps the satisfying textural detail of the other songs but turns them to different ends. It’s not something that was missing from Crowe’s work before — again, the other tracks here are also very good — but a reminder that what Praises has shown before is not the extent of what they can do.

Ian Mathers

The Sundae Painters — The First SP Single (Leather Jacket)

“This is a supergroup, is it not?” someone asked the Sundae Painters bassist Paul Kean on social media last year, to which he responded, “Some may choose that title. We prefer superglue.” Kaye Woodward, his wife and longtime bandmate in both The Bats and Minisnap, takes the lead vocal on “Thin Air,” one of the pair of A-sides found on their new band’s debut seven-inch. From the outset, Kean’s unmistakable bass playing and Hamish Kilgour’s (The Clean/Mad Scene) drumming lock into a psychedelic march, with the other instruments weaving like kites above, vying for position on the same breeze. “You fight your way down/You fight your way up/You wait for the dust to settle,” Woodward sings. A few gentle strums cut their way through the parade, and a guitar calls out gull-like from above, before everything trails off as if something potent has just kicked in. On the flip side, “Aversion” has an old friend-like familiarity to it, soundwise (if not lengthwise) sitting somewhere between VU’s “The Gift” and “Sister Ray.” Things begin a little stand-offish, though, like you’ve interrupted a guitar pontificating to a rapt audience — it turns its head to look you over, falling momentarily silent, before picking right back up where it left off. Kilgour’s spoken vocals join the conversation, as the song builds towards a groovy kind of fever pitch. “You look a little stoned,” he says, before responding to his own observation. “Well me I’m a little bit groggy/But it ain’t too foggy/I can see some way of getting out of here.” By this point, both guitars (played by Woodward and Tall Dwarfs’ Alec Bathgate) are full-on screeching and howling, and as the song sputters to a sudden finish, our man’s left waiting for someone to buy him “a ride out the gate.”

Chris Liberato    

Thou — Hightower (Self-released)

Hightower by Thou

Hightower is the latest in a string of digital compilations from Thou, most of which collect songs that have been previously released on small-batch splits, 7” records and other hyper-obscure media that briefly circulated through the metal underground. You might be tempted to pronounce that a cynical cash-grab, but Thou has posted Hightower (along with previous compilations, like Algiers, Oakland and Blessings of the Highest Order, a killer collection of Nirvana covers) on their official Bandcamp page as a name-yo’-price download. Thanks, band. Beyond convenience, Hightower has an additional, if a sort of inside-baseball, attraction. The band has re-recorded a few of its older songs with its latest, three-guitar line-up. Longtime listeners will recognize “Smoke Pigs” and “Fucking Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean,” which already sounded terrifyingly massive back in 2008 and 2007, respectively. The expanded instrumentation, new arrangements and better production give the songs even more power and depth, all the way down to the bottom of the effing ocean. Yikes. And there are a few additional touches, like K.C. Stafford’s clean vocals on “Fucking Chained…,” which provide an effective complement to Bryan Funck’s inimitably scabrous howl. Rarely has being pummeled and feeling bummed out been so vivifying.

Jonathan Shaw

Tropical Fuck Storm — Deep States (Joyful Noise)

Deep States by Tropical Fuck Storm

Fueled by exasperation as much as anger, the new album by Melbourne’s Tropical Fuck Storm rounds on the myriad ways in which the world has become a “Bumma Sanger” as leader Gareth Liddiard puts it on the eponymous song about COVID lockdown. A roiling meld of psychedelic garage garnished with elements of hip hop and electronic noise it’s close in method and mood if not sound to another Australian provocateur JG Thirwell whose Foetus project girded maximalist surfaces with rigid discipline. If the Tropical Fuck Storm sought to mirror current conditions, they succeed but lack of clarity in both production and intent makes Deep States a frustrating experience. Backing vocals from Fiona Kitschin (bass), Erica Dunn (keys and guitar) and Lauren Hammel (drums) leaven Liddiard’s blokey pronouncements and there are some good sounds and biting words but the band’s determination to overelaborate and underdevelop musical ideas makes this album seem like a lost opportunity.

Andrew Forell

Marta Warelis / Carlos “Zingaro” / Helena Espvall /Marcelo dos Reis — Turquoise Dream (JACC)

Turquoise Dream by Marta Warelis, Carlos "Zíngaro", Helena Espvall, Marcelo dos Reis

Turquoise Dream documents an example of an encounter that is a mainstay of avant-garde jazz festivals, in which out of towners mix it up locals that they may or may not know. This particular concert, which took place at the Jazz ao Centro Festival in 2019, is one such encounter that deserves to live past the night when it transpired. It featured three stringed instrument players who live in Portugal and a Polish pianist who is based in Holland. But they don’t sound like strangers at all. Violinist Zingaro, cellist Espvall, and guitarist dos Reis blend like flashes of sunlight reflecting off of waves, adding up to a sound that is bright and ever-changing. Warelis, who is equally resourceful with her head under the lid of her piano as she is at the keyboard, adding fleet but substantial responses to her hosts’ quicksilver interactions. The result is music that is resolutely abstract but closely engaged.

Bill Meyer

Wharflurch — Psychedelic Realms ov Hell (Gurgling Gore)

PSYCHEDELIC REALMS OV HELL by Wharflurch

Wharflurch is just plain fun to say — but there are at least two ways in which the name also makes sense for the band that has chosen it: it has a bilious, nauseous quality that matches the vibe of the pustulent death metal you’ll hear on Psychedelic Realms ov Hell; and if you separate the words, you can conjure a sodden, rotten wooden structure, swaying vertiginously over a marshy expanse of water, which is filled with alligators and decaying organic material. Imagine that sway, and that stink, and then imagine yourself collapsing into the viscous fluid, soon to be gator chow. Sounds like Florida, and that’s exactly from whence Wharflurch has emerged. Which also makes sense. Is Wharflurch’s music “psychedelic”? Depends on what you hear in that word. If you want to see hippies dancing ecstatically on a verdant, sun-drenched stretch of Golden Gate Park, then no. But if you have spent any time in the warped, dementedly distorted spaces that psychedelics can open (less happily perhaps, but very powerfully), then yes. Wharflurch likes to accent its meaty riffs and muscular thumps with weird flutters and electronic effects that frequently have a gastric, flatulent quality to them. The saturated and sickly pinks and greens on the album art do a pretty good job of capturing the music’s tones. So do the song titles: “Stoned Ape Apocalypse,” “Bog Body Boletus,” “Phantasmagorical Fumes.” Still game? I’m sorry. But I’ll also be standing right there next to you, on that wobbly, lurching wharf, watching the gators swim near.

Jonathan Shaw

Whisper Room — Lunokhod (Midira Records)

Lunokhod by Whisper Room

That the title of Whisper Room’s fifth album is taken from Soviet lunar rovers makes a certain sense, given how potentially frustrating it might have been for the trio to be working at such a distance. Generally their other records are recorded live, in one room, seeing Aidan Baker (guitar), Jakob Thiesen (drums) and Neil Wiernik (bass) exploring simultaneously, hitting whatever junctions of psychedelic/shoegazing/motorik sound come to them. With Baker in Berlin and travel understandably limiited, this time they recorded their parts separately, layering them together (and bringing in sound designer Scott Deathe to add the kind of pedal processing their sound engineer normally does live). The result certainly sounds as collaborative as ever, seven seamless tracks making up nearly an hour that makes the journey from the friendly, clattering percussion of “Lunokhod01” to the centrifugal ambience of “Lunokhod07” feel perfectly natural. Even though it explores just as much inner and outer space as Whisper Room ever have, there’s something very approachable about Lunokhod that makes it one of their best.

Ian Mathers

[merakiaes]

Worth The Wait - Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader, John Shelby x reader (platonic)

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: This is not proof-read, so sorry in advance for mistakes and weirdly formed sentences. I hope you like it! 

Wordcount: 3246

Summary: After your sister Martha’s passing, you’re left with John and the children to pick up the pieces. And although your relationship with John ins purely platonic, Tommy can’t help but be jealous of your relationship. 

You were the first out of your sister Martha and yourself to meet the Shelbys.

You were two years older than her, the same age as John, and you and he had been classmates back when you were still in school.

The Shelbys and your family had lived in the same town your whole life, you and John seeing each other in school every day but never really talking. You had only started talking when you were sixteen.

It was around that age him and his older brother Arthur started getting into trouble, always going around the streets and picking fights with people.

Most of the times they deserved it, but still, you weren’t one to just sit back and watch, running in to save the day every time.

The first time it happened, John had been so caught up in punching the other boy that he’d accidentally hit you in the face with his elbow when you had tried to pull him back.

He had stopped only when hearing the sickening crack of your nose, turning back to look at you with wide eyes as Arthur, too, had, finally pulled himself back to reality and was yelling at him to stop.

John had wasted no time in starting to apologize, but rather than cry, you had just held your bleeding nose and punched him right back, before dragging him and Arthur off to clean them up.

From that day forward, you and John were inseparable, tight as two peas in a pod, but only as friends.

People often mistook your close friendship for young love, and it annoyed Tommy to no end, as he had developed a crush on you almost the same instant he laid eyes on you that day, watching with curious eyes as you punched his little brother in the face and then proceeded to scold both him and Arthur like you had known them forever.

Already at that time, you had actually managed to shut them up, having them hang their heads in shame while you cleaned their cuts, and it made Tommy fascinated, as he had never seen someone have so much control over them before.

Not even their aunt Polly.

At that time, Tommy had still been calm, and although sometimes a bit reckless, not half as violent as his brothers. So, most of the times, save a few when he actually joined in on the fighting, he would be stuck cleaning up his brothers with you.

It was two months later that you brought John over for dinner at your house for the first time, despite having been at theirs several times. And it was then John met Martha for the first time.

They took a liking to each other in an instant despite her being two years younger than you, and while you and John stayed best friends and attached at the hip, they started hanging out without you eventually, their relationship taking a romantic turn.

This left you with Arthur and Tommy, but since Arthur was the oldest of the brothers and had to help out with Finn, it was usually just you and Tommy.

You would spend hours on Charlie’s Yard with the horses, and stay out until late at night, just sitting around smoking cigarettes and laughing to the point where you would clutch your stomachs and be unable to breath.

For years, you and Tommy beat around the bush of your feelings to one another, as both of you were oblivious to the other’s emotions.

Tommy finally gathered up the courage to tell you one day, but then the war struck, and he decided to wait to tell you until afterwards, not wanting to leave you with that kind of heartbreak, should you love him back.

And so they left, leaving you back in Small Heath with Martha, Polly, Ada and your nieces and nephews; John and your sister sure had been busy.

You thought a lot about Tommy while they were away, but not as much as you would have if you would have stepped up your relationship before he left.

Tommy, however, thought about you every day, keeping a locket with your picture in his chest pocket, close to his heart at all times.

While away, John would talk about Martha and their children all the time. Tommy wanted to talk about you too, but for some reason, he just found himself unable to admit his feelings out loud before he had told you first.

But when the war was over, John came home and Martha was gone, having passed away in the influenza only weeks before their homecoming.

John was absolutely heartbroken and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t take care of his four children without the touch of a woman.

And so, you stuck around him from the moment he came back home.

Everyday, you would go over to his house with fresh food, getting up early every morning to go to the shop and be able to pick out the best fruit and vegetables before they were gone.

You would make them breakfast in the morning, making sure they were all fed, that the kids were ready for school, and that John actually got out of bed and headed over to the Betting Shop.

You would then hang around the Shelby residence the whole day while Polly and the Blinders tended to their business in the back, but rather than actually socialize, you prepped lunch and dinner for everyone and made sure everything was clean and in order so that Polly wouldn’t have to, taking care of Finn and John’s kids until it was time for the latter to go home to their own house.

All day, you would fuss over John and bid to his every request like you were the one he had married, taking care of his children like you were their mother. At least that’s how Tommy saw it.

He wasn’t the same after the war. He barely got any sleep at night, lying awake and listening to the sounds of shovels digging against the walls with panic, fear and anxiety rattling his bones. He craved for your touch, to be in your arms, but all you ever saw was John.

You knew it sounded horrible, but since they got back from the war, you had barely even taken the time to notice the way it had affected the older two of the three veterans. The only one you ever focused on was John, and everyone could see how jealous it made Tommy.

Before the war, he had been able to keep his romantic feelings towards you hidden good enough, but now, with the turn for the worse that his personality had taken, he was like an open book.

The only ones who couldn’t see it, were you and John, you being too busy to keep everything balanced in his and the children’s lives, and him being too wrapped up in his own chaotic mind to notice.

And though you and John had never been more than friends, everyone were now starting to doubt your constant denies to any romantic involvement with each other. Even Polly.

But they didn’t know that when you had put your nieces and nephews to bed every night, John would lay with his head in your lap and cry about your sister, remembering all of their shared moments and blaming himself for her death.

In what way it was his fault that she caught the influenza while he was away, you couldn’t quite figure out. But then again, you guessed there wasn’t really any logic in heartbreak, which was also why Tommy had been acting like a downright asshole for the past few months.

And today, when John had called for a family meeting in the backroom in The Garrison, was no different.

“Alright, John.” Tommy said in a bored toned as he wandered inside to where the rest of you were already sitting, trying his best to keep his eyes away from him where you sat beside him and sitting down on the opposite side of the table and lighting a cigarette. “Get on with it.”

You instantly glared at him, not knowing what had gotten into him. John was obviously distraught and exhausted, and yet he treated him like dirt.

Polly glared along with you, putting a comforting hand on John’s shoulder. “What’s troubling you?”

John took a shaky breath, fiddling with the box of matches in his hand, toothpick hanging from his lips and eyes red from tears and the lack of sleep. “Polly, you know what it’s been like since Martha died.”

Polly nodded, doing the sign of the cross and looking up into the ceiling. “God takes the best first.”

John’s leg bounced under the table with anxiety. He looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded, telling him to go on. “Well, the truth is, my kids have been running bloody rings around me. Running barefoot with the dogs until all hours.”

You looked at him with sympathetic eyes as he spoke, knowing more than anyone how exhausted he was. You wanted to keep helping him, but you couldn’t be with them at all hours every day anymore, as you had picked up a job as a nurse that would be taking time out of your days.

But Tommy didn’t seem to understand at all what he was getting at, only giving him an uninterested look and motioning to his aunt. “Pol, give him ten bob, some shoes.” He then turned to his younger brother, quirking a brow. “Is that it, John?”

“Tommy, we’d be better doing this without you.” Polly scoffed, before turning to John. “Now, what’s you point?”

John cleared his throat, straightened himself up and speaking in a much louder and cleared voice. “What the kids need is a mother. So, that’s why I’m getting married.”

Arthur and Polly shared a hesitant glance, looking between you and John with slightly narrowed eyes as they tried to figure the whole situation out.

Suspiciously, Arthur asked. “Does this poor girl know you’re going to marry her or are you going to spring it on her all of a sudden?”

“I’ve already proposed to her and she said ‘yes’.” John nodded, and when he looked at you for confirmation, to which you put a comforting hand on top of his while offering a smile, it was like all of the air was sucked out of the room.

With the suspicions that had been going around your inner circle in the last year, with the way you had been taking care of John and the children, everyone thought the same thing, and Tommy could feel his heart breaking in his chest right then and there.

Like so many times before, he found himself wishing he’d told you about his feelings before he left for France. But it was too late now.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, only leaning his arms forward on the table and looking down, hurrying to take a drag of his cigarette in a desperate attempt to rid himself of some of the anxiety that was quickly building up inside of him.

But it did absolutely nothing to soothe him.

Polly and Arthur both looked at the two of you with wide eyes and flabbergasted expressions.

“I-“ Polly paused, blowing out a breath and shaking her head slightly. “I guess we’ve been suspecting this for a while but we… We were never really certain.”

Arthur looked confused as ever, looking between you, John and Tommy, who was still glaring into the table. “Aye, always thought you had something going on with Tommy boy before we left.”

You and John both whipped your heads around to face each other, eyes growing wide at the realization of what they were saying, catching on immediately, but you were more shocked about what Arthur had said about you and Tommy.

While John looked at Polly with a horrified expression, you simply turned to watch Tommy with widened eyes, only then realizing the way he was glaring into the table.

“What?” John questioned, looking around at everyone in the room with a bewildered expression. “You thought- You thought I meant (Y/N)?”

Arthur and Polly shared a confused glance. “Didn’t you? We just assumed...”

“With he way she’s been ‘elping you…” Arthur joined in, both distraught.

At that, you pulled your eyes away from Tommy and exclaimed together with John.

“No!”

While John only shook his head violently, you scrunched up your nose. “That’s disgusting.”

At any other time, John would have for sure made a comment to that, but now he could only nod along. “We’ve been best friends since we were sixteen. I love ‘er like my sister.”

“Then who are you talking about?” Polly was even more confused now.

John looked to you, and you nodded to him, urging him to tell them.

“It’s Lizzie Stark.” He told them. “(Y/N) and I have never and will never be anything other than friends.”

By now, Tommy had looked up again, and you could feel his stare burning into your face, causing you to turn to meet his eyes.

He wanted to comment his brother’s choice of fiancée, but the only thing on his mind right then was you.

He had never experienced a panic like the one he had felt in the moment he thought you were the one marrying his brother. Not even the war could begin to compare to it.

And everyone else were just as relieved, finally not having to deal with Tommy’s sulky and bitter attitude now that he got another chance to come clean to you about his feelings.

John, however, as he had never thought about his older brother seeing you in a romantic way, only looked confused, eyes flickering between the people in the room. “Why did you think Tommy and (Y/N) was a thing?”

Polly and Arthur exchanged another glance, before turning to look at you and Tommy who had yet to look away from each other. John did the same, and realization finally lit up on his face, followed by narrowed eyes.

“Wait a minute…”

But before he could say anything else, Polly had whisked him out of his seat, clapping her hands and beginning to move out of the room. “Right.” She said. “I think we better let these two have some privacy. Go on, out you go.”

“But I-“ John tried to protest, but he was quickly pushed out of the room when Arthur joined his aunt’s side, the two managing to stop him from re-entering together and the oldest Shelby brother only smirking at the two of you before closing the doors, leaving you alone.

But neither of you had noticed any of it, as you were still starring into each other’s eyes.

Tommy’s face was a lot more relaxed now, the cigarette almost burned all the way to his fingers as he had forgotten all about it.

You could see it then in his eyes, the hidden feelings he had harbored for you for so long, just like you had for him. You had always felt some kind of connection with him, ever since you started hanging out alone when John first started courting your sister.

But even then, you had been too self-conscious and insecure to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, your opinion always being that he could get better.

He was Thomas bloody Shelby, for Christ’s sake; he could get anyone he wanted with a simple smile.

Yet, you couldn’t understand how you hadn’t seen it before, the memories of the countless of times you had caught him staring at you absentmindedly when you were younger now coming rushing back to the surface as you relived each and every one of those moments all in one.

Reality suddenly came crashing down, and you finally realized how different everything had been since they came back from the war.

Before the war, despite John still having been your best friend, it was Tommy who had kept you company each and every day. When he came back, you should have seen the impact the war had had on him.

But you had just been so caught up in keeping John sane that you had barely even acknowledged him during the whole year.

The realization filled you with guilt and caused a heavy frown to rise to your face, which instantly had you looking down in shame.

“I’m sorry.” Was the only thing you could say, looking back up slowly to see Tommy looking at you with a confused expression.

“For what?”

You gave him a sad look. “For denying you my support when you came back. You needed it just as much as John did, and I should have seen it. But I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a small, sad smile, finally letting the cigarette go, crushing it onto the ashtray in front of him. “I suppose it’s mostly my fault. If only I’d told you before I left, maybe things would have been different.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, knowing exactly what he was talking about. But still, you wanted to hear him say it, asking in a shaky breath. “Well, do you have anything to tell me now?”

Tommy looked at you for a long moment, not saying anything, before finally standing up, straightening his jacket and walking over to you.

You wasted no time in standing up to meet him, your breathing becoming heavier with the proximate position you were now in, your eyes locked together and faces so close your noses were only inches away from touching.

With patronizingly slow movement, he reached out a hand and tucked a small strand of hair behind your ear, his hands then coming to rest on your cheeks. And with a concentrated expression, he finally spoke.

“I love you, (Y/N). I have ever since we first met.”

Your lips tugged into a wide smile and you instinctively leaned into his touch, your eyes never leaving his as your hands came up to cup the hands on your cheeks. “I love you too, Thomas Shelby.”

A smile to match your own appeared on his face, and only a second later, your lips were pressed together.

The kiss was short and sweet, years’ worth of bottled up emotion spilling out in that one moment and leaving you weak at the knees.

Only when you pulled away did you notice the way his whole body was shaking lightly, a frown instantly rising to your face as you squeezed your hands tighter to his.

“You’re trembling.” You spoke in a mere whisper.

But it was loud enough for him to hear, getting him to let out a short laugh. “John’s engagement announcement gave me quite a scare.”

You laughed along with him, blushing slightly and cringing at the thought of people actually thinking  you and John were a thing.

Tommy grew serious once again, caressing your cheeks gently with a small frown. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

But you could only shake your head with a wide smile, not able to care about anything other than him in that moment.

“It doesn’t matter.” You told him. “In the end, things that are meant to be always finds its way. It took time, but it was sure worth the wait.”  

[takonei]

Beta AU - Main story, Chapter 5, deadly life (Part 5)

Note of the author: Guys, gals and pals following this story, chapter 5 is finally coming to an end.

Chapter 5: An oath to one’s lost humanity - Deadly life

...

He's...

He's dead.

Rantaro is dead.

Why was he still crying? Why was he still so afraid?

This was the fifth execution he was witnessing. Why did this one feel so different? So heartbreaking? So...

... Personal?

Shuichi couldn't discern what was in front of him, his vision blurred by the tears and the overwhelming dark thoughts his mind had been drowning him in for days.

Before he knew it, his knees gave out. He felt a few tears fall, letting his view clear enough for him to notice he was on the checkered floor of the courtroom.

The violinist couldn't hear anything that was happening next to him. Were any of them crying? Wailing? Holding each other into their arms?

So much he couldn't focus on.

"He... Rantaro..."

Shuichi didn't even realize he was saying this out loud.

His view slowly became hazy again due to the non-ending tears flowing on his cheeks.

The sound of his heart racing was loudly echoing in his head.

But the devastating thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a heartwrenching cry.

Miu dropped to the ground as she screamed her lungs out, wailing the loss of the one they had all trusted. The one who became a role model for her and helped her become the person she was now.

The one she had cared so much about, even more than the rest of them.

Although Shuichi could not pay full attention to it, Kaito and Kokichi went by her side to comfort her.

"Why? Why did it have to be this way?! Why didn't he trust us with this?! Why did he decide that carrying us without any sort of help was the right thing to do?! Why didn't he think he deserved our recognition for helping us?!"

"I don't understand..."

She sobbed, hands gripping her head.

"I don't... I don't understand anything at all..."

...

Shuichi was still frozen.

Why indeed?

Why did he deny their gratefulness for the actions he had done?

And of course, was still lingering the never-answered question he had asked himself so many times already...

... What was madness and what was reality?

The thin line that was so clear to him had been reduced to shreds over the trials, the deaths, and their suffering.

A crazy and unbelievable world they had learned to accept, and then was proven to be even crazier than they had all first thought.

...

He could feel Kirumi's tall figure next to him still staring at the black screen.

Shuichi barely heard the sound of her heels approaching him.

He couldn't even raise his head to look at her.

To his surprise, she set a knee down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "... Are you okay?"

A low voice that reeked repressed sorrow.

A simple question with a simple answer.

...

He doesn't know what took over him.

Before he realized what he was doing, the violinist had wrapped his arms around her, head buried in her chest. A grip stronger than he ever had on anyone in the entirety of this horrible game.

Was he so starved for comfort that his first reflex was to childishly clutch the person offering it?

What was he thinking? Why was he clinging to the trained killer who had the strength to throw him across the room?

Hadn't he had learned his lesson back then?

Had madness consumed him as well?

...

Kirumi didn't push him away, though.

After some time, she hesitantly placed her hands on his back, hugging him back without complaining.

He couldn't even find the courage to mutter a word. He could only cry his eyes out, shaking in her arms.

Shuichi didn't know how much time they would all spend mourning the slow death of their symbol of hope, in a wordless room filled with the sobbings and the cries of the ones fate had cursed.

Sixteen at the beginning, five alive as of now.

Eleven had perished under the despair of murderers and brutal executions.

He could only wonder why they were the ones still alive.

Why not Himiko? Korekiyo? Tsumugi? Keebo? Ryoma or Rantaro for that matter?

Shuichi kept crying. Life was unfair, and there was no one to blame but their captor.

Or captors, if what Rantaro said was true.

But right now, he couldn't bring himself to focus on theorizing about their situation.

The two were kept in this hug. He could feel Kirumi's rapid heartbeat in her chest. It felt so intimate, so private, and probably the most vulnerable he had ever seen her.

How could they even understand each other? They had lived completely opposite lives. Drastically different experiences that had forged them into the people they are now.

Although...

... The darkness surrounding them may be what was bringing those different worlds together, forcing them to coexist and cooperate to defeat a greater evil.

Worlds slowly decomposing as reality itself wasn't even trustworthy anymore.

Kirumi kept gently petting his back.

There was nothing around him anymore, just the tight embrace of the mercenary...

... And one, single tear falling on his head.

 ...

 ...

 --

 ...

 Shuichi doesn't know how much time passed before he regained a bit of consciousness and control over himself again.

And when he moved a little, Kirumi immediately gave him some space. She seemed to be at least a bit better now.

They didn't exchange words, and instead, silently helped each other to get back up.

He must be a mess, but at least Kirumi had the decency not to comment on that.

Monokuma was gone, surprisingly.

Miu was still sitting on the ground, looking at the void with eyes reddened by tears that had now dried.

Kaito and Kokichi seemed to have been trying to comfort each other as well.

The violinist swallowed before approaching the three.

"Are you... Okay?"

Kokichi glanced at the grieving Miu. "Hey... We should... We should get out of here."

He was right. This courtroom was only making matters worse.

The street artist rubbed her eyes and took Kaito's hand to get back up.

They looked around the courtroom, which seemed to have fewer lights on than before, like a store that had closed hours ago.

"Monokuma didn't even bother trying to make us leave..." Kokichi muttered.

"Not like he could have done anything." Kaito glanced at everyone. "We're all complete emotional messes."

There was a silence that lasted a few seconds.

Miu slowly started walking towards the exit.

"Let's just leave."

The ride in the elevator was quiet, and Shuichi was somehow grateful the machine kept emitting its loud mechanical noise. At least he could focus on something other than the dark thoughts in his mind.

They stepped outside the shrine. The sun had long gone down by now.

The five last survivors walked back to the dorms, each to their respective rooms.

What was going to happen next?

Would this game even continue? Rantaro might have failed and gotten executed, but he might be right, at least to an extent.

According to him, they could not trust anything they knew. Not themselves, their memories nor their pasts.

But also that this game was now completely devoid of sense and rules. What sort of motive would even incite them to kill anymore?

He could only hope the bear would indeed get bored and stop this massacre once and for all.

...

He closed his dorm room door behind him and fell onto his bed.

He didn't feel like sleeping, but didn't feel like staying awake either.

Shuichi stared at the other side of his room, not even bothering to put on proper clothes to sleep.

...

--

...

*knock* *knock*

He was suddenly taken out of this half-sleeping state when someone tapped on his door.

They could have used the doorbell, but Shuichi guessed they didn't want to make too much noise.

"I'm coming..."

The violinist slowly got up from his bed and opened the door. And here was standing...

Kirumi.

"W-What are you doing here?" he mumbled, rubbing his eye.

She was still in her uniform, and had visibly not tried to rest like he did.

"There's something important I need to address. I'll be waiting for you in the courtyard."

She immediately closed the door and left.

"W-Wait!"

Too late.

What was that about?

He went to the bathroom to splash water on his face.

Shuichi stared at the mirror, but somehow, this reflection didn't feel like his.

"The person you all loved and cherished, Rantaro Amami, the ultimate medic... Never existed."

...

Was he real? Was he nothing but a pale copy of another person?

Could he even call himself Shuichi Saihara anymore?

He could only try to imagine what was on Rantaro's mind all this time.

The violinist shook his head.

Not now.

He put on his shoes and left for the courtyard.

Just as she said, Kirumi was here, alone.

"U-Um... What did you want to talk about?"

"I'll wait until everyone gets here."

Everyone? What was important enough for her to call them here?

He could only wait and see.

None were in the mood for small talk, and that was perfectly fine.

The three other survivors came one by one, Miu being the last to arrive.

They all looked like they had tried to sleep, but were either kept awake by the terror and sorrow they were all feeling, or were waken up by Kirumi herself.

"So? What's the deal?" Kaito asked.

Kirumi crossed her arms, not glancing at anyone in particular. "I wanted to tell this to all of you immediately, but considering your current states, I preferred to let you take a break from this... 'Trial', if we can even call it that way."

Fair enough. But... What was it that couldn't wait until tomorrow?

"I've had this feeling ever since the execution. But to investigate alone would have been selfish and stupid on my part."

The mercenary raised her hand, palm facing them. She tightly gripped her sleeve. "You see..."

She pulled it down, revealing what looked like a strange electronic pin planted in her arm, a tiny smudge of dried blood where the needle was entering her skin.

"... I have a feeling that this case is not over yet."

Shuichi's eyes widened, both in horror and shock.

"W-What the hell is this?!" Kaito yelled. "Why the fuck do you have that in your arm?!"

The violinist could tell this was new. After all, he had seen her bare arms twice before, and she sure as hell didn't have that.

"I'm fairly certain Rantaro is the one who planted it on me."

Miu visibly perked up at the mention of his name. "What does Rantaro have to do with this?!"

"Remember when I grabbed him by the collar earlier?"

Shuichi winced. This moment wasn't the most joyful and pleasant to think about.

"I believe he planted this when he put his hand on my wrist. I didn't think that much of it at the time, but I could feel something in my arm ever since then. And I doubt he would have done this for no reason at all, and more importantly discreetly enough for Monokuma not to notice, or at least comment on that."

What... What else did Rantaro plan for this case?

"B-But..." Kokichi stuttered. "That must have hurt... How didn't you notice him planting it in your arm? I mean... You said you 'believe', like you are not sure..."

Kirumi froze.

...

Her condition.

They still didn't know.

She sighed. "I guess I had to reveal it someday."

"I don't feel physical pain. I never did. Rantaro knew that already, and I believe he took advantage of this to transfer one final message he couldn't allow Monokuma to take away from us."

"YOU WHAT?" Kaito yelled.

Shuichi looked at him. "She's telling the truth... I've seen it for myself."

"Hold on, when??" Miu frowned.

"Uh-

"Now isn't the time." Kirumi interrupted the discussion. "Rantaro must have given me this piece of evidence so we would have one step ahead of Monokuma. If we don't use it carefully, we will waste it."

Shuichi nodded as she watched her putting her sleeve back in place, not bothering to take out the pin. But perhaps it was safer this way.

"I've been thinking about it since the end of the trial, and there is only one place this could be useful in. Follow me."

They glanced at each other, but followed Kirumi without questioning. She must be staying silent so Monokuma wouldn't try to ruin their final investigation on this case.

The group climbed up the stairs of the main building one by one, and she stopped...

... In front of Ryoma's research lab.

This was where the two had prepared their plan without the cameras watching them. And if Rantaro didn't want Monokuma to investigate before them, then it must be the right place.

Once in the lab and after locking the door behind them, they decided to look through everything to find a hint.

But something caught everyone's attention quite quickly.

The locks on the boxes.

They let Kirumi climb there to see if this was indeed the answer.

...

"I believe this has something to do with the boxes, but not this one. However, I do have a theory."

She climbed down and showed them the pin.

On the part that had been outside of her arm was a tiny blue square with several black dots and one single white dot.

"The pin is the key, but it opens only one lock, I think."

Kokichi tried to get a closer look. "Oh! Like the square may be a map of all the boxes and the white dot is the correct one!"

"That could be it."

After figuring out how the map worked, they let Kirumi climb on the box supposedly noted white.

*click!*

The sound of the box being unlocked was loud enough for Shuichi to hear.

"Bingo."

Kirumi climbed inside the box and after a few minutes, she went out.

And in her hand was...

... A camera with one of the anti-electronic bomb magnets on it.

"What is this?" Kokichi asked.

"I mean it's a camera, but... Do you think something important is in here?" Kaito asked.

Kirumi stared at the object. "I have a very bad feeling about this."

But they didn't have a choice. This was the very last hint Rantaro had given them.

And Rantaro's plans, as insane as they were, were able to catch Monokuma by surprise, even by failing.

Was he still helping them from the grave?

The group sat down as Kirumi put the camera in place so everyone could see.

"... Here goes nothing."

She turned the device on.

Two videos were saved. The first recorded video was a minute long and the second was about seven minutes long.

"Perhaps we should watch them by order of recording?" Miu suggested. "I don't know... It's just my guess..."

She seemed to have gained a bit of energy back. Enough to investigate on the legacy Rantaro had left behind.

"First video it is." the mercenary selected it and pressed the play button.

...

-

...

The video started. It was Ryoma's lab- they could recognize the boxes and the signature lighting. It looked like the camera was positioned to film the entrance.

The gadget didn't seem to have been activated by anyone, yet was somehow recording.

But before they could wonder how, someone appeared on the screen.

Ryoma.

"So? Everything is in place?"

Shuichi jumped at the voice of Rantaro.

The medic appeared on the screen with a hacking gun in his hand.

"It's filming. Be careful, we only have one shot."

"I know that already."

Rantaro positioned himself behind the door, and Ryoma disappeared from the field of view right after taking out his own hacking gun.

The medic stared at where Ryoma supposedly was and nodded.

"MONODAM! WE HAVE A QUESTION ABOUT THE RULES!!"

Rantaro yelled probably louder than necessary.

He tightly gripped the gun, finger on the trigger.

...

The door suddenly opened and Monodam walked in.

A beeping was heard- supposedly the electronic bomb.

The two jumped out of their hiding spots, Rantaro kicking the door to close it.

And to everyone's surprise, both had pulled the triggers.

However, something made Shuichi's heart stop.

Rantaro's shot missed, going past Ryoma. And the latter's shot was the one to take the robot down.

Ryoma fired a couple more times as Rantaro nonchalantly walked towards the now dead mascot, not even bothering to help.

"... He's deactivated. We're good."

Ryoma looked up to his partner. "Could you have at least tried to shoot a bit further away from my face?"

"Sorry. At least we're good now, right?"

"Yeah."

...

So many questions ran through Shuichi's head.

Rantaro shrugged. "But hey, the first part is over. I'll let you take care of Monodam while I get to see how Monokuma is going to ruin the exisal hangar assault. I'll report everything to you later on."

"Got it, boss."

Ryoma took out what looked like a remote and then...

...

-

... The video brutally ended.

Rantaro... missed? And more importantly, on purpose?!

Which meant...

Monokuma was wrong. Rantaro was not the culprit of this so-called case.

But... Why didn't he say anything?

Why did he let himself get executed?!

The camera was here with the proof!! Why didn't he defend himself?!

The others were also under the shock of this revelation.

"Rantaro... Didn't do anything...?" Kokichi shakily mumbled.

"Monokuma... You..." Miu muttered. She suddenly slammed the nearby box with her fist. "You fucking bastard!! This was someone innocent you executed!!"

Innocent...

Somehow a part of Shuichi hoped he was indeed the one who killed Ryoma. To think there was a possibility he was executed for nothing...

He didn't even want to think about it.

The little game the judge and the condemned were playing had deadly stakes that meant nothing to either of them.

Now that Monokuma was gone from their group and Rantaro was dead, they could only try to put the final puzzle pieces of this miserable trial together.

Their motives and the rules, the lies and the truth.

Shuichi thought he knew Rantaro by now, but...

Whoever was with them during the trial and on the video felt like a total stranger.

...

"There is a second video. And I have a feeling this will be somehow worse." Kirumi broke the silence, narrowing her eyes at the tiny screen.

They had all realized Monokuma's mistake, and their mistake as well.

But whatever the second video showed couldn't change the truth of the first.

Rantaro was executed either for the wrong reasons or for absolutely nothing.

"Are you guys ready?" Kaito asked.

They exchanged glances and nodded.

Kirumi selected the video and pressed play.

...

-

...

The camera moved slightly as if it was being adjusted.

But on the screen was a scene that immediately made Shuichi stiffen.

A rope. A chair. A white neon light.

This video was about Ryoma's death.

The camera in place, Rantaro moved in front of the lens, checking if everything worked.

"It's recording."

"Good."

Ryoma appeared on the screen.

The two walked towards the chair and rope. Ryoma climbed on the seat and placed the noose around his neck.

...

"So this is it, huh?" Rantaro said. "This is where your story ends."

Ryoma shrugged. "You know it doesn't. Not now, at least."

"Yes, yes, I know. But you're about to die, Ryoma."

...

"... I'm doing this for you guys. You better win, alright?"

"Don't worry. We will."

There was a long silence between the two.

"... So? Shall we proceed?" Ryoma asked.

"Of course."

Rantaro rummaged through one of his inner pockets and took out...

... A small bottle filled with transparent liquid, exactly the one he had tried to drink during his execution.

He handed it to Ryoma.

"Thanks."

The weapons maker opened the cap.

"What on earth did you mix for the smell to be that strong?"

"Do you want the full list?"

"I'll pass."

Ryoma approached the container to his lips, and...

... He drank the entire bottle.

Rantaro took back the empty container, putting it in his pocket.

"This tastes awful."

"Told you so."

Ryoma snickered. "You better win this trial, Rantaro Amami."

The medic didn't seem to react.

He watched as the other soldier seemed to feel nauseous, and not even ten seconds later, he collapsed.

Ryoma was dead.

Rantaro stared at the scene for about a minute.

He then proceeded to snatch the chair from under his feet.

The lifeless body swung for a moment, but stopped moving rather quickly.

This was the exact same horrifying scene they had all discovered earlier.

The medic approached the camera with the chair and sat down.

He stared at the lens, not a single emotion visible on his face.

(BGM)

"If you're watching this, then it means the plan was a success."

"This means that I was both executed and Monokuma failed at being a competent killing game host."

"You see, I spent days preparing this specific poison for the plan. A poison that could act in a matter of seconds and could not be identified through bloodshot eyes, vomited blood or anything else."

"After all, right now, the blood in Ryoma's body is still circulating enough to create the marks around his neck that will make you all think he hanged himself."

"So if everything goes according to plan, Monokuma will have marked his death as either hanging, suffocation, or strangulation."

"But in reality, his death was never related to the rope."

"And if I get executed, this means he would have done so for absolutely no valid reason at all. I didn't disrespect any rules, I didn't kill Monodam, and I didn't kill Ryoma. Which means..."

"... That I am completely innocent in the case of Ryoma Hoshi, the ultimate weapons maker."

"In other words, absolutely everything about this case is nothing but pure lies and inability to take care of a simple suicide. Cause of death wrong, rules broken, innocent executed for crimes they didn't commit..."

"Nothing but pure failure on Monokuma's part."

"You may wonder why I did this. Why we prepared this entire plan. Well..."

"Most of the reasons are what I told you after the trial. About destroying Monokuma's will to continue the game. But there are a few more reasons for my actions."

"Why did I let myself being executed? Why didn't I show the proof with the cameras? Well..."

"I didn't want to."

"I wanted Monokuma to go through his entire thought process only to realize he had been wrong all along and had broken the rules for absolutely no other reason than his incompetence."

He chuckled.

"Isn't that what he loves to do? To get our hopes up and make us fall into a greater despair?"

"So how about we turn the tables for once?"

"Monokuma, you thought you had managed to put an end to our plan, but that was never the case. You fell right into my trap because you always let us do whatever we wanted."

"You miscalculated everything about this."

"Ah, but you guys don't know what I'm talking about exactly."

"The cameras showed him that I was preparing a poison. But this poison was not to end my life on my own terms like he thought I would do in case the plan failed. It was for the plan itself."

"But you may ask, what exactly did I take out of my pocket later on during the execution? Well... If I even managed to do so? The answer is quite simple."

"It was plain water."

"Nothing but still water available in this lab. As stupid as this sounds, any transparent liquid could be mistaken for water and vice-versa. Quite convenient if you ask me."

"Anyway, there is another question that you probably asked yourselves at some point."

"Why wasn't *I* the victim of this case?"

"You see..."

"I was supposed to. I was the one who volunteered to be the victim."

"However, Ryoma didn't let me. He wanted me to live no matter what. And that's when I got a better idea."

"To manipulate Monokuma into killing me."

"Of course, I omitted a lot of details when I explained the plan to Ryoma, or else he wouldn't have accepted to help me in this. I told him I would show the videos after Monokuma votes me guilty, but being executed was my intention since the very beginning."

"Now does that mean Ryoma's death was useless? Absolutely not. This plan wouldn't have been a success without his sacrifice."

"I do wish he didn't have to die this way, but the end justifies the means, as they all say."

"Although, I'm getting off-topic here."

"..."

"Hey, mastermind."

"Do you see it now?"

"You failed, and I won."

"We both did this little game of play pretend for three weeks and you lost."

"Admit your defeat. There's no point in continuing because everyone has already realized by now how pathetic this shitshow really is."

"And even if you don't immediately give up, everything will end soon enough."

"..."

"... Well, I do have one last thing I want to say to you, asshole."

Rantaro smiled and raised the middle finger.

"Get fucked, mastermind."

...

-

...

Shuichi couldn't believe his eyes.

Rantaro... He had won.

He was exactly where he wanted to be.

In the afterlife after dying as a martyr.

Everything he supposedly felt was nothing but an act to manipulate Monokuma. Lies that had fooled them all, including the mastermind.

This meant that when the investigation had just started, now hours ago, when they looked at the information the bear had given them to investigate...

... The game was already over.

Shuichi couldn't even comprehend how insane this was.

Out of all the things Rantaro could have done to try to defeat Monokuma, this was the last thing he expected him to do... And yet he felt like he should have.

He could somehow hear the deranged laugh of the medic in the back of his head, mocking them all from the world of the dead.

Mocking Monokuma for his mistakes... And perhaps laughing at the absurdity of his own life too.

A man filled with illusory memories, perishing from a meaningless death.

There was not even a single bit of dignity left of him. His whole honor had been shattered to pieces by this killing game.

...

The violinist thought about the conversation they had in the morning.

"I won't be able to die in peace until I'm absolutely sure this game is over."

The way he smiled as he was dying, leaning against the bridge pole with nothing but ashes in his lungs and blood flowing out of his shoulder...

He died satisfied.

He died in peace, knowing his plan was a brilliant success.

An ending that was a tragedy to them, but a blessing to him.

Rantaro... He was really...

... A mastermind of his own.

 --

"..."

"Rantaro, you filthy bastard."

"You actually won."

"I should have known what I was getting into when I made this decision back then."

"A move that I now realize cost me my place of 'ultimate mastermind', but a move I do not regret in the slightest."

"You were a wonderful adversary. I am glad I got to fight you in this nonsensical game, although there are a lot of things I do regret. And I do wish you were here for the final trial."

"..."

"I was wrong to underestimate you."

"This whole madness..."

"That's why you started the act, isn't it?"

"To make me lower my guard and think you were not as much of a threat as I thought you would be."

"At first I didn't believe your bullshit thanks to Kiyo. However, the more this game went on, the more I realized you were slowly drowning in your own despair."

"But I made the mistake of thinking you wouldn't be a worthy opponent in those conditions, and thus you managed to pull out a plan even greater than anything I've ever done in this game."

"Congratulations, Rantaro."

"I admit defeat."

"You're observing me from the afterlife, aren't you? In that case..."

"Watch."

"Consider this a promise, or a gift."

"I will finish what you started."

"I am going to put an end to all of this."

"..."

"Oh well..."

"You already made sure this game would end since the very beginning of your crazy plan, didn't you?"

[fandomfanfics12]

Home Lives With You-Part 1

Title: Home Lives With You. Pairings: Steve x Tony Part: 1/? Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst, blood, abuse (physical and verbal), ptsd, anxiety, bullying Summary: Peter’s been living with the abusive Thompson family for years, it was the only family in the system that would take him. When Steve and Tony get a phone call from the social worker who introduced them to their daughter Morgan for an emergency placement, they feel like they must pay back the favor. But are Steve and Tony taking on more than they can handle, and will Peter be able to adjust to a warm and welcoming family home? A/N: A nonnie requested this and I couldn’t resist writing it, hope you enjoy!

Peter remembered the day that he arrived at the Thompson’s house. Remembered the excitement of exploring the rich looking house in the rich looking neighbourhood. He made sure to give his biggest and toothiest grin when the door opened, his social worker was always telling him that everyone always fell in love with his smile, why should the Thompson’s be any different? And while Rhodey was with Peter, they were no different. They smiled and hugged and showed him the room he was to share with their son-Eugene (although he insisted that Peter call him Flash). Once Rhodey had made sure he was settled, he’d wished Peter good luck and had taken off. As soon as the door had shut, the Thompson’s grins had faded, Mrs Thompson’s turned into a wicked smirk that had sent a nervous flutter through Peter. Flash had then shoved Peter out of his room and slammed the door shut. Peter had thought maybe the boy was being changed, but then Mr Thompson grabbed him around the neck and dragged him downstairs into the basement. It was small, dark, cramped full of junk and somewhere there was a leaky pipe.

“what are we doing here, sir?” Peter asked and eyed the room a little nervously.

“This will be your room kid.” Peter frowned and looked back up at him.

“what? I thought that Flash and I were-“

“you will touch none of Flash’s things. You will stay in here unless we tell you to come out and you will follow every order my wife gives you. Do you understand me?” Peter’s lip wobbled at the stern voice. He didn’t understand, what had he done wrong? he had thought that the Thompson’s liked him, that’s the impression they gave to Rhodey.

“B-but it’s dark in here.” Peter stuttered. His last fosters had been nice but had claimed they were too old to look after a young kid and had sent him back to Rhodey. Peter was in the awkward stage where he wasn’t quite a teenager yet, but was almost there that most people overlooked him. Mr Thompson grabbed Peter’s arm and dug his fingers in enough that Peter yelped.

“you’re hurting me!”

“Sir.” The man snarled and Peter flinched.

“You’re hurting me sir.” Peter whispered and the man shoved him down the remainder of the stairs until Peter’s body crumpled on cold concrete.

“You better be awake when my wife comes to check on you.” the man snarled and shut the basement door. Peter slowly rose to his feet and then crept up the stairs, when he tried the door it was locked. He spun around, heart racing and hot tears running down his cheeks. Rhodey had insisted that these were good people, he had lied. Peter curled up in a ball, knees hugged to his chest and took several deep breaths. It’s not that bad. Just think happy thoughts. Things will be better in the morning. Maybe if I’m really really good they’ll let me use the phone and I can call Rhodey. Maybe he can fix this and get me out of here.

Peter told himself that he just had to survive through the night, that that would be the worst of it.

He was very wrong.

-

They all jumped when the phone rang. Tony narrowed his eyes at Morgan and Steve as he placed his cards down.

“No cheating.” He grumbled as he went to go answer it.

“No promises!” Steve called after him and Tony stuck his tongue out at him as he answered.

“Stark-Rogers residence.” He said, a lightness to his tone that came from a good and easy evening. Steve had made dinner with Morgan which was one of the cutest sights Tony had ever had the pleasure of seeing. Each day with her was more incredible than the last and Tony was amazed that he got to be her dad.

“Hey Tony it’s James Rhodes-“

“Rhodey! How are you doing?” Steve’s head snapped up at that and he tilted his head, furrowing his brow slightly.

“I’m good, is Steve there with you?” Tony waved him over, Steve pressed a kiss to the top of Morgan’s head and then made his way over.

“Yeah he’s here, what’s going on?” Tony held the phone between them so Steve could listen in.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asked and Rhodey sighed.

“I need to ask a huge favour from the two of you.” Tony relaxed slightly. At least it wasn’t something to do with Morgan. The idea of losing her was the scariest thing in the world for Tony, he couldn’t imagine life without her or Steve.

“What is it?” Steve asked, wrapping an arm around Tony.

“I was wondering if you two could take an emergency foster placement? His name’s Peter and he’s sixteen years old. It would only be a couple weeks, a month at most.” Both men pulled back from the phone and met each other’s eyes.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“His foster family was in it more for the paycheque than the actual kid. But I’ve known Peter for years, he’s really a good kid okay?” Tony covered the mouth piece.

“What do you want to do?” He asked and Steve glanced over at Morgan.

“I mean, it’s only a month right? we could put him in the guest bedroom upstairs.”

“That’s just one room over from Morgan’s.”

“Rhodey thinks he’s a good kid, we should help him.” Steve murmured and Tony nodded. He agreed with Steve, they couldn’t turn away a kid in need. They’d done this a couple times before, taken in kids who only needed a place for a few nights. But never had they taken on a kid over the age of nine, let alone a teenager.

“Why don’t we come down to the office and we can discuss it with you further.” Tony said and Rhodey let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, thank you that’d be great. I knew I could count on you, I’ll see you soon.” Tony hung up the phone and stepped out of Steve’s hold.

“Alright, you get Morgan ready, I’ll make sure the house is presentable.” Steve nodded and kissed Tony’s temple before going to get Morgan.

-

Peter sat in Rhodey’s office, nerves rattling through him. They were going to reject him, he already knew it. Rhodey had pressured them into coming-he knew it. But Peter was just relieved to be out of the Thompson’s house for a few hours. His mind flashed back to earlier that evening, he’d been serving up the dinner he’d made and dropped a plate. He knew as soon as the fine china shattered that he was done for. He’d gone straight downstairs to the basement, Mrs Thompson screaming and Mr Thompson’s feet rumbling down the stairs.

“where are you boy?” a perk of the basement was that they never fixed the light bulb in here. Not since the day Peter had moved in. Peter knew this space like the back of his hand, every spider’s web and mouse trap and box. Mr Thompson crashed into everything in the whole damned room.

“I’m so sorry sir.” Peter was crouched behind a box of Christmas decorations, Mr Thompson had whirled at the sound of his voice. He’d grabbed Peter’s collar and dragged him across the room.

“I have half a mind to beat you to a bloody pulp but you’re going. Tonight. I have to be careful.” Peter had been foolish enough to think that meant he’d get away. Truly get away, with no punishment. Instead, Mr Thompson had been meticulous about where he’d hit Peter. The wounds he inflicted, the ribs he broke, the placement of his punches. As soon as Rhodey had left his office to go meet the couple that would supposedly take him in, Peter had lifted his shirt to assess the damage. His torso was a canvas of blues and blacks and purples, there were a few deep cuts from when a nail had scraped along his side as Mr Thompson had dragged his body across the floor. Peter counted his lucky stars that he wore a deep red shirt. Slowly he got up and began to search through the room, finally finding a first aid kit. He looked at the wound, deep and still blood trickled out of it. he grabbed the needle and thread and with shaking hands began to do an activity that he had done countless times but which had never gotten easier.

-

“So the family was just in it for the money?” Steve was disgusted, these kids were human beings too.

“Unfortunately. Pete begged me to get him out of there, but no one wants to take on a teenager, let alone a boy teenager.”

“People think girls are easier?” Tony asked and Rhodey nodded his head. Steve took Tony’s hand, his heart ached for the kid. He thought of Morgan who was with another social worker in the toy room playing dolls, what would have happened to her if Tony and Steve hadn’t taken her in?

“I know it’s horrible to assume the worst but I have to ask, will Morgan be safe if he stays with us?” Rhodey looked slightly taken aback but nodded his head.

“Peter wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s a really good kid he’s just had a rough life. We have a family lined up to take him on if need be but they’re currently in Los Angeles and don’t get back until next month.” Steve nodded his head, a month wasn’t so long. Maybe they could convince the kid that it was like a short vacation.

“and school?”

“It’s in your area. Midtown.” Tony nodded and looked impressed.

“Good school.”

“It’s a great school and Peter’s incredibly smart. Despite his situation he’s got straight A’s.” Steve nodded and felt a little more reassured.

“Is he here?” Steve asked and Rhodey nodded.

“in my office, follow me.” they stood up and followed Rhodey through the building. Steve felt Tony’s nervous glance and gave him a reassuring smile.

“is he shy?” Tony asked as they arrived at the door.

“ yeah. he’s quiet and shy so he might not talk much.” Rhodey warned as he opened the door.

“That’s alright, Tony talks enough for the three of us.” Steve joked and Tony playfully jabbed him in the elbow.

-

The door opened and Peter saw a blonde man jab a brunette with his elbow. The brunette rolled his eyes and Peter felt his stomach drop. Rhodey hadn’t seen it, he was smiling.

“Peter, this is Tony and Steve Stark-Rogers.” They’re no different. Peter thought to himself but forced himself to smile.

“Hello sirs.” He mumbled, hiding his hands behind his back. He didn’t want them to see the blood. He didn’t need to give them any excuses to hate him.

“Peter we’ve gone over this, you can just call them Steve and Tony.” Rhodey said softly but Peter shook his head.

“It’s nice to meet you Peter, Rhodey speaks very highly of you.” the brunette, Tony, was grinning. Peter didn’t buy it, he’d seen grins on fosters before. He’d once thought them to be true, all they were was a lie.

“That’s nice of him to say, sir.” Tony glanced at Steve but said nothing more.

“we have a little girl, Morgan, would that bother you having her around? She’s only eight years old and mostly likes to play dolls so she shouldn’t intrude too much.” Steve said it so gently, his voice was so soft and warm and soothing.

“No that wouldn’t bother me at all.” Peter murmured, his mind was racing. Rhodey had told him it was only for a month. All peter had to do was survive the month without pissing off either man, and he thought he had gotten pretty good at that. His main job was to make sure he just didn’t drop any plates.

“Great, do you want to go grab your stuff and we’ll finish filling out the paperwork with Rhodey.” Tony said, a grin on his face. Rhodey’s whole body visibly relaxed and Peter nodded. He turned around and winced as he bent over to get his bag, no one noticed. No one was paying him any attention.

-

Tony opened the back door of the car and turned to get Peter’s things, but Peter only had a small backpack and a trash bag.

“Where’s the rest of it?” he asked as Peter placed them down gently.

“That’s all of it.” Tony glanced to Steve who clenched his jaw and Peter kept his head down. Morgan tilted her head to the side and wrapped her arms around Steve’s leg as she studied Peter with curiosity.

“okay well uh, just climb on in then.” Tony shut the door and Steve went to get into the driver’s seat, taking Morgan along with him.

“Oh not that side!” Steve exclaimed and Peter flinched. At that, Tony frowned. What had this kid gone through? Peter came around to his side of the car and Tony smiled gently at him.

“Sorry, booster seat.” Tony told him and Peter nodded. Tony shut the door once Peter was buckled in and got into the car himself. He watched as Steve finished buckling in Morgan who again simply stared at the teenage boy before her.

“So Rhodey tells us that you’re a straight A student, you like school huh?” Tony asked, turning in his seat to get a look at Peter.

“yes sir.” Peter said, meeting his eyes with only a small amount of hesitation.

“Well if you ever need any help I’m happy to assist. Steve while he tries spent more time on the football field than in the library.” He hoped that he’d get a smile from Peter, instead Peter just nervously glanced at Tony’s husband who had started the car.

“thank you for the offer sir.” Peter said and Tony narrowed his eyes. Steve pulled out of the carpark and Peter shifted in his seat so he was looking out the window, but Tony still watched him.

“Peter you don’t have to keep calling us sir, Tony and Steve is just fine.” Steve murmured and turned a corner. They would be home soon, maybe Peter would settle down then.

“I want to say thank you, for taking me in sirs.” Peter looked back at Tony who nodded his head, finally facing forward again.

“The pleasure is ours Peter.” Steve said and finally turned onto their street.

“Can we have ice cream?” Morgan asked and Tony chuckled.

“Yeah I think we can have some ice cream.” Tony murmured and Steve rose a brow.

“it’s a quarter past nine.”

“so?”

“You can stay up with her then.” Steve said and Tony rolled his eyes.

“don’t be such a party pooper Steve.”

“Yeah dad don’t be such a party pooper.” Morgan stuck her tongue out at the back of his head and Tony chuckled. He thought he heard the smallest and most tentative laugh emerge from Peter in the back seat.

-

Tony had taken Morgan inside to go pick a movie, leaving Steve alone with Peter.

“Are you feeling alright?” Steve asked and Peter jumped, gripping his bags a little too tightly.

“Fine sir, thank you for asking.” Sir. Steve hated that, it reminded him of the days when he was in the military. Back when he had just turned nineteen, how different his life was to back then.

“Okay I understand that calling me Steve makes you uncomfortable, so how about we come to a compromise?” Steve asked and Peter blinked.

“A compromise?”

“If you really would prefer to be formal then Mr Stark-Rogers is fine, though I really would like it if you called me Steve.”

“are you sure Mr Stark-Rogers?” Peter’s voice trembled over Steve’s name and Steve nodded.

“Of course Peter. Now I’ll show you to your room but it’s a little bare, we’ve kind of been putting off decorating it.” Steve admitted and led Peter inside, locking the car as they went. He dumped the keys into the key bowl and led Peter up the stairs. Peter’s wide eyes looked around wildly at the house and Steve led him down the hall to the guest room. He’d made sure to avoid the words ‘guest room’ lest Peter felt unwelcome here. The room really did look barren when Steve entered. There was only a bed, a desk and a wardrobe that occupied the space.

“Thank you Mr Stark-Rogers.” Steve looked down at Peter who looked completely stunned by the room. Steve had expected him to be disappointed. This room looked more like a prison cell than that belonging to a teenage boy.

“We’ll take you down to the store on the weekend and you can pick out some stuff to decorate it.” steve told him and Peter whirled around.

“that won’t be necessary sir, I mean-Mr Stark-Rogers, you’ve done enough already and I really appreciate it and you really don’t-“ Steve cut him off.

“Relax Peter. Tony and I have been meaning to decorate this room for a while now but it’s just been one of those things that’s fallen onto the backburner. You’d be doing us a favour.”

“A favour?” Peter asked, his voice small.

“A huge one, we should be thanking you. Come on let’s go get some ice cream before Morgan and Tony eat it all.” Peter nodded and followed him downstairs but didn’t touch the bowl that Tony slid towards him.

“I’m not hungry.” At that Tony rose his brows and gave Peter his unimpressed-dad-face.

“You’re telling me that as a teenage boy you’re not hungry?” Peter’s stomach grumbled, giving away his lie and he cringed.

“It’s been a long day and I’ve got school tomorrow and-“

“You can go to bed after you eat your ice cream Peter.” He hesitated for a moment but then nodded.

“Okay, thank you sir.” He said and Tony turned away. He scrunched up his nose and Steve had to cover his mouth to prevent a laugh from slipping out.

“I told Peter that we should thank him because now we finally have an excuse to decorate the upstairs bedroom.” Steve said and the spoon froze halfway between the bowl and Peter’s mouth.

“Really?” Tony asked and turned around, Steve nodded his head.

“Yeah, the room’s a lot more bare than I had thought.” Steve scratched the back of his head and Tony nodded.

“Okay we can go before Morgan’s dance lesson. Pick up some paint and some sheets, get Peter some new shoes too.” Tony said, listing things off on his fingers.

“I don’t need new shoes sir.” Steve looked down at Peter’s feet and the ratty shoes that had holes in them. It looked like they’d been chewed out by a dog.

“New shoes are top of the list.” Steve said and Peter blushed.

“I don’t have any money to pay for new shoes Mr Stark-Rogers.” At that Tony’s head whipped to Steve.

“We can buy you a pair of shoes Peter, it’s really nothing.” Morgan was falling asleep at the counter. Steve scooped her up and carried her over to Tony.

“Say goodnight Morgan.” Steve murmured and she leaned forward, kissing Tony on the cheek.

“Night daddy.”

“Goodnight princess.” Steve then carried her over to Peter, where she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

“Goodnight Petey.” Peter’s face went an even brighter shade of red that melted Steve’s heart.

“Goodnight Miss.” Peter said softly and Steve took note of Peter’s frown.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Steve said and led Morgan upstairs. She clung to Steve but Steve could feel her grip loosening. Despite the ice cream she’d be unconscious within thirty seconds.

“daddy?” she mumbled, a yawn escaping her.

“Yeah?” he asked and placed her down in bed. He knew she should brush her teeth first but she was so tired and one night wouldn’t hurt.

“Is Peter my new brother?” she asked and Steve chuckled.

“We’ll see.” The response surprised Steve. Peter was only staying here for a month, yet he was suggesting to Morgan that it could be longer. She grinned though and he didn’t have the heart to take it back.

“Good, I like Petey.” And then she drifted off as if she hadn’t blown Steve’s mind away. Maybe he could talk to Tony and Rhodey about keeping Peter around for a little longer. Sure it was only the first night but Rhodey was right, Peter was a good kid. Maybe if this month went well, they could adopt Peter and make it official? Steve knew he was getting ahead of himself but once he’d thought about it, he got excited about it. what if Peter could be their son?

[the-problem-of-leisure]

Fear of the Water - ch 1

Fear of the Water - Annie & Finnick Origin Story

(ANNIE)

“Annie,” a voice says. There’s something pressing on my shoulder. “Annie, wake up.”

I try to hide my face behind my hair. “Nooooo,” I moan, drawing out the word.

“Come on. It’s reaping day.”

I crack my eyes open. My twin brother Bosun is standing over me. He’s bathed and dressed already. Must have been awake for hours. His strawberry hair is combed for once, but bags and purple shadows hang under his blue-green eyes. I wonder if he slept at all.

He forces a smile. “I don’t know how you sleep so late. I can never sleep at all before the Reaping.”

The only reason I’m able to is because I stole a sleeping draught from our aunt’s medicine cabinet.  She doesn’t know, of course – she’d have one of her episodes. Probably threaten to send Bosun and me back to the community home. But we’re seventeen now, and we can work full time now that we’ve finished school, and I doubt she’d be willing to part with our salaries. But it also means we can live on our own. Bosun and I constantly promise ourselves that day will come soon, but people usually only move out of their family homes when they get married.

My cousins and I help each other into our dresses and comb one another’s hair. One must look their absolute best on Reaping Day in case one gets called up. Don’t want the sponsors’ first impression of you to be in swimming clothes.

Adrie ties my hair up in a ribbon as I braid Coraline’s hair from behind. Coraline is nearly eighteen; Adrie is fifteen. We all qualify for the reaping, and even though a girl named Coastia Is set to volunteer, we’re still nervous wrecks. Everybody is.

My aunt Chelsea looks us all over one more time to be sure we’re presentable.

We don’t bother with breakfast since none of us will be able to eat anything anyway. We walk toward the pavilion where the reaping is held in relative silence. I give Bosun’s hand a quick squeeze before he joins his friends on the boys’ side of the crowd.

“Dodge got his hands on a bottle of rum,” Bosun says to me. “When all this is over, we’ll get drunk and go for a swim. Okay?”

I lower my voice and try not to move my lips too much as I speak. “Do we have to bring the cousins?”

“God, no. They’d ruin it.” Bosun gives me a quick squeeze. “It’ll be you, me, Dodge, and Ondine. And Gill, I think. And maybe a couple of Dodge’s cousins, but they’ll bring their own liquor.”

“I hate most of Dodge’s cousins.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll be drunk.” He goes off toward the boys’ side and I look around for Ondine. She’ll need somebody to hold her hand through all this, the awful memories it will drag up.

Ondine, who’s been with Bosun for as long as anybody can remember, is my best friend. Maybe my only proper friend – except for Dodge, I guess. Bosun’s the social one; as his twin, I can just insert myself into whatever relationships he has without putting in the work of getting to know someone and then his friends become mine.

Ondine’s sister Liffey was my proper best friend until she died of an infected cut on her arm in the arena last year. Ondine, already an orphan, is now totally alone except for Bosun, who she’ll probably marry in a few years.

“Annie!”

I turn at the sound of my name. “Ondine.”

Lithe, lovely Ondine rushes toward me and grabs my hands so hard that my knuckles crack. “Oh, I’m so glad I found you. I couldn’t stand to be alone for this.”

“Me neither.”

She talks when she’s anxious, so I’m prepared when she starts speaking a mile a minute. “We just have to remember that we’re nearly done. This is my last reaping, and you and Bosun will be done next year. And then we’ll all be safe.” Her throat bounces as she swallows back tears. “Right?”

I smile. “Right.”

She catches sight of a few of her friends and drags me over to them.

(FINNICK)

I sit with the other victors on the platform in the shade. Everybody else stands on the ground facing the stage, the sun shining directly into their eyes. They’ve probably all ruined their clothes with sweat by now.

An attendant comes around to us and offers to powder our faces so we don’t look “too damp.” Mags is the only one polite enough to say no; the rest of us just ignore the attendant altogether. I let her give me a light dusting.

Eefa is half-asleep, Mags has her hands folded in her lap, and Broadsea keeps itching his beard and occasionally baring his teeth at people who stare too long. Proteus hasn’t taken his seat yet; he’s chatting with the mayor and the harbormaster about spatchcocking, which I guess is a cooking thing since that’s his passion. Maybe ‘passion’ is too strong a word; Proteus is too apathetic to experience any strong urge or emotion. His hobby, perhaps, is a better description.

We sit in order of victory, which means that as the most recent victor, I’m at the end of the line.  I’m stuck next to damn Broadsea, and, since I sit on his left, I’m stuck looking at the mangled side of his face from the corner of my eye.

Mags is the only one I get along with. She’s the only one I like and she’s one of the only people in the world who genuinely likes me. As our district’s first victor, she’s seated at the other end of the line.

The microphone at the front of the stage shrieks as our Capitol escort adjusts it. She’s gotten even more surgery done to disguise her age since last summer, but instead of looking younger she just looks strange. She gives the introductory speech reminding us why the Hunger Games exist and what an honor it is to be chosen.

Piers Brewre volunteers for the boys.

The Career is about average height, maybe a little taller, and well-built. His muscles don’t bulge out of his body the way other Careers’ sometimes do, but they’re just big enough to see that they’re there.

Most of our tributes are Careers; regular kids get called up about a third of the time. We don’t have as many Careers as 1 and 2, but it’s practical to have a few. Careers have a real shot at winning and they save someone else’s life by volunteering to compete. I’ve always wondered why other districts don’t have this practice. It would save them a lot of heartache.

Piers takes his spot on the stage and crosses his arms over his chest as he waits for his partner to be called.

Brae clears her throat. “Now for the girls!”

There’s confusion in the crowd. An eighteen-year-old girl named Coastia was set to volunteer this year. Most people don’t change their minds about volunteering, and those who do aren’t usually allowed to withdraw. Coastia must’ve bribed somebody to get out of it.

Someone angrily shouts “Coastia! What did you do?” and a girl of about eighteen that must be her shrinks to the back of the crowd. The other girls begin to cluster into little pockets, all holding hands and whispering to each other. Other people start to scream out all sorts of horrible things, and most of the girls begin to panic. They thought, at least this year, they were safe. Now the odds are their only protection.

Brae, our escort, prances over to the other bowl and reaches in. She accidentally grabs two, and takes her sweet time choosing which to keep and which to toss back with the others. She opens the slip of paper and clears her throat before reading, “Annie Cresta!”

After a few seconds, a girl emerges from the crowd. Flowing hair. Wide eyes. Maybe sixteen or seventeen. Visibly trembling. She stumbles a few times as she climbs the steps to the stage, anxiously wiping her sweaty palms on her blue dress. Her chin quivers from the strain of holding back tears. She’s going to lose the battle.

There’s a commotion near the front of the boys’ group. A boy says something and surges forward, but another boy, who I know to be the grandson of one of our other victors, catches him by the arm and pulls him back.

Brae smiles brightly. “Ladies and gentlemen of District Four, I present to you – your tributes!”

There’s plenty of mandatory clapping, then the tributes are led into the Justice Building. The Head Peacekeeper steps to the front of the stage and starts barking instructions. “Those of you wishing to bid farewell to the tributes, line up here in order of closest relation.”

Broadsea pulls a large bottle of liquor from a hidden pocket in his coat and takes a large drink. He wakes Eefa up to offer her some.

It’s the same every year. Eefa will stay in her rooms and avoid other people at all costs, Broadsea will be drunk or high or both, Proteus will be charming and ass-kissing Capitol citizens whenever possible, and Mags and I will try to keep a pair of children alive for as long as possible.

But I've already watched eight children die in pain and fear. Why should this year be any different?

[jokerfan99]

Insult to Injury (RWBY/RVB) by Necroceph

*RVB Opening Theme*

On the Blue Base's roof

Church: The fuck are they doing over there?

He's right, what on Earth are the Red's doing. Through his rifle's scope, he sees the Reds building something on their roof what appears to be, a signboard?! First the stink formula, now this? Who's giving them these stupid ideas anyway? Hey don't look at me, I'm just the narrator!

Caboose: Hello!

Out of the blue, no pun intended, Caboose pops up into Church's view.

Church: Aaaaah! Goddammit, don't scare me like that! Caboose: Sorry. Whatcha watching? Church: Check this out.

Church gives Caboose a peak through the scope.

Church: I don't know what they're building, but it looks like a signboard. Caboose: Signboard? Aww, not another highway advertisement! Church: Who knows what they're using it for. My guess is Sarge just wanted to write something to mock us, that's for sure. Caboose: Or maybe they're planning to advertise their products so that they can earn a quick profit. Church: What? Who the fuck would be buying their junk? Not us of course. Caboose: Maybe Sangheili's passing by in the atmosphere? Church: Guess we'll have to find out ourselves. By the way, what are you doing up here? Caboose: Oh right! I'm here to tell you that Weiss is awake! Hooray! Church: It's about time that Ice Queen wakes up. Here take the rifle, I'm going to have word with her. Caboose: Uhm, Church, what about me? Church: I don't know just... spy on the Red's construction I guess. Call me out if anything new comes up.

At the Blue Base, Weiss' Room

I'm never going near another trash bin for a week. Weiss thought to herself as she takes another sip of her coffee, specially prepared by none other than Kaikaina. Weiss gotta hand it to the Grif, this is one hell of a caffeine.

Kaikaina: You want Dr. Kai to get you some meds? Weiss: No no, I'm perfectly fine. No need to concern yourselves over me. I've been through worse situations before. Tucker: Schnee, you passed out since yesterday! I doubt you're still fine. Kaikaina: Yeah. Plus you even puke while you slept. Weiss: I beg your pardon? Kaikaina: Nothing!

The door opens as Church enter to see Weiss fully recovered from her sixteen hour coma.

Church: Good to see the Snow White has awaken from her deathly slumber. Tell me, did the 'Prince of the Holy Sword' kiss you? Tucker: Wha-? No way I wouldn't do that while a chick's old cold! Though I would if she wants to... do you, baby?

SMASH!!!

Weiss hits Tucker with her mug, shattering it in the process. Even with his helmet on, he somehow felt the pain in the side of his head.

Tucker: OW! I was just saying! Weiss: At least learn how to shut that perverted mouth of yours, Lavernius! Hmph. Church: Not as perverted as suggesting a tight bikini wrestling match yesterday. Weiss: *shiver* Don't bring up that idea again. Tucker: So, Church. I'm guessing this isn't just to check up on her, is it? Church: Nope. In fact I'm here to talk about her fight with the Red yesterday. Tucker: Oh that one. Man it was awesome! Church: I'm not talking about that! From what I saw, she and that Red seem know each other. Is that right, Schnee?

Everybody turn their heads to Weiss.

Weiss: I don't want to talk about it. Church: Well too bad, we are going to talk about it whether you like it or not. So what were you two before, best friends? Tucker: Rivals? Kaikaina: Lovers?

Everybody looks at Kai.

Kaikaina: What, was I really the only one thinking that when they were fighting? Tucker: Speaking of lovers, were you two bisexu- Church: Shut the fuck up Tucker! Look just explain from the beginning, don't care how long, just say it. Weiss: ... Fine if that's to prevent you guys from asking me again and again in the future, so be it. Did I told you guys about the a military academy I studied at before I came to Blood Gulch? Everyone: No. Weiss: Of course. Anyways, me and... that girl, were for a lack for a better word, partners. Kaikaina: Hell yeah, I knew you guys were lovers! Church: She's not referring to that kind of 'partnership'! Weiss: Our relationship was somewhat great if you could say that. Not the brightest girls I know, but she was alright once you get to know her more. Kaikaina: Kinda reminds me of this girl I knew before coming here. Tucker: She a friend? Kaikaina: Nah we fucked, literally. Tucker: Woo baby! Weiss: Would you mind? Tucker: Sorry. Church: So how did your relationship go downhill? Weiss: Oh you would not believe what I've been through. One day, we were posted at this base on a planetoid as part of our final assignment. I think it's called Amity. Anyways the job was simple, follow your superior's orders and make sure no unathorized personal gets in. Everything was fine for the first week. Soldiers talking around, complaining about the weather, you name it. Tucker: Is it me, or does this story sounded familiar? Church: Shh! Weiss: Me and my partner weren't together most of the time there cause we were given two different orders. She patrols around the base while I sit in the server room, keeping away not only unauthorized intruders but 'undisciplined' hands as well. I mean who would be watching porn in a state of the art archive machine? Not only are they disgusting like Tucker,- Tucker: Hey! Weiss: -but they have arrogantly ignore their duties and- Church: Schnee? Hate to remind you but, this isn't a therapy session. Weiss: Sorry. Anyway, I kept away undisciplined hands from the server room.

Transition fade to flashback

Amity guard 01: Oh come on honey, just one download. Pleeeeaaaassee! Weiss: No. Amity guard 02: Look kid. There's nothing to do but standing around here and talk all day. Some of us have already died of boredom! Weiss: And since when did that happen, 'sir'? Amity guard 02: Uhm... last Tuesday. Weiss: That incident? He didn't die of boredom! He just slipped and broke his neck upon impact. Plus he's still alive! I can't believe you all here. You're supposed to be soldiers fighting for your government and still you act like conscripts from the past! Amity guard 01: Hey don't blame us, blame human nature.

And that's when the base shooked. Space pirates. One of the guards I talked to started panicking.

Amity guard 02: OH MY GOD, WE'RE BEING ATTACKED! WE'RE DOOMED!!!

Every guard in the room rushed out until the commander called me. He ordered me to collect all the data to prevent them from falling into enemy hands, so I did what I was told. Once I got the data, I was to rendezvous at the landing bays to be evacuated. On the way to the bay, I came across my partner along with some guy she's carrying over he shoulders.

Weiss: Ruby, what's going on? Ruby: I don't know! Some guys just came out of nowhere and start blowing up the place. Command ordered us to fight back before reinforcements arrive. Weiss: Well go and stop them. Ruby: We can't! These guys are heavily armed and we're loosing a lot of men! Our top priority now is getting everybody out of here! Weiss: Command's new orders? Ruby: Nope. Weiss: Then who's order is that? Ruby: Uhm... mine? Weiss: WHAT?! Ruby: Look just help us out and we'll explain to command later. Weiss: I can't, I have to get out of here! I'm carrying the base's data and is highly important that I evacuate immediately. Ruby: What?! What about everyone here? We can't just leave them to die here!

That's when I got shot in the arm. My partner started fighting the intruders back while I run off to the landing bays to keep the data safe. It was miracle the landing bay wasn't attacked yet and so I manage to escape safely. The data was secured but the base, not so much. We've lost half our men that day and everything stored there was either looted or destroyed.

Transition slide out of flashback

Tucker: So... what happened afterwards? Did you get a medal? Weiss: I did. They gave me a Colonial Cross for my bravery. But after what happenedback there... sigh... I didn't manage to get the scores I needed. THANKS TO HER THAT IS! Church: Is that why you're pissed at her? The scores? Weiss: You have no idea how important it was to get those scores and our pride! If she hadn't just followed her orders and stop those pirates. Things would've gone smoothly! But nooooooooooooo! She just had to disobey her orders and started evacuating people as many as possible. If she had rally them to fight instead, everything would've gone different! DAMN HER! I'M GLAD SHE DIDN'T GET A MEDAL OF HONOR! AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT'S WORST? SHE CALLED ME A DESERTER. DESERTER! I WAS ONLY DOING MY DUTY! ARRRGH! I'm sorry I got carried away again. Once I recovered my wounds, she renounced our partnership right at my face! Well that's good for me. Hmph! Church: *whistle* This is a lot like my relationship with Tex. So what will you do now that you and her saw one another? Weiss: Something I've should have done long after we split. DESTROY HER!

Weiss pulls off her most angry face, but not as fierce Ruby's demonic anger but still... *Suspenseful stinger music*

Weiss: Nonono, that method is just too simple. Hmmmmm... or maybe!... nonono, torture's too barbaric. Tucker: Wow she really is pissed with that Red. Church, if you're still pissed at Tex, would you guys try to forgive each other? Church: Yeah right! That bitch isn't the type of girl to say 'sorry' to anyone, even me! Kaikaina: Plus she's a Red. Tucker: And your brother? Kaikaina: Wha? I won't kill him. Weiss: But he's a Red. Caboose: Psst! Church?

Church hears Caboose's voice as everyone else were busy talking to each other. He turns to see the private peeking behind the door. Wonder why he isn't coming inside, no matter at least he may have some update on the Red's construction. He leaves the room and hears what Caboose has got to say.

Church: What's the update on the Reds? Caboose: Oh it's fine, but it's just... let's not let Weiss see it. Church: Why? Caboose: Well the thing is... do you know those times when teenagers drew something about their teacher just to mock them? Church: Yeah kids have become total assholes these days. Wait what does this got to do with the sign... Caboose:... Church: ...You're not saying what I think you're saying? Caboose: Weiss won't like it! She'll cry if she sees it! Church: Why would she cry... look wait here and give me back my sniper rifle. I'm going to take a look at it myself.

Church leaves Caboose and heads straight to the roof. With him gone, it's time for our beloved Caboose to check on Weiss.

Caboose: Hi, Weiss! Weiss: Hey, Michael. Where's Church? Caboose: Oh he just needed to take a potty. A potty! Hehehe. Weiss: At least he should tell before he left... so you're saying you won't kill your brother? Kaikaina: Duh we're family! If Mom finds out I shot him, I'd be in serious trouble. Tucker: How is she gonna find out? It's not like she's can hear her son's scream light years away, that's physically impossible. Kaikaina: Actually she can. Tucker: Wait she can- Caboose, you okay buddy? Caboose: What? Tucker: Dude, you're staring at the ceiling. Is there something wrong? Caboose: Nothing! Nothing involving the Reds and Weiss won't have to be devastated. Church from the roof: Pfft-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Caboose: Uh oh. Kaikaina: Holy shit! What is that?! Tucker: Giant hyenas? Weiss: As if! Get out, I need to change immediately!

On the Blue Base's roof

The Blues arrived to the scene to see Church collapsed on the floor. He is laughing uncontrollably like a madman from an asylum, why is he laughing? This put a lot of confusion to the Blues, except Caboose who knows what Church has seen at the Red Base.

Weiss: Church, what are you laughing at? Church: Oh Schnee, you're here. Hehehe... nothing to worry about, there's totally nothing to see... pfft! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HOHOHOHAHAAAAA!!! Tucker: Is Church alright? Caboose: Oh yes, he's alright! He's... uh... infected with laughing disease. Very contagious but not lethal. Tucker: Laughing disease? I've never heard of it before. Caboose: That's cause you're dumb!

Weiss, curious to see what's on the enemy base, take out her binos and see this signboard. To her disgust, the first thing she sees through the binos was a familiar red colored rifle and brunette hair look straight at her. Ruby is looking back at her. She lowers her gun to reveal her angry expression before pointing at something out of the bino's vision. Weiss zooms out and finally sees the 'so-called' signboard and something drawn on it. The first sight of it widened her eyes. It was a drawing her except... it doesn't match her beautiful petite physique. The drawing of her is an ugly round doodle with the writing, 'BIG FAT MEANIE' next atop. As if she really looks like that! Then there's another drawing of three stickmen with stink-lines above them, still being drawn by Donut, with the title friends is added above them. This must be represent Ruby, and her two other teammates. Oh my she's gone too far.

Caboose: Oh no. Weiss seen it. Tucker: Seen what? Church: Hahaha! Take a look.

Tucker looks through the sniper's scope and starts to instantly laughing upon seeing the signboard.

Tucker: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Big fat meanie! HAHAHAHAHA, that's priceless! Kaikaina: Big fat meanie? Let me see.

Kaikaina gets the same results.

Kaikaina: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Tucker: I know right? HAHAHAHA! Caboose: Uhm, guys? Weiss is still here. Church: HAHAHA- Son of a bitch. Tucker: HA- Oh fuck me. Kaikaina: HAHA- Whoops.

Weiss was standing still. She may have heard the commotion behind. The first thing that came in the Blues' head is Weiss screaming at them like the banshee she is till their ears popped and bleed. However to their relief she still keeps her composure.

Caboose: Weiss? Are you okay? Weiss: Get the rocket launcher. Caboose: Okay. Church: Hold on, what are you doing? Weiss: Giving her an example not to mess with me.

At the Red Base

Grif: Will you hurry up? This isn't Ancient Renaissance! Donut: Patience. Art need to be clean and refine, so you can't rush it. Grif: I doubt that's art. Sarge: This ought to give that psychological attack to that Blue. Once she sees this, the guilt will force into her and break her from the inside. Ruby: Thanks, Sarge. You didn't have to do this for me. Sarge: Ah don't mention it. And besides, what that Blue did is UNACCEPTABLE! Hehehe, I wonder what kind of reaction that Blue's going to get when she see this. Simmons: Sir. I think you take a look a this. Sarge: Looks like she's pissed off already.

Ruby and Sarge approached Simmons who had been looking at the Blue base. Simmons hand the rifle to Sarge and the rough Sargeant looks through the scope to see the results of the deserter. To his disappointment, Weiss hasn't gone barmy and it looks like she just fired a rocket... A ROCKET?!

Sarge: CRAZY COWBOY ON A NUCLEAR BOMB, GET DOWN!!!

Everybody ducked following a loud WHOOSH passing them by. That was close! Had that rocket hit the concrete, it would've cause a lot of dama- never mind. The drawing, which Donut had worked so much on, is now a large ripped hole!

Donut: NOOOOOOO!!! I haven't painted it yet! Ruby: GGRRRR... WEISSSS!!! Sarge: Dagnabbit, you destructive vandals! You may have spared the signboard but you should never have taken out the drawing!

Back at the Blue Base

That shot put a smile on Weiss. Sure the rocket didn't exploded as predicted, but at least the rocket got rid of the tarp.

Weiss: That's what you get, Rose. Okay so who's up for breakfast? Everyone but Church: Me!

Caboose, Tucker and Kaikaina rush down the stairs, leaving Weiss and Church alone on the roof.

Weiss: Did I just provoked the Reds and caused another attack? Church: Kind of, though I doubt most of them have the mood to attack today. Heh, you know you sure kinda remind me of Tex. Weiss: Who? Church: My girlfriend. The way you acted and talked is somewhat like her, except she more of a crazy bitch than you. Weiss: Girlfriend huh? I don't hear you talking to anyone through the lines. Church: That's cause she's dead. Weiss: Oh... I'm... sorry. I didn't mean to. Church: Nah it's alright. We broke up a long time ago. Sigh, I still miss our arguments. But enough of that, let's get some grub. So you can cook? Weiss: A bit. My butler back home taught me a thing or two about making steak. If you got the meat of course. Church: Well hate to break it you, but we only have canned food. Wait you're rich?! Weiss: Yeah but not the life you'd expect.

A/N: That's the end of this story arc, now that you know why Ruby and Weiss now hate each other. Sorry it couldn't be longer.

[beanfic]

Chapter 7

Word Count: 1300

Warnings: none!

Author’s note: I really like this chapter, so I hope you do too! :)

“Y/N, wake up,” Tyler whispered into your ear. You turned over in your sheets to face Tyler who was smiling, waiting for you to wake up.

“Goodmorning, Ty.” You closed your eyes and stretched your arms to try to relieve the stiffness from a good night’s rest. Tyler wrapped his arms around your body and nestled his chin into the crook of your neck.

“Today’s moving day!”

“I know Ty! We’ve been waiting for this day for a week now,” you giggled while his chin hair tickled your neck.

Ever since you found out that your family had to move, you had been packing like crazy, with the help of your family and Josh. Everything was in boxes except for the necessities.

“I don’t know how we are supposed to fit everything in two moving vans,” Tyler mentioned.

“We have the car too! You drive one van, Josh drives the other, and then I drive the car!”

“You’re smart,” Tyler kissed you quickly before getting out of bed.

“That’s why you married me,” you gave him a wink as he headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

The next three hours were a rush. You got up and showered, and then had to get the kids up. Josh came over, and he and Tyler moved all the boxes and furniture into the vans. You had to help the kids and get them fed before getting on the road.

“Is everyone ready?” You turned around from the driver’s seat in your car to see Autumn and Westley in his carrier. Connor went with Tyler in the van, partly because Tyler needed someone to keep him awake on the long car ride, and partly because Connor had been in a grumpy mood all morning.

“I have to pee!” Autumn announced.

“We haven’t even left the house yet,” you sighed. You allowed her to go inside and go to the bathroom, and then you set out on the three-hour car ride to the next province over.

After many bathroom stops and food stops, you eventually made it to the gate of the Province. It would have been an easier car ride if you could listen to music, but since the ban, car rides were spent with casual conversation. That would have been fine if Autumn and Westley didn’t sleep for more than half of the trip. You had to keep yourself busy by analyzing everything you saw as you drove.

You followed Tyler and Josh until you all arrived at the front of this two-story house. It had four bedrooms which meant that Westley and Autumn were going to share a room because Josh was also staying with you guys. Connor would get his own room so he could focus on his homework.

“We’re here!” You pulled into the driveway and woke up Autumn and Westley.

“This house is pretty!” Autumn gawked out the window. You could see the excitement forming in her face, and you only hoped Connor could be excited too.

It took about three hours for everyone to move all the furniture and boxes inside the house. You helped Autumn set up her and Westley’s room, and Connor was independent enough to set up his room. Josh and Tyler worked on unboxing the kitchen and Josh’s bedroom.

“Our house is actually coming along well!” Tyler wiped his sweat from his head and draped his arm around your shoulders.

“Yeah, it is! I’m surprised how much we got done.”

“It’s because I’m here!” Josh teased.

“Sure it is, bud.” Tyler gave Josh a little shove, starting a full-on play fight.

“Is this what I am going to have to deal with now that you are living here, Josh?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yep. Better get used to it.” Josh said, who was busy pinning Tyler to the ground.

“I give up!” Tyler squeaked.

“We should probably get going.” Josh looked at his watch.

“Where are you guys going?” you asked with a confused look.

“Oh, we are going to go meet the Banditos of this province!” Tyler exclaimed.

“There are banditos here?”

“Yeah, I guess the news of banditos have spread, and they all formed their own little Trenches everywhere. Ty and I are going to go see what this Trench looks like and do our first performance for them!” Josh clapped his hands together with excitement.

“That’s so awesome!” you give each Josh and Tyler a hug before they headed out.

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

Tyler and Josh finally found the entrance to this new trench, except instead of a rock for the opening, it was a wooden door.

“This is it,” Tyler places his hands on his lips, looking around.

“They told us to knock,” Josh reminded him. Josh knocked four times before they heard a small, raspy voice on the other side.

“Password?” The voice said.

“Sahlo Folina.” Tyler was told the password that the Bandito’s had made for safety, and it was his first time using it. They heard the door unlock and it opened up.

“Oh my gosh it is you!” said a boy who looked about fifteen or sixteen. He was wearing a yellow beanie and his outfit was covered with yellow tape as well.

“Hey I’m Tyler, and this is Josh!”

“We know!! We all know who you are obviously, you’re the creator that got revoked his job. You’re the one and only Tyler Joseph!” The boy gave Tyler a huge hug.

The boy led them down the path, which was even darker and narrower than the old Trench. They had to climb down this wall and drop into the bottom of the cave.

“Oh my gosh.” Tyler was mesmerized by what he saw. The walls were covered with yellow gerbera daisies. There were about 200 people in this trench, all wearing yellow. They were shouting your name and Josh’s name. They even had a drum set up already.

“This is amazing.” Josh looked at Tyler, who had tears streaming down his face.

“Excuse me?” This girl, who looked about seventeen, tapped on Tyler’s shoulder. “I just wanted to tell you that you’ve saved my life. You’ve saved all of us.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” Tyler started to break down, falling to one knee, covering his face with one hand. Josh kneeled next to him and pulled him into a hug.

“Let’s go create some music,” Josh whispered into his ear. Josh walked over to this new drum set and pressed his foot on the bass drum. It echoed loudly through the trench and made Josh’s eyes light up.

“I want to thank you all for being so welcoming, and this place is beautiful!” Tyler spoke to the crowd in front of him. They all looked up at him with excitement in their eyes, waiting for a song to start.

Tyler looked over at Josh and gave him a thumbs us, and Josh responded with a nod. Tyler grabbed the Ukelele that he had brought with him and strummed the strings.

“This song is called The Judge.” Tyler’s voice filled the room with his voice and Ukelele, and Josh’s drums joined in, making the room vibrate. The bandito’s voices joined in during the chorus, and the moment was consumed by the music.  

The song ended and Tyler put his hand over his heart as he felt the claps and cheers of the Banditos. He looked over at Josh who had the same look of glee on his face.

Playing music was so special for Tyler and Josh, and it was so unfair that they had to keep it such a secret, but it was also amazing how many people are willing to rebel against the government and listen to their music. Tyler wished he could play music forever, and never stop.

[sixstepsaway]

Runners Excerpt #1 | Calendar

I spent a bunch of time earlier working on a calendar and on the passage of time for my world in Runners and I wrote out a little scene where the human characters discuss it. I thought I’d post it here. Why not?

             "What was it you wanted to show me?" Sam looks between Mikey and Law, the two of them flanking either end of a table, with papers unrolled across it.             "You know how we asked how long we'd been here?" Law says. Sam nods. "Well, they told us the truth, but it wasn't the kind of truth that works for me, especially when Mikey noticed something... odd."             "What did you notice?" Sam asks, looking over at him and frowning.             He gets up from his chair, coat hanging limp where his arm used to be, and moves over to the table. "The days are longer here."             "What?" Sam hurries over. "How do you know that?"             "Mikey checked his watch," Law says and he shrugs. Sam should've seen that as the obvious explanation: how else would anyone know the time?             "So what're we talking, here?" Sam says hesitantly.             "According to this..." Law gestures at the papers and Sam comes around to step between the two of them and look too. They've spread out, across the large metal table, around six different, long papers. One is a calendar, although it's formed from curved shapes rather than squares, another has times of some sort, and the others seem to be about seasons, events, holidays and other things Sam is sure Mikey is fascinated by. "There's more than thirty hours in a day. I think... this says thirty-seven?"             Sam squints. "How does that work?" she says, folding her arms and setting her jaw. "Surely there can't be more hours in a day? That isn't how the world works!"             "It's a different world," Mikey points out. She scowls at him and he gestures at the papers. "I'm serious."             "I know it's a different world!" Sam snaps at him. "But that doesn't change that there are twenty-four hours in a day."             "It kinda does," Law says weakly. 

            "Don't yell at me again," Mikey grumbles, "but uhh... what makes the days twenty-four hours where we're from is that the Earth spins, right? It takes twenty-four hours for the Earth to do one--" He makes a hand gesture, struggling when he cant use both hands anymore. "--spin."             "It's nice to know you didn't lose your eloquence with your arm, Mikey," Law drawls.             "Shut up," he grumbles. "You know, the Earth does a rotation and so the sun--" He's still struggling with only one hand, trying to gesture a sphere but unable to pretend there's a sun at the same time.             "I get it," Sam says, "but doesn't this world do that too?"             "I'm guessing," Law says, "that it takes this planet longer to rotate. Maybe it's bigger? Or just slower? I don't know, maybe it's flat and carried on the backs of really sluggish turtles."             Sam blinks twice at her. "Okay, so what does that mean?" she says. "What does it mean for us?"             "It means that when someone says we've been here a month, that could be anything from one or two to us," says Law.             "The days are a day and a half long, which is why we're constantly tired," Mikey says. "We should be compensating by sleeping more, or possibly sleeping in two shifts so that we get the right amount of sleep until our bodies adjust."             "We're sleeping eight hours and then being awake for twenty-nine," Law says with a sigh, "and people think that's okay, because it's how they live, except it's also not? Because a lot of them sleep longer, or go to bed earlier. We have to talk to them and explain we need more sleep or at least need to be... adjusted for this climate."             "Adjusted?" Sam says.             "Magic." Mikey leans his hip against the table. "The years are nearly twice as long as ours, but have you asked Aukru how old he is?" She shakes her head. "He's twenty-nine." Sam can see that. "He's lived twenty-nine harvests, which is twenty-nine years." He points at the calendar and she looks at it long and hard. There's at least fifteen different sections. She does a quick count: sixteen. Sixteen sections, with dozens of partitions within those.             "Twenty-nine years that are twice as long as ours," he says. She hates being treated like an idiot, but right now she feels like one.             "I don't understand what you're saying," she says with a sigh.             Law pulls over a notepad and pen and shows her. "I did the math on it," she says. Sam takes the notepad. "There's seven hundred and nineteen days in each year, here."             "Rotations around the suns, I presume," Mikey says with a shrug, when Sam opens her mouth to ask how the hell that's possible.             "Seven hundred and nineteen times twenty-nine is twenty thousand, eight hundred and fifty one," Law says. "Divide that by three hundred and sixty-five and it's--"             Sam eyes the number on the bottom of her calculations: fifty seven, and a bunch of decimal places. "Aukru's fifty seven years old?"             "No," Mikey says. "That's the point, really. He isn't. He's a twenty-nine year old, because here the years are counted differently."             "But he doesn't look nearly sixty," Law says, "so I started doing some asking around and I finally got Tahzia to explain it. She's the only one who didn't look at me funny."             "Explain what?" Sam says.             "They age differently." Law rests her hands on her hips. "It takes them longer to age. I'm not saying that Aukru is exactly twenty-nine to the day if you compare him with a twenty-nine year old or whatever, I'd say their maturation rate is different, I don't know--"             "She thinks way too hard about this," Mikey says with a snort of amusement.             Law scowls at him. "But, it turns out that the magic in the atmosphere, it... changes how they age, it slows it down and they live longer. Apparently it varies? Different species age at different rates and they have different maturation rates and cycles and all of that, but..."             "What she's trying to say is that although time moves the same, and it still definitely feels like we're awake for twenty-nine hours and only getting eight of sleep, our aging is probably slowing like theirs," he says. "And if we explained to them how many days we'd been alive, they'd probably tuck us away and call us babies."             "What? Why?" Sam says.             Law flips the page on the notebook and points at some more of her calculations. "We're about nine of their years old."             "Oh." She blinks a few times at the notebook. "Seems fair, I guess. That's about what I feel around here."             Law laughs and takes her notebook back, placing it down. Sam watches it for a moment, then glances up, eyes lingering on the journal strapped to Mikey's hip. Her own pockets feel light and empty.             "Anyway," Mikey says, "that's why when they were telling us the truth about how long we've been here, we still felt like we were being lied to." He shrugs. "When they say we've been here a month, they mean it! It's just that some of the months are as long as two for us, and the days are even longer."             "The average month is about forty-five days," Law explains, "and the day is thirty-seven hours. When you use math--"             "Which you love to do," Sam says.             Law sticks her tongue out at her. "When you use math, a forty-five day month here feels like a seventy day month for us." Mikey snickers under his breath and she cuts her gaze across to him scornfully. "This is why I rounded up."             "But it's still forty-five sunrises and sunsets, right?" Sam says. Law nods. "Okay. I can keep track of that at least." She looks back at the journal and at Law's notebook, then away. "So how many days?" she asks Mikey. "How long have we been here?"             He puts his hand on his journal. "A while," he says. "I've got at least sixty entries."             "So, two months," Sam says.             "More like three when you do the math," Law says. "That's how long it feels."             "But it's still sixty-odd sleeps," Mikey says. "Which explains my exhaustion."             "That probably also has something to do with it." Sam gestures at his missing arm.             "You'd think having a few pounds fewer to carry around would make me less tired, but no," he says, smiling airily at her.             She rolls her eyes and looks back at the calendar on the table. She doesn't understand most of the numbers, and definitely none of the letters or words. "You guys can read this?"             "No way," Law says, "but we asked enough questions to figure out what was a calendar and go from there. It's mostly been estimation, math, and begging Tahzia to explain."             "Fair enough." Sam tears her gaze from the calendar. "At least we can all be confused together."

[nightblogofficialbook]

Chapter One

Also available on the Tapas.io Website, search for Night in the Novels tab!

“Helen, time to wake up!”

I turned over with a groan. “My alarm hasn’t even gone off yet, mom,” I complained, burying my head further under the pillow.

“You set that thing way too late, you’re always rushing yourself in the morning!”

Mom clicked the light on and I groaned louder. “Come on, I’ll make you pancakes but you have to get up now little missy.”

I gave in and sat up. My hair was a nest, my muscles still asleep. I yawned and stretched, and got up to walk out of my room to the bathroom to fix my mess.

My name is Helen Morris. I’m sixteen, tired of life, and ready for retirement already. It’s currently 5:30 a.m. thanks to school being an hour’s bus route away from home. In three months I turn seventeen and qualify for driving unsupervised. Not that I have a car to drive, but at least I’ll be able to work without the school stepping in, too. I live with my mom in an old, rickety two-bedroom, one bathroom house with walls that creaked and water that didn’t always run hot for very long. It wasn’t much, but it was paid off and in her name. My dad’s in prison, but I don’t want to think about him.

I got dressed in plain jeans and a blue t-shirt and walked through the hallway to the kitchen. Mom had some homemade blueberry pancakes made up ready the way I usually eat them. I groggily sat down and took a bite, enjoying the flavor for the moment. Mom glanced back at me from the sink where she was cleaning the pans and bowls.

“See, isn’t this nicer than rushing off with no breakfast?” she said matter-of-factly.

“It is, thanks Mom.” I really was grateful to being woken up like this. Mom usually works overnight as a nurse, so mornings like these are the result of her still being awake after her shift. It was hard to fully appreciate it in the moment, though, with the not being fully awake yet and all.

I finished my pancakes and milk, and dropped the dishes in the dishwasher. After finishing up the rest of my boring morning routine of brushing my teeth and getting dressed, I grabbed my bag, hugged my mom, and went out the door for the ten minute walk towards the bus stop.

The air was still cool and crisp, but I knew it was a lie. In two to fours hours it would be hot as hell. I still wore a jacket nonetheless because the school, in addition to being terrible already, did not know what the meaning of climate control is, and tended to have its classrooms ranging from stuffy to freezing. But for these ten quiet minutes, it was a nice morning.

The aged houses and trees of my neighborhood gave way to a more modern urban sprawl, the neighborhood of the better-off kids. I like to think I was only envious of the fact that they had less things to worry about, given their financial stability. Granted, I had no idea what kind of lives lived behind those doors, but I couldn’t help the bitter feeling that it surely couldn’t be anything nearly as bad as the rest of us. I haven’t really been out in the world necessarily yet, but I did see how much mom struggles to keep us afloat and happy.

Past this neighborhood was the community center and library, which is where my bus stop was. Behind this was a large, forested area which I sometimes use as shortcut to get  here from home as it cuts the time in half. Which I frequently have to do. It can be pretty creepy this early in the morning, even more so after dark. But the five minutes of sunset was where it’s at; the way the golden-red rays fell through the trees...it was pretty magical.

Fun fact about this forest; there’s this huge creepy castle that no one ever goes near, somewhere right smack in the middle. It’s not like people aren’t allowed to go near, but, inexplicably, people avoid that place anyway. Some say it’s haunted, some claim it’s not even there. Apparently some have even actually gone in but never came back out. None of it is backed up by anything, but I’ve always avoided the area nonetheless. It’s a bit out of the way from my route home anyway, and I’m not dumb enough to go trespassing on someone else’s property in the middle of the woods.

The bus arrived, and thank goodness, because the other kids at my stop started to arrive at the same time. I didn’t want to interact with anyone if I could help it. One dude quickly put out a cigarette soon as he saw the bus, and a couple girls my age looked disappointed to not have any time to gawk and gossip about the shabbiness of everything in general. Since the bus barn is close to this area, ours was the first stop to be picked up in the mornings, but also the last one to drop in the evenings. Which meant we got first pick on seats but also had to deal with everyone else for the maximum amount of time possible. And this bus picked up both junior high and high schoolers.

I remember being in junior high, I grimaced as a bunch of fourteen/fifteen-year-olds loaded up at the next few stops. It really wasn’t all that long ago honestly, but it was such a weird age. Girls figuring out puberty, boys learning how to be asses but not understanding why girls won’t be attracted to them, but at the same time both genders thinking the other is stupid. I really hated that age. Not that high school is much different, but at least everyone has enough going on to keep out of each other’s business.

The hour passes and I nearly fell asleep as the bus dropped the high schoolers off first. I got my stiff legs moving and made my way into the building.

Classes pass in a daze like usual. Nothing is very interesting, but at least it’s consistent. I know what to expect from my day, and what’s expected of me. I know what periods I’m going to hate, and which ones I can relax in. It really isn’t as bad as I complain about, sometimes. That’s just how life goes. You settle into monotony and enjoy the calm ride however you can.

Unfortunately for today, I had forgotten about my math test. I’m not bad at math, but I’m not great at it either, and the teacher is REALLY confusing most of the time. She needs to seriously consider retirement; hardly anyone could make heads or tails of what she’d say. I bombed the test of course, I forgot to do the practice homework to prepare for it. When I got my test back, there was a note in red pen telling me I need to apply myself or I’m going to have to take remedial lessons. The last thing I needed was even MORE time at school. That would mean I’d have to miss my bus and catch a public bus. Which means getting home after dark and making mom worry.

Last class was just a seminar hour for study, and thankfully I had this with my best friend, Emily. We both took a dead language class as an elective and were translating a runes assignment.

“Tell me if you think this is close,” she said quietly. “Here be a person of shared...tree?”

“That’s the symbol for parent, not tree,” I corrected, “so it should be ‘Here be a person of shared parent.’ They’re saying it’s their sibling.”

“Ooooooohhhh I get it now,” Emily mused. “I swear though, I had to have gotten somebody’s eulogy or something.”

“It might be, it’s gotta be more interesting than mine. I’m pretty sure I just have someones written layout of their town.”

“Seriously though, how are you so good at this? These are dead languages, and the teacher freakin’ loves you.”

I shrugged. “I dunno. I have a hard time with the roman based letters sometimes, which is dumb, but give me runes and I’ve got it. I think it’s because there’s a simpler pattern to decipher for me. Like, the structure just makes sense with the language syntax or something.”

“I dunno,” Emily stared dubiously at her text. “We’re already in the second course and this is still all just gibberish to me.”

“You got that far, though, didn’t you?” I said, gesturing to her project. “You got halfway through the assignment before getting a symbol confused with another.”

“Yeah, but I still have to use a cheat sheet.”

I shrugged again. “Nothing wrong with that. Plus, no one else has it as easy either. Maybe I’m just a weirdo.”

She laughed, and I grinned. Our seminar teacher shushed us angrily, even though we weren’t being that loud. I narrowed my eyes his direction but just let it go. He had always been an ass that could only ever amount to a gym teacher, but it wasn’t worth picking a fight with him. Besides, there was nothing I could really do about it.

School let out and Emily walked with me to my bus. She was one of the lucky ones whose parents were able to have time to pick her up after school. “You think you’ll be able to come over today?” she asked hopefully.

“Sorry, not this time either. Mom wants me to pick up some stuff from the community center for her work and by that point it’ll be almost dark.”

“Dang. You should ask her if it’s cool if my mom just picks you up from school and then takes you home.”

“Ha! Good luck with that, she barely feels comfortable with me riding the bus, let alone someone else’s car.”

We said our goodbyes and I got on the bus to settle in for the hour-long drive back. The town flew by in a blur of hills and houses and trees, every now and then passing through the small business district again as the bus weaved back and forth, unloading it’s contents like a slowly hatching spider’s nest. The tiredness of the day began to weigh on me, and I felt a little guilty for lying to Emily. Mom didn’t actually have anything I needed to get; I just didn’t want to ask her again, only to be told no and reminded of the dangers of why. And with her busy schedule, she really didn’t even have time to meet parents and give proper assessment. It was so frustrating, but even more so because I understood why.

At least, in a few months, I’ll legally be allowed to work, and I’ll be able to use that as a reason for her to allow me to start making my own decisions.

My stop finally arrived, I got off the bus like all the other little spiderlings, and began my walk home. I still have enough time before sunset actually happens and it gets too dark, so I decided to take my nature path through the woods. It was quiet, immediately a different atmosphere from the civilization around the community center. The trees were tall and loomed far overhead, not impossibly tall or really even impressively tall, but gentle. The oaks and sycamores and birches all commingled their leaves, creating this wonderful blanket of patterned light through the summer green foliage. A breeze would sometimes drift through, causing the treetops to shimmer and rustle and bring relief from the fading summer heat. Below my feet was a lightly worn path from all the times I’ve walked through these woods, every now and then branching off into other less worn paths from the times others had walked through here as well. I breathed in and enjoyed the peace. Sometimes I wish I could just live out here, in the trees, away from all the people. Away from all the noise and frustrations of everyone’s expectations.

The peace was short lived of course, as it always was. The path was only a five minute walk after all. And before long I was back near my house with its tall privacy fenced in yard and it’s peeling paint and creaky hinges.

Mom was already awake and getting ready for work, wearing her baby blue scrubs as I walked in.

“Dinner is on the stove,” she instructed, “ and I have the oven on warm so don’t forget it. Remember to keep the doors locked.” She kissed me on the forehead. “Love you baby, be safe.”

“You too mom,” I hugged back, and locked the door as she left. I checked all of the windows and back doors absentmindedly, thinking about how different things would be if things were...well, different. Mom could stay at home and wouldn’t need to work so much, I could possibly have a life outside school and home, though to be honest I don’t know how much I’d actually want that. Maybe we’d have a bigger, newer house.

I shook my head, assembling the chili tortillas mom had prepped for me and sitting down. No, this is nice, this is okay. We’ve got a warm home, enough good food, and new clothes when we need them. We’re not hurting for money, and getting by modestly. This was nice enough.

After cleaning my dishes and putting the food away, I went back to my room to my desk to deal with the remedial homework my math teacher had given me. I clicked the radio setting on my alarm and listened to music while I worked through the numbers. The song playing on the station made me smile; it was a pop classic Emily and I liked to make fun of, due to it sounding exactly like every other song out there but with the lyrics being horrifically bad. I sung to it softly, wondering what she was up to.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, the phone rang. My heart gave a start from the sudden noise. “Hello?” I answered.

“Hey! It’sa me!”

I laughed. “Hey Emily. I was just thinking about what you’d be up to.”

“Making pizza rolls. Well, waiting for pizza rolls. So I just heard our song on the radio and I thought hey, Helen better be hearing this too ‘cause I can’t just enjoy the hilarity of it again all by myself.”

I laughed again. “I was, actually. Trying to plow through this stupid extra math work Mrs. Marrow gave me.

“Ugh, Bloody Marrow, she needs to retire.”

“For sure.”

“Anyway, so I actually wanted to tell you something that happened to me today!” she began, excited. “Erin asked me out in the most sweetest adorable way ever, she had given me her phone number last week ‘cause we had a science project together and had to coordinate outside of class and whatever, and today she sent me a text wanting to know if I like ice cream and would want to go get some at this new shop opening up at the mall this week!!”

I sat forward in amazement. “Emily! That’s awesome! You’ve had a crush on her for like, forever, I’m so happy for you!”

“I knoooooooow,” I heard her squee on the other end, and the sound of rustling as she was probably rolling back and forth on her bed happily. “She’s so prettyyyyy and I’m so gaaaaaaaaaaay.” I laughed.

“Well, I really hope it works out for you. It’d be really cool to see you two together.”

“Yeah, I’m a little scared though. I mean, this clearly sounds like a date, but I have no idea if she’s like, INTO me, or just ya know, looking for a friend or whatever.”

“Dude. She’s totally into you. How could she not be?”

“Buuuuuut-”

“For reals though. I’ve seen the way she acts when you come around. Plus you’re not exactly hiding your rainbows. She’s totes into you.”

“Uuuuuggghhhhh I just don’t knowwwwww.” I heard her shift. “Have you ever had a massive crush on anyone? Or have a crush on anyone currently?” she added with a hint of probing in her voice.

“I did once,” I grimaced. “That was a few years ago. You remember James?”

She made a noise of surprise. “Ugh that jock-head?”

“Yeah. He went to my middle school before we had moved here.”

“Dang, small world.”

“Yeah. Well, I used to think he was cute back then, and he kind of was. But I never really knew him. When I first moved here and started high school, I found out he went to this school too, so I tried to go talk to him since he was the only person I knew, and he essentially said ‘Ew, no, go away.’ Or something like that.”

“Ugh, boys are so rotten. You should switch sides, girls are way nicer.”

I gave a small laugh. “I wish. I get why you like girls, but I just kinda...don’t like anyone.”

“Dude, confession time to lighten the mood? I once had a crush on you.”

“I know,” I laughed. “You gave me chocolates and your lunch like, everyday. I felt bad for not realizing sooner after I ate all of your food.”

She laughed too. “S’algood, s’algood, I think I may have been mixing feelings a bit, you just seemed like someone I HAD to get to know.”

“I’m really glad you did. I didn’t have any friends at that time.”

“And you’re like, the most open-minded person ever. A lot of girls would get really defensive. Which sucks, but is also pretty hilarious too.”

“Well, I’m flattered you thought I was gay,” I teased. “And sorry that I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you could be bi though, and I just wasn’t your type. Or maybe even ace.”

“I dunno, I kinda just...don’t care? I don’t really care what category I’d fit in, I just want to be treated like me.”

“Saaaaaame, girl, same.”

We chatted for a few more hours before it started getting really late. The phone call distraction extended my homework by the same amount of time, but it made it easier to get through, and at least it was done. As the last tangent conversation ended we said our see-you-tomorrows and hung up.

I flopped back against the musty pillows. I should really wash those. Our earlier conversation went through my mind, and I turned over on my side, hugging a large stuffed husky my mom got me when I was ten. It’s not like I didn’t want to like people, or that I didn’t want to date anyone. No one ever felt like they were actually interested in ME, not even Emily. At least Emily was aware of it; that’s the reason we became friends. But...I didn’t want to risk the possibility of actually really liking someone, and they just turn out to be like James had been; a stuck up jerk who didn’t even want to be nice. Or like some of the guys that were too thick to understand that Emily likes girls and certainly not them.

Being alone though...that’s what sucks the most. And for me, being around people who make me feel alone is the worst feeling of all.

I sat at the computer lab in the community center, looking at job listings, looking for any that hire seventeen year olds. It was still a few months away but It wouldn’t hurt to try to get a head start. I could use the shortened time to convince them to at least consider me; there was a public bus route that made a stop just down the road from where the school bus drops, at roughly the same time. I could take my seminar hour at the end of the day and check myself out of school, work for a couple of hours, and then commute back here. And mom wouldn’t need to know about it, AND I’d be able to help out with expenses. It’s a win-win scenario, it wouldn’t even cut into homework time.

I leaned back and stretched, and noticed that it was unusually quiet, and dark, in the building. I looked around; everyone had left save for the front desk lady, who was quietly reading her book. The auto lights had already gone out.

I checked the time on the computer. It said 8:05.

Oh crap.

Logging out as quickly as I could I bolted out the doors; the sun was already in setting position. “Oh crap oh crap.” Mom is going to be furious, this was her night off, I should have been home an hour ago…!

I ran towards the woods, debating whether to take the chance of it being dark before I made it through or getting into even more trouble with mom. To be honest, mom is probably scarier. The implications of it being after dark by the time I made it home was enough of a risk. I dove right into the treeline.

There was a different eeriness to the atmosphere here today, maybe it was because I was in a hurry, and maybe because it was minutes from full darkness. Something sent prickles across my skin, like I was being watched, like something was following me. I moved quicker, faster, my breath starting to become labored. A chilling mist was filling the forest; the sun had set. A strange lurch in the pit of my stomach pulled me in a direction that I was sure was the path home. Surely I was close now…?

I stopped, unable to believe my eyes as the treeline gave way to a clearing, my heart sinking as I realized it wasn’t because I was leaving the forest...and rising again from the sheer awe that was before me.

Towering far above me and covering the entire expanse of the open treeline I stepped out from, was an impressively large, black stone castle.

“It’s real…” I whispered. “No way…” How on earth did I end up here? I know that path by heart, I shouldn’t have veered off for a moment…!

Curiosity governed my senses. I walked through the white rose bushes that lined the outer wall and towards the brick; it wasn’t just a flat dark stone, it was carved with intricate details and patterns and symbols. With a start I recognized a lot of them; sanskrit, rune, greek, hebrew, korean. None were written in a manner I could read or understand, but something told me it was all the same language, whatever it was. Running my fingers across them felt almost electric, as if they held magic or something dumb like that.

I walked along the wall, carefully avoiding the rose buses that lined the way, coming up to a wrought iron gate. It twisted into intricate vine-like patterns with an almost glossy new sheen, as if it had just been made. A similar theme was applied to the rest of the castle beyond the wall, like a gothic style mansion with darkened rooftops. It was gorgeous and glossy and new and…

Wait, new?

I looked closer at the walls, and tried my best to look closer at the inner castle itself. Everything looked pristine and kept, fresh painted with muted and yet vibrant colors, even the stone and iron showed no discernable age. As if it had been freshly built. If this was the legendary castle in the woods, it would have to be SUPER ancient, because that myth has been around since our parents’ parents were little. It would be worn, the stones cracking and nature attempting to take over, or at the very least look uninhabited.

This looked very inhabited.

A chill fell over my body and dread followed suit. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what kind of people would live here, but I got the feeling they’d be the kind that wouldn’t care about shooting some random teenager looking like they’re about to trespass. I backed away quickly, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck rise as it felt like I was being closely watched again.

“Ouch!” Pain stung across my forearm as I stumbled into a rose bush, dragging a very thin bead of blood in a line down the scratch. “Ah, crap…” Now mom won’t just be mad. She’ll be paranoid.

A light snap! sounded from my left and I spun towards it, fear filling my pulsing chest. A million thoughts ran through my head, my breath started to catch. Very slowly, carefully this time, I started backing away. I let out a sigh of relief as a squirrel ran out from a bush, but the tension remained. It was time to leave.

But then I heard another crack, and this wasn’t a squirrel.

A pair of eyes shone in the dark, and a large, lithe figure began to step out from the shadows; that was all I needed to turn around and nope the heck out of there.

I had barely taken ten steps before I felt a rush of wind, and then suddenly I was jerked backwards into something solid by my arms. “NO-!” A scream had just barely begun from my mouth when pain erupted my from shoulder. Numbness overtook me and then everything was black.

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[matchappucino]

File: 001 - The Lady

『❀』 “In a garden of flowers, chéri--you are the most beautiful.” (uttered to Emmanuel before their duel)

Name: Cordelia Mévouilenet (Dreamer)

Rabbit: Mimi 

『❆』 “Hello, have you eaten well today?”

Name: Lady Cordelia Mévouilenet (Awake)

Given Name: Cordelia Maria Chastain (abandoned)

Name Origin: Cordelia is of Celtic Origin, meaning “Heart; daughter of the sea.”

Mévouilenet is a name she thought of herself, after the Incident. Her given name, “Cordelia Maria Chastain,” means Daughter of the Sea + “Sea of Bitterness/Wished-for Child” + “Borne from a place with certain chestnut trees.”

Age: 24

Height: 150cm/5’0

Weight: 110lbs/49kg

Nationality: French-English

Short Description: A shy and polite young lady, until provoked to anger. Raised by a noblewoman and a Dream Mage, Cordelia is good at casual conversation (though if she is entertaining more than three people for a long time, she will grow very tired.)

A Dream Mage, Cordelia creates weapons and other items in the Dream Realm, while her waking body is asleep. She then pulls out these created items from within Mimi, her stuffed rabbit. Her other hobby is creating perfumes from plants she grows in Fleur-De-Lis, her realm.

Nickname: Lady comes from the Virgin Mary’s other names, “Madonna” (Italian for “Lady.”)  

Birthday: January 13, 1996

Zodiac: Capricorn

Occupation: Dream Mage | HCC Host (unofficial) | Barmaid

Species: Human

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Demisexual (Only when an emotional connection is achieved does she think of someone as a potential romantic partner. Actually getting to the point where Lady considers forming a relationship is another thing altogether.)

Significant Other: None

Pact With: Beelzebub, the Avatar of Gluttony

Position: Presenting herself as a dom, Cordelia wants nothing more than to find an individual who loves her enough to convince her to relinquish the desire to control. She sways from a sensual dom to a switch, depending on her partner.

Family (&Friends): Cordelia adored her father, Jacques Anton Chastain—a French Dream Mage renowned for his talents in creating weaponry that was both elegant and unique. He taught her everything she knew about creation magic (although those moments were rare and fleeting.)

Vivienne Maria Chastain was a noblewoman who had half-elf blood flowing through her veins. She practiced healing magic and had “random” premonitions about the future. This makes Cordelia 1/4th of an elfin, although it does not affect her lifespan. She merely ages slower than most humans. Growing up, Cordelia and Vivienne were not close—she despised her mother for being too strict, whereas Jacques was kind and spoiled his daughter. Ironically, the night before The Incident, Vivienne expressed how she wanted to spend more time with her.

One of her most beloved friends is Mimi, a stuffed rabbit she and her father made together in the Dream Realm. She keeps it lovingly and uses it as a place to store her toys and other weaponry. Afraid of being used and rejected, Cordelia keeps people at arm’s length.

Friends: 

Dominic Bellazzi: A man Cordelia would protect to the death. She was friends with the Italian inventor for around five years before having a brief three-year relationship with him. The two remain close friends and send each other gifts in the mail. He still calls her cara mia.

Emmanuel: One summer evening, she was tending to her flowers when a pair of strange shoes appeared before her. He attempted to eat her soul in the Dream Realm, but she fought back and beat him. He visits her from time to time, bothering her for tea and a friendly chat. It's a complicated friendship.

"Doll, do you have time for me tonight?" Emmanuel smirked as he waited at her doorstep.

"There's a pot of tea with your name on it if you make it worth my while." Cordelia placed a hand on her hip, annoyed. "Especially since I was in the middle of making something, Emmanuel."

The blonde man grinned, his fangs on display. "I think I've got a tale or two worth repeating, just for you."

Physical Description: Cordelia has waist-length platinum-blonde hair that ombres into pastel rainbow colors at the ends. In both Waking and Dreams, her eyes are stormy grey. 

Face claim: Vocaloid Mayu

Personality: A well-mannered young woman, Lady is polite and friendly to everyone she meets. She expects the same treatment out of everyone and is quick to anger if someone is not “behaving properly.” However, she is painfully shy and will only open her heart to people over long periods of time.

Once people get to know her, she is a sweet and generous soul who is fiercely loyal to those who earn her trust. Unfortunately, the reverse is true as well—if her trust is broken, Cordelia never gives her trust fully again. Selfish and spoiled, she is often too busy worrying about herself and her demon to consider other people’s feelings on a deeper level. Caring for Beelzebub has given her a softness, but her emotions can quickly turn from overprotective to downright obsessive.

She tries to suppress a jealous streak and a need to control her environment, to ensure the people and things she holds dear remains safe.

Backstory: Cordelia’s birth was one of immense joy for her parents—they had been trying for eight years to conceive. Even among the Dreamers, female mages were rare. So, when Jacques discovered his eight-year-old daughter wandering in his realm, he was nothing short of overjoyed.

When the couple discovered Cordelia’s immense magical potential, they tried to raise her to have a normal life instead of handing her over to the Magi. It would be one of their major regrets in life.

Without proper training from more experienced magisters, Cordelia’s excess magic caused several side effects. She stopped growing after her 15th birthday and developed severe insomnia that prohibited her from getting a full night’s sleep. Instead of getting the standard 13 to 48 hours of rest, she only managed to get 5 to 8 hours of sleep a day.

To compensate, Cordelia began to maximize her time within the realm whenever she was present. The result was a deceptively sweet world full of dolls wielding knives, explosions, and flowers spitting out poison. Life was good until she woke up one day to a home in flames, and a man with ice-blue eyes staring back at her.

It had taken them nearly sixteen years, but the Magi finally found her. From what she saw, her parents put up a great fight—nearly all the soldiers were strewn dead on the floor, save for three. “Come with us, heretic. You need to be trained before your magic completely goes awry.”

Terrified and unsure, Cordelia followed, not even allowed to see her parents’ bodies. She harbored an immense anger toward them—especially for Henry, the Inquisitor with ice-blue eyes. But she needed help with controlling her powers, and perhaps they had something to fight the insomnia.

Ongoing Story: Things in the Magi Camp weren’t much better. Being of noble birth, Cordelia was given better lodgings than most but was mostly friendless—she was one of 20 female mages present—and so focused on trying to control her powers. She was given a sleeping draught twice a month whenever her insomnia prevented her from attending regular classes.

She began to learn of the true Dream Realm her father worked so hard to protect her from—mages that walked the planes were fated to hunt and destroy demons and other creatures that skulked around the edges of the Dream Realm, preying upon lesser folk.

With her issue of being unable to sleep at will, Cordelia was chosen to guard the “back line,” often becoming a healer just like her mother once was. In her spare time, she collects the ingredients required to create her sleeping draught. Being part of the Magi helped bring up her sleep quota from 5 to 8 hours to a respectable 12, and the draught helped her rest for nearly a week.

Once again, however—things take an unsavory turn when a First-Class Vampire made his way inside the Magi’s tower and began to pick off the students, one by one. Out of sheer desperation, the remaining students asked Cordelia to help them summon a demon; one that could possibly match up against the vampire.

She does so, following the students’ instructions to draw the spell circle. They had an ulterior motive, however—she was going to be the sacrifice in exchange for the demon’s services. At the last moment, she completed the summoning and in exchange, the remaining student body was taken instead of her.

It was said that the demon one summons isn’t dependent on the wants, but of what was needed at the time. So, when Beelzebub appeared from the portal and introduced himself as the Avatar of Gluttony, Cordelia found herself smiling at him. He was the friendliest face she had seen in quite some time. With his help, the Vampire was cornered in Henry’s room, and was taken out quickly.

While unhappy with what happened to the rest of the students, Henry had to admit that being able to summon and control one of the Seven Demon Brothers took skill and energy. Henry was about to take her in as his sole apprentice—until Beelzebub opened his monstrous jaws and swallowed him whole. Without anything binding her to the Magi’s Camp and with a demon at her disposal, Cordelia was free to roam as she pleased—and continues to protect her realm whenever she can.

For the Magi’s Camp has a long memory, and she was forever listed as an inkblot that could become a dangerous foe. Using the remaining magical energy from the Magi Camp, Cordelia opens a portal and steps inside. Her travels eventually led her to the HCC, where she works for her own amusement and extra pay.

She has taken the name Lady to distinguish the people who know her from her previous life to the one she has built for herself. From time to time, she takes on contracts—anything from assassination to a personal assistant—to keep her pockets lined with enough guineas to send her demon a regular allowance.

And with Beelzebub as a popular host at the club, Lady can focus on other magical matters—right now, however, a certain visitor to her realm is determined to interrupt her creativity…

Likes: Beelzebub, sweets, money, music, cute things

Dislikes: Rudeness, being manipulated, being forced to do something against her will, sharing Beel (although if he tells her that he has found someone special, she will indulge him, because she loves her pact demon)

Strengths: Generous, Loyal, Patient, Persistent

Neutral: Realistic, Ambitious

Weaknesses: Reticent, selfish, greedy, prone to jealousy

Defense Mechanism: Neurotic Repression. If things don’t go her way, the Lady will repress her negative feelings, preferring to deal with it by herself while protecting her home. When the “proper” outlet is unavailable, the Lady will simply shut down and deny anything is wrong.

Biggest Fear/s: Rejection, Helplessness

Extra: Humans will know Cordelia as “Lady,” but magical beings can sense that is not her real name. Residents who can visit dreams know her true name.