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marshmallowsqoosh · 1 year

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[Ghost (Band) | Ritual of Summoning: Era 3 (3/5)]

Fandom: Ghost (Band) Title (also AO3 link): Ritual of Summoning: Era 3 Rating: General (May go up) CW: No major warnings apply Lesser Warnings: headcanon, not beta read, Terzo’s the youngest because the canon timeline makes no sense, author chooses to believe that Nihil didn’t hate his kids and they have given names, Ghouls are summoned via magical means, summonings involve deals with devils, author is taking a lot of liberties, Ghouls are Generational not Inherited

Chapter specific warnings/reiterations: Summonings involve deals with devils/demons. Headcanon Heavy, Ghouls are generational, not inherited, Seco doesn’t like Ghouls much/doesn’t like Special, Good Big Brother Seco, Cowbell and Special are gremlins, Primo's Ghouls are Tired:tm:, Primo is Tired:tm:, Seco is probably supposed to be Cardinal but he's Bishop here Headcanon names for the brothers: Angelo (Primo), Francesco/’Cesco (Secondo), and Valentino/Vale (Terzo)

Summary: Summoning era three’s Ghouls over the years… aka Terzo constantly getting in trouble for being a small, ambitious dumbass and continuing to be a small, ambitious dumbass.

Still don’t have a beta reader so if you spot typos/odd spots, lemme know ♥

Extras: Status (and AO3 link!): [ 3 / 5 ] Word Count: ~12k

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Three years pass with almost no issue.

There's a little bit of a hiccup—about six months after Terzo summons Cowbell, when he surpasses Special in height; but, otherwise, things… finally start to seem like they're okay.

Cowbell is an odd addition—not bad odd, but odd. Terzo loves having the two, but it's also kind of… weird. Secondo had commented on the Ghoul choosing to name himself after an old cowbell he found down in the forges that Imperator keeps taking away from him. Special and Terzo steal it back while the woman's distracted; she hasn't found any hard proof they're the ones stealing it, but she definitely knows it's them.

Specifically, though, his brother commenting on the fact Cowbell chose to name himself, does open up some… interesting new doors. Things that takes him a good long while to actually notice and realise that even Ghouls in the same element are so… different. … And maybe makes him wonder if Special has a different name he doesn't know about.

Most importantly, though, their differences—not just between Special and Cowbell, which Terzo always kind of… knew would be obvious, just because he knows he messed up Special's ritual; but, between Cowbell and Mountain, too. Even ignoring the elemental differences, Cowbell proves to be odd, compared to the other Ghoul, despite the identical ritual.

Cowbell takes to glamouring almost immediately and the fact he can speak clearly right away is still kind of confusing. His eyes glow significantly brighter than either of the other Ghouls or the older lot. Even Primo's Fire Ghoul tries to give Cowbell a decent berth, worried clicks emitting from his throat that are almost identical to the Ghouls that wander the archives. Quinn seems… wary; but, he'd been wary of Special and Mountain, too. Terzo just assumes he simply… doesn't like new Ghouls. Or new people. Or people, in general, that aren't Primo or the rest of his Ghouls; probably, especially, because the younger Ghouls get rowdy without warning and have nearly scattered his puzzles multiple times the few and far between time he's forced to watch over them.

Special, over that time, gets better at speaking and… as weird as it is, when they've all more or less accepted he just cannot glamour the way the others can, he gets even weirder. He can't glamour himself… but, they do find out—by complete accident, while he's trying to get free of being scruffed one afternoon—that he can glamour inanimate objects. Quinn thinks he was just focused on anything that would get him free; but, the second Terzo had gotten close enough to try calming him down, close enough to grab one of his hands to help him calm down, his robes had changed to match Terzo's uniform. Long enough—or shocking enough—that Earth had immediately dropped him and Terzo didn't even have the mind to be annoyed when Special landed in a heap of tangled limbs, clearly surprised himself.

He's gotten better at it, now that he knows. They still don't really understand why he can do it; but, Terzo figures it probably has something to do with the fact that… Special can just do things that most other Ghouls can't. Like vanishing into nothingness without much warning. Quinn always looks perplexed when he does; but, never offers any insight to the trick. Not quite the same as Quinn vanishing in shadows, but… close.

Despite the few months between Cowbell and other two Ghouls, they all seem to stop growing—finally—around the same time. About a year after Special was summoned. Mountain may have stopped a few weeks earlier; but, at the very least, he finally seems to have grown into his limbs. Tall. Lanky. Still as solid as any other Earth Ghoul, though, despite Special's best efforts to knock him off balance without ambushing him. Not that he doesn't ambush Mountain; but, he's made it a mission to be able to knock him off balance without the element of surprise.

Cowbell ends up equally lanky—limbs that are almost that little bit too long, but Terzo's pretty sure it's because he simply refuses to stand upright around most of the clergy. He'll straighten out in private—or if Terzo asks him to, before Imperator can get mad at them—but, otherwise he's constantly in a slightly hunched over position; a position where he can readily drop down to a crouch and pounce or simply creep about without drawing attention to himself. His tail, however, is definitely too long and Terzo's been informed—and witnessed, himself—that his Ghoul is constantly getting his tail trapped in doors closing behind him and at least two instances where someone accidentally closed a window on it. He's starting to have a permanent, mostly unnoticeable, crink near the spade of his tail from the number of times it's happened.

And, Special… just seems frustrated that the other two are so much taller than him. He's still taller than Terzo, for the time being. But, Cowbell has a good few inches on him and Mountain… Mountain's learning he always needs to be aware of Special's location, because the second he thinks he can relax and doesn't know where his best friend is, he's probably going to have his knees taken out. Or get knocked down a flight of stairs again.

But, given that that's the worst to happen in three years, Terzo considers it a win. Especially so that he's learned more about rituals in the time being. Still refining the process and finding flaws—some minor and some just outright horrifying—in the ritual provided by the old blood of the upper clergy; but, making steady progress. At least… he thinks he is. He hopes he is.

No one is really willing to test the changes; the sigils in the summoning chamber, at least, have all been altered to their proper spaces. Terzo isn't allowed to sit in on too many of the rituals—Secondo is still really mad at him for summoning Special and the near disaster that had been Cowbell's ritual—so he's not positive what's changing; but there's still a huge inconsistency in summoner health. Some are fine. Some are less so. A few are almost as bad as his brother and father.

His father and brothers—even Secondo—tell him not to pay mind to it and focus on his own research… so he does. If he figures it out, he won't need the upper clergy telling him how to summon.

Which he was perfectly content to doing.

… Was.

Terzo nearly runs right into his brother when he gets home from school. Not that it would have done anything to Secondo; but, he still just barely manages to stop himself and covers it up by choosing to hug his brother to cover the way he nearly trips.

"You're actually home, frate! Are you staying long? For dinner, at least? Did you bring us anything—?"

Secondo pries, uselessly, at his arms, to try getting free; eventually he just picks Terzo up by the back of his uniform—still small for his age, still small compared to his brothers—and it only works in getting Terzo to let go because it lifts his feet off the ground and his immediate reaction is to start squirming.

"For dinner, yes; I'll be leaving tomorrow, probably as you're getting out of school. I got you something, yes. You can have it after supper, right now I need to finish packing—"

"Wait! Make me a snack before you go? Please?" He knows Secondo knows he's just asking for help so he gets those few extra minutes. He's still… not really allowed in the kitchen—or near a stove or cooking set, anyways—but he's at least had some of the restrictions lifted. But, asking for help lets him bother his brother a few minutes longer; helpful, now that he never knows how long he's actually going to have the man around. "Where are you going next, fratello?"

"The Swiss branch." Secondo doesn't look up from pulling a plate down from the cabinets. "I'll be going to Poland for a few days after. Maybe a week. Did you find the apple you want—?" His expression thins out, clearly not amused, when Terzo leans around him and happily sets two apples on the plate. "I am not making a snack for your Ghoul."

"You know if I only have one apple, I'm just going to give it to him." Terzo turns and wiggles a little before he manages to hoist himself up to sitting on the counter next to his brother, pleased when the man gives a begrudging sigh and starts cutting the pair of apples and peeling some of the slices. "Thank you, fratello. … Why are you going to Poland, though? We don't have a branch there—are you helping a new one set up, can I go—?"

"That, thankfully, is absolutely none of your business; and, no, you are not going. Don't bother Angelo, about it, either." Secondo doesn't bother telling him to get down from the counter. Just passes the plate over, gives his hair a passing ruffle and a kiss, before he disappears up towards the living quarters.

Terzo doesn't bother jumping down and instead holds the plate out to his other side, in the same moment Special drops down from the ceiling to sit with him and happily takes the offered plate. "Don't suppose you know why he's going?"

Special chirps, already picking at the peeled bits of apple skin and deciding where he wants to start and how to eat around his mask, even as he's still situating himself so he can sit on the counter with Terzo. He gives a pleased trill when Terzo carefully lifts the mask off of him—holding it in his lap—to make things a little easier and immediately starts on the long strips of peel so he can still talk around the small nibbles.

"Dunno. They had a super long meeting today, though. Tried asking Mounty if he heard anything, since Cowbell and I were in class with Fire, but Earth chased us off. Doesn't sound like any of the Ghouls got to sit in—haven't seen Quinn and only him or Earth would be allowed, right?"

Terzo hums a passive affirmative, distractedly nibbling on an apple slice, and he feels Special lean on his shoulder—feels his ear give a gentle twitch close to his hair and his tail coil around Terzo's ankle.

"… You're in a weirdly good mood for him going on a trip so soon after getting back." He tilts his head and Terzo imagines he must actually be smiling. "Did something good happen at school?"

"I hope so… we have a transfer student. She's really quiet, but… I think she's like us." Terzo hums, legs swinging as he nibbles on the end of one of the apple slices. "Not… exactly like us. But different from others. Gifted, but not like me or Fratello or Papa. I'm not sure how she's gifted, yet. But I can tell she is."

Special makes a quiet, curious trill. "There are… a lot of different gifts from the Fallen. … She hasn't been hostile?" He gives the Ghoul a curious look, only to be met by an uncertain shrug. "I'm just saying… just because they were all cast out doesn't really mean they all get along all the time… and the same is true for those with the Papal Eye, too, isn't it?"

Maybe not for this generation… not quite. But, he knows Special's right. People were still people and just because they shared an experience—housing gifts that set them apart from other people—didn't… necessarily mean they'd get along. Still, Terzo's… fairly confident he can be her friend. Or at least that he wants to try being her friend.

"That's true… but it's still fun to think about, isn't it? Meeting someone outside of the ministry with gifts, too?"

"Mmm…" Special's claws tap on the counter as he thinks. He's still smiling, even though Terzo knows he can feel the anxiety that the silence is giving him. "I think it'll be good for you. Like Mounty was for me." He must look confused because his Ghoul just laughs when he looks over. A small laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. "You know Cowbell and I love you. Your brothers do and your father. Just like I know you love me and them… but it's a different kinda love for Mounty, yeah? Love you both, but different-like… m'not sure how to explain it. But, I do genuinely think—regardless of her being gifted—having a friend outside of the church is something you need. Her being gifted might make it easier for you to feel comfortable trying to make a friend, but… just promise you'll be careful?"

The smile falls for a moment and Special's attention goes to the floor, claws still tapping out a steady beat. The riff Terzo's been working on for the past few weeks; something he knows will hold Terzo's attention and keep him from being too anxious, as necessary.

"Her gift… might not be something she wants to talk about, y'know? Like 'Cesco doesn't like to, yeah?"

Terzo should scold him for using his brother's name. Even if it's just the two of them, he should probably be a bit more consistent with making sure Special knows not to use any of their given names. But, the point is… painstakingly valid and gives him pause.

"... That's true. I guess, I…" He laughs a little and leans on Special so he can hug his arm, tight, to keep from spiraling down the rabbit hole of what if that comes with the realisation his Ghoul is right. "I got excited and forgot… not everyone likes their gift. I mean, I still don't really understand mine, either."

He reaches up and touches under his left eye, carefully. He's tried asking—Primo, their father, even Secondo and Copia—what exactly the eye was supposed to do. He knows it has… something to do with the contracts when they summon Ghouls. For both times, the responding patron had tapped near his eye and he remembers… a dull throb during the rituals. Primo's notes had made it sound more painful—except for Earth's. Earth's notes had been… more like what Terzo felt, but still worse. Quinn's sounded excruciating. Papa had told him that he would learn in due time. Secondo told him not to worry about it. Copia had been hesitant to admit he didn't understand it, either; just that it let them see the shadows around them more definitively.

Everyone saw shadows, perhaps; but, the Papal Eye… gave those shadows form. Form that Copia admitted had scared him when he was much younger and didn't understand they were… normal, despite being a sort of constant safety. Company when he was otherwise alone.

Primo described them in a similar fashion, if not a touch more positive—safe and assurance he wasn't alone; before and even after he'd been brought to the ministry. He'd hummed, when Terzo tried to explain how they felt to him—how the cemetery felt safer than anywhere inside—and simply watched his own Ghouls for a few seconds, the smallest smile tugging on his lips, before adding, almost as an after thought, that the feeling was particularly prominent in the Archives, for him. Terzo tried going down into the Archives a few more times, but can't seem to replicate the feeling of safety; not like he can in the cemetery.

Secondo didn't like them. Even knowing what they were, Terzo knows he regards the shadows the same way he regards Ghouls—wary and constantly aware of their presence. Annoyed that Terzo never seemed afraid of them, even when he had—apparently, according to his brothers—followed them around as an infant. Constantly trying to follow them everywhere, until one of his brothers or, once Primo ascended the revived project of the band, one of Primo's Ghouls had picked him up and redirected him elsewhere.

Beyond that, he doesn't know what the eye does. Some of Primo's notes and some of the research he's managed to gather from the archives… it sounds like there's supposed to be more they can do.

He's snapped out of his thoughts by a gentle prick—the sensation of Special poking him with the tip of his claw—on his cheek and he shakes his head a few times, "Sorry—did you say something?"

"Just checkin' on you." The nuzzle makes him laugh a little and he thinks Special's smiling under the mask. "But, we should probably go upstairs. They're going to start preparing supper soon, yeah? We shouldn't be in the way."

Terzo nods and waits for Special to hop down from the counter so he can use the Ghoul to keep himself steady when he hops down. He still stumbles a little; but, not nearly as badly as if he'd tried on his own. "Yeah. Actually, I worked on the song some more… could you go find Cowbell, please? I want to hear what it sounds like with the guitars."

"Of course. Which guitars should we grab?"

"All three of mine, please. I… think I figured out the bass part…? I need to hear how it sounds with the other two, though. I know the drum and key parts are okay, but—"

"Vale." He stops fretting and clears his throat; Special hugs him before he can think to apologise. "Stop doubting yourself. … Easier said'n done, I know; but… you're putting too much pressure on yourself. One part at a time. You know it'll all come together."

Terzo nods, hugging back, tight, for barely a moment before he releases the Ghoul—only just remembers to offer him his mask back, despite Special wrinkling his nose at it—and watches him disappear into the shadows. He's still pretty sure Special… isn't supposed to be able to do that; but, it's helpful and no one's said it's a bad thing, despite how many people know he can. So, he chooses not to worry and heads up to his room, only stopping to lean into Primo's office so he can secure a hug from the oldest… and maybe try to find out what Secondo got him from his last trip.

All it does is earn an amused chuckle, despite how tired the eldest looks, and his brother giving him a gentle push back towards the door. "You know he wishes it to be a surprise, stellino. He's already promised it to you after meal, no? Be patient."

"Fiiiine. I'll see you at supper, fratello." He waves a little as he runs out, careful not to get too close to where Primo's Ghouls are crowded around a table—maybe helping Air with his models or Water with his pottery? Something fragile, but probably not one of Quinn's puzzles… he hasn't seen Quinn in a few days, but that's not too unusual, really. He probably just kept missing the Ghoul; Earth's still close by, afterall. Probably just keeping watch until Quinn gets back from whatever task Primo sent him on.

He doesn't stay long enough or get close enough to figure it out and simply runs the rest of the way to his room, pleased when he doesn't run into anyone else that would make him stop running.

As a bonus, he only nearly trips twice and is delighted when he finds Special and Cowbell already in his room. Special's already plucking, gently, at the rhythm strings with his claws, carefully adjusting the tuning as he does. Cowbell still looks uncomfortable with holding the guitar, idly; but, he's confident enough when asked to play. He offers a smile once Terzo's closed his door.

"Welcome home. Special says you've perhaps figured out the next part?"

"I hope so—or, I'm getting closer, anyways. I think. I mean, it's still a rough draft—"

"Vale."

Again, Special manages to get him to slow down with just his name and Terzo uses the opportunity to pull and release a slow breath. "Right. Hear it first… hear it first, go from there. … Mngh, maybe I should ask Copia if we can borrow Mountain and just use a rehearsal room—?" He shakes his head, sharply, before Special needs to intervene a third time. "No. Nonononono. I can do this. … Please start before I start second guessing myself again—"

The request has barely left his lips when Cowbell starts the opening rift. It's… hard not to focus on either of the Ghouls' tails keeping their own beats. It doesn't sound quite right without the physical drums or keys but he can still kind of hear it in the back of his mind. Not as clearly as he would like, as he focuses on his own notes. A lot of it is stopping and trying again as he scribbles and scratches through notes on the test sheet; if either Ghoul is annoyed by the frequent interruptions, they don't say anything.

It keeps up until there's finally a gentle knock and Earth telling them to clean up and come down to supper and Terzo simply slumps over his bass, pouting a little and hugging it, when he calls an affirmative, "Coming! … Guess it's not as done as I thought."

"Perhaps not refined, but you've made phenomenal progress." He knows Cowbell's just trying to help and offers a weak smile as he finally stands and gently hands the bass off to Special; he vanishes, for barely a moment, to return the guitars to the rehearsal room, returns to do the same for Cowbell's, and, when he returns a second time, both Ghouls simply stand back when Terzo goes to dig through his closet for something to wear that isn't his uniform.

"I suppose one of us should have made certain before hand, but… you've no studies to focus on, today?"

He hears Special grumble before squealing a small protest when Cowbell hits him with his tail; they stop glaring at each other when Terzo looks over his shoulder. Only a brief moment before his attention is on hanging his uniform up and pulling his evening clothes on.

"I finished everything in class, for better or worse… it's hard to focus when I get bored, but they can't say anything if I'm finishing the work and showing results for it, right?"

Both Ghouls offer a tip of their head to acknowledge the question and Terzo barely resists the sigh. He knows they're… expected to be proper, but it's still unsettling when it's just them. Special was a little more lax; but, Cowbell tended to keep things together. More than he did around certain parts of the ministry, anyways.

As soon as they're out of Terzo's room, Cowbell's posture changes. Special disappears up to the ceiling and, as expected, Cowbell settles into the lower, hunched position, a good few steps away from Terzo. Not too far; but far enough if he did need to drop to a pounce-ready position he can without hitting his summoner. He'll correct himself, a little bit, once they're in the dining room—once Special drops down to walking with them, again—and he'll sit up a little bit straighter in his own chair.

It's… an odd sitting arrangement. Primo's Ghouls still aren't too comfortable at the table, but they all know they can stay seated and a few of them even try to eat every few weeks. Quinn, at least, likes tea; Earth will eat if there's soup, but rarely anything else. The others… Terzo hasn't quite found a pattern, but it's still maybe a little concerning that they don't seem to need food, when Special, Cowbell, and Mountain do.

So far as actual seating, Cowbell usually takes the liberty of sitting opposite of Mountain, just so Special is safely seated between the Earth Ghoul and Terzo—where he's the least likely to be trouble—even when Mountain… should probably sit with Copia, instead. It also, unfortunately, puts him closer to Imperator; but, between the three of them, Cowbell is… probably the best to have in that seat. As antagonistic as he could be—and generally was, anywhere but the table—he was also usually the most civil with the upper clergy and held conversation the easiest with Imperator or Nihil, if either decided to pay him mind. The fact Copia seemed fine sitting next to him—compared to the few times he's had to sit near Special—is a welcome bonus.

But, tonight is… different.

The second they enter the dining room, Special immediately drops from the ceiling and Terzo reaches out to grab his hand and holds as tight as he can. His Ghoul never protests the grip and he feels Cowbell come up on his other side to offer extra comfort of proximity and a gentle trill that he thinks is meant to be reassurance.

Primo isn't at the table, yet. He's not worried about their father or Sister Imperator or even really Copia and Mountain. Secondo's there—head bowed and hands clasped on the back of his neck; the way he does when he's stressed and trying to sort things out.

The way he does when he doesn't want to tell Terzo how bad things actually are.

Even so, Terzo shuffles up to his brother, still clinging to Special's hand, and tugs on his sleeve in hopes of some kind of assurance that… maybe it actually isn't that bad.

The fact Secondo doesn't even spare a small scowl in Special's direction is more terrifying than it has any right to be and Terzo can't quite swallow the whine building in his throat when Secondo turns his chair and pulls him into a tight hug.

"Everything's going to be fine, Vale." Secondo hugs him a little tighter—presses a kiss against his forehead, pets his hair down; anything he can to try keeping things from escalating. "Everything is going to be fine."

Going to be. But not right now.

"I just saw Angelo, what happened—?" His voice hitches and he can't quite stop the hiccough, even when he manages to swallow a second whine. "I want Angelo."

"Hey… you know his Ghouls are going to take care of him." Secondo finally lets him go to push him back a little—just far enough he can hold Terzo by his shoulders, still offering the comfort of a gentle grip—and keeps eye contact. It… helps. A little bit, at least. "Earth went to get Quinn, so they're all going to be there to keep an eye on him, okay?"

Terzo frowns a little as the words finally kind of start to process. He doesn't try to get free of the grip—tries to physically hold onto the comfort by keeping a gentle hold on his brother's wrists, even when it means releasing the death grip he has on Special—and glances back at Special and Cowbell, only to find them exchanging confused looks. So, he turns his attention back up to Secondo, trying to ignore the gnaw of dread in the pit of his stomach that he's… fairly certain is Special's.

"Why wasn't Quinn with him, already? Quinn never leaves him—?" Not long enough that Earth would have to go get him, at any rate. Not long enough that—as Terzo finally thinks about it—he wouldn't have seen the Ghoul over the past few days… maybe it wasn't a coincidence—?

He thinks Secondo means to assure him things are okay again; but, his mouth snaps shut and Terzo can practically hear the way his teeth grind together when a different voice answers. Special and Cowbell quickly settle into their seats—heads down, hoods pulled up—to avoid inviting Imperator's ire.

She doesn't sound mad… but she still doesn't bother beating around the bush. She rarely did; and, when Papa wasn't with her, she was even less likely to try being less curt than she is with any of the brothers or Ghouls.

"Quintessence has been in solitary since Papa's last Ritual… I'm quite certain I told you to inform him of this, Bishop."

"And I told you that he didn't need to know. He didn't need to be worrying about the Ghoul anymore than it should have been in isolation for more than a day, at most."

Terzo doesn't even have the mind to be as offended as he normally is, over the way his brother talks about the Ghouls. He just looks between the pair, more confused than he was a moment ago.

"Why was—? Wait, what isolation? Ghouls have isolation? Why was Quinn there, Quinn's supposed to take care of An—Primo—"

He hears Special whine, behind him; and, that, more than his own awareness of anxiety, is the only thing that gets him to try taking a steadying breath. The only thing that kind of gets him to calm down a little bit, just so Special isn't in as much pain. Quinn's been helping him handle the reactions and teaching him how to lessen it. If Quinn's been in isolation, he can't teach any of them. Were they putting Special in isolation, when Terzo wasn't there? Were they trying to, is that why he used to snap at the arch-bishops and cardinal—? Special would have told him, if they were, right?

Even as that line of questions is quickly pushed to the back of his mind, he realises that… Special—and Cowbell, he's certain—definitely wouldn't have told him. They didn't even want to bring up when the upper clergy were being mean to them, he can't imagine either Ghoul would have brought it up if they were thrown in isolation. But Terzo would have felt it, wouldn't he…? But Quinn should be able to get out of anywhere, unless the isolation negated his powers, which meant Terzo wouldn't have been able to feel Special's panic or anything else if he were in isolation—

He jumps when slender fingers with almost too pointy nails curl around his arms, just below his shoulders, and it takes him a moment to register the contact as Cowbell and familiar. Longer than he's willing to admit.

"Everything's alright… slow down. Let the thoughts pass." Gentle. Warm. His hands emit a warmth that gets Terzo to take a few deep breaths. "Fantastic job. Special, you, too."

Special's breaths are a bit shakier; but, he listens and, within a few seconds longer, Terzo feels the pressure in his chest letting up and pulls one more deep breath that is… a little bit steadier when he lets it out.

"Thank you, Cowbell… I'm okay. Is—is Quinn going to be able to help Primo…? He's going to be okay, isn't he?"

"He's been relocated to the infirmary, for the time being. Quintessence does seem to have pulled him into a more stable state, but the doctors have insisted on monitoring him for the evening and into the foreseeable future. We will discuss this further once he's released." The last bit seems to be aimed more at Secondo—he scowls, but still nods to show he understands—and Terzo mimics the nod, slowly, his attention falling as his thoughts refuse to slow down.

Less jumbled. More focused. Looking for any sort of explanation.

"... Why was Quinn in isolation…?"

"Vale—"

"I—I know you said I didn't need to worry, but—if Quinn helped just by being out, then… then would him being gone have been what caused Primo to…?" He trails off, chewing on his lip as he tries to figure out how to say what he needs to. He glances back at Special—the Ghoul looks confused, if not a little wary. He probably knows what Terzo wants to say. Cowbell's released him, arms folded dutifully behind him and head tilted to one side in a curious gesture.

Imperator clearing her throat makes him jump and he quickly turns back to her, straightening his own posture out of sheer habit, even knowing there's no ruler nearby to hit him, "Sorry, Sister…"

"I will excuse it for the moment. Continue. You clearly had more to say on the matter."

Secondo's moved closer. He's not standing, but he still moves his chair that little bit closer so he's at least somewhere he can get between them, if he needs to. Terzo knows he's going to be mad about this and shuffles in his spot a little bit.

"I… was reading more on the Rituals… on Primo's. His notes don't match what The Archivist has and… he copied Papa. If… if their Rituals made them sick, would… would doing them correctly make them better…?" The woman raises her brow and Terzo tries not to squirm more than the small shuffling. "I'm still missing parts, but I know more. How to make them have more consistent results, like Cowbell's. If I show Primo, he can help his Ghouls and… and he'll get better, right?"

"Hmm… Papa Emeritus is the first to keep his Ghouls, despite their feral state. Even your father's were more closely monitored outside of gathered Rituals." Terzo raises his head a little, confused; Imperator doesn't bother elaborating and instead studies him. It's an effort not to shrink under the look or shuffle closer to his brother or Ghouls. "You say you can improve on your last attempt?"

He's not sure it'll be an improvement. Cowbell was already significantly better than Special—insofar as how his summoning went—and he's arguably better than Mountain, just because he'd been able to talk and mostly walk without issue as soon as he was summoned. He'd been a little wobbly, but Terzo thinks it's because, much like Mountain, his limbs had been far too long for his body. Inconsistent.

… He can do better.

He has to do better. So, he nods, slowly, "I'm… I'm pretty sure I can."

Imperator's quiet for a stretch. He feels Secondo tensing up next to him, but refuses to look towards his brother and risk seeing the disappointment and thinly veiled anger.

"Bishop, I will inform the other branches your trip is to be postponed. You will monitor the child. If… and only if… you provide an exemplary Fire Ghoul… I will sanction you to summon the rest, as you've wanted. You're in good enough health and you should be able to do more than the one Ritual, this time."

The surprise is short lived; the excitement is even shorter as Secondo and Special—even Cowbell—immediately protest that no one should do five Rituals at once. The sudden commotion makes him recoil and he's only just able to pull his own Ghouls under control—shushing them and grabbing onto Special's hands to distract him and try to assure him things will be okay. He can do this. Secondo's still protesting, but it registers as little more than muffled static as his mind desperately begins running through what all he's going to need to pull this off.

Secondo doesn't talk to him, at all, through dinner. Even when their father joins them and supplies that Primo woke up long enough to assure people he was fine—even arguing with the doctors that he would be fine to return to his own room and only settling when Earth and Quinn insisted he stay the night—Secondo barely acknowledges the update. He scowls when Imperator informs Papa that Terzo will be doing another series of Rituals when the weekend comes. Just in case he does end up more exhausted than anticipated.

Special spends the meal glaring down at his plate, tail thrashing anxiously behind him and doing his best to calm down so Terzo isn't getting the feedback. His chest hurts, but it isn't as bad as it looks like it should be. Cowbell heats Mountain up a little bit—just enough to release a gentle, calming scent from the Earth Ghoul—in an attempt to help, along with Mountain running a hand along Special's back to help him regulate a steady breathing exercise to stay calm.

Unfortunately that doesn't follow them up to Terzo's room.

Cowbell excuses himself, quietly, and quickly escapes the tense atmosphere by retreating towards the Ghoul wing. Special immediately burrows into the blankets on Terzo's bed until only his tail is sticking out, still lashing back and forth, a bit more erratically. It stops when Terzo sits on his bed and puts a hand on top of the lump of blanketed Ghoul.

"It'll be okay, Special… I'll stop if I get too tired, I promise."

"She's not going to let you, though, is she?" Special squirms until he can finally stick his head out, still otherwise bundled up and his expression furrowed. He shakes off, as best he can, when Terzo reaches over to remove his mask and set it on the bedside table. His lips are set in a thin line. "You're going to get hurt doing so many at once…"

"I won't." Terzo reaches out, offering his hand and waiting until Special finally shoves his face against the offered palm to offer him a gentle skritch around his ears. "I'll talk to 'Cesco and Papa and Angelo beforehand. As long as they know I'm going to stop if it gets to be too much, she won't say anything. She won't argue with Papa and Angelo and especially not all three of them."

"And if she says you can't keep them if it isn't all at once…?"

It's definitely a possibility. She could still enforce some conditions. But…

"As long as they're… to her expectations… I don't think she will. The Ministry doesn't have a lot of socialised Ghouls."

Even the ones that the Upper Clergy oversees and don't seem to hurt the summoners, a lot of Ghouls are… either incoherent or incompatible in large groups. Not as feral as some of the others but still anxious and not allowed near the laity, even the ones that know about them. Some exceptions. Always exceptions, though.

"Her expectations are never the same as yours." He almost doesn't hear Special. Almost. He does, though, and just turns a confused look on his Ghoul. Special stubbornly keeps his head turned, avoiding eye contact and keeping himself burrowed against Terzo's palm for comfort. "Even if they're… correct… if she finds even a small thing wrong—"

"She won't. Nothing she can use to get Papa to agree to banishing any of them or you." Still, Terzo pauses, attention drifting to his floor. "… But if she did… you can take others through the shadows, right…?" He feels the way Special's expression furrows into confusion and he finally turns to look up, chirping curiously.

"N… not as many as Quinn can, but… yes…?"

"... If she tries to banish any of you… take the others. Find somewhere to hide. … I don't know where you could hide on the Ministry grounds, but if she tries, I want you to keep them safe, first. 'Cesco won't let her do anything to me, so you can focus on protecting them, instead. Promise?"

Special looks more anxious than he did by the prospect of the Rituals; but, after a long moment of chewing on his lip, he nods a little bit and finally crawls forward enough he can shove his face against Terzo's shoulder, looking for more physical reassurance.

"Special… promise? You have to take care of the others if she tries to banish any of you. You hide. Promise."

He sees Special's ears give a few rapid flickers as he sits up, clearly resisting the urge to shake his head. His hands come up, just short of touching his throat, in the same moment that Terzo rubs his own throat, not really sure where the crack in his voice came from or why it hurts. He almost wonders if it's Special's; only because it vanishes the same moment the Ghoul lowers his hands and gives another, more solid nod.

"Promise. Find somewhere to hide… Keep everyone safe." He trails off and hesitates, kneading restlessly at the bed sheets he'd been bundled up in. "… Come back for you? Or wait…?"

Honestly, Terzo hadn't thought that far ahead. He knows his brothers won't let anything happen to him. But the idea the clergy could use him to try bringing the Ghouls back does briefly cross his mind. He sighs and falls back into his bed, staring up at the ceiling until Special cautiously sprawls out next to him. He latches onto his Ghoul instead, clinging as tight as he can, and finally answers. "If you have to hide… wait. I'll—" he's going to hate if it happens. He knows he is. If he has to send them away he knows he's going to hate it with every fiber of his being, but he has to hold onto the idea they'll be safe.

"I'll call you back when it's safe."

Special chirps quietly and Terzo wonders if he's imagining the slightly brighter glow in the Ghoul's left eye. It's gone before he can really try to focus on it and he simply lets his eyes close, shoving his face into Special's shoulder and falling asleep to the steady tap of his tail hitting the bed and his claws working through Terzo's hair.

Terzo's not as scared of the upper clergy, anymore. It definitely helps that it's just their church—his brothers and father, even if Sister Imperator's gaze feels… heavy. He's not afraid of the Cardinal or the Arch-Bishops, anymore. As long as they aren't on the ground floor of the chamber, anyways.

Like three years earlier, Special's perched close by, attention fixed curiously on the circle; this time, with Cowbell standing remarkably upright, arms folded behind his back, and attention less fixed on the circle and more on the observation balcony. Primo's Ghouls and Mountain are a bit further down the wall, closer to the door—out of the way of the summoning circle, but close enough to observe, close enough to… assist, if they need to. Minor changes from Cowbell's Ritual, not nearly as many as the first time. More thorough measurements and more… meaningful ingredients. Soil from the cemetery, specifically from around the old crypt with past Papas. Water from the Ghouls—Primo's Water Ghoul had trilled and chittered, anxiously, for probably a solid hour when Earth and Quinn tried to explain what they needed him to do.

Terzo doesn't blame him for being worried; he's worried, too. Still waiting for things to backfire.

Earth had refined the candles, with Air and Fire's help. Extra candles for the first Ritual and a small dish of ashes from the thurible. There are still some… other steps he hasn't quite managed to translate in full. Some he still doesn't fully understand. Quintessence is still odd, but he's not sure he'll be allowed to summon all of the Ghouls—even with Imperator's "permission"… Papa might stop him after the core four.

He hopes not.

Fire first. One more chance to prove he knows what he's doing. A goal. Something he hadn't quite had the past two attempts—he had wanted; this time he needs.

The incantation is much easier. He hums it almost every day and he doesn't feel as pressured to speak, this time. No one stops him from singing and the stillness that falls over the chamber is welcoming, this time. It doesn't feel nearly as suffocating—later, he might realise his eye hurts significantly less; barely a dull throb—and he doesn't startle when a large shadow pulls itself together from the stillness, a number of large wings span out behind the form before settling. The most notable, being, a pair that cross over the patron's face.

Still not the patron that brought him Special, though. It does make him frown, briefly; but, it doesn't stop him from being polite and crossing his hands over his chest. It feels better, knowing what to expect, and lets him show a bit more gratitude that he wishes he'd had the mind to show Orobas or the first shadow.

"Thank you, for your time."

An amused, rumbling laugh fills the stillness around them and he manages to stay still and standing, even when a hand reaches out. He does jump, the smallest bit, when the tip of a large claw taps beneath his chin and makes him look up.

"What a fascinating little creature you are… it's no wonder the others clamour so. I'd hoped the other one would summon me first." Terzo blinks, slowly, a few times, not really sure if he's meant to respond. "Humans remain so horrifyingly ambitious. You've learned well since Orobas… tell me, little summoner. Do you know who I am?"

"Azazel." He chooses not to dwell too heavily on the somewhat backhanded comment and instead focuses as best he can on answering the presented question, mostly parroting what he learned from the Archives and the smaller cues, mostly just grateful he has his sigil on him and visible, at that. "You normally supply Fire Ghouls to the upper clergy—those with ambition to rise, along with passion to the church. … You gave Fratello his Fire Ghoul."

The demon looks pleased—as well as he can express, at any rate—and Terzo hesitates for a brief moment. Was it rude to ask…?

"… Are you allowed to tell me who brought Special—?" It doesn't take much to draw Terzo's attention to the center of the summoning circle. The Ghoul that emerges shakes off, briefly, before settling in a crouched position, bright orange eyes fixed intently on Terzo, head tilted and ears flickering curiously as the fire along the spine and tail slowly disperse into smoking wisps. There's a brief moment where the flames linger around his neck, like a collar, before gathering and dissipating into the void on the left side. He… thinks there may have been a temporary glimmer of gold, but maybe it was the fire?

"Special—? Ah. The first one. You will be seeing him again soon enough, fret not, little summoner. For now, you should remain focused on your task at hand." Terzo startles when Azazel's shadow pulls in on itself, shrinking until he's… roughly the same height as Secondo. A more humanoid appearance as he moves around the Ghoul, resting one hand against Terzo's face so the tips of two fingers tap at the corner of his left eye. "We have seen many trials yet to come and we are eager to see how brightly you shine. I am honoured to have been the first of the patrons to offer you a contract to realise your ambitions; but, I need to be certain you understand. You've done your research and I applaud your awareness. Fire Ghouls are passion. They are ambition and lust—for achievements far beyond carnal pleasures. They can and will devour their summoners in a raging fire, if weak of will. I do not fear a lack of conviction… but your price will be heavy if my contract is marred in any fashion, little human. The flames are not forgiving… and you've obtained Fire from my fellow Fallen, already. They will clash. Are you certain you are ready for this responsibility?"

Special and Cowbell haven't been… too uncivil with each other. No more than Special is with any other Ghoul—if anything he's actually nicer to Cowbell. Even if he closes the other Ghoul's tail in a door or window, he never leaves it long and will always make sure Cowbell is close by if they have to go anywhere in the Ministry. Even when it's clear he'd rather go with Mountain or just find somewhere to nap, he never let Cowbell wander around alone. Even so… some part of him knows Special is going to be the one he needs to worry about.

"I am. … I have to be." Terzo hardly notices that Azazel's stood aside so he can approach the Ghoul. Normally the patron left, but he can feel the eyes on his back as he kneels down to the Ghoul, offering a smile. "I'm Valentino… do you have a name?"

"Alpha." The voice is still a bit unsteady. The eyes narrow in a furrowed expression as a rather wisp-like hand comes up to touch the Ghoul's neck and face. "I'm… Alpha…"

Worry flutters in Terzo's gut for a brief moment; but, Azazel merely laughs. A quiet chuckle that's already dissipating into the void around them as he begins to fade. "How marvelous. He will speak easier when he's given form, worry not. I look forward to the realisation of your ambitions… Valentino."

Before Terzo can think to ask any other questions, perhaps specifically why the Fallen using his name makes his ears ring, the sound and colour and time returns around him and he hastily reaches out to put both hands over Alpha's ears when the Ghoul recoils from the suddenness.

"Shhh… it's okay. Everything's okay, I promise. Just give it a minute. Special, can you bring me the mask and cassock, please?"

The affirmative trill still sounds kind of muffled, but Terzo keeps his attention on the new Ghoul, gently rubbing his thumbs along the bit of void where the base of the ears should be, to try soothing the new sensation of noise.

"It's okay… can you open your eyes, Alpha?"

It takes a moment longer; but, the bright orange does focus on him—a bit more red and yellow, a little bit of white and black, tinged throughout, and the smallest bit of blue towards the center; more dynamic than Special or Cowbell's steady glow, but slowly leveling out. Zeroed in on Terzo, still, even as Alpha follows the gentle rubbing that turns into skritches behind his ears and a rumbling purr begins to echo in the chamber. Terzo smiles and keeps his undivided attention on the Fire Ghoul, right up until Special finally taps his shoulder, gently, with the tip of the mask. The cassock is still folded over his arm and he stands back, head tilted curiously as his attention zeroes in on the new Ghoul, while Terzo carefully holds the mask up to him.

The mask attaching to his Ghoul isn't nearly as alarming this time and he smiles when his eyes settle and he immediately perches on his finger tips and toes to shake off down to his tail before Terzo helps him up and helps pull the cassock on, "There we go. And now we see if you can stand on your own… can you take a few steps, for me?"

As Terzo slowly backs up, he releases the hold on Alpha. He's a little bit wobbly; but, he complies and manages to steady himself within two or three steps. His attention zeroes in on the summoning circle, on the tip that… had the ash and extra candles. The ash has vanished and the candles have melted down significantly. Terzo wants to record it; but he knows he needs to stay focused.

"Alpha?" He waits until the Ghoul looks back at him; not quite as immediate as Special generally responds, but easy to kind of shrug off. He's still getting used to his surroundings. "I need you to follow Special and wait for the others, okay?"

Worry bubbles, briefly, in the pits of his stomach as Alpha finally seems to notice Special. Special hasn't stopped watching Alpha the entire time—a bit stiff, a bit tense; but, he doesn't growl and he doesn't make any indication he's going to attack. There's a long moment where they simply stare at each other, until Alpha finally tries to take more steps—still a bit shaky when he first moves one of his legs—and follows where Special gestures to the wall.

All the while, being very careful to ensure his back is never to Alpha. Terzo watches them for a few seconds longer, just to make sure they're being, at the very least, cordial with one another.

He turns back to the circle to relight the candles—wonders, briefly, if he should go ahead and change them out—and, as he's gathering the small bowl and, thankfully closed, flask of water, he hears an interested hum from above him and looks back towards the observation balcony.

Father still looks impressed… but, Primo and Secondo have both turned their attentions to Imperator. As he's turning, he notices Special's attention has zeroed in on the woman, too. That he's motioning Cowbell to get back and offering the same gesture to Alpha, while keeping a careful distance that lets him watch the Ghoul and Sister, as best he can.

"Is… something wrong, Sister?" Terzo frowns a little, carefully setting the bowl and flask back down, just in case he's being told he's failed. Maybe he'll get lucky and she just has questions.

"That would depend on how well your Ghoul follows orders." Terzo blinks and looks back at the trio. Mountain's moved to join them from the door, clearly wary of the new Ghoul, too; Special just gestures for him and Cowbell to back up, tension slowly spreading through his void.

"He's listened to me so far—?"

"Alpha." Terzo winces when bright, brief flashes of light go off in his left eye and squeezes it shut to rub at it and try to get his vision to clear. Unfortunately, it means he also fails to realise what's happening until the rest of the order echoes down from the balcony. "Subdue the others."

Special shoves Cowbell out of the way—towards Mountain—and snarls when he gets knocked over instead. It's a short tumble—Special has some advantage in size and in his own awareness. Enough of an advantage that the manages to pin Alpha down with only a few scratches that are already closing and scruffs the newer Ghoul to keep from being thrown off his back. Enough time for Terzo to recover and try to break them up.

"Alpha! Special! That's enough—leave him alone!"

That may have been aimed more at Imperator; but, thankfully, both Ghouls go rigid. Special shakes his head a few times and cautiously backs off of the new Ghoul, still perched and ready… but, he does relax a little when Alpha simply writhes and claws at his mask with a slur of frustrated hisses and growls.

Cowbell creeps back forward and is able to get the writhing to stop after a few seconds of having his hands on Alpha's shoulders. The same calm he offers Terzo and Special, when they need it and Alpha finally just flattens himself to the floor like he's waiting for another order, tail lashing anxiously until Cowbell and Special finally help pull him back to his feet and over to their corner of observation.

Terzo finally tears his attention from the three and scowls up at the balcony, "What'd you do that for!? He could've gotten hurt! Or hurt one of them!"

Unlikely, given the others clearly have better control of their bodies, but it was still a moment of fear because he knows she meant Special. But, Imperator simply tips her head and folds her hands back in her lap, over a clipboard she's been taking notes on.

"You responded quickly and it listened. It is also able to adhere to orders from other clergy members, unlike your first two failures. This is acceptable. Continue."

Primo has a hand on Secondo's arm, giving him a warning look to stay seated and even from the chamber floor, Terzo can see his brother's jaw locking up as he grinds his teeth to resist the urge to snap at the woman. Papa's expression narrows, for the briefest moment; but, he doesn't intervene and instead turns a patient look back down on Terzo.

Terzo just scowls and moves around the table to his Ghouls, completely ignoring when he's told to resume the rituals a second time. Cowbell looks anxious—wringing his tail in his hands—and Alpha shies away from the approach, clearly worried he's done something wrong. Special's the only one that relaxes and lets out a slow breath, mindful to keep his voice down, "Vale, you should do what she says—"

"No. You two could have gotten hurt. I'm responsible for you and I don't—" it's an effort not to let the agitation show too obviously. He takes a few slow, deep breaths until he's able to keep his voice down without too much conscious effort. "I don't understand why she could do that… she can't give you and Bell orders… why did it work on Alpha? Alpha, are you okay?"

The Ghoul nods, slowly relaxing as he realises Terzo isn't mad at him. He purrs, the smallest bit when Terzo wraps his arms tight around the Ghoul's neck in a hug.

"I'm so sorry… I don't know why she can do that, I—I'll find a way to fix it, I promise. … Special? You're okay, too, right?"

"I'm fine," Despite the assurance, worry is creeping back into his voice, "Vale, seriously, you need to continue before she decides the trial is over. We're both fine, I made sure not to use my claws or damage his mask and his claws haven't fully manifested, yet. Water's next—Lord Leviathan will probably answer. He might have answers."

Terzo nods and finally releases Alpha, "Right… … if she tries to give Alpha another order, try to get him out of the chamber. Containment sigils don't work in the chamber, you should be able to get out… I don’t think she can give Fratello's Ghouls orders."

Special just nods and makes a series of short clicks in his throat. Alpha scowls up at him but still moves closer to Cowbell. Easier to protect. Easier to escape.

He hugs Special, just for good measure and relaxes when the Ghoul nuzzles his hair. "I can keep us safe… you just focus on what you need to do."

The calm and confidence helps. It helps Terzo take a deep breath and he finally goes back to the center of the chamber, pointedly keeping his head down and attention focused on what he was doing. On gathering the ceramic bowl and the flask. He hears the quiet, worried chirps coming from near the door and he knows Water is anxious, still.

Terzo… isn't. Not anymore. He's angry and still aware that Imperator could still ruin the entire thing and banish his Ghouls. Mostly angry, though.

He does his best to calm back down—knows that emotion plays… some kind of role in the rituals, even if he hasn't fully wrapped his head around what little he's been able to translate. Water, especially, could become volatile if he wasn't careful.

By the time he's lit the candles again and carefully taking the smallest bit of ash from the thurible to dissolve in the small dish of water with a gentle stir. While he waits for the water to still again, he takes another small pinch of the ash and takes it back to the table to let it start mixing into the waiting soil. Water… Air… Earth. He still has two more to get to, but if he does it now, he won't forget later or risk running out.

When he sings the incantation this time, he's grateful for the stillness that falls over the chamber and lets out a relieved breath. The sound of… waves…? Hits him out of nowhere and he looks around, confused, before he finally looks up and finds the large whale circling above him. Up near the observation balcony and his anxiety spikes, for the briefest moment, when the whale simply moves through the balcony, unphased by the humans or the structure; and, likewise, they remain blissfully ignorant of the stillness.

"You've a storm disrupting the tides, little human. I've half a mind to deny you your Ghoul."

Terzo doesn't get a chance to protest or defend himself; the Ghoul's already crawled up from the center—more like it's broken the surface of water—and is shaking off, the chirps more muffled and… like bubbles popping… than the clear clicks that his first three Ghouls make. Bright blue eyes settle on him, soon enough, and Water shakily raises up to his fingertips and toes when he crosses over to Terzo and pushes up against him with a pleased purr. A bright gold lights up against his stomach, briefly, before settling, the same as the maybe gold that had been in Alpha's neck. It just convinces him he wasn't imagining it on Alpha.

"As you can see, however… he's already made up his mind."

Terzo feels the prior anger dissipating and he actually laughs a little when the Ghoul's insistent nudging nearly knocks him over. He wraps both arms around him, hugging tight, "Hello… do you—" he pauses, hesitates, and finally sighs.

Water trills, curiously, at him; but, he doesn't fight when Terzo makes a motion for him to sit at his side; the Ghoul simply settles back in the same gargoyle crouch that the others idle in, even when Terzo crosses his arms over his chest to offer a delayed bow.

"My apologies for being rude, Lord Leviathan… thank you, for your time."

The large whale finally stills and simply floats above him, tilting his head to regard Terzo with a row of far too many eyes on the left side of the face.

"A very courteous gesture, summoner. … You seek wisdom."

Terzo hesitates and looks down at Water. The Ghoul simply blinks up at him, oblivious and trusting and thoroughly delighted when Terzo rests a hand on his head.

"I summoned Fire just before this, of course… some clergy members were able to give him orders to attack other Ghouls. … How do I keep them from doing that to the others? To him? I don't understand what happened, they can't do that to Special and Bell… I don't want them to be able to do that to…" He looks back down at the Water Ghoul. Alpha, he has to assume, was because of his name. No one seemed aware Cowbell… wasn't the proper name and Special… he assumes because he messed up the ritual. Alpha and the rest, though…

"Your brother—the damaged eldest one. He's given you the answer to this query. You need only abide his example. It will protect those to come… the one already summoned, however, will require a more delicate touch. I must cut our time here; they who follow me will aid you further, provided you remain civilized. … To sate your curiosity and seal this contract, I do ask that you complete your pledge."

"My—? Oh! Oh, of course, I'm sorry—" Terzo shakes his head, realises he is feeling a lot more tired, the longer he's in the strange stillness. He smiles down at Water. "Will you be alright answering to Water?" An affirmative, excited chirp and Terzo laughs again. "I'm glad… may I know your name, though?"

"Rush!" His tail swishes, rapidly, and makes a tiny splash when it thumps against the ground, "Rush will answer to Water?"

"Yes, please. So they can't use you to hurt the others." Terzo reaches out to give both of his ears a gentle skritch. "I'll keep you safe. And we'll keep them safe, right?"

He feels the ghost of a tap—like a dripping faucet—against the side of his left eye, running down his cheek, right as time resumes around him. Like Alpha, Water immediately recoils and begins to shake off, a high pitched whine building in his throat until Terzo manages to get both hands over his ears again.

"Shhh… I've got you. I've got you, you're safe. Special—oh. Thank you."

Special's already at his shoulder, cassock over his arm and mask held out.

Water watches him closely—like Alpha, his eyes are far more dynamic, right up until Terzo presents the mask to him and the veins spread and disappear into his void. It's a little bit harder to get him into the cassock, if only because he's desperately tryng to look at everything, now that he isn't being assaulted by a myriad of new sounds.

"This is Special." Terzo stands aside to gesture at his Ghoul and Water trills up at him, "I need you to follow him and wait for me to finish summoning the others, okay?"

He doesn't bother trying to stand and instead pounces after Special, circling Alpha and Cowbell in an almost enamoured interest before he finally settles into a copied crouch, tail still swishing and causing gentle splashes whenever it thumps the wall or ground. Alpha hisses quietly and scoots away to avoid the splashes; but, Special gets between them before it escalates any further.

"And this Ghoul—"

"Is Water." Terzo meets the alarmed look, evenly, lips pressed in a thin line. He's proud the Ghoul doesn't try to correct or introduce himself properly. Primo looks away, hastily, as though he's covering a cough; but, Terzo can tell he was smiling. Secondo doesn't bother hiding the smug pride that crosses his face. He actually seems to relax back into his chair, arms crossed languidly and meeting Imperator's annoyed scowl with a dismissive shrug.

So, it is the name… he hopes whoever brings Air can help him protect Alpha.

He doesn't waste time preparing the next phase. A new dish of water—consecrated but not created from another Ghoul. The candles are getting lower, he might need to ask Earth and Fire for more… maybe if he's quick enough he can get through the last two rituals and then figure out the fifth.

No extra ingredients. He just needs to remember where the incantation needs to be altered and repeated. An extra prayer in the middle, recite the whole thing a second time.

His throat is starting to hurt and his eyes feel heavy, but he needs to finish this.

The stillness is welcome again, even as it lulls him into an even sleepier state. A melodic laugh fills the air, carried on a breeze that twists around him and helps him stay standing upright, despite the unsteady sway. A large, black thrush shakes itself free from the wisps of shadows and, instead of coming from the center of the summoning circle, the Ghoul falls from the bird's chest plummage, catching himself before he hits the ground and simply levitating before carefully lowering to all four and settling down in a patient crouch.

He's distracted, briefly, observing his palms, as both light up in the same brilliant gold. A songbird's chirping fills the air as the Ghoul looks up at his patron, clearly looking for permission before carefully pulling himself to his feet—unsteady and clearly uncertain how his legs are meant to work—and soon giving up on standing entirely in favour of floating to circle Terzo and curl around him in his wisped form.

The thrush offers an amiable laugh—more like a series of chirps that mimic a laugh—even as it's talons dig at the summoning circle beneath it. Terzo startles when he notices the coal burning beneath the bird's feet.

"What a magnificent specimen you are, child. The void responds so willingly to you... Leviathan tells me his Ghoul responded in kind… and that you perhaps require my aid?"

"I—oh, my—I'm so sorry—" He doesn't get a chance to correct his greeting this time, even as anxiety bubbles in the pit of his stomach. Air trills next to him and blankets him further in the comfort of his hold and the thrush really doesn't seem nearly as bothered as Leviathan made it sound like he would.

"Breathe easy, child. You know who I am?"

"Lord… Caim, yes—but… you bring… Air Ghouls, why do you…?" Terzo isn't sure what to focus on. He's so… tired, it's so hard to focus. He's finally realising the stillness is what's making him sleepy and it's essentially only Air holding him up that keeps him standing and remotely awake. He feels… warm. Not as warm as Special or Cowbell or Alpha, but still warmer than Terzo.

Caim looks pleased, "Marvelous. The Archives serve you well. You've brought forth many wonderous voids—they will work well together. I believe my own gift will be most beneficial to help curb your Fire Ghoul." Terzo must look confused. Air looks proud of himself as he finally untangles from Terzo and settles by his legs, the same way Water had. Caim gives his wings a single, powerful flap that nearly knocks Terzo and his Ghoul both over.

When he recovers, the Fallen's become smaller—a man's body that retains the thrush's head and wings. He uses the sword at his waist as a cane as he walks forward and uses the hilt to tap Terzo's chin up for eye contact.

"Air Ghouls are freedom. They are the desire to create and express yourself. Fire is passion. They will bolster each other, as they do you and as you to them. Your Fire Ghoul has been compromised, is my understanding. When you've a moment with him—away from those that will use him in malice—you need only give him a simple order." Caim reaches out, taking one of Terzo's hands up in his own and squeezing it gently. "A gesture of trust and vulnerability. Orders given in tandem to touch will… alter a Ghoul's contract in minor ways. You will set more specific conditions—as you did with… Special. Your guardian Ghoul. When his conditions are met, he will carry out your order. For Alpha, you will need to make conditions that prevent others from abusing his name. Do you understand?"

Terzo nods, quickly. He's already losing some of the information as the exhaustion begins to hit his body, he needs to be back in the chamber—back with time moving properly, he needs Special to know so one of them remembers—

"I can help, too." Air's voice is soft. Clear and crisp and it snaps Terzo from the distressed thoughts. When he looks down, solid white eyes—maybe silver? They almost seem metallic—stare up at him and he swears a smile is in the void. "I can help… I know what to do, too."

"I—thank you. I hate to burden you with such a task so soon… thank you, though." Terzo feels the anxiety dissipating and smiles when the Ghoul perks up and circles him again, this time doing a few entwined circles around Caim, as well.

The thrush smiles and tips his head, "Let your Ghouls aid you, little star. They are your comrades and protectors, just as much as you protect them. Now then… your pledge, please."

"Of course… and… thank you, so much." Terzo finally has a chance to cross his arms over his chest and offers the Fallen a deep bow, "For your time and guidance. Thank you." When he raises, his attention goes to Air, floating just to his left and he holds his hands out to take the Ghoul's and slowly helps lower him to the floor so he can get used to his legs. "You're doing wonderful… may I know your name?"

"I'm Cyclone. But… you wish for me to answer to Air, yes?"

Terzo tries not to let the disappointment show and smiles as best he can, "For your safety, yes. Until I can… figure out a more permanent solution."

The exhaustion is starting to hit him again and he hears a worried chirp, somewhere to his right. The stillness is starting to feel… wrong. Stale. He shakes his head, sharply, and grips Air's hands a little bit tighter to give himself an anchor.

"I'll protect you. I'm going to find a way to keep all of you safe, I swear."

This time it feels like a feather tapping the corner of his eye—gentle and a bit ticklish.

Air doesn't recoil from the sudden sounds the way Alpha and Water did. His ears flatten and his eyes squeeze shut for the shortest moment, but he manages to shake it off in the same moment Terzo feels Special put a hand on his shoulder to offer the next mask and cassock. He thinks he manages to say thank you when he takes the mask from Special and holds it out to Air. The veins are definitely more silver than white, as they spread from the mask and Terzo almost thinks he sees a little bit of blue and maybe yellow—?

He rubs at his eyes, trying to stave off the exhaustion even a little bit. He thinks he hears Special asking if he's okay. Air echoes him, his voice definitely clearer than Special's, worry evident. Terzo tries to tell them he's okay.

Just one more… he just needs to do one more, at the very least—

The last thing he's aware of is his brother saying his name and something warm wrapping around him. Special. More than likely Special. It's getting hard to keep his eyes open and even knowing they're as open as he can get them, everything around him looks… fuzzy. Muted, like he's still in the stillness of forging a pact for a Ghoul.

Just one more. He can do one more.

He tries to say as much—or, he thinks he's trying to say as much… but he must pass out because the next time he manages to open his eyes, he's back in his bedroom, struggling to get his bearings and trying to figure out why there's so much chirping in his room.

.♥. .♥. .♥. .♥. .♥. .♥. .♥. .♥. .♥. .♥. .♥. .♥. .♥. .♥.

post a/n:

My goal is to at least finish Era 3 and Pro Memoria. There may be other one shots, but… I'm not positive the resurrection fic or any of the other planned multi-chapters will continue/be manifest. I've written well over 200k for Ghost, only ~90k (as of this chapter) has been posted and I… am not positive I can muster up the mental fortitude to keep this up.

Thank you, to everyone who has read and taken the time to let me know there's more than a void. Thank you, everyone that's left a kudo or bookmark or subscription.

But this is having severely adverse side effects on my mental and physical health, between lack of reception, lack of acknowledgement in other aspects of the works, and the looming threat of generative bullshit.

I will see these two projects through, at least. But they will probably be spread out as I very desperately need to nurture my health.

I'm sorry. Thank you, again, to everyone that's made effort to express their interest. That's essentially all that's gotten me through these chapters, few and far between that they are. I probably won't be replying to any future comments, but please know that they do mean the entire world to me.

#sqooshy writes #ghost fanfiction #ghost band #rating: general #ghouls era 3 #ghost era 3 #terzo #papa emeritus iii #ao3 link #special ghoul #cowbell ghoul #alpha ghoul #water ghoul #air ghoul #papa emeritus ii #secondo #summoning meta #fic: ritual of summoning

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usamamoweek · 1 year

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Meet the Creators - Smokingbomber

What username(s) and platform(s) can folx find you on? (Please include links!)

@smokingbomber- can find stories here on AO3

[MOD note: make sure you are logged into your AO3 account to access this story, it has been locked down with all the scraping and reposting on other platforms without writer consent]

(Fun Fact) What is your favorite kind of potato?

y-yukon gold? i guess?

How long have you been creating works in fandom spaces? How long have you been active in the SM fandom?

On and off (mostly off) since 1999, and SM fandom since 2014

What type(s) of creative works do you usually make? (fanfics, digital art, cosplay)

Fanfic and fan art, as well as a pretty big catalogue of SM-inspired electronic music and filk

What do you enjoy about creating for the SM fandom?

Well, who doesn't love feedback? But also, I love how it's so big and so old that even rarepairs have dedicated, devoted followings.

Are you strictly UsaMamo or do you create for other pairings as well?

I'm actually mostly not UsaMamo anymore since lots of people have them covered so well-- the vast bulk of my stuff centers on Mamoru or Endymion and the Shitennou (shipping or gen), with a reasonable helping of MakoNeph.

What inspires you to create works for Usagi and Mamoru?

They are the healthiest non-boring young-to-old couple I know of in fiction. Plus they're adorable.

Do you tend to work on multiple projects (WIPs) simultaneously or try to finish one at a time?

Definitely multiple WIPs at a time. [looks sheepishly at huge stack going back to 2016]

Do you prefer large projects (chaptered fics, webtoons/zines, highly detailed art) or small projects (one-shots or simple art)?

It depends on my mood! But considering I think of 20k as a longfic (for me) I probably count as all small projects, lmao.

Are there any common themes, situations, tropes, or mediums in your work?

Consent, royal x knight, hurt/comfort, Shitennou redemption :D :D :D, mutual support

Is there anything you haven’t explored artistically and would like to try?

TBH I want to do time travel stuff. More time travel stuff, I did one previously. Also, some weirder AUs. Like I still want to do SM x World of Darkness, hahahaha.

#sailor moon #usamamoweek2023 #meet the creators #usagi x mamoru #usamamo

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mellifiedman · 1 year

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Okay, I'm going to for-real take advantage of having unlimited characters again and tell you my very important thoughts on all the media I've consumed in the last month-ish. We're blogging! We love blogging, right?

BOOKS

Priory of the Orange Tree, Samantha Shannon: have you ever wished for a Guy Gavriel Kay novel that was way queerer, but also worse? Boy, have I got the book for you! It's clear that a lot of careful historical research went into this book, which I appreciate, but it doesn't make up for the fact that this book is an incredibly long exercise in writing multiple POVs that all kind of feel like the same boring, namby-pamby character, despite some surface-level angst (except for the scheming gay alchemist, who actually got to have some real moral conflict a few times). It's very clear early on that all of these little dweebs are going to make the most selfless and heroic choices possible at the end of the book, and they spend many hundreds and hundreds of pages riding a rail to just that conclusion. That being said, I can see this author writing an actual fantasy masterpiece in another 10 years, maybe?

The Luminous Dead, Caitlin Starling: this felt less like a real book and more like one of those extremely involved and gritty AU fanfics that people used to write for, like, Death Note. What if this couple you should hopefully already care a LOT about is in, uh...a cave? In space? A space cave? And they hate each other at first, but then they fall in love, and also only one of them is technically in the cave (the stronger one with the weirder hair color, still all according to anime plan [keikaku]). Also, it's psychological. The thing is, I don't actually care about these characters from a pre-existing media property, so I just thought this was an incoherent mess that didn't deliver on pretty much any count. If you want an actually good version of what this book was going for, just read a Patricia Highsmith novel with Alien on in the background or something.

Some Desperate Glory, Emily Tesh: man, this one slapped. You could definitely come up with some cringey booktok-style "what if Ender's Game was ~sapphic~" pitch for this one, but thankfully it's also just a really good, crunchy, humanist sci-fi book. Honestly, my main issue with this one is that I read it so obscenely quickly that I'm not sure I absorbed everything. There are some little flaws I could complain about if I really wanted to, but this book nails what I'm looking for in this contemporary crop of queerer, more diverse, etc etc genre fiction, which is that it's a good fucking book first, and not just an affirmation of my own personal laundry list of moral beliefs (which, hey! It totally is that, too!). Thank you @storywonker for the rec - you're at the top of the genre fiction friendship pile right now! Feel free to look down and grind your heel into the necks of those below you! It's what I would do.

Cradle series, Will Wight: these books are sooooo dumb. I've read ten of them and loved every second. Cradle 4 life!!

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theophagie-remade · 2 years

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I truly do not mean this in a bitter baby copium way, please believe me, just. God knows I trust Horikoshi with a lot of things, but writing female characters in a satisfying way is not one of them, and I find it so frustrating that I have no idea what to think of what he will make of Uraraka. I've always had my grievances with him regarding this topic as it is (e.g. in her case: how she was sidelined during the Overhaul arc; how she hadn't had any major interaction with anyone except Midoriya for ages until the subplot with Toga was opened again; etc), and I generally go through the five stages of grief whenever I think about what I fear he might do with her, and this latest chapter… wasn't particularly encouraging… [the mentions of the romantic subplot part. The part about her, Toga, and Hawks being in the same place now is great, it has a lot of potential, and I really, really hope to not be disappointed].

Through Toga it has been stated that suppressing your feelings is self-damaging, through Uraraka it has been stated that it can lead to great personal accomplishments, and I have no idea how to conciliate these two things. The problem isn't that they can't exist at the same time, the problem is that within the manga the framing of it all does not seem to agree that this is ultimately true, or at least this is how it comes across to me.

Everything becomes even weirder when you count Midoriya into the mix too, because on one side he has never thought about Uraraka in a way that would set her apart from his other friends other than when he used to get embarrassed for having a girl in his orbit (which… is a pretty shitty way to set up a possible future romantic relationship, and not something that was exclusive in her regards either…), and on the other side he compared the way Toga experiences love to the way he experiences admiration towards All Might (with due differences regarding the radicality of their feelings)… I know that some people interpreted this as an indirect confirmation that in turn what Toga feels isn't actually love, but just admiration as well, except that:

We've known for quite a while that admiration is only part of it, not the primary focus (“Blood and admiration! Those two elements combined into something that society was never going to accept!”, “[…] just like how everyone kisses the people they love, when I love someone, I suck their blood”, “I wanna be even more like the people I love”);

“Danger sense didn't trigger because when she hurts people, she does so out of genuine, pure affection”;

When you have a character whose whole point is “society doesn't accept me for how I am, and I can't fit in even if I try”, I think it's pretty shitty to respond with “indeed, the main character thinking differently from her is a sure sign that she is a freak of nature wrong”, but maybe that's just me.

And again, this isn't a problem that exists in the real world because Multiple Things Can Be True At The Same Time. Hypothetically, Midoriya and Toga might thread similar lines but ultimately differ in how they experience things, but it all comes down to it: the way things are framed within the manga. Midoriya, Toga, and Uraraka are all entangled in this theme of admiration, but the differences are all a bit...... What confuses me the most is that while — to different extents — admiration and romantic love explicitly go hand in hand for both Uraraka and Toga, Midoriya… replied to Toga by using someone he doesn't love romantically as an example despite having been confronted about romantic love… I don't want to dwell on him too much because this post isn't about him and I don't want to open that door, but it's in moments like these that I wish I were a bkdk real truther™, because without taking into account what hypothetical romantic suppressed feelings he may have for Bakugou his role in this whole mess is… kind of incomprehensible to me.

Going back to Uraraka, I just wonder… if she were to suddenly backtrack on everything, what would have been the point of it all? There really isn't anything that would make me like the ending that she's likely going to get, aka some “I've decided that my feelings for Deku are good actually, and I can show you [Toga] what good love is supposed to be like” bullshit because it would not make any sense, again because of what such a thing would mean for Toga's character, and because I… just hate the idea of their fight partially being about who knows how to do love for a boy better.

Tldr. Girl help

#bnha #uraraka ochako #animanga #mytext #long post #salty #toga himiko #char tag

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prettyboybillyhargrove · 2 years

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A/B/O Harringrove Fic Rec p1

Okay since I’m pushing my a/b/o agenda lately and saw people are interested in it I wanted to recommend some of the fics I liked. / Most (probably all ngl) of this contain Omega and bottom Billy. Read at your own risk. Also, this is absolutely not in any order.

Ps: Okay this is part 1. Part 2 is gonna be multi chaptered ones. Also a couple of more one shots. Cause apparently there's soooooo much i wanna share.

i’m used to feeling that fire by cursedtobechaos on ao3 Words:10553

Billy’s not used to feeling like prey. Especially not prey for Steve fucking Harrington, the same alpha he beat the absolute crap out of not too long ago.

"You are not fucking me in the showers," Steve in fact, fucked him in the showers(kinda). Alpha Steve came to school when he’s in his rut and Billy gives him a hand (or mouth, and more)

Upside Down, You're Turning Me by @ImNeitherornor on ao3 Words:7885

“Let me get this straight. You want me to go into the middle of the fucking woods in below zero temperatures to find someone who is probably high as a kite and just having the time of his damned life?”

Sex pollen fic we all need.

None Brighter Than Your Eyes by Doodsxd on ao3 Words:9991

Sex Ed course came once again, and, for the first time, Billy listened.

He listened, because it started to match and make sense with what Max’s little troup told him over and over again.

Apparently, it was biology which dictated that omega jewelry wasn’t just a futility or decoration, or even a signal that the omega was taken. It wasn’t a trade, sex for jewelry, like Neil had taught him all his life. No: scientists had found back in the sixties that omega jewelry has a soothing effect, especially during heat, as a reminder of love and affection; something tangible and available at all times, even when no one is.

This is so fucking poetic and pretty. You MUST read!

Misunderstanding by prettyboiiharringrove on ao3 Words:1503

Harringrove Halloween Countdown // October 11 — Billy has always been a grumpy asshole, so the kids typically let most of his behavior slide, for Steve's sake, but as the clues get weirder it's obvious something is up with him, and they have to fix it before Steve finds out.

This is a mpreg story. The sauna scene with a little twist. I cry while reading this I’m not kidding. Also, you can read this whole series if you guys wanna read more mpreg billy.

A Start by ImNeitherNor on ao3 Words:5574

The quarry was always Steve’s go to when he needed a place to breathe, an area where the smells weren’t in his face and he could think straight. It was strange how one person’s heat could trigger another. Steve, a slightly cowed alpha after Hargrove rolled in, was done with the overpowering scents and the looks that were being thrown around.

DOM STEVE BILLY IN HEAT WHAT MORE I NEED TO SAY?

Hold Me Tight Or Don't by BTSBlossom on ao3 Words:4808

Billy has some news for Steve, he just doesn't know how to tell him. At least he knows he's got Ms. Byers on his side. She'll be there for Billy if Steve isn't.

This is more about the pregnancy than a/b/o, Joyce being a good mom to Billy UwU also tw: talking about abortion

sandman by Rebldomakr on ao3 Words:2226

Steve’s not a fighter. He sucks at it, actually. He’s a little soft, but he isn’t totally weak or awfully tiny. He’s a good Alpha in many of the ways that count! Just because he isn’t running around sleeping with anyone willing, picking fights, and beating people to death doesn’t mean he’s a bad Alpha. And though Billy might do all that, but he isn't a bad Omega.

some short cute porn lol (steve has a breeding kink what a surprise lmao)

Silk by Rebldomakr on ao3 Words:3393

In Indiana, Omega suppressants are banned. Billy runs out after a while.

tw: neil hargrove

Moaning Lisa Smile by trashcangimmick Words: 3,735

Billy maybe kind of hides the fact that he’s an Omega because he’s too queer, and too pretty, and would rather not deal with a bunch of idiot Alphas trying to screw the gay out of him. But Steve’s not an Alpha. Steve is also very pretty.

beta steve/omega billy, wet and messy, SEX BEHIND THE CAMARO FUCK YEAH also in the shower fşldkfkd

+ one Alpha/Alpha

with them indiana boys (on them indiana nights) by ToAStranger Words: 4,842

The thing is, when Billy first saw Steve Harrington, he knew.

He grew up knowing. It was hard not to, with all of those hormones and instincts running through his fucking veins. He knew, one day, he’d run across someone that smelled so right, so fucking perfect that he’d want nothing more than to bury his face against their scent gland and breathe in until the smell becomes a taste becomes a sensation becomes--

Well. The thing is, he’s always known.

"But you're my omega."

Steve falters, shaking his head, teeth catching on his lower lip and despite it all, Billy wants to kiss him again.

"No." Steve says. "Billy, I'm an alpha. Always have been. I'm-- I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

Tagging:(according to my post about a/b/o fic rec you guys seemed interested) @shprka @disdaidal @wixterirox @madsexcellency @andromedaspark @stedilly @billyhargrovesupsidedownshadow @ariamariastark1 @eddiebillysteve

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #omega billy hargrove #omega!billy #alpha!steve #a/b/o #a/b/o verse #omegaverse #sub billy hargrove #bratty sub billy #dom!steve #top!steve #oh god im tired 😩😩😩#power bottom billy #harringrove a/b/o #alpha steve x omega billy #alpha billy

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swordofpevensie · 4 years

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Ten Words & Two Sentences (King Edmund The Just)

warnings: fluff. flirting. king edmund is complimented for the first time. y/n is a princette and reffered as they/them.

a/n: hi i just love edmund and think he deserves happiness. pls tell me what you think. english isn't my native language so if there's any mistake, feel free to correct me.♡ requests are open! .｡*♡

word count: 2627

“Edmund stop playing with your hair! It already looks good! Edmund, stop touching it!”

As he was looking at the mirror, Edmund heard Lucy's giggle. Queen Lucy had always enjoyed it when her sister scolded her brothers.

“What? I'm just-”

“Ed!”

When he heard his sister's truly angry voice, King Edmund stopped touching his hair. He knew that if he didn't listen to Queen Susan while using that tone, then he'd be in trouble.

Standing in front of the big mirror with gold and shining frame, King Edmund had been looking at himself for almost fifteen minutes. Today was a big day and he was excited. He was really excited.

Today was the day when Princette Y/N was going to visit Cair Paravel and Edmund had his eyes on them for a very long time. It wasn't official though. He just admired Y/N secretly and kept silent about his feelings. He never told it to his siblings, not even to Queen Lucy. He barely spoke to Y/N. He just liked them and thought that they were unattainable, cool, and brilliant.

It was the first time ever King had a crush on someone, and because he didn't tell anyone about it, he was actually very confused and didn't know what to do. Was he supposed to talk about his feelings with them? Or was he supposed to wait to see if Y/N liked him?

Y/N was a cheerful and talkative person. When they were in Cair Paravel, the place always felt brighter and merrier. When they were around, everyone had a smile on their face and laughter were heard in the castle all the time.

Besides that, they were also talented and would surprise Narnians with their new skills. Every time they visited the castle, they'd come with something new. The last time they were in the castle, they defeated High King in a archery competition. Queen Susan and two other Narnians were juries and all of them were surprised when Y/N was able to shoot the target while riding a horse.

King Edmund admired everything about them, however he never heard or saw anything from them which could imply they had feelings for the King. Maybe that was the reason why he never showed his emotions.

But he knew he had to do something before someone else wanted Princette. It wouldn't be unexpected if someone wanted to marry them soon.

All in all, King Edmund was very excited and was looking forward to see them. But he wanted to make sure he looked good when he finally saw them, which was the reason of the time he'd been spending in front of the mirror and driving Queen Susan crazy.

“Susan!” He said in a panicked voice. “Susan there is a pimple on my chin! How can I get rid of it?”

“Let me see.” Queen Susan said while walking to her brother. She cupped his face and examined it carefully. “Edmund, you are being dramatic. It is impossible to see it unless someone is looking at you that closely.”

‘But,’ King thought. ‘What if they want to kiss me but then see it and do not want to kiss me anymore?’

“I'm not being dramatic!” Edmund defended himself. “It is huge. How can I get rid of it before the ball starts?”

“You can't.” Queen Susan rolled her eyes. “Unless you use magic or something. It won't be seen. Calm down.”

Edmund looked at Lucy, hoping that maybe she'd have a solution but Lucy shrugged her shoulders.

Susan had a big and heart-warming smile on her face. She looked at her brother proudly and fixed his collar.

“You look handsome as always, brother.” She said while giving him his sword. “Here. Now you are perfect. Come on, we need to be in the ballroom immediately. We've spent so much time already! I hope Peter didn't break the chandelier again.”

Susan put her hand to Edmund's arm and they left the room arm to arm, Lucy was following them.

──── .*･｡ﾟ ༘✧. .*･｡ﾟ ༘✧────

When they arrived at the ball hall, the first dancing had already begun. Susan left King alone to find Peter and ask him if everything was alright.

Edmund now was all alone, standing in the middle of the room. His eyes were searching for something and he had to look at so many different faces until he found his favourite one.

There they were. All the beauty in Narnia was now trapped in their existence. Either Y/N was literally shining and glowing or Edmund was just love drunk. He knew just one thing and it was the fact that Y/N was the most lovely person he had ever seen and there was nothing he wouldn't do to belong to them.

While just standing there and looking at them in silence, Edmund was finally noticed by Y/N. They smiled as soon as their and Edmund's eyes met.

Oh, that smile and the things it did to King. As they were getting closer to him, his heart beat faster and faster. He was also getting nervous. What he was going to say? What was he supposed to do? Where should he put his hands? How should he greet them? He wished he'd asked those questions to Susan before coming here.

“Your Highness,” They said as they bowed.

Edmund responded with a smile and gently said “Princette Y/N,” while greeting them. “Just Edmund, please.”

He didn't want them to have those formal addresses. He wanted to be their friend, and if he was lucky enough, more than a friend.

“How are you doing, Edmund?” Y/N asked with a soft voice.

“Better now,” King said, smiling wittily and hoping they'd notice what he meant. “What about you?”

“Pretty good.” Their little smile caused their dimple to show up in their cheek.

While standing in silence for a few seconds, Y/N stared at him. It was a short time but they could see how much Edmund had changed since their last contact. He became taller, his hair grew, his shoulders were broader and he had a pimple, which wasn't there before, on his chin now. Also, that unexplainable darkness that was one of his unique characteristics was still there but, thankfully, his beautiful silver crown shone strong enough to make the darkness disappear.

“You look beautiful, my King,” Y/N said. “Did you change your hairstyle?”

With each word they said and Edmund heard, he felt like he was being stabbed by a sword just being made and was still hot. There was a terrible pain in his stomach, burning and aching. He thought if he touched there now, his hand would burn. However, the pain and the ache turned into some of kind excitement in a few seconds. This wave of excitement climbed up to his windpipe and burnt his throat. He wanted to say something but that feeling didn't let him speak.

Apart from his siblings, Edmund had never been complimented. He always felt like no one cared the way he looked, what he wore, what he did to his hair. Therefore, he felt invisible frequently. All of his siblings received compliments somehow, sometime, somewhere but he was like a ghost people couldn't see.

Susan would always tell him that he was handsome and charming, Lucy would praise his wisdom and knowledge, Peter would proudly smile at him and say that he was proud of him, he'd improved so much.

But King secretly wanted a stranger to see him, notice the change in him, and compliment him, or at least say something. However, for an unknown reason, people never did that.

Therefore when he was praised by Y/N, Edmund was left speechless. First of all, it was them caring and complimenting him. Secondly, they complimented him in a very natural way. It wasn't a forced statement, it was natural and sincere. Thirdly and lastly, in this entire ballroom, the only person King actually cared was them.

The longer he kept quiet, the more this wave spread around his body. Now it was on his cheeks, he felt his skin was becoming hot. Oh no, was he really blushing?

He knew he had to say something because the situation was getting weirder.

“Thank you,” was what he managed to say. “Honestly, thank you so much.” He could add. “In fact, I messed it. My sister Susan was mad at me.”

Y/N laughed. “It doesn't look messy if you ask me, my King.”

“Please call me Edmund,” He said. “I am not a big admirer of those titles.”

“I'm sorry, it's just from force of habit.”

Edmund saw they were playing with their fingers. Were they... Could they be nervous too?

He knew he had to make a move this time. They complimented him, now it was his turn to do something and try to charm them.

“Would you... Would you like to dance, Y/N?”

Upon hearing the question, they smiled. Their lips curved so beautifully that Edmund almost kissed them. The dimple on their cheek was also so kissable and touchable. Edmund thought he could touch with it for hours, without being bored.

“Of course.” They replied.

After getting approval, Edmund put his left hand to their waist, used the right one to take their hand into his. He pulled their body closer; now their chests were so close. Edmund felt afraid because his heartbeats would probably be felt when their chest touched his.

“Do you have any surprises for us?” Edmund asked.

“I learnt how to dance.”

Then it hit him. Was that the reason why she never danced with anyone? Edmund had never asked them to dance before, but he was now glad he didn't because being rejected would probably kill him. However, his patience and also shyness was being awarded with being the first man ever to dance with Y/N. Such a big honour it was. Edmund couldn't stop himself from smiling.

“Why did you learn?”

“To be able to dance with a certain someone.”

Y/N knew they were playing with fire but didn't care because they needed something, some sort of sign from Edmund to see if High King was right about what they said earlier.

Y/N was able to kill a soldier with a scissor, shoot the target while riding a horse, take care of their five siblings at the same time, paint the biggest wall in their kingdom's castle, play piano, beat their big brother in arm wrestling but the hardest thing they ever did was having a crush on King Edmund.

He was silent. To find him in a room, one had to look very carefully and to every corner. It was impossible to contact him unless he wanted to be found or talked to. He was like a sad and melancholic ghost that appeared from time to time when he felt like showing up. He was so silent that sometimes it felt like he was invisible.

Y/N always tried to find him though. Yet his extraordinary effort to avoid everyone and be on his own made it almost impossible. Most of the time he would be in the library and never visit the ballroom. Despite generally being an outgoing person, Y/N still wasn't brave enough to follow him to the library. Because firstly, he had never given any indications, so especially trying to be with him in the same room would be very awkward.

When they arrived at Cair Paravel this noon, King wasn't there as usual. But High King was there to welcome them and say they needed to talk.

Peter absolutely knew Edmund would kill him when he heard what he did but didn't care. He was sick of these two not being together because of their silence and shyness. However, he was still thoughtful enough to not say everything about his brother and his feelings. He just said Edmund was interested in some that Y/N knew very closely. And then he smiled, and winked. He wasn't sure, maybe he couldn't be subtle as he had planned.

But the important thing was that his words gave Y/N courage. Maybe High King was right and Edmund had feelings for them. It was still a mystery, yet now very close to be solved.

“That certain someone must be really lucky,” When they heard Edmund's voice, they could come back to reality. “Lucky enough to capture your attention.”

“I think I am the lucky one.” Y/N replied, looking at his beautiful brown eyes.

“Why?” Edmund looked at his shoes not to step on their feet. He was distracted.

“He is a special person. I think I am lucky enough to give my heart to him.”

Edmund softly smiled. His brown eyes looked like a hot cup of coffee, welcoming and warming.

“Do I know him? You know, for matchmaking purposes.”

“You'll immediately recognize him when you hear about him.”

“I'm listening, then.” While speaking, to catch up with the dance, Edmund held their hand as they twirled.

They were now again chest to chest. All King could see, feel, hear was them. No one else, nothing else. Just them. And it felt good. It was as if they were in their own little universe and there was nobody to disturb them.

“He is a good-looking man with a charming smile. It's a shame that he doesn't smile frequently. He also doesn't speak frequently. He is silent most of the time. He doesn't speak when the words are unnecessary. He has this sort of melancholy, which is something unique to him. But I find it beautiful. And, let me add before I forget, he is the King of Narnia and is called the Just.”

Honestly, it was really hard to keep dancing according to the music when your crush just confessed their feelings to you.

Edmund froze. Literally. His whole world stopped turning. It was unexpected. He had thought it was impossible and couldn't believe it now. How on the earth could they have feelings for him? They... And he. They were the joy and Edmund was... He was the melancholy just like Y/N stated.

“I...” Edmund finally managed to speak. “I wasn't expecting that.”

Y/N smiled. “One of us had to do something.”

“Did you... Did you know?” Edmund frowned. “Let me guess, was it Susan? No, Susan wouldn't do it behind my back. Was it Peter?”

“Yes, it was High King.” They laughed while answering. “But he encouraged me and I believe it's a good thing, isn't it?”

With that question, Edmund realized he didn't say anything about his feelings or respond to their confession.

“It is.” He said. “I... I don't know how to express the way I feel about you. First of all, thank you for your generous words.”

They weren't dancing anymore. They were just standing in each other's arm. They forgot about the ball, people, music, dance and anything else. They just focused on each other and it was enough.

“I like you so much. Actually, it is more than liking. I can say that I love you. Strongly and sincerely. You are like a dream and it is hard to believe-”

Edmund was interrupted when the music stopped and everyone began clapping. It was loud and cheerful.

“Would you like to go outside? Maybe to the garden?” Y/N asked.

“You read my mind.”

They left the room, holding hands.

Finally, in the garden, King had the chance to talk about how he felt about them. How it burned, how it hurt, how it made him feel good, how excited he was when they visited the castle, how his heart beat faster when they were around.

With a lot of kisses, by the way. Thankfully, Y/N was kind enough to not mind the pimple on his chin.

#edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie imagine #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmundpevensie #edmund pevensie #edmund x you #edmund x reader #king edmund the just #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #narnia fanfiction #andreaiswriting

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 02 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

<- Previous part (01)

Next part (03) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

Car Trouble

“Are you having car trouble?” Billy asks, his eyes locked on yours.

“Judging by the smoke, yeah.” You sigh, opening the door and stepping out of the car. You avoid eye contact, looking at the light gray smoke instead.

“Pop the hood, let me check.” Doing as he says, you press the button as you sit back on the driver's seat, hoping he can actually fix whatever is wrong just so you can make it home. “Bad news.” He says after a couple of minutes.” There's nothing I can do. Not here, at least.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.” He lets the hood fall before coming to stand by the door. “Didn't it give any signs something was wrong?”

“It has been making this funny noise since I bought it. But that was a month ago, I didn't think it would actually stop working.” Taking a deep breath, you take your bag and get out, closing the door. “I'll call the mechanics when I get home. Thanks for checking it out.” You wave at him, walking away.

“I could give you a ride home if you want.”

“I'm alright. Don't want to be a bother.”

“I wouldn't offer you a ride if you were a bother. C'mon, I'm just trying to help a co-worker.”

You stop, turning to face Billy. He doesn't have to usual cocky expression he always has. And he's right. He's just offering a ride home because your car is broken, there's nothing more. Monica and those girls are just getting under your skin, making you think too much about something that doesn't deserve much thought. “Ok then.”

“Let's go.” Billy guides you to his Camaro and you get into the passenger seat. Seconds later you're spending up through the streets, and you buckle up because he's going a little too fast for your taste. You give him your address, not really paying attention to the route he's taking. Your eyes are on the landscape outside the window, passing by in a blur.

“Do you mind if I stop to get some tacos before dropping you off?”

“No.” Shrugging your shoulders, you run a hand through your hair as he parks in a small restaurant and gets out to buy his food. As you wait, you wonder if you should tell Monica about this. If you do, you probably won't hear the end of it. But it could also snap her out of this whole mission thing. Today she was silent again, overanalyzing Billy instead of watching the pools. At least she seems to be excited about something.

A whistle gets your attention, dragging you out of your thoughts. It's Billy at the restaurant's door, gesturing for you to go there. You're a little confused when you leave the car. Did he make the order and then realized he forgot his wallet or something?

“What's up?” You ask him, crossing your arms.

“Nothing. C'mon.” Billy guides you to a table on the back, where he sits. “I ordered you some tacos too.”

What the hell. “Do you even know if I have money with me? You should've asked.”

“But I didn't, did I?” He raises an eyebrow.

Taking a deep breath, you decide not to make a big deal out of it. “Whatever,” you mumble, sitting down across from him. It's so damn obvious he's staring now. He doesn't even try to hide it. Since you're here, you could try to put a stop to this nonsense. Sorry, Mon. Your mission will be over soon. “What are you looking at?” You ask, elbows on the table, finally meeting his gaze.

“You.” He simply says, and there's no hint he'll give further explanation.

You were just about to say something when the waitress comes with your tacos. They do look good, and you're a little hungry.

“I'll get something to drink. What do you want?”

“Ice cold Coca-Cola,” you answer, watching as he gets up. You don't wait for him to come back, you just start eating. The last time you ate tacos you were in elementary school.

“Here's your drink.” He places the can down and you open it, taking a sip. “So, new girl... How do you like this dipshit place?”

“I really like it. Hawkins is exactly what I was looking for.” Billy seems a little surprised, raising his eyebrows. “What? Did you think I was dragged here? I wanted to come.”

“Can't understand why anyone would want to live here.”

“I had my reasons.” Shrugging your shoulders, a loud laugh gets your attention. It's a girl you see often in the pool. She's friends with one of those girls from the locker... The girls who were talking about Billy. “Hey. Don't you have a date today? With that Jennifer girl?” It comes back to your mind, and you burst it out. “Let's go, I can take these and eat at home.” The last thing you want is Billy being mad because giving you a ride kept him from meeting some girl. So you get up, taking the plate and the can.

“Where are you going?”

“...Home? You're taking me home now so you won't be late to be with the girl.” Why do you have to state the obvious? You doubt he'd forget about a date.

“I am with a girl. Now sit down and relax.”

If this day gets any weirder, you're calling it a night and going back home immediately. “Fine. It's your night you're ruining.” You sit back down, defeated.

“Who said my night is ruined?”

“Billy...” Leaning forward, you look into his eyes. “Whatever you're trying here, it won't work.”

“I'm not trying anything.”

Alright. Time to end this game. “I'm not the kind of girl you hang out with, ok? Put your efforts on someone hot and beautiful, don't waste your time with me.” You take another bite of the taco on your plate.

“Wait. You don't think you're hot and beautiful?” He leans forward too, pushing his empty plate away, eyes on you.

He totally got the wrong part of what you said. “I'm... Ok. I'm cute but you can aim so much higher than me.” You're not blind, so you're not immune to Billy's effect. You have to admit you stole a few glances on your first days working on the pool, but knowing his reputation, you'd never let it go further than finding him handsome. “But they say beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, so...” You're done with the tacos, and you drink what's left of your Coca-Cola.

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes then.” Billy lowers his voice, the smirk leaving his lips as if this statement is the most important thing in the world, a fact on which the whole Earth stands.

You gasp, giggling a little. “So that's how you do it. That's what you say to get your girls.”

“No. I say very different things.” The smirk is back, and you look away for a moment. You really hope you're not blushing.

“We're both done eating. Can we go now?”

“I haven't finished my drink yet.” He gestures at is can. “You don't need to leave your guard up all the time. We're just... Two friends hanging out. No big deal.”

“So we're friends now?” He simply nods. “You don't even speak to me at work, how can we be friends?”

“I'll change that, don't worry. You don't seem to have many friends, anyway.”

“I do. Monica and her little crew.” It's actually mostly just Monica, but he doesn't have to know that. “They're nice.”

“Well, you can just add me to your list of new friends then.” Billy smiles at you, and now that you get to see it, from up close, it's so damn beautiful. There's a secret behind it, something he's hiding, and it looks like he knows you're aware of that. “What do you say?” He reaches out his hand over the table. “Try to get to know me instead of judging by what you heard.”

You hesitate for a while before shaking his hand. You won't fall for his game, so there's no problem befriending the guy. And you must admit it's a little mean to judge someone by what people say. You rather judge him by his actions. “Fine, Billy Hargrove. We can try to be friends. But that's it. Nothing else.”

“Good.”

You stay at the restaurant for another hour before he finally takes you home. Your aunt is organizing some papers, so she doesn't make many questions. She's just happy you were out with someone. And you don't really give much thought to what happened. You actually had some fun today, and since you're still struggling to fit in, you're in no position to refuse any friendship you can get.

And it was kind of Billy to offer you a ride home. You're so attached to everything you heard of him that you didn't even felt thankful for his help. If he was the asshole people say he is, he'd just leave you in the parking lot, or take you straight home. But he didn't. Billy even paid for the tacos. It's mean of you to judge the guy so harshly, before exchanging any words with him. He does sleep with a different girl every night, but they go out with him because they want to. They know he won't stick to them. But this is just something he enjoys, it doesn't mean he's a total jerk. Right? Jennifer and her friend seemed okay with a one night stand, so it's obvious he's not forcing them into it. They know it's a one-time thing.

So if you take this part away, you're left with a normal guy. So, if he's not trying to make you fall on his game, maybe his intentions aren't what you think they are. It's harmless to try and get to know him. Maybe he can become a good friend, who knows?

During the next day in the pool, you're still thinking about it. You don't really understand why you're feeling a little guilty for thinking so low of Billy. So, as you're walking back to your post and Billy is coming from his chair, to take his lunch break, you decided to talk to him.

“Billy, can I talk to you for a sec?” You say when you're close enough.

“Of course. C'mon.” He tilts his head, gesturing for you to with him back into the cafeteria. You were just going to say it right here, but since he's already walking, you just follow him. Monica gives you a meaningful stare once she notices you're following Billy. But you shake your head no, trying to tell her this is nothing.

“I'll be quick. I have to get back to my chair.” You say as he sits down on the table. “I just wanted to say thank you for yesterday. For the ride home and for the snack you bought me.”

“That's it?” He seems genuinely confused.

“Yeah...” You stand there awkwardly, watching as his lips break into a smile.

“What happened to your car?”

“It'll be ready in two days. Mon is giving me a ride until then.” Shrugging your shoulders, you start making your way out. “Well, that's it. I gotta go.”

“Keep doing the good job.” He winks at you, and you can't hold back the smile that comes to your lips.

“I will.” Turning your back at him, you go back to your chair.

•••

By the end of the day, you're sitting shotgun in Monica's car, the windows opens to let the fresh wind come in.

“I have great news.” She says, smiling.

“Let's hear it.”

“Jennifer was super mad today. Now guess why.” You exchange a glance as you think if you should tell her or not. But she's so excited about it, and Jennifer has always been mean to her... So you decide to just say it.

“Because my car wouldn't start, so Billy offered a ride home. And in the process, he stopped by this restaurant and bought me tacos.” She hits the breaks so suddenly that your heart skips a beat. “Holy shit, Monica! Are you trying to get us killed?”

“What did you just say, (Y/N)?” She's dead serious, looking at you. “Explain it. And don't hold back the details.”

She drives slower, just to give you more time. She forces you to remember everything he said, and everything you said, overanalyzing every single word. She doesn't seem too convinced that Billy just wants to be friends, going on about how he looks at you. With affection, admiration. But you don't really believe that.

“Just the fact that he was straight forward with wanting to be your friends is impressive. You gotta understand this is not usual of Billy.” She says as you walk into your house since you invited her to stay for dinner. “Believe me, I know. I wouldn't be talking about Billy with you if I wasn't utterly perplexed.”

“Who's Billy?" Your aunt asks, coming from the kitchen, an amused smile on her face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Florence," Monica says, matching your aunt's tone.

“Call me Diane, dear. And tell me about this Billy.”

“He's just a friend, aunt. He gave me a ride home yesterday.” You and Monica follow her into the kitchen, sitting on the table.

“Yesterday? You came home late yesterday.” She rests her back on the counter, looking at you. You feel like you were busted doing something wrong.

“He wanted to eat tacos so since I was with him, we just stopped by a small restaurant at the side of the road.” Shrugging your shoulders, you try to act casual. But why are you trying to act casual? It was a casual meeting.

“Did he pay?”

“Yes, but–”

“Then it was a date,” Diane states before turning around, her attention back to her current task.

You feel your cheeks burning as you exchange a glance with a smirking Monica. “It wasn't a date.” You have no idea how you could make this more clear than that. “If it was a date he would have kissed me goodnight.” You use the cliche every romance movie implements, trying to change their minds. “If that doesn't happen, it's not a date.”

“Well, say whatever you want. But tomorrow you'll be going out with me and the guys. No Billy.” Monica says, gesturing at you.

Whatever. You don't have to explain anything, and time will show them there's nothing between you and Billy. “Count me in,” you tell her, looking down at your hands for a moment. It will be good. No Billy, nobody talking about Billy for a change. It's your second week here, and it feels like it's all been about him from the start. You can't wait until people realize that everything that's ever gonna happens, if it happens, is just a friendship. Nothing more.

#imagine billy #billy stranger things #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fanfiction #imagine stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

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maysbanks · 4 years

Text

hypersonic missiles. (jj maybank)

hello ! some of you may recognise this fic and that’s bc it’s currently being rewritten as an oc fic rather than a reader insert fic which it was before. i can’t wait for you to read this and introduce you all to haley who i love dearly, so pls enjoy and lemme know what you think !!

warnings: swearing, mention of sex, sexual innuendos, drug use, underage drinking, violence etc

summary: after the death of her father, haley grubbs is determined to get the answers her mother seems to be keeping from her, seeking help from a group of pogues (which just happens to include her weekly hook-up) and unknowingly throwing herself into the midst of a treasure hunt.

( gif isn't mine! please let me know if it's yours so i can credit you. )

The gang gathered around John B's porch, spaced out in various positions amongst the furniture. Silence engulfed the group, the air thick with tension as none of the four teenagers dared to speak.

"JJ should be the one to go." Kie broke the silence, her words hanging in the air as the group processed them.

Said boy whipped around in his place, golden hair falling in his sea blue eyes as they widened, glancing wildly between each of his friends. "What?" He demanded. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one that's hooking up with her," Pope reminded, matter of fact. As if JJ needed to be reminded. The dark skinned boy gestured between him and the remaining two. "She's gonna trust you more than any of us."

Kiara and John B murmured their agreement, JJ scoffing as he flapped his arms, beginning to pace in his spot. "This is ridiculous," he muttered between gritted teeth. "She won't wanna talk to me any more than she'll want to talk to you guys. I mean, we've only hooked up like," JJ paused - raising a hand to count on his fingers. "Maybe like, eleven times, twelve at a push!"

Kiara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Wow, how chivalrous of you to keep count, JJ," she drawled sarcastically, the blonde boy simply shrugging in return as he took his formal position of leaning against the Chateau's wall. "Look, the thing is you know her better than the rest of us. You're familiar, we're not. We can't just go up to her and start asking questions about her dead dad and John B's compass."

JJ stared in disbelief. "And you think I can?" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know if you guys realise this, but hooking up doesn't really require much talking. I barely know her."

"But you know her enough to warm her bed every week," John B piped up, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. JJ sighed, lighting a fresh blunt as he refused to meet any of the gang's eyes, staring ahead. John B stepped over and beside the blonde, arm thrown over his shoulder. "We need answers, JJ. Answers she could have. I mean, it was her dad right? She must know something about why he had my dad's compass."

JJ nodded along, but the uncertain feeling bubbling in his chest didn't cease. Thoughts of the two men that had chased the group the day before, guns blazing, entered his mind. Then the memory of him and John B showing up at the Grubbs' residence, only to discover they had been beaten to it by the very same men - he'd heard them threaten Lana and Haley Grubbs, demanding questions about the same compass that lay heavy in John B's pockets. He knew his best friend deserved answers, why did Scooter Grubbs have Big John's compass the night he died? Why was Scooter Grubbs out in the storm that night anyway? Hell, even JJ wanted answers. But he couldn't shake the doubtful feeling, thoughts of Haley Grubbs swirling in his head.

"I don't think this is a good idea." He tried once more, voice small and defeated. The Pogues shared a glance, and he knew they'd already come to a decision. Sighing, he flicked the butt of his blunt, sending it flying in the opposite direction. "Fine, I'll go talk to her. But I'm not making any promises that she'll talk," he frowned. "Sometimes I kinda get the feeling she doesn't like me."

Kie snorted. "I wonder why."

What the gang hadn't bargained for, however, was that the same person who'd they been talking about was already on their way to them - boots stomping across the ground in a determined stride, their mind a whirlwind of series of memories, scenarios, and all the events that had happened in the last twenty four hours.

Haley wanted answers, and she wanted them soon. (Sooner rather than later, if she was being precise.) The series of misfortunes events had all begun with the disappearance of her father - for whatever reason, he'd gone out in the storm that raged against the Outer Banks the night prior, and that, unsurprisingly, had led to his death. Memories of his body, washed up on the shore, cold and blue, eyes open but completely lifeless as they stared up at nothing and everything at the same time. Her heart wrenched at the sight, and she still hadn't been able to get the scene out of your head - her mother breaking down in a heap of sobs, Haley’s body following along with her as the pair both held each other and cried, Sheriff Peterkin's voice echoing in Haley’s mind, over and over again, like a siren. “I'm so sorry. There's nothing we could have done."

Haley knew that, of course. But it didn't explain why he was out in the storm in the first place. She had tried to question her mother, because she knew her dad wasn't a fool. Storm Agatha had been reported for weeks following up to it, he'd even made off-handed comments about it over dinner a couple of times. Her dad was aware about the storm, but had still risked his life (and coincidentally, ended it) to take a boat ride, or so that's what her mother told you.

Bull-fucking-shit. Haley knew there was more to the story, the appearance of two men breaking down her door and trashing her whole house was enough proof of that. And the fact that they were asking about a compass, of all things, didn't sit right in Haley’s gut either. Why the hell would two thugs want a compass, and why would her dad have it anyway? To her knowledge, her dad had never owned a compass in his damned life. (He also never owned a boat, which raised the suspicion of how the hell had he even gone out on a boat ride in the first place.) But the pair were persistent, and she was forced to watch as they threatened her and her mom, their last words sticking with her, sending a shiver of dread up her spine every time they echoed in her head; “We'll be back."

It was something straight out of a king-pin movie, and yet Lana Grubbs still wouldn't talk. She knew something, Haley knew it, and why she wouldn't share whatever information she knew with Haley was beyond frustrating - so she decided, fuck it. If her mother wasn't gonna give her her answers, then she was gonna go out and find them herself. Starting with John B. Routledge.

As if things couldn't have gotten any weirder, the teenaged boy had shown up not a minute after the two guys had left, appearing in Haley’s not-so-much of a doorway with the exact thing the thugs were after: the Compass. To her chargin, she hadn't had time to ask any questions though, her mother was quick to dismiss him (and JJ Maybank of all people, but she didn't really want to think about him at the moment) and warned him not to let anyone know that he had the compass, and Haley could see why - those guys were not to be messed with.

And so, John B. Routledge had left the Grubbs’ home, JJ Maybank in tow, and Haley was left to clean up the mess the bastards had left behind them. Her mothers warning rang in her ears; "Stay away from them boys. Do not get involved in this, Hales.” But alas, there she was, storming towards the property she knew the guys would be. Her mother didn't know, of course, and she was determined to make sure Lana never did. (Haley would be the next person she'd be burying if she ever did find it.)

All Haley wanted was answers, and if John B had even a couple, she was going to find them out. Her father had died, and there was more to the story than anyone was letting on. If it was up to her to piece the puzzle together, then so be it. She would, gladly.

So she marched in the direction of the Routledge residence, more determined than ever. As she walked, people gave her pitying looks, obviously recognising her as Scooter Grubbs’ daughter (the newfound bastard of the Outer Banks, sarcasm intended.) and she simply ignored each and every one of them. She didn’t need them, she thought. She was going to find out the truth, and each step Haley took she was closer to uncovering it all. Some people walked towards her as if to stop and talk, probably attempting to give her some kind of condolence, but each time a person did she hurried her pace; she couldn’t be stopped now, she was too close to getting where she wanted to be for some middle-aged folk tell her they were sorry about her loss, even though they couldn’t have cared less about her dad when he was alive.

Fucking bullshit, she thought.

Haley’s stride slowed however, when a familiar looking van made it's way into her vision, memories of it parked outside the very same house she was planning on going running through her already overactive mind. Her stomach churned, thinking she had missed her chance to interrogate the poor unsuspecting boy, before it seemed to slow down and pulled up to right where she was standing on the curb. Her respectively plucked eyebrows raised as the window rolled down, revealing none other than John B sat in the drivers seat, Kiara Carrera in the passenger, and Pope Heyward's and JJ's heads peering around the pair from the back of the van.

John B leaned out, his mop of wavy brown hair entering Haley’s brown eyed gaze, tight smile on his lips. "Haley,” he greeted. “Hey, where are you off to? Need a ride?"

"Actually," Haley drawled as she stepped closer, right arm leaning on the window as she sent a forced smile the teenaged boys way. “I was just heading over to yours. What a coincidence, huh?"

She never missed the look Kiara shot the two guys seated in the back, all of their eyes seemingly communicating in their own weird little telepathical way. John B blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water for a few seconds before he seemed to compose himself, clearing his throat. "Oh, really?" He asked, as naturally as he could. (It wasn't very natural at all.) “How, uh, how come?"

"Oh, you know," Haley started, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. "Just thought I'd pay you a visit, y'know, like the one you paid me this morning. Remember that?" She asked as innocently as she could manage. (It wasn't very innocent at all.) “Just wanted to ask you a few questions, s'all. Like why you have the one thing those meatheads that trashed my house were after. How you got hold of it, stuff like that."

And then she smiled like they were all sharing a perfectly civil conversation, as if the underlying threatening tone in her voice didn't exist at all. John B sighed, his head turning towards the rest of the group, catching their eyes and seeming to have another one of their telepathic conversations before he turned back to her figure, his head nodding towards the back of his infamous Volkswagen.

"Get in the back," he said - and she did, shooting him a smile that resembled one of a Cheshire Cat, satisfied as she moved to the other side, walking around the van and hearing him mutter from inside, "What? This is the perfect opportunity to ask her." She didn't need to look to know the rest of the gang were probably objecting her presence, but she couldn't care less. This was just the first step to getting what she wanted.

The door to the van was pulled open from the inside, JJ's head popping out and thrusting a hand out towards her to help her climb into the vehicle. Haley swiftly ignored the gesture, missing the flash of confusion and offence that appeared on the blonde's face, climbing into the van and seating herself beside Pope who smiled rather awkwardly toward her.

"I'm, uh, sorry about your dad," he said softly, fidgeting under her gaze. She smiled slightly at him in return, lips quirking more so in amusement at his obvious discomfort at either having her join them, or her being seated so close to him.

"Yeah, me too," Kiara piped up from the passenger seat, glancing over her shoulder towards her. "It must really suck, to just lose him like that."

Haley nodded, head turning in the direction of where JJ sat across from her, rubbing the back of his head as he muttered quietly, "Yeah, I'm sorry too." before averting his eyes when she looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

Kiara ignored him, the awkward silence that presented itself to the pedestrians inside the van only lasting a couple of seconds as she spoke up again. "I can't imagine what you and your mom are going through," she said, soft brown eyes darting to John B quickly before they returned to catch Haley’s once more. "We're always here if you need anything. Pogue's look out for each other, right?"

Haley forced a small smile, not bothering to bring up the fact that Kiara was technically not a Pogue, seeing no point in the matter as she sent her a small nod of appreciation, silently grateful for her words. Haley had always liked Kiara, or Kie, as she was more commonly known as. She had spent many times sat around a fire with her, listening to her rants about the environment and what everyone could do to help it, as an infamous Pogue kegger loomed around them. Haley was grateful for her presence amongst the guys, unsure of the fact that if she wasn't there, she probably wouldn't have entered the van. She was determined, but she also wasn’t stupid. Despite knowing the guys well and practically all her life, (it’s a small town kinda thing), she would never willingly get in a van with them and let them drive her to an unknown destination. Which reminded her suddenly - where the hell were they going?

"We're lucky we got each other, I guess," Haley said in relation to Kie's words. Kie nodded as her eyes darted to John B again. "But thanks, I really appreciate it." She fiddled with the hem of her faded out jean shorts, her next words directed towards John B. "So, care to tell me where we're going? Or better yet, why you have the damned compass my house was trashed for."

Silence filled the air of the Volkswagen. It was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken tension as everybody refused to meet her eyes. Haley was beyond frustrated, incredibly so, and she made a point to catch John B's eyes in the rearview mirror, an eyebrow quirking as she awaited an answer.

Finally, he sighed.

"The compass was my dads," John B revealed. Haley’s mouth opened in shock for a second before she clamped it back shut. "And for whatever reason, your dad had it. We uh, we found it at the wreck of your dads boat yesterday."

"Wait, what?" She demanded, blinking. She glanced between the gang, eyes accusing as she held each of theirs. "You guys found the wreck? And you didn't tell anyone?" She questioned, tone dangerously low. "And you stole from it?"

"It's not technically stealing if it was his compass," JJ defended, shrugging. Haley shot him a glare, feeling a bubble of irritation build deep in her gut. "And anyways, we tried to tell the coastguard about it after we first found it, but the guy was having none of it. They were hounded with the storm."

Her eyes narrowed. "First found it? Exactly how many times have you guys been at the wreck?" She demanded, tone accusatory.

The gang all swivelled to send JJ their own respected glares, Pope's voice small from beside her as he tried to explain. "Only a couple," he started, startling as her head whipped around towards him. "We're really sorry, okay! We didn't know it was your dads when we first found it, if we did, we wouldn't have snooped in his room either!"

Pope seemed to make note of his mistake as the rest of the gang did, Kie letting out a little frustrated groan from the back of her throat as JJ cringed, pointedly avoiding Haley’s gaze. John B's hands gripped the steering wheel tight, a warning "Pope" leaving his mouth.

Haley laughed, though it held no humour. She clasped her hands together, the slap of her palms meeting echoing in the confine space. "Let me get this straight, you guys not only found the wreck of my dads boat and didn't tell anyone about it, but also obviously found where he was staying and snooped in his room," she listed, feeling the familiar build of rage pulse through her body. “I mean, what the fuck you guys?"

"We're sorry," Kiara turned in her seat, meeting the Grubbs’ girl angered gaze. "We swear, if we had any idea it was your dad we wouldn't have. We were just, curious, I guess. We found the key on the boat when Pope first spotted it in the marsh, and before we even snooped we tried to tell the coastguard, but like JJ said, they weren't interested. So, John B and JJ went to look in the room."

Haley sighed heavily, leaning her head back to rest against the wall of the van. She tried to tell herself to calm down - hell, she probably would have done the same thing if it was her in their position, she couldn't get mad at them over that. "And did you guys find anything?" She asked quietly, the gang seemingly relaxing as they recognised her calmer tone of voice.

"Did we find anything?" JJ snorted as he repeated her words, grin falling from his lips at the glares the rest of his friends shot him. Haley sat up straighter, taking note of their warning glances. JJ awkwardly coughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he once again avoided her honey coated eyes. "Uh, not really."

"Not really?" She asked, frown on her plump lips. JJ nodded, tongue darting out to wet his pink lips, uncharacteristically quiet once more. "Okay, what the hell is going on? And no more bullshitting me, I've had enough of that from everyone else for the past forty eight hours. I came to you for answers, I'm not going anywhere without them."

She looked to John B then, hoping, pleading, that he would understand. He'd lost his dad too, nine months ago, supposedly lost at sea, believed to be dead. Haley knew he never believed that though, refusing to agree that his father was dead, insisting that he was simply missing. If there was one person that could understand her need to know about her dad, it was John B. And he knew it too, as he sighed and nodded.

"There was a safe," he started as she listened intently. "There was money inside it, I don't know how much. The cops kinda showed up when we were in there," he admitted sheepishly. "We had to hide before we could count it or anything. But there was also, um, a gun in the safe too."

"A gun?" Haley deadpanned. John B raised his eyes and caught hers, nodding. Haley scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through her almost waist length hair. "Why the hell would my dad have a gun?"

"Um, there's something else you should probably know," JJ blurted. "I kinda, uh, took it."

The Pogues glared at him again, Kie spitting a warning of his name, but the blonde just looked at the girl seated in front of him. Her eyes widened as he brandished the piece of metal, black in colour and daunting in shape. Of fucking course JJ Maybank had stolen her dads gun, she thought. It was so... JJ.

"You stole that from a crime scene?" She sputtered, heart squeezing uncomfortably in her chest as she eyed the object with disdain. JJ nodded, looking almost guilty. "My dads crime scene? What the fuck JJ? Do you realise how much trouble you could get into from taking that? For having that?"

Haley was unsure as to why she seemed to care so much about that, rather than the fact that he'd taken it from her dads motel room, and that the gun was technically her fathers. She didn't want to ponder too much about that, though, there was bigger fish to fry in that moment.

"Sorry," he said, rather dumbly. "You can have it, if you want?"

She stared at him incredulously as he held the gun out towards her, quickly shoving it away from her body as she shook her head forcefully. "What the fuck would I want with a gun, JJ?" Haley demanded. The blonde boy shrugged, suddenly sheepish.

"It was your dads," he stated simply. From the corner of her vision she could see Pope sending him a wild look, brown eyes blown wide as he tried to be subtle and shake his head at his friend, silently warning him to shut the hell up, or so she presumed. "I just thought, y'know-"

"You thought wrong, JJ," Haley interrupted him before he could continue. His eyebrows furrowed as he noted her hostile tone, but let it go as he simply nodded, swallowing thickly when she turned away from him. “So, what happened, after the motel room?"

John B looked glad to be back on the original topic. "Well, it wasn't long after that we found it was your dad. We were gonna tell the police, but uh, we had this crazy idea that there might have been more on the boat, like money or something? I don't know, we just thought-"

"Your dad might've been a straight smuggler," Pope piped up. Haley’s glare made him shrink in his spot. "Sorry, sorry. Not the time, I get it."

"Right," John B said curtly as Kie groaned softly. "So we went to look again, and I found a duffel bag. The marsh was closed, obviously. But we weren't the only ones out there," his voice turned deadly serious. “After I got it, these two guys appeared on a boat. The same two guys that were at your place earlier."

Haley exhaled shakily at the information, memories of the two men entering her mind unwelcoming. The image of them carelessly tearing apart her house, screaming threats at her and her mother, gun held to her temple as their fists left holes in the walls and bruises on her mothers skin. She shuddered and hoped the rest of the gang hadn't noticed, but she could see the pity in John B's eyes as they reconnected with her own.

"They chased after us, and they were shooting at us too. We managed to escape them, and when we got back on land I looked in the bag, and all that was in it was the compass. My dads compass. It's a Routledge family heirloom, and your dad had it."

His tone held accusatory, though she couldn't blame him for it. It was a mystery to even her as to why or how her father had gotten hold of the compass, and she knew John B wanted answers just as much as she did. Haley felt almost guilty that she couldn't give him any as she spoke up, “I didn't know anything about it, I swear. The first time I've even heard of it was today when those guys showed up. I'm sorry, John B."

Said boy nodded, seemingly believing her as he sent a small smile her way, reassuring her. “Anyways, that's why me and JJ went to your place, I just wanted to know if maybe you or your mom knew anything about it or why your dad had it," he shrugged a shoulder, trying to come off as non-chalant. "And that's when we saw those guys again. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

She shrugged too, an expression of what-you-gonna-do on her face. Though she desperately wanted to know more about the compass, and why it could be so important to the thugs, she withheld her questions for the moment, deciding they could come later.

"And then they arrived at mine," John B revealed. Haley’s yes widened in surprise at the sudden revelation, churning of fear twisting at her gut. "They did the exact same at my place that they did to yours; tore the whole place apart, looking the compass I guess."

JJ burst then - Haley jumped as his voice echoed in the van, much more louder than what John B's had been, excitement lacing his tone as he began to recite the story of the two thugs and their mission of tearing John B's poor beloved Chateau apart, hands gesturing wildly around him.

"Yeah, they were fucking crazy man! We were all locked in Big John's office, no way out apart from the window that was fucking painted shut. We could hear them, taunting us, y'know. Like, 'you better not be in there', they even knew John B's name!" JJ rambled, excitable expression painted on his boyish features. "They come in, guns-a-blazing and we're all tryna figure out how the hell to get out of there, before we finally manage to open the window and hide in the fucking chicken coop of all places. It was fucking insane, man. I had to kill a hen just so we could make it out alive."

Haley blinked at that, her jaw dropping slightly as she tried to process all the information he'd thrown at her all within a minute. JJ calmed down from his passionate retale, chest heaving slightly as he took in her dazed expression, sea blue eyes catching hers and holding them. Kiara said his name in a warning tone from the passenger seat, and he snapped out of his stare-off with the olive skinned girl, but she was still looking at him in disbelief.

"That's basically it," John B said from the front of the van, though his face held a slight grimace at his best friends rather dramatic recite. "But yeah, they practically stripped my dads office bare. They took everything, all of his books, research, everything about the Royal Merchant."

If anybody had noticed her sudden stiff posture at the mention of the Merchant, they never spoke on it. The Royal Merchant. Something Haley was all too familiar with. It had been something of a fascination to her father for a while, especially in the weeks leading up to his death. She just thought it was a weird hobby, a strange interest of his that she never really thought much of. It was nice to see her dad passionate about something, she’d thought. No matter how strange she believed it to be, he had a hobby and she was happy for him. But, sitting in the back of John B. Routledge's van, surrounded by a group of teenaged Pogues, one of which she was were all too familiar with, to put it simply, her throat tightened.

Surely the Royal Merchant couldn't have had anything to do with her dad, right? She was just thinking too much, more than likely. But something in the back of her mind was nagging, unforgiving as the thoughts whirled in her head.

"But before the guys showed up, we found something," she focused back her attention as John B continued. "There's something engraved on the compass. Redfield. It's my dads handwriting, he must have put it there for me, before he disappeared."

Haley shared a glance with JJ as John B said the word. Disappeared. Ever the hopeful, yearning boy. She couldn't doubt his wish, she wished for nothing more for her dad to appear back in her life - but she knew that hers was dead, officially. How could she forget, she saw his lifeless eyes every time she closed hers.

But John B didn't have that, he never knew, really, if his father was truly dead or alive. The records said so, but he'd refused to sign them, or so she heard. He was still hopeful, so certain that his dad would just appear back at the Chateau one day, like he'd never disappeared in the first place. But Haley - and many others - were realistic, and the reality was there was very little to no chance that Big John Routledge was alive.

(Her heart broke for the boy.)

She tuned out the rest of the conversation for the remainder of the drive, her head leaning back on the cool metal of the wall as she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander with all the possibilities. Could the Royal Merchant really have been a factor in her dads death? She couldn't shake the feeling, as she could hear vaguely the conversation of the gang. John B insisting that his dad was leading him on a mission, Kiara trying to be supportive but anyone could pick up on the doubt in her voice, Pope piping up with rather unhelpful scenarios like Big John having been kidnapped, (Haley had rolled her eyes), and JJ adding his input, multitasking with rolling a blunt. (She’d rolled her eyes harder.)

The thing was, Haley and the Maybank boy had a little deal going on. She could remember the exact day it had begun, at an infamous Pogue kegger, the sun having set and leaving the sky coloured in perfect hues of pink, purple and yellow. It had been a beautiful night, she had to admit. The party had gone strong to the early hours of the morning, and she’d somehow found herself leaving with JJ Maybank. He'd approached her after she witnessed him striking out with a Touron, (surprisingly), eyes narrowing at her when she’d let out a giggle at his misfortune. He had been hostile at first, demanding what she was laughing at, grinning slightly when she informed him simply 'you'.

The rest of the night had been spent in each others company, and Haley could recall the exact moment where they were dancing closely, bodies pressed tight against each other, her arms thrown over his shoulders and wrapped around his neck, his own around her waist, fingers digging into her hips. Their breath mingled together, his forehead leaning against her own, and she’d expected the moment his lips fell on herd, slightly chapped but impossibly soft against her own as they danced in a passionate embrace that secretly took her breath away. She’d let him lead her to John B's Chateau across the beach, hand gripped in one another’s, as he pressed her to every surface until they managed to stumble their way into the spare bedroom.

She had told herself the next morning that it would only be a one time thing. Haley wasn’t one for random hook-ups, not that no one had tried to coax her into one. She was kinda known amongst the island as being this untouchable, obtainable person that nobody could ever get close to. She wasn’t sure what it was about her that made everyone label her as this being - maybe it was the fact that she was a loner and didn’t stick to one friendship group and spent most of her time to herself, maybe it was the fact that people thought she was weird because her dad was known to be such a loser (God rest his soul), or maybe it was the fact that she skateboarded around town morning till dawn, earphones plugged in and music blasting so loud that passerby’s could hear every word clearly.

The point was, she wasn’t known for getting close to anyone. And yet, she had found herself drifting back to JJ Maybank many other nights after that first one, and that’s where their little deal came into play.

But that's where it began, and also where it ended. Hers and JJ's relationship (if you could even call it that) never went beyond that. Random hook-ups here and there, whenever JJ struck out with a Touron and found himself soughting Haley out amongst the crowd to fill the space in his bed. Of course they were always friendly with each other, they’d known each other for so long, that it would have been silly not to continue being friendly. But they never hung out, not with his group, not with him alone apart from their many nights of endeavours, until now, she supposed. She thought it might have been weird, and she thought correct. Neither of them really looked at each other head-on, the air awkward and thick as the driving continued.

Haley was thankful when John B seemed to finally arrive at his destination, and she leaned forward with Pope to glance out the window, spotting the tall lighthouse stood proud in front of the group. Redfield, the name was written boldly on display.

"Redfield Lighthouse," John B spoke. "My dads favourite place."

She clambered from the van as the rest of the guys did, gazing up at the high building with her hand shielding her eyes from the bright sun from where they all gathered at the clearing. John B turned to face JJ. "Right, you're gonna post up and look out for bogeys, okay?"

JJ's eyebrows furrowed as he demanded, "Wait, why me?" His expression only darkened when Pope informed he wasn't to go in the Lighthouse, Haley watching from the sidelines, unsure where to put herseld in the situation. "Why?" He continued to argue.

Pope grabbed hold of JJ's shoulders. "There are independent and dependent variables, you're an independent variable-" he tried to explain but was quickly cut off as JJ began to yell over his words. "We don't know what you'll do!"

"Shut up!"

Haley awkwardly scuffed her boots on the ground as Kiara sent her a small smile from ahead of the boys, rolling her eyes dramatically when Haley caught them. She smiled at the gesture, once again appreciative of her presence. "Listen to me for a second," John B cut in their argument, stepping forward. "Pope, you stand look out with JJ, okay?" The pair in questioned seemed reluctant, but both nodded at John B's persistent glare. The tall brunette turned to her next, gaze softening immensely when he caught sight of her uncertain posture. "Do you mind keeping an eye out here?"

She shook your head immediately, sending him a reassuring nod. "Yeah, sure. That's fine by me. Heights aren't really my thing anyway," she told him as she looked up at the Lighthouse, nausea hitting at a slight force when she stared at the very top of the building amongst the blue sky. "Yeah, I'm good here."

He nodded back at her, a thankful smile on his lips. "If we split up, we meet back at JJ's house." He spoke, directing the words to the whole group. They all nodded their agreement.

"Great." Kie finalised, shooting Haley one last small smile before her and John B began to walk off, jumping the small fence that blocked their path, their stride quickly entering them into the lighthouse. Haley exhaled as they disappeared into the door, and moved her gaze to return on the two boys she was stuck with.

"I'm gonna work on my merit scholarship essay." Pope informed, before he turned and entered back into the van, leaving her and JJ stood on the outside of it, alone and deadly quiet. She looked at the golden haired boy as he pulled out a happy sack from his pocket, beginning to kick it around with his booted foot.

Haley sighed as she leaned on the passenger side door, her teeth biting down on her watermelon flavoured chapstick covered lip as she stared at the grass beneath her feet, her mind racing. A thud caught her attention and she glanced in the direction of where it had come from, a happy sack laying at her feet. She looked back up to JJ, who sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, sorry about that."

She huffed out a small laugh, bending down and snatching the sack from the floor. "You don't have to apologise to me JJ," she said softly. Throwing the sack back to him, his large hands reached out and cupped it, bringing it back to his chest. “I'm sorry about this, y'know, gatecrashing your friends' little adventure."

JJ's lips quirked, his muscular arm reaching back and throwing the sack into the air, Haley catching it and holding his eyes. "You're not gatecrashing anything," he assured. In the sunlight, his skin cast a golden glow. "And 'sides you deserve to be here. You're looking for just as much answers as John B is."

"I'm not sure about that," Haley told him and threw the sack to him. "I mean, I'm looking for answers, of course. That's why I'm here. But I'm pretty sure John B needs them more than I do," she glanced at the lighthouse momentarily. "I know what happened to my dad, pretty much. He died while being out in the storm, I know that, I just don't know why he was out in the storm or what he was even up to in the weeks leading up to it. John B doesn't even know for sure if his dad is dead or alive." She shuddered at the thought, shaking her head. "He deserves answers way more than me."

JJ nodded, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he paused in throwing the sack back towards her, looking at her small figure thoughtfully. "Do you think they could be connected?" He asked suddenly. Haley stared at him, confusion painted on her face. "Your dads, I mean. Yours and John B's. Do you think they could be connected, like your dads death and JB's dads disappearance?"

She stopped. Could they be, really? She had to admit she thought about it in the van on the journey there, but as quickly as it came it passed. To her knowledge, her dad and Big John didn't really know each other - of course they knew each other, but they didn't mix, or so she believed. But her mind replayed the moment John B mentioned the Royal Merchant, the way her stomach had filled with dread immediately, and she had the sinking feeling that it was very possible that what JJ was hinting at could be true.

"I don't know, maybe," she said instead, not wanting to voice her thoughts. JJ nodded thoughtfully, finally throwing her the sack back. She caught it, and repeated the process back to him again.

"I am sorry, though. About your dad," JJ's voice was soft, careful as he watched her pause, taking in his words. "I was gonna say more before, but with the guys... I know how much he meant to you."

Haley smiled gently, a sudden flutter in her chest alarming her as she nodded appreciatively at his words. "Thank you, JJ," she said quietly, sincerely. "It means a lot."

JJ nodded too, chapped lips pulling into an uncertain half-grin. "And I just wanted to say as well, that uh, I don't want things to be like, weird between us or anything," he stated awkwardly, clearing his throat. Haley almost laughed at the look on his face. "I mean, like, with us hooking up and stuff-"

"It won't be weird," Haley quickly interrupted him, grin overtaking the features of her face despite her better thoughts. "It was just hooking up, right? Not like we're exes or anything. No need to make it weird."

"Right," JJ voiced his agreement. Head full of long blonde locks nodding along at her words, dimples winking at her as they made an appearance in his cheeks when he smiled. "Not making it weird. Here's to that."

She laughed as the happy sack landed in her hands, holding it there as she squinted in the sun, grin cheeky as she gazed at him from her small distance. "Yeah, we'll just have to pretend we've never seen each other naked." She joked as she finally threw him his toy back.

The golden haired boy returned her smile, eyes mischievous as they made a show to glance at her figure from head to toe. "Trust me, I'll have to pretend a lot more beyond that to stay civil."

And before she could even think to voice her thoughts of Fuck, how did that almost kinda turn you on, a sudden and loud blare of a familiar siren startled, Haley’s and JJ's eyes widening as they met, a panicked expression matching in their features.

"Shit!" Haley uttered as JJ dropped the happy sack, her head turning to catch sight of the impending police car making its way towards where they were parked. She quickly glanced to the lighthouse, her heart dropping when she saw no sign of John B or Kiara, JJ grabbing her by the arm suddenly and practically dragging her into the van in the passenger seat, him running to occupy the drivers as Pope's head popped up between the seats, questioning them both erratically. She could give him no answers however, having no idea what had prompted the police to arrive. Haley had no time to think about what could have happened as JJ slammed his foot down, peeling out of the grassy area and away from the scene. "What about John B and Kie?"

"They'll be fine," JJ assured her, though they were empty words. He had no clue what had happened either, or if his friends would make it out and away from the lighthouse in time, but he still reached over and squeezed Haley’s knee gently when he saw her worried look. He caught her gaze and held it. "They'll be fine."

She could only hope that was true.

It was hours later when Haley and the Pogues gathered around John B's kitchen table, deadly silent as everyone processed what had just transpired.

She’d had JJ and Pope drop her off at home after escaping the police at the lighthouse, aware that she had been gone a long while and her mother was probably sick with worry by that point. If she wasn’t home within the hour, Haley had no doubt that she would have the police patrolling the streets, searching for her. When she toldthe boys this, they chuckled as she ordered them to park around the corner from her home, not wanting her mother to spot her leaving the van. She’d told them to call her when they heard from either John or Kiara, and they'd both agreed as she climbed from the van and walked the familiar path to her house.

Sure enough, Lana practically collapsed into her when she’d entered. Her arms were wrapped around Haley so tightly as they squeezed all the air out of her lungs, her mothers voice in her ear a jumbled mess of words laced in a frantic tone. Haley assured her she was fine, that no harm was done, and that she had just gone for a walk around the Outer Banks. Lana seemed hesitant, but had allowed Haley to ease her worries as she led her towards the couch and sat her down, letting her mom hold her for as long as she needed to assure her mind that she were really okay.

Haley felt almost bad, seeing her in such a panicked state. But then she remembered if she had just answered her questions truthfully instead of hiding everything from her than she wouldn't be sneaking around in the first place. And then the guilt subsided, if only a little. (Haley still felt awful.)

It was a couple of hours after that when a knock had sounded on her bedroom window. She had startled, her heart racing as she wondered who the hell could be knocking on her window, at night, too. She almost very nearly didn't go towards it, in fear of the two faces of the men from earlier that day greeting her, but she’d exhaled a sigh of relief when her eyes landed on the face of JJ Maybank.

"Care for a late night drive?" He'd asked, and she’d rolled her eyes. His grin never faltered as he watched her put on her boots, checking in on her mother and determining if the coast was clear to sneak out, before she’d climbed from her window, thankful that the house was only one story as she did so. Despite that fact, JJ's hands still gripped her hips as he helped her (though he didn't have to) down from the window.

She’d felt instant relief when she spotted Kiara and John B sat in the van, having resumed their earlier positions. Kie grinned at her as she got in the back along with JJ and Pope, who smiled at her also, as Haley began to question the both of them on what had happened after they’d fled the scene.

They'd been caught, of course. But they'd also been released, and that was the main thing. Haley decided to focus on the positives as John B drove them all off, this time to a cemetery of all places - leading the way towards a specific grave that he informed them all was his great-great grandmother, Olivia Redfield. Her maiden name, apparently.

And of fucking course inside that crypt was a white FedEx envelope, addressed to Bird, which they would later discover was actually John B's nickname given to him by his dad, who'd actually left the envelope there - hoping one day that his son would find it. (Because of fucking course Big John would do that.)

The pieces to the puzzle were all coming together, bit by it, slowly but surely. They’d all returned to the Chateau upon the discovery of the envelope, which contained a map, the sight very familiar. (The Royal Merchant, of fucking course it was.) And there was a very obvious X displayed on it too, X marks the spot. Along with that, a tape recorder fell into the palm of John B's hand.

"Dear Bird," the voice had started, vaguely familiar to Haley’s ears. There was no question as to who the voice belonged to - Big John Routledge was speaking directly into the room, all five teenagers gathered around listening intently. "I didn't expect to find the Merchant either."

Haley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, her breath catching in her throat as she glanced at JJ who was beside her, his own face a perfect replica of confusion and amazement.

"There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If something happens to me, finish what I started." Big John's voice continued to fill the deafening silence of the room. "Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn't always act like it. I'll see you on the other side."

The recorder clicked off after that, once again silence engulfing the room. Haley felt her stomach churn, her heartbeat to quicken, her palms beginning to sweat. She couldn't believe it. Big John Routledge had gone and found the Royal Merchant. The Royal Merchant, of which her own father had spent months obsessing over. The Royal Merchant, as in the ship that had sunk over two hundred years ago. The Royal Merchant, in which had bought her and this ragtag group of misfits together.

They all littered around the pontoon close to John B's house, beers in hand as Kie strummed softly on her ukulele, the night air a welcome comfort to Haley’s clammy skin, her heart having still not calmed from when she’d first come to the realisation that Big John had found the Royal Merchant, and now she was joining the Pogues on finishing what he had started - for her own father, she thought as she looked towards the stars in the summer nights sky, smiling softly up at them. For you, dad.

"How much was it again?" JJ broke the silence, the golden haired boy seated closest to her.

"Four hundred mil," John B reminded, though he said it dreamily, almost as if he still couldn't quite believe it. She couldn't, either, in all honesty. Five teenagers, about to charge head-first into a treasure hunt? They had to be crazy. But for four hundred million, anyone would be.

JJ's head turned at rapid speed, before he let out a sigh and clasped his hands together, looking between them all. "Alright, let's talk the split. Now, before we say 'evenly' may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us," he branded the gun, waving it around as he spoke. "Protection? Not cheap, okay?"

"Technically, that should be my gun," Haley pointed out, shrugging a shoulder and smiling cheekily when he turned to glance over at her, frown etched on his lips. "You said so yourself, remember?"

"You said you didn't want it!" He protested instantly.

She licked her lips as she teased him, "Well, maybe I changed my mind."

JJ shook his head, tongue running over his teeth as he stared at her in disbelief, though his smile was enough to let her know he found humour in her actions. "You don't just get backsies on a gun," he deadpanned.

Haley rolled your honey coated eyes as Pope quickly interrupted the two of them. “You haven't trained," he directed towards JJ. "You've done zero training."

"YouTube, bro!" JJ countered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "This," he pointed to the gun. "Is at least a five percent bump right there."

The group collectively ignored him, though Haley sent him a smirk when he looked at her, an expression of am-I-right or am-I-right on his pretty face. Kie tilted her head towards Pope. "What are you gonna do with your eighty mil, Pope?" She questioned.

"Pay for college in advance," the boy answered immediately. "And also, textbooks. Those are expensive."

Haley couldn't help but smile at him, Pope, ever the thoughtful one. She knew if she had half the brains Pope had she’d probably be the exact same as him - planning ahead, working towards college more than anything. She admired the boy, truly. But her future wasn't nearly as bright as Pope's, she was aware of that. Which made the desire to find that treasure from the Royal Merchant all that more huge.

"What about you, Haley?” She was broken from her thoughts as Kie suddenly directed her words to the other girl, raising an expectant brow as she came to, noting the rest of the gang all looking at her with similar expressions.

What would she do with her money? Honestly, she had no idea. She felt incredibly lucky to even be considered to get a share of it, given that she had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, demanding answers about her dead dad and the damned compass that had started it all in the first place. She’d questioned the guys immediately after the discovery of Big John's reveal, telling them that she was totally okay with not getting a share, had even told them she’d back off and leave them to it, though so many more questions needed answering in her mind. But they'd all immediately disagreed, letting her know that she were apart of this just as much as they all were. This was her journey, too.

"Move me and my mom out of our shitty house," Haley decided. "Get a huge ass house on Figure Eight, buy anything that we wanted. Treat her to everything she could have ever dreamed of. Maybe buy a holiday home in Italy, visit there every year and have a holiday romance with an insanely hot Italian guy."

Her and Kiara shared a giggle at that, missing the way the blonde beside her shifted almost uncomfortably, eyes downcast towards the water for a second before he licked his lips, proclaiming loudly, "I know what I'll do. I'm gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight, and go full Kook," JJ announced, eyes meeting hers and sending her a wink. "We can be neighbours."

Haley laughed outright, shaking her head at his dramatics as he continued. "Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and then I'm gonna get a koi pond, put a bunch of those fish-"

"I'm never visiting." Kie mumbled, interrupting his sentence as they all shared a laugh, gazes suddenly turning to John B who hadn't spoken in a while, the tanned brunette simply staring off into space, almost seemingly lost in his world.

"What about you, John B?" He looked back towards the four of them sprawled out on the pontoon, his eyes catching Haley’s own for a millisecond, the pair of them understanding exactly what was going through both their minds in that moment.

"To going full Kook," he raised the hand that held his beer, the group of Pogues wasting no time in following the action, all their hands raising, beer cans glinting under the moonlight as they all exclaimed, "To going full Kook!" into the summer nights air, the excitement and anticipation present in all of their voices.

And she grinned as she clinked her beer with JJ's, the blonde throwing a careless arm over her shoulder as he tugged her closer to him; Haley’s own naturally wound around his waist in return as they all laughed and joked into the night, the promise of an adventure and bright future's ahead of them all.

She failed to notice that their arms never really left each other until later that night, when her departure from the gang forced her to unwind her limbs from his, their gazes catching, secret smiles on both their faces.

Oh, this would be fun.

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years

Note

Prompt: Dean gets cursed into being a virgin again. Blushing, fake bravado, the whole shebang. Sam has to break the spell. It'd be fun if Dean tends to become slightly more demure/blushy once Sam takes control, because that man clearly knows what he's doing (and knows Dean's body well enough to play him like a symphony) while Dean, for all his pretending and show-confidence... doesn't.

(read on AO3)

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Sam says,and he knows he’s repeating himself but it’s just—

“Yeah, I heard you the first five times,” Deansays. Sam sighs, tipping down the screen on his laptop so the light’s not inhis eyes, but it doesn’t help at all with looking at Dean like—this.

A spell, is their best guess. Some kind of ritual, done bysome kind of practitioner—witch or hoodoo priest or a hopeful, weird, luckywiccan—and if they’re right it’s to prepare sacrifices, to whatever small godhas been lured to this small town. Making the harvests fruitful, making theseasons mild. Right now it’s a warm spring trembling on the cusp of summer, theforest full of gold light and the lake an idyll, and the town would be gorgeousif it didn’t have unexplained disappearances, once a season of people gonewho’d been acting strange just before they left, and when they found bodies,later, they were hardly recognizable because the people were emptied out.Husks, like they’d been drunk dry of life. It wouldn’t even be that bad,really, because they’ve both seen their share of weird deaths, if when Deancame back from the liquor store he hadn’t had his jacket zipped up to thethroat, and his face flaming, and his voice stuttering and stumbly as he toldSam that something—something’s wrong.

“You don’t remember—” Sam tries, and Dean rollshis eyes, immediately, says, “I told you, I don’t remember any of it.”

He’d been panicky, when he came back. Panicked, like theyhardly ever got anymore unless one or the other of them was dying, but it wasbecause of a woman, some random woman, who smiled at him in a certain way thathe couldn’t even describe, and when Sam snorted and said sounds like she was hitting on you, Dean had stared at him confusedand said, what do you mean?

“Dean,” Sam says, helpless. Dean’s ears and cheeksand throat, all bright red, and his arms folded defensive across his chest. “You’rethirty-six. You’ve slept with I don’t even want to know how many people. You’vehad sex. Jesus, you’ve had sex with me.”

Dean blushes harder. Tomato from his hairline to that tightclosed collar. Sam’s just as lost as he was an hour ago, but Dean just looks…miserable. Sam’s getting there himself. “What about last night?” Samtries. They don’t talk about this kind of stuff, much, but they’ve beentogether long enough that it’s not special. Except in how it is. He swivels hischair around, leans forward, tries to look—calm. “Talk to me. Whathappened?”

Dean rolls his eyes. Changed but not. Some kind of comfort. “Wedrove in to town,” he says, annoyed in that way he gets when he’s freakedout about something. “You bitched about the radio selections, like always.We got some dinner, and you bitched about what I ordered, like always. We got amotel room, and I showered before bed, and then I went to sleep. Like always.”

“Except that’s not—” Sam drags his hand over hisface, and doesn’t miss how Dean’s eyes jump all over, from his eyes to his handto his chest. “Dean. We slept together. Last night, after dinner, afteryou showered. Right here, on that bed.”

He gets big eyes, and a head-shake, and an honest-to-godquiver of the lip. “We didn’t,” Dean says, but soft and uncertain,and it’d be weird enough as it is but it’s way, way fucking weirder with Deanall—

“I don’t get it,” Sam says. He stands up anddoesn’t miss, either, how Dean flinches back, how he squirms with his kneestogether on the edge of the mattress. Dean’s got the Mark of Cain on his armand he’s treating Sam like he’s the predator. What kind of cruel joke is Sam’slife. He pushes his hand through his hair, looking at the research they’vemanaged to scrounge up in the past twenty-four hours. Missing people, theirpictures stuck to the wall. “Offerings, right? To something. Mostly youngbut not always, mostly women but not always, and with you like—like this—Iguess it’s—”

“Virgin sacrifice,” Dean says, and when Sam turnsaround he’s not red anymore but patchy pink-and-white, his eyes huge, and Samgoes right to his side and grips his shoulders, and Dean flinches still but helooks at Sam like he’s the only thing in the world.

“It’s not going to happen,” Sam says, and Deanlooks back and forth between his eyes before his attention fixes to Sam’smouth, and when it does he squeezes his eyelids tight, turns his face away likeit hurts. Sam cups the side of his neck, instinct, and Dean shudders under hishands like it’s revolting but doesn’t move to get away.

“You’re—” Sam starts, but bites the inside of hischeek before he can say it. Afraid. Disgusted. Virgin, his brainsupplies, and immediately after supplies Dean grinning and lascivious as heducked down Sam’s body, the night before, as he opened up Sam’s jeans andsucked down his dick like it was a treat he’d been looking forward to all day.Knowing Dean, it might well have been. Sam licks his lips and touches his thumbto the column of Dean’s throat, dragging slow even pressure down to the hollow,just above where he’s zipped up tight, and Dean actually—trembles, under hishands, like Sam hasn’t felt since—since he was soulless, that once, and healmost rips his hands away except that this isn’t that. He’s… almost onehundred percent sure, that it isn’t that.

“Tell me,” Sam says. His voice feels sore and heclears his throat. “What it feels like, Dean, tell me.”

Comes out harder when he tries again. Dean breathes shaky,eyelashes shuttered low. His cheek’s a line of hot pink, strange contrastagainst the stubble he’s let grow nearly into a beard. “I don’t—” hesays, and swallows, quivery against Sam’s hand. “I don’t get it. Whatyou’re—doing. I don’t know why you’re touching me like that.”

“Do you want me to?” Sam says. Almost ten years,he hasn’t had to ask.

Dean’s mouth opens, and closes. His eyes slide toward Sam’sface and he laughs, sort of, a strange unhappy sound. “It’s so fuckingweird, dude,” he says, and sounds a little more like himself. He lifts ahand and barely, barely touches Sam’s forearm, fingertips so light Sam almostdoesn’t feel them. “I—damn it, I’m freaking out, with you so close, andtouching me, and your—body—” His eyes squeeze closed, which is luckybecause Sam can’t imagine what’s on his face right now. “I just don’tknow,” Dean continues, low. “I can’t—I want to get away but I can’t.And I want—I want something, but I don’t know what it is. Like there’ssomething I’ve been waiting for and I’m gonna get it, but at the same time itfeels like—like I’m gonna die, if I get it. And I want it anyway.”

Virgins, Sam thinks, and a rolodex in the back of his headoffers up a dozen gods, a dozen rituals, too many spells to count. Virgins,scared and ripe, ready to be eaten up in exchange for all sorts of wonderfulthings. Yesterday they went to the morgue and looked at the last victim, awoman who’d been twenty-six when last seen by her husband, and on the metaltable she’d been torn open, her skin shrunk down to the bone, her eyes blackholes in her face. Used up.

“Doesn’t make sense,” Sam says, again, and Deanturns his face away, huffs with annoyance. Trembling still, like he’s therabbit and Sam’s the snake. Sam lets his hands go light but Dean doesn’t try toget away. “A spell. Right? But virginity isn't—anything. Physically, Imean. What matters is—”

That moment, he thinks, but it’s hard even to pin down. Toquantify or explain. That place where the hazy understanding from furtivewhispers and porn turns into something known. The facts immaterial in the faceof that shock of—he doesn’t even know how to think about it, really, but infront of him Dean really, really doesn’t.

“How long was it?” Sam says. He sounds rough.“Between when the victims went missing and when they were found?”

“Three days,” Dean says. The color in his cheekhasn’t faded.

Dean was gone for two months, not two months ago. Sam dragshis hands down Dean’s arms and squeezes his wrists. He’s not sure he’d make itthrough three days of Dean gone, at this point.

“Okay,” he says, and leans forward, and kissesDean’s mouth.

A flinch. “What,” Dean says, breathy, and Samgrabs his jaw and holds him in place to be kissed again, taking it even if it’snot offered. Dean’s hands come up to press uncertain against Sam’schest—pushing, sort of, but so light it’s like it’s not his brother, who couldwrestle him to the floor if he wanted, who could break his arm if he wanted.His mouth’s soft, yielding, and when Sam licks inside Dean makes this highstrange sound in the back of his throat like he’s being hurt and doesn’tparticipate, doesn’t grin and kiss Sam back, doesn’t grip Sam close and lean inlike this is the best part of his day.

“Fuck,” Sam says, as he breaks away, and Deanblinks at him huge-eyed, his mouth still half-open like he doesn’t know how itgot there. “Do you—” Dean shakes his head. Sam palms the side of hisface, this vague churn of nausea starting in his gut. “You want me tostop.”

Dean opens his mouth wider and then hangs, breathing, likehe can’t get the words out. Spells, Sam thinks, and sacrifice. Willing andnot-willing, beautiful and afraid. It’s as clever as it is vile. He closes hiseyes, ducks his head in closer so it’s nearly a hug, and Dean does touch himthen, a light hand on his side. Not knowing how to consent to things they don’tunderstand, so they can’t say no and they can’t say yes, either.

Well. Sam knows his brother, and he knows what’s waiting, ifsomething else catches him. “I’m not going to stop,” Sam says. Queercertainty, in the face of Dean’s confusion. “Dean. You’re not—I’m notletting you be one of those people.”

Frowning—confusion, like he has no idea what Sam’s talking about—andgod, maybe he doesn’t, but that doesn’t make this any less necessary. “Takeoff your clothes,” Sam says, and Dean gapes at him. Sam squeezes his eyesshut and pulls off his own shirt, his undershirt, yanking them over his headand tossing them aside, and when he looks again Dean’s staring at his bareskin, at his tattoo, and Sam ignores that because this skin should be familiarground, ten years and whole lives and deaths between them and Dean shouldn’tlook at him like anything but a known quantity. He hauls Dean closer with apull on his wrist and Dean staggers in, and Sam gets the zip on the jackethalfway down before Dean has time to more than paw at him, futile. “Stopit,” Sam says—asks—but of course Dean can’t help it, weird compulsion takingover his body, and so Sam has to just—muscle through it, shoving Dean’s handsaway and stripping off the jacket, pulling it down his arms and taking hisovershirt with it, and pulling the black tee over his head, and when he’s nakedfrom the waist up he wraps his arms around himself, like it’s something Sam hasn’tseen. Like that soft stretch of his stomach, like his chest that Sam’s bittenup and slept against, like that isn’t familiar ground. He looks at Samstartled, like he wasn’t Sam’s first time with a guy, both of them bruised andtheir knuckles sore and Sam desperate to prove—what, he doesn’t even remember.Like he didn’t hold Sam in the night, not two months ago, and kiss his jaw andsay I’m sorry, I’m sorry, like Sam needed an apology in the face of havinghim, having his body, home and safe again.

But Dean doesn’t remember those things. Sam kicks off hisboots, peels off his socks and jeans and underwear until he’s bare, and Deanstares at him with his face almost vacant. “I’m gonna take care of you,”Sam says, and Dean says, a strange note in his voice, “But this isn’t foryou,” and when Sam reaches out Dean backs up, nervous, until he hits themattress with the back of his knees. Sam’s hand curls helpless in the air, a second,before he reaches out and grips Dean’s wrist, hard.

It’s a fight and it’s not. Dean pulls away but there’s nostrength to him, and even if Sam’s been able to outclass him for years now itshouldn’t be like this, with Sam fresh off an injury and Dean with the marklighting up his blood. It’s easy, easy, way easier than it should be, and Deantwists but it’s all a playact, a show. Virgin from a movie, pink-cheeked and ignorant,not knowing what Sam’s going to do to him—what whatever ravenous thing wasgoing to do, what it might have bitten into and eaten out of him.

Naked with the lamps still on, Dean’s pale-golden, red fromhis ears to his throat to his chest, his thighs clamped tight, his dick soft.He puts his hands up when Sam grips him and shoves him further up the bed butof course he doesn’t push Sam away—his hands gripping at Sam’s shoulders buttoo lax to do anything about it. Sam hardly has to force it to get his kneesapart, to slide up between them where he’s home, but Dean’s face is scrunchedtight, turned away. “Can you—” Sam says, but on second thought he doesn’twant Dean to look at him—not like this, not with that tight fearful tip to hismouth.

He kisses Dean there, instead, and if he doesn’t have toforce it he can be—soft. Kind of soft. Dean lets out a small hurt noise but Samignores it, kisses him again, and props himself up on one hand so he can tipDean’s chin up, and kisses him gentle and unmet by affection on the lips,pressing in soft to lick inside. Dean’s fingers curl against his chest and heshudders but it’ll have to do, because Sam’s not going to fuck Dean without kissinghim—they’re better than that, now, and Sam’s not going back no matter how vilethis feels.

Despite everything—Dean’s taste, the same. The smell of him,the same. Sam dips and breathes against Dean’s jaw, brushes his lips againstthe too-long stubble, and despite everything his dick’s lengthening, pressingup against the soft inside of Dean’s thigh. He holds Dean’s throat and kisseshis collarbone and Dean’s chest hitches, unexpected, and Sam presses hisforehead there against Dean’s tattoo and slides his hand down, cups Dean’s softdick small in his hand and squeezes, gentle, coaxing. This at least isgenuinely new, to both of them. “You think you can get there?” hesays, something flickering inside. Dean makes a wounded noise, his thighs squeezingaround Sam’s hips, gripping at Sam’s shoulders enough to dig his nails in butno strength to push him away, and Sam kisses his pec, the skin soft and familiar—suckshis nipple in, the puffy soft of it just right under his tongue, and he’d biteusually because it makes Dean squirm and laugh and push at him hard, makes Deansay it’s not a friggin salad bar, freak, but with Dean like this—he’s careful,lapping slow, sucking just enough that the soft skin pulls between his lips, Deanalways as soft here as a girl—and—ah, there, Dean’s back arches and his handslips to the back of Sam’s neck, his dick plumping, a little. A little. Hisnipple buds up in Sam’s mouth and Sam groans for it, his own dick sliding up againstthe soft curve where Dean’s ass meets his thigh, and Sam has to pull away,breathing hard, while Dean pants above his head, confused.

“That’s not—” Dean says, and Sam picks up his headto find Dean frowning down at him, mouth red and tooth-dented, and Sam switchesto the other nipple, suckling it to a reluctant firmness, rolling Dean’s littledick in his grip while Dean squirms and faux-struggles and arches under him,learning something new.

Virgins, Sam’s been thinking, this whole time. Not anythingbased in reality but a symbol full of power nevertheless, and what symbolism isrequired to break it. What they’ve done before but what Dean doesn’t remember.What he’s scared of, every time his hips hitch under Sam’s and his knees dragup, trying to close.

When he’s done Dean’s chest is wet, his nipples even puffierthan before, worked red. He dips lower, kisses Dean’s shuddery stomach, kisses wherethe barely-there line of hair leads down to his dick—kisses his dick, wet, andfeels Dean’s thighs cringe up around his shoulders pressing them open, and whenhe sucks in one of Dean’s balls Dean cries out, sliding his hands into Sam’shair, pulling as much as he can. “Does it feel good?” Sam says,stupid instinct, and stupider when he looks up and Dean’s shaking his head,helpless. His face—

“Fuck, Dean,” Sam says, and buries his face therein the crease of Dean’s thigh and kisses whatever he can reach, touching himcareful, because Dean's—

“Stop,” Dean says, cracked, crying, and Sam shakeshis head and touches Dean’s asshole finally, what he’s been inching toward thiswhole time, because he knows how virgin sacrifices work and what’s going to berequired of them, here, and Dean actually does twist away, then—sets his heelsin the bed and pushes, trying to put distance between them. His dick’s halfwayto hard but that doesn’t matter—his body flushed, waking up to what Sam’s alwaysknown how to do to it, but that doesn’t matter—because whatever awful thing wantsit to hurt, wants it sore, and Sam pushes up, kneels revolted for a bare second,and then catches Dean around the thighs, drags him back into place.

“Dean—” he says, and he doesn’t know if he’s eversounded so pleading, but Dean twists his face away, panting, and Sam catcheshis forearm and pushes it back against the bed, his hand covering up the mark,and Dean of course stays there because even if he’s supposed to fight he’s notallowed to win. Sam clenches his jaw, closes his eyes, but he knows what he’sgot to do. He’s not going to let Dean get hurt by another hand ever again, ifhe can help it.

Dean cries out again when Sam presses lube-slick fingersagainst him—goes still, shocked, when the fingers press inside. Sam starts withtwo by habit but Dean’s tight, a vicious band of heat around his knuckles, and hewatches Dean’s face, careful. He knows Dean’s body but Dean’s body isn’tDean’s, right now. Panting at the ceiling, his hand that Sam hasn’t trappedgripping at the polyester blanket. “Talk to me,” Sam says, desperate,“tell me if it hurts, come on—”

“It doesn't—” Dean starts, and Sam pushes deeper,working the lube in as far as he can. Dean’s jaw drops, his thigh tipping out.Normally Sam might grin triumph and Dean would roll his eyes and smack him andsay, more, bitch, and Sam would—but he pulls his hand away, now,drizzles more lube in and pushes in again and Dean hitches breath, muscleflexing unexpectedly as he pulls at the blanket.

“First time,” Sam says, aching. He can’t fix itbut he can make it less—how it is. “You bet me fifty bucks and an oilchange that I couldn’t make you come like this, just my fingers. We had Pieces ofEight on the tapedeck, and we got to Queen of Spades before you started to—and fuck,it was hot, Dean, I know you can’t remember but it was the hottest thing I eversaw.”

“Sam,” Dean says, wet stripes down his temples andhis mouth trembling, and Sam says, “I’m gonna fuck you now,” and Deangrimaces and covers his face with his hand, and Sam picks his hips up, his assplush and sweet in Sam’s lap, tipped up so Sam’s got easy access to get justthe right angle, and he lets Dean’s forearm go—bloodless impression of his handoutlined around the mark, that’s gonna bruise, fuck—and pulls Dean’s hand away,holds it while he presses his dick against where he’s made Dean wet and soft, wherehe’s gonna bust him open.

“You like this, Dean, I promise you do,” Sam says,kind of desperate, and Dean shakes his head, chest heaving on a sob, but he’slooking Sam in the eyes, and that means Sam can see it when he pushes inside,Dean’s body giving up space around him the way it always has, tight-and-then-soft,hot, right. Right.

Dean stops shaking, the fine quiver in his skin stilling.Sam pushes deeper, the slick between them just enough from long practice, andDean’s thighs tip wider, his face an open shock. When Sam bottoms out he staysstill, and when he lets Dean’s hand go Dean doesn’t shove at him or try to getaway. He keeps his eyes on Dean’s face and lets him feel it—feels it himself,in a way he hasn’t. That perfect grip and Dean’s skin, and his eyes, wet andthe lashes clumped and dark but locked in, on Sam’s. Strange moment. Separatebut not, anymore, and Sam arches his hips, curving forward and cramming himselfjust that tiny bit deeper, and Dean’s lips part, his cheeks so red he looksburned.

“Feel,” Sam says, and curls in so he can kissDean’s face. Wet and salt, and the heat of that blush. He slips an arm under Dean’sback and rocks his hips just a little, and feels the jolt, and when he lifts upagain Dean looks almost like he doesn’t know where he is. Or like—

“Hey.” Sam grabs his hands, holds them tight.“Hey, are you with me?”

“Sammy,” Dean says, and lifts his hips. Itclenches, inside, and Sam lurches forward, crushing Dean’s legs back so they’realmost pressed to his shoulders. Dean winces but moans, too, and he takes ahand away to curl his arm over Sam’s shoulders, holding him closer.“Sam,” he says again, breathy, and Sam lifts up and kisses him andDean—he doesn’t respond like he should, but he doesn’t just lay there like amannequin, either, and Sam’s so relieved he could cry.

When they pull apart Dean touches his jaw, eyes distant. “Ican't—it’s not the same,” he says, shaking his head. He arches his backand groans, frustrated. “You're—I know something’s coming but I don’t knowwhat.”

Sam shifts, bracing his knees, and gives Dean a real, steadythrust, holding still again as he bottoms out, and Dean grunts, groans again,startled. Not the virgin fakeness—that maybe gone, from that first piercingmoment of someone inside him—but not fixed, not knowing. He grips atSam’s hair, breathes out with his head tipped back on the blanket, and Samfucks into him again, wondering. “Oh—god, god,” Dean says, squirming,“why does that feel so good,” and Sam pushes in and kisses him, intent,rocking his hips for real now, a rhythm they’ve worked out long before,cramming Sam’s dick in just where it does its best work.

“We’re not done,” Sam says, holding Dean’s face.Dean gulps air, rakes his nails against Sam’s shoulder. “I’m going to comein you. Make sure.”

“Jesus,” Dean says, shaky, looking thunderstruck.He hooks a leg around the back of Sam’s, arches, and his face goes distant asSam jolts up inside him at a new angle. God, he feels good. Hard now, too,between them. “What’s that like?”

Sam groans, lifting up. Dean’s spread out, below him, anopen feast. His eyes still uncertain but trusting Sam to know. “You’llsee,” Sam says. He cups Dean’s balls in his hand, rolling them soft, andwatches Dean’s face go tight, wanting. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, Dean.”

(Later—much later—Dean shifts, where he’s curled into the commaof Sam’s body. Sam hasn’t let go, really. He says, quiet, What if I’dfought?

Sam opens his eyes, looking at the curve of Dean’s shoulder againstthe light.

I can be—I could’ve hurt you.

Sam rubs his thumb against the tendons in Dean’s forearm.Slides up, to where he left his handprint, and closes his hand soft thereagain. I would’ve done it anyway. Dean’s head turns, enough that Sam cansee the shape of his cheekbone, his eyelashes dark against his cheek. Nothing’staking you away. Not again.

Gleam on Dean’s skin, where the tear-tracks dried. Good,is all Dean says, and Sam closes his eyes, and they sleep.)

#Anonymous #wincest #dubcon #--kinda #forced sex?#idk how to tag stuff anymore

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