#one suggestion could be nothing but two suggestions seems to be building a pattern

[insignificant457]

Okay I'll bite, why do you think Virginia will step down as sovereign and who do you think will replace her?

Related thought: I was very into the idea of splitting the solar system into spheres of influence when Diomedes suggested it. Obviously his initial approach was naive. But it seems like a natural progression for the story, so I wouldn't be surprised if a Triumvirate does end up happening. Just need to pick a better third than 🙄Lysander🙄

Thank you for biting lol. The answer is Holiday!

I think it’s been foreshadowed quite a bit that Virginia will step down as sovereign once the war is done. In IG she tells Darrow that maybe after her term is up she won’t run for office again, and in DA when she’s escaping the citadel she vows that it’s the second to last time she leaves it, so clearly she’s had enough of the sovereigncy. And, to be honest, it seems many of the people have had enough of her. Yes the day of red doves was instigated by lilath and the abomination, but there had to have been resentment building for it to go off the way it did. And also, my girl deserves a BREAK. If she and Darrow both live they are heading off to a cabin in the middle of nowhere like “no one ever bother us again please and thank you.”

As for Holiday specifically as the replacement, I think it’s been foreshadowed as well. In DA, we find out she’s been reading Silenus’s meditations on Virginia’s recommendation, and Virginia says this:

And then in LB, she gives a rousing speech to what remains of the high command and victra says this:

We’ve seen her pull away from the howlers and more into virginias confidence over the last few books, and I think these two things could be setting her up as a replacement sovereign (or, honestly, a leader under a different title, as a signal that they are moving further away from the society).

And honestly, I think holiday would be a great candidate. She’s intelligent, level headed, firm but willing to compromise, humble without being a pushover. She’s an important figure in the initial rising, a long time son of ares, and she’s also got a legion military background, so I think she’s in a unique position to understand both the supporters and the skeptics of the republic.

She also has absolutely no desire for that kind of power, which is one of the qualities that make the best leaders, because she won’t become power hungry and abuse her position. And most importantly, she’s not a member of the previous ruling class. If the republic ever wants to move forward with true equality, they can’t keep handing the reigns from gold to gold to gold.

I also think, assuming Virginia lives and steps down willingly, she’d be a great confidante to holiday and be able to help her bear the weight of all those people. She’s mentioned how lonely the morning chair is, and I think she’d be more than willing to be an understanding ear if holiday took it over, since they’ve become so close.

Also, yeah, the spheres of influence really intrigued me when diomedes brought it up, especially since we saw how so many of the citizens of mercury were vehemently against the rising. I could see someone else (not Lysander obviously, as I suggested maybe Cicero since he got more focus than I expected this time around and he seems fed up with war already and more willing to lay down arms than, say, Julia au Bellona) ruling the core with some version of the hierarchy still intact but without the unwilling subjugation of anyone who doesn’t actively choose to, as diomedes said “give up their freedom in exchange for security.” Idk it doesn’t seem ideal, but this series is all about exploring the little gray areas.

[shuastar]

old money!wonwoo

genre/warnings: regency!au, old money!wonwoo, old money!reader, family name is yoon but nothing else is stated (korean is implied but never mentioned), suggestive (??? not really but..), implied past relationship

word count: 1783

a/n: ik the personalities kinda change in the middle but in my defense i wrote this at like 2am on 2 different days....wonwoo is still as hot so.. idk if i should turn this into a full-blown fic either [tumblr runs on reblogs!!]

“Are you even hearing yourself right now?” Your incredulous voice rings through the empty study. 

Wonwoo nods, bangs brushing into his eyes. “It can be contractual,” he pushes, quietly stepping forward.

The two of you stare at each other, the only sound in the room being the echoing ticking of the grandfather clock in the back of the room. You feel your confidence wavering as Wonwoo seems to not let up on his gaze, sinking deeper and deeper into what feels like your soul. Briefly, just briefly, you wonder how you two even came to this position at all. 

“Like a contractual marriage.” The words feel familiar on your tongue from the time you spent arguing with your parents on that very topic. The promise you made your fifteen-year-old self to marry for love, for your soulmate, for the one who would dance with you under the dim chandelier lights of your condo. So why did your stupid delusional heart catch on an erratic beat at the thought?

Wonwoo’s lips tug upwards at those words and you can’t help but notice how the remnants of his childhood dimples are still there. “Exactly. Like a contractual marriage.” His words are soft, uncharacteristic of the indifferent man you are used to. 

He dares to take another step forward, his fingers brushing your arms. You can almost breathe in his Armani cologne from how close you were. It makes your head spin – the scent of the cologne with a hint of his minty shampoo and aftershave. It threatens to break down all of your walls – the walls it took you years to build up.

When your eyes lift from the carpeted ground, you meet his eyes from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. They have an unfamiliar emotion swimming in the surface. It’s something that pulls you closer to him, unconsciously leaning in to gaze into his eyes. Almost as if your body wanted to memorize this effect on him. 

“Think about it,” he starts, “you don’t want to marry any of,” a pause, almost as if he adds it in for dramatic effect, “them,” he sneers. His eyebrows furrow and the perfect harmony of his stupid face crumples into one of bitter distaste. If he wasn’t standing as close, if his cologne wasn’t invading your senses, if he wasn’t staring at you with some unplaceable carnal expression in his eyes, you would have reached up and smoothed out the wrinkle on his forehead. Smoothed out the wrinkles on his perfect, pale, porcelain face. You would have reached a hand up to his jaw, trailing your fingers along his jawline and-

“Y/N,” Wonwoo’s voice cuts through your daydreams. He goes to push up his glasses, and you can’t help but notice the singular bracelet that adorns his wrist — woven tightly into an uncharacteristically messy pattern of blue and white waves. “If you don’t want this, you can tell me.” 

I can’t, you want to say. I can’t when you’re looking at me like that. With your stupidly pretty brown eyes and your stupidly gorgeous face. How could I ever say no?

He stares down at you, the corners of his lips pulled down into a hint of a frown. From this angle, the moon that shines through his study’s gigantic wood-framed windows, frames his body perfectly. His hair is tousled, in the way you remember only he can pull off. There is a faint giggling memory of watching your brother Jeonghan try to tousle his own hair like Wonwoo does, only to end up with blonde strands sticking up everywhere. 

You know you’re stringing it out for too long — you should’ve said something 10 seconds ago. BUt still, Wonwoo waits patiently, allowing your misted eyes to gaze over his body — from the tops of his hair to his expensive Thom Brown dress shoes. 

Your eyes land at the bracelet. 

“You can take it off, you know?” you whisper. It feels like a secret — the fact that Wonwoo still wears it; the fact that Wonwoo still remembers; the fact that the idea of you and Wonwoo once existed. 

Wonwoo is now the one silent, eyes fluttering to his bracelet. His fingers pick at the loose strands. The wave patterns move with every tug. For some reason, it makes your heart clench. 

“We’re done,” you say, “Remember?” Your words are harsh, almost forced out of your throat. It hangs uncomfortably in the air: an added tension in the thick, unbreathable air. 

”Not for me.” Wonwoo’s head rises, dark chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. 

Any words die in your throat. The three-word sentence Wonwoo uttered forces your lungs into a stop. Not for me. ‘Not for me’ your ass. Not done your ass. Because you remember sobbing in the hallways and him not giving a fuck. Because you remember hugging, begging, whining for him to stay. All for him to just say “no, it’s better this way,” and walk down the hallways. Not done your ass.

But you can’t bring yourself to say that. Not when his eyes blink slowly, lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks. 

They stare directly into yours, before moving down your body. His fingers still tug on the bracelet. “It was never done for me. For you, maybe. But never for me,” he states. Confidence is laced in every syllable he utters. 

WOnwoo suddenly takes a step forward. You take a step backwards. Wonwoo. You. WOnwoo. You. Wonwoo. Yo- Wall. Your back slams against Wonwoo’s polished marble wall. The chilled marble sends shivers up your bare spine. A staggered gasp is ripped from the confines of your chest and your hands fly out and land on Wonwoo’s chest, stabilizing yourself. 

You tense, head tilted up against the wall, lips parted. You can feel the surge of heat against your cheeks. Your heart beats furiously in its cage, threatening to pound through your dress and spill onto the carpeted floor. Your hands suddenly feel embarrassingly sweaty and your fingers unconsciously clench Wonwoo’s black dress shirt. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, head bowing almost naturally, “Sorry, I don’t know what-“ you’re interrupted by your own muffled noise — something in between a gasp, whine, and murmur of protest. 

Wonwoo’s fingers now interlace with your own, against his own chest. There isn’t a speck of hesitation in his deep eyes when he slowly moves your intertwined hands to rest just above his left pec (which you conveniently chose to ignore how defined it was). 

WOnwoo raises a brow, when you move to pull away. “I’m not gonna bite, sweets.”

You blush at the nickname, pressing yourself further into the wall, trying your best to sink into the marble behind you. “What are you doing?” you ask, hands still pressed up against WOnwoo’s chest.

”I don’t think you believe me.” Wonwoo splays your hands out. His eyes waver when his fingers cover yours entirely. They close for a split second, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. When his eyes flutter open again, they’re noticeably darker, more hooded. He swallows thickly when you turn your own eyes up to him “Fuck,” he whispers, forehead lowering towards yours. His hold on your hand tightens, pressing your fingertips into his pecs. 

You blink, pretending to ignore everything else. “Believe what?” Your lips lift up in a cheeky grin. “That you have man boobs? It’s okay, sweets, I think moobies are hot.” Your words barely even leave your mouth and you have the strongest urge to slap a hand over your mouth. Seriously. What the fuck were you saying? 

HOwever, as you blush out of scarce embarrassment, Wonwoo’s ears turn bright red and he groans. A deep gutteral groan leaves his parted mouth, followed by a shaky mutter of your name. His forehead lands on your shoulder, breath hot against your neck. One hand releases your hand and trails against your hips. It falters when it reaches your waist, before it snakes around and pulls you against him. 

“Fuck, you feel that?” Wonwoo’s voice is deep near your ear. It almost pisses you off, how hard you need to prevent a whine from falling from your lips. 

You’re about to say “Feel what?” when you actually do feel it. From the tips of your fingers, you can feel Wonwoo’s heartbeat. The muscle pounds a horse race against your fingers, going a mile a minute. 

You can’t help but let out a breathy laugh. “You’re gonna pass out at this rate.” 

You can feel a grin against your neck. Wonwoo’s hand — the one around your waist — roams a little lower. “You’re gonna tuck me in and kiss me goodnight if I do?” he teases, sharp canines nipping your delicate skin, punching out a gasp. 

“Wonwoo!” You gasp, hand lightly pushing his head away. “I have to go back down! Do not give me a hickey,” you huff, wiggling in his loosening grasp. 

Wonwoo pulls away at your words. “Y’ needa go down?” A shadow of a pout appears on his lips. “Didn’t even bite you that hard, sweets,” he argues. His words sound slightly slurred, almost forced as he stares at you. No. Not at you. Rather, at your lips. 

Either that or your chin. 

You would prefer lips. 

At least then you wouldn’t be the only one desperately wanting his worry-bitten lips on yours. 

You sigh, slipping your hands out of his. You can only offer a second of hesitation before you wrap your arms around his neck, nails lightly scratching his undercut. There is a small smile that plays aganst your lips as you rest your cheek on his chest (but not before you leave a fleeting kiss against the junction between his neck and shoulder). You can still hear his erratic heartbeat, stuttering in your grasp. 

“Wish you did,” you murmur, leaning some of your weight against him, trusting he’ll lift you up. 

Wonwoo’s arms circle your waist – lower than what you would’ve allowed before all of this. His hands splay across your back and lift you up, walking himself to the nearest surface, which happened to be his desk. 

“What?” 

You hum, now smiling as he places you carefully on the edge of his desk, inserting himself between your parted legs. His fingers paw at your waist. “Wish you did,” you repeat, your own fingers reaching up to brush strands of his hair out of his eyes. 

Wonwoo tilts his head dumbly. As if your words made all of his own words disappear. “Did what?” 

You coo, pulling him closer to you by his tie. Your cheeks are hot, you know, but it still doesn’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth: 

“Wish you bit me.” 

[muzanswaifu]

Vexing Love

Sanemi x Florist!Fem!Reader

18+

For @captaineelliee

Request: "SO BASICALLY READER IS A FLORIST — LOVES EVERYTHING FLOWERS. LOVES NATURE. SHE VEGAN. AND THEN DADDY SANEMI OVER HERE IS *EHEM EHEM* ALLERGIC TO POLLEN 😍 YES POLLEN. HE’S INTO HER OBVIOUSLY BUT HOW CAN HE GET NEAR HER WHEN SHES ALWAYS SURROUNDED WITH FLOWERS AND POLLEN GETS ONTO HER CLOTHES LIKE EVERYTIME"

This request was soooooo cute to work on 😭 I went through about 100000 plot ideas just to get to this one bc I literally could not choose lmaoooo, hope you enjoy the one i chose! 😉

Sfw Warnings: Fluff, enemies to lovers, tsundere (both sides), crushes, Sanemi has allergies, allergies are curable in this universe idk science, science doesn't exist, awkwardness, yn is mean cuz she desperately needs ****, yn then gatekeep girlboss gaslights her way into some ****

Nsfw Warnings: Suggestive comments, pining, Smut, oral sex, blow jobs, hand jobs, cunnilingus, dry humping, vaginal sex, creampies, cockwarming, praise kink, degradation kink, body worship

10.7k Words

-

-

-

Breathe.

Just breathe for now. Breath until it's time to turn the corner. Breath until you can't even hold it anymore. Breathe.

Almost there, he'd just have to hold it in his lungs for a moment, nothing more. And even then, what was a whiff or two? Nothing he couldn't handle. He was just popping in for a quick visit.

He wrapped around the building slowly, taking his time with deep, precious breathes and savoring the cool air. Spring was always so pleasant even if the lingering scent of florals and pollen stung his lungs like acid. The moment he caught a whiff of the sweet perfume, he swallowed, clutching his breathe in his throat like air under water. He was good at hiding his weaknesses. He'd had plenty of practice.

When his mauve eyes finally met hers, he rose to life.

It was like something clicked in his brain every time he saw her, as if just being near her got his gears turning. Being with her was like chewing taffy. It was kind of hard to eat and always stuck to your teeth, super annoying, but somehow you always grabbed for that second piece, deeming the rich, savory flavor worth all the trouble. She smiled when she saw him.

"Well hey you," she leered, a single brow raised as she fluffed up the daisies that laid on the front table at the entrance of her shop. "You finally gonna buy something or are you just here to nag? I'm gonna start charging you by the minute y'know." The sly sparkle in her eye made his gut twist, sweat beginning to collect in his already clammy palms. He shoved them into his pocket before she could see.

"Nah, just here to see if this place is still fuckin' dead like it always is. No surprises there."

She scoffed, turning her head away in distaste, her hair wagging to the side so gently he wanted to fucking touch it, to run his hands through it and mess it all up. He didn't care if it smelled like flowers either. He'd enjoy either way.

"You're such an asshole! Maybe if you'd stop scaring away all my customers, I'd get more business," she hissed at him. He laughed at the insult, forcing himself to move along with it, despite the thoughts that ate at him slowly.

She thinks you're ugly

He shook his head of the stupid assumption, instead lingering to stare at today's attire. She wore purple today, a soft shade of lavender that went quite nicely with the hair piece she dawned. The homemade fabric clung tightly to her figure, the grains tastefully swirling around her body in the uniform pattern. The sleeves of this yukata seemed to be floral themed as well as the ends tattered along into delicate petal shapes. He liked this one more than her others. It was -

"Flashy."

She turned to him with a confused look, eye twitching. "What did you just say?"

"You look flashy," he repeated curtly, casting his eyes away. Compliments were hard to make, so she should appreciate that he put in the effort honestly.

"Flashy?"

"Yeah."

"So I look too flashy to you?" she inquired, crossing her arms and cocking her hip with a glare. This wasn't going how he thought it would. Shouldn't she be thanking him or something?

"Uh no," he shrugged, "just the right amount."

She turned away from him, bundles of flowers in her arms that were wilted and grey, ready to be thrown out, comically mirroring her patience. He could see the clench to her jaw and strain to her temple.

"You're so... - so clueless!" She stomped off angrily into the shop.

Sanemi was taken aback by her vexed response, hesitantly going in after her. He hadn't even noticed how scratchy his throat and nose had gotten with his distraction. How was she angry? He'd heard Tengen give his wives that line over a million times, and they practically dropped their panties on the spot. Did he say it wrong or something?

"What did I do?" he called after her.

"Let me guess, you're gonna say I smell weird again too?" she remarked, recalling the instance he'd first met her all that time ago when he'd said the damning words, so unused to the smell of roses as he'd avoided them without a second thought. But he hadn't had a reason risk the exposure then.

He felt bad, truly. He didn't want her to think he was insulting her. He didn't want the relationship his parents had, his father constantly demeaning his mother to keep her confidence low enough that she always saw him as better than. Sanemi wanted to make her feel good about herself! She deserved praise from time to time.

"It was a compliment!"

"In what world?" she asked dramatically. He could see how her posture was cringed now, as if to hide herself from him. But the stance was short-lived as she turned back around, finished with dumping her spoiled product.

"You're lucky I don't care what you think," she announced, fixing her hair, "Because I know I look good."

He pinched the bridge of nose and sighed. No, she was lucky she was fun to be around sometimes, or he wouldn't even give her the time of day.

He intended to continue their bickering until he'd felt his throat close, the spacing narrow and whistling with every breathe. He shut his mouth quickly, turning the way he came and walking away, trying to seem as unbothered as possible. (Y/n) noticed his fleeing when he was already halfway around the corner.

"Sanemi? Sanemi, where are you going?!" She continued to call after him, but he went on, his face shifting to red.

He inserted the syringe into himself containing his "medicine" when he reached the safety of the foliage, calming himself and controlling his breathing until his felt his lungs open up again.

Shinazugawa held his own in a normal natural environment, and when his allergies did manage to act up on occasion, he'd always had some light treatments on hand. But being surrounded by pure allergens was something he couldn't handle in excess, his tolerance getting worse and worse with each visit.

When he'd first met her, his endurance was acceptable. He'd managed to survive when the crazy woman had dragged him into her shop for the first time on his routine town visit, pressuring him to buy something. And when he'd denied her, throwing his little insult of her smell, he assumed that would be his cause of death rather than his allergy. From then on, every time he'd pass by, she always berated him, hurling offense after offense at him. He hadn't responded the first few times, but eventually it got to him. The short arguments grew into long visits of banter. He was retired, so it wasn't like he had anywhere to be anyway. And her company was nice sometimes. She wasn't always annoying. She occasionally gave a warm side comment about his glowing complexion that day or lended an ear when he wanted to rant about how stupid his "friends" were. While she always gave him shit about his "animal-based diet" and a lecture about becoming vegetarian, he'd also admired her passion about those things, how fired up she'd get when she'd see someone eating a piece of meat with no remorse. It was... kinda cute.

And he had become addicted far before he'd realized it, his day ruined whenever he hadn't seen her in a while or saw something that reminded him of her. And he knew his feelings had to be true when he went to fucking Uzui for help. His assistance was as useless as it was embarrassing, essentially telling him to dick her down as soon as possible. His wives had given him some genuine advice on his way out, but damn was that guy a pain to deal with.

But even with his recognition of his own heart, it wasn't like his weakness took the hint. He could hardly handle ten minutes being around her now, his lungs becoming so swelled that it nearly killed him each time. He wanted to live to see his life with her, if it were possible. And he decided to finally do something about it.

"I suppose there is something I can do," voiced Kanao, the girl sorting through her collection of herbs and remedies. Thankfully the Butterfly Estate had been fairly calm today, allowing him the audience he needed.

"While you may still have the occasional reaction, I have a thirty-day schedule of injections that get your immune system used to the allergen while simultaneously reinforcing it," she explained gently. She reminded him of the Kochos a lot these days. "But there are some drawbacks. The beginning may be a bit much to bear through, but over time the effects should calm. You must take it every morning at relatively the same time, and please give your body time to recuperate. You need stay away from any histamines for at least a week, as well. This includes any dander, molds, or pollen."

He gulped anxiously.

"That's just advice thought, right?"

She blinked confused, looking him in the eye.

"No."

On the walk home, he readied his excuses for when he saw the florist next. She'd no doubt grill him for answers when he'd have to ghost her for the next few days. He was busy? No, no she wouldn't accept that. She'd believe it, but she'd be angry at him for not giving her any attention for so long. He was sick? Maybe, but she would definitely look down on him for being so weak as to need recuperation time. But it wouldn't even matter how mad she'd be at him for his absence. He'd finally be able to prolong his time with her. Take her out on dates. Cuddle together. Do... other stuff together. It would take time to build up the relationship, but he had no doubt that she returned his feelings. He saw the way she looked at him, the way she'd purse her lips and flush when her eyes fell to his fit chest, the way she'd bat her lashes at him when she'd catch him studying her as well. She'd even told him that she only liked big, stupid guys. He definitely wasn't stupid, but he got the idea.

It would only be a matter of time now before it was all possible. Almost there.

-

She brewed over his disappearance, questioning why Shinazugawa had been gone all of five days now. Surely, she hadn't hurt his feelings that much the last time she'd seen him. But maybe it was a possibility as her mother had always complained of how rude she was. But Sanemi was used to it by now, right? Okay, perhaps she was a bit mean, but he was just so stupid sometimes! Flashy? That was considered a compliment to him? It was his fault for not knowing better.

But, none-the-less, she pouted, joylessly selling to a few customers before deciding to close up shop early today. She should go give him a visit. Just to make sure he's alive, of course. Not because she missed him or anything...

-

This was torture. He remembered that Kanao had said it was gonna get bad but not this bad. Even he was struggling, and he'd been tortured by demons for fuck's sake. He hacked all day, his skin rashed up, he had to take several trips to the bath to steam his swollen throat open enough so he could breathe. It made sense why he couldn't get more exposure to aggitants. It probably would've killed him.

But he kept going, reminding himself of why this was all worth it. How amazing it would be to sniff her hair and kiss her lips. How soft she would feel in his hands and against his calloused, rough flesh. He wanted to know how her neck tasted, how her perfume smelled when it wasn't suffocating him. He'd spend all of eternity just studying her and everything that made her so... so... vexing.

A knock at his door tore him from his fantasies. Who the hell could that be? He left the bathroom, staggering toward the door and fixing his falling robe simultaneously. Was it Kanao? But she was always so busy, why the hell would she come out here?

Sanemi weakly opened the door, eyes going wide.

"Surprise!"

He stumbled back, throwing a hand over his nose and mouth. Just the slight breeze that came, wafting her scent to him was enough to make him choke. Oh, fuck that hurt.

"I thought you were dead or something, so I came to check on you! I know, I'm so nice," (Y/n) purred, obviously pleased with herself. "I brought flowers just in case you'd need a quick burial - Lilies! Always gotta be prepared, y'know?" She shoved them toward him carelessly, distracted with his horrid appearance.

"What the hell happened to you?" she questioned, her eyes scrunching in disgust. He looked like he actually had died.

"G-get out..." he croaked, feebly pushing her away. His vision began to get blurry with his poorly received oxygen.

"You need help 'Nems. Let me-"

"No!" he shouted abruptly, the woman flinching back in shock. She'd never actually heard him... yell at her before.

"G-get the f-fuck outta here!" He pushed at her again, causing her to trip back and fall onto the graveled path. Tears stung her eyes as her bottom bruised. He turned back to the door, tossing the bundle of lilies away onto the dirt and slugging back into the house, coughing violently as he went.

Another wave of daze passed through her body as he slammed the door closed, the loud sound sending a jolt up her spine. Her mouth still hung open.

It seemed like years before she slowly rose up, body still trembling. Her walk home was silent. But not literal silence, the journey would've been silent regardless since it would've been only herself as company - this was mindless, empty, meaningless, lifeless silence. Not a single thought managed to pass through her skull, her movements relying solely on muscle-memory. Her mouth still hung open.

Only when she had reached her own doorstep did the waterworks start. Tears never stopped flowing as she sadly waddled to her bed and fell to it, harshly sobbing into her pillow.

He had never yelled at her like that before. Ever. Not even when she'd thrown dirt down the back of his shirt or doused him with pot water. By the time she'd woken up from crying herself to sleep, her eyes were puffy and red, her mouth dry and bitter. She'd barely managed to carry herself into work, her face downcast and miserable, very few customers coming to visit. But she couldn't care less.

His symptoms thankfully calmed down in the following days, his lungs opening up and skin clearing. He forced himself to relax through it, stopping his brain from replaying what had happened until he would be able to properly cringe at his own actions. And when he had gotten better and able-bodied, God was it awful. Was he harsh with her? Yes. Was it necessary? ...Yes? How else would he have gotten her to go away? Had he been any more gentle, she would've fought her way into the house, and he would've keeled over dead. Being an asshole was manditory sometimes.

But, he knew every dirty dead should be met with a good one when it came to women, so here he was, on his was to say he was sorry or whatever. It'd been a week like Kanao had said, so he could tolerate being around her for a second.

"Your boyfriend is coming," squealed the old woman from the shop next to hers, the lady's lips curled like a cat's.

"Huh?" (Y/n) snapped from her expressionless state of plucking the petals off sunflowers.

"That tall man with the scars you're always hanging around - I saw him in town buying candies when I'd gotten my groceries. I think he's coming this way!"

Oh fuck!

She bolted into her shop, finding a mirror to do some quick makeup and fix her hair. Thank goodness she'd made herself dress nice today. She wasn't about to dump him looking like a slob.

The girl came out just in time to catch a glimpse of him turning the corner, her appearance put together and pretty.

"Hey," she heard next to her. Her eyes flickering to him slowly then turning back. She resumed weaving together bouquets at her bench.

Sanemi scoffed at her obvious silent treatment. It didn't help that she looked so fucking hot today, her dress a dark shade of green with red accents that matched her lipstick. Fuck, here he was getting turned on when he needed to apologize.

"Uh, sorry about the other day. I was, uhm.... sick." He held the box of sweets out to her, a cute pink bow tied at the top. When she didn't take it, he set it down on the table adjacent to her.

(Y/n) pressed her wobbling lips together, still refusing to look at him before getting up and going to the table. She swiftly pushed it into the store and pulled closed the doors, locking them and gathering her things. She couldn't do this. Tears were already threatening her waterline before he'd even started talking. She couldn't tell him off with her mascara was running. How pathetic would that have been?

He followed after her, muddled by her strange behavior, or lack thereof. "Where are you going?" the man demanded.

It was easy to think of something hurtful to respond.

"I have a date." She walked slowly, giving him ample time to catch up.

His teeth nearly broke with tension. He was next to her instantaneously, far closer than she wanted him to be. She turned away so he wouldn't witness her glazed eyes.

"A date?"

"Yep."

"A fuckin' date?"

She didn't answer any further, only continuing to stroll about and praying that he wouldn't follow her all the way. Of course, she wasn't going on any date. But he didn't need to know that. And she didn't want him finding out either.

And her wish came true, Sanemi pausing in his step as she trailed on. She heard what he'd mumbled under his breath as he turned back the way he came.

"Fuck this."

(Y/n) wished she'd felt better after that, but her depression only grew. Going to work every morning felt hopeless now that she knew there was no chance Sanemi would come to visit. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed their bickering and arguments, missed how his nose would scrunch up when he was agitated, missed how he'd lean up against her booth to get closer to her. She missed how he'd smell when he'd stop by after his workout, and how his skin would glisten with sweat during a hot day. But most of all, she missed seeing him smile, that stupid little smirk he'd give her when she'd say something especially mean before he'd give that attitude right back at her.

She should've just accepted his stupid apology, even though her feelings were still hurt by his blatant disrespect of her. Even if he had been sick, she would've helped him in a heartbeat. It would've been like the romance novels she'd read of nurses falling in love with their patient during treatments. She wasn't a very good cook, but she could've whipped him up something good to eat. She could've helped him so much, but he didn't let her. As if he didn't trust her. As if she wasn't important enough.

But maybe it was for the best that things worked out this way. Maybe things weren't meant to go well for them. If they couldn't handle a small little thing like this, how would they have made it through worse?

"I think he'd like these."

(Y/n) jerked up from her spell, aiming to find the owner of that soft, feminine voice.

"Those are nice! Oh - how about these ones too!"

She found two young visitors, a serene dark-haired girl with rosy eyes and a tender-looking boy with red hair. They seemed to be a couple, implied by their embraced hands.

As negative as her mood was, the woman still needed money and, therefore, customers. She slouched over to them.

"Shopping for a special occasion?" she asked with about as much gusto as she could muster, which was little. The boy smiled brightly regardless of her lack of vigor.

"Just looking for something nice for a friend! He actually lives around here, maybe you know him?" He chirped. The girl next to him scoffed quietly.

"I wouldn't bet on that."

(Y/n) furrowed at her. "You sure? If he lives around here, I've probably seen him around."

The boy turned to his female companion, giving her an encouraged look. His innocence was honestly tear-jerking. "Yeah, maybe's she's seen him around." He turned back to the woman. "He's kinda tall and really... scary looking."

She chuckled, nearly thinking he was talking about Sanemi. But there was no possibility in her head that him and this genuine, pure-hearted young boy had ever crossed paths. "With white hair?" she joked, shaking her head.

"Yeah! You've met him?"

She broke from her giggling, gawking at him with wide eyes.

"S-Sanemi?"

"So, you have met him!"

She quickly crossed over her arms, tucking her head to the side with a boiling anger. "Unfortunately," she quipped, not really in the mood to discuss it further. The last thing she needed was a damn conversation about him.

"Really?" the girl inquired, a brow raised, "that's surprising - given his allergy."

She laughed. "Allergy? What could he possibly be allergic to? Joy? Laughter? Happiness?" She wouldn't be surprised by any of it quite honestly.

The brunette blinked at her, waving her hand about the room.

"Oh, you know. Dander, molds, pollens," she listed. "Flowers."

Her mouth went dry. No. No, that couldn't be right. She wouldn't known if he was.

"F-flowers?" she repeated, hoping for some kind of misunderstanding.

"Yes. I hope he hasn't been around here for some while though. I gave him very crucial instructions to not go near any allergens for a bit."

...What...

"Wha- I don't-" she was at a loss for words. "That's... impossible! Why didn't he tell me?!"

The boy stepped toward her. "Well, you seem to know him well. He gets kinda embarrassed about that stuff," he said, obviously aiming to comfort her in her distress.

No wonder his visits were always so short and spontaneous. Oh god, she'd even shoved some of these in his face sometimes so he could get a whiff. Her mind reeled with all those times he'd turn to cough or sneeze. All those times he'd grow red in the face and excuse himself. All those times he'd go still, as if he were holding his breathe. But she'd always thought he had anger issues or something and was using coping mechanisms. Not that he was literally dying!

The two strangers looked at each other in confusion as she had her meltdown, waves of guilt and regret setting upon her. She hadn't even noticed until they were at the counter to check out that they were intending to leave. She'd helped them, of course, afterwards stopping them as they met the trail, changed into her emergency clothing she'd kept in the shop for when she'd come unprepared. And another... hidden.... gift for later on, if things went smoothly.

They made very decent conversation as she accompanied them on their journey, telling tales of their own adventures in their former dangerous work. The stories truly scared her, as she'd had the luxury of never running into that sort of threat in her life. But the stories were also just as devastating. She'd realized then just how little she'd actually known about Sanemi. She hadn't known he was a demon hunter. She hadn't known he'd put his life at such risk. She hadn't even know about his family, nor his brother Genya he'd lost at the end. More guilt began to eat at her. How could she have been so self-absorbed as to never question his past? She could blame his own severe privacy, but she knew it was her own fault as well. Perhaps her actions really were disrespectful. With all he'd gone through, the least she could've done was be nice to him for once. She... should apologize.

When he opened his door, the shock on his face was evident, but it quickly dissolved into bitterness.

"What're you doing here?" he hissed.

Her wavering smile thinned. Oh god this was going to suck.

Dinner was just as tense, the man certainly not appreciating the humorous gift he'd received by the young couple. The bouquet had met the trash bin before they'd even sat down. It only seemed to worsen after they'd begun to eat. Deafening silence and slow chewing filled the room, every attempt at small talk (mostly contributed by the boy she learned was named Tanjiro) was promptly met with a sharp, silencing glare by Shinazugawa. But (Y/n) did appreciate the boy's efforts, as it would momentarily remove his eyes from their lock onto her. Even when she wasn't looking, she could feel the weight of his scowl, the negativity that radiated off of him in nauseating waves. It was honestly not surprising that he was so livid. He'd gone though all trouble to cure himself just to be left high and dry. It was going to take a bit of work to talk her way out of this one...

"Uhm, it was nice to see you again, Sanemi... Good luck with your, uh, illness?"

Kanao pinched his side, and he yelped.

"Yes, it's been fun," she added. "Well, I think it's best we get going. I'm sure you two would like some time to talk." She practically dragged him out of the door, Kamado muttering a few more encouraging goodbyes before cutting out as she slid the door shut behind them, finally leaving the estate.

(Y/n) kept herself composed through it, giving a fake smile and waving as they scurried. She was desperate to finally get a chance to actually talk, albeit being a tad bit nervous with his mood. But he was always a smidge angry, so she already expected some level of pettiness.

What she hadn't expected was for him to ignore her entirely. As she turned around in the absence of Tanjiro and Kanao, she was met with utter abandonment, Shinazugawa swiftly cleaning up the table. She crossed her arms, tapping her foot and waiting oh-so-patiently for this little bit to be over with. Yes, she remembered when she did the same to him when he had tried to apologize to her all that time ago.

"Giving me a taste of my own medicine, huh?" she finally pestered, getting annoyed with his blindness. He gave nothing but a huff, continuing to gather plates and eventually heading into the kitchen. The woman followed after him, an urgency to her step.

"Sanemi, don't you dare try to worm your way out of this one!" She found him setting the dishes into a bin, clearly more interested in washing them than talking to her.

"Why didn't you tell me about your allergies? Or anything else for that matter?! I didn't know about your job or family - I didn't even know you'd ever had either!"

His dish-scrubbing got faster, harder, likely scratching up the delicate ceramic. But his mouth remained sewn shut in a thin line just waiting to crack.

She calmed, her shoulders falling a bit.

"Was I not important enough to tell?"

And he finally snapped.

"What the fuck do you care?!" He violently threw down the dish he was holding into the tub, the material shattering. (Y/n) jumped slightly, not anticipating him to behave so wildly. It gave her a flash of their previous scuffle when he'd hurt her so deeply. His reply only saddened her.

"I'm sorry," she sighed in a cracked voice, eyes glazing over. "I-I'm sorry I wasted your time, I'll leave."

The sniffles and weak patter of her feet as she away tore at his heart strings.

Of course, he was still mad at her, but he didn't her to fucking cry about it. He didn't really... like hearing her cry - no, scratch that, he fucking hated it. Hell, he'd known his distaste for it the day she was whining to him that some jerk had yelled at her for bumping into him and making him to drop all his food, her eyes all wet and red with fat tears. He'd, of course, found the worthless asshole and torn him a new one, but he never quite gotten over how horrid her sadness had made him feel, the pit in his stomach. She'd told him multiple times that she didn't like getting screamed at. He recalled finding it cute at the time, how such an angry, foul-mouthed women could dish but not receive, lest she fall apart. And the realization only begged the question - how had she reacted to him lashing out at her all that time ago? He didn't even want to think about it.

"Wait," he finally spoke, halting her pitiful waddling. He came out to the front room to find her, her body still facing the door and shoulders shaking despite her silence. He had to physically stop himself from comforting her physically. Finally, she looked back at him, eyes teary and wet, her eye makeup smudged.

His hands dragged down his face, a heavy sigh falling upon his lips with long frustration. "Listen... I didn't say anything 'cuz..." He droned off a bit, stubborn in his admission. "Cuz it was... it was just stupid."

"It's not stupid!" She voiced, wiping her eyes and turning to him. "But it's my fault too. I should've asked instead of nagging all the time, huh?" She chuckled softly. It eased him to hear her laugh, but he could still see new tears falling down her cheeks.

"No, no, I guess I should have said something. But that shit's not important to me, I'm not a fucking baby."

"Talking about your feelings doesn't make you a baby. I want you to be sensitive with me!"

He scoffed at her, jerking his head away. No way she liked when he got all soft. She was just saying that to spare his feelings, he thought. She frowned at him.

"Why'd you keep coming to visit when you knew you were allergic."

His face flushed a little, his neck getting hot. "Just... wanted to see you, I guess..." he mumbled with a shrug of his shoulders.

She felt her heart melt and cooed, "Oh my gosh-"

"Ugh, shut up," he groaned, still burning with embarrassment. She practically purred with her curled smile, skating over to him with open arms and wrapping them around him for a tight hug. He cringed back uncomfortably at first but eventually gave into it, realizing she wasn't going to back down anytime soon. Anything to make her stop fucking crying. (Y/n) could feel his body heat rise. "You're so sweet~ I'm sorry I lied last time when you came over. I didn't have a date."

He paused and looked down at her with a dark stare. "What."

(Y/n) back away slowly, giving an apologetic smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make you mad because you were so mean to me."

Sanemi grimaced at her, his anger rising. "What- you-" he stopped himself, "Y'know what? Fine, I guess that's fair," he sighed. "Sorry I was 'mean' to you."

She grinned at him brightly. "So... are you all better now? No allergies or anything?" Sanemi shrugged again at her. "I guess," he muttered, "I just have to take it easy for a while."

The woman pouted. "Aw, I guess that means no kissing then."

"Wha- I didn't say that!"

She laughed, taking much joy at his despair. But he didn't fret for long as she strode back to him, rising to her tip-toes to give him a modest peck on the lips. It wasn't their first kiss, strangely enough. There were plenty of times when she'd lost a bet with his set reward being some lip-locking. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't enjoyed those rare instances, sometimes purposely losing so he'd make the first move with her only appearing to be upset. But it wasn't just kissing that she was aiming for.

As she'd hoped, he pulled her closer from her teasing exchange for a deeper embrace, pressing his mouth against hers nearly desperately. The passing of tongues was instantaneous as their mouths opened to breathe. As usual, he tasted of sweetness, a honeyed melt that coated her tongue being overtaken by his. He always wanted the lead after all. And right on cue, he began roaming his hands about her form.

That's as far as he'd gone in the past, only brief, respectful groping here and there, around her waist, behind her thigh. Getting him to venture further hopefully wouldn't be too difficult.

But her shitty luck said otherwise after several celibate minutes of necking, so she decided to take the lead for a change. Clearly letting him take control wasn't getting them very far, given that it'd taken him nearly a year to even open up. (Y/n) trailed down his lips, kissing and nibbling along his jaw, giggling at his sudden tensing. Dear god, he practically whined when she got to his throat, sucking at his adam's apple that bobbed as he swallowed. But her command didn't last long as he gave an annoyed growl, wrapping two thick hands under her thigh and jolting her up so they could wrap around his waist. She almost didn't register his teeth attacking her neck when her back was suddenly pressed against the cold wood of the wall she swore was several yards away only a second ago.

"S'nemi..." she whined weakly, high off her mind. The moment felt unreal, her having spent so long fantasizing about this very thing. Too long, in fact. He held her with such ease, regardless of his hand injury, his mouth having a mind of its own as it roamed about her sensitive flesh, leaving dark markings in their obsessive wake.

"Wanna-," He panted, absolutely breathless, "wanna fuck you."

(Y/n) froze, flustered by his sudden confession but somewhat understood as a hard presence poked at her from below, signaling the beginnings of an impressive erection.

"C-can't you ask a little b-better than that?" Despite her trying confidence, her desperate body couldn't help but gyrate against him, hungry for more warmth and friction. He snarled against her pulse.

"Please - shit - please lemme fuck you."

Her back was pressed further into the now heated wooden wall, cornered by his large form. His own hips seemed to speed against hers, gentle but thorough, grinding up into her core deliciously and drawing out a slurred moan. Her breath stuttered as his hand crept up to her nape, fingers wrapping around her neck in a hot caress, his lips leaning up to graze her ear.

"I'll make you feel so damn good-" his teeth rand along the shell of her earlobe, his sultry breath sending a shiver down her spine, "wanna take my time with you, get you so riled up you can't even think straight," he whispered.

Oh god, just the thought of letting him have her left her legs shaking around his waist. The man might've been lacking in the romance department but goddamn, she bet he was an absolute fuck-machine with all those years of training and hard-work. He could probably ruin her if he wanted to. But she wanted that power too. She wanted him just as desperate for her touch and attention, just as cold without her body, just as useless without her direction.

(Y/n) locked eyes with his confused stare as she slowly crept out of his hold, her legs carefully lowering to the floor, hands dragging down his front. His mouth practically dropped open as the realization began to settle onto him of what she was doing. Sanemi only continued to ramble on as she descended, his vigor and confidence increasing tenfold while she dropped to her knees. His hands mindlessly wrapped into her hair. Her perfect fucking hair.

"Gonna fucking ruin you, have you screaming for me to break you. Ain't nobody even gonna look at you when I'm done," he rumbled darkly.

She blinked up at him in annoyance before rolling her eyes.

"You talk to much," she chirped before drawing her hands to his hips.

His breathe hitched as her paws finally met his bulge, her mouth watering at the thick shape while she steadily kneaded it like a kitten. Shinazugawa could do nothing but gape at her eagerness, throwing his head back and letting out a long groan. She seemed satisfied enough with the reaction and finally pulled open his robe.

She gasped as his cock sprung out, bare and swollen, no covering whatsoever. Although shocked at his strange lack of any undergarment, she couldn't help but marvel at his length, so long and thick. Her hands seemed so small compared to it, so tiny as they worked together to wrap around the hefty root. (Y/n) really shouldn't have been so astounded by his size, as he'd boasted many times of his generous package. But she'd always thought he was lying then, ashamed of himself like all the other men who bragged of the same thing. But, apparently, he was truly honest. Hell, it was even bigger that he'd described!

She bravely leaned in, closing her lips to the very tip where a droplet of pre had begun to arise. She sweetly kissed it, her tongue gently slipping out to lick up the opaque drop. A string of mixture followed her retreating mouth, stretching between the two and snapping into nothingness.

"Oh fuck," Sanemi sighed, looking down at her with an expression she could only describe as helplessness.

With one more flick of her gaze, she descended onto his cock, carefully taking as much as she could between her lips until the length had grazed her uvula. She pushed down the urge to gag, breathing deeply through her nose before pulling off, sucking her cheeks in and slurping hard on her way to oxygen. Drool gushed down her chin when she pulled back, her lips and tongue fluttering along the underside of his cock, tracing a throbbing vein that pulsed for attention.

His hands moved from her hair to her face, caressing her cheeks tenderly while she kissed and licked and sucked, absolutely worshipping him. Maybe she'd felt bad for upsetting him, maybe she'd wanted to reward his commitment to her, maybe she'd just wanted to suck his dick. Hell, he didn't much give a shit, not when she was doing so fucking good, giving him all the admiration he could've hoped for. Whatever she lacked for in experience, she made up for in unadulterated passion, laving her kitten tongue up his girth with sloppy wet kisses and sucking tightly at the thick head.

"Oh fuck - keep going, just like that sweetheart. Fuck."

It wasn't long before Sanemi felt the comings of release with how pent up he was, having not even pleased himself after their last fight, his balls swollen and just begging to empty. Sure, he could've stuck things out a bit longer, taken her out on a couple of actual dates, worked his way up all the stupid goddamn bases, but with how things were going, he couldn't think of any good reasons why he shouldn't knock her up after this.

Enjoyment course through her veins as she worked, every thread of of stress, tension, and worry draining from her body with each swaying motion. Her lips had a mind of their own it seemed as they wrapped around him like a suckle, milking him mindlessly and wavering only to get air through her lungs. She could feel his cock twitching in her mouth sporadically, his pulse quickening as he panted deeply above her. (Y/n) went even deeper, her gag reflex begging for reprieve but she silenced it, throating his cock as far as she could without giving out. Her legs pressed together as arousal pooled from her empty center.

His eyes rolled back, and he bucked without thinking, lodging himself as deeply as possible, causing her to choke out startled until a hotness smoothed down the back of her throat. Her wide eyes calmed with the warm balm, cum pumping rope after rope into her stomach. She relaxed into it quickly, kneading his tensed thighs and bobbing her head softly to help him ride it out the waves of euphoria.

His muscles finally eased as he finished, now letting out soft groans as she warmed him with her mouth. He took a moment to admire her, how disheveled her pretty hair was, how ruined her makeup looked, how amazing she felt. He took a mental photograph of it all before pulling out, parting from her lips with a deliciously wet noise. A thread of come dripped his slit, but her tongue was quick to lick it up before it fell.

"Shit~," he sighed and brushed back her sweat-glazed hair from her face. "That was perfect." It wasn't an exaggeration at all, she was everything he'd hoped for and more. He rolled his hips against her face as she licked her lips and breathed, rubbing his cock all over her cheeks, face, everything. Just the sight of her nuzzled against him had his cock ticking to life again.

The girl must've noticed his renewed excitement as she repositioned herself to mouth at him again before sinking down, her lips wrapping around him and continuing with flawless precision. He whimpered out and pulled her off tenderly.

"No, no baby, it's ok." She was more dangerous than he'd thought, clearly.

Honestly, she was kind of hoping to continue sucking him like this. Based on his reactions, she must've been good at it, and God was this the perfect stress reliever. But another reason might've been her nerves. She wasn't quite sure she was ready for him to see her fully naked yet.

(Y/n) wiped her sodden mouth and shakily stood up, her sore knees wobbling.

"O-okay," she gave, "Uhm, lay down I guess. Uh, I'll get on top."

"What? No."

She looked at him a puzzled, fearful gaze, growing scared as he came closer while pulling the rest of his clothes off.

"I haven't even made you come yet. And even when we do fuck, there's no way I'm letting you top," he mumbled, stern and clearly not in the mood to argue.

She became even more anxious as he picked at her delicate clothing, firmly tugging at her woven dress and pulling the ties apart. "W-wait!" she squealed and backed away, her back aching when she'd hit the table.

Sanemi groaned. "Ugh, what now? Wait..." he took a long drawl of her features, her shaken hands that hugged her dress closed, her downcast glazed eyes, her discomforted posture and positioning. "Are you nervous?" He gave a surprised chuckle as her face reddened.

"Don't be a jerk!" she whined, tears beginning to dot her eyes with frustration and worry.

"Hey, hey," he crooned softly, more gently than she'd ever heard him speak. She'd be caught dead before she admitted that it comforted her, though. "It's fine, what are you scared about? I told you I'd take care of you, didn't I?" Sanemi came closer to her, eventually gathering her safely into his arms. He rubbed warm circles on the small of her back as he spoke, heating up the supple flesh. His face nuzzled into her neck, his breath making her shiver.

"Y-you've never seen me naked before," she finally grumbled, her voice shaky, "What if you think I'm ugly?" She could feel him relax into her, his throat letting out a deep groan that had her knees buckling. "Oh sweetheart-"

Really? That was all she was worried about? He truly didn't take her for the self-conscious type, with how confident she acted. The same womant that had purposely let him win bets just so he would kiss and feel her up was scared for him to see her naked? She was such a mystery sometimes. He pulled her further into him, eliciting a high squeal and hoisting her up over his shoulder. He easily carried her over to the nearest bedroom, ignoring her constant feared questions of the destination and intentions. Reaching the room, he threw open the door and laid her upon the futon as if she were made of glass.

"The only thing you need to be worrying about is how many times you're gonna come tonight." He smirked and glanced over at her tensed, little form. "You do look kinda weak now that I think about it... definitely don't get off more than once a day - hell, do you even get off more than once a week?"

(Y/n) looked away mortified, more so at his accuracy rather than his accusation. Her lips thinned and squeaked out, "I'm busy, asshole..."

Shinazugawa hummed with the validation. "Yep, thought so." He carelessly began tearing away at her clothes again, laughing at her little yelps and cries to not damage her precious outfit. Her yukata was easily removed, the... undergarments not so much. Sanemi nearly drooled at the sight, her lush figure wrapped in a smooth, velvety green that mimicked that of a quiet wood. He could make out every small detail in the stitch work, every swirl of organic thread that hid her delicates from his hungry eye. It was fucking lingerie.

"Awwww, you wear this for me?" He purred, deep and ravenous.

She quickly buried her face in her paws, squirming on the bed and groaning. "Shut uuuuup!" When she'd thrown it on earlier at the shop, she hadn't actually thought she'd get to the point of showing off, so certain that they'd have a short and wholesome reunion, maybe a kiss or two. As embarrassed as she was that it had gotten this far, her curiosity was larger, begging for her to see this through. It wouldn't hurt to try... right?

His lips felt like molten lava on her body, a glorious trail of fire that dragged from her face to her neck to her chest. A rush of apprehension yet relief filled her as a single hand unclipped the back of her bralette, the fabric easily falling from her gathered flesh onto the bedding. She was grateful he didn't make a big scene of seeing her naked breasts like she knew some men did, his mouth, instead, doing all the talking, pressing gentle kisses atop her bosom. Her skin flushed with the attention, each whisper of affection adding fuel to fire that was running rampant in the pit of her belly, growing with each second. The woman couldn't help but whine when his tongue finally met her nipple, suckling the nub into his boiling mouth. Her fingers tugged at his snowy locks, grasping them harder and harder each time he switched from left to right, his large hand squeezing the lone tit with every shift. The intimacy of the act alone had her desperate, slick drenching her panties and sliding down her thighs.

"Nemi, p-please-" she mewled, eyes screwed shut with the tension and need.

She heard the man growl as he descended further down her body, drawing small patterns with his tongue with every inch of her flesh and sucking bruising marks.

Her tits were nice, obviously, but he wasn't so kind as to hide the fact that he was more excited to get a taste of another part of her. He took specially care at her lower belly, nibbling on the chubby pouch that kept something so sacred inside. Sanemi nearly trembled with temptation as her sweet musk could be smelt from here, his fingers dancing along the sticky part of her inner thighs to spread them. He licked his lips as he finally, finally, drew downward, placing himself in front of her clothed center. The wet fabric was evident, her neglected cunt absolutely seething for any form of attention. His body moved before he could stop himself, his face nuzzling into the soaked covering and taking deep, gulping breathes, his strong arms keeping her too spread to stop him.

"-Smell so fucking good... bet you taste like candy," he moaned.

(Y/n) writhed in his hold. completely against... whatever the fuck he was doing. "Sanemi, stop it! Y-you're so weird! Stop... smelling it..."

He tutted at the weak insult, responding with a clip of his teeth at the lacy top of the panties. He effortlessly tore them from her nethers, burning the flesh and drawing out a gasp. "Shhhhh," he whispered, "Wanna suck you."

Sanemi was quickly overtaken by how perfect she looked, her cunt lips all swollen and glistening with slick, her little clit poking out and twitching ever-so-slightly for some love. She could feel his brawny arms clench around her thighs, feel his hot breath fan across her wet lips, feel how eager he was to devour her. And once again, she was rendered too speechless to stop him.

His tongue was the first to meet her, licking a wide stripe up her glossy slit. He shuttered at the syrupy taste of her. It was close to torture as he made out with her pussy, his mouth embracing her with open-mouth kisses and closing in around her pulsing nub, giving it a slow suck. She was already so amped up for release, so teased for it, yet the feeling only rose, drawing further and further toward the edge but never quite falling from it. She tore at his mane, pushing him deeper into her kitten, praying for the intensity to break. And he was there for the journey, in his own world of euphoria. He would live here if he could, forever breathing in the saccharine scent and nursing on her ripened nub. He let himself get lost in it for a while - he deserved a treat for all his troubles after all - but eventually he composed himself, setting a flawless rhythm of tongue-flicking to get her off.

And only then was the flip switched, her pleasure climbing and climbing until she met the brink, the thread pulled tight.

"C'mon, baby," he growled, "come on my tongue."

(Y/n) sobbed when she came, her clit throbbing between his lips as he gave it a strong suck, relishing the gush of honey that filled his mouth. He continued with his meal, licking up every messy drop she gave and kissing her fluttering hole. Her sensitivity made all of it agony, every kiss and lick driving her closer and closer to insanity. She tried to wiggle away, but her efforts were futile with his unbreakable grip of her, his motions only becoming quicker and stronger, breaking her containment.

"Please, Nemi, please... i-it hurts," (Y/n) begged. He snickered at her submission, finally drawing back and wiping his glazed maw with the back of his hand. He leisurely kissed back up her body, savoring each and every sigh of pleasure she gave him. His hands pawed at her hips and breasts, massaging the blushing plushness that filled out his hands like dough. Her thighs wrapped around his hips as his lips met her throat, sucking even more hickeys and bruises over the previous ones, he didn't want them fading for quite some time.

She could feel his cock already pressing at her, laying across her hip hard as stone and leaking pre-cum over her sweated skin. Despite her tire, the girl could feel the growings of want again, an emptiness eating at her from the inside out. "Mmmm-," she sighed, "Jus' put it in." Her laughed into her jawline, pausing his meddling. Even in her exhaustion, she rolled her eyes, reaching between their bodies for his piece. He was immediately taken aback by her action, but gave no stop to it, letting her grab for him. He liked this side of her, the side that just took what she needed from him. If he wanted a selfless woman, he wouldn't be in this position in the first place.

Her fist wrapped around the base, slid down the length of it until she found the tip, then pushed it to her opening. She had to lift her hips a bit to meet it halfway since he was being a dick, but she knew what she was doing. Kinda. Sorta.

Just when she gathered the tip inside her, already sweating at the stretch, he thrust his hips, jabbing a thick chunk into her. She yelped out in pain, tears dotting her vision. Her mused at her ruined appearance, the clench her body gave as he penetrated her. She was really having a hard time taking him, a pride blooming in his chest that he was just that fucking gifted. But that wasn't to say he wasn't having difficulty as well.

"Goddamnit, you're tight - might not even fit, nn, all the way," he mumbled.

"N-no," she pleaded, "It'll fit."

(Y/n) wrapped her legs tighter around him, pulling him in hard, swallowing him into her heat. He nearly toppled over right then and there, so overwhelmed and astonished with her demonstration of carnal strength. Yet he could still hear her labored breaths, the wetness of her tears falling to her hairline in her efforts. It was angering almost, how careless she was to do such a thing. He would have never forced her to hurt herself just to please him, nor should she fear abandonment for failing to give him what he wanted. He'd have to straighten that out later.

Her cunt heaved around him, the collected slick at least providing some relieve to the pain she must have beared. Oh god did it hurt. He was so huge, it felt as if she'd been torn open from the inside. But she didn't care how much it burned, she wanted this part to be over with, she wanted to feel good already. Every lingering second of not being filled had the emptiness inside her growing, like a pit of darkness. And while she was sure some blood was shed, at least her guts finally had something to suck on.

"Y-you... you c-can move now, I think...," she rasped, her head still foggy from the fullness. He hummed at the request yet seemed to ignore her as he bent down to her chest, take a hard nipple into his mouth. (Y/n) bit her lip and whined at the added stimulation.

"S'nemi, move-" she spoke again, stern but shaky. She felt him smile against her breast.

"I dunno, kinda like it right here. I might just have you warm my cock all night," he purred, still sucking at her teat. She blushed at the confession, giving his face a little push away from her chest.

"What?" he laughed, "You're good at it."

She denied him any reply, turning away in sheepishness. She was sure it was just sex-talk, but it was nice knowing that he felt good being warmed by her. Her cunt fluttered softly around him, oozing more slick onto his member and beginning to stick to his thatch of pubic hair. A soft moan spilled from her with his responding roll of his hips, pressing the tip of himself further into her cervix. She hadn't expected it to feel so heavenly already, especially when she'd been in such pain only a moment before. His parts hit deep, filling her to the point of nearly bursting. She swore she could feel him in her chest.

"N-nemi - oh my god...," she mewled.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. Just let me take care of you."

She didn't even have to ask twice as he began grinding into her, churning her insides like butter while her cream spewed out to gloss his cock. Her arms weakly wrapped around him, desperate for something to hold onto. It already felt like too much, the thickness, the length. She was gonna split in half, she could feel it. But he went slow, thankfully, letting her get accustomed to the overbearing fit. Her pussy couldn't stop clutching around him, high off the sensation of his length twitching inside her and scratching the itch that she could never quite reach. Drool threatened the corner of her lips, his rhythm of humping so deep and smooth. She could already feel herself go dumb.

"That's a pretty face you're makin'," Sanemi hummed, "And I haven't even started yet." She furrowed. What did he mean?

Her eyes rolled back as he delivered a powerful blow, drawing his hips back several long inches before snapping them back and pummeling into her cunt. Oh god. He continued the harsh thrusting, holding her little body to his chest and pumping viciously into her weeping pussy. She felt everything, from the hot veins that lined his length to the way he filled her out completely, every sensation gathered into a clump of overstimulation, tearing at her nerves one by one. Yet it was too little at the same time. As crazy as it was, it still felt as if he was going easy on her, her hungry cunny still raging to be ruined.

The moans and pleas fell out her mouth before she could stop them, stupidity literally being fucked into her. (Y/n) couldn't even hope to keep up and simply held onto his back as fiercely as she could, eventually biting down on his shoulder for an outlet.

She wasn't the only victim of it though. Sanemi, too, could feel himself being driven to the brink of insanity. He'd thought her mouth felt good, but dear god was her cunt another story. Her tiny pussy had a mind of its own, sucking him in so hard he felt his head get dizzy. Fuck, she was dangerous. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stay off of her after this. Just the thought of her constantly hanging off his dick had him going feral, viciously snapping his hips into hers without a second thought. And don't even get him started on the babies they would make. If it were up to him, she'd eternally have a baby in her belly, the consequence of being a dumping ground for every precious drop of his cum. He licked his lips at the thought.

Shit, she was close. She just needed a little more, just a bit.

"Harder, Nemi, right there!" she squealed as he jammed into her sweet spot, reaching an arm down from his back to press between her folds, quickly flicking at her bead. So close.... so close... almost-

It felt cruel to leave her hole so quickly, crumbling the chase of her orgasm that he knew was only a hair's breadth away. She sobbed when he yanked out of her gaping entrance, her hips jerking toward him at the sudden absence that had her feeling so horribly empty. But her grief was short lived as he spun her around with a growl, shoving her top half into the bed with a hand to the center of her shoulder blades. The other paw curved her hips up, raising her ass high in the air. He filled her back up in an instant, her thighs trembling at the sudden reunion. But she quickly eased, her bones going soft and brain turning to mush as he resumed the primal fucking. Sounds of sloshing wetness furnished her ears along with her own breathy moans, each thrust providing a reminder of just how soaked she was. And she only got wetter, like an endless fountain of hydration.

Sanemi groaned at the sight of her tiny, little pussy taking him at this angle, her poor kitty straining and stretching to take in every inch of his shaft. The girl was like a ragdoll in his hands now, doing nothing but drool into the sheets and let him ravage her as he wished. He nearly laughed at how silent she was now, the only obvious answer being that he had finally dicked her down to submission.

Her climax began to claw at her again, the hills of it coming one after another until she stood at the tip-top of it, creeping toward the edge.

"Jus' like that... jus' like that...," she mumbled into the saliva-drenched bedding, throwing her ass back into him for more friction. The impact of his heavy balls smacking across her clit only drew her higher, rapturous shocks shooting up her body with each wet slap.

He felt himself getting close as well, his cock jumping inside of her excitedly. She was just too tight; it was like she was sucking the cum out of him straight from the source.

"Fuuuuuuck, where - hah - where you want my cum?" he groaned, needing an answer fast. As much as he wanted to, he knew she probably didn't want to take any risks. He knew she wasn't on anything, and even if she was, she probably wouldn't like the mess afterward.

But he was wrong. She tried to think for a moment, she did. But all she could focus on was how good she felt and the way her body fit so well under his. Her eyes scrunched, attempting a thought.

Where you want my cum?

Cum. You. Where. Want.

Want. Cum. You.

You. Want. Cum

Cum.

Her cunt tightened.

"'nside..."

His ears strained to listen to what she said, the timeline closing as his balls drew tight. "Huh???" he urged again. He leaned down to her, nearing his ear toward her babbling lips. (Y/n) turned to free her voice, panting.

"I-I-Inside," she repeated. His heart stopped.

"C-cum... i-inside... me."

He groaned loud, silencing himself by biting into the pillow next to her head. Her disgustingly hot words threw him over embarrassingly quick, his hips stilling as deep as he could manage whilst his weight gave, suffocating her beneath him. His seed spilled hotly into her pulsing cunt, thick spurts of white filling her starved womb while his balls throbbed.

She, at first, loathed his lack of movement, angered that he had yet again left her hanging from release. Until she felt the warmth. The pleasure was instantaneous, her insides purring at the searing hot milk that flooded her. She could feel how thick it was too, how copious the amount as her uterus labored to make room for such a feast. Yet she still clenched around him vigorously, wanting to drain every drop into herself and receive every ounce of ecstasy it rewarded her. And before she realized it, she was coming, clamping down hard and gushing juices around him with a shrill cry.

The man allowed himself a few moments to gather his bearings, praying that post-nut clarity give him some idea of what to do. But all he felt was exhaustion. Sanemi forced himself to roll over, taking her with him so they lie on their sides. He was surprised she was still breathing after being squashed.

"D-dont even think about falling asleep," he huffed after feeling her breathing begin to even with unconsciousness. "We're not done yet." Why the hell did he always have to open his fucking mouth? He was done for and he knew it.

She whined sleepily and slowly manuevered herself to turn around, losing his flaccid cock in the process but he promptly reinserted himself. "But I'm tiiiiiiiiiired."

"Don't care."

He felt content that she didn't argue, clearly having gained some respect for his manhood as she simply snuggled into him, pressing her face into his warm chest. They remained silent for a few moments, regaining their breath and calming their heartbeats. However, his softened cock still remained cooped up inside her.

"If I let you keep it in me all night, will you let me sleep?" she offered. He sighed at her insistence but gave in.

"I'll think about it."

She smiled softly, nuzzling under his chin with affection.

He couldn't stop himself from drifting off, comfortable in the safety of her engulfing heat. "'M g'nna f'ck you s'hard t'morro...," he managed to mutter as his lids shut. Despite being half asleep, she giggled and kissed his neck.

They'd deal with everything later, get all this relationship and contraceptive shit under control. Right now, he was just glad to have her with him, cuddling into him so adorably with her stupid little smile. He tilted down, pressing his nose into her messy locks.

Flowers.

-

-

-

@acehyacinth

@mrsgtomioka

@chaik1

@tomiokas-lunchbox

@keimuras

@akazaapologist

@prostheticmind

@doumakiss

@uchihabucketlist

@tired-writer04

@magoliaomega

@animeblog123

@sparklyphantom

[carionto]

Humans seem to have a "switch"

Team building exercises and competitive events are commonplace around the Galaxy. Everyone needs a distraction from the daily grind every now and then, and large organizations and long-term deployments make it essential for such "ice-breaker" activities, both to help integrate newcomers as well as reduce the chance of veterans becoming numb to life.

Yarvut Lyetzsnezhniiy had recently been assigned as a Cultural Analyst to the Human embassy aboard the Coalition Governing Station. While highly professional on the job and quite amicable, but wasn't all that into small talk, and once the workday was over, he was gone. No overtime, no hanging out, nothing.

When time came for the next publicly broadcast Cross-Embassy Game Series, where as many members from each species represented would be paired up with each other over the course of several days and partake in a game both agreed to in advance. Most of these were of the mental variety, and were honestly kinda boring to observe, but some pairings opted for more... active activities.

On the second day the Humans and another bipedal species called the Jorval had agreed to a competition not dissimilar to laser tag. This had actually been proposed by the previous Cultural Analyst and recently been added to the roster with some modifications. Two teams of, in this case, 15 participants on each side, as that was how many Humans were available that day without hindering the core operations of their embassy, so a few Jorvals had to sit out.

They entered a large spherical room with about a 300 meter diameter. Once they were done with the formalities, rules about safety, and yadda yadda - they turned off the gravity. Using small boosters on their heels, knees, elbows, and back, the teams floated to their starting locations on opposite ends of the sphere. And now the obstacles gently puttered in from all sides, turning a pristine empty space into a jungle of jarringly colored geometric shapes, natural looking plant replicas, and numerous traversable but obscuring meshes that come in all colors and patterns. Where once you could observe the entire area from anywhere, now there were scarcely any vistas that would allow one to see more than 50 meters away.

All for a simple capture the flag laser tag game. The Jorval have fairly long lifespans and, though they have not engaged in any wars for generations, military training is compulsory and seen as a matter of course by most of their society, so even the most desk-dedicated office workers are in generally good shape and have some reflexive combat moves at the ready. The Human team on the other hand, had one guy who used to be in the army... 40 years ago, two had taken up martial arts as a hobby, and Yarvut who turns out was an air-soft enthusiast. The rest were your typical either slightly too thin or too thick office workers when it came to their physical readiness.

Before the signal to start, the army guy, Brandon, gave out some tips and pointers, though it was likely going over everyone's heads as they tried to adjust to moving around in zero-g. No sooner had the game started, Yarvut dashed off on his own. Everyone did kinda feel he might do a lone wolf thing, but that, unsurprisingly, was short lived, as not even the two minute mark had struck when Yarvut found himself ambushed from three sides and was now locked in his suit gently pressed up against a tree-like obstacle with a modest view of the Jorval turf.

It would be a best of three, and, predictably, the first match ended with a strong Jorval victory by the seventeenth minute mark. However, it was not a total wipeout as the initial minutes might have suggested. Half of the remaining Humans were taken out within five, but by then Brandon had gotten used to moving in all directions and keeping tabs on the z-axis as well, and was coordinating a defensive tactic with the remaining members. He knew they would lose this match, but he was bent on making the Jorval earn it and show him what they could really do. In the end, every Human was taken out, and the Jorval had lost only three members, though all of which fell victim to the final holdout against just four Humans.

When it was time to swap home bases for the next match, before Brandon could start elaborating on his new tactics, Yarvut surprised everyone by huddling everyone together for a tactical discussion himself. From his position early on he was left with nothing else to do but carefully and calmly observe how the Jorval moved, where they focused their sights on, how close they tend to stick to each other, and other minor details which Brandon was deeply impressed by. Using this newfound perspective and knowledge, Brandon came up with a far more refined strategy for both offense and defense.

Seemingly bolstered by the humiliating defeat, the rest of them were also more motivated, and the entire Human team now gave off, what the neutral observers of the games described as, a different aura. Like something had flipped, that turned this group of people they knew and worked with and respected and generally liked, into something menacing, a focused machine almost. The look in their eyes through the visors sent shivers down most everyones spines or equivalents whenever a camera operator decided to do a zoom in.

Upon the start signal, the Humans split into five squads, one pair on defense duty, one four person team on patrol around the immediate vicinity, and three squads of three on offense, taking the longest route all around the edge of the sphere going for a three-sided ambush of the Jorval's home turf. It was amazing to see how much smoother and more coordinated each Human moved now, when before it was the first time most of them were expected to maneuver in zero-g using suits they had never worn before. You could literally see them adapting and intuitively getting a better by the minute at handling the booster-based movement, and navigating and keeping tabs on all three dimensions. Some were better at it than others, but even the most clumsy of the Humans was still visibly more comfortable now than thirty minutes ago.

The patrol squad had a quick skirmish with a Jorval scout, paralyzing his legs before he made a rapid retreat and taking no wounds themselves. Then a minute of silence, interrupted by a burst of activity coming from the Jorval base, then another minute of silence.

Yarvut was the only of the attack squad members to return, his left arm paralyzed, but he rushed past the defense members to plant the enemy flag in their base and take the win. It was now 1-1.

Another huddle, nobody even needed to call for it, now everyone on the Human team had fully switched to "hunter mode", as a Human audience member called it.

The third and deciding match wasn't even close. Once again, five squads, but this time three each and all in attack formation. They did not give the Jorval even time to fully disperse before the Humans came barreling through the obstacles just thirty seconds after the start signal. Shock and awe - every Jorval was taken out in the next twenty seconds, no Human losses.

Combining what everyone conveyed about their opponents from the second match with Yarvut's keen observations from the first, Brandon figured the Jorval were behaving in a standardized and heavily drilled pattern and would likely repeat it for the third, perhaps with minor alterations expecting another three-way ambush or some other sneaky and delayed attack. Their scout had also not arrived all that fast, so they must have trained to be very methodical in their approach. Brandon also employed a methodical defense the first time, then a coordinated precision strike, so, naturally, it was time for a sledgehammer approach.

And it worked beautifully, completely catching everyone off guard, even the audience. Blink and you missed the entire action. Everyone knows Humans can be reckless and even downright crazy, but to witness them going full "hunter mode" was a first for practically all observers. And this was just some office workers and an elderly former low ranking soldier. What kind of monsters were their actual well trained and fully geared up soldiers then?

_______________________

I really want to limit how much I describe the sentient aliens as they are not the focus of these stories, but it would be awkward to keep saying "those bipedal aliens", so a compromise this time. How they look beyond bipedal I'll leave entirely to your imagination.

[peaceteaa11]

Little Green Dress

Oneshot - Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader (Y/N)

Ratings: Mostly clean, suggestive comments and actions throughout.

Warnings: Bullying, strong language, harassment, sadness and self doubt. Let me know if I missed something.

Summary: You are nervous, but for a good reason. Hanging out with Eddie's friends is scary considering how different you look from them all. Not to mention they don't seem to like you all that much, hopefully you can change their minds this time. Of course now there is a new factor involved... Eddie's Ex will be in attendance tonight.

A/N: I wrote this at 3am because sleep will not stop me from thinking about our beloved Eddie. Here is a quick oneshot while I work on finishing up Love Luna and My Rockstar. NOT PROOFREAD

Word Count: not sure atm

***Go check out my other Eddie fics! Eddie Munson Masterlist***

You are perfect just the way you are.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

You couldn’t help but be nervous to be hanging out with Eddie’s friend group again. They all were very intimating even when they didn’t mean to be. You stuck out like a sore thumb when you hung out with them. Dressed in floral patterns, flowy sundresses, and pastels all the time whereas they all dressed like Eddie. Leather, metal, and ripped up jeans. Of course they all looked good doing it too.

You felt their judgements the first time you met them. Why would Eddie pick you of all people to date. You two looked like something out of a romcom that Steve would force you to watch when y’all were younger. Your brother was always the more sensitive one even though you looked to be the obvious answer.

You look on the mirror. Your green sundress flowing around your thighs as you twist and twirl. You love this dress but you question if it’s right for a night out with Eddie and his friends. But the outfit struggle wasn’t even the worst part of this all.

Eddie’s ex was tagging along tonight as well. Her name is Gemma. You haven’t met her before but Eddie promises she’s sweet but that doesn’t stop the worrying and honestly… jealousy from building up in your stomach. Gareth invited her.

You got the feeling that Gareth didn’t like you that much the last time you saw him. He was standoffish and a bit mean. You tried to smile through it for Eddie but honestly you couldn’t understand what you were doing wrong. Tonight you hoped you could break through to him and become friendly at least but him inviting Eddie’s ex girlfriend makes you think he’s not up for that.

Eddie was a bit peeved when he found out Gareth invited her but you could tell it was only because he saw the look on your face when he told you. Your face turned pale and you looked as if you were going to have a panic attack. Eddie assured you there was nothing to worry about.

But as you stare yourself down in the mirror holding up another dress to your body you felt yourself beginning to do just that. Panic. What if she was still in love with Eddie. He was the one who broke up with her after all. He wasn’t too specific as to why but still.

Your eyes flash between the green dress you have on and the blue dress in your hand. Light blue with a shimmer to it when it moved. You decide to change.

Once in the blue dress you smile. The soft shimmer maybe you feel more elegant than before. It was nice. God. You looked in the mirror again. All ready to go. Makeup done. Hair done, curls bouncing against your shoulders. Dress done. You grab a pair of heeled sandals and you sigh.

Here goes nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie pulls up to your house and hops out of his van you rush out the front door. You close the door behind you and just as it latches and you smile at Eddie your brothers voice scares you.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Steve’s voice is laced with worry. You turn to see him sitting on the banister to the porch drinking a soda.

“It’ll be fine.” You smile at him. You had made the mistake of confiding too much in your brother many times and this was one of those times.

“Call me if you need me.” He hums softly. You nod in response and skip down the stairs to your boyfriend who has opened the passenger side door for you.

Eddie had in ripped black jeans, his regular white Reeboks, and a loose fitting Dio shirt on. His shirt is worn and light under his black leather jacket and usual denim vest. His patches growing in number everyday it seems.

“Hi baby bat.” He smiles as he pulls you into a hug.

“Hi.” You giggle. You pull back and Eddie whistles lowly.

“Have I ever mentioned I love this dress.” He scans your figure and lets his hand slide down to your hips.

“Eddie. I’ve only worn this dress once before.” You giggle and he squeezes your hips.

“Yes. And I fell in love with it.” He hums and leans in to kiss you until your brother shouts.

“No!” Steve growls and Eddie glances over your shoulder to see you brother, hands on his hips, glaring at the two do you.

“Steve!” You shout turning around to look at him with wide eyes.

Eddie leans down into you and smiles against your ear. “Maybe we should get going. I want a kiss.” He whispers softly. You giggle and nod.

“You keep her safe Munson!” Steve shouts as Eddie helps you into the van and shuts the door.

“Don’t I always?” He smirks and hops in the van himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the two of you pull up to the Hideout Eddie immediately throws the car in park and grabs your hand.

“Finally.” He chuckles and tugs you closer across the center console. You giggle as he presses his lips to yours and smiles into the kiss.

When you pull apart Eddie hums and shakes his head slightly. He licks his lips and grins. “Ready?”

You nod despite the fact that you are so not ready. You look down at your pastel blue shimmering dress and for some reason regret it. This group of people really knew how to make you rethink everything at least ten times over.

Eddie rounds the van and helps you out. The two of you start to walk and you quickly grab onto the sleeve of his leather jacket for comfort. He chuckles and pulls you into his side. He looks down at you and smiles his stunningly sweet smile as always.

“Don’t be nervous.” He kisses your temple and leads the way in. God. That’s easier said than done when you looked like a pastry compared to him. “Oh there they are!” He shifts his arm from around you and quickly grabs your hand instead.

The bar is rather packed tonight considering the fact that it’s a Saturday. The busiest day for the hideout.

You bite you lip as Eddie leads you up to his friends. Gareth stands there with Jeff, both laughing. Jeff seemed to be the nicer of the two. The only one who seemed to like you last time. Dawn and Crystal both frown when they see you but quickly smile when their eyes fall on Eddie.

“Eddie is here!” Dawn smiles brightly. Gareth looks up and you can see him sigh. Jeff is the only one who smiles at you. He grins and gives you a smile wave to which you eagerly return.

Once in front of all of them you can’t help but slink into Eddie’s side. Gareth swigs his beer while rolling his eyes and Jeff quickly elbows him.

“Hey guys.” Eddie moves from you and you find yourself standing awkwardly hands at your side. Eddie hugs the girls and before fist bumping the guys. He moves to stand back at your side to which you welcome. You wraps his arm around your shoulder and you take this moment to hide from Dawns bright blue eyes.

“Cute dress.” She hums. Nodding to you slightly. Her comment makes Gareth chuckle and you can’t help but feel like you’re the butt of a joke here.

“Thanks.” You say softly.

“Gemma should be here soon.” Gareth grins widely at Eddie and wiggles his brows. You almost wonder if your missing something. Jeff rolls his eyes and looks at you with a sad smile.

“Cool.” Eddie hums.

“Speak of the devil and she shall appear.” Crystal smirks looking over your shoulder. You and Eddie turn to look and your eyes nearly drop from your skull.

In front of you is a tall girl with a bright smile walking towards you guys. Her long black hair is straight and falls smoothly over her shoulders. Her top is a tight green tank top with rips all about and she’s wearing a tight little black leather skirt to go with. When you finally get to her shoes you see tall black strappy heels.

She looks like a model. A rockstar’s girlfriend.

When she finally reaches you she immediately holds out her arms and smiles.

“Hi Eds.” She hums and wraps her arms around him causing him to let you go and quickly wrap his around around her waist. They squeeze each other tightly and when she pulls back you don’t miss her glancing at his lips.

You feel like vomiting. You feel so small and insignificant around her. Not only was she tall and gorgeous, her and Eddie looked like the picture perfect metal couple.

Her eyes shift to you and she grins. “Cute dress.” She hums and extends her hand. “I’m Gemma. You must be?”

You freeze when her hand touches yours. She has the smoothest skin. “Y/n.” You squeak.

“Cute.” She hums again. She then passes you and begins to hug the others.

Soon enough all of you are standing in a circle chatting. Well they are all chatting. You are standing quietly beside Eddie gripping his jacket sleeve.

When Gemma laughs it’s angelic you think to yourself as you watch Eddie watch her.

“So Eds.” Gemma smirks at him. “How have you been. Babe.” She punctuates the last word and you quickly look away from the two of them. You glance around the bar behind you before looking back, eyes landing on Jeff who is watching you. You smile softly and he returns the favor before taking another swig of beer.

“I’ve been good. What about you?” He smiles at her and you feel your stomach turn. This was a bad idea. Your brother was right. You should’ve just stayed home and watched shitty romance movies with him. You would much rather wonder how Eddie was acting around his ex rather than see it in full swing.

“Lonely. I’ve missed seeing you…” her eyes flick to you and then back to Eddie. “All of you of course.”

“You should come around more often.” Gareth cuts in quickly.

“I think I might just.” Gemma hums. As she twirls her hair around her finger.

“We’d all love that!” Dawn grins brightly.

“Yea!” Crystal giggles and spits her drink.

“How about you Eds, babe.” Gemma smirks at him and her eyes narrow. She points at him with her long sharp nail. “Do you miss having me around.”

You can’t help but glance down at you nails. Short and honestly a bit dirty from gardening earlier. You garden when you have to much on your mind and honestly. You wish you were gardening now.

“Sure I do Gem.” Eddie’s voice is gentle and sweet with her. And you don’t miss the nickname. God you feel sickly and invisible.

“Y/n.” Jeff says softly to get your attention. You look at him, ripping your eyes away from Eddie and Gemma. As they stare at each other, standing directly across from one another.

“Hm?” Jeff, who stands across from you smiles as you hum in response.

“You okay? You look… pale.” Jeff’s words seem to catch Eddie’s attention as you looks down at you for the first time in a while.

“Baby? You okay?” He hums and places his hand on your cheek.

You nod. “I’m good. Just thirsty I think. I’ll go get myself a drink.”

“I’ll come with you.” He hums.

“Get me my usual won’t you Eds?” Gemma smiles at him, batting her eyes. You felt a bit angry at this but more than anything. You felt sick.

“Sure Gem.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Eddie wait at the bar for the drinks as you watch the hideout patrons busy dancing and laughing. From here you can’t see Eddie’s friends and honestly. It sends a wave of relief over you.

“Baby.” Eddie’s voice breaks you from your staring. You look up at him and he smiles at you. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

“I don’t think your friends like me very much.” You force a small laugh but Eddie’s face shifts from smiley to serious.

“Sure they do. What’s not to like about you.” He grabs your face with both his hands and presses his lips firmly to yours. You melt into him a bit until he pulls back. “You just gotta jump in okay? Speak up and they’ll love you! Just like I do.” You raise your brow at this and he chuckles. “Okay maybe not just like I do.” He smirks as his hands slide down your body and quickly find your ass.

He pulls you into his body and hums to himself slightly before meeting your gaze with big brown eyes filled with lust. “If we were alone. I’d wreck you. In this pretty pastel dress.” He smirks causing you to blush deeply.

You shove your face into his chest and shake your head. “Eddie!” You giggle into him and he chuckles back.

“Gimme a kiss.” He says quickly. You pull back without hesitation and lean up onto your tiptoes. He squeezes your ass tightly as your lips meet and then pulls back. “I gotta use the bathroom. Will you take the drinks back to the group?”

“You…” you want to say… ‘you want me to take this back and hangout with your friends alone?!’ But instead you stop yourself and smile. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

“Baby bat. Don’t be nervous. You’re too lovable for any of them to hate you.” He quickly kisses your cheek and heads off into the back of the bar.

You grab your water and chug it down before grabbing Eddie and Gemma’s beers which you don’t miss the fact that they are the same. You start to head back over and just as they come into view again a guy accidentally cuts you off. You don’t mind as you try to slip past him while he talks with a friends.

As you try to weave your way back to them you half when you hear Gareth’s voice. “I told you she was freaky.” He chuckles and you hear laughter from several others.

“What is she wearing by the way?” Gemma’s smooth voice breaks through the music.

“Oh! She always dresses like that!” Crystals voice this time.

“She looks like a wannabe Barbie.” Gemma laughs cause the others to join.

“Oh and she is always clinging to Eddie like a lost puppy. It’s annoying!” Gareth slurs his way through the sentence. Then you hear Jeff cut in.

“Hey. She’s just different from us.” He adds in and you feel a bit protected but it doesn’t stop the others.

“I can’t believe Eddie actually likes her. I mean she’s not exactly his type.” Gemma scoffs.

“Yea! When they first started dating I literally laughed in his face I couldn’t believe it. She’s like a child to be honest. Always dressed like a doll.” Gareth jabs. More laughter erupts. You feel the tears pricking your eyes.

“We’ll. It’s still early in the relationship. He has time to change his mind.” Crystal says.

“Yea. To make the right decision.” Dawn giggles.

“I just don’t see what he sees in her.” Gemma says harshly. “I mean. We were much more compatible than whatever the fuck she is. I mean. She’s literally a pint sized, pastel covered nightmare.”

“Well. Eddie was totally flirting with you tonight. I think the old spark was coming back to him.” Crystal giggles like a schoolyard girl.

“Yea. I noticed that. Honestly. Do you guys think if I gave him the option he’d actually choose her. I don’t think so.” Gemma says cockily.

“Honestly. That was my plan. Get you here to knock some sense back into Eddie. Cause there is no way I can handle being around her much longer.” Gareth groans.

“What? Why would you do that?” Jeff asks sharply.

“Because she’s annoying Jeff.”

“She never says anything to us. She’s nothing but nice. I don’t understand y’all. Plus Eddie seems to actually like her why would you wanna ruin that.”

“Oh please Jeff. He only likes her cause Gemma was out of the picture.” Crystal cuts in.

“Ya think? I honestly can’t with how sexy he looks tonight.” Gemma practically moans as she finishes her sentence.

“Bottom line is. Y/n is annoying. And she’s got to go.” Gareth hums casually.

Just then the guy and his friend decide to head to the bar and you are there staring at the group. You blink back your tears as their eyes land on you. Gareth shrinks back when he sees you. His eyes going wide. Jeff frown at you with sad eyes and Gemma and the girls all try to hide their giggles.

You quickly walk over to them and smile but you know it probably looks sad.

“Eddie is in the bathroom but wanted you to get you drink. So here ya go.” You smile at Gemma having to tilt your head up slightly.

Gemma takes the drink from your hand and smiles. “Thanks.” She immediately takes a swig. “You drink as well?” She questions.

You nod but shrug “Yeah but not tonight. This is Eddie’s.” You look down to the floor briefly.

“Mmm so he still gets my usual. How sweet.” Gemma hums. You look up and her eyes are still on you. Everyone’s eyes are on you. The only one who seems nervous that you heard though seems to be Gareth.

“Yeah sweet.” You force a smile. “Actually could you hold this for him. I’m gonna go make a call.” You hand her his drink and she grins like an animal.

“Sure.”

“Who are you calling?” Jeff asks quickly. His eyes scanning you with what seems like worry.

“My brother.” You frown and turn away.

“Awe cute.” Gemma giggles.

As you rush away back towards the bar and phone you hear Gemma laugh loudly. “You think she heard us?”

~~~~~~~~~

“Steve you were right.” You sob into the phone finally letting the tears streak down your cheeks.

“What happened?!” Steve says into the phone and you can heard him grabbing his car keys already. And you are beyond thankful.

“Please just come get me.”

“I’m coming. I’m coming. Stand out front. I’ll be there in five.”

The hideout was ten minutes away but you knew your brother would be here in five just like he said. You hang up the phone and sniffle before pushing your way to the front door.

As you step out into the cool night air and shivered a bit. You rub your hands up and down your arms praying Steve would get there quicker.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder and you spin around. You half expect to be met with Eddie’s worried brown eyes but instead you are met with a random stranger.

“Whatcha doing out here s’all lone?” The man slurs.

You shrug his hand off your shoulder and step back.

“Waiting on my brother.” You say flatly.

“Why don’t you come back in and let me buy you a drink, pretty thing.” He reaches out for you again but stumble back once more.

“No thanks. Please. Just leave me alone.” You practically beg but it seems to only upset the man.

He grabs you by your shoulders and squeezes you.

“No need to be a bitch.” He spits and you turn your face away from him. “Just come inside with me. Or bet yet my car is over there.”

“No I don’t want to!” You feel you heart beat pick up and you try to yank free but only manage to get away enough for him to grab both of your wrists.

His grip is so tight you know they will be sore if not bruise by tomorrow. “Please let me go.” You practically cry out as he starts to tug you towards his car. You hear a car pull into the lot and you yank yourself back from the man against but he still doesn’t release your wrist.

“Let go of me!” You scream out and you hear a car door slam.

“HEY!” The sound of your brothers voice echoes across the parking lot. You hear gravel beneath his feet and just as he approaches you she the hideout doors open from behind the man and you see Eddie with all his friends behind him.

Eddie’s eyes widen and you can see him start to move into action but your brother beats him to it. Taking a baseball bat to the man’s back.

“Get the fuck away from her.” The man immediately lets you go and you practically fall back into Steve’s arms.

Steve squeezes you into his chest and points the bat at the man who is now sprawled out in the gravel lot.

“You ever touch my sister again and I’ll beat your face in.” Then Steve quickly points the bat at Eddie. “And where were you?! Fucker!” Steve let’s you go and moves towards Eddie whose eyes are fixated on you.

“Baby! Are you okay?” His voice is strained and his face looks as if he is in physical pain.

“She’s good! No thanks to you or your asshole friends. You stay the fuck away from her, Munson.” Steve walks closer to Eddie making him rip his eyes away from you and focus on him.

“Steve I-“

“You stay away from us. Don’t you ever even think-“

“Steve stop!” You shout as you stomp over to him. You rip the bat from his hand and swing it over your shoulder. “Let’s just go.”

“Y/n” Eddie’s voice pleads from behind you. You whip around to meet his eyes but you can help but notice all his friends staring at you too.

You turn back to your brother and shove the bat into his chest. “I just wanna go home.” You huff. Anger about the whole night begins to set in. Steve glares at Eddie and then looks to you.

“You said you would keep her safe.” Steve says simply. “I trusted you.” He huffs and grabs your arms gently and starts leading you to the car that is still on and sitting in the center of the lot.

“Y/n wait please!” You hear Eddie from behind you and it seems like he’s about to follow you until you hear Gemma’s voice.

“Just wait Eds. Let them go.”

And he does. He lets you go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were right about your wrists. They are bruised pretty bad as you slide your garden gloves on.

After you got home Steve demanded to know what happened. After your telling of the night Steve was a little less mad at Eddie and more mad at his friends but he still wouldn’t let go of the fact that he trusted Eddie to keep you safe and he failed.

In your eyes Eddie didn’t fail. You were the one who left. And without telling Eddie. Which Steve scolded you for. But he couldn’t really be mad when you started crying about how mean his friends were and how beautiful Gemma was.

You slide open the back door and begin to step out until you hear Steve walk into the room.

“How you feeling?” He asks.

You turn to face him and sigh. “I miss Eddie.” You admit. Maybe Gareth was right. Maybe you’re annoyingly clingy. Because all you wanted right now was to curl up in Eddie’s lap and stroke his hair. You missed him even though it’s only the next morning.

“Y/n. I’m sorry I snapped last night. I know he wasn’t really… the problem. But… if he shows up here I’m punching him in his nose.” Steve crosses his arms and you giggle. Your brother is protective but there is no way he’s going to punch your boyfriend.

If Eddie even still wants to be your boyfriend. After the scene you caused last night you’re sure his friends have talked him out of it. If anything you’re sure he’ll show up just to break up.

“Okay Steve. Whatever you say.”

“You going to the garden?” He asks softly and you simply nod. “Want some company?”

You shake your head and turn to head outside. “I just wanna be alone right now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

About an hour passes of you crying into the soil of your lilies. You can’t help but let the tears roll down your face. Replaying the night over and over again. Wondering if there was something you did to encourage them to talk that way about you. Maybe they were right. You were just a pastel nightmare. An annoying girlfriend. Why would Eddie chose you when someone like Gemma wants him?

You sigh as you weakly pull at a weed. And pull and pull and pull. So weakly it barely moves from the soil. You cry harder.

You look down at yourself. Jeans covered in dirt at the knees. Dirty old shirt hanging loosely around your frame. Your hair in a ponytail. You were a mess. Gemma probably never looked like such a mess. God. There is not a doubt in your mind that Eddie is going to end up choosing her but damn if it doesn’t break your heart.

You sniffle as you tug at the weed once more. Still no movement.

“You’re probably gonna have to pull harder than that, baby.” Eddie’s sweet voice makes you jump. You quickly wipe your puffy eyes with your sleeves and turn to face him. You stay huddled in the dirt on your knees as you look up at him. The sun beating down on his back.

He stands before you in jeans and a loose shirt and smiles down at you until his eyes settle on yours. He frowns deeply. “Baby. How much have you been crying?!” He drops to his knees in front of you and grabs your face causing you to shift and turn your whole body towards him. “Baby.” He coos as he runs his calloused thumbs over your puffy cheeks.

“Sorry.” You sniffle and pull your gloves off to wipe your eyes. As you do Eddie gently grabs your arms and pulls your hands down in front of him.

You watch as his teeth grit and jaw clench while he softly rubs the bruises on your wrists. “Do they hurt?” He says continuing to stare at them.

“No.” You rush to answer. He glances up to you and squints.

“My love.” He says lowly.

“A little.” You frown. And he sighs.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers his voice breaking as he does.

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have left without telling you.”

“I should’ve been there.” He huffs as he rubs your wrist again and you see his knuckles all black and blue.

“Eddie what happened?!” You shift and it’s your turn to grab his hands. You frown and look up into his eyes. His brown eyes narrow and he grimaces. “Eddie.”

“Steve only got in one good hit. I did the rest of the work that’s all.” He says this so calmly you almost feel as if you shouldn’t be worried. But you are.

“What?! Why would you do that?!” You stare into his eyes and he chuckles.

“Baby bat. He can’t just do this to you and get away with it. I had to beat his teeth in.”

“Eddie!” You gasp and he smiles at you. “You didn’t hurt him too badly did you?” His grin grows when you say this.

“Only you would be worried about your attacker.” Eddie shakes his head causing his curls to fall around his shoulders.

“I’m not worried about him! I’m worried about you. You could’ve gotten hurt or ended up in jail!” You watch as his face falls and he blushes. “You ended up in jail?!” You groan and he chuckles.

“It was only overnight. Hopper let me go once I told him what happened.”

“Eddie.” You practically whine and before you can say anything Eddie leans in and kisses you softly. You lean into him until you hear him whine a bit. You pull back and stare at him. “You okay?”

“Uh yea… it’s just my nose. Your brother got in a good one.” Eddie’s sentence makes your jaw drop.

“He actually hit you?!” You grab his face and scan it intensely causing his cheeks to squish in a bit.

“Yesh.” He says. His lips puckered and squished. You let go of his face and pull back. “I deserved it. Plus it was only one punch. I don’t think he broke anything.” Eddie shrugs.

“Eds I’m so-“ you stop. Eds. It feels tainted now.

“Hey what just happened?” He grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest. “Where did you just go.”

You shake your head and shrug pulling your hand back. And suddenly you realize your hand is on his knee as well. You pull that back too. You are too clingy.

“Hey hey hey. What’s going on baby bat?” He searches your face as you try to avoid eye contact.

“Nothing. I just… it’s nothing.”

“Look at me.” He says gently. “Please.”

You look up and immediately are met with his gentle brown doe eyes.

“Jeff told me everything that happened. Said you probably heard most of it if not all of it.” Eddie frowns as he grabs you hand once more. He brings it to his lips and gently kisses your knuckles. “No matter what you heard. It’s not true.”

You shake your head a bit. “That’s the thing though. It is.” You go to drop you head but Eddie takes his other hand and grabs your chin.

“It’s not. You are far from a nightmare.” He grabs at your waist now with both hands and pulls you into his lap. He shifts so he is crisscrossed and you are straddling his hips. “You are not annoying. You are not any of the things those assholes said. Besides pint sized.” He jokes and you can’t help but smile.

His thumbs dip under your shirt and rub circles into your hips as he continues to talk.

“And most importantly. I do not want anyone besides you. All the scheming in the world would not make me want to leave you. Gemma is a ghost of the past. And now you can see why I left her there.” He stares into your eyes and continues to rub your skin.

“Oh yes. Her overwhelming beauty, style, and commonality with you. Yes. Makes sense.” You sigh and go to look away but Eddie captures your lips with his. He smiles when you start to kiss him back and then he quickly pulls back. Giving you one more peck before continuing.

“You are everything she is not. You are kind. Caring. Gentle. Beautiful. Loving. And most importantly you are nothing like me.” He grins and you shake your head a bit.

“I wanna be like you.” You frown. And all he can do is chuckle.

“My love, I wanna be like you.” His gentle smile is contagious and your lips tug up into a grin as well.

“She likes you.” You whisper.

“I love you.” He whispers back. Your eyes widen as you stare at him. Searching his face for a joke or hint of one. He stays serious which he doesn’t often do.

“You what?” You quickly place your hands on his shoulders as if to stabilize yourself.

“I love you. Only a few months in and I’m head over heels in love with you my baby bat. I don’t want anyone but you. I go to bed and think of you. I dream of you. Then I wake up and think of you again. My every moment is consumed by thoughts of you and your smile, your laugh, your eyes, your kindness, your everything. I don’t care what any of those fucks think of you or me or us. It’s our relationship. You’re my baby. No one needs to understand us but us. Sure. You’re bubbly and kind and covered in flowers and dirt most of the time while I’m sweaty and standoffish and covered in leather and metal but that’s us. And I love us. I love you. I’m so in love with you it hurts. It hurts to be away from you. It hurts to see you cry. It hurts to know I let you get hurt. I’m so stupidly and happily in love it drives me fucking wild. I just can’t get enough of you ever. I love when you cling to my jacket and hide in my side. I love when you whisper to me when you’re nervous. I love when you-“

You smash your lips into his causing him to lean back a bit. You wrap your hands up in his hair and tug gently as his hands travel up and down your back pulling you in as close as he can get you. You kiss him until you’re both out of breath and his eyes are blown out black circles. When you pull back you stare at him with flushed cheeks and smile.

“I’m in love with you too.” You smile as you nudge your nose against his forgetting momentarily about your brothers punch until Eddie hisses softly. You pull back and grab his face. “Oh! I’m sorry!” You cry out and he chuckles.

“Come back here.” He whines and pulls your face back to his. Foreheads touching and he closes his eyes.

As you sit here all your worries wash away. Eddie loves you. He’s in love with you. That’s all you want. That’s all you need.

Eddie’s hands gently run up and down your back and he hums softly.

“They said I dress like a doll.” You sigh. “Is that true?” You wonder. Not really offended anymore. Not now that you had Eddie wrapped around you. More just curious.

Eddie pulls back gently and scans you. “You aren’t dressed like a doll now.” He points out but you squint. You gasp and point at his face.

“You think I dress like I doll!”

“Not all the time!!” He whines and quickly covers your face in kisses. You giggle until he settle his head on your shoulder. Hiding his face away in your neck. His warm breath fanning your skin sending shivers down your spine.

Suddenly Eddie licks a strip up your neck till he reaches your ear. He nibbles at your ear and sighs softly and you tighten your hands in his hair.

“Besides. I like when you dress like a doll if it means you wear that sexy little dress of yours.” He practically moans in your ear and you can’t help but sigh into him. “In fact I love all your little dresses. Especially that little green number you got.” He gently kisses your neck before nipping at your skin. You let out a soft moan and he grins against your skin.

You both sit there for a moment as Eddie lays soft kisses along your neck.

“Why don’t we go inside and I’ll slip into that green dress.” You whisper shyly and Eddie snaps up. You giggle when he scans your face and smirks.

“Awe. You wanna put it on just for me to take it off again? Hmm.” He leans and pecks your lips softly. “Seems time consuming but I’ll be damned if I don’t wanna see you put it on.”

“Come on. You know your favorite part is taking them off. Im being generous.” You smirk.

“God I love you like this. Let’s go!”

Eddie helps you off his lap and jumps to his feet. He grabs your hand and the two of you stumble over each other to get inside. Wandering past Steve, giggling at each other and rushing up the stairs to your bedroom.

As Eddie basically slams the door shut you pick the green dress up off the floor and disappear into your closet. Quickly you change and when you come back out into the room Eddie is sitting on your bed with a soft smile on his face.

When he sees you his face falls and his eyes widen. "Damnit. Okay." He huffs mostly to himself as he sits up a bit straighter on your bed.

"What?" You giggle as you twirl around in front of him. You can barely finish the turn before Eddie grabs your hips and pulls you closer. Now you stand between his legs and he stares up at you with a shit eating grin plastered across his lips.

"You're too beautiful. I can't think." He groans and throws his head back causing you to laugh loudly.

"I was actually gonna wear this last night but got too nervous." You hum gently as your hands find his chest and gently run up and down his shirt.

He snaps his head up and gapes at you. "Are you kidding me?!" He shakes his head and leans into your stomach for a moment before pulling back to look into your eyes once more. "Actually it's probably good you didn't wear this cause... we would've both been in that bathroom."

His smirk provokes a giggle from you. he grabs your hips and squeezes them before planting a kiss on the side of your ribs.

"Wanna skip to your favorite part? Taking this thing off." You smirk causing his eyes to meet yours and he smirks.

"Fuck yes." He moans out as he quickly moves you both. He tosses you back onto your bed and you giggle up at him as he crawls over you. Running his hand up the side of your thigh. "On Second thought... let's keep it on." He smirks.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

That's all folks. Let me know what you think about this! Hope you all enjoyed the angsty romance.

Peace and Love, Babes.

Taglist - @iwillbiteabitch @and-claudia @ruinedbythehobbit @luvmybbies @wannabeyousobad @llodinsonlll @tlclick73 @i-love-ptv-vic @mischiefmanagers @tvserie-s-world @magnificantmermaid @brieho3 @saramelaniemoon @sidthedollface2 @saayanaaa @mylovelycrazyworld

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Three

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Three Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3173 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

Spencer stared hard at the map of Manhattan that was pinned to the board, eyes flickering between each location the bodies were found at. He'd circled them, hoping to visualise some sort of map or pattern between the kill spots, but nothing emerged to his despair.

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. The team had gone to their hotel soon after his outburst at Holt, but he'd been back in since around six o'clock. He checked his wristwatch. Quarter-to-eight it read.

'You're in early.'

Spencer swivelled around at the sound of Hotch entering the room, the rest of team following closely behind. JJ held two coffees in hand, walking around the big table in the middle of the room to hand one to him. He didnt know how JJ knew he needed the caffeine, but he smiled gratefully nonetheless and took the hot brew from her hands.

'Yeah,' he said after a deep sip, scrunching his nose slightly at the slight bitter taste he detected. It was sweet, but not sweet enough. 'I... couldn't sleep.'

How could he, when his whole world had been turned upside down in the span of a couple of hours? You were risking your life - had been for eleven months already. He wanted this case to be over, and sleeping in his uncomfortable hotel bed while you were constantly looking over your shoulder was not going to help make that happen.

The way his friends looked at him now only confirmed that he looked a little worse for wear. But before anyone could comment, Hotch intervened.

'Where are we on the unsub's comfort zone, Reid?' Hotch asked, looking at the map over Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer was grateful for the change in topic, and turned around to point at the map with one hand, the other still cradling his coffee. 'I marked out where each body was found in relation to their establishment,' he explained, pointing at each marked spot for emphasis. 'Unfortunately, they range from up to downtown, even the Upper Eastside to SoHo. Geography doesn't seem to be a factor in the killings. What does seem to be a factor, however, is that all the other girls, like Roxy, were killed either outside or not far from where they worked.'

'That could speak to the unsub wanting to deliver a message,' JJ suggested. 'If the unsub is someone who has been double-crossed by these girls or the establishments, maybe their deaths are a warning.'

'Penelope said she couldn't find anything on these girls prior to their employment,' Kate said, reading a text off her phone no doubt from the technical analyst herself. 'Y/N's intel was correct. These girls were like ghosts, but like, before they had a life.'

'They had to have come from somewhere,' Rossi said. 'They couldn't have just... invented these girls.'

'No...' Derek trailed off, hand reaching for his jean pocket. '...but they can be reinvented.'

'What do you mean?' JJ asked, but Spencer's brain worked faster than Derek's mouth.

'From the initial notes from each body find, we know all girls were quite loyal and involved with the establishment's business,' Spencer answered, feeling reinvigorated suddenly. Or maybe that was just the coffee. 'They would've had to have been isolated for a few years prior to their re-emergence back into society to be that conditioned to their owner's orders.'

'Most of these girls were around seventeen and eighteen when they started working,' Kate said. 'That's when girls usually establish their independence from families.'

'But these girls have stayed as they've entered their twenties,' Hotch noted.

'Which means they would've been taken away from society before they could figure out how to be independent.' Derek's finger pressed a speed dial button - the first person on Derek Morgan's list for all things knowledgeable.

'Greetings my love,' Penelope greeted, her perkiness like another shot of espresso in Spencer's system. 'Did you see my good morning text with all my notes - and by all of them, I mean nothing - on the girls' history? Sent with love.'

'We did, baby girl,' he answered. 'But we might have a new lead to go on and we need your help.'

'You've rubbed the lamp, and as the genie I am now at your command. What do you need to know?'

'See if you can find any missing child records from over the last decade, particularly girls,' Derek said.

'They might not be made by parents, per say,' Spencer quickly added. 'The seller is choosing girls he knows people won't look too hard for. They'll be low-risk victims, so look up any mysterious disappearances from homeless communities and even unofficial orphanages and shelters in the New York state.'

'Boy Wonder, you certainly live up to your name,' Penelope quipped, the soft pattering of her frantic typing filling the room for a moment before she stopped. 'Aha! There have been over fifty girls who've gone missing over the past decade that fit those perimeters. I almost missed some of them because they weren't officially reported, but they popped up in local newspaper adverts noting certain kids in their community had been missing for a while. I've just sent a list of places they all went missing from to your phones.'

Another flurry of fingers flying over her keyboard and she spoke again. 'And if you look at your tablets, you will find the picture a young girl, aged twelve, gone missing from a trip to an aquarium with her orphanage. A Missy Wright. She had a record for running away and hiding, so when she wasn't found after twenty four hours, police disbanded the search party and declared her a runaway. But does she look familiar at all to you?'

Spencer looked over JJ's shoulder as she looked at her own tablet, seeing the similarities before anyone else did. 'That's Roxy Vega,' he said.

'I'm running out of gold stars to give you, Boy Wonder,' Penelope quipped. 'I'll try and find more pictures of the dead girls and match them with any of the missing girls on my list.'

'Thank you mama, you're best,' Derek said.

'I know, sugar,' Penelope replied before ending the call promptly.

'Let's go talk to those establishments, particularly Roxy's old orphanage,' Hotch announced. 'Let's cover as many as we can by splitting up. Spencer and JJ, Derek and Kate, and Dave you're with me.'

Kate squinted at her phone, eyebrows furrowing in distress. 'There are over thirty addresses here. And they're spread all over the New York state. This could take days.'

'I'll get local police as well as Holt's team to help,' Hotch replied. 'We find out who these girls were before they were abducted, we find out how the unsub finds them.'

'Then we can find him,' Rossi added with an assertive nod. 'All right then, let's get going. We're burning daylight.'

Spencer downed the rest of his coffee then grabbed his satchel and suit jacket and scrambled after his team. Before he left, he turned back to the board, to the marked map and the pictures of the managers and the mutilated girls. Girls who died as different people to who they were born as.

We will find you, he silently vowed, and followed his team out the door.

~~~

The pounding music of the Pit replicated the consistent thuds in your head as you walked your way around the floor.

Three glasses of single malt whiskey balanced precariously on your tray as you made your way through the crowd of gentlemen and girls enjoying themselves. It was a fine art, one you had perfected over the eleven months you'd been undercover.

You tried not to crinkle your nose in disgust as you passed by a certain lecherous man getting handsy with one of the girls, Lavender.

She was younger than you, a pretty little thing who started around the same time as you did. You'd come to the assumption she was also one of the girls who'd been taken as a a child and reinvented, as she always dodged any questions you asked about her life before... working.

And maybe she just didn't know the answers or she just really valued her privacy as a girl in her late teens did. But the way she would always always redirect the subject or blatantly not answer didn't sit right with you.

Lavender's eyes met yours briefly, and you saw the defeat and disgust she felt as she let the man's hands grip her curvaceous hips. It was a silent cry for help - you'd seen the same look in the other girls' eyes before. Not just at the Chateau, either. At all the establishments you'd wheedled your way into.

You wanted nothing more than to slug the bastard who had to be forty years Lavender's senior, and shame him for defacing an innocent like her. For going behind his wife's back because God forbid she age like human beings do. You saw the ring tan wrapping his ring finger. That was an easy spot after being in the workplace as you long as you had. Or maybe that was just your profiler background giving you an upper hand.

Before you could do anything, however, Lavender was dragged back into a conversation with the lech, forcing a fake smile to crinkle her beautiful features. And you still had three drinks to deliver.

'There you go, boys,' you drawled out, slapping on a flirtatious smile as you placed the three glasses onto the small round table between the three occupied chairs.

'Why thank you, sweetheart,' one said, flashing your smile back at you in return. 'I've been looking forward to this all night.'

'Why don't you sit down with us,' another one said, patting his lap as he took a sip from his glass, never losing eye contact with you.

You repressed the shudder that instinctively rattled your bones, and instead you waved a hand carelessly. 'No, no. I can't. I'm on bar shift tonight, boys. I mean, who else is going to get you your drinks?'

'I'm sure someone else could cover for ya, sweetheart,' the third man suggested, hand reaching out to graze your hips. 'Come on, just ten minutes won't hurt anyone.'

Bile rose up in your throat at his touch, how it sent an uncomfortable chill through you despite the heat inside the Pit. But you were Serena Vanderguff, and this was not your first rodeo.

You gracefully yet pointedly slapped his hand away from you, laughing boisterously like you hadn't purposefully done that. 'Oh, you boys have such a wild sense of humour. But be honest... you couldn't afford ten minutes of this.'

You swayed your hips as you walked away, knowing full well they were staring after you. Wolf whistles followed your movements but none of them came after you thankfully, no doubt because they set their sights on some other poor victims.

You approached the bar and placed your tray on it, leaning on it with a sigh.

'Tell me about it,' a velvety voice said. The voice belonged to a gorgeous woman with charcoal skin, chocolate eyes, and multicoloured braids who was wiping glasses before putting them back behind the bar to use for another round of drinks. 'But I'm sad to say, but the night is still young.'

'You got that right, Ajani,' you murmured, rubbing around your eyes to avoid messing up your eye makeup. It was a little bright and bold for your taste, but it didn't matter what you liked.

It hadn't mattered for a while now.

'Hey,' Ajani said, grabbing your attention. 'Madame was looking for you in her office.'

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 'For me? What for?'

Ajani shrugged, throwing the hand towel she'd been using over her shoulder. 'She didn't say what exactly, just that she wanted to see you now. Don't worry, I'll get Becky to cover for ten.'

You nodded, then cautiously turned over my shoulder to the door to the side of the stage that read OFFICE. It wasn't unusual for you to be called in to her office as of late. It was exactly what you wanted. But it didn't mean you weren't any less terrified whenever you entered, the endless possibilities of why you were in there driving you crazy.

The door opened to reveal Madame Lacroix sitting at her desk, a drink in hand, and two other men sitting in the two chairs on the other side of it. Two men, you were terrified to notice, you recognised as managers of your previous workplaces: Alfred Royalton of the Charming Times brothel, and Melton Jones from Guilty Pleasure. Their quiet murmurings silenced as soon as you came into view, their piercing gazes freezing you in the doorway.

'You wanted to see me, Madame?' you said as perkily as you could, hoping to cover your fear up slightly.

Madame Lacroix's red lips split in an award-winning smile as she waved you inside with her free hand. 'Yes, Serena. I was! How lovely of you to join us. Come in, come in!'

You quickly scurried in and closed the door behind you, happy to find reprieve in the much quieter room compared to the Pit. But that reprieve didn't last long, as you met your old bosses' curious gazes.

'You remember Alfred and Melton, Serena?' Madame Lacroix prompted after an awkward moment of silence.

'Yes,' you answered. 'It's great to see you both. You're looking well.'

'And so are you, dear Serena,' Alfred said, walking over and embracing you in an awkward hug as he tried to not spill his drink. As an older gentlemen, he seemed more like a fatherly figure to the girls in his employment. But from what you knew about the business he and the others in the room were involved in, he came off as a creepy pedophile. 'I'm so glad to see Madame Lacroix treating you so well. You know you are always welcome back at the old haunt.'

'If she's going back to anyone, it's me,' Melton said, the certainty in his words matching the intensity of his eyes. They raked you up and down, and again you repressed a shiver from the disgusting feeling it gave you to be watched like a piece of meat. Melton Jones couldn't be older than thirty-five, and was the son of one of the biggest CEO's in Eco-energy products and research.

You could only imagine what his big-time mother would think if she knew what her son was really into.

'Tough luck, boys. She's mine now,' Madame Lacroix interrupted the fight, getting up from her seat to walk around her desk and sling an arm around your shoulders. 'But why don't we get into what we really want to talk about? Have a seat, my dear.'

You didn't have much of a choice as Madame Lacroix guided you to sit in her own desk chair before joining the men on the other side. They all looked at you expectantly, but their smiles were more alarming than reassuring.

'Um... what did you want to see me for, Madame?' you asked after a moment of silence.

Madame didn't respond right away, placing her glass of wine down first on the desk. 'You are a special girl, Serena. Very special indeed.'

You raised a quizzical brow. 'How so?'

'You've impressed us,' Alfred answered, looking around at his peers. 'Your ability to keep secrets and do things without being asked has attributed to this. It's one of the reasons we've had to share you around so much and in such little time. If I had any say, you would've never left Charming Times!'

'You've done our stocktake,' Melton continued, those snake eyes of his never leaving yours. 'Kept certain... shipments under wraps. Picked up exclusive clientele that has done wonders for our business. You're like our own little personal lucky charm.'

You recounted all the times you'd hidden the secret load of drugs that were snuck into customer's drinks and food to get them so delirious they didn't realise how much money they were spending. All the times you sat in on meetings with the managers about who to target the next night, and all the shady receipts of shipments with unknown contents in them you hadn't be told about yet.

All the the illegal and dangerous deals that you'd told your Organised Crime unit about behind your managers' backs.

'That is why we would like to reward you, my dear,' Madame Lacroix said, a smile you figured to be proud gracing her lips. 'And we're not the only ones who think so too. We think you're ready to learn our... business, and so does the Boss.'

'The Boss?' you asked tentatively, not bothering to mask your slight fear. Was this the seller? Was this the guy you'd been trying to take down for almost a year now?

'Oh don't look so terrified, honey,' Madame Lacroix doted, walking around the desk to pat at your head. She leaned in close to you, and you restrained from gagging at the smell of too much wine tainting her breath. 'The Boss is impressed by your work and commitment to the trade. So much so, he wants to meet you. Soon.'

The men looked at you expectantly, and that's when you realised how you should be reacting. 'R-Really?' you mustered out an excited response, widening your eyes to appear more innocent. 'The Boss wants to see me?'

'Yes, Serena,' Alfred said. 'All the arrangements will be made when you meet, but soon you'll be seeing him a lot.'

'Arrangements?'

Melton surprisingly was the one to answer you. 'Each establishment in the Business, as we like to call it, has their hierarchy. The Boss is above us all, and he helps keep our establishments running smoothly. From there, it goes us, then our employees. That's you right now, Serena. But there is a status in between us and the employees that is trusted more than the others, kind of like our right hand woman.'

'And that woman acts as our mediator between us and the Boss,' Madame Lacroix continued, still stroking your hair. 'Kind of like a peace offering for how generous and kind he is to us.'

'What has this got to do with me?' you asked, but you already knew what the answer would be.

Madame Lacroix let out a dramatic sigh as she stood to make her way around the desk again, rejoining the men. 'Well, our mediator at the Chateau was Roxy, but, well, you know what happened to her. So what I'm offering is a chance to become the next Roxy, Serena. Be my most trusted employee, to learn the Business, and to appease the Boss- I mean, thank him.'

She stopped mid-walk to turn and look you dead in the eye, and despite her drunken breath, you saw clarity and evil flash in those emerald eyes of hers.

'So, what do you say, Serena? Do you want to be one of us?'

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 24B (the long-expected continuation): the gifts

or: the Rings of Power & Third Age

Another Sauron recap. He was particularly dangerous because he could shapeshift. But as we've seen before, he was not the only servant of Morgoth who could do that, there were some unnabed others. I suppose sauron was just the best in this and/or most convincing.

After Morgoth's defeat he bowed to Eonwë. So yes, it is probably about the same time when M&M send the letter demanding the silmarils. As I noticed in the WoW chapter reread, they don't go themselves, but still, maybe their emissary could have bumped into Sauron. It would be interesting to see this in a fic.

Maybe Sauron meant it, maybe not, we are left without a clear answer. But he was too ashamed and humilated to go before Manwë and afraid of a long punishment. He was not even afraid that they'd throw him in the void too, just didn't want a long penance, becasue he liked having power. Yes, indeed, you took a lot after Idiot#1. :(

OK, so here we are told that the Eldar could return to Eressea or Valinor. Mixed canon again. But i like them being allowed back into Valinor.

Something something map, Elven kingdoms, the Gwaith-i-Mírdain were better jewelers than everyone except Fëanor. Cool.

Sauron intrigues among the elves for a long time. Also, he badmouths Elrond and Gil-galad. The usual "we can make this land as pretty as Valinor, but yours" spiel. I mean, yes, this works :(

The Rings, nothing new in the reread…

Imladris! It's build during the war of Elves and Sauron for the Rings.

Sauron put some of his malice into the 16 rings too. The seven were made of gold, if I read it correctly. Also, the Nine allow to see the unseen but Sauron can editwhat is seen.

Also, he is still able to look fair at this point, but he prefers to rule by terror. We've seen this pattern of behavioral change before. :(

Again, the people in the South and East are evil and worship Sauron :F

The wording in this chapter suggests that it was the Valar who destroyed Númenor, I guess we're in a different narrative frame?

(Who even gave the in-world editors the information of what actually happnned? Gandalf?)

Elendil&co arrive. The seven palantíri, we get a list of their locations. The palantíri allow seeing things distant in space and in time, most easily things happening near another seeing stone.

Sauron is sitting in the darkness, thinking (Fic potential: what is he thinking about? He just has gotten a full-on divine punishment out of the blue. He's got a lot to think about.) until he makes a new form for himself. Aaaand no, the thinking did not work, he puts on his ring and here we go again.

We get the names of two important evil Númenoreans (but not necessarily the ones with rings).

The Last Alliance (yes, the whole army!) spends some time in Imladris. (Fic potential!!!) They are compared to the army of the West during the War of Wrath. There's a big battle. Fun fact: all the animals split so that every army has some of each species. I really wonder why? what worldbuilding or literary goal does this sentence serve? It seems so random.

They besiege Mordor for seven years. Again, important nmbers are important.

Third Age begins. Mordor is guarded, kind like Angband had been in FA.

Things happen, Isildur dies, what is it with broken swords "loosing their sheen"? First Anglachel and now Narsil. Does it just mean it became dull for some reason? What is it?

Also, Elrond does prophecies. Cool. Well, ok, he does one prophecy but still.

Eärnur, the last king of Gondor had clearly read too much about Fingolfin. And not enough about Maedhros. Protip: when Sauron challenges you to a duel, he is not going to duel you. Just to capture you. And nobody knows what happenned to him. Fic potential. But dark. :(

Also, does Sauron have a checklist with a neat header "things Melkor had done" and just goes along it???

So, Imladris. Elrond lived there for the whole TA, along with many wise beings of various kinds. Which, i think, implies Dwarves, Men (of course), and maybe an Entwife. And likely something I forgot about. also the remaining Noldor generally live there and in Grey Havens.

The fact that Elrond and Galadriel have Elven Rings is not spoken about but most Elves figured it out from the observable clues.

Also, Rivendell is described as a place "above which the stars shine brightest" XD

We get an info about the Istari, it's the version where Saruman arrives first. Also, I forgot that, but Saruman spent a lot of time with Men. He was less of a loner than I remembered.

Also, we are told that he best knew Sauron's earlier deeds. Huh. Did he study them or what? This makes the "Saruman envied Sauron from very early on" idea more likely.

Gandalf ran away from Dol Guldur. It made 100% sense, but still kind of funny. Elrond seems to have better foresight than Gandalf, at least when it comes to figuring out that Saruman is wrong. Makes sense.

"A strange chance" XD Sure Elrond you can't see it, Men are often fuzzy with fate (and Hobbits are Men), and I guess Gandalf's logic is "OK, this can't end that bad, but I can't see a way either, therefore it must lean on one of the elements which I do not see well". He is wise. (Not that Elrond isn't.) and further we get recap of LotR but from the backstage.

Aragorn is 39th heir of Isildur… which means he's 40th of Elendil. And he is very much like Elendil. So 40 is the number to look at here, not 39.

Well, ok, 39 in the sense of "let's recontextualize this number and the concept of Dúnedain form Pharazôn's madness to something good." But I'm not sure Tolkien enjoyed the idea of recontextualization. so maybe it's just "39 looks cool because 3 and 9 and also I want to say he was 40th after Elendil but I don't want it to look like a blatant ripoff".

The last Noldor sailed, so you may argue about Maglor here.

And the book ends.

[yacinthemorning]

Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 7

[First] [prev] [next]

Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hybrid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, awkward flirting, verbal fight, anxiety attack

Jimmy tapped at his desk, staring down at the skeins before him. A weepweave was laid out across the table behind him, waiting to be drawn into shapes. He’d worked out the patterns weeks ago. And adjusted for the weight Tango had gained since. If he could just get himself to work it could be done in no time.

But there in lied the problem.

He pulled from his breast pocket the little brass bird. A canary, like the ones they’d used in the mines Tango worked much of his life in since coming to this continent. The ornament was truly lovely, something Jimmy would cherish, but he knew the poor thing carried much more weight than that. It carried a culture Jimmy wasn’t especially familiar with. The weight of its material and its palm sized stature. Tango had given it to him, but he’d avoided looking at it since.

It hurt, just a bit. Irrationally. If it was a symbol of his intentions then what did it say to be so ashamed of it? Jimmy knew better than that, of course, but it didn’t help emotions. Especially not when Tango had begun to treat Jimmy much the same.

A glance informed him it was nearly five o’clock. Ten hours since he last saw Tango. Where was he? What job had he found that took up so much of his time? They better be paying him more than a few copper if they’re going to-

Jimmy took a deep breath. He pushed out of his seat, grabbed his hat, and abandoned his shop for the day. There was no point in driving himself mad indoors if he wasn’t going to be productive for it. There was something else he ought to do anyways.

He made it to the end of Main Street, where a large, white building lay quiet. Few people approached the town hall most days, not unless there was a holiday. Besides Lizzie’s family, in fact, only its two employees could be found in its vicinity. Their presence was part of the reason it remained so silent.

Taking unsure hops, it seems he was ever so lucky enough to catch them both reclining at the front desk. Two sets of glowing, cyan eyes immediately snapped to Jimmy the moment his talons brushed the wood floor. Cub was the first to offer a welcoming smile, though Jimmy always found it rather unnerving. Not so much due to the skulk that draped him, but the knowledge that Scar thought quite highly of him. A “retired” doctor beloved by a snake oil salesman was no one Jimmy had a desire to trust.

Luckily Pixl was the one to motion for Jimmy, greeting him with a silent nod. “Welcome, Mister Solidarity. How may we be of service?” He voice was soft, not even an echo forming in the grand hall.

“I was actually interested in accessing the library, though I don’t imagine I’ll find what I’m searching for.” Jimmy admitted.

Curiosity raised Pixl’s eyebrow. He nodded to Cub, their teal antlers vibrating. Nothing Jimmy could understand, but he was sure others felt similarly to how the avians in town flared and flattened their feathers. “Of course, follow me. Perhaps I can help in your search.” Pixl suggested as they made their way down the hall, leaving Cub behind. “If it’s a matter of history, I could be of great service.”

The pickings were slim. What wasn’t bookkeeping or dictionaries were the few documents and books brought in with arriving citizens. The worldliness of the collection could be attributed to the variety of folks that wandered their way into Tumble Town more than interest in the topics. It made the collection particularly eclectic despite its size, everything from children’s books to family trees and obscure novels in languages Jimmy had never seen before.

An album of miscellaneous photographs found its way in front of him. Some were from events, others collected upon deaths, many donated by Mumbo. Jimmy was nearly through the entire album before he spotted it. The photos were in horrid condition, even a bit burnt at the edges. Each portrayed one of two women, one elderly and the other a bit older than Jimmy’s age, both alike to one another. Their hair flowed like fire and their sharp ears were adorned with jewellery. Though the young woman wore a skirt similar in style to what Jimmy often made, the elderly woman dressed entirely differently. Thin layers of cloth draped her body, with some sort of shaping going on underneath. The shoulders sat loose under the clutches of gold ornaments, with a particularly intricate necklace. A favour. Jimmy absentmindedly rested his hand over his pocket.

There were a few others, including a photo of the younger in a similar garb, though the decor seemed to be of a different material and less intricate. It seemed to be some sort of celebration. There were short notes on the backs but they were all written in Pigling. Even in the black and white photos the gowns were gorgeous. He continued to flip through the dozen photos, trying to figure out their make. The waist pulled in but there was no seams visible anywhere on the outer layer. Not at the visible angles. Their trousers, too, were tailored into anklets. There was no embroidery or decorative stitchwork in the cloth itself, and no patterns. Were the layers different colours? Knowing the material they were likely made of they were most certainly vibrant...

So entranced was Jimmy that he didn’t notice Pixl approaching until a loud thud made him jump up out of his seat. A stack of three books had been placed on the table. Pixl shrugged in apology. “These are all we have that mention in any capacity the Nether or Netherborn, I’m afraid.”

“Thank you.” Jimmy muttered in a daze. As he flipped open the first few pages, it occurred that he had never told the sculkling what he was looking for. He whipped his head up to give some type of indignant remark he had yet to think of, but Pixl was already gone. In a huff, he gathered up the books. It was getting late, and whether Tango came home or not, Jimmy needed to make dinner for at least himself.

To his surprise when he reached home, Tango’s shoes and jacket were there at the entrance. More surprisingly, there was a smell wafting out from the kitchen. Jimmy poked his head past the door. Seeing Tango at the stove momentarily brought out a moment of panic, but there were thankfully no metallic smells, only the scent of spices and chicken.

A curious tweet slipped out of the avian. Tango jumped so high Jimmy worried he might hit his head on the ceiling. He spun around, spilling whatever had been in the ladle in his hand across the floor. And his foot. He jumped a second time, curses spilling out of his mouth, until his knee hit the back of a chair and they both went down. In a panicked flurry Jimmy went to the poor man’s aid, himself almost slipping on the spilled substance in the process.

“My goodness, are you alright?” Jimmy squeaked.

Tango was still dazed, though his face had contorted in guilt or pain, likely both. “Just peachy. Ah!” His neck cracked as he rolled it. It seemed unsatisfying, but he left it to return tending the large pot on the stove. “At least I didn’t knock anything important over.”

“What are you doing?”

Instantly Tango shrunk in on himself, held himself like a scolded dog. Was Jimmy’s tone so accusatory? He couldn’t deny being more than a bit frustrated with the man’s indecisiveness. “Well, I’m making dinner.”

“Yes, I can see that. But why?” Though Tango often helped in the kitchen he’d never taken the initiative to cook himself. It was never clear whether it was out of the delusion that what he chose to make would be poorly received, the nonsense idea he had no right to use the ingredients Jimmy bought, or the only reasonable explanation that he simply didn’t enjoy cooking.

Tango didn’t look up from the pot. “You weren’t here when I got back, so I thought I should.”

Jimmy hadn’t been there because Tango hadn’t either. There was nothing stewing because Jimmy had been too distracted thinking of the party. Tango always picked up more chores when he was feeling useless. There were many things Jimmy could say, but, perhaps for the best, they were all stuck on one another in his throat. “What are you making?” He asked instead, approaching the pot.

“You like curry? It’s sort of like curried chicken. Except not. They call it Nether peppered chicken here I think, but there’s no Nether peppers in it. It’s...”

“Tasty?” Jimmy offered an out, which Tango graciously took with a nod. “I’m guessing a Nether dish?”

The tuft of Tango’s tail swept against jimmy’s leg in absentminded agitation. “Sorta. It’s actually something I learned from a workmate after I first arrived here. It’s...” He tilted his head back, brows knit. “Like, it’s hard to get certain spices and vegetables here, so people make due, and it sorta turned into its own thing. I guess I did, too. I had this friend for a while, Brody, he couldn’t handle the spiciness, so I started making it differently, less spicy more bitter.” He paused to pour a mixture of ground spices and greens into the pot. “It’s why I like making it, probably.”

Because you can’t say you made it wrong, Jimmy managed to not say aloud. Was it reasonable to be envious of a man’s relationship to his dinner? Most likely not, but that was the only way Jimmy could describe the melancholic lump in his chest as he watched Tango stir the pot without tension in his shoulders.

“It looks delicious.” He murmured. Tango hummed in reply. While he continued to stir Jimmy placed the cutlery and plates and sat down. Something dropped into the pot with a pop. “... You know, you can make it as spicy as you please.” Jimmy’s voice pitched up, “I don’t mind, it doesn’t bother avians.”

“The peppers in the market aren’t very spicy, it’s better this way with what w-you have.”

“Oh, okay.” Jimmy adjusted his wings around the back of his chair. Feather wrapped over his arms. The ladle scraped against the side of the pot. “How was work?”

Tango paused for a moment, tail twitching with anxious energy. “Fine. Just helped Etho and Pause with some barn repairs at Beef’s ranch. Was done by noon so I helped Impulse with bottling his beer. Then Chef let me help load the coal wagons going to the station for a couple gold.”

“That’s nice of him...”

“It is. Way more than I ever got paid as one of Fwhip’s guys for the same job. Funny that.”

“Funny that.” Jimmy repeated mindlessly, talon tracing the pattern of the table cloth. Why did it always have to go back to money lately? He knew why. “Have you made anything recently?” He asked, hoping there was some odd little redstone scheme boiling in Tango’s mind ready to spill out into hours long explanations Jimmy could barely wrap his head around.

But there was none. “Not really. Been busy.” Tango shrugged.

“The shop’s closed tomorrow, we could go down to Joe’s and see what he’s selling?”

“I don’t wanna waste money-”

Both jumped as the silverware crashed down against plates. It took Jimmy a heartbeat to realize it was his own fist against the table that had caused it. He mumbled out an apology, not daring to return the blazeborn’s gaze.

“Jim-”

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry.”

Tango had abandoned dinner, now leaning against the chair beside Jimmy. “Jimmy.”

Why did talking have to be so difficult all of a sudden? “You don’t have to take so many jobs in one day.” He managed to choke out.

“Well... I had the energy, I guess.”

“You didn’t want to come back.”

Tango’s tail wrapped around his leg, frown twisting with guilt as he was now the one who couldn’t look at the other.

Jimmy felt his stomach sink. “I’m not... I understand, but I don’t get it.”

“Why I work?”

“Why you won’t let yourself be good enough.” Jimmy reached out, hesitating when Tango leaned away. “And I don’t know what you need to help you.”

“Then I got bad news for what it’s like being stuck with me.”

“Tango...” He was right. Jimmy couldn’t do anything to help Tango if Tango wasn’t willing to be helped. Perhaps he couldn’t help even if he wanted to. This wasn’t something Jimmy could bull-headedly push through like usual.

Tango approached the table, plating their food. As he placed the ladle back down, Jimmy reached out for his hands. He stared at the avian. Surprise, confusion, then concern. “You know you’re a wonderful man, right?” Jimmy asked. It was returned with a dumbfounded shake of Tango’s head. Jimmy almost laughed. Almost. He clutched Tango’s hand closer. “You’re the most intelligent person I’ve ever met, with your strange machines and inventions. And you’re too kind. You’re always helping other folks, I swear there isn’t a single person in this town that hasn’t something sweet to say about you-”

“What are you doing?” Tango asked, tugging weakly against Jimmy’s hold.

Jimmy gave him a sad smile. “You need to know, even if you don’t listen to me right now.”

Quiet fell over them, Tango not replying. Trapped somewhere between peace and tension, they ate dinner in silence.

-

Weepweave splayed out across Jimmy’s work station, its natural matte crimson colour darkened ever so slightly. It would suit Tango, easy to see long before Jimmy carved it into clothing. There were a few other materials, hoglin leather and twist, but the dark crimson weepweave was what he had the most to work with.

Tango hesitated at first, but his hand ran with fascination over the material. “This is nice.” He said with genuine surprise.

Jimmy shrugged, “Well, when it take this long to import we can’t have it falling apart on you after a few weeks. Otherwise you’ll be right back where you started!” He adjusted the fabric, giving one more once over. “There’s more than enough for three outfits. Four if we pushed our luck but I think it’s best to save some for future repairs.”

A gesture was enough for Tango to fetch the chalk while Jimmy turned the fabric over. Slowly the shapes of an outfit began to appear across the various pieces. Tango remained to help where he could while Jimmy worked.

It continued on through the morning, until the afternoon sun beat down through the windows. Jimmy could feel himself beginning to overheat. In a brief lull, he began to remove his vest, piling the tools that had begun to accumulate in its pocket down beside the cloth. By the time he’d placed the vest aside Tango had also frozen up, staring at the ground. Among the piled treasures was the metal bird.

Jimmy bit his tongue, picking it back up carefully while he sat down in his stool. Silence stretched out. “You know,” Jimmy tentatively broke it. “Avians are also known for their favours.”

“Oh?” Tango murmured back.

“Yes, a feather.”

This captured his attention. “A feather?”

Jimmy nodded, thumb rubbing over the canary’s wings. “Our own. Usually from along the spine, those aren’t quite as large.” He looked up to his companion, who was staring with knit brows at Jimmy’s yellow wings, befuddlement clear. “False will tell you there’s ceremonies and words to go with it but Grian simply handed them over one day to Scar and Mumbo. I suppose it’s one of those flock to flock things. Still, feathers are special to an avian. There’s many traditions involving our feathers, but I suppose you could call it the biggest one.”

“But…” Tango stumbled, seemingly unsure of his next words.

“It’s important it’s your own feather, that it’s a lovely one any damage to can be seen. I think it’s quite lovely, trusting a part of yourself to someone, and being trusted the same.”

“… I suppose.”

He was once more turned away. Jimmy worried his bottom lip. Had he come across as condescending? It was not his intention.

A great sigh escaped the blazeborn as he reclined onto the bench. “Not everyone has feathers to give, though.”

Jimmy’s heart sank. “No, I suppose they don’t. But the purpose is-”

“Gold’s quite common in the Nether, you know.” He continued, as if Jimmy hadn’t spoken. “In very small bits, but it’s everywhere. It’s more of a time investment. If you spend the time, you’ll have enough, eventually.” His gaze downcast. “But time is money, as they say.”

The little metal bird thunked against the table, muffled by the weepweave between them. Tango’s chest heaved as he tried to keep himself calm, and Jimmy wanted nothing more than to get up and go to his side to comfort him.

When Tango’s breath had evened out again he continued. “There was a moment, back with Brody, when we went out to the market together. We’d had nothing but stale bread and stolen eggs for a whole week. But we finally had thirty-four copper between us. That was the first time I was able to purchase everything on my own without messing up my words. At least, not bad enough that I was looked at funny or told to repeat myself. I thought, ‘This is it. I worked hard, I can speak the language, I can finally get a real job here.’ I was a real stupid kid.” His face twisted as his fists clenched the hem of his shirt, tail waving wildly beside him. “Guess I’m still stupid, cause I kept telling myself that until there was nowhere else to go. Doesn’t matter what words I say, or what continent I’m on, I’m still just some netherborn in rags. I can’t find a way to be more than that.”

Tango threw his hands out wide. “This is literally the peak of my life. I can’t-”

The blazeborn choked. Jimmy jumped out of his chair to Tango’s side in an instant, tucking the bird back into his breast pocket to free his hands to hold his companion. “Oh, Tango.” He tried desperately to soothe.

“I could see it, y’know. Last time you opened that vault, it looked like less.” Smoke billowed out like breath on a cold day, small sparks living for a fraction of a second within them. “And you’re here, working with the nicest material I’ve ever owned, and I shouldn’t own it. You shouldn’t have bought it. You shouldn’t be working on this instead of Katherine’s tea dress, or Mumbo’s coat. And I-” His hand shot out with desperation, ripping the bird out of Jimmy’s pocket and shoving it in both their faces. “-I shouldn’t be making prototypes for something I’m. Never. Going to get to make! I let myself get stupid ideas again, and dragged you down with me.”

Blazeborn couldn’t cry. Perhaps that was why they produced smoke, so that those around them could cry for them. Jimmy certainly was, clutching tightly to Tango for dear life as he tried to put together anything he could say. Minutes past, however long Tango needed to pull himself back together.

“Sorry.” He sniffled, to which Jimmy shook his head. Because he understood. Everyone in Tumble Town did. Not for taking the same road, but for winding up in the same place. Somewhere where problems didn’t go away, but they didn’t seem as big.

Jimmy glanced back over at the fabrics, all the shapes perfectly traced out for another well-fitted suit. He buried his cheek into Tango’s warmed hair, cooing comfortingly. Whatever bit of help Tango was willing to take, he’d make the most of it.

-

“How does it feel?”

Tango stepped back, turning in the mirror as he examined the vest. The last piece of his first outfit. He did a spin, tail training after him hotter than usual. No cloth caught aflame. He smiled bashfully over to Jimmy. “Feels good. Feels fancy. I’m scared people might start mistaking me for Scar’s assistant.”

Jimmy muffled his laugh against his sleeve, though the bell drowned it out for him in the end. “Why, what would scare you about that! It’d be a great compliment to be my assistant!” The man of the hour declared, clacking his cane against the floor for emphasis. A strange little noise escaped Tango in response.

“Good afternoon, Scar.” Jimmy greeted, unable to hide his amusement. “We were just finishing up, doesn’t Tango look handsome?”

Scar hummed and pulled his top hat down to his chest. “Why I’d say he is absolutely dashing! You’ll have every little canary in town swooning.”

Both men turned pink. Jimmy took advantage of his closer proximity to their menace to smack him across the shoulder. “Hush!”

“I’m terribly sorry, Timothy, but I’m afraid I cannot!” Scar announced dramatically, producing papers from within his coat. There was a paused in his theatrics, during which he sent Jimmy a wink that straightened the avian’s spine. “I, in fact, came to speak to you Tango. There’s a job I need your assistance with.”

Tango’s tail twitched, “Oh yeah? What’s the job?”

“A bit of work we’re doing with the Luxo Company. Fwhip informs me you were quite the handyman in the mines, and there are some drafts for the new rail line and station that need an extra hand in drawing up.”

“Uh, sure, but,” Tango glanced awkwardly between Jimmy and Scar. “I mean I’ll be glad to help but I would have thought you’d ask Mumbo.”

Scar waved dismissively. “Oh, Mumbo is off on one of his cycling trips right now, he won’t be back for a few months at least! And this needs to be done now. It’ll be a couple weeks’ work once the materials are delivered.”

Anxiousness vibrated through Tango’s tail, “No offense Scar, but it is you. What’s the catch?”

“No catch! Just some honest work that needs doing, and not a lot of qualified individuals in this one-horse town. Good pay, too.”

Tango finally threw his hands up in surrender. “I mean if you’re okay with it. I’m not exactly qualificated myself, I learned this stuff hands on, on the job.”

“That just means you have experience!”

“Alright, Scar. You got a deal.”

“Great, great!” The papers were placed down on Jimmy’s desk. “I’ll come by and grab you in a few days if Jimmy’ll be willing to let go.”

Jimmy scoffed. “Excuse you.”

“Excusing myself!” He agreed, rushing out the door. “Have a good day, fellas!”

“That man, honestly.” Huffed Jimmy, shaking his feathers flat. Tango didn’t reply, scanning the papers with his nose scrunched up. He peered over the shorter man’s shoulder. “Do you need help?”

Tango jumped. “Huh? Oh, no, it’s just. My name’s on here?”

“Pardon?”

“My name’s in the contract.” He repeated, holding up the page. Indeed, among the many printed letters instead of something neutral it specified ‘Mr. Tek’.

It took everything Jimmy had not to audibly groan. “I suppose he had faith in you.”

“Yeah…” Muttered Tango distractedly. He shrugged and put down the papers.

-

Tango spent much of the next two weeks off somewhere with Scar for most of the afternoon. Scar couldn’t work very long but they did the best they could with what time they had. Before and afterwards Tango would take other jobs, no matter how much Jimmy told him he didn’t have to. Catalogues were easy to find and he’d calculated what he owed Jimmy on his own. Some questionably true assurances convinced him to lower it at least a bit, to about half of what Jimmy might normally price his work at. Still, he was determined to pay.

At least Scar’s job took a good bit of the burden off. It was paid for by the Luxo Company who’d trusted Scar’s scouting. They didn’t need to be informed the details of the individual he scouted, so long as the plans were good. And Jimmy had all the trust in the world that Tango would make good plans.

More importantly, when he returned home in the evening he didn’t look like walking misery. Dead on his feet, sure, falling asleep in his dinner, but not defeated like he had the previous few weeks, which a horrified Jimmy had only realized after how familiar he’d become with it.

He was nearly done paying for the second set of clothes when they were done. The silhouette was looser, perhaps not as fashionable, but Jimmy could tell Tango was more comfortable. It was more like what he enjoyed wearing.

Tango had his hands shoved into the pockets, swaying back and forth in the mirror with a wide grin. “My gods, he’s done it again.” He declared, tilting his head to look at Jimmy.

“Stop it.” murmured the avian, swatting at the man with his wing. A raspy giggle was his response.

“Have you ever made this many clothes for one person in such a short time?”

Jimmy smiled, reaching out to adjust Tango’s skewed collar. “Can’t say I have… Tango?”

“Hm?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask about your last outfit.”

This got a curious glance. Flexing his wings nervously, Jimmy ushered them over to his desk. Ensuring Tango was paying attention first he pulled out a pattern, one he’d only finished piecing together the night before. He rolled it out. Tango’s eyes went wide. “This…”

“I wanted- is it too much?” He worried. “Or, wrong, maybe. I had to make some choices. I can use another pattern if you’d prefer. I’d understand.”

Tango’s hand was pressed the pattern. He looked back up to Jimmy, eyes round and disbelieving, before they softened. “No, this is good.” He said, almost too quiet for Jimmy to hear. “Jim… This is good.”

Warmth fluttered in Jimmy’s chest as relief washed over him. “I’m glad.”

But Tango sighed. “Jimmy, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Jimmy knew. It was something he was waiting to happen for the last few days. So, he sat down at his desk, took a deep breath, and said, “Okay. What is it?”

“Scar’s job will be done this week. I’ll get my last pay the day after.”

“Yes.”

Tango looked away. “It’ll be more than enough with my other jobs to finish paying for this before it’s done.”

“And you’ve been saving some for yourself?” Jimmy asked, though he already knew. Some part of him wanted Tango to say it just so he was sure.

Tango did just that. “Yeah, just a bit. Enough.”

Enough. “For what?”

A bristled tuft wrapped around Jimmy’s leg. Jimmy reached out to lay his hand over Tango’s, nudging him to continue. “Scar says they’re looking to build some new infrastructure for the railway. New engines, new machines to build those engines. That sorta thing. They got a lot of new jobs opening up ‘cause of it. He thinks with my work for them so far I got a shot above the rest. At the very least they can put in a good word for me somewhere else. But-”

“But none of that work is here.” Jimmy concluded, willing his heart not to give. He tried to smile.

Tango winced back, “Yeah.”

He took a deep breath. “I understand.” His voice cracked anyways.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders, and as he choked back the first sob, he couldn’t help think about how ridiculous this all was. It’d not even been four months since they first met, not five before they would part ways. He’d patently refused Tango at several points just to avoid being like his thoughtless brother, yet here he was anyways. There was a blooming of relief through his chest that contradicted everything else, from the thought that this could possibly be it for Tango. Jimmy couldn’t help him, but someone else could, and more importantly would.

He’d only received news he already knew was coming, yet it all seemed too much.

“Sorry.” He hiccuped, wiping his wrist over his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m happy for you, I promise.”

Tango’s arms tightened around his shoulders, a soft hum vibrating through Jimmy as his head rested into Tango’s throat. Somewhere he’d heard that cats purred when they were hurt as well as happy, to do with comfort instead of contentment, and he wondered in that moment if blazeborn were the same. “I know.” Tango said, his own voice breaking. “I know.”

-

The last outfit took Jimmy the longest, long enough for confirmations to happen and Tango to finish preparations to leave. It wasn’t that Jimmy was putting it off, if anything he’d worked so diligently. Others in town were accommodating, happy to accept that their orders would be put off for a while. The pattern and even some techniques were completely new to Jimmy, things he’d never tried. He was no grand artist making the next biggest trend or a high end dressmaker creating something everyone would talk about for weeks to come. He was a simple tailor for a small town in the middle of the frontier, who specialized in accommodating those that did not fit the mould. Maybe, by that description, there was something he could have been doing that he completely overlooked.

A very particular feeling overwhelmed the avian as Tango stepped out of the changing curtain. Like seeing the world’s most beautiful painting jump to life, filled with colours and textures and shadows that seemed too rich for reality. In a sense that was exactly what happened. Loose crimsons and warm grays draped down the man’s form, shaped as Jimmy had only seen in photos until now, no need for modifications for any part of the man.

It looked good on Tango. It looked really good. It was perfect for him, more than just the right colours could ever be. He’d never worn clothes so comfortably before or seemed so assured that he was wearing something unquestionably his. There were alterations, from where Jimmy could not figure out the way to recreate certain things, or where decorations had to be compromised for material’s sake, or where Tango had given input for his own preferences and insights. In front of Jimmy was a netherborn, and the most beautiful man Jimmy had the pleasure to meet.

“How’s it look?” Tango asked, though Jimmy didn’t think he needed to say anything from the smug grin on his face.

Jimmy was still too stunned to come up with something clever. “You’re perfect.” He said a bit breathlessly.

That seemed to knock the man out of his element a bit, smirk shrinking to something a bit shy that matched his reddening cheeks. His tail curled around his ankle before twisting back out. “Then, maybe I should wear it out today.”

“I thought you’d already planned your outfit for today?” Jimmy laughed while Tango bounced up to his side.

“I’ll wear it tomorrow.” He snickered, running a hand over the weepweave. “Can’t not show off my little birdy’s gorgeous work, now, can I?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Tango, all your clothes are my work.”

“True. Maybe I should wear them all every day.”

“You’re going to have to do a lot more laundry if you try.”

“True, true.” He sighed, but continued to smile.

Jimmy smiled right back. “Oh,” He suddenly realized, looking around his workshop. “There was, um, there’s one more thing.”

Tango watched him curiously as he ran over to one of his drawers, one he knew Tango never used himself. There it was. Nervous energy ran through his wings. He approached Tango slowly, hands behind his back. “If you would, I was hoping I could trust you with this.” Gathering his nerves, he held out his hands, delicately folded fingers unwrapping from around a bright yellow feather, as perfectly preened as he could manage. Wrapped around the base was nothing as nice as the bird Tango had made, a simple gold chain attached to a series of metal beads which held the feather in place. Tango stared down in wonder, carefully accepting the feather into his own hands while anxiety prickled down Jimmy’s wings.

Clawed finger rose up to Jimmy’s cheek. He leaned into it as they ran themselves through the feathers around his ear. For a moment Jimmy closed his eyes and basked in the warmth radiating from the man. “You’ll come visit now and then, won’t you?” He asked. Pleaded.

When he opened his eyes Tango eyes were warmer than he’d ever seen. “I’ll come back.” He promised instead, far more than Jimmy cared hope for in the days leading up to his departure. Tango’s hand fell away, instead resting over Jimmy’s breast pocket, the metal bird tucked within pressing into his palm and Jimmy’s heart. “Could you… Would you hold onto that? Until I do? Until I come back with a proper one?”

“This is the proper one.” He chuckled, placing his own hand over Tango’s. “But, if you insist, then of course.”

“Then I’ll take good care of your feather, and the clothes you made me.” Tango said, a determined spark flying from his tail. Jimmy grinned.

“Please do.”

[eleni-cherie]

among thieves ✨ || bts • pjm

- chapter 1.1

"what even am I to you? your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?"

about two thieves who can't live with nor without each other. and a joint past that comes back to threaten them.

© 2023 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, very flirty jimin, friends/rivals/exes to lovers (it's complicated, ok?!) f2l e2l ex2l all members play a role in this story!

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

Breaking into the evidence storage wasn't hard with Seokjin's keycard. Getting there had been a bit more challenging considering the guards and agents who had remained there past office hours but he had still managed sneaking his way upstairs through the emergency staircase unnoticed. Finding his gun, however, appeared to be the harder task. Numerous boxes lined up with a nonsensical sorting system were lined up on the shelves and Jimin gulped when coming face to face with.

He didn't have much time though, getting there had already cost him five minutes and twenty three seconds - years of training to precisely calculate the time for heists in case a watch stopped working, coming in handy. That also meant he couldn't afford wasting any more time though. He only had four minutes to get out of there.

His gaze ran over the series of numbers on the boxes and he started recognising a pattern. Sorted by date of arrest, initials of arrested and their birth date.

So after walking around the aisle, he came to an halt in front the box that according to this logic, must've been his. And indeed, inside he found his Walter ppk, watch and wallet with fake IDs, the only personal belongings he always carried with him.

If he remembered correctly from the previous times he'd "visited" that building, the parking lot was just behind the evidence storage. If Yoongi was there, he could've just cut a hole in the wall with his swordand they'd escape, but he wasn't so Jimin had to come up with a different idea. And that fast.

He stepped out, making his way down the empty corridor when footsteps echoed on the linoleum ground from around the corner. He stopped in his tracks and quickly unlocked the door he was standing in front of by sliding one of his IDs into the door crack. After entering, he closed it soundlessbehind him and pressed himself against it, waiting. A sigh of relief left his lips when the sounds soon died down, although not for long as he only had roughly two minutes left.

The room he was in was dark, barely making out any shapes s he pressed one of the buttons on his watch to switch on the integrated flashlight. It seemed like he'd found himself in someone's office. Already spotting the small window up high. Too high for normal people but not too high for him, his monkey-like climbing abilities from climbing up all kinds of things since a young age made it easy to get on the bookshelves and bent enough to reach the small margin and open it.

He crawled through it, the frame just wide enough for him to fit and jumped down. Landing in front of none other than agent Blake who had just turned around the building's corner in that moment. She immediately froze when seeing the criminal who was supposed to be behind bars. Both staring at each other bewildered.

"Park Jimin, you're under arr-"

Before she could even finish her sentence and draw her gun, he had already rushed behind her. Holding her arms behind her back and spreading her legs with his, just in case she thought about kicking him where it hurt, making it impossible for her to move.

"Shh, dear," he whispered, making her audibly scoff while trying wiggling herself out of his grip. "Agent Blake, for you." He laughed out, hislips curling into a smirk then as he leaned in then. "Say, agent Blake, can't remember anyone else smelling as lovely as you. Is that parfume?" Skylar's lips parted, his unexpected comment about her scent taking her off-guard. "Wh-" "Hm.. Let me guess," Jimin chuckled then from behind, "You're into your little colleague, agent Jeon, right?" A scowl immediately spread on her eyes over this random conclusion. "T-that'd be highly unprofessional," she said, feeling the need to defend herself. "Aw c'mon, you can tell me!"

The woman only huffed, feeling her cheeks flushing. He was only trying messing with her and make her let her guard down, she realised. She had to stay clear-minded and not get fooled. With a deep inhale, she gathered all her energy before yelling out: "Agent in danger! Help! Ag- !" But her mouth got quickly covered by one of his hands, preventing her from attracting anyone's attention. "Shhh, don't be so mean," he whined, "You know you ain't in danger. Don't get me in trouble just because I'm exposing your crush on the little guy." She lookd offended by that. "He isn't a little guy," she mumbled against his hand, "He could beat your ass with no trouble."

Jimin laughed out at this, amused about him having hit yet another nerve. As always. Analysing people and finding out their weaknesses was part of the job after all and he was fairly good at it. Partially because it was also fun to see theirfacade of staidness crumble so easily and getting upset like children.

"Aw, sorry for offending your crush."

"He isn't my crush!"

He grinned, knowing she couldn't see him. "Whatever you say, love." And before she could retort anything else or attempt escaping, he pinched the spot between her neck and shoulder, causing Skylar to instantly succumb, her body subsiding in his arms. "Huh, she's heavier than she looks," he muttered to himself while carefully placing her down. Leaning her unconscious body sitting against the wall.

He grabbed her phone out of her jacket then and headed to the parking lot. Twendy-five seconds were left andhe knew Seokjin wouldn't gift him any second more. He broke into one of the few cars standing there when hearing sirens going off inside the building.

"As expected, exactly ten minutes," he huffed, looking at his watch, "Punctual as always, pops. But I'm not dumb." He took the tracker from the coat's pocket which the agent thought he hadn't noticed him placing there, crushing it with his heal before sliding behind the driver's seat. After taking a few seconds to hot-wire the car and get the motor to jump start, he floored the gas pedal and dashed out of the parking lot right when seeing several agents in the side-mirror, rushing out of the main entrance and looking dumbfounded.

Despite the late hour, the streetsof Seoul were still quite busy as he was heading to the direction of an old hideout near the port. On the way, he planned to stop in an alley and leave the car and find a substitute, as the cops would easily find the car tag from security footage.

While overtaking another car he remembered still having Skylar's phone and took it out of the pocket to scroll through her contacts and stopped at one, tapping on it.

He cleared his throat, preparing his voice to adjust while he waited for the other person to pick up. The dial tone abruptly cutting off.

"Hello? Skylar?" "Jungkookie, please help me!" Jimin mimicked the panicked voice of Skylar, immitating her perfectly. Even adding a pleading tone, to make it more believable. "S-Skylar, where are you?" "At the east side of the building. Please, hurry."

He didn't wait for a responce and hung up. Tossing the phone out of the window of the driving car.

"Thank me later, love."

»»»

3 minutes earlier

"Is everything alright? How did this happen?" Jungkook furrowed his brows at his supervisor, concern evident in his expression. He helped him get rid of the handcuffs, handing them back to him. "Did he fake the amnesia after all?" Seokjin shook his head, rubbing his wrists that were finally freed before securing the handcuffs back around his belt.

"I don't think so," he answered and made his way to the elevators to head back upstairs, Jungkook trailing behind him. "He said someone gave him a pill and messed with his mind, ordering him to eliminate Valentine." Jungkook's round eyes became even rounder at this. "Makes sense, I suppose, he'd never do this on his own after all.." the younger agent humed, earning an arched brow from Seokjin. He blinked, coughing nervously. "I-I mean, for all we know it'd be quite atypical of him at least." His supervisor chuckled, directing his gaze to the elevator doorswhich opened with a ping. "Indeed," the older guy nodded and headed to his desk, "That's why I wanted you to do a new background check on her." "Of course, yes. And did he say who it was? The one ordering him to eliminate Valentine?" Seokjin stopped in front of his desk, turning at him with a sigh. "He did not."

His replies only rose more questions in Jungkook's head and Seokjin could tell by the deep crease between the young man's brows. "But why do they want him to kill her?"

Pursing his lips, Seokjin had to suppress a chuckle. "That's what we gotta find out. He only said she used to be their member, whatever that means." Jungkook slouched slightly but still nodded, despite not being entirely satisfied. He rubbed his temple then when his eyes fell on the whiteboard next to their desks. The crease returning tohis forehead "Who's 'owl inc'?"

Seokjin hummed questioningly, glancing up from the papers in front of him confused. "Never heard of it. Why?"

"Because someone wrote it here." Jungkook pointed with his finger on the bulletpoint on the bottom.

The older agent frowned and stood up again, walking up to the board to see what his subordinate was talking about as Jungkook excused himself to answer an incoming call.

The whiteboards was where they had gathered all relevant information on Jimin and his gang. Dates, notes, photos all in one place. It was quite a lot for everyone, sometimes new things getting added on them, except for one person. Arabella Valentine.

Out of the four, her bulletpoints were the most sparsley filled ones, hardly containing any useful information past her direct involvement with cases regarding Jimin.

"Arabella Valentine

associate to Park Jimin his lover!

no known/confirmed alias

thief/spy

age: unknown, ca. 25-30

birthplace/nationality: unknown

background: unknown kidnapped at 5 by 'owl inc', past member"

Someone had added something under 'background' and considering the freshly added 'his lover' under associate, Seokjin was confident in knowing exactly who that someone had been.

But what or who was 'owl inc'? Were they the ones Jimin had been talking about?

"Don?" he called out for one of the other few agents there. The man instantly perking up when hearing his name. "Call Jung Hoseok from organised crime tomorrow morning, I wanna ask him if he knows anything about this 'owl inc'." The agent nodded and noted it down, when Seokjin call out for him again. "And also get Kim Namjoon from special victims here. We might need him, too."

He heard hurried footsteps coming closer then. A flustered Jungkook standing beside him. "Sir, that was Skylar. She seemed in trouble and need for help. I've got to check on her."

Seokjin straightened himself, alarmed by that himself and gave him a stern nod. "Okay, but be careful. Perhaps it wasn't the real Blake after all."

Jungkook's eyes widened, eventually understanding what he meant. It wouldn't be the first time Park Jimin perfectly immitated someone's voice, even a female one. So he nodded, promising to be careful before rushing out and Seokjin watched him disappear behind the glass doors.

He exited the building and headed to its east side just as the voice on the call had instructed him to. Gun in his hand, just in case as he carefully roamed around the area until turning around the corner where the visitor parking lots were located at.

And his breath hitched when seeing an unconscious body against the wall. "Sky!"

His gun went back into its holster before he rushed towards his unconcious colleague and lowered down on one knee to get a closer look on her. Her head was bent to the side, eyes closed but otherwise she didn't seem to have any external injuries, which he was glad about but it still made him wonder what else had caused her unconsciousness. He gently pressed three fingers into the side of her throat until finding the carotid artery to check her pulse. It was still beating and that quite strongly which made him him sigh shakily as relief washed over him. Still, he had to bring her to a hospital.

Brushing the strands of hair away from her serene looking face, his gaze lingered on it a second more before he swallowed and propped himself up. Sliding his arms behind her back and her knees, he carefully heaved her from the cold ground and held her close to his chest.

"Please, hang in there, Sky."

»»»

two days later Havana, Cuba

Three knocks were heard on the door, but neither Taehyung nor Yoongi made a move to answer, the first one being too immersed in his mobile game while the other one was watching a basketball match and choseto ignore it. Only when another three knocks followed, Yoongi threw Taehyung an inquiring look, causing the younger one to drag out a sigh and push himself off the couch.

"Yeah, yeah, coming," Taehyung yawned with tousled hair and strands flying around from hours of gaming. He walked to the door and cracked it open, only to see Jimin standing there with a wide smile. "Hey! What took you so long?" However, he only earned a suspious glare from Taehyung who reached for his gun. And Jimin chuckled, holding his hands up high in defense. "Wowhoho," he shoved the gun away from his face, "Is this how you greet your best friend?" "Obviously," Yoongi was heard then, soon appearing behind Taehyung and brushed past him. He was also holding his sword towards Jimin, just in case. "So you're back to normal now?" He grinned, pushing his fists against his waist to boast out his chest. "Yep, good old me!" Taehyung eyed him carefully up and down, wanting to be entirely sure before eventually nodding, lowering his gun with Yoongi following slowly - very slowly- allowing him to enter. 

The younger guy arched a brow. "So you won't try killing us again?" he asked with a lopsided smirk, making Jimin huff. "I've never tried killing you." "True, it was Arabella you were after," Yoongi corrected nodding, taking his previous seat on the couch, "You only attacked us for holding you back."

Jimin sighed at the faint memory which felt like rather belonging to a stranger than being his own. He was only glad his friends had been sane enough to keep him from getting to Arabella. They'd protected her just like he'd promised her they would back in Mexico. They might not like her but they wouldn't let anyone harm her either. 

"Thanks for that by the way," he said, scratching the back of his neck when sitting down himself. Now that he was reminded of that, he felt embarrassed despite not being himself then, "I owe you for that." "You owe us for many things," Taehyung mumbled lazily before plopping down on the couch and returning to his game, "But let's forget about it. At least you're no lunatic anymore."

"Speaking of Bella, where's she?" he asked then, looking around. He couldn't spot her anywhere. Taehyung frowned at his display. "Didn't you call her?" "No, I assumed she'd be with you guys.. Why? Where's she?" Yoongi shrugged, averting his eyes from the tv to briefly look at him. "Last time we heard of her she was with some multi-millionaire on a greek island." Jimin to let out a loud groan at this. "This woman.. I told her it's not safe on her own." He shook his head, exhaling deeply before furrowing his brows at them. "And you guys just let her?" "She's an adult," Taehyung rolled his eyes, "It's not like we could force her to stay." He groaned again. Getting more and more frustrated. "You should have!" "Jimin, calm down. You out of all people should know how headstrong she is," Yoongi argued, "And it's not like she isn't able defending herself."

Folding his arms, he sat down with a pout on his lips. He knew they were right but couldn't help but being concerned about her. These guys were still after her after all and they weren't the ordinary kind. Besides, he was the only one who could protect her, not some stupid 'multi-millionaire'.

He scoffed internally at the thought of that. 

"What happened to you anyway, why were you after her?"

"It was these guys," Jimin explained, propping his face on his hands. "They got me and I don't know.. brainwashed me? They gave me some mind control drug or so, conditioned me into only seeing her as a target. I had completely forgotten everything else. Partially even you guys. I mean, I knew you, but I had forgotten what you're to me. And what she is to me. The only thing on my mind was that I had to eliminate her."

Yoongi scrunched his nose at his narration. "Sounds like you were their puppet." He sighed, burrowing his face in his palms. "Pretty much." "And explains why you attacked us," he pointed out, "But you seem fine now. Are you fine?" Jimin shrugged. "Guess so.. I got memory flashbacks in the cell pops locked me into. And eventually it all came back." "About that.." Taehyung paused his game and sat up, giving him an awkward look, "Sorry I set him on you. It seemed the only save solution back then. You were out of your mind after all and I didn't know what to do."

Jimin waved him off quickly, though, shaking his head. "Don't worry, I get it. And I had missed pops anyway," he chuckled then, "Poor guy looked so offended when I couldn't remember him anymore."

Who knew, perhaps that was the reason he'd given him those ten minutes to escape. He'd looked quite happy when seeing Jimin had gained back his memory and remembered who he was. They might be rivals, like cat and mouse, but they did have a mutual respect and sympathy for each other. And he was the only lawenforcement member Jimin genuinely trusted.

"Alright, anyway," he exclaimed suddenly, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "New plan then! First we get Bella back, then we'll proceed with the original plan." "The original plan?" Yoongi repeated astonished, "You mean-" "Yep. Following the hint from your idea and hopefully finding the treasure." Yoongi's gaze immediately wandered to Taehyung who remained silent, looking at his hands laying flat on his lap. Jimin frowned, following Yoongi's gaze. He noticed the troubled expression on his face and soon understood. "Oh, look, Tae, if you prefer staying here with Cas, it's totally fine. I'd understand."

Even if it'd only been for merely two weeks, it almost felt like back in the good old days. He always knew, however, that sooner or later he'd have to bid goodbye to her again and he'd been mentally preparing himself for that moment to come from the beginning. It was looming in the horizon, it was lingering in the air, ever since he'd allowed himself to relent and enter her life again. He was just glad it came later than expected. But still too soon.

"No, it's okay," he shook his head eventually and glanced at his friends. First at Jimin, then at Yoongi who was giving him a quiet glance of empathy. He'd been there after all, he'd seen him and Cassandra together and how happy they were. Swallowing, Taehyung looked down at his hands again. "T-that's the life I've chosen after all. The only thing I'm good at," he said, the smile not reaching his eyes. It was a sad one, they could tell. Sitting up straight then he forced his lips to grow wider. "And besides, I can't let you guys hanging, you'd be stranded without me. Well, at least you, Jimin. I know Yoongi can handle himself just fine."

Yoongi couldn't help but let out a small laugh at this as Jimin rolled his eyes. "Fine. But don't use me as an excuse," Jimin said. "I'm.. I'm not." They grew quiet before Yoongi cleared his throat, changing topics. "So when are we leaving?" Jimin mused for a moment. "I'm gonna leave tomorrow to get Bella. You guys can follow later, in two to three days. Except if you already got other plans for these days.." He glanced at Taehyung who shook his head quickly.

He stood up then and headed to the door. "I'm.. I'm gonna let her know then." "Take your time," Jimin said with a soft smile, "See you then." Taehyung gave them a nod and left, Jimin facing Yoongi then with a grin. "Alright, how about we grab some food?"

"Sorry, already got plans right now."

His eyes widened. "What plans?"

Yoongi motioned with his chin to the television, making the younger man roll his eyes and slumb back in his seat,. And Jimin knew he didn't even need to try. He wouldn't get Yoongi to leave before the game was over. Not if he didn't want to.

"Hmph, fine. I'm gonna look for food on my own then."

»»»

Taehyung stood in front of Cassandra's door with a heavy heart. His hand kept rising and falling tohis side. He couldn't bring himself to go through with it, unsure of how to explain to her that he was leaving her once again. Just like one and a half years ago.

He rubbed his face out of frustration.

Her reaction wasn't something that scared him, after all he knew how understanding she was. He knew how she respected his life. No, her possible reaction wasn't scaring him, it was rather tearing him apart. Because even if she was more understanding than he ever deserved, she'd never been good in hiding her feelings. Her pain. Her big brown eyes would always give her away, as much as she tried hiding it.

So when he finally founnd the courage to ring the doorbell and Cassandra opened the door, seeing him standing there slouching and filled with anguish, her sweet smile instantly dropped. And before his lips could even part to explain himself, she cut him off with a sigh. "You've got to leave, right?" she asked with a sad smile. And he simply nodded, unable to utter a word. "When?" "In three days."

She inhaled sharply. A stern expression spreading on her soft features then as she straighted herself. "Don't you dare disappear on me again. Got it?" Taehyung's lips fell agape and he blinked, taken aback by her unexpected words. "Cas, you know it's better wh-" "- when you just dip and disappear like I've never mattered to you?" His lips pressed together in a straight line, an equally severe look in his eyes as he held her glare. "You know I don't wanna drag you again into the mass that's my life." "No, don't start all that again." Her voice broke at the end although she tried her best remaining firm and not let her emotions take over, "You know I never minded your life or only seeing you every other month." She stepped out then despite being barefoot, placing her hand on his cheek. Caressing his warm skin with her thumb as a small mirk tucked on her lips. "You know how cool I find my super hot master thief boyfriend," she giggled then.

He couldn't help but laugh at this, placing her hand on hers. Even now she managed making him laugh. Their hands lowered and they intertwined their fingers, squeazing them together.

"Jimin's the master thief, I'm just the gunman," he corrected her with fake-offence

"That's even hotter."

He shook his head bashfully, chuckling at her nonsense. Even if she'd explained it to him years ago, he still couldn't wrap his head around how someone as cool as her would ever fall for him.

He honestly didn't believe he deserved Cassandra. He never did. She was too good of a person for a jackass like him. She deserved better. And yet, there she was, always sticking with him throughout the years. Despite him hurting her over and over again in the attempt of protecting her.

"I almost lost you the first time," he whispered then, pain washing over his soft edges when recalling the end of their relationship, "I promised to myself to never endanger you like this again." She shook her head, holding his gaze. "That wasn't your fault, you know that." "It was because of me, though." Cassandra's eyes fell, searching for any more arguments. She was set on changing his mind and she would. "Alright, then see it like that," she said then and Taehyung saw a suspiciously grin on her lips, full of mischief, "It already happened once, so it's less likely to happen again any time soon."

He huffed, dumbfounded. "You really stick to your guns, huh?" "You're not the only one with one."

She was persistent, he gave her that. And perhaps she did have a point, but no, he had to stay persistent himself. It was about her safety.

"So?" Cassandra arched a brow at him, tucking at his hand like an impatient child. "Promise you'll come back after the job's finished. Otherwise I'll hunt you down myself. I might not have all you guys' skills but I will track you down on my own if you dare vanishing into thin air again. You hear me, cool guy?"

Her determined expression evoked a chuckle from him. He knew Cassandra was stubborn and if she set her mind on something, it was one of the many reasons he loved her and perhaps she'd indeed manage hunting him down if he tried breaking up with her again. But quite frankly, he felt tired of trying conving them both that breaking up was the best when in reality he also couldn't bring himself to do it again. The first time had torn his heart apart, the past one and half year without her being the worst in his life and he never wanted to go through that experience ever again.

The ghost of a smile was on his heart-shaped lips when he finally nodded. Squeazing her hand, he pulled her into his arms and embraced her tightly. "You make it hard for me to protect you, angel, but yes, I promise."

»»»

next chapter: 1.2 here

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

[piromina]

actually, I think something we have overlooked as a fandom is at the end of beast-yeast 6 when smoked cheese and golden cheese are having that conversation ... it's after he says that there's one beast for each of the five heroes, admits to that being a scary thought. and then:

"We must contact the other Four as soon as we get back."

which is like. as smoked cheese's #1 fan I must point out: he said we. he also said as soon as we get back - and surely that isn't going to take long. considering that we have the shadow milk update coming in mid January, and the perfumer's quest going on until around mid December, there's going to be something in between the two. which, if devsis is sticking to their established pattern with the beast-yeast episodes so far, will likely be the release of another legendary ... HOWEVER:

this idea I have. it might not be the dec - jan update. it might not even be after shadow milk steals the stage again around the same time he first took it. but you remember the Cookie Odyssey? how they were discussing beast-yeast? and remember how the three ancient heroes that attended did not consist of golden cheese?

now that she's seen the true problems of the land herself, she will want to initiate another council meeting. she's been building up to it herself: the problem of White Lily Cookie that seemed so randomly placed in a storyline that had nothing to do with her. cheese mentions lily in her first lines in episode 5, and her last lines in episode 6.

devsis put that in there for a reason. they want us to remember it.

"I am ready to meet White Lily Cookie."

Don't you think that, as cheese and lily were the ONLY two not to attend the first council meeting, that the two of them, or at least cheese, would want a second? even if they are the only two there, or if it happens to be all five. she would want to. smoked cheese's line suggests it will be all five; he also suggested to her the idea. it only makes sense he would also attend, along with everyone in the first meeting.

and in this potential second, there are two places in the timeline where it would make sense to happen: now, right after Perfumer's Quest, or right after the shadow milk update in January. really, it depends: with the former, there could be an opportunity for setup for the milk update, as the beast-yeast 1 and 2 crew will be attending. if eternal sugar is the next beast, the meeting could be hollyberry just begging everyone to let her go next. let's not forget she's been there before. she has experience. maybe she's even on good terms with that carameleon cookie.

and I also think that smoked cheese cookie should-

[doctorhouse5343]

If there was one thing that Dogbert 'Hob' Barkling loved the most in this world, besides a good game of fetch, a good book and lots, lots of belly-rubs and pats, was solving mysteries alongside Mewpheus Mewdless, one of the greatest detectives in the city.

There was never a dull day in the Cat&Mouse Detective Agency (The name was suggested by Squeakanna, put through a vote and won by the majority, which was Hob and a very smug Squeakanna), always a case to do and plenty of opportunities for the brown mouse to drive her cat colleague up the wall with a laser pointer, all under Hob's soft gaze.

While he knew his feline friend's aversion for others, it was clear to the journalist that the cat detective allowed Sqeakanna's antics and flights of fancy because she was the second person that he trusted the most in the agency : if anyone tried to do this, they would be met with a wet glare, a cold response and a dramatic exit.

All those things that made Mewpheus the way that he was, Hob wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Just standing by the black cat's side, working alongside him and staring at him with longing from afar, all of it was more than enough for Hob. Having two detectives in the agency was working quite well for everyone involved...or at least it had been, until a shrew named Roterick Burgess started calling the agency multiple times to report the attempted thievery of his most precious painting.

The calls themselves wouldn't be an issue if there had been actual evidence of foul play, but it seemed as if the detestable man found some sort of twisted joy in hiring Mewpheus whenever his painting moved a slight bit and Squeakanna herself was getting rather fed up with their time being wasted like this so when Roterick had called yet again, the mouse was ready to tell him where to shove his painting at, until the shrew explained the reason for his calling : the painting was actually stolen.

The thief seemed to know the inside of the manor quite well, knew how to get inside unseen and was careful to not leave a trace. Even Sqeakanna herself was impressed but due to how Roterick Burgess drove her colleague mad with his previous nonsense, she decided to call the one poodle whose ability to move silently would be an asset so she gave a call to her canine buddy, offering him a place in her agency while not mentioning that a journalist worked with them : the press and Cupid didn't go along to well so in order to guarantee the capture of the culprit, she had to hide a few things from him and Mewpheus.

To her relief the poodle agreed and said that he would be there for the meeting at the agency the next morning. After the call was made the mouse-woman notified her colleagues of the meeting, omitting one important detail to ensure the pair's presence. Since Hob was usually up in the morning before anyone else, he was the first one in the building, or at least he thought he was the only there until Squeakanna appeared out of nowhere with a huge smile, pulling him along to the office while blabbering on how she managed to convince one of the more competent private detectives that she knew to help them on their case, though at this point the journalist was barely paying attention : his entire being was focused on the poodle that was sitting at the table and was staring at him with a deadly glare.

Before the mouse could say anything, Hob immediately introduced himself with a smile, holding out his paw for an handshake that the skull-patterned canine didn't accept. Instead, the poodle turned his attention to Sqeakanna and, with a cold tone that left Barkling stunned, asked why did she allow a filthy journalist to be a part of the agency.

Shocked by the hostility in the lanky newcomer, Hob opened his mouth to say something, anything to assure the private detective that he was nothing like his fellow journalists, but was stopped by Mewpheus' sudden arrival. The black cat, with a stern gaze, made the friendly dog sit next to him, not without telling the newcomer that he was surprised that a poodle such as himself even had been able to become a private detective with his awful attitude.

The tone itself was enough to earn a growl out of the white-dark patterned poodle, who was about to reply with something more unfriendly before Squeakanna whistled loudly, glaring at the both of them before introducing them to Cupid Woofsbane, the poodle that found himself on Mewpheus' blacklist from their first encounter while Hob was instead quite eager to prove himself to the odd white-haired dog that, just like his namesake, struck his heart.

While the journalist was quite excited, it was clear to everyone involved that the black cat and the poodle would be butting heads during the entirety of the case. But hey, it's nothing that the Cat&Mouse Agency hasn't seen before

[artmolonara]

Halloween Highroad - Writing Commission

My first ever writing commission on Ko-Fi (Check the end for a link)! Thank you again, @lyndexv!

***Please Enjoy***

The last day of October was a beckoning call to take the high roads of chance and find that spectral adventure that all sought. As it was, there was such a chance to be taken tonight.

A tall young man trotted up the gravel road, through dustings of fallen leaves, a backpack slung across his arm, ladened with perhaps more than he needed, but something felt special this evening, that perhaps, just maybe, the old stories would be true.

Nour was definitely the adventurous type, drawn to stories and tales of yesteryear. Pulp fictions, radio dramas, noir and western classics, all were so appealing to him and his particular interests.

And feeling that call of adventure, he had made it a Halloween goal to go on an excursion to someplace interesting. A search online had yielded a very interesting tale of urban exploration, of an old castle on the outskirts that was supposedly haunted. And not by some simple ghoul, but by what appeared to be an old timey car that seemed to drive around all by itself. Locals described it as a 1937 Citroën Traction 11B Cabriolet and had given it the charming nickname “Bernadette.”

This fascinated Nour a great deal indeed.

Only tonight he wasn’t Nour. The tradition of Hallow’s Eve was to embody another soul altogether, either a revulsion or a reflection. Nour had chosen the latter, for tonight, he was “Fajar, adventurer extraordinaire,” a character of his own creation.

And here he was, at the threshold now of a long abandoned ruin, overgrown with rot and decay. What wonders awaited inside? Hopefully, a table lay within, one which to host the tiny banquet he had brought within his pack; nothing too extravagant, just some cutlery, a nice meal, some wine, should he encounter some interesting company.

As luck would have it, he did.

Rounding the facade, looking for an entrance to the looming building, Nour was suddenly halted by the sound of slow and heavy rolling over gravel behind. Turning, he beheld a large shape in the dark, before his sight was temporarily blinded by two bright beams that flared to life.

A voice spoke out, as gravelly as the road he trod, while his vision slowly recalibrated from the light.

“This here is private property, you best be getting on now.”

It was an feminine voice, with an old type of speech pattern popular in 1920 talkies, and it sounded like it was being projected out of some speaker. Remotely, or…

His eyes now clear of purple smear, he could see clearly the vehicle before him. There it was, the old Cabriolet, as described in the forums. The body seemed well kept for the age, though it was missing a roof. The dark blue, almost black hued hull looked unblemished in the moon’s pale light.

Nour looked for the driver, but the glare obscured the interior from view. There was the possibility that this was simply a Halloween trick, a Scooby Doo spook just opting for scare tactics and nothing more. But even so, Nour embodied Fajar, unafraid and hopeful that there was truth to the legends, and knowing what to do.

He made a gentlemanly bow.

“Good evening, fair lady. Pardon me for possibly intruding, for I was heeding the nightly call to wayward wandering. My name is Fajar, and it is good fortune to be making your acquaintance.”

There was a moment of idling from the vehicle, then a soft beep and roll forward as a sign of intimidation.

“Now I do hate to be repeating myself,” came the lady’s voice again, slight annoyance with a twinge of walled fear, “but I will not be entertaining any more gentleman callers at this time of night, all looking to make a quick buck from stolen parts or take speakeasy joy rides around town. I won’t stand for it! So, again, I suggest you take your leave before I run you flatter than a buckwheat pancake… er, Please…”

But ever determined, Nour held his ground, looking up at the rumbling engine grill. 

“I hate to be so forward for asking this, but could you perhaps be Bernadette, the supposedly haunted car?”

The Cabriolet rolled back slightly as if in surprise, the mirrors suddenly moving this way and that at all angles, as if looking around.

The voice came out staticy and slightly panicked, “Are you one of them ghost hunters who’s been trying to leave cameras every- the nerve of- well you… good day-er night!” The car suddenly started to back up to leave. 

“Wait!” Nour called out, “I am no ghost hunter, madam, I just wanted to come visit you.” He reached into the pack and pulled out the aged wine, “I even brought dinner to share!”

At this, she stopped, flank now facing him as she had turned toward the gates. The side mirror spun to reflect him like an eye, angling to look him up and down. From this angle there was no mistaking now that the car was empty.

After a pause, a response floated out from within, “... goodness, how… hmm… now why…” There was a sound of clearing the fluster out of her throat, “What possessed you to… well, seek me out, specifically?”

Nour thought a moment, then responded with sincerity, “You must get lonely up here, all by yourself. I thought, on night of all nights, you might enjoy some company. If you’ll have me, that is.” The offer was extended, hanging in the air like the hallow moon.

Finally, a small chuckle came from the vehicle, “Well, you certainly are much more civil than any other gent that’s crossed my path… fine, sir, I suppose I can entertain the idea… so long as you behave yourself.”

Nodding his head, Nour put the wine back in his pack, “Of course, my lady. Is there someplace here we could sit and talk or…” He looked around at the ruinous steps of the castle, covered with moss and refuse, hardly a comfortable spot to rest.

“Oh no,” she responded, “Here is much too drab. I know a good spot down the road,” the passenger’s door swung open, “Hop in, I’ll take you there.”

Nour felt a slight hesitation. This was all happening so fast. A true living, seemingly haunted, car, and he was speaking to it, and now, it wished to drive him somewhere? Truly a tale off the pages of his favorite novels was coming to life around him. It was almost overwhelming, but the spirit of Fajar urged him on eagerly, to continue forward and see where the night led.

And so, he climbed in. There were thankfully seatbelts. Old cars like this tended not to have them, though this one seemed to have had some installed.

“By the way,” he asked, “Is it alright if I call you Bernadette. I know it’s what you’re known as, but if you go by another name…”

The radio in the dashboard crackled in response, showing the origin of the voice, “Bernadette is fine, I don’t know of any other name I’ve ever had besides it. And is it ok if I call you Mister Fajar?”

Nour smiled giddily, “Fajar is fine… I also go by Nour too. Whichever you prefer.

As they took off down the road, the steering wheel turning on its own with each curve they passed, Nour took the time to introduce himself more, explaining his hobbies, passions, life experiences, anything he thought may be of interest to her. And in return, Bernadette told him about her own life, as it was.

She didn’t recall being anything other than what she currently was, only that one day, a decade or so ago, she woke up under a sheet in a garage somewhere, gathering dust. Obviously a car that could talk and drive itself was all together strange to most, so she went into seclusion, only taking night drives to feel the wind about her. Folks still took notice, of course, and she had encountered a number of unsavory individuals over the years, which made her all the more glad that Nour, or as she continued to call him, Mister Fajar, was very respectable and treated her like a person.

They continued to talk as they came to a good spot overlooking the city. With luck, there was a picnic table nearby where Nour could have his late dinner and talk to Bernadette some more. When asked if she would perhaps like to get some oil or something, she explained that she’d never had the need to refuel at all, only sleep to make her gages go up. She hadn’t really questioned it, nor really felt the need to find out why. Nour didn’t pry further, and she was very appreciative of that.

The night wore on, and after a time, they decided to take a drive around and admire the festive lights and activities of Halloween, eventually finding a drive-in theater that Bernadette knew about. A double feature was enjoyed by both, Nour sharing facts of the films and Bernadette listening with great interest.

When pink haze began to creep over the horizon, and the excitement of a night that seemed to have gone by way too fast began to fade as exhaustion took hold, Nour, with great reluctance, decided to call it.

“Well, my dear Bernadette, I could talk to you for hours more, but unfortunately, the sandman is coming to spirit me away as we speak.” He finished with a yawn.

A giggle tingled though the system, “It would certainly seem so. Allow me to drive you home.”

After some directions, they arrived at his place, to which Nour saw himself out, bowing sleepily to the open car door. “It has been an enchanting evening, I thoroughly enjoyed your company.”

“I as well, Mister Fajar. You are truly the most upstanding and interesting young man I’ve ever met.”

Bashfulness colored Nour’s face, “May I call on you again sometime, fair lady?”

Bernadette chuckled, “Certainly. You know where to find me… and speaking of which, I should be getting back before I’m noticed by someone. Not everyone is as understanding as you, unfortunately.”

Nour nodded, “Safe travels then, I will visit you again soon.”

With a farewell, and a horn toot, the Citroën model car sped off into the rosy distance. Nour watched it go until it was no longer in sight, finally sighing, and heading inside his home. He would remember this magic night for always, and plan another night to visit his new companion soon.

He also would need to get his pack back, as in all the excitement the two shared, it had been forgotten on the seat.

~FIN~

Hope you liked it.

I still have slots open on my commission page, and I also do art if anyone else would like to have something done. Check out my Ko-Fi via the link.

BUY ME A KO-FI

[whisker-biscuit]

SlyFox Day 3: Hide

Mildly suggestive themes for this one but nothing warranting more than a T-rating.

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

It starts innocently, like it often does.

A light bump to the arm as they’re passing each other in the hall; a gentle brush to the shoulder while they’re both using the same corkboard wall to track down criminal movement; the slightest contact of two tails when he sits at his desk with a case file and she hovers over his chair.

It starts innocently, very often, and just as often it ends with them finding a remote corner of the building to make out.

Sly’s touch is tender and reverent where he’s running his fingers through her hair at the back of her skull, and Carmelita has him pressed against the wall with her hands cupping his face as if he might disappear out from beneath her at any moment. They kiss each other in a back-and-forth of chaste to sensual, sensual to rapid-fire, rapid-fire to chaste and then the pattern repeats again. Anyone else might see the display and wonder if they were actually drunk, but in truth they are simply making up for lost time.

There is a lot of lost time to make up for, after all. Lost time and lost kisses.

This time, they’ve tucked themselves away in an empty conference room that looks like it hasn’t seen visitors in at least a decade. The door to the hallway doesn’t have a lock on it, and Carmelita cannot help the thrill at the thought of how risky this new spot is – how someone could come in at any moment and catch them in an act that isn’t technically illegal but feels so very much so.

Then the thrill turns to horror as they hear footsteps coming their way.

Sly moves first, used to reacting to a sudden threat before he can be caught, and pulls her immediately through the opposite door on his left side. It’s not an escape – this is a cramped, dusty closet for housing extra chairs and portable tables – but it is a hiding place, and it’s just in time as Carmelita closes the door nearly-silently right before they hear the other one open.

She holds her breath like it will make her quieter as she presses one ear to the wood and listens for motion on the other side. Whoever crashed their party seems to be moving with purpose, doubling back and forth across the room, and she realizes with panic that they are probably setting up the large conference table for an actual upcoming conference. The fox prays to all that is holy that they don’t need more chairs.

Her partner is right behind her, but his presence has all but vanished. The only reason she can sense him at all is from instincts long-since honed to do so with him and him specifically. She might as well be alone in the closet for how unobtrusive he’s become.

That is, until she feels warm breath at her neck and gentle kisses at her cheek.

Carmelita stiffens, and Sly pulls back immediately. The unspoken apology radiates off of him in waves, but mixed in is a tentative sort of question that she doesn’t even need to turn around to know is on his face.

The stranger is still moving around the room proper. The inspector considers their predicament. If they are found in here, it’s going to be obvious what they were doing no matter how innocently they try to play it off. Sly seems to have already come to that conclusion and then followed it up with the decision that they might as well get something out of it while they’re stuck.

Carmelita hesitates, and considers. The thrill from before slowly begins to trickle back, subdued but no less potent and, with a final prayer that her boss will forgive her if the worst comes to pass, nods her head once in the dark.

The kisses resume, silent and careful and downright dangerous.

She keeps perfectly still as her partner peppers them across her cheek, down her neck, along the slightest bare of her shoulders where they meet her collared jacket. She closes her eyes and pretends it so that she can hear into the other room better when he silently moves her braided hair aside and starts in earnest at the base of her head. She refuses to breathe, refuses to squirm, refuses to show any reaction as he tries his absolute best to make her do the opposite.

She very nearly breaks when he presses his lips to her spine and hums. He hums so low and so quiet that she can only hear because they’re touching, and it almost makes her lose the game when, at the exact same time, the stranger outside their little haven makes a more audible sound than usual.

Carmelita manages not to shiver by sheer force of will, but she feels Sly’s smile against her skin and knows that he knows that he almost has her. Bastard.

Then, all at once, the stranger leaves, and she waits until the raccoon says a soft “they’re gone” before throwing open the closet door and rushing for the other exit. She can feel the heat in her face all the way up to her ears and refuses to look back at her partner the entire speedwalk back to their shared office.

As soon as they are safe in real privacy, she whirls on him and wants to either kiss or slap the stupid smug smile that’s there to greet her.

“Well,” he says, as unconcerned as if they’d just come back from lunch together, “that was certainly exciting.”

The inspector gives him a dirty look that is contrasted greatly by how red she still is. “We are never talking about this again.”

“You sure that’s what you really want?” Sly’s grin grows and grows and grows. “Cause it seemed to me like you were kind of into it. The risk of getting caught is awfully addictive, isn’t it?”

She can’t even argue; the thrill in her core over what they were doing is still making her heart want to beat out of her chest. Carmelita crosses her arms and huffs, then stops as an idea pops into her head. Her own crafty smile begins creeping across her mouth.

“I suppose it might be,” she gives a fake admission, “but I’m going to need more evidence to be sure.”

His eyes flash with impulse and passion. “Oh, yeah? Can I help you gather that evidence?”

“Perhaps…” The fox taps a finger to her upturned lips. “But to do that, we’re going to have to find out when that conference is being held, first.”

It takes a moment for her meaning to set in, but oh, the delight in his gaze when it does. Sly crosses the room in two strides and pulls her in for another kiss, and she returns it with zest. Later, she will decide whether this idea is one she’s shameless enough to go through with – but not now.

Right now, she has a raccoon in her arms and a thousand kisses to make up for, and that’s all that matters.

[nomsthecat]

BREAKS INTO YOUR INBOX-- hello there :D

i suggest 12: candles, 16: in dreams, and 46: shimmer. you can use 1, two, or all three! leaves through the me shaped hole i've left

oooo finally answers this because it’s late at night and that’s when I write best :sun thumbs up:

be warned of angst

muhahaha. I’m so evil (also I don’t know the word count and too tired to check soz)

A flickering sea of candles surrounds you, and this little circular clearing you happen to be standing in. You can’t tell what the ground was made of, (if it was even there,) but the sky above shimmers with twinkling pinpricks of dazzling light. A constellation of stars that seems to reflect the candlelight.

The candles go on forever, eventually becoming nothing but blackened mist that twists and turns and eats the worn down wax like a life no longer lived. Maybe that was what the candles meant.

Life.

You would smile, you would be amazed at this once in a lifetime view, if only the weight in your stomach and the fogginess that make up your fragile consciousness didn’t nag at you.

If only it wasn’t telling you that this wasn’t right. You’re not supposed to be happy.

They’re supposed to be dead.

You can’t be happy like this. The one you looked at so fondly— (the ones you looked at so fondly you should say,) with warm colors of tan, yellow, oranges and reds… a perfect resemblance of the sun with triangular rays decorating a circular face, and then he, with shades of blues, silver, white and bright yellow, patterned with stars and the waning crescent of the moon. One meant to play, one meant to sleep, both meant to act.

Neither meant to live.

You reach out for what isn’t there. To cup the side of a circular face and to smile so softly at them, to let them know you’re here for them. You weren’t.

You weren’t there for them when the building was sent aflame, when the floor caved and when they were abandoned. Ruined.

You went back for them, you did- you tried.

They were left on the floor. A caretaker with none to care for and none to seek care from.

And now they stand before you. You reached out for what wasn’t there, and they reached back.

Cold metal hands you cannot feel cradle your hand close, against their irreparable chassis and close to where would have been a heart, should they have had one. A face unmistakable to you, crowned with both rays and a night cap outdated for this era. Both are just as broken as the other.

But oh.

His smile. A smile that you saw often, ever unmoving but filled with such emotion, now torn in half just like the rest of his face. One eye the color of marigold, and the other a burning red, but both look at you with a plead. With hope. With grief and loss.

You’re supposed to be dead. you could’ve whispered, but find yourself incapable to speak with them. And you find your hand reluctantly released from their caring hold, where instead they now hold a candle.

Just like the many that surround you, that envelop the rolling hills made of nothing in this moment that could be described as everything. But this candle. This candle with the wax nearly gone and the wick burned black till there was nothing more. There is no flame to burn because there is nothing.

They died in that fire.

They died in that fire and this is their goodbye.

A gentle weight is placed on top of your head. An animatronic leans over you, the candle gone and replaced with your hands.

You didn’t deserve their grief, you didn’t deserve to cry. So why do they hold you so close, and why do these tears fall?

.

.

.

You wake up.

Thank you puff for your lovely prompts I wave goodbye before putting plastic wrap over the you shaped hole in my inbox for when you next decide to visit<3 (prank em’ john/ref/silly)

[aboutanancientenquiry]

Another review of the book of Christopher Pelling Herodotus and the Question Why

"2021

Review of "Herodotus and the Question Why," written by Christopher Pelling

Joel A. Schlosser

Christopher Pelling, (2019) Herodotus and the Question Why. Austin: University of Texas Press. xv + 360 pp. $55.00. ISBN 9781477318324 (hbk).

‘Does Herodotus think democracy a good thing?’ Christopher Pelling asks toward the end of his erudite and wide-ranging Herodotus and the Question Why. ‘The answer surely will be “yes and no”’ (p. 234). Freedom and democracy often lead to disturbing consequences as well as inspiring ones; Herodotus praises nothing without also revealing, sometimes subtly, its potential downsides. Strengths and weaknesses go closely together, both building and then imperiling greatness. Herodotus’ ability to hold these opposing interpretations together is not, Pelling asserts, an incoherence of thought. It is just a paradox.

Summoning many decades of inquiries into Herodotus (and citing 35 of his own articles, chapters, and books on the subject), Pelling centers the work of explanation in his study of Herodotus. Explanation appears as one of the motivations for the Histories themselves, which Herodotus describes (in Pelling’s translation) as ‘why they [sc. the Greeks and the barbarians] came to war with one another’ (p. 22). Explanation hopes to ‘make something more understandable’ (p. 5) and Pelling untangles the many skeins of explanation that Herodotus offers in the early books of the Histories: aiti- words that focus on blameworthiness or charges of malfeasance; prophasis, which Herodotus uses like Thucydides to describe an explanatory account put forward by an interested party; and proschêma, which describes a pretext or rationalization––not the true cause but a supposed one. Herodotus also employs stories for the sake of explanation, letting audiences draw their own inferences from recurrent patterns or suggestive narratives. Explanation, Pelling observes, ‘is a game for two’: explanatory success depends on an audience’s uptake. Herodotus’ preferred modes of explanation say a lot about who he took his audience to be and his variety of explanatory strategies suggests the different forms of persuasion current in his day.

But explanation comes with closure, and Herodotus’ Histories seem to resist closure at every turn. Herodotus and the Question Why expands the very idea of explanation early in its argument, opening it like a folded envelope to reveal the letter within. Herodotus does not just explain; he shows his readers how you could possibly know anything. He shows his own ‘rethinking in stride’ (p. 93)––one wonderful formulation among many in this volume––reworking patterns and complicating seemingly simply explanations as he goes. Pelling sees an affinity here with the Hippocratics, who developed ‘corroborative argument’ (p. 88) as well as such revisions, either finding support for initial hypotheses or revising their hypotheses when they discovered contrary evidence. Herodotus, for example, begins his description of the Egyptians by asserting that their way of life inverts that of the Greeks. ‘When the topsy-turvy idea returns’, Pelling writes, Herodotus has revised the ‘attention-grabbing initial strong proposition’ (p. 90), writing that the Egyptians ‘avoid using Greek customs and, so to speak, those of any other peoples’ (2.91), a phrase that leaves the possibility of similarities open.

As the narrative of the Histories unfurls, the predictability that explanations would seem to promise––e.g. that x phenomenon will lead to y consequence––becomes less clear cut. Aitia begins to appear ambiguous. Herodotus’ language of wonders (thômata) reflects his increasing awareness of unpredictable and inexplicable phenomena in the world he encounters. Modern historians worry about overdetermined events––what social scientists call ‘endogeneity problems’––but the language of wonder often evokes the opposite: underdetermined phenomena that seem enormously important yet stun and bemuse the inquirer. Wonders are things and events that resist explanation.

When Pelling turns to the actual sequence of events of the Histories––which he loosely follows in the latter two-thirds of the book––these framing thoughts on explanation allow for an expansive expatiation of Herodotus’ stories. While many interpretations leap on the pattern of expansionism and self-destruction that begins in Book I and shapes the narrative of the Persians’ invasions in the books that follow, Pelling sounds the many dissonant notes to this over-simple account. For one, the Greeks do a lot to bring the war with the Persians on themselves––meddling at the court, caring more about their own petty factionalism, and being sucked into aggressive behavior, such as when the Athenians are persuaded by Aristagoras to join the Ionian revolt from Persian control (5.97). More broadly, claims about blame and vengeance are ‘displaced from their natural place and placed in mouths where they ring false’ (p. 127). The stories of the Persians raise questions about how much they really differ from their Greek enemies. These stories are redolent with an ‘un-Greek’ atmosphere, yet while Cambyses behaves with ‘brutal insensitivity’, when Darius later asks Indians and Greeks about how they would treat the bodies of their dead fathers, the Greeks’ horror at the Indians’ response––that they would eat them––resembles Cambyses’ prejudicial judgment, while Darius exemplifies open-minded understanding.

Pelling’s own sensitivity to nuance and paradox in the Histories culminates in his approach to the treatment of the Greeks’ victory and especially the tendency among many readers of Herodotus to explain the triumph as one of Greek values––embodied by democracy or freedom or ‘civilization’––over Persian ones. Pelling grants that this story has some basis in Herodotus – Herodotus comments that isêgoria in Athens prompted her rise to greatness (5.78), and the Spartan Demaratus explains that it is the nomos of freedom that empowers the Greeks to fight (7.104). There are reasons to believe the Greeks’ triumph was of their own making. Pelling impersonates these moments of Greek pride when he asks: ‘Aren’t we simply better than them, and isn’t that explanation enough?’ (p. 167)

Such a rhetorical question may have satisfied many of Herodotus’ early auditors, but it did not stop Herodotus from further inquiry. For one, Herodotus’ sense of contingency qualifies any explanation: ‘Time and again, it could easily have been different’, Pelling observes (p. 167). Even with this qualification, no single explanatory variable––such as the Greeks’ being ‘better’––can suffice. In a rather un-Herodotean systematic survey, Pelling lays out the inadequacy of any simple explanation for the Greek victory: neither the gods nor ‘Greek values’ nor Greek strategies and tactics nor freedom nor democracy provides sufficient explanation. Unlike Thucydides, Herodotus does not appear interested in adducing a single set of causes. Peeling back the layers of Herodotus’ explanations, one never reaches the pith.

Yet each layer of explanation is distinct from the others. In this way, Herodotus is helpful for resisting the modern tendency toward conflating democracy and freedom. On his account, the Persians are free, but so are the Spartans, the Scythians, and the Athenians. Yet among these, only the Athenians have a democracy––and their democracy does not exist for the entirety of the Histories. Freedom may provide the rallying cry for the allied Greeks against the Persian invasion, but Herodotus has already staged a similar moment when Cyrus rallies the Persians against the Lydians on the grounds of freedom [my aboutanancientenquiry's remark: this is obviously a lapsus and the author means the Medes of Astyages, as it becomes clear later in the text]. Democracy is not necessary for freedom.

Nor is democracy sufficient for freedom. Democracy does play a powerful role at certain moments of the Histories, but its influence can also lead to ambivalent consequences. Pelling points out how democratic slogans in Ionia prompted revolts that then laid the groundwork for new forms of tyranny. The equal speaking for which democracy became notorious could get out of hand. Pelling describes how the Greek debate before the Battle of Salamis was a mess, a ‘great pushing and shoving of words’ during which Herodotus shows, on Pelling’s reading, that ‘the Greeks are wasting their bellicosity’ with endless vociferation (p. 184).

Demokratia, for which Herodotus is the earliest source, was not yet a laudatory word in the late 5th century when Herodotus was composing his inquiries. Herodotus often employs periphrastics such as the series of iso- related words––isonomia, isokratia, and isêgoria––that surface from the mouths of quite unlikely sources (like Otanes, the Persian nobleman) as well as quite undemocratic regimes (like the Spartans and the Corinthians). Pelling notes that isonomia is ‘never used pejoratively’, perhaps suggesting Herodotus’ affinities with the tyrant-slayers Aristogeiton and Harmodius who ‘made Athens isonomoi’ (p. 194). Yet while democracy ‘glistens’ for modern readers (p. 195), Herodotus does not shirk from casting shade.

Pelling casts doubt on a reading of Herodotus that celebrates the triumph of the people (dêmos). More often than he speaks of the dêmos, Herodotus describes groups of people––the Athenians, the Spartans, and the Persians. Yet even more often than this, Herodotus focuses his narrative on what Pelling calls the ‘big man antagonisms’, the vying of leaders of these groups of people. ‘It is as a tool’ of such antagonisms, Pelling asserts, ‘that the dêmos comes into play with Cleisthenes’ (p. 196). Cleisthenes’ engagement with Isagoras led him to ‘recruit the dêmos to his faction’ (translating Herodotus 5.66.2). The Spartans later complain of the ‘ungrateful demos’ (5.91) that threw off their protection, but as Pelling points out, the subsequent debate concerns not democracy but the broader conflict between tyranny and freedom.

Democracy, according to Pelling, ‘allows for a prism for seeing freedom pushed to the limit’, functioning as an inverse image of tyranny as a prism for seeing people ‘at the mercy of unrestrained power’ (p. 197). Here I wonder if Pelling too quickly assimilates the democracy of the Athenians with democracy in general and loses Herodotus’ appreciation for the wide variety of ways in which the people can create and lose power. Take, for example, the episode when Cyrus leads the Persians to revolt against Astyages. Pelling mentions the passage where Herodotus describes how ‘they’––the Persians––‘cast off the yoke of slavery and became free men’ (1.95), but he places this in the larger context of ‘big man’ accomplishments. I would instead interpret Herodotus here as anticipating his description of the strength of the Athenians, whose liberation was also a collective act (5.78). When Cyrus later calls on the Persians to free themselves from slavery, Herodotus relates how ‘they enthusiastically went about gaining their independence’ (1.128). Yes, Darius’ father Hystaspes describes Cyrus as having made the Persians free, but this does not come in the narrator’s own voice. So too with Darius’ later argument that disavows the importance of the dêmos for freeing the Persians. When Herodotus describes the event independent of a particular character, it has much more of a popular flavor. The Persians themselves act as rulers; they affirm their power to create their freedom.

Athenian democracy may not be as ‘special’ (p. 207) for Herodotus as 21st century readers, myself included, tend to make it, but Pelling’s insistence on this point risks glossing the nuances among different formations of collective power that appear across the Histories. Dêmokratia, as Pelling points out, does not receive systematic treatment by Herodotus. Tyranny and freedom, however, do. I would suggest that Herodotus’ attention to how different peoples create, sustain, and fail to maintain collective power through nomoi illuminates an underlying counterpoint to the ‘big man’ narratives he also loves to tell. Winning freedom may depend on a leader, but its sustenance requires that the collective wean itself from such dependence. Themistocles gives good advice about how the ‘wall of wood’ refers to a fleet ready for battle at sea, but the Athenians decide to follow this advice. The collectivity holds the power and they are, after all, the ones who win the battle itself.

That said, the paradox to which Pelling returns readers of the Histories remains: Herodotus proposes no definitive set of nomoi––culture, customs, or laws––that can guarantee the perdurance of freedom won by collective power. So ‘yes and no’ to democracy but also ‘yes and no’ to Spartan isokratia or Ionian isonomia. And ‘yes and no’ to each of the politeiai that Herodotus introduces across the course of his inquiry. As Pelling demonstrates, Herodotus brings readers to appreciate this paradox through his wonderful summoning of myriad causes, explanations, stories, and human and nonhuman actors. By doing so, Herodotus equips us to understand and appreciate the dynamic nature of things, illuminating the reasons for both ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Herodotus and the Question Why opens such a reading of Herodotus with skill and intelligence. About the book, then, one can declare with confidence a resounding ‘yes’.

Joel Alden Schlosser Bryn Mawr College jschlosser@brynmawr.edu"

[top-tier-tickles]

Dark Deception Tickle AU

Part 2! I have an owl house fic coming up as well, so be ready that, too.

______________________________________

Chapter 5: Part 2

Doug returned to the floating platform maze to collect the rest of the 32 shards remaining. Dodging every danger possible, dashing between the swinging hammers, paralyzing the clown cars and running past the giant Jack-in-the-Boxes as the tune of "Pop goes the Weasel" played from them. Soon, he'd collected all 60 shards.

The tablet's map guided him to a portal that looked different from the ones he'd seen, this one looked more like a doorway, and it had a green color rather than red.

Doug walked through, ending up in a relatively tiny area that looked like the inside of a circus tent, the statue of the ring piece in the center.

When he reached the center, a loud -CLUNK-, was heard, and the room began to slowly rotate.

The rotation revealed a small alcove, seemingly empty, until a small clown popped out of a puff of confetti.

Doug's stomach sank, he was locked in a room with one of the things he hated most, nowhere to go, nothing to do except run.

He circled the area, using Primal Fear to freeze the tiny little bastard. The clown halted, leaning its head back as it stood in a daze. Doug staying right where he was.

The room spun slowly as the opening revealed another door leading to another green portal.

Upon walking through it, Doug ended up in a dimly lit room. A track laid on the floor with a roller coaster cart on the rails. The track was leading to another part of the area, the entrance has illuminated sign above it- 'FUNHOUSE'. The cart was massive, with a simplified design of a clown's face on the front, a giant red nose tied all of it together.

He quickly hopped in the cart, and the safety bar clicked him in instantly before he could change his mind.

"Are you prone to motion sickness? I hope not, because there's plenty more of this here." Bierce said.

The cart jolted, but then began rolling slowly to a pair of double doors as they opened. He soon was in a small hall with light-up walls as they flashed patterns of bright, nearly psychedelic colors.

The cart stopped again, only for the floor itself to start lowering. He reached another door, which opened to near pitch blackness, except for a red light on the floor, illuminating the fog and tracks. The rails led to a blacklight-colored clown entryway, fake mechanical jaws snapping up and down.

The most chilling sight, however, was six giant versions of these clown monsters surrounded the tracks, colored in the same blacklight, all waving to Doug, flashing their giant claws at him.

Doug's face went pale, he wanted to leap out of the cart and book it, but the bar had him locked in for the ride.

The cart rolled faster now, through the mouthed door and into another hall of bright lights, much longer than the first. Barely given any time to think, Doug was in another area, only much bigger, and the walls of lights seemed to twist into a spiral. If the lights had flashed faster, Doug definitely would've gotten a headache.

Finally, at the end, he could see another green portal! The cart parked itself, and Doug got out the second he was released.

The dark walls were painted with cartoonish eyes, the portal having a sign above it, reading 'FUNHOUSE', a mechanical clown structure overseeing it.

He walked through, greeted by another doorway, the words "HAVE FUN!" painted over it. Two cardboard cutouts of the little shits adorning the sides.

"What's black and white and red all over? I suggest you start running before you find out..." Bierce said.

Doug read her loud and clear, using speed boost to immediately get a head start on collecting. The whole place was dark, cast in a blacklight glow. Crude paintings of various clowns and phrases shone the black walls.

Giant building blocks scattered on the floor, and a faint, repeated -BOOM- could be heard in the distance.

He turned his head to see a room with two giant canons blasting giant canonballs, witch exploded into confetti on impact with the adjacent wall. He decided not to risk it right now, and headed straight.

Doug entered a large room with multicolored podiums scattered about, he attempted to walk forward, only to smack his head into- himself?

No, not himself. A mirror.

This was a mirror maze.

He got up, no time to look at himself, he quickly attempted to maneuver through the maze, keeping track of the way he came in as to not get trapped. Luckily, he had Teleport to speed up the process.

He'd cleared out the maze, happy to get out of there, but surprised that he hadn't seen a single clown.

'Heeheeheehehahaha!"

Spoke too soon.

A gaggle of clowns was rushing at him on the other side of the corridor, their bodies glowing in the darkness of this maze.

One quick blast of Primal Fear, and he maneuvered his way through the tiny things, and into a multicolored hall, with a green portal on the side.

Jumping through it, Doug was transported to the upper level of this small area, able to get the soul shards there without worrying about any clowns.

Eventually though, he did have to come down to get the rest, using telepathy to make sure the coast was clear.

He traveled the halls of the blacklight maze until he reached a smaller hallway. The walls were painted with yellow and red stripes, with purple arches donning the walls as well. The floor had a long track on it, not unlike the one from the funhouse ride.

The map indicated that there were soul shards there, so he continued down it. It seemed the clowns couldn't reach him in there as well.

Suddenly the sound of iron wheels faded within earshot. Doug turned, only to see the white clown cart rushing towards him, barely missing as he shoved himself against the wall.

Great, he wasn't safe there either.

He decided to take care of any shards in this train corridor, keeping mind of the speeding cart.

Deep into the tunnel, his hand pressed into a wall, opening a secret door.

'Do all of these hellholes have secret rooms?' Doug thought.

The room's walls were black, with glow-in-the-dark paintings of words and a clock.

"TIME'S UP!", one wall said.

"YOU CAN'T CHANGE WHAT YOU ARE", said the other.

Two barrels laid at the end. A note upon each of them.

He picked up the one on the right first.

A newspaper clipping about his arrest. Sexual misconduct. He never thought of fully assaulting them, but he thought he was so high and mighty that he got too handsy and cocky.

He had problems that ran deep, the only outlet for them was those poor women. He had been released on a 1,000 dollar bail, though undeserved. None of that would ever excuse it.

Doug looked at his hands, feeling disgusted with himself and all he'd done. He thought he was so untouchable and great, but he was nothing but a lawyer with money and narcissism issues.

He picked up the one on the left.

Another note from his past self. After everything that had happened.

He had hallucinations of them. Every which way he turned, he saw his wife and daughter. His heart had ached for it to be true, but he was crazy to even think they'd want to see him. He'd tried to attend religious groups and donate to every possible charity there was to cleanse his soul, though it was useless.

Medication, the very thing that drove his problems, was part of an escape for him. To try and forget the unforgettable. He had half a mind to down the whole bottle and get it over with, though he knew that was the easy way out, so he never did.

He continued to live with himself, spending every waking hour just wishing he could see them again, hold them, hear their voices. He knew damn well where he was going when all was said and done, but he needed to fix things first.

That's exactly what he planned to do.

His fist were clenched tightly. His hands hurt.

______________________________________

END OF CHAPTER 5: PART 2

Chp. 1-1, Chp. 1-2, Chp. 2-1, Chp. 2-2, Chp. 2-3, Chp. 2-4, Chp. 3-1, Chp. 3-2, Chp. 3-3, Chp. 4-1, Chp. 4-2, Chp. 5-1, Chp. 5-2, Chp. 5-3, Chp. 6-1, Chp. 6-2, Chp. 6-3,