#or if they are to stay on my private bookshelves in my office

[hkblack]

Let me tell you a story...

It starts in the summer of 2021. Honestly it probably starts a little before that. 2020 through 2022 ish are a bit hazy because there was a lot of sitting around at home doing nothing.

Somewhere in that haziness my partner goes “wait, you haven’t watched this Good Omens show yet? And you haven’t read the book? … oh no. You should do that.”

And immediately after finishing the show I knew I was in trouble. I knew if I read the book I would absolutely fall down the fandom rabbit hole and be trapped, and so for a very long while, I didn’t. Until I did.

And then in August 2021, I wandered into fandom. I had been lurking. Seeing what AO3 had to offer. Crawling back onto Tumblr. But I had a story idea, and I needed a beta reader. And the last time I was in fandom, LiveJournal was still a thing, so I didn’t know where to go.

I found out about Discord, and I signed up for a thousand servers, it felt like, and in one server I bravely started sticking my neck out.

There was talk about someone writing a Human AU on a farm, and farm animals in general, and I chimed in about goat-scaping. And then I made the joke that would seal my fate.

“I don’t know if I could write a kid fic, but you know. I could write a kid (goat) fic.”

It was meant to be a short, sweet, meet-cute. Professor Aziraphale has a goat from the goat scaping team break into his office. Based loosely on a campus experience where a member of the goat-scaping team at a campus I was on tried (and failed) to get into a classroom once.

A simple formula. Maybe a 4+1? 4 times a goat broke into Professor Aziraphale Fell’s office, and one time it didn’t.

I even found the first beta reading request. First chapter done, I’ve got four more planned. Rated T.

Ha.

I started writing Chapter 5, you know, the final chapter, and realized—there’s more to this story. These characters have life, and story, and who doesn’t want to see more goats? Also, had I truly fulfilled the “kid-fic” portion of my joke?

I think we can all agree that no, no I hadn’t.

So, I kept writing. But I also found my stride in other Discord Servers and in Fandom in general. And in the winter of 2021, I went on a beta-reading blitz for the Gift Exchange happening in the Do It With Style Events Discord server. I read something like 14? 15? stories in a very short amount of time and in doing so, got to know some really amazing people and began to carve out my spot in the community.

From this server I found folks with lived goat-experience who were willing to share and advise me. From this server I found beta readers and brit pickers willing to cheer me on and guide my writing to the best version it could be. I found friends and joy and I found community.

And if you look very carefully through the pages of Bleating Hearts, I think that at its heart, past the puns, past the obvious fast burn love story, and the crooked Luce Matin and demanding James Starr, and even beyond the goats, it’s a story about finding your place in a community. While we talk about Aziraphale and Crowley and their relationship, so many people have asked me about Anathema and Crowley at the chicken coop (we only got to see Newt and Aziraphale in the bedroom). The most commented on scene is Anathema pulling the car over and getting Aziraphale’s consent to go to Tracy’s for lunch.

It's a story with goats, romance, and drama. But it’s a story about community.

I have thanked the people most involved a thousand times over, and I will always take an excuse to thank them again. @ambrasue, my ride or die beta reader. She is who to thank for the sentences making sense. And for me not beating you all over the head with the word “Gently.” HolRose, for the Brit-Picking and second pair of eyes when Ambra and I had gone cross-eyed, and always, always, always having a kind comment ready to go for every chapter update. @writingordinaryrealities, for all things Goats, and for not laughing at me when we met in person and I lost my cool over real life goats.

@mirjam-writes! Mirjam made me my first ever fanart for one of my fanfics! And so many more of you have followed suit and I never know what to say when I see it but I always make a noise and run excitedly to my partner and flap my hands and show him his heart and he always gets the dumbest smile and goes, “I love when people make you goat fanart. You are adorable when you’re verklempt.”

But also, the DIWS and Good Omens community. Every single person who shouted at one of my snippets when I needed a boost and shared a bit of what I was proud of. Every single person who tagged me in a goat video—you all have tagged me in so many goat videos. I watch each and every one of them. Every single person who got excited when I said I was finally ready to start posting.

Because you see, that support, that community, led me to pay it forward. At TIC4 in 2023, I had just finished my panel on beta reading and was feeling a bit amped up. I saw in the chat that someone wanted to talk Slow Show and Human Aus and, I don’t know if y’all know this, but uh, I’m a big fan of human AUs. And so I hopped into the break out room and met J.

J is a lovely human who has been fandoming since the OG Star Trek days with Kirk and Spock. She had found a physical copy of Slow Show and just needed to talk to someone, anyone about it. She wasn’t sure what the Archive was, she was still learning her way around digital fandom, and I instantly wanted to reach out and help her find community and joy the way I had when I got started in the fandom. So, I sat down and I gave her my favorites. I told her how to find me on socials. We connected on Discord. We sent each other long letters back and forth on Discord sharing our joys and frustrations and our love of GO and talking about all sorts of other things. And it has been amazing listening to her stories and getting to know her.

Unbeknownst to me, J had reached out to @brunheiffer to ask for a physical copy of Bleating Hearts. Now—I’m all for fandom in the physical space, but it’s never even crossed my mind to do more than something printed out at my home printer, hastily hole punched, and shoved into a binder so I could sneak fanfiction reading time during 5th period math class after I was done with my worksheets many, many, many moons ago. When brunheiffer reached out and asked if they could print and bind a copy for me—I didn’t know what to say. Or do. Or think. I think I keysmashed? I keysmashed after I made my partner read the message out loud. And then I went and looked through tumblr and all of brunheiffer’s excellent work. And then I went, “Do I say yes?” and he went “um YES OF COURSE YOU SAY YES. WHAT”

So, I said yes.

I also said yes to progress shots and got to watch some of the coolest work ever. I didn’t know how books…ya know…booked. Witchcraft probably? I’m still convinced there is witchcraft involved, but there is also an incredible amount of skill, and time, and patience, and hard work, and love that is put into making a book a book. And learning what I did, and watching the process, and seeing the care that brunheiffer put into each of the three (THREE!) sets of books that were made (one for me, one for brunheiffer, one for J), was just stunning.

Do you know, J reached out to me and apologized for not asking me first and asked me if it was okay that she had reached out and asked if brunheiffer would do this for her? Why would I ever be against something so heartfelt and kind?

I cried.

I legitimately sat in my office and cried.

When people ask me how I write the way I do, or why I write, or anything along those lines. I have the same answer. “I write for myself.”

Oh sure, I started to write Bleating Hearts to make Ambra laugh and/or have feelings, but at the end of the day, when I write, it is because I need to get the bed time stories I tell myself at night, the day dreams while sitting on the bus, out of my head and somewhere else—so that a new movie can play. And when I write, I write knowing that I will come back to that story. That I will forget the little pieces (because I have a pretty shit memory tbh), and I’ll be able to go back, and wrap myself up in the comfort of the story I have written, and be surprised by some of the little details I left as presents for myself. And be excited. And be happy. And watch my favorite movie again.

So every time I see someone make art of this story, or talk about how they love the story, or how happy it made them, or the feelings it inspired, or how reading goats made them want to write their own fanfiction—I get, well, like my partner says, “verklempt.” I don’t know what to do with that feeling, other than to just be overwhelmed that somehow something I made to entertain me has brought other people so much joy. Has helped people connect and find community.

What a powerful and beautiful thing that is.

Not everything I write is going to be Bleati—y'all I am just going to call it Goats. Calling it Bleating Hearts feels so weird. It’s Goats. That’s the name of the story. That’s my name for the story.

Anyway.

Not everything is going to be Goats. I’ve got some wips in the hopper right now that are um…lots of angst and heavy spice. Not everything I write is going to be liked by everyone. Some of it may even offend you.

But knowing that this one thing has inspired you all to the point that I’ve been gifted the ability to hold my story in my hand?

That’s powerful.

And it only exists because this community, this Good Omens community, has come together and chosen joy.

There’s some bad apples out there, there are in every bunch. But I am liberal with my block button and have been blessed to find a welcoming and warm community that creates some amazing and incredible art—whether that’s like actual like digital or pen to paper art, or the fiction you write, or the podfics you record, or the meta analysis you write, or the playlists or the animatics or the beta reading or the shouting unhinged support or the role playing or the plushies, or the books you bind—this community is full of incredibly creative and amazing people.

So thanks, y’all, for letting me part of your community, and enjoying my silly little goat fic. And thank you brunheiffer and J for this amazing gift.

If you haven’t read it, or just want to reread it, you can read Bleating Hearts (GOATS) on Archive of Our Own.

All my love,

HK

(I am the most cringe sap on main right now. No regurts)

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Random thought:

You and August Walker sneaking out of a work party to get some time in his private office.

Zombie

Well, Zombie, I'll tell you what I think would happen...

Title: Executive Temptation

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: CEO!August Walker x Employee!Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: You’ve caught the eye of CEO August Walker. What happens when he asks you to go to his private office?

Warnings: (responsible) alcohol consumption, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

When the elevator dings and the doors open, he holds out an arm to let you enter first. As you step inside, you catch the eye of your coworker, who is making an obscene gesture with her hands. You can’t exactly blame her. You did just get into an elevator with the damn CEO of Walker Logistics LLC.

That’s right. You and August Walker are in an elevator on the way to his private office to speak more discreetly. 

A million different things went through your mind when he first asked you to step away to his office, and it showed on your face when you first stuttered through an excuse to stay at the party. 

“Tell you what, why don’t we just continue our conversation about your ideas over better booze than what they have down here? I’ll behave as long as you do,” he offers, his sonorous baritone washing over you like a warm bath.

It was more than easy to agree with him; he just had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the room.

As the elevator lifts, August leans against the left wall while you stand in the center. You try to maintain the silence that is only interrupted as the floor indicator dings every few seconds. The anxiety of feeling like you have to perform is strong, and you want to come up with something that he will find interesting.

But all you can come up with is, “You know, you can’t say happiness without saying penis.” 

August’s head whips to you so fast, you think his neck may have broken. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Sometimes, when I’m nervous, I spout useless trivia. It’s the worst superpower,” you admit, hoping he would let it go.

“Sex is ten times more effective than Valium. So, maybe we shouldn’t be so coy,” he hums, pushing off of the wall and coming to stand next to you when the elevator stops.

When the doors open, you are greeted with quite a sight. The entirety of the top floor is closed off by walls, except for his secretary’s desk, which sits just outside double doors. 

You are so surprised by the fact that you are in the CEO’s space that you just gawk at everything while staying in the elevator. It’s only when August stops the doors from closing on you that you close your mouth and follow him to the doors to his office.

Once they open, you’re greeted with a modern office space with two conference rooms around the left and right corners. His L-shaped desk sits in the center of the room, and the polished ebony wood stain reflects the lights of the city from the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the back wall. A leather sofa and armchair set that seems rather inviting fills the carpeted area in front of the mini-bar. You spy the bookshelves that line the right and left walls and wonder to yourself if he’s even read half of them.

Walking around the desk, your feet carry you to the right bookcase. You read the titles of book after book about business and the economy. How fucking boring!

From his spot at the mini-bar, August gets your attention. “So, what would the lady like to drink while she snoops?”

“I’m not snooping. Just looking,” you advise, your fingers swiping the various spines as you walk toward him. “And I would love some bourbon if you have it. No ice.”

“I think I’ll join you,” he remarks, retrieving two lowball glasses and a decanter of the amber liquid. Pouring about two fingers into one glass and then the other. He takes both glasses and places them on the glass coffee table that sits between the sofa and the two comfy chairs. He picks up his drink and turns to you. “What shall we toast to?”

The anxiety running through you is replaced by lust as you join him on the couch, close enough to feel his body heat. Pheromones must be wafting in the air because he smells like sex on legs. You bend forward to pick up your bourbon, and the top of your dress reveals some cleavage. Out of the corner of your eye, you see August tilt his head as he sneaks a peek.

“To not being coy,” you insist, offering your raised glass.

August clinks his glass with yours and says, “To not being coy.”

You both take a sip and when you put your drink down after a sizable gulp, August mirrors you and sits back against the couch. You turn, and he is watching you with hungry eyes. Now or never, you think to yourself.

Leaning in, you kiss the smirk right off his face. His soft, pink lips part and his tongue licks into your mouth. Deepening the kiss, you allow him entry and massage his tongue with yours as you move to his lap. His hands caress your thighs before sliding up your leg to land on your hips. You know what he is after, so you start to rock your hips and are awarded with a deep rumble of a groan from August.

With his hands grabbing onto your ass, you grow bold and swivel your hips once, then twice. As August bucks up into you, you whimper, and he breaks the kiss. Maintaining eye contact, he reaches up your dress and stops when his fingertips touch your panties.

“May I take these off?” he asks, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip as he looks up at you.

“Fuck, yes,” you yelp, your desire becoming too much to handle.

With your permission, he pulls them down your legs as far as they will go with you kneeling in his lap. Positioning you to lay back on the couch, he removes them completely, then dives in between your legs with his hands wrapped around your thighs to hold you close. 

He kisses your inner thighs before focusing on your wet pussy. To say he must have been starving for you is an understatement. The way he licks from your hole to your swollen nub was just this side of overwhelming. Swirling his tongue around your pearl, he waits until you begin to buck your hips to take your clit into his mouth.

Your hands go to his hair, clutching his chestnut locks as he sucks your soul out of your body. You’re near tears when he slowly inserts a finger between your folds. You barely hold yourself together as he strokes your inner walls, paying attention to the inner bundle of nerves that drives you wild.

Inserting another finger, he picks up his speed while massaging your G-spot. Listening to your body, he knows that you are on the very edge. One wrong move, and he could ruin it completely. 

But, lucky for you, he knows what he is doing.

He lets your clit slip past his lips, changing his tactic. Flicking his tongue up and down on your bud while adding a third finger to stretch you out, he puts on a master class at foreplay. Within moments, the hold you have on your faculties is all but forgotten as you are brought to orgasm. Your walls clench around his fingers, and he continues to play with your sweet spot. The noise of your sopping hole echoes in the office.

“That’s it; let it go. Such a good girl for me. So fucking delicious, too,” he praises, talking you through it. “You sound so fucking sexy right now.”

When you come down from your high, August is right there to kiss away the tear that escapes your eye as he caresses you. Your entire body is afire with sensations. His hands on you feel feather-soft. Looking up into his face, you can’t help but bring him down to kiss him. The kiss starts slow, but as it continues, tongues and teeth make an appearance. He nibbles and sucks on your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from deep in your throat. 

He breaks the kiss again to kiss and nip at your jaw and neck. You wrap a leg around his waist, shoving your hand between you to stroke him through his slacks. The groan from him at the contact radiates through you. You can tell he has a monster under those clothes, and you want it.

Echoing his politeness from earlier, you speak up, “May I?”

“Please,” he gushes, sitting on his heels to give you better access.

You unzip and unbutton him, reaching inside to take him out. You thank him silently for prepping you with three fingers, because damn. The uncut snake in his pants is heavy in your hands. While you want nothing more than to have it inside you, you would also love to gag on it. August’s hand under your chin lifts your face until your eyes meet.

“As much as I would love your pretty lips around me, I need to be inside you,” he implores, his thumb ghosting over your lips. “I promise you can choke on it later.”

You gasp as he removes your hand from his dick and pushes you slightly to lay back down. He throws your legs over his shoulders, lining himself up with your core, before pushing in slowly. He takes his time, letting you get used to being so filled and allowing him to adapt to your tight heat.

Folding you into yourself, he retracts his hips and thrusts forward. You groan in unison. Pulling out until just the tip remains inside you, he slams back in, kissing your cervix with his cockhead. He picks up the speed, and you can hear how fucking wet you are. The sloshy slaps of flesh on flesh are enough to have you close to orgasm already.

The entire room smells like sex, and it is intoxicating. Your gasps and whines as he fucks you only spur him on to help you chase after your climax. Parting your legs, he grips your thighs, fucking into you harder and faster. The look of determination on his face has you reaching down to play with your sensitive clit.

He swats your hand away in favor of using his fingers to make you cum around him. It happens quicker than you planned, a testament to his expertise. He fucks you through your release, your overworked pussy leaving cream all over his cock. He slows down to a more intimate pace as you come back to yourself.

You tangle a hand in his messy curls and pull him down to kiss you. With your hand on his hip, you urge him to move again. He kisses you deeper as his hips pick up the pace fucking you. You swallow every grunt and grumble from his thrusts. When his lips part from yours, you see the want in his eyes. You know he’s close by the way his hips stutter and his dick twitches.

Tightening your legs around his waist, you push your heel into his ass, and he gets the hint. 

“You want my cum? Ugh, fuck, I’m so close. Shit! Argh, fuck,” he gasps, his cock spasming as he spills inside you. He collapses on top of you with his face in your neck, and you rub his back while he comes down.

Once his softening length slips from you, he grunts and picks himself up to sit back on his heels. He watches as his cum leaks out of you and licks his lips. He gets up and tucks himself away before motioning for you to stay right where you are. He grabs a towel from the mini-bar, coming back to clean up his mess from between your legs. He tosses the towel on the coffee table and picks up his drink to take a sip.

“I wasn’t lying earlier, you know,” he discloses, moving to sit down when you pull yourself into a seated position.

“Huh?” you ask, wracking your brain to find out what he’s talking about.

“I still want to hear your ideas on how to expand our market reach. I mean, you don’t even work in our marketing department, and your ideas have my attention,” he praises, his voice sincere in tone.

“I do have a few ideas on how the company can grow,” you beam, happy to be noticed. “But I think I’d like to discuss that first thing on Monday. Right now, I’d rather enjoy this bourbon and spend time not talking about work. If you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind at all,” he affirms, sipping his drink before smiling at you. “I am actually looking forward to Monday for a change. But before then, would you let me take you to dinner? I promise there will be no work talk.”

You look into your glass, swirling the amber liquid while you think about it for all of three seconds. “I’ll let you take me to dinner on one condition,” you advise, a smirk playing on your lips.

“And what would that be?” he asks, his arm going to the back of the couch.

“You let me choke on it before tonight is over,” you flirt, holding in a giggle.

The way his eyes darken is a thing of beauty. He lowers his drink from his lips and says, “Fuck, where did that coy little thing go? I’m not complaining, by the way. I’ll make sure you get a taste; don’t you worry.” 

You suddenly feel very warm, and you can’t believe this man is real. You wonder how his words can make you want nothing more than to kiss him until you can’t breathe. You put down your glass after downing the last bit in one go. Liquid courage, don’t fail me now, you think to yourself.

August puts down his glass and leans back. You crawl into his lap again, a knee on either side of his hips. Entwining a hand in his hair, you lean forward and capture his lips again. This time, the kiss is slow and sensual. Your tongue dances with his until your lips touch again. Nipping at his bottom lip elicits a whimper from him that is music to your ears.

His hands move to your ass, gripping the globes as if his life depended on it. When one hand leaves, you only miss it for a second before it lands back on your cheek with a slap. You moan into his mouth, and you can feel the rumble of a chuckle in his chest.

He’s got you right where he wants you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: This story was super fun to write. I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

**Tag List**

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[aflame4goinghome]

Illicit Affairs

d.r.w x reader

chapter ii

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!! swearing, flirting, power dynamic; SMUT: fingering, touching, sexually implicit language, dirty talk, oral sex (m. receiving), unprotected sex, slight choking, sir kink, spanking, a little bit of degradation, praise kink, hint of dom/sub dynamic

A/N: This story is in collaboration with my wonderful, talented friends @gretavanstink & @childinthegardenn!! Go give them a follow and give @gretavanstink’s fics some love! Thanks for sticking with us! We’re so glad you like the story so far :) Enjoy!

Listen to the official playlist on Spotify here!

chapter i

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

As you stand in the hall waiting for the elevator to open, you pull your phone out and see another text from Rose.

From: Rose🌹

HELLOOOOO? Are you alive?

The doors slide open and you step inside, pressing the button for the third floor and leaning back against the wall as you type a response to her.

To: Rose🌹

He made me stay back after everyone else left. CHECKED THE CLASSLIST LIKE HE DIDN’T KNOW MY NAME and told me to “hang back for a sec”

You press send and shove your phone back in your pocket as the elevator doors slide open. Stepping out, you turn your head to look down both sides of the hall and see a sign that points toward offices 311 to 321. You follow the sign, stopping in front of his closed door, and glance around for somewhere to sit. There’s an uncomfortable-looking bench tucked into an alcove across from his office and nothing else. Better than the floor, you think as you take a seat, plopping your bag down next to you. Your phone buzzes with another text from Rose as you notice the faux stained glass privacy shade Daniel has on his office window.

From: Rose🌹

Oh, he’s evil. What are you gonna do?

To: Rose🌹

I DON’T KNOW. He told me we should talk privately so now I’m just sitting here outside of his office waiting for him to get back from a meeting with another prof

From: Rose🌹

You’re insane, I love you. Keep me updated, I’m heading into another class🩷

To: Rose🌹

Love you too, I will🩵

You slip your phone into your back pocket and cross your legs, unsure of how long he is going to keep you waiting. Ten minutes pass with no sign of him and you let out a sigh, rifling through your bag and pulling out Dante's La Vita Nuova. You flip to your current page and set your bookmark on your leg, letting your back rest against the wall as you skim the page.

After about twenty minutes, you hear the clack of dress shoes on tile from around the corner and your stomach flips, recognizing the sound from class as Daniel paced around the room. You fix your posture and pretend to continue reading even though your brain is too scattered to absorb anything. 

Daniel rounds the corner and sees you waiting, a smug grin forming on his lips as he approaches you. Stopping in front of you, he plucks your book from your hands and glances at it before looking down at you and winking. He leans down and lifts your bookmark off your thigh, slipping it between the pages and placing the book back in your hands. Your eyes follow his every move, focusing on his hands, as he unlocks his office and steps inside, leaving the door open. You slip your book back into your bag and stand, slinging it over your shoulder as you step into the doorway.

 As you look in, you notice a black leather loveseat tucked between two bookshelves against the wall. The bookshelves are filled with different eras; the Italian Renaissance, the liberation of France, and the Industrial Revolution. Your eyes fall on a copy of Voltaire’s Alzire and a smile forms on your lips. The top shelf boasts a scale model of the Duomo di Siena and a photo of himself in his early twenties during what you assume was a study abroad program. Daniel clears his throat, snapping you back to reality, and you turn his way. 

“Are you coming in or are you just going to stand there?” He asks, leaning forward on his desk. His eyes travel down your body before flicking back up to meet your gaze. “Because I’m fine either way.”

You feel your cheeks redden and you step inside, pushing the door closed behind you. You lower yourself into the seat across from his desk and set your bag at your feet. You’re unsure what to say so you sit silently, returning his stare as he looks right through you.

“Well this is certainly a different view than I had the other night,” he finally says, leaning back in his chair. You fight the urge to look at the floor, keeping your eyes trained on him as he stands and moves around his desk to your side. He leans against it and folds his arms across his chest, watching your face for a reaction. 

“Daniel…” You say, your voice barely a whisper. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. “We have to stop, right?”

Daniel shrugs his shoulders and lowers his arms, bracing himself on the edge of the desk and crossing his ankles. Your eyes leave his face and focus on how his fingers wrap around the edge of the wood, the way his forearms flex and his veins bulge.

“If that’s what you want,” he says, his tone bordering on indifference. A smirk forms on his lips as he notices you staring at his arms again and he pushes off the desk. He walks around your seat and places his hands on the back, leaning down to speak in your ear. “I don’t think that’s what you want though, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel him brush your hair to one shoulder, his lips ghosting over your neck as he says, “No. I think you like this.”

You push yourself out of your seat and walk to the window that overlooks the quad, the closeness making your head spin. After taking a moment to collect yourself, you turn back to face him again, leaning back against the windowsill. 

“I think you like it,” you say, bringing your eyes up to meet his as he crosses his arms, watching you.

“You’re right,” Daniel says, closing the distance between you. He places his hands on the windowsill, trapping you between his arms, and looks down at you. “But you didn’t deny liking it.”

He captures your lips with his, one hand moving to the small of your back to pull your body against his. You relent, returning the kiss, as if you were putty in his hands. You didn’t deny it because you couldn’t. Something about him made you feel like a live wire, dangerous. You feel his tongue run across your lips and you part them, letting him in. He breaks the kiss and places more along your jaw, his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt and resting on your waist. 

“It’s wrong isn’t it?” You ask breathlessly as he continues down your neck. He lifts his head and looks into your eyes but doesn’t let go of you. You can feel your arousal soaking through your panties as he holds you tight to him.

“Says who?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “We’re both adults.”

Daniel lets his hand wander down the outside of your thigh and then between your legs, pausing there and smirking. 

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want this,” he says quietly, his hand drifting up to the button of your jeans.

“I do, but,” you sigh and place a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly. “I’m your student.”

Daniel takes his hand off of you and backs up, giving you space to breathe. You return to the seat across from his desk and cross your legs, looking at your hands and picking at your thumb absentmindedly as you think. He takes your place, leaning against the windowsill, and waits patiently for you to continue.

“Like, morally, this is wrong,” you say finally, turning your gaze towards him. “And if we get caught it’ll be a world of trouble for both of us.”

“Guess we can’t get caught then,” he says, sitting back down. He leans forward, resting his arms on the desk. “Just think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” you say quietly, nodding. You stand and slip on your backpack and Daniel stands as well, walking you to the door. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob and looks down at you, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Don’t think too hard,” he says, twisting the knob and opening the door.

“I’ll let you know by the end of the week,” you say, smiling softly and stepping into the hallway.

You make your way back to the elevator and press the down button, standing back and waiting for the doors to open. When they slide apart, you step inside, press the button for the ground floor, and lean back against the wall, letting it hold your weight up as you take a few deep breaths. The doors open and you walk through the lobby and out into the afternoon sun.

You pop your earbuds in and start your walk home, your music picking up where it had stopped earlier. Fitting, you think, blowing a short laugh through your nose, as Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash flows into your ears. You hum along to the song, your mind replaying what just happened as you wander off campus. 

You buzz yourself into your building and jog a little to catch the elevator that another resident held open for you. When you get into your apartment, you toss your bag into the chair at your desk and flop onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. You fold your hands on your stomach and close your eyes, realizing how exhausted you are as you start to drift off.

Your eyes open at the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by Rose’s bedroom door closing, and you check the time on your phone, 4:57 pm. You let out a deep sigh and sit up, knowing you should at least try to read the syllabi for your classes tomorrow. 

You walk to your desk and pull the chair out, moving your bag to the floor next to you as you sit down and slide your laptop out of its case. As you type your password in, Rose knocks on your open door and leans on the doorframe, peeking in at you.

“So,” she begins, drawing out the word. “What happened?”

Reading can wait, you think as you turn your chair to face her, pinching the bridge of your nose and sighing heavily. 

“He kissed me in his office,” you say, feeling your stomach flip as you say it. “Against the window that looks over the quad.”

Rose’s eyes widen and she steps into your room, sitting on your bed cross-legged. She rests her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands as she waits for you to continue.

“And all I could think was that I wanted him to keep going,” you add, standing and joining her on your bed. You rest your back on the wall and let your head fall back. “What am I gonna do?”

“What do you want to do?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I want to crawl in a hole and come out when the semester is over,” you say, laughing and shaking your head.

“Well that’s not really an option, babe,” she says. You shoot her a look and roll your eyes, drawing a giggle out of her.

“What if I drop the class?” you ask, rubbing your temples. “Then I wouldn’t have to see him. I could just forget the whole thing.”

“Could you really just forget it all though?” Rose challenges, tilting her head to the side. “I mean…he’s really hot, Y/N.”

“I know, Rose,” you say. “I want him. But I’m his student.”

“Who cares,” she says, lengthening the second word. “It’s not like you have to fall in love. Just have good, hot sex.”

You burst into a fit of laughter at the idea, pushing Rose’s shoulder, and fall to lay on your side.

“Alright,” you relent. “Maybe you have a point.”

“What’s the harm?” She adds, shrugging her shoulders. You roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling, resting your hands on your stomach. Focusing on the rise and fall of your stomach with your breath, you let your eyes fall closed and think quietly for a few moments.

“Just good, hot sex,” you repeat, opening your eyes and turning your head to look up at your best friend. “I told him I’d let him know by Friday.”

“See, you have time to think about it,” she says, patting your leg reassuringly. “Was he really that good?”

You prop yourself up on your elbows and smirk, feeling your cheeks turn pink as you replay the night in the bar in your head.

“Best I’ve ever had,” you say, tossing your head back. “Like…unforgettable.”

“I could just forget the whole thing,” Rose teases, doing her best impression of you. You snap your head back up and slap her arm.

“Shut up,” you giggle. “Get out. I have some things to think about.”

“Oh you mean Dr. Wagner,” she says as she stands, running out of your reach before you smack her again. “I’ll leave you to it.”

She winks and walks out of your room, closing your door behind her and leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sigh and sit up, your mind reeling at the way this semester was off to a start you couldn’t have imagined in your wildest dreams. Hopping off your bed, you grab your laptop and crawl under your covers. You give a quick skim over your syllabus for the rest of your classes, trying your hardest to focus as you add some important dates to your planner.

After an hour, your focus is shot and you decide to grab a quick shower, as you always do your best thinking in the warm steam. You strip out of your clothes for the day, deposit them in your laundry basket, and stand looking at yourself in your full-length mirror. Your hand finds the fading purple mark at your collarbone and your cheeks flush as you imagine Daniel’s lips on your skin. You turn your back to the mirror and look over your shoulder, seeing the bruises on your thighs and thinking of the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh. 

You let out a shaky breath and slip your robe on before making your way to the bathroom. Shrugging the robe off, you start the shower to let it warm up before you step in. You sigh as the hot water hits your muscles, the tension leaving your body and flowing down the drain with the water. Your mind wanders back to Daniel’s office as you wash your hair and a chill runs down your spine, bringing goosebumps to your arms and legs.

I think you like this, you hear him say in your mind. Tell me you don’t want this.

You rinse out your hair and lean against the wall, your hand reaching down to massage your clit. A sigh falls from your lips as you set a quick pace of circles with your fingers. You imagine Daniel’s fingers working you, his strong hands bringing you closer and closer to release. The hot water beats at your skin as you let your head fall back against the tiles, moaning softly as you feel the familiar tingle in your abdomen. 

Come on, sweetheart, give it to me, his voice echoes in your mind, sending you tumbling over the edge as your thighs quiver. You squeeze your eyes closed, his name tumbling from your lips as you ride out your orgasm. Once you’ve collected yourself, you finish your shower and slip your robe back on, wandering back to your room and slipping into your pajamas. 

You crawl into bed and close your eyes, making a pros and cons list in your head as you try to find sleep. Pros: hot guy, hot sex. Cons: getting caught, trying to focus in class, morality.

You scoff at the last one. Can you really say you have morality about this when the only thing you wanted in his office was for him to keep going, right there against the window? 

What’s the harm, you hear Rose say. Maybe she’s right, what harm could a little fun do?

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You wake up to your alarm early Friday morning and immediately feel a tight knot in the pit of your stomach. You have to face Daniel again today and finally tell him your answer. You feel slightly giddy over the prospect of getting him alone again, though you do hope that he isn’t going to treat you any differently in class now. You’ll find out soon enough.

The first half of your morning goes by in the blink of an eye. Next thing you know, you’re on your way to the other side of campus for his class. Despite the nervous energy, you still managed to get your assigned reading done. You’re nothing if not committed to academic success, regardless of the situation with Daniel. 

Surprisingly, you rather enjoyed the assignment. Since you were taking the course as a core requirement and not as part of your major, you’d never studied art history before. The level of analysis behind different works of art and how they reflect the social and political climate at the time was fascinating to you. You were surprised by how it ended up connecting well with what you’ve learned in your philosophy classes before about politics, so the subject ended up coming rather easily to you.

You walk into the building and open the door to the lecture hall, thankfully not running late this time around. You have about five minutes to spare before the class begins, giving you a better choice of where to sit. You stand there at the top of the stairs for a moment, looking around for a good place to sit, not wanting to be too close or too far from the front. Finally, you decide to take a seat in the middle somewhere, hoping you might possibly be able to blend in with the rest of the crowd. 

As you bend over in your seat and take your notebook out of your bag, you start to hear the familiar sound of Daniel’s shoes descending the stairs. Here we go, you think, trying to prepare for the awkward class that’s ahead of you. You place your notebook on the small pull-out desk attached to your chair, then decide to suck it up and look up toward the front of the classroom.

You watch as he sits down at the desk and pulls his laptop out of his leather bag. He doesn’t look up once, focusing on connecting his computer to the projector screen and pulling up his presentation for the lecture. After the presentation pops up on the screen, he pushes his chair back and stands up, finally catching your gaze.

One corner of his mouth turns upward into a half-smirk as his eyes meet yours. He goes to push the rolled sleeves of his black button-down up a bit further on his arms, causing your eyes to drift downward. His biceps peak out of the bottom of his sleeve and you can see the muscles flex slightly as he adjusts the sleeves. You bite your lip almost out of instinct, leaning your arm on the desk and resting your chin on your hand. 

Figuring out that you’ve definitely been staring for too long, you look back up to see a full-on smirk across his face. When your eyes lock again, he shoots over a subtle wink before clearing his throat and getting on with the start of class. There’s a lot of chatter going on throughout the room, making it difficult for him to get their attention at first.

“Okay, everyone, settle down,” he says, projecting his voice loud enough to quiet down the room. “Let’s jump right into this first chapter, shall we?”

Daniel uses the remote in his hand to transition to the next slide of the presentation, which shows the first painting from the reading. He starts pacing around the room, walking over to stand on the first step of the stairs as he asks the class for their initial thoughts.

You take the opportunity to look at him closer, thanks to this new proximity. He paired his black shirt with dark gray slacks and his usual black shoes. Your eyes fall on the gold chain around his neck, wondering how much it might have cost, considering how high-quality it looks. He really knew how to put an outfit together, looking expensive yet casual all at the same time– yet another thing that made him annoyingly attractive. You’re still lost in thought when you suddenly hear your name being called, snapping you back into reality.

“Y/N? Are you still with us?” Daniel asks, standing with his arms crossed as he raises an eyebrow at you. You sit up straight in your sight, clearing your throat before answering.

“Oh, um, yes. I’m sorry,” you say, which comes across as almost a mumble.

“I was asking you about what you thought about Liberty Leading The People,” he says, leaning back against the side of the chair on the aisle across from you. “From last night’s reading, assuming that you’ve completed it.” His voice is very matter-of-fact, almost as though he’s catching you in a lie. You won’t give him the satisfaction of embarrassing you in front of the class, that’s for sure. 

“I did do the reading, professor,” you answer, your tone having a bit of a bite to it unintentionally as a result of your frustration. “And I thought that the painting was a perfect representation of the heart of the French Revolution. They united as one and fought together to take down their oppressive government.” The smug look on his face immediately disappears as you continue sharing your analysis with the class.

“Liberté, égalité, fraternité, or liberty, equality, fraternity– the phrase that would end up defining the entire future of the French Republic. It represents the foundation of democracy in France and how it united the entire country, despite their differences. The painting symbolizes these founding ideas of democracy and freedom, which we know is still a prevalent theme in France today.”

You finish speaking, looking up at him as you cross your arms over yourself in your seat, waiting for his response. He wanted to catch you unprepared, which he has failed to do. A small smirk starts to appear on his face as he turns around and walks back toward the front of the classroom, pressing the button on the remote to switch to the next slide.

“Very good analysis, Miss Y/L/N. Outstanding, actually,” he says after turning around to face the class. If he’s feeling embarrassed, then he certainly isn’t showing it, but you’re glad to have been able to put him in his place. He uses the small laser pointer on the remote to point to the short bulleted list on the slide as he starts his lecture on the painting.

You hate how much this act of academic praise satisfied you, especially coming from him. You think to yourself that you’d do anything to have it happen again— to be the one that he compliments in front of the entire class. Despite whatever your relationship with Daniel may be, the desire for your knowledge and thoughts to be appreciated and acknowledged by him was intense. You wanted to please him, in more ways than one.

The rest of the class goes smoothly, thankfully. He manages to leave you alone, choosing to call on different students as you discuss other Romanticism paintings from the reading assignment. His eyes drifted to you every once in a while, but you could tell he was pulling his gaze away almost immediately. You knew that he was trying to give you space, which you appreciated. Finally, he dismisses the class and everyone starts to pack up and leave the hall. You’re putting your things back in your bag as you hear him say your name.

“Y/N,” he says, looking up at you from behind his laptop while sitting at his desk. “Good job today.” 

You smile at him, picking up your bag and putting it on your back. “Thanks,” you say, approaching his desk at the front of the classroom. Most of the students have dispersed by now, besides a few stragglers. “Do you have time to talk, professor?” you continue, biting your lip afterward as you await his answer. You tried to sound as sweet as possible, knowing that it was unlikely for him to say no. 

He smirks, closing his laptop and slipping it into his bag. “Sure, Y/N,” he says, standing up and putting his bag on his shoulder. “Let’s go up to my office, yeah?” He then walks around the desk and begins up the stairs, with you following shortly after him.

As you walk behind him toward the elevator down the hall, you can’t help but notice how much confidence seems to pour out of him as he walks. It was like he owned the place, walking around as though it was second nature to him. You hate to admit how attractive it was, but it was undeniable.

He presses the “up” button for the elevator and you both stand there silently for a moment as you wait for it to arrive. Standing on his left with still a couple of feet between you, you turn your head to look at him. As his head turns to return your gaze, the elevator dings and the doors open.

He walks in first, pressing the button for the third floor and then stepping back as you both watch the doors close in front of you. When the elevator begins to rise, you’re taken aback by his lips crashing onto yours. His hands are planted firmly on your hips as he turns you slightly, putting your back against the wall of the elevator. Your hands begin to tangle in his hair as you feel his tongue collide with yours, making you whine quietly into his mouth. 

His lips turn upward into a smirk against yours at the sound of your pathetic noises, but you’re quickly taken out of it as you hear the elevator ding and immediately stop on the second floor. Shit. 

You scramble to get untangled from him, stepping a few feet away to the other side of the elevator. The doors begin to open and a professor steps in, seemingly going up to the third floor as well. The professor stands between the two of you as the doors begin to shut.

“Ah, Dr. Wagner!” he says, turning toward Daniel on his left. “Good seeing you! How’re your courses faring so far?” Daniel is calm and composed as he turns to his colleague with a grin and answers him. 

“Professor Thomson, it’s great to see you. It’s all going well, but it’s still early,” he jokes, making the professor let out a fit of loud laughter. You, on the other hand, are a total mess. The back of your hair has a slight bump from it being slammed against the wall and your cheeks have turned a deep shade of pink. You just try to avoid the interaction altogether and stare straight ahead until the elevator dings once more and the doors open to the third floor. 

The professor steps out first, bidding Daniel a farewell before turning off to the left corridor. Daniel walks out next, turning right and heading toward his office. You can’t help but feel a bit of deja vu as you follow him to his office. This time, however, you were feeling much more confident. You want to show him that you weren’t just a timid, innocent student like he might think you are.

He holds the door open for you and allows you to walk in past him before shutting the door behind you and locking it. You turn on your heels to face him and see his eyes boring through you– you suppose your moment in the elevator affected him more than he let on. Daniel takes a step toward you, leaving only less than a foot of space between you as his eyes study you. The feeling of him looking at you like that almost takes over you and before you even know you’re doing it, you grab the collar of his shirt and pull him close to you, connecting your lips with his.

He groans into your mouth as your hands find their place within his curls and you push his back against the office door. His arms wrap around your waist and his hips connect with yours, bringing his hard, long cock to your immediate attention. Your hands leave his hair and travel down his chest, finally planting on his hips as you slowly lower yourself onto your knees– a position that both you and him were already familiar with.

You look at him through your eyelashes as your hands start to fiddle with his belt, pulling the end through the loop and unclasping it. “Fuck, I could get used to this,” he mutters, reaching a hand down to push some of your hair out of your face. You continue, pulling down his zipper and unbuttoning the top button of his slacks. He helps you the rest of the way, pulling down his pants and briefs just enough for you to be able to pull his cock out of its confines and take it in your hand.

You pump your hand on it a few times before lowering your mouth onto him, licking a small stripe on his tip. He groans, throwing his head back onto the door and using his hand to hold your hair back out of your face. Thoroughly enjoying the effect you seemed to have on him, you decide to take him completely into your mouth until your nose connects with the smooth material of his shirt resting on his stomach, taking him completely by surprise. 

“Oh my– fuck!” Daniel mumbles, struggling to even get any words out. His hips thrust into your mouth roughly at the sensation of filling your mouth completely, hitting the back of your throat. You begin to move, taking the lead as you retract your mouth slowly and then push him back down your throat. 

The sounds coming out of his mouth as you set a steady pace is enough to get you close to release just by hearing it. You swirl your tongue around his tip and then take him completely into the back of your throat again, gagging around him slightly. As you start to pick up your pace, his hands are pulling your hair back, yanking you off of him. He tucks himself back into his boxer briefs quickly, then brings you up on your feet and his hands cup your cheeks, keeping your attention on him.

“If you keep doing all that, this is gonna end before we even get started, baby…” he says sternly, starting to place hot, wet kisses along your jawline and then down the side of your neck as he pushes you back further into the room. The backs of your legs hit his desk and your hands grip the edge, bracing yourself. “We can’t have that, can we?” 

Daniel continues his attack on your neck, beginning to suck on a sweet spot on your bare collarbone. The feelings are taking over all of your senses, overwhelming you so much that all you can muster up is an enthusiastic nod. He pulls his lips off of you, straightening his back as he towers over you, placing his hand on the back of your neck firmly.

“Words, sweetheart,” he says, scolding you. “You’re a big girl. Act like one.” Your eyes widen at his words, though you have to admit that it has you completely dripping wet.

“No, sir. We can’t,” you answer. His lips turn upward into a slight smirk as his hand moves from behind your neck toward the front. His thumb strokes your neck softly before his hand tightens a bit. “Good girl.”

His lips connect with yours once more and you moan into his mouth as his hand tightens a bit more around your throat. His other hand moves up your side to cup your breast, snug inside your tight ribbed tank top. He makes quick work of that, reaching into your shirt and squeezing your breast, then rolling your nipple in his fingers. You whine at the sensation, making him smirk against your lips. 

“Yeah, you like that?” he asks, pulling his face back a bit, rubbing his nose against yours as his fingers pinch your nipple again, eliciting another moan from you. “Yes, sir, feels so so good,” you whine, as he places a few soft kisses along your jaw.

Suddenly, he spins you around and pulls you against him, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he presses his lips against the shell of your ear. “I’ve thought about doing this again ever since you walked out of that bathroom,” he mumbles, kissing your neck roughly. His hips buck into your ass as you brace your palms against the wooden desk to keep your legs from crumbling beneath you. “Fuck, so have I,” you utter, leaning your head back against his shoulder. 

One of his hands moves from your waist and pushes your back down so that you’re bent over the front of his desk. He lowers his mouth to your ear briefly and whispers, “I’m not gonna be gentle… okay, sweetheart?” You let out a soft moan as his hips press into your ass and you feel his hot breath against your ear. “I don’t want you to be gentle,” you say. He smiles as he places a soft kiss on the shell of your ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You whine at the sudden loss of his body against yours as he backs away from you. But that feeling soon changes as you feel his hands back on your waist and his fingers dip into the waistline of your leggings. He bends down and pulls them down over your ass, letting them sit at your ankles. You hear him groan and curse to himself when he sees that you decided to forgo any underwear, since you typically liked to avoid unflattering underwear lines when wearing tight pants like leggings. 

His large hands grip your ass firmly, pulling your cheeks apart as he takes in the view. He starts gliding his fingers through your wetness with one hand as the other comes down and smacks your ass, hard. You bite your lip to stifle the loud moan that almost escapes your mouth, being mindful of the need to keep the noise down considering the location. He places a kiss on the spot on your asscheek, soothing the stinging sensation. 

He stands up and pulls his briefs back down, taking his cock in his hands and pumping it a few times before towering behind you once again. He brings his mouth back down to your ear as his hips buck into yours and you can feel his painfully hard cock against your ass behind you. “You asked for it.”

Daniel lines himself up with you and pushes himself into you fully. You can feel yourself stretch around him, the sting of it feeling almost welcoming. He grips your waist in one hand as the other holds firm against the small of your back, keeping you still on the desk as he sets a relentless pace inside of you. 

The movement of his hips is quick and harsh, the only sound in the room being the sound of his hips smacking against your ass, loud and wet. He’s hitting your cervix repeatedly, and you start to have no control over the noises you make. His hips slam hard into you, causing you to curse loudly. His hand moves from the small of your back to the back of your neck and pushes your head down, making you have to turn it sideways with your cheek flush against the wood. His hand then slides over to cover your mouth, pushing two of his fingers past your lips.

“As much as I love those sweet sounds, you gotta keep it down, baby…” he says as he slams his hips into you again. You groan around his fingers and catch his eye from behind you, seeing a smug smirk across his face. You suck on his fingers as he continues his quick pace inside you and your walls flutter against him, eliciting a moan from him as well. “Goddamn, you are so fucking tight,” he groans, removing his hand from your mouth and moving it to grip your hair tightly, pulling you up from the desk as he slides out of you. 

He turns you around and captures your lips for a moment before pulling away. You watch as he quickly rids himself of his pants and boxers entirely, dropping them on the floor and then stepping out of them. He lowers himself to remove your pants from around your ankles then attaches his lips to yours again. His hands grasp your ass and lift you up, wrapping your legs around him as he carries you over to the far left wall of the office, directly in front of the window. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck as his lips stay attached to yours and he places your back against the wall.

You have half a mind to get self-conscious about the proximity to the window but you’re too intoxicated by his touch to care. With your back now flush with the wall, he lifts you up for a moment then pushes himself back inside of you and picks back up on his relentless pace. 

His hands grip your ass so tight that you’re sure it’ll leave a mark come tomorrow. You’re genuinely surprised by the strength he must have to be able to hold you up as he fucks into you, which makes your head spin. His lips leave yours and work their way down your neck. When they reach your chest, he halts his hips to bring one of his hands up to pull your breasts from your shirt and bra, allowing them to spill out of the top of your tank top and giving him full access.

“Fuck, what are you doing to me…” he mutters, holding onto you tightly as he starts pounding into you again even harsher. His lips wrap around one of your nipples, sucking and biting on your skin and completely taking you over the edge. You can feel yourself getting close as his hips slam up into you, his tip hitting your sweet spot over and over again from this new angle. He can feel you tightening around him, making him groan against your skin. 

“Come on, baby. Make a mess all over my cock, I’m right there,” he urges, attaching his lips to yours again as one of his hands moves from your ass and slips between you, starting to rub quick, rough circles against your clit. It sends you over the edge and Daniel swallows your moan in his mouth as his tongue collides with yours. 

He fucks you through it, his pace never slowing as he reaches his own climax shortly after you. He moans against your tongue as you feel his release coat your walls. His hips start to slow, fucking his release into you before lowering your legs to the ground and pulling out, allowing you to stand. Your knees buckle as you get your bearings, but you quickly recover and wrap your arms around his waist pulling him in for a short, soft kiss.

“I guess I got my answer then, huh?” he jests, pushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he looks down at you with a smug smile. “You’re such an idiot,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder softly, walking past him to pick up your leggings, then sliding them back on. He follows, pulling his briefs up over his hips and then picking his pants up off the floor. As he pulls his pants on and starts to fasten his belt, you decide to speak first.

“I want to do this with you. I do. But we have to set some ground rules,” you say, leaning against his desk and looking up at him. He raises his eyebrows at you as he tucks his shirt back into his pants and then walks toward you.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” he asks, cupping your cheek with his hand and rubbing his thumb softly against your skin. You almost melt into his touch, but you want to stand your ground before you get too soft on him.

“Well,” you start, “First of all, this should be no strings attached– purely physical. I’m not gonna be your girlfriend.” He chuckles to himself before crossing his arms and leaning against the chair next to him. “Who said I wanted you to be my girlfriend?”

“Shut up,” you say, rolling your eyes at him. He laughs again, then answers, “Okay, okay. No strings attached. Shouldn’t be a problem. What else?”

“No telling anyone, besides people who already know. My best friend knew about you immediately after we left the bar last weekend, so it’s too late now,” you continue. He hums and nods his head. “Mine too. Can’t hide shit from Sam even if I tried.”

“Okay, so we keep it a secret. No one else has to know,” you assert. He stands up and puts his arms on either side of you, leaning onto the desk behind you. 

“Okay. One more thing,” he says, towering over you. “No falling in love.” You take a deep breath just at the thought of it– falling in love. Yeah, right. As you look up to meet his gaze, you smile softly and nod. “No falling in love.” 

After a few more minutes of sharing kisses and continuously attempting to say goodbye, you finally peel yourself away from Daniel and leave his office, heading out of the building and walking in the direction of home. You can’t help how flustered you feel after leaving him, almost not even believing that it even happened. You exchanged numbers before you left, promising to see each other again soon.

You’re feeling anxiously excited to fill Rose in on today’s events when you get home. There were a lot of details that you fear you may need to leave out, things that were too vulgar to even speak out loud. This idea makes your cheeks flush as you think about it on the walk home. You know that you’re way in over your head but hopefully, with the boundaries you’ve set, you won’t get caught up in it all too intensely. As long as you both follow the rules, no one will get hurt… Right?

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

chapter iii

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Post Hoc - Chapter X

Start: Chapter I Previous: Chapter IX

Terzo and Ardis arrived at the dining room early so that they could sit together. Swiss was the next to arrive. He was a bit unsettled by the sight of them together, but put on a brave face for her. "Good morning, angel," he greeted her softly, taking a seat next to her. He knew she trusted him. "It's good to see you. Are you doing alright?"

Ardis gave a little nod and a slight smile. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. "Terzo let me stay with him last night so I could get some space from..."

Swiss glanced at the man beside her. Terzo had a smirk on his face. He was clearly proud of himself, but not enough to suggest anything particularly scandalous had happened. "I know," Swiss said, returning her attempt at a smile. "We were looking all over for you until I spotted him leading you through the yard. I told Papa to call off the search – I figured you weren't in the mood to be disturbed."

Before she could thank him, Aether and Papa appeared in the doorway. Ardis fell silent. Her face flushed, and she looked down at her plate. Papa chose to be the one to disturb the unsettling quiet. "Good morning, my dear," he said as he and Aether took their seats.

"Good morning," she responded, timidly looking up at them.

"I'm sorry," Aether blurted out as he joined them at the table. "About yesterday. I got carried away and I shouldn't have acted that way."

"Our guest got a bit overwhelmed, that's all," Terzo answered, pouring her a glass of juice from a pitcher on the table as more ghouls began to arrive. "She'll be staying with me for a while to cool off, if no one objects." No one dared to defy him, and Terzo knew it. There was no sense in lingering on it any longer. Further discussion would just make Ardis uncomfortable. "I like the new setlist, Copia. Dusting off one of Nihil's songs, eh? I'm sure Sister Imperator had some opinions about that."

The morning conversation stayed away from the events of the previous night, but the ghouls' minds were racing. Terzo and Ardis had been alone together for hours. What happened? What had they talked about? Swiss could tell just how heavily she smelled of Terzo. They must have slept in the same bed, although he likely hadn't gotten further than that. Still, that was significant. She clearly trusted Terzo and found a false sense of safety with him. She was in danger, and there was very little they could do.

Terzo leaned toward Ardis and spoke quietly in her ear. "I have a private study you're welcome to use, if you'd like. I might even have a copy of the Bible in there somewhere. Yours, I mean. Not ours."

Ardis smiled at him. "I'd like that. Thank you."

"I'll take you there when you're done eating," he said, smiling back. He gave her leg a gentle pat under the table.

Aether hated the way she looked at Terzo – stars in her eyes that had once been reserved for him alone. He could tell she was falling for the former anti-pope just as quickly as she'd fallen for him. He had no idea how to stop it.

When Ardis finished breakfast, she followed Terzo back down the dusty, abandoned hallway. They stopped a few doors down from his bedroom and Terzo opened the door so they could step inside. When he turned on the lights, she looked around the study. It had roughly the same layout as Terzo's room – arched ceiling, large windows in the back wall. Tall wooden bookshelves lined the other three walls, all filled with dusty tomes. To the left was a large wooden desk with an antique leather office chair. On the right were two more chairs, slightly less ornate than the first, and a long mahogany coffee table. Ardis wondered if he used to take meetings here when he was in charge.

"Not quite as extravagant as the main library," Terzo said, "and certainly dustier, but it's yours to use if you'd like to." He walked her around the room, explaining how his collection was organized – fiction, history, biographies, memoires, political science. "And this whole wall is religion. It must be around here somewhere. I tend to organize them alphabetically by the author's surname, which made finding a space for this one a bit difficult."

"Oh, I think I've spotted it," Ardis said, pointing toward his collection of anthologies at the beginning of the top row. A copy of the King James Version was nestled in the middle of the bunch. She raised herself onto her tiptoes to take it from the shelf, but she couldn't reach.

Terzo chuckled. "Here." He reached over her head and easily plucked it from its place, quickly dusting off the cover with his gloved hand before handing it to her. "I'm not used to being the tall one around here," he teased.

She smiled at him bashfully. "Thank you, T– I mean, Vincenzo."

"Don't thank me yet," he said with a grin, taking her shoulders in his hands. "Meet me by the back gate at noon, okay? There's something I'd like to show you."

"Show me?" she repeated.

"It's a surprise." He silenced her with a kiss to her forehead, which made her cheeks feel warm. He laughed again. "You're precious. You can leave any books you pull on my desk when you're finished with them – I'll reshelve them later. I'll see you in a few hours, angel.” Before she could interrogate him further, he winked at her and stepped out of the room. She hugged the Bible to her chest, flustered.

Ardis wondered what Terzo wanted to show her. The back gate led to that imposing forest. She remembered Aether's warning to stay out of the forest after dark. However, it was a bright, sunny morning outside and she figured Terzo likely knew what he was doing. There was nothing to worry about. She chose one of the chairs on the right side of the room and nestled into it before flipping to the chapter she was looking for.

Next: Chapter XI

[sparkledfirecracker]

Wrong Encounter

Synth’s 5K Follower Challenge / How it started – How’s it going?

@syntheticavenger , Congrats on reaching 5K and thank you for hosting this magnificent celebratory challenge.

Title: Wrong Encounter

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

Challenge: Any character but arguing over being charged for something you didn’t order at a restaurant and the owner comes to assist.

Warning: 18+ only, dark content, explicit language, explicit sexual content, vaginal play/teasing?, sex/human trafficking?, sexwork, forced prostitution, forced sexwork, smut, unprotected sex, NonCon

A/N: I can’t say this enough; Synth thank you for inspiring me to write again!  I could have gone any direction yet this came out and fought me along the way, so I whipped out the old skool pen and paper. Maybe a little too save on the warnings, but at least they’re there. Don’t think it is dark enough, so enjoy this masterpiece of crappiness, because editing is not making it any better with this beer I’m consuming. Also as a non-native tongue here, so ALL mistakes are my own. Only lightly proofread, so don’t come for me.

ENJOY!

Pictures for moodboard inspo found on pinterest, so all the credit goes to the respectful owners. The quote inspired the final part to this.

How it started

The red ambiance of the room mixed well with the black shining floor and hanging chandeliers, it was slick and well set up. Looking around the room had you wondering what the parties must be like at night. A colleague had recommended this new place – an exquisite night – as they had described it. Yours ending miserably having a disagreement with your waiter.

The waiter had a way of pissing you off tonight and irritation was clearly bubbling “I’ve only had the steak with sides and a fucking bottle of rose, not the entire fish tank and three bottles of your most expensive champagne” your white knuckles balling around his collar as you practically screamed in his face.

 “There was another table that said you would pay for them.” It sounded like a plea of trying to settle the rage that was coursing through your body.

 “OUTRAGEOUS -- you don’t fact check with your customers?” You seethed “Listen up you little shit. I want to speak to your manager” throwing him out of your grasp, making him stumble backwards bumping into someone.

 “He’s already here and you have his undivided attention” your waiter stands in front of the large man awkwardly “Get back to work Jensen, I’ll deal with this fiery kitten” he nods and practically runs off.

 Annoyance rising at his degrading comment. “Perfect, an insult to go with the wrongly charges to my bill”

 “Ma’am please calm down, I’m sure there’s a way to resolve this mishap” his stance intimidates you

 Your eyes wandered to his silver nametag “Why should I calm down, mister Drysdale? Or should I say, entitled prick?” there was pride in your comeback, no-one should ever call you a fiery little kitten.

 “Ma’am, Ransom, please and watch your mouth, because we have places for woman like you.” It almost sounds like a threat and you’re willing to fight him on it.

 He’s a dark enigma, you can feel it radiate from his body. You’re too caught in taking in his enchanting features and wonder what kind of sorcery this man is using on you to make you feel so small.

 “Why don’t we settle this in my office” A charming smile thrown your way, but you’re too caught up in observing the blue-eyed man in front of you “Ma’am?”

 “Sorry, yeah, the idiot waiting on me charged more to my bill than I even consumed.” You explained without him asking for any of it.

 “Unfortunate, but it happens, please follow me to my office so we can resolve this. Can I offer you a coffee or something else for the inconvenience?”

 “No – No, your waiter overcharged me. No need to sit down somewhere private for this idiotic mishap” words falling firmly from your tongue “Just fix my bill so I can be on my way and never come back.”

 “Please, let us sort this out, if you just come with me to my office -- we can talk this over” His calming persistence had you hooked and you took a deep breath in.

 “Fine.”

 “Great, thank you – Jensen, we’ll be in my office, don’t fuck up more than you already have” You roll your eyes at the barked order, he felt superior to his employees.

 You had followed him into his office, the golden name plate beaming on the door. The dark aesthetic of his office fitted well with the ambiance he’d created in his restaurant and nightclub, it felt luxurious and exclusive, sprinkled with a bit of mystery.

 Ransom stood by his bar cart filled with expensive liquors while your eyes lingered on the well-stocked bookshelves. Ransom Drysdale didn’t look like much of a reader to you.

 “My grandfathers, well most of it anyway, he’s a writer and owns Blood Like Wine Publishing” Ransom explained looking at your admiring gaze. You look back at him noticing his motioning gesture to the chairs “Please sit, can I offer you a drink?”

 “No thank you” shaking your head at his offer, he poured his poison of choice, even though you had refused he handed you a glass. It would be rude to decline again, you accepted the tumbler letting your fingers trace the outlines of the crystal glass in your hand.

 “I won’t keep you for long. What happened?”

 “Tonight I celebrated my promotion and a colleague recommended this place. To find out that – Jensen, I believe his name is – added the entire fish menu and three bottles of your exclusive champagne to my bill. Only to justify it with -- the other customers told me that you would pay for them – kinda bullshit” anger returning you gulped down the strong spirit.

 “I apologize for the experience. How about we forget this night? I want you to come back somewhere next week. Let us wine and dine you, give you the experience you deserved to have had tonight.” He took a sip from his own glass looking at you with darkened yet hopeful eyes.

 It had been a tempting offer, was it going to be worth your time or would you be left disappointed again? “You know what, fine. I’ll be here next week, same time, same day.”

 How’s it going?

One week later

Everything in you had screamed not to continue the night in Ransom’s office. Yet here you we, having had that hard liquor burning down your throat. He’d explained how you owed him now and that his interest in your aggression -- a week prior -- had sparked his desire. There was no going back, there was no way out.

 Ransom’s looking forward to what is to come. For now, he’s cherishing this moment, he loves the switch being pulled, when the terror fills your eyes and start to physically fight him. They always did and he knows you will too, within the soundproof walls screaming when there is still fight left.

 Your mind still trying to comprehend his plans for you. You weren’t sure what to say, instead you settled on staring back at him. Your optic view taking in his well-build frame. You licked your lips unknowingly when he flexed his pecks under the crisp white button down. Your body betraying you by your crossed legs clenching together.

 “Like what you see, precious?” your wandering gaze shot up to meet his eyes, your cheeks blushed as you got caught in the act “-I am certainly liking what I’m seeing”

 “Don’t flatter yourself, Mister Drysdale” you roll your eyes, leaning forward to set the empty tumbler on his desk. He’d taken a step sideways having his crotch right in your face. “Is this really how you want to settle this?”

 “Ransom, I insist -- and funny you should ask.” He looks amused by your question “This is exactly how we’re going to finish this extravaganza I offered you”

 He was on you before you could even make a comeback. His strong arms had lifted you from the chair, kissing you roughly. A strong – almost painful – hold on your neck, other on your hip pushing you into him feeling his stiff shaft probing against your lower belly.

 You felt the shame rising as you let out a moan. His free hand hiking up your skirt, ripping your panties with his calloused hands. The sound snapped you back to reality of what was happening. You tried to push him off, but struggled in his strong grasp. Grabbing his wrist digging your nails in into his flesh.

 “You evil spawn.” He roared crushing the grip on your neck, making you squirm “I was going to make this a pleasant thing, but now I’ll take what’s mine.”

 “Rail me daddy.” You taunted, you knew you shouldn’t, but there was nothing left to loose.

 “That mouth on you little minx. Not one to deny requests though, so the pleasure will be all mine -- Until.That.Cunt.Is.All.Fucked.Out.” with each word spoken he had rubbed himself on you, the heat in your pussy rising unwillingly.

 “I just didn’t know you were running a brothel.”

 “This is not a brothel, there are no prostitutes at this address. Just woman with disrespecting mouths like yours solicited for exclusive places like mine” Ransom muses “Because you’re staying right here – with me” He forces your neck to bend uncomfortably forcing you to look into his darkened orbs.

 Trying to fight him, but failed under his strength. Your body surrendering to his brutal force pressing you into the mahogany wood. The chime of his belt and zip being undone echoing through the room.

 “Don’t please.” You begged trying to get out of this horrible nightmare. A wrong encounter because of being wrongly charged for items you didn’t consume.

 “Let’s play a little game first; if those panties aren’t drenched - I’ll let you go” Keening at the cool air hitting your clit when Ransom’s hands opened your wet lips. “But – if that sweet little honey pot of yours is soaked for me, I’ll fuck you open with just my cock and you’ll stay right here -- forever.”

 “No.” you protested.

 His whispered confession only proved his twisted game. “I think you and I both know what it will be.” His fingers played with your clit and prodded your entrance. A soft wail escaped at his given attention. “I think you’ll be a nice addition to my selection of ladies.” Ransom couldn’t help but smirk at your powerless expression. His confession only added to the unwavering pain of realization that you were stuck in this newfound imprisonment.

 Thumbs pressing into your ass, his other fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He slams into your fluttering cunt, the air leaving your body from his unforgiving pace. You scream loudly at the unwanted pleasure.

 You’re fully trapped underneath Ransom’s body, impaling you from behind continuously. “Scream for me!” It’s an order you won’t obey and you squeak when he balls your hair in his fist “Fierce little minxes like yourself are made for places like mine” Ransom growls into your ear. “Let me hear those gorgeous sounds, precious. Scream while you still can before it vanishes. No-one can hear you, scream for ME.”

 Ransom’s arm finds its way around your neck jerking you into his toned chest, your hips being bruised from the impact of the wood. Your hands grip his arm trying to loosen the chokehold, fighting for air into your lungs only to have it escape with every rut inwards. His free hand rubbing circles on your pulsating bead, his pleasured grunts making your stomach churn.

 Pleasure taken from your - desperate, powerless and giving - body in his arms. He ravishes your body, like you’re his personal favourite fucktoy. Your legs start to tremble and your orgasm builds rapidly under the abuse, little whimpers escaping you. Tears streaming down your cheeks at the realisation of being solicited for a brothel.

 Only seconds later your body surrendered to the fire within you, screaming out to Ransom while your body shook heavily in his hold. His arms let you go, your quivering body dropping on the desk, panting from the intense build orgasm. The lost air stings with every inhale, you’re too tired to fight him.

 Ransom sat down in his leather chair and picked up the phone. You tried to look away from him, but he is fast to grab your hair and keep the intense stare. Ransom’s pride beams, he’s a heartless beast. He’s always gotten what he wanted and you’re just a new addition to his elite gentlemen’s club.

 “Barber? Yes! She’s definitely the one. How I know? She’s fucked out on my desk, tight little cunt on her. Perfect for the job, draw up the contract will you” A snarled order followed by a darkened smile and filthy wink thrown your way. “Her mouth looks exquisite; I’ll make sure to reserve it for your cock. So she can suck it as a thank you!”

[ariadne-mouse]

It is WIP Wednesday! Have another snip of Echoes 2:

“Wait,” Bren closes the remaining distance between them, “We should stay together. Debrief on our attempts.” He takes hold of Thelyss’s forearm just before the casting completes, too late for him to escape. The last thing he sees before they teleport together is the Shadowhand’s irate expression. They land in an unfamiliar room — to Bren, at least. As soon as they regain their bearings, Thelyss fires off a spell. Bren recognizes combat magic and just barely counterspells it. “Get out!” Thelyss snarls, preparing to cast again. He is weary, and it shows — his somatics are slow and sloppy. “I thought you didn’t want to end the loop early,” Bren says, lifting placating hands. He prepares no spell of his own, and instead takes a precious few seconds to observe the space, so that he might fix it in his memory to return to another time. The room is a study. The dark gray stone of the walls and floor has the slightest shimmer to it, adding dimension. The furnishings are rich and comfortable, but not lavish. A handsome desk made of deep reddish-purple wood commands one side of the room. Bookshelves line the walls, heavy tomes and scrolls interspersed with small objects on display, though Bren can’t know at a glance if they are functional or ornamental. Everything is neatly organized. Sconces on the walls glow a gentle blue-green. Starlight filters in through the windows. One detail catches his eye. On the desk, there sits a small device with thin metallic rings, shifting slowly around a sphere the size of an apple: a scale model of the arcanograph that Thelyss built himself. This is the Shadowhand’s private office. How delicious. “What I want is for you to leave. It has been some time since I killed you, but I am more than happy to resume if it will get me the results I want.” “I can’t,” Bren says, smug when Thelyss bristles. “I used my highest remaining power to snuff out whatever you just tried to throw at me. If you’d simply asked first, I might have been able to comply.” He pauses for a beat, and puts on an earnest expression. “I am sorry.” “I despise you,” Thelyss says tiredly. His hands clench, and his casting collapses. “Do not leave this room. Do not touch anything.” “Of course,” Bren agrees easily, though he means it not at all.

[sleepysnk]

I'm so excited the Request are Open againnnnn

May I request a Levi x Fem! Reader one shot, were some cadets ask the reader to go on a date with him in the Mess Hall where everyone heard it, but Reader immediately said she's already dating someone. Which shock them even more since she wasn't that open when it comes to her personal life and Levi was heartbroken hearing that Reader already had someone. Until one day, he cornered Reader asking her who was the guy and it turns out she doesn't have one, it was just an excuse for cadets to stop asking her and Levi confessing his love for her and wanting it to be him.

That's all thank youuuu

oh. my. god. THIS IS SO GOOD OMG. i find this request very creative! i definitely had a lot of fun writing this one! i really hope you enjoy this! ♡.

Levi x Fem!Reader: Who is It?

Warnings: None

It was no doubt that (Y/N) was quite the attractive woman. From when she first started as a scout, most men basically 'claimed' her in a way. Not in a creepy way, but most just wanted one night with her, even if it was something small.

She gained the attraction from someone she'd never expect either. Captain Levi. Levi was never one to show his emotions, especially towards love, but (Y/N) was someone that he just couldn't get his mind over. She sort of got into his head, and he let her just fill his mind up.

He'd never show it though. He felt like she would become uncomfortable, and he didn't want to force this burden onto her. Levi had liked her for so long though. Probably about 6 months? Nothing has changed. Although, he has wanted to break a few skulls, because the men would always gossip about her. It made him feel grossed out.

Now, (Y/N) was never one to share her personal life. In a way, she was more of a reserved person, she liked to keep her business out of the way of others. Levi admired that sometimes, he liked that she wasn't making her shit known to everyone.

That's until one day in the Mess Hall, something happened that snapped in her. She was eating with her friends when a few guys showed up to her table. This was odd to Levi, none of them had the balls to ever approach (Y/N).

"Hey (Y/N), I got a question" one of them said and smirked at her.

Levi looked over at the table. "Yeah what's up?" she asked and nodded.

"Will you please go on a date with me? I really want to take you out" he asked and looked at her.

Everyone in the Mess Hall sort of stared at the table. (Y/N) was quiet, she sort of just stared at the guy.

What was she going to say? Levi's mind was racing at the moment.

"I'm sorry, but I have a boyfriend" she replied and looked at the guy.

The guy in front of her had a blush on his cheeks. "What? You do? I've never seen you with a guy" he said and blinked.

She sighed. "I just rather keep the relationship private" she said and shrugged.

Levi felt as if his heart was crushed. She had a boyfriend? I mean yeah (Y/N) kept her life private, but he never knew having a boyfriend was one of those things. It did make some sense though.

"Levi? Are you alright?" Erwin asked and broke him out of his thoughts.

He looked towards him. "Yeah.. I'm fine, I'll see you later" he said and stood up leaving the table.

Hanji and Erwin found this odd. "Jeez, his mood changed quick" Hanji said and looked at Erwin.

He shrugged. "Maybe he is just tired" he replied and continued eating.

Levi wasn't okay at all. All that time he spent thinking about (Y/N) was all a waste. He hadn't felt this way ever. Was this heartbreak or something? He had strong feelings for her for a long time, so it is understandable why he was feeling the way he did.

(Y/N) on the other hand, was a bit nervous. Everyone in the Mess Hall heard her announce that she had a boyfriend, and people began to question her on who it was.

Throughout the night, Levi was trying to think about who it could be. Eren? No, it can't be. Eren is more focused on titans than loving somebody. Maybe Jean or Armin? Jean could be a suspect, but Armin is ruled out. The boy wouldn't want to date.

Levi was at a loss on who it could be. Maybe it was someone he never really knew. He wanted to know, but then again he didn't want to force anything out of her. He was just curious, he wanted to see who she picked out of all men.

What was he going to do?

As days went by, he only felt worse. He tried his best to push away his feelings, but whenever he saw (Y/N) he felt his heart begin to beat quicker. The idea of her being with someone else made his stomach sour.

He decided to ask her who it was. She had to help him clean today, so it would be the opportunity.

He was broken out of his thoughts when there was a knock at the door. "Come in" he said and looked up.

Levi watched as (Y/N) entered his office. "Good morning Captain" she said and saluted to him.

He nodded. "Good morning (Y/N)" he replied and stood up.

She looked around his office. "So what needs to be cleaned today?" she asked.

Levi looked towards her. "We just need to clean the bookshelves" he replied and tossed her a rag.

(Y/N) noticed Levi seemed to be different. He looked more tired, she knew about his insomnia, but he had darker bags under his eyes. He also seemed to be in a more bad mood that usual, which confused her.

"Why are you just standing there? Get to it brat" he said and began to walk over to his bookshelf.

She blinked and went over to it as well. "Sorry Captain" she replied and began to remove the books.

Levi tried his best to not stare at her, but she was so beautiful to him. Any man who got to have (Y/N) was lucky in his eyes. He also thought about who it could be, he planned to ask.

Some time had went by and it was too quiet. Levi needed to say something before he snapped. "So... (Y/N), what I heard in the Mess Hall was someone asked you on a date" Levi said and looked towards her.

She looked over and nodded. "Oh yeah, I turned him down though, I have a boyfriend" she replied and looked back at the shelf.

She wanted to avoid this as much as possible. "Ah I see... may I ask who?" he asked.

What should she say? (Y/N) began to feel her heart race right now. "Oh, um it's private, I rather not say" she replied and continued cleaning.

Levi wasn't satisfied with that answer. "I see... is he well known?" he asked.

She stayed quiet this time. "May I use the bathroom sir?" she asked and looked at him.

He nodded. "Yeah... it's in my room, you should see it" he replied and watched as she went into his room.

Why was she avoiding the question? He understands if she wanted it private, but to be that secretive? Jeez.

The only way Levi could get it out of her, is if he cornered her somehow. Not in a creepy way, but it would be the only way she would tell him anything. He made his way to his room, and shut the door. He saw that the bathroom door was shut.

Levi watched as it opened revealing (Y/N). "What are you doing here?" she asked and nodded.

"(Y/N), who is your boyfriend?" he asked and crossed his arms.

She rolled her eyes. "Captain, it isn't your business. I'm not sure why you care so much, I rather keep him out of this" she replied and tried to walk past him.

Levi stood in front of his bedroom door. "You're not leaving until you say who" he said and leaned against the door.

(Y/N) was starting to get antsy. Why did Levi want to know so bad?

"Why do you wanna know? You shouldn't be worried about me" she asked.

He looked at her. "I'm just curious. You can trust me (Y/N)" Levi replied and shrugged.

Should she just tell the truth? She was battling herself on the inside.

"Ugh, Levi I need to tell you something" she said and looked down.

He furrowed his brows. "What is it? Don't tell me it's Jaeger or something" he said.

She sighed. "I don't actually have a boyfriend. I lied so the cadet's would stop asking me out on dates" she replied and looked at him.

Levi was shocked. He actually couldn't believe what she said. He sort of understood why she did it though, sometimes you have to do certain things to get out of the situation.

"Makes sense, I could see why you lied. Those men make me disgusted sometimes" Levi said and looked at her.

(Y/N) nodded. "I was just looking for a way out of that attention" she said and crossed her arms.

Levi felt his heart beginning to race. Should he tell (Y/N) how he was feeling? He rather tell her now than another man getting her.

"I need to reveal something to you as well (Y/N)" he said and walked towards her.

She looked at him. "What is it?" (Y/N) asked and nodded.

Levi looked down at her. "(Y/N)... the only reason why I wanted to know who you were dating, is because I truly have feelings for you. I've admired you for so long, and when you told those cadets you had a boyfriend, it made me so curious on who" he explained.

She couldn't believe her ears! Levi out of all people had a crush on her?

"I understand if you don't feel the same way, but I wanted to be that guy. Your guy. I want to make you happy (Y/N)" he added.

(Y/N) looked up at Levi. "Levi... I don't know what to say" she said and smiled a bit.

He blinked a little fearing rejection. "You don't have to feel the same" he replied.

She giggled. "Levi! I would love for you to be my boyfriend. We could take it slow" she said.

He stood there shocked for a second. She didn't reject him? He was for sure she wouldn't have picked someone like him.

"R-Really? Are you sure (Y/N)?" Levi asked.

She smiled. "Yes Levi, I'm sure! We should discuss it more later" she replied.

He couldn't help but smile himself. "Well, if that's the case, meet me in my office later for tea" he said and looked down at her.

[rosesisupposes]

Objections, Your Honor

Two lawyers are across the aisle in open court once more. But today something is off, and no one is happy with the result.

read on ao3

characters: mainly Logan & Janus; background Virgil, Patton, Roman, Remus, Remy, and Emile

pairings: soulmate Loceit; QPP Analogical; QPP Moceit; romantic soulmate Royality; romantic soulmate Dukexiety; romantic soulmate Remile

content tags: non-traditional soulmate AU; courtroom drama; arophobia and acephobia; shameless self-pandering with legal arguments about the MCU; gushing about QPPs; couples therapy

reader tags: @royally-anxious @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse​ @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty @max-is-tired @almostoveranalyzed @potestessemagishomosexualitatis  @mariniacipher @vintage-squid

word count: 10,386

⁂

The day it happened was no normal day for Logan. But not, of course, because of that.

He cared because it was a trial day. Months of motions back and forth, weeks and weeks of preparation, and today was oral arguments. He normally avoided open court, particularly against such an opponent, but nothing could be done.

His case files were impeccably arranged in his padfolio, his grocery list of arguments annotated in precise writing, blue ink dotting the page with emphases and connections, his notepad prepared at his left.

He glanced to his right out of the corner of his eye at his opposing counsel. He didn't want them to see him looking. But he sneered internally at the haphazard stacks of papers spreading across the table and the garish gold ink that looped and curved across sticky notes.

The judge finally came out, and Logan stood, crisply buttoning his tailored jacket as he did so. At the signal, he identified himself clearly. "Logan Finch for the appellant, Your Honor." 

And then, from his right: "Janus Alighieri for the appellee, Your Honor."

Logan rolled his eyes internally. Janus was, unfortunately, a very familiar foe at this point. But then, they were two of the most respected lawyers in their state, with opposing specialties and reputations for innovative tactics.

Logan was self-aware. He had another reputation, too: as a black-and-white thinker, unshakable, unalterable. He preferred to think of it as a particularly strong conviction. Versus "The Snake" against him, who coiled and twisted the facts of his cases to benefit his clients.

And of course, that was the issue today - Logan strove to show that his client had a straightforward, airtight argument that should clearly prevail, while Janus found miniscule details that he said should be enough to distinguish the case at hand and make it different from previous decisions, enough so to allow the case to be decided in his favor. He'd charmed the jury at trial, and now argued against Logan's appeal.

Logan prided himself on keeping a cool head, but listening to Janus' speech just got under his skin. His neat handwriting started to get messier and messier as he furiously scribbled notes of counterarguments and responses to his opponent's points. Then Janus turned slightly, just enough to see frustration's color burn in Logan's cheek, and he smirked.

Logan barely heard the gasp from the observers behind the bar, because he'd just snapped his pen in his grip.

He looked straight ahead, somewhere slightly to the left of the judge's head, but he saw very little, his furious thoughts too loud to allow any else to be processed. But the audience was murmuring and talking, far louder than any judge usually allowed - what was going on?

A clerk from behind him hurried up to the judge's dais and whispered urgently in her ear. Logan had yet to look around, but he was slowly coming back to himself, enough to be confused at this disruption in normal procedure. He refused to look over at Janus' probably-still-smirking face.

The judge cleared her throat. "Counselors, we will recess for the day. Please join me in my chambers now."

Logan frowned, but cleaned up the broken pen and gathered his file neatly back into his leather briefcase. He didn't look over, but he heard the flurry and crinkling of papers as Janus threw his notes into his own bag. Without glancing over, Logan followed the judge to the small office at the back of the courtroom.

"Mr. Finch, Mr. Alighieri. I do hope there's a good explanation for this breach in propriety, not to mention the code of conduct," she said sternly as they both stood before her heavy desk.

"Breach, Your Honor?" Janus asked. He sounded just as confused as Logan felt.

"As barred attorneys, you are expected to know the code as well as I," Judge Kasel said severely. "No soulmates may be involved in a trial together, except as co-counsel."

Logan's ears roared. "Your Honor, I apologize, I must have misheard. Soulmates? How is that relevant-"

"Mr. Finch, don't play dumb with me - the entire courtroom saw!"

"Saw what?" Janus asked. His voice was oddly distant and strained from its normal silky tones.

Judge Kasel stared at them in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you both managed to not see that? I'm quite certain the entire county saw the glow just now, through even the back of your suits!"

"Glow?" Logan asked. His chest was suddenly very, very empty, a vacuum of air or substance, and had he not been sitting he was sure he would have fainted.

"Yes, glow, both your marks on your shoulders. Given your mutual surprise, I will assume that this was indeed unknown, and will not declare this case a retroactive mistrial. But you will both need to send in replacements from your firms."

Janus spoke up, his voice tinny. "Replacements, Your Honor? I should think even in light of this- development, only one of us would need to withdraw-"

"Mr. Alighieri, while I appreciate your dedication, I will not delay this trial for the entirety of your bonding. I will give you both 3 days to propose counsel to take over, and scheduling will proceed with them."

Oh fuck. Bonding, Logan thought, unable to speak. That absolutely ridiculous expectation.

The clerk poked her head in. "If they need to speak privately, this side office is empty."

"Yes," Logan responded robotically. "Yes, I believe we need to speak."

They filed into the small room. The clerk closed the door behind her, whispering "Congratulations!" as she disappeared.

Janus sat in one of the chairs heavily. Logan remained standing, staring blankly at the bookshelves built into the wall.

"I can't believe this," Janus said finally. "We've known each other for years, how could we possibly be...?"

"Soulmarks frequently emit a barely visible glow from proximity alone, particularly when located on skin that is generally covered. Heightened emotion or situations with high levels of stress lead to brighter glows that were invisible or unnoticed previously," Logan recited dully.

"Oh yes, how could I forget, I'm talking to Encyclopedia Brown," Janus said, rolling his eyes. "Of course you've memorized that too." He unbuttoned his suit vest dexterously despite his trademark yellow gloves, slumping forward in his chair as he threw his vest over the arm carelessly.

"At least one of us actually has a factual basis for this event, rather than us both being in the dark," Logan snapped back.

"Yeah, your vast knowledge of facts really helped! Did your misguided quest to know everything somehow miss the detail of who's your fucking soulmate?" Janus said, nearly whisper-screaming.

Logan whirled to face him, a fiery reply already on his lips, when he suddenly saw a blue light showing through Janus' white shirt, bright enough to glint off the polished chair back and off the glass of the picture frames on the wall.

He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. "Yes. That was a detail I had not learned. It felt trivial, unable to affect my work. But now that it has, we're better off resolving this."

Janus deflated too. "Yeah. We should. If we can just get through this part, at least we'll stop glowing like horny teenagers."

Logan focused on a tiny flag displayed on the desk as he spoke, not looking over. "I know of a very respectable landlord who rents bonding apartments in the city. Nothing overdone or kitschy, no 'honeymoon' suites, just furnished apartments for indefinite stays."

"Fine. Not like we can't afford it, whatever the price."

"I have some arrangements to make at home-" Logan began

"As do I, unless-"

"Unless what?"

Janus took a breath. "How would you feel about living with a snake?"

"I rather thought that was the entire idea," Logan replied coolly.

Janus shot him a withering glare. "I mean a python, you absolute cotton-headed ninnymuggin."

"Ah, my mistake," Logan said calmly. "That should be fine. A pet, I assume? Or your chosen co-counsel?"

"Let's get one thing straight, Finch," Janus said, rising to his full height, looking down at his infuriating opponent. "I don't like you. I don't expect or particularly want you to like me. We are going to be residing together up until, and only until, our illogical marks have decided in their weird cosmic energy to stop lighting up like neon signs whenever we experience strong emotion in each other's company. I fully expect to be pissed off the entire time, which will make figuring that out easier. But you do not get to speak to me that way, or I'll-"

Logan looked up to meet Janus' eyes. "Or you'll what, Alighieri?"

"I'll report you to the bar for breaking the code, and convince them you already knew," Janus replied smoothly. "And you of all people should know- I am very persuasive."

Logan's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "Fine. And yes, you may bring your python. I'll be leaving my cat at home, however."

"Fine with me," Janus said curtly, deflating back into his normal slouch.

"I will send you the details of the landlord I mentioned. I can make the arrangements within the hour."

"Sure. Wait-"

"What?"

"How are you going to send me the details?"

Logan paused. Their only real contact over the years had been in person or by professional communications. He could hardly use a process server or subpoena to give Janus his key. "Ah. Right. Your contact information, then?" He pulled out his notepad.

Janus pulled out his gold pen and scribbled his phone number at an angle, entirely crossing the college-ruled lines. Logan cringed but took it.

"I will contact you shortly, then. And I will may sure to look for pet-friendly apartments."

Janus nodded. "Right."

"Right."

They both paused.

"Uh. See you soon, then," Janus said, and left the room abruptly.

⁂

Janus had to hand it to him - the apartment was all Logan had promised. Clean, sleek, and spacious. The landlord had even left a spare heat lamp, so Janus' sweet Monty would be comfortable.

Best of all, there were several separate rooms in the suite - two bed, two bath, and two offices.

The kitchen was also well-furnished, and came stocked with staple foods. Logan had arrived, however, with extra bags of groceries.

"I brought my own additions," he said. "The landlord is a friend, but he doesn't buy from the shops I prefer."

He proceeded to pull out several large jars of kimchi, what looked like at least a gallon of soy sauce, and various bright packages that Janus couldn't read.

Janus resolved to take pictures and look up what these things were later. Not while Logan was standing here, glaring up and over as if daring him to comment.

"I've picked the smaller bedroom," Janus informed the shorter man calmly. "Monty is set up in there, so if you're weird about snakes, just avoid it. Actually, feel free to avoid it anyway. I've got a brief to write."

Logan made a noncommittal sound in response.

Hours later, Janus emerged from his office to eat something. His brief was finished, sent off to his senior partner. He hadn’t yet told the firm about the day’s events- only that the appeal would need to be handled by another partner with his associates’ help, he needed to take emergency leave, and he would let them know soon how long he expected to be unavailable. H

e found evidence in the kitchen that Logan had prepared, eaten, and cleaned up dinner for himself.  That was fine by him. He made his own food, grabbed a bag of candy, and retreated back to his room.

The next morning, he woke up at his normal late time, stretching in the sun. The kitchen once again showed evidence of Logan's presence- particularly the currently-soaking coffee pot.

When the sun started to descend once more and Janus had yet to see his new roommate, he grumbled. Guess he'd have to be the fucking practical one.

He blew Monty a kiss for good luck and stumped down to the rooms Logan had claimed. He rapped on the door. "Finch. We need to talk."

He waited. There was silence, then a slow drag of a chair. The doors cracked open.

"Yes? What about?"

"No. We need to talk. Or, fuck, I don't know. Be in the same room occasionally."

Logan sighed deeply, and opened the door more. "Fine."

Janus went to the living room and sat on one side of the couch. Logan followed him and settled on the chair facing him.

"So." Janus began.

"So what," Logan replied flatly.

"Sew buttons," Janus replied automatically.

"What?"

"Just something one of my friends says," Janus muttered.

"Ah. So what was it you want to discuss?"

"I don't know!" Janus snapped. "But I'd really like to get back to my life, eventually, and that can only happen if we bond." His lip curled.

Logan sighed heavily. "And how, exactly, do you propose we do that?”

Janus fell silent. He had very few ideas. Pop culture made it very clear that bonding was an extremely romantic event. First kisses. Proposals. Or, in the less sappy movies, it seemed to consist purely of falling into bed together. None of which appealed in the least, particularly not with Logan.

Logan stared expectantly. "Nothing? You just pulled me out with no ideas?"

"If you're the fucking brilliant one, you come up with one then!" Janus spat out the suggestion with a glare, but then he saw it - a soft gold glow shining through Logan's tee, reflected in the tasteful mirror behind him.

They both deflated again, glows reducing down to hidden beneath their clothes. 

Logan adjusted his glasses. "I. Ah. Apologize. I realize you are attempting to resolve this issue."

"But you're right. I have no idea how to," Janus admitted.

Logan took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Unfortunately, neither do I. Perhaps just coexisting will be enough."

"How long will that take, though?"

"I haven't the foggiest."

They lapsed into silence.

Finally, Janus suggested, "Maybe we can do our work in the same room. Set up in the dining room with all our stuff. Coexist but in proximity."

Logan glanced over. "That seems relatively painless. Let us make an attempt, then."

⁂

Logan had not had any particular expectations for how well they could share a work space.

And yet, it was still far worse than he'd expected.

Janus talked to himself. As he read, as he wrote, as he researched. Not loud, but a constant stream of soft muttering, disjointed words and full sentences. 

It was the most distracting thing Logan had ever been suffered to experience.

"Will you please be quiet," he said tightly, after an hour passed with no signs of letup. 

"What do you mean?" Janus asked.

"That infernal whispering, please, could you stop?"

Janus looked at him quizzically.

"You're talking under your breath," Logan said. He felt a headache coming on. 

"Oh, am I?" Janus asked. "Sorry. I'll be quiet."

It lasted all of half an hour, and then the muttering started again. "SCOTUS said yes but that was a city sidewalk, 2nd says no but that was Lincoln Center, hm, decoration, use, separation, intent?" 

"You're doing it again!"

Janus looked slightly guilty. "It's barely conscious, it's how I process things. Could you just wear headphones?"

"I need silence."

"Noise-canceling, then?"

"Fine. Do you own a pair?"

But the headphones didn't help. The sensation was too odd, of being closed-in, and he kept bumping then as he went to lean against his hand. Finally, Logan stood. "I'm going back to my office. This experiment has failed."

Janus' eyes narrowed. "Well, thanks for deigning to sit in my presence for a full three hours before giving up."

"I'm not giving up, this is just not tenable!" Logan insisted. 

"Well, you asked for ideas, and I came up with one. If it's not working for you, you come up with a better one. Come find me when you're done thinking, I know it could take you a while."

He stood and grabbed an apartment key, and stalked out to walk off his frustration.

As he walked, he called his best friend.

"Hey Pat, it's me."

"Jan! Hi buddy, how are you?!"

He sighed heavily. "I want to go home."

"But you only just got there?"

"Yeah, and it's going shi- I mean, badly. Really badly."

"I'm sure you'll work it out," Patton said confidently. "You're a brilliant and wonderful human, and anyone smart enough to argue against you will be able to see that!"

"Thanks, hun," Janus said. "The fact remains that I also don't like him."

Patton hummed tunelessly. "It doesn't have to be instant, Jan. These things usually take time."

"Unlike you and Ro."

"Well, yes, but that's because we were meant to be!" Patton soft, his voice taking on that soft, besotted tone it always did when he talked about his soulmate.

"Isn't the whole point that all soulmates are meant to be?"

"Well, yes..." Patton faltered. "But it doesn't have to look like us, we're just hopeless romantics!"

"I know. How's wedding planning going?"

"We started watching movies for inspiration and got distracted with a Disney marathon," Patton said fondly. 

"But you had fun?"

"Absolutely!"

"Good," Janus said, meaning it. There were very few people, in his opinion, who deserved happiness the way Patton did.

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Pat- what if it was a mistake? What if we just have defective marks or something?"

"I'm sure that's not true!" Patton insisted.

"It just seems like - I mean, we're not even friends. Most people get to start from strangers at worst, but we've been antagonizing each other for years, what if, I don't know. Neither of us had a soulmate and so they glitched out?"

"You just need to find some common ground," Patton said confidently. "You can't both be so passionate about being lawyers without something more in common. I believe in you, buddy!"

Janus sighed. "Thanks, Pat. Say hi to Roman for me, tell him Monty misses him."

"Will do, nephew! Call any time you need, okay?"

"Love you, Pat."

"Love you tooooo!"

Janus realized he'd circled the block and was back at the apartment entrance. He steeled himself, then went back up. He repressed the petty urge to bang open the door to disturb Logan's quiet as much as possible.

Logan wasn't in the common spaces, but emerged not long after Janus returned.

"I feel I must apologize," he began. "It wasn't my intent to denigrate how you work. It is just clear that sharing a workspace is not going to be preferable for either of us."

"Yes, I'm aware I had a bad idea," Janus said, overly patient. "Kind of an odd apology, but I accept. Can I have lunch now?"

"Yes, of course. May I join you?" Logan asked.

Janus raised a distrusting brow.

"The idea of spending time in the same space was a good one. I thought we might try a context in which we don't need to focus."

"Fine."

They prepared food around each other, both managing to bite their tongues when they needed the same counter space or cooking implements, which Janus was proud of himself for. They ate in silence.

Janus heard Logan sigh in exasperation and braced himself for yet another snippy comment. Instead, he heard an unexpected question.

"Do you enjoy superheroes?"

"To eat? No, they upset my stomach," Janus replied drily.

"I mean to watch. Superhero movies and shows."

"Occasionally, yeah, why?"

"Perhaps we could watch one this evening. At the same time."

"Sure."

And they parted to continue working on their own.

⁂

Logan had been correct that, as far as superhero movies went, the MCU was a safe choice.

In retrospect, though, perhaps Civil War had been... less so.

It had started when Steve first objected to the Sokovia Accord plan- and Logan had scoffed.

Quick as a cat’s pounce, or an adder’s strike, Janus’ head whipped around. 

“You disagree?”

Logan glanced over briefly, screen light blinking off his glasses. “Well, of course. Didn’t New York and Sokovia show that some control is needed? Lawlessness leads to more civilian casualties.”

“And yet, if supers are controlled so much that risk of liability keeps them from acting at all, casualties would be just a tad higher, don’t you think?”

Tony and Steve’s voices raised on the screen as Logan replied, “What would the difference be of the villains and heroes if they all act with complete impunity?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did we lose mens rea when we switched over into Marvel-land?” Janus asked, voice clipped. “Isn’t the entire basis of our modern penal system based on culpability, not just the act or harm done?”

Logan looked down his nose. “Of course culpability matters. But you well know that one of the factors for absolute liability is when an act is inherently and extremely dangerous. Say, for instance, displays of superhuman force in a densely populated area.”

“So you don’t think there can be any space for personal judgment on the heroes’ behalf?” Janus asked incredulously.

“Look what that space did already! Does the name Ultron ring a bell?”

“So of course, the one who made a terrible call is the one who now wants to be restricted? That sounds like asking for the global government to save him from himself instead of taking responsibility.”

“Better that those with actual accountability be the ones bearing the responsibility!”

“Oh, yeah, and we can definitely trust this government’s judgment! A Hydra infestation was all part of the plan!” Janus’ voice was raising, far louder than the movie that still flickered on, ignored.

“There still needs to be rule of law! Steve wants to abandon it all for one person, and a war criminal at that-!”

“And that’s incomprehensible?”

“Of course!”

Janus fixed his supposed soulmate with a glare. “And you mean to tell me that there’s no one, no one, that you would be willing to burn the world down for?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but Janus continued quickly before he could. “No one who won’t fight for themselves, because they think they’re not worth it, but you know they’re so worth it that you would be willing to kill for them?”

Logan, about to spit out an impulsive reply, paused, momentarily speechless. As clearly as if they were sitting on the edge of the couch next to him, his best friend from childhood filled his mind. Virgil, who never believed their worth no matter how many times Logan and their soulmate Remus told them so.

Janus saw the pause and continued softly. “I’m not saying rule of law isn’t important. But the trouble with laws is they’re only as tailored as legislators make them. And they’re human, and therefore fallible. We need exceptions, for those situations that they didn’t imagine.”

Logan struggled for moment, then replied, just as quietly, “You’re right.”

Janus’ mouth fell open in shock, but just as he did, the tv’s faint blue glow throughout the room was washed over with two beacons in blue and gold, blazing from their backs.

At the sight, Logan’s face went from contemplative and open to stony. He stood abruptly and stalked off into his room. The door closed behind him with a decisive click, and Janus was left staring at the wood in confusion and anger.

⁂

“I just don’t get it!” Janus whisper-screamed into the phone. He was power walking through a nearby park, moving so fast he’d passed a skateboarder and a particularly leisurely biker. “Does he want to keep on glowing forever? What is his problem?!”

Patton made sympathetic noises in response, quite familiar with the sound of Janus in full rant mode. Roman was lying with his head in his lap, listening on speaker, so Patton was settled in to be as receptive to his friend’s complaints as he needed.

“I mean, we finally agreed on something, besides the fact that we want to get this fucking resolved, and then he just, what, shuts me out? Literally and figuratively? I literally can’t even catch him leaving to the kitchen for food now!”

Patton winced. “Not since? But it’s been two days!”

“Two and a half, yeah,” Janus replied. His voice suddenly sounded weary. “I can’t keep doing this. The trial’s going on without us anyway, I might as well just give it up and make sure I never have to argue against him again.”

At that, Roman sat bolt upright. “Janus, my dear esquire! You cannot abandon your quest! This is your soulmate!”

“Yeah, well. Maybe some soulmarks are broken. Or we just met at the wrong time. Maybe if we’d met in law school we would have been a team, but now it’s too late.”

Janus sounded contemptuous, but Patton could hear a distinct note of regret.

“Maybe...” he started, but trailed off, thinking.

“Maybe what, Pat?”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve heard of soulmates who, you know, take an abnormally long time to bond, or manage to un-bond after years together, but they can fix it. Do you remember my old roommate?”

Janus wrinkled his nose. “Patton, are you suggesting couple’s therapy? I’m fairly certain that only applies to couples.”

“Well, you’ve kinda been forced to be one, right? At least to figure out bonding? They could probably help, or at least let you know if it’s not worth the effort.”

Janus sighed. “No, you’re right, it’s a good idea. I just have no idea how I’ll get Finch to go along with it.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” Roman asked politely. 

“Sure.”

“Perhaps try calling him ‘Logan.’”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Worth a shot, I guess. Love you both.”

“Love you Jan!”

“Best of luck with the love of your soul!”

 Back in the apartment, Logan was pacing in precise squares in his bedroom. He half-expected the rug to be worn down by the repeated impact at this point. 

“L, I don’t know what to tell you, buddy,” the gravely voice on the phone said. “You really have only two options here: find a way to avoid him forever, which will probably involve having to turn down cases you’d like-“

“I bet he’d stay on them just to force me off,” Logan interrupted, growling. 

“That is a possibility,” Virgil replied, their voice overly patient. “The other option, though, is to work this out,” they continued. 

Logan scoffed.

“Lo, that doesn’t mean you’ve gotta turn into a Hallmark movie! But it’s clear this isn’t just going away, and it’s not like you’ve got nothing in common.”

Logan groaned. “Virge, I don’t-“

“I know, man. I know. But you can’t just hide in your room until he just decides to move out, which means you’re gonna have to talk to him at some point.”

Logan didn’t reply, just continued pacing. 

“You know I’m right, Lo,” Virgil said patiently. “You don’t have to say it, just promise me you’re not going to keep being a hermit, okay?”

Logan sighed. “I promise.”

“There we go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

About to hang up, Logan heard a voice in the background and Virgil asked him to wait.  Then, “Reme wants to say hi.”

Logan let out an exasperated sigh, but he was smiling. “Fine, I’ll allow it-“

“Loooogggyyyyy! How’s the soulmate boning going? Have you figured out that you’re a power bottom yet?”

“Hello, Remus. I take it you’re well.”

“Let’s just say I’m glad you’re my brother-in-law because I may have some need for a lawyer soon.”

Logan couldn’t conceal the grin from his voice as he replied, “As I know you know, I am not a defense attorney, nor would I ever be so unwise as to take you as a client.”

“Aww, you’re such a smart cookie! And by cookie I mean a snack, because mmmm-MMMm you’re a snacc!”

“Always glad to know I’m appreciated,” Logan replied drily. “Goodbye, Virgil. Goodbye, Remus.”

“See ya, L.”

“Byeeeeeeeeeee!”

⁂

When Janus returned, he was a bit taken aback to see Logan sitting in an armchair, reading. At the sound of the door, he looked up. 

“Ah, Alighieri. I- I wanted to apologize for my behavior.”

Janus paused. It was a good sign, but still so unexpected as to be unsettling.

Logan cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have left you in a lurch. You did not cause this situation anymore than did I, and you have not been unkind. I have a suggestion for how we might move forward.”

Janus winced internally, thinking of another disastrous attempt at a movie or workspace. “I actually had a thought on that as well, but um. What was yours?”

Logan cleared his throat again. “Well, since we have been... brought into this situation together, but as a pair are struggling to adjust, it seems logical to consult with an expert, much as we would in our work. Therefore, we should consult a professional on personal relationships.”

“Oh, thank god,” muttered Janus. “Yeah, I was gonna suggest a couples counselor too. I think that would make sense. And I actually have a personal reference to a very experienced therapist.”

That settled, they found the earliest possible appointment, only two days later. 

“I do need to warn you-“ Janus said as they walked up to the office. It was their first time out of the apartment together, and it had been a very quiet walk over. “The methods of this therapist are- unorthodox. But they are highly acclaimed in their field.”

“Oh, are they an enby?” Logan asked. 

“Yes and no,” Janus replied. “You see, there’s two of them.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, they’re a couple therapist that is also a couple.”

“I don’t- well- I mean, that’s odd, right?”

Janus grinned. “Yeah, odd is a common word to describe them. But they’re highly praised and like I said, they were recommended personally.”

“Right,” Logan said, squaring his shoulders. “An open mind is helpful for effective therapy, after all.”

“That’s the spirit! I think,” Janus replied, holding the door open.

A gothy receptionist showed them to a private room with a comfortably large couch. Logan looked around in trepidation and slight alarm at the decorations. There were countless Funko-Pops, posters, stuffed animals, and an alarmingly high number of travel mugs from what looked like every single cartoon that had ever existed.

Janus was slightly more prepared then Logan, but he still jumped out of his skin by the sudden singing coming around the door. A deep voice was booming, “Duhhh duh-duh-duh-duh-da-DUH!” in a building crescendo that went on and on, until both lawyers were staring in a mixture of confusion and irritation.

Then a tall, lanky man slid in the door and lowered his glasses to wink at them both. “Hey babes. Welcome to therapy.” 

The singer followed him through the door, their bright pink hair a sharp contrast to their warm brown skin. “And thank you as always for the intro, honey!”

They smiled, big and toothy. “Welcome indeed! I’m Dr. Emile Picani, pronouns they/them, and this tall drink of coffee is my partner, Dr. Remy Picani, pronouns he/him! And you are Janus and Logan, correct?”

Logan looked a bit stunned still, so Janus took the lead. “Yes, I’m Janus Alighieri and this is Logan Finch, pronouns he/him for both. And I was referred by Patton Corwan-Augustus.” 

Emile smiled even bigger, if that were possible. “Oh Patty! Best roommate ever, I still miss his brownies. It’s lovely to meet you both!”

“Best roommate? What am I, chopped liver?” Remy asked, hand pressed to his chest. 

“Best friend, best coffee-maker, best of men and best of husbands,” Emile replied, and said husband immediately blushed.

Logan coughed politely. “Have you been married long?”

Remy smiled, still pink around the edges. “We’ve actually been married almost 10 years. The minute we graduated university, actually, when we knew our parents had not a shred left of financial control. We went through our PhDs together, which is why, of course, we’re qualified to help out other couples, because let me tell you, would not recommend.”

“Which brings us, of course, to you two!” Emile said brightly. “What is your goal in coming to therapy?”

Janus and Logan both began speaking at once.

“Well, it started in court-“

“It was completely unexpected, we’ve known each other for years-“

“-dreadfully embarrassing, not to mention the professional ramifications-“

“-it just feels like something’s missing-“

“-really want to just sort this out-“

“-just want to figure out the disconnect-“

“-and we can forget about the whole thing.”

“-want to make this work.”

They looked at each other, shocked, as their words both sank in.

Emile was tapping their Powerpuff Girls pencil topper steadily against their lips, eyes wide behind their pink-framed glasses. 

Remy, at their side, leaned back and took a long, loud slurp of his iced coffee, rattling the ice around until the room’s attention was on him. Then he looked up and said, “Hoooo-wheee.”

“So I’m getting a lot of differing goals here,” Emile said delicately. “Let’s start with you, Janus. Can you expand, please?”

Janus tried to speak, but felt like his voice had dropped into the cold pit that was suddenly his stomach. “I, um,” he started with a shaky breath. He barely noticed when Remy pushed a cup of ice water into his hand, but a sip steadied him somewhat.

“You can look just at me, if that helps,” Emile said softly. “Or at my buddy Kaa here.” They gestured to the stuffed snake on the shelf behind them. 

He looked like a fuzzy little Monty. That would do. 

“Thank you, Doctor,” Janus said, acknowledging the water from Remy. “So. We’ve been rival lawyers for years, because we’re both the best at what we do. It was shocking, to suddenly be glowing in open court, but I thought we just needed to find common ground that’s not arguing. That’s why I’m here, at least.”

“And Logan?” Emile asked, still in that kind voice. Logan wouldn’t meet their eyes, though, or anyone’s.

“I thought- we both seemed so upset by the news. Or at least, I was, and perceived you to be as well.” He didn’t look up as he addressed Janus, but his eyes shifted over and took root on Janus’ polished loafers. “My plan was to spend whatever time was needed to stop glowing, then get back to our respective lives.”

“Do either of you have a question you’d like to ask of one another?” Remy asked. “It can be as large or small scale as you’d like, serious or frivolous.”

Both men looked up at the lanky therapist, who’d actually removed his dark glasses, revealing slightly foggy-looking irises. “Logan, it looks like you have one.”

“Oh- yes. So, Alighieri- I mean, Janus. To be clear- you were not upset by the news?”

Janus took a breath. “I mean, I was shocked, and upset to be removed in the middle of a case. But not about the soulmate thing, specifically. And I have a question too?” He looked to the therapists, who both nodded.

Janus looked over, and saw the Logan was watching him in his periphery. “When you say you were upset about the news- was it about the soulmate thing, or about me as your soulmate?”

Logan actually sat up, looking shocked. “Oh, goodness gracious. Absolutely about the concept of ‘soulmate’ in general, not personal in any way. Did I-?”

“Well, yeah, a bit,” Janus said.

“I am- I am so sorry. I would have absolutely have been equally upset, no matter who I found to be an accidental soulmate.”

Janus felt his stomach unclench just a bit.

“Logan, what about soulmates in general upsets you?” Emile asked.

Logan’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he stayed silent for a moment, then two. Finally, he said curtly, “I never asked for one. And no one asked if I wanted one, either.”

“No one asked if I wanted to be trans, and yet here I am,” Emile said with a cheeky grin. “We don’t always get a say over the circumstances of our birth.”

“But Emmy, you’ve found self-acceptance and happiness deriving from coming out,” Remy put in. “Logan, were you content with life before this reveal?”

Logan nodded. 

“So there was no sense of dysphoria prior, or absence of a euphoria that was gained since.” 

Again, Logan nodded.

“Couldn’t-“ Janus began. His throat felt a bit stuck. “Couldn’t there be something to be gained, though?”

Logan picked up a small figurine of Dexter from the table next to the couch, and fiddled with it in his lap as he spoke. “It’s not impossible, there could certainly be gains from a better acquaintance with you. But that’s not what a soulmate is supposed to be, is it? They’re supposed to complete you,” he said, his voice dripping in disdain. “Because you were incomplete before. Because you weren’t enough, alone, you were just waiting for the One. And of course, you can’t be trusted to find them yourself, some cosmic force determines it for you.”

Remy rested his hand in his hand, elbow propped on his knee. “Spill it, sis.”

Logan stared in confusion. 

Remy smiled. “It means, approximately, ‘continue, you’ve got something good to say’. I’m getting a lot here- but a lot of the frustration seems to be with the idea that forces you can’t control are messing with your life, is that fair?”

Logan shifted. “Well, yeah, but that makes me sound like a control freak.”

“Not at all,” Janus interrupted. “Of course you don’t want something incomprehensible to make decisions for you. That’s not controlling, that’s perfectly understandable and human!”

Logan managed a small smile in response.

Emile beamed. “I couldn’t have said it better myself!”

“But I am def gonna poke some holes in your thought bubble,” Remy said cheerfully. “Starting with this: what do you mean when you say a soulmate is intended to be The One?”

Logan stared in disbelief. “Come on. Really? Look at, I don’t know, any piece of media ever. Or at you two. Or at my- friend and his husband. Or any other pair of soulmates!”

Janus added, “I mean, that’s what’s intended, right? With the whole ‘marked from birth’ thing?”

Emile looked at them both very seriously. “Did you know that Remy isn’t The One for me?”

“But he’s your soulmate?” Janus gasped out.

Emile nodded gravely. “He is my soulmate. But he is not my only soulmate.”

“I was designated female at birth to very traditional parents. They wanted me to marry my soulmate at 18, like they had, and they assumed he’d be a man. But my other soulmate was a girl, and I loved her with all my heart. And when I realized I wasn’t a girl, I thought my parents might accept us more. I was wrong.” They took a breath. “We were separated. I don’t know what happened to her. But it was enough to know that my parents didn’t care about my happiness, soulmate or no.”

“I’m so sorry,” Logan said quietly, and Janus nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. 

“I was lucky, though,” they continued. “I found Remy only two years later. And he accepted me as I am, both my gender and my other soulmate. And the cartoons, of course.”

“I never got to meet her,” Remy said. “So we will never know if she was my soulmate, too. I choose to believe she wasn’t. I think she could have been Emile’s one and only, had they been able to stay together. And that doesn’t make me feel any less lucky to be Emile’s husband, nor any less loved by them.”

“And not to shock you even more, but not all soulmates are romantic,” Emile said. “I know that’s the media portrayal- but well, the media is also pretty straight. And cis. And white. And neurotypical. And-”

“What they’re getting at,” Remy interrupted, “is that common portrayals miss a lot of the variety and complexity of humanity as a whole, let alone the complexity of relationships.”

Logan was sitting very still, and not speaking. Janus was trying to wrap his mind around this, and spoke with uncharacteristic uncertainty as he asked, “So- for instance, um, you could have soulmates who are, uh, queerplatonic partners?”

Logan’s head snapped up, staring at Janus with wide eyes.

Remy grinned. “Yes, of course! I was worried I was going to have to do a vocab lesson, but you both seem to know what that is.”

“But-“ Janus began, brows furrowing.

“But that means-“ Logan muttered to himself.

“Why isn’t he my soulmate?” Janus asked, at the same time Logan asked, “Why aren’t they my soulmate?”

Lit by the twin glows reflecting against the wall, the therapist couple exchanged a pregnant look. Emile reached out and took a hand of each patient. “I know this is a lot to process, but I really want you to keep something in mind: a soulmate is not the only way we can love someone. It’s not the ‘best’ way or only valid way to love someone. The same way the platonic love you clearly both hold for a significant person in your life is no less valid than romantic.”

Remy sat up straight. “I want you both to think about this when you go home. Your love for your QPPs is wonderful, and worth cherishing. And I know you are both lawyers, so here’s a question for you to brief. We cannot know the actual intent of whatever force gave you marks that respond to each other. So I want to you look for what evidence there might be, in each other, for your connection.”

Emile added on, “You have a link, and it’s worth exploring. It doesn’t have to ever be more important, more meaningful than another connection you have. But understanding it is critical to bonding successfully.”

“I think we should wrap there, for this week,” Remy added. “But you can talk about this, of course, without us.”

Janus and Logan nodded, and left. The walk home was as quiet as the walk there had been, but this time the air thrummed with thoughts and ponderings.

⁂

Janus and Logan made dinner with relatively little talk, only quiet asks to pass a spice or a cooking implement. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet, but one where their minds were far too loud to vocalize just yet.

Janus quietly suggested putting on TV, and picked the game show network as a neutral, unobjectionable option.

They ate as they watched, still burdened with their own thoughts, but slowly started to murmur the correct questions under their breath before the Jeopardy contestants were able to.

Final Jeopardy, as luck would have it, was on Latin - but specifically, Latin as used in law. Both attorneys chuckled at the contestants' answers, some of which weren't even close to correct.

Janus directed a cautious smile in Logan's direction, and found it reciprocated. But as he saw that familiar glow start to reflect off the walls, he tensed, waiting for Logan flee once more.

For the first time, though, he didn't. His eyes widened as he took in the lights, but he didn't move to stand or leave.

"About today-" Logan began. "I don't know that I am quite ready to discuss it all, but I did want to once again apologize for my handling of this situation, and its emotional impact on you. It was entirely unintentional, but I regret causing you distress."

"Thank you," Janus replied softly. "And thank you for being willing and open to go to counseling. I learned a lot today, all of it important."

"I'd like to talk about it tomorrow, if you'd be willing," Logan added. "There are some additional details I need to share, but I don't think I'm able at the present moment."

"Sounds good," Janus nodded. "I'm going to turn in for the night. Sleep well."

"You as well."

But despite feeling tired, Janus found he wasn't at all sleepy. He ended up sitting up until the wee hours of the morning, stroking Monty gently and thinking a great deal.

⁂

The next morning, Janus woke up much earlier than his usual habit, but he needn't have worried - Logan was clearly waiting for him in the kitchen, sipping coffee and idly solving the entire Sunday crossword.

He looked up at the sound of Janus' door, and indicated the mostly-full coffee pot with a nod. Janus gratefully filled a mug for himself and lightened it thoroughly with cream, drinking deep as he stood angled so that he could offer critique and suggestions on the crossword.

"No, shush," Janus said, though Logan had not spoken. "It's gotta be White. Y'know, Betty? C'mon. Most-loved Gold? It's obvious."

Logan just smiled and penned in “White” in the horizontal boxes, immediately able to fill in the Down clues crossing them.

Once the puzzle was complete, Janus refilled his coffee and sat properly at the kitchen island. 

"So, if you're amenable-" Logan began. "I believe I'm prepared to discuss yesterday in more detail."

Janus nodded. "Did you want to start off?"

"Yes, I think I must. Because there was one detail that I wasn't quite prepared to share that I think will be quite helpful in securing a full understanding."

At Janus' encouraging nod, Logan closed his eyes to take a breath, and said, "The truth is, I'm an aromantic asexual. That's why the concept of a soulmate was so upsetting to me, particularly because up until this week I had assumed I didn't have one."

Janus looked down. "I'm ace, too, but not aro, and... yeah, same boat, mostly. I thought I wouldn't have one, but when we started to glow, I assumed it must be romantic. But that must not be the case."

Logan tented his fingers together. "So you're not aro, but you do have a QPP?"

"Yeah - I definitely can experience romantic attraction, but what I feel for Patton has always been stronger, and different."

"I'd like to hear about him, if you'd be willing," Logan said softly, and was rewarded by a smile that seemed about to glow as brightly as his soulmark on Janus' face.

"Oh, he's just the best," Janus gushed. "I met him at the perfect time in my life. I'd just been dumped by an asshole because he couldn't deal with the fact that the asexual part wasn't just me being a tease. I was feeling pretty low, post-college, all alone in a new apartment, and then this beam of sunshine turns out to be the kind of neighbor who brings cookies as a greeting. Even though I wasn't exactly receptive, he just kept coming back, even just to check up on me, and soon I found myself looking forward to it, and then inviting myself over in return."

Logan paused. "Wait, your ex broke up with you because you were ace? Was it a surprise?"

Janus rolled his eyes. "No, not in the least. I'd told him, and reminded him, and he'd just been assuming I would 'get over it,' the fucker. Right after the breakup, there were times I wondered if he was right, if I should have just powered through my repulsion to make him happy. But Patton was amazing about that, too. When he heard what happened - oh my goodness, he was so angry on my behalf, he looked like he was going to Hulk out. And then he made it his mission to make sure I was being validated in my identity and knew that I was eminently lovable both in spite of and because of my aceness."

Logan smiled. "That's wonderful. I can see why you love him so much."

Janus sighed happily. "And it hasn't changed even though he's met his allo soulmate. Roman knows that our bond isn't and will never be a threat to theirs, and he makes Pat so happy. They're planning their wedding right now, but they've already signed all the papers and it'll just be a party where they gush about each other in public."

Janus sat for a moment, basking in the glow of his affection for Patton, before he turned to Logan and asked, “You have a QPP too, right?”

“I do,” Logan said, a smile stretching across his face unconsciously. “Their name is Virgil. And they’re also married to their soulmate.”

“Tell me about them,” Janus said, when Logan fell silent. 

“They’re- they are just amazing. They’re my best friend, have been since about fourth grade. ” Logan’s eyes went a bit misty as he considered his childhood. “We bonded over being surrounded by idiots, after a debate simulation where we were on opposing sides.”

Janus smirked. “You mean I’m not your first? I’m heartbroken.”

Logan shot him a glare, but it had none of true anger’s heat.

“I guess we always had the feeling that we weren’t quite like everyone else. Besides the introverted tendencies, it wasn’t really a shock when they came out as nonbinary. They’d been online, discovering new terms, and in learning about their identity I ran into the aro and ace labels. I felt seen, do you know what I mean? And then Virgil just compounded that feeling by immediately understanding and accepting me. They call me a brother, just to explain that our relationship isn’t “just” friends.”

“What was it like when they met their soulmate?” Janus asked. 

“It wasn’t nearly as smooth as your experience seems to have been,” Logan admitted.

“Their husband is... unique. Prone to rather odd fixations and interests. But he’s also demisexual, and like us, had thought he wouldn’t have a soulmate. And part of his defense mechanism against that kind of rejection was, well. Embracing his off-putting side. Being disgusting for the sake of it. Grossing out others before they could judge him for his orientation.”

Janus grimaced. “I know that feeling, all too well. Donning a mask, so that a rejection won’t be of you, just your persona.”

“Exactly,” Logan said, nodding. “I don’t think it helped that both Virgil’s and Remus’ soulmarks were in their hair. They’d both dyed their hair many times over the years, but it wasn’t enough to hide it. And once they had shown up- there was no more pretending.”

“Was it hard for them?” Janus asked. 

“Accepting it was. But then they started actually talking and then it just- clicked. All those macabre interests that overlapped, the mutual obsession with MCR. They fell in love the minute they both let their walls down. And like you said- it never really changed what I had with Virge. They didn’t meet Reme until college, and didn’t get married until last year. So Virge told Reme that I was here to stay, and part of their life, and he accepted it without a blink. He’s a forensic archeologist now, to Virge’s forensic detective, so they’ve actually both been helpful in cases, too.”

“That’s... kind of adorable, in a weird way,” Janus said, scrunching his nose. 

Logan chuckled. “‘Adorable in a weird way’ is the best possible description for their relationship.”

Janus tapped his finger on the island. “That sounds so familiar, though, and I can’t quite place it.” He closed his eyes, murmuring under his breath. “Wait! Is Virgil’s husband an Augustus?”

“That was his surname, yes, though now it’s Angelico-“

“Oh my god!” Janus burst out. “That’s Patton’s brother-in-law!”

“What?”

“Roman Augustus! That’s his soulmate’s name! And he had a twin, but they had a falling out and haven’t been in contact for a couple of years. But he said he’d been in forensics!”

Logan blinked. “Well, it is certainly a small world. Not that Remus has ever talked about his brother, but I knew he had one.”

“That’s kind of crazy. What are the chances?” Janus asked, laughing. 

Logan looked pointedly over. “Do you really want to know? I could calculate them-“

“Thanks, calculator watch, but I’m good.”

They both chuckled quietly, sitting side by side at the kitchen island. 

“Hey, uh- thank you for trusting me, with the other day, and with this,” Janus said softly. 

“I owe you thanks as well,” Logan replied. “I don’t frequently have the opportunity to talk about Virgil in detail and it’s- it’s nice.”

Janus just beamed, returning the sentiment without words. 

In that moment, the sunlight of the room was tinged with colored light, gold and blue overlapping into rich emerald.

Logan hesitated, seeing it, but after a moment lifted his arm. Janus smiled and leaned in, accepting the offered side-hug.

“Hey Finch- I mean, Logan?”

“Yes Janus?”

“I may not be sure yet why we’re soulmates, but I’m definitely not disappointed that we are.”

A beat.

Then a soft murmur replied, “Neither am I.”

⁂

Later that afternoon, Logan returned from stocking up on more food to find Janus lying upside-down on the couch, lanky legs dangling over the back. His face was red enough to show that he’d been sitting there for a while as the blood rushed downward.

“I cannot imagine that is at all comfortable,” Logan commented drily, neatly putting away the packets of noodles and snacks he’d purchased.

“It helps me think,” Janus replied. “Especially when I’m trying to see something from another perspective.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “This better not have been a set-up just to make that terrible pun.”

Janus looked over, grinning. “It actually started that way, not gonna lie. I’d been venting to Patton about an oral argument simulation in law school and he suggested this as a joke. And then it actually helped.”

Logan huffed in what sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh and came to sit more normally in a chair next to the couch. “So what is it that you’re trying to change your perception of so literally?”

“Our case, actually - Gomex.” At Logan’s quizzical look, he replied, “The partners aren’t letting me onto new cases until they know I’ll be back in person. I’m getting bored. So I thought, you know. Why not figure out what I was missing in this one.” He shrugged, an odd contortion for an inverted torso.

“You were missing something? But you won at trial.”

“And I was caught off-guard by your appeal - or at least, the part where it survived my motion to dismiss.”

Logan allowed himself a satisfied smirk. “Surprised you with my impeccable research, did I? All my rock-solid precedent pointing out the clear error in the original jury instruction?”

Janus’ legs kicked idly in the air. “Your research is always impeccable. Of course you were able to find precedent on-point for the general issue, you’re good at this. But the facts of the case are just so different that how could any of those past rulings be definitive?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, tapping the arm pensively. “Wait, so you really believe that? It wasn’t just a tactic to make Gomex feel like they’re getting their money’s worth for your legal fees?”

Janus finally righted himself, sitting upright with a leg balancing on the coffee table. “Well, yeah , of course I do. I don’t take the time and effort to go to trial for bullshit unless the client can’t be talked down from combat mode. Racking up charges for unnecessary trial prep is only fun when they don’t take my advice.” He looked quizzically at Logan. “So you really didn’t see the difference between Gomex and, what, Sourgoutsis?”

“No material difference, no. It’s in the right circuit, it’s recent and binding, and it established a test that clearly applies here.”

“But the test requires knowledge!”

“Knowing includes reckless disregard for the truth, and Gomex had that.”

“Oh, you can hardly say it’s reckless when all the claims were paid without issue for a decade!”

Logan leaned forward, counting off points on his fingers. “The guidance is updated each year. The commentary points out the changes. Gomex has to certify as a company that they accept all current guidance and direction. If they didn’t actually know they were submitting false claims, they should have known, and had a duty to know.”

Janus’ eyes were flashing, but more with excitement than anger. “But even the commentary didn’t clarify that these specific claims would no longer be accepted in the future. Doesn’t the agency have a duty to be clear about changes in accepted policy when the code is so vast and companies used past claims as standards for future approval?”

“But the companies are the experts in their own industries. They should know that these kind of differences are significant and material.”

Janus sat up fully straight, pointing enthusiastically. “That’s it!”

“What’s it?”

“I figured it out! It is a matter of perspective. But not the perspective of side versus side, like I was thinking. It’s time.”

Logan leaned in, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Expand, please.”

Janus nodded, mirroring Logan’s pose even as his hands remained free to gesture. “So you’re looking at this as: company knows their procedures best, they’re the ones making profit off it, so their duty to know details is higher than the public agency. Right?”

Logan nodded.

“Here’s where I’m coming from - it’s not a question of if this company knew or should have known this distinction, or even if this industry has the expertise that the agency lacks. It’s about what this case would do to the Sourgoutsis test for cases in the future. If the agency doesn’t have to clarify a policy change now, why would it ever? If it’s not enough that companies rely on a long history of approval here, when will it ever be? Do you follow, Logan?”

Logan linked his fingers, tapping the tips of his forefingers gently. “So your concern is about using a history of compliance as evidence of good faith?”

“Exactly, yes.”

“But Gomex knew that the change meant the compliant history was no longer relevant.”

“Only because they had insider knowledge of the change process. Not from the public information.”

“Wait, so you agree that Gomex knew?”

Janus grinned sheepishly, baring all his teeth. “Well, we’re both off the case now, so- yeah. They knew or should have known their claims would get rejected and banked on the agency not noticing for just long enough.”

Logan gasped. “But you still went into court and got the jury to agree with you that they didn’t!?”

Janus shrugged pragmatically. “It’s not about Gomex, it’s about the precedent this will set. I’d rather one bad actor get away with it now than have who-knows-how-many claims get screwed in the future for a good-faith misunderstanding.”

“Especially if that bad actor is paying you millions to help them get away with it?” Logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

Janus raised one of his own. “So you’d rather let a bad test become binding because the agency is paying you millions to get it set in stone?”

Logan, about to respond hotly, paused. “I suppose that’s a fair assessment. I didn’t think it was that bad a test until now - I assumed the insider knowledge would be baked into the standard.”

“You gotta think cynically, Mr. Finch,” Janus said with a chuckle. “Picture the worst-faith application and work backwards from there, cause you know it’ll end up happening.”

“Hmm,” Logan said with a quiet laugh. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

Janus fluttered his lashes. “The great Logan Finch thinks I’m right about something. My life’s goal is achieved.”

“Hey, I think you’re correct quite a lot!” Logan objected. “Infuriatingly precise and pedantic, sure, but ultimately right. There’s a reason my firm sends me against you - no one else wants to fight what’ll be a losing battle half the time.”

“Only half?”

“Even you must admit I’ve been correct on more than one occasion,” Logan said with a smile.

“That is true,” Janus admitted. “Knowing that you’re going to be the opposing counsel always makes me up my game.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Logan said wryly. “I’d never admit it to the other partners, but you make me a better lawyer, Janus.”

The flattered glow of Janus’ grin was immediately dwarfed by two other, brighter bursts of light. Gold and blue pulsed from their backs in a flash, then settled into steady light. The colors lit the stylish room, blending to emerald as they pulsed in time with each man’s heartbeat. Logan looked at the glow reflected on the white couch cushions with wonder as he realized that Janus’ back  was no longer shining blue, but green. He caught his eyes and realized his own glow must have changed colors as well.

The lights pulsed more and more gently until they dimmed and went out, leaving Janus and Logan sitting across from one another just as the last of the sunlight fell below the horizon and the room went dark. 

The silence stretched for several moments, until Janus finally broke it with a bemused, “Huh.”

“So that was-”

“I think so.

“So now we’re-”

“Bonded, yeah. I think.”

“That would be a logical assumption.”

The silence returned, each man lost in his own thoughts. When they spoke again, it was at once.

“Maybe we should-”

“Perhaps we could still-”

“-make sure it’s permanent?

“-take a few days more?”

They shared a grin.

“A couple more days couldn’t hurt,” Janus said. “After all, it could be a fluke. We wouldn’t want to set a standard from a mere fluke.”

“Oh, of course not,” Logan responded with the same tone of amusement. “We want to confirm the integrity of the test.”

Janus stood to flick on a light, then turned as a thought occurred. 

“Wait, Logan - even once we go back, we won’t be able to be opposing counsel anymore. The soulmate code will still be applied, even though we’re not romantic or QP soulmates.”

Logan’s face fell for a moment, then lit up once more as he stood. “Well, we’ve got a couple days at least. I think the two best lawyers in the state might be able to argue that every precedent has an exception, don’t you, Mr. Alighieri?”

Janus’ smile mirrored Logan’s own as he replied, “Why yes, Mr. Finch, I think we might.”

[dottiechan]

Tempest (Pt. 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Read on AO3

Pairing: Ava Du Mortain x f!Detective

Wordcount: 4048

Warnings: mourning, mentions of death and torture, smoking

Summary: The private detective must work through the sudden and unexpected disappearance of Ava - quite literally, as she embarks on solving her greatest mystery yet. But she is not the only one who's been busy...

A/N: This chapter is a rather long one as there's much to unpack at this point of the story, and there is much to explain. Sorry for the long wait, and thanks for being so patient and supportive of me!

The Private Detective’s Office, London, 1898

5 months after Ava’s disappearance

The key turns in the lock with ease. The door creaks as it gives way to the dark office. The lights flicker in the corridor outside, and the entrance gapes like a mouth ready to swallow her whole.

She steps inside, unaware of her fingers skittering across the glass pane that has the name of her detective agency painted on it. Some have great bloodlines to look back on, and nobles and kings to proudly call their ancestors. Her legacy is this stuffy little office, her sigil is a hand painted business logo. But her ancestor - her father - was a warrior too, noble of heart, even if not of blood.

She hangs her coat and hat, and proceeds to smooth down her hair before locking the door and switching on the lights. The old pieces of furniture that would have been regarded fashionable 20 years ago are dimly illuminated, and the sight of them makes her heart ache. They belonged to her late father, and in a way he lives on through them. The dent in the cushion of his chair where he always used to sit, the scuff marks on his desk he carelessly carved into the polished surface with books and folders, the medical and law tomes he hoarded lining the bookshelves that hug the dark green walls... As a child, she was afraid of coming here in the evenings - something they often did after her mother passed away and her father tried his best to raise her alone. The heavy nailhead leather armchairs looked like hunched monsters in the dark, the looming mahogany desk with its long curving legs resembled a giant spider, and the serious wallpaper enveloped this macabre scene like some sinister forest. “The real monsters are in here, my darling,” her father would ruffle her hair affectionately, pointing at the files he came to pick up.

It is late, but the office no longer feels scary. Her rational mind knows she should have gone home to her empty bed and her unread books and the cold supper awaiting her. And yet she’s here because hardly anything matters anymore. Because no place ever really feels like home ever since her father left. Well, her small house felt like home for a while when she was still here. But she left as well, and with her she took the last tattered shreds of joy the detective had somehow managed to cling to. She is submerged in saturnine reticence now, and ironically it helps her stay focused, even though it makes her more and more like the person she tried to thaw out. More and more like Ava.

One should only embrace the iciness of a statue if they’re willing to risk turning into marble themselves.

The Commissioner would be lucky to have a detective such as myself, she thinks bitterly as she glances down at the neatly kept files piled on her desk. Most are petty cases, even she has to admit - cheating husbands, unanswered invitations and letters, and the likes. But she takes all the work she can, and she prides herself on her ability to solve them with the proficiency of a man. Ava used to praise her for that. Now she whispers praises to herself even if the words turn sour in her mouth, because she will not let anyone ruin her. She will not. (Even though Ava has, because the world feels different without her in it.)

Her sudden disappearance left her on the precipice of panic at first. Ava, along with her partner Nate, simply vanished into thin air as if they never even existed at all, as if they were a pleasant reverie she used to lull herself to sleep at night. No trace, no item that belonged to them was left behind. If not for the spare key to her house being gone - the one she gave to Ava - she wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference between reality and her mad suspicions. But oh, she was here. She was. Missing her is a malady burrowed in her heart, but it is also the testament of her existence.

She opens the file on top, and hums in bitter satisfaction. Right. The aching of her heart isn’t the only testament anymore. It took her months, but she’s finally one step closer to the solution, planting her foot firmly and holding her crumbling sanity together with a determination she didn’t know she had. Ava was probably never meant to be in the background of a photograph taken during the opening night of the National Gallery of British Art.

But she was. And it really only takes one mistake.

The private detective picks up the photograph gingerly, giving herself one second to lose herself in the whirlwind of emotions Ava’s angular silhouette awakens in her.

One step closer.

She leans back in her chair, her gaze gliding over the photograph and landing on her personal little project. The blackboard is filled with dates, locations and places with a map pinned to the middle of it - by now, it is practically a blueprint of Ava’s and Nate’s every activity over the past two years. The deeper she digs, the more unknowns she unearths about the people she once thought she knew.

But there’s still time to get to know them - first impressions are overrated anyway.

Train station, Wayhaven, 1899

7 months after Ava’s disappearance

January quickly set to work and changed the countryside. It swooped down from the heavens and gently buried the forests and the hills under a heavy blanket of snow, concealing the detective’s childhood home from her as she exits the train, the handle of her heavy bag already digging into her gloved fingers. The shapes are still visible though underneath all the snow and ice - she sees the old station with the crumbling roof, the road leading into town, the bell tower of the small church peeking out just above the treeline. She recognises them all, though she sorely wishes she didn’t.

Because with the recognition comes the inevitable sting of her memories. Faces emerge in her conscious she hasn’t seen in years. The kindness of her mother’s eyes and the curve of his father’s lips, both lost forever now, never to be seen again, cutting deeper than a knife ever could.

An old woman is prating about her insufferable nephew, a business man is constantly checking his pocket watch with a disdainful look from across the station, three young women gossip, a man is rubbing his hands together in an effort to stimulate his circulation in the cold weather. The detective tunes out the comfortable commotion of the small town station, imagining she is still in London and not here. Anywhere but here. People brush past her, the train whistles and whirs to motion, and before she knows it, she is alone, paralysed in one spot, snowflakes catching softly on her fetching ensemble of a royal blue travelling dress and matching hat.

She takes a shaky breath, almost already on the verge of tears.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

No.

“Of course,” she turns with a slight smile. “Just admiring the view. I used to live here.”

“Ah, then the gossip about you was true,” the man nods, his eyes glinting intelligently under his bushy brows. There’s an apologetic smile sitting on his lips, and a twinge of regret spoiling the beauty of his otherwise handsome square jaw and bold features. “I apologise, I couldn’t help but overhear some women on the train talking about your father. About you.”

“I didn’t know our name carried such weight,” the detective admits cautiously, one hand reaching up to fix her hat self-consciously. The man seems to notice the way her fingers linger over the hat pin, and he almost cracks a grin. It would be a highly inappropriate moment to joke, and besides, he’d rather befriend this interesting person than anger her to a point where he’d end up being skewered by the hat pin in question. After all, her friendship and assistance is why he’s here.

“Your father served in India with Sir Edward Bardford, the current Police Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police,” he adds gently. “You were betrothed to Montagu Edward Bradford.”

“How do you know about that?” the woman asks, her eyes widened by shock as she takes a step closer to him.

“Who didn’t Montagu tell?”

The strained grin the stranger allows himself seems to put her momentarily at ease. Montagu did tell everyone, God rest his soul. In a way, she could never really begrudge him for the betrothal - it was their fathers’ scheming, even if Montagu really didn’t seem to mind. She always wanted a way out, but she never wished for his death. He was in India when it had happened, and she was in London. In a way, even 9 years after, it feels surreal. She never saw the body. For years afterwards, she sincerely thought he would turn up one day unexpectedly as if nothing had happened.

He never did.

“How awfully rude of me to not even introduce myself!” he exclaims suddenly, sheepishly sticking out his hand. “Dr Van Helsing. Abraham Van Helsing.”

“I believe Mont had spoken about you,” she nods as she shakes his hand, deliberately squeezing his fingers with more force than a mere handshake would warrant. Yet another trick she learned from Ava.

“I hope so. We were... we were quite close. I know it’s been a while since he...” Van Helsing pauses as he withdraws his hand and waves it in the air before drawing it up to his ginger curls. “Please accept deepest my condolences.”

“Thank you, Dr Van Helsing.”

Her tone signals the end of the conversation, and she nods her head stiffly before turning. She knew coming back here would unearth the loss of her parents, but she is not ready to speak of Montagu yet. She bared her soul once regarding the matter, and only to one person, but she will not repeat the experience again. As liberating as it had been to tell Ava everything, she wishes to leave this heartache and guilt where it belongs - in the past.

“Please wait. We got off on the wrong foot! I didn’t come here to ask you personal questions - in fact, it is a disappearance that I was hoping to discuss with you.”

“You are a physician, not an inspector, correct?” she asks over her shoulder, not bothering to slow down her steps as she strides towards an unclaimed hansom.

“Yes, but-”

“Are you here to hire me?”

“No-”

“Then we have nothing to talk about, Dr Van Helsing. Good day.”

The driver, smelling a wealthy client who’s just arrived from London, clambers down from his seat quickly to open the door for her to get in. Just before she could disappear inside, the physician speaks again.

“I’m trying to find Miss Ava Du Mortain and Mr Nathaniel Sewell. I was hoping we could help each other out, but more importantly, I was hoping to warn you.”

“Warn me?” the detective pauses, looking back at Van Helsing with genuine shock on her prepossessing features.

“They’re not who you think they are - what you think they are.”

There’s a stretch of silence between them as her eyes assess the tall, lanky man as he stands just before the hansom, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, his breath fogging in the chill air as he looks back at her expectantly. The nerve on this man alone is making the private detective want to leave him high and dry in the snow, but her insides twist and her pulse quickens at the mention of Ava’s name. She’s all but given up hope - for months now, she could find nothing regarding the woman and her partner, or the Agency they claimed to work for. She knows virtually nothing about this man, but her need to find Ava outweighs her better judgement.

“Are you hungry, Dr Van Helsing?” she asks, scooting further down the seat to make room for the man.

“Is eating and working on disappearance cases simultaneously a habit of yours, Miss?” the physician asks as he climbs in next to her.

“And here I was trying to be nice. I suppose I will not offer to pay for your lunch then.”

“I take it all back! I am positively famished.”

Meanwhile, across the train station

Lucille Licht twirls her cane, lips pressed into a disdainful frown. Cities at least have crowds upon crowds of people to distract her, but small towns such as Wayhaven hold no entertainment value whatsoever. She isn’t here on pleasant business anyway, she thinks to herself as she sighs, pulling her fur coat tighter around the expensive suit she’s wearing. No, she is here on ghastly business indeed, even by demon standards. But the prophecy was clear - though irritatingly vague too, no doubt to account for the rather large margin of error witches have these days in their prophecies. They’re more lawyers than soothsayers by now, their profession diluted by those who hunger for nothing but profit and security, and who are willing to sacrifice quality for those two aforementioned gains. Lucille finds sordid business such as this distasteful, even in her line of work. Falling from grace is one thing, but living in the Agency’s ever growing shadow is no excuse not to have honour among thieves. Or rogues. Or both, when it comes to the social circles she frequents.

A small voice in the back of her head whispers sadly, poisoning the faux assuredness she’s lulled herself into on the train. She’s just like I was, in a strange way. Before it all happened. And now I’m about to do the same horrible things to her that were done to me.

But the private detective is the one she’s been waiting for. She has to be. It all fits - the dead father, the career, the place where she was born. Lucille can’t smell anything strange about her blood yet, but she is sure she can bring about the power that was promised to reside in her veins. She has her ways, and her old magic, and her knife. And most importantly, her determination.

It was centuries ago, when she was stripped and bound and the curse was carved into her flesh. Strange, how vividly one can remember a single terrible moment, even centuries later. Even though the ancient magic rendered her undead, she can still feel the searing pain all over her body, red lines raging like fire in the form of symbols and Echolian text. It made her immortal, but it also bound her to her creator. He is the reason why she’s on the hunt. Why she is desperate to gain power beyond what she could achieve alone. Even as a human, as a meagre farmer’s child, she was roaming the fields of her father as she pleased. She was free. It was so long ago that she can’t even remember the name her parents gave her, but her freedom she remembers.

And nobody enslaves Lucille Licht and gets away with it.

Her slow burn vendetta must be coming to an end soon. There’s only so much of the supernatural underworld she can bring under her control - what she has will have to suffice. She already runs a widespread rogue organisation, with its key leadership positions held by her loyal Daughters, as she eloquently calls the women she’s bound to her service over the centuries the same way she was bound once. A necessary evil. Pawns in the game she plays with the Ancient One. There is nothing she wouldn’t do to ensure her victory in the coming battle. I will not be outwitted again by that Echolian bastard, she thinks, whacking away at a nearby bush with her cane. Specks of snow and ice glitter where her hits land. And yet she always finds herself hesitating before turning another human.

The abhorred feeling of helplessness always comes creeping back. As well as the pain, and the panic of thinking your life is about to end. She has to push it all down. Grit her teeth and get it over with. Months of preparation leading up to the final act that barely lasts ten minutes. And then you wait, and 3 days later their pain and mortality will be but a distant memory.

But she’s slipping. She no longer only hesitates before, now the intrusive self-doubt catches up to her after the rituals too. The Ancient One is still the centre of her nightmares, but the dream has changed. She is no longer the helpless little lamb brought to the slaughter. She is one with the Ancient One, his hand is hers too as it raises the knife, their voices merging together as they chant the same curse together.

She knew this victory would cost her everything. But she never imagined the real price to pay would be stepping up to fill the void the Ancient One’s death will create.

Lucille never wanted to be like him. She only ever wanted to kill him. But it seems those two things are one and the same.

She awakens from her thoughts when the man joins the private detective in the hansom. An annoying little man, that Dr Van Helsing is, though harmless in the grand scheme of things. It doesn’t matter that he’s taken care of a Transylvanian rogue vampire with his entourage, it would take far more to stop her plans now. Lucille focuses on the woman instead, letting her will force itself into her mind. All too easy, she raises her eyebrows in an unimpressed fashion as she flicks through her thoughts as if she were reading the latest issue of The Times. She thought she would be more difficult to read. To control. But alas, she is just like everyone else, aside from the love that seems to seep out of her every thought for none other than Agent Du Mortain.

She grins, remembering her failed attempt at getting to the private detective earlier. She’s learned several invaluable lessons in those two years. One, you can’t trust dark elf mercenaries, no matter how much you pay them. Two, it’s better to divert the attention of the Agency first before you try to kidnap someone who has important connections in the London Metropolitan Police. Three, love makes people do really, really stupid things.

Thankfully, Lucille Licht is a smart woman, and an even better strategist - not to mention a quite powerful demon with telepathic abilities and her boot firmly planted on the supernatural underground’s neck - and this time, she has learned from all three of her mistakes. This time, there will be no Agent Du Mortain rushing to the rescue. (But that doesn’t mean she can’t use her name as bait, yes?)

Cemetery, Wayhaven, 1900

1 year and 8 months after Ava’s disappearance

He doesn’t appreciate being jerked around the way he has been lately, but he isn’t a man to grumble too much either. He was closest to the backwater little town, he gets to check out the possible supernatural case. Everyone draws the short straw sometimes, and he’s learned to cope with it. He has certainly lived long enough to do so.

The wind shifts, and suddenly Agent Fuller’s nostrils are invaded by the stench of magic. Things finally start looking up for him, and that thought alone is enough to make him pick up his pace, excitement coursing through his body. He lights a cigarette to conceal the smirk threatening to overtake his lips when he sees the pallid looks of the constables as they pass him by. One stops him to ask what his business is out here, but the Agency has already notified the meagre Wayhaven police force, and he is soon on his way again to the centre of the commotion. Cemetery of the commotion would be a more accurate description though - the little town was as dead in the mid-February frost as a place could get, and aside from the bored stationmaster who gave him directions, these men are the first living beings he’s encountered since his arrival.

“Name’s Agent Fuller. What can you tell me about the crime scene, constable?” Fuller asks as he exhales a lungful of smoke, turning to the least disturbed looking man surveying the scene.

“Welcome to the middle of nowhere, sir. Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

A handshake and a suppressed grin later Fuller follows the young man down a row of tombs. They take a sharp turn to the left, and immediately it is clear why he was called here. The sight is confirmation enough, but the smell of potent and ancient magic is the real giveaway.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a walker,” Fuller snorts as he crouches down, picking up a piece of the crumbled marble.

“The poor woman was buried only 3 days ago,” the constable mutters, rubbing his hands together before bringing them to his lips and blowing hot air onto them, desperately attempting to revitalise his frozen fingers. “Who could do such a monstrous thing?”

“Indeed, who could...” the agent mutters, too focused to really pay attention to the human on his right. The tomb was torn open, the coffin deserted, the body missing. It coincides with many reports made over the centuries - it’s unfortunately not rare for the dead to be taken and repurposed again for magic, but this particular pattern is characteristic of demonic rogues having too much time on their necromantic little hands. He will need to consult a few colleagues to confirm it, but the 3 days and the apparent magic hanging in the air is all the evidence he needs right now.

He stands, the lapels of his dark coat flapping in the chilly wind ominously. There’s a page typed up about the busy life of his missing body in his pocket, crumpled around the edges from being handled carelessly, but he takes it out to skim over it again. That’s when he spots the little detail about the private detective’s history with the Agency that he seemed to have missed the first time around.

‘1896-1898: under Agency protection

Threat: classified

Agents on the case: A. Du Mortain, N. Sewell’

The Agency gossips like there’s no tomorrow, and ever since Lady Ashbury’s return to the main facility, the gossip about the ‘Ice Queen’ and her pet detective have been the most fashionable thing to blabber on about. And since Fuller has been to the scene, it will be him who will have to provide all the answers when Du Mortain comes with her demanding questions, no doubt breaking down doors in the process as it is in her nature. Fuller is by no means a man who shies away from conflict or hard work, but he’s never been particularly good with emotions. Explaining to a lovesick elder vampire that her alleged lover is now very dead, and also quite probably the plaything of a very bored and elusive demon who likes to play with necromancy is not a task he would gladly carry out.

“Well, shit.”

Fuller shoves the page back into his pocket and sighs. He should retire and buy a house in the wilderness. Get a cat. Maybe try some cocaine - he once saw Heinrich Quincke use it for spinal anaesthesia before one of his surgeries, and have been meaning to try it out ever since. But he does none of those things - he never does.

He walks back the way he came, trying to prepare himself for the most awkward conversation of the century.

Needless to say, he couldn’t prepare himself for what was to come. But for once, he couldn’t feel mad about a messy situations. He just felt a little more hollow afterwards. And then he got another case as this one was closed and the woman was declared dead once more. And he moved on.

But, like with all his cases ending in death, he never forgot.

[fijiangecko]

Maintaining a New Life

Chapter 1: Ripple on Still Water

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Read it on AO3 here

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Rating: Teen and Up for Violence and Language

A/N: Hey guys! I’ll be uploading biweekly, on Wednesdays around 6pm MST. A taglist is a lot for me to handle but check it out on AO3 if you wanna keep up with it!

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The Armed Detective Agency (ADA): a business meant to help the police and citizens solve cases that might require extra help. Looking in from the outside, the residents might seem normal and like every other private investigation agency on television, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Each member possesses a special ability - a gift, some might say - that makes them stand out from the rest. Each member is unique in their own right, but this group of people combined in one place creates something truly terrifying. There are currently twelve employees at the agency that work full time, and the rest are assistants and part time college students. The two presidents, Keishin Ukai and Ittetsu Takeda, started the agency roughly four years ago, and their workload has only grown since then. Everyday, new cases fly through the doors and members are tasked with helping where they can.

Currently four of the agency members are walking through the streets, searching for an address marked on a manila folder. A small breeze drifts through the streets as you look around. Winter is coming to a close, and of course you’re not wearing a sweater, choosing the fit over functionality. Gazing around once more, you spot the numbers on the files you’re carrying and corral the three men in the direction of the doors, shoving the one with jet black hair slightly harder then the others.

“No need to get all pushy, Y/N.” Kuroo slightly smirks, turning to face you as they both make their ways across the street.

“Wouldn’t need to if you just paid attention, right?” Giving him an innocent smile you can’t see the two others roll their eyes at the light banter. The cold air nips at their skins as Akaashi watches with curious eyes while Bokuto knocks on the door.

“Hello? We’re with the Detective Agency! You called us about a case?!” The silver haired brute waits a second or two before he starts to pound on the door, growing impatient as there hasn’t been an answer. A small look is shared between the crew as nothing happens.

Akaashi glances at Kuroo and yourself before shoving Bokuto out of the way. Sighing softly,you take a step forward and grab Bokuto’s bicep, guiding him back to where Kuroo stands and missing the cocked brow that Kuroo offers to Bokuto at the physical contact. In retort, he wiggles his eyebrows and laughs under his breath.

Ignoring whatever was happening between them, you approach Akaashi. He whispers something to himself as a faint blue aura builds around him exponentially, until it bursts like broken glass. Scope - Akaashi’s gift. His eyes dilate as he looks around the house through the windows. Everything is crystal clear to him, and nothing seems to be out of order in the front of the house. He circles the side with you close behind, and peers through the glass panes at different angles until his eyes twitch. 

“The back door is kicked in,” Akaashi points through the window, directing your view. Upon seeing the broken wood and glass scattered around the floor, you cuss under your breath. “Fuck.”

Quickly making your way back around to the front, the two friends stop what seems to be a serious conversation as you and Akaashi have an air of urgency around yourselves. You don't bother filling them in as Akaashi is alreading explaining what he saw as you jiggle the door knob. Much to your dismay, it’s locked.

“Looks like they already got to him,” you announce, turning to scan their faces. Kuroo can see the stress starting to build on your brow and changes his stance, grabbing the handgun tucked under the back of his waistband. After almost three years of knowing you, he’s grown to tell with just one look what goes through your head.

You fold the file and pass them to Bokuto. “Hold on to these, please. Kuroo and I are gonna go in and check to see if anyone is still around. I need you and Akaashi to stay put just in case they try and make their way out.” The two nod their heads.

“So how are we gonna go about this chibi-chan?” Kuroo cocks the gun and looks through the window, peeking around what corners he can see.

“First off, ew, don’t call me that, I told you to call me Y/N.” He chuckles softly as you take out your own pistol. “And two, we’ll use my portals to get in without ruining the front door. I’ll take upstairs and you can sweep downstairs and the basement.” Pressing the safety off, you turn with intense eye contact towards him. “Sound good?” He can sense the shift in tone and nods.

Looking through the glass panels on the door, you take a deep breath in. The same blue aura builds around you at a much quicker pace then Akaashi’s. It combusts and your gift is revealed - portals. A two and a half meter tall rift opens up before the door, revealing the inside of the residence. Kuroo fixes his stance and enters first, swinging around his gun as he searches. He jerks his head back and motions for you to follow.

The air in the house is warmer as the AC gently rumbles in the background. Kuroo heads right as you slowly ascend to the left. The stairs creak softly as your footsteps reach the second floor, and cautiously you search around. An older woman had contacted the agency about this case, informing them that she’s been worried about her son and the kinds of people he’s been meddling with. This was the only address she could give the agency. Even Bokuto with his superior deductive skills wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it.

Stalking towards the left, you peeks into an office room and checks the corners before approaching the single desk by the windows. There are papers scattered around, mostly tax and budgeting forms. 

“Well he isn’t in financial distress, that’s for sure,” you softly speak to yourself, shuffling the papers around, hoping to find more info about either the man or his compatriots. Underneath all the papers, the letters “ANZEN TECH CORP” on the top of a document catches your eyes. Pulling it out, the header reads “HUMAN DRUG TRIALS”.

Panic slowly builds in your throat as you reach into the desk drawers, quickly sorting through them to find anything relevant. The cabinet filled with other lab reports and drug details, how each participant reacted and how eventually all 23 test subjects passed away. Your heart rate picks up, telling you to fetch the others before something bad happens. This case is way bigger than we thought, you think to yourself.

Against your better judgment, you decide to search all of the bookshelves and filing cabinets in the room, looking for other company documents. None of the guys have given a signal, so I have time. You clear the desk in one foul swoop, the trinkets breaking and clanking as they hit the ground. Throwing all information on the desk, you take a breath to focus and start to filter through the collection of data. You’ve always had an eye for patterns, one of the quickest intelligence officers in the office, and with baited breath, it doesn’t take long to realize what’s going on.

“2020, 2014, 2008, 2002, 1994… jesus christ.” You run a hand through her hair and lean back against the chair. “How-” A loud crashing sound takes your train of thought, as well as shouting from downstairs. Shoving the papers onto the desk, you grab the gun and rush down the steps. Searching quickly, Kuroo is getting up from the ground by the basement door and he’s yelling at something towards the back.

“GET BACK HERE BASTARD!” Your body moves before fully realizing what’s going on, and you’re already out of the back door, hopping over Kuroo in the process. For a split second you see a figure hop over a fence on the right, gun in hand you bolt towards the figure. Almost with grace, you hop over and catch the strange figure making their way to the next fence. They look behind, and you catch sight of the person’s black hair and glasses. It’s got to be our guy, you think while pressing harder to catch up.

Kuroo runs up next to you easily, as his height doesn’t hinder his ability to leap over the fences. “I go left, you go right?” He pants while slowing to match his pace with yours, but only slightly. 

“Yeah,” you huff harder, going beyond (plus ultra) as your thighs tense and hurl yourself up, grabbing the ledge of the fence and using the momentum to hoist up and over the wall in one fluid motion. Kuroo watches your movements, close to being fully distracted, but does the same as he breaks off.

The man is slowing down, so he’s probably not used to this much physical exercise, you think while panting and avoiding the slight burn in your thighs. Kuroo advances, his height helping a little too much as he runs close to him. Right as he places a hand on the man's shoulder, Kuroo is blasted back, the remnants of a blue aura evident on the man’s palm.

“Kuroo!” You veer in his direction, slowing your pace to assess the damage. As you approach, he flips onto his knees, waving her off.

“Go! Get the guy!” He coughs, gripping his side and you regain focus and begin to run. Getting close to him isn’t an option at this point…. Think Y/N! Then it hits you, right as your feet touch ground over the next wall. Body tired, but mind determined, you push even harder. I got a plan, just got to get closer!

The man's pace is getting slower by the second, and once you know for sure he’s within range, you build an aura. The area flashes a bright blue, and before he can realize what’s happening, he’s colliding into someone. You had opened a portal right in front of him, the receiving one right in front of you. Like a trained soldier, you grab his forearm and twist hard, making the man spin around. Some pressure on the backs of his knees causes him to fall over. You force his chest onto the ground, and hold his arms in a lock, making sure to avoid the palms of his hands. 

Lungs burn slightly, you focus on your breath not realizing that Kuroo walked up until he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Thanks,” he speaks softly, and uses his eyes to silently ask if you’re okay. Nodding to assure him, you move off of the man, Kuroo quickly replacing your position. Pulling out your phone, you dial Akaashi. 

“Dr. Takahashi, is it?” you speak as the phone begins to ring. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes is all the confirmation you need. The phone beeps for another moment before the voice on the other line goes through.

“You guys alright?”

“Yeah, winded but fine. Takahashi must’ve been hiding in the basement and tried to make a break for it.” Turning to Kuroo, he nods to verify the story. “Where are you guys?”

“We’re back at the house still. We heard the ruckus, but by the time we looked in both of you were gone. Bokuto deducted that it was a chase so we decided to stay put for the time being.” Humming in affirmation, you spin around, putting a hand on your hip and breathing in the fresh air.

“Well, we’ll make our way back to you. I found some stuff I think everyone should see.”

“Okay, sounds good. We’ll contact Takeda-sensei and fill him in quickly.” The line beeps, and you glance at the scientist before looking to your partner. 

“You’ve given your mother quite the heart attack Dr. Takahashi.” Kuroo gets up off of his back but keeps his arms in a tight grip.You have done this many times with Kuroo, and secures his arms before yanking him onto his feet. The three begin to walk as Kuroo pulls out a pair of handcuffs and is careful to put them on, avoiding the palms of his hands.

“What did you find at the house?” The cuffs click into place as he trudges along.

“I think it’s better if we all talked about it,” he hums in acknowledgment of your answer and walks back to meet with the other agency members. You take the moment of ease to prop her hands atop her head, taking deep breaths and sweating in the cold air.

“Struggling?” Kuroo chuckles at your stance, taking in the sights. A small cloud of air passes your lips, the sunlight hitting your cheekbones and the annoyed look etched into her lips.

“Piss off.” This causes him to laugh harder right before entering the house. The sound is not foreign to you, but your stomach does a small flip every time you hear it.

Bokuto rushes up, checking them both over. “You guys okay? Y/N looks run down,” Kuroo howls at the comment, turning his body to face away from the group with a full body laugh, clutching his sides.

Huffing, you grab Dr. Takahashi’s shoulder, directing him to the living space and has him sit down. “I’m fine Bo.” He purses his lips as he curiously looks between the two.

“So,” Akaashi breaks the silence, “What did you want to show us, Y/N?”

“Right.” Blicking back into focus, you brush past Bokuto and Kuroo. Reaching the room, you take all the documents you can grab before triple checking they are all within your grasp.

Downstairs, Bokuto sits across from Dr. Takahashi, making intense eye contact as Akaashi asks him some basic questions.

“Dr. Takahashi, born in 1975 and has worked for Anzen Tech Corporation for the past 20 years as a chemist, correct?” Cold eyes stare into the tea table, no words are spoken. “Well, that’s the information your mother has given us, so I’m going to say that it is correct.” Pulling a pen out of his pocket, Akaashi takes the files from Bo and begins to mark bits of information.

“A chemist, huh?” Kuroo leans over the table to stare, but once again he is unresponsive. “I also have my degree in chemistry, but I’m curious to know why you’re working at a tech corporation.” His golden eyes burn holes into Takahashi’s forehead, but he simply looks dead.

The interaction is halted as you march into the room, stacks of papers practically falling from your arms. Softly, you bump your hip into Kuroo’s side, telling him to move as you set the piles down in full view of Dr. Takahashi. Gauging his reaction, you catch the way his shoulders tense and eyes dilate.

“Where did you-” he starts, startled, but you are quick to cut him off.

“You’re not very good at hiding things, doctor.” The manila folder on top of the stack makes its way into your hands. With parted her lips you begin to read from the first page:

“Anzen Tech Corp. Human Drug Trials

Test Subject No. 23 - Watanabe Amida

Age: 21

Gender: F

Blood Type: O-

Notes: No history of drug or alcohol abuse. In good health. Family history of colon and skin cancer, but no major complications. No major visits to hospitals for injury or illness.

Cycle 1: Injected with 15ml of treatment. Skin around the puncture started to rash and the subject threw up within 3 hours. Subject will be returning home for the night before observation and dosage tomorrow.

Cycle 2: Subject stated they only received four hours of sleep, as they had to keep returning to the bathroom. Skin is no longer raised, but it is a deeper shade of pink. Received another 15ml, will be uping to 20ml if skin remains the same color tomorrow. No rash after injection, and the subject seems much more drowsy. Keeping overnight for observation.

Cycle 3: Subject sat up and stared at the wall all night saying “Not here”. They received several pills from staff to help sleep, but their eyes were constantly open. The rash appeared on different parts of the body (upper back, injection site and calf muscles) before returning to normal. The skin continues to be a darker shade. Staying at 15ml. Subject immediately began dry heaving and scratching at the skin. Force was needed to strap her down to finish dosage. Eventually required tranquilization to observe bodily functions. Spots that had rashes before began to bleed, and new rash spots had appeared. Blood was found in the corner of the left eye. Upon further inspection, we determined it came from the eyelid and not the eyeball. Keeping overnight.

Cycle 4: Subject never woke from tranquilization. Old rashes bleed throughout the night, but the whole body was covered in them. All orifices had small amounts of blood coming from them. Subject passed early morning before injection.”

A scowl adorns your features as you pass the file to Akaashi. The room is still as all eyes are on the trembling doctor. His head shakes slightly as the cuffs audibly shake behind him.

“We didn’t…. We…” His voice is soft, softer than a pin dropping.

“Didn’t what.” Venom spills out of your mouth, eyes pinpointed on the monster in front of her. Kuroo’s fists are clenched, knuckles turning white, but the way you speak makes him realize that you could cause a lot of damage if the doctor says one wrong thing. He’d only witnessed you in this state a handful of times, but only once did he see you lose it. Never again, he looks at your figure, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N,” Kuroo speaks with concern laced into his words. “Let’s take a step back.” His hand pulls on your shoulder ever so softly before you give in and takes a few steps back to be in line with him. Kuroo’s hand remains on your shoulder, rubbing small circles with his thumb to help soothe you. He’s furious, but right now he needs to prevent a disaster.

Silence continues to fill the room, slowly drowning the hustle and bustle of the city right outside the window. “We didn’t know that this is what they wanted.” Voice cracking, Takahashi speaks through silent tears. “They told us it was for medical purposes.” Kuroo’s thumb stops its movements. “They said that it was to help…”

A cold chill runs down everyone’s bodies. More fuel is added to the fire. “But these people were dying under your care. Did that not trigger any red flags doctor? You might not be a medical professional, but continuously injecting people with a substance that causes them to break out doesn’t seem ethical to me at all.” You brutally torture the doctor with your words.

“They told us they were willing-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your words boom over the quiet hum of the A/C. Even the boys flinch at your tone, Bokuto and Akaashi looking at Kuroo. His lips are pressed together, resuming his circles into your shoulder. You are beyond tense, but he isn’t sure how to reel you back in. A blanket of silence settles over the room once more.

Bokuto takes files based off of the patients, looking for patterns among the records. Akaashi takes out his own device, texting reports back to headquarters about the case, noting your hostile position to Takeda and Ukai as he awaits a response on how to deal with the situation. Kuroo looks at you once more, racking his brain of what to do, but comes up short. He squeezes your shoulder before approaching the table. Silently, he sifts through the documents, until a file with chemical symbols catches his eyes. Dr. Takahashi goes rigid once again as he realizes what Kuroo is looking at and panics.

“You said you’re a chemist! You have to understand!” He stands suddenly from his seat, attempting to reach out to Kuroo. Hands moving faster than bullets, you grab Takahashi by the collar and slam him back onto the couch as he screams. “YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND!”

Akaashi stands and situated himself between her and the doctor, Kuroo gripping your bicep to prevent any further movements. “We can’t have him harmed, Y/N.” Akaashi presses his phone into your hands, a silent signal to look. Taking it, a message from Ukai and Takeda states that they have already made contact with the police and agency members will hold off until Takahashi is taken into custody.

“Whatever,” you place the device back in his hands and easily yank your arm back from Kuroo’s hold. Walking to the front yard, you know everyone is uncomfortable with you being in the room. A great feeling, my own teammates are scared of me. 

Kuroo can’t help but sigh, already knowing what’s going on in your head. Quietly, he exchanges glances with Akaashi and resumes looking at the files in his hands. Bokuto stops his own research as he catches Kuroo’s expression change. “What is it?” He stands and meets the other man in the center of the room. Smart as he may be, he is no chemist and doesn’t know what to make of all of the lines.

Grinding his teeth, Kuroo runs a hand over his eyebrows, exasperated. “They are making a steroid - trying too, at least. I’m no geneticist, but it looks like they want something to permanently enhance a person's physique. Which has never been done…” His cat-like eyes narrow in Dr. Takahashi’s direction.

“That would explain why they only looked at candidates who were physically fit and had no previous signs of injury or illness.” Bokuto chirps in, taking the file from Kuroo’s hands.

“The police are five minutes out. I would suggest we put everything back in order and have Kuroo and Y/N wait outside for them.” Akaashi, always observant and cautious, speaks as he arranges the mangle of papers on the table.

Bokuto nudges Kuroo in the arm, wiggling his eyebrows and Kuroo scoffs and walks outside. You have your arms crossed, weight shifted onto one leg as the other bounces. You can see him observing you in your peripheral, but chooses not to comment. You can feel your face heat up a tad bit. Although you've been partners for years, you don't exactly like feeling like you’re being observed.

The past three years had meant a lot to both you and Kuroo. You’re one of the founding members of the agency, alongside Takeda-sensei, Ukai-sensei and three others. Kuroo had joined with Kenma, Bokuto and Akaashi just a year later. The agency was so small back then, but finding a whole group of gifted people was a blessing for the business. The group of men seemed genuine in their gestures, quickly fitting in. Kenma was quiet, a stark contrast to Bokuto who could be boisterous at any given moment. Akaashi and Kuroo were observant, scarily so, but they learned their strengths from the group. His jokes didn’t always land, but Kuroo found himself listening to your laugh anytime he told one. You always tried to welcome new people in like they were long lost relatives, making the transition as easy as possible. He appreciated the gesture and found himself drawn to you.

Mystery shrouded you, no one knew your past, and anytime someone asked it was brushed off with a simple “it’s a long story” and a giggle. The first year, he would let it slide, just satisfied in hearing you talk, but the longer he stuck around, the more Kuroo found himself wondering just how much he didn’t know about you. Yeah, you’re one of the smartest and combat effective members of the agency, but he couldn’t tell you your birthday, your favorite color or what college you went to. It drove him crazy, really. Kuroo consoled Bokuto, who quickly laughed at him, teasing him for his crush on a coworker. He blushed, but didn’t deny it. Over the next year, he asked questions whenever he got the opportunity. Some, you would answer, but most you would shut down. 

After months of pestering, they got drunk at Kenma’s apartment and you told them all that it was frustrating. “I just want to be straight forward, what’s my business is my business. If I want to tell you, I’ll fucking say it.” You shrugged, placing the beer bottle on the counter. Kuroo didn’t press as much after that, even if you did tell him that you talk a lot of shit when you are drunk. You both had a straight to the point kind of relationship full of trust and understanding. Both of you are grateful to one another for many reasons, but being excellent partners on the field is somewhere in their top tens.

“You know, you could just ask if I’m upset?” You walk up the yard, looking down both sides of the road to look for the cops.

“I know, but I can tell.” He watches from his spot, concentrating on your body language.

“Then stop looking at me like I’m a lab rat.” you don't turn as you speak, instead slightly bent over on the sidewalk looking down the street. He sighs, knowing that this is just the manifestation of your frustration, but that means it just doesn’t affect him.

“Y/N. It’s not like that and you know it.” Physical contact would upset you more, or that’s what he’s led to believe from past encounters, so he stays put. The conversation dies just as quickly as it had started.

You know he cares about you. The slight sting of regret prods the back of your mind before you finally make your way back to Kuroo’s side. Mumbling, you whisper out a quiet apology. He acknowledges the statement with a small laugh.

“It’s okay. I know how you can get.” He places his hand back on your shoulder and starts rubbing circles “And I also know that you were about to rip that guy’s head off in there.” He motions with his other hand to the house, a smile adorning his lips.

“Yeah, and? He probably deserves it. At this point, he’s either gonna be killed or put in jail for the rest of his life. Might as well make the process easier and less paperwork intensive on everyone.” you hiss lightly, rolling your eyes. Kuroo’s hand rubs harder circles into your shoulder when he feels you tense.

“And all I’m saying, is that the agency would kill you if you murdered someone. Then I would get punished for letting you.”

“But you’d let me.” He laughs, watching the police cars round the corner and park in front of the house.

~

The next 30 minutes are a blur as Akaashi and Kuroo handle the police and have statements taken. You and Bokuto take the back seat and just stand around on the lawn, making small talk until you’re all permitted to leave.

“So how about dinner? We got the job done and Y/N found some great info that’ll get the agency some more cash, so why not celebrate? Huh?” Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows vigorously at the group as they step into a subway car. 

“I think I’m good Bo, I’m just gonna finish up the paperwork for today since you guys took care of everything.” you quickly find a seat, letting the boys fend for themselves on a workday afternoon train. They squeeze in, trying to get close enough to you to continue the conversation. 

“You don’t have too you know. We’re perfectly capable of doing our own paperwork,” Akaashi, honest as ever, speaks over the crowd.

“Plus, you did use your gift to save our asses, so you shouldn’t do extra shit if you don’t have too.” Kuroo pipes in, trying to get closer to the group.

“No it’s okay guys, you’re probably gonna drink and I got all riled up. It’s not a big deal, so drop it.” You’re stern with your words, and both Akaashi and Kuroo get the memo.

“But you never go drinking with us. It’s kinda ridiculous.” Bokuto holds the band above your seat, staring straight into your eyes. His eyes plead, and his lips hold a frown.

“How about when the payment goes in from the court cases? Then I’ll go out with the whole agency for happy hour.” You know that he will not stop asking until they compromise or you agree, so you settle for what you can get.

“Fine. But if you bail on us I’m gonna have you buy me cases of beer for the next month.” The words cause a scowl to form on your face, knowing that the ladder would be much more costly than a single night out. 

“Deal.” You come to an agreement and quietly take the rest of the train ride to talk about menial tasks around the office.

~

The agency was slow when the group entered its doorway. Kenma doesn’t bother looking up from the small device in his hands. A large group of workers turn their heads, looking at who opened the front door. 

“Y/N-chan!” Oikawa is sitting on Iwa’s desk as he waves to his second favorite detective. The other boys say their hellos, Lev and Hinata practically have a screaming match as they greet the crew, and normal office chatter resumes. You walk to your desk, which is situated across from Kuroo’s and in a group with Akaashi and Bokutos, then plop down into the wheely chair, letting a sigh escape your lips.

“Welcome back guys.” Ukai and Takeda come out of their private office to check in on everyone. “Everything go okay with the police?” Ukai takes a huff from his cigarette, and blows the smoke upwards.

“It was fine.” Kuroo takes a seat at his desk. “They seemed grumpy that we touched the evidence, but it was all just paperwork so they’ll clear it.” A reassuring smile takes its place on his lips, and you roll your eyes.

“That’s good. I’m glad you guys were able to grab him in time.” Takeda walks over to their desks and smiles at the group, placing a hand on your shoulder. “And I’m glad nothing happened.”

Well that was a blow to my self confidence, you think while smiling to assure Takeda-sensei that it was okay. You boot up the computer and pull out some papers from the desk and begin the paperwork, already very tired from the day's events. Takeda takes the hint and walks to Akaashi’s desk, starting a brief conversation.

Kuroo eyes you from across the desks, trying to get a good look at your eyes. Usually your body language is pretty telling, but in an office scenario it becomes a thousand times harder to know what you’re thinking. Your eyes are always a good tell, but you're avoiding looking at him in order to focus. He huffs, leaning back into his chair and spins to take a view of the agency.

Oikawa and Iwa are still talking, or rather Oikawa is talking while Iwa works. Lev, Kageyama and Hinata aren’t focusing on their work at all, instead they’re trying to get Kenma’s attention, who is still engrossed in his game. Tanaka and Nishinoya whisper amongst themselves about God knows what as they giggle. A good majority of the agency members had called it a day and went home or out, leaving this last case before their doors shut for the afternoon.

Takeda and Ukai share small conversation at the back of the room before sending the younger ones home, including Tanaka and Nishinoya seeing as they weren’t working. They try to send Iwaizumi and Oikawa home, but both refuse as they tend to walk you home at the end of every night. The three of you got along very well, and tended to take cases together pretty frequently, but lately you've been spending more time with Kuroo and his little gang.

No one in the agency knew what was up with Iwa, Oikawa and yourself. You three were glued at the hips from the moment the two boys stepped into the agency, almost like you knew each other in past lives. The fluidity in your teamwork was seamless as you took charge a majority of the time, another thing Kuroo could admire about you. A small portion of the agency believed that you knew each other before working with the ADA, but if they had nothing has ever slipped. No red flags have ever been set off and everyone just let it slide. By some cosmic power you three had found each other and would die for one another (not that any of you would admit it). 

“It’s okay Takeda-Sensei,” Oikawa hopped off of Iwa’s desk and waved a hand in the air, “We’ll lock up. I still have some paperwork to finish anyways.” Always a sweet talker, Oikawa spoke with a honeyed tone as the presidents took his word, leaving the office to just six members.

Quietly, Akaashi and Bokuto finish what little they have left to do and wait for Kuroo. The chemist took his sweet time, seeing Bokuto’s eyebrows furrow as he typed slower and slower.

“Sorry, you guys waiting on me?” He turns, giving them an innocent look and laughs when Bokuto’s scowl etches itself deeper on his face.

“Kuroo, please hurry. I don’t want him to turn emo before we go out,” Akaashi leans and whispers. “If he drinks when he’s emo I’ll just have to carry him home while he’s crying.” The imaginary scenario made Kuroo chuckle, but he finishes his work swiftly before looking up at you. Still hyper focused on the screen, your keyboard firing off like a gatling gun. Your r.b.f. was showing, but he didn’t mind; instead he was admiring the soft glow from the computer on your cheekbones.

“Ready, bro?” Bokuto slaps him rather hard on the back with a large, toothy smile. It snaps him out of his thoughts, but he scoffs playfully before getting up.

“You sure you’re going to be okay, Y/N?” The sound of your name derails a train of thought, eyes flickering between the work laid before you and the raven haired male stretching on the other side of the desk.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Tooru and Hajime are gonna walk me home, and I’ll be done here within the next hour or so.” Flashing a reassuring smile, you return to the files without waiting for an answer. Kuroo looks over at the aforementioned males, Oikawa flashing his signature smirk.

“Okay, be safe guys.” He waves at the three before turning to Akaashi and Bokuto, who are waiting at the entrance. With one last glance at you, he follows his companions out the door.

Oikawa and Iwa share a few words while they work, leaving you to your own devices, knowing that once you’re “in the zone” you won’t be stopped anytime soon. The sky starts to shift from a light baby blue to soft peach and oranges as the day drags on, the air cooling further as the night starts to settle in.

The pair listen to the hum of the city streets as you finish your last page of work. It ends up being much later in the night than they had anticipated, but none of them had anything going on. As the keyboard clicks and clacks come to a halt, you speak with an air of caution.

“The Port Mafia’s getting closer.”

[whentommymetalfie]

Breathe Again -Chapter twenty-one 

-Track of time- 

prologue//one//two//three//four//five//six//seven//eight//nine//ten//eleven/twelve/thirteen/fourteen/fifteen//sixteen//seventeen//eighteen//nineteen//twenty

Chapter Summary: Tommy continues to struggle with the news from Birmingham. And finally admits something to Alfie 

Wordcount: 3,9 K 

Warnings: suicidal ideation, disordered eating, discussions of mental illness, suicide and self harm, 

”Go on, the weather’s lovely. No snow yet, but it could happen any day now,” Esther says cheerily as she helps Tommy sit up on the bed. It’s one of those days when he needs it. Alfie has left the room, and he can hear him pacing in the hallway. Heavy, impatient steps.

“Come on, get your scrawny arse out of bed, Tommy, or I’m coming in there to fucking drag you out by the hair. Don’t think I won’t.”

Esther huffs and rolls her eyes, but chooses not to comment. He sits there on the bed with her arm still around his shoulders, held by the secure weight. She’s not very tall, Esther, but she’s strong and sturdy. Perhaps it’s out of pity, this embrace, but he can’t reject the touch. Starved, craves it.

Tommy rubs a hand over his stomach. He tried to eat breakfast but the mud was in the way-

Esther squeezes his shoulder.

“How are you feeling?”

It’s too difficult answering questions like that, Esther knows and rephrases it. “Are you feeling sick?”

“He was sick, for a long time,” Michael Gray tells us when we meet him at his new office, “We’ve of course decided to keep it private, for the sake of the family. I took over more of the day to day work-“

Michael’s voice has become clear in his mind, an as real and solid presence as any of the others these past few days. It’s his own fault for reading the article so many times. Compulsively scratching a wound and refusing to let it scab over.

Esther asked a question.

He swallows thickly and manages, “No.”

Esther keeps rubbing his arm but he barely feels it.

Rumours have spread of Shelby’s deteriorating mental health, something Michael Gray only briefly touches upon-

“Are you sure? You’re looking quite pale.” She touches his forehead gently. The lines on her furrowed brow are blurred, everything around him seems to be enveloped in fog.

Michael’s voice continues to recite the article without missing a beat, “Unfortunately, the war left him with damages not even time could repair. And it began catching up with him. Which is how one can explain some of his less… rational decisions as of late.” One of these less than rational decision might be the choice to ally himself with Oswald Mosely, which-

He shakes his head, trying to erase the words, wishes they’d blur and fade like so many of the memories. They’re lodged like sharp pieces in his head. The worst parts he’s managed to wrap in enough fog to soften the edges. But bits and pieces still slip through.

“One has to remember they started with nothing, from an unfortunate background, so it’s no small feat, what Thomas has managed to do. Even if it’s been through questionable methods. Which of course is not something I can stand behind nor endorse, but it was before my time. Things are changing, now.”

Esther gently moves his hand away from his scar and places it in his lap instead.

“Are you sure you’re not feeling unwell?”  

He shakes his head. Tries to say something reassuring, something that will make her happy, but the dirt is in the way and all he manages is a croaked ‘tired’.  

Esther holds him closer. “I know, love. But it’ll do you good, getting some air.”

“We’ll go look at that tree you like so much, if you can manage it that far,” Alfie calls from the hallway. Heavy footsteps approach and soon he pops his head in through the doorway. Raises both eyebrows expectantly. His gaze softens when it takes in the sight.  

“Just a short walk, to get some air. You’ll feel better,” he says and comes to stand before the bed, towering above him in his large black coat. “One step at a time, eh?”

Why is it so fucking hard? it’s never going to be better, it’s too hard, all of it-

“Alright, up you go then. And let’s see if we can put some more clothing on you because pyjamas are entirely inappropriate attire in this weather.”  

When he’s pulled upright, he stumbles on unsteady feet. But Alfie doesn’t let him fall.

It does help, going outside. There’s no snow yet but the air is crisp and a layer of frost has encased the branches and the grass, making the world glimmer in the sunlight. It feels strange and nice, noticing it. And after smoking two cigarettes in quick succession, he can finally breathe. The mud has almost cleared away from his chest, his stomach, and instead there’s just frosty air with a smattering of salt. As usual, Alfie talks enough to drown out the sound of Michael reciting the article over and over again.

The sun is shining. And it’s daylight, many, many hours until nightfall when he has to lie there in the darkness and the voices become so much louder.

Alfie has a pleased smile on his face, as if this whole thing is a personal victory. Tommy likes it when he smiles. The realisation puzzles him. He glances at Alfie again, to make sure he isn’t mistaken. Watches as he scratches his beard absentmindedly, the rings glinting in the sunlight. His one good eye glints in the light too. Like this, he radiates peace and safety and Tommy wishes he could huddle into his coat, wants to be so close that his body melts together with Alfie’s.

When they get as far as the chestnut tree he’s so exhausted he has to rest. The past days inability to stomach anything at all hasn’t made him any stronger.

He promises himself to try harder with dinner.

“There you go, nice and easy, did so well, didn’t ya´? Didn’t faint or even swoon the tiniest bit,” Alfie mutters as he leans against the trunk of the tree.  

He steps back to give him a onceover and Tommy’s hand instinctively shoots out grasp his coat sleeve. The moment his fingers close around the fabric he’s flooded with regret, but Alfie doesn’t seem to mind. That pleased smile is back on his face.

“Look at that, quite nice innit?” he says and nods upwards, where the sun is shining down between the branches. he closes his eyes and focuses on the rays warming his face.

When he opens them again, Alfie is watching him.

Alfie has a way of looking at him that makes something flutter in his chest. The scrutiny can become uncomfortably intense sometimes. Especially on those days when he’s all too aware of what he’s been reduced to, when he looks down at his awful hands and the ugliness seems to cling to his skin- But not when Alfie’s eyes are soft, like this. When he looks at him as if he’s-  

“The same way you’d look at an abandoned fawn you found in the woods, with a broken leg,” Grace muses. “And you’re considering whether to shoot it or not, to end its suffering-“

Alfie’s hand comes up to cup his face. His rings feel cool against his cheek, but his skin is warm.

“You alright? Seems like something crossed your mind just then.”

“I’m fine.”  

He wishes he could be more for Alfie. That he could do something to earn the affection he desperately craves. He’s not enough.

“You’ve never been enough for anyone. Never been able to offer anything-“

He closes his eyes, like a child trying to hide. As if he could disappear.  

“Why do you think they never came to see you?”

“Tommy, hey,” Alfie holds his head a little firmer. “Eyes on me. Go on.”

He obeys, clings harder to his coat and tries to focus on the warmth of his hands.

“Whatever they’re saying, I suggest you try and listen to me instead. Yeah?”

Alfie accepts the tiny nod he manages as the only answer. Rubs his thumb up and down his jaw. Frowns. Tommy tries to count the creases on his forehead in search of distractions. They smooth out a little when Alfie makes up his mind and says, “Think that’ll have to be enough for today. Let’s get you home.”

He wraps an arm around his waist (“Just to keep you steady, eh, Tommy?”) and sets off down the path towards the house.  

The sun still shines. Alfie lights another cigarette for him and then he tells him the intricate details of how swallows build their nests. Tommy leans in, ducks his head until it’s almost resting against Alfie’s shoulder. His coat smells like pipe tobacco and salty air. Alfie squeezes his waist.

Right then he wishes he could freeze the moment and stay in it forever.

…

He still takes refuge in the living room at night, when the nightmares wake him up. The past few days it’s happened too often.

Alfie tells him to wake him up instead, but he can’t. Reaching across the mattress and shaking him feels impossible, asking, demanding too much. He’s promised he won’t get angry but people lie, don’t they? We’re only trying to help, Tommy, we won’t hurt you, we’ll take care of you, you just need to rest, Tommy, rest, sleep, and it’ll get better, there’s no bullet there, all healed, see, look for yourself, nothing there, you just need to rest-

“This is why you need to listen to me.” Grace’s soft voice is clear among all the others. “You can trust me.”

It’s childish and naïve, thinking he’d be able to hide from her, from any of them, simply by leaving the bedroom. They follow, always know where he is. Grace is stood in the corner, by the bookshelves. The crow is behind her, on its perch on the shelf, still now, staring at him with glassy eyes,

still and dead.

“It’s not real,” Alfie reminds him. “Or well, it’s real, innit, but it’s not alive. Alright?”

And Grace is not real, he knows, he knows and still it doesn’t help because in the dark it’s hard to know for sure- and does it matter, when he knows she’s telling the truth? Real or not.

The darkness makes everything worse.

The darkness, knowing everyone else in the world is asleep, the sheer loneliness of it all. Even if Alfie is only seconds away. Esther too. He could be the only one left in the entire world and it wouldn’t make a difference.

“Please come wake me up if you need to, Tommy,” Esther keeps saying. A bit like Alfie, but gentler in her insistences. “It’s fine. I’ll sleep better knowing you feel safe.”

He usually nods, yes, he’ll come wake her up, even if he has no intention to. He wishes he could.

“I’m trying to care for him, but nothing seems to help,” Lizzie’s voice comes from the corridor, through a tiny gap between the door and the frame that casts a thin strip of light onto the dark bedroom floor. “I only seem to make things worse.”

“Not to worry, mrs Shelby, this is why I’m here. To help. Your husband is very sick, and it’s difficult, caring for someone in that position.”

“I can’t get him to eat. At all. Barely get him to drink either.”

“That is concerning, of course, but there are measures we could take-“

“And it seems like he never sleeps. He just lies there, staring at nothing and-”

He can’t wake Esther up either.

He’s already a burden, doesn’t want to make it worse. Knows because of their tired eyes, each time they have to lead him back to bed, the same tired eyes Lizzie had, they

“-don’t understand, don’t know how to help you, Tommy-“

That’s why they were sending him away, to that place the voices spoke about behind the door, where they don’t have to see, don’t have to be bothered, they can safely forget and move on. Build their lives back up, bricks upon bricks, it’ll be easy to fill the hole until it’s as if he were never there they’ll be happy to be rid of it

The pain is fresh and raw, torn up again by the words in the paper, the glimpse into a life he doesn’t have anymore, perhaps never had, just clung to with a white knuckled grip

“For how long can you keep doing this?”

How long? Imagining the rest of his life stretched out in an endless string of days has installed nothing but terror in him for so long.

The pain makes his body seize up and his fingers close around something smooth. He looks down to find the chestnut there in his palm.

And he thinks of Alfie. Of falling asleep curled up in his arms as he reads, walking in the snow, sitting outside when spring comes, the way Alfie talked about. That would be nice.

Maybe he still wants things that feel nice.

The thought sparks a tiny, flickering light that warms the empty cavity in his chest.

“What do you think he gets out of this? Having to care for someone like you, without getting anything in return. You don’t deserve any of this.”

The answer comes instinctively, “I know-“

But he wants it-

“Haven’t you gotten enough of the things you’ve wanted?”

“But-“

“Stop questioning me.” A twinge of cold steel creeps into Grace’s voice.

When the urge to dig his nails into his skin comes over him he squeezes the chestnut harder. Tries to focus on the smooth surface.

“I want to stay.”

Wants to stay, wants to be here with Alfie. It feels so strange to want anything at all, he’s not allowed to. For so long there’s just been this void inside of him. How could he want anything, then?

But he wants to be here with Alfie.

Grace’s eyes glint with ice in the dark.

“He’s going to hurt you. How can you not see that? When he finally realises how much it’s cost him, all of this”

He nods, hopes to appease her, can’t stand that voice. Even if the tiniest part of him wants to protest. Alfie wouldn’t hurt him.

“You know you deserve to be hurt.”

The chestnut lands on the floor with a soft thump. Instead, his hand grips a green vase that glimmers on the mantlepiece. The glass is cool underneath his fingers and it rests heavily in his hand. Shimmers blue in the faint moonlight from the window.

“It’s so easy, Tommy,” Grace’s voice is soft again. “So easy. With me you’ll get to rest.”  

He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, fingers convulsively tight around the vase. Tries to will himself to put it back on the mantle.

“You can’t stay here.”

“I want to.” His voice cracks pitifully and the hand holding the vase is shaking, shaking wonders if his bones will crack before the glass does

“Evening Thomas. Thought we’d gotten an unannounced visit, but it’s just one of your ghosts again. Suppose they might classify as one, still.”  

Alfie is standing in the doorway, seems to fill it entirely with his broad frame and Tommy wants to fling himself into his arms and cling to him but he’s lost control of his own body, gaze flickering back to Grace who is still watching him with cold eyes. Alfie walks up to him without another word, takes the vase away from him and puts it out of reach on the mantle.

He was so angry, that time when he broke the vase, even if it was an accident. Yelled and looked at him with hard eyes full of accusation. Now, Alfie just strokes his cheek. His fingers are rough and warm against his skin and he leans into the touch.

“ ‘s alright, hm? Yeah, you’re alright,” he says. “Look, I brought your blanket. There we go- c’mere” He wraps the blanket tightly around his shoulders, pulls Tommy into his arms, into folds of sleep-warm fabric, solid muscle anf softness that he can bury his face in. He’s been holding his breath for so long it starts coming out in harsh hiccups against Alfie’s chest as he rocks him back and forth. Slowly slowly, until he eventually says, “A’ight, let’s get you back to bed and away from the ghosts, eh?”

When Alfie tries to move him, Tommy finds himself frozen on the spot.

“No? Not ready to go back to the bedroom? Do you want to stay here for a bit?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t know- what does he want? Wants to be close to Alfie. But in the dark bedroom, there’s the expectation of sleep. Sleeping feels impossible, his heart is still thrumming so hard in his chest. Hammers against his ribcage, sending vibrations through his whole body. He looks at the floor, searches for the chestnut he dropped. Alfie’s gaze follows his and he soon finds it, picks it up and presses it into Tommy’s hand

“There you go. Now, you just sit right here-“ He leads him over to the sofa and plops him down onto the soft cushions. “And hold onto that, while I light a fire. Think you can do that?”

The surface is smooth and familiar under his fingers. He nods and pulls his feet off the cold floor.

Alfie lights a fire that chases the shadows into the corners of the room, bathes the room and his face in warm light that breathes life into everything. Then he seats himself next to Tommy on the sofa and pulls him into his arms again. Tucks his head under his chin.    

“There we go. Suppose we’ll just sit here for a while, then. Can’t read anything I’m afraid, seeing as I left my glasses in the bedroom, but we can, yeah, we can just sit here and relax.”

He never realizes just how cold he is until he’s close to Alfie. Alfie is so warm. Warm and strong. Safe. Like this, he doesn’t have to believe the voices. Not any of them. Like this, he feels safe. The fire crackles softly and melts together with Alfie’s breaths into a soothing hum.

“Who is it that you see, hm, Tommy?” Alfie asks once he’s stopped shaking.  

It’s not the first time he asks. They all ask. The answer is always lodged in his chest and too hard to get out. But now it floats dangerously close to the surface. His breaths tremble as he pulls them into his lungs. He worries the fabric of the blanket under his fingers, rubs the pad of his other thumb over the chestnut. It’s warm now from resting in his palm. He buries his face deep in the fabric of Alfie’s nightshirt. Until he can pretend he won’t hear him.

“Grace.” It’s surreal, saying it out loud. Even if he whispers it so quietly it might as well have been the wind. As if it’s not his voice, as if the reply is separate from himself.

“And she speaks to you? When you see her.”

A hum is all he can manage.  

“And what does she say?”

He shakes his head. No no he can’t, he’s not allowed-

“Go on, you’re doing so well.” Alfie mutters into his hair. “Yeah? What does she say?”

“Bad things.”

“Like suggesting you put a gun to your head, or break my glassware to potentially do harm to yourself? Or walk into the bloody ocean.”

Perhaps Alfie can sense that he’s sinking with every word because he holds him tighter.

“See that’s important, innit? Granted I don’t fucking know your wife, but it seems highly unlikely she’d be so fucking adamant that you hurt yourself. So I think we can safely say whoever keeps pestering you isn’t really her. Does that seem like a reasonable theory?”  

He doesn’t have an answer. Grace, the real Grace, has gotten oddly blurred, the warm, rosy memories faded at the edges. It seems so long ago. And he was different then. Maybe a bit more deserving of her love. No, he never deserved it but at least he wasn’t… this.

The good memories hurt too much. He locked them away, tried to forget. And now it seems like he has.

“It’s my fault. My fault that- that she’s dead“

Alfie’s fingers wind into his hair and tugs it backward until he’s forced to meet his gaze.

“Did you hold the fuckin’ gun, eh? Logic like that is useless once you get into a business like ours. How many times do I have to fuckin tell you?”

“I might as well-“

“Don’t argue with me. See I’m a wise, wise old man, not to mention, a quite recently instated God. I’d be deeply hurt and offended if you decided to not treat my advice and wisdom with the utmost respect.”

“There are others,” Tommy says, still having to tear the words from throat to get them out. Alfie hums. Allows him to hide in his shirt again.  

“Suppose it’s hard, having so many people in your head all the time But, I’d say that all things considered, you probably shouldn’t pay too much attention to what they are saying either.”

“Why?”

“Well, to put it simply, if they tell you to hurt yourself, you shouldn’t fucking listen. Or if they tell you- fucking hell, whatever it is that make you wander off in the middle of the night, or stare into the distance with that horrified look on your face.” Alfie pauses his increasingly agitated monologue and huffs out a harsh breath through his nose. He combs his fingers rhythmically through his hair in the way that always makes Tommy feel as if he could melt. Now, it at least soothes his wracked nerves. Alfie sighs. “Whatever they’re saying it’s not worth listening to.”

“They’re right.”

Grace might’ve loved him, even if he didn’t deserve it. Maybe Lizzie did too. For short while, at least. Before he destroyed that too. There’s something wrong with him, something ugly and black and broken that makes it impossible to love him. Even Ada said so, everything he touches-

Alfie’s eyes glint in the light of the fire as he grasps his chin and nudges his head up. He focuses on the clear one, the one that isn’t a reminder of-

“They don’t fucking matter,” he says, voice sharp. “Fuckin’ ghosts and spectres. They’re not real and they don’t matter, you hear me?”

“It’s hard. Knowing what’s real.”

Alfie nods and guides his head back against his chest, his touch gentle again. His head is cradled in his palm, warm breaths in his hair as he whispers, “This, this is real.”

And with the sound of Alfie’s heartbeat and the crackling fire in his ears, Tommy closes his eyes.

…

The next thing he becomes aware of is that he’s floating. At least it feels like that at first. But he’s anchored in a set of two strong arms, head still propped against a familiar chest. Floorboards creak underneath heavy steps. He tries to open his eyes, but they’re too heavy. Shifts the tiniest bit to bury his face in soft fabric.

“Shh, shh, settle down. Settle down, I’ve got you.”

Alfie hushes him and rocks him ever so slightly, pulling him slowly back into sleep as he’s carried through the house.

The voices and the mud can’t reach him here, in Alfie’s arms.

[shintorikhazumi]

Yet (12): Go because.

A/N: Sorry it's late today!!! I practically missed a day ;-; Anyway... after this, two more chapters to the main run! Do stick around for the last two!!! Please!! Thank you for taking this ride with me! Sorry as well for... a lot of things?? Like how the last chaps are so much longer, and how it all seems like a vague mess (tho vague is on purpose). Things will be explained. Soon. I've been dropping hints to some of your questions, if you haven't noticed.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

"What do you mean, 'no new owner' has been chosen yet?"

 "It's just as I've said, Akko."

 She had wondered what her mentor wanted to discuss, calling her over in such a formal manner for a "conversation" so important and private it seemed. They had moved from the desk of the headmistress' office to a hidden room behind some bookshelves. Akko felt hesitation build up within her, not sure if she wanted to follow her idol down the otherwise dark stairwell, only lit by a few torches along the walls, and spiraling down to the unknown.

 But a confident smile and an outstretched hand were all the persuasion she needed. She trusted Professor Chariot. She really did; always had, by the end of it all. So she followed.

 Down, down, down. A curve, a bend, a corner. Until they reached a place Akko could've sworn she'd been in before-

 {Hello, Kagari Atsuko. It's been quite some time. You may or may not recall who I am exactly; nevertheless, I have something I must ask of you.}

 "Y-you're...

Woodward."

 {Indeed.}

 "The first owner of the Shiny Rod."

 {With that knowledge, there is no need to wait any longer. It is for that exact reason that I have called you. Claiomh Solais. I believe your teacher has already informed you, and that you've met up with the trusted board?}

 Akko nodded. Woodward continued.

 {Every generation, there rises a chosen one, destined to keep ahold of it and maintain a balance in this realm of magic and wonder. The last one was you.}

 Akko's thumb fiddled with the ring around her finger, seeking comfort; something about this did not feel right.

 {You may not know many others who have been blessed with this opportunity besides Chariot, but there was once one child whose talent and affinity for the staff exceeded all who've commanded it to date. This person did wonders, made marvelous breakthroughs, changed magic through her discoveries.}

  "That all sounds amazing." Akko cut in. "But... there's something else... right?"

 {She became addicted to the feeling of the power the Claiomh Solais allowed her to unleash. She began to overuse it, research illegally for ways to possibly integrate that strong magical output into her own magic without need for it. She knew it would have to leave her hands one day.} Woodward stared at Akko. {And I believe the reason there is no new handler... is because this 'shiny rod' of yours has somehow ended up in those same hands.}

 "..." Akko didn't know what to say. She could already guess where this was going. She already knew what they wanted her to do. She wanted to help them, help save the world. Really. And yet... "So you want me to get it back? What if she doesn't really have it, this person. Isn't it alright if the rod chooses an owner a little late? Maybe we should let the process run its course, maybe no one worthy appeared this time aroun-"

 {Kagari Atsuko. I am sure of this. And I am sure that you are the only one capable of resolving this. As the former wielder, and as the one who has the closest affinity with the staff right next to the witch in the past. I am also sure that you are afraid.}

 "?! I-" It was almost as if this ghostly form was glaring at her, disappointed that she'd even dare to reject the idea.

 Akko felt a hand caress her head. Looking to the side, she saw Chariot's encouraging smile. There was something in her eyes, however, something she couldn't name. Something she did not recognize as the guilt of someone deceiving her despite not knowing what kind of deception she used.

 Chariot definitely could not help but believe she was pulling some form of trickery on Akko, a blindfold over the clear vision the woman held. She just couldn’t go against her mentor, however. There was this urgency and desperation in the request she’d received. Things she’d never seen come from the legendary witch in all her years of knowing her. Just what could she do against that?

 {Kagari Atsuko. There is an imbalance in the realm of magic as we speak. Magic is concentrating far too strongly in one area of the world, attracting even more energy to it. I believe this is where we will find what we seek. If the balance is not restored, the world could very much be thrown into discord at any given moment. So tell me. Can you, or can you not do this?}

 Could she? Could she not? It wasn't that simple. It really was not. How long would this take, and how long would she be separated from her family? How far was this place? How dangerous would this be? There were too many things to consider. She was no longer the same reckless, naive child she was then. She could not be selfish in her decisions. She had to think of how those decisions affected the ones she cherished, loved, and swore to protect.

 "M-may... may I at least inform my family about this?"

 "Akko..." Chariot saw that passion, the honesty and strength of Akko's heart, alongside her worries and fears, and hesitation to take on such a heavy mission. She turned her own hopeful gaze to her mentor, hoping for anything to lighten the burden they were forcing onto Akko.

 {No. You may not. Not yet, at least.}

 "W-why?" Something was definitely not right. What was it about this issue that could not be known to others.

 {Do you love your family, Kagari Atsuko?} Woodward suddenly asked. Akko was extremely skeptical now, with her question dodged. Still, she nodded an affirmative.

 "I love them with all my heart."

 {This is also for their own good. You wouldn't want the world they live in to be destroyed, would you? You would never desire pain, plague, or death to befall them. All these could happen if the Claiomh Solais is not retrieved posthaste.}

 Akko frowned, teeth gritted in frustration. All the more reason to let Diana know then, right? If by chance what was about to occur was something that would keep her away, possibly a lifetime away, shouldn’t she be given the chance to come clean and love and tell Diana with all honesty and transparency in her heart? Because what if... this would be the last...

 She knew there was something more to this. They were hiding it. Just what exactly. She understood the reasons as to why she must accept, but at the same time, there should be other ways, right? If more witches knew of this issue, they could band together to solve this problem! They could accomplish it with greater efficiency and surer success. So...

 "Why?!"

 {Because.}

 "Because?!"

 Woodward's spiritual form began to fade, and Akko could feel her desperate fear build up, the need to be answered so strong. She turned to Chariot for answers, but it appeared as though the woman was also seeking them from her mentor, understanding nothing of it all as well.

 "Why... why..." Akko asked the air. Her heart compelled her to go, but her conscience told her she should try to stay, still. But... what it Woodward was right... that this was something only SHE could do. Was this in the name of having as little casualty as possible? Was this... why... was this so difficult... Why... Why... why...

 Deep within her, Akko had already decided to go. She did not know why, but she just had to. She just... did she really?

 Her heart wavered and shook, uncertain. Lost. She was becoming lost, and she hadn't even left yet.

 "Why..." She whispered.

 Because.

 [This is the curse of the bearers of the greatest magic in the world.]

 And they were yet to know about it.

 {Go.}

[tradgicworks]

Heartfelt: P-2 Heavy Meddle

Anna Hjarta finds herself as the sole witness of a strange disappearance. She decides to help find the missing student, despite how much her academy wants to keep it a secret.

WORD COUNT - 6030

Fast paced heavy metal music blared out of Anna’s headphones. Her short dirty-blonde hair bobbed up and down to the fast paced rhythm. Her grey-blue colored eyes scanned the floor as she picked up any trash that was left behind. She brushed her bangs out of her face revealing a faint scar that ran from her left cheekbone all the way through her left brow. Her music was interrupted by the ringtone of her phone. She tapped her phone and answered the call.

“Yeah?” Anna asked as she continued picking up trash.

“Hey, Anna,” Another volunteer’s voice responded. “I finished up where I’m at. Everyone else is done too, we’re gonna head back for today.”

“Cool. I got the keys with me, I’ll finish here then head back myself. You guys have a good night.”

“Don’t overdo it Anna. Goodnight,” The volunteer said before hanging up the phone.

Her music roared back to life. Anna sighed as she looked at her nearly full trash bag. She pulled down her headphones and turned them off. She laid the bag on the floor and swept the remaining bits of trash into the bag with her leg. She tied the bag up and carried it to the dump.

Despite the academy’s strict rules, disobedience was inevitable- especially the week before winter break. For some reason or another, the academy had a policy of having Juniors and Seniors take their finals early. This was done in order to “encourage the active pursuit of future academic endeavors”. Most students took it as a chance to apply to college, scholarships, or internships. While others treated it as an early vacation or an excuse to party in secret. The abandoned auditorium especially was a hotspot for delinquents. Due to the lack of manpower the academy could not afford to routinely survey the theater during the last week of classes, their focus was on finishing up the preparations for the graduation ceremony after all. As such the troublemakers rebelled in relative comfort, often leaving huge messes. Ultimately, it would be up to the older students to take it upon themselves to volunteer and clean up the mess. Anna Hjarta included.

Anna heaved the trash bag into the dumpster and shut it closed. She took off her work-gloves with a satisfied look. Thunder faintly growled behind her. The sound of rain wafted into her ears.

“Mph,” She thought to herself as she checked her backpack. “I forgot my umbrella.”

Anna stuffed her headphones and gloves back into her bag. She glanced outside through a dirty window. The light of the campus walkway was barely visible through all the rain. Anna frowned and flipped a switch on the wall. The work lights that lined the halls of the auditorium blinked into darkness. Her body froze as she heard a shrill scream echo through the pitch black halls.

“Is someone there?” Anna called out in a hush tone.

She was met with silence.

The muffled sounds of teary cries for help crawled into her ears as she waited for a reply. She flipped the lights back on and ran towards the sound.

“Are you okay?!” She yelled out while trying to find the source of the struggle.

One last shriek rang out before being snuffed short. Anna found herself at the doors of the theater. She tried to open them but felt a strange resistance hold them shut. She slammed against them until they finally swung open. She shook her phone and its flashlight turned on. She found herself in the empty theater, the draped curtains fluttering softly. She surveyed the room in confusion and let out a deep sigh after searching for a few moments.

“I need more sleep,” She muttered.

Anna turned around and began to head back towards the dorms. Her shoe kicked against something and sent it gliding across the floor. She flashed her light at it and noticed a sparkle in the corner of her eye. She walked towards it and picked it up. In her fingers was a small golden bangle bracelet.

“Devoted to our pride and joy, Sophie,” Anna read out the cursive that was written across the back of the bracelet.

. . .

Anna flinched awake to the blare of her phone’s alarm. She sat up and looked at her surroundings groggily. Articles of old clothes laid scattered all across the floor. Her desk was stacked high with medical textbooks- some open, almost all riddled with sticky notes. Her bag hung from the door knob with Sophie’s bracelet attached to it by the zipper.

Anna slowly got out of bed. She walked to the bathroom and began to brush her teeth. When she finished she rinsed out her mouth and splashed some water on her face. She looked in the mirror, her scar had become an ugly streak that burned through her face. She traced it lightly with her fingers and frowned. She pulled out a small makeup bag from underneath her vanity. Layer after layer, she applied makeup on her scar until it returned to the faint seam that it was before. She gave a slight smile as she observed her handiwork. The academy’s morning announcements buzzed to life as she finished up.

“Good Morning, students,” Dr. Ward’s, the headmaster, soothing voice called out. “Yesterday’s rain proved to be heavier than was originally forecasted. Be careful when going between classes as staff have reported significant amounts of mud from the downpour. Furthermore, yesterday also marked the most amount of curfew violations in the academy’s history. A fact that brings me much disappointment. The students who violated the curfew will be called to my office to receive a punishment. You know who you are and you will be contacted privately. Let this serve as a reminder to the rest of the student body that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated again. Now, for today’s agenda…” Dr. Ward began reading out the remainder of the dull announcements.

Anna put away her makeup bag. Her phone began to buzz. She picked it up and read the screen.

“Anna Hjarta. Please report to Dr. Ward’s office at-” Anna raised a brow.

She threw on the cleanest uniform she could find and grabbed her bag as she walked out the door.

. . .

The headmaster’s office was built at the highest point of the campus. Curved stairs lead up to the main entrance. A ramp sloped downwards and cut through the middle of the stairs, allowing access into the library on the bottom floor. Colorful flowers and well maintained shrubs all sprinkled with water droplets from the rain decorated the entrance. Anna made her way to the headmaster's office.

“Excuse me,” She said as she walked inside.

Dr. Ward’s office was incredibly organized. Her large desk was filled with papers- all stacked into neat piles. Two bookshelves filled with all sorts of books, awards, and gifts stood behind her. On the wall was a display case with a beautiful ceremonial dagger stored inside. Behind her was a large window that allowed for a majestic view of the entire campus.

“Anna,” Dr. Ward smiled. “Have a seat.”

“You wanted to see me?” Anna said as she sat down.

“Yes, I did. I wanted to see you and Eva,” Dr. Ward gestured at Eva who sat in the chair next to Anna.

Dr. Ward sat down and opened her laptop. The door to her office swung open and a tall warden walked in with a cup of coffee.

“Thank you, Caroline,” Dr. Ward smiled as she set down the cup.

Caroline replied with a curt nod. Her green eyes were locked into a permanent glare. Her brunette hair was tied into a tight bun. She wore the Warden's uniform which consisted of combat boots, neatly pressed pants, a long sleeved button up shirt with a tie, and a blocky hat. Caroline specifically, wore a small badge and a large coat over her shoulders like a cloak as an imposing way of signifying her position of authority amongst the Wardens.

“I have been informed that both of you entered the dorms after the curfew, is that correct?” Dr. Ward asked while quickly typing.

“That’s correct,” Anna said casually.

“Yup,” Eva clicked her tongue.

“Hmm,” Dr. Ward glanced at the two before continuing to type. “Would you mind enlightening me over why you entered the dorms so late?”

“Lost track of time,” Eva said.

“I was helping clean up the auditorium, my group was scheduled for yesterday and I stayed after to finish up. I ended up getting caught in the rain though,” Anna explained.

“I see,” Dr. Ward said as she typed. "Was there anyone else with you, Anna?"

“There shouldn't have been, everyone else went back early. I only stayed after because I had the keys.”

“Did you notice anything strange on your way back?" Dr. Ward asked.

“What do you mean by strange...?” Anna asked slowly.

“Yesterday there was some unexpected interference with the academy’s security system. Given how many students disobeyed the curfew, I wanted to make sure that no one was up to any mischief while some of the cameras were offline,” Dr. Ward drank from her coffee.

“No, not really. I mean I can’t even think of anyone crazy enough to be out in that rain on purpose,” Anna shrugged.

“You can never be too sure,” Dr. Ward pushed up her glasses.

“Well, actually, there was one thing,” Anna grabbed the bangle bracelet from her bag and held it towards Dr. Ward. “I found this.”

Dr. Ward grabbed it and investigated it. Her face tensed slightly as she read the back of it. She handed it to Caroline who didn’t react.

“Where did you find this?” Dr. Ward glanced up at Anna with a smile, but her eyes turned cold and empty.

Both Anna and Eva shifted uncomfortably at the unusual look in Dr. Ward’s eyes.

“The theater,” Anna replied.

Dr. Ward glanced at Caroline who quickly nodded in reply and walked out of the office.

“Something wrong?” Eva asked with slight meekness.

Dr. Ward’s eyes brightened to her usual comforting shine. “No, nothing is wrong. I am just upset that your more rebellious peers are still using the auditorium irresponsibly. Especially when we both know that they could be doing so much better.”

“I see,” Eva awkwardly replied.

Dr. Ward took a deep breath.

“Thank you ladies for providing some insight into what happened during the storm. Regardless of your intentions, the fact remains that both of you disobeyed the curfew. As such, you will be penalized. The school adheres to its strict guidelines after all and they must be enforced indiscriminately,” Dr. Ward took out two forms and began filling them out quickly.

“What do we have to do?” Anna asked.

“The two of you will be working as receptionists at the freshmen dorms,” Dr. Ward handed a filled out form to Anna and Eva each. “Take these to the front office of the dorm. They’ll give you everything you need and tell you what to do from there. You may leave now,” Dr. Ward instructed before returning her attention to work.

Anna and Eva walked towards the door.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Dr. Ward called out to them as they opened the door. “Try not to get into any more trouble,” She said with a gentle smile.

. . .

Anna’s gaze lingered on the empty hallways. She leaned over the receptionist counter, her cheek resting in her palm. Eva, who sat beside her, groaned and put her feet up on the counter. Anna glanced at her with annoyance.

“Stop that,” Anna said.

“What? My shoes aren’t dirty,” Eva replied.

Dried up mud crumbled onto the counter.

“Not that dirty at least,” Eva yawned.

“It’s just rude to the janitors who have to clean that up,” Anna’s gaze hardened.

“Sheesh, calm down. A little dirt won’t kill anyone. What are you some sort of neat freak?” Eva replied matter-of-factly.

“No,” Anna looked at Eva in her eyes. “I just don’t like dirt.”

Eva put her feet down and sat up straight.

“What do you mean by that?” Her eyes narrowed.

The two stared at each other. Anna grabbed a napkin and cleaned the dirt off of the counter.

“What else would it mean?” She glanced at Eva’s shoes.

“Fine, my bad for bringing in dirty shoes,” Eva took her shoes off the counter. “Sue me.”

“Thank you,” Anna nodded curtly before kneeling down to clean up the dirt.

“You’re a real bleeding heart you know,” Eva commented looking down at her.

Anna didn’t respond, she simply continued until the mess was clean.

Eva looked at her for a few moments before she gave up and went back to playing on her phone.

Anna crumbed up the napkin and threw it into a trashcan. The sound of loud banging erupted from the front doors as it fell in.

“Let me in!” A desperate voice yelled from outside.

“She’s going to break the freaking doors-” Eva growled and stood up.

She quickly walked towards the doors and swung them open just as Gwyneth was about to knock again.

“What are you doing?” Eva grit her teeth.

“Thank you-!” Gwyneth barely got the words in before trying to push her way into the dorms.

“What are you doing?!” Eva roared and shoved her back outside.

“Please- Y-You don’t understand. I need to get in I-” Gwyneth choked on her words. “Please, please, just let me in!”

“No way, you psycho!” Eva barred her from entering.

“Calm down, you’re hurting her,” Anna ran beside her and tugged on her shoulder.

“The hell I am! I’m just stopping her from getting through the door-'' Eva glanced at Gwyneth’s face. “Oh, it's you.”

Eva looked at Gwyneth’s wrists, faint bruise marks were beginning to form.

“Oh,” Eva’s frown grew annoyed.

“That’s why I told you to relax,” Anna pulled Eva behind her and looked at Gwyneth.

“Please let me in!” Gwyneth pleaded.

“Sure,” Anna grabbed her wrists gently. “But first we’re going to take care of this.”

“There’s no time I really have to-” Gwyneth said in between panicked breaths.

“There’s no option, either you come in and I help with the bruising or you don’t come in at all,” Anna gave her a stern look.

“O-Okay, but please hurry!” Gwyneth’s breathing relaxed before she exclaimed.

“I will,” Anna led her inside and behind the receptionist desk.

“Are you crazy? You’re going to take the person who tried to break into the dorms seriously?” Eva exclaimed.

“She wouldn’t be this panicked if it wasn’t for a good reason,” Anna sat Gwyneth down and looked for a first aid kit.

“Wow, I was spot on about that bleeding heart thing huh?” Eva groaned. “What if she’s here to cause trouble or stalk some helpless freshman girl?”

“You really think poorly of people you know,” Anna commented as she prepared an ice bag.

“I’m realistic,” Eva huffed.

“You’re paranoid. All I see is someone in need,” Anna kneeled in front of Gwyneth and pressed the ice bag against her wrist.

“And that’s all you need to be at their beck and call?” Eva sneered.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Anna glared at her.

Eva could only reply with an equally furious look.

“I-I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Gwyneth said meekly. “I’m here to- ah” She squeaked as Anna moved the ice bag to her other wrist.

“I’m worried about my friend, her name is Sophie,” Gwyneth said.

Eva tensed a little upon hearing Sophie’s name.

“What about your friend?” Eva grunted.

“I think she’s in trouble.” Gwyneth said sheepishly.

“No way,” Eva waved her hand dismissively. “The academy’s got security like a prison. If she was in trouble she would have been helped out by one of the Wardens.”

“I know, but I’ve called her so many times and she hasn’t responded once. She didn’t show up to our breakfast meet up and last night she seemed really worried about something,” Gwyneth said, her words growing more frantic.

“Well, maybe you’re just overthinking it,” Eva said apathetically.

“What’s your problem?” Anna glanced at her in a mix of anger and shock.

She turned towards Gwyneth and started wrapping bandages around her wrists. “Why are you so sure she’s in trouble?” Anna asked calmly.

“Sophie’s not like this. She always answers her calls, she's a polite and cheery person. She’s full of optimism and hope and she always does her best to help others. I’ve never seen her act so depressed before, so… docile. I just know something is wrong, it just doesn’t add up...” Gwyneth gazed at the floor.

“Pfft, talk about working off hunches,” Eva muttered.

“I agree,” Anna said as she finished tying her bandages.

“You do?!” Gwyneth and Eva said in unison, relief and surprise in their voice respectively.

“You know the people close to you better than I do. If you really think something is wrong, you should do something about it before you regret not doing anything at all,” Anna stood up and held out her hand. “And I’ll be here to help.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you soooooo much!” Gwyneth leaped up and hugged Anna tightly.

“Woah, okay, okay, I’m just glad I can help,” Anna chuckled. “She’s really soft.” She said towards Eva.

“And I care why?” Eva shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re helping her. What do you even want Gwy- uh... Girl?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Gwyneth let go of Anna. “My name’s Gwyneth, I’m a Sophomore.”

“I’m Anna, a Junior,” Anna replied.

“Eva, same,” Eva mumbled. “So what do you want?”

“I-” Gwyneth paused. “I was planning on visiting Sophie’s room and checking up on her.”

“What floor is she on?” Anna asked.

“Third floor, room 309,” Gwyneth replied.

“Cool, let’s go,” Anna grabbed the master key from behind the counter and headed up the stairs. “You coming, Grinch?” She asked Eva as she stopped on the first step.

“Screw you,” Eva spat before following suit.

. . .

The freshmen dorms were not the nicest on campus, mostly due to how old the building itself was. The steps led up to a view of the many hallways on each floor. Rows and rows of evenly spaced doors lined the walls. Occasional break and study rooms broke the monotony of the layout. Framed paintings of previous headmasters and photographs of the academy’s history dotted the free spaces on the wall. On the opposite end, stood an identical set of stairs leading into the floor below. Anna, Eva, and Gwyneth stepped into the third floor. Gwyneth walked ahead of them and led them to Sophie’s dorm.

“We’re here,” Anna stated as they stood in front of room 309.

Gwyneth stepped forward and knocked on the door.

“Sophie, are you there? It’s me, Gwen,” She called out.

There was no reply.

“Sophie?” She knocked again.

“She’s probably just asleep,” Eva commented.

“At six in the evening?” Anna raised a brow.

“You’d be surprised at how many people hit the hay early,” Eva yawned.

“She’s not answering,” Gwyneth turned towards them.

“Hmm, let me try,” Anna knocked on the door a little rougher than Gwyneth. “Sophie, are you in there?”

The door creaked open on her last knock.

“You broke it,” Eva scoffed.

“It just happened on its own,” Anna replied with a tinge of panic.

“Well, no use crying over it now,” Eva swung open the door and gestured for them to walk in. “After ya’ll.”

They all entered the room. Eva flicked on the light switch and the ceiling lamp hummed to a faint light. Comfy looking bed sheets sat as a messy pile on an unmade bed. The cabinets held half open drawers filled with thrown-about clothes. Makeup, perfume, accessories, and other knick-knacks once neatly organized on the shelves laid scattered across the floor. A torn apart sheet music book with ripped out pages leaned limply against a violin. Gwyneth’s gaze lingered on a corkboard that hung above her drawer. Pictures of Gwyneth and Sophie spending time together were pinned on to it. Dumb drawings that Gwyneth made in a silly attempt of explaining some of her favorite controversies were displayed like badges of honor. The letter she wrote for Sophie’s birthday was neatly held by tiny styrofoam stars. A calendar filled with pretty handwritten notes was to the left of all of that. “Dinner with Gwyneth, yay!” was circled in red marker.

“What a mess,” Eva murmured.

“It looks like someone tore up the place,” Anna said quietly.

“Sophie…” Gwyneth whimpered as she walked to the corkboard and traced her fingers over the memorabilia.

“We need to report this to the principal,” Anna said as she glanced at Gwyneth’s worried face.

“Agreed, the way this room is torn up is way too sketchy,” Eva let out a deep sigh. “The academy seems to be slipping in more ways than one.”

“That’s ominous,” Anna commented.

“Just saying, the schools vow of security ain’t looking so secure right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are other dorms where just about anybody can break into them,” Eva opened the closet. “We could have a real case for false advertising on our hands-” Eva’s words were snuffed into violent chokes.

A woman stepped out of the closet. Her dark gray colored eyes shone with a strange intensity. She held Eva by the neck, nearly lifting her off the ground. Gwyneth shrieked as she grabbed something to defend herself with. Anna hopped over the bed and slammed herself against the woman. The woman grunted in pain as she let go of Eva and struggled to keep her balance. Eva coughed in heavy breaths. The woman took a step forward ready to attack Anna, only to have a stapler thrown against her face by Gwyneth.

“You. Effing. Creep,” Eva yelled in a horse voice.

Eva kicked at the woman’s legs before she could retaliate and tripped her onto the ground. The woman fell with a hearty thud and her body went limp. Eva raised her foot to stomp her face but was stopped by Anna’s hand.

“What are you doing?! You’re going to kill her!” Anna screamed.

“Oh, do not make excuses for the panty stealing weirdo hiding in a sixteen year old’s closet- she deserved this!” Eva yelled back.

“But, she’s already knocked out!” Anna pushed her leg out of the way. “So, we stop!”

“Fine, Goldilocks. Have it your way, but I’m not helping you if she gets up and starts choke slamming you,” Eva rubbed her shin. “Damn, that hurt. Her legs felt like they were made out of steel.”

“W-Who is she anyways and where did you two learn to fight like that?“ Gwyneth asked.

“I kinda just threw myself at her,” Anna said matter-of-factly.

“Kickboxing is a hobby,” Eva replied. “As for the mystery woman…” Eva took out her phone and turned on its flashlight.

The light shone over the face of a Warden. The three of them stared in silence as the realization dawned upon them.

“We are so screwed,” Eva murmured with a deathly serious tone.

“WE KNOCKED A WARDEN UNCONSCIOUS?!” Gwyneth screamed.

“Shut up!” Eva put her hand over Gwyneth’s mouth. “Do you want the whole dorm to know?!”

“I-It’s fine, we can just explain to the principal what happened. T-That this was all just one big misunderstanding,” Anna said in a slightly shaky voice as she sat the Warden up as best as she could

“Oh yeah, sure, and she can kindly explain how many years in prison we’re gonna serve for assaulting a freaking police officer,” Eva gave a panicked chuckle.

“I don’t want to go to jail,” Gwyneth whimpered.

“No effing dur, girly,” Eva commented.

“Calm down, both of you. Worse comes to worst I can just-” Anna started before being cut off by the sound of a radio.

“Warden 06, can you hear me?” A staticky voice called from the Warden’s breast pocket.

Anna, Eva, and Gwyneth looked at each other. Gwyneth gestured to Anna to give her the radio. Anna tossed into her hands and she began to fiddle with it. After a few seconds she held the button to reply. White noise poured out of the radio.

“Warden 06, there seems to be some interference on your end. Do you read me?” The voice asked again.

Gwyneth tilted the radio downwards. The white noise became more chaotic.

“Warden 06, do you read-” The voice got cut off before changing into a deeper, colder, voice. “Warden 06, you are to cease your search of the target’s dorm. We have narrowed down the location of Sophie Dives to the auditorium. Rendezvous there ASAP. Failure to do so will be met with severe punishment.”

The radio went completely silent. Gwyneth took out the batteries and took a shaky breath.

“Sophie’s in the auditorium?” Gwyneth whispered.

“From the sound of it, it looks like they were trying to keep it a secret too,” Eva commented.

“I knew it,” Anna muttered.

“What?” Gwyneth asked.

“Last night, when I was cleaning up the auditorium I heard a scream. I tried to follow it, but by the time I got to the theater all I found was a bracelet with Sophie’s name on the back of it,” Anna stood up. “I think something happened to her.”

“Why didn’t you bring this up before?” Gwyneth frowned.

“Because I thought it was just a coincidence,“ Anna’s face softened. “We have to tell Dr. Ward, if she knows that the Warden’s are acting out of line she might be able to stop them.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but the Warden’s are on the CCPD’s payroll- not the headmaster’s. I doubt they give two craps about what she wants,” Eva said.

“What other option do we have then?” Anna asked.

“We have to go and help her ourselves,” Gwyneth said with a serious tone.

“Are you crazy? She’s being hunted down by the Wardens right now, y’know like actual highly trained cops. On top of that, they’re on high alert, if they find us they’ll rip us to shreds,” Eva furrowed her brow.

“Not exactly,” Gwyneth turned towards her. “I’ve heard rumors that because of all the curfew violations yesterday the headmaster is pissed off at all the Wardens. She wants to make sure that not a single student misses it tonight. Me thinks- I think that they won’t head to the auditorium until after curfew. It gives us some time to break in.”

“You really believe those stupid overblown rumors? Give me a break, they’ll have Wardens posted all over the auditorium,” Eva groaned.

Anna walked to the curtains and opened them up. A view of the auditorium bathed in the light of the setting sun appeared with not a single soul in sight.

“Are you sure about that?” Anna said with a tiny jeer.

“Screw you,” Eva looked away and scratched her head.

“We don't have much time," Anna looked at her phone. "Curfews in three hours. If we're going to help Sophie, we should move now."

"You're still going to help?" Gwyneth asked.

"Of course, it doesn't sit well with me to stay still when someone needs help. Besides, who knows what the Wardens will do to her if one of them was ready to strangle us to death," Anna explained.

"Thank you," Gwyneth said quietly

Anna and Gwyneth looked at Eva who thought in silence. After a few moments she spoke.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that she's in danger, but yeah, the sooner we find her the better," Eva said curtly.

"I really thought you would say no," Gwyneth said with a slightly stunned face.

"Don't act like you know how I think," Eva scoffed.

"Well, we better head out then. Let's go close up the receptionist's booth first," Anna said as she walked out of the dorm.

"Ever the worrywart," Eva grumbled.

. . .

Day began to bleed into night by the time they arrived at the auditorium. The weathered down entrance was chained and locked shut by a simple key lock.

“They locked it,” Anna stated bluntly.

“I guess this really means that Sophie is in here,” Gwyneth said with a worried face.

“Well she won’t be trapped here for long,” Eva said as she took out some of the bobby pins that held up her hair and kneeled beside the floor.

“What are you doing?” Gwyneth asked.

“Picking the lock, duh,” Eva replied as she started unlocking the door and blew some of her loose hair out of her face.

“Where did you learn that?” Anna asked.

“Would you believe me if I said daycare?” Eva turned around with a smirk as the lock clicked open. “We’re in.”

“Follow me,” Anna walked into the auditorium and towards the theater.

The work lights from the day before stood in the exact same spot. Anna turned them on, lighting the auditorium with a musty light. The three walked at a brisk pace while still scanning each room they came across, before turning towards the theater. Anna opened the door and looked at the rows of dimly lit seats.

“The only place I didn’t check yesterday was backstage,” Anna said as she made her way down the stairs and climbed onto the stage.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Eva muttered as she read the scratches on the podium.

Anna walked in between the curtains and into the dark backstage. She turned on her flashlight. Old props and backgrounds littered the floor. Rusting clothing racks filled with forgotten costumes loitered throughout the backstage. A large grandfather clock leaned against boxes stacked up high. The word “John” was painted onto it, it’s time was stuck at 3:13 PM.

“Wow, it's a whole lot of nothing,” Eva said loudly as she leaned against the grandfather clock.

“We at least have to try to look for her,” Anna said as she started searching the mess.

“But, there really is nothing here, Anna,” Gwyneth said sadly.

“We don’t have much time left either,” Eva glanced at her watch. “We should just head back and try again tomorrow before they catch us and we can’t try at all,” She looked at Anna, her long hair fluttering slightly in a soft breeze.

“Yeah... good idea,” Anna said with a slightly dejected tone before turning towards Eva. “What’s wrong with your hair?” Anna asked suddenly.

“What? I was too lazy to tie it back up after picking the lock,” Eva replied dismissively.

“No, why is it moving,” Anna asked again before walking towards the grandfather clock herself.

She felt around it looking for the source of the breeze. Eventually she found a small crack in the wall. Cold air trickled out of it slowly.

“Help me move this thing,” Anna said towards Eva and Gwyneth as she started trying to move the grandfather clock out of the way.

“This is heavy,” Gwyneth panted as she pushed as hard as she could.

“Just push,” Eva commented as she led the clock onto the floor. “Now what?” Eva asked Anna.

Anna picked up a broken off leg of a chair from the floor and smashed it against the crack. The wall crumbed into wet clumps of drywall that revealed the entrance to a tunnel.

“A tunnel?” Anna murmured.

“You are amazing at breaking things, y’know that,” Eva said blankly.

“D-Do you think that Sophie could be in there?” Anxiety lumped in Gwyneth’s voice.

“If this was a horror movie, sure, but to me that just looks like an effing death trap,” Eva shifted uncomfortably.

“We have to check,” Anna took a deep breath before stepping inside.

“Are you crazy?!” Eva grabbed her arm. “We have no idea where that leads, if there’s anything even in there or if there’s even a way out.”

“Where else could she be if the Wardens couldn’t even find her?” Anna tugged her arm away from Eva’s grasp.

“I don’t know, but I’m not gonna risk my life to find out,” Eva crossed her arms.

Anna’s breaths stiffened. She glared at Eva who returned the gesture.

“I-” Anna opened her mouth before being interrupted by the muffled echo of classical music.

“Nocturne op.9 No.2, Sophie’s favorite song. She set it as her ringtone…” Anna and Eva turned to face Gwyneth.

She clutched her phone close to her, she had dialed Sophie’s number while they were arguing.

Eva looked into the tunnel. Its jagged walls seemed like they were cut into the building itself. Drops of a mysterious liquid fell onto the floor with an unnerving pitter-patter. The end of the tunnel remained a mystery as it curved into an unknown depth.

“Still not doing it,” Eva swallowed nervously.

“Fine, you can stay out here. I’m going,” Anna steeled herself as she turned on her flashlight.

“Me too-” Gwyneth said as she took a step forward.

Her voice skipped into a shriek of terror. Anna and Eva turned around to see Caroline holding Gwyneth up by her hair.

“Warden 06 was right, there were some rats in the theater after all,” Caroline leered.

Anna sprinted past Eva and tried to help Gwyneth only to get kicked in the stomach. She fell onto the floor and curled up into a ball as she clutched her burning stomach.

“Let me go!” Gwyneth shrieked and tried to kick herself free.

Caroline swiftly jabbed her in the abdomen before dropping her. Gwyneth gasped as air escaped her lungs.

“And you?” Caroline turned towards Eva, her eyes glowing an ethereal dark green.

Eva looked at Anna and Gwyneth whimpering on the floor. Her face hardened.

“They didn’t deserve that,” Eva grit her teeth as she raised her fists.

“Hmm,” Caroline stepped over the two and towards Eva with her hands behind her back. “But Miss Sophie did?”

“Don’t act like you know everything, you crap shoveling pig!” Eva yelled as she jabbed at Caroline.

Caroline caught her first and pulled her close before headbutting her. The strength of the blow forced Eva onto her knees.

“Oh, Eva,” Caroline said in a condescending tone and got closer to her. “We know everything,” She whispered.

Caroline pulled back her fist. Eva sluggishly looked upwards, unable to move. She closed her eyes as Caroline swung at her face.

"You’re not hurting her anymore," Anna's shaky voice said.

Eva opened her eyes to see Anna holding Caroline's shoulder back to stop her from punching her.

"How persistent," Caroline said in an unamused tone as she elbowed Anna in her side.

To her surprise Anna didn't budge.

"You have no idea," Anna grunted as she stomped on the back of Caroline's knee.

Caroline hollorred in pain as she crumbled onto her knees.

"Take Gwyneth into the tunnel!" Anna screamed, struggling to hold Caroline down.

Eva looked at Anna stunned at how much she was fighting back. She groggily stood onto her feet.

"Hurry up and go!" Anna yelled again.

Eva's face burned into a furious frown. She closed her fist and grit her teeth before punching Caroline’s face with the full force of her body.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Eva roared as her fist collided with Caroline.

Anna let go of Caroline with barely enough time to evade the blow. Caroline held her bloodied nose as she struggled to move.

"Come on, Goldilocks," Eva said as she leaned Gwyneth on her shoulder.

Anna quickly grabbed Gwyneth's other shoulder. The two limped into the tunnel as fast as they could. Waves of frigid air poured out of the cracks of the tunnel as it curved deeper and deeper into darkness. The ground under their feet morphed from concrete to something squishy and wet. A sense of dread creeped down Anna's neck as the air became thinner. Sophie's ringtone distorted and echoed into noise before suddenly extinguishing into a deafening silence.

"Eva, can you see anything?" Anna asked loudly, her voice reverberating in her ears.

"I can't see shi-" Eva yelled in reply before suddenly screaming out of panic.

Anna felt the ground underneath her crumble into nothing. Her screams echoed endlessly as she plunged into absolute darkness.

[maybe-your-left]

A Case In Need: Am I Understood?

As always here is a link to my Masterlist with all my works. I just started a new Solo Triplets fic! 

Slight TW/CW: lots of swearing, some implied consent at the end. Violent overtones throughout. 

You haven't slept this soundly in a long time, usually you have to take some sleeping pills before lulling off to sleep but not tonight. Sunlight filtered in through your bedroom windows and you blinked your eyes open to rid the call back to your pillow. Behind you, there was a deep growling noise, followed by a hot breath on the back of your neck. Ren must’ve been sleeping with his mouth shut, you mused, wiggling your arm out you reached out for the clock on your bedside table. 

9 AM it read. 

“Mother fucker,” you yelled and threw Ren off with all your might. Successfully elbowing him in the face while untangling your limbs. 

“Jesus,” Ren cried out and applied pressure to his nose, “Why’d you fucking do that?” 

“We slept in,” you called from the closet. 

Ren whined in response, you heard the mattress creak while he threw his legs over the side followed by footsteps into the bathroom. He appeared while you were buttoning up a maroon blouse, keeping one hand on his nose. He stared at you with wide blinking eyes that were still fighting sleep. 

“Come on, we’re an hour late-” 

“What are you talking about (Y/N),” he grumbled before turning to his sink and inspecting his bruised skin. 

“My alarm didn’t go off this morning, we’re both late for work,” you pushed by him so you could reach for your toothbrush. Trying to get ready as fast as possible, throwing your hair up in an updo and smudging on your lipstick. Ren just glared at you while wiggling his nose, probably trying to get blood flow back after the hit he took. Hip bumping him to the side so you could spit out your toothpaste, he finally moved and went to the closet. Re-emerging seconds later with black slacks, buttoning up a dress shirt that was the same maroon as yours. 

“Oh you wanna be matching today?” you giggled while hopping out of the bathroom, searching for your phone. 

“Would it be wrong if I did?” he yelled back from the sink. 

Snorting back in response you made it down the hallway. Taking the stairs two at a time, pretty risky to do in heels, and finally making it to the kitchen. 

The Keurig was heating up with your coffee when Ren made it downstairs. Fixing the sleeves of his blazer jacket, seeming to look for his shoes he threw off yesterday night. You took a moment to appreciate the scene in front of you, silent domestic bliss between the two of you. This is how it would be if you and Ren were a… you shook your head at the thought. He was still very married, you couldn’t allow yourself to get used to the closeness. Clearing your throat you reached for a mug, “I forgot to tell you I’ve been working on the case file you gave me last week, found something interesting but we can talk about it when I get to the office.” 

“When you get to the office,” he mumbled while grabbing some cereal from your pantry, “Aren’t you riding with me?” 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because you work for me,” a spoonful of cereal, “you sleep with me,” another chew, “you fuck me, you’re mine Angel I don’t know why you keep forgetting.” He ended with slurping milk from the bowl before standing up and placing it in the sink. “Let’s go.” 

He walked past you, grabbing his coat along with your purse which had your car keys inside them. Stopping at the front doorway he yelled for you, “Are you going to make me wait or should I have Ushar drag you to the car?” 

----- 

The drive to work was short and silent, except for the radio which was playing on some random talk radio bullshit. The man was droning on and on about stock prices and the unemployment rates, you felt yourself falling asleep because of how bored you were. Even the guy talking sounded like he was one sentence away from falling into a coma. 

You groaned, “Can we listen to some music, please?” 

“Hmm,” Ren smirked at you. You reached for the buttons to change it yourself but he was quicker than you, smacking your hand away. “Now now Angel, it’s my car. We are to listen to what I want.” 

“Oh my god…” you whined, trying to get him to release your hand from his death grip. 

“Someone’s being a brat today,” he slammed on his brakes, almost mowing over a pedestrian he was clearly not watching for. You would’ve slammed into the dashboard if it hadn't been for your seatbelt and Rens giant arm that was now outstretched in front of you. 

You pushed his arm away while he sped off again, “Maybe I wouldn’t be a brat if you didn’t try to kill me with your reckless driving.” 

“Hmm.” 

He slammed again, this time he didn’t shoot out his arm to protect you, leaving your head to whip forward and smack the dashboard. “Oh come on!” you cried, applying pressure to your forehead. You were so sure he had split it open, you fumbled with the mirror above you, examining the bump that was now forming. Luckily there was no open wound but it still didn’t make up for the fact that you had a screaming headache. “You fucking did that on purpose,” you smacked him in the chest. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he smirked again, “I would never do anything to hurt you, my dear.”

“Just shut up,” you snapped, “And can we change the radio station this guy's voice is giving me a bigger headache.” 

“As you wish.” He reached forward and pressed another preset, making sure to give you a glare as he sat back. 

“Thank you,” you huffed, closing your eyes and waiting for the music to start playing, or at least another boring old man to start talking. 

Slowly the music started, you furrowed your eyebrows trying to concentrate on it instead of the pounding in your ears. As it was getting louder you could pick out some noises, a saxophone, for one thing, was present. Followed by some other deep instruments, you blinked a couple of times trying to understand what was going on. 

“Ah, I love this song,” Ren said before turning the volume up another few notches. 

“What the fuck is this-” 

“You don’t like jazz, Angel?” he smiled at you, it wasn’t a warm smile. More like a taunt for you to complain again, setting a trap for you to fall into. He waited, staring at you while you slowly began rubbing your temples, the music was far worse than the NPR radio, each sound was so disorganized and trying to desperately outdo the other instrument he might as well have slammed you in the dashboard again. 

Fuck this was going to be a long day. 

-----

“We have a meeting today with a client,” Ren said as he seated himself behind his desk, “It’ll be at the prison, however, so maybe sure you stay by me.” 

“Sounds good boss.” 

You were rifling through your bags trying to find the case file on the client, Armitage Hux was the name, you had read somewhere that he was a known criminal with a record to show for it. Thrown in and out of jails so many times he probably had his own personalized cell. Most of his charges were small: theft, forgery, robbery, lots of organized crime work. Nothing you weren’t used to seeing, but this time he was charged with something much worse. 

During your research you noticed that Hux was always found ‘innocent’ of these crimes, usually, the bail was paid off quickly and whoever was representing him had him out of court within a few hours. It was strange for this type of crime, what was also strange was the lack of information on those cases. It was almost like someone was erasing any information about his past the moment he was set free. 

Ren cleared his throat, “I must go see Palpatine before we set off.” 

“Oh, okay, let me grab my things and we can go,” you started repacking your bag. 

“That won’t be necessary,” he stated, getting up from his chair and walking towards you, “It’s a private matter. Meet me down at the car in 15 minutes Angel.” And with that he kissed you on the forehead and walked out, shutting the door behind him. 

“Whatever weirdo,” you muttered, this would be the first meeting you weren’t brought in with him. He usually had you take notes or something while he spoke with colleagues. But he seemed to be on edge when he rushed out. You shrugged and got up, now would be a good time to look around his office. Since you started working here you hadn’t gotten much downtime between reading, writing, and fucking.  

Walking around his desk you scanned the stacks of papers. Lots were in order, alphabetical, and by date. He seemed to run a tight ship with his workload. Along with stacks of papers, there were two frames on the left side of his desk, behind his desktop. You grabbed them to get a closer look. 

One was an old black and white photo, containing a young man who was very tall and skinny, flanked on both sides with an older man and woman. It looked like it was the young man’s graduation picture, he had tassels and stoles around his neck, achievements of hard academic work, the woman was beaming next to him, holding a bouquet of some sort. The older man was handsome, a little rougher than the woman, but he had the same smirk on his face that you’ve seen Ren have. 

“Must be his parents…” you whispered, setting the picture back down. You had never heard about his family, but it wasn’t like the two of you had ever spoken about personal things. 

The second picture was in color. It showed the same man, slightly longer black hair and less of a smile, standing outside the First Order office building. He was shaking hands with a man you didn’t recognize, he certainly wasn’t the man from the first photograph. No, this man was very different, his face although smiling had no happiness. Rigid and stiff even as the photo was being taken,  and behind him was Palpatine. 

Humming, you set the picture back down and glanced around the room some more. To the left of the desk were bookshelves. Filled with texts about the ever-changing laws throughout the nation, and even some about national security. Most of them were covered with dust, but you noticed a very boring pattern of non-fiction work throughout. It figures, you thought, Ren probably reads these for fun when he’s not out dictating my life. 

Looking down at your watch you saw you had about five minutes left before having to hoof it downstairs so you took that time to scan the walls for any other information. Your eyes settled on two diplomas framed by a very large fake plant. 

University of Oxford 

Faculty of Law 

Kylo Ren 

“Of course he went to Oxford… pretentious ass,” you looked down to the second one. 

Harvard University 

J.D. Law School 

Ben Solo 

You stared at it for a few seconds. Rereading it over and over, looking back and forth between the two papers. Ben Solo? Who the fuck was that? Did they print his name wrong? There’s no way, it’s a Harvard degree. Also if they had he would’ve definitely raised hell over it. Maybe it was just a leftover decoration from a previous lawyer… the frame was a little dustier than the top one. Seemed like maybe that could be it- 

Your phone started buzzing in your pocket. Shaking your head you fished it out and answered, “Hello this is (Y/N)-” 

“Where the fuck are you? I told you to meet me in the car in 15 minutes?” 

Ren. Of course, it was, “Sorry I was uh… going to the bathroom. Coming down now.” 

He hung up after that, clearly, he was in a bad mood. Maybe something in his meeting didn’t go well. Maybe Rey’s dad confronted him about the two of you… not like there was any way for him to know about it. Unless there were cameras in the office that the two of you didn’t know about. 

You shook that thought out of your mind and stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage. Ren was parked directly in front waiting for you. You swung the door open and climbed in while he slammed his foot on the gas, peeling out onto the road. 

“When I tell you to be somewhere I expect you to listen to me,” Ren spat at you. Not taking the time to look at you while he weaved through traffic. 

“Sorry, I just lost track of time, don’t know what the big deal is,” you huffed. 

Ren snorted, “The big deal is you have to listen to me. You’re mine. I expected that lesson I taught you yesterday to stick inside your head for longer than 24 hours.” 

“Oh, you mean when you almost drown me?” 

“Precisely Angel,” He purred at you, placing a hand on your knee, “You belong to me. I control where you go,” a squeeze, “What you do,” his hand slid upwards and squeezed again, “Even when you breathe.” gripping the inside of your thigh, digging his nails into you, “Am I understood?” 

You swallowed, “Yes Mr. Ren.” 

“Excellent, now we are meeting with a client. I expect you to stay quiet throughout and take notes diligently. We’ve worked with him before so it should be brief.” 

“We have?” you questioned, “Nothing in my research showed that he’s worked with the First Order before…” 

“Whatever the case, you will not speak while we meet with him. You are not there to counsel him, only to take notes about the conversation I have with him or any mannerisms he portrays during.” Ren looked over at you, he clearly needed you to listen to him. His usual auburn eyes were dark and cold, commanding you to stay in your place. You nodded and Ren patted your leg and the two of you drove in silence the rest of the way. 

—— 

You and Ren had walked in after parking. Every officer and guard seemed to know Ren personally, never checking his ID or anything, just waving him through. You were awestruck, the facility you were at was no laughing matter. It was a maximum security prison. Only for the worst of the worst criminals, crime bosses, murderers, rapists, serial killers, you name it and they were there. You scooted a little closer to Ren, hopefully to shield yourself from the fear rippling through you. 

“Scared Angel?” he chuckled, looking over his shoulder. “There’s nothing to fear. No one will touch you while I’m here.” 

“Okay,” you squeaked out. 

The guards led the two of you down a series of hallways before opening a steel door. Behind was a man, chained to a desk in the middle of the room. He was pale, not a shiner pale like Ren but more sickly. He had bright red hair atop his head, that was at one point styled but it seemed like he had been through the ringer. He had cold eyes, staring directly at you, not once looking at Ren. “Glad to see you’re finally here,” he spoke from behind a cigarette. 

“Apologies about our tardiness,” Ren spat, “Some pieces haven’t found their place yet.” 

He moved in front of the ginger, pulling out a chair and ushering you to sit before he did. “Thank you,” you whispered, trying to keep the gingers eye contact away from yours. 

“Whose this little fox you’ve brought Ren,” he cooed at you, leaning forward on the table, “She’s different than the last one.” 

“That’s enough Hux,” he spat, “Let’s get down to business.” 

You reached into your bag and handed Ren the case file. Grabbing out your pad and pen, you were ready for their conversation. 

“What’s your name little pet?” Hux blew smoke towards you. 

You coughed and shot a look at Ren, he was staring at Hux. His jaw clenched tight, his hands threatening to rip the file in half. 

“Cat got your tongue?” he taunted, “ Or are you not allowed to speak?” 

“Hux,” Ren boomed. 

“(Y/N). It’s (Y/N),” you spit out, staring down at your pad and pen. 

“(Y/N)... what a lovely name,” Hux cooed. The way he said your name felt like a threat. You knew immediately that you weren’t supposed to do that, Ren had told you not to speak. 

“If you’re not going to talk about your charges then my assistant and I will be leaving.” 

“Assistant, is that what you’re calling it now?” Hux laughed, taking another drag off the cigarette. “That’s a fancy way to say whore.” 

Ren lunges at Hux, knocking you to the floor in the process. Pinning him to the wall and repeatedly slamming him by his shoulders. You sat there with wide eyes, usually guards would burst in at the sign of commotion but the room was quiet. The only sounds were Hux and Ren's heavy breathing, both daring the other to make a move. 

“Kylo… we should go,” you squeaked out again. 

“Kyloooo you’re scaring your whore,” Hux smiled at him. Ren growled and shoved him one last time before turning to you. 

“Get up.” he barked. 

You scrambled to your feet, grabbing the papers that were thrown around. Ren's hand found purchase in your hair, gripping on and ushering you out of the room. 

Behind you Hux yelled, “I’m sure Snoke will be happy to hear about this!” and the door slammed shut. 

—— 

Ren said nothing. 

Not even when he shoved you into the car, buckled you into the seat and sped off. He was obviously not heading back to the office. His grip on the wheel was so tight it looked like he was going to snap it. 

“Where are we-“ 

“I told you not to speak.” 

“I’m sorry I just-“ 

He pulled in front of a hotel, “No I don’t think you understand Angel. I told you not to speak, and you disobeyed me.” 

The valet knocked on his window, tearing Rens stare from you. He stepped out and handed the keys to the young man. Rounding the car he ripped open your door and pulled you out by your wrist. 

You didn’t struggle, you were so confused as to where you were going. Why did he bring you to a hotel? Was he going to forgive you for earlier? What had Hux meant about you being a whore? 

Once inside the elevator, he let go of you and sighed. His shoulders finally relaxed, and he cracked his neck left and right. “I think it’s time you understood who you belong to.” 

You stared at him, eyebrows furrowed with concern, “What do you mean?” 

“What I mean is,” the doors opened and he walked out, “You’ll either listen to me tonight, or you’ll be severely hurt.” 

You gulped, was he going to beat you? Was this it? You had always felt safe with him but something about the meeting earlier had left him… unhinged. He opened the door and shoved you in. 

The suite was huge, full kitchen and living room. Large king bed, and a huge bathroom. 

“Strip for me.” 

“What?” 

“Strip for me or I’ll do it for you,” he threatened. 

Swallowing again you slowly took off your clothes, all the way down to your heels. Attempting to cover yourself from his predatory gaze. He walked over to you and held your face. “Do you trust me Angel?” he whispered. 

“Yes.” 

He gave you a soft kiss, delicately tracing your lips with his own. “Sit down on the couch.” 

You followed his instructions, eager to see where this was going. Ren disappeared into the bathroom, re-emerging with items in his hands. “Now, I’m going to put these on you, and you’re not going to struggle, do you understand?” You nodded. “If you struggle this is going to hurt you more, tell me you understand.” 

“Yes Mr. Ren.” 

“Good,” he cooed. He pushed you back against the sofa, and tied a blindfold over your eyes. You giggled, excited about where this was headed. 

Suddenly Ren was behind the sofa, grabbing your left wrist and attaching something around it. He repeated it with the other one. “Try to move Angel.” 

You tried to pull your arms back over the couch, but found that they were chained to something. “What’s going on Ren-“ 

He then attached chains to both your ankles. Leaving you spread eagle across the couch. Unable to move, unable to see his intentions. A knock at the door, Ren sighed, “Their here early.” 

“Who's here? What’s going on?” 

“One more thing before I forget,” he hummed. He pinched your jaw, forcing it open and shoved a gag in your mouth. Strapping it around your skull. You trashed and cried out, but they came out as moans because you were unable to speak. 

“It’ll all be over soon.” Ren whispered and then opened the door. 

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads​ @morby​ @onlykyloscenes​ @direnightshade​ @clumsycopy​ @candycanes19​ @kirah36​ @desiraypark​ @princss-bucky​ 

[thessaliadpdx]

Interlude: Field Marshal Zhuāngyuán Rallies the Troops. Chuntian Cao Gets the Girl. Master Yuanyuan, Ahem, Third Master Shen, Gets His Fourth Apartment.

Unbeknownst to Shen Yuan, he was the subject of much concern. Back at the Shen Family Estate, Da-ge smacked Er-ge upside the head. An embarrassment to the Shen Family name! Little Brother was raised better than that! Baba would have been disappointed! Mama would have cried! 

Er-ge drooped and nodded in agreement. “Yes, Da-ge. I’ll go over and apologize as soon as he will see me.”

The Brothers Shen worked themselves into a froth about their family’s Yuanyuan getting a roommate. They weren’t the only ones. The other residents of the Shen Family Estate were also deeply concerned. Upon hearing that Shen Yuan was to have a long-term houseguest, Steward Zhuangyuan fretted about Shen Yuan being deprived. Master Yuanyuan, ahem, Third Master Shen couldn’t possibly accommodate a long-term guest in his cramped, pokey little apartment! (Shen Real Estate Agent: “Pokey? It’s 360 square meters with four rooms!”) In Steward Zhuangyuan’s opinion, Master Yuanyuan only picked it because it had decent light. They should have rented another apartment in the same building and made it into a studio. 

Steward Zhuangyuan recollected the effort required to make for Master Yuanyuan’s, ahem, Third Master Shen’s current apartment passable. Only two years ago, it had been a struggle. The Shen Family employees had done their best, but the steward still felt it barely up to standard for a Shen. Thank goodness Master Yuanyuan was so biddable. Steward Zhangyuan remembered when the frighteningly tiny young master had first come home, barely larger than a grapefruit. He remembered all the hospital stays thereafter. Everyone did, and they worried about Master Yuanyuan so, counting the months until the next time. So far it had been two years, but everyone still held their breath.

Master Yuanyuan was the last reminder of the late Madam Shen, the artistic genius and gracious mistress. (Steward Zhuangyuan declined to remember all the times she screamed and threw oily paintbrushes at her husband’s head. He usually deserved it.) Master Yuanyuan, unlike his older brothers, was a gentleman, a scholar, and an artistic genius in his own right. (Steward Zhuangyuan also declined to remember all the times Master Yuanyuan screamed and threw ink brushes at his father and brothers when they denied him things they perceived as for his own good. They usually deserved it.)

At the very least The Young Master had needed a studio, a study, an office, a game room, a master bedroom and a guest bedroom for that questionable friend of his. (Shang Qinghua: “Hey! I’m a nice guy! I didn’t know he was sixteen when he read my book!”) Master Yuanyuan, as sweet and good-natured as ever, kindly suggested that he could tutor students in the dining room, and place bookshelves against the wall. He also suggested that the living room also be used for gaming, movies, and music. 

Upon hearing that, First Master Shen gleefully called the Chairman of Hangsong to send their latest TV, something experimental. Six people from Shen Construction marched into the apartment. Four reinforced the living room wall, added a wall mount, and installed a 250cm television. Two wired the room for the TV, added a home theater sound system from Onsuhi, and a GM6 with the lastest games, some of which were review copies. The two grinned at the other four. Testing was an essential part of installation, right? 

Auntie Chu had found the tiny 20-square-meter kitchen marginal, at best. The appliances were old and shabby. (If the refrigerator could talk: “Hey! I’m only two years old and I cost 6899 yuan! Rude!” The stove just cried, greatly aggrieved. uwuwuwuwu) Auntie Chu nodded her head firmly. She knew what to do. Meals would be delivered every day from the Shen Estate, and new appliances must be ordered.

First Master Shen gleefully did more research. He looked for something modest, and called Chufang Bangshou for a French-door refrigerator, complete with pull-out drawer for cold cuts and snacks, and a pull-out freezer. A steal for 23,000 yuan. Then he called Zhu Rong Stoves, and ordered the four-burner self-cleaning convection gas range with the 50,000 BTU wok burner. He also ordered a fume hood. A trifling 60,000 yuan.

The previous six people from Shen Construction carried in the refrigerator, stove, and hood. An additional seventh person went with to hook up the natural gas. The Head Chef certified in Medicinal Cuisine Auntie Chu lightly walked behind. Finally, several Shen Estate kitchen staff rolled in a couple coolers. Under Auntie Chu’s gimlet eye the Shen Construction workers carefully attached and installed the new refrigerator, fume hood, and stove. 

Auntie Chu pronounced herself satisfied, and waved at her assistants, who promptly opened coolers of prepped ingredients and set up additional burners. Under the famished, yearning gaze of the Shen Construction crew, they whipped up a banquet and laid it before the workers. It was like Lunar New Year and Great-Grandfather’s 100th birthday and the Grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary all at once. They would have to save a year for food this good, assuming there was a place that served it.

Auntie Chu said, “Testing is an important part of installation. Yes?”

Seven heads bobbed up and down like chickens.

Auntie Chu and her assistants left. The original six grinned at each other, then at the seventh. The TV, music, and gaming systems needed to be tested again. Testing, indeed, was an important part of installation.

The 8K 200Hz TV was a beast compared to what any of them had at home. The seventh looked around when they heard a glass shatter. Wow, just wow. 

This was probably going to be the last time they could play, and they all mourned silently.

Next was Auntie Wu. She inspected the apartment with white gloves, found dust, and sniffed at the substandard work. Filthy. (Housekeeping: “She wiped the back of the fridge! Unfair!”) The laundry service left a wrinkle in some sheets. (Laundry: “Hey! The main pressing iron is down! We did them all by hand and on time!”)

Auntie Wu decided that the Shen staff would dust daily, and launder everything at home. The conditions were abysmal. Master Yuanyuan was so brave. Her mouth wobbled. She’d never imagined he’d live this long. She’d been terrified that dust would cause him to have a bronchospasm and die. She had to call the ambulance so many times, even though a doctor and three nurses resided on the grounds.

Driver Siji had donned some old clothes, approached the car service manager and had asked for directions to S University. The manager said that he would have to use GPS. Driver Siji told Steward Zhuangyuan that the manager couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag. (Service Drivers: “Hey! He can’t find his way out of a paper bag! That’s why he doesn’t drive!”) He also found a footprint in one of the floormats. Lazy. (Driver: “Hey! I just went to pee!”)

Driver Siji had decided that they would have one of the Estate staff on site. There would have to be three, for twenty-four-hour coverage. Driver Siji remembered when he used to drive Young Master Yuanyuan to University at age ten. Master Yuanyuan was so tiny, a skinny little bird with thick, goggle-like glasses. Driver Siji had worried that he would trip and break a bone. 

Driver Siji had reported to Madam that The Youngest Master seemed exhausted, and suggested that it might be better for him to stay at home. The fiery Madam Shen said that The Youngest Master would attend University as long as he wished, until he said otherwise. Madam Shen then inquired if Driver Siji needed to be assigned elsewhere. Driver Siji wanted to kowtow in the face of such ferocity, but bowed deeply instead and apologized for his presumption. Appeased, Madam Shen accepted his apology and said he would resume his current duties, as he was the best driver they had. Grateful, Driver Siji wanted to walk backwards to the door, like in an Imperial drama.

#####

Head Gardener Huayuan had much better luck. Upon first inspection, the shrubbery was cheap and ill-shaped. No flowers brightened the neighborhood. Pretending to be a prospective student’s grandfather, he performed a little investigation of his own. Landscape Supervisor Xiang was a sensible person, a very good seedling. She had a master’s degree in horticulture from Q Agricultural University, first in her class. She picked this job to support her mother back home. After a while, the usually stand-offish childless widower said, “Call me Grandpa.” 

Xiang Hua’s mouth wobbled a little bit, because her grandfather died when she was young, and she missed him terribly. She discussed with the very knowledgeable Grandpa Huayuan the city’s push for water reduction. She also confessed her dream to see wild birds live where she worked. The kindly retiree understood the difficulty of maintaining such extensive grounds with such a tiny budget. Naturescaping was the perfect solution, and letting native plants grow wild created nesting sites and fed local insects, which in turn fed the birds. 

Such a wise and creative person must be encouraged. Grandpa Huayuan and Xiao Xiang discussed favorite flowers, and Xiao Xiang described her collection of orchids in her tiny apartment. Grandpa Huayuan described some of the orchids he’d seen in private collections. He’d even seen the gardens of the Shen Estate. Xiao Xiang sighed. She’d seen a feature article in a floriculture magazine.

A couple days later, the usual seven from Shen Construction had arrived to install bookshelves. The actual job only required three people at the very most, but they slunk off anyway. 

Incidentally, their supervisor reported the information to The Big Boss as ordered. Big Boss Shen had wanted updates on all work done on Third Master Shen’s apartment. Big Boss chuckled and waved his hand. They’re the best we’ve got, he said, and they all work hard. They deserve a little reward. Testing is a necessary part of installation, no?

The supervisor nodded.

Additionally, one of the junior gardeners rode along, holding a basket. He was to meet someone named Xiang Hua, the landscape supervisor. The delivery was of upmost importance. Head Gardener had told the junior that his mission was vital to the Shen Estate Gardens. He was to deliver the basket, and report back without delay. The junior had nodded so hard his chest wobbled. Upon finding Landscape Supervisor Xiang, he thrust the basket into her hands and scurried off. 

Xiang Hua, curious, opened the basket. Inside was a rare orchid she wouldn’t have been able to afford, assuming she could find one for sale. Next to it was an envelope. 

The letter read: 

“Xiao Xiang, I must apologize for my deception. I originally came to inspect the landscaping to see if the environs was worthy of our Third Master. I have not had such a lively conversation with a junior in a very long time. 

Someone with your gifts is wasted here, and should be working in an environment where you can learn and grow. Come and work for Grandpa Huayuan instead. 

Sincerely, 

Huayuan Yuan, Head Gardener, Shen Estate Gardens”

The letter named a salary that was twice what she currently made. It also mentioned that living quarters and meals were provided. Her mother would be able to live there if so desired.

Xiang Hua, a country girl raised on a poor family farm, started to cry. It was a dream come true. 

Chuntian Cao, the lead worker of her construction crew, noticed a young, tiny, pretty woman reading a letter and crying. Taller than most men at 180cm, she lumbered over to see if she could help. Chuntian Cao was a woman of fine tastes and knew a good thing when she saw the Meimei, or Little Sister, in distress. The wet, reddened eyes like a little white rabbit’s rendered Caocao helpless. The callused fingers dusty with a little dirt made Meimei even more of a catch. A hard worker with such pretty features would make for a perfect wife, especially for a plain fisherman’s daughter. She really wanted to give Meimei a hug and eat some tofu, but now was definitely not the time. 

She sidled closer to Meimei and silently offered a hug. “Hey there, Meimei. Why so sad? Some dumbass said goodbye?” She wrapped her arm around a lightly muscled shoulder. She looked down, and noted the delicacy of a collarbone. She dropped her voice. “Does Meimei need someone beaten up?” She rumbled. “I’m good at that.” She didn’t lie. At 90 kilos of muscle from pulling nets then hauling lumber, Chuntian Cao packed a deadly punch. She loved beating the shit out of people who deserved it. Unfortunately, the guys at Shen Construction were well-behaved. She went to bars instead.

Meimei plastered herself against Chuntian Cao in a hug and bawled. It was like an idol drama, only Chuntian Cao was the school grass, and Meimei was the school flower. She resisted eating the tofu, but it was really hard. Chuntian Cao waved at her crew and mouthed at them to go on up. They grinned at her and waved back. Xiao Hu, that fucker, made kissy faces. She wanted to gesture back, but her hands were occupied.

Meimei hiccuped, “I just got the best news in my life and I don’t know what to do!” She held out the letter with a trembling hand.

Chuntian Cao read it. “Old Man Gardener offered you a job? He told you to call him Grandpa? I’d never believed it if I hadn’t seen it!” She gave Meimei a squeeze. No eating the tofu, Caocao. Be good. 

Meimei snuggled up and held on tight. Caocao looked up to the heavens and breathed in deep. She sighed, and bit her lip. It was even better when the tofu ate you. She patted Meimei on the head. “Gonna come and work for us?”

“Mmm?” Meimei looked up, dazed.

“I’m with Shen Construction!” Chuntian Cao said proudly. “I’m the lead worker of my crew. Wanna come up and hang out with us? I’ll introduce ya!”

Meimei pressed close enough that the only way she could get closer was for Chuntian Cao to crack her chest open and spread her ribs wide. For such a sugar-sweet armful, Caocao would be perfectly willing to do so. Would Meimei top? Caocao sincerely hoped so.

“Okay,” Meimei said.

Meimei’s name was Xiang Hua, and she ate and gamed with the crew. The now-eight workers knew this was their last chance at testing the systems, so they were going to do their best. Beer, snacks, fried chicken and barbecue were the order of the day, and a merry time was had by all.

At the end of Caocao’s first date with Xiang Hua, Caocao got pushed down backwards on her own bed. Xiang Hua straddled her hips. Xiang Hua said that Caocao was the Meimei, and Meimeis did what their Jiejies, their Big Sisters, told them to.  

Caocao sighed with happiness. Fucking finally. She was so tired of being a Jiejie. Everyone assumed that a 180cm, 90 kilo, plain-faced girl wanted to be a Jiejie. Caocao had always insisted she wanted to be a spoiled little Meimei instead, but no one believed her.

They got married in the Shen Estate Gardens the following year. Mama Xiang teared with pride, then flew back home to the countryside. Caocao cried with relief that her mother-in-law wasn’t going to live with them. Huajie hummed with pleasure when she made her little Caomei apologize with desperation.

Caomei, with the help of a fertility clinic and amazing health benefits, bore two babies by her Huajie. Mama Xiang cried at being Grandma Xiang. Grandpa Yuan cried at being Great-Grandpa Yuan. The spoiled little Caomei had little ones to spoil in turn. She loved it.

Huajie, now Assistant Head Gardener Xiang, smiled with satisfaction--a tigress overlooking her tigress and their little tiger cubs.

#####

Steward Zhuangyuan gathered the senior staff, and cobbled together a plan of action. The apartment had been upgraded as best they could. The winning crew from Shen Construction had moved everything in. Auntie Wu’s staff had put it to rights. Auntie Chu’s staff had stocked the refrigerator, arranged the utensils, flatware, and glassware. They had made meal plans. 

Master Yuanyuan smashed all the plans to bits. Auntie Wu’s staff were only allowed over once a week. She cried into her handkerchief. Auntie Chu’s staff were only allowed to drop off pre-prepped meals for him to cook himself. And that was only every three days. She sniffled discreetly. Driver Siji was only allowed to send someone when called, and only when called. No hanging around the garage, “just in case.” Driver Siji wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

First Master and Second Master commiserated with Steward Zhuangyuan, but there was nothing they could do. The late Madam Shen had made it very clear to the two that Yuanyuan was to make his own decisions, and they were to butt out. Yuanyuan was smart enough to understand what he was and was not capable of, and they needed to respect his wishes. And that, was that.

Occasionally they forgot, but that was for another time.

Finally, the cherished but astonishingly unspoiled Master Yuanyuan moved in, quite pleased with his cozy abode. Only 360 square meters with four bedrooms! Nice furnishings, but not too grand! Having the latest electronics was okay. He was now a solid member of the middle class!

Shang Qinghua, good friend and sponge extraordinaire, hated to break it to his best friend that his “middle class apartment” was solidly in the upper five percent. Shen Yuan’s face fell. The personal services kicked him up to the upper one percent. Black lines filled Shen Yuan’s face.

Shen Yuan’s plan of having a place near the campus that wouldn’t terrify his students failed utterly. His more privileged students, ready to intimidate “Some guy named Shen Yuan my parents forced me to see,” were intimidated in turn by his exquisite manners and knowledge at such a young age. To the manor born, so to speak. After hearing from their parents that he was one of Those Shens, they meeped instead of roared. 

His underprivileged students, in awe at the surroundings, were even more in awe with this friendly Young Master. Their favorite professor in Classical Chinese had referred them, and they had worried they wouldn’t be good enough. Later, they felt honored to be tutored by the nicest rich person they had ever met, a true genius. He was obviously better off than the snooty rich kids at the university, but he didn’t act like it. He was so cool, he’d invite them to game when their session was over. He was even pretty enough to be the school flower of the entire campus! 

#####

That was then, but now Master Yuanyuan had a houseguest. Would Master Yuanyuan finally come home? Please say yes! 

Steward Zhuangyuan received a call, but it was not the call he wanted. Instead of returning to where he belonged, Master Yuanyuan was going to move into a villa instead. A villa! How horrid! 

[fires-of-ninjago]

Dr. Hybrid - Prologue

Okay, I’ve been working on this for a while. While I did want to post this as a complete chapter, I thought that it might be better to split this part up into a prologue.

Also, @dangerbuffed I’m tagging you because you asked... Enjoy part 1! ;)

Word Count: 1,315

TW: None

PART 01: The Old Office

“Wow, I can’t believe your dad actually used to teach here,” Jay said as they unlocked the old lab door. Zane was excited; he didn’t even know that his father had once been a professor of Electrical Engineering at the Imperial University of Ninjago.

“I know,” Zane replied. “He never mentioned what he did before he moved out to the woods. I wonder why he left?” It was kind of bizarre in a way; Dr. Julian had been a very private person, but Zane thought they knew everything about each other… Zane stepped into the old office; if it weren’t for the thick layer of dust covering everything, Zane could have mistaken the room for still being currently occupied. Then they turned on the light, and saw the mess that the room was in. 

“Huh...I guess your dad wasn’t really all that into organization,” Jay quipped as they looked around. Kai however, didn’t miss a beat with his own observations.

“Yeah, because it totally couldn’t be all of the giant monster battles that nearly destroyed the city multiple times!” Zane had to agree with Kai’s assessment; the university was close to the South Docks of the city; all of the seismic issues stemming from their battles, not to mention the general number of earthquakes this part of the continent experienced were more than enough to wreak havoc with a space like this.

“This is why the University wants us to clear it out; there’s some kind of liquid draining into the labs below.” Zane searched the room for anything that could be the culprit, but everything looked like it was in order.

“What I don’t get is why the school didn’t clear this place out when he left?” Kai asked as he looked at some of the old technical books on one of the shelves.

“According to my scan of the real estate deed, it would appear that Dr. Julian owned this building, and was leasing it to the University,” Pixal replied.

“Wait, what?!” Jay asked as he dropped one of the files he was looking through. Zane didn’t miss a beat as he too pulled a few files from one of the many cabinets.

“Yes, my father held several patents that are still quite lucrative. How do you think I have been able to afford the Bounty’s fuel all these years?” Zane put the file back, after reading through everything in there. All that he found were the answer keys to various tests that his father used to administer.

“So let me get this straight: Your father built an entire building for the University, claimed a floor of an ENTIRE WING for himself, and they just, what? Left, like, a quarter of the building, completely locked-up for 50-odd years?” Kai asked incredulously. The Nindroid understood where he was coming from, but he didn’t really have an answer that he knew his brother would like...Primarily because he didn’t like it either.

“Well, yes,” he began. “The University had no legal authority to break in, and my father was also paying for all of the building utilities. If they had, then, as per their leasing agreement, they stood to forfeit their usage of the rest of the building. Which would have cost the school a large amount of not only money, but prestige.”

“But...this is a public college; they haven’t charged tuition since the Royal Family of Ninjago became the sole sponsors!” Jay said in his own confusion.

“It still costs metric fuck-ton to relocate a bunch of classrooms and equipment to another building, Jay!” Kai chimed in. Zane nodded in agreement as he opened another filing cabinet.

“Wait, how do you know that?” Jay asked.

“Believe me Jay, I know…”

“Kai spent a lot of time looking at colleges with me before he became a ninja,” Nya replied as she checked-over some old computer terminals.

“Nya was doing pretty good in school...really good. But, our system out in Ignacia only went on until you hit the age of 13 or 14, and then you were done.” Jay took a seat as he thumbed through an old text book while he listened, but Zane could see that he didn’t like the possibilities of what could have happened if they’d never met.

“We were looking into a bunch of different programs for me when Sensei showed up.” Zane perked up at the 

“Wait, are you telling us that the only reason you two stuck around was because of me?” Nya chuckled as she leaned against one of the bookshelves in the back.

“We stayed because Lord Garmadon was still a threat,” she started. “And...because Kai knew better than to stand in the way of me making my own choices.”

“Well, I’m glad that both of you decided to stay,” Zane said as he tried to open one of the cabinets on the other side of the room. He struggled with the handle as he rattled the doors.

“What’s going on? Is the door stuck?” Kai asked as he came up beside him. Zane nodded as he let go of the handle.

“I believe that it’s rusted shut,” he said. “Perhaps you can use your fire to help loosen the lock?” Kai frowned as he grabbed the handle and gave it a quick jiggle to test it’s range.

“It’s pretty bad,” he said. “I can try, but we might still have to destroy the door.” Zane gave him an understanding nod as he stepped back. Kai grabbed the handle and began heating it up slowly. Zane could see the rising temperature from his thermal vision, but the handles didn’t appear to be budging. Just as he thought that Kai was about to give up, a loud ‘CRACK’ sounded from the other side of the door.

“Hey-hey, I think I got it!” He said triumphantly as he twisted the handle down freely. Kai pulled the cabinet doors open quickly to see what was inside.

“Well, what’s in there?” Nya asked as she and the others stepped over to see what they were looking at. They heard her gasp in surprise as she saw the interior. The back wall of the cabinet had been removed, and instead of containing files or old experiments, its doors hid an extra entrance to a whole other room.

“I think we found where that leak’s coming from,” Kai said as he took a step into the hidden room. Almost in a trance, Zane followed him inside; taking in the number of glass water tanks, and computers that lined them.

“What is this place?” Pixal asked as she picked up an old clipboard. Zane touched the glass pane of one of the empty tanks closest to the door; looking it up and down. Somewhere deep inside his mind, he started having flashes- Little blips and images of being inside of one of these tanks. After a couple of moments of silence, Zane finally responded.

“I think,” he began; “I think this is the lab where my father created me.” Zane stared at his own reflection in the glass, trying so hard to dredge more of those memories to the surface.

“Uh, guys? I don’t think we’re alone in here…” Jay said from further down the line of tanks. Zane shook himself out of his riviera to see what he was talking about.

“What do you mean? What’s-HOLY CRAP!!!” Kai yelped as he reached the tank Jay was staring at. Zane ran up to see what they were talking about, but nothing prepared him for what it was. He looked into the tank to see his own face staring back at him. Except...much much younger. Looking down the rest of the line, he could see that there were other versions of him in most of the tanks...along with a tag at the very top with read: ‘CLONE STATUES: DECEASED’.