#she only cares about gossip and small talk and literally once said our purpose in her life was to take her mind off of things and she didnt

[lovsome]

friends arent supposed to make u feel like garbage

[stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland]

🙂 - ɟ

Hiii babies and dear Anons 👋🏼🤗 Here’s another post with the answers to the asks Mari sent me. Enjoy 🙃

 Hi @sawwyouuinadream 👋🏼😄 I’ve already talked about how C exaggerated for the sake of the songs in my ‘💭- ɟ’ post (8th question) [click on the #f anon of this post to see all my others]. As for the rest, you need to understand the difference between our normal life and theirs, especially when they were in the group. You can’t compare your life and what you would do with your girlfriend in their place simply because they’re completely different things. Any parent of famous artists who gets the chance to spend time with their child when they can, seizes the opportunity. I saw it with 5H, I saw it and keep seeing it with Ari, I saw it in Taylor’s documentary, and many others. But not all artists have this luck.

5H were far from home, always around the world, without parents most of the time, and with fans who recognized them. Unlike the other parents who didn’t always have the opportunity to be with them because of work, the most present were Sinu, papa H (Jerry, Ally’s dad), and mama Dre (Andrea, Normani’s mom; as much as Sinu and continued as Sinu even after the hiatus). The only difference is that Camila suffers from depression and variants of OCD (diagnosed in 2015) and for these reasons, Sinu has always tried to be as present as possible. She only became a regular presence after C’s explosion in early September 2016. And, honestly? I don’t know where Camila would be without her mom. I don’t think she could have gotten through most of the things. I don’t think she would be in the industry anymore.

Now, I’d like to remind you of something else: we only see 5/10% of their lives. And that 5/10%, is ONLY what they want to show. You said that Sinu always accompanied C on dates? That’s not true. We saw Sinu with them a couple of times when they went shopping, once for dinner at Katsuya’s, and once at the beach in Australia. And these are literally only five times in what, four years that C was in 5H? Do you really think those were their only dates? Or that those can even be called dates and not just spending time with the mother-in-law? Come on. Try to look at it differently. Try to look at it from a broader perspective. Try to look at the big picture.

I send you a hug 🤗

 No, dear Anon. Lauren was together with Camila. That whole conversation was based on Camila teasing Lauren. That episode was another confirmation for me regarding their first kiss. Lauren answering “Kind of” because Camila literally nearly passed out from nervousness is one of the things that amuses me the most.

Oh and, dear Anon? Bread Simplified, aka I don’t know what lips are, was just another one of her PRs. I don’t know how this is still something to doubt about. 75/80% of all Hollywood couples are fake, and as I said earlier, we only see 5/10% of what they want to show us about their lives. I’ve said this before and will write it again: “Any PR relationship involving Camren is simply this: fake, and for publicity and narrative purposes”. Real relationships, dear Anon, are not public ones. They’re the ones we don’t see.

 I’m still a little bit confused about your ask actually if I have to be honest, dear Anon. I’ll answer based on what I understood.

None of the five of them are with Syco Music anymore because it has integrated with Sony Music Entertainment and therefore doesn’t exist anymore.

Only Camila and Lauren are with Syco Entertainment simply because only the two of them were asked to sign. Simon never cared about the group per se. He wanted Lauren and Camila from the start and he got them. He created an opportunity to prepare them for that world and for their eventual solo careers. How? By creating 5H. By creating three products (C, L, and 5H) at once that would make him money.

 Because, dear Anon, as twisted as it sounds, it’s part of their publicity. I’ll explain myself better. Camren sells. From the beginning. A large part of the 5H fans became their fans BECAUSE of Camren. The labels still use them when needed. For labels, it’s okay to get people talking. It’s okay to get them to speculate, take their name out there, create buzz, create gossip, everything’s okay, EXCEPT confirming it. The important thing is the publicity. The important thing is to sell what they want to sell, and many times, they use Camren to do it. And it works. It works EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Plus, I think both C&L also had fun doing it to “keep the boat afloat”. More in the past than now tho.

I know about the rest of the pictures because it was said a while back by a guy who said he was yet another ‘insider’, dear Anon. This guy even published an email that was supposed to be from 2017 from TMZ to Roger in which they were supposed to have a meeting to discuss the extension of the agreement made not to publish the dossier. It’s actually old news, and it indeed seems strange to me that you’re only finding out now 🙃 Has anyone ever talked about it here on Tumblr?

But anyway. That he was an insider, I have my serious doubts. That the email picture was specially created, perhaps by him himself, I’m sure of it because it looks more fake than a plastic flower. That TMZ actually has a dossier on them, is very likely because this is another one of the many ways paparazzi agencies make money.

Dear Anon, I guess this ask of yours is due to your reading of my last post. If you’ve read it, then you have also read the sentence that I will now copy: “Everyone’s ready to point the finger when they don’t even know what is really going on behind the scenes”. You’re doing the same thing. You’re doing the same thing because all I see here is Roger did this and Roger did that, but you don’t know that. You don’t know why he did certain things. You don’t know why he didn’t do certain things. You don’t know why he handled some things in one way and some things in another. You know nothing, yet you’re pointing the finger.

I understand that you’re speaking based on what you see, believe me, I understand, but you’re judging without knowing. We know this PR is for Skittles, so what do you know if the deals made were exactly for Roger to promote him more? What do you know if the deals made were exactly for Roger to do or not do certain things? And more importantly, what do you know that Roger no longer has Camila’s best interests at heart? Just because of this show? Come on!

I’ll try to be clearer this time because I’ve noticed that many, like you, didn’t get the big picture of my last post. The labels decide everything. Camila can choose certain things, propose ideas, and be more liberally creative, but she doesn’t have the last word. If Camila comes up with the idea for a video she wants to make, but the labels don’t like it, then she can’t make that video. If Camila wants to perform a song in a certain way, but the labels don’t approve of a thing, then Camila has to change that thing in order to perform it. If the labels say no, then it’s no. Periodt.

Camila accepted the PR. COVID has changed things. She couldn’t expect such a thing. Hell, none of us could have expected a worldwide pandemic. But things turned out this way, and now she’s miserable. The choice she had initially made has backfired on her, and there’s nothing she can do to change that because it’s a legally binding contract. Neither she nor Roger, whom I remind you is also an attorney, can do anything about it.

I made this little scene for you. I hope that with this, you’ll see things a little more clearly.

*During the meeting*

“And that’s the idea” Roger says as Simon continues to look at the various set designs and documents by nodding

“So.. what do you think?” Camila asks anxiously and with a small hopeful smile

“I think we only need to change a couple of things, but for the rest, everything’s fine” Simon replies

“Really?” Camila asks excitedly

“Yes, really” Simon replies with a chuckle due to her enthusiasm “Good job, Camilla”

“Yay!” Camila cheers towards Roger. She’s too happy to care about the cringe due to the mispronunciation of her name. She’s used to hearing him call her that for years now.

“What are the changes you were referring to?” Roger asks him

“Oh, you know, this and this” Simon replies, turning the set designs towards them “It’s a little too…”   “Gay?” Camila asks with a laugh, finishing his sentence

“We knew, but she wanted to try anyway” Roger says, indicating Camila with his palm “So, by changing those two things, we’re ready to go? We’re gonna shoot the video in a week”

“Yes, I approve. Everything’s all right” Simon says, handing the set designs back

“Thanks, Simon” Camila says, getting up together with Roger ready to leave the room

“Oh and, Camilla? Remember what we talked about” Simon tells her as soon as she gets to the door

“But-”   “Remember what we agreed on” Simon says, interrupting her

With a sigh, Camila nods and turns to look at Roger who smiles at her sympathetically. With another sigh, this time of acceptance and determination, Camila positions herself behind Roger, who’s bending his knees to get down and is bringing his torso forward.

“Um.. what exactly are you two doing?” Simon asks, confused and curious at the same time

“When you tell me to jump, I ask you ‘how high?’, right?” Camila answers him as she climbs on Roger’s back

Simon nods with an even more puzzled expression.

“I’m helping her jump from higher” Roger explains to him

*the end*

This is just a silly example, but I hope it helped you understand the dynamics better. I also copied and pasted another piece of my previous post as a reminder: “If Roger does certain things that you may not like at first glance, before accusing him, please wait. Wait till you see why he’s doing what he’s doing, and then if you really don’t like it, then point the finger. But if you have to do it for no good reason, then don’t. You’d only going to look worse after. Same thing for Camila. They have a reason for doing what they do, so just wait before speaking and judging.”

Have a great day too, dear 😊

 I don’t think you’re gonna like my analysis, dear Anon, but you asked for it, so here it is.

I’d like to start by saying that Thinkin’ Bout One is a half-demo. It’s not a completed song and it’s from ‘The Hurting. The Healing. The Loving.’ era, so even before the album title changed to ‘Camila’. I’m talking about the very beginning. When Havana wasn’t even remotely ready to be complete, or recorded if that’s why. When I Have Questions had just been recorded or was about to be recorded. I’m talking about the end of 2016.

The demo is pretty messed up because there is no intro, verses, pre-chorus, chorus, etc., like in a normal song. The quality and the way the demo is structured reminds me a lot of the GarageBand Camila times. To be honest, I think that’s how it was recorded. I think Camila created the demo on her own and then she abandoned it once she started recording other songs that would adapt and fit in the true direction of the album.

The reason I said I don’t think you’re gonna like my analysis is because this song, it’s not about Lauren. I have reason to think this song is for someone else, but without dwelling on that, I’ll explain why in my opinion it’s not about Lauren through my interpretation.

“Where you at

Come baby show me where you at

Finally got time off work

Tryina disappear off the map with ya

What’s love gotta do with it

This my vacation time

Bathin suits and tan line

Thirst trap for your timeline”

Camila is asking this somebody where they are. Camila was still working with Lauren in 2016. She knew where Lauren was because she was with her, this somebody wasn’t. She’s asking them to meet and spend those days she had free together. She’s asking them to go together to a place where they could be off the radar. A place with a warm climate. And she’s not asking them to see it as a romantic getaway, but just as a vacation. Love was the last of her thoughts given what she was going through with Lauren that year.

“Num num num num num

Pass the henny not the rum

I go num num num num num

If I decide to give you sum

Talkin talkin talkin

All this time that we been rockin

Hey”

“Sip a lil this

Sip a little that

Now this ain’t nothin but a fact

I need you come and take control”

This vacation that Camila proposes also included alcohol and other activities, if you know what I mean. I’ll explain the slang she uses here to indicate those two very things.

In case you didn’t know, num is the slang for making out. Henny is the slang for Hennessy, which is a brand of cognac. It’s used a lot together with coke for a simple two-ingredient cocktail, and indeed, Camila specifies that she prefers henny over rum (rum and coke) in her simple two-ingredient cocktail. Sum is the slang for some. Now that you know, I believe you can put the pieces together and better understand the puns she used here.

And that’s all. There’s nothing about Lauren for me. There’s nothing deep about it. Just another distraction. And for me, for my timeline, this event happened during the 7/27 tour break. The break that lasted from July 6 to 26 before starting the North American part.

Hello to you too dear Anon 😄 No, I personally don’t think those scenes represent her experiences exactly as they happened. I think she and Dave (Meyers) represented her experience in a cinematic and straight way, but with symbols that represented Lauren.

For example, the fact that Dylan plays the piano is to represent an artist, aka music, aka Lauren. The flower on the back of his shirt in the kiss scene: Lauren. The book’s scene you mentioned? The scene is represented in winter with snow, yet in her memory, they’re both represented dressed in a light way, aka ‘In Miami, where winters are hot’ (Sangria Wine’s verse 2) [or even in L.A. since the winter climate is much more similar to the spring one]. They both like to read, so the book was a perfect clue. Alcohol and fights were represented in a much stronger way than I think they happened in reality because we all know that Lauren is not a violent person. The moon? There’s not even the need to explain it. Oh and, the fact that she’s holding hands with herself at the end of the video is also a representation of what we saw in the Havana music video. The “I do love you. But I love me more” that we saw there. With that scene at the end of the Consequences music video, Camila shows us that she has finally managed to love herself.

So dear Anon, to me, that video is just an artistic representation of how things went. And thanks. I hadn’t watched that video in a long time, but I went to re-watch it for you, so thank you, dear 🥰

🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍

Aaand I’m done 😄 I hope I was helpful in this case too. As always, I’m available for those who have questions, so feel free to ask 😊 Thanks once again to you for asking me and Mari for making this exchange possible 😍

As usual, remember to be kind, to others and to yourself. Be a good example. Be patient. Be safe and take care of yourselves. I send you virtual love and hugs 🤗🤗🤗 I love you, babies. Always with love, F ❤️

___

This was awesome, thanks again F. BTW, the marks on the asks is a small detail I couldn’t erase but you can read them anyway, so sorry bout that.

[the-modernmary]

For my pals who have read my best habit on ao3 and wattpad: Writing these last chapters has been so much fun, and I love hearing all of your reactions to what’s gone down.

I also really love tugging at your heartstrings, and I kind of want to do it some more, so here are some things that you may not have caught/noticed in chapters 19 & 20!!

(this post is also known as “i’m too far removed from academia and i’ve spent way too much money on a creative writing degree to not analyze my own work”)

This is... long as shit. Like SO STUPID LONG. I had too much fun with it.

If you’re only reading the story on Tumblr, this post has so many spoilers!

1: The Heatwave

It is one long motif!!! I love a good motif. If you remember back in chapter 13, the narration says: “Nothing good comes out of a D.C. heatwave.” I warned y’all that they were going to break up. And the heatwave was introduced the chapter right after Aaron and the reader talk about those two missing years and that she was tracking dead agents.

It’s supposed to show the rising tension and turmoil in their relationship. Rossi even says “Can’t take the heat?” when asking Hotch if he was ever going to be honest about his feelings. You’ll notice that most of the time, when something tense happens, I write in something about it being hot or they’re sweating. And the reader is spending all of her time in Hotch’s apartment because is AC is a “safe haven from the heat”. 

So when they get in their big fight, the power goes out. There is no more AC, no more safe haven. They can’t hide from their internal battles and it all boils over, literally and figuratively. As soon as the reader says that she’s leaving, the power comes on.

(Honestly, I was just really proud of this one.)

2. Parallels between the fight and their first meeting

When she and Hotch first meet, she asked him about a case he prosecuted on. The girl in the case was released from prison, went on to murder multiple other people, and only then was given a life sentence.

“Yeah Sarah,” you might be saying. “It’s reflective of her father’s storyline! We know that!”

Yes, AND!!

When she called him out on that, he essentially said that the first arrest assured that she would give a life sentence for the second crime and that “It all worked out.”

Her response? “You couldn’t have predicted that... I think you just felt bad for her.” She called him out for making a shitty decision on a case, and then immediately went into a dramatic assumption.

In their big breakup fight, when talking about Foyet, Aaron said “I knew you were safe.”

Her response? “Bullshit. You couldn’t have known that. I think that’s just a lucky excuse.” That was on purpose. She’s once again calling him out for a shitty decision, and then goes straight into a dramatic assumption.

3. The sonnets that Hotch is reading in the flashback

The two sonnets I chose were Sonnet 138 and Sonnet 102 (in that order), and they were chosen very specifically for this story.

Sonnet 138 is about Shakespeare’s relationship with a younger women, and how they are both lying to each other, yet they stay with each other because they’re comfortable. It’s very reminiscent to the beginning of their relationship, pre-Foyet, where it was pretty much only physical.

(the women in the sonnet is actually cheating on shakespeare but we’re taking a more abstract approach to it for the sake of the story)

Also, Thomas Gibson recited it in a cameo, and I have not stopped thinking about it sense. Something about reciting Shakespeare really gets me going... 

Sonnet 102 is one of my favorites and it’s been in my mind since the beginning of this story. Essentially, it’s Shakespeare saying "don't think I don't love you because I'm not saying it all the time. Love becomes a commodity when it is professed so openly and often. I don't want to cheapen what we have". 

Which, you know... yeah. There are multiple times in the story where our couple has basically said that words weren’t needed to know how the other one felt.

4. More parallels!!!

This one is much smaller, but felt important. 

In chapter 14, the reader is talking to her best friend Aly right before she professes her love to Aaron, and she says: “Aaron has never, ever made me feel small.”

During the big fight, right after the reader essentially tells Aaron that she thinks that he wished she had died instead of Haley, the narration says: “Now it was his turn to walk you backward, towering over you and making you feel small.”

In case you can’t tell, I love a good parallel.

There a lot of other, less important ones, like the team were both at the BAU and gossiping about Hotch when they found out about the relationship and the breakup.

Also, pretty much any time either of them say anything about "wanting” to/about each other (ex: “I don’t want anything to do with you anymore” and “I was never what he wanted”), it’s totally on purpose and referencing Hotch’s whole “What I want, I’m not going to get” schtick from season 3 of the show. It’s how they express love and it’s how they hurt each other. 

5. Scott is more than a piece of shit

(Although he’s absolutely a piece of shit, and he gets worse)

He’s the antithesis to Hotch. In fact, he’s all the things that Hotch and the reader could have been if Hotch was a bad person In regards to the reader, if they didn’t respect each other, etc. It’s important to me to show that Hotch and the reader’s relationship has a foundation, and it’s not this unhealthy power dynamic that is really easy to fall into when writing about relationships with age gaps, especially when those relationships play around with power dynamics in the bedroom.

(Not to say that there isn’t a time or a place for those types of stories! Those are some of my favorite relationships to read/write about. I just didn’t want this particular relationship to have that subtext. I really wanted to emphasize that they’re equals in each other’s eyes.)

Hotch and Scott have a lot of parallels: older, influential, help guide her through her career, etc. AND they both pull the whole “whatever you want” for her, albeit in slightly different ways.

Hotch admires her, though, and is seen to continuously support her. Despite the power imbalance on paper, they very much see each other as equals. He does things for her because he wants to, and he doesn’t expect anything in return. It’s a relationship based on mutual respect and care and a deep understanding of the other one.

Scott is... not like that. At all. And that will become even more apparent in the next few chapters. But I wanted to point it their parallels and differences now. Just so it’s on your radar.

~~~~~~~

ANYWAY, those are the big things I wanted to point out!! There’s tons more within the other chapters, but I wanted to focus on these last two. If you got this far, thank you for reading all of my rambles!! I really enjoy doing this kind of stuff, for my own stories and for other people’s.

(if anybody ever wants to talk in depth about their story, please hit me up because i live for this shit).

Thank you for reading!!! 💖💖💖

Tagging @astonsvettel at their request!

[dessiekarma]

My Harem is Entirely Bad Boy Types (Kirisaki Daiichi x Reader) Pt. 8

Chapter 8: I Never Imagined My First Love Confession Would Go Down This Way

(Y/N)’s eyes fluttered open and a blinding white light consumed her senses. The sterile smell of hospital was all around her and she knew exactly how she got there.

 As her eyes finally focused, she was very aware of the person seemingly sleeping at her side. Short black hair looked a mess and a pale hand was clutching her bed sheets desperately. Without thinking the girl put all her effort into lifting her arm to place it gently atop the tired person’s head.

Immediately the person shot up to reveal Ms. Hanamiya’s tired and now relieved face. The tears came to the older woman’s eyes and down her cheeks instantly. Within seconds her captain’s mom was running her fingers through the girl’s hair and fussing over her the way a mother would.

 “What’s hurting you dear? Do you need anything? Can I get you something?”

 “No…my head hurts but I’m fine.” (Y/N) said trying to sit up only to sway back down.

 “No no no, don’t do that. You’ve had a concussion; you shouldn’t be exerting any energy.”

 “A concussion? Did I hit myself on the steps that badly?” (Y/N) mused more to herself than to her. Finally adjusted, there really was pain all over her body and looking down she noticed a thin cast on her arm.

 Reaching up she could feel a small bald patch on the left side of her head along with a tender row of stitches. Touching around her face she thankfully didn’t feel any lacerations there, but the sore areas made her wonder if she was bruised.

 “It’s not true is it?”

 (Y/N) turned to the desperate woman’s voice and tried to make sense of her words.

 “Huh?”

 “I know it’s what everyone is saying and thinking. The police talked to the neighbors in our apartment complex and they said they heard him screaming at you and threatening you. I know he was mad but I didn’t think…I don’t think. Makoto didn’t push you down those stairs.”

 What had started as a question very clearly turned into a statement. Mrs. Hanamiya knew deep down what had happened. And with no hesitation (Y/N) shook her head, causing her mind to spin at the movement.

 “No, he didn’t. It was an accident…he wanted to go and get you, but I held onto him. I wouldn’t let go even though he was telling me over and over again. He never pushed me, in fact he was pulling away from me and then I lost my balance. He never put a hand on me.”

 “I knew it. I knew my baby wouldn’t do that to someone like you. Someone he actually gives a shit about. But I don’t understand why…”

 “Why what?”

 “Why he’s admitting to it.”

 “He’s what? Where is he?”

 “He’s in the room next door, he sprained his ankle running to get me so we could call the ambulance. The police are asking more questions, trying to figure if it was a domestic spat and if you want to press charges.”

 “Well I don’t! He didn’t do anything wrong, I don’t know why he’s saying he did! I need to talk with the police.”

 “No dear, please you can’t be out of bed right now. Let me tell them you’re awake and that you wish to speak with them. I’ll send the boys in to keep you company.”

 The short woman got up and opened the door revealing a row of worried KiriDai boys sitting out in the hall. They looked up instantly and their eyes went straight to their now upright manager. Without a word they rushed in and allowed the woman to close the door behind her.

 “What the hell happened?” Seto asked looking like he was trying to find someone to blame, either Hanamiya or even (Y/N) herself.

 “I told you we needed to go after her sooner! We waited too long and she wouldn’t have run off so recklessly, if Hara hadn’t been an insensitive prick.”

 “Don’t blame me for shit you stupid fu-”

 “Guys it was my fault. I was the one who pushed him away from me and I was the one who wouldn’t let go until he had to shake me off. But never once did he actually try to hurt me.”

 “Well that’s not what he’s saying in there.” Furuhashi stated, taking a cautious seat on the edge of her hospital bed.  “He’s saying you pissed him off so he pushed you down the stairs.”

 “He’s also saying he’s strangled, intimidated, and grabbed you out of anger.”

 “Which are all not completely untrue.” Seto added under his breath.

 “But you know it wasn’t like that! He has never purposely hurt me. I was the one that wouldn’t leave him alone!”

 “My my don’t we sound like the battered housewife.”

 The teens turned towards the sound of the smooth voice only to find a stern looking woman standing in the doorway. She appeared to eye (Y/N) up and down before letting out a sigh. The boys were not ignorant to the fact that their manager was now sitting more stiffly and trying hard to avert her eyes from the cold woman.

 “So whats the damage? Broken arm, bruised rib cage, a laceration to the head and a concussion to boot. Don’t tell me you’re even more stupid than anticipated and pregnant with an abusive man’s child as well?”

 The woman knew it was a low blow, considering everything. (Y/N) looked ready to cry and Seto took a step forward.

 “Who the hell are you? I think this is the last thing (Y/N) needs right now.”

 “Well the hospital called me so naturally I had to show up. I am (Y/N)’s guardian while she is living here in Japan. Now if you don’t mind, I need you to step out of the room while I speak with her.”

 “We aren’t going anywhere.” Furuhashi said firmly, unconsciously taking (Y/N) hand into his own.

 “Oh so is this the one? Ahh so not only are you playing the abused girlfriend but also the mistress. Furuhashi Kojiro, the tech heir, whose parents have been gushing about your recent engagement. To think you’d be so openly defiant.”

 “He’s not the one who did this to me, not my boyfriend and the man who did do it…it really was an accident. I’m perfectly okay, and nobody worth worrying about know so what more do you want? Whatever you want to talk to me about you can talk to me in front of my team.”

 “Very well. I figured I’d spare you but if you insist. I came to tell you to get it together. I thought you were tired of trying to get mommy and daddy’s attention. I came to ensure that you weren’t going to press any charges or make this into a big deal than it need be, regardless of whose attention you’re after.”

 “Listen I didn’t-”

 “You listen. I thought you grew out of this phase and were beginning to see the importance of presenting a good image. I thought you were understanding why you were brought to Japan in the first place. I know you think that dating the bad boy and surrounding yourself with those types is fun and thrilling. Maybe you even think you can change them. But a bad boy needs a good girl and you can’t give them that.”

 (Y/N)’s defiant face didn’t waver a bit, but a tear ran down her cheek.

 “Do any of them even know about you? About your little hobby? About your a-”

 “Did you call my father?” (Y/N) cut the woman off only for her to shake her head and check the time on her watch.

 “And what, pray tell, would that accomplish? You think he’s going to run down here at the drop of a hat just because you got banged up by the boy you’re banging? He’s a busy man after all.”

 “I want to see him. If you don’t call him I will.”

 “Go ahead. You really want to be a burden to your father?”

 (Y/N)’s eyes glossed over and turned away from the woman she went into a thousand-yard stare.

 “Well that takes care of that. Here” The woman said tossing a small envelope in the girl’s lap. “That woman with the ghastly eyebrows is the boy’s mother, yes? Ensure she gets the money to cover any expenses your little situation has caused.”

 With that the woman walked out leaving (Y/N) now free to cry and her team with a million unanswered questions.

 “What the hell was that all about?!” Hara suddenly blew up. “Yeah we know the situation but she doesn’t, so where the hell does she get off telling you not to press charges and giving your potential abuser money?!”

 “That’s just the way she’s always been, trying to save face.” (Y/N) shook her head, wiping the tears from her eyes.

 “She’s always treated you like this and your parents are just okay with that?” Yamazaki asked looking pretty steamed as well.

 “It’s either stay with her or move back home. I’ve wanted to in the past…but now I’m in too deep to quit everything now.”

 “What did she mean about you not being a good girl? About your hobby?” Furuhashi asked, still holding onto the girl’s hand.

 “I guess the reason I’ve always been able to see the good in you guys despite what people told me…is because I wasn’t always a good person either. I’d just leave it at that.”

~~~~~

 “Are you sure you’re okay?” Yamazaki asked (Y/N) as she took her seat in class. (Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle at her overly concerned friend.

 “I’m fine Zaki, my arm is broken not my leg.”

 “Yeah and besides what sense did it make for you to walk her when she and I literally have the same class?” Hara asked throwing himself down in his own seat.

 “You’re too easily distracted! A hot girl could have walked by and bam (Y/N) would be left on her own.

 “Oh bite me.”

 “Well I heard she cheated on him with one of his teammates but shes always hanging around with all of them that it was hard to tell which one she’s dating.” Hara picked up the sound of whispered girl’s gossiping, while Yamazaki continued fussing over (Y/N).

 “But still she didn’t deserve to get beaten that badly.”

 “She knew what she signed up for dating those types. Its her own fault for making poor choices.”

 Hara turned his body in his seat to face the girls who continued giggling and gossiping. Running a hand through his hair he knew instantly that they were talking about (Y/N) by the way they kept glancing at her.

 “Hey Yuna.” His voice flowed out causing the girl’s eyes to widen in surprise. She seemed to look around her as if to be sure he was speaking to her, when she realized he was she smiled brightly.

 “Umm hey Hara, we haven’t talked in awhile huh? Weirdly enough since we have the same class.” Her voice chirped out dripping with the slightest bit of resentment.

 “Yeah funny enough I was just thinking about you last night.”

 “You were?” The girl asked suddenly glowing a neon red.

 “Yeah, I was cleaning out my room and found your bra. I mean at least I figured its yours since its kinda small.”

 You could practically hear the record scratching sound in the room for the several people who heard that comment. Yuna’s face grew even redder but this time out of anger.

 “Y-you’re such an asshole! It wasn’t enough that you never called me back but you have to rub it in now too!?”

 “Hey I was honest from the start about what I wanted and you said you were okay with it. Maybe don’t make such poor choices next time.”

 “So that’s what its about? Defending that bitch!”

 (Y/N) finally turned around, along with the rest of the class to look on at the girl’s outburst.

 “You love bragging about your body count, d’you know hers is probably double?!”

 “Shut up Yuna.” Yamazaki said casting a harsh glare. “Whatever Mei has been telling you is-”

 “Mei?! Mei doesn’t have to tell me anything! Everyone knows the truth! We all know why she transferred to this school and her middle school reputation. She wanted to pretend like she was some innocent little otaku when now we all know she’s a slut! So, I’m glad Hanamiya finally got the sense to beat the shit out of her.”

 “That’s enough!” (Y/N) said slamming her good arm onto the table. She marched over to the girl and watched her slightly drift back in her seat. “I can handle all these bullshit rumours about me, but if you think you can sit there and slander my captain, my friend and speak of a situation you have no idea on…then I hope you can run those hands as fast as your mouth!”

 “Ms. (L/N)!” A teacher’s voice called out, having walked in on time to hear her threat. “Mr. Yamazaki you are not in this class so I recommend you make your way to where you belong.”

 The red head nodded and made his way out but not before giving (Y/N) a reassuring rub on the head.

 He knew deep down Hanamiya was right all those months ago. It was his fault that Mei was messing with (Y/N) and now these rumours were getting out of control.

 It was time to admit to himself that he originally did flaunt (Y/N) and his attraction to her in front of his ex. He wanted to see her hurt the way she hurt him. But the more his feelings for (Y/N) actually grew the less he cared about what Mei thought and the more he realized how much his selfish actions had hurt the girl he grew to care about.

~~~~~

 “You can’t be fucking serious?” Hara asked staring at his captain, still in school uniform.

 The rest of the team in their jerseys, stared at Hanamiya with just as much intensity. All but (Y/N), who couldn’t tear her eyes away from the floor.

 “This is fucking ridiculous! You think just because of some bullshit mistake you can just throw everything away!? We have interhigh and winter cup! This is our last chance to make it and you decide that you’re quitting on us?” Yamazaki exclaimed but Hanamiya’s face didn’t falter.

 “I don’t think you’ve thought this through. Your mother told me you’re here on a sports scholarship, so what exactly do you think will happen when you quit?” Seto asked trying to bring some logic to the situation.

 “I will lose my scholarship and be forced to pay the remainder of my tuition out of pocket. Though it would seem the money given to my mother by (Y/N)’s guardian is more than enough to cover it.”

 “Why are you deciding this? What is it going to solve?” Furuhashi asked knowing the vague reason why but not understanding what good it would do.

 “I can’t seem to control myself around her. She makes me feel too many things and that makes me want to hurt her.”

 (Y/N) stiffened, not at Hanamiya’s words but at him speaking of her as if she wasn’t there.

 “That doesn’t make sense!” Hara lashed out. “She makes me feel things and I have never wanted to hurt her, and you don’t either! You hate that you hurt her. She asks hard questions, she tells us shit other people are too afraid to, of course you’re going to feel something. And yeah sometimes its gonna make you mad but she’s not a bad person!”

 “I know she’s not.” Hanamiya said finally looking at the girl though she stayed turned away from his gaze. “She is probably the kindest person who has ever tried to be my friend and I hurt her anyway. If I can do that then I’ve become exactly what I thought I would. So I’m not gonna let it get to that, to have to force her to escape from me. I messed up so I need to remove myself from the situation.”

 “This isn’t just about you and her!” Furuhashi called out with some emotion in his voice now. “What about us?! What about basketball?”

 “We need a captain. This is your team.” Seto murmured running a hand through his hair.

 “You can have it. You be the captain, you take the team.”

 “What if I don’t want it? It’s your team that YOU built! None of us had anything to do with it! None of us care about basketball as much as you do! You’ve built this team up from nothing!”

 “It’s still nothing! All of it is just bullshit! It was built on what?! My lies, injuries and mind games!? If you don’t want it then give it to Hara and if none of you want it…then the Kirisaki Daiichi basketball team is officially disbanded after today!”

 The gym had gone whisper quiet. And it was with reason it did as her voice wouldn’t have been heard otherwise.

 “I’ll go.” (Y/N)’s shakey voice wavered out, tears finally coming from her eyes and hitting the top of her hand.

 “What?” Hanamiya asked, sneering, jumping back as the girl suddenly came at him only to throw her arms around his torso and press her face into his chest. Her tears were soaking through the layers of his clothes.

 “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Don’t go! It wasn’t your mistake it was mine. Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go!”

 “(Y/N), stop.” Yamazaki said, trying to usher the girl away.

 “No! You told me basketball is the only thing that makes you happy! Don’t let me take that from you! You stay and I’ll go! I promise you’ll never see me around your gym again! I…I’ll move back to Touou!”

 “Didn’t you listen to anything I just said!? You’re not running away from me! You hated Touou! I’m not letting you be the one to keep losing! You did it with Imayoshi and you’re doing it with me to! Stop apologizing to people that are hurting you!”

 “No please. Please just stay…I’ll stay away from you. I won’t speak to you or hang around you anymore than I need to! I promise. Don’t let me ruin…everything.”

 “Hanamiya you can’t quit! You told me this was what you wanted to do for life! You wanted to play college basketball and move to America!” Yamazaki interjected. “Seniors get scouted now, how the hell do you achieve your dreams without us?”

 “I guess I do something else. Life doesn’t work perfectly but you work around it.” Hanamiya deadpanned before taking a step away from the girl still clutching him. “Please get off me. The team doesn’t have to fall apart. I recommend you don’t let it.”

 With that the dark haired male made his way out the gym, leaving behind 4 stunned boys and a still weeping girl.

 “It’s all my fault.” (Y/N) mumbled to herself over and over again.

 None of the team truly believed that.

 But none of them believed denying it would help either.

~~~~~

 “Wanna shoot some hoops with me?” Yamazaki asked, running his fingers through (Y/N) hair as her head lie in his lap.

 He’d been with her as often as he could have these past few days. They walked home together and sometimes though her words never said it, the desperate way she clung to his shirt let him know she didn’t want him to leave. Those nights he would stay with her as long as she needed, even if it was all night.

 “No.”

 “Wanna get some food or-?”

 “Uh uh.”

 “Stop fuckin babying her!” Hara exclaimed slapping Yamazaki’s hands away from her head. “Look I hate to say it…but things aren’t changing, and she needs to start getting over it.”

 “That’s a douchebag thing to say!” The orange haired male exclaimed, only for (Y/N) to push out of his embrace.

 “He’s right Zaki. I guess I hoped that holding onto guilt and feeling bad for myself would somehow make him come back…but it’s been a week.”

 “Exactly and despite what we said, if we wanna keep this team an actual team we can’t start slacking off so close to the competition.” Seto said with a firm voice.

 With Hanamiya leaving, it had only made sense to have the replacement captain as the second smartest guy on the team. Dirty tactics or not, they were a team known for their strategies and analytics. Seto could definitely provide them with what they knew they would be lacking.

 “So, are we finally having practice today?” Furuhashi asked, not being happy with the distraction of practicing being absent the past few days. “Also did you finally inform Matsumoto on what was happening?”

 “Maybe and yes I did. He suspected Hanamiya was no longer a part of the team judging by the fact that he doesn’t sit with us for lunch anymore.”

 “Wait why the maybe on practice?” (Y/N) asked trying to keep her concern on the matter at hand and not dwell on that lunchroom situation.

 “Well it would seem that most of our balls have lost air from the second string continuing to practice with them…and I have no clue where Hanamiya kept the basketball supplies to find an air pump.”

 “Shouldn’t you know where that is? You’re our manager, so manage this.” Hara casted his eyes on (Y/N).

 “I know where it is but its that small supply closet in the locker room…which has a key…which Hanamiya has. I don’t know where to get another copy.” The girl admitted timidly.

 “Huh that’s a tough one.” Yamazaki commented, deep in thought.

 “Then get another pump.” Furuhashi scoffed with squinted eyes looking baffled that his team is could really be this incompetent.

 “Yeah they aren’t that expensive or anything. I can give you guys the card I use for club expenses and you can go to the-”

 “Woah woah YOU GUYS could go?” Hara asked unknowingly lifting a brow at the girl. “You mean WE could go. Are you a part of this team anymore or not?”

 “Of course, I am. I just haven’t been feeling up to going out lately.” (Y/N) said tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

 “Hey I have a sister, I know that sound and its not ‘I egged my captain into becoming what he always feared’ depression. That’s insecurity depression.” Yamazaki stared at the girl with heavy eyes. “Don’t tell me the rumours Mei is spreading are starting to get to you.”

 “They’ve been getting to her since she wrote the word ‘slut’ on her desk.” Furuhashi said with an eyeroll.

 “What when did that happen!?”

 “A few chapters ago.” Furuhashi said with a sigh. “Regardless, (Y/N) may have been making it seem like none of this is bothering her, but the only girls not bothered by those kinds rumours are the ones who know the actual truth would be worse. Heroine of the story or not, its obvious enough when someone is pretending to be strong.”

 “If it’s not true why should she worry?” Seto said rubbing the back of his neck. “And if it is true…why worry?”

 “Hey don’t talk about (Y/N) like that!” Yamazaki hissed, his eyes glowing red and tongue practically forking like a snake.

 “Like what?” Seto asked cracking his neck. “I didn’t say anything bad.”

 “You said the rumours might be true! (Y/N) isn’t some easy girl! How dare you call her a slut!” The male was now cradling the blushing girl to his chest.

 “I didn’t say she was a slut. But so what if she’s slept with all these people everyone is saying. Doesn’t change what we already know about her.”

 “It does to me! That would mean I’d have to out do her total!” Hara exclaimed. “Girls with a higher body count always act like they know more than you when you get them in bed!”

 “And what makes you so sure you could get me in your bed?” (Y/N) pouted reeling her leg back to kick him.

 “I’m sorry would you prefer the roof a- Ahh! You bitch.” Hara exclaimed reaching under the table to hold his kneecap. “I still have to play basketball on this leg!”

 “Well I doubt it could make you worse!”

 “I change my mind, let’s just disband. I have a career ending injury here.”

 “Can you end what never began?” Furuhashi deadpanned.

 “Hey can we all meet our trains of thought at the same station for once?” Seto asked rubbing his temples, wondering how the hell Hanamiya ever got anything done with this team. It was very apparent know why he had been so keen on not losing (Y/N) when he saw her potential to take care of this petty shit. “I’m captain and rules are rules. We are all going to get the damned pump after school and that’s that.”

~~~~~

 “Why is it so hard to find this damn pump!” Seto asked looking exasperated, his hair a mess.

 “Well with prelim games and competitions coming up a lot of these sports stores are selling their stock faster than they can keep the shelves full. “ (Y/N) said crossing yet another store off their list.

 “My family literally hires people to go out and buy shit for us. Please tell me why the hell we thought coming out here on foot was the best way to find this god forsaken pump?” Furuhashi asked, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

 “Because do we really wanna be ‘those’ rich kids?” Seto asked.

 “I do!” Yamazaki exclaimed trailing behind.

 “I’ve lived up to it pretty well. I’m like a male Japanese Paris Hilton.” Hara snapped his gum loudly.

 “I was born as one of ‘those’ rich kids I don’t intend on changing it now.” Furuhashi breathlessly answered.

 Seto sighed heavily before giving a small smile.

 “Can’t you guys just see this as some kind of team building?”

 “Yeah! I think it’s a nice day and this is better than being cooped up in the gym!” (Y/N) exclaimed giving Seto an encouraging pat on the back.

 “We should have just asked Hanamiya for the key!” Hara whined.

 “For athletes you guys are in horrible condition right now.” (Y/N) lifted a brow at the boys.

 “Gyms are air conditioned and don’t involve walking miles in circles.”

 “Big baby.” (Y/N) slapped Hara on the ass only to watch him jump in surprise. “Look there’s a smoothie shop there. Let’s stop in have a rest while I look up stores that might have these in stock.

 Seto watched his team members burst into the door and grab a seat. He slowly followed behind and unintentionally caught a glimpse of her phone. And he almost would have been pissed that she wasn’t looking up sporting goods stores like she said until he saw the content of the page.

 Her finger was scanning back and forth between two social media pages. Each were filled with people from Kirisaki Daiichi talking shit about her. Pictures of her innocently having lunch with them were captioned #gangbang #bukake #slut.

 “(Y/N)”

 “Yeah Seto?”

 “Can I ask you something?”

 “If it’s about what I was looking up…no.”

 “It’s not actually.”

 “Oh…then shoot.”

 “So, you remember the whole Seirin interview and how you-”

 “Hey so what gives!? Any stores have a pump or no?” Hara yelled pulling his mouth from the straw of his cup.

 (Y/N) suddenly seemed to forget Seto and walked to sit at the table next to Yamazaki. Seto realized his hand was reaching out to her a second later than he would have liked. Shaking his head, he scolded himself for having the gall to ask her what he had been about to ask.

 It was abundantly clear that the guys were pining over her…even his former captain had yet to come to terms with certain feelings he was having. And he knew given those odds, mathematically it should be a 1 to 5 shot. But with him…being him it was more like 1 to 5000.

 “I found one! I found one!” (Y/N) exclaimed before shushing her teammates and dialing the store. “Hello! I was looking at your store online and saw that you had 1 more air pump left in stock! Do you think you could please please hold it for my team and we will come by to pick it up in about 15 minutes! You’re amazing! Thank you so much!”

 “Fifteen minutes!” Yamazaki practically melted into his seat. “I just barely reregulated my body temperature! And now we have to haul ass to get there in 15 minutes?”

 “It’s at the end of this shopping strip, lazy boy!” (Y/N) said with a chuckle placing her hand on her friend’s cheek and tapping it softly. “I wanted to get the chance to actually order a smoothie too!”

 Yamazaki burned red from being called lazy. He was about to defend himself before (Y/N) leaned over to him with a smile.

 “What did you order?”

 “Umm chocolate banana.”

 “Can I try!?”

 “Ohh okay.” Yamazaki stammered, reaching a shaking hand up to remove the lid. He was caught by surprise when the girl dipped her head and wrapped her lips around the straw. Every brain cell he had was being used to focus on not crushing the cup in his hands.

 She drank from the cup he had already drunken out of like it was nothing! She put her lips were his had been like 10 seconds before. That was close enough in time to practically be a kiss. Finally lifting her head up the girl licked a drop off her lips.

 “That was really good but a bit sweet.”

 “Just kiss me already.” Yamazaki mumbled lovestruck under his breath.

 “Haha what?”

 “Nothing! You should get your smoothie so was can get that plump---pump!”

 “You think she did that on purpose?” Hara asked Furuhashi in a whispered voice, both having witnessed the interaction.

 “No. I’ve seen her actually flirting up close, this is just her being our overfriendly oblivious protagonist.”

 “Yeah I figured as mu.   .   .   .how ‘up close’ are we talking here!?”

~~~~~

 “Why is the cashier handing that extremely cute boy a basketball pump?” (Y/N) asked with wide eyes. “Online it said there was only one.”

 “Ehh I’d say he’s pretty average.” Furuhashi commented.

 “Not the point!” (Y/N) said taking off to the counter. “Excuse me! I’m so sorry to interrupt but my friends and I are in a rush and we placed a hold on a basketball pump.”

 The cashier held her smile but went ghostly pale as she looked between the boy and girl.

 “I’ll go get my manager.”

 With that the woman disappeared and (Y/N) smacked her forehead into the counter. That was until a sudden thought crossed her mind. Paying careful mind to flip her hair, just so that her perfume would waft to the boys nose she looked up at him through her lashes. The very tip of her nose was red and her eyes were watered slightly.

 “Have you already purchased that pump?”

 “Uhhmm, yeah…I mean no. I mean I put it on hold and was pay gonna---gonna pay!”

 “Oh no, I just can’t seem to catch a break today. I’ve been looking for a pump all over Tokyo it seems.”

 “Oh yeah… have too. Hard to find because competition. I don’t know why I’m not full sentence.” The boy mumbled not trying to hide his blushing face. Clearing his through the male seemed to try and put on his own charming mask. “You know, I’m getting this for a stupid reason. Why don’t you take I-”

 “Takao!” A firm voice came from behind the male causing him to stiffen. “Are you about to give away my air pump? And Oha Asa is not stupid.”

 (Y/N) frowned at the tall green haired male foiling her flirting. That pump was so close to being hers it was ridiculous.

 Looking the tall male up and down she felt a warm blush cover her face. She quickly tore her eyes away from his big strong looking hands. While he definitely seemed to be the one in control, she figured there was no harm in trying.

 Bringing the waterworks back, (Y/N) made a point of shimming her shoulders just bit pushing her breasts together as she held a hand over her eyes.

 “I’m sorry for crying like this in front of such handsome strangers. I’ve just been having the worst luck today.”

 “Then you should invest into getting your own lucky items. Precisely why I will be needing this pump.”

 At that moment (Y/N) knew her flirting was gonna get her nowhere.

 “Umm hello.” The sales associate came back practically knocking her knees into each other. “So, turns out one of my coworkers put the pump on hold for this young lady and I put the pump on hold for this young man…and my manager is really pissed and telling me its my problem so please solve this among yourselves.”

 “Wait,” Seto started, coming up behind (Y/N) to assert himself. “Who called first?”

 “I believe your friend did.”

 “But who got here first?” Midorima asked pointing to the pump in Takao’s hand matter of factly.

 “Well, umm this gentleman.”

 “Therefore, we are clearly the ones deserving of the pump. Takao pay her and lets go.”

 “We really need that pump!” Yamazaki finally came up to put in his own fight.

 “As do I, it is my lucky item for tomorrow.”

 .      .      .

 “Lucky item?” Hara asked with a questioning look.

 “Quirky horoscope stuff.” Furuhashi explained quickly.

 “Hey Shin-chan” Takao mumbled motioning the green haired male to lean down and hear his whisper.

 As he lowererd his head a tad and allowed his eyelashes to flutter slightly, (Y/N) felt her heart thumping hard.

 “Let’s just let them have it.” (Y/N) said, tugging Seto down to whisper to him.

 “What the hell? Why would we even consider doing that?”

 “Because they’re cute?”

 “Can’t we just let her have it?” Takao whispered to his own teammate.

 “Don’t be ridiculous! We’ve had all the new recruits looking for a pump all day! Why would we let her have it?”

 “Because she’s cute?”

 Both (Y/N) and Takao received reprimanding smacks on the head.

 “Come on Takao we have the rest of the team searching the shopping center for pump. Let’s go.”

 “Why don’t we play basketball for it?” Furuhashi asked, catching everyone’s attention.

 “Why would I agree to that when the item is already in our hands and one transaction away from being nonnegotiable?” Midorima sneered down at the male.

 “Pride.”

~~~~~

 “No, way! We were here first so get lost!” The guy yelled out at the two teams.

 “Come on Seto! Let me kick their asses and the court will be all ours.” Hara said while the tanned male placed an arm in front of him.

 “We should have figured that all the courts would be used right now too.” Yamazaki mumbled before looking back at (Y/N) who had been hanging back with the Shutoku team ever since they left the sporting goods store.

 “So, are you and Midorima close?” The girl asked with practically heart shaped pupils directed at the two.

 “Oh yeah! I’m like Shin-chan’s best friend!”

 “We are basketball teammates! That’s all!”

 Little hearts practically radiated off (Y/N) as she smiled at the bickering boys.

 “She’s really into one of them.” Furuhashi commented watching the exchange.

 “Do you think so?” Yamazaki asked with just the slightest hurt tinging in his voice.

 “Well yeah. She didn’t even act like this with Okamura. This is real investment; she’s been asking them about themselves the whole time.”

 The orange haired male didn’t respond but sighed deeply. Maybe that was the reason he never got further than square one with (Y/N). Regardless of who she was going after…neither was like him.

 Midorima was the serious type. The glasses character who was kind of a know-it-all asshole.

 Takao was the cool but upbeat type. The guy who was making dumb faces one minute but making girls swoon the next.

 Everyone else in Kirisaki Daiichi fell into one of those two categories.

 But as for him? He wasn’t really possessing of the brain power to be the know-it-all serious guy. And with this perpetually angry look on his face combined with his loud voice he definitely didn’t come across as the cheerful type either.

 He had naively assumed that being the first to take interest in (Y/N) meant that he would have some kind of advantage. But reality didn’t work that way romcom anime did. Nothing in the rules said she had to end up with him, or any of the guys from KiriDai for that matter.

 “Get out of here old man! This is our basketball court!”

 Yamazaki looked up to see two 7-year old kids sticking their tongues out at Seto.

 “Who are you calling an old man, you little brats!?”

 “Hey come on it’s not worth it!” The little boy said tugging on his friend’s arm. “This guy could be Yakuza or something!”

 “No no!” (Y/N) said coming between her steamed captain and the kids. Getting down on their level, it was the kids turn to grow hearts in their eyes. “I’m sorry if my friend scared you boys!”

 “He didn’t scare me at all!”

 “Yeah I just didn’t want to cause any trouble for him!”

 “How noble of you both.” The young woman patted the top of their heads, causing them to flash her huge grins. “I’m glad you two know when a fight isn’t worth it.”

 “You can borrow the court if you want!”

 “Yeah we don’t even have a basketball! We were using this!” One of them said holding out a baseball.

 .     .     .

 “Uhhhh Shin-shan, do we have a basketball?”

 “No, I assumed the team who proposed the challenge would have one.”

 Everyone on both team turned to look at Furuhashi who was failing in keeping a straight face. His mouth slowly twisted into an embarrassed little pout before he clicked his tongue.

 “I suppose I assumed someone else would let us borrow theirs.”

 “Great! Just fuc-”

 “Language! There’s children present!” (Y/N) scolded Hara.

 “Just flippin great! How in the h- do we figure out who gets the pump now?”

 “Shin-chan, doesn’t Oha Asa do a secondary item? Can’t you just get that instead of the pump?”

 The glasses-wearing male grew absolutely red in the face and covered his mouth with his hand.

 “This was the secondary item.”

 “Ehh really?” Takao said looking surprised. “Then what was the first?”

 Midorima looked around without meeting anyone’s eyes before landing his gaze on the children.

 “Cover their ears.”

~~~~~

 The walk back to the sporting goods store was quiet and just the slightest bit awkward. (Y/N) was particularly red in the face as she shuffled along with her team.

 “So uhhh, thanks for taking one for the team.” Seto commented, not sure of what to say but figuring anything was better than silence.

 “It was umm no big deal.”

 “We can reimburse you for the cost of your pa-”

 “That’s okay! Let’s just get the pump and get this over with.”

 “I never knew Oha Asa was so…kinky.” Furuhashi commented. “To think his lucky item would be a foreigner’s pa-”

 “You’ve gotta be shitting me!” Hara exclaimed as they came up on the store.

 A huge closed sign was hanging in the window of the now dark shop. Including another handwritten sign reading

 ‘We hope you guys decided who gets the pump. Unfortunately, we will be closed until 11a.m tomorrow. Sorry for the inconvenience.’

 “Well today was productive.” (Y/N) said sarcastically.

 “Hey we made it threw as a team. I’d say today wasn’t a total loss.” Seto offered.

 “I guess we did discover that (Y/N) rides or dies hard for the team.” Hara gave the girl a nasty smirk which she proceeded to try and slap off his face.

 Yamazaki watched the two play fight before drawing in a huge breath.

 “(Y/N) can I walk you home again? I really wanted to talk with you about something!”

 The whole team suddenly grew stiff as they realized exactly what Yamazaki was gonna do. They turned to their manager waiting for her response. She looked equally surprised but gave Yamazaki a big smile and nodded her head quickly.

 “Sure!”

~~~~~

 Seto threw himself onto the couch beside his brother.

 “Hey how was your day?!”

 “Fine.”

 “Did you find an outfit to wear to the party?”

 “No, I figured I would wear my school uniform.”

 “This is serious Seto! And you wonder why mom and dad are always on your ass.”

 “Oh I know precisely why they are on my ass.”

 Seto looked at his brother and took in the small slip holding his bangs back to not fall into the goop he had sitting on his face. The older male was busy scrolling through various circle lenses on his phone no doubt figuring out which to buy before the party.

 “Please tell me you at least have a date? Mom and dad are expecting one this time!”

 “And if I don’t?”

 “You’re a senior! You should be having dates, I had dozens when I was your age.”

 “Yeah and all of them were dumb as dirt.”

 “Come on little brother! This is such a big deal for me!”

 Seto sighed. He loved his brother and he knew that this really did mean a lot to him. It was the announcement of something he had been working really hard for his whole life.

 “I know. I’ll put some effort into figuring out the outfit.”

 “And fi-”

 “And fixing my hair! As for the date…I already have one.”

 “Are you serious! Is it true?!”

 Seto felt his skin pale at the high-pitched woman’s voice come bounding into the room. His mother wrapped her arms around the shoulders of her oldest son while looking at Seto with what he would almost call smug disbelief.

 “Yes, it’s true.” He said maybe a bit more defensively than he wanted.

 “And where did we find her?”

 “The red-light district.” He said with the role of his eyes and heavy sarcasm dripping in his tone.

 “I’m serious son. If you paid or tricked some girl into this please at least be sure she can act like a lady.”

 “Oh my god?! I can’t get a date unless I’m paying or threatening her!?”

 “Hey bro, no we just th-”

 “Well you’re wrong! (Y/N) is my girlfriend and we’ve been dating for months!”

 “So, is it the girl who gave you those Valentines chocolates!? Aww my little bro has a little girlfriend! I knew you would find a good girl when the time was right! I told mom and dad you were just a late bloomer! Chukahae!”

 Seto sat in the grave he’d dug himself as his brother droned on about being happy for him and his mother maintained the unsettlingly fake smile on her face.

 He had hesitated earlier but he supposed now he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

~~~~~

 “From the sounds of it your former team was invitation only. Why did (Y/N) bypass this?”

 Hanamiya looked at the doctor and debated over his answer. He knew he was here to be psychoanalyzed but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to think and overthink all his answers before he gave them.

 This had been something he and his mother agreed on pretty quickly. An easy step to trying to make him and their relationship healthier. She was in the same one-on-one therapy sessions.

 “Because my friends wanted her to stay. And she was a bigger help to the team than I wanted to admit.”

 “And why did you never get help with the team to start with?”

 “Well you know the saying, if you want something done right do it yourself. She just happened to be the first person to do it right.”

 “I see. From the way you tell me the story of how you met I notice you didn’t speak much on it. But what about (Y/N)’s ex?”

 “What about him?”

 “Well you told me he tried to keep (Y/N) from the team. How did you feel about that?”

 “Fucking pissed. Who the hell was he to judge my whole team, call us manipulative and then go and try to manipulate his own girlfriend?”

 “So you would say he’s manipulative. Would you describe him as abusive?”

 “Yeah, I don’t know that most people would agree with that but it is what it is. If you start controlling where your significant other is going, who they talk to, and purposely try to keep them in a bad situation for YOUR own benefit then you’re an abusive piece of shit.”

 “But (Y/N) chose you.”

 .     .     .

 “Yeah.”

 “She left her abuser for you before the abuse could escalate. Almost a direct parallel to your mother leaving your father. She leaves, is hurt deeply, unbeknownst to them you are hurt in the process. It’s all just history repeating itself for you.”

 Hanamiya stayed quiet. He remembered word for word (Y/N) telling the team how she had broken up with Imayoshi and chose to make her own decision. She wasn’t going to let anyone control her and he had instantly felt himself drawn to her.

 She was protecting herself against Imayoshi. Furuhashi told him about that time on the train, she didn’t let her teammate take advantage of her, even if it wasn’t his intention. She stood her ground against the guy in the cafeteria.

 So why did it seem when he was the one with his hands strangling the life from her, or his grip bruising her soft flesh, his voice cursing and threatening her that she didn’t do anything? She let it happen….was it out of fear?

 Or maybe it was because deep down she knew what he hadn’t accepted yet…that he didn’t want to hurt her.

 “But then you switched your roles. Instead of being the young child stuck in the middle of a nasty divorce. She is now the wife and you are your father.”

 “I am his son, that’s all I can be.”

 “Yes, you have to be his son, nobody can change that. But half your DNA is of your mother, it’s a unique mix and you are your own person.”

 “What if the person I am is just bad?”

 “But what if he’s not? Have you ever given yourself the opportunity to be anything other than what you hate? I think the reason you quit your team, the reason you reach out to hurt people you truly love and the reason you don’t allow yourself much good in life isn’t because you’re too intelligent. Intelligent people have the world at their fingertips, I believe they can love life. No, I think the reason is that you’re trying to punish him. But Makoto you are…undeniably you and you’re only punishing yourself.”

 “That’s partially it but I think too I’m not as good as people hope. I’m punishing her too. It hurt her for me to leave the team and I was … glad. Ever since she joined the team I’ve been punishing myself and her too. She makes me so unbelievably angry.”

 “Anger is okay, feeling human emotion is okay. There’s no bad emotions. But there is the root of your problem. You’re not angry at (Y/N) or yourself on the deeper level.

 You are NOT your father.

 And (Y/N) isn’t your mother.

 You two can have a healthier relationship then they ever had a chance to. But you have to stop emotionally hurting the both of you.”

~~~~~

 “Thanks for walking me home Zaki!”

 “It’s no problem.” The male said leading (Y/N) up to the large guesthouse near the back of the huge estate she lived on. Scratching his temple, he was tempted to ask her the same question that had been on his mind the whole way over here.

 “So what’s on your mind? It’s been bothering you since we ran into those boys.”

 “Huh? Am I that easy to read?”

 “Yes actually.”

 “Ohh umm it’s not important. I guess I was just wondering…Do you have a thing for Takao and Midorima?!” He blurted out with no shred of dignity left.

 “Hmm? You noticed?”

 “We all noticed!”

 “Oh that’s pretty embarrassing!” (Y/N) said holding onto her red face. “They probably think I’m so weird now! I know better than shipping real people, but I just couldn’t resist they were just so perfect together!”

 “Huh? Shipping?”

 “Yeah, don’t get me wrong I’m not a fujoshi or anything but they just had such good chemistry and balanced each other so well! Now they must think I was being super creepy!”

 “What no! We all thought you were into them as in wanting to date them!”

 “Oh! Huh do you think that’s why Kazunari-kun gave me his phone number?”

 “You are so dense! How can you not tell when a guy is coming on to you!?”

 “Well I’m kinda numb to all that stuff okay?! I’m not entirely sure when someone is playing and when they’re being serious! But if it was obvious enough I would get it! I’m not stupid!”

 “Well how obvious is obvious enough?!”

 “I don’t know!”

 “What about this!”

 (Y/N) was about to ask questions before Yamazaki pressed his lips onto hers firmly. His hands were wrapped around her waist tightly, her own hesitating at his hips. When he pulled away his face was beet red and his hands were quickly behind his back.

 “I’m so sorry! I should have asked first! Of course I really do like you a lot and that’s what I wanted to tell you but still, I shouldn’t have-”

 “No no it’s okay Zaki. I mean I knew you liked me but I’ll be honest I kinda figured you still had feelings for you ex.”

 “What why would you even think that?”

 “Because you care if she’s jealous of me or not. You always tend to confront her minions about what’s happening with me but never her.”

 “No, I mean maybe when I first met you, I thought it would be cool to dangle this hot exchange student in front of her. But I really like you but the more I got to know you the more I realized you have so many things she doesn’t have. You actually care about me and what I like and what I want to do! Mei cheated on me more times than I can remember. You’re so innocent and perfect.”

 (Y/N) took in her friend’s words as she stared at her feet. She could hear the sound of cicadas in the trees behind her.

 “I’m none of those things.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “I mean that what exactly do you think of as innocent? What if I have gotten around as much as people are saying. You’ve heard all the rumours.”

 “Yeah but they aren’t true.” Yamazaki said gripping the girl’s forlorn face to tilt her head up for eye contact. “They aren’t true, right?

 (Y/N)?”

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Siblings

Chapter 16 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3!

In which there are MANY CONVERSATIONS, Rynne Hawke picks on her poor baby brother Carver, and Stroud’s mustache finally makes an appearance. 

Read here on AO3 (>8000 words) if you prefer.

**********************

“Carv, all I’m saying is that you could have said something before you went off to join the Templars. You had ample time before I went into the Deep Roads–”

“... and left me behind,” Carver muttered.

“To look after Mother!” Hawke said exasperatedly. “You and Gamlen! And you did a bang-up job, the two of you!” She widened her eyes. “How is Gamlen, by the way? Still drunk? Is cheap dwarven whisky still his favourite poison?”

Carver tutted loudly, and Hawke playfully rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. But seriously, Carver, why didn’t you—”

“I didn’t have a crush on Merrill!” Carver snapped. “Just leave me alone, all right?”

Fenris raised an eyebrow at Carver’s slowly reddening neck. “Denial,” he remarked. “Admirable, given the object of your affections, but patently untrue.”

Carver shot him a resentful look. “Why are you taking her side?”

“I am not taking her side,” Fenris said. “She was a deluded witch who couldn’t see the danger of her ways.”

“I certainly hope it’s Merrill you’re talking about and not me,” Hawke said archly. Then she tilted her head. “Wait. That was a bitchy thing to say.”

Fenris pinched her waist chidingly. “Carver realized his error,” he told her. “Courting Merrill would have been a grave mistake. Literally, in all likelihood.”

“Right,” Carver said. “What Fenris said.” But his neck was steadily growing redder.

Fenris frowned at him, then pursed his lips. “Really? You are still holding a torch for that—”

Carver scrubbed a gauntleted hand through his hair, and Hawke cackled. “I knew it! I knew it! Oh, but you and Merrill would have made such a cute couple…”

“Shut up!” Carver snapped.

“... and can you imagine the book Varric would have written about you two?” Hawke continued delightedly. “Swords and Staves! The cranky Templar and the sweet little blood mage! It would practically sell itself!”

Fenris sneered. “Absolutely not. Nothing could be farther from the romantic ideal.”

“Y-yes – exactly!” Carver stammered. Then he frowned at Fenris. “Wait, are you insulting me?”

Hawke slung an arm around Carver’s neck before Fenris could reply. “All right, fine, not Merrill then. What about that other Templar friend of yours? You know, the little blonde one who was so convinced that Meredith was in the right? She was cute. A complete sycophant, but cute. Did you ever–”

Carver sighed loudly. “Maker’s mercy, Rynne, I’m staying at Skyhold with the other Templars next time if you don’t piss off about this.”

Hawke snickered, and Fenris smirked as Carver tried in vain to wriggle out of her grasp. Carver’s petulance and Hawke’s over-exuberant teasing were exactly the same as they’d always been, and there was something strangely comforting about the sameness of their interactions.

And yet, nothing about the Hawke siblings’ lives was the same as it had been when Fenris had first met them ten years ago. They’d both changed in station and status and wealth, and they’d both lost so much: their entire families, save for each other and Gamlen. Sometimes Fenris wondered if Hawke and Carver continued to treat each other like foolish youth as a way to protect themselves from the undeniable difficulties that life had thrown their way.

Eventually they began gossiping about some old friends they used to know back in Lothering, so Fenris drifted back along the mud-ridden road to walk with Cassandra and Varric instead. They seemed to be discussing Varric’s writing process.

Cassandra was frowning at Varric. “You’re telling me Hard in Hightown is also based on people and events from your own life?” she asked. “Do writers ever invent anything completely new, or is every story a reflection of something that has already happened?”

Varric scoffed and looked up at Fenris. “Ouch. She really aims to wound, doesn’t she?”

“Do not take offense, Varric,” Cassandra said. “I’m just surprised.”

Varric turned his gaze back to Cassandra. “Seeker, every good story is based on at least a seed of truth,” he said. “It’s how you shape that little piece of truth that makes the story compelling.”

“Hmm,” she said. “And I suppose that is also what makes you such a compelling liar.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows. Varric gave Cassandra a reproving look, then shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know why I bother,” he muttered, and he sped up a bit to walk with Carver and Hawke instead.

Once he was out of earshot, Fenris glanced at Cassandra. “That was needlessly spiteful,” he said quietly. “His only lie was was disavow knowledge of our whereabouts. He gave you the truth about everything else.”

“That is no small matter,” Cassandra snapped. “Leliana and I thought it was all connected. The Hero of Ferelden vanishing, then the Champion as well? But no. It was just Varric who kept Hawke from us!”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “You know Hawke now. You know she would never have agreed to become your Inquisitor,” he said. “And... if I am being truthful, had you tracked us down two years ago, I would sooner have killed you than allowed her to lead your cause.”

Cassandra recoiled from him. “How could you–”

“That was then,” he said firmly. “Things are… different now.” He sighed and absently rubbed his left palm. “Irrevocably different, in fact. For Hawke and I, and for you. And for Varric as well.” He gave her a frank look. “You should let him out of the doghouse. You think he is a liar, but he is extremely loyal.”

“To you and Hawke,” she retorted.

“Yes,” Fenris said. “But… his loyalty is more than that now.” He trailed off as he thought about the conversations he’d had with Varric: Varric’s surprising Andrastian faith, and his belief in Fenris as a symbol of hope for all the people who were so scared and unsure in this time of war.

“Varric is committed to the Inquisition,” Fenris told Cassandra. “Not just to Hawke and I.” In all honesty, the truth of this made Fenris feel a bit odd. Varric would always be his friend first and foremost. But to think that Varric also saw him as the Herald of Andraste, just like all the other believers in the Inquisition… It made Fenris feel a little bit sad for some strange reason. A little bit lonely, perhaps.

Cassandra didn’t reply, and they walked together in silence on the path to Crestwood Village for a time. Then Cassandra sighed. “This isn’t about Hawke, or even Varric. Not truly,” she said softly. “I should have been more careful. I should have been smarter.” She licked her lips. “I don’t deserve to be here.”

Fenris looked at her in confusion. “What?”

She looked sad now rather than angry. “If I’d just explained to Varric what was at stake,” she said. “Perhaps if I’d just made him understand… but I didn’t, did I? I didn’t explain why we needed Hawke.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I am such a fool.”

“Cassandra,” Fenris said quietly. “You are singularly the most deserving person to be here. The Inquisition would not exist without you. We wouldn’t be here doing this right now if not for you.”

“Is that a fact, or an accusation?” she said.

Fenris peered at her. The corners of her lips were quirked slightly in a tiny smile. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Fenris huffed in amusement. “Take your pick. Perhaps it is both.”

Her smile broadened slightly. Then she sighed again and looked him squarely in the eyes. “I want you to know I have no regrets,” she said. “You may not be the leader I expected us to have, but… in many ways, you are more than I expected. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I know less than nothing.”

He shook his head and ignored her praise. “Untrue,” he said firmly. “You anticipated this years ago. You have been pushing to be ahead of it all this time. You are strong and determined, and your faith does you proud.” He shrugged. “We are fortunate to have you.”

She looked away from him and rubbed her nose, and Fenris turned his gaze to the road ahead as they walked. Then Cassandra took a deep breath. “Thank you, Inquisitor.”

Fenris shook his head. “No titles, Cassandra. I mean it.”

She smiled at him, and they walked in a comfortable quiet for a while longer. Fenris idly watched as Varric said something to Carver that made Hawke burst out laughing. Carver elbowed Hawke, who shoved him playfully in the arm, and Carver’s strident tone drifted back to Fenris’s ears. “That was one time! And you set me up!”

He smirked, and Cassandra shook her head. “They are a strange pair,” she commented. “Anthony and I never fought that way.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows. “Never?”

“Well.” Cassandra smiled slightly. “Perhaps once or twice, but mostly not. We were very close when we were growing up. I was… it was devastating when he died.”

Fenris nodded respectfully. Cassandra had mentioned that her brother had died when they were both very young, but she hadn’t told him further details.

She gave him a curious look. “Do you have any family back in the Imperium?”

Fenris hesitated, and Cassandra’s face melted into an expression of horror. “Oh. I am – my apologies, Fenris, I forgot. Varric did tell me about your – your memories, or that they were… er. I am very–”

Fenris waved her off. “Don’t apologize,” he said. “It is not your fault. It would be a simple question for anyone else.” He nibbled the inside of his cheek as he considered whether to tell Cassandra about his sister. Varric had purposely omitted any mention of Varania in his Tale of the Champion, and Fenris knew Varric would not have told Cassandra about her either, for which he was grateful. That element of Danarius’s arrival in Kirkwall remained a sore point for Fenris, and he was glad that there was at least one piece of information about his life that remained private.

Finally he decided not to say anything. Not yet, at least. “No,” he said. “I have no family that I know of, aside from Hawke. And the mabari, of course.” He glanced over his shoulder at Toby, who was trotting contentedly beside Cole and Solas.

Cassandra smiled and nodded a polite acknowledgement. Then Fenris glanced sideways at her. “Your brother,” he said carefully. “Do… do you wish to speak of what happened to him?”

Cassandra swallowed hard, then shook her head. “I… prefer not to speak of him right now,” she said softly. “Perhaps another time.” She shot him a quick smile. “But thank you for asking.”

Fenris nodded. “Of course.”

“Hey, Cass!” Hawke called.

Fenris and Cassandra looked up to find Hawke grinning while Carver scowled beside her. “What kind of metal makes for the sharpest blade edge?” Hawke asked. “Silverite or nevarrite?”

Cassandra raised her eyebrows slightly. “Silverite, of course.”

Hawke’s jaw dropped, and Carver pointed victoriously at her. “I told you! See, you don’t know everything.”

She grinned and smacked his arm. “I never said I did! But damn, I could have sworn I was right about that one.”

“Technically, it depends on the purpose of the blade,” Cassandra continued. “Silverite forms a keener edge. But nevarrite holds its edge for longer.”

Hawke did a little hop. “So I was partly right, then! I think we should split that bet. You can give me five silver.”

Carver snorted. “That’s not how betting works.”

“It really isn’t,” Varric drawled.

Hawke’s eyes widened. “Well, that’s not how the rules worked in our wicked grace games at Fenris’s mansion.”

Varric’s smirk widened, and Carver wrinkled his nose at Fenris. “You made special rules for her?” he complained. “Seriously?”

Cassandra shot Fenris a playfully reproving look. “Nepotism and gambling, Fenris? Truly?”

“I disavow any knowledge of gambling occurring in my erstwhile house,” Fenris said smoothly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have important… Inquisitor… business to attend to.” He slowed down slightly so the others all drifted ahead of him, to a general wave of chuckling.

Varric drew Cassandra into the conversation he was having with Carver and Hawke, and Fenris smiled slightly as he watched the four of them talking animatedly together. For some time he simply walked on his own and enjoyed the quiet susurrus of the conversations and the ever-present rain.

Eventually, however, his attention was drawn to Solas and Cole’s cryptic conversation. During their trek to Crestwood, Solas had spent most of his time in Cole’s company. This could simply be because Fenris had essentially ordered Cole to stay by Solas’s side. But it did not escape Fenris’s notice that Solas seemed more at ease with Cole, and was more talkative with Cole, than with any other member of the Inquisition.

“They can only return to the Maker if they become real,” Cole was saying. “Why can't they be forgiven as they are?”

“People say they lack the ability to learn or grow,” Solas replied. “But the more contact you have with this world, the more ability you gain.”

“Why would they want to prove the Maker wrong? He's already far away,” Cole said.

Fenris frowned. It always seemed as though he was understanding half of what they were saying, while completely missing the overarching point.

“It isn't about right and wrong. It's about attention, when you think you have been forgotten,” Solas said gently.

Cole nodded. “And rolling the ball so it goes in the hole.”

What? Fenris thought, with some annoyance. A moment later, Solas and Cole drew level with him, and Solas addressed him directly. “Is something wrong, Fenris?”

At Solas’s words, he realized he was frowning. “No,” he said.

Solas bowed his head slightly. “If you have any questions, you have but to ask.”

Fenris glanced suspiciously between Solas and Cole for a moment. “You prefer the company of… of spirits over people,” he said to Solas.

“People can be trying,” Solas said. “Mankind most of all.”

Without quite meaning to, Fenris huffed in amusement, and Solas smiled slightly. Then Fenris jerked his chin at Cole. “You don’t find him trying? The riddles and the… indirectness.”

Solas tilted his head thoughtfully. “It is a matter of familiarity, I suppose. The Fade is a place of constant flux, where thoughts and feelings and expectations are just as real as you and I. As a result, the denizens of the Fade tend to be less… blunt.”

Fenris gave Solas a shrewd look. “You make it sound as though you have spent more time in the Fade than in the real world.”

Solas looked away. “Sometimes it feels that way to me, as well,” he said softly.

Fenris studied his profile for a moment. Sera had once said that Solas’s head was ‘crammed up a thousand years ago’, and Fenris was inclined to agree. The elven mage claimed he was not Dalish, but there was something about his particular brand of overly-knowledgeable melancholy that reminded Fenris strongly of Merrill.

“For what purpose do you cling so fiercely to the ways of the ancient elves?” Fenris suddenly asked.

Solas looked at him with slightly raised eyebrows. “Do you find no value in recalling the past? In remembering the wonders of our history?”

“It is not my history. It is simply history,” Fenris said. “Besides, there is a difference between recalling and reliving. You seem strangely set on reliving what’s dead and gone.” He raised one eyebrow. “It strikes me that you and the Dalish have that in common.”

Solas pursed his lips and looked away from Fenris once more. “Would it surprise you that we do not?” he said. “The Dalish have no more interest in the accuracy of our heritage than you do. They are children acting out stories misheard and repeated wrongly a thousand times.” He gave Fenris a disapproving look. “I find myself surprised that you speak of the past this way. Are you not a man who is missing a significant portion of his own past? Would you not reclaim that past if you could? Regain the memories that you lost and feel their fullness once more?”

Fenris clenched his jaw. “Of course I would have my memory back, if I could,” he gritted. “But not at the expense of the life I have now.”

“Why?” Solas said.

Fenris scowled. “What do you mean, ‘why’?”

Solas shook his head slightly. “I apologize. I was unclear.” He looked Fenris in the eye once more. “If you were given the chance to go back, to reclaim your memories and the life you lost, would you not do it?”

Fenris narrowed his eyes. “No. I would not.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Solas asked.

Solas’s gaze was unnervingly intense, and Fenris drew back slightly. “There is no guarantee that that life would be better,” he said guardedly. “In fact, I’m certain it would not be.” He glanced at Hawke’s jauntily swaying hips as she strolled up ahead.

He returned his gaze to Solas’s face. “Life is not about going backwards. It’s about moving on,” he said firmly. It had taken Fenris far too many years to learn this truth – years of anger and hate, years he wasted fuming about his unknown past while Hawke had waited in the wings, wanting nothing more than to love him. At the end of the day, Fenris knew this to be true: had he not moved on, moved past the regrets of his forgotten past and the vitriolic hate that Danarius and Hadriana had planted in his soul, he and Hawke would not be walking this road together now.

Solas, however, was clearly unconvinced. “And yet you used Alexius’s time-travel medallion to return to this time, rather than accepting your fate in the future and moving forth,” he said.

Fenris narrowed his eyes at the blandness of Solas’s tone. “This is my time,” he retorted. “That cursed, blighted future was not.”

Solas studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

Fenris eyed him with some annoyance, and they walked in silence for a time with Cole hovering vaguely between them. Then Solas looked at Fenris. “I… would walk alone for a time, if you don’t mind.”

Fenris shrugged, then watched as Solas pulled ahead and slightly to the left. Frankly, he was rather relieved to be divested of the elven mage’s company.

Then Cole finally spoke. "Old pain, shadows forgotten from dreams too real. This side is slow and heavy, but here is what can change."

Fenris scowled. “What are you talking about?”

Cole tilted his head. His eyes were on Solas’s hooded head. “His hurt is quiet. Softer, subtler, not silent but still.”

Fenris tutted. “He’s no different than anyone else,” he said quietly. “Everyone is damaged. Everyone has some sort of… scar. It is best to try and move past it. To make a life that is greater than the harms that were done in the past.” He jerked his chin at Solas. “He should try it sometime.”

Cole nodded. “I will try to help him,” he said.

Fenris shrugged again, and his eyes returned to Hawke. Her arm was cozily linked with Carver’s, and it seemed that Carver had stopped trying to shunt off her affections for now.

He smiled faintly. Then Cole spoke again. “Red hair like the blood that almost stained her hands. She lives in a place that’s not her home, toiling as a tailor like she told you before.”

Varania. Goosebumps rippled across Fenris’s arms. He shot Cole a sharp look. “How can you… she is nowhere near here,” he said roughly. At least, Fenris didn’t think she was. In truth, he had no idea where Varania was now. “How can you hear her thoughts?”

“Your hurt touches hers,” Cole explained. His blank blue eyes settled on Fenris’s face. “She is jealous still. But if you had been wiped away, if you were made not you, she would be not her. She would be a monster.”

Fenris frowned. “Jealous? Of what?”

“You were everything she wanted to be,” Cole said. “Mired in magic, loved, seen. You were free.”

Fenris shook his head slightly. “But that’s… She was free long before I ever was. She said so herself.” But even as he said it, he could start to see how that wasn’t entirely true. Imperial mages who wished that badly for power were beholden to their blasted mentors, bound by their own lust for power to do whatever abhorrent act was necessary. Including, it seemed, selling out one’s own family.

Suddenly Fenris wondered if Varania even was a mage. She’d shown no evidence of magic that day in the Hanged Man, and it was a well-known wish among the soporati to find themselves manifesting magic out of the blue. If Danarius had taken advantage of that wish in his sister…

Cole interrupted his thoughts, as he was wont to do. “You gave her a chance. You didn’t kill her.”

“That wasn’t my… Hawke and Varric stopped me,” he said distractedly. “I would have…” He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair.

“You would have been sad afterwards,” Cole said softly. “You gave her a chance to not be a monster.”

Fenris huffed. He was finding it oddly difficult to look at Cole. “I can only hope she’s not wasting it.”

Cole nodded, and Fenris walked beside him for a while longer in an increasingly awkward silence. Then he heard Varric’s shout. “Hey, guys, look alive. Undead up ahead.”

Fenris looked up. Sure enough, on the path ahead, a group of about five grisly-looking undead were attacking an elven woman and two Grey Wardens.

Fenris pulled his great-axe from his back and bolted toward the nearest undead archer. In the space of a minute, the undead were lying in grisly pieces on the ground, and one of the Wardens was helping the elven woman to her feet.

Fenris returned his weapon to his back as the second Warden nodded to him. “The Grey Wardens thank you for your aid, Inquisitor.” His eyes darted to Fenris’s left hand.

Fenris closed his fist and nodded politely, but he was on high alert. Leliana had warned that Grey Wardens had been sighted here, in this place where Stroud was hiding.

“What business do you have in Crestwood?” Fenris asked. Beside him, Hawke shifted her weight casually to one hip, but he could feel her wariness as clearly as the rain that was tapping on his hood.

“A Warden named Stroud is wanted for questioning,” the Warden said. “We heard he’d passed through here, but the villagers knew nothing. They have troubles enough.”

“We’ve heard,” Cassandra said. “We are on our way there now to offer aid.”

“Good,” the Warden said fervently. “I wish there was more we could do to help them, but our orders forbid it. Crestwood was only a detour.”

Varric raised his eyebrows in pretend surprise. “You’re hunting a rogue Warden? You guys can go rogue? I didn’t know that was possible.”

The Warden lifted his shoulders. “Warden-Commander Clarel ordered his capture. I can say no more than that.”

“I hope Ser Stroud comes with us peacefully,” the other Warden said. “I trained under him for a time. He’s a good man.”

Fenris nodded in farewell, and the Wardens gave a brisk salute before continuing on their way. Hawke folded her arms pensively as she watched them go. “They were acting pretty normally, right?” she said to Fenris and Varric. “No weirdness from them. Not like those Wardens in Corypheus’s prison.”

“They stay by oaths sworn in blood,” Cole said dreamily. “Not theirs, then their own. They’re true.”

Hawke raised her eyebrows, then shrugged. “That’s good. I think. Well, they were still after Stroud, so we’d better hurry.”

They continued along the path to Crestwood Village at a faster clip. Soon they were at the threshold of the village, and not a moment too late: a fresh wave of undead fighters had just begun attacking the scared-looking sentries who were guarding the gate.

Fenris clenched his fists, and his tattoos lit his skin at the same moment as Hawke’s barrier settled over him. Thus protected, he phased toward the crowd of reanimated corpses and began hacking them apart, with Cassandra and Cole close behind.

Cole blinked swiftly in and out of sight as he darted around their enemies, and Fenris couldn’t help but watch him from the corner of his eye. The first time he’d seen Cole fighting, he’d been a little bit shocked; the vague and floaty spirit-boy became a fierce and focused fighter when his daggers came out. The blades flicked and sliced expertly across their enemies’ flesh, and Cole was distinctly difficult to track on the battlefield: one moment he would be targeting a foe to Fenris’s left, and in the space of a blink he was behind Fenris altogether and tripping a man before slitting his throat with a swift and vicious slash. Sometimes it would seem that Cole had left the fight altogether, then an enemy who had been fighting ferociously would suddenly topple to the ground, bled to death from a dozen tiny cuts to the thigh.

Needless to say, Cole’s fighting style was unnerving but undeniably effective. Within a few short minutes, Fenris, Cole and Cassandra felled the crowd of angry but slow-moving undead, with primarily defensive help from the mages and Varric.

The moment the last undead toppled to the ground, Cole sheathed his daggers. “You can’t hurt me,” he said to one bisected corpse, then carefully stepped over the body and drifted back toward Solas, who was following Hawke and Varric as they approached the sentries.

Cassandra frowned at Cole’s departing back, then looked at Fenris. “I have noticed that you and Cole move on the field of battle in a similar way,” she said.

Fenris raised a sardonic eyebrow as he wiped his battleaxe clean. “Is that a fact, or an accusation?”

She smiled, but her frown swiftly returned. “Truly, do you not think it odd?”

Fenris paused before replying. “I have wondered about it myself,” he admitted. There was something unsettlingly familiar about the way Cole phased from place to place in combat. Fenris assumed that Cole was somehow moving through the Fade, given that he was a spirit. But if that’s how Cole was doing it, and Fenris could move in a very similar way when his tattoos were active…

He’d always assumed his lyrium marks worked by accessing the Fade. But Fenris hadn’t really taken the time to think about how exactly his tattoos gained access to the Fade. Cole was a spirit; phasing through the Fade was probably a natural thing for him to do. But Fenris was a real being. Was his physical body moving through the Fade every time he flashed across a battlefield? Each time he dragged someone’s heart out of their ribs, was he dragging his fist through the Fade as well?

Fenris slid his greataxe onto his back and considered Cassandra’s question. Solas would probably be able to explain the phenomenon to him. But speaking to Solas was becoming increasingly tiring. Every conversation Fenris and Solas had somehow felt steeped in double meanings, and Fenris was rarely in the mood for such things, especially with everything else that weighed on his mind.

Perhaps he could ask Hawke to speak to Solas on his behalf. Solas’s circumferential speech seemed to amuse her more than anything else, and she would be able to parse out the relevant information for Fenris.

“Perhaps Solas can tell us more,” Cassandra said.

Fenris nodded. “My thoughts exactly,” he told her, and they walked over to join the others.

Hawke looked up at him as they approached the village gates. “The mayor is in his cabin,” she told him and Cassandra. “He should be able to tell us something about where that underwater rift is coming from.” She grimaced as they made their way into the village. “No one has left this village in weeks because of the undead. They’re probably all going a little stir-crazy.”

Cassandra frowned. “We should have the Inquisition bring supplies to these people once the undead are dealt with,” she said, and Cole nodded agreement.

“One of those sentries mentioned bandits,” Varric said. “Better stop them first.”

“We will speak to the mayor first,” Fenris decided. “Get a better sense of what is happening in this apparently cursed place.”

Twenty minutes later, after speaking to the mayor and the various denizens of the village, Fenris, Hawke, and their companions left the village, and Fenris folded his arms and looked at them all. “We have two tasks, then,” he said. “Clearing the bandits from Caer Bronach so we can drain the lake, and meeting Stroud.” He looked at Cassandra. “You, Solas and Cole can go to the keep. Oust the bandits and await us there.”

Cassandra nodded sharply. “Inquisit– Fenris. We will go right away.”

“I can go with them, too,” Carver said.

Hawke raised her eyebrows. “You don’t want to come with us?”

Carver tsked. “It’s not like that. You don’t need me to talk to Stroud. But I can definitely help to take out a bunch of bandits.”

Fenris shrugged. “Go on. We will see you soon.”

Carver nodded to Fenris and made a face at Hawke as she blew him a kiss. A minute later, Fenris, Varric and Hawke were trudging along a poorly-maintained path that wound its way up a wet and grassy hill, and Hawke sighed.

“He couldn’t get away from me fast enough, could he?” she said.

“To be fair, you spent most of the trip making fun of him,” Varric pointed out.

Hawke mock-pouted. “As though you haven’t been enjoying it.”

Varric smirked. “I never said I didn’t. It is pretty funny how his shoulders come up to his ears when he’s mad.”

Hawke snickered, but Fenris raised an eyebrow at her. “Carver’s choice was a good one. His skills are better used helping Cassandra and the others with the bandits.”

Hawke gasped in mock surprise. “Are you calling my baby brother thick?” Then she shrugged casually. “Ah, he has always been more brawn than brain, I suppose. He would have come with us if you’d asked him to, though.”

“And why would I do that?” Fenris said.

“So we could spend more time with him!” Hawke said. “I haven’t seen him for two years, and he’s already sick of me after five days?” She elbowed Fenris. “You spent two whole years alone with me, and you’re not sick of me.”

Fenris raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Well, I am not your brother.”

Varric snorted. “Andraste’s ass, this just got weird.”

Fenris shot him a chiding smirk, then looked at Hawke once more. “You didn’t spend those two years interrogating me about my sex life or reminding me of embarrassing things I did when I was small. Or goading me into making foolish bets.”

She widened her eyes comically. “Well, I couldn’t very well interrogate you about your sex life. I am your sex life.”

Varric loudly cleared his throat, and Fenris rolled his eyes. “Hawke…”

She sighed. “Fine, fine. So what are you saying? I’m being mean to Carver?”

“Not mean, exactly.” Fenris shrugged and kicked a stray wet leaf off of his bare foot. “But you might try speaking to him in a different way. Or speaking to him instead of taunting him.” He shot her a knowing look. “A normal conversation, perhaps.”

Hawke recoiled slightly, then laughed. “What? No. That would be weird.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows. “It would weird to have a regular conversation with your brother?”

“Yes,” Hawke said slowly, as though he was being obtuse. “Carver and I don’t do normal conversations.”

“Well, perhaps now is the time, since he is with the Inquisition,” Fenris suggested. “Unless you would prefer that he continue choosing Cassandra’s company over ours.”

Hawke lifted her shoulders ruefully. “Well, Cassandra is a bona fide babe.”

Varric huffed. “She’s lacking your sense of humour, though.”

Hawke grinned at him. “Aw, Varric, you sweetheart. It’s nice to know someone would pick me for their team.” She slung her arm affectionately around Varric’s neck.

Fenris gave her a chiding look. “You might also consider that Carver’s choice to go with Cassandra instead is not about you.”

“What are you talking about?” Hawke said. She blinked comically at Fenris. “Everything is about me.”

Fenris refused to rise to her jokes. “It is not, though,” he said seriously. “You’re not at the center of things anymore, and I am immensely grateful for that. But…” He trailed off as he tried to find a way to explain his point without accidentally being unkind.

Varric came to his rescue. “You’re the hero of your story, Hawke,” he said. “Carver wants to be the hero in his story, but no one will see him as one because you’re there. He’s trying to be helpful and do his own thing, but he can’t really do that without being reminded of how popular you are.” He grimaced slightly and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Joining the Inquisition is probably like reliving the first few years that you guys were in Kirkwall.”

Hawke slumped slightly. “But how is that my fault?” she said plaintively. “I didn’t ask to be ‘the’ Hawke in Kirkwall. I didn’t ask to go head-to-head with the Arishok or to be Meredith and Orsino’s little errand girl. I didn’t ask to be the eldest child in the fucking family–”

Fenris took her hand. “We are not saying it’s your fault,” he said quietly. “But Carver won’t see himself as anything but your younger brother if that is all you see, as well.”

“That’s not all I see,” she protested, but she wouldn’t quite look Fenris or Varric in the eye. “Besides, you make it sound so easy to just start having a normal conversation with him.” She adopted a mocking high-pitched voice. “‘Oh, hello Carver, let’s exchange omelette recipes. How’s the family? Oh wait, that’s me.’” She let out a brittle laugh. “It’s not that easy, Fenris. Carver and I don’t have anything in common. I can strike up a nice chat with anyone except my own bloody brother.”

Varric sighed and gave Fenris an apologetic glance. “She’s got a point, elf. Breaking old habits with a sibling is… really damned tricky.”  

Fenris grunted. I wouldn’t know, he thought bitterly. But it would be petty to make such a snide remark. Instead, he said to Hawke, “You found a way with me. You and I had little in common when we met.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Yes, well, I can’t exactly flirt like mad and offer myself on a silver platter to my baby brother, can I?”

Fenris wrinkled his nose, and Varric made a choking noise. “All right, this is getting weird again,” he drawled. “Good thing we’re almost at the rendezvous point.”

Hawke chuckled, and Varric smirked at her as he pulled Bianca from his back. Then he sped up a bit to scout the entrance of the smuggler’s cave where Stroud was hiding.

Fenris waited until Varric was out of earshot, then leaned in close to Hawke. “You did not win me over by flirting or offering me your body,” he said in a low voice. “If that is all it took, then Isabela would have succeeded.”

She looked up at him with a saucy smile. “Ooh. Is this where you give me a list of reasons that you love me? Too bad Cole isn’t here to help out. That was extremely entertaining.”

He pulled her to a stop and waited until her expression became serious. “You were genuine with me,” Fenris told her quietly. “You gave me more than jokes and flattery. You told me truths about yourself, Hawke. You allowed me to see more than just your smile.” He brushed a wet spike of her bangs away from her forehead. “You are more than the face you show the world. I am just as entertained by that foolish joking face as anyone else, but that is not why I love you.”

Her eyes were on her feet. She swallowed hard and smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said airily. “I’m at least eighty percent stupid jokes. The other twenty is bald-faced sexual innuendo.”

Fenris tilted her chin up, but she still wouldn’t look him in the eye. “That is not true, and you know it,” he said, very quietly. “You could try letting Carver know that, as well.”

She inhaled through her lips, then finally met his gaze. Her eyes were bright with tears, and the solemn warmth in her expression only reminded him of all the reasons that she held his heart.

A soft whistle pierced the constant patter of rain, and Fenris and Hawke looked toward the mouth of the cave. Varric had replaced Bianca on his back, and when Fenris met his eye, he waved for them to join him and ducked back into the shelter of the cave.

Fenris quickly kissed Hawke on the lips, then ushered her forward with a gentle hand on her back. “Come,” he said gently. “Stroud and his mustache will be waiting for us.”

She immediately seized the opening for humour, just as Fenris had known she would. “Well, I’ve been waiting to see his mustache too,” she drawled. “Remember the size of it, and the span?” She playfully fanned herself and shot Fenris a mischievous look. “Do you think all Grey Wardens have fantastic facial hair? Stroud’s mustache, Blackwall’s beard...Oh, no, those two Wardens we met on the way in were clean-shaven.” She tutted as they stepped into the cave. “A pity, that.”

“Don’t forget the female Wardens, Hawke,” Varric remarked as they drew near. “Probably not much facial hair among the ladies.”

Hawke scoffed. “Oh come now, Varric, have a little imagination. A bearded female Warden would be my ideal hero. I wonder if the Hero of Ferelden has a beard. Remind me to ask Leliana when we get back to Skyhold.” She slipped past him and knocked on the locked door that led into the smuggler’s den. “Oh, Stroud!” she sang out. “It’s us.”

A moment later, they heard the soft clink of a lock, and the door cracked open. Hawke shifted so the occupant of the room could see her face, and then the door opened all the way.

Stroud stood there with his sword drawn and his customary worried frown. “Hawke,” he said. He sheathed his sword and offered her a sweeping bow. “Fenris. It is good to see you both again, though I regret the unfortunate circumstances.” He offered his hand to Fenris to shake.

Fenris briefly shook his hand as Hawke gestured to Varric. “Stroud, this is Varric Tethras. Infamous author, even-more-infamous arbalist, and our closest friend.”

Stroud nodded politely to Varric. “Master Tethras. I have heard of you, though I’m afraid I’ve not had the time to read your books.”

Varric waved him off. “Ah, who can blame you, given… you know. Darkspawn.”

Stroud nodded again, and his expression grew more serious still as he turned to Hawke and Fenris. “I’m glad you are here,” he said. “The timing of all of this – Corypheus’s attack on Haven, and the disaster with Wardens… it is both serendipitous and ominously bad.” He looked at Hawke. “I was trying to find out more about the origins of red lyrium, as you well know. But I began hearing talk among the senior Wardens about Corypheus – vague whispers, you understand, but enough to make me concerned, given what you had done in his prison.”

Hawke shook her head. “That’s what we don’t understand. How the fuck did he survive? We killed him, Stroud. Fenris cleaved his head from his body, and he was missing two of his limbs before even that. There’s no way he was alive when we were done with him.”

Stroud nodded sadly. “An archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal, and I feared Corypheus might possess the same power. I began to investigate, but it was difficult; any information about Corypheus is closely guarded by the senior officers, and my investigation uncovered only clues – no proof. I had not gotten far before every Warden in Orlais began to hear the calling.”

Fenris frowned. “The calling? What is that?”

“It tells the Warden that the Blight will soon claim him,” Stroud said somberly. He turned away and gazed at the table behind him, which was covered with maps and books. “It starts with dreams,” he said. “Then... whispers in your head.” He looked up at Fenris and Hawke once more. “The Warden says his farewells and goes to the deep roads to meet his death in combat.”

“Fuck,” Hawke breathed. Her eyes were wide. “You’re hearing it too, aren’t you?”

Stroud nodded once. “Sadly, yes. It lurks like a wolf in the shadows around a campfire.” He bowed his head, then looked at them once more. “The creature that makes this music has never known the love of the Maker, but… at times, I almost understand it.”

She took a step toward him. “Stroud…”

He held up a reassuring hand. “I suspect that Corypheus is making all the Wardens hear the calling,” he said. “He is a magister as well as a darkspawn, and he speaks with the voice of the Blight. That lets him affect the minds of Wardens, since we are tied to the Blight ourselves.”

“Shit,” Varric said. He looked up at Fenris and Hawke. “That must be how he was making the Wardens in his prison go all weird, too.”

Fenris shook his head in disgust. “Mind control. It is abhorrent.”

“I quite agree,” Stroud said. “And if all the Wardens think they are dying…” He sighed. “If we should fall, who will stand against the next Blight? It is our greatest fear.”

Varric groaned and tugged one of his earrings. “And if they’re all scared, they’re going to something desperate. You know, as you do.”

“Precisely,” Stroud said. He paced slowly in front of them. “Warden-Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before all the Grey Wardens perish.”

Fenris looked up in alarm. “Blood magic? The Wardens are planning to use blood magic?”

“I’m afraid so,” Stroud said. “When I protested the plan as madness, my own comrades turned on me. I was forced to run, and that is when I returned your letter.” He bowed slightly to Hawke. “I apologize for my tardy replies.”

She waved him off. “It’s all right. I knew you couldn’t resist me forever.” She smiled, but her eyebrows were lifted with worry.

“Tell us about this Clarel,” Fenris commanded. “Has she always practiced blood magic in the Grey Wardens’ name?”

Hawke shifted closer and placed a soothing hand on his wrist, and Stroud shook his head. “Not that I have ever seen. She was a good Warden once; among those that King Cailan reached out to before the Blight. But when the false calling began, Clarel stopped listening to the rest of us. She said that only magic could solve this problem.”

Fenris turned away and dragged a hand through his hair, then scowled at Stroud. “She sounds like a Tevinter,” he said. He turned to Hawke and Varric. “Clearly she has allied with the Venatori.”

Hawke winced, then turned to Stroud. “Is it possible that Corypheus is controlling her? Maybe forcing her to do blood magic?”

“Do not try and make excuses for her,” Fenris snapped. “Falling to blood magic is a choice!”

Hawke held up her hands. “It’s just a suggestion.”

Stroud stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “It is hard to say,” he told them. “But I have heard the whispers of the calling myself, and it is only noise: no words, and certainly no commands.” He straightened and folded his hands behind his back. “Either way, the guilt is hers. Fenris is correct: she made this choice. She is Warden-Commander. She should bow to no one’s word but Weisshaupt’s.” He ushered them closer and pointed at the map on the table. “Grey Wardens have been travelling here, in the Western Approach. It is an ancient Tevinter ritual tower. We will find our answers there.”

Hawke frowned at the map. “All right. Looks like we’re going on another nice long trip.”

Varric huffed. “The Western Approach, huh?” He raised an eyebrow at Hawke. “Sandy. Dunes. Not great for walking. Maybe I’ll sit this one out.”

Hawke snorted and flicked his ear. “As if you could resist coming along. We all know you’re dying to document everything for the book you’re going to write about all this.”

Varric chuckled. Meanwhile, Fenris nodded to Stroud. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention,” he said. “We would appreciate your assistance when it is time to confront this Warden-Commander Clarel.”

Stroud bowed to him. “It is my unfortunate duty to assist in every way I can.” He straightened and looked between Fenris and Hawke. “I understand you are bound by many responsibilities. I will go to the Western Approach immediately and collect what information I can, and I will send it to your spymaster. Please meet me as soon as you can.”

Fenris nodded once more, then jerked his head for Hawke and Varric to follow him out of the cave. Once they were outside, Varric folded his arms and looked up at them both. “Okay, here we go…”

Fenris glared at Hawke. “You cannot think this Warden-Commander is truly being controlled by Corypheus.”

Hawke widened her eyes and lifted her shoulders. “It’s not that crazy an idea! Corypheus controlled the Wardens in his prison pretty directly. We should consider the possibility.”

“A possibility to claim Clarel is innocent, you mean?” Fenris sneered.

“If she is, it would be good for the Inquisition to have the Wardens on our side,” Hawke said.

“And if she is not?” Fenris demanded. “If she chose to ally with the Venatori of her own free will?”

She hesitated, and Fenris took a step closer to her. “A weak mage will take any excuse to build their power. Desperation is the first excuse they will grasp.”

Hawke wilted in exasperation. “Fenris, come on. Being scared that everyone you know is dying is a pretty good reason to be desperate.”

“No reason is good enough to resort to blood magic,” he spat.

“I resorted to blood magic when we were stuck in Corypheus’s prison!” Hawke exclaimed. “Have you forgotten that?”

“Hawke, you spilled a few drops of your own blood to open a lock. You didn’t make a pact with a demon or raise bodies from the dead,” Fenris retorted in equal exasperation. “Have you forgotten the horrendous abomination that Orsino became in his final moments of desperation?”

“We don’t even know what the Wardens are doing yet,” Hawke said. “You’re condemning their Commander without even knowing what they’ve done!”

“Hey, how about we take this argument with us and go meet the others?” Varric suggested brightly. “You guys can fight and walk at the same time.”

Hawke exhaled and smiled at Varric, but Fenris wasn’t finished. As they headed along the path to Caer Bronach, he glared at her. “When we go to the Western Approach, we will see what is happening,” he said. “If there is no direct mind-control involved, then—”

Hawke shot him an annoyed look. “Then what? Are you going to blame all the Wardens for their commander making a stupid choice?”

“Stroud stood up to her,” Fenris pointed out. “The other Wardens could as well.”

Hawke sighed and took his hand. “Everyone is not as strong as Stroud. Or as well-endowed with facial hair.”

Fenris ignored her attempt at humour. “And that remains the problem,” he said. “Mages who are not strong enough to resist the lure of power that they can’t control.” He pulled her closer. “Every mage is not like you.”

She scoffed and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I’m not that special, Fenris. You’d see that if you talked to more of our mages. You should come to the mage tower when we get home. We’ll make you special Inquisitor snacks and everything.”

He huffed skeptically and didn’t reply, and the three of them walked in silence for a time. Then, as they approached the Caer, he glanced at Hawke. “If you find some of those roasted nuts with the Rivaini spice, I will consider coming to the mage tower. I’ll consider it,” he said warningly as Hawke squeezed his waist. “I did not say for certain that I will come.”

She smiled up at him. “It’s an opening. I’ll take it.”

“Aw, a happy ending,” Varric drawled. “I could shed a tear.”

Hawke snickered and released Fenris to scuffle with Varric instead. Two of Leliana’s scouts were waiting at the gate to Caer Bronach, and they saluted Fenris as they drew close.

“Your Worship,” one scout said. “The Lady Seeker, Master Solas, and Ser Carver are waiting for you inside.”

“And that strange boy,” the second scout added.

The first scout looked at her in alarm. “What strange boy? What are you on about?”

Fenris waved his hand tiredly. “Thank you,” he said, and they passed through the gates to go meet the others.

They were clustered around a cookfire talking quietly amongst themselves, and Cassandra rose to her feet as they came near. “Fenris, Hawke. Varric.” She nodded to them, then pointed to a door to the left of the stairs they’d just ascended. “There is a passage that way that leads to the dam and its controls.”

Fenris glanced at the door and nodded. “Excellent. We will move on as soon as you’re all ready.” He glanced between her, Solas, Carver, and Cole. “Any injuries?”

“The usual bruises and scrapes, nothing big,” Carver said. He nodded his head to an elven scout who was standing nearby in discussion with her colleagues. “That’s the lead scout, Charter. She said one of Sister Leliana’s operatives is missing, a fellow named Butcher.” He raised his eyebrows at Fenris. “Should we look for him while we’re out?”

Fenris nodded. “A fine idea. We might as well.”

Carver straightened and gave him a sharp nod that was reminiscent of a salute. Then Solas rose to his feet as well. “I believe we have rested enough,” he said to Fenris. “We are ready to be on our way, if you are.”

Fenris glanced at Varric and Hawke. “Are you two in need of rest, or…?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Varric said, and Hawke nodded agreement. “The sight of Stroud’s beautiful hirsute face always rejuvenates me,” she said. “I’m bright and bushy-tailed and ready to go.”

Carver rolled his eyes, then jumped in surprise when Cole spoke up. “But you don’t have a tail,” the spirit-boy said.

Hawke laughed and slung her arm around Cole’s shoulders as they made their way toward the door to the dam. “It’s just a metaphor, Cole. But while we’re here, let me teach you a lesson in language. ‘Tail’ can mean an actual tail, or it can also mean something a bit more lewd–”

Varric snorted. “Come on, Hawke, you’re gonna corrupt the kid’s mind with dirty talk already?”

Hawke grinned at Varric, and Fenris rolled his eyes. “Consider it his initiation,” he drawled. “Once Hawke has draped the demon in innuendo, he will really be one of the group.”

Solas glanced at him, then looked away with a faint smile. Cassandra huffed. “A rather undignified initiation for the Inquisition, don’t you think?” she said archly.

“Is there some kind of initiation for the Inquisition?” Carver piped up. “I mean, I kind of just… showed up, and you said I could join. Is that what everyone does?”

Varric smirked up at him. “Were you hoping for a hazing ritual?”

Carver frowned. “No. It just seems a bit weird. The Inquisition is a big deal. I just thought there’d be more ceremony.”

Fenris grunted. “I have had enough ceremony, myself,” he muttered.

Hawke squeezed his hand, then drifted over to her brother’s side. “Well, if it’s hazing you want…”

Fenris glanced at her. She met his eye, then slipped her hand through the crook of Carver’s arm. “Too bad,” she said to Carver. “I’m just glad you’re here to help us out.”

Carver’s eyebrows leapt up on his forehead. “Oh. Um, thanks, Rynne. I mean – of course I came to help. It’s, um, a good cause.”

“Yes, it is,” Hawke said. She paused for a beat, and Fenris waited.

Then Hawke spoke again: “Following the most handsome elf in all of Thedas and staring at his ass all day is certainly my idea of a good cause.”

Varric snorted, and Cassandra and Carver groaned, and Fenris simply shook his head. She tried, he thought in amusement. One step at a time.

After all, one step at a time was all anyone could ask for.

[killashilla]

Protect AU: I have the Princess (and she has me)

The ballroom was awash in light. It glowed from the high-hung chandeliers, reflected off the shining skyscrapers around them, and danced from bedazzled guest to guest while they all chattered and laughed, but none could outshine Allura in all her glory. Her gown sparkled with crystal drops that rivaled her eyes, eyes that dazzled every parliament member and socialite she greeted with her bright smile and tinkling laugh. She was truly in her element, a beloved princess amongst her joyous people.

Allura was an expert at maintaining the façade of a gracious host, a skill she’d learned since she’d been a young girl, coaxed from behind her mother’s skirts to welcome visiting diplomats. It was great fun to socialize with all the charming young court advisors, but the names and faces belonging to each blue-suited figure began to blur as the gala went on.

Over at the front of the room, her father’s smile never faltered; he was ever the shining example of a benevolent king. His hearty laugh was contagious, while hers had begun to ring with insincerity after an eternity of small talk.

She glanced over at the one calming presence who could save her.

Shiro was easy to find. He was the unfaltering shadow at the back wall, his all-black suit in striking contrast with the crowd of glimmering pastels. As always, he was watching her closely and met her gaze. Allura could almost hear Shiro’s voice in her head as he quirked his brow questioningly. Is everything okay? Allura nodded quickly, Everything’s fine.

Moments like this kept her sane. Shiro had been her steadfast companion ever since her eighteenth birthday. He’d been nearly as young as she, only twenty years old but already with the bearings of a seasoned bodyguard. Allura never forgot their first meeting—the glimpse of a holster under his vest, how easily he stepped into position behind-and-to-the-right of her, the crooked smile he gave when she took in his intimidating height.

Years later, Shiro was still flashing her that same reassuring smile. I’m bored, too, he mouthed. She saw his dimples and felt his warmth from halfway across the room. Just a few more hours, that’s it. She was ready to return to her conversation when he suddenly stiffened and turned his piercing gaze to the front.

Time slowed; Allura’s eyes widened as Shiro reached into his vest and shouted for everyone to get down.

Behind her, shots rang out and the clang of metal and crystal meshed with the roar of her people’s screams.

She turned just as the chandelier came crashing down, too frozen with shock to register the sting of shattered glass.

And then Shiro was by her side. His hand found the small of her back and his broad shoulders shielded her from view as he swept her through a hidden panel.

“I have the princess,” He hissed into his comm. “Secure her exit, don’t let anyone else access her suite until we lock down and clear the building.” There was an affirmative crackle through the radio and a hollow clunk as the panel sealed behind them.

Allura’s blood pounded in her ears, and it was almost enough to block out the muffled sound of chaos and panic still echoing from the ballroom. Shiro barricaded her door shut before steering her into the bathroom.

“My father, where is he?” She hated how shaky and helpless she sounded but there had been gunshots . She couldn’t even bear the thought of—

“The king is safe, Antok got there in time.”

That means Antok took the bullet. Stone-faced Antok, who had been by her father’s side ever since she could remember.

Shiro drew close, working his jaw as he looked over her wounds. Allura could see them both in the bathroom mirror. Flying glass had left a cut over her ribs, one right above her cheek marking and several more scattered across her legs. She had begun to bleed through her dress, red blooming beneath the intricate swirls of crystal beadwork.

The more she looked at it the more it stung, so she looked at Shiro instead. His neat black hair had become disheveled during the action and she resisted to urge to run her fingers through his bangs. Despite the messy hair, Shiro seemed eerily calm and knelt down to unfasten her heels with steady fingers. When he lifted her by the waist, though, and set her atop the marble counter, she noticed how his jaw clenched tighter, heard him curse under his breath as his thumb brushed over the scrape at her side.

Allura reached out to cup his cheek, “I’m alright, really,” but he leaned away from her touch.

“Don’t. You got hurt and I was too far away to stop it from happening.” He was right. If she’d been standing a little more to the left, that grand chandelier would have fallen directly— No. Stop that. “You’re keeping me safe now, Shiro. I’ll be fine.”

He nodded stiffly and set about tending to her wounds. Allura watched him work and listened to the plink of glass shards on the counter. He worked his way up, holding her calf in place as he bandaged each section carefully.

“Who was it? Did you see the attackers?”

“Looked like some of Lotor’s followers. We doubled our security tonight for the gala but they still somehow managed to worm their way in.” Shiro lifted the hem of her dress to her thigh as he followed the trail of damage from the chandelier shrapnel. He dug the last of the crystal fragments from her leg, murmuring “Sorry” when she flinched.

“Maybe now Coran will hold back on all his party planning.” Allura mused, “I’d rather get crushed by a chandelier than listen to another advisor try to explain the war to me.”

Shiro chuckled, “Are you saying I should have left you in there? Tell me earlier next time, Princess, save me the extra work.” He laughed again when Allura kicked him, “All right, all right, now stay still.” He lifted her chin so he could inspect the scratch on her cheekbone. She obliged, freezing in place when Shiro slotted into the space between her knees.

Allura knew about the rumors swirling around their relationship, she’d heard people whispering about the guard who “played chess” with the princess late into the night and helped her get dressed in the mornings, even though she had a full wait staff at her disposal for just that purpose. They’d become close over the years—it was impossible not to when they spent nearly every waking moment together—but there was no denying the magnetism between the two, especially now that Shiro was literally standing between her legs and tilting her face closer to his. Allura’s gaze raked over his handsome features and saw his eyes widen when he realized his position. And before she could do anything to stop it, Shiro was stepping away to an unbearable distance. A professional distance, Allura reminded herself.

“That one’s just a scratch,” He cleared his throat, “Superficial.”

“Are you calling me superficial or the scratch?”

“Both?” The crooked smile and playful banter was back; but she wanted to return to the moment before it disappeared forever.

Not that it was the proper time to be having such a moment. She could hear the roar of helicopters now circling the skies and the sound of police sirens filtered up from the streets, a blatant reminder that they were still in crisis mode, that they would always be in crisis mode as long as the war was still happening.

“One more.” Shiro said, nodding at the bloody stain on her waist.

The slash along her ribs was starting to throb, and Allura hissed as a fresh wave of pain hit, “Yes, kind of hard to forget. Hurry up, if you please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” He came close again and hesitated before admitting, “We’re going to have to do something about your dress.”

Allura nodded, swept her hair over to one side, and twisted around so Shiro could reach the zipper. That was just part of the routine of having him zip her up and clasp her necklaces where she couldn’t reach. The difference this time is that he’s undressing me.

Shiro helped her shimmy out of the gown and let it fall in a glittering heap on the bathroom floor, leaving her in just her bra and underwear. He made a point not to let his eyes wander as he worked on the wound. They were silent as he took care of the glass and patched her up, listening to the chaos that raged on outside. His warms hands lingered on her hips when he leaned back with a quiet, “There. All done.”

“Can you imagine what the maids would say if they saw us now?” Allura sat up taller, daring Shiro to look. He finally did and drank in the sight of her nearly laid bare, eyes darkening. His breathing grew ragged and the hands at her waist slipped away to the brace the countertop as he tried to recover any semblance of decency.

“They’d pity me even more.” Shiro whispered, gaze flicking down to her lips before quickly returning to meet her eyes.

“What?” 

That wasn’t the teasing answer she was expecting, but then she recalled those whispers she once overheard. Poor Shiro, they’d said, He must know it’s hopeless. She’s only toying with him, and he’s got no choice but to go along with it. How stupid is he to fall in love with the Princess? Allura had brushed it off at the time; royal staff loved to gossip but they never meant anything by it. 

Now looking at Shiro, she saw the real, pained need in his eyes. How long had he felt this way? How long had she been torturing him with her careless flirting and late night games? He watched her piece it all together.

“Oh Shiro, you should have said…”

“No. This is my problem, not yours, Princess.” He grabbed her robe off the bathroom hanger and held it out for her to step into.

Allura realized how cruel the past years had been. She’d discovered early on the effect she had on him, that’s what made it so fun to tease him and toe the line of propriety, but she’d been a blind, selfish child. Shiro was normally so stoic and composed, and Allura was too pleased with her ability to chip away his dutiful façade that she hadn’t considered his feelings for her. I took advantage of him—of his friendship, his kindness, his devotion… I’m hurting him every day.

She wrapped the robe around herself and watched him retreat into the other room, where he tuned into the updates on his comm. At this distance, Allura saw him for what he was; tall, dark, devastatingly handsome, and dangerously tempting.

But he was back to being Takashi Shirogane, the bodyguard tasked with her life. Her Shiro was gone. Perhaps he never truly was and never truly would be her Shiro.

[[Also available on AO3]]

[corruptedpoltergeist]

Solitude

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader, Bela, Random characters for plot purposes

Summary: Your father was nothing but a petty thief, stealing valuable items from everyday jewelry to cursed objects for the sake of his ‘collection’. But when a robbery gone wrong gets himself killed, you’re left with the aftermath of his problems.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Depressed!Suicidal!Reader

Word Count: 5457

Warning(s): minor swearing, depression, loneliness, suicidal thoughts, solitude, suffocation, gore, cutting, self-inflicted injuries, angst, panicking, excessive and vivid details of suicide attempt, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE PRONE TO PANICKING OR ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SUICIDAL SITUATIONS

Square Fill: Suffocation

Important A/N: Please if you are in a situation where you feel that all is lost and you have no other choice left, please contact someone. Call a suicide hotline, hit up a close friend. Don’t go through this alone. There are people who care!

A/N: This was written for @spnangstbingo and their Supernatural Angst Bingo Challenge. Many thanks to @sumara62 who beta’d this for me! Thanks so much, sweets! Hope you all like this because there might be a part two to this? Maybe, maybe not, we’ll see. Enjoy and please leave some feedback! Shoot me an ask if you wish to be tagged for the SPN Angst Bingo fics!

An angry sigh left your lips for the third time in the span of thirty minutes as you sat down on your bed, running one of your hands through your hair while your other hand was clenching around your phone against your ear.  Bela’s voice was starting to irritate you, especially since you’ve been hearing it every single day for the past week. She’s been trying to get you into the business your father was in, the one she had slipped into, but you knew better.

The life of thievery wasn’t what you wanted to do. You knew it was wrong, and that one day it was all going to come back and bite you in the ass, maybe quite literally. With the number of cursed objects in your home, who knew what those things could do, and you had no intention of finding out.

“I’ve said it before, Bela and I’m only going to say it once more. I don’t want to partner up with you. I’m not into that lifestyle.”

“Oh, but dea’ (Y/N), it would be so much fun. We could have a girls’ night out, go to a salon and get our hair done. Spend quality time togethe’ and gossip about boys,” she all but purred at you through the phone, probably hoping to persuade you with the bribery. But you were better than that.

“No thanks. I’d rather spend quality time with my reflection” you retorted while standing up and looking at your reflection in the full body wardrobe mirror. Though it wasn’t something you very proud of, it was still better than hanging out with a thief.

Bela’s British accent rolled out with her slightly pleading tone. “Come now, darlin’. We could have fun playin’ pranks on people again… You used to love doin’ that when you were younge’.”

She wasn’t lying. You and Bela had known each other since your early teen years. It was supposed to be a one-time friendship, but Bela had always been a persistent person. In her own way, that is.

With your father’s reputation as a renowned thief, the two of you were constantly moving around, your mother having divorced him a long time ago when she figured out why his ‘job’ paid him so well. You and Bela had met after school one day, a four-year gap between your ages, but that didn’t stop Bela from wanting to be your friend. Probably because she figured out your father was filthy rich and wanted to use you to get to him.

Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, you responded in a firm tone. “No, Bela. Maybe I thought it was funny when we were younger, but not when I know how serious the pranks really are. Don’t call me for these types of businesses again. Goodbye.”

Finally hanging up on the phone as you laid back on the bed with an agitated growl, you stared up at the ceiling of your room, simply contemplating your life, as usual. Numerous times, you’d find yourself staring up at the ceiling, finding no good reason to get up out of bed. For the past couple of years, your motivation for getting out of bed had waned tremendously.

Though your home was large, almost Victorian styled and there were a great many rooms to the house, you only use four of those rooms for yourself; the bathroom, the kitchen, this bedroom you were in, and the living room. There were two other rooms you used, but it was a simple walk in, get what you need, and walk out kind of usage. The rooms your father called the Treasury, which was where he stored all the stolen objects.

Recently, you’d been returning as many of the objects as you could to their rightful owners. Some of them were still alive and well, and you’d return the objects to them in person. Some were overseas, and you shipped them over with an apology letter. Others were deceased, and you had to search for the next person in their lineage to return it to.

But it wasn’t as easy as you thought. Some of the owners were armed, and wouldn’t listen to reason, requiring lengthy, and occasionally tense, dialogue just to convince them you were only here to return what was stolen from them. You always went home with some sort of flesh wound, bruise, or similar injury.

“As long as I get rid of em, I don’t care what people think of me.” You got up from the bed and walked out into the wide hallway, stopping in front of a room with a door made of metal, though it was cleverly disguised to make it look wooden. A doormat was placed in front of it, just like all the other rooms in this goddamn house you lived in. The doormats were made to blend in with the flooring, which was mostly soft carpet since marble was just a pain in the ass to clean. At least vacuuming didn’t take as long as mopping or dusting did.

Bending down, you picked up the carpet and flipped it over, revealing a small zipper underneath where the ‘L’ in ‘Welcome’ was. You unzipped it and dug two fingers into the compartment, pulling out a key, placing the mat back down and inserting the key into the lock, unlatching and opening the door with ease.

You headed into the room, grabbing the clipboard that was hung on the wall next to the door frame and looking down the list. For every stolen object that was encased in glass containers, protective boxes, or containers of their own, there was a sticky note placed on it, with a name and an address corresponding to the papers attached to your clipboard. There were nearly three dozen objects crossed out with a green highlighter on your list, while two of them were crossed out with a pink highlighter.

The ones highlighted in pink were ones with no recorded owners.  Or none that you could find alive, anyway. So, you had no choice but to keep them around, one being an old family photo of what looked like a royal family and the other… Well, you weren’t sure what exactly it was since it was completely encased in bindings wrapped tightly around it and covered with Latin words. Probably something cursed.

“Let’s see… The next thing is this dagger.” You muttered to yourself, using a handkerchief to pick it up out of the glass container. You didn’t want to touch any of the objects in this room with your bare hands since, for all you knew, they were all cursed. It had a rounded end and hilt. Along with the blade, the whole thing seemed to be made from pure silver. It had a good weight to it, and it seemed genuine. You had no idea what it was for, but whoever owned it must have paid a fortune for its creation.

“Eh. Guess it’s time to take you home, Shiny.” You laughed bitterly at yourself for talking to an inanimate object. “But then again… It’s not like I have anyone better to talk with, right?”

“Dean, for the last time, stop eating your burgers like that. It’s dripping with grease and you look like a pig.”

“Sammy, for the last time, don’t tell me how to eat my burgers, and lemme eat in peace.” Sam rolled his eyes as he huffed and leaned back in the booth he was seated in at a nearby diner, trying his best not to watch Dean eating his lunch like a slob while his older brother was giving him a shit-eating grin, mouth stuffed with whatever was in the burger.

“Fo? Waf da caf?” With his mouth full, Dean tried asking Sam about their case, but it was useless; with his mouth full, he sounded like he was saying a load of gibberish. Sam gave him a fabulous bitch face, raising an eyebrow at Dean, who took a moment to realize Sam had no fucking clue what he’d just said. He swallowed the food in his mouth then asked again. “So? What’s the case?”

“Well, it’s not much of a case really. At least… not a supernatural one.”

Dean didn’t seem the slightest bit interested as he continued to chow down on his burger. “Okay, no problem. I’ll just go and do some shoe shopping, see if there are any good bars around, have tea with Eddie Murphy, and then try finding you a girl so you can finally get laid.”

Yet another bitch face directed at Dean as Sam leaned forward with a serious look on his face. “I’m being serious, Dean. It’s not supernatural, but it’s really odd. Expensive, stolen objects all around the world are being returned to their owners in the exact same condition they were taken. Uhm, jewelry, paintings, cutlery, weaponry, anything you can think of that’s priceless.”

“Like this burger?”

��Dean, get serious-” Sam’s phone suddenly went off, buzzing in his pocket. He took it out and looked at the caller ID, then to Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s Bela.” This seemed to pique Dean’s interest as he leaned forward, finishing up his sandwich while Sam answered the call.

“What is it this time, Bela?”

“Aw, Sammy. Baby, not even a ‘hello, Bela, darlin’! How’ve you been?’. Nothin’ sweet?”

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, Bela. This is not the time to be messing around. If there’s nothing you need, then I’ll hang up.”

“Oh, wait!” Bela sighed through the phone line as her teasing tone died out. “I have a reason for callin’ you. There’s goin’ to be a theft tonight, but I have important business, so I can’t stop it.”

“... And how exactly does that concern us?”

“The object is an angel blade. Isn’t that somethin’ you hunters use?” Bela was quick to speak, noticing that Sam was about to question how she knew about angel blades. “This is all I can tell you, Sam. Tonight, after 10. I’ll send you the address.”

Just moments before the clock struck ten, you were already inside the home where the owner of the dagger lived. Apparently, the owner was away, an active hunter who was on a case in a couple cities over.

“Well,” you muttered aloud to yourself, pulling out the safely-wrapped blade from your pocket. “Seems like it’s my lucky day. I don’t have to deal with angry hunters.”

It was just when you were about to put the blade down on the table that you heard the faint sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen. You perked up, trying to gently place the knife down and make a run for it.

“Sorry, what was that about not dealing with angry hunters?”

Your (E/C) orbs flickered up, slowly looking over your shoulder as you released your hold on the knife, letting it hit the table with a soft thud. You said nothing, standing up straight and staring at the two men before you. One was extremely tall and had shaggy brown hair and the other, the one that spoke up, was shorter and had dark green eyes. Or maybe it was just the dim lighting in the room that made them seem dark. Both carried guns in their hands, both aimed in your general direction.

Your posture gave away nothing of your true intentions as you gazed at them. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you two.”

“Oh no, pleasure’s all mine sweetheart,” the green-eyed devil said as you took a few steps backward. “Might not wanna move any further than that.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” You challenged, spreading your arms out and shrugging your shoulders. “Go ahead. I’m open.” The nonchalant comment made Dean falter, his gun slightly angled down a bit, and without hesitation, you took this chance to escape, running to the conveniently opened window behind you and jumping right out of it.

Your car was parked right up ahead, and without so much as a glance over your shoulder to see if the boys were giving chase, you made a beeline for the vehicle. Quickly getting into the driver’s seat, you turned it on, pressing on the gas pedal hard, kicking dust and debris behind you as you disappeared down the road.

Hours later, when Sam and Dean were chilling in their motel room and searching for signs of the most recent supernatural activity, they couldn’t help but think back to the thief that they stopped.

Sam sighed softly under his breath, taking his eyes off his laptop and turning around on his chair to glance over at Dean, who was currently sprawled across the motel bed on his back, the built-in massage machine in the bed finally turned off. “Hey, Dean?”

Dean hummed in response, raising his eyebrows to let Sam know he heard him. “Don’t you feel there was something… strange about her?”

“You mean besides the fact that she didn’t take that angel blade, and she wasn’t clad in all black like most robbers?”

Sam pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. She… I don’t know, Dean. I just have a weird feeling that she’s not a petty thief.”

“Like Bela?”

“Exactly,” Sam ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair and exhaled again. “Her reaction was different, and she didn’t even look the least bit disappointed that she wasn’t able to take that angel blade with her.”

Dean was silent for a while, his mind racing while allowing Sam’s words to process. “I see what you mean. She looked like your average town girl. Though a nice-looking town girl. Sweet ass, that one.”

Sam gave Dean a bitch face. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. “Dude, I don’t need to hear your opinion on every single girl you see.”

“And I don’t need to see you drooling in your sleep. Who were you dreaming about last night, hmm Sammy?” Sam’s face stiffened as he puffed his chest out, his hands itching to smack that smug look off of Dean’s face.

“Anyways… Back to that girl. I think we should keep an eye on her. Just in case she’s not who we think she is.”

“Whatever you say, Sammy boy,” Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out two quarters, inserting them into the massage machine’s coin slot and making himself comfortable on the bed, a loose grin on his face while Sam’s thoughts continued to swirl around this mystery girl.

Once again, hours had passed, and your gaze had never once faltered from the ceiling of your room, lying in bed with one arm tucked under your head and the other one sprawled next to you, wrapped tightly in bandages. Your upper arm contained cuts, deep ones that came from stabs and shallow ones that were just from slicing your flesh open.

A glass of water rested on the bedside table next to your head; you didn’t need to get light headed, not just yet.

This wasn’t what you wanted; to resort to cutting or self-harm just for your mind and body to realize you were alive. But there was no one you could go to for aid, no one to share your pain and agony with.

Your father’s life never allowed for you to have permanent good friends, and you had no siblings. Though your father was a bad man in terms of reputation, he was still a good father. You could always count on him whenever you felt down or upset if you ever came home crying because you fell off your bike or someone insulted you. He was there no matter what. No matter how immoral he was for stealing, no matter how much it upset you that you could never stay in a school long enough to make some friends, you still loved him.

Whereas any other person would complain all the time about the constant moves, you remained quiet and accepted it as part of your life.

And tonight, after seeing the face of those boys when they assumed you were stealing that godforsaken knife, you realized just how badly your father’s reputation had stained you. No matter where you go, you’d be known as the girl whose father was killed in a robbery gone wrong. A robbery he caused.

You exhaled heavily. What good would it do to shed tears? They would only create a mess, just one more thing you’d need to clean up before your short life came to an end.

Raising your good arm up and draping it over your eyes, you couldn’t help the lump in your throat or the swelling of water in your eyes. “Why… What did I ever do to deserve this life?”

The next time the boys spotted you was nearly three months later, your father’s so-called treasury now almost completely empty, the only evidence of the stolen objects in your home now being the sticky notes you wrote names and addresses on, stuck to each glass case individually.

You were returning a pendant of sorts, a great load of small charms attached to a necklace chain. Your handkerchief made sure your fingerprints didn’t stain the piece of jewelry, slyly making your way through a local diner in Grand Island, Nebraska and without being noticed by the owner, a red-haired woman, you slipped it into her jacket’s pocket and made your way out of the greasy-smelling diner, tilting your hoodie over your eyes so none could recognize you.

But as soon as you had made your way out the door, a hand gripped your upper arm, thankfully not the arm you’d constantly abuse. It still made you jump, whipping your head around with a gasp as you stumbled forward a few steps, trying to pry the man’s fingers off your arm.

Your (E/C) orbs gazed up into a pair of narrowed, emerald green ones, a look of seriousness in them, taking a moment to recognize who it was. The sudden yearn for struggling suddenly started to diminish, though your fingers were still hell-bent on trying to get his grip to loosen. “It’s not very nice to scare a lady.”

“Oh, believe me, sweetheart, this is as unpleasant for me as it is for you,” at which point he then proceeded to drag you elsewhere while you grunted and struggled, trying to trip him, scratch him, even bite him, but his grip was like steel. You were pretty sure a bruise was starting to form on your upper arm.

“Let go! You’re hurting me!” You cried out, which caused his grip to loosen only slightly, but not enough for you to slip away. He proceeded to drag you down the parking lot towards an extremely old modeled black car. The other man from that night, the taller guy with shaggy brown hair, was leaning against the car.

As soon as you were dragged to the car, quite forcefully, the man with green eyes gazed at you. “Now we’re gonna do this the easy way, alright? We ask you questions and you answer them.”

“Like hell I will,” your brows crossed in anger, gazing sharply at him. “Especially after the treatment I just got.”

“Come on. It’s not like if I’d asked you nicely, you would have come prancing after me like a good little girl.” He mocked, giving you a challenging look.

“Alright, you two. That’s enough. Dean, let me handle this.” The taller man said to the shorter one, who you now knew was named Dean.

With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Dean backed down, releasing your arm as you rubbed it with your hand. The taller man held his hands up placatingly. “Let’s start with introductions. I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean. We’re the ones you ran into a couple months ago.”

You nodded your head, avoiding direct eye contact momentarily. “I remember… You were in that hunter’s home.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at you. “So, you did know what you were stealing?”

“I wasn’t stealing!” You shouted at him, getting defensive as you responded almost immediately after.

He tilted his head to the side, shrugging his shoulders upwards. “Then... What were you doing in that hunter’s home? While he was away?” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, refusing to allow them to think you were a thief, but at the same time, this was something you were doing on your own. You couldn’t let anyone know about this.

“Why should I tell you? That’s my business, isn’t it?” With that said, you turned on your heel and walked away from them.

Dean wanted to go and chase you down, but Sam held him back. “Wait. You put the tracker on her right?”

“Yeah, it was almost too easy…” Dean’s eyes glanced over at your disappearing form, his gaze on your sleeve.

“Alright, we’ll follow her tonight and see where she’s going.”

“Fine. But if she does steal something, you owe me a night of drinks.”

Sam shook his head with a light-hearted laugh, a look of disbelief on his face. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re hoping she steals something.”

“Hell yeah, man. Free beer!” Dean looked over at him with a goofy smirk, chuckling at Sam’s reaction.

The brothers gazed at the computer screen for a while, the tracker light flickering as your location changed every second. Dean focused his gaze back on the road, following your car without his headlights on so as not to be seen.

Sam and Dean watched as you turned right at a stop sign, heading into town where you pulled up into a driveway and got out of the car, glancing at your surroundings before flipping your hood up, an object in your hands. Though they couldn’t see what it was since it was wrapped in a white cloth.

As they observed you from afar, the Impala parked a good distance away, you braced yourself for whatever was to befall upon you. Swallowing your nerves and remembering those lines that you had memorized by heart, you rang the doorbell, waiting for the owner of the home to answer.

You didn’t wait for long, the door opening to reveal a burly man with a black side beard and freshly showered hair, a towel around his neck. He raised an eyebrow at you, leaning his weight against the door frame. “Can I help ya with anything?”

“The more likely question is … can I help you?” You brought your hands out on display, showing off the cloth-covered item in your hands. Slowly, you removed the top part of the handkerchief to reveal a long-barreled silver gun. Newly polished and without a smear, smudge or scratch on it. “This belongs to you.”

The man before you stood up straight as he gazed at the weapon without so much of a change in facial expression. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He reached forward and lifted the gun out of your hand and tested it, swirling it around his finger, tossing it up lightly to test the weight, even bringing it up to eye level and gazing straight down the barrel of the gun. “Now how in the world did you get ahold of this? I lost this years ago.”

Here it comes. You were either going to get smacked or insulted now. “My father stole it from you. And I’m here to return it.” His gaze swiftly shifted up to meet yours, his surprisingly clear blue eyes staring at you for a moment before he slowly tucked the gun into his belt then took a step back. He looked almost conflicted. “I appreciate you returning the gun…” He said before closing the door, and after a moment, you released the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“That went… better than I thought it would.” You tucked the handkerchief into your hoodie pocket, stepping away from the door and heading to your car, hopping into the driver’s seat and pulling out of the driveway, your last destination of the day being home.

“I’m done… Finally done.” You muttered softly to yourself, a melancholic tone replacing the cheerful one you should have used. Now that all the objects with owners were out of your home and in their rightful places, you no longer had a reason to get out of bed, to continue this harsh daily cycle you’d gotten so accustomed to.

Unbeknownst to you, the boys had continued to follow you after seeing the strange stunt you had just pulled.

Entering your large house, you stripped yourself of the oversized hoodie and tossed it away onto the ground, crossing the living room and heading to your main bathroom.

A box of blades was behind the mirrored cabinet, along with a couple of bottles of painkillers and pure caffeine crystals in a small vial. You’d made it yourself using an extraction method you learned back in organic chemistry. Though it was tedious, you’d been able to extract enough caffeine from tea bags to ultimately, but slowly, kill a person with just a sip.

Grabbing the nearby glass, you filled it up from the sink then got four of the painkillers and swallowed them, drinking the water immediately afterward to force the pills down. You waited five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

Once you were sure the dizziness you were feeling was from the pills, you grabbed the glass vial and dumped all the crystals into your glass of water, stirring it with your pinkie finger until the crystals were dissolved.

You took a couple of large sips of the drink, grimacing at the bitter taste, even dry heaving a bit. Nevertheless, you forced it down. Your hands were shaking and shivering so much, you dropped the glass cup in an attempt to place it on the sink, shards scattering across the floor, but your muddled mind was unable to process it, reaching for the box of small blades as you tottered out of the bathroom, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

You weren’t even sure why you were crying. Out of pity for yourself, perhaps?

Not sparing a second glance at the noose hanging from the ceiling in your room, the one you prepared earlier that morning, you sat on the chair directly underneath it, your t-shirt exposing your arms up to your triceps. You used your index and middle finger to hit your arm, forcing the dark blue vein to bulge a little, forcing it to stand out from the bruised skin you’d just struck.

In one clean and swift motion, you’d brought the blade down and sliced your arm vertically, right along the vein. Blood poured and gushed out of your arm like a waterfall, creating a large puddle underneath you within seconds while gasping and sputtering from the pain, you did the same to your other arm. You cried out in a panic and jerked, the blade cutting into your arm quicker than intended.

The painkillers slowly started taking effect, numbing your sense of touch for the first couple minutes, just a numb ache in your arms now as you sat there, tears staining your face. Your skin was starting to become pale, your breathing speeding up slightly as well as your heartbeat. The quicker your pulse, the faster the blood would flow out of your arm.

“No more second chances…” You whispered to yourself, shakily standing up, your feet making a squelching sound as you stepped in the puddle of blood staining the carpet. You unsteadily climbed up onto the chair, untying a black blindfold from its edge. You looped the noose around your neck tightly before tying the blindfold around your eyes.

“I’m done…” And with a harsh kick, the chair tumbled away, leaving you suspended in the air, hanging from only the rope. Your neck became constricted, tightening your windpipe as your body struggled for air. The lump in your throat made it hard to do so, causing you to choke.

Lips turning blue, and body trembling from the effects of the drugs and blood loss, your lungs started to collapse. You wheezed and gasped, lips parted so you could try and inhale fresh air one more time. Arms too weak to lift up and help your struggling body, they lay limp against you, red ooze dripping down your fingers and your stomach starting to burn from the effects of painkillers and pure caffeine crystals.

One last time, you struggled for air before your already darkened world started to disappear from your grasp. Within seconds, your body was limp, hanging in the air as your heartbeat slowed down further until it was but a faint cry for help.

Dean approached your front door, clearing his throat before lifting his fist and knocking on the door since he didn’t see the doorbell that was right in front of his face. Sam stared at Dean for a moment, trying to figure out whether his brother was seriously unable to see the doorbell or if he just chose to ignore it. So, he reached over Dean’s shoulder, which wasn’t too hard to do, and rang the bell.

“Please tell me you were purposely ignoring that bell.” Dean slowly turned his upper body to face Sam as he rocked on his heels before slowly phrasing every syllable, “I was purposely ignoring the bell.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s smart mouth as they waited for the door to open. They waited for a couple of seconds, then a minute. When they heard no footsteps approaching the door from the other side after nearly two minutes of waiting, they gave each other a knowing look.

“Think we should…?”

“Yeah. She definitely should have heard the bell.” Sam then knelt as he pulled out two bobby pins from his pocket, working on trying to unlock the door while Dean looked around, one of his hands hovering over the gun attached to his belt.

It didn’t take much for Sam to pick the lock. “Got it,” Sam whispered as he slowly pushed the door open, leaning forward a little to peek inside. When he saw nothing, he motioned for Dean to follow, the two of them walking inside to see why you hadn’t answered the door.

The brothers split up when they entered the living room, Sam heading towards the spiral staircase to their left while Dean looked around the first floor. He saw the discarded hoodie on the ground and picked it up, noticing that it was still warm. “She’s gotta be in here somewhere,” he mumbled, straining his neck around to see into the kitchen.

When he approached the open bathroom door with the lights still on, he cautiously pushed the door open, his gaze immediately hardening as he spotted the broken glass on the ground. There was some sort of fluid around the glass, though he couldn’t tell what it was, along with an abandoned glass vial and a bottle of painkillers.

He raced out the bathroom and into the short hallway that displayed a couple of doors, one being wide open. His breath hitched in his throat as he ran forward, his deep voice shouting out loudly and echoing through the house. “Sammy! Get down here!!”

Without a moment to spare, he grabbed the chair then stepped up onto it and started untying the knot in the rope with shaky hands. “Come on, come on,” he whispered in a panic.

Sam had heard the shout and, in a frenzy, ran down the stairs and headed in the direction from which he heard Dean’s voice. Upon arriving in the room, his jaw clenched tightly, wrapping his arms around your body and lifting you slightly so Dean could remove the noose from your neck easily.

Once it was off, Sam lay you down on the ground gently, Dean rushing over and kneeling beside you as he quickly slipped the blindfold off your eyes and checked for a pulse. It was there, but just barely. “Sam, we’re losing her! Take the wheel!”

Dean shouted as he quickly lifted you, being careful of your blood-coated arms as Sam took the lead out the house and to the Impala. “Closest hospital is just a few miles away. We’ll make it,” Sam assured him as he practically dove into the car and revved the engine up before speeding off down the road to the hospital.

“Come on, just hang in there,” Dean whispered in a panic, situating himself in the back as he cradled your upper body in his arms.

Tags:

@impalaimagining @bradygabrielle-blog @teamfreewill92 @chelsea072498 @not-moose-one-shots @percywinchester27 @sumara62

[adelindschade]

Comparing Apples to Oranges. Literally.

This is a vent. Obviously. Its been bothering more than it should and I need to put it in words, put it out there, put it past me, and forget the whole BS thing. 

Here’s the summary: I’m on a golf course now that its open for people to walk (and plenty of dogs come, too); I ask my boss if its okay to venture up there (it’s across the street!!! on my day off!!) because I saw two active golfers. 

Sure, he says. They golf at their own risk. I’m free to walk around. Also, he and some other staff will be stopping by to use the golf simulator. Feel free to stop by, say hi, grab a drink, and socialize. 

I don’t drink, let alone with coworkers. I say I’ll snag a sprite, stop by, and move on. GUESS WHAT I DID. I did just that. I watched them play golf, they let me drive one or two because I wanted to learn the sport while I’m there, and had a good time catching up. IT WAS CASUAL. IT WAS PUBLIC. Y’ALL. 

Tell me why my messy coworker is triggered AF to barrage me with long winded messages saying its an HR disaster waiting to happen. That I can’t be fraternizing with my boss. That I can’t even be texting him even though HE TEXTED ME THE INVITE after I asked him a golf -related question. That people talk and lines can’t be crossed. yada-yada. Shit I already know. 

But it’s the context!! 

I’m careful. I keep shit short. I don’t do anything different off the clock than I do on the clock. I’m consistent and I’m polite whenever we converse. It’s once in a blue moon off the clock. It can’t be construed as nothing else. It’s nice to be on good terms with him. I like to keep that civility. 

“No, you don’t get it” she snaps. “Good luck!! Good luck to you both!!” Hand-clap emoji. Like we’re in the wrong!!??

She then tells me this dime: that she knows what's going to happen because at her old place, she got in trouble for letting her drunk boss stay the night on the couch. 

Y’all. 

That is NOT the same. I’ve never been ALONE with my boss; I’ve never even been out with him off of work grounds. Our entire text exchanges are small talk - from “congrats on closing all three rings” because we link our apple watches up at work with bulk of the staff; to cat pics - stupid shit than by no means can be taken any way shape or form as fraternizing. Is this girl for real?? I’ve never been to his house; he’s never been to mine. We’ve never been alone together in the same fucking room let alone stayed the night!?!? 

How TF are those the same fucking scenarios?? And why am I being grilled about it for accepting the gesture and catching up with some of other staff? Because I was the only girl...? SO?? THERE ARE CAMERAS ALL AROUND. IF THEY THINK SOMETHING FISHY HAPPENED, THEY CAN LOOK UP THE RECORDINGS TO SEE IT WAS ALL CORDIAL AND NOBODY WAS TOUCHING NOBODY OR DRUNK AF. SERIOUSLY??? 

Maybe not the best GIF to represent how utterly DONE I am with this exchange but I feel this 120%. I purposely have all my interactions public. There are always eyes and ears around so there is a witness to attest no shady shit happened. If I visit my boss in his office - which I do a lot - the door is open and the secretary can hear me ask if I can do a side project to kill time or ask a question about using PTO. It’s always fucking work related when I’m donning my uniform. I never act any differently either. I do my job and I don’t cross personal boundaries. I don’t pry into people’s lives. If they tell me shit, I usually forget about it - its not my business and I don’t spread it. 

Unlike someone else!!!!! 

I know my ass is covered. If social calls like that on work grounds outside the clock aren’t approved, then my boss can take it up with his boss, and that’ll resolve itself, but she’s making it out like we’re flirting or some shit. Nah - its small talk, mostly work related shit, and nothing more - and most of the time is AT WORK which we haven’t been for MONTHS. Even so, mind you, ITS ALSO RECORDED SO THEY CAN CHECK THAT SHIT. WE DON’T MEET IN AN OFF-SITE LOCATION WHERE SHIT CAN BE HEARSAY. 

 This was a one time thing because I’m not catching hell for drinking a white claw which the BOSS GAVE ME after I declined 3x and opted for a Sprite instead - like I said in the text. I back my shit up with actual evidence if anyone wants to interrogate me. 

I’m mad because she’s villianizing me and I had to appeal to her fucking superior complex by groveling “ooh I’m so wrong; tell me what to do” so she doesn’t take it up a notch which I know she does. Fuck the whole “we’re friends and I always back you” thing she says to me - when habit speaks for herself. 

The same BISH LIVES FOR PETTY SHIT. She’s the first one to talk smack about this or that person; not do her part because they are lazy and she shouldn’t have to cover for them - then in turn its up to me to cover for the whole fucking lot - but never mind that; because when it comes to gossip, hmm, a hit dog will holler. She’s always scheming and spouting off BS; about clients and staff - enough so I take word with a grain of salt. 

Same bish calls our clients friends even! Like she thinks she is above protocol. I dog watch for some but I never get into personal lines. It’s all business - lmk when you need me to dog sit, here’s the price, boom - done. 

What has me stressed and heated is having my name ran through the mud for something as small as that. “Rumors can really ruin you” she warns; that staff put targets on backs all the time - huh, no surprise - and in the same breath, she jollies up and boast about how WE (because it’s an US agenda now???) now have to oust out grumpy ole Tina from her post at the front desk. 

No. I ain’t participating in that. Let karma do its own job. Tina already has a wrap. I’m not burning myself by poking my finger in that fire. I’m staying out of it. It’s not my thing. I made it this far by biting my damn tongue and worrying about my own hide; so long I do what I’m supposed to do, I’m not getting canned. 

But Miss Gossip rings threatens that rumors are going to ruin me but I’m fine because we’re friends and I just need to change up my M.O. or some stupid shit like that to avoid scandal. Like I need to appease her to avoid having my name possibly tarnished by whispers that have no foundation. I’m an open book. You see what you get. I don’t treat people any different than anyone else. Everything I say is consistent.. 

 “Oh but boss doesn’t talk to mee...” “I don’t hang out with my boss...” 

Huh - so you haven’t bragged about how you have precedent with him being a long term employee?? That you don’t play fantasy football with him and the rest of managers?? You sure like to bump shoulders with him when it comes to bragging about how untouchable you are. 

Bish. It was at work. In plain view. I was off that day and I was invited to catch up for an hour or two with the bribery of a beverage on location - no some raggedy bar outside town. It’s not like I was hanging out  one-on-one either. The place was occupied by various people. From ground keepers to accounting. Seriously?? IT WAS A GROUP THING. 

Obviously, she’s hurt by some shit; I don’t know if its a rivalry thing or if she feels left out but it wasn’t a big ass deal that she’s making it out to be or worth having it over my head because I can’t trust she’s not warping this into some ammo - fuck me, man, I just can’t win. 

[warmau]

Ranch!AU x VIXX [1/2]

LR just had their comeback, and im hoping for a full vixx one soon!!! plus i feel like i have to polish my vixx writing skils, so here’s this cute horse ranch au!! may or may not do the younger line depending on if people want it ^^ 

Hakyeon

has a show jumping past,,,,dabbled in dressage and was coached to be part of the olympic team 

owns a grey dutch warmblood named hyde

quit show jumping after he decided that scene just wasn’t for him,,,,granted he looked amazing in the uniform,,,and was going to be a home favorite for the olympic team,,,,something about it just didn’t sit right with him

so he officially retired himself and hyde

and brought him out to live on a nice, spacious ranch

you’ve known about hakyeon ever since he started renting out a stable for hyde, especially since people all gossip about how ‘oh, he apparently broke a foot and that’s why he stopped performing’ or ‘heard he had a fight with the main coach’ ,,,, it was hard for you NOT to know him

but upon seeing him for the first time, tall and looking like some kind of regal prince,,,,,yet speaking so softly to his horse

you’d always assumed,,,,there was no way any of those rumors about him were true,,,,you could tell easily that hakyeon had made his decision not just for himself - but for hyde

and yeah ok you’ll admit it,,, you’ve always thought seeing him show jump again would be AMAZING,,,, but unlike others who’d push the suggestion on him and annoy him till no end

you just decided that you’d pine from afar,,,,enjoying being able to be in the same damn barn as him out of all things

until,,,,you were working late with one of the new rescue horses and you - for the first time - saw hakyeon leading hyde out to the pasture - all saddled up 

and you were like,,,,,is this 4 real,,,,,,so of course you had to go see

and to your shock (and utter excitement) hakyeon was wearing riding boots, and climbing up into the saddle,,,,patting the side of hyde’s mane

and,,,,right in front of your eyes,,,, you could see a glimpse of the jumper hakyeon,,,,with perfect posture and a focused expression

and when he and hyde set off,,,,,, jumping over one of the barrels of hay ever so effortless,,,you couldn’t help but have the instinct to clap

except,,,the noise gave you away and turning hyde back around hakyeon trotted his way over to you 

“trying to sneak a peek?”

he asked casually and you felt the embarrassment creep up into your cheeks.

“n,,,no!! sorry, i just know you’re this great performer and so is hyde and i just,,,,wanted to see,,,,”

hakyeon manages to keep a straight face for a couple seconds before breaking out into a chuckle. 

“it’s fine, no need to be nervous. how did we look out there, amazing i assume?”

you nod so fast you’re scared you might crack your neck,,,you’ve never seen a rider and a horse look so good together like he and hyde do,,,,and you just mumble that the jump looked so elegant - no wonder he was going to be an olympic champ

hakyeon shrugs, swinging one leg over and hoping out of the saddle. he says something about wanting to see how it felt,,,,sometimes he misses it 

you reach out to pet hyde’s muzzle and you can’t help but go,,, “im sorry to ask,,,,because im sure people never stop bugging you, but,,,,why did you stop-?”

hakyeon takes a deep breath. he combs his hand through hyde’s mane and shrugs.

“horses don’t deserve to be trapped in some small, noisy barn full of people that care more about some trophy than they do the animal. they deserve the outdoors, space to run around, and love. i wanted to give hyde all of that.”

you turn to look at him,,, his gorgeous side profile looks elegant against the back drop of the setting sun

he smiles, meeting his gaze with yours “and to do that, i had to bring him here.”

you feel your heart wrench just a bit,,,that hakyeon gave up something that must have promised him so much because he loved his horse,,,,,

you don’t know why but you nod and reach out to put a hand over his “hyde’s lucky.”

you realize how corny you sound after you say it,,,,so you pull back and try to hide your face

but hakyeon can’t forget it, he reaches over and ruffles your hair “he is, and he knows it. want to watch us do a couple more jumps?”

you agree happily and you watch them for a while longer

at some point hakyeon rides past you, winks and shouts that ‘this jump is just for you’

you don’t admit it,,,but it makes your heart do a little spin and,,,,you’re pretty sure hakyeon can tell you’re flustered (cuz he totally did it on purpose duh)

Ken

kind of a wannabe jockey,,,,kind of too broke to own his own horse LOL

is absolutely in love with this palomino paint horse who belongs to a rich, snobby kid whose never around

like the kid doesn’t even know the horses name,,,,,actually complained about it once because ‘love equation’ sounded to cheesy

but ken adORES it like a horse named love equation??? that’s so ken please

he always talks about how one day he’s gonna get off this ranch and make money being sponsored for his sport and he’s gonna BUY love equation from that brat

and everyone is like uhuh,,,,sure,,,,because all he is rn is a stable hand like HOW will he ever

but you,,,,believe in ken because you’ve never met someone so god damn ambitious and positive

and you two always end up with the messier jobs, like cleaning out barns and hauling feed,,,,,but you get through it because ken makes you laugh

sharing candy sitting up where they keep the hay and listening to him talk about his dreams,,,,,,,,it gives you energy

but there’s one thing about ken that you know gets him in trouble - and it’s the fact that he really,,,,,,literally,,,,,,,, can’t keep himself away from love equation

as in you see him one afternoon sneaking the horse out for a ride through the trails and you’re like kENNETH

and he’s like o H whats up didn’t see you there im totally not smuggling love equation out for a ride ahahaha,,,,,,,,,,,,dont-tell-anyone-please

you stare at him wide eyed because,,,,,,really,,,,,,,is he really doing this

ken’s shoulders slump and he mumbles that he knOWS it looks bad,,,but love equation gets so antsy not being taken out and really his owner just doesn’t care so how is it fair-

and you’re like “once. just this once, im going to pretend i didn’t see anything.”

you’re sure ken’s eyes light up more intensely than the sun,,,,,which you did not know was capable,,,,but it is

he throws an arm around you, pulling you into a close hug and nuzzling the top of your head

“you’re the best, the BEST, i will never forget this and i owe you - how about i take you out tonight as a thanks!!!”

and you’re blushing,,,trying hard to keep it cool at the sudden contact

and when you pull away you’re like “it,,,it’s fine j-just go before anyone else sees you”

but ken doesn’t budge he just leans closer and is like “but really, i do want to take you out.”

your eyes widen,,, “like a-a date?”

“yup!!! and hey, ill pay for it all too since you’re keeping this little secret for me!”

you blink and stutter that ,,,, it’s ok,,,, just a date where you two can enjoy yourselves is something you’d rather want than an i-owe-you

ken nods,,,,thinking a bit but going “ok, then ill owe you something else - but i do want to take you on this date. and i want to pay. although keep it cheap because my hourly wage is nowhere near as high as it should be.”

,,,,,,,,,you and ken go on a cute date to a cute local bar,,,eat wings,,,,and ken puts his cowboy hat on you???? i think yes

Leo

is a trainer that works mainly with abused mare’s that are found straggling in the backwoods or that get left at the barn by past, unwilling owners

has been around horses since he was a kid,,,loves absolutely everything about them,,, can tell a horses’s breed, age, and comfortability with riders from like a mile away

actually does get competitive when it comes to winning a horses trust, which is why sanghyuk never lets him live down that fact that he broke his horse before leo could even try LOL,,,,sanghyuk voice: that’s right error only listens to me leo:,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,someone hold me back before i throw a horseshoe at this kid

but leo has always had a magic touch with horses,,,maybe it’s the way he speaks softly and full of care, the way he knows how to make the animal feel safe

which is why when someone brings in a emaciated, agitated morgan mare leo takes to her immediately

with all her pinned back ears, barring teeth, and bucking - leo works every single day with her

he doesn’t care about the danger she presents when he tries to approach, he doesn’t care that he’s out in the pasture with her for hours under the hot sun

and everyone tells him,,,,,she just can’t be broken,,,, but leo knows the truth

in reality, no one even wants to deal with her aside from him, no one even seems to notice that he’s taken to calling her “shangri la”, that he’s managed - with immense difficulty - to come closer and closer

not until you end up at the ranch,,,desperately running through the stables, begging someone to help you

you run directly into a broad chest and look up to see a pair of dark eyes staring you down

“im,,,, im looking for my mare,,,, someone said the ranch here found her??”

“,,,,,,,,what breed is she?”

“a morgan, she broke out of our stables when someone left the gate unlocked and ,,,, and she’s been gone,,, for months,,, ive searched everywhere oh my god have you seen her???”

leo stays quiet, usually he isn’t one to feel sympathy for people who lose their horses

but he can hear the urgency in your voice, the cracking pain when you talk about the companion you’ve lost

and after a moment he motions for you to come with him

hopeful, you follow him out and when you see her - you burst into tears because she’s here,,,,

“starlight!” you callout, practically tripping over yourself to get to the gate

leo watches curiously as the mare lifts it’s head and instead of spooking, running as far away from you as possible, she lets you approach

and leo watches in utter shock as you place your hands on her nose, pressing your forehead against her muzzle 

shangri la,,,,or starlight as you call her,,,,doesn’t budge - doesn’t show any hint of agitation

when he comes closer he can hear you whispering apology after apology,,,,petting her gently and choking up on your words

when you turn,,,you thank leo for taking care of her,,,,,,,he nods, but you feel a slight hesitation between you two

you turn to look at starlight and then back at him and you go “have you ridden her?” 

with a shake of his head you grin,,,,, “she’s not saddle trained. i rode her bareback.”

shock seems to settle on leo’s unchanging expression. you nod and ask if he would want to see,,,,,,a while later he returns with a bridle and a horse of his own

“are you going to ride with me?”

he hands you the bridle and then with an easy motion lifts himself up onto the horse he brought with him, comfortable he motions to the trials 

“there’s an easy route we can take. i want to see how you and shangri la,,,,,,,,,,,,starlight pair up.”

you nod, and carefully, because it’s been a while,,,,you pull the bridle over her ears

as calm as ever, starlight lets you do as you used to and when you climb on her back she doesn’t even flinch

surprised, but satisfied leo gives you a small smile - a treasure not many can achieve

and he slowly tells you to stick close

he won’t admit it or anything but seeing your connection with starlight,,,,,it makes him believe that there are really people out there who loves horses as much as he does

and that he could get used to taking long trial rides with starlight,,,and of course with you 

bonus: he wears the flannel shirt with the buttons open i gtg 

[ganymedesclock]

New Data

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Summary: Despite having Kolivan on the ship, it occurs to Pidge she knows almost nothing about him.

           Sometimes, you really couldn’t choose how new data finds you.

           The history of science was rife with near-earthshattering discoveries that were made completely by accident. Penicillin, for example. That had been a subject of much discussion in the Holt household, several times everything had gone up in a spectacular mess- she remembered the way her father would smile at her.

           “Mistakes are an integral part of the learning process.”

           “Even the useless ones?”

           “Well, then you can learn how to prevent it next time!”

           Things happened. Patterns were disrupted. Projects failed, leads went dry. Even when this wasn’t a science fair any more, and more driven than idle curiosity; when nothing could possibly be more important than her work now- things happened that she had no control over and right when she wanted to rip her hair out over it, she had to remember her father’s words.

           And that was, roughly, the frame of mind in which Pidge ran into Kolivan.

           Not literally- for a man nearly seven feet tall, he was light on his feet to a terrifying degree- but also that it was very hard to miss the spectrum of indigo verging on midnight blue in a corridor that was usually unattended.

           It took a while for Pidge to process. Her last surge of inquiry- the one that had burned out- had dragged longer into the late hours than expected, and in general it was hard to dredge loose of her thoughts sometimes. But in the time she’d blinked, his head had turned toward her, yellow eyes almost luminous in the gloom of the hallway.

           “Paladin,” he offered, succinctly, a slight bow of the head greeting her.

           “Oh. Uh, hi Kolivan.” She shuffled closer, peering over at the faint light in front of his crossed legs. It looked like a cup borrowed from the castle dining room- but within it, something was burning with an indigo flame. “…What are you doing?”

           “A vigil. There isn’t much we can do for our dead, but we try to honor them, when we have time.”

           Understanding lurched through Pidge. The fallen Blade member- Antok, she recalled. In her memory, little more than a massive shadow. She didn’t remember ever seeing his face.

           He was gone now. Along with Ulaz, and the spy that Keith had gone to help.

           They’d died. For Voltron.

           Her eyes locked on that flickering light, a lump in her throat she didn’t know how to manage either way.

           “Whether or not there was something you could have done, it does not serve you to trouble yourself over it for very long.” Kolivan didn’t look at her as he spoke, feeding a small strip of dark-colored wood into the light. “The purpose of seeing off the dead is that they do not haunt us into the future, that we join their ranks in a moment’s lapse in caution.”

           They had held vigils for Kerberos. Vigils that didn’t feature knives, or take place in the hallways of spaceships- but candles of a different kind.

           “…But what if we don’t know they’re gone?”

           He looked up at her. For a moment, she realized that she couldn’t read his expression- how much she was used to the movement of pupil and iris. She wondered if all galra had thick dark lashes around their eyes, or that fold of skin underneath them- had she never noticed?

           “I mean- obviously, sometimes, dead people are just… dead. But- I don’t know if it was like that for you guys, but, back in the day we weren’t that good at telling whether or not someone was dead, and there were people who were buried while they were still alive.”

           There was a very small movement of Kolivan’s ears, and his jaw shifted. He turned his head back towards the candle, eyes closing. “Galra traditionally cremate our dead.”

           Oh. Right. Yeah, aliens. Different culture. Pidge settled herself, cross-legged, glancing up at Kolivan over her glasses. “You know what I meant, right?”

           “You refer to your missing relatives, I presume.”

           It really shouldn’t have been that nerve-wracking to have a quiet conversation with a galra when the majority of her experience had them threatening her with swords or shooting at her but Pidge jumped, hard enough that for a moment her seat actually left the castle floor. “Whuh- how did- who told you?”

           “Your leader asked if I had information on imperial prison rotations. I am generally unwilling to part with intelligence when I don’t know what it will be used for.”

           It was, Pidge realized gradually, a kind of reassurance. Shiro hadn’t been gossiping behind her back, he’d been trying to help, and Kolivan had pressed him for details. Part of her still chafed at the idea that she hadn’t been there for that talk- what was the point of searching Beta Traz’s logs, then- but other currents stirred beneath that. Guilt, and a little bit of warmth. He’d been trying to help.

           “You are much smaller than your associates.” Kolivan’s voice drew her out of those feelings, back to the hallway. “Am I correct in assuming you are younger than them, as well?”

           “Yeah. I’m fourteen.”

           “…I’m sorry, is it an unusual question?”

           “Huh? Oh, no- I guess I’m used to people just being able to tell-” A thought plucked, and she chased it with little reservation: “...Right, we’re not really used to galra, but, I suppose you aren’t used to humans, either.”

           Silence fell between them. Kolivan’s hands rested on his knees. They were enormous- a balled fist, Pidge guessed, would be the size of her own head, the wrist looking almost too wide for the elongated limb that supported it. At the tip of each finger was a two-inch dagger, wicked sharp and slightly curved.  She could imagine that hand like the paw of a bear, swiping through something hard enough for the hooks in Kolivan’s claws to rip gouges out of it.

           It was odd, sharing a quiet moment with a galra. Not that it was unacceptable, or unpleasant- Kolivan hadn’t taken Shiro or her parents, Kolivan hadn’t tried to kill her. But it occurred to her almost all she knew about their species had been gathered in moments of survival, fear, hostility- one mantra or another of let me win, don’t let them find me, let me get away in time.

           Here, with none of that, it left her with the realization she knew almost nothing about the galra as a species.

           They usually cremated their dead. Her eyes slid down to the candle, and beyond it- Antok’s weapon, now small and dark, only the symbol on the hilt still glowing.

           “What’s going to happen to it?”

           “It’s dormant now, but it will accept another wielder in time. I will take it back to the base with me.”

           “It’s going to go to someone else?” That seemed… odd. A touch hypocritical, maybe, with her there wearing her brother’s old glasses, but-

           (but that was different, a voice insisted, she was going to give them back)

           “Almost every blade has passed through several owners. It is simply a pity that Ulaz and Thace took theirs with them. Perhaps Thace’s will find its way back to us in time.”

           Pidge’s eyes, almost unbidden, strayed to the one at Kolivan’s hip. Even without visible pupils she had the distinct feeling Kolivan was watching her sidelong.

           “Would you care to see it?”

           “Uh-” She hasn’t exactly been part of the conversation, but considering how things went with Keith’s knife, she had come away with major big deal vibes about these things. But- it should be fine, right? If he was offering, and, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to look. “…Can I?”

           He drew the sword with such a fluidity that Pidge wasn’t completely sure of the exact movement. In his hands, it was a straight blade, as long as his forearm, sweeping to an angled head. A single bar of electric purple ran the length of it, just shy of the edge. In Pidge’s, it melted and flowed like water, collapsed into a knife barely a third of its original size. Even like this, it looked different from Keith’s- it still only had a cutting edge on one side. She peered over at Antok’s, still sitting obediently in place- they were all different. “How does it do that?”

           A noise escaped Kolivan- a sort of huffy rasp, and for a moment Pidge thought it was a cough, but he seemed utterly untroubled. “I would think that would be obvious to you. The use of luxite in weapons was inspired originally by the paladin’s bayard.”

           Bayard. What had Allura said about bayards? They took a form unique to each paladin. Pidge hadn’t fought with a weapon a day in her life, and yet- when the green bayard had settled into her hand, and projected its blades, something had felt so right about it- perfectly balanced, like an extension of her arm. She’d never had to think much about the functions- not as if she knew it would do that, but simply, everything it did was something she would have made it do, if she’d built it, if she’d had the resources.

           She handed the weapon back to Kolivan, watched how he neatly turned the knife once in hand, let it flare back to its full length, and holstered it. “It comes back to that quintessence stuff, right? There’s something in you that it responds to.”

           “Yes.” He sounded pleased that she’d made the connection. “There is a resonance between the material, and the galra ourselves, that cannot be falsified by any known means. If it were not for that, I would never have known that your companion was of the blood.”

           Right. Because it did that for Keith- turned into that wavy sword. She had to wonder, then, what it meant that it wasn’t the same shape as Keith’s bayard. If there was some kind of wave ‘template’ created by… souls? Life energy? It sounded like nonsense but the idea of germs had sounded like nonsense before people had the equipment to see them-

           “Are your relatives soldiers?”

           Pidge blinked at the change in topic, her thought process practically creaking as it changed tracks. “Not really? I mean, kind of. The Garrison started with the military, and uses army ranks, but my dad and my brother are scientists. I was going into communication technology before…well, I’m not gonna tell a space princess and a magic lion that I’m not a pilot.”

           “Zarkon believes that in order to be truly successful, the galra must live without mercy. Against such an opponent, the idea that he or his forces will exercise restraint is a luxury that cannot be afforded.”

           Unbidden, a memory dislodged itself.

           “Listen, child. I am a soldier of the galra. Nothing stops me besides victory or death.”

           “…Yeah, I got that after the first ten times somebody tried to kill me.” Pidge stifled a yawn. Before all this happened, she’d find it ridiculous to be talking about a murderous space empire coming after her and then be tired at the same time. Now, well… Kolivan has a point. Being shocked suggested it was a novelty. If she tried to constantly be surprised by it, she’d never be able to sleep.

           Kolivan looked a bit amused. If nothing else, his brows had lifted slightly, and the line of his mouth wasn’t as firm as before. She had to wonder if galra faces weren’t even that hard to read, normally, and Kolivan was just a very closed book.

           “Am I keeping you awake?”

           “Huh? No, I mean… I suppose I probably shouldn’t be up this late.” Shiro would be on her case about it- …or, he would have, if he was there. Pidge stood up. “I’m going to bed.”

           Kolivan’s attention, almost mechanically, redirected itself to the candle. He didn’t stir until Pidge was halfway down the hallway. Then, softly: “It is important to acknowledge when there is nothing you can do. But, perhaps there’s something to be said for retaining hope, provided it is done wisely.”

           It was a very small admission, but one that she turned over in her mind several times in the darkness of her room afterwards.

           And the next day, there was no indication Kolivan had done anything at all- in the hallway, or on any of the cups.

[thekrazykeke]

wRoNg (There Are Rules) {Revised}

Fandom(s): DCEU, Suicide Squad

Relationship(s): Joker x reader

Rating: Mature

Summary: What would you do out of love and self-preservation to protect your family? How far would you go to keep your secrets?

Warning(s): Mind games and emotional manipulation. Triggers are going to be everywhere. I don’t know even where to begin tagging. Read with extreme caution.

Tagging: @ashmuck @alexisbagans143 @toxic-ink @kirsty-lou666 @coppercurlzz @snow-massacre @suckerforsmilex  @lovelylittlekittn @melaninharleyquinn @roneykuni @twilight-loveer

Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three (Part I) Chapter Three (Part II)  Chapter Four

A/N: I listened to Kehlani - Gangsta on repeat while writing this chapter. 

~

Chapter Five

Memories are what our reason is based upon. If we can’t face them, we deny reason itself! Although, why not? We aren’t contractually tied down to rationality. There is no sanity clause. So when you find yourself locked down in an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember: There’s always madness. You can just step outside and close the door, and all those dreadful things that happened, you can lock them away. Madness… is an emergency exit.“ – Joker, the Killing Joke

He knew who she was the second he looked at her face. Y/N Y/L/N, daughter of the elite business bigshot he didn’t bother remembering. That old bastard wasn’t any different the Waynes, the Falcones, all of Gotham really, which he lived to spread laughter and madness with.

But she?

HaHaHA

He had heard i n t r i g u i n g things about Daddy’s little princess. Highly intelligent, emotionally manipulative but passionate, with at least four or five “ fiancés”, none who lived to make it to the altar.

The underworld was all in a stir, a stir, a stir, stir –

“Mister J.” Jonny wisely had stopped a short distance away from him because the Joker was tempted to whip out his gun and empty the chamber for making him lose his train of thought. Nonono, he couldn’t kill Frosty just yet, he was still useful, like with paperwork and cleaning blood and guts out of the carpet.

“What.”

“There’s been an…issue at the docks, boss.”

Staring at her for a few seconds longer, just enough to catch a glimpse of her with her head tipped back, hand on the shoulder of an older gentleman nearly in his sixties, J watched as her fingers stroked over the weathery skin of that old fart’s wrist in an ‘accidental’ caress. And suddenly, he realized that he wanted her. In his bed, on her knees with his cock stretching her pretty lips wide. He wanted to see the bruises peppering her skin from every punch, kick or smack he delivered to her form after he eventually, as he always did, get bored of his new toy. 

Due to his obssesionneedcompulsion that didn’t allow for him to see anyone else but her, he’d landed in this ridiculous predicament, tied almost quite literally to a woman that he couldn’t stand on some days. Sometimes it drove him into further insanity to realize that he couldn’t just murder Y/N and be done with all the nonsense. 

Case in point being now.

“Please, Daddy, I-I’m tired.” Hands pushed weakly at his hands as he rubbed his morning wood against the curve of her buttocks, pulling her tighter against him, aching to get some relief.

“Look, princess, you’re wet.” Voice low and raspy, tinged with annoyance, Joker proved his words by reaching past the waistband of her panties to cup her mound, she was drenching his fingers and he hadn’t even fingered or licked her pussy yet. “If you really didn’t want this, you would be bone dry.”

Predictably, she went quiet when the truth slapped her in the face. For a moment. “Can’t you just take a cold shower--?”

The Joker had reached his breaking point. “You were paid for with a lot of money! ‘A cold shower’, you can’t be...” Pausing, he breathed in heavily through his nose and then rolled over so that he was staring down at her. 

Great, she was crying again. “Listen, kitten. Daddy understands why you’d be upset.”  Not really and he didn’t care. “But the fact of the matter is, this isn’t new to you and if your parents really cared about you like you seem to think, they would have fought harder to keep you.” Apparently his words were too much because she shoved at his chest and J moved back an inch, curious as to what she was doing, only to raise non-existent eyebrows as she laid on her stomach but otherwise said nothing else. "Daddy’s dick is still hard, little girl.” Placing a hand on her hip, waiting for her to tense, to throw a tantrum and push at him but none of that happened and bright blue hues narrowed before he nodded decisively, removing his belt from his pants. 

~

J moving around behind you should have caused apprehension but your tears were drying and you were just left feeling empty. Although you didn't want to hear it, everything the clown had said hadn’t been a lie, it was a truth you had buried down and tried to forget. The feeling of a belt being looped around your wrists behind your back caused your pulse to spike and get even more turned on. The green haired gangster tugged at your restraints, warm breath trickling over the shell of your ear, “Tell me you want to stop. This is the one time I’m going to ask, Y/N.”

Gritting your teeth, biting back the urge to point out his hypocrisy, instead, you remain silent. After a minute or two of waiting, Joker roughly yanked your panties down and off, throwing them to parts of the room unknown, rubbing his semi-hard cock against your wet folds before plunging all the way in with one thrust, knocking the breath from your lungs and causing you to slip forward on the sheets a little. J’s fingers dug into your hips as he slipped almost all the way out before plunging back in again, the change in angle making his cock brush across your g-spot and causing you to moan quietly. He wasn’t satisfied with that little sound and he shifted, the head of his cock running repeatedly over that sensitive spot, making you get louder and louder, the need to orgasm steadily building and then was forced from you as his metal teeth sank into your left shoulder, your brain sending painpleasurepainpainpleasure signals all throughout your nerve endings and you clamped down around him, he managed a few more sloppy thrusts before pushing all the way inside you, spine going straight and body experiencing a fine tremor as his cum filled you.

Once he went soft inside of you, he pulled out and rolled away, while you just laid there for a minute, trying to get your bearings, to ignore how you felt empty and used now. “...I want to talk to my sisters.”

Joker snorted. “You want to gossip about how I fucked you silly?”

Scandalized and off-balance by his crude humor, “What? No!”

If you were a normal couple, this would probably be the part where you’d slap at his chest and he would drag you to him for a hug that might have changed into something more, but the two of you were not a couple or normal, so you realized as he undid his belt buckle, freeing you of the restraints before shucking on a pair of boxers and padding across the room cracking the door open a tad, he said something to a rough faced guy, a guard maybe, and ten minutes later, a cheap phone was placed in your hand. “Daddy’s got his own phone calls to make, you get clean first.” Pointing at the cellphone, J added, “That’s a burner phone, throw it away when you’re done.” With that, he gave his back to you, revealing the large ornate dragon tattoo.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you grabbed some clean clothes and underwear, as well as the cellphone and retreated to the relative safety of the bathroom, only when you heard him start talking, did you carefully turn the lock of the door. Opening the bathroom cabinet, you plucked a bottle of extra strength Tylenol from it’s place among the other prescription medicine and placed it on the counter, along with your clothes and the burner phone. Walking over to the bath, you turn the knobs until the water is warm, pouring scented bath wash inside, watching as bubbles formed and the scent circulated the room; only once the tub was filled enough did you turn off the water and glance back at the phone innocuously sitting where you’d left it.  

As much as you hated to admit it, J had a point, it had’t even been a full day without seeing your little sisters and already you were missing them terribly. What was there to talk about? Nothing, not really.

“I’m letting him get to me.” You mutter aloud. Sighing explosively, stripping of your clothes and you grab the phone and dial the house number by memory. There was a couple rings and then an automated voice saying, “This number is disconnected. Please try again.” Brow furrowing, you dial Father’s cellphone, slowly sinking into the bubble bath, the water reaching your shoulders and you carefully maneuvered so that the phone wouldn’t slip, accidentally electrocuting you in the process. Mouth tightening as you received the same automated voice message about the number being disconnected, you tried Mother’s, and realized what was going on. The reality that hadn’t really, truly hit you until this moment. 

Now that your purpose was fulfilled for the final time, they’d cast you away like yesterday’s trash. Really, this shouldn’t be surprising, all your life this had happened and while you scorned them, at the same time, truthfully, you hadn’t cared because you weren’t in that terrible position, you still had money and were in a position of power because your parents were...and now, in an ironic twist, everything had changed. 

Unbidden, a tear fell down your cheeks silently as the phone fell onto the floor with a small clatter. Followed by another, and another until sobs wracked your frame. Sitting in the bathtub, soaking, head resting against the edge, tears drip down your cheeks, an uncomfortable weight bearing down on your chest. 

What are you going to do now? 

There was no one that you could call, Mother had the numbers changed. Leo was in the house but he wasn’t any protection against J. It was just you, all alone with this man who didn’t know the meaning of ‘No’ and ‘Stop’. He was going to hurt you again, sure as you breathed, you knew it in your bones. There would be a small interval when he wouldn’t, but it’d start up again, he’d find a reason.

Knock-Knock! “Y/N, this door is locked. Why, why, why is this door locked?”

There was only way to protect yourself from men like the Joker. Go someplace where they can’t follow. 

Standing up from the bath as quietly as you were able, you reach a hand out and grab the little bottle of pills, unscrew the cap. Upending the bottle so that a handful were in your palm, just as you were about to cram as many in your mouth that you could, the door was kicked off it’s hinges. 

J and you locked gazes as you daringly put the handful in your mouth anyway. He let out this wordless, inhuman snarl, literally lunging at you, his right hand clamped around your throat tightly, restricting your airway and preventing you from swallowing. “Spit.” His left hand tightened into a fist and he punched the wall near your head. “Them.” Again, he hit the wall. “OUT.” He yelled right in your face, causing your eyes to reflexively close but you held the little capsules on your tongue. “Don’t test me, you bitch. Spit them out like a good girl or I’ll have Frosty pay your family a visit...” Those were the magic words. One by one, the pills plopped down in the bath tub, J watching you like a hawk and then shoving two fingers into your mouth, making absolutely sure that none were hidden, uncaring of the fact that you gagged. Once he was sure they were all gone, he used his right hand to pull you by your hair out of the tub, water sluiced onto the floor and goosebumps peppered your skin, trembling, you waited for him to hit you. 

To punish you. 

But he just looked at you like you were this repulsive bug that he’d stepped on. 

Unable to handle his stare or the silence, you tried to goad him, “Hit me. Go on, hit me. Do it!”

“Is that what this is? Some pathetic cry for help and attention?” he asked in an incredulous voice. Glancing at the phone on the floor, understanding suddenly flooded his features, then looked back at you, cruel amusement lighting up his blue eyes. “Should I hide the rope next? Good thing we’re not near any cliffs or you’d be taking a swan dive.”

Unable to keep quiet any longer, you say, “It’s not like you would understand. You don’t have any family. You have no idea what this feels like!” There’s a ringing silence after your declaration and you continue speaking, needing to vent. “For years and years, I have given everything to my parents, doing what they wanted, giving up hobbies, aspirations and ambitions, in order to further benefit them, to benefit us, and when things get tough, what do they do? They just cut ties and leave me to rot!”

Joker’s voice is sarcastic, “Yes. You just have it so rough. Spoiled little princess actually has to handle the real world, like an adult, without anyone holding her hand and wow, that is terrible.” As if you’d been smacked across the face, you recoiled from his biting words. “I have never met a grown woman so out of touch with reality.” Giving you one last disgusted stare, he says, “Let me tell you something, dollface, and listen to me carefully, because this is the last warning.” For once, he looked completely serious. “If you ever attempt to do something like this again, the things that I will do to your family in retaliation will be like something out of your worst nightmare.” 

The feeling of the bottom of your stomach having fallen out is prominent and your face paled.

“Nod your head and say, ‘I understand, Daddy’.” 

Woodenly, you did as instructed and he nodded, satisfied. Just when you thought everything was fine, he backhanded you, the force of the blow throwing you to the floor. Eventually, you managed to painfully, slowly, pick yourself up, getting a good look at your features in the mirror, there was a thin cut sluggishly bleeding from your temple. Trembling fingers touched at the wound gingerly, opening the medicine cabinet once again, searching for the necessary, “It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.” That’s the mantra that you repeated to yourself repeatedly, words going from wobbly to steady and once you were sure that you wouldn't cry, and you were all fixed up, you dressed in clean clothes, peeking around your bedroom door to see if J was still in the room, luckily he wasn’t. Tossing the soiled clothes into the dirty clothes hamper, and once that was done, you felt restless, an itching burning covered your skin. Pacing back and forth in the room, back and forth, you tried not to think of everything that had gone wrong in less than a day, for this entire week, and the need to get out grew exponentially. 

Knock-Knock! There was a knock on the bedroom door and against your best wishes, you flinched. 

“Ma’am? Are you decent, can I come in?”

Brain whirling, trying to think, the only logical way that you were getting out of this room is if you escape. Fighting had never been your strong suit, and you were only barely passable in self-defense, this man would likely be armed, you didn’t know anything about guns. 

“Ma’am, are you okay?” There was another firmer knock. “I’m coming in.” The knob turned and the door opened, revealing the same guard from earlier, who’d given the phone to J. He looked at the bathroom door, torn from it’s hinges, barely glancing in your direction before crossing the room to inspect the damage. 

‘This is your chance. Go. Go!’ Polar opposite of your thoughts, you remain exactly where you are, “It’s silly but I saw a spider and I-I screamed. J thought that there was an intruder, and he kicked the door in...”

“Hate to interrupt you, ma’am.” His face contradicted that statement. “But I’ve been working for the boss for nearly two years. I like this job, and well, I don’t think I need to explain what he would do if he caught me talking to you.”

Cheeks burning with humiliation, clenching your fists together, undoubtedly about to say something scathing or regretful, but before you did, once again, there was a knock on the half opened door and you turned to see Frost.

“I was told to be your escort.”

“Escort? Escort me where exactly?” The brunette didn’t deserve your sarcasm but well, you could’t keep your silence any longer even though Jonny wasn’t the source of your ire.

“Please, Miss Y/N, don’t make this difficult.” With barely a shift in his expression or tone, Jonny blithely ignored the quiet snort the other man working on the bathroom door let out. “Boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

~

The place that you were being escorted turned out to be one of J’s many clubs peppered all over Gotham, more specifically, the Smile and Grin Club. Male and female performers sensually danced in glass cages, enticing some of the city’s most affluent or corrupt, you recognized a few faces out in the crowd but weren’t given much time to really gawk or appreciate that there was literally gold everywhere as Jonny led you up to a VIP lounge closed off to the rest of the nightclub. 

Sitting there was a pretty Latina woman with long dark hair and full pink lips, her eyes stormy with rage, she seemed to actually be arguing with J, though he was seemingly oblivious or just immune, staring out at the rest of the people below, hands resting atop his purple cane. 

“Boss, I brought her.” Quick as a snake, J’s maddened blue eyes fastened on your face, and you maintained eye contact though every part of you screamed to get far, far away from him. 

“Who is this?” Although the woman had been belligerent towards Joker, her demeanor was cautious but non-hostile towards you.

“That is none of your concern.” J drawled, flicking his ringed fingers in a dismissive gesture. “Our business is concluded, Romina. As promised, I won’t take Reverend Jones to task about missing her monthly payment this time but I expect double the amount next month.”

“She can’t--”

“Do you want to triple the payment?” He smiled though it was more a baring of teeth. The woman, Romina, and J, glared at each other and you imagined two opposing animals in the wild circling each other, looking for weakness in the other, when they couldn’t find it, they resorted to growling and snarling. Who would win a confrontation if they came to blows? The first thought you had was J, but there was this aura about Romina, a fierce, untouchable edge that’s undefinable and unexplained. The tension was abruptly cut when the woman rose from her seat, brushing her hair out of her line of sight, nodded curtly to the room at large before walking past Jonny and you, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as she left, restraining the urge to look after her retreating back. 

J clapped, drawing your attention back to him. “Daddy got you a gift, to prove that he’s not upset about earlier.” He was acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary as if he hadn’t been the one to hit you, you thought mulishly to yourself, ignoring that previous to that, you’d been the one goading him. No, this cut on your forehead was all his fault. “Come on, honey, turn that frown upside down.” With firm fingers, he pulled at your cheeks a little. “Smile.” He commanded, a deadly glint appearing in his gaze and you must have managed because he grinned, pleased. 

Gesturing animatedly, he pointed to a door behind the couch, and a few men with earpieces and wearing suits brought...

“Marisa?” Voice faint, you glanced at the slightly scruffed appearance of the older woman, your former childhood playmate. Glancing back at J, he grinned, showing off his metal teeth. “I, how did...”

“There’s little going on in this city that I don’t know about first, doll. Finding this trash was child’s play.” Again, he clapped his hands and one of the men wheeled in a tray containing several knives and a gun or two. “Now, to show that you have no hard feelings about earlier, you’re going to do something for me, a test of loyalty if you will.”

“‘Test’?” 

Marisa seemed to be on the uptake faster than you because she started begging, “Y/N, please. Please, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. Don’t do this. This isn’t you. Please, don’t…” Marisa’s breathing hitched and she sobbed when Joker reached out and handed you a knife, wrapping your limp hand around the handle until you got with the program and held it on your own. 

“Do it.” he crooned. “Do it do it do it do it.”

Blood rushing to your ears, you glanced at the knife and back at Marisa, slowly lowering the blade, shaking your head. “I can’t do this. No.” Looking at J, you breathed in deep, then said, “No.” For emphasis. 

“No?” J stared at you. “...Huh. You said ‘No’ and I wasn’t trying to force it this time. Oh well. Hard way is the fun way. Frost!” Like a silent apparition, the henchman appeared, handing him a tablet. Pressing a few buttons, he turned the device in your direction, and your heart nearly stopped beating as you saw Karah and Naomi, oblivious to being watched, sitting at what looked like a cafe, enjoying tea and a plate of cupcakes that they were sharing. “You said I didn’t understand earlier, and you’re right about that. My question to you now is, what would you do to protect that which you value the most, hmmm?”

Although he handed the tablet back to Jonny, the image of the twins so vulnerable was forever burned into your mind. Joker knew your weakness and undoubtedly he would keep pressing on it until you toughened up and didn’t react, or, or...

“Y/N, please...Please!” Marisa’s voice broke into a high pitched scream as you approached, clenching the knife tighter in your hand. Shoving at the men holding her captive, she somehow managed to break free and turned to run, but where, you didn’t know, didn’t care about, you grabbed her hair, pulling harshly and her elbow lashed out, hitting you in the nose. Eyes watering at the pain but thankfully nothing felt broken, you clumsily slashed at her back, the metal tearing her shirt and drawing blood, making her cry out, sob. She tried to dislodge your fist from her hair but you slashed her again, nicking her fingers this time and she twisted, tears falling unrestrained down her cheeks as she punched you, clipping you in the chin and causing you to see stars temporarily. 

Dazed, you backed up, shaking your head and get rid of the white dots filling your vision, but Marisa pressed the advantage, punching you again, this time in the stomach, knocking the breath out of you and you wildly lashed out at her face, starting to feel a little angry. The clumsy attack went wild and she grabbed your arm, twisting, trying to get you to let weapon go. 

It hurt. 

It hurt so bad and you wanted to let the knife fall but if you did, she’d just pick the knife up herself and use it on you. Gritting your teeth, eyes misting with tears, you used your free hand to claw at her face, dug your thumb into her eye, or tried to. Maybe it worked, maybe it didn’t, but she screamed and released you. Backing up, trying to get a little distance, you blinked quickly, and Marisa lunged at you and you gripped the knife, thrusting the blade forward, the knife sank into her chest easily. The two of you locked eyes for a few seconds. This wasn’t like the movies, there was no emotional apology or words of forgiveness, just your own heavy, labored breathing and you watched as blood stained her shirt, getting bigger and bigger, then she sagged, like a puppet with its strings cut. Without hesitation you let go of the knife and her carcass hit the club floor, backing up. Right into J, who wrapped one arm around your torso, using a hand to tilt your face up to his, taking in your features and whatever he saw on your face had him smiling. 

“Jonny, bring the car around.”

“Yes, boss.”

Calloused fingers stroked over your chin, trailed over your bottom lip, “How do you feel?” Sifting through your feelings, you shook your head carefully. “Nothing. That’s...that’s bad, isn’t it? I should be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, right? I’ve, I’ve never fought or killed anyone before.”

“No? I couldn’t tell.” Mockingly, he flashed a smile and then roughly lifted your chin, kissing you deeply, his tongue forcing itself past the seam of your lips, sensually caressing your own. You moaned, hands flying to his shoulders, going up to the nape of his neck, wanting more and he gentled the kiss just a little, purring, his own hands drifted down your ass, grabbing a handful and squeezing. The two of you were forced to stop when Frost came back but J’s possessive hand on your hip let you know that he was not finished with you and with how damp your panties were getting, maybe you didn’t want him to be.

~

J drove to a meadow further out from the normal areas of Gotham. He barely waited to park the Lamborghini and impatiently waiting for you to get out before he was all over you. He shoved you over the car’s trunk, kicking your legs apart, all but tearing off your bottoms and yanking your underwear down around your ankles. The feel of the cool air against your wetness had you moaning, begging in a continuous litany, “Please, please, please--” 

The sound of J’s belt being removed had you rubbing your legs together. 

“You said ‘No’ to me earlier.” He murmured in your ear and you felt his leather belt caress your butt. “I should punish you for that.” 

Before you could even begin to think about a suitable apology, he was pushing into you slowly, teasingly slow, holding your hips tight so that you couldn’t force him to go in any faster. Felt him smirk against the skin of your neck as you tried to buck your hips but couldn’t. Once he was fully sheathed, he paused to let you adjust for a few seconds and then he withdrew almost completely before slamming back in deep. He did this a few times before he found the right angle and then the two of you were moving together in a furious rhythm, chasing your release. All the buildup had you about to cum first and J could tell, he yanked your head back by your hair, giving you a sloppy kiss as he worked his thumb around your clit in a circle, making you clamp down around him and he grunted, hips still moving as he fucked through his orgasm and fucked you through yours. When he pulled out, he did so carefully, kissing the crown of your head in an intimate gesture before tucking himself back into his pants, helping you redress. Later that night, he took you again, twice. Once against the hallway wall outside your bedroom, the other time he let you ride him but he controlled how fast and slow you moved. 

And in the morning, despite all your weak protests, you allowed him to personally tattoo your left arm, heart fluttering when he murmured in an almost too low voice, “My Queen.” 

[prophetandprincess]

Well hello anyone who is still around. I promise I did not abandon Alex and have no plan to in the future, though my recent writing activity speaks otherwise. Here is the latest chapter and I hope to update a bit more regularly as it has literally been years. Enjoy!

“Alexandra, oh thank God.” Monica said, enveloping Alex in a tight hug when she got to the hallway outside her apartment. “I didn’t know that you were out and when the officers knocked on my door and told me the apartment number…” 

“I was working with Parker at his place on our midterm for Biochem,” Alex explained as she hugged Monica back, feeling very numb. “How bad is it? Have you seen inside?” 

“Only a glimpse when I came charging up here, before the police officer could grab me. Alex…” The look on Monica’s face to let her know that whatever glimpse she got wasn’t good. “You’re staying at my place tonight, no arguments.” 

Peter put his hand on Alex’s shoulder, making her jump because she forgot that he was there, and gave it a squeeze. She threw him a small smile over her shoulder to show that she appreciated the support, but there was no sense of loss or fear at the moment. There was nothing. This emptiness was either left over from whatever happened to her on the roof or a whole new wave of shock that was washing over her. At that moment, it really didn’t matter. She was almost thankful for it. 

“I guess I should tell them that I’m not dead, huh?” Alex sighed before walking up to the officer that was standing outside the door, securing the crime scene. “Excuse me.” 

“No one is allowed to enter, this is a crime scene. I am not allowed to provide any information so if you could please go back to your apartment, Miss.” The officer’s tone let Alex know that he had to repeat that same script to just about everyone in the building. A thankless job. Also she had no idea her neighbors were so nosey. 

“This is my apartment, I’m Alexandra Harper.” Alex gave him a soft smile. “Is there a detective in charge here that I can speak with? I’m sure they’re going to have some questions.”

The officer looked very baffled by that, but he went into her apartment without asking for any sort of identification. The door was open, more accurately half ripped off the hinges, so she was able to peek around the door frame and look inside. At first her brain didn’t process what was in front of her, it looked as if it had snowed, before she realized it was her couch, pillows, and mattress shredded to pieces and the stuffing strewn everywhere. Then she started to pick things out of the wreckage, her grandfather’s trunk on it’s side, the floor lamp in pieces among the stuffing, and a female detective walking toward her looking a little haggard. 

“Miss Harper? I’m Detective Demetria Donohoe,” the detective snapped off her gloves before offering her hand. “I’m sorry to meet you this way, but I’m glad to find out that you weren’t here when...whatever happened here happened.” 

“Does this have anything to do with the other scientists' apartments that were destroyed?” Alex shook her hand, thankful to have something focused on other than the wreckage of her worldly possessions. “I read about it in the paper.” 

“You’re a scientist? The doorman said that you were a college student,” Detective Donohoe looked a little confused, her grey eyes looking over her shoulder as if the answer was somewhere in the wreckage. Alex hoped she found it. 

“I’m in my senior year of college, biochemistry major, but I’m an intern at Stark Industries as well. I don’t know if that qualifies as a scientist, but...” Alex shrugged. 

“Well, that changes things a little. Shit,” Detective Donohoe muttered before turning to the officer at her shoulder. “Go ahead and call Sousa, let him know he has another one. However, Spider-Man did not show up this time so it’s still my case.” 

“That’s a pretty long message,” the officer quipped back, but then got on his phone. 

It took everything in Alex not to look over her shoulder at Peter. She knew that he had looked into the other two trashed apartments, which meant that he probably knew something about whoever did this. More than the police at any rate. However, she wasn’t going to pick his brain with people who would be all too happy to arrest him standing right there. Also, it wasn’t like she’d be able to do anything about it. This was a job for superheroes, not Alex. 

As if on cue, God Bless America started playing from her backpack. 

“Do you mind me answering my phone?” Alex asked, not wanting to be rude, but she also didn’t want Steve charging over to the apartment either. That would be a bit difficult to explain. 

“Go ahead, I’m sure there are people as worried about you as your friends over there,” Detective Donohoe tilted her head over to where Monica and Peter were pretending not to be eavesdropping. “Take your time. Tell the officer when you’re free so I can take your statement.”  

Alex rummaged through her backpack as she walked past Monica and Peter, both started asking her questions that she ignored, and dipped into the stairwell to answer the phone. Both of her friends were smart enough not to follow her right away. They were good people.  

“Alex, is everything okay?” Steve said before Alex could even give him a hello. “Hill told me that the police had been called to your apartment building due to a disturbance. What did you do?” 

“I like that it goes from am I okay to me being guilty very quickly.” Alex smiled, but she still didn’t feel anything. That was not good. When she did start feeling something, it was going to be a problem and poor Monica was going to have to deal with it. 

“Alex,” Steve warned. 

“I’m fine, as you can tell,” Alex sighed. “Unfortunately, the same can’t be said about my apartment. Apparently someone did not like my personal aesthetic so they decided to redecorate for me. There was a lot of slashing and breaking involved. Very modern art of them.” 

Steve was quiet for a long moment and Alex could only imagine the face he was making. She gave him time to process what she had just told him while she attempted to process it herself. In all of the other attacks, the other scientists also weren’t home. Maybe whoever it was didn’t want to hurt anyone, but then what purpose did destroying the apartments hold? What were they looking for? It didn’t make any sense. 

“I can send Hill over to get you and you can crash at my place in the Tower. I’m not there so you don’t need to worry about the gossip,” Steve finally said once he had mentally did whatever cursing he needed to. 

“Steve, don’t you think the offer in itself will cause gossip?” Alex pointed out. “Monica is going to let me crash on her couch and I’ll figure something out tomorrow if I can’t get back into my place. I’m guessing you’re out of the country since you aren’t in your apartment and aren’t coming over here yourself.” 

“You’d be correct. Is it safe to stay with Monica? Isn’t she a scientist as well? If this thing came for you, what’s stopping them from trying again? Or going after Monica and getting you as well?” Steve pointed out, which was a very concerning thought that had already crossed her mind.  

“That’s true, but I’d rather be there to try and help her than leave her alone, if that’s the case. Also, I doubt that whoever this is will hit twice in one night.” Alex had no evidence that this was the case, but it sounded like a good convincing reason. 

“I’d still feel better if you were in the Tower, but I know you well enough not to push it. I’m going to send you Hill’s number. Call her if anything happens before I get back and I mean anything.” Steve muttered something under his breath. “I have to go.” 

“Be careful Steve.” Alex had no idea where in the world he was or what he was up to, but she doubted it was a walk in the park. It was so hard to remember that Steve was Captain America sometimes. 

“You too,” Steve sounded almost sad as he ended the call. 

Alex sat down on one of the steps and tried to wrap her head around everything that had happened in the last hour. She had literally swung through New York City, lost about twenty minutes of her life after hearing the sound of gunshots, and then found out that most of her worldly possessions had been ripped apart by someone or something attacking scientists. What was the point of trying to avoid superheroes and their bullshit if it just found her anyway? 

“Hey,” Peter said as he opened the door to the stairwell and poked his head inside, “You okay?” 

“Define okay?” Alex gave him a small smirk as she scooted over on the step so that he could sit next to her. “Honestly, this isn’t the craziest thing that has happened to me. I’m sure it’s going to hit me when I have to go in there and clean up my life, but right now I’m doing alright. What do you know about this guy? You’ve seen his handiwork before.” 

“Not as much as I’d like. He’s crazy fast, even for me, so I haven’t been able to get a good look at him. He wears a suit of some kind that has large ears, which I am guessing has some sort of hearing equipment that helps him out, and ferocious looking claws that seem to be able to cut through anything. However, why he is going after scientists I don’t understand. At first I thought he had a grudge against Oscorp, that’s where the first two people worked, but now there’s you.” Peter bumped her shoulder with his. 

“I always throw a wrench in everyone’s plans,” Alex laughed as she bumped him back. “Speaking of which, I should probably go talk to that lovely Detective about how I don’t know anything. You should probably get out of here before Detective Sousa shows up as he is the leader of the task force to capture Spider-Man and you’ve got all your gear on you.” 

“But I’m just Peter Parker right now, so unless they’re going to do a strip search for some reason and find my suit, I’ll be alright. Besides, I have to provide you with an alibi.” Peter winked as he got to his feet and offered his hand to pull her up. 

“You know something, Parker?” Alex took his hand and let him pull her up. “You’re alright.” 

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Peter laughed as he held the door and waved his hand for her to go through. 

Monica was chatting with the officer at the door, flipping her curls and turning on her charm. This seemed a little out of character for her, but Alex just added it to the list of weird things that happened that evening. It seemed to be just flirty small talk, which the officer was lapping up, and he was more than happy to get Detective Donohoe for Alex when she interrupted. Monica shot her a wink that Alex didn’t completely understand before Donohoe reappeared and instructed her to put on the crime scene booties before waving her underneath the yellow crime scene tape.

Stepping into the apartment was very surreal. Alex grew up in the Midwest and was no stranger to tornados and that was the level of damage in her small studio apartment. Now that she was inside, the stuffing wasn’t enough to hide the rest of the carnage. There were deep gashes in the walls and floors that were easily identified as claw marks, cabinets ripped off the wall with the contents broken all over the floor, and no matter where she looked there was just destruction. The amount of rage displayed for someone whoever it was didn’t know almost seemed comical to Alex. That was probably the shock kicking in. 

“I know it might be stupid to ask if anything is missing, but can you pick out any large piece or item of significance that you can’t see?” Donohoe asked, but then gave her a small smile. “If you can’t, that’s understandable too.” 

“I mean…” Alex looked around, “I have a laptop and notebook for research that was on my grandfather’s trunk. I don’t know if they’re still around here, just under stuff, or if they’ve been taken. Other than that, I can’t make heads or tails of all of this to really tell.” 

“I’ll have the crime scene investigators look for those items when they get into this room,” Donohoe said with a nod. “Now, and I have to ask, where were you tonight?” 

“I was at my lab partner's house, Peter Parker, who walked me home given that I had a run in with some not so nice guys a while ago. I think they’re all in jail, again, but maybe they have something to do with this. I don’t know their names, but it was the guys implicated in the Marquee club assaults.” Alex knew that they had nothing to do with this, but might as well throw it out there since the detective was going to find out about that mess anyway. “The only other person that might have a grudge is my ex-boyfriend Markus, but I think he’s in jail as well.” 

“They’re all still locked up, I checked,” Micheal Sousa said as he walked into the apartment, hands in his pocket, and a smile on his face. “How’s it looking, Demi?” 

“Just like the others, pure carnage,” Donohoe gave him a smile that Alex thought might have been a little more than professional courtesy. “Your boy didn’t show up here though, Mike. So, this stays my case.” 

“From what I’ve heard, this guy has some serious claws,” Micheal waved his hand to the gouges in the wall. “That sounds like a case that would technically fall onto my desk, Spider-man or not.” 

“We will argue about this later,” Donohoe said good-naturedly, as if she was looking forward to it. “Right now I am questioning Miss Harper, so if you don’t mind?” 

“Oh, Alex won’t mind if I stay, we’re old friends at this point,” Micheal looked over at her with a smile. “I thought I told you to call if you wanted to see me. This is the third time this year that I’ve had to see you at a crime scene.” 

“What can I say? You’re just so magnetic that I can’t help myself,” Alex laughed. 

Detective Donohoe looked between the two of them as if she was connecting dots. Alex didn’t want to know what those dots were and she didn’t ask. Instead, she waited for the next question to be asked so that she could possibly get some clothes and go sleep on Monica’s couch. It wasn’t that she was tired, Alex was always tired these days, but she just wanted people to stop talking to her. Being an actual person was starting to become very annoying.  

“So,” Donohoe said eventually, giving Micheal one more look before continuing, “you said that you were with Peter Parker all night? When did you arrive at his house?” 

“Around six, I think. We worked on a project for about a half an hour, then had dinner with his aunt. We then worked on the project and I guess we left his place in Queens around 10:30ish? The police were here when we walked up to the apartment and then we ran right up here.” Alex might have fudged the time leaving a bit to make up for the twenty minutes for the bank robbery. 

Micheal raised an eyebrow at the mention of Peter Parker, but didn’t say anything and let Detective Donohoe continue with her questioning. It was a pretty quick interview and Donohoe headed out into the hallway to corroborate the story with Peter. That left Alex and Micheal standing in the wreckage of her living room while two other officers were in the area designated for the bedroom. 

“Peter Parker, as in the Peter Parker you asked me to do a background on?” Micheal asked softly so the other officers wouldn’t hear. “That Peter Parker?”   

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Did you get a chance to run that, by the way?” Alex now knew why Peter was acting so weird when she first met him, but might as well see what Micheal found out. If nothing else, she could tell Peter if the police were onto his vigilante identity. 

“Seems like a run of the mill kid that’s been through a lot. Both of his parents were killed in an accident when he was young. Then a couple years ago his uncle was killed while he tried to stop a robbery in progress. Last year his girlfriend, Gwen Stacey, was killed in another accident. Poor kid seems to attract death, however, no criminal record and by all accounts seems to be a science nerd.” Micheal looked over at Alex. “You said he was your lab partner? Maybe don’t hang out with him more than needed? You attract more than enough trouble all by yourself.”  

“But then I would never see you,” Alex laughed as she looked around the apartment. “Do you think I’d be able to take some clothes and things from here or is everything evidence.” 

“That’s going to be up to Demi - Detective Donohoe,” Micheal caught himself. “As much as I like working her up, this is her crime scene. She’s also a damn good detective, so don’t give her too much trouble.” 

“Me? Trouble?” Alex gave him a smile which caused him to roll his eyes. “I will be on my best behavior, scout’s honor.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Micheal laughed as they walked out into the hallway, Micheal holding up the crime scene tape for her to duck under. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a bank robbery that I need to get back to before one of the other officers messes something up.” 

“That doesn’t sound like your normal gig.” Alex was starting to become concerned at how good she was at playing dumb. “NYPD short staffed or are they leaning on your expertise?” 

“Smart-ass.” Micheal laughed before sighing. “Spider-Man decided to take on a dangerous gang and it ended up with a grenade going off inside the bank. No one was hurt, but the property damage has people up in arms. Mostly the people who own the bank. Also, they had interesting guns on them so they figured I was the one to catch that case. Lucky me.” 

“Be careful out there,” Alex said with a smile. “And try to get some sleep.” 

“Same to you,” Micheal smiled. He nodded at Monica and Peter before he disappeared around the corner. 

It was about a half an hour before Detective Donohoe allowed Alex to grab a few things from the apartment. Monica, Peter, and Alex trudged down to Monica’s apartment, where she ushered them all inside before closing and locking the door. Monica immediately went into the fridge, pulled out the Louisiana Special, and poured three shots. They all took it without a word, the silence only broken when Peter started coughing. 

“Well that will wake you up,” Peter said with a small laugh. “I don’t think I even want to know what that is.” 

“Good cause I don’t know,” Monica smiled a little at him. “I guess I should have asked if you’re even old enough to drink. Don’t go tell the cops.” 

“Oh, I won’t, though I might have to file an assault charge if I drink any more of that,” Peter laughed as he rolled his shoulders. “I should get home before Aunt May starts to worry.” 

“Are you alright to get home by yourself Peter? We can grab you and Uber or Taxi or something,” Monica offered.

“Nah, I’ll be okay. Are you two going to be okay here? I know you don’t really know me, but I’d be happy to stay if it makes you feel better?” Peter’s fingers were drumming against his leg. 

“No offense, but you look like a strong wind could blow you over,” Monica laughed. “As nice as it was to meet you, Peter. I think it’s time we all go to bed. Besides, what would your aunt think, you sleeping in the same apartment as two beautiful women.” 

“She’s probably over the moon about it actually.” Peter laughed, but he knew a dismissal when he heard it, gave a little finger wave to them both before he saw himself out of the apartment. Monica locked the door again and poured out two more shots, which they both threw back without a second thought. After that, they both went and flopped down on the couch, eyes closed, and sighed. Alex wanted to say something, to thank Monica for once again being a better friend than she deserved, but the words just didn’t come. 

“I know I can’t blame you for this recent incident, but girl, you are going to give me grey hairs. I swear.” Monica laughed after another couple minutes. “What the hell is going on in this city, A.J.? Why are scientists being attacked?” 

“I wish I knew,” Alex sighed. “It just doesn’t make any sense. You know that I’m not a humble person, but I would not consider myself a scientist since I haven’t even graduated yet. The other two scientists, they worked for Oscorp right? Did you know them?” 

“No, I’m just a lowly intern, but you know how gossip gets around,” Monica smiled. “Apparently they were both part of the genetics division, which isn’t a division known for taking their work home with them. The rumor, which you never heard from me, was that they were actually in the process of closing down a failed project. At first it might have something to do with that, but now there’s you.” 

“Now there’s me,” Alex sighed. “A biochemistry student that is working at Stark Industries on a serum to stop organ rejection. While there might be a genetic component, I’m not seeing a strong connection.” 

“I guess that’s why we aren’t attractive police detectives, though the officer at the door didn’t know much no matter how much charm I threw at him,” Monica laughed as she got up. “I’m exhausted. Let me get you some blankets and stuff. I’ll also give you the spare key since I know that you’re going to go jogging at an obnoxious hour.” 

Alex didn’t protest as Monica moved about her apartment. Soon, there were two pillows, a sheet, and blankets beside her along with a key on her key ring. Goodnights were exchanged before Monica locked herself in her room. Alex dutifully made her bed, changed, and laid down even though she knew sleep wouldn’t come. 

No matter how Alex twisted around the facts, none of it made sense. The attack on her didn’t fit with the other two scientists and why was someone attacking scientists in the first place? Maybe it had something to do with the project that the other two scientists were shutting down that was somehow connected to her. Hard to know without knowing what the project was. Maybe it was a project that was operating when Harry Osbourn was still in charge, though the CEO probably didn’t know everything that happened in the building. If Alex knew what the project was, maybe she would see the reason that she was attacked and somehow defend herself. 

The minutes ticked by and Alex was no closer to sleep. She listened to the hum of the air conditioner, the fridge turning on and off, and every once and a while Monica’s bed would squeak as she rolled over. Exhaustion was settled deep into her bones, but no matter what she tried, her eyes stayed wide open. 

It was almost a relief when her phone started vibrating where it was laying underneath her pillow. Alex pulled it out to see an unknown number, but she figured it was Steve checking up on her from a cell phone that was not his personal one. It only took her a moment to accept the call and put it up to her ear, saying hello softly as to not wake Monica. Instead of Steve’s voice, it was another one that she knew very well.

“Alex,” James was speaking just as softly, “is everything alright? Why are you whispering?” 

“Because I am at Monica’s apartment. Why are you calling at three in the morning? Are you alright?” Alex thought it best to avoid trying to answer if everything was alright, it might be the thing that broke through her numb feeling and dissolve into hysterics. 

“It’s not that late here, or early I guess. Why are you at Monica’s? Did something happen?” There was a slight tinge of concern in his voice now, which made Alex feel good and also pissed her off a little. 

“If you must know, wherever you are in the world, someone broke into my apartment and tore it to pieces. It is currently a crime scene and so I’m crashing in Monica’s apartment. Steve offered his place at the Tower, but I thought that would be a bit much, don’t you?” Alex kept her tone breezy, as if this happened every day. Well, it was starting to happen annual, which was very concerning, but that was something to think about another time. 

“It wasn’t that bastard from last year, was it?” James’s voice was low and dark, sending a chill down her spine. 

“No, Markus is still in jail, Micheal checked because he had the same thought. James, why are you calling? I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me?” Alex sighed. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to James, that was the only thing that she wanted, but this telling her goodbye forever and then calling her a few weeks later was ripping her heart into very small pieces. 

“It’s not...Alexandra.” The way that James said her name sounded like his heart was being ripped apart as well. “There will never be a day I want nothing to do with you, but...you know who I am, but you don’t know what I did. Not all of it. If you did…” 

“It wasn’t you, you were programmed to do those things. You aren’t a bad person, I know that even if you don’t. I’ve seen that you aren’t. If that is the only reason you are staying away-”

“I’m wanted for more than twenty-four assassinations, Alexandra. That also has to be taken into consideration.” James cut her off, but she thought that there might be a smile in his voice. Maybe she was just hoping that it was there. 

“So there are some legal issues to work out,” Alex conceded. “Do you really think Steve can’t help you with that? I mean, Tony Stark probably has a whole legal division that could get you out of all those charges with enough money. If you wanted to be here, me and Steve could figure out a way to do it. I promise you that. You are just looking for an excuse” 

“You really think that I want to be in the middle of nowhere and not waking up next to you in bed? Seriously?” Alex could practically see him shaking his head. “It’s not that easy, nothing is, and I don’t think Tony Stark is going to be all that interested in helping me. Call it a hunch.” 

Alex wanted to ask James what he meant by that, but he started talking again before she could form the question. “Listen to me Alexandra. Don’t go and track down whoever it was that tore up your apartment. Leave it to the police, leave it to Steve, leave it to literally anyone who isn’t you. Keep your head down and stay out of it.” 

“Why would I want to go look for someone who put claw marks into my wall?” Alex couldn’t help but laugh a little. 

“Do I need to go over the entire week I was with you and all the less than intelligent things that you did, including even talking to me in the first place?” James was definitely smiling now. “Whatever this is, stay out of it. I’m sure Steve would be more than happy to play the white knight for you again.” 

“Well, there is no way you’re going to know, now is there?” Alex pointed out, feeling a little smug. “And is that jealousy that I hear in your voice?” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that I wouldn’t know what you’re up to and yes, yes it is,” James said with a chuckle. “Будь в безопасности, любовь моя.” 

The other end of the line went dead. Alex stared at the phone for a moment before she shoved it back underneath her pillow. There was exactly two hours and twenty-seven minutes before her alarm would go off for her run. Still, even though she was exhausted, there was a sense of peace that settled over her she hadn’t felt in a long time. Her Russian was still annoyingly basic, but she was pretty sure she picked out the word safe in there. Also, the petty part of her liked that James was jealous of Steve, though it made her the bitch girl in every rom-com ever written. It shouldn’t make her so happy that he still cared, that he still wanted to be with her. 

He gave her an inch and Alex had always been one to take a mile.

[mrsteveecook]

my coworkers trash-talk me in a secret group chat, keeping unvaccinated kids out of our office, and more

It’s four answers to four questions. Here we go…

1. My bosses and coworkers have a secret group chat where they trash-talk me

A few months ago, I started a new job in a very small office (only three employees, plus a few interns). I had some trouble acclimating because the environment was so different from my last job. But as far as I knew, I was doing fine.

About a month in, I walked past my coworker’s desk (we have an open office) and saw my name pop up on her Slack. It ended up being a groupchat that the entire office was in — including supervisors — except for me. One of my supervisors was recounting a disciplinary conversation he had had with me. (I was using my cellphone at my desk too much; I apologized and said it was very common at my previous job, but that I would stop. For the record, I did stop.)

After that, I started feeling like everyone in the office disliked me. I couldn’t stop getting anxious, and there were multiple times that I’d walk past someone’s computer and see my name pop up in that same groupchat. I know I should have stopped looking. I don’t have an excuse as to why I didn’t. I could say that my bosses were communicating with everyone except for me about my shortcomings, but still, I should have kept my eyes on my own paper.

Eventually, I saw my boss tell a coworker that they were planning on firing me, so I put in my two weeks’ notice, citing my poor performance in the position (which is valid, to be honest). When I did that, the two aforementioned bosses told me that I was a fine worker and I hadn’t been underperforming at all. One of them said, “Are you committed to quitting?” I said yes.

Everyone was super nice about it, to the extent that I wondered if I had imagined the past two months of gossip and plans to fire me. To be fair, I am very easy to gaslight. Not that I was being gaslit in this situation — it’s just easy to convince me I’m wrong in my perception of anything. Anyway, once again, I saw the following exchange in the groupchat while my coworker talked to me about something: “She said she’s COMMITTED to quitting” “Feels good to get a monkey off your back” “She’s so skinny”

How do I deal with the next week and a half at this job? I can’t really listen to music or podcasts or anything. I already have clinically-diagnosed anxiety and I can’t stop myself from catastrophizing everything that happens at work. I take a lot of bathroom breaks for the specific purpose of panicking. I’m so scared of seeing them say something else about me — or misrepresent something I said — but I’m even more scared of missing out on what they say. Would it be reasonable to cut my two weeks short? Should I confront someone about what I saw? This is taking a huge toll on my mental health.

Since you’ve only been there a few months, there’s no real benefit to including this job on your resume — and if you leave them off, you don’t need to worry about them being called as a reference. That means that you can walk out of there today if you want to, and as you do so, feel free to say, “I saw the group chat you’ve been having about me, and it sounds like you’d prefer that I leave today, so I’m going to pack up now. Best of luck to you.”

The reason they’re being nice to your face while trash-talking you behind your back is that they’re horrible people, but being nice to your face lets them believe they’re not being mean.

2. Keeping unvaccinated kids out of our office

I have a coworker who opted out of vaccinations for her three children. I live in an area currently experiencing a measels outbreak. A state of emergency has been declared by the governor over it. I am vaccinated and don’t have kids of my own. However, several of my other coworkers have kids as young as 4 weeks. Tbe antivax coworker brings their kids in from time to time, which brings me to my question. Is it even possible to ask my coworker to keep their adorable infectious disease vectors away from the office, for the sake of the kids too young to be vaccinated? I work for a state agency, for what it’s worth.

I can’t speak to how being at a state agency might impact this, but generally speaking, your employer can absolutely require that unvaccinated kids be kept out of your office. And you or your coworkers can make that request as well — it just won’t have the teeth that it’ll coming from your employer, so if you can get it made official, that’s your better option. (Anyone want to weigh in via the comments on how being a public agency might affect things?)

3. My office is hosting a whisky tasting, and I’m a recovering alcoholic

I’m a young professional working in the finance industry, and I’m also a recovering alcoholic with two years sober. I recently transferred to a new location for my firm. Much of my industry’s culture centers on alcohol, even more so in my new city, and for the most part this is fine. I’m confident enough in my sobriety that I have no problem attending open bars and drinking Diet Coke all night—I even went on a freaking office booze cruise and didn’t drink. Most of my coworkers don’t even notice. It’s not my favorite way to spend an evening, but I know I’m the abnormal one here and I don’t expect others to not do something they enjoy for my sake.

But at this new location, there’s a big networking event every year with people from across the industry. This event is a very big deal at the firm, and while attendance isn’t strictly mandatory, it’s expected. This year, the event is a whisky tasting with an open bar afterward. There’s a line for me, and this is it. If I just preferred not to drink (which is what I’ve told the few coworkers who have noticed my teetotaling), I could presumably still do a tasting, but I really can’t even swirl alcohol in my mouth. How can I excuse myself from this thing without raising more questions and attention?

Three basic options: have a conflict with that date, turn out to be sick that day, or let your boss know why you’re not attending. Which of those to pick depends on how much your boss would care if you’re not there, and how comfortable you’d be (or not be) letting her know you’re not up for such an alcohol-centric event.

The advantage to letting your boss know is that it’ll cover you if something similar comes up again (plus it might nudge your office into realizing this event will leave people out — not just recovering alcoholics, but people who don’t drink for other reasons too — and factoring that into future plans). And being a recovering alcoholic who’s solidly sober isn’t terribly stigmatizing, at least not around reasonably savvy adults. But if your’e not comfortable doing that, you’ve got those other two options too.

4. My boss makes working overtime sound like a favor to me

Over the last year, my boss has developed a really annoying habit and I’m not sure if I can say or do anything about it. We work in an underfunded, understaffed department, so there is always overtime hours/days available. It’s never forced on anyone, instead relying on a volunteer system.

However, whenever my boss asks me if I can work extra days, he frames it as doing me a favor! For example, last time he asked, it was something like, “Hey, you can get extra hours on (date) if you’d like! I’m asking you first so you don’t miss out.” (That isn’t true. The policy is people with part-time hours are offered extra days first. I’m full-time.) He hasn’t always done this. Before it was more “We’re short people and there’s a lot going on. Can you work?”

I luckily don’t need the overtime pay and working six-plus days in a row is more stress than it’s worth. Plus I’m already suffering from burn-out (taking some time off soon to help with that.) I wouldn’t mind helping my coworkers or department out every once in a while, if he worded it differently and was more honest. Am I being too rigid and is there any way to talk to him about this?

Well, you might be taking the wording too literally. It’s possible that other people have given him the sense that they are grateful to be offered the hours, and so he figures everyone is. Or who knows, maybe he’s trying to manipulate you into saying yes.

I think you’re fine continuing to turn down the overtime if you want to. But if you’d rather ensure you know when the request is more dire, you could say, “No thanks — sounds like you have other people who might want to do it, but if you’re ever in a situation where you can’t get anyone and you really need people to help out, let me know.” Or even, “Just so you know, I’ll usually turn down overtime offers since I mostly prefer sticking to my regular schedule, but if you ever really need people to help out, let me know.”

You may also like:

update: my new coworker wants to forbid music in the office

my coworker wants to find the office pooper — and it’s me

update: my coworker gave my kid $20 and told him to keep it a secret

my coworkers trash-talk me in a secret group chat, keeping unvaccinated kids out of our office, and more was originally published by Alison Green on Ask a Manager.

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