#she sentenced him back to house arrest NOT EVEN house arrest but ROOM ARREST and took his phone and changed the damn wifi password!!!!!!

[butterflyeffectiooon]

Also hot mom is now officially less likable than fucking august thanks I hate it

[xneens]

mine, mine, mine

rafe tries to steal you back after you befriend the pogues.

You were his friend first, before those Pogues stole you from him, even before Sarah met you in that sandbox at five years old. He had laid eyes on you first and had been the one to help you when you scraped your elbow on the concrete, giving you a bandaid for it. He was the one you hugged and thanked before skipping away.

You used to party with him, used to spend Sundays at Tanneyhill, used to comfort him after a fight with Ward, used to sleep in his arms on his bed almost every night. Now, he'd be lucky to get a single text back or catch a glimpse of you in public. After you followed his sister into the group of Pogues, you spent a total of two nights in his arms, the last time more than a week ago. Whenever he checks your location, he can't help but get irritated when he sees you at any of the Pogue's places.

When Wheezie tells him she saw you with JJ Maybanks, he breaks, leaving his sister in an empty house, scouting your location as he gets on his bike. He's on your trail as you sprint towards where his sister and John B. faces off his father, running right into Sarah's arms.

He witnesses Sheriff Peterkins arrest his dad, watching John B pull you behind him. He can't take it anymore, even now that John B keeps you from watching the man you once respected get handcuffed.

Everything happens at once. He blinks and Peterkins lays on the ground in a pool of her own blood. His blue eyes meet yours, shock and fear swimming in yours as you stare back at him. A part of him breaks because never in his life have you stared at him with such fright. Not that he could blame you, he'd never shot anyone before. But he could blame John B.

He aims the gun at the Pogue and his blood boils with anger as you put yourself in front of him. The gun drops from his hand immediately, tears welling up in his eyes. He lost you.

He's pulling you to his truck, forcing you to sit in the passenger seat as his sister yells, crying her eyes out. His words are rushed as he tries to comfort you, avoiding your gaze, not wanting to look into your eyes and see how much you fear him.

He drives you to Tanneyhill, locking you in his room. Rafe tries to comfort you, letting you cry it out and shout at him. He allows you to throw a book at him, taking it all in because he'd rather you hate him for a moment than the rest of your life. Hatred for the Pogues builds when you don't let him touch you, pulling away from his attempts to hug you, to take you into his arms. The same hands that used to caress your face in your sleep now were the ones that murdered someone.

You slip his grip when he leaves the room briefly, running back to John B's and meeting with the rest of the crew. Rafe tweaks out even more after finding out you've turned off your location, throwing his phone on the ground.

He's at the tent when Shoupe tells you and your group of friends that Sarah and John B are presumed dead. Ward has to pull him away when you seek out comfort in JJ's arms instead of his.

After his trip to the Bahamas, he tries to reconcile with you, climbing up to your balcony on the verge of a panic attack. You lock your balcony doors, shutting the curtains and blocking out his pleas. That night, he tries to shoot up the Chateau, not aware you were hiding in the trees with JJ.

After John B's arrested and thrown in jail awaiting sentencing, you show up to his house. He's unaware of the phone in your back pocket, recording everything he's saying. He doesn't care that you're angry with him because, for the first time in months, you're willing to hear him out, willing to let him hold your hands and hold your face in his hands.

"You shot her, Rafe!" you yell out, not caring if Rose or Ward heard. "You killed someone."

Rafe whispers out your name, hands shaking as he holds your face in his hands. "You know I would never hurt you, right? I care about you. I love you. I love you more than those Pogues ever could."

Shaking your head, you pull his hands away from your face, pacing around his room. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. "That's not what I'm trying to—"

"But I need you to know that!" Rafe shouts, tapping his fingers against his temples. He walks towards you, panting. "They don't care about you like I do! They put you in constant danger. I never would do that to you. They can't take care of you like I have. You know that. Deep down you know that."

"Rafe." you try to interrupt. This was so not how this was supposed to go.

He takes your face between his hands again, a little too roughly. His lips were barely a foot away. "You were mine first. You still are. No matter what you call yourself, you always will be mine. I'll take care of you. I fucking love you."

Even as you run away from him, hope grows in his heart. Delusion or maybe he knew you better than you knew yourself, but he knew you still cared for him. Even after he killed Peterkins. Or so that's what he tells himself when he's sitting in a holding cell.

After his father's death, he tries even harder to convince you he is still the same Rafe you grew up with. After stealing the cross from Carla Limbrey, he shows up at your place under the pretense of giving it back to Pope. In the midst of your surprise, you hadn't thought to be suspicious about the tea he gave you. As soon as you felt dizzy, you pointed your finger at him. He apologizes, carrying you in his arms to the truck.

When you wake, he's there on the bed, holding your hand. He can't help but find it hot when you slap him across the face, leaving a red mark on his cheek. Rafe holds you down as you scream profanities at him, trying to break free of his grip, doing anything to get away from his presence.

He locks you in the room, promising to make everything better, professing his love for you over and over before leaving to deal with business. The next time he sees you, you're stopping him from bashing John B's skull in. The red light flickers against your face and for the second time, you stopped him from killing John B.

Rafe races after you, begging you to stay with him, his grip on your wrist leaving a bruise. "Stay with me. Please.”

He sees the slight hesitation, even if it's less than a second. His hand on your wrist loosens and you take off running, jumping off the ship and onto the little lifeboat driven by your Pogue friends. The cross drops into the ocean and he manages to save it last minute.

He raises a gun towards the stalled boat, aiming at his sister, the one who was responsible for bringing you with her as she befriended the Pogues. His finger twitches as he goes to pull the trigger, only to freeze when you stand up, blocking Sarah from his view.

You look back at the large ship, noticing Rafe with a gun in his hands. And for the second time, he drops the gun, staring as the lifeboat propels you out of his eyesight.

After a month, he sees you wearing a red dress in Carlos Singh's mansion. Both of you get locked up and you allow him to comfort you after seeing the man you rescued getting executed.

Swallowing his pride, he apologizes again, this time, you listen, because, after all, he's the only one that can help you. He apologizes for everything he's done, getting on his knees, eyes pleasing you to forgive him. When you don't say anything in return, his arms circle your waist, pressing his cheek to your torso.

Your name escapes his lips like a prayer. "Please. You're the only thing in this world I care about."

Working together, you both get out of Singh's property, catching a ride on the back of a truck. You looked away as Rafe threw a man off the truck, unable to watch your former best friend hurt another person.

As you both sail off on his boat, gunshots are heard across the dock as Singh's men try to stop you. Rafe has you steer the wheel, placing himself behind you, protecting you from any bullets that come close to hitting you. A bullet grazes his arm, red staining his white button-up.

You steer the boat into the ocean, texting your friends where to meet you before grabbing a kit and tending to Rafe's wound.

He watches as you clean his wound, eyes following your every movement. "Just like old times, huh? When you used to patch me up after a fight."

You scoff, unable to fight the small smile that danced on your lips. "Some things just don't change."

"I haven't seen you smile in so long." the words escape Rafe's lips before he can stop them, immediately regretting them when you stop smiling. He looks down, sighing. "Sorry."

You stay silent, patching him up. After putting on a bandage on his cut, you stand up, making your way back to the wheel.

Rafe stands, walking towards you slowly. He runs a hand down his face, frowning as you dock. "Is there any chance you'll forgive me?"

"I ... I don't think you're past unredeemable," you whisper, avoiding his gaze.

The Pogues board the boat, and you can't stop JJ from landing a right hook on Rafe's jaw. He puts distance between him and your friends, watching you play the mediator, defending him, even if it was half-ass. Rafe can't help but smirk slightly at JJ's disgruntled expression because despite what he's done, you've chosen him over them.

Though, when you return back to Kildare, Rafe's met with the version of you he's known for the past summer. You've chosen your pathetic group of friends, leaving his side the second the boat touched Kildare soil.

He tries to be better, tries to win you back. But when you leave his calls unanswered and texts unread, he goes crazy, seeking Barry's help to steal the cross from his own father. Before melting the cross, he calls you one more time, in hopes you'd stop him from making another mistake you'd have to forgive him for. He reaches your voicemail for the hundredth time.

The gold is sold off to his father's business partners and investors, the number in his bank account increasing with each passing day. He tells himself the more money he makes, the more he'll be able to provide for you and your future family, and the more he can spoil you with. Because if he can't have you, then no one can.

You show up at his door injured, shot in the stomach by one of Singh's men. Blood ran down your legs, staining your clothes. Rafe catches you as you collapse, pulling out his phone to call 911 only for you to stop him.

Anxious, he carefully carries you to his bed, helping you take off your top to examine the wound. He swallows, a part of him awakening at the sight of you wearing the bra he claimed as his favorite. Even as you bleed out, you still manage to look sexy.

He slows down the bleeding, cleansing the wound with a bottle of vodka, and muttering apologies as you swore at him for the pain. Stitching up the wound, he watches as your breathing slows down, your grip on his arm loosening. Fearing you'd die in your sleep, he keeps you awake by asking trivia questions, your annoyance groaning with every question.

Your eyes follow him as he gets on the bed with you, smoothly wrapping an arm around you and ignoring your judgment. The half-empty bottle of vodka rests in between the two of you; more often than not you take a sip from it, dulling the pain.

Rafe allows you to close your eyes, rubbing small circles on your shoulder with his thumb, his eyes observing the droplet of vodka resting on your lips for a second before your tongue licks it off. For the first time in a while, you relax in his presence, muscles slack as you let him comfort you.

"Do you still mean it? What you said on the boat," he murmurs, staring as your fingers absentmindedly played with his gold signet ring.

You nod lazily, humming in response. "I do."

"I melted the cross."

A pause. "That was a dick move, but you're not unredeemable. You've done a lot of shitty things, Rafe. Maybe I'm fucking stupid but I'm hoping the person who used to be my best friend is still there underneath the constant need for your dad's approval."

"It's not his approval I need," he whispers into your hair, his ring spun around his finger by yours.

Your eyes drift open, staring at him. The familiarity of your eyes, now no longer filled with contempt or unease, almost breaks him because he has you back again. "I still care for you. And I know you'll fix this.”

He's thankful you close your eyes again, not wanting you to witness a tear running down his face. He wipes it off in your hair, kissing your forehead as you sleep.

You'll fix this.

Rafe stops the hitman from killing Ward.

You'll fix this.

Rafe drives him to the private jet, heart beating out of his chest as he sees you standing next to his sister.

He gets his father on the jet, telling you the cliff notes of what happened. With bloody hands, he holds your face in his hands as if you were the most delicate thing on Earth.

"I—I'm fixing it." he manages to get out, fingers trembling. Rafe tries to give you a smile but it's shaky.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Rafe, what—"

"Look, I know there's nothing I can say that can stop you from getting on that plane, so, please be careful, okay?" he whispers. Rafe doesn't wait for an answer, taking off his ring and putting it on your ring finger, never mind that it's far too big.

You stare at the ring for a moment before glancing back at him. "I can't—"

"I've fucked up a lot of things. But I'll fix it, all of it," he promises, bringing your hands to his lips, and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"I know," you reply, heart clenching at the broken man in front of you.

"But come back to me, okay? You are the one thing I can't lose. I love you. Come back to me, baby." Rafe chokes out, eyes watering while he pleads.

Without thinking about it, you press your lips to his, not caring about the audience behind you. It's urgent and intense, his lips almost punishing. You taste blood, and he tastes a bit of heaven.

His heart breaks in two when you get on the plane, knowing you've taken it with you.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Chapter 1

Finnick Odair x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

The first thing you remember after they lifted you from the arena was the hands of Capital doctors grabbing at you. Three weeks in the arena had left you extremely weak and you had a bad cut on your face but none of that mattered. They were touching you and you didn’t like that.

The second thing you remember after they lifted you from the arena was waking up chained to your hospital bed, surrounded by peacekeepers and President Snow.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the old man stated. “I wish you wouldn’t be so difficult with us.”

“Difficult?” you ask with what little voice you have left.

“It seems that you won’t let us treat your wounds, or let anyone get close to you for that matter,” he states. “The poor doctor was just trying to take your temperature when you stabbed him with a scalpel.”

“He was touching me,” you reply.

“Oh my dear we have a long road ahead of us if you are planning on remaining… difficult.”

You hadn’t meant to kill so many people. First it was 6 in the arena, then it was the doctor in the capital, then it was your first client, then it was another capital doctor and a peacekeeper trying to restrain you. By the time you came down from your lapse in sanity, you had been sentenced to house arrest in District 4’s victors village.

“Feral” is what they called you. To everyone outside of your home you were uncontrollable; crazy; even dangerous. To yourself, you were broken; confused; misunderstood. To him, you were everything.

“Y/N Y/L/N!” Linessa, the District 4 escort, calls out as she reaps the tributes for the 75th annual Hunger Games. Mags moves to volunteer but you quickly shoot her a look and she backs down. She knows you won’t hurt her, in fact, she’s one of the few people who genuinely cares for you, but she knows not to interfere when your mind is made up.

Annie shrinks into Mags’ side as you shuffle past her towards the escort. She’s another poor, misunderstood being like you. The two of you have never been friends for the simple reason that she is absolutely terrified of you and sometimes her meltdowns set you off. Maybe in a different reality you two would be friends, but not in this one.

Peacekeepers follow you to the front of the stage as you drag your shackled feet forward. This is the first time anyone besides the victors has seen you in around 5 years, and they’re getting a good look at what “feral” looks like.

The peacekeepers hold a gun to your back as you stand on the stage, head high. It’s so hot out you’re hoping you’ll sweat enough to slip your hands out of your cuffs. The district center looks the same as the last time you saw it all those years ago.

“Finnick Odair,” Linessa reads out and your head immediately snaps towards her. She lets out a small shriek and the peacekeepers tighten their hold on their guns as Finnick makes his way to the front to stand next to you. Of course, they don’t let him get anywhere near you, but you wouldn’t hurt him. You would burn the whole world to the ground if it meant protecting him.

The peacekeepers allow Mags to join you and Finnick on the train but they don’t let her anywhere near you. Finnick tries to tell them that you’re fine and won’t hurt anyone but they won’t listen.

You’re done trying to advocate for yourself. In fact, it’s useless. You haven’t spoken to anyone besides Finnick in five years. Not since your client…

Anyways, peacekeepers escort you to your room and set up guard in the hall. They’re too scared to be in the room with you, and none of the avoxes will go near you.

You wouldn’t have even been fed if it weren’t for Finnick barging into your room (despite the peacekeepers’ protests) with a plate of food. The peacekeepers made him keep the door open so they could monitor the situation but at least you could eat.

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks as you pick at your food. You shrug your shoulders in response. He goes to lay his hand close to yours in comfort, causing one of the peace keepers to pipe up.

“Hey!” he yells, causing you to jump. “Back up Mr. Odair. We’ve been advised not to let anyone get within five feet of it.”

Finnick stands up and moves himself between you and the peacekeepers.

“First of all,” he states. “She is not an ‘it’. She’s a human being like the rest of us. Secondly, she is not a danger to me. She would never hurt me and even if she tried we both know I would win that fight. Scaring her like that is only going to set her off, and I won’t hold her back if she does. The best thing you can do, for everyone’s safety, is treat her like a human being, absolutely do not touch her, and no yelling. She’s not an animal, she’s traumatized.”

“Sir we’ve been ordered to shoot her at the first sign of agression. The capital doctors have advised us that she’s a danger to those around her,” the peacekeeper states.

“The capital doctors haven’t seen her in over five years!” Finnick exclaims. “They don’t know the first thing about her. Now get out and let us eat in peace. Don’t forget I’ve killed people too.”

The peacekeepers, visibly shaken, leave your room and allow the door to close. Finnick sits back down on your bed with you to resume your meal.

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @heytherellala @notplutos

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Pretty As A Picture - Chapter 1

Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Theme: Soulmates - Feeling the connection as soon as you see each other.

Summary: When Bucky fell from the train, their soulmate was told he was gone. When Steve Rogers disappeared into the ice, their soulmate was again told one of her soulmates were gone. But she didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. Committed to a mental health institute, she dies of a broken heart. That's at least what the hidden S.H.I.E.LD files say, but if that's the case than why is there a photo of her. A photo that shows her side by side two redhaired Avengers.

Warnings will be per chapter.

For this fic reader will be British, but let your imagination replace if needed.

Chapter Summary: The team are back together and their soul family back in place. Emotions run high, their exhausted and a photo is about to shake Bucky to his core.

Chapter Warning: Mentions of death, sad Bucky.

Natasha looked around the room, scanning her weary team mates. Her soul family. It had taken a while to get here but they had. Sure Tony and Steve continued to be at each other’s throats and Bucky’s face got more broody by the day but they were together.

Knowing Wanda was also back in the Compound, Vision at her side as they settled into their new quarters brought a smile to her face.

The rush of emotions of everyone being together had been too much for Wanda, and when Steve and Tony had squared up to each other for the third time in as many hours, Rhodes and Wilson forced to keep them apart as Bucky packed a bag to leave, she’d had enough.

Natasha had ushered Bruce away to avoid a code green, as Vision had tried to do the same with Wanda. But Wanda had reached her breaking point and had enough of the arguments, the intense negative energy that surrounded her soul family had brought her to breaking point. Her nights were plagued with nightmares about her family, Pietro, and her days were a living nightmare with her soul family at each other’s throats. Wanda had screamed as she’d nearer collapse.

“Enough!” she’d yelled as Vision looped an arm around her waist to keep her upright, “do you see? You never see do you? The damage you’re doing? To our family? To each other?!”

She paused as she took a breath.

“I’m leaving.”

There were calls of her name as Vision led her from the room. An hour later they were in a Quinjet over the Atlantic, directions to a safe house and a contact of Natasha’s. The rest of them didn’t speak to each other for a week following Wanda and Vision’s departure, the only exception their own soulmates. When Natasha wouldn’t say where they were, they didn’t speak to her for a few days longer.

Wanda’s return came three months later, sure there was still bickering but they’d learnt the hard way to keep it away from her. As much as they’d had preferred a longer break, missions and their skillsets had meant a need for them to return.

The Hydra clean up had originally been going well but a repeat of dead leads and bad intel had caused any more arrests to dry up. 

As the digital map displayed across the meeting room showed the dead ends and places still be searched. Natasha scanned the faces of her team mates and soul family in the room. Steve was seemingly staring into thin air. Tony flipped a pen between his hands. Rhodey rubbed his eyes. Sam had his eyes on a screen full of text but the movement of his eyes indicated he was reading the same sentence over and over again. Bucky stared at a spot on one of the maps. A no go area in part of Germany. An old Nazi bunker that they had very little chance of getting permission to search even with the New Accords. 

Unless she asked for a favour. A favour from you. Her attention was brought away from her stray thoughts as Bruce wrapped himself around her, a soft kiss to her forehead.

“They need a break.”

She smiled warmly at him.

“Guys, let’s take a break, half an hour and regroup.”

The only responses were sighs, stretches and yawns. Bucky was the first one up and out of the room rubbing his hand down his face in frustration as he went. Tony’s voice broke the silence. 

“Is there a reason he keeps staring at the same spot?”

“The same reason I keep rereading this.” Sam replied pointing at the screen. 

“It’s one of the no go areas left from the war, but it feels to me like that’s the next stop” Steve added.

“Has he been there before?” Tony asked.

“We both have.” Steve replied.

“Recently or before?” Asked Natasha, referencing before Steve was in the ice and Bucky was in cyro.

“Before.”

“Look if it’s a no go area you know the chances of us getting in there are real slim.” added Rhodey.

“Not necessarily.” added Nat.

“Let me guess” Sam enquired “you know a guy?”

“A girl actually.” she replied. 

Tony cocked an eyebrow and glanced round at his soul family.

“Spill it Romanoff.” 

Meanwhile down the hall Bucky splashed cold water on his face. He knew the next spot was likely to be that bunker and he knew he wasn’t going to like it. If they could even get in there it would bring back too many memories. 

Memories of when they’d raided it. Memories of when he was back there twelve years later. He needed coffee or something stronger. Where was Thor when he needed him. 

He headed out of the bathroom and along the corridor to the coffee station and began to start up the machine and root through the snacks. In the distance he could hear the hums of Wanda from the printing room. The room was barely used, the team opting for electronic devices or projections instead but Steve still liked paper copies and every mission had a pack of freshly printed paper maps just in case. Two packs in fact. One for use and one just in case. 

Every time Steve would drop the two packs on to the meeting room table or fiddle with them on his lap in the Quinjet he would give Bucky a sad smile and nod his head, which Bucky would return. 

It was silly really how things reminded them of their shared soulmate. Their soulmate had prepared maps for British Special Forces during the war and their eye to detail had been the best around, making Peggy quick to recruit their girl to her team. The fates leading her to Steve first and then Bucky. Their soulmate would do anything to keep them safe. Nagging Howard for better equipment and weapons. Telling him to “quit flirting and stop trying to fondue anything in a skirt and bloody get on with it”.

Howard never let on he was slightly scared of their soulmate, not to any of their faces but the panic in his eyes gave him away. Steve had nicknamed their soulmate a Spitfire, like the British fighter plane. The look on their girls face said he shouldn’t have.

Her way of keeping them safe was to slip extra bandages into their gear, sew small bits of metal into their suits to cover key areas but not too much to weigh them down. Then there was the packs. Always two packs of maps, just in case. Bucky sometimes wondered if their girl slipped extra copies to the other Howling Commandos. 

“Can’t have you getting lost lads. You Yanks are awful with directions.”

Bucky would always tap her ass playfully as she passed by for that comment. 

His thoughts were soon snapped back by Vision’s soft voice. 

“James?”

Bucky cleared his throat to answer, and wiping his face roughly when he realised he was crying.

“Yeah? You need something?”

“Actually I wanted to check if you needed anything.”

“No, I’m good, thanks Vis”

“Were you thinking of her again? If you’d like to talk about her, Wanda and I would happily listen.”

Bucky turned away, dipping his head, gripping the counter of the coffee station. He tried to take a deep breath but it came out shuddered. 

“James, I maybe speaking out of turn and uninvited but there is no shame in grief and you certainly don’t need to hide it from us. For anyone in the outside world it is a lifetime ago but for you, it is not, and there is no timeframe or timeline for grief.”

Bucky heard Wanda’s soft footsteps approach. 

“James, take it from someone that’s knows, it is better to talk than it is to keep it inside. You listened to me talk about my brother, I’d be honoured to hear about her.”

Bucky nodded and turned towards them both teary eyed.

“Whenever you want us to, we’ll listen” added Vision.

He rubbed his face and nodded again. It was then he noticed a pile of photos in Wanda’s arms. All different sizes clutched in her hands, he was puzzled as he had barely seen a printed photo since being out of cyro, Sam telling him that people don’t often print them anymore. He then noticed Vision was holding picture frames. 

“Did you print these? I didn’t think people did that anymore?”

“Not always but I like them,” Wanda answered “reminds me of home. This one Tony found for me on an old friend’s social media account” as she handed him a picture of Pietro. 

“This one is when we were away” she handed him another. A picture of the couple near a lake, Scotland, Bucky thought to himself.

“This one is from” Wanda started only to stop abruptly as some of the photos scattered to the floor. She cursed in Sokovian as she went to pick them up.

“I’ve got it” Bucky said as he reached for them. He passed the first two up to Wanda but the third made him freeze.

To anyone else it was a normal picture. Three friends side by side. Two red heads and a (Y/H/C). Only it wasn’t a normal photo at all. Because alongside his two redheaded soul sisters, Wanda with a soft smile and Natasha looking nonchalant, was another woman. A woman that haunted his dreams. 

His soulmate.  Their girl.

Enjoy this fic? Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

[intothedysphoria]

Going from a social outcast to seemingly universally desired was a change that Billy found himself sorely lacking the capacity to deal with.

It felt like barely a year ago he was just the fat kid with the asshole dad. The kid who was more comfortable speaking Irish than English. The weird kid who couldn’t sit still in class and had “outbursts” that would leave a classroom completely overturned.

Now he’d lost weight (not by choice), had to speak English if he didn’t want to be uprooted for a third time and was supposedly taking his adderall post ADHD diagnosis. Neil was still an asshole but that would never change.

He was desirable now. A hot commodity. Had the approval of everyone apart from his own fucking dad.

In short, Billy was absolutely miserable.

He missed California a lot. He missed Belfast even more. He missed being fat. He missed his mam and grandad. He missed everything.

Showing any signs of weakness was how it started though. So Billy did what he always did. He adapted.

Harrington was weird. Taking the crown from him was almost too easy. For all the talk he’d been fed about King Steve, what Billy got was a teenager who couldn’t make eye contact, spent an hour reading two pages of a textbook and walked like a penguin when nobody was watching.

Good thing Billy didn’t mind weird.

The usual taunts didn’t really work. All it really achieved was getting Harrington flat on his back on the gym floor and that got Billy thinking about sex which wasn’t helpful.

Harrington just stared up at him with these big startled eyes. Like a damn deer. The pointed star he wore around his neck swayed as Billy let him up. Jewish maybe. Billy felt his hand unconsciously drift down towards his own pendant, the one his granny had given him.

The one that would help him find his way back home.

They fought within a week. Arsehole had Max holed up in a strangers house. It made Billy’s skin crawl just thinking about it. Especially after having to flirt with Karen Wheeler just to get any answers, All he could remember was that he was winning then the world started going black.

When he woke up there was a dead something in the fridge. He probably hadn’t woken up at all then. His body took that hint as a sign to collapse again.

He woke up again. A small woman with mousy brown hair and a nervous tic was cooking. Billy could hear The Clash drifting from another room. Christmas lights were scattered across the wall. It was the first place in Hawkins that had actually felt like home.

The woman’s name was Joyce. The house he’d found Harrington and Max and the nightmare in had been her house. She was dressed practically and smelled like paint and reminded him so much of his own mam that his heart hurt.

She was a good cook. The soup wasn’t like anything he’d ate before, probably Polish but it was fantastic. She asked if he wanted to stay the night. He said no.

Neil would be waiting. He always was.

Neil had burned the damn book. The one Billy had wrote when he was seven, colouring all the words in orange and white and green. It hurt more than any punch every could have.

He was under house arrest again. Only let out when Max needed a fucking taxi to a Christmas dance. Harrington was a couple of cars away, fussing over a boy of about thirteen who could have been his younger brother.

They weren’t biologically brothers. But Henderson was his cousin. So they were in spirit. Those were some of the things Billy learned from a few strained sentences of conversation.

He apologised in a way so Billy reluctantly returned one. Apparently he hadn’t realised how fucking dodgy he’d looked with Max.

Billy was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Neil kicked him out of the house on Christmas Day for hanging an Irish flag on his door. Billy went to the Byers. Joyce’s family didn’t exactly celebrate Christmas but she still gave him a present.

She gave him gorgeous Polish cakes which were fucking delicious and some of Jonathan’s old vinyls which he didn’t listen to anymore.

That day Billy discovered The Specials and tucked the vinyl under his weed stash in the Camaro boot. Somewhere Neil would never think to look.

Harrington was tolerable after Christmas break. Tolerable in an infuriating way because Billy still wanted to fuck him. The queerness wasn’t something he’d told anyone about though apart from Patrick McKinney so he kept those thoughts to himself.

He spent more time at the Byers, learned what Shabbat was, came out to Joyce in a flood of tears, kissed Harrington, wrote a letter back to Ireland for the first time in two years and made a plan to get the hell out of Hawkins Indiana.

Harrington managed to pass high school with a lot of bribery and tutoring and kissing at his place. Jesus but Harringtons house was a bloody mansion. Billy had spent his first eight years in a terraced shared accommodation where his entire extended family had lived. Harrington had five bathrooms and his own television. Not even in black and white.

Billy got his predicted mix of A’s and B’s so he was happy and spent most of the weekend post graduation floating on his back in the Harrington pool, beer in hand. He couldn’t afford to slack off completely though. So he got a summer job.

Working at the community pool was fine. As long as Billy didn’t think about the middle aged women staring at him like a piece of meat. Fucking perverts. Heather was fun though. Funny. The only lesbian he’d met in Hawkins apart from Buckley.

Neil had started acting even weirder than usual after a night Billy had slept over at his boyfriends. He’d taken to ice baths and Billy swore he’d seen the man drinking bleach. Ugh.

Max was pretty obviously freaked out though so Billy slowly phased her into spending most nights at the Byers or the Sinclairs or Steve’s. Susan wouldn’t budge. Something in Billy’s chest felt a bit sick about that.

The Fourth of July they were in the mall, the one Steve worked at. Something even more hellish than the thing in the fridge stood above them. And Neil just stood by with blank, hateful eyes and let it happen.

He died. Billy killed him. Stabbed him in the chest then the monster went away.

Steve was gripping his shoulders as he stood there, Neil’s blood on his jacket and he cried.

Susan left.

Social services took Max. Billy cried a lot that day. She was living with some family in Michigan. They promised to keep in touch.

Billy went to therapy twice a week. A guy from County Mayo who Billy trusted immediately.

There was no point really in Joyce adopting him as he was over eighteen. Besides she didn’t need to. Billy knew who his family were.

A letter came back from Belfast. Inviting both him and Steve back to his grandparents house. Steve had never left the US, had never really left the Midwest actually. Billy wanted to show him everything.

The years went by and Billy regained weight. He stopped speaking English as much and was determined to teach Steve Irish. He still sometimes forgot to take his adderall and had awful nightmares but Steve was there to make it better.

He was alive. And life was pretty ok.

[separatist-apologist]

Long Live

Summary: All archeologist Elain Archeron wants is answers about the past.

Fate is determined to give them to her

MASSIVE thank you @abbadinfluence for having the idea AND allowing me to write - I've had the time of my life, this has been so fun.

And @octobers-veryown for being my personal Rome/Italy consultant- thank you for your knowledge, your time, and most importantly, catching when I used a particularly offensive and/or wrong swear word

For @elucienweekofficial | Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

Elain waited until she and Arina were alone to turn to her friend. Arina was one step ahead of her. “We’re fucked,” she said in English, face devoid of any true color. “He’s basically got us under house arrest.” 

“They don’t trust us,” Elain said, taking an anxious breath of air. The last three days had been something out of a nightmare. They’d been arrested, put in chains, and then transported from the country estate to Rome, during which they’d been groped and threatened with assault more times than she could count. Elain had never known true fear until that first night outdoors, camping with a group of leering, bored soldiers. 

She couldn’t enjoy seeing Rome, well aware of where they were being taken. Mamertine Prison was a church in the present day, built over the bones of prisoners sent to languish while they waited out their sentences. Elain had expected some low level judiciary to come and decide their fate. Not the newly crowned Emperor himself, accompanied by his older brother. Nor had she expected Arina to react so viciously once they were so close to freedom.

“We simply have to convince them they can trust us.”

“And how do you intend to go about that?” Arina demanded, picking through the clothes set out for the two of them. They knew enough combined history to get through this, she decided. If they could convince the Emperor they were no threat, Elain believed they could make their way back where they’d started and get back to their own home before they changed history. 

“Well, for starters maybe we should stop biting patricians?” Elain said, rounding on her friend sharply. 

“He’s no better than the soldiers who dragged us up here,” she snarled furiously. “He saw two unprotected women and decided we must exist for his pleasure.”

“Of course he did!” Elain hissed softly. “They’ve never even heard the word feminism. You know women are not on equal standing with men. Stop biting them.”

“If he puts his finger in my face again—”

“No biting.”

Elain turned, looking at the spacious room that belonged to her and her alone. Arina had been given a suite just down the marbled hall but had immediately followed after Elain, prompting two servants to lay clothes out for the both of them nervously. Elain knew what was waiting and was desperate to put her hands on true, Roman garments.

“Why aren’t you panicking?” Arina demanded.

“What good would it do to panic?” Elain asked, tennis shoes squeaking against the marble. The heat coming from the nearby hanging lamps made the room feel warmer than was comfortable, and Elain was quick to fling open the shutters of her window so cool air could push in. “Besides…haven’t you always wanted to see Rome as it actually was?”

“Not really,” Arina said, trailing after Elain apprehensively. “Not like this. What if we can’t get back, Elain? Or worse, what if the Emperor decides to make us some other man's problem?”

“This is Rome. We’ll simply kill him if he tries,” Elain said with far more bravado than she felt. Her room overlooked the garden, replete with beautifully manicured hedges, rows of olive trees, and flowers so vibrant she almost didn’t believe they were real. 

“Elain, I’m serious. Aren’t you afraid?”

“Yes,” she admitted, turning back to the room made of marble and gold. Elain knew if Arina wasn’t so scared, she’d be examining the pillars and telling Elain all about the brush strokes and how the tiles beneath them had been cut. Elain, too, wanted to examine the palace piece by piece, committing it all to memory. Her phone was still in her pocket, the battery at seventy two percent. She could take pictures if she was careful…and then, what? No one would ever believe her.

Maybe just to have once she got home. 

“We need to leave,” Arina hissed, her urgency echoing through Elain’s skull. 

“What we need is to be careful. We were spared once, but I don’t think they’ll be so forgiving the second time. Better to play pretend and wait for our moment than to rush out and get thrown back into prison. Or worse.

Citizens were made slaves all the time, after all. Lucien could make them prostitutes in the eye of the law if he wanted and no one would be able to stop him. Here, at least, they had access to means and the privilege that came from being a patrician woman. 

“He could do horrible things to us,” Arina reminded Elain, standing in the middle of the room with her arms wrapped around her chest. “Things he might think are kind.”

“Then we simply have to convince him not to,” Elain replied, thinking it was easier said than done. “Women might not be allowed a true voice, but there are plenty of Roman women who ruled behind the throne. If we can make him care about us, we can thwart the worst of his machinations. He’s a new Emperor, he’s about to meet his wife…he won’t have a lot of time to spend worrying about us.”

“You’re right,” Arina breathed, closing her eyes before exhaling slowly. “If we blend in and give them no reason to think about us, we can slip out in the night.”

“Or better, he’ll put us on a horse with gold in our pocket.”

“So what now? We just…play dress up?” Arina questioned, finally turning toward the stola. “Drink wine and lounge in the sun?”

“We could explore the city?” Elain suggested, reaching for the red dyed garment. “Tell me, doctor. Where do you think the fabric of this dress comes from?” 

“Egypt,” Arina said, rubbing her fingers against the lenin. “It’s not silk.”

“If we could bring this back—intact—think of—”

“Are you crazy?” Arina hissed, cutting Elain off before she could finish her sentence. “We can do nothing. Make no suggestions, inform them of nothing, do not rip any wings off a butterfly. We aren’t supposed to be here, Elain, and we can’t go around meddling.”

“It’s not meddling. It’s history,” she protested. “And if we’re not supposed to be here, why are we here?”

“Maybe we’re not. Maybe we just ingested something toxic, breathed in too much lead. We’re probably in the hospital having a really vivid hallucination.”

Elain sat on the edge of the bed, sinking into the feathers and straw with delight. Covered in blankets, the mattress was softer than she might have imagined. “This isn’t a hallucination. It’s real.”

She’d thought the same thing when they’d first come through. Elain didn’t believe it anymore, though. They’d been gone for three days and some of her panic was beginning to subside into excitement. They were in Rome at the height of its power and living with the current emperor. Elain knew, from having memorized Lucien’s journals, that he would be meeting Helena soon if he hadn’t met her already.

She didn’t need to meddle—she could merely watch, go home, and reconstruct what she knew. If she could just find out what family Helena belonged to, Elain was certain she’d could piece together whatever tragic fate the empress met. 

Like he so often did, Graysen’s face wormed its way into her memories, flooding her with guilt. She needed to get back—where was her urgency? Arina certainly had it, pacing the room like a caged animal. She’d become wilder by the day, viciously spitting curses at the Roman soldiers who’d dragged them to the prison cell, and again when Eris had tried to touch her.

She was afraid in a way Elain simply wasn’t. She ought to be—oh, how Elain knew she should be scared. They were at the mercy of a time period that valued women even less than the one she’d just left, under the care of a man who didn’t know them at all. They had no one to vouch for them, no refuge in which they could seek shelter in. No one to advocate on their behalf. If they angered the Emperor, he could have them exiled or worse.

And yet…Elain simply wasn’t worried about any of it. She believed they’d be fine, that Lucien would continue to be hospitable, and they’d make their way back no worse than they’d come through. If she was honest with herself, Elain felt a small measure of relief. She didn’t have to make a decision about her own life so long as she was here.

Sure, Graysen would move on eventually, but Elain didn’t intend to be gone for years. Maybe just a month—long enough to have one last, grand adventure. Maybe living in Rome would put some things into perspective for her, besides. Help her make a decision on her own life and relationship.

What did it say about her that she didn’t miss him?

Nothing good.

“Bath?”

Arina threw her hands up in the air with exasperation. “You’re not taking our situation seriously.”

“I am. I’m just realistic. We can’t go anywhere and I don’t want to sit in a bedroom all day. Don’t you want to see how they lived?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“The pipes here are made of lead, Elain. Lead. You’ll be drinking lead tainted water—”

“We’ve been drinking it for the last three days and I feel fine,” she replied, though it did worry her a little. “And we can drink more wine than water, if you’re really that concerned.”

“You want to bathe in lead tainted water?” Arina demanded.

Elain whirled on her friend, her frustration mounting. “There is no deodorant here and I smell like shit from two days of traveling and a night spent in an ancient prison. The water could have sharks in it and I’d still risk it.”

“You’re gonna dress up like a proper Roman lady?”

“Yes, because the alternative is letting them think we don’t belong, grow suspicious of us, and do something horrible. We need to play along, Arina…and we need to stop biting Consuls.”

“I hate him,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

Elain only shrugged, beckoning for her friend to follow her out of the bedchamber. The hall was brightly lit from both hanging lamps and nearby arched windows that allowed light and air to pour inside in equal measure. It was here that Arina seemed to relax a little, running her finger tips over the gold encrusted walls with awe. 

“Look at this,” Arina breathed, pausing beside a Corinthian style column. “To see it…just…wow.”

The pair touched the marble on the column, craning their necks to look up at the ornate estatis just at the top. The whole thing was pure decoration and though Elain knew it had been built a good several decades earlier, the marble was pristine and vibrant. 

“This is real,” Arina breathed.

Elain couldn’t help her smile.

This was real. 

LUCIEN: 

Lucien was having a difficult time focusing. He ought to be listening to important business of the empire…and yet his eyes kept sliding to the open window where Elena was, walking through his garden in a vibrant red stola. No one had done her hair and so she’d left it wild like a child, half hidden beneath a palla pinned into her dark curls. Lucien was so curious about why she wore it—he had it on good authority she wasn’t married. Was she widowed? 

Did she not know the custom? He was woefully uneducated about life in Brittana, perhaps all women wore the palla. Maybe she was worried about her modesty like a good Roman woman ought to be? The only way to know was to ask and Lucien couldn’t ask without revealing to the men around him that he’d rather spend his time talking to a woman rather than dealing with important matters.

But he did want that. He wanted to try and piece together her rather charming accent…and if Lucien was honest, he wanted to touch her. Wanted to touch the coils of curls blowing in the breeze, wanted to run a knuckle over her unblemished cheek just to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.

He wanted to do other things, too—things that were wholly inappropriate if he was to find a suitable husband for her and get her out of his home. And then he’d spend the rest of his life wondering what it was like to have a woman like that in his bed, until he inevitably took her as his mistress, pissing off whatever man he’d arranged for her in the first place.

Problems for future Lucien, certainly.

Turning his attention back to the room, Lucien’s eyes slid to the map laid out before him. He wanted to invade Germania and succeed where so many before him had failed. Taking that northern territory would allow him to hunt down the saxon’s that plagued his coastlines, too, and take back the treasure they’d been plundering. 

There were a few routes they could take in, but crossing the Rhine was Lucien’s preference. He’d been there during the first campaign and had assisted in building the bridge they’d used to cross—it had terrified the Germanic barbarians to see the might of Rome, sending them scattering further into the interior.

Lucien could build roads and bridges all he liked—getting through the forests was what plagued them. They didn’t have the tactical advantage and Lucien refused to go if defeat was the only path forward. If he was going to lose men, it was going to be in service of victory.

Agreeing to reconvene over wine that night, Lucien sent his advisors away for the time being, intending to meet with a few generals—and Jurian, who would lead his campaign—later that week. Just in time for the games to begin and spread the right amount of propagare that would convince the people of his authority.

Above all else, Lucien needed the backing of the people of Rome just as much as he needed the army. He was drowning in tasks, which didn’t explain why Lucien began his descent into the gardens the mere second he was alone. It was shameful to be so curious about a woman, especially one his brother had accused of being a whore and yet…Lucien’s father had always been especially taken with his mother. There had been no infidelity on his fathers end unless you counted the time he’d been sleeping with Amera while she’d been married to Beron.

Beron had divorced his wife for political reasons and Helion had merely swooped in and married her quickly and quietly before anyone could truly object. And then, when Beron was made Emperor, Helion took off for the outer provinces…just to be safe. It hadn’t been until Lucien had been a man and called back to the city that Helion dared to return, too.

Lucien just needed to know if another man had a claim to her. That was all—it was practical, he swore, adjusting his toga so the purple was especially vibrant in the afternoon sun. He knew he ought to cut his long, auburn hair to conform with the more fashionable short styles and yet…Lucien had left it long because he liked it. It had started on the battlefield, curling around his neck before the length straightened it all out. It had been a joke among the legion he was in—they always knew where Lucien was because of his lovely, effeminate hair. 

What had begun as a joke had somehow transcended Roman norms and though some of the older patrician’s threw him a dirty look now and again, the rest of them didn’t seem terribly bothered so long as Lucien kept it neat and pulled out of his face. No braids or beads like the barbarian’s wore, no adornments of any kind. When he worked, he often tied it off his neck in a bun to give the illusion of short hair.

At least it wasn’t a beard, he reasoned. 

He found Elain among the olive trees, one hand outstretched to touch one of the leaves. Lucien cleared his throat, hands clasped behind his back.

“Where is your friend?”

She turned abruptly, eyes wide. “She ah…” Elain bit her bottom lip. “She found the library.”

Lucien nodded. “Do you like to read?”

She shrugged. “I prefer being outdoors.”

“Do you spend much time outdoors?” he asked, noting the freckles dotting her nose. She must and yet her skin didn’t betray any of it. Most women preferred to stay indoors, far from the sun's vicious kiss that too often left their skin lined and leather-worn. 

“Do you?” she replied, looking up at him through thick, dark lashes.

Lucien offered her a lopsided grin. “Of course. Especially when I have diverting company. Walk with me?”

“Only if you agree to answer all my questions.”

Something warm spread through Lucien. As he’d risen through the ranks, women had begun treating him differently—respectfully. In his mind, he was always thinking of Jesminda and how he’d been just another nobleman’s son and no one special at all. She’d teased him, taunted him—had wanted him without any of the fake modesty he loathed. Lucien had been fortunate to marry for love, once, and having had a taste of true marital bliss, he didn’t want the Roman arrangement his peers often found themselves embroiled in. Jurian was all but married to a woman he barely knew. It was a good prospect for him, if for no other reason than it increased his social standing and available wealth. Lucien didn’t need to worry about any of that anymore, though he would be a fool if he thought he could snub the fellow patrician families and choose just anyone.

Including the beautiful woman standing beside him. She was Roman and yet he knew she had no connection to anyone of importance in the city. He might as well declare himself in love with a barbarian princess and be done with it.

And he wasn’t. In love with her, that is. He was merely fascinated by her mouth and the way her curls caught the sun, making them seem almost golden in the right light. And Lucien had to admit he liked the sound of her voice and the rolling way she spoke.

“I’ll answer anything you ask of me,” Lucien agreed, offering her his bare arm rather selfishly. He just needed to know if her skin was as soft as it looked. She beamed up at him, the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life, and accepted. Her fingers were warm, gliding over his bare bicep without a care in the world. What would she look like adorned in gold, he wondered?

“How are you enjoying yourself?” he asked before she could get one of her own questions out. He didn’t need to answer anything if he did all the talking. 

She considered his question and only after her silence stretched did Lucien consider that she did not speak Latin as well as he thought. He gave her space, walking her over a careful, stone laid path around the olive grove.

“Your hospitality has been generous,” she began carefully, fingers fidgeting in the pleats of her dress. “I’m sure Arina and I would be fine living somewhere on our own—”

“Who will protect you?” Lucien demanded, getting close to the question he was most interested in. “Two unmarried women shouldn’t be alone in the city.”

She nodded, not disputing his words.

Lucien pounced. “You’re not married?”

She glanced up at him, eyes narrowing. “No, I’m not married.”

“Why?”

She took a breath. “I have a fiance—”

“A what?”

She murmured something under breath in a language he didn’t understand. I forgot french hasn’t been invented yet. He didn’t like that Britanic language—it was too harsh, too angry to be coming out of such lovely lips.

“I am…sponsalia?” 

Lucien blanched. “To who?”

“He lives far from here.”

“And he let you leave unaccompanied?” Lucien demanded, thinking if he met this man, he’d kill him for his cowardice. What kind of man sent his future wife on the road alone where any number of horrible things could happen to her? No, that man was no man at all. Elain had been overtaken on the road and had she not found his home, who knew what might have happened to her?

Lucien didn’t want to think about it. 

“He trusts me,” she said foolishly. What did trust have to do with reality, he wondered?

“And look at how well that worked for you both,” Lucien replied, unable to keep the bite from his words. “You were set upon by bandits and then imprisoned for being a spy. If my brother had his way, you’d be working with the local prostitutes and your fiance would be disgraced to have ever been attached to you.”

Her cheeks reddened, not with shame like he expected, but anger. “Don’t do me any favors, Caesar.”

Why did he like it, he wondered? And yet… “Do you consider this a favor, Elena?”

“I did.”

“And now?”

She kicked a clod of dirt with her foot. “I feel like an imposition.”

“Disavow him,” Lucien commanded, halting in his tracks to look at her. “Say he means nothing to you.”

“I…”

“Disavow him and I will put the backing of Rome behind you,” he swore, wishing he had his sword to swear upon. 

“I can’t—”

“You will.”

It was wrong, perhaps, to force her into ending whatever marriage she’d been entered into. The bond clearly wasn’t strong if he was willing to risk his future wife. Perhaps he hoped something would happen to her. The thought angered Lucien.

“Please don’t,” she whispered, but Lucien’s mind was made up and he would not be denied. 

“Then call him to Rome to answer for his treatment,” Lucien ordered, certain she would not do that. Elain rounded on him, hands on her hips and he wondered with delight if she would deny him.

“So you can slaughter him?”

“You wound me. I believe in the rule of law—”

“What law did he break?” she demanded and oh. She had him there. Technically the man had done nothing other than offend Lucien. Wasn’t that enough? He was Emperor, why should he be offended by some man from Britannia that didn’t value his soon-to-be wife? 

“You broke laws,” Lucien reminded her, scrambling for anything that would give him validity. “Your father is responsible—”

“My father is dead,” she said, some of the fire in her eyes extinguished.

“Then your brother or uncle—”

“I have none.”

Lucien offered her a smile so saccharine it tasted sweet on his tongue. “Which leaves your soon-to-be husband to answer for your crimes. Call him or disavow him.”

Elain looked up at him, arms crossed over her chest. “And if I disavow him, what then?”

Lucien’s grin widened. “I would be delighted to accept responsibility for you and find a suitable husband.”

“A terrifying prospect,” she grumbled. Lucien was half decided on who he’d marry her to—no one he knew was good enough for her. Was he? He wanted to find out. The more she spoke, the longer he breathed the same air, only made him want her more. “Fine. I disavow him. He means nothing to me, I owe him nothing.”

“Would he mourn your death?” Lucien asked curiously, tilting his head to the side. She blinked, eyes strangely glassy.

“I don’t know,” she finally said as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Lucien’s body went taut for a moment, eyes tracking the way she moved. He felt like a predator back on the killing fields, sword in hand even as he prepared to have his life ended. She could end him, too—not with a weapon but her words, a look, a touch. If she would not marry him, Lucien would take her in any way he could get her. He would deny he’d touched her if that's what she asked, would keep her as an ornament in his home and raise their illegitimate children. She had no father, no brother, no husband. No man who could deny him, though Lucien could not have been denied even if she did. 

Reaching for her chin, Lucien forced Elain to look at him. Elena, he thought with pleasure. She’d need a more Romanized name to be accepted by the people. Would she like Helena, he wondered? He was getting ahead of himself and yet Lucien felt settled.

Pleased, too.

Holding her gaze, he said, “I would mourn you.”

“You don’t even know me,” she replied, drawing a soft, shaking breath.

Lucien shook his head. “I feel the opposite. I feel as if I’ve known you my whole life.” Like he’d been waiting for her. Guilt slithered through him, hot and oily as he remembered Jesminda. He’d once said the same thing about her. Was he the kind of man who could forget love so quickly? Lucien couldn’t help his foolish heart. Looking at the woman beside him, far paler than she’d been when they’d first begun talking, he knew he had his work cut out for him.

He could demand her hand—could assert himself as the sole authority over her and then demand she wed him. And Lucien could imagine just how well that would go. He’d have her in his bed, but she wouldn’t be willing, wouldn’t want him. He knew plenty of men with disinterested wives, who submitted out of duty but not desire. Having tasted love with Jesminda, Lucien wanted it again. Wanted it so badly he was willing to toss out tradition, at least until she got to know him better. 

“Come,” he said with an easy smile, “let me show you the fountain. It’s my favorite.”

—

Arina didn’t care what Elain said—they needed to leave. Elain was too struck by the history of it all that she’d forgotten they were living in an ancient human civilization that was so far removed from their own that any number of horrible tragedies might befall them. Elain had, if nothing else, seen the toilet situation.

Holed up in the Emperor’s library, Arina forced herself to sit in a chair that was deeply uncomfortable, a book laid across her lap. On any other day, finding a first edition transcription of Aristotle’s teachings would have been a dream—she could touch it. Now, though, Arina couldn’t even enjoy herself. 

In truth, she was terrified. Obvious problems aside, they had no way to get back, no way to escape. There were far worse things between Rome and the estate they’d broken into beside just Lucien and his army. But if they could steal a horse, could get some coins…well. Arina figured they could be long gone before anyone in the capital even realized they were missing.

And with some knives—ideally with poisoned blades—they’d be in decent shape. They couldn’t take on a good swordsman, but how many highway robbers were any better than them?

Arina heard the sound of leather on marble, heard the high, bronze doors open and without seeing who came in, she just knew. Eris. He was the blueprint for all modern Italian men—arrogant, certain of his own greatness, and desperate for a woman to subjugate. Just like her father, she thought darkly. He strolled in, dressed like the immaculate senator he was. Did he know that Arina knew everything about him? The would-be Emperor, ousted by his own father who knew ahead of time, had planned to kill his son. He hadn’t suspected Eris had conspirators, but he had destroyed every soldier who might have taken the city for Rome and alerted Helion who then moved quickly to ensure his own son took the city before it could fall into the hands of some hated rival. 

Eris survived—thrived, even. He lived just as long as his brother, had a whole host of children with a foreign born woman known only to history as Agripina, and seemed generally happy in his later writings. Arina had never cared much for this period of time outside of the art, the sculptures, the architecture. Now, though?

Well, Arina would be an expert at this rate. 

Eris made his way into the large atrium, amber eyes finding hers. His impassive expression shifted into a frown, his disdain plain. 

“Who taught you how to read?”

Arina cocked her head and smoothed her blue stola beneath her hands. “Are you looking for lessons?”

She really shouldn’t test him—knew that he could make her life exceptionally difficult. And yet it was fun to see his gaze sharpen and his spine straighten as he recognized the challenge. 

Striding toward her, Eris plucked the book from her fingers to examine the writings. “What do you know of Aristotle?” Arina wanted to laugh in his face. More than he did, she’d wager. “Enough.”

He handed the book back, closing the leather bound cover carefully before doing so. It was tempting to tell him that his own wife would be so literate that in his final years, she was the one who wrote down his every thought. 

“You’re excused,” Eris informed her dismissively, turning toward the arching windows overlooking the garden. He made his way toward them, hands folded behind his back, to do the same thing Arina had been doing—spying on Elain and the Emperor. 

Elain was so beautiful that every man who saw her fell a little in love with her. It wasn’t unusual for men to stop Elain on the street spouting sonnets about her beauty or begging for just ten minutes of her time. If Elain wasn’t careful, he’d be demanding she marry him before the week was out and they’d be in real trouble. 

Arina rose to her feet, unwilling to argue with Eris. She couldn’t argue with him as far as she remembered. His word was law even in this place, and even over her. 

“Che cazzo,” she hissed under her breath, well aware Eris had no hope of deciphering the actual meaning of her words. Italian wasn’t a language anyone spoke yet. Eris’s head whipped around all the same, eyes narrowed to slits.

“What barbarian tribe are you actually from?” he asked, crossing his arms over a broad chest.

Adopting her most brain dead smile, Arina said, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“That language…” he wrinkled his nose with disdain. “Is lingua latina not spoken even as far North as Britannia?”

Arina couldn’t help her laugh. If only he knew. “But of course.”

“Tell me.”

“Why? So you can accuse me of any number of untrue things?”

Eris took a soft breath, nostrils flaring. “If I swear not to accuse you?”

“I would still lie,” Arina replied with that same saccharine smile. “Surely you understand the importance of speaking multiple languages? Or can you not speak Greek?”

“I don’t speak any of the barbarian languages—”

“Yet,” she interrupted, holding his gaze. “But who knows? Maybe in five years you’ll need someone who can.”

“What were you really doing in my brother's home?”

Arina’s eyes slid over his shoulders, toward the dots that were Elain and Lucien standing before a marble carved fountain. Studying it. She so badly wanted to tell him the truth—to tell someone all of her fears, of the nightmare she currently found herself in. She couldn’t. Arina pressed her lips shut, eyes returning to the man standing before her.

“I’m going to find out,” he warned her softly. “I’m a terrible enemy to have.”

She only shrugged, heart thudding roughly in her chest. “I’ve already told you everything. I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

She was nearly at the door when he called out, “‘Che cazzo.’ What does it mean?”

His Italian wasn’t awful—certainly less offensive than when Graysen had bid her a good day in the choppiest drawl she’d ever heard in her life. Arina knew better than to tell him the truth, and yet…

“Capitium,” she said, using the Latin for little head as Eris’s expression darkened. Dick. She could call a man a dick in every language. 

Pleased with herself, Arina attempted to flounce from the room, satisfied she’d at least cut Eris down to size. It didn’t solve any of her problems but it did make her feel better.

She was nearly to the hall when strong fingers wrapped around her bare arm, pulling her back flush against his chest.

Lowering his mouth to her ear, Eris murmured, “The next time you reference my cock, I’ll assume you’re asking to see it.”

“You disgust me,” she whispered without thinking.

He only chuckled, low and soft. He smelled nice, a mix of spices she didn’t immediately recognize. Shouldn’t all men reek of body odor? This one, especially, ought to smell like sewage given how handsome his face was. 

“I’ll bet you’d say that on your knees.”

Arina elbowed him roughly in the ribs, certain he would do nothing but let her go. There was the faintest echo of outrage etched on his features, but more horrifyingly, she found something that read like a challenge gazing back at her. That was dangerous, especially in a place where men could do whatever they liked to women under their protection. 

Forcing herself to smile, Arina wrenched from his grasp to look up at the tall warrior gazing back at her. “If you put your cock in my face, you’ll regret it.”

“Such a filthy mouth,” Eris all but crooned, undeterred by the threat. “I look forward to using—”

She knew better. Oh, Arina knew better even back home, than to slap a man. It was dangerous back home where men were prone to violence when provoked—and literally anything might provoke them.

It was worse, here. He already thought her a barbarian, knew she had no male relative to watch over her, and just barely tolerated her. The two of them stood there, chests heaving as a patch of red bloomed across his cheek. Arina’s palm stung from the force of the blow, hidden behind her back as if she could take it all back.

Bracing herself for his fury, Arina steeled her spine even as she flinched back. Eris watched, head slightly cocked, his own hand rising not to strike her back, but to touch his face. Arina wasn’t going to apologize—he had no right to speak to her that way.

And still, she was scared. 

Eris exhaled through his nostrils. “Watch yourself,” he warned her, lifting his chin as though that might salve his wounded pride, “or I’ll put you in the military since you want to fight.”

Arina exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “I—” I’m sorry. “Of course.”

Eris gestured for her to leave, turning his head and Arina, not willing to stick around and test his good will, tripped over the skirt of her dress in her haste. At the end of the hall, she turned to look over her shoulder, surprised to find him still standing in the archway.

Watching.

[kitchenisking]

December fic rec

Spoiled by SterekvsSteter - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 875, sterek)

Stiles is just barely underage and Derek refuses to touch him until his birthday, but Stiles knows all the right buttons to push to get what he wants.

It was a Challenge!! by Kalin - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 2,444, sterek)

Derek has a kink. Stiles finds out about said kink. Let's just say faerie godmothers kinda exist. SMUT!

if you gave me a chance (i would take it) by EvanesDust - (Rating: T, Words: 4,098, sterek)

Knowing that soulmates don’t always end with a happily ever after, Stiles keeps his mark covered. The universe can’t tell him who to love.

Derek’s soulmark turns a deep maroon as soon as he meets his new roommate—Stiles Stilinski. It’s really too bad that Stiles doesn’t believe in soulmates.

Compelled by FelOllie - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 7,023, sterek)

“I'm sorry.” Stiles held a hand up to stop Deaton mid-sentence. “Could you just repeat that for me one more time?”

“It's a compulsion spell.” Deaton dutifully repeated. 

“Meaning what, exactly?” Stiles pressed, leaning heavily against the metal table beside where Derek had perched at Stiles' behest. 

“Meaning that Derek would feel compelled to do whatever the caster told him to do.” Deaton explained. “My guess, in this instance, is that she wanted to claim you and needed Derek's permission to do so.”

bad blood, black blood by thedevilyousay - (Rating: T, Words: 2,683, sterek)

“I object!”

Stiles stumbles through the doors at the back of the chapel, haphazardly flinging them open in his attempt to get through them faster. He feels rather than sees the whole room stop what they’re doing in order to turn and look at him. For a second that lasts entirely too long, he considers turning back around again to leave but ultimately decides he’s already come this far. Leaning heavily on the first pew he comes to, he tries again, wiping the blood off his face with the ruined sleeve of his hoodie and clearing his throat. 

“I object! To this marriage. I object.”

And I wish I could shout you out by DefNotForWork - (Rating: Mature, Words: 3,862, sterek)

It was the first time Derek shut him up by kissing him. The first of many. And it was almost cute.

Or in which Derek keeps stopping Stiles from saying important things, and Stiles thinks it's because he just doesn't want to hear them.

Unneeded Lessons by RisingQueen2 (FallenQueen2) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,356, sterek)

Stiles is sneaky, but Derek will always be able to see through it. However this time it works well for his own needs.

Horizons into Battlegrounds by AClosedFicIsNeverRead - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 15,385, sterek)

Derek has always kept his distance from Stiles, refusing to act on his instinctive desire for the pale, doe-eyed human. But at what cost? When circumstances reveal the horrors that Stiles has suffered due to Derek's self-imposed distance, will the Alpha be able to make it right before it's too late?

Scent Trials by To_fill_the_sea - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6,870, sterek)

Stiles is am omega with a seemingly off-putting scent and was convinced he would be alone as no one found him remotely appealing. He finds out the head alpha of their territory, Derek Hale, is holding a scent trial to find a compatible omega. Stiles has to go along with it despite knowing he won;t be chosen. It would just be another rejection. But he can't even begin to predict how the day will go.

Stitched Up by SophieTrancy - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5,954, sterek)

Stiles Stilinski was very happy, working for the C.A.O. He was damn good at his job and he loved every second of it. But, maybe it was just his luck, he got shot. He got shot and found himself under house arrest for a whole month. But hey, this is Stiles. After one of the strongest heats of his life and long 14 days with nothing to do, he decided to leave his apartment. 

Derek Hale had been trying to put himself back together, after the fire. After years of not being able to shift back into his human form, Derek decided it was time to search for his mate. The mate he had to abbandon because of the loss of his pack. Derek still had a long way to go, to try and go back to being that same happy, joyful person he used to be and, maybe he never did go back to that, but at least he'd try. For Stiles. To be the Alpha he had never had the chance to be for his Omega.

But bumping into the boy in a restaurant in New York wasn't how Derek had planned to break him the news. Stiles had never known they were mates, growing up and leaving Beacon Hills without ever finding one. But, suddenly, there Derek was. And Stiles had no fucking clue what was going on.

[mania-sama]

gojo satoru's guide to being a good father: cheating is only tolerable if it happens in monopoly

Before He Cheats - Carrie Underwood

➼ information ❧ Jujutsu Kaisen ❧ Pairing: Fushiguro Megumi & Fushiguro Tsumiki & Gojo Satoru, Fushiguro Megumi & Gojo Satoru ❧ Additional Characters: Itadori Yuuji, Kugisaki Nobara ❧ Tags: implied/referenced cheating, no curses au, guardian-ward relationships, gojo satoru adopted the fushiguros, parental! gojo, protective! gojo, vandalism, threats of violence, father-son bonding via car vandalism: the fic ❧ Summary: In which Tsumiki gets cheated on and, really, Gojo has been waiting to destroy a bitch's Maserati. ❧ Word Count: 4,054 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 1 January 2024 ❧ Now available as a podfic!

Gojo receives a text from Tsumiki saying that she’s coming home to visit for a couple of days, and two seconds later the front door slams open. A loud bang echoes in the house when it hits the wall. Oh, good. Megumi’s home.

“I’m going to kill that bastard,” he hears the boy fume, forcing the door shut with even more vigor. That poor abused door. Maybe Gojo should consider a therapist for it. “I’m going to chop his dick off and feed it to him.”

“Good afternoon to you, too,” Gojo greets cheerfully. Looking up from the living room couch, he sees his irate ward stalk to the kitchen and pilfer through the various sharp knives in the steel-colored knife block. Not good. He’s already picking out his murder weapon before taking off his backpack. “What’s going on?”

Megumi spares a side-eye so full of anger that Gojo doesn’t even have it in him to feel disrespected. “He cheated,” he says simply while drawing out the chef knife from the block. The noise it makes is a sharp shing, a telltale sign of crimes yet to come.

“Who cheat— oh.” That would explain the short, out-of-the-blue text message from Tsumiki. Suddenly Megumi’s fury seems a lot less irrational. Gojo has a short, beautiful vision of beating Tsumiki’s boyfriend to the point where even his mother wouldn’t recognize his face.

“Yeah.” Megumi holds the large blade out for a second, giving it a long, examining look. Apparently, it satisfies his criteria because he drops his arm by his side and starts heading for the door. Oh shit. He’s actually going to go chop his dick off.

Not that Gojo doesn’t want to either, it’s just that, well, he’s not supposed to indulge in body mutilation. Besides, if Megumi gets caught with that knife in his hand, he’ll get arrested, and Gojo really doesn’t want that to go on the boy’s permanent record. Satoru, unfortunately, cannot woo police officers out of prison sentences like he has for teachers to throw out Megumi’s detentions.

“Hey, hey, hold on!” Gojo jumps up and vaults over the couch in one swift movement, carefully sidestepping whenever Megumi carelessly turns around. The knife’s tip swipes where Gojo’s stomach had once been. “You cannot go around castrating people!”

Megumi glares at him with the heated fury of a thousand burning suns. His lips are pulled so far down into a scowl that Gojo’s unsure his facial muscles are ever going to let him smile again. “Oh, you’re going to start disciplining me now?”

Okay, wow, Gojo did not ask for commentary on his lack of proper child anger management.“I’ve disciplined you plenty,” Gojo insists, though Megumi looks unconvinced. “Listen. I know he deserves it. But do you even know where he is or how you’re gonna get there without anybody catching you with that knife?”

Satoru holds out his hand expectantly while Megumi stares at him hard, his nose scrunched up and green eyes alight with unrelenting ire. Eventually, he sighs hard and presses the handle of the chef knife into Gojo’s palm.

“You’re not seriously going to let him get away with this, are you?” Megumi asks, his voice marginally calmer and less accusatory than it was before. Deciding to be responsible, Gojo slides the chef knife back into its proper spot and stands firmly in front of the knife block. Just in case his ward makes another attempt at righteous vengeance.

At the question and Megumi’s impatiently crossed arms, Gojo has to think. Obviously, he isn’t going to let this go unpunished. To imagine that any man could think they could hurt his sweet Tsumiki who has never done anything wrong in her entire life — okay, there was that one time that she thought it was okay to spend three thousand dollars on Robux but she didn’t really mean to do that — and run away scot-free sends a violent shiver down Gojo’s spine. 

He never told Tsumiki this, but he doesn’t think her boyfriend is all that attractive or intelligent, emotionally or scholarly. What he did tell her was that as long as she was happy, he would be happy. Not before a talk with said boyfriend where he promised he would do much worse things to him if he ever dared make Gojo’s ward cry.

So, what could he do to a twenty-one-year-old university student without mutilating any body parts but still following through with his promise?

Gojo smiles at Megumi, whose eyebrows are raised in anticipation. “Megumi, you have a lot to learn about revenge. What is the one thing a self-absorbed, cheating man loves more than anything in the whole world?”

“His dick,” he responds confidently.

“No!” Satoru laughs and points a finger at Megumi’s nose, watching as he goes momentarily cross-eyed. “Good guess. I’d put that at number two. But Megumi, dear, you must understand. There is nothing he is more prideful of than his car.”

Noticing his ward’s skepticism, he brings his index finger upwards. He uses the rest of his fingers to list off with his words. “One: It’s hard to get away with castration. As much as I hate to admit it, no way you’re going to chop off his dick. Two: Cars are feminine. Men like him love to own anything they can call a she. Three: Cars are expensive and he is a broke college student. I imagine his parents paid for the one he owns now, which is a nice Maserati Ghibli. Four: He will be without a vehicle and have to own up to his parents that his car got destroyed, and the only correlating event that would lead up to such a tragedy would be his cheating. Do you understand now, Megumi?”

Truly, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Megumi comprehend anything so well in his entire seventeen years of life. His ward gives him a short nod.

“Good. Unfortunately, we can’t enact our revenge today. We can’t show up wherever he is and destroy his car. No, we have to first get him to park in a secluded lot, then occupy him for a few hours,”  Gojo informs. Megumi listens intently, and, oh, it’s been so long since he’s gotten this boy to actually pay attention to everything he says. It makes Satoru feel all warm inside. “Got any friends that can help us with this?”

Megumi doesn’t hesitate to pull out his phone. “I bet that bastard likes them younger, too. Kugisaki can help.”

“When you’ve come up with a plan, tell me and we’ll review it.”

His ward nods and sends a text on his phone, presumably to Kugisaki Nobara. Gojo waits for Megumi to leave the kitchen to go to his room before he pries himself away from the counter. He chooses to stay in the living room in preparation for the scenario where Megumi decides that he can’t wait any longer and a castration must be performed. He also wants to be the first person to greet his older ward when she gets home.

—

The next three days are spent comforting Tsumiki while carefully planning the glorious demise of her ex-boyfriend’s car. She is too kind, even in mourning of her year-long relationship. She has barely a bad word to speak of that roach of a man. Instead, she cuddles with Gojo as they watch her favorite movies and comedy specials, eat all sorts of unhealthy food and home-cooked meals, and play various board games that Megumi reluctantly joins them in.

It’s the closest they’ve been since Tsumiki left for her second year at university while Megumi works on graduating high school. Gojo works at a different university about a mile away, so he’s nearby at all times. If he cancels a few classes, nobody says a word to him. It comes with being the most highly acclaimed physics professor in all of Japan.

It would be perfect if it weren’t for the weight of a cheating ex-boyfriend dampening the mood at all times. Gojo is happy to be with his kids — wards, technically. Wards — but one of them isn’t, and the other is too involved in a revenge plot to be fully invested in the time they are spending together. Whatever, he consoles himself. It’s the best he’ll get until summer.

In the midst of watching The Human Centipede 2, which, for the record, is a horrifying franchise and he doesn’t understand why Tsumiki likes it so much, he gets a horrid vision of both of his children away in university. Then them in apartments of their own, and they only get together again once or twice a year for holidays. He isn’t able to hold them close on his living room couch on a mundane Tuesday afternoon to watch a deranged scientist attach humans together via mouths to buttholes.

Gojo pulls Tsumiki a little tighter to his side and places a careful arm around Megumi’s shoulders. His son — ward — stiffens for a moment, then leans his cheek on Satoru’s bicep. While both of their eyes are fixated on the screen, he gives a small glance to both of the kids. He feels their steady breaths against his body.

It takes everything in Satoru to smother his smile.

Then the fated day finally arrives.

The plan consists of five participants, four willing (Gojo, Megumi, Nobara, Yuuji) and one unwilling (Tsumiki’s ex-boyfriend). Megumi and his two friends did all of the planning and arrangements while Gojo bought the necessary equipment: two Louisville sluggers, gloves, hats, brass knuckles, a box cutter, and the special edition Tokyo Monopoly. He also rented a sparkling silver BMW because Gojo refuses to be outclassed by a broke college student.

Oh, and they need it so his actual car won’t be recognized. That’s why everything he bought was either new or could hide their appearance, aside from the brass knuckles and board game; if the police catch them, Megumi will never forgive Gojo for not letting him perform a well-deserved castration.

At precisely two thirty in the afternoon, Megumi and Satoru bid Tsumiki a hasty farewell. Gojo doesn’t trust either of them to lie well enough to her, so they don’t give her enough time to ask where they are going. Her shouted question is left as an unanswered echo behind the closed front door.

It takes them thirty minutes to arrive at the designated location, a hole-in-the-wall bar in the rundown part of Ueno. Predictably, there aren’t many people there on a Wednesday before happy hour. Most people had classes or work at this time, and besides, drinking at three in the afternoon without any good football or baseball games to watch is just sad.

Unless, of course, someone had good company with them. A group of friends or a date with a seventeen-year-old girl who insisted that the only time she could get with him was at three on Wednesday! Really! She’s busy the rest of the week and her parents are oh-so restricting…

Since Satoru is a responsible adult, he made sure that the bartenders were paid off in advance to pretend that they are serving alcohol to young Kugisaki. She will simply act like she is getting drunk off of sparkly orange and pink drinks. Then, when the time is right, the ex-boyfriend will lead her to his car to take her to his apartment with only the most pure of intentions. Obviously. But what he will find instead is a pile of mutilated metal and deflated rubber.

There were only two glaring holes in the plan when Megumi originally proposed it to him, which they patched up by including Yuuji. The first: Gojo knows Nobara can bench twice her weight and take down a man with a hairpin, but he needs to be one hundred percent sure she will be entirely safe. There’s no telling what an enraged pedophile may be able to achieve. Additionally, she needs a quick getaway. The second: A video of the man’s reaction is required, and nobody involved will be in a position to record.

So, Megumi kindly asked Itadori Yuuji to hang out in the parking lot in his car, inherited from his dearly departed grandfather, and be at the ready with both his phone and brass knuckles should the situation escalate so far. Gojo hopes it doesn’t because that would make for a terrible reaction video.

The parking lot is situated at the back of the bar, which has no windows for an unsuspecting cheater to look out of and witness a crime being committed on his prized possession. Gojo parks a couple of spots to the right of the pearly white Maserati, spotting Yuuji’s old red Nissan on the left. The windows are barely tinted, allowing them to make eye contact with each other. Or rather, Itadori looks at Gojo’s shades for a split second before waving enthusiastically to Megumi. His ward returns the gesture with a small wave of his own.

Before Gojo can say something that will undoubtedly embarrass Megumi and spoil the mood, he swings his orange-and-blue slugger over his shoulder and adjusts his black cap with a gloved hand. “I’m feeling generous,” he declares. “You take the first swing.”

Megumi looks up at him, gives him a malicious grin, and steps close to the right wing mirror. Instead of swinging it, he slams the butt of the bat into the glass. It takes one more shove to send the wing mirror crashing to the ground. Glass shatters on the asphalt. Luckily, Gojo made Megumi wear a jacket and a pair of designer shades that would protect him from spray shards.

Laughing at the broken display of vandalism, Gojo pats Megumi on the shoulder. “Hit a home run into his headlights! I’ll work on getting in the car.”

“Destroying the inside?” Megumi asks, already stepping around to the front of the car. He gets into a proper batting stance, just like how Gojo taught him when the boy was playing the sport in middle school. The sun reflects brightly on the black-and-yellow Louisville slugger.

“Can’t leave a job half-finished, can we?” Satoru grins. His ward knocks a clean hole into one headlight at the same time Gojo leaves a spiderweb of cracks in the driver’s window. When the glass shatters inwards, he’s able to reach into the car and press the unlock button. The Maserati Ghibli has a slight off-white leather interior. Gojo takes a second to run his hand over the seat, savoring the beauty he’s about to destroy.

It’s a morbid pleasure to slide open his box cutter and carve jagged lines into the clean interior. White scars are left behind when he pulls the blade from the leather. He takes special care to draw little broken hearts and a cat with a pair of sunglasses on. When he’s done with the front and back seats, he finds that Megumi has already made a full round with the car. Thin streaks were keyed into the car doors, and every inch of the once pristine Maserati is filled with deep dents.

Megumi admires the view with Gojo, his breath coming out in small pants. “Well?”

“It can be better. Go again,” he answers, even though the car is so beautifully destroyed that it makes his heart swell. The teacher who said his kid was destined for failure was sorely mistaken; this is a sign of great things to come.

Megumi nods and lifts his slugger to smash another dent into the back window. It was already shattered, but now the only indication glass was ever there in the first place are the shards lying scattered in the trunk.

Gojo could cry with how proud he is of his son. His ward. Son.

Pushing out the blade of the box cutter again, Gojo crouches and slashes a hole into the first of four tires. He watches in satisfaction as air rushes out to rejoin the natural atmosphere. It has the same impact as releasing a caged, rehabilitated animal back into the wild. Probably. Satoru hasn’t done that before but he figures this is pretty much the same thing.

He moves on to the next tire after golfing the fenders three times with his bat. Megumi meets back up with him on the last tire, and this time there’s sweat dripping from his face. It’s a decently hot day, Gojo can admit. A few straggling wisps of clouds drift lazily across the sky, leaving the sun to bake the creatures on Earth. His own neck is uncomfortably wet and sticky.

“Here,” he hands over the box cutter, a shade duller than it was before. “I’ll leave the final honor to you.”

Megumi holds the box cutter in his hand like it’s the Holy Grail. When he rips into the tire, Gojo hopes he’s imagining a dick being sliced off instead like Gojo is. It’s the closest they’re going to get until one brave woman decides that enough is enough.

They step back to admire their work. It should be displayed in a museum next to Winged Victory of Samothrace or Perseus with the Head of Medusa. The whole world should lay their eyes on the perfect mound of metal and rubber they have molded. It’s barely even recognizable. The dark inside machinery of the car is visible from the parts Megumi tore off with his hands or batted away with the slugger. It sits closer to the ground than before thanks to the tire deflation. Several holes fall open in the cracked windows.

Gojo wraps an arm around Megumi’s shoulder, tugging him to stand closer to his side. His ward doesn’t put up a fight against his guardian and even rests his head against Gojo’s collarbone.

No language has an accurate word to describe the feeling that courses through his body. It’s a concoction of every good and bad thing Gojo has done in his life; every misstep he’s taken in raising the Fushiguro kids, and every moment he’s experienced overwhelming pride, fear, and joy for them. It’s twelve years all at once, tucked away under his arm.

“Your sister is going to kill me when she finds out about this,” he says. Megumi snorts.

“It’ll be worth it.”

Megumi’s voice is low with fondness, the only kind that can be produced after a long rush of adrenaline.

A great amount of strength allows him to open his mouth. “We need to leave before they get out here,” he mutters. Slowly, as if reluctant, Megumi detaches himself from Gojo’s arm. The warmth of his son’s body is lost immediately, replaced by the distant uncaring sun.

They wave Yuuji farewell and hop into the car, blasting the air conditioner and the playlist containing both the perfect, glorious, angel choir songs Gojo likes and the obnoxiously emo songs Megumi listens to. About halfway through the drive, Satoru asks if Megumi’s hungry.

Megumi looks up at him from his phone, his eyes squinted with something mischievous. “Can we have—”

“We are not having KFC,” Gojo says firmly.

Instead of frowning, Megumi’s lips contort into a half-smile of some kind. Like he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s enjoying being in the car with Gojo. And Gojo — Gojo can’t help himself. This is his son. The prickly five-year-old he met in an alley is now seventeen years old, looking down at his lap with his face scrunched up in a failed attempt at keeping his composure. He’s not laughing only to maintain his image. Megumi is happy.

It’s not enough to get Gojo to go through a KFC drive-thru because some wounds will simply never heal, but he does pull into the parking lot of the next best thing: Subway.

“So, I was thinking tonight we’d play Monopoly,” he suggests as they gorge themselves on two foot-long sandwiches and a large bag of Doritos. Megumi tries to scowl, but his full cheeks make him look more like a chipmunk.

“No. You always cheat at Monopoly,” Megumi says after swallowing his food.

“I don’t! I play fair and square.”

“You always have to be a banker so you can steal money and give us incorrect payments,” he deadpans.

Gojo ignores him. It’s not his fault they won’t play by the objectively correct rules of Monopoly. “But it’s Tokyo Monopoly! You can own Shibuya Crossing!”

Megumi’s gaze is unimpressed, but he doesn’t retaliate anymore. Gojo doesn’t bother to hide his shit-eating grin. Another day, another victory for one Gojo Satoru.

—

Tsumiki is waiting for them when they get home. She’s leaning against the wall of the foyer, her gaze stupidly hard for someone who’s supposed to be grieving the end of a relationship. It takes them exactly two point three nanoseconds to see that she has them figured out.

“Where were you two?” She asks them as if she doesn’t know. The air cracks with tension.

Gojo smiles and shoves Megumi forward. “You know, Megumi has been dying to tell you!”

His son glares at him in disgust before fully facing his sister. “We, uh,” he clears his throat. “We vandalized your ex’s car.”

The house is silent for five whole seconds. Megumi stares at his sister with bated breath, waiting for his soul to be wiped out of the mortal plane in the form of an hour-long lecture. But Gojo knows better. He knows because this is his daughter.

She sags forward, a smile ghosting her lips. Her eyes carry heavy eyebags, but they shine with expectation. “Do you at least have a video?”

Of course, she wants to chop his dick off, too. And of course, she recognizes that the next best option is destroying his pearly white Maserati Ghibli. She was raised by Gojo Satoru, after all.

Before Gojo orders her DoorDash Subway, they watch the video Yuuji sent to Megumi’s phone — the contact photo for the young Itadori is hilariously cute in comparison to Nobara’s, making Satoru give his son a knowing shoulder bump — on the big screen.

His reaction is priceless, what with the screams and caressing of the broken angles of the car. He moves to furiously grab Nobara’s shoulders, but she digs her heel straight into his balls before he can lay a finger on her.

Yuuji lowers his phone as she gets in, kicking his car into reverse so they can peel out of there before he gets up off the ground. The video ends with the kids’ glorious laughter and Nobara shouting, “It worked! Go, Itadori! Go!” Tsumiki’s giggle gives Gojo more joy than the actual process of destroying the car.

Well. Okay. Her giggle is almost better than destroying a Maserati Ghibli. What can he say? It was the most fun he’s had since he decided to stop breaking the law to set a good example for his kids.

Later, when they sit down to play Tokyo Monopoly, he may or may not tone down his strict following of the rules. Perhaps he embezzles a little less, and perhaps he switches out Tsumiki’s house for a hotel when his kids aren’t paying attention. He still wins after five hours of playing but that’s beside the point.

The day ends with a hug from Tsumiki. He doesn’t fully hug his kids often. Even when they were young and missing both parental figures who should’ve been giving them hugs three times a day, Gojo didn’t let himself get close enough to them. Realistically, he knows it’d been a product of his own young age and inexperience. Growing up in a cold family didn’t help matters; his only model of parents were his own unfeeling ones and what he’d observed of other families from afar.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when he hesitates to hold his children, unsure if they would want to be touched by their legal guardian. It’s worse to see them withdraw from touching him, too, like they’re worried he’ll pull away in disgust.

So, this is nice, the hug from his daughter before she goes to bed. She smiles at him from the top of the staircase. She is happy.

Yeah, it’s certainly better than destroying a Maserati Ghibli.

… Well. Maybe not. Maybe nothing will be better than that. But he swears that Tsumiki’s happiness is a very, very close second.

[clarkes-and-god]

Cherish's Diary:

I don't know what to do. Tobias has been arrested for assaulting a public officer, and there's no way we can get him out. His bail is $5,000! He keeps phoning me about it, and I feel so bad but there's no way I can even pay the $500 to get a bond for him. I have some tips from work, but they make up barely half of that, and there's nothing in the bank account he's been managing. Only all the stupid stuff he buys, and I can't really give a bondsman video game skins and packs of cigarettes. I did ask Momma and Daddy if they could help pay it, and we'd pay them back soon, but Daddy reminded me that I'm grown and I should have managed the finances better and saved some money to prepare for this sort of stuff. That's what he always told me growing up, and I know he's right; but Tobias said he wanted to manage the money, and I can't argue with him, he's my husband! I could ask Esther, but I'd feel awful asking an elderly widow to pay for things that are my responsibility, and I don't think she has much to spare herself, with that boy who does the yard work for church looking after her.

I know Tobias is a good man really, he just gets a bit worked up sometimes, and that's what happened when that social worker came over. He just was upset that our kids might have been at risk! I mean, to me the social worker seemed nice, but men's brains work differently, so maybe he realised there was an issue and I didn't. I just hope whoever is in charge of sentencing him understands the situation and isn't harsh, seeing as it was just a mistake. We really need him at home, he's so sweet when he's happy, and I don't think we can do without the money he gives me from Christ Chicken. Luckily, I've told my manager that my schedule changed and she's given me some extra shifts. So we should be ok for now, but I do need to ask someone to watch Neveah and Travis.

The kids are all shook up from what happened! Poor Mandy is just in hysterics because she thinks it's all her fault -- she told her teacher what she was doing at the weekend and the teacher didn't seem happy according to her. Honestly, I wasn't too happy when she said that Tobias had left her all alone with the little ones -- she's still only 7 -- but I will have to tell her not to talk about things like that to people who won't understand. I'll leave it until she's a little less upset though, I don't think she'd cope with that sort of talk at the moment. For now, she's been praying for her Daddy, which is very sweet of her.

Tyson and Neveah haven't been any better. Tyson has got such an attitude, he won't listen to anything I say. He's been moping in his room and yelling at his siblings. And after school today, his teacher pulled me aside and said he had to be sent out for distracting the class! I know he's always been loud and energetic at school, he's a boy after all, but that's never happened before! The teacher did say he understood with the situation at home, but I can't believe it. He's always been such a sweet boy and now he's just being awful! I'm praying it resolves itself soon, and Mandy starts coping a little better, because it's honestly horrible to be in the house with the two of them. They're just setting each other off at the minute, and then that upsets Neveah and Travis. I think poor Neveah doesn't understand enough to know what's going on, but she knows something's changed and Daddy's not here anymore, and it's really upsetting her. She's normally such an independant little girl, but it's like she's gone back to being a baby. She won't let me leave her alone, and she's not sleeping through the night. She's slept through the night since she was about 8 months old! And if I do leave her alone, she's just breaking all the toys or trying to ruin the furniture. I feel like I need 3 extra pairs of hands to deal with them all at the minute. I know they must be missing their Daddy, but I am too, and they're not easy to parent just now. Lord, I am praying that everything will go smoothly for Tobias and we can all go back to normal soon, because I don't think I can manage all on my own for long. You designed man and wife to be joined together in marriage and not seperated, and I am really feeling why You designed it that way with these struggles at the moment. Please give me strength.

[isaidno]

A Small Treason

Diedra was Leon’s new laundress, and he was very fond of her.  His clothes were always fresh smelling, no stain, not blood, wine, or grass was beyond her skill, and she even mended his clothes without being asked.  She was quiet, polite, timely, and very good at her job. The castle cook had convinced him to take Diedra into his service, after the girl had begged for food and work. 

And after only week Leon had been convinced it was the best decision he had ever made. 

 There was only one problem, well technically two.  Leon was almost sure she was a druid, and he knew that she was a practicing member of the old religion.  Either one of those things alone was worth a death sentence in Camelot, and if Leon had real proof and he did not report it, it could be his head too.  But this girl she would not hurt flies.  Literally, he had seen her shoo them away rather than kill them.

 So when Leon had seen the triskelion tattooed on her arm, he had ignored it.  He watched her for signs or trouble or treason, but he saw nothing but hard work and loyalty from the girl. That was three months ago.

 It was one month ago that he had decided to commit treason.  He walked in on her lighting candles to the triple goddess. He had brought his best formal shirt, that Gwain had spilled wine on, only an hour before a diplomatic meeting he needed to be present at.  He had been young during the purge, but he had seen the ritual before, a prayer for safety for house and home.  His house. This woman was calling on magic to protect him and his household.  As the first knight of Camelot he should be calling the guards to have her arrested for treason. But she was trying to bless his house. What was he to do? Diedra was visibly terrified. Rather than acknowledge the prayer, or that he knew what it was, he made motion at the stain seeping into this shirt.  “The meeting with the Ambassador is in under an candlemark, can you help?”

 The girl’s eyes flickered between him and the candles, “Off with it.  I might be able to help.” As soon as Leon handed her the shirt, she continued, “Go fetch your green tabard, if I cant make this work, we might need that.”

 “The green one, I need to be in Camelot Red.”

 “Sir Leon, please.” She said softly, “Go fetch the green one, it has red lining, and I might be able to make it work if I cant get this dry.” Oh, or course, he wasn’t thinking about that, he hurried out of the small laundry room. 

 When he returned, Diedra was drying his shirt over the fire.  There was not a hint of a stain on it. “Here, the whole thing is a bit damp, but it was the only way to hide the washing.  It will be a bit uncomfortable, but only you will know.  Well as long as no one touches your shirt.”

Leon put the shirt on, and she was right it was bit damp and uncomfortable, but it looked perfect.  She had removed Elderberry wine in less than 10 minutes.  The only way to do that was magic, his last laundress had thrown out any garment stained by Elderberry wine. Diedra had sent him out of the room so she could do magic, to clean his shirt? Looking at the small woman, he noticed her sleeves pulled up and the triskelion on her arm.  He looked from her to the door and back to her, and he made his decision, grabbing her arm.  She visibly flinched, as Leon commented, “Such an odd birth mark, there could be horrible consequences if the king were to see it and confuse it for something else. You should consider covering it.  Talk to Guias if you need help finding sufficient bandages and coverings.” Leon pulled her sleeve down, as she meet his eyes, “I must go. I don’t want to be late.”

 They never spoke of the candle blessing or her mark, but now the girl always keeps her arm covered or bandaged. And Leon’s clothes never do seem to tear or fray any more.

[nightwatchman-z14]

Introduction post!

Name: Izolda Snezhana Nikolaeva (Изольда Снежана Николаева) Codename: Z-14, "the nightwatchman," later known as "the mastermind." Age: 35

Izolda is an immigrant from Russia who stayed behind after her parents returned back to Russia. Izolda had a very troubled childhood, even before moving to the States. When she grew up, she found out that she enjoyed hurting people, becoming a serial killer in the area she lived in after she got her roots. She took up the job as being a bodyguard for a young child singer, named Mira Higashiyama, for some quick change. Mira's parents were incredibly neglectful, to the point of living in another house that they bought with Mira's own money, and let Izolda raise Mira. Izolda was the closest thing Mira had to a mother, and Izolda loved Mira very much. She took her job more seriously after she started to raise Mira and treat her as her own daughter, going as far as to get adoption proceedings started so she could take Mira out of the child star scene and let Mira finally experience a normal childhood. She got more reckless with her crimes in the meantime, and decided the quickest way to get Mira to be hers was to kill her biological parents. Right before the adoption proceedings finished, Izolda was arrested for the murder of Mira's parents, and was identified as the serial killer who devastated the city she resided in. She had been given multiple life sentences, and was sent to a maximum security facility in a nearby city. Urbanshade scooped her up, faking her death as suicide, and put her in the same control group as Sebastian.

Izolda and Sebastian, even when they first met, were on shaky grounds. Sebastian hated Izolda for being a criminal and assisting Urbanshade; specifically, he hated her because she was the criminal he was accused of being. In turn, Izolda viewed him as a coward, unreliable, and just a pawn in the way of her plans. Izolda was assigned by Urbanshade to be a guardsman to the "high risk" sector, where Sebastian was located. She and Sebastian had a tentative truce as they planned to escape. Izolda had masterminded the entire incident, using Sebastian as her puppet. Now that they're loose, the both of them still work together, begrudgingly, and still don't trust each other.

When Izolda was being experimented on, she'd been mixed with a black dragonfish, banded sea-krait, and a greenland shark.

Concept for gameplay mechanics:

Izolda is seen roaming the halls, and for a fee of documents, will keep guard of the player temporarily though 12 doors. She will alert you to an incoming enemy, or will kill a wall dweller if it gets too close to you and you have your back turned. If you flash her with a flash beacon once, Izolda will hit you and warn you to not do that again. If you flash her again, she will chase you and attempt to kill you. If she sees you enter a locker, she'll try to break in, and a minigame similar to Pandemonium will show up. If you lose, she'll kill you. If you win, she'll leave the room and not show up for the rest of the run.

When you come across her again after having flashed her with the beacon in another run, she'll have a dismissive attitude towards you and will charge you higher for guarding you. If you manage to flash her a total of 3 or more times during your runs, she'll make sure to break your flash beacon before she guards you.

[eos-aurora-rise]

“It’s not so bad.”

And it wasn’t. It had all the clinical neatness of Percy’s room back home, just with less furniture. What Percy lacked in bed frames and side tables, he made up for in stuff; there was no other word for it.  

Ginny stepped over a stack of books which were balanced bizarrely a foot in front of the door. The top book was titled ‘Laws and Regulations of Quidditch’ - Ginny had read that one before. She trailed her fingers over the words as she made her way further in, kicking her shoes off before stepping onto the thick shag rug that she happened to know he’d filched from his room at Hogwarts.  

“Yes, well. I’m working on it.” 

He sounded particularly flat these days. Ginny glanced up at him over her book. He sat cross-legged on the sofa, a laptop balanced on bony knees as he tapped away at it halfheartedly, even as his eyes darted critically around the living room.  

Things were different after the war. The ministry was still in crisis mode, all cylinders firing while they attempted desperately to clear out all of the death eater-flavoured corruption that had been festering for decades. It meant holding trials for convicted criminals, while unconvicted criminals sat in the stands judging them. It was an utter mess.  

Harry had spent the last year sitting in on nearly every single one. He wasn’t a man suited to politics in any way, but he fought diligently to protect the people who didn’t deserve to be there, and name everyone he knew who did.  

He’d gotten Draco Malfoy out of a sentence in Azkaban, and had dropped his mother’s sentence down to a few years of house arrest. Ginny personally thought that Azkaban was a waste anyway, on account of them having no soul to be sucked out, but upon voicing that she’d gotten a chastising look and much good-hearted explanation about difficult situations.  

Ginny knew difficult situations. She’d raised and led a rebellion among children who were tortured for failing to be soldiers. Draco Malfoy had kissed the shoes of Voldemort and left them to die.  

Whatever. There was a reason that the ministry let Harry sit in on their trials, and not Ginny.  

“Working?” 

“Trying to. Drinks are in the fridge.” 

“Muggle.” 

Percy sent her a scathing look. She grinned, stepping over even more plastic files and loose leaves of paper as she stepped into the small kitchen.  

While the ministry busied itself with self-destructing under the watchful eye of the Chosen One, Percy had quit. It was about the closest he’d come to having a spine in his entire life, as far as Ginny could remember. She wished he’d done it a bit earlier, but going by the haunted look in his eyes that had seared itself into her brain some time around them wrapping Fred’s body in blankets to carry it out of the great hall, so did he.  

“What shit is this?” Ginny groaned, popping the fridge door open.  

Percy didn’t do well with boredom. He needed to have his time effectively filled or he went mad. In the immediate aftermath of the war, he’d disappeared. He’d cut himself off, vanished into nothing. Mum had torn herself to pieces over it. Losing two sons at once was… well, more than any of them could handle.  

When he’d finally turned up on their doorstep with the general air of a cat who’d gotten caught in the rain, it had been with an offer from a muggle university and the hope that he could work in the muggle government. After the screaming and crying and fighting, Ginny had settled herself on the edge of the bed and asked him what had changed.  

He’d said ‘everything’, and they’d left it at that.  

“It’s effective. I’m poor.” 

He’d picked up all sorts of muggle quirks. Ginny was getting used to it.  

“‘Vodka’? What the fuck even is that?” 

“Take a shot of it. It tastes like shit and it burns the whole way down, but you’ll be drunk in 10 minutes.” 

Ginny studied the bottle curiously. Sounded good to her. She reached into the cabinet above the sink, plucking out a couple of shot glasses before picking her way back to the sofa.  

It took a little skill balancing them all in one hand, but she eventually managed to effectively free the other hand long enough to slam Percy’s laptop closed on his fingers. He hissed a few nasty insults, but took the hint and slid it onto the floor, grabbing his glass from Ginny with no small amount of irritation.  

“Alright.” Ginny began, topping their glasses off with the clear liquid. It smelled foul, harsh and chemical, but she didn’t complain. “What is it.” 

It wasn’t really a question anymore. They often talked about the same thing. Percy wrinkled his lip, though whether it was at the ‘vodka’ or the memory, Ginny wasn’t sure.  

He knocked it back with practised skill, coughed a little, and sighed. “He bought me dinner.” 

Ginny closed her eyes. Of course he did. She could just about picture Oliver Wood’s face in her mind's eye. He was usually windswept, sweaty, bright red in the face, and grinning like a madman. She didn’t see him off the court often, considering they were so far apart in years, so that had always been the image that stuck with her. Passably handsome, but not her type.  

She pressed the shot glass to her lips, braced herself, and tossed it back as quickly as she could. Percy was right. It did burn.  

“God, that’s fucking awful.” She choked, but Percy, who had been staring unseeingly at the wall the whole time nodded solemnly.  

“Isn’t it? I don’t know what to make of it. It feels important.” 

Ginny swallowed against the urge to keep coughing and blinked at her brother through teary eyes.  

He looked horrid. Pallid and gaunt, half-dead in his seat. He was working himself to the bone, trying to make up for all of the things that he did, the people he let down. Like the rest of them, he carried Fred’s weight on his shoulders, the feeling that he could have done something but didn’t just as heavy in his heart.  

He wanted to believe that he was helping in whatever way he could, and if it took the very life from inside of him to do it, then that’s what he would give. It was a big part of the reason that Ginny was even bothering to drag herself around muggle transportation to visit him so often. Nobody else would.  

He hadn’t been cut off, per se, but no one was going out of their way to see him. He visited home for Sunday dinner, just like the rest of them did. The only difference was that Ginny went out drinking with Ron often, and went to the muggle movies just a few weeks ago with George, and even travelled to Romania to spend the week with Charlie at the dragon centre. She babysat for Bill and Fleur every other week on Thursday.  

And Percy sat in his flat, on his own, drinking and working. Unless he went out for food with Oliver Wood.  

“Well, it doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” 

That’s what Wood had called it last time Ginny had been over. The flirting, and the pining, and the endless drunken complaining. All nothing. Within a few days, Percy had gone from nervously pink, even managing a bit of a smile when Ginny got him drunk enough to admit how handsome he found Wood, to this. Grey, tired, monotone.  

“Merlin.” Percy sighed. “I feel foolish every time. He hurt me, and I still leapt at the chance to go out with him again.” He held his shot up, and Ginny dutifully refilled it. “But I can’t quite tell him to bugger off either.” 

“You need to be clearer, Perce. About what you want from him.” 

He looked desolate. Ginny hated Oliver Wood.  

She hadn’t always gotten on with Percy. She was more like the twins, fiery and angry and mischievous. Her accidental magic manifested as pranks so often that they’d called her the triplet. Percy had begged on his knees for a week before mum agreed to put a charm on his bedroom door that stopped Ginny from sneaking in to set his socks on fire, or make his duvet wrap him up and drag him down the stairs.  

She’d thought he was a boring, stuck up, bastard of a brother. And then she’d thought him a foul coward.  

Now, he was barely a smudge on the sofa of his new apartment, 20 minutes away from a muggle university campus, drinking disgusting ‘vodka’ and mourning his fragile, fractured relationship with Oliver fucking Wood.  

Ginny had worshipped him once, the picture of the athlete she wanted to be. Now, in the burnt-out wreckage of the wizarding world, her priorities had shifted. She had learned to love her brother again, and she hurt to see him suffer like this.  

“What if I don’t know what I want?” 

“You have to figure it out eventually.” 

“What if I decide I want nothing to do with him?” Percy asked, finishing another shot as Ginny prepared her own. “If I just make him stop tugging me around.” 

“Is there much tugging going on?” Ginny asked, voice innocent as though she wasn’t hiding a smirk behind her shot. Percy went a little pink, lips pursed in distaste.  

“Absolutely not. Not since… well.” 

Ginny hummed in understanding. Percy had been utterly pissed when he divulged that particular piece of information.  

They hadn’t gotten close quickly. It had started awkward and stilted. Percy wasn’t interested in fixing things in the family. He wanted to slip away unnoticed and forget any of it had ever happened, to ignore the wounds until they finally killed him. Ginny had been absolutely determined to make him remember, no matter how painful it had happened to be.  

One of them had managed to convince the other that it would be easier if they were drunk, though Ginny couldn’t remember which of them it was, exactly. They’d barely been upright when Percy managed to slur out a small truth - Oliver Wood of all people had pressed him into castle walls and kissed him senseless in their sixth year. They’d been on and off, close and distant, ever since.  

On a particularly low night, Percy had invited him over to spend the night. Things had gone cold for months after. Ginny listened patiently, stomach turning dangerously as she’d stared into her beer, the frightened, scarred words of her least favourite brother ringing painfully in her ears.  

He’d kept it short, constantly cutting himself off. The more intimate it got, the more professionally he spoke. He described his relationship to Penelope Clearwater clinically, voice flat. I never loved her. I knew I never could.  

Ginny thought of Harry. He was bigger than the world sometimes, too bright to look at. He had big ideals. He’d walked out of the war with this deep desire to change things, to protect the people who’d survived it all, to make the world better. He’d dropped out of Auror training to get a teaching degree. He’d run a couple of speeches through newspapers before deciding he hated the attention.  

He was a mess, essentially, but a beautiful one. Nothing could slow him down. Meanwhile, Ginny was stumbling to keep up with him. She’d taken a year off her Quidditch training to mourn Fred. She spent long days cradling her mother’s tear-stained face, and burned through her clothes when she forgot she was ironing them. The world had slowed to a crawl. She couldn’t keep up.  

She thought about how she admired Harry, in all his fierce determination to save the world. It had made her want to keep fighting for it. When the Carricks flicked a curse at her, she thought of him. If Harry could, she could.  

“Well, what about you? Any- tugging?” 

Percy made a face when he said it, like he was sucking on a lemon. Ginny laughed, knocking back another shot. It was still harsh, but the faint haze across her eyes softened it. Percy had been right - it worked quickly. She sighed.  

“None. I haven’t the faintest of how to ask her.” 

Percy huffed, leaning his shoulder into the back of the sofa. Ginny had thought about it a lot. Maybe she’d mistaken admiration for love. Maybe she’d mistaken friendship for something more. Maybe the quiet fascination at Luna’s stories, and the way the light filtered through her pale hair, and the little crease at the corner of her mouth when she smiled in satisfaction - one which didn’t appear when she smiled in excitement - maybe all of that wasn’t platonic observation.  

So no, Ginny and Percy hadn’t gotten close quickly. But there was something about being the only gay siblings among 7 that helped the process along quite a bit.  

“Buy her something. Something pretty.” 

“She’s not very material, Perce.” 

“For Merlin’s sake.” He hissed, flicking Ginny’s knee. “That isn’t the point. It’s not about the thing, it’s about the thought behind it.” 

“Surely it’s more thoughtful of me to not buy something she won’t want? And besides, I don’t see you buying Wood anything.” 

Percy sighed shortly, studying the empty shot glass in his hand with enough intensity to smash it to pieces. “I’m not spending money on that bastard.” 

“He spent money on you.” Ginny pointed out, immediately receiving a nasty glare in response. After a moment, it faded.  

“I suppose.” 

“That’s your in. You can tell him you owe him a meal or something. Find a way to spend the day with him.” 

Ginny didn’t have any trouble inviting Luna out for the day. She was happy to go wherever Ginny pleased, smiling all soft and pretty as she always did. She had a story to tell about every stone, every flower, every new face they passed. The problem lay with drawing the line between friendship and romance.  

Percy was almost the opposite. It seemed that the only interactions he managed to have with Wood were flirty and charged. Actually getting to know each other was the only hurdle they had.  

“Maybe. But I’m busy.” 

“Percy.” 

“I said maybe, didn’t I? Merlin.” He grabbed the vodka from Ginny’s hand, filling his glass quickly. “It’s so bloody difficult.” 

“Welcome to homosexuality.” Ginny offered, ignoring the nervous flash of Percy’s eyes when she said it. She was working carefully on making him a little less afraid of words like that. His own insecurities were just as much of a hurdle as Wood’s apparent inability to commit to anything. Well, they were all recovering.  

If Ginny was braver, and Luna less agreeable, and Percy more self-actualised, and Wood more confident, maybe they’d all be happy. But war did funny things to people.  

Silently, Percy topped off Ginny’s shot and clinked their glasses together.  

“Cheers to that.”  

[sailtomarina]

Study hard

If he read a single word more, Draco was going to explode.

It wasn’t like he needed the extra reading, or writing, or practical application. He’d read everything there was to read, written every stance imaginable, and wand waved until his arms nearly fell off. He needed a break. He deserved a break.

Shoving his chair away from the table, he made to stand up, but found himself impeded by two warm arms winding their way around his neck and a weight settling against his back.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Granger. 

Like him, she’d returned to Hogwarts for her 8th year to finish out her N.E.W.T.s, but unlike him, she’d chosen to do so of her own free will. He was given no such choice in the manner. Draco Malfoy was to graduate from Hogwarts on court order, and spend the next decade devoting himself to the Ministry in a field of his choosing. It was a favorable outcome, all things considered. He could have been like his father, sentenced to half a century in prison. He could have had his wand revoked, or his memories of the wizarding world wiped clean. He could have been forced into house arrest for the remainder of the school year as a remote student—this was actually his first preference.

Preferences were not an option. Draco found himself bundled up onto the Hogwarts Express with a mission to graduate with honors. No exceptions.

Then she happened.

Hermione Granger—know-it-all, rival, rebel with a cause, former prefect—sauntered into his train car, sat her sweet arse down in front of him, and demanded a fresh start. No more name calling, no guilt trips. Following through on her defense of him in front of the entire Wizengamot, she declared the two of them equal. How could he refuse?

They shook on it, and she settled in for the rest of the train ride with her nose buried in a book looking as natural as a cat in a box. Draco? He was the caged canary.

The weeks that followed were some of the most challenging and invigorating weeks of his life. Obviously, he received all the derision and disregard that he deserved from most of the student body. In exchange, he found himself in a nonstop race to the top of every class with Hermione Granger, their names trading places from exam to exam. On the rare instance when Theo or Boot usurped their reign, they’d take the top spots back with a vengeance.

This is actually what prompted them into regular study sessions together. Call it a pooling together of resources, or perhaps combining forces for the greater good. Weekly meetings turned into three days a week, and then eventually into daily meetups. The sight of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger sitting together at their table in the back by the window became a regular, even expected, sight. Heated arguments over scholarly disagreements took place in the 8th-year common room, far from the disapproving eyes of Madam Pince.

“I’m going mental. I need a break. Or maybe a vacation.” Draco kept his voice low—they were still in the library, after all.

The arms around him tightened, and Granger nuzzled his neck like some kind of grooming cat. “If you don’t study hard, I’m bound to beat you.”

He adjusted his pants. If she kept hugging him like this, he’d be forced to drag her off somewhere private. He wasn’t sure he’d make it very far.

“I highly doubt you’ve studied any harder than I have. I just happen to know when to call it quits and take some well deserved rest.”

“Is that what you Slytherins call it? Rest?”

Sweet suffering Salazar.

“I could actually use another reference from the Restricted Section. Care to join me?” His fingers played with the buttons of her cuffs, and he dropped his head back to lock his gaze with her own.

If only his father could see him now—his only son and heir trading heated looks with the girl he’d spent the entirety of his school years reviling. It was comical, really, how Draco had mistaken his own infatuation for animosity. His eyes were clear now. He knew without a doubt that he was one lucky wizard and that, Hermione-willing, he’d spend the rest of his days living up to her high expectations.

The smirk that slid onto her face was frighteningly similar to his trademark, yet another influence their classmates noticed more frequently as each day passed. Releasing her hold on him, she held a hand out in agreement, allowing him to lead her into the stacks far from prying eyes and ears.

If anyone had asked them later who ended up snatching the top scores that cycle, they would have been hard pressed to remember. In truth, they were both winners that particular day, and every one after that. Restful, well referenced winners.

WC 822

[buckysgrace]

Sixty Three

The walk up to the house was brutal, silent. Neil was the first one inside, stomping around and slamming items until he retreated towards his room. Susan paused, staring after him before she took a step forward.

“You don’t have to,” Kim spoke softly, watching the way Billy retreated towards his room in defeat, “He can calm down on his own.” Kim tried to urge Susan, afraid of what would happen to her mother. Susan sent her a sad smile.

“It’s okay,” Susan tried to reassure her. Kim stared, feeling no comfort in her words. Neil was angry, bitter even. She was afraid of what would happen if Susan was left alone with him, “He won’t do anything. It’d be too risky, especially if the Wheeler’s call the cops.” Susan nodded her head softly, before turning towards the room. Kim felt her eyebrows furrow together, not even placing those bits of information together. She suddenly felt relief, thinking about the break they’d get if Neil was arrested. Even if it was just for a week. She wondered if her mom would decide to leave then, if Billy would join them.

Kim didn’t like that Neil had drawn a comparison towards him and Billy. Even though Ted deserved to get his ass handed to him, Kim didn’t think that was the only situation Neil was speaking of. It made Kim nervous, it made her want to remind Billy that he was a better person. 

Kim paused, taking a hesitant step forward as she glanced around the room. Max was still lingering outside, probably sitting on the steps still. Kim felt bad for her and hoped that this wouldn’t ruin the bond that she had created with her group of friends. 

She made her way towards Billy’s room, staying quiet. It was no use, she could obviously hear her own footsteps. It was odd as she stepped closer to his room. There was no music, no sounds to show that anyone was even alive inside there. She peeked inside, looking at the way he appeared so small sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked deep in thought, his eyes glued towards his hardwood floors. 

“Billy,” Kim lingered in his doorway before taking a courageous step forward, “Are you okay?” He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his fingers linked as he bent them back and forth. He drew his eyes away from the ground, glancing towards her before looking back down. “Fine.” He responded gruffly, sounding further away as he kept his eyes pointed towards the floor. She took a couple steps towards him, her lips dipping into a frown at the obvious way he was neglecting to look at her. 

“You don’t look fine,” She admitted softly. He snorted, shaking his head as he continued to fumble his fingers together. His leg was bouncing rapidly and with urgency, “I’m sorry about what Ted said and Karen too.” She spoke softly, feeling bad for the scene that had been caused. She was sure it was embarrassing. Karen had obviously tried to lie her way out of the situation, she had tried to make Billy look bad. 

The more she thought about it, the more infuriated she grew. She couldn’t believe the gall Karen had. The fact that Karen would lie to her husband and insist that Billy would do something so terrible made Kim sick.

“I just,” He struggled for a second, looking like it wasn’t worth saying. He paused before he finished his sentence, “I don’t know why I’m always discarded. I mean, she wanted it. Why does she act so disgusted when it’s over with?” He spoke miserably, sounding like there was more to the situation. Kim breathed out softly, wishing she could explain to him why so many women were so disgusting around him. “It’s not you,” Kim reassured him, joining him on his bed. She cupped his face softly, noticing the withdrawn look he had buried deep inside, “They’re gross, they think they can take advantage of you. They’re disgusted with themselves.” She spoke softly but firmly. She didn’t want him to have any doubts, to think of a way to wiggle around her words.

“Yeah, after I touch them.” He was trying to move away from her hands but she kept her grip, turning his cheek so he’d look at her better. His eyes were dull, looking like he had a thousand memories crossing in front of him. She squeezed his skin softly, wishing he knew just how untrue that all was. 

“No,” She told him quickly, “Because they know what they did was wrong. It’s probably easier for them to blame you than for them to realize that they’re a predator.” She told him truthfully. The fact that Karen had been flirting with him long before summer started made her nauseous. He was just barely eighteen, it was wrong. Whether they saw it or not. She wished she knew why so many people had taken advantage of him throughout the years. 

“I’m a man.” Billy’s voice was harsh, slashing deep into the stone to prove a point. Kim paused for a moment, thinking of a way to reword what she had just said. She didn’t want him to feel weak, to feel like he was smaller than he actually was. Just because he was a man, didn’t mean that someone couldn’t try to hurt him. He hadn’t even been eighteen that long either, but she didn’t mention that. 

“That doesn’t mean someone can’t take advantage of you,” She squeezed his hand softly, watching as the anger in his eyes dissipated like storm clouds, “It’s okay.” She whispered softly as she brushed the tears that were forming in the corner of his eyes away. He rested against her hands, looking miserable as he accepted her words. She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his softly. 

“I’m glad I have you,” Billy murmured softly, his glazed blue eyes looking over your features softly, “You make this world less shitty.” Kim exhaled deeply, a soft smile forming on her lips. She looked at him softly, pressing her thumb across his wet cheek as she looked upon him gently. He wasn’t fragile either, but suddenly she understood why he was so determined to be hesitant with her. 

She leaned forward, cupping his jawline gently as she pressed her lips against his gently. She pulled away for a split second, their bottom lips still attached as she looked into his blue eyes again. His hands found her waist, dragging her closer to him as he pressed his lips against hers. They moved in unison, molding against each other seamlessly as he moved her onto his lap. She sighed, her fingers tangling in his long blonde curls as his tongue swooped upon her bottom lip. She embraced the feeling of him, molding her tongue against his in a similar fashion. 

“Should I come back?” Max’s voice rang from the doorway. They both turned in unison, snapping their heads to look at the younger redhead girl. Kim felt her heart drop once again, letting go of Billy’s hands quickly as she pulled herself far away from him. She met Max’s blue eyes, staring at her stunned expression and having nothing to say. No defense or explanation on why she was straddling Billy’s lap, why she had been kissing him. They had been caught. She rolled off of him, her aching chest clenching even tighter. Billy sat on the edge of the bed, glancing over towards Kim.

“You okay?” He tried to make conversation, wincing like he regretted the sentence choice. Max just stared between the two of them, looking back and forth like she was just now making sense of what had been happening underneath her nose. Kim’s chest was aching again, her heart beating far too hard for her to breathe right. She was speechless.

Max leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed, looking back and forth between the two of them with a pointed look, “Yeah. I’m fine, I guess I'm a little confused.” She said simply. Kim felt sick suddenly, wondering how much she had seen and heard. She didn’t want Max to find out like this. It was too soon. 

“Max,” Kim was scooting towards the edge of the bed, her body feeling like it weighed hundreds of pounds, “What you just saw was -” She stopped herself from continuing, swallowing hard. There wasn’t anything to say, nothing to defend. Max’s eyes were hardened as she watched Kim, waiting for her to continue. Kim couldn’t just pretend like this was nothing, she didn’t have it in her heart to do so. They were screwed. 

“What?” Max waited and waited. Billy and Kim were both quiet. Kim was searching her mind, trying to find some way that she could manipulate what she saw. Kim was popping her knuckles, shaking her head as she stared at Max. So many other people knew, there were already rumors going around. It was now or never. 

“I love him,” Kim said at last, inhaling deeply to try and stop the pain in her chest, “I love him more than I’ve ever loved anything before. He’s my, he’s my boyfriend.” She paused for a moment, digging her nails into the fleshy part of her fingers. Max’s eyebrows scrunched into confusion, glancing back and forth between the matching guilty looks that Kim and Billy shared. 

“You’re siblings,” Max looked at her in disbelief, “Kim he’s our brother. What’s wrong with you?” Her words struck Kim straight in the heart, because she honestly wasn’t sure what was wrong with her. She glanced towards Billy, watching the angry lines forming like he was getting ready to defend her. She spoke up quickly, not wanting to have another screaming match. 

“He’s not,” Kim swallowed her fear, trying to keep her nerves at bay, “I don’t think of him as a brother.” Kim was careful as she spoke, not wanting to give anymore secrets away. She didn’t feel like it was the right time to tell Max about their mother’s past with Neil. 

“Our relationship is different,” Billy confirmed, glancing towards Kim with a worried eye, “It always has been.” He spoke gently, his eyes softening as he peered at Kim’s nervous features. She felt a sense of relief rushing inside of her, her lips curling into a smile as she listened to him. 

“Oh my god,” Max exclaimed, shaking her head as she covered her ears, “I shared a bed with the two of you!” She looked disgusted, horrified as she broke up the sweet moment between the two teens. Kim felt her heart stutter, her veins turning icy. She couldn’t necessarily blame Max for her reaction, the situation was weird. It was odd, different. However, none of that changed the way Kim felt towards Billy. 

“Max-” Kim started to talk to her again, to do her best to explain the way she felt. She didn’t get a chance, Max’s face was flushed with anger as she cut Kim off. 

“This whole time?” Max was shaking her head incredulously, still looking horrified from the whole ordeal. Kim bit her lip, knowing that she’d never bring up the time Billy and her had sex in the living room while Max slept. Kim felt guilty, feeling as if she had betrayed Max. 

“Come on,” Billy exhaled, “It’s not that bad.” He glanced towards Kim again, trying to give her a reassuring nod. She felt her eyes lingering towards the floor, suddenly worried about the door being open. She felt dumb for not closing it. She shouldn’t have kissed him while it was open. It was risky. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, as kissing him in that moment felt so natural. Max gagged, drawing Kim’s eyes back towards Max. Max was shaking her head, her short hair swaying from how fast she was moving it. 

“Sorry the image of you two together is burned in my mind,” Max pretended to gag again, “Oh my god, Jesus. Is that why you went to Chicago?” She pushed her hands up towards the top of her head, pushing her red hair back as she stared at the other two in stress. Kim could feel her face heating up, burning in embarrassment as she realized everything was rushing forward.

“Dramatic much,” Billy responded dryly, “Why’s it matter? Are you going to snitch?” He asked her seriously, his tone a little deeper as he stared Max down. She turned and crossed her arms, looking just as menacing.

“I should,” Kim’s heart dropped at her words, “It’s wrong. You two shouldn’t be together.” She said simply, looking like her mind was decided. Kim was hurt, even though she understood Max’s reasoning. 

“He’s the best thing that’s happened to me,” Kim spoke urgently, beginning to rise from the edge of Billy’s bed. Her legs felt like jello and not from any of their previous activities from the park, “Please don’t tell. I can’t lose him.” Kim was desperate at this point, hoping that Max would at least keep their secret even if she couldn’t accept them. 

“You’re disgusting.” Max spoke half a second later, looking like she didn’t fully think of her words. Kim’s heart shattered again, feeling a completely different heartbreak than she had with Billy. Max’s words cut deep, straight to the bone. It reminded Kim of the truth; that no matter how hard they tried to deny the wrongs of their relationship, it would always be deranged.

Max turned suddenly, stomping out of the room. Kim took an icy breath, trying to relax her sore heart as she followed behind her. She needed to explain, needed to let Max know that nothing would change between any of them. 

“Max!” Kim was met with a door slamming in her face. She froze for a moment, flinching at how it nearly caught her hand. She turned slowly, feeling a wave of anxiety spread through her body. She was scared, terrified even. She didn’t want to lose Max, but she didn’t want to lose Billy either. She wouldn’t let anyone take him away from her, she couldn’t allow it. 

“It’s okay,” Billy tried to reassure her, his hand rubbing circles into her shoulders, “She’ll get over it.” Kim was suddenly breathing fast again, her chest tightening as she shook her head. Her heart hurt again, it was beating too hard inside of her. She knew they were in trouble now. Max knew, Hopper knew, both of their friends knew. There were rumors about them being together spreading through town. It was only a matter of time before Susan and Neil found out, which meant they would be forced apart. 

“It hurts,” She spit out quickly, trying to remember what she was supposed to do, “Can’t breathe.” She was panicking, her chest rising and falling quickly to keep up with the way her heart was roughly pounding inside of her. Billy turned towards her worried and she quickly glanced away, not able to focus on the way he was watching her. It felt like it was too much, like everything was too much. 

“You can,” He was touching her shoulders gently, making her look up towards him, “Big breaths, like this.” He inhaled then exhaled deeply, his whole chest moving as he did so. She followed his lead, doing that for a few times until all she was left with was a dull ache. Her panic hadn’t fully subdued, but she no longer felt as if the world was sitting on top of her.

“I can’t have her hating me.” She whispered out, sounding broken as she did so. Billy’s eyes searched her features, looking like he felt bad for what she had said. She knew it wasn’t his fault and she hoped that he knew the same.

“She won’t,” Billy was touching her cheek softly, rubbing her skin, “She loves you. It’s just probably weird, really weird.” He laughed softly, trying to ease the tension that was inside of her. She felt her lips curling up weakly, appreciating that he was trying with her. 

“What if she does?” Kim mumbled underneath her breath. Billy paused for a moment, like he was searching for a way to solve all of her problems. His lips moved in unison was he thought, before he was shaking his head no. 

“She doesn’t hate you,” He explained to her softly, “After everything the two of you have been through? Just give her time.” He was speaking in a gentle manner, his hands gently massaging her skin.

“Okay,” She breathed out, glancing over her shoulder and deciding it was best that they didn’t linger this close together in case someone else walked in on them, “I’m sorry.” She squeezes his hands, wishing she could kiss him instead. She took a slow step away from him, making her way towards the couch. 

“We can mark this day down as fucking fantastic,” He said across from her on the couch, his leg outstretched as he lit up a cigarette, “Best fucking day ever.” He replied dryly. She forced out a laugh, before she reached over to turn the TV on. She didn’t care what played, just as long as there weren’t any lingering ears.

“Best day over,” She tried, giving her hand a little pump as she made a woo sound. He cracked a grin, offering her a puff from his cigarette, “I’m okay. Thank you though.” She added softly, feeling like it was kind that he offered. She wondered if it would release the tension inside of her. 

“We should get high together again,” He added softly, his eyes flicking up towards her in mischief, “It really does help you relax.” He nudged his foot against the back of her thigh gently. She chewed on her bottom lip. Smoking with him had been fun, but she was nervous and it had nothing to do with him. “I’m scared,” She admitted, “I don’t want to not remember.” She added quietly, glancing over her shoulder in case Neil or her mother had appeared without her knowledge. She knew she shouldn’t punish herself for wanting to do fun things, but she was worried she’d suddenly remember what Logan tried to do to her.

“It won’t do that,” Billy’s eyes looked remorseful, as if he could read her thoughts. She glanced up at him again, letting her legs slowly relax against him, “It’s not that strong, but I understand.” He explained it to her softly. She nodded her head, grateful that he was being so patient towards her. 

“I’ll try it with you again,” She tucked her hair behind her ears, a fresh wave of anxiety hitting her, “What if Max tells my mom?” She asked him seriously, beginning to feel sick all over again. It was like she was waiting for her mother to come in and berate her for what Max had seen. “I don’t think she will,” Billy admitted, exhaling a cloud of smoke that he’d been holding in his lungs, “She cares about you too much.” He smiled softly, speaking in an almost too sweet manner. “She cares about you too,” Kim smiled as she thought about it. Max had chosen him to show her new clothes off to. She’d asked him to cut her hair. She cared for Billy, just as much as she cared for Kim, “Even if she doesn’t admit it.” Kim nodded softly, thinking of the fights the two had been in. Billy chuckled, nearly snorting as if he was in denial. Kim nudged her door against his leg, giving him a serious look. 

“If anything does happen,” Billy began to speak softly, leaning forward to discard the butt of his cigarette, “Then we run. We’ll go be together somewhere else.” He almost had a dreamy look in his eye, like he had pictured it a thousand different times. Kim paused for a moment, thinking of how nice and shiny his dream sounded. They could make it, they could be happy somewhere else.

“I couldn’t leave Max.” She said at last, figuring that was the only part that could keep her from leaving with him. She didn’t want to leave her mom either, but she wasn’t sure how her mom would react when she found out. Susan could hate her, be so disgusted with her that she could never look her in the eye again. 

“Only if they try to break us apart.” He promised, a serious look on his face. She played with her hair softly, twisting and tugging on the curls. She didn’t want to think about bad things anymore, only happy thoughts. 

“Where are we going on our date?” She asked instead, drawing the subject away. It didn’t go unnoticed by Billy, but he didn’t question it either. He nodded his head, a grin pressing against his lips. 

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Billy gave her a soft look, “Tommy’s parents have a cabin with a pond, he’s staying there and offered us the guest room.” He sounded a little ecstatic as he spoke, making Kim grow excited. She didn’t care if Tommy was there or not, they’d get their own room for themselves. “Why is he staying there?” She furrowed her eyebrows together, not liking the idea of Tommy not staying at his own house. She frowned, feeling like she already knew the answer to that question. “He’s not happy with Logan, his parents don’t believe him,” Billy glanced towards her, a remorseful look on his features, “I’m really sorry.” He added softly, like he expected a bad reaction from her. She breathed softly, her heart pattering in her chest. Maybe she would’ve reacted worse before, but at the moment she didn’t want to ponder on what it meant. They couldn’t do anything if Kim didn’t say anything. It was that simple, they only had lies about her. 

“It’s not your fault and it’s not Tommy’s either,” Kim added quickly, thinking that it was silly for him to apologize for her. She appreciated it, but she feared that he still blamed himself. It had been out of their control. It was time to move on, to accept that it had happened, “I think that would be fun. Are we doing anything else?” Her legs were linked with his comfortably. She kept trying to listen for Max's door to open, if she would come back out and let Kim explain. “Yeah,” He grinned widely, “But you’ll find out then.” He added slyly, a teasing tone in his voice. She felt a grin against her lips. The sunlight danced into the room suddenly, hitting the right angle across the house. It bounced against his skin, radiating against him. He looked warm, safe. She kept her legs interlocked with him, feeling the urge to stay close to him. 

“You’re such a tease,” She reminded him. He smiled, like it was something to be proud of, “I’ll bring a surprise of my own.” She spoke softly, her cheeks blushing at the confidence that rolled off of her. He raised his eyebrow, looking at her in surprise.

“Oh?” His grin turned into a smirk, “Look at you, being a little slut.” He teased her, letting his fingers curl around her foot and squeeze softly. She giggled, pulling her knees towards her chest again from how it tickled. Her whole body felt warm from the flush that was settling inside of her. 

They both pulled away, pretending to be watching the program on the TV as Susan opened the door to the master bedroom. Kim turned quickly, her eyes searching for any marks or injuries that her mother might have. She was relieved to notice that there weren’t any, but her mother did look tired. 

“We’ll just have to order something if we get hungry,” Susan ruffled with her hair for a moment, “Neil just wants some time to think, so if we can all keep it down.” She added softly, glancing over her shoulder. Kim nodded her head, having no desire to upset him. 

“How is he?” Billy spoke up suddenly. Kim turned to look at him, wishing she could understand why he sounded so concerned. She bit her lip, trying to understand that it was a similar situation between her and her mom. 

“He wants to talk to you,” Susan said after hesitating for a moment. She pushed her hair out of her face again, looking a bit distraught from her own words, “Billy, you don’t have to though. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”be fine on his own.” Susan nodded her head, like she was trying to reassure herself. Kim nodded at Billy, wishing he would stay. At the same time, she knew it would be worse on him if he didn’t go to Neil. 

“It’s fine,” Billy brushed away their worries with a cold hand, as if there was nothing to worry about, “I’ll talk to him.” He stood slowly, not giving either of them another look before he went into the room. Kim frowned before she turned towards Susan.

“Do you think they’ll press charges?” She whispered, asking the question that was weighing heavy on her heart. She looked at Susan, hoping to see the same relief she was feeling inside of her. “I don’t know,” Susan admitted, “They’re well off, they have a good reputation. But if what you and Billy said is true, they might prefer that this just dry up.” Susan gestured with her hands, a look of disgust crossing her features.

“Could Karen get in trouble?” Kim questioned, hoping it was true. Not only did she deserve some kind of charge for messing with Billy at such a young age, she deserved one for lying about what happened. “I don’t know,” Susan admitted, “Like I said, she has a pristine reputation. Billy is,” Susan sighed as she glanced towards Kim. She paused for a second before she spoke again, “He’s Billy. If it came down to it, I don’t know if they’d believe him or not.” Susan spoke softly, like she was afraid of how Kim would react to her words. Kim sat in silence for a moment, thinking about the similar situation her and Billy seemed to fall into. “Do you believe him?” Kim hesitated before she asked, almost afraid of the answer. She knew Susan had complicated feelings towards Billy, but surely this was something different. 

“Does it matter?” Susan asked seriously, exhaling through her nose like she had a complicated answer. Kim frowned, a pang of pain entering her chest. “It does to me,” Kim spoke urgently, “And to him.” She added just as quickly. She was sure that Billy did care. She couldn’t imagine gaining a reputation like that. He didn’t deserve it. 

“It was hard at first,” Susan admitted, “When Ted first approached, it seemed true. I also know how women seem to treat Billy. Of course, I believe him.” Susan told her at last, her features softening as she looked up at Kim. Kim exhaled softly. 

“You’re not just saying that?” She asked hopefully, making sure that her mom wasn’t lying. Susan shook her head softly, an unknown gaze crossing through her eyes. “No,” She said truthfully, “I don’t think Billy would do that to anyone.” Kim paused for a moment, wondering if this was a sign. She lingered at the look in her moms eye, thinking deeply.  Max knew. It was only a matter of time before Susan did too.

“Mom,” She took a deep breath, searching for her confidence, “There’s some-” She paused, her confidence leaving as Billy entered the room. She watched as he rubbed his side, walking towards him. 

“What were you saying?” Susan nudged Kim’s shoulder gently with her fingers. Kim turned away from Billy, suddenly feeling as if she was betraying him as she gulped hard. She twisted her fingers together.

“Oh,” KIm glanced towards her, “Just wondering if we could order pizza tonight.” Kim played it off, smiling tightly towards Susan. She was nervous, hoping that Billy hadn’t caught on to what she was about to say. 

///////

Kim was nervous through dinner, not even having the appetite to pick at the slices of pizza in front of her. She kept staring at Max, willing her sister to turn towards her.

Max was pretending as if Kim and Billy didn’t exist. She sat quietly on the couch, away from everyone else as she slowly picked the pepperonis from her pizza and ate them. Kim felt sick, as worry settled deep inside of her stomach. She feared that Max hated her, that Kim had completely ruined their relationship. 

She was too worried to leave Max alone with Susan, too terrified of the thought of Max exposing her deep secret. She began picking at her fingers, cracking the knuckles and then trying to do so again. When she could no longer crack her joints she began to tug at her hair furiously, trying to tug her negative thoughts away. 

Billy nudged Kim softly underneath her blanket, shooting her a look that told her she was thinking too hard. She exhaled softly, taking a deep breath as she nodded her head. She looked away, glancing back towards the TV. 

It was painful, sitting there like nothing was wrong. She didn’t know how Billy seemed to be so calm, so relaxed. It was like he had already accepted that everything would eventually be fine, even though Kim didn’t feel that. Sure, she had thought about telling her mother but that was only to beat Max to the punch. 

She retreated to her room first, slowly crawling on her bed in defeat and groaning into her pillows. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of her linens as her anxiety pumped inside of her chest. She rolled over, sitting up quickly as she took in the image of Max lingering in her doorway.

Her arms were crossed protectively, her lips pulled together tightly as she stared at the floor. She was rubbing her thumb across her elbow and bouncing her foot on the ground. She inhaled deeply, before her gaze landed on Kim. Her blue eyes were soft, but they also looked remorseful and defeated. 

“Does he make you happy?” Max asked at last, looking a little downcast. Kim gulped, hoping that Max wasn’t expecting her to lie. She paused before she nodded softly, knowing there was so much more to Billy than his ability to make her happy, “Okay, it’s really weird. Really gross too, but I’m happy for you. For the both of you.” Max’s face scrunched up in disgust for a moment before she relaxed her features again. Kim’s heart skipped a beat as she sat up better in her bed, moving closer towards the edge.

Max hesitated before she took a step forward, dragging her feet across the wooden floor as she slowly made her way towards Kim. Max slowly began to loosen the grip on her arms, looking down at Kim with a sense of regret in her eyes. Kim smiled softly, feeling like everything was alright between the two of them. 

“Max,” Kim was hugging her tightly, squeezing her so hard that she got a groan of protest from her, “Thank you so much.” She added softly, letting her cheek fall against Max’s shoulder. Max exhaled deeply again, wrapping her skinny arms around Kim. 

“Just,” Max’s voice was muffled from where her cheek was resting against Kim’s skin, “Shut the door next time. I still feel like I need to bleach my eyes.” Kim giggled softly, rubbing her hand against Max’s back. She still felt bad, she felt as if she had ruined something deep inside of her sister. She knew it was weird, but she was glad Max had found it in herself to accept the truth. 

“We were just kissing.” Kim teased Max softly, pulling away from her gently. She furrowed her eyebrows together, smiling sweetly. Max groaned, shaking her head like the image was burning in her mind again. Kim tried to keep from laughing, thinking that Billy would have a new way to tease Max.

“Billy probably has some disease,” Max was suddenly shoving Kim back, “You probably do too now. So have fun with that.” She pretended to look at Kim with disdain, like Kim really was crawling with some disease. Her joke was suddenly less funny as Kim thought of everything Billy had been through. 

“He doesn’t have a disease,” Kim was shaking her head, trying not to look irritated at Max’s comment. She didn’t know any better and had always teased Billy in this manner, “Max, he’s so sweet to me. He got me the stuffed cows.” She pulled them towards her chest, showing them off playfully. 

“Gross,” Max wrinkled her nose, “I don’t want to know about any of that. I’m going to pretend that this conversation never happened.” Max shook her head dramatically, looking like she was trying to physically erase Kim’s words. 

“Thank you,” Kim said again, “I know it’s hard and weird, but I don’t want anything to change between us.” She added softly, hoping that she never lost her little sister. Max smiled softly, looking like Kim had just said something ridiculous. It made her feel better, it made her feel that somehow everything would be alright. 

“Just don’t break up I guess,” Max had a hint of a smile on her lips, “That would make things really awkward.” Max pointed out. Kim bit her lip, not even allowing herself to think about that idea. She couldn’t imagine breaking up with Billy, she couldn’t spare the thought of not being around him one day. It wouldn’t happen, she wouldn’t allow for that to happen.

“We won’t,” Kim promised Max gently, “You won’t tell?” She asked softly, hugging the stuffed animals to her chest tighter. Max looked remorseful again.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Max admitted, rubbing her arm bashfully, “I’m sorry. Of course I won’t tell.” Max looked at Kim seriously, sealing the deal. Kim smiled as she nodded her head, grateful that she had such an understanding sister. 

Kim waited until Max left, until Susan was in bed and the rest of the house was sleeping before she tiptoed towards Billy’s room. The moonlight was dancing across the hallway, filling the room with the pale light. She breathed in the warm air as she pushed open his door, feeling comforted by the mere presence of him. 

“You okay?” Billy scooted aside, letting her join him on his bed. She sighed, curling up against him. Her feet rested in his lap, her cheek pressing against his shoulder. It was almost odd to think about how not long ago, Billy would’ve hated it if she had touched him like this. 

“I think so,” Kim said softly, “It just feels weird that Max knows. I feel like I should feel bad, but I don’t. Even if she is, you know, our sibling.” Kim added softly, feeling a smile curl against her lips. He chuckled, rubbing his large hand up and down the curve of her spine. She breathed in the scent of him, enjoying the way the familiar smell tickled her nose. 

“That’s fucked up,” He teased her, “I don’t care either. As long as I have you, the rest doesn’t matter.” He added softly, his eyes lighting up his dark room. Her heart warmed, soaring gently as she listened to his words. 

“We can still have our date, right?” She asked hopefully, making sure that Max knowing their secret hadn’t disrupted anything. Billy squeezed her side softly, nudging her closer to him. He winced for a moment, shifting on the bed before he relaxed again. She looked at him curiously but he ignored her words. 

“Course,” He grinned deeply, “I wouldn't dream about skipping it.” He played with her hair gently, pressing her back against the mattress gently. She grinned, her words dying on her lips as he slowly laid her completely down on the mattress. She giggled, biting down on her bottom lip as he traced his fingertips across the front of her body. 

His eyes raked over her body, drinking in her subtle curves and soft skin. His lips pressed against her neck, sucking gently on her skin as his large hands slid down her sides. Her nightgown bunched up between her legs as he pressed himself between her. He breathed against her neck softly, squeezing at her hips before he was sitting up. 

“Billy,” She frowned as she lifted his shirt from his head, looking at the giant bruise along his back, “You didn’t say he did that.” She looked at him, nearly feeling betrayed that he wouldn’t mention it. She drew her fingers across his bruised skin softly, feeling terrible. “I’m fine,” He replied quickly, sharply as he continued to fumble with his pants, “Doesn’t hurt much. He was just frustrated.” He told her quickly, dismissing her worries. She sighed deeply, looking at him in exasperation. 

“He shouldn’t have-” Billy cut her off with a sweet kiss, his lips brushing away her worries. His fingers caressed the sides of her cheeks, drawing goosebumps along her skin. She sighed softly, knowing her conversation would get nowhere. She still felt as if she was shut out, locked away tightly from his thoughts and feelings.

He was gently stripping her, removing her nightgown in one fluid motion. She gasped softly, giggling as her hair fell down along her back. He smiled, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip. She kissed his skin softly, desperately wanting to pause so she could talk to him about what Neil had done. She paused, unable to continue with her thoughts as she looked into his eyes. He looked desperate, needy like he wanted to forget what had happened. She nodded her head softly, letting him continue on. 

His eyes flickered over her bare body, drinking in her subtle curves and smooth skin as she adjusted herself back against the bed. He exhaled softly, his eyes gleaming as he traced his fingertips along her abdomen. She breathed in deeply, goosebumps arising from where he had touched her. 

He peppered kisses down her body, grazing them across her bruises and hickeys. She sighed softly, her fingers tangling in his hair as she followed his motions. He pressed her legs apart softly, looking up at her with lustful eyes. He shifted for a moment, removing his briefs and jeans completely and tossing them off the edge of the bed. 

“I want you,” She mumbled softly, unsure of how she still had energy after their afternoon, “Please.” She begged softly, her doe eyes flashing down towards him. He chuckled, his lips peppering across her hip before he bit down softly. She squeaked, her hips raising up towards him in surprise. 

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” He breathed out, moving up towards her again. She felt trapped underneath his powerful arms. She rubbed her fingers across her biceps, watching the way his hair dipped onto his forehead, “You drive me crazy.” He mumbled, resting on one of his elbows as he used the other hand to press his hard cock against her wet cunt. She sight softly, enjoying the way he slid his red tip across her wet folds. He exhaled softly, dropping his hips slowly as he began to grind his cock across her soaked cunt.

“Mhm,” She breathed out softly as her clit brushed against the ridges of his cock. His movements were languid, slow and steady as his cock slid easily across her cunt. She whimpered, enjoying the feeling of them rutting against each other, “Feels so nice.” She told him gently, brushing her hand along the curve of his back.

“You’re so wet already,” Billy’s lips curled into a smirk, looking a bit cocky as he kissed her softly. She moaned against his lips, her clit meeting the vein along his cock. She could hear herself dripping against his cock, “Always so ready for me.” He was whispering, keeping his voice low as he pressed the tip of his cock inside of her slick hole.

“Oh,” She whined softly, her eyes fluttering shut as he slowly pushed his throbbing cock inside of her wet walls. She moved her hips a bit, allowing him a better angle as she took him inch by inch. He was moving slowly, his eyebrows drawn together tightly in concentration, “So thick.” She breathed out, feeling the stretch deep inside of her when he finally bottomed out inside of her. Sometimes she was unsure of how she had managed to take him as her first.

“You squeeze me so tight, baby,” He huffed out softly, pausing for a moment before he moved his hands up with hers. She whimpered as he gripped a hold of her hands, linking them together over her head. He pulled his hips back slowly, before snapping them forward in a rushed motion. She gaped, her mouth parting in bliss, “So fucking pretty.” He complimented, watching the pleasure on her face grow.

He built a steady rhythm, his body trapping her underneath him as he gyrated his hips forward. She moaned, her back dragging along his mattress as she locked her ankles around him. She felt like they were one, like they were inhaling and exhaling the same air the more that he moved. 

She moaned, far too loud but unable to care as he continued with the same rough motions. She was in so much pleasure, feeling the slow way his cock was dragging through her fluttering walls. He was moving at a slower pace than usual, but Kim craved it just the same. The slow motions let her experience the stretch of him all over again, allowing her to feel him more sensually.

“God,” She cried out as his deep stroke pressed up against her bundle of nerves. She moaned, her fingers tightening around his as she arched her chest towards him. He sighed, his lips moving to the crook of her neck to suck on the sensitive spot on her skin, “Don’t stop.” She pleaded with him, her big hazel eyes flashing up towards his blue eyes.

He groaned against her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin as he pulled away. He was groaning softly, the soft sounds filling her ears as he brought his lips down upon hers. It was messy, sloppy even as they met in urgency. He was drawing his hips back slowly and thrusting back into her, pressing her deeper into the mattress. She clung to his hands, feeling as if he would let go that she would slide into the mattress and disappear completely.

“Sweet girl,” He groaned against her lips, his tongue licking away the drool from the corner of her mouth. She whimpered at the petname, her mouth moving against his in a desperate haze. She wanted to feel more of him, she needed to feel more of him, “You’re so fucking good.” He grunted out, his tongue sliding against her teeth.

He was beginning to grind into her, his cock pressing deep inside of her. She was moaning louder, feeling him hit against her g-spot with each of his deep movements. She knew she needed to be quiet, to try and keep her voice at bay. She couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help that he made her feel so good that she no longer cared if she got caught. Billy was shushing her gently, his lips brushing against hers in an urgency to silence her sounds. 

“Billy,” Kim’s body pressed up against him, writhing in bliss as Billy’s powerful thrusts moved his bed against the wall. It was scraping against the floor, the mattress squeaking underneath the weight of the two of them, “Feels so good.” She whimpered, squeezing her fingers against his tightly. 

“You’re so pretty, Kim,” He mumbled, his nose brushing against her cheek, “You look so pretty on my cock, taking me so good.” Billy rutted into her, her back digging into the springs of the mattress. His lips were parted, his grunts coming out in quick spurts as she rolled her hips up to meet his motions. 

Her boobs were pressed against his chest, rubbing up against his sweaty skin furiously. Her pussy was aching in pleasure, desperate to feel more of him as he continued his rapid movements. She was doing her best to keep quiet, trying to keep her moans from filling up the quiet room. Billy’s lips were upon her again, shushing her as he gave her a languid thrust. His balls pressed up against her skin, filling her completely for a moment before he was pulling back and slamming back into her. 

“Right there,” She pleaded with him in a hushed whisper, her nails digging into his skin as he continued to rock into her, “Need you so badly.” She whined, rolling her hips up to grind on him. She panted softly, her nose brushing against Billy’s as he peered down at her. His eyes were soft and full of lust, grazing the way her face was contorted into deep pleasure.

“You got me,” He whispered into the night air, “S’okay, you’re doing so good.” He mumbled, grunting deeply as he rolled his hips forward sharply. She whimpered, feeling herself squeezing around his cock as the muscles in her stomach began to tighten.

He was pressed so close to her that her clit was beginning to brush against his skin, adding a sense of urgency in her own movements as her toes began to curl. Her breathing came out harder, her body beginning to tremble underneath him. He gripped her hands tightly, keeping her steady as he continued the same beat inside of her.

“Oh god, Billy,” She cried out, her body spasming underneath his warm body. Her pussy clamped down on his throbbing cock, milking his dick as she came with a loud moan. He pressed his lips over hers roughly, not even moving them. He was more concerned with silencing her, keeping her moans from filling the room, “Fuck.” She whimpered against his lips, her thighs shaking as she came down from her high.

Her fingers were tightly linked with his, squeezing them with all of her might as white light appeared in her eyes. She blinked harshly, her orgasm crashing through her as Billy kept his same rough pace. He was breathing hard, his minty breath tickling against her plump lips. 

“So fucking good,” Billy exhaled roughly, his voice breaking in pleasure. He clenched his eyes shut tightly. His hand squeezed around hers, holding onto her tightly as he pressed his cock deeper inside of her wet cunt, “Oh fuck.” He breathed out harshly, his hips stalling as he pressed further into her. He came with a low groan, his voice husky as he emptied himself inside of her. She whimpered at the sound, her cunt squeezing him so tightly that she was milking his orgasm.

“Oh,” She breathed out after a moment, their chests rising and falling harshly in unison, “I love you, Billy.” She told him gently, her hips still slowly grinding up against him. He sighed in bliss, blinking his eyes as he turned to look at her. He slowly released her hand, drawing himself back up onto his elbows. She missed the close feeling of him, even if it was slightly suffocating. She liked how large he was, how broad his body felt. She liked feeling small underneath him, even if they were nearly the same height. 

“Love you too,” He chuckled breathlessly, his eyes softly taking in her reddened cheeks and blissed features. He moved his fingers away, tickling them across her freckled face, “I feel so happy with you.” He added softly, his voice sounding raw as he spoke. She blinked, feeling a wet sensation on her cheek. She looked up at him, her heart melting as she realized he was crying. She wondered how many different things he was upset about, but what exactly was weighing heavily on his heart at the moment. 

“I’m happy with you too,” She was joining him now, her own tears forming, “I don’t want to be without you.” She couldn’t imagine living without him, being apart from him. He was her other half, strongly connected by the lines from their hearts. She pushed his dirty blonde hair back gently.

“You’ll never be without me,” He promised softly, pressing his lips against hers so gently that she nearly missed the feeling, “You’re stuck with me.” He grinned as he pulled away, promising her something she already knew was true. 

[missywritesfor7]

🌙Moon’s Light | JJK🌙

Synopsis: Luna is a young paralegal trying to maintain her new found independence and enjoy life. Too bad her job sucks and her boss is the worst. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she encounters a vampire named Jungkook who changes her life in more ways than one.

Jungkook is a shield and protector of the vampire kingdom of Korealis. He’s trained his entire life to block out any and all distractions and focus solely on becoming the strongest. While investigating a potential threat to the kingdom, he encounters Luna who turns out to be more than he could have ever imagined. It becomes his job to protect her, but he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is his devotion to the job or perhaps something deeper.

Secrets are uncovered. Lives are on the line. Hearts are tested.

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Fem!OC

Status: Complete

Warnings: Violence, character death, eventual smut, tragedy, some angst, strong language, MINORS DNI

Previous chapter | Masterlist

|| Epilogue ||

After 15 long tiring days training the new class of royal guards, Jungkook is finally getting to go home and get a much needed rest for the next week. It’s 10 pm as he makes it back to his home in the family wing of the palace.

He and Luna have no family plans any time soon, but Jungkook had been begging for a bigger room since he first got his gun license. After Minseok’s arrest and subsequent death, his room had been cleared out and the King offered Jungkook the room. Jungkook being the big bunny eyed persuader he is tried to push for a room that was even bigger. The King gave in and let Jungkook and Luna move into a 3 bedroom home in the family wing of the palace.

That left Minseok’s old room free which gave Jungkook’s brother, Junghyun the opportunity to return to living on palace grounds. Of course he had some strict requirements that basically resulted in the entire room being gutted and fully renovated and refurnished. In the end, the room looked nothing close to how it was when Minseok was there and that made Junghyun, and Jungkook who visits often, more comfortable.

The details surrounding Minseok’s death remain unclear, at least to the public. The spell Sunyoung put on Minseok was one only meant to bring him within an inch of his life. She knew he would be completely weak and fragile by the time he made it through trial and to sentencing. Any punishment he would face would be too much and he’d be bound to die after a short while.

That’s not quite how things happened though.

A few days had passed after Jungkook’s final visit with Minseok before anyone realized he was paralyzed from the neck down. Doctors couldn’t figure out what type of illness was causing all of his symptoms. Being choked by Jungkook’s burning hand paired with the rapid deterioration caused by Sunyoung’s spell, Minseok was unable to make a sound. No matter how hard he tried, nothing would come out of his mouth. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, and he could barely see.

Doctors eventually came to the conclusion that there was no quality of life left for Minseok. He was a vegetable being kept alive by machines. A choice had to be made. Jungkook ended up being the one to make that choice. He was the only one who happened to answer the phone that day.

There was a small mention of Minseok’s death in the news, but no one seemed too phased by it. Most people felt he got what he deserved. No one knew how he really met his demise, but the King knew it was more than it seemed.

The King personally went to Sunyoung’s house to deliver the news. Really, he wanted her to finally reveal what she did. She didn’t at first but eventually told him of the spell she used. Later on, they learned what Jungkook had done in the hospital.

Sunyoung talked the King out of losing his mind and he made them both promise to never speak of what they had done again. Minseok may have been public enemy number one, but there are still laws of the land and the King would have no choice but to heavily punish his best friend and his best shield.

The King also offered Sunyoung a place to stay at the palace. Everyone has missed having her around and she would be welcomed back with open arms. As much as she loved living there and being surrounded by her sons and best friends, she found an independence on her own that she’s happy with. She’s grown attached to her little home. However, now she can visit as she pleases with Minseok being gone. She feels less isolated from her boys and that’s all she could ask for.

Luna survived four seemingly never ending years of law school and graduated second in her class. She was only bested by her friend Maria who was one of the first people Luna met on campus. They became fast friends and helped each other survive the never ending study sessions and sleepless nights before exams.

After graduating, Luna decided she wanted to visit home, her human home. She knew things would be much different since she was last there years ago, but she just wanted to see her parent’s house. She was feeling nostalgic so Jungkook accompanied her back to the human world.

The home where Luna grew up had been left sitting abandoned. The yard is overgrown and a few of the windows have been boarded, likely due to looters or squatters. It’s far from what it was when she was younger. Yet right near the front porch someone left a large flower pot blooming with roses. Upon closer inspection they realized the roses had been watered recently. Luna feared that someone may actually be living in the house until they were approached from behind by a man who seemed to blend in with the night shadows.

Kai, the doctor Luna’s adopted parents found who seemed to know a lot about vampires, was the one who had Luna on a special vitamin that was meant to suppress her vampire characteristics. He recognized Luna before she recognized him which resulted in a short standoff between him and Jungkook before Luna finally realized who he was.

Kai learned of Luna’s parents death and her disappearance and had been searching for answers for a long time. No one knew where Luna had disappeared to, and having known what she is and how powerful she could be, Kai thought she either died as well or joined whoever was responsible for her being part vampire.

He went back to Korealis and learned of the Saakhan operation and the take down of the entire organization. Kai couldn’t be sure that Luna was involved in any of this, but he thought there’d be a chance. He’d been watching over her parents house hoping one day Luna would return.

Luna was amazed that he found her and even more delighted to finally get answers to a lot of questions she had been holding on to. Kai was happy to tell her everything over a glass of wine at his home. She and Jungkook went to his vampire friendly home just a block away and listened to every bit of information he would give them.

Kai happened to be in the human world researching the relations between humans and vampires. He had no idea that he would come across Luna who was both. There’s been no record of anyone ever being part human and part vampire. He told her parents that he couldn’t guarantee results, but he would try whatever he could to help Luna keep control of the power she didn’t even know she had.

The vitamin Kai created for her was simply a multivitamin diluted in blood and sealed in a gel tablet. He’s the only one that could supply them with the vitamin so they had kept contact with him frequently over the years. When Luna moved out on her own she failed to keep up with her vitamins. Her mom told her where to get it but Luna couldn’t be bothered. That’s why Kai began to get worried. The last time he spoke to her mom was a few short days before she was killed. She told Kai she had no idea Luna wasn’t keeping up with her vitamins and she would talk to her. Unfortunately, when she spoke to Luna again she never got the chance to bring it up.

The vitamin was meant to keep her human side strong enough to handle her vampire side, and keep her vampire side fed with blood so it wouldn’t cause any other adverse effects. The blood was also keeping her portal from growing throughout her life. Once she stopped, her portal grew which ended up threatening her life.

Kai remains living in the human world continuing his research and keeping the roses he placed on the front porch of the house healthy. He express great relief and happiness to know that Luna is still alive and well. Jungkook also offers Kai a place to stay at the palace if he ever wants to visit.

Luna got closure, more than she thought she would, when she talked to Kai. For the first time in years she truly felt like she could leave her human past behind. She’ll always miss her parents, but they’ll always be in her heart as she fully embraces her life as a vampire. Finishing law school and closing the human chapter of her life filled her with a new energy.

Soon after returning to Korealis, Luna passed her bar exam and jumped right into working. She found a job as an attorney for the Min’s law firm. She didn’t want to seem like she was using her connections to Yoongi as a free pass to a good job so she tried to keep it quiet, even from Jungkook. The only reason why she chose the Min’s firm was because there was no other law firm that came close to how successful and prestigious theirs is. It wasn’t until she got the job that she told Jungkook about it. He was over the moon with excitement. He had a moment where he pouted about her not saying anything before, but it was short lived as he went right back to praising her for accomplishing yet another one of her goals.

Jungkook has managed to find himself falling more and more in love with Luna each day. He isn’t sure how, but he can feel it. No matter what happens he always knows he can go home and feel happier than ever just from seeing her face.

Except the time they had a big fight that resulted in Luna staying in Taehyung’s room for a week. Jungkook had started to get suspicious of one of her classmates that she spent a lot of time studying with. His defense was that he trusts her, just not her classmate. He wanted to know everything she was doing when she was studying. If he felt she was gone too long he would call her to check in. It drove her crazy to the point that she accused him of being an insecure toddler and told him he was starting to act like Minseok.

Jungkook didn’t like that and a shouting match ensued. She finally got fed up and packed a few of her things and left while shouting at him for giving her so much stress when she has finals coming up. Somehow she ended up hiding out in Taehyung’s room. It took a week before Jungkook discovered her there and tried to apologize since she hadn’t been answering his calls and texts. She tried to put up a front and stay mad, but she also began apologizing to him for the things she said.

When Luna grabbed her things and went back to Jungkook’s room she was greeted by a bouquet of flowers surrounded by gifts. He had set it up the day after their fight hoping she’d come home soon. Amongst the gifts were a pair of noise canceling headphones to help her tune out distractions while she studies, a new outfit for her to wear to her internship that she was set to start at the beginning of the new term, and a breathtaking silver necklace adorned by the finest obsidian she’s ever seen.

Of course this incident wasn’t immune from the other 6 guys teasing. Taehyung shared all of the information and the next time they all saw Luna and Jungkook together the teasing began immediately. The guys are happy they made up, but they continue to refer to the fight as the “Fight for Obsidian” which embarrasses Jungkook to no end. Not just because of the teasing, but because the rest of the guys knew Jungkook was already having the piece custom made before their fight, and while Luna wasn’t returning his calls he was afraid she was gone for good and he would have no use for the one of a kind piece with her name engraved on the inside. He was fighting very hard to keep her, and the entire brotherhood knew it. At the same time Luna never felt so unconditionally loved. The Fight for Obsidian ended with their bond being stronger.

Another fight came when Park Hyungwon tried to make a run for it from the work camp he had been sentenced to. He had been concocting a plan for about two years since he was imprisoned. It wasn’t his plan A or plan B, and it certainly wasn’t his plan C, but it was a plan.

Hyungwon knew that trying to convince Luna once more to take his side wouldn’t work. Not after the last time, and especially not while she’s dating a loyal shield to the Kim’s. Instead she, and Jungkook, found themselves high on his enemy list.

This time he decided to try something he hadn’t yet. He wanted to talk to Jimin. Though they had never had a conversation with one another, Hyungwon thought there would be a chance that he could talk Jimin into joining him in taking back the throne for their family. He also wanted to ask Jimin why he had chosen to carry on without taking the throne. Their stories are similar so he couldn’t understand why Jimin didn’t have the same thirst for power as him.

The issue with Hyungwon’s plan started at the very beginning when he tried to escape the work camp. He had to work alone since all Saakhans remained separated from each other and everyone else imprisoned. It was to prevent the possibility of them recruiting prisoners and possibly starting an uprising.

When Hyungwon saw an opening while being escorted from his room to the food hall, he tried slipping away from the guards and out of his cuffs. He had a well thought out route that he had worked on for months. So well thought out that he was able to pull off the escapes from the guards escorting him.

Unfortunately for Hyungwon, he was unaware that the guard working the perimeter of the prison at that time was a legend in his own right. A legend who has worked at that prison filled with the most dangerous offenders for more than a millennia. A legend who, along with Jungkook, is one of few people with a gun license. He’s been nicknamed Tiger by those who know him, shortened from Eye of the Tiger because he never missed a thing.

This day way was no exception. The moment Hyungwon stepped foot outside of the building he was quickly shot down. The first shot was a warning. Hyungwon was stunned but kept trying to run anyway. The second shot was to kill. And so he was.

When the news broke, Luna and Jungkook went to check on Jimin to see how he was doing. Not only was Hyungwon’s death reported, but also all of the plans he had written out in his cell. Plans that included what he would do in the event Jimin refused to work with him. It was unsettling for Luna so she was afraid Jimin would be having a hard time.

Jimin had assumed Hyungwon would try escaping since the moment he was captured. He spent the last couple of years just waiting for the news to come out that Hyungwon had gotten away. He spent the last couple of years constantly looking over his shoulder everywhere he went. Even with learning the details of how Hyungwon wanted to torture him in various ways if he refused to play along, Jimin still hadn’t felt so relieved when he learned that he was dead. He could finally breathe again and carry on living his life. Seeing how relieved he was made Luna feel much better too. Hyungwon was sitting in hell with Minseok and Jimin and Luna were finally free of fear.

After that things have been peaceful in the kingdom. It’s just the way things were before the threat of Saakhan Venom had haunted Korealis once again. Jungkook was promoted to head shield and finds himself spending a lot of time training new recruits and coordinating emergency operations in the event they’re needed. It’s the position Minseok previously held but did absolutely nothing with. It’s a demanding job, but it’s nothing Jungkook can’t handle.

Since he’s been in the position the entire royal guard has been much more efficient and well trained. Not to mention the shields and guards have all been much happier working under the direction and leadership of Jungkook. Something he wasn’t sure he was capable of, but like anything else, he excelled.

Tonight however, is the last day of work before a week of vacation for Jungkook and Luna. Jungkook has one more task to complete the following day, and by the evening he and Luna will begin their first big vacation together at a private resort nestled beautifully on the beach. The King has ensured that the resort will remain free of anyone from the general public while they’re there. That meant the King renting out the entire place as well as making sure all amenities are covered.

They will leave the next morning with a convoy of the royal family, personnel, and the closest friends to the Kim’s. In the afternoon, the grand ballroom of the resort overlooking the water will be filled with many people and the only tv station in the kingdom allowed to live broadcast major royal events. At the end of it all is when the vacation will will begin.

Jungkook won’t admit that he’s only taking advantage of this event’s location in order to persuade his way into a vacation. Since Jin will be staying there as well it was the perfect excuse for Jungkook to have some free time with Luna, especially since they haven’t gotten much since before she started law school.

When they arrive at the resort, Luna is excited and in awe at how beautiful it is. No detail was overlooked when the place was decorated for what’s being anticipated as the biggest royal event in centuries. Right as they walk into the lobby they’re greeted with a large sign adorned with flowers and pink ribbons that brings joyous smiles to Luna and Jungkook’s faces.

Welcome to the Royal Wedding of His Majesty Prince Kim Seokjin and Ahn Hyejin

[foolishmortal]

Pretty Flower AU

Because I will probably never write this as an actual fic, here's a ficlet idea you can riff on if you want:

AU in which Joowon goes undercover at a massage parlour himself, instead of using Lee Geum-Hwa as bait.

Except with his big square frame and strong hands and attention to detail, he's genuinely good at being an actual masseuse, and he quickly develops a following of people who want his help working out their little kinks (shut up).

That suits Joowon just fine - holding down a full time slot at 물망초 allows him to screen all the regular customers, especially the one that comes in every week and fits the perpetrator's profile to a T. He always asks for Joowon and lays on his table grimacing and joking through the rigorous paces Joowon puts him through for his bad leg. He's politely friendly with all the women -- too carefully polite, Joowon thinks, and bides his time till his suspect slips up. "You're going to a massage parlour, hyung?" Jihoon squeaks, nearly drowned out by Jiwa's disapproving "Dongsik-ah."

"Aigoo, it's nothing like that, everyone calm down," Dongsik grumbles and nearly burns his tongue on the slice of meat Jaeyi flips onto his plate. She serves him a saccharine smile, and he repeats, "It's nothing like that! They've got someone who does nearly professional chiropractic work and charges next to nothing. Half of Munju goes to him."

"Him - !" Jihoon yelps and then, "Um, i mean, good for you, hyung. I'm happy for yo- ah!"

Jiwa unsticks her sharp elbow from her brother's ribs. "I'm sure it's none of our business," she concludes. "They're hardworking citizens that need a livelihood to survive, just like the rest of us."

"I'm really not - !" Dongsik gives up and downs the rest of his soju.

Sure, Han Joowon is exactly his type, and that voice, fuck, but Lee Dongsik would be a fool to risk losing those magic hands that have allowed him to sleep through the night without incident for months now. He can't even remember the last time he's had to refill his prescription.

That is to say, he has mixed feelings on the day Han Joowon rears back from where he's got Dongsik pinned on his table (shut up), reaches into the back of his jacket for a pistol, and storms the room across the hall.

"Police! You're under arrest!" Inspector Han Joowon shouts, and there's Lee Dongsik's godsend, gone.

Dongsik climbs into his jeans and emerges to find Han Joowon blocking the door against the other employees at the parlour. Over his shoulder, Dongsik sees a familiar face - Kang Jinmook, who Dongsik's family was well acquainted with up until Jinmook was arrested on charges of stalking and attempted murder of his wife and was sentenced to twenty years in jail. Piece of shit must have got out this year and gone back to his old ways, with a vengeance.

Han Joowon surveys the angry, terrified faces of the women who took him in when he was fresh on assignment, laughed gently at his awkwardness and included him in ladies' night out, who tirelessly scoured the streets in their scant off-hours for their missing friend. Joowon clears his throat and tells them, "Ladies, you cannot assault a suspect in custody, even if he is guilty, while a police officer is present."

And then he leaves the scene, walks back into his own room, and shuts the door. A collective shout rises on the other side, drowning out Jinmook's feeble pleas for mercy. Han Joowon flips on the radio and maxes out the volume. "Apologies, Lee Dongsik-ssi. Shall we continue?"

Dongsik barks out a laugh at this cheeky young prince. "So I guess you'll be tendering your resignation here immediately."

"I go where I'm assigned."

"Hm-m. I don't suppose you make house calls." Dongsik mentally slaps himself on the forehead. "That wasn't a line. Really. It's just my luck that ... you know you could get a second career as a physical therapist." He doubles back. "Shit. That wasn't a line either, I promise."

"It could be," Inspector Han suggests.

"You're right. I apologize. I should have been more clear."

"No. I mean ... " Han Joowon reaches out to fix where Dongsik's hastily donned jeans have rucked up the line of his shirt. "It could be a line. If you wanted it to be one."

...

"Wow," Jihoon goggles. "Good for you, hyung."

Han Joowon sits perched on his chair next to Dongsik, his perfect posture belying his discomfort. Back in his usual semi-formal, muted attire, he looks more severe and handsome than ever.

"Inspector Han," Jiwa interrupts loudly over the sound of sizzling meat. "I'm glad to see Seoul Metropolitan form a productive collaboration with violent crimes in Munju."

"I'm glad the perpetrator was brought to justice," Han Joowon replies dutifully. "Manyang is a nice town. I'm sorry it had to experience such a tragedy."

Oh Jiwa accepts these condolences with queenly poise. "And when do you plan on resuming your usual duties in the city?"

"Manyang is a nice town," Han Joowon repeats. His hand finds the top of Lee Dongsik's thigh - his good one - underneath the table and squeezes. "I was thinking of sticking around here for a while, if I could find accommodation."

"I can think of a few places that might take you in," Dongsik murmurs under his breath, and it's worth Jiwa's elbow when Joowon ducks his head and offers up a tiny, genuine smile.

"Ahjussi, I can always pack this food to go," Jaeyi threatens him, waving the tongs under his nose. "If you and your physical therapist need some time alone."

"Oh no, Jaeyi-yah," Dongsik replies cheerfully. "You know, I come from a long line of gardeners. When one has the luck to come upon such a pretty flower, you have to show it off."