#she still remains on top of my bookshelf <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[em-prentiss]

There’s this stupid thought I keep having and it will not leave my head so I’m just gonna spiral over here; Jack has been begging for a build a bear for months so Aaron and Emily finally take him on a weekend off, and once they go to the store Emily is like what the hell is this place and she just keeps looking around so wondrously and when she sees the tiny little outfits she’s like oh my god this is the cutest thing ever. While they’re helping Jack with the whole process she keeps smiling this tiny little smile and looking around, and Aaron notices so when they’re done with Jack’s he leans in close and tells her to pick one. She immediately turns red and her eyes widen like, excuse you I don’t need a stuffed animal, I’m a grown woman in my 30s, and Aaron’s like reallyyyy and she’s like yep mhm let’s get out of here, Jack already got his stuffed animal but she looks around again as they’re leaving (where was all of this when she was a child?) and Aaron’s like yep you’re getting one and he takes her hand and drags her to the animals. 

She reluctantly chooses a brown bear but when she sees a tiny little suit outfit she doesn’t even pretend not to want it😭 so she starts building a mini bear Aaron that she can cuddle with when he’s gone on cases (she’s switched to counterterrorism) and she chooses to make a sound for it and gives the little recorder to Aaron and mumbles say something and he’s grinning and she’s blushing—her face is so red by this point—and she puts the little voice thing in the bear’s chest after he says something like sleep tight or I miss you and I’m coming home soon. She picks out a heart too and when they give it to her she lets Jack give it a tiny kiss so she can have both of her Hotchner boys close to her <3

Jack is so excited at the thought of both of them having stuffed animals and he starts trying to convince Aaron to get one😭 but Aaron is firmly like no I’m sorry and Jack’s like >:(( whatever at least me and Emily have matching cool plushies.

And then Emily picks out a suit outfit and tiny little shoes and names it something ridiculous like “Bear” because her brain is boiling atp from the heat of her blush, but Aaron is on the lookout for any weird looks she might get and whenever he finds someone with even a slightly confused stare he gives them that unsub glare and they turn away lmfaooo. She’s so red by the time they pay for it and give her the certificate, but you know what, her inner child is healed, so she actually doesn’t give a shit. However, she gets too embarrassed to carry the bag so Aaron carries it for her <3

Future baby hotchniss may or may not love to cuddle with it too🥺

[lucysarah-c]

Flowers

Summary: Well... We kinda reached a milestone in ao3 with the number of subs in the story and I wanted to do a little gift for all of you, it's a little side story. Nothing special but I couldn't add it to the past chapter and decided to do it a bit more extended and added as a small spin off.

Hope you like it! Thank you, thank to all of you who support this story <3 It truly means a lot to me. And, despite the main focus being in the past, YN and Levi as some old married couple makes me so soft and warm inside haha. 

Pairing: Levi x reader stablished relationship

Words: 1485

Year 849

Exhausted tired eyes scanned the bookshelf in search of what he needed. His tongue clicked as it was the fourth volume he had taken out and it yet didn’t have the information he was looking for. Pushed another out with strength as the squeezed books refused to go out as they had been stored with pressure to make them fit.

���Fuck,” He cursed as the big red leather book came out with another in the process, a smaller one what had been hidden between the military law’s books.

“Everything ok?!” A female voice came from the attached bathroom, extremely loud to get her point across the falling water from the shower.

“Yeah! don’t worry,” Levi replied as he bent down to pick up the small notebook, hissing as the muscles of his thighs hurt from heavy training that day. His fingers grabbed the cover as it had splitted in two on its trip to the floor and the interior splashed on the floor “Fucking shit,”

Resignated, he squatted down to pick up all the little objects that the book apparently contained. 

“Levi! You ok?!” The shower water stopped momentarily as she inquired once again.The alluded man scoffed slightly entertained at her worryness that was, somehow, endearing as he questioned what she could probably do in case he, humanity’s strongest, was in danger.

“Yeah, just keep going”

It was late at night, both of them done with their formal working hours. His hair was slightly wet as he refused to shower after her, insisting that she always used all the hot water. A pair of light grey drawstring sweatpants hanging loose from his hips and a loose white long sleeve t-shirt. Walking back to his desk and slacked against his chair, his hand full of all the stuff that came out of the small notebook trying to comprehend what it was and how to put all that stuff back on its other. Legs parted and tilted to the sides. 

The pages were slightly stuck to each other as the ink on it had run dry. He quickly spotted the handwriting of his girlfriend, the dates on top of the pages.

“I shouldn’t read this,” Levi murmured to himself as quick as he realised that it was one of her old diaries, probably ended up there by mistake. Putting the little notebook away with all the extra content at the corner of the desk.

Levi tried to focus back on work, as the paperwork wasn’t going to fill itself and then remembered why he’d gotten up in the first place. ‘I still need that damn book,’

She came out of the shower, Pjs on as hair slightly wet as her hands scrunch it with the towel.

“In which volume it’s the training petitions inner codes?” Levi wondered to his girlfriend who knew her way around the books better than him.

“The number 5,”

Her lazy steps against the wood pranks echoed in the place as he climbed the bookshelf. Y/N’s strong gasp got his attention, making him turn around hastily only to find out his girlfriend's angry face.

“You ruined my flower!”

“Your what?”

“My flower!” She insisted, showing up a small dry bouquet of baby-blue flowers that was obvious that was missing a piece.

“Ah. It fell from the shelf,” Levi replied uninterested.

“Well! Obviously!” Her irritation didn’t go away. “Four years I had this well preserved and you ruined it!”

Levi remained stoic as it seemed stupid to get worked out for a piece of plant. Book in his hand he went back to sit down on his chair and she kept looking at him with demanding nature.

“I don’t even get why would you keep that shit,”

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember what this is,” her grave tone made him look up to her just showered appearance.

‘I fucked up,’ He quickly concluded when her faked up anger changed to “You better answer correctly if you want to keep your balls,” tone. Levi had the intentions to come up with a worthy reply but his silence was delator.

She scoffed loudly, sitting in her chair trying to put everything back on its respective place inside the diary. Noisily complaining as she cursed under her breath. The captain chose to remain quiet, hoping that the incident would wash away.

“This is the flower you gave me when we started dating!” She returned to the topic after a few minutes “Don’t you remember that? With the chocolates?”

‘Ah.. that,’

“Why did you keep that? It’s been ages,” Levi argued and he quickly notice that didn’t help his case “What I mean it’s that I’ve done you better gifts than some random cheap flower,”

“Because it makes me happy,”

Her broken tone as she pouted looking at the broken flower made him feel guilty somehow, even when it was an accident.

“I can try to glue it,” he insisted as reaching across the desk but she pulled away.

“I even remember what I wrote,” She murmured as if didn’t feel guilty enough.

“You wrote about some cheap fair’s chocolates and picked flowers?”

“Of course!” She insisted and then proceeded to search inside the notebook. Then it was read outloud, as her anger washed away and was replaced by a highly contained smile and blushed cheeks. Levi remained stoic. She sighed as if love took over her, then her eyes locked with his, expectant “What did you think back then?”

“Wait… you think I thought all that shit that you wrote?” Levi got suddenly terrified as if he was put on a pedestal that he hardly deserved.

“Well… I got it close at least?” her loving eyes became a soft frown as his silence gave him away once again “What were you thinking?” She insisted.

“Tch, Y/N, I’m not that romantic and you know it,” Levi replied as he took a sip of his tea “I don’t remember what I wrote in yesterday’s grocery list and you want me to remember what I was thinking around five years ago?”

“Levi!”

Her insistance made him click his tongue “I don’t know, probably that women like sweet shit, like chocolates and flowers. I didn’t have money for both so I brought the chocolate and picked one up on my way, that’s it.”

Her faked offended face didn’t disappear as reality was extremely more disappointing than fiction. She refused to face him as a cat, ignoring being called. Levi glued his eyes on her as after all these years he knew that her pain wasn’t real, a mere scene.

“So… you don’t think that our indefinable love can only fairly be represented with something as pure as a wildflower?” her voice as a whisper echoed in the place as how desperately she pretended to be offended made him chuckle.

He moved across the desk to plant a kiss on her humid hair “I think my love is loud enough because I keep letting you get away with your hairs getting stuck in the shower’s drain,” 

Levi perhaps wasn’t the most romantic man inside of the walls and he was well aware of it. Those actions hold no value for him, or at least not in the way she desired them. He felt touched that she decided to keep the most small details so dear, he valued that. He also adored how happy she even appeared just for the memory, which meant that he had made her even happier back in the day with the gift itself. Flowers and chocolates made her happy, and she made him happy. So it was a win.

So when he crossed the door frame of their shared office after he came back from a meeting with the military board at Sheena with Erwin, he was holding her a small bouquet of peonies. Her parted lips as she left out a quiet gasp, her crystal eyes of emotion as she blushed intensely.

“Oh my god!” She started to do little jumps of happiness “They are beautiful!”

He groaned a sort of positive reply as she grabbed his face to give him repeated little peaks on the lips.

“I’m going to put them in water!” She rushed to it but stopped abruptly to turn around back at him “Thank you so so much! I love you!”

Levi nodded before murmuring “I love you too,” as he took off the green coat and hung it next to the door.

“Shut up!” her exclamation made him wonder what was the deal now. “Did you do it on purpose?!” She exclaimed as her finger pointed to her sweater and the flowers colour. Both of them in a purplish slightly bluish pink colour.

“Y/N,” Levi sighed as he picked up part of his abandoned paperwork “I know you backwards. You truly thought I would show up here with stupid flowers that don't match your clothes?”

[killing-time-w-kaz]

I was on IG and my friend posted this photo of a cat. And something in me just cracked.

I have no idea who this cat is but it looks identical to my Nausicaa who died in august.

I forgot how hard grief can hit when you’ve been holding it back. It just plows through. Especially when all of it is held in the same corner of my heart.

And I carry a certain guilt around her death. I wasn’t able to be there when she was put to sleep, because I had gone back to school just days before and there was no way for me to make it back in time. I was on the phone when it all happened, it felt so disconnected. I refused to let my grief consume me, since I need to stay on top of my college work.

And when I was able to go back home for fall break, I couldn’t grieve for my cat because I was barely holding it together after October 7. I broke down in tears when one of my professors had asked if I was doing okay, because she noticed I wasn’t anywhere as energetic as I should be in an archaeology museum.

And I was in the middle of my senior seminar when my parents told me Nausicaa finally came home. It was a miracle I didn’t start crying in class after seeing her box of ashes sitting next to her favorite spot in the apartment (and yes, Ponyo did try to sit on her box). Which brings up more buried grief.

I grew up with two cats, Isabel (the mostly white cat w gray spots) and Phoenix (the mostly gray cat with the old man). They were my mom’s cats, but I was very attached to them and it broke my heart when Phoenix died 4 days before my 11th birthday.

I never had time to fully grieve her death because my grandfather died a month later. And I carry a guilt over his death because the last thing I ever said to him was “I will see you next weekend”. And he died 3 days later while I was performing in a school concert. I refused to go see him at the funeral home, the image of Phoenix dying in the vet table was too fresh in my mind. And so I never truly had the chance to say goodbye to him. I don’t know where his ashes are. All I know is that he and my grandmother will be buried together when she dies—I am scared of the day she does. And that September, my grandfather’s nephew also died, and I wasn’t able to make it to his funeral because I had to go on a school sleepover trip.

I got Ponyo and Nausicaa in November 2013, so they briefly overlapped with the ancient Isabel. She liked Nausicaa, as seen in the photo above. She was 19 when we had to put her to sleep in December 2013. And I covered the loss of all four family members with the two new kittens. Isobel’s ashes rest on the bookshelf next to the window, where Nausicaa now also rests.

I was organizing my parents’ old photos when I came across the photo of Phoenix and Grandpa—I felt a pang in my heart when I saw it. And shortly after I went through those photos, I left for Portugal to do field work. I left two healthy, 10 year old cats at home. And on the last day of the field session, while we were breaking down site, I missed a call from my mom:

When I got to town, I broke away from my teammates to take the call. And that’s when I found out that my sweet girl had suddenly gotten cancer, which was moving so fast and aggressively. At first I tried to hide from the remaining archaeologists, because I couldn’t let myself be seen breaking down in the middle of town. But that completely failed when I got to the lunch table. And my supervisors and teammates were understanding—I still laugh fondly at their attempts to comfort me (that’s a story for later).

But it was devastating thinking that my little cat was dying an ocean away. But she held on for the week—my parents came out to join me in Portugal, leaving her with a family friend who took very good care of her. And she held on for two more weeks once we got back. It was exactly 21 days from when I got the first phone call to the last video call. But in the end, I still wasn’t able to be with her in her last moments. I had a shift at my job that I couldn’t skip and I was visiting my grandma the next day. I gave myself the weekend to grieve, then I threw myself into my part time job, school work, and social life. And in short succession, a very old family friend had a stroke and died, another family friend died after a steep mental decline, and a friend/colleague of my parents (who I knew) lost his fight with cancer.

And I often feel like I have to be the strong one in my friendships. And when October 7 came, I found myself holding my friends as they broke down. And Jewish underclassmen know they could always come to me if they need a hug or a shoulder. My campus best friend and I have adopted an absurd number of underclassmen this way, some of them even refer to us as their “mothers”. But I never took time for myself. I work the most hours at the bookstore, partially so I don’t spend time just with my thoughts.

And seeing that photo on IG brought all these emotions back in a flood. I just needed to put them somewhere so they don’t continue to eat away at me. The more I tell these stories, the less they hurt. So thank you for listening

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I.R.L.📷2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight stalking, masturbation, naughty talk.

This is dark!(camboy!)Andy Barber. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your guilty pleasures becomes and all too real terror.

Note: Okay, here’s the second and last part of this short little piece. Thanks for reading and the excitement. I’m sorry if I’m a bit blegh rn.

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Andy stared at the chat. He waited and waited but the green dot didn’t pop up. Maybe she was freaked out after meeting him. Or maybe she was over him. Her name hadn’t blipped up in any of his sessions in the last week and he even invited her to an impromptu private show after he got back from the café. He hoped her seeing him might nudge her but it only seemed to scare the fuck out of her.

He recalled how she nearly fell on her face running away from him. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. No preening or smiles, just terror and a quick escape. He didn’t understand. He was a good looking guy and she was obviously lonely. Hell, she was cute too. He was hardly disappointed.

He waited another fifteen minutes, distracting himself with the colour matching game on his phone but her status remained inactive. He scrolled through his bookmarks and clicked on her insta profile. She had commented on some DIY tutorials in the last hour but hadn’t posted. She only ever added pictures of flowers anyway; her last photo of herself was from a year ago. It was her and some guy but he could guess they were no longer together.

He was starting to get upset. She was ignoring him. He wasn’t stupid but what had he done? Their sessions were going well up until this week and he actually looked forward to them. He felt that same thrill he had when he first started his hustle.

He slammed his laptop shut and dropped his phone face down. Fuck it, he had better stuff to do.

He crossed the room and grabbed one of the boxes still stacked against the wall. He hauled it over to the empty bookshelf and flipped it open. He unpacked the books one at a time and the heavy bookend shaped like half a globe. He didn’t know why he brought all these things, he didn’t use them. He wasn’t a lawyer anymore.

He leaned against the side of the sofa and crossed his arms. He boxed up his whole life, or what was left of it, and drove halfway across the country. She couldn’t even give him a hello or her name. She could hardly look at him and she wouldn’t answer his goddamn messages.

He pushed himself straight and stormed over to his laptop. He ripped it open and clicked on the chat. Still, nothing. The invitation was scheduled for less than an hour. Well, if she wasn’t going to open it, he’d have to get it to her another way. He was done waiting on her and he was done playing with her through a screen.

He wanted the real thing and he knew she wanted it too.

📷

You were still slightly addled from your encounter at the café. After you got home and unpacked your groceries, you didn’t find your coffee again until it went cold. You dumped it and replaced it with a glass of wine. You bought the bottle a month ago, expecting to unwind and that time finally came.

You sat with the healthy dose of alcohol, almost to the brim as it darkened the full belly of the glass. You wore only a baggy Winnie the Pooh tee and panties as you lounged and flipped on the tv. 

You rarely used the front room anymore, ever since your boyfriend moved out you spent most of your time in the bedroom, exhausted and lonely. It was easier to just linger there between responsibilities.

Your dainty sips turned to greedy slurps as you turned on an episode of Project Runway and lost yourself in the competition and drama of it all. Your ex hated that show and you hadn’t watched it in years. It was time to get caught up with what would forever be your unfulfilled dream of being a designer.

By the runway, your glass was empty and the television had a soft glare as you were slightly buzzed by the high potency. The dark blend had a percentage in the double digits and you were feeling it, delightfully so. As the designers came up for their feedback from judges, more so a roast, you leaned back and wiggled your hips as you stretched. You yawned and closed your eyes as you listened to a designer give cutting critique of a hem.

You peeked under your lashes as the camera panned in on the fraying stitches. Well, it looked alright from far away. You bent your arm under your head as you turned onto your side and your eyes closed again as you pondered another glass of wine. That might give you a decent night’s sleep.

You inhaled and sat up, intent on another indulgence but you stopped short as you blinked in shock. You hadn’t drank that much. You couldn’t be hallucinating. You pressed yourself to the back of the couch and shook your head as you gaped at the figure stood just beside the tv, eyes calmly watching you.

“What…” you gulped.

“Shhhh,” the man, the one you watched all those nights on your laptop, brought his finger to his lips as he hushed you, “it’s okay, honey.”

“I--” your heart leapt into your throat and you stood as you swiped up your glass, “get out. How did--”

“I sent you an invitation. Several this week. You haven’t answered--”

You hit the glass off the table so it cracked and left a jagged edge. You jabbed it out at him from the other side of the coffee table, your hand shaking as the shock turned to a jolt of adrenaline.

“Go! Get out!” you snapped, too terrified to think on how he found you or if your meeting that day was truly a coincidence. It didn’t seem like it, “you’re crazy, get out of my--”

He marched around the table as you backed up and swung the glass at him. He caught your wrist and twisted it as he wrenched you close to him and pointed the sharp edge at your throat. The scent of him filled your lungs and mingled with the taste of wine as the glass pressed to your skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he warned, “so don’t make me.”

“Please--”

He said your name, calmly, as you drowned in his oceanic eyes. You quivered in his grasp and tensed as you tried to lean away from him, “Andy,” he offered, “that’s my real name.”

“Please, I don’t know what you want--”

“You know exactly what I want,” he hissed as he pulled away the glass and tossed it to shatter against the wall, “the same thing I always wanted… that you want.”

You took a deep breath and he clapped his hand over your mouth and tutted. His brows wrinkled in irritation and your drunken fingers bounced futilely off his shoulder. He turned you and sat you down on the couch and knelt with you, shushing you again as he settled on his knees on the floor.

“Honey, aren’t you tired of this? Of being apart? Of just… watching?” his eyes strayed from yours and he smiled as he eyed the yellow bear on your shirt, “that’s cute.”

You shook your head and murmured against his hand. His lashes flicked up and his jaw squared. His lips thinned as he considered you.

“Thing is, honey, I’d love to talk but you gotta promise not to scream,” he said, “and I mean that because I don’t want to gag you… not yet, anyway.”

Your eyes rounded and you nodded fervently as your breath puffed under his palm. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his hand slightly, moving it just an inch at a time as he watched you. You sniffled as he let his grip fall to your knee.

“Why? How…” you stuttered, “it was a mistake. Just a show--”

“You were always there,” he said as his other hand came up to your other knee and he ran his hands up and down your legs, “it didn’t sound like a mistake.” He pushed his fingers along the top of your thighs, “you enjoyed it.”

“It wasn’t… like that, just…”

He squeezed your thighs painfully and you winced. His fingers crawled up under the hem of your tee to the elastic of your panties and he hooked them beneath the fabric. You grasped his wrists in shock at his sudden movement and he looked you in the face.

“Say whatever you want, make your excuses,” he snarled, “you said you wanted me, you said it a dozen times, and I know you do.”

He tore down the cotton and you flailed out and caught yourself against the back of the couch. He rolled your panties down and untangled them from your ankles as you tried to close your legs. He kept your panties around his wrist as he stopped your knees from meeting and moved between them.

“Honey, now, I think we’ve had enough build up--”

“Hel--” you screamed and he grabbed your chin and snapped your mouth shut so that you bit your tongue.

He growled and shook your panties down over his hand. He brought up the twisted fabric and shoved it into your mouth. You tried to turn away from his grip as he stuffed the panties in with two fingers as deep as they would go and you almost gagged.

“It’s too bad,” he said, “I wanted to try that mouth… next time.”

You batted at his arms and chest and his hand shot to your throat. You stilled as he choked you, just enough for lungs to burn. He kept his hand on your neck until you sat back and he let it trail down the front of your shirt. He groped you through the fabric, rolling his thumb around your nipples as they hardened.

“I know you can be good, honey,” he hummed, “you’re just… nervous. I know what it’s like, trying to get over someone else. Trying to move on from a life you built-- a break-up, right? That lanky guy on your Insta--”

You gave a terrified flutter of your lashes and he smiled, a tight-lipped sympathetic gesture.

“Look, we’re two lonely people,” he kneaded your chest as he spoke and leaned in, “so, it only makes sense, and I promise, honey, the shows are over. It’s all for you now.”

You trembled as he dropped his hands and pulled up your shirt. He tickled your stomach with his knuckles and framed your tits with his hands as he admired them. You squirmed as he flicked them with his thumbs and leaned into you. He took one in his mouth and suckled. You whimpered as you felt a pluck in your core.

He parted with a pop and licked his lips, “I never… it was always hard to think of what you’d look like but I couldn’t picture anyone so perfect.”

Your nails dug into the couch cushions as you tried not to flinch. The glimmer of delight turned to disgust as you watched this stranger fondle you and he sealed his lips around your other nipple. You bit down on the cotton and moaned. You were so pathetic. It was your stupid moments of lonely desperation that brought you to this, that brought him to you.

His large hands spread along your sides and he pressed his fingertips into you sharply as he toyed with your nipples. He grazed his teeth along each bud and pulled back to look at you again. You grasped his shoulders as you begged him with your eyes and shook your head.

“I… always wanted to do this in the bedroom,” he said, “that’s where you usually are, huh? Touching yourself for me all alone in the dark--”

You hung your head in defeat and he pulled you forward on the cushion. He lifted you onto your feet and spun you around in the space between him and the couch. He put one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and walked you around the sofa. He paced slowly behind you as he urged you down the hall and paused to peer through your bedroom door.

“Here we are,” he said as he angled you through the door. You reached up as your jaw ached around the wad of fabric and he caught your hand and yanked it down, “I didn’t say you could do that.”

You dropped your arm and he let you go. He pressed his body to your back as he nudged you closer to the bed and stopped you right before it. He bunched your shirt in his hands and tugged it up until you raised your arms. He swiped it over your head and let it crumple beside your feet.

“Go on, sit nice and pretty for me,” he tapped your ass lightly.

Naked, you shivered as you stepped away from him and got onto the bed. You turned as you bent your legs over the edge and lowered your chin. You hugged yourself as he stood watching you with his hands on his belt.

“Don’t you worry, it’s still a show,” he said as his hands slid over to his buckle. 

He winked and ran his fingers up the front of his jacket and pulled it off. He draped it over the folding stool by your bookshelf and bent each leg to tug off his shoes. His socks followed shortly after and he squared his shoulders before he scooped his shirt up and off. He returned to his buckle and tilted his head at you.

“Look at me, honey,” he said as you stared at the pile of clothing, “we both know you love to watch.”

You raised your eyes to him and clamped your hands around your shoulders, arms crossed over your chest. He grinned and unbuckled his belt, his zipper gliding down smoothly beneath his fingers.

“You got me hard as fuck,” he said, “I didn’t like that earlier, you know? The way you ran from me.”

You just sat and tried to swallow the hopeless acceptance. He pushed down his pants and stepped out of them, his arousal bulging against his boxers. Your fingernails cut into your skin as you curled your fingers.

“You’ve been so good to me, honey,” he continued as he rolled down his boxers, “you know, I only want to return the favour. I came all this way just to get close so that--” he paused as his dick sprang up before him and he kicked away his underwear, “I can take care of you now.”

He gripped himself and stroked his length with a hum. His stomach tensed and the lines of his muscles deepened as he groaned and played with himself as he would before the camera. You were mortified as you watched him helplessly and he got closer and closer.

“Now you get the live show, honey,” he reached out and took your hand, closing it around his dick as he guided it up and down.

He moaned and hung his head back as he used both your hands on his shaft. He shuddered and leaned into your grasp. You listened to his pants as they grew quicker and quicker and he stopped you abruptly. You looked down at the glistening pre-cum as it leaked from his tip and he trailed his thumb through it as he let you go.

You flinched as he moved towards you suddenly and grabbed your hips. He lifted you and dropped you onto your back. He took your ankles and placed them against his shoulders as he stretched your legs up his torso. His cock slid along your cunt and hovered over your folds.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” he bit his lips and looked between your legs as he let go of one leg and reached down to guide himself between your lips, “oh, honey, your so sexy.”

He pushed apart your cunt with two fingers and slid in between his knuckles. He gasped as you stretched around him and you pushed your head back and whined around the fabric in your mouth. You whimpered as he drew back just a little and pushed in deeper. He rocked his hips, getting further each time as your walls strained around him.

He tilted you against him so that he reached his limit and slid his thumb along your bud. He swirled around your clit as he carried a slow motion, gliding in and out of you as you slicked around him. The tingle of his touch crept like tendrils beneath your flesh and made you clench around his dick.

He groaned and sped up, just a little as he played with you, pressing more firmly on your clit until your hand shot down over his. You didn’t move him away, only gripped his wrist as he toyed with you, fucking you deliberately as the sensation melded into a maelstrom. The twisting spring inside of you compressed and released suddenly in a ripple of sheer delight.

You groaned and bent your legs against him, raising your pelvis higher so he dipped even deeper. Your eyes rolled back and you ripped the panties from your mouth in your ecstatic trance. You balled them in your hand and writhed on his dick. 

He grasped your hips and dragged your ass over the edge of the bed and rammed into you. You cried out and he did it again. It was as if he lost all control as his pelvis slapped against you loudly and his voice rumbled through the room. You gulped and gasped as he pressed the heel of his hand to your clit and rubbed harder, his fingers stabbing sharply against your flesh.

His other hand snaked up to pinch your nipple and cup your tit. He braced you as he bent over you and fucked you furiously. He stepped up onto the edge of the bed frame as he curled your body beneath his and brought both his hands up beside your head as he held himself over you.

He plunged down into you over and over and he huffed as he watched the joining of your bodies. He growled and pulled out of you suddenly, bending your legs up as you were contorted further. He grabbed your hand again and trapped it around his dick, moving it quickly as he muttered.

He came in thick ropes onto your chest and down the folds of your stomach as you were in almost a C beneath him, his knees around your thighs. You shook and lifted his chin as he snarled and kept your hand moving, still cumming over you. He tore your grasp from him as he grew over sensitive and hung his head as he quivered.

“Shit,” he swore as he backed off of you and stood, leaning on the bed to steady himself. Your legs fell over the edge and his cum cooled across your skin, “you look good like that, honey.”

He stepped closer and pushed his fingers through the mess. You shivered and stopped his hand as you slowly returned to reality. You lifted yourself on one elbow and batted your lashes in confusion.

“How did you even find me?” you uttered.

“Doesn’t matter how,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to sit up gruffly, “only that I did.”

[itsonlydana]

Yo, can you do the laboratory with Bench Trio? She/her pronouns btw (thank youu)

THE LABORATORY

៹ 🏰 | 600 follower event | masterlist ៹

summary: experiment with brewing different potions in the cellar

pairing: Benchtrio x female!reader (platonic)

warnings: none

an: reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

Highly concentrated, you looked down at the golden carrot on the board in front of you, your knife set to carefully cut off the green leaves. You put the knife to the head of the carrot, let it guide you, and with the side of your hand you pushed the green leaves onto the small pile of waste that had accumulated from your now hours-long attempts. There already lay the remains of chopped nether warts, the peel of a glittering melon and also crushed phantom membranes, which by now gave off a somewhat strong odor.

Your small laboratory was hidden in the basement of the castle, a round room with high stone walls and a surprisingly warm wooden floor. There was only one small window, but it was so high that you had to climb over the bookshelves in front of it if you wanted to open it. The bookshelves took up most of the room, along with the many boxes and barrels where you stored ingredients and jars. On the floor, under the table in the center of the room, was an old brown rug that had caught fire many times from small experimentation accidents and was riddled with small as well as large moth holes; yet you didn't want to get rid of it.

Somehow you were attached to the old thing.

You had just put the now cut carrot into a bowl, when the loud bang of a fist against your door made you flinch and the bowl almost slipped out of your hands. Before you could disturb whoever it was despite your "DO NOT DISTURB- EXPLOSION DANGER" sign that you had nailed against your door with four slanted nails, the door flew open as well and slammed against one of the bookshelves.

"Good morning!" the blond prince shouted at the top of his lungs as you rushed to the bookshelf in time to save a small jar filled with stomped peonies from falling.

Of course, Tommy was the intruder, who else would ignore any hints of danger?

Clinging to the boy's heels as always were his two brothers, Prince Ranboo and Prince Tubbo, the latter well noted was wearing green and yellow checkered pajamas that indicated Tommy must have forced them both out of bed.

"Tommy," you pronounced his name warningly. You moved the glass back on the shelf so it would be more likely to survive the next door slam, and braced your hands at your sides. "Are you still so drowsy that you didn't read the sign on the door?"

At the question, the three princes had strolled into your lab, and despite your attempt to stand between them and the table, they were already circling the brewing stand with faces beaming with excitement.

"Boys, can you please-" you began.

"What are you trying to brew?", Tubbo interrupted you, standing on his tiptoes and resting his elbows on the table.

"Can we help?" asked Tommy before you could answer Tubbo. He rummaged around in the pile of leftover trash without waiting for your answer.

Within seconds, chaos had broken out in your previously pleasantly quiet lab, and instead of concentrating on your potion, you were now busy slapping the curious, grasping hands of the three princes.

Ranboo, who was considerably taller and could simply lean over your shoulder with ease, tapped his fingernail against the bottle while you tried to pull Tommy's hand out of the bowl of carrots.

"Do you need someone to drink that for you? I haven't had a morning of cocoa yet"

"Oh my God- NO"

You weren't really surprised that the three were asking such questions and even trying to dip their fingers into one of the potions. The energy of the three young princes was nothing new to you and over time you had learned to deal with it, even if it usually ended in small, controllable and not so harmful accidents. Most of the time just a glass broke, or you had to anoint Tubbo's hand, and in the really bad case, a bucket of milk was brought out so Ranboo would lose the effects of the jump potion and not bounce a hole in your ceiling- again.

They were your age, and yet you often felt like a babysitter to royal toddlers who had roared into your life like whirlwinds, persuaded their father, the king, to come work for him, and from then on, were glued to your feet, wanting to witness every bit of magic.

After you had explained to the three what your task was, they had somewhat calmed down, only Tubbo still hopped from one leg to the other over your floor. "It smells like all sorts of things in here." he suddenly stated wrinkling his nose and your eyebrows shot up.

You didn't even really notice that in the basement room smelling of gunpowder, redstone, sweat, and failed experiments, at most the steaming ashes of a burned and exploded glass stung your nose a little, and to even that you were beginning to get used to.

Questioningly, you looked to the other two, who nodded at you with their lips pressed together.

"Ranboo, will you open the window, please?" you asked him with a sigh, watching enviously as he could open the window without any problem. You might have even broken something while climbing.

Muttering to yourself, you straightened up again after cutting the carrot into thin slices and reached for the yellowed piece of paper you had put aside. From the look of the paper, it had already been in many hands, the edges were slightly curled, indented where they were mostly held by thumb and forefinger, and it had probably already been folded in all sorts of directions. It was hard enough to decipher the curved writing, written in black ink, the signs of use didn't really make it any easier for you to make out all the quantities or ingredients in general.

And that was your problem and also the reason why you were hanging over the brew stands and vast amounts of ingredients all night. Letters had been smeared by ink or other liquids, or numbers and weights had been crossed out and rewritten, and in some cases there were several numbers, so you had to try everything out one by one.

The many glasses, now stained black or even smashed, said a lot about the progress so far of your experiment to brew this new potion.

After finding the recipe for this potion, which would allow one to see clearly in the night, among the glued-together pages of one of your spellbooks, you were commissioned by King Philza to brew several for one of his adventures. He had rewarded you not only with the ingredients to be deciphered, but also with a new state of brewing, as well as a bag full of herbs from one of the Netherwoods he had recently been visiting. The turquoise and red mushrooms, not only made a strange decoration for your lab, they also tasted fantastic in a soup.

Unfortunately, neither of these mushrooms had been the completely obliterated ingredient on the recipe, so you very much hoped the carrot would help.

You bent over the brewing stand again, tapping the tip of your knife against the glowing blaze rod in the center, which heated the metal and brought the potion to a boil. It was still spraying enough sparks for another experiment, after which you would have to travel to the nether yourself for supplies-something that wasn't necessarily on your to-do list.

The three water bottles, mixed with a few nether warts as a base, glowed slightly in the blaze rod's glowing light, the yellow sparks reflecting off the still surface. Sinking your teeth into your lower lip, you placed two pieces of the golden carrot into each of the small funnels above the bottles.

Then you felt a hot breath on the back of your neck. Slowly, as if in slow motion, you spun around. Behind you, like penguins, in a line stood Tubbo, Tommy, and Ranboo, looking at you with fascination and a hint of fear.

"Um, hello?"

Tubbo, right in front of you, raised a hand to wave, but it was pulled back down by Tommy.

"Don't make any frantic movements Tubbo, something will explode again" he whispered as if he thought he could set off a reaction with the vibrations in the air that speaking created.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh. "Really Tommy," you began but were interrupted again by the boy taking a hectic breath.

"No, no "really Tommy"! Last time, last time I waved at you too, just waved and then suddenly something blew up!"

"Tommy you stepped into a room full of gunpowder with a lit redstone torch," Ranboo laughed and patted the blond's head, which only made Tommy gasp more indignantly "Nothing's gonna happen here just because Tubbo waved."

"Eh," you started, though the prince was right. It had been very worth it, though, at the sight of the three boys three-eyed in panic. "I can make something blow up if you don't behave," you fluted, the slight hiss of the brewing sound in your ear announcing that you could get ready for the next move.

The boys made no move from their "safe" position behind your back, so you shrugged and went back to work.

Now began the most exciting part of brewing for you. First, you had to put the ingredient into the funnel, then you turned a small wheel that sucked the oxygen out of the funnels, and shortly thereafter the first golden drop of carrot extract gathered at the opening. Tensely you hung on to one of the three drops, waiting with bated breath for gravity to do the rest, and slowly the drop grew larger until it fell with a "splash" into the water, which then began to simmer.

And...

The water started bubbling up, steaming and gurgling that you clawed your fingers into the recipe and left your mark on it. It took a few seconds that felt like an eternity, but then the light smoke engulfed around the rim of the bottles, the bubbling subsided, and you almost jumped hastily into the air when you saw the now inky water, no it wasn't water anymore, it was much thicker. Excitedly you reached for the potion, not even having to compare its appearance with the description on the recipe, you had read it so many times before and had memorized everything.

This was the potion, this was exactly what this night vision potion should look like! Joyfully you turned around to the waiting princes.

"I am the best brewer in the whole kingdom!" You beamed broadly at your friends, raising the potion confidently. "You can address me as Highness from now on, too, because I am a queen at the brewing stand."

Infected by your good mood, Tubbo and Tommy fell around your neck. Their energy was like a spark, immediately jumped over to you and you couldn't help but be carried away by their loopy ways and the three of you lightly bounced up and down.

"Our Queen, our Queen, our Queen!" Caught up in the chant, you didn't realize how the glass was released from your hands.

It wasn't until you heard a "woah" followed by a burp that you jerked your head up.

"Oh, Ranboo for fu-"

[cazimagines]

Perfectly Exasperating - Chapter 3

Synopsis: While you have been unknowingly kidnapped Zemo is determined to make the time he spends with you the best that he can

Word count: 5.4k

Author’s note: Hey all! This is sorta a one-month celebration of my account and for all the love you guys have shown this series and my other series 'A Freudian Slip' I can't thank you enough! My editing program decided to screw me over though so if you can see a difference grammatically in the first half and the second half that's why

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the warmth from the sun shining through the curtains touching your skin waking you up. Yawning and stretching, feeling the soft duvet move on top of you, you sighed in content, closing your eyes again as you embraced the happiness which had been foreign to you for so long. You reach out to seize the end of the duvet and gradually slide out of the bed; you feel the slight chill of the morning breeze brush against your exposed legs. Crossing over to the wardrobe your hand reaches out to flick through the many dresses, shirts, trousers that hung in there, all belonging to shops such as Gucci, Prada, Valentino. There were clothes appropriate for any event, but today you choose comfortably as you pull out a maroon knitted sweater and dark blue jeans. Though appearing to be rather cheap clothes, you knew Zemo would never have spent less than $100 on them.

When Zemo said he would take care of you, he meant it in every aspect. It was a culture shock going from the relatively poor life you lived, surviving off the small amount of money they paid you for being an Avenger to being treated like royalty by Zemo. Not that you were complaining. It was a guilty pleasure of yours enjoying this luxury, a part of you hoping it would never end. If you had told yourself just a few weeks ago, you would have enjoyed living with Zemo you would have laughed in your face but that man had certainly turned on the charm and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest big thankful for him for everything he has done for you.

You finally leave the confines of your room, something you had only been allowed to do a few times until today. You convinced Zemo yesterday that you weren’t concussed from when John had hit you with the shield and that you would be fine getting up and walking around. He was still hesitant but knew he couldn’t keep you confined in your bed forever.

You close your eyes as you inhale the sweet smell of cooking pancakes, making your stomach grumble greedily. Following the scent, you work your way down through the interior design living room into the lavish kitchen where Zemo currently had his back turned to you as he attempted to flip the pancake he had in the frying pan. His purple turtleneck sleeves were pulled up, exposing his forearms as they tensed, trying to get the timing right to flip the pancake. He does so with perfect accuracy, the golden brownness of the pancake soaring up into the air and landing back down in the frying pan, sizzling.

Zemo giggles to himself, celebrating his minor achievement as he waves the frying pan, his body swaying along slightly with it.

“That smells heavenly,”

Zemo whips around at hearing your voice pierce the air. “Ah y/n! Please, take a seat while I make breakfast,”

His eyes follow you as you take a seat down at the table he had prepared for this morning, then focus back on the breakfast at hand. You pour out some orange juice Zemo had left on the table, then your gaze flickers back to him as he finishes cooking. He stacks the pancakes onto two plates and grabs some sugar, maple syrup, and lemons out of the shelves, giving you a choice of toppings.

You scoff as he turns around, seeing on the apron he had tied around himself the words ‘kiss the chef’ on it.

“Really?” you ask, raising the glass to your lips as you watch him glance down to his apron and then back up to you offended.

“You don’t like?”

“It’s embarrassing to look at!” you exclaim as he places the plates down on the table and sits down opposite you.

Zemo’s eyebrows twitch as he scoffs back at you, “I think it suits me, plus a kiss is expected after I worked so hard on breakfast” he says, tapping his cheek with his finger.

You raise an eyebrow, letting a breath out as you laugh, “Yeah, in your dreams,”

You two settle into a comfortable silence as you readily eat the breakfast he made. The pancakes were soft but delicious, sickeningly sweet but you have always had a sweet tooth and so it seems, does Zemo.

“I thought you would have one of your staff make breakfast, you never struck me as the person to do something yourself when you can make others do it,” you say breaking the silence as you finish the last of your pancakes.

Zemo glances up to you, tilting his head, “Why do you think that? Because I grew up rich?”

You nod, not attempting to make yourself sound nicer, “Yes. It’s common knowledge the rich are always spoilt”

His lips twitch up into a smile at your bluntness. He sighs, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs as he addresses you.

“You’re right. Even though Sokovia was a rather small country, I grew up with more riches than most people could dream of. But at least I acknowledge my privilege. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

“Depending on what you use your privilege for. Blowing up the UN isn’t exactly putting it to good use now stop avoiding my original question,”

Zemo bites the inside of his mouth as you see through his attempts at trying to dodge the question. His admiration for you however outweighed any annoyance he might have felt at being called out for it. Leaning forward again to rest his arms on the table he says,

“It’s only me, you and my Butler who occasionally comes in. After I was arrested, there was no work for my staff so they all left and I can’t exactly hire anyone else,”

You nod, satisfied, then dab the napkin that Zemo has set out beside you, on your lips to get rid of any leftover sugar. You place your hands on the table and push yourself up from it.

“Well, thank you for breakfast, and thank you for looking after me this last week… that was nice of you, but I better be going. Do you know where my phone is?”

Zemo’s eyes furrow and he immediately stands up as you walk away from the table. He rushes past you, stepping in front of you to stop you from walking.

“You can’t leave y/n,”

Your head jilts back in confusion, “Why not?”

“We ruined Karli’s plans, so she is trying to find us. That’s why Sam and James are out hiding and why we must remain here,”

“I can handle Karli,” you tell Zemo, trying to step past him, but his hand reaches out and grasps your arm firmly.

“Not a super-soldier y/n. It’s too dangerous, especially after your recovery. James and Sam will reach out to me once it is clear to leave, but for now, we stay.”

You huff in frustration, shaking Zemo’s hand off your arm as you cross them. “Well, at least get me a phone so I can keep in contact with them too,”

“I’m afraid I can’t get you a phone currently, but you are welcomed to use mine. Alas, James and Sam have my number but I don’t have theirs’s so unless you remember their numbers we have to wait till they message first to reach out to them,”

You let out a melodramatic sigh, rolling your head looking to the side of the room then back to Zemo.

“So what the hell am I to do to keep occupied?”

Zemo tilts his head, his eyes flicker to the side in thought as he opens his mouth wordlessly and his eyes move back to yours, his eyebrows raising as he frowns thinking over the idea that has just entered his head.

-

With his fingers, Zemo, gazing at you eagerly, beckoned you down the corridor, towards a giant door that was at the end.

“I’m not a dog Zemo” you complain as you follow him

“Have you ever heard of dramatic effect?”

Zemo had taken off his apron and replaced it with that coat he loved to wear so much. You firmly believed it gave him a power complex. He strutted to the end of the hallway and placed his hands on the door. His face turns to you smirking, enjoying this dramatic pause as you roll your eyes at him. He pushes the door open and stands to the side, sweeping his arm across the space to let you in.

You walk past him and your eyes widen in amazement as you walk into the most magnificent library you had ever seen. The room itself stretched out almost further than you could see, seeming to go on and on. The shelves looked like they reached up to the sky, each one stacked with thousands of beautiful hardback books. The design of it looked like you had just stepped into heaven, with white and gold being the main colour scheme. On the ceiling was a painted sky with the gods on, looking down at you. On the pillars separating the shelves were little cherubs, their bows positioned to pierce your heart. Everything about this library was beautiful. It felt like a library that should belong to a museum not kept in this private mansion.

“You see why the dramatic effect was necessary?” Zemo says stepping up beside you, looking out at the shelves before you.

“Zemo this is… this is beautiful,”

His eyes flicker to you then back to the library, a smile appearing on his lips, “Yes, I suppose it is. When I was younger, I had always taken things like this for granted, but after my time in prison I believe it’s made me more humble,”

You walk over to the nearest bookshelf, letting your fingers brush over the colourful hardbacks. You pull one book out, stroking the golden platted side. “You must have every practically every book in existence here”

“I have more books than I could ever get round to reading. You can find anything you want to read here,”

After ten minutes you had gathered a rather sizable book pile you were determined to read, full of fictional and non-fictional books, some of your favorites and some you had never read before.

Zemo chuckled as you tried to hold all of them in your grasp. As you picked one up, the book on the very top of your pile slipped and fell to the floor. Panic surged in you, worried you would damage something so expensive, but Zemo’s hand appears and catches it before it could hit the ground.

Straightening up, he gave you an amused smile, “Maybe you should let me help carry them”

Accepting his help, he takes half the book pile off you and guides you over to a place deep in the library where you two could read. There were two light green armchairs facing each other, with a fireplace just behind them. To the side of the chairs were small tables which contained bookmarks, a goblet, and an ashtray, and to the side of one chair was a globe which could be opened, and inside it held a decanter full of whiskey.

Zemo places the books in his arms on the table then walks over to one shelf, browsing till he finally finds the book he was looking for. He returns to find you getting comfortable in your chair, opening the first book.

“Whisky?” he asks, opening up the globe beside him.

A few days ago you would have said ‘no, no way,’ but today you smile and nod your head, reaching out with the glass beside you to gracefully accept the drink.

-

The next couple of days were spent similarly with you and Zemo spending much of your time reading in the library together. Occasionally you two would even read to each other as he had first done with you when you had woken up here. Though you would never admit it to him, his smokey voice made you very comfortable. If he tried, he could lull you to sleep with that accent of his.

You couldn’t help but try to separate the Zemo you know now as the one you used to hate. Yes, he had torn apart your family, but he had all the reason for what happened to Sokovia, what happened to his family. Plus, this Zemo seemed to try hard to make it up to you. Almost too hard. He was trying everything to keep you entertained while you were stuck here, make your life as comfortable as he could. It was nice.

You strolled into the kitchen hearing the quiet buzz of the radio playing the latest top hits and the sound of someone humming along to the music. In there you find Zemo by the counter, fixated on the bowl he held in his arm and the spoon in his hand as he delicately tries to put the mixture into the cupcake trays before him. You had offered to make food, feeling like he always did too much for you but every day he insisted he would, even on days where it Butler would come around.

“Need help?” you ask, walking over to stand beside him.

He glances at you, then back to the tray he has laid out before him. “I’ve got a handle on this,” he replies just as he spills some mixtures onto the counter, making him swear under his breath.

“Uh-huh, sure,” you say, looking down at the spilled mixture. You turn to face him, letting out a chuff as you place a hand on his arm, “Zemo stop being so prideful and let me help”

As soon as your hand comes in contact with his arm, he freezes. He glances down at the ground, swallowing then his eyes flicker to yours and he smiles gently, his usual arrogance disappearing. “Okay,”

You grab a spoon from the draw and help Zemo scrap off what he puts into his spoon into the cake tray with accuracy. You two stand together, your shoulders brushing up against each other till you finish and put it into the oven.

“We have 30 minutes until we need to get them out. Why don’t you read for a bit while I clean up,”

“I can help clean up,” You tell him already going over to the sink to turn the water on, “You’re not my servant Zemo,”

“Helmut” he suddenly says

You turn back to look at him, confused at the seriousness of his face, “Please y/n, call me Helmut,”

Your mouth moves wordlessly for a moment, then you say, “Helmut,” trying the name out on your tongue. You were so used to calling him Zemo, you had forgotten that that wasn’t his first name.

“Thank you” he whispers, glancing away from you bashfully.

He takes a towel off the side of the rail and dries up everything you washed as you two settled into a peculiar silence.

Attempting to liven the atmosphere again, you put a cup just at the right angle of the running tap that the water splashed into Zemo’s coat. He steps back shocked, glancing down at his coat then back to you. He lets out a laugh, his mouth open in surprise that you would do that. “Oh, if that is how it is”

Zemo quickly grabs a mug, running it under the following water. Realizing what he was going to do you let out a squeal and rush for the door but you don’t get far enough till you feel the water hit your back, soaking your t-shirt.

“Helmut!” you gasp as he chuckles at you. You run forward to grab the nearest thing in front of you to chuck it at him, a piece of bread in this case but he ducks as it flies over him. He fills the cup up again and runs towards you but you get to the table and hide on the other side till you were both poised opposite each other waiting for one of you to make the first move.

“This isn’t fair!” you whine, feeling the coldness of your t-shirt cling to your back. “Who said anything about fairness!” Zemo shouted back, grinning at you.

Eventually, you two called a truce when the oven chimes letting you two know the cupcakes were finished baking. After that day, Zemo always asked if you wanted to help him make meals.

-

“Is the popcorn ready?” you shout as you jump up from the floor where you were placing the DVD into the DVD player.

“Almost done” Zemo calls out.

While waiting, you settle yourself down on the middle of the red sofa, twisting your back to get that perfect spot as you stared up at the giant screen in front of you.

Zemo emerges from the kitchen holding the popcorn and places the bowl onto the table in front of you. He settles down beside you, instantly positioning his arms on the top of the sofa, resting behind your head.

He leans forward to pick up some of the popcorn, tossing it in his mouth as he asks you what you have chosen to watch tonight.

“Beauty and the Beast,” you say excitingly and Zemo coughs, leaning forward as he accidentally inhaled the popcorn in his mouth.

He wipes the tear from his eye as he leans back and you give him a confused look, “Do you not like the film?”

“No-no, it’s not that. W-why do you want to watch the film?”

“It’s my favorite Disney film,”

He nods his head slightly looking down at the popcorn, “I see…” he then glances back to you, looking you in the eyes, “Why is it your favorite Disney film?”

You lean back sighing as you think the movie over, “Well, I’ve loved it since I was a kid. I always wanted to be like Bell and I found the beast so sweet and gentle”

“Even though he imprisoned her?”

“He let her go in the end, and she came back to him”

Zemo opened his mouth wanting to say more, but you sushed him as the movie started, wanting to concentrate only on it.

Zemo turned down the lights to make the experience feel as cinematic as he could of you. Grabbing the bowel he offered you some of the popcorn and you smiled at him in thanks. He tried to enjoy the movie, but his eyes kept wandering back to you, watching your expressions as you watched the movie. His heart skipped a beat every time you laughed at it when that gorgeous smile would grace your face, even in the sad moments where it looked like you were about to cry. He loved seeing how you reacted to everything. There were so many things he had taken for granted, and it felt like he was discovering them all over again with you. It fascinated him to find out the beauty and the beast was your favorite film. It was almost ironic given your current situation, one of which you remained painfully unaware of. He knew he couldn’t keep you in the dark forever. Sam and James were bound to discover where you two were eventually, which is why he wanted to enjoy every moment he had with you to the fullest before it was over.

As the movie went on, Zemo could feel your body moving closer and closer to him. The heat that radiated from your body made him want to wrap his arms around you, but he didn’t know if that would go too far. Roughly by the end of the movie, your head rested against his chest, moving slightly up and down as he breathed. He could tell by your shallow breathing you had entered the realm of dreams.

Looking down at you, he couldn’t help but admire how peaceful you looked. When on the mission with Sam and James you had always appeared tense, prepared to fight your way out of a situation as soon as possible, but at this moment you were relaxed and it made his heart flutter. He could look at you forever like this and never tire of it.

He had found himself in the past comparing you to his wife. He felt conflicted feeling this way about another woman, but how he felt about you differed from how he felt about his wife. It was new, exciting, addicting. Slowly raising his hand, he brushes a piece of hair that had fallen over your face while you slept. Your skin was smooth against his fingers and so soft. His fingers lingered on your skin before finally, he let his arm rest around your body, holding you close as you slept against his chest.

-

Your arms were raised, feeling the walls on either side of you as you tried to figure out if you were going and if you were about to bump into anything while Zemo’s hands were clasped around your eyes tightly.

“Don’t you trust me y/n” he whispers in your year, snickering.

“Do you want a pleasant lie or the harsh truth?” you ask, turning your head slightly but Zemo tuts and moves your head back with his hands

“Not long now, just a few more steps,”

“Till what!” you whine

“Be patient y/n!”

Zemo lifts one hand of your eyes telling you to keep them close and you hear the creak of a door open ahead of you. His hand returns to your face and with slightly pushing his body against yours, he urges you forward into this new room.

“Can I finally look now?”

Zemo removes his hands and steps back from you, “Okay y/n, open your eyes”

Opening them you gasped in shock seeing what was before you. On a stand was a replica of Belle’s dress in Beauty and the Beast. Its honey yellow colour shone out, the top of it tightly clung to the mannequin it was on while the bottom poofed out, it hung with no shoulder straps and came with yellow gloves. Everything about it was perfect.

“Helmut I- I’m, stunned,”

“You like it?” he asks anxiously

You turn to him grinning, “Of course I do!”

You hug him tightly, ecstatic, then rushed over to the dress, brushing your fingers along it. “It’s beautiful” you whisper.

“I think I got the sizes right,” Zemo says coming up beside you, a pink tinge to his cheeks, “There’s only one way to know for you,” he adds on, turning to you giving you a gentle smile

He helps you take the dress off and chuckles as he watches you rush off with it to get changed, then leaves to get changed himself.

The dress fitted perfectly on you. Everything from the bust down to the waist. Even the gloves fitted perfectly. When you entered the bathroom, you found Zemo had even found some make-up in case you wanted to use any. He thought of everything.

Finally looking at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. You truly felt like a Disney princess. Slowly you walked back down the stairs and enter the room Zemo had to lead you in, to begin with. As you walked in, let out a merry laugh as you saw Zemo, dressed up in a blue jacket, embroidered with yellow roses on the sleeves, just like the beast. He was standing by a record player, putting a disk in as you walked in. He turns to look at you, his mouth opening in wonder.

“Y/n… you look glorious,”

His sincere comment makes your cheeks heat up and you hold your arms out to him, squeezing your hands letting him know you want to hold his hands.

He turns the record on and your favorite song from Beauty and the Beast floats out, making your cells light up with excitement.

“Helmut” you start to say as he walks over to you, holding his hand out, “Why are you doing this?”

He gently takes your gloved hand, bending over to kiss it. “I know it isn’t easy being stuck in here all the time and you said you loved ‘Beauty and the Beast’ so I thought it would make a pleasant treat,”

His arms hesitantly touch your waist as he looks into your eyes as if asking it was okay. You nod and step closer to him, taking his hand in yours holding it up. Getting into the waltz position you two start to move along the dance floor, swaying to the music.

You two slide along the ballroom floor, picking up speed. As you look up to him, he breathes out smiling back down at you happily. His hand on his waist spins your around as your dress flutters out. You squeal in delight as you grasp back onto his hand as you felt dizzy.

You two turn around the floor looking each other deep in the eyes. You could feel his breath on your face as you two were barely inches apart from each other. Zemo pulls you in even closer as your arm goes around his neck, your body pulled into his. He dips you as you cling to him tightly for dear life as the music fades.

He holds you into that position, panting as he looks at you, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. You could feel that pull towards him, your eyes starting to flutter shut. He leans towards you but suddenly you feel your fingers slip and you almost let go of him. His other hand quickly wraps around making sure you don’t fall to the floor.

He helps you back on your feet and you two steps apart. You look away feeling your cheeks burn up again.

“Helmut, thank you. Thank you so much” you tell him earnestly

He looks deep into your eyes, smiling in bliss, “Anything for you y/n”

-

“Y/n, are you awake?”

You groan as you hear Zemo whisper beside you, waking you from your sleep.

“Ugh, Helmut what time is it,” you moan turning over with your eyes are closed.

“It’s 8, time to wake up”

“Nooooo” you whine screwing up your eyelids.

You hear him chuckle and then you feel something push against your lips. You open your eyes confused to see Zemo beside you, holding a strawberry to your lips.

You smile and take a bite out of it, moaning in delight as you taste its sweetness as you sit up. He sits up beside you and holds out some melted chocolate for you to dip the strawberry in.

“Helmut, you spoil me”

“Not enough,” he whispers back as he puts the chocolate-covered strawberry to your lips letting you take another bite.

“I’m not even surprised anymore to see you in my bed when I wake up,” you tell him

“Technically this is my bed”

“You know what I mean!”

He chuckles as he pushes his head back into the headboard, “I thought it would be a nice way for you to wake up,”

“Consider me impressed,” you tell him, looking over at him smiling. He glances back to you, his lips twitching up. You lean into his side, not caring at the moment you were in a simple nightdress. You close your eyes inhaling his cologne and picking up a strawberry to feed to him.

“I could get used to this,” you whisper to him

-

You scan the piano music book before looking back down to the notes before you. It had been a while since you had last played so you thought you might as well pick it up while you were stuck in Zemo’s mansion.

You press the notes but every time you tried to play one of the chords you always missed one. You were trying to play your favorite song 'Comptine d'un autre été' but to no avail.

“You need to flow with the music and not worry about hitting the right notes”

You turn around and smile as you see Zemo approach you from behind. “Isn’t the whole point of music to play the right notes?” you say sarcastically

Zemo lets out a huff chuckling, “Well yes but you’ll hit the notes when you stop trying so hard. Now try again”

You turn back around and attempt the music again but hit the wrong notes making you slam the piano in annoyance.

“Don’t damage the piano”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, “I should give up,”

“No don’t do that” Zemo says, brushing his fingers over your waist, “Here let me help you”

He puts his hands on top of yours guiding them, “Let’s try again,”

You look to the music then back down to your hands which had Zemo’s resting on and attempt to start playing again. His hands moved in time with yours as they guided along with the piano, pressing down on your fingers when you needed to. You got every note. Well, Zemo got every note.

“See, easy,” he says as he pulls back from you. “Now try again”

You attempt to play again but feeling his eyes stare into your back you couldn’t concentrate and messed up the notes again.

“We just went through this!”

“It’s hard to concentrate with you staring at me!” you exclaim turning around to him. Your eyes widen as what you just said as he tilts his head, a smug smile appearing on his lips.

“Oh, I make it hard for you to concentrate do I?”

You groan at his cockiness, looking away from him so he doesn’t see your glistening red cheeks.

He walks up behind you again, his fingers grazing your jawline, stopping at your chin as he raises your head to look up at him. Seeing him look down at you made a knot in your stomach tighten.

“You are awfully red y/n”

“Shut up”

He chuckles and leans down, placing a kiss on your forehead, “I like it when you blush”

The breath gets caught in your lungs as you feel his lips on your forehead, their softness cooling your burning skin.

For the first time in your life, you were rendered speechless, by Helmut Zemo no less.

His teeth flash in his smile as he looks down at you, “Come let’s practice this again” he says, leaning over as his back pressed into yours, putting his hands back on top of yours.

-

“Zemo do you mind if I borrow your phone briefly to see if that new video has been released?” you call out picking up Zemo’s phone that he had left on your seat.

“Go ahead! Just don’t check anything else on there” he yells back

“Worried I will find your nudes?” you call out as you unlock the phone. Pressing onto the youtube app you sigh in annoyance seeing no new video and so you were about to put the phone back down when a message appeared from a contact simply labeled ‘S’

It read, ‘S: Look just tell us where you have taken her. Whatever you are doing with her it isn’t worth it”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at what the hell could that message mean. You click onto the message stream just to see a ton of messages from this ‘S’ contact but with no reply from Zemo.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing Zemo wouldn’t want you to do what you were about to do, but your curiosity got the best of you and you pressed the call button.

It rang for a few seconds and then the line picked up.

“Zemo” Sam’s voice rang out through the phone

“Sam?” you ask back

“W-what, YN/!? Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Woah Woah Sam, calm down, I’m fine! I’m with Helmut-Sam what is going on?”

“What has he done to you?”

“What do you mean he's done nothing, Sam I thought me and Helmut were hiding out here till Karli was done with her plan?”

You hear a sigh down the phone and then the muffled voices of what you could make out as Bucky and Sharon down the line.

Sam picked the phone back up and spoke directly, “Y/n you need to get out of there now. Zemo, he's kidnapped you”

The phone slips from your hand and lands on the floor with a loud crash.

Tag list: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @aloyssiac @hannahbal-the-fannibal @alainabooks143 @jokerprettyprincess @plumsandkiwis @latenightartist-author @e-barba @flutterskies @loonylunalovegood77 @lieutenantn @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean @arianalilyblack @mandowhatnow @scullys-alienpussy @felicityofbakerstreet @babayaga67 @spookycereal-s

[ethanesimp]

AMAMI PER SEMPRE // E.T.

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x Fem! Reader

Summary: Ethan isn’t the brightest—or the best—when it comes to surprises, so his attempt at proposing to you causes a few misunderstandings...

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Swearing, a tiny tiny mention of death, some angst, other than that it’s pure fluff and me projecting my obsession with old books onto the reader.

Request: Ethan planning to propose and acting super nervous and strange (a bit angsty bc the reader doesn’t know what’s happening) and ending in pure fluff.

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

A/N: After more than a year of stepping foot into a bookstore for *cough* obvious reasons, I got to go to one yesterday. While looking at some second-hand books I had an idea that I decided to combine with @kawaiiwxnnabe​’s lovely request to bring you this. I hope you enjoy! <3 

Ethan had been mindlessly listening to Damiano sing Amandoti when the thought of marrying you first seriously crossed his mind. It had been a thing he’d thought of countless times ever since he started dating you, but it had never remained with as much intensity as it had that time. 

Damiano, who had noticed his friend’s face illuminate all of a sudden, had a talk with him that once and for all convinced Ethan that it was the right time and you were the right person. He didn’t sleep at all that night because he couldn’t stop thinking about what would be the perfect way to propose to you. It was no secret to him—or anyone who knew you—that you were a hopeless romantic. 

There was nothing that made you happier than simple and small details that came from the heart. That was the reason why you had developed an affinity towards old books. Not only did they have a particular and special scent that reminded you of vanilla and chocolate, but some had the luck—as you liked to call it—of being embellished by notes on margins or dedications on covers. Whether they were about love, sorrow, or maybe even hate, they still showed a small glimpse into the life of the person who had once owned it. Those notes told a story that would prevail even long after they were gone from the earth. 

Ever since he had noticed that small obsession of yours, Ethan had tried to help you expand your treasured collection by bringing you back books he found at antique stores from every country the band played in. 

During a visit to Spain after he initially had his stirring thought, Ethan took the chance to visit one of the second-hand shops he’d found during a night stroll with Victoria, who had disappeared into a bakery. His main goal was to find something different from the usual books he brought back for you. 

After he walked into the store and vaguely told the old lady at the counter about his idea in the best Spanish he could muster, she smiled warmly at him and guided him to the very back of the tiny shop where a beautiful and worn out bookshelf sat in all its glory, filled with as many books as it could hold. 

He immediately started searching around for the perfect book, but it proved to be harder than he initially thought it’d be. After searching around for more than an hour, all he had found was a collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s tales and poems with a heartbreaking note to someone’s dead lover. While it had almost brought him to tears and was a special thing he’d buy to give to you later, it wasn’t exactly the best thing to help him carry out his plan.   

Victoria walked into the shop when he was about to give up and, fully aware of his plan, started looking around without saying a word to him. They both searched around the messy piles of books for something. It didn’t take long for her to stumble across three books held together by a lilac satin ribbon. 

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. All three contained a note on the very first page right under the title, but the last one stood out above the other two because, according to his basic knowledge of Spanish, it ended with the very question he wanted to ask ¿Quieres casarte conmigo? Or ‘Will you marry me?’. He bought all three of them after a huge smile and a thumbs up from Victoria.  

What he hadn’t expected was for them to remain hidden in a drawer he knew you never opened underneath piles of clothes. Ever since he came back from their small trip to Spain, Ethan had tried to ask the question about six times, but always ended up choking on his words and saying something else. In fact, the first time he ever tried, Ethan chickened out at the last second and ended up giving you the Edgar Allan Poe anthology instead.

You were still none the wiser to his plan even after he’d asked about your opinion on marriage a few times. Anyone would’ve probably caught up with what was going on already, but you were always so busy with things happening around you that you didn’t connect his awkward and nervous attitude with his questions.

You didn’t start giving his actions a second thought until one night… You had been cooped up in your office all day working on a new project you were supposed to present to your boss by the end of the week when you suddenly felt the urge to get up and walk around the house.

Ethan was casually sitting on the couch as he whispered unintelligible words into his phone. You supposed he was on a call with a friend or maybe his manager and was trying to be quiet to avoid disturbing you, but then he hung up the call with a panicked expression the moment he noticed you. After that, you started thinking back on the way he had been behaving ever since he returned and it all raised the suspicion that there was something strange going on. 

It didn’t get any better when he kept on acting weird. Simple things that he had allowed you to do, like using his phone to take pictures because it had a better camera than yours, now seemed to make him almost mad. He’d even snapped at you once when you tried to grab it to take a picture with him. Even if Ethan had apologized right away, it still didn’t calm you down, especially because he had gone as far as to change the password on it.

It almost felt like he was walking on eggshells around you and you didn’t like it one bit. Your relationship had always been about honesty and worked because of constant communication. Everything was just so strange that your mind couldn’t help but think of the worst.

You were an imaginative person who never had any difficulties when it came to envisioning things clearly. Unfortunately, that also applied to every negative thought that crossed your mind, so it wasn’t hard for you to start coming up with the worst explanations as to why he was acting so suspicious. It didn’t help much that he had been busier than normal because the band was wrapping up on their latest album, so you hadn’t had the opportunity to sit down and voice all your concerns, to ask if something was going on and if there was a way to fix it. 

The morning of your anniversary, you’d finally had enough. You had woken up, expecting to feel Ethan’s arm tightly wrapped around your waist and to receive a shower of kisses the moment he noticed you were awake, but no. There was no Ethan and the side of his bed was already neatly made.

Your disappointment only grew when he wasn’t in the kitchen or his small studio where he had his drums. You doubted he was in the house at all. 

It was a thing that wouldn’t have affected you much had he done it any other time, but with everything that had been going on as of late, you could only fear the worst. So, without being able to control yourself, you started making the worst conclusions. You’d always been fully aware that he loved you, but all the signs undoubtedly pointed at him meeting someone new… And maybe he was going to leave you for them as well… during your anniversary.

That was all you needed to break into tears. You climbed back into bed and cried for what seemed to be hours. Even since you got together, you had thought of him as your person, your forever. The thought of him leaving you broke your heart into tiny pieces.

Ethan arrived home only a few minutes after you’d buried yourself underneath all the blankets and cried out all your worries. When he was about to open the door to your bedroom, he stopped. Were you crying? 

He stood there in complete silence for a few seconds until he was more than sure that you were, in fact, crying. Ethan rushed inside and he felt his heart break at the sight of you looking so heartbroken, and it didn’t get any better when he heard a whimper come out of your mouth at the sight of him. You cuddled deeper into the bedsheets and turned away from him.

Ethan sat on your side of the bed and, as delicately as possible, he cupped your face into his warm hands and wiped your tears with his thumbs, “Amore,” He said in a quiet voice, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You tried to turn away from him, but his grip on your face stopped you from doing so. You placed one of your hands on top of his and gave it a firm squeeze. No part of you was ready to have that conversation with him because that was going to be it and you were going to have to watch him leave…

So, with a lot of courage, you spoke the first words that came to mind, “You know, i-it’s okay if you’ve found someone else,” You caressed his cheek softly as more tears started spilling down your face, “You can tell me if you have.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your words and the only thing he could do was shake his head no, “What? Found someone else? What would make you say such a thing dolcezza?”

Then, before you could even answer, realization hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt like the stupidest living being on the face of the Earth. He pinched his nose and sighed, annoyed at himself.

“Fuck… I’m so fucking stupid. Please don’t ever think of something like that. I was just… I-I,” Clueless as to what to say, Ethan pressed his lips against yours to kiss you slowly, hoping it spoke more than his words ever could. He could still taste a trace of the salty tears that had fallen on your lips and he couldn’t help but shed a few of his own at the thought that he’d been the one to make you cry.

After pulling away, Ethan pressed his forehead to yours and brushed his nose against yours while his arms held you as close as possible, “Will you close your eyes for just a second, amore mio? I promise everything will make so much sense soon.”

You nodded and kept your eyes closed as you felt him get up from the bed. You heard him open and close a few drawers, and look around for something for a while before he sat back on the bed. Ethan grabbed your hands in his and slowly slipped the three small books into your grasp.

You opened his eyes after a small sound of approval from him and smiled when you saw the three old books held together by a ribbon and the pretty pink rose that had been carefully been slipped into the first book and the ribbon.

You gently removed the flower and placed it on your side. Then you undid the simple knot and picked up the first book, “Wuthering Heights?” You questioned.

He nodded, “Yeah… At least I think that’s it. I hope I didn’t bring back some sketchy book or some shit,” Ethan scratched his neck and you giggled as you opened it on the first page. Your fingers brushed over the letters neatly written down in fountain pen.  

After clearing your throat, you started reading the first dedication out loud. Since your Spanish wasn’t exactly the best either, you had to pause every once in a while to translate all the words, “May 17, 1850… My dearest Helena, I hope this book reaches you in great condition, being apart from you is one of the hardest challenges I have ever had to face, one of the most painful as well. I hope you can find me in between these pages as you read and remember how much I love you, remember how much I long to be back in your arms and kiss your lips. Sincerely, Alejandro.”

You closed it and placed it back on the bed before opening the second book and doing the same thing with the third, “January 24, 1855. Carolina, nothing I’ve ever experienced has gotten close to being as terrible as not having you in my arms. Apologies are overdue… long overdue. Words have never been my strongest suit, yet I still hope I can coherently express just how much I love you, all of you. I’m afraid I’m already too late since you will soon be betrothed to someone else and there will be nothing I can do by then.

 “Still, I hope with everything in my being that this arrives sooner so you’re aware of how sorry I am. I hope you remember that I would do anything you asked without a single complaint just to watch that lovely smile I adore so much appear on your face. If you ever come back to me, I promise with every fiber of my being, and I’ll be dammed if I don’t keep my promise, that I will leave everything behind and escape with you. Anywhere, any time. So with that, I ask a question that will hopefully have a yes as an answer. Will you marry me? With love, Javier.”

Before you could close it, Ethan stopped you and timidly asked for you to open the book on the very last page. You did it and looked back at him with confusion at the sight of his writing on the page, “Read this one out loud for me. Will you Y/N?” You nodded and mumbled a small ‘of course’ before clearing your throat to get rid of the knot that had formed. 

“October 21, 2025… Y/N, my one true love, I’ve always hoped to make a gesture that will remind you of your treasured books. I’ve never been one great with words spoken out loud, so I sought inspiration from those before me who were just as in love with someone as I am with you. Ever since I met you I dreamt of one day settling down with you, of having our small home in the countryside as you’ve always dreamed of. Maybe even doing some of those cloying gestures people seem to do in fiction and dedicate to you the most beautiful love poems I lay eyes on. 

“I’ve wondered for a while how I could ever take the step that would bring me closer to that goal, yet every time I try, words seem to get stuck in my throat with no way out and I end up in square one all over again. It is with this note that I hope to finally take a step in the right direction because I know you’re it for me. You’re my person, my forever, and there’s nothing I would love more than to share my life with you. Sei la mia migliore amica e il mio unico vero amore. Ti chiedo di accettare il mio amore, il mio nome e tutto quello che sono.” (You are my best friend and my one true love. I ask you to accept my love, my name, and everything I am.)

When your eyes spotted the four words that followed, you slowly lowered the book, “Will you marry me?” You both said at the same time, although yours sounded more like an unintelligible mumble. Only then did you notice him down on one knee right in front of you. He held a velvet box with one of the most beautiful rings sitting inside of it 

A hand went to cover your mouth as tears started falling down your face. This time, happy and free of worry. You could only nod repeatedly, overcome with pure joy as your heart swelled with love.

He slowly slid the ring into your finger and grabbed your face to kiss you once again, “I’m so sorry I made you think something else was going on. I just kept backtracking every time I tried to tell you. Not because I was regretting the decision but because I didn’t want to lose you.”

You shook your head as a silent way of saying it was alright and brushed his hair back with your fingers, “The important thing is that you’ve done it and you’re not going to lose me, no matter how hard you try. I’ll always be right here because I love you and I’ll always be yours.”

[syrupwit]

Ok I am intrigued by anything set at the Ferelden Circle with the characters you're most vibing with rn. Would love to see "adrenaline fueled confession at a deeply inopportune time" from the AO3 freeform tags (humor/fluff/romance) for that! :3

Hello, thank you so much! I wandered off the prompt a bit. This fill draws some inspiration from the Atellan Farce, but it isn't a direct translation or a historically accurate depiction; it's just misusing parts of the basic idea, for fun.

Under the cut, please find ~1200 words of pre-canon Anders/Karl Thekla for @dadrunkwriting. This is a follow-up to this previous fill.

-

The night was deep. The inhabitants of Kinloch Hold slumbered, caught in a darkness that time hardly seemed to touch. In the library, masked apprentices crouched behind shelves, desks, and curtains, waiting for the spell wisp from Godwin that would be their signal to emerge and begin the Farce.

The Farce took place infrequently, on the night of no moons. It was different from the other silent games, where roles were assigned ahead of time and costumes assembled by the players before they met to act out the story. Instead, everyone who took part selected a mask representing a stock character on the night of the game, and had to remain in character until the Farce was over. 

It was important that no one knew their character in advance. Whoever held onto the masks had to keep their location a complete secret until the Farce, which was probably why Anders had never been picked to do it. 

The custom had arisen in a certain town of Tevinter many ages ago, and had begun with comic caricatures only: the greedy fool, the clumsy fool, the fool in love, the pompous master ruled by his slaves, the braggart soldier. Over time, more complex types had developed. 

Anders, for example, tonight wore the mask of Deamalla, the sorrowful serving-girl, whose devotion to her sadistic master, the blood mage Lucurion, could only lead her to doom. Karl was Lucurion, which felt a little unnecessary. If Anders turned his head, he could catch the gleam of starlight on Lucurion’s red-jeweled mask. 

Several weeks had passed, and they still hadn’t discussed that kiss on the night that Petra had played Flavius Vopiscus. Karl had tried a few times, but Anders always put him off, on one occasion climbing on top of a bookshelf to hide from him. Although Karl seemed to resent it, he had dropped the matter.

He had also dropped Anders as a friend. It was terrible. There were plenty of apprentices who laughed at Anders’ troublemaking, and a few who tolerated him in quieter moments, but there was no one among them who he admired or liked so much as Karl.

The worst part was, Anders knew it was his fault. He was a coward. If he just spoke to Karl and was honest about his feelings, they would be friends again in time. But he couldn’t stand the idea of Karl laughing at him, or pulling away from him in disgust, or—worst of all—being kind, or even sad, as he told Anders that he didn’t feel the same. 

Anders heaved a lovelorn sigh. The apprentices closest to him reacted with annoyance. 

“Anders, could you get into character more quietly?” whispered Banni, who wore the mask of Zodi, a stealthy trickster with a heart of gold.

“The sequins on my mask are coming off,” whispered Petra, fiddling with it. She was Gisina, a social-climbing merchant whose shady past concealed dark secrets and a darker purpose.

“All of you shut up,” hissed Niall, who had drawn the mask of Pampo, the farting buffoon, and was unhappy about it.

“You shut up,” whispered Anders. “You’re always telling other people to shut up, but it’s you who won’t stop talking, Niall the loud shusher.”

“Urgh, I think a sequin got in my eye somehow…”

A hush fell. Godwin’s spell wisp had come floating along, a shaggy tangle of soft green light. As its rays touched each row of the dark stacks, the mask-wearers rose from their positions and came to greet each other. 

This was why Anders liked the Farce. It transformed things. He and the others were no longer a bunch of bookish, sheltered Fereldan apprentices, but instead confident Tevinter mages acting out well-worn parts in a beloved tradition. They had come to the library at night not under threat of punishment and deprivation, but because it was fun, and exciting, and a delicious secret to keep from the Templars whose charge was to care for them rather than imprison them. At least that was how he thought of it. 

Anders, as Deamalla, mingled. Deamalla heaved silent sighs, cast dramatic hands over her brow, and pretended to conceal imaginary tears. She dodged a punch from Makkus, the angry buffoon (Kinnon), who had been provoked into battle-lustful flailing by Pampo’s antics, and repelled the advances of Flessarian, the braggart soldier (Godwin), whose near-blasphemous name and appearance had gravely offended a young apprentice named Keili at the last Farce.

Deamalla avoided Lucurion. It wasn’t hard, as Karl didn’t seem to be participating much. He was standing by a wall with his arms crossed, and whenever Anders looked over at him, he looked away.

Anders threw Deamalla into flirting with Flessarian. Godwin seemed taken aback, as he knew Anders didn’t like him. Karl really didn’t like him, so it was extra satisfying, in a hollow way, that Godwin started to respond to the flirting. Anders kept feeling Karl’s eyes on them. Good.

Anders had danced Deamalla away from Flessarian and was looking around to flirt with someone else Karl hated when chaos erupted. 

One moment the Farce was proceeding as usual, and the next the library was flooded with footsteps—shouting—the heavy, flaring brightness of a smite. Apprentices screamed and ran. The Knight-Commander’s voice rang out, demanding that they explain themselves.

In the confusion, Anders managed to flee to a different section of the library. He stashed his mask in his robe and climbed on top of a bookshelf, where he found Karl, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest and Lucurion’s mask peeking out of his lap.

Anders put his finger to his lips. Karl shook his head and glared, but scooted over to make room for him.

“I bet it was that kid, Keili,” Anders whispered. He settled next to him and crossed his too-long legs so that one of them sat in front of Karl’s shins like a guard. “I bet she ratted us out.”

“I’m mad at you,” Karl whispered. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Is it because I was making nice with Godwin? You know I think he’s an idiot.”

“I don’t like feeling jealous,” said Karl, “especially of Godwin,” and he put an arm over Anders’ leg. Anders’ stomach lurched.

Karl stiffened when Anders turned his head towards him, but he didn’t move away when Anders pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re mean,” he said. Anders felt awful for a moment. Then Karl turned his head towards Anders too, so that he could feel his breath on his lips, and closed the distance between them.

The second kiss was much better than the first: softer, wetter, and followed by additional kisses. When they broke apart, Karl put his hand on Anders’ face and rubbed his thumb over his cheek.

“You can’t get away this time,” he said. They could hear the ongoing commotion in the other part of the library. It seemed to be moving closer.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” said Anders.

“I can never tell with you,” said Karl. “You’re sneaky.” He leaned in and tried to kiss Anders again, but Anders stopped him.

“I just want to be clear with you, Karl, that I, uh—”

Karl both understood and reciprocated his feelings; he said so, and might have said and done even more about it, had they not been interrupted shortly thereafter and threatened until they came down from the bookshelf

[dancingintheraindreamingonday]

A little wicked - Chapter 9

Author’s note: This will probably be the last chapter of my Bucky series. What a journey. Thanks to everyone!! 

Warning: Huge plot twist, that even I haven’t seen coming when I first wrote the story.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

„Do you wanna live in Delacroix?“, You ask Bucky as you set the table for dinner. 

“Why are you asking?”

“I saw how much you enjoyed your time there and we’re still looking for a house. So...why not looking there?” 

After you got kidnapped in your old house, Bucky refused to live there again. 

“I thought you loved the city life.” 

“I don’t really care anymore where we live as long as we live together.” 

„I’m really lucky to be your husband.“, Bucky kisses you but stoppes as he receives a call from Sam. „There was an attack at the GRC conference. Sam needs me.“

„Go. Be safe. And kick their asses.“, you smile weakly as Bucky leaves your flat. 

As soon as he left, you check your phone seeing the messages you received, warning you about the upcoming attack hours ago. 

After making sure that Alex is safe and he’s taken care of you leave your apartment as well. A car is already waiting for you, taking you to the building where the conference is being held.

~*~

You’re standing in the shadow watching Sharon, Bucky and Sam talking. You know that Sam and Bucky will have each other’s back. That’s why you only observe Sharon and eventually follow her. 

Batroc points a gun at Sharon demanding more money. Morgenthau points her gun at her too. 

You curse under your breath as you come out of your hiding and without any warning you shot Batroc straight in the head without shaking. Sharon and Morgenthau shot each other while the later is deadly injured. 

“You are a great actress, Sharon. I’m really impressed.”, you say as you put your gun away. 

“Why didn’t you tell me your plan? I warned your days before the kidnapping that they will come for you. I don’t understand it.”, Sharon got shot in her stomach, breathing hard. 

“I knew Hydra would come- sooner or later. They wanted Alex to experiment with. And I also knew Valentina would think you’re the Power Broker and wanted to work with you. Thats why I spoke on your answering machine. So that you could gain her trust. That James and Sam found it was a coincidence but you played along. Really good. So when they came to kidnapp me, I offered myself. And they couldn’t believe their luck. Pregnant, vice-director of Shield and the wife of the winter soldier. I knew they would take me and experiment with me with their last serum they got. The last serum because the others got stolen and I knew Zemo would kill the doctor eventually. They wasted their last serum on me without knowing I’m immune. And when they think you’re dying they tell you everything. I needed that information about Valentina. It was definitely worth it.”

You look on your watch.

“Sam will be here any minute so I better be going. You...” you look at Sharon “will stay here in the city. I have a little present for you in the next days. And you...” you look at Karli “You shouldn’t have stolen the serum from me. And you shouldn’t have fight James. Killing the other super soldier wasn’t my plan in the beginning. You’re just a means to an end.” 

You walk away and leave the hall before Sam sees you. 

~*~*~

Cameras and lot of people were standing and watching Sam reasoning and convincing the GRC. You pass the police officers as they prevent the crowd to come even closer. „Did you write that down first or was it off the top of your head? Spoken like the true Captain America.“, you smile as you walk to the men. „Ah. Director Barnes, good seeing you here. There’s lot to talk about after todays event.“ The man says after he shakes your right hand. „And we will.“, you lay your left hand on top of his while still shaking. „(Y/f/n), what are you doing here? Does Bucky know you’re here?“, Sam looks at you suspiciously. „SHIELD is always there where bad things happen.“, leaving the equivocation unanswered. 

„Excuse me, I need to make sure that the remaining terrorist are safely escorted to jail.“, and with that you turn around but not walking to the cars where the rebels are in but to another car in the shadow. A man walks up to you with a little device in his hand that looks very similar to a remote. „Thanks, Stan. Good work. See you later.“ You say as you take the device and walk further. You knock at the car window and open it. „Do you want me to press the button or do you want to do it yourself?“, you say in perfect German. „I’ll do it on my own.“, answers the man in the car, taking the device and presses the button. The explosion is huge and lightens up the inside of the car your inside. „Good. Very good. We’re even.“, says the man. You smile knowing that James is finally off Zemo’s list. You sacrificed the flag smashers for James, but you don’t feel any remorse. You would do anything to protect your family. 

~*~*~

„(Y/f/n)!“, James shouts. He’s running and looking for you in panic. „James, I’m here.“, you scream back as you run in his direction. „God, (y/f/n), what the fuck are you doing here?! It isn’t safe here for you. For you both.“ Bucky looks at you and on your stomach. „When Sam told me you were here and the car exploded, I thought… I thought…“ He can’t finish the sentence and you hug him tightly. „I’m sorry. I didn’t want to scare you. I’m here as a representative for SHIELD.“

„Sharon’s here. I’ve heard she will stay in town.“, Bucky grunts still not forgiving her. „I know. I forgave her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trusting her, but I know the bad influence Madripoor has on people. Maybe she will change.“, you lie.

„Your kindness always amazes me.“, says Bucky as he kisses your head. 

~*~*~

Three days later you open the door to your office. A small brown package is on your desk. You open it and as you realize what it is you can’t help but smile. Inside of the package was the book „The prince“ by Machiavelli. It’s the same book you sent Zemo some time ago. You open it and see Zemo’s graceful handwriting One is controlled but the other is still standing

You know immediately who Zemo is referring to. Bucky and Walker.

When you found out that HYDRA is working on the serum again, and when you stole it and then the flag smashers sole it from you, you knew it was just a question of time till Zemo will be out of jail and take a side. And you wanted him to be on yours. So you visited him and made sure that you both are on the same page- that the other super soldiers have to die but not James. You made clear that Bucky wasn’t a threat. That he’s broken trying to make amend for his killing. That he has settled and there is no need for Zemo to kill Bucky. And Zemo liked you- you were both born in Leipzig and you both had difficulties to cope with loss. Two smart minds wanting to destroy the serum.

You take the book to your bookshelf making a mental note to visit Zemo in the Raft.

Someone knocks at your door. Sharon Carter. 

„They offered me full pardon.“, says Carter as she walks into your office. „I know.“ You say. „I wrote the text that the senator read aloud.“ 

„So, I’ll be working in my old division?“, asks Sharon. „No. Thats not happening, Sharon.“, you laugh.

„But I’ve got you a job that’s even better. You will work for SWORD. Its an extra-governmental intelligence agency. Probably you’ve heard about them. Their former leader Hayward was a pain in the ass. Like Pierce 2.0. I’ve heard Fury wants to work there and because of his relationship with Valentina, I’m not trusting him at the moment. So you will work there and keep an eye on everyone. Oh and I hope you told your assistant that the super soldiers are off the menu. But there are other things we can offer.“

„I already called her about that. But there is still one question I have. How did you become director?“

You smile wickedly. „Well, the arrogance of men never ceases to amaze me. When Sam gave the shield away it was just a question of time till they demand a new Captain America. And everyone wanted John Walker. Received three Medals of honor, good looking and a soldier who does everything  what is commanded than rather what is right. I didn’t like him. James told me years ago, that you can see madness in people’s eyes and man, his eyes were full with madness. So I didn’t agree with the board but the director and vice-director both has to agree. So I made them an offer. I told them that for this voting they can outvote me if everyone on the board agrees with our director. And if Walker does his job well I will leave my position. But if he fails, I will be the new director. All they did was laugh at me. They of course outvoted me and they even planned my goodbye-party. And I just waited and waited. And with Walker being so unstable I didn’t waited for long. And now I’m here and the director is gone and most of the board members as well. Arrogance is dangerous. Never estimate your opponent.“

„So where is Walker now?“

„I’m not sure but I’m pretty certain that he’s with Valentina and they are up to no good. Valentina wants James dead and Walker wants Sam dead because Sam is the new and definitely the better Captain America.“

~*~*~

A week later, you, Bucky and Alex are sitting in the car heading to Sam’s home town. The letter from Tony is laying in your purse. The envelope is still sealed but the answer in it isn’t unknown to you. You’ve known the answer for years, never telling anyone, not even James. People would be intimated if they’d known your heritage- your dad’s and your mom’s. And you learned that being an intimating woman only makes men defensive and its hard to work with them. Men need to feel strong and useful and that’s your strength. You always know how to make men feel that way around you, even it it’s just an illusion and even now that you’re the director they don’t feel intimated and that makes them careless and easy to read. 

„I never felt so much happiness than in this moment right now. It feels like a new chapter is starting.“, you grin at Bucky caressing his cheek. His five o’clock shadow tickles you and he leans against your hand. 

„Falling in love with you in Bucharest seems like so long ago. It’s been so difficult, James. This is a dream come true. Having a normal life with you is all I’ve ever wanted.“

Bucky stops the car in the middle of the road. He bends over you, kissing you possessively and pressing you against your car door. „You’re my home, (y/f/n). You’re my constant, my hope, my life and my family. Being loved by you is the greatest gift.“ He kisses you again, trailing soft kisses on your neck. 

You giggle freely and even though it arouses you tremendously you stop Bucky. „No sex in the car, while Alex is still here.“

Bucky grins playfully as he starts the car. „We will continue this later.“ 

~*~*~

Sam’s hometown celebrates the new Captain America and as Bucky arrives they also celebrates him as the white wolf. 

You danced and talked and ate and forgot everything you’ve ever done for the sake of your family until you receive a text message from Stan, who is securing the surrounding. Fury’s on his way to Delacroix. Accompanied by Hill and Dave. 2 minutes.

Dave is a co-worker of you. Of course he doesn’t know anything but his betrayal angers you anyway and there will be consequences.

„Is that Fury? What is he doing here? And why does he look so angry?“, asks Bucky Sam. Bucky hands you Alex over, who was relaxing on Bucky’s shoulders and both men are walking up to him, ignoring or maybe just forgetting that it is you who holds the most power and the reason for Fury’s visit. 

Everyone is underestimating you just like you’ve always wanted. 

  @inlovewith3 @jackiehollanderr @homesicam@dreamydreamerwriting @losers-club6 @gengen64@agentsofsheilds @crimson-darling @akkinda10 @xemine@bubblegumholland @chipilerendi @iamasimpingh0e @bbmommy0902 @madddiiee26 @teenagedreams-bucky @aya-fay @idontknowwhatthisisfam @w-wolfhxrd @useless-creature-213   @angywritesstuff @supernaturalcat7 @harrys-stan @geek-and-proud @pastel-boy-sungjae @austynparksandpizza @maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals  @teenagedreams-bucky @auds24 @ah-blossom @supraveng @lady-loki-ren @freakyhood96 @bbl32

[43sparrows]

satisfied - {Five x Reader AU}

Read Part 1 & Part 2 & Part 3 / Part 3.5 & Part 4

Warning: a rollercoaster from start to end

Word Count: 4,512

Note: Here it is. The final installment. I'm also impressed I've managed to pull off my own little goal which was to make each chapter longer as we go deeper and deeper into this relationship. It was fun to write, and I hope you stick with me for my next series

You've ignored four of his calls.

Well, technically, you've only ignored one, deleting the message from the answering machine after a short but brutal internal war. The other three times he's tried to get in touch with you were on the typical ripped out notes taped to your mirror. Each one was plucked down, scanned for words you didn't really expect to find (sorry, mistake, asshole), and then tossed into the waste bin.

You know that even as fucked up as your last encounter was, he deserves more--an explanation or at least a clean break--but you can't bring yourself to give him either. And you hate that about yourself. You hate it because you know why you can't do it, and the feeling that comes from this fact is worse than any of the ways Five's ever made you feel.

So, you don't call him. Instead, you work to erase the little traces of him you find in your apartment and in your thoughts until at last you're faced with something you can't just stick in the garbage: the man himself.

He's standing at the foot of your bed, hands on his hips and brow knit together. The look stops you dead in your tracks as you enter the room.

"You're avoiding me."

You feel like you're going to throw up. The thought briefly crosses your mind that if you do, you might get out of having this conversation. But instead you take a few more steps into the room and close the door behind you. When you face him again, you find his finger tapping at his waist. Your eyes remain on the finger instead of his face and you stay silent. This isn't an admission of guilt, but he seems to take it as one.

"Why?" he demands.

Objectively, you know the words. You're proficient in more than one language, so frankly you have more than enough words to use. But you can't seem to piece them together quite right, and so, no sound comes out. Instead you turn your gaze to your right and it lands on the candle on your bookshelf. The flame flickers, dancing in a breeze you can't feel yourself. You feel like there's a metaphor somewhere in there.

"Look--"

"Why would you do that to me, Five?" Your voice is soft, but the interruption effectively cuts him off. If you were looking, you'd imagine you'd see his eyes squint at you in frustrated confusion. His mouth would be slightly open, and you'd want to kiss it closed. So you can't face him. Your gaze stays fixated on the candle.

"Do what?"

You wet your lips as if that will help get out what you need to say. It doesn't work, but it does buy you a bit of time and makes the tension in the room that much more palpable. You wonder if that's what's guiding the flame through its movements.

"You brought me to Howl's just to fuck me in front of my ex."

Five's quiet now, and you chance a look at him from the corner of your eye. He doesn't look frustrated, but he does look like he's working a math problem and each time he comes to the end he gets a different solution.

He notices you're looking and tries to catch your eye, so you turn back to watch the candle burn it's way down the wick.

"You said you wanted something to shove in his face."

You don't remember saying that, but it's true. You did want something to shove in his face. But not like this. You shake your head at him.  "Not that." Your voice is both airy and tight, and it's not a good sign. "That wasn't anything worth shoving in his face."

"What?" There's heat in Five's voice now, and you can tell that something you've said has pushed a button. "He's working two jobs so he can get married to some boring elementary school teacher, and you're having mindblowing sex with the closest thing this city has to a goddamn superhero. Who came out on top there?"

"You," you say, simply.

"Me?" he repeats, and you finally find the strength to turn and face him. His eyebrows have shot up so high, you're surprised they're not touching his hairline.

"You're the one who got what they wanted out of that show Five. Because he's still happily getting married having been proven right that I'm nothing more than a call girl dumb enough to work for free."

Five narrows his eyes at you, and there's nothing confused about the look. Instead, he looks downright mean. You realize in that look, that he's missed the point completely. He's not listening to you. He's not seeing you. And you're starting to realize that he may not even want to. The realization hurts. It fucking hurts. Like you're being ripped apart from the inside. And the worst part is that you really should have known this.

Before he can get any words out, you beat him to the punch. It's the only way this argument was ever going to end.   "I can't do this anymore, Five."

The look shifts into one of incredulousness and then disgust and then stoniness. And then, without a word, he vanishes.

You feel like you've collapsed on the inside.

Apparently, you look like it too.

Your boss had taken one look at you and tried to send you back home. You'd told her that you were fine to work and made it half the day before she insisted you looked truly terrible and needed to go home. And maybe see a doctor.

Judging by the look on your roommate's face, you look even worse now that you've made it home.

"Are you alright?" she asks, peering up at you from the couch.

"Got sent home early," you mumble. It's not exactly an answer to her question, but you hope that it gets you out of having to talk anymore. It's not that you don't love your roommate. But you'd rather crawl in bed and stay there for a month if it meant that you didn't have to socialize with any humans in the meantime.

You successfully shuffle all the way into your room and drop your things next to your desk before the TV shuts off. Your roommate's footsteps echo throughout the apartment, and then there's silence and the feeling of someone hovering in the doorway behind you.

"I'm worried," she says, and you sigh, your shoulders dropping as you turn around.

"I'm fine."

She hums a no and gestures at your room.  You've let piles of dirty clothes take over most of the floor. There's about six different cups scattered on different surfaces, all with varying levels of water in them. Only one of the candles is lit. Her eyes find yours again, and you can't help but look away. "You've been locked in here all weekend. And most of last week too. I know he hasn't been by. He hasn't even called. What's up?"

You shrug helplessly, and the same way they do any time you think of Five, your eyes betray you and start to water.

"You don't know?" she presses, and you shake your head, looking off to the side, trying to get yourself under control. She walks into the bedroom then, coming around to sit on the edge of your bed and stare up at you. "Talk to me, Y/N. Seriously, I'm worried about you, and I don't know what to do."

"I--" your voice feels too thick, and you're having a hard time keeping it even as it comes out. "It's over." Your roommate's eyebrows draw down in sympathy as do the corners of her mouth.

"He ended it."

You shake your head and swallow. "I did." The pitch is too high now.

"Why?" your roommate's voice softens in response to yours, and it's then that you break, face crumpling, tears falling, and a broken sob escaping. She doesn't say anything more, instead rising from the bed and wrapping her arms around you from the side, leaning her head against your shoulder.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time to stop crying. Then again, any time spent crying over a boy who you weren't dating and never made any promises in terms of feelings or commitments was embarrassing. But, when you do slow down, you finally find the words to tell her everything. What happened while she was away. Your trip to the bar and what you discovered. Your fight. She listens and doesn't say anything, instead doing the one thing that you need most from her: she doesn't let go.

You look less like shit.

But you still feel awful.

It's been just over a week since your fight with Five, and you feel like you should be over it by now. The disappointment, the embarrassment, the hurt. But you're not. Sure, you don't exactly feel like an open wound anymore. But you feel a bit like someone's just put a single layer of gauze on top, and that's not nearly enough.

So, you decide there's only one course of action that will make you feel better on this Saturday morning: Griddy's Doughnuts.

Just walking into the shop makes you feel lighter. The sweet smell of the different glazes and jellies wafts through the air, and kids are crammed up against the doughnut case and perched on stools with their parents. Walking into the place is like a time warp--it feels exactly the same way it did all those years ago when you were the kid tugging at her mom's hand.

And then you make accidental eye contact, and it all shatters. Because the brown eyes you're staring into belong to none other than Vanya Hargreeves.

You pull over to the side of the line to do the right thing and make brief small talk. If it hadn't been for two occasions where she'd come home sooner than planned, you wouldn't be in this situation. She wouldn't recognize you. But this girl's seen you half naked and spoken to you several times over the phone. She knows more of you than you wish she did. She probably feels the same way. Regardless of the willingness either of you have to engage in this conversation, she's coming over, bag of doughnuts and tray of coffee in hand.

"Y/N, hi," she greets, offering a nervous looking smile.

"Hi," Your own attempt at a smile is disastrous. It's too tight and it doesn't reach your eyes. It hardly even reaches your cheekbones. "Seems like we had the same idea for breakfast."

She nods, looking down at the bag in her hand. "Yeah. We have this family tradition to grab Griddy's whenever one of us--"  she stops then, seeming to remember who she's talking to and restarts with a safer question. "How are you?"

Vanya's voice sounds the way Griddy's smells--like nostalgia and comfort and it makes you ache inside. You want to know how her sentence was going to end, but you want out of this conversation more.

"I'm fine," It comes out more of an exhale than a word, and she seems to see right through it.

She nods, her smile taking on a sad quality. "You and Five both then. Guess we did get the same memo about Griddy's."

A silence seeps in between the two of you, and you hate the way this feels--like you're drowning in the middle of a swimming pool and trying not to call attention to it.

"I don't want to pry--" She must see you go rigid because she seems to decide on a different route. "I don't know what happened, but I'm sorry it didn't work out. I know you guys cared a lot about each other."

You don't know how to respond to that. You're not sure if you want to be the fool who fell in love with her friends with benefits or the slut who was just in it for phenomenal sex or the bitch who points out Vanya's brother is a heartless bastard and doesn't deserve doughnuts because he clearly never gave a damn. She must catch the crease between your eyebrows, your lips instinctively puckering into a qualification, because she saves you from responding.

"Look, I know Five can be...a lot. And I don't know what he did, but I can tell it was big and it wasn't good." She looks like she wants to reach out and touch you, but her hands--thankfully--are full. "But you should know, he checks the answering machine every day."

It stings. He still thinks you'll call.

And you almost have.

You can't look at her open and earnest face any longer, so you look down at the ground and nod dumbly. "Thanks." She stays in front of you, and you can feel that she wants to break the silence again.  You swallow hard and force yourself to meet her gaze once more. "Well, I don't want your coffees to get cold. It was nice to run into you, though, Vanya."

She nods, her mouth settling into a line. "Take care of yourself, ok?" she asks, and you lift your lips into half a smile because it's just about as much as you can manage. She nods once more and then turns and leaves the doughnut shop. You get in line.

Your roommate decides it's time for you to leave the house.

You point out that you leave the house almost every day.

She argues that leaving for work doesn't count. It's been two weeks and you need to have fun.

You insist that if you're going to have fun, it's not going to be on a Tuesday.

She informs you that there will be dollar tacos where she's going.

That's how you end up at Don Pablo's at eight o'clock on a Tuesday night with your roommate and two other friends all crowded around a table. It's hard to say what it is, the dollar tacos, the strong margaritas, the good company or the Spanish covers of pop songs, but whatever the reason, you're feeling lighter than you have. You're even laughing as your friend, Faith, updates you on the latest antics of the passive aggressive post-it queen at her work.

"That is...one hell of a story," someone to the right of your table says, and the eyes of the group look up to a lanky man with shoulder length brown hair. He's wearing a mesh crop top that sparkles a little under the light and leather pants that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, a fact that's captured Sam's attention.

The man pushes off from where he's leaning against the coat rack, and it's a testament to Faith's storytelling prowess that not a single one of you noticed him lurking there until this point. He motions for Faith to budge over, and the motion is so familiar and friendly that she scoots without protest.

"So," he says, resting his chin in both of his palms. "Which one of you radiant young ladies is Y/N?"

The words are objectively skeevy, but much like his admittance to the table, this earns nothing but a few snorts and smiles. He's also smiling like he's in on the joke, and it's genuine and sparkling rather than leering. You're half tempted to tell him, but your roommate stops you.

"Why?" Nasreen asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Because she's the one person who will save us from my brother's broody pining," he says with a faux pout.

Nasreen's eyebrows lift even higher. "Isn't it a little middle school of your brother to send you over here for him?"

He chuckles and lifts his head, shaking a finger at your roommate. She grins back at him. "Yes, it would be, but he very expressly told me not to come over here. I'm here looking for Y/N of my own free will." He glances around the table and steals a chip out of your basket, dipping it into the salsa. "Technically," he says, crunching down on the chip. "I'm risking my life for this."

Sam laughs and the man grins, reaching for another chip. "It's true. He said, and this is a direct quote, 'Klaus, if you go over there, I will drive this tiny umbrella through your eyeball until it hits that thing you call a brain and puts us all out of our misery.'" He pops the chip into his mouth and gives a dramatic eye roll. "Very eloquent, my brother."

Your friends laugh at this, even Nasreen, but you grow cold. Because you know one person with a brother named Klaus.

"So," Klaus bounces his shoulders once, sitting up straighter. "Who am I sacrificing myself for?" He looks around the table pleasantly just as Sam glances at you. It's a small motion, but Klaus latches onto it. "Ah," Klaus says gesturing toward you. "I'm going to need you to come fuck my brother."

Faith spits out her margarita. Sam barks out a sudden laugh. Nasreen blinks and draws back into the booth.

"I know he's an emotionally stunted little asshole, but he's been even more insufferable than usual, and Vanya says it's because of you." He drops his hand onto the table, relaxing back into the booth. "Obviously, he's the one at fault--you seem like an angel. But it would mean the world if you would come fix our little shitheel."

It's the name Vanya that brings Nasreen up to speed.

"I'm vetoing this right now," your roommate says, shaking her head. Klaus presses his hands together and points them at her.

"Your objection has been heard and noted, but let's hear from Y/N."

All of the eyes on the table are on you, and dollar tacos isn't enough to redeem this moment. You shake your head slowly. "No."

"No," Klaus repeats. He seems surprised.

"No, I'm tired of being fucked over so Five can feel better. No." Your roommate's approval radiates over you, strengthening the feeling. Faith and Sam straighten up at the mention of Five.

Klaus heaves a sigh and leans back to rest his head on the top of the booth's cushion. "I don't blame you, but I don't want to go back over there," he says to the ceiling. "Not only is he going to publicly murder me, but he'll probably drive me up this stucco painted wall with his moodiness before he does it." He lolls his head to turn to Faith. "Can I stay here with you?"

Faith laughs a little, looking at the rest of you.

"Depends," your roommate says, leaning on the table.

"On?" Klaus raises an eyebrow.

"If the next round is on you."

When you stumble into your apartment, it's a little past 1 am, and you're not so much as drunk as you are high on a good time. Allowing Klaus to stay at your table had been the best decision you'd made in the past...month? Maybe longer. Not only had he supplied you with enough good stories to take your mind far away from Five (whose gaze you could feel once you knew it was there) but Klaus had also pulled each of you up to salsa with him despite the fact that it wasn't a dance bar at all. Still, several other couples from different tables had followed his lead, and you'd allowed yourself to be spun and turned about until your legs were ready to collapse.

It's hard to imagine that anything can bring yourself down from this feeling as you place a kiss on your roommate's cheek and thank her for dragging you out.

Then again, you hardly imagined Five would be popping into your bedroom at 1:30 in the morning.

His hair is wild, eyes are hazy, and he looks more disheveled than you've ever seen him. "You were there. You were there and Klaus came over, and what the fuck?"

You've never heard so many nonsensical words come out of his mouth.

"Are you...drunk?" you ask, dumping your clothes at the door to your closet.

"Figured that one out," he says, gesturing flailingly at you.  "I got drunk because that's what you do when the one person in this world who doesn't make your life worse won't even look across a bar at you." He says.

You, for your part, remain silent, head tilted, trying to make sense of what's going on--how much of this is him and how much of it is the alcohol. Because you can't believe he's this upset--Five doesn't seem to do emotions other than stressed, horny, and smug.

He sways a bit. "You were right there. Right there. And you didn't even look at me. Not even when fuckin' Klaus went over."

"I didn't realize you cared that much," you say quietly.

Five scoffs. "Why else would I spend five days hunting down your ex just so you could get your closure."

You blink several times at this fact, but you don't have time to formulate some sort of response before he continues. "Do you know how many Jordan Millers there are in this city?"

"You--what?" The words come out as hardly more than a disbelieving whisper.

"Five days and perfect planning to get you there and have it all work out at just the right moment, only for you to end it. No reason. You just ended it."

You swallow hard and then fix him with a stare. Because he's right--he should at least have a reason. "I didn't end it because of Howl's." You pause, and he takes it as the end of the sentence because he continues on.

"I don't even know what happened. I keep trying to work it out. It's all I can fucking think about, and I can't figure it out. You wanted just sex, so I gave you just sex. You wanted to show up your ex, so I made sure you could show up your ex." His voice takes on a hysterical quality as he starts to pace the room. "What am I missing? Please, enlighten me. Because Vanya and Allison are up my ass about trying to fix things with you, and hell if I know where to begin."

"You can't fix this," you shake your head and then wet your lips, steeling yourself up for the most embarrassing truth. "I ended it because I wanted more, and you didn't."

He pauses and then lets out a manic laugh. "So you left because you wanted to be with me?"

"I left because I thought it was just sex to you, and that's all it would ever be."

"That's all it was supposed to be," he says, not stopping his pacing.  "That's what we both wanted."

"Wanted," you repeat, quietly. "Wants change."

He lets out a manic laugh. "Oh, I know that," he says and stalks closer to you. "Why else would I be here right now, still trying to figure out what you want so I can give it to you instead of fucking any of the girls who came up to me tonight?"

You blink a few times, and this has to be an exhaustion induced delusion, because there's no way he's saying what you think he's saying.

"What are you talking about?" you ask, quietly. He doesn't answer, instead closing the remainder of the distance, pulling your body flush against yours and kissing you.

He tastes like margaritas. His kiss is as intoxicating as the alcohol itself, the sensation rushing through your body and urging you to relax into him. He's only kissed you four times before, and all of those were different. In those kisses his hands ran over your body, pushing at your clothes, his frame walking you back towards the bed. But now he's solid, and his hands are still, a vice keeping you close to him as his lips remain on yours.

It takes an extraordinary strength of will to extract yourself from his kiss. "Don't do this," you whisper, your lips brushing his since he's chased after your kiss.

"Why?" he pulls you even closer, pressing another kiss to your lips.

"Because you don't mean this," you say, bringing your hands in between your bodies to push him away. "You're drunk and you're lonely and…"

"And I want you," he says, not moving, ducking his head to kiss you again.

"No you don't."

The words make him step back angrily. "I don't know how to make it any fucking clearer," he says, raking a hand through his hair. "I want you. I want you Y/N. I wish I didn't. I wish things would go back to being just sex. Because my life was so much easier then. But they can't. Not for you and not for me. You want more. I want you. So why won't you just accept that and let me kiss you?"

As far as romantic speeches go, it's pretty shitty.

"Fine," you say.

It's an equally shitty romantic response.

But then he's kissing you again, and you let yourself lean into the hope that maybe, come morning, he'll still mean what he said.

When you wake up, Five's gone.

The other side of the bed is tucked in tightly, like he was never even there. But you know he was. Because if he wasn't, there's no reason for your whole body to ache inside and out. It's tempting to stay in bed and throw yourself a mix of pity party and roast. After all, last night you exhibited top tier dumbassery.

But you're tired of feeling like shit. So you drag yourself out from under the covers and towards your door, hoping that some coffee and a warm breakfast will help you to feel better.

You pad out the door and down the short hallway to come out to the kitchen where your roommate is pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“My head hurts like a sonofabitch,” she says, reaching into the cabinet to grab down a mug for you. “You?”

You give a rueful smile and head over to stand next to her by the coffeepot. “Surprisingly, I’m ok. Better than yesterday.”

“Good,” she says, filling your mug up.

Your toilet flushes, and both you and your roommate look at each other. The silent question is answered not long after as there, appearing in the doorway, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and looking a bit disheveled, is Five.

It’s the first time your roommate has ever seen him.

“Uh…hello?” your roommate says, and Five nods at her, moving forward to steal your mug of coffee. He lifts it to his lips and takes a long sip.

“You’re…here,” you say dumbly, and he nods, drinking some more coffee.

“It’s where I want to be.”

Your roommate looks between the two of you. “And you are…”

“Five,” he says over his coffee, and your roommate looks between the two of you wildly before finally settling you with a significant look.

“You’re going to have to make more coffee, and explain all of this to me,” she says, circling a finger at Five.

You look at him, a small twist of a smile on your lips. “Fine with me.”

[the-broken-truth]

Surprisingly, i really love your oc (Eliza Dimitrescu) Senior! Ahem- okay so, my question is could you do a headcanon for the dimitrescu daughters (including Eliza) reacting to their youngest sibling (the reader) die because of various ways such as illness or being killed and others?

I really want to see the bond of caring for their youngest sibling- and this idea has been stucked in my mind for a while, and That's why I drew Eliza's Death and Daniela visited her grave because she still cares about her little sister even though Eliza is already gone-

Oh i almost forgot, it's okay. It's not a canon. Maybe not yet- (hehe)

welp- thank you for ur time! remember, ur junior is always here to help and support u >:3

-Snowwy

Broken Truth: Anything for a friend, Snowwy. Now, let the words weave together!!

Warning - Very Dark, Involving Death [PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK]

- Bela Dimitrescu (Unaware) -

Bela was the Eldest of the Dimitrescu Daughters.

She was the most responsible one.

The one who was aware of anything going on with her sisters.

But in this case, she wasn't and it caused the House of Dimitrescu the loss of something precious - something that would not be returned.

And Bela was to blame.

She stood before the grand fireplace and looked upon the golden urn that sat upon the top of it.

Upon the surface of the glass was a golden plaque with the words: [Y/N] Dimitrescu - Gone But Never Forgotten.

Bela could feel the tears building up.

Her youngest sister was gone...and it was all her fault.

The 2 of them were in the library - Alcina had to attend a lord meeting, while Cassandra, Dani, and Eliza were in the village for some manner of business.

Leaving Bela with the youngest of the Dimitrescu Spawn - a little toddler named [Y/N].

She was young - small. Only 5 years old but could still get into trouble just like her sisters could.

She was mortal - too young for the Cadou Parasite; Mother Miranda wouldn't give it to her until she was at least 15 to make sure she would live through it.

Bela wanted to read something and gave the child a book to read, sitting her in a chair beside her with the stack of baby books with bright and colorful pictures, along with a doll that Eliza had made for the infant.

Bela sat in the chair next to her and the two of them began reading their books.

Hours had passed and it was silent - just as it would be if Bela was alone in the library and it was that silence that made her slip into her own little bubble.

That bubble made it impossible for her to noticed the child got out of her chair and began to walk around.

That bubble stopped Bela from looking up from her book to see her youngest sister climbing on a very unstable bookshelf.

But that bubble popped...when the bookshelf came crashing down...right on top of the girl's tiny book.

Bela's eyes widened as she threw her book away and ran over to the down bookshelf and pushed it off her sister but she could tell by the look on her face...

She was too late.

The toddler's neck was snapped clean half and the light in her eyes was fading fast.

Bela gathered the girl in her arms and tried to hold her head to make her breathe easier but it was no use - no air was coming from her lips...and her heart began to slow its pace...until it stopped completely.

She screamed.

The door burst open.

And the entire family came in.

Alcina shoved her eldest away and held her baby in her arms but seeing as there was no longer a heartbeat, she knew her baby was gone.

The mother cried out in agony as the daughters looked at their eldest sister and asked...

"What have you do?"

She couldn't give an answer.

There was a small service.

The Lords and Mother Miranda attended.

The body was burned and the ashes were placed in the urn and secured above the fireplace.

No one said a word to Bela who just stood there...with her little sister's doll clenched to her chest.

Never again did she enter the library.

Never again did she read a book.

Forever would remain aware - for the sake of her other sisters.

And in honor of the one she lost.

- Cassandra Dimitrescu (Reckless) -

Her mother always told her that she needed to make sure she closed the door to the cellar when she comes and goes from her experiments.

She always thought her mother was overreacting.

But it wasn't until she lost something precious.

Cassandra was bored and wanted to have some fun with the creatures in the cellar.

She took her key and went down there but she didn't notice that she didn't lock the door from the other side to keep anything from getting out.

She had her fun and played with her toys until she was bored again and went up the stairs to return to the castle, only noticing that the door was open and bloody footprints were leading out of the cellar.

Her eyes widened and her blood froze.

One of them got out...

Loud screaming made her jump in her robes - something was wrong! Someone was hurt!

She ran out of the room and slammed the door, making sure to lock it behind her before she followed the bloody footprints.

She began noticing that the footprints were more apart - showing that the creature was running.

No - it was hunting.

But what would it be able to hunt? Everyone in Castle Dimitrescu could take care of themselves.

Except...

Oh no...

Mother Miranda, no...

[Y/N]...

She ran after the footprints and rounded the corner when she saw something familiar on the ground - a bright yellow stuffed bunny.

Not just any bunny - that was [Y/N]'s Bunny, she's had it since she was a baby and she never left that bunny anywhere.

As she got closer - she noticed that the bunny wasn't so yellow anymore.

It was stained.

Stained red.

And the red stained recked of iron.

Blood

And it was still fresh.

Cassandra picked up the bunny and followed the bloodstains down the hall until she came to an open room - crying from the inside.

that was her mother crying.

She entered the room...and her heart sank...

In the room were her mother and sisters - her mother on her knees with her back as she held something in her arms.

On side of the room laid the missing creature that escaped from the basement - dead with his throat sliced open - and its mouth...fresh blood was dripping from its open jaws

Bela noticed Cassandra standing there with the bunny in her hand...and she marched over to her middle sister with fury in her eyes.

"What have you done?" Bela hissed.

"W...What?" Cassandra stuttered but that just made Bela even madder.

'"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?!?!"

SMACK!

Cassandra's face hit the ground as her elder sister struck her - she opened her eyes and in her mother's lap...

She could see a small lifeless arm...dangling...

Her worse fears...were confirmed.

Her recklessness...killed her little sister.

- Daniela Dimitrescu (Accident) -

Dani loved danger.

It made her feel like more of a badass and she loved the feeling.

But it made her mother and her sisters uneasy and they constantly warned Dani that she if wasn't careful - there was gonna be an accident.

She didn't believe them.

She didn't listen.

But now...

She wished she did.

Daniela was in the weapons room - testing out a new bow that her Uncle gave her.

She was always told to lock the door to the room to make sure no one came in and was caught in her crosshairs.

But that day, she didn't lock the door - too excited to try her new weapon.

She gathered her arrows in their quiver and began firing them at random targets.

She loved the feeling of the bow in her hand.

She loved the sound of the arrows hitting the hearts of their targets.

She was so entrenched with the feeling that she didn't hear the door open.

When she turned to face the target at her 6, she saw a figure but it was covered in shadows - a new target.

She pointed the arrow at the shadows and released the arrow...

It went soaring...

And hit the heart of the shadow...

And the shadow...screamed in pain.

The rush began fading as the confusion rose and when everything began clear - she was horrified at what she saw.

The arrow did hit it target - the heart.

The heart of her youngest sister.

The girl was groaning in pain as the blood began leaking from the wound.

The girl opened her mouth to speak but it came short.

Dani threw the bow to the ground and rushed to her sister's side - gathering the girl in her arms, careful to miss the arrow in her chest and run out of the room to reach the doctor.

Her mother and sisters stood with her outside the doctor's office, waiting for the doctor to tell them she was able to save her sister.

"What were you thing?!" Eliza screamed at her, "Firing an arrow at an infant?!"

"It...It was an accident. I didn't hear her come in the room." Dani said.

"This is why you were told to lock your door! To make sure nothing like this would happen!" Bela screamed with tears in her eyes.

The doctor came out with her head down and Alcina asked the question.

"How is she?"

The doctor shook her head and said...

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Those were the words that shattered the Dimitrescu Family and all the time, all Dani could think was...

'It was an accident.'

- Eliza Dimitrescu (Killed) -

The day she became the youngest sister was the day that destroyed both her mind and her heart.

It was a normal day - she and her youngest sister was going shopping in the village for a new winter coat for her little one.

Everything was fine until they ran into her.

Eliza's Birth Mother.

She hissed at her.

Demanding money.

"I'm your mother, you have to do what I say!" Was her reason

But Eliza was a Dimitrescu and she owed her nothing and warned her never to approach her again.

But she didn't listen - it must have been a mental problem or maybe she was drunk...but that would cost them both deeply.

The stray woman lunged forward and grabbed the little girl by her wrist, yanking her away from Eliza and pulled her into her body before taking a few steps back.

Eliza was ready to tear out her throat but she saw the woman pull out a blade and hold it to the young girl's throat, making her shiver.

She told her she would give her money, she'd do whatever she asked but begged her to let the child go.

She was 5.

She was innocent.

She had nothing to do with this.

But the woman didn't see it that way...

She wanted to hurt Eliza for not doing what she said.

She wanted Eliza to hurt as much as she did when she lost her husband.

And most importantly...

She wanted to hurt Alcina Dimitrescu for saving Eliza and giving her a perfect life.

And she would do that.

She had to do that.

And she did...

By slicing the throat of the little girl.

Eliza screamed out as the blade went across her little sister's throat and her noble blood stained the ground and snow.

Eliza lunged with her claws and fangs out.

Tearing into the body of tainted flesh like a vengeful tigress.

Once she was done - she crawled over to the little girl's body and roared like a mournful dragon, causing her mother and sisters to come out.

No one blamed Eliza for not being able to save her.

No one thought it was her fault.

Eliza blamed herself.

Every time she went to the grave, she would tell her little sister's soul this...

"If I had killed her time the same day I killed her husband...you would still be with me."

[End]

Broken Truth: Thoughts, Snowwy? @snowflakestree

[6peaches]

Richard Siken - You Are Jeff

1 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road, beyond the hairpin turn, or just before it, depending on which twin you are in love with at the time. Do not choose sides yet. It is still to your advan- tage to remain impartial. Both motorbikes are shiny red and both boys have perfect teeth, dark hair, soft hands. The one in front will want to take you apart, and slowly. His deft and stubby fingers searching every shank and lock for weaknesses. You could love this boy with all your heart. The other brother only wants to stitch you back together. The sun shines down. It’s a beautiful day. Consider the hairpin turn. Do not choose sides yet.

2 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road. Let’s call them Jeff. And because the first Jeff is in front we’ll consider him the older, and therefore responsible for lending money and the occa- sional punch in the shoulder. World-wise, world-weary, and not his mother’s favorite, this Jeff will always win when it all comes down to fisticuffs. Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t always all come down to fisticuffs. Jeff is thinking about his brother down the winding road be- hind him. He is thinking that if only he could cut him open and peel him back and crawl inside this second skin, then he could relive that last mile again: reborn, wild-eyed, free.

3 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road, beyond the hairpin turn, or just before it, depending on which Jeff you are. It could have been so beautiful—you scout out the road ahead and I will watch your back, how it was and how it will be, memory and fantasy— but each Jeff wants to be the other one. My name is Jeff and I’m tired of looking at the back of your head. My name is Jeff and I’m tired of seeing my hand me down clothes. Look, Jeff, I’m telling you, for the last time, I mean it, etcetera. They are the same and they are not the same. They are the same and they hate each other for it.

4 Your name is Jeff and somewhere up ahead of you your brother has pulled to the side of the road and he is waiting for you with a lug wrench clutched in his greasy fist. O how he loves you, darling boy. O how, like always, he invents the monsters underneath the bed to get you to sleep next to him, chest to chest or chest to back, the covers drawn around you in an act of faith against the night. When he throws the wrench into the air it will catch the light as it spins toward you. Look—it looks like a star. You had expected something else, anything else, but the wrench never reaches you. It hangs in the air like that, spinning in the air like that. It’s beautiful.

5 Let’s say God in his High Heaven is hungry and has decided to make himself some tuna fish sandwiches. He’s already finished making two of them, on sourdough, before he realizes that the fish is bad. What is he going to do with these sandwiches? They’re already made, but he doesn’t want to eat them.

Let’s say the Devil is played by two men. We’ll call them Jeff. Dark hair, green eyes, white teeth, pink tongues—they’re twins. The one on the left has gone bad in the middle, and the other one on the left is about to. As they wrestle, you can tell that they have forgotten about God, and they are very hungry.

6 You are playing cards with three men named Jeff. Two of the Jeffs seem somewhat familiar, but the Jeff across from you keeps staring at your hands, your mouth, and you’re certain that you’ve never seen this Jeff before. But he’s on your team, and you’re ahead, you’re winning big, and yet the other Jeffs keep smiling at you like there’s no tomorrow. They all have perfect teeth: white, square, clean, even. And, for some reason, the lighting in the room makes their teeth seem closer than they should be, as if each mouth was a place, a living room with pink carpet and the window’s open. Come back from the window, Jefferson. Take off those wet clothes and come over here, by the fire.

7 You are playing cards with three Jeffs. One is your father, one is your brother, and the other is your current boyfriend. All of them have seen you naked and heard you talking in your sleep. Your boyfriend Jeff gets up to answer the phone. To them he is a mirror, but to you he is a room. Phone’s for you, Jeff says. Hey! It’s Uncle Jeff, who isn’t really your uncle, but you can’t talk right now, one of the Jeffs has put his tongue in your mouth. Please let it be the right one.

8 Two brothers are fighting by the side of the road. Two motorbikes have fallen over on the shoulder, leaking oil into the dirt, while the interlocking brothers grapple and swing. You see them through the backseat window as you and your parents drive past. You are twelve years old. You do not have a brother. You have never experienced anything this ferocious or intentional with another person. Your mother is pretending that she hasn’t seen anything. Your father is fiddling with the knobs of the radio. There is an empty space next to you in the backseat of the station wagon. Make it the shape of everything you need. Now say hello.

9 You are in an ordinary suburban bedroom with bunk beds, a bookshelf, two wooden desks and chairs. You are lying on your back, on the top bunk, very close to the textured ceiling, staring straight at it in fact, and the room is still dark except for a wedge of powdery light that spills in from the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom is covered in mint green tile and someone is in there, singing very softly. Is he singing to you? For you? Black cherries in chocolate, the ring around the moon, a bee- tle underneath a glass—you cannot make out all the words, but you’re sure he knows you’re in there, and he’s singing to you, even though you don’t know who he is.

10 You see it as a room, a tabernacle, the dark hotel. You’re in the hallway again, and you open the door, and if you’re ready you’ll see it, but maybe one part of your mind decides that the other parts aren’t ready, and then you don’t remember where you’ve been, and you find yourself down the hall again, the lights gone dim as the left hand sings the right hand back to sleep. It’s a puzzle: each piece, each room, each time you put your hand to the knob, your mouth to the hand, your ear to the wound that whispers.

You’re in the hallway again. The radio is playing your favorite song. You’re in the hallway. Open the door again. Open the door.

11 Suppose for a moment that the heart has two heads, that the heart has been chained and dunked in a glass booth filled with river water. The heart is monologing about hesitation and fulfillment while behind the red brocade the heart is drowning. Can the heart escape? Does love even care? Snow falls as we dump the booth in the bay.

Suppose for a moment we are crowded around a pier, waiting for something to ripple the water. We believe in you. There is no danger. It is not getting dark, we want to say.

12 Consider the hairpin turn. It is waiting for you like a red door or the broken leg of a dog. The sun is shining, O how the sun shines down! Your speedometer and your handgrips and the feel of the road below you, how it knows you, the black ribbon spread out on the greens be- tween these lines that suddenly don’t reach to the horizon. It is waiting, like a broken door, like the red dog that chases its tail and eats your rose- bushes and then must be forgiven. Who do you love, Jeff? Who do you love? You were driving toward something and then, well, then you found yourself driving the other way. The dog is asleep. The road is be- hind you. O how the sun shines down.

13 This time everyone has the best intentions. You have cancer. Let’s say you have cancer. Let’s say you’ve swallowed a bad thing and now it’s got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure. You see what I mean but you’re happy anyway, and that’s okay, it’s a love story after all, a lasting love, a wonderful adventure with lots of action, where the mirror says mirror and the hand says hand and the front door never says Sorry Charlie. So the doctor says you need more stitches and the bruise cream isn’t working. So much for the facts. Let’s say you’re still completely in the dark but we love you anyway. We love you. We really do.

14 After work you go to the grocery store to get some milk and a carton of cigarettes. Where did you get those bruises? You don’t remember. Work was boring. You find a jar of bruise cream and a can of stewed tomatoes. Maybe a salad? Spinach, walnuts, blue cheese, apples, and you can’t decide between the Extra Large or Jumbo black olives. Which is bigger anyway? Extra Large has a blue label, Jumbo has a purple label. Both cans cost $1.29. While you’re deciding, the afternoon light is streaming through the windows behind the bank of checkout coun- ters. Take the light inside you like a blessing, like a knee in the chest, holding onto it and not letting it go. Now let it go.

15 Like sandpaper, the light, or a blessing, or a bruise. Blood everywhere, he said, the red light hemorrhaging from everywhere at once. The train station blue, your lips blue, hands cold and the blue wind. Or a horse, your favorite horse now raised up again out of the mud and galloping galloping always toward you. In your ruined shirt, on the last day, while the bruise won’t heal, and the stain stays put, the red light streaming in from everywhere at once. Your broken ribs, the back of your head, your hand to mouth or hand to now, right now, like you mean it, like it’s split- ting you in two. Now look at the lights, the lights.

16 You and your lover are making out in the corner booth of a seedy bar. The booths are plush and the drinks are cheap and in this dim and smoky light you can barely tell whose hands are whose. Someone raises their glass for a toast. Is that the Hand of Judgment or the Hand of Mercy? The bartender smiles, running a rag across the burnished wood of the bar. The drink in front of you has already been paid for. Drink it, the bartender says. It’s yours, you deserve it. It’s already been paid for. Somebody’s paid for it already. There’s no mistake, he says. It’s your drink, the one you asked for, just the way you like it. How can you refuse Hands of fire, hands of air, hands of water, hands of dirt. Someone’s doing all the talking but no one’s lips move. Consider the hairpin turn.

17 The motorbikes are neck and neck but where’s the checkered flag we all expected, waving in the distance, telling you you’re home again, home? He’s next to you, right next to you in fact, so close, or. . . he isn’t. Imagine a room. Yes, imagine a room: two chairs facing the window but nobody moves. Don’t move. Keep staring straight into my eyes. It feels like you’re not moving, the way when, dancing, the room will suddenly fall away. You’re dancing: you’re neck and neck or cheek to cheek, he’s there or he isn’t, the open road. Imagine a room. Imagine you’re danc- ing. Imagine the room now falling away. Don’t move.

18 Two brothers: one of them wants to take you apart. Two brothers: one of them wants to put you back together. It’s time to choose sides now. The stitches or the devouring mouth? You want an alibi? You don’t get an alibi, you get two brothers. Here are two Jeffs. Pick one. This is how you make the meaning, you take two things and try to define the space between them. Jeff or Jeff? Who do you want to be? You just wanted to play in your own backyard, but you don’t know where your own yard is, exactly. You just wanted to prove there was one safe place, just one safe place where you could love him. You have not found that place yet. You have not made that place yet. You are here. You are here. You’re still right here.

19 Here are your names and here is the list and here are the things you left behind: The mark on the floor from pushing your chair back, your un- derwear, one half brick of cheese, the kind I don’t like, wrapped up, and poorly, and abandoned on the second shelf next to the poppyseed dress- ing, which is also yours. Here’s the champagne on the floor, and here are your house keys, and here are the curtains that your cat peed on. And here is your cat, who keeps eating grass and vomiting in the hall- way. Here is the list with all of your names, Jeff. They’re not the same name, Jeff. They’re not the same at all.

20 There are two twins on motorbikes but they are not on motorbikes, they’re in a garden where the flowers are as big as thumbs. Imagine you are in a field of daisies. What are you doing in a field of daisies? Get up! Let’s say you’re not in the field anymore. Let’s say they’re not brothers anymore. That’s right, they’re not brothers, they’re just one guy, and he knows you, and he’s talking to you, but you’re in pain and you can- not understand him. What are you still doing in this field? Get out of the field! You should be in the hotel room! You should, at least, be try- ing to get back into the hotel room. Ah! Now the field is empty.

21 Hold onto your voice. Hold onto your breath. Don’t make a noise, don’t leave the room until I come back from the dead for you. I will come back from the dead for you. This could be a city. This could be a graveyard. This could be the basket of a big balloon. Leave the lights on. Leave a trail of letters like those little knots of bread we used to dream about. We used to dream about them. We used to do a lot of things. Put your hand to the knob, your mouth to the hand, pick up the bread and devour it. I’m in the hallway again, I’m in the hallway. The radio’s playing my favorite song. Leave the lights on. Keep talking. I’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice.

22 Someone had a party while you were sleeping but you weren’t really sleeping, you were sick, and parts of you were burning, and you couldn’t move. Perhaps the party was in your honor. You can’t remem- ber. It seems the phone was ringing in the dream you were having but there’s no proof. A dish in the sink that might be yours, some clothes on the floor that might belong to someone else. When was the last time you found yourself looking out of this window. Hey! This is a beautiful window! This is a beautiful view! Those trees lined up like that, and the way the stars are spinning over them like that, spinning in the air like that, like wrenches.

23 Let’s say that God is the space between two men and the Devil is the space between two men. Here: I’ll be all of them-Jeff and Jeff and Jeff and Jeff are standing on the shoulder of the highway, four motorbikes knocked over, two wrenches spinning in the ordinary air. Two of these Jeffs are windows, and two of these Jeffs are doors, and all of these Jeffs are trying to tell you something. Come closer. We’ll whisper it in your ear. It’s like seeing your face in a bowl of soup, cream of potato, and the eyes shining back like spoons. If we wanted to tell you everything, we would leave more footprints in the snow or kiss you harder. One thing. Come closer. Listen . . .

24 You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terr- ible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.

- You Are Jeff by Richard Siken

[primatechnosynthpop]

Wow! Against all odds, I finally got around to actually writing the follow-up to I'm Gonna Be The Anti-Hero that's existed exclusively in my head for months! Well uh here it is :3

---

The secret underground room beneath Plymouth rock was dark and silent as always, save for the faint dripping of water through a crack in the ceiling. It figured that, after living there for countless centuries, the structural integrity would finally begin to erode. That dripping sound, although highly irritating when it first started a month or so ago, had now settled into background noise which John Smith paid no attention to. He was a pilgrim, not a witch; it wasn't like the water could hurt him.

Then again, he realized a few moments too late one rainy spring day, perhaps he should have reevaluated that statement. He was minding his own business sitting in his chair and reminiscing about the very old days (that was the only thing he could really do anymore, slowly decaying as his body was) when the soft and steady dripping suddenly escalated at an exponential rate into what sounded like a small waterfall. He turned his head to see a semi-transparent humanoid figure taking shape out of the water pooling in the corner--strangely tinted red, as though the water were mixed with blood. As the old pilgrim watched, jaw agape, the figure strode purposefully toward him, taking on a more solid form as it did so.

"What are you doing here, intruder?" John Smith demanded, one hand tightening around the hilt of his sword while his other hand reached behind his back to fumble for his musket.

"This secret underground room isn't government sanctioned," the stranger hissed. (Although... was he a stranger? John Smith somehow felt that he'd seen this youngster once before, but he couldn't quite place where or when.) "And you have no official identification registering you as a legal citizen. Not to mention, you haven't been paying taxes... disgraceful."

Before John Smith had the chance to concoct a retort or draw either of his weapons, the masked man's hands were around his throat and crushing his windpipe with a force that could only be driven by an inhuman amount of bloodlust. And within seconds, the life of a pilgrim that had been extended for centuries past its expiration date was finally put to an end.

*

"I can't believe they want us to make a clown movie at a time like this."

"I can believe it," Neil replied without looking up from the shopping list in his hand. "The studio wants a lot from us, remember? They're not going to care how sad we are. Anyway, it's been four months--" The emotions bubbling up within him refused to let his voice stay level, so he gritted his teeth and hissed out the rest of his sentence rather than let himself start crying in the middle of the dollar store. "We should be over it by now."

"Neil..." Kevin began in the way he'd often addressed Neil over the past few months--brow furrowed, voice edged with an obvious and vaguely patronizing concern--only to trail off and shake his head with a sigh. Apparently he'd finally given up on trying to make Neil feel better, which was just fine by him, because things are never gonna go back to the way they were before and it's my fault and I don't deserve to feel good about it.

"Anyway, we've got what we came for," Neil muttered, waving his hand in the general direction of Kevin's shopping basket without looking him in the eyes. "Let's go."

At the checkout counter, the cashier frowned and shook her head when Neil offered her a five-dollar bill. "Sorry," she told them, "But all this is going to cost $29.99."

"What? But we don't have that kind of money!" Neil lamented. "And we got this stuff from the clearance section... plus this is the dollar store, so shouldn't everything just cost a dollar?"

For a visual aid as he spoke, he grabbed one of the items they were ringing up--a bargain pack of multicoloured clown wigs--and shook it in the cashier's face. Apparently unmoved by his bargaining, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

"Maybe you should have checked the price tags first, sir."

"Huh? But, but..." Neil trailed off when he looked down at the price tag on the item in his hands. The bright orange tag had the original price, $7.50, crossed out and replaced with $2.35... but then below that, scribbled in tiny and barely legible font, it read "just kidding, it's actually eleven dollars now." "Aw, man," he groaned, tossing the pack down on the conveyor belt and sticking his hands in his pockets. "Just our luck."

Kevin had a thoughtful look in his eyes while he drove them home empty-handed. When he pulled up outside the clubhouse a few minutes later and they climbed out of the truck, he suddenly laid a hand on Neil's shoulder.

"Say, Neil, let's not get discouraged," he said. "I've got another idea for how we could get our hands on some props."

"Really?" Neil asked, perking up despite himself. "How?"

"Well, I think--" Kevin broke off as unexpectedly as he'd started, encouraging smile briefly dipping into a grimace. "...You know what, I'll take care of it myself. You can hold down the fort here, okay? I won't be long."

Neil's brow furrowed. "Okay, but what are you...?"

Without explaining himself any further, Kevin clapped him firmly on the back, hopped back into his truck, and drove off. Neil watched him recede down the road with bewilderment. Being all secretive like that wasn't like Kevin... Unless he's trying to protect me from something, he realized with a twinge of bitterness. That would be just like him, the way things had been recently. Ever since the past winter, and what had happened with Ryan, Kevin's latent big-brother-ish tendencies had escalated; now he watched over Neil like a hawk and freaked out every time he so much as stubbed his toe. Under different circumstances Neil would have relished being fussed over, but now it was more annoying than anything else. The thing was, he didn't deserve it. If anything... his fingers strayed up to absentmindedly fidget with the four-leaf clover pinned to his shirt. I deserve to have bad luck. I deserve to suffer, after what I did to Ryan.

Still, there wasn't much he could do about it now, and he wasn't going to say no to having the clubhouse to himself for a while. With a sigh, he disentangled his fingers from the clover's leaves, ran a hand through his overgrown bangs, and turned to head inside. Maybe he could play cards or something to pass the time.

*

A thick layer of dust had settled over everything in Ryan's house. That made sense, of course. It had been four months--no, five, since Ryan hadn't come home once while he was being a vigilante--since anyone had set foot there. Even so, Kevin was unprepared for the full-scale assault on his lungs when he opened the door, and promptly broke into a coughing fit.

"Man, good thing Neil stayed home," he thought aloud as he batted thick, swirling clouds of dust and spiderwebs out of his face. "The way things have been going for him lately..."

He'd probably choke to death on all this dust, he thought but didn't say aloud, and then felt bad for thinking it in the first place. Kevin didn't understand what had happened to Neil in the course of the past few days, but ever since picking up that clover, he seemed to be having a run of uncharacteristically bad luck. Whether it was random chance or something more suspicious was afoot, it sure wasn't doing much for his already thoroughly frayed nerves.

"Alright, calm down, James," he muttered to himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and ideally dispel the rest of the dust. "Focus. Concentrate. What are you here for? Props for your webisode. Right."

Keeping that objective in mind, he made his way past the front entrance and into the living room. There, a few objects were strewn around that caught his eye: a mannequin bust wearing a colourful wig; an eccentrically patterned jacket draped over a chair; a brush dipped into a rusted metal container filled with what he hoped was red paint. After looking around a little more he found a large cardboard box filled with mutilated stuffed animals, which he mostly emptied out and started filling with the useful items he came across.

All the while, a persistent feeling of unease stirred in his gut, becoming increasingly hard to ignore with each belonging of Ryan's he packed away. This is wrong. I shouldn't steal from him. Kevin paused and looked down at the box in his arms with a frown. One of the items sticking out the top, a blank-faced doll head, seemed to stare accusingly back at him. For a moment he saw it not as a plastic figure, but as a human form encased in ice and then broken apart. He blinked and the illusion quickly vanished, but an unsettling feeling remained in its wake. Neil was right; it had been months already. So why did going through Ryan's things make him feel so dirty? Ryan didn't need any of this stuff anymore. He was gone. Wasn't he?

With a weary sigh that, had anyone been around to ask, he would have accredited to the physical exertion of carrying heavy stuff around, Kevin set the box down and stepped back to survey the room he was in now. If he remembered right, this kind of room was called a study--there was an armchair with a few suspicious stains lurking beneath the dust, a desk strewn with papers all scrawled full of nonsense like the ravings of a mad scientist, and an ornate bookshelf. He wandered over to the latter furniture piece and ran his hands along the spines of the books, letting their leathery texture ground him in the present. He noticed several unusual bibles and other ancient texts, and a stash of calendars, some of which he was pretty sure had originally belonged to him or Neil; the up-to-date calendars and one of the more normal-looking bibles went into the box, while he decided everything else was better left where it was.

There was one other set of books he recognized: a teen fantasy series that Neil had often gushed about. Thinking back to the previous fall and all the events he normally tried not to think about, he experimentally lifted one of the fantasy books off the shelf. At once, just as he remembered from when Neil showed him, the bookshelf rumbled to the side and revealed a narrow staircase descending into the basement.

If anyone asked him, Kevin couldn't really say what compelled him to go down those stairs. The secret chamber was as empty as he remembered, with nothing down there that could possibly be of use for the webisode. And without a lantern, he could barely even see the only things that were there to speak of: the paintings of Ryan's ancestors.

"Ryan..." The name manifested on Kevin's lips unexpectedly as he stared, squinting through the dust and darkness, at the row of portraits grinning lopsidedly back at him. He knew the paintings couldn't hear him--hell, they weren't even paintings of Ryan himself, just his relatives. But their faces were practically identical to him, that face he hadn't seen in person for nearly half a year, and that alone was enough to clog up his throat with unbearable emotions.

The thought of It's a good thing Neil isn't here for this surfaced again, and this time Kevin had to agree with himself. Losing a close friend was... well, there was no way not to take it hard. But Neil seemed to have taken it particularly hard, even blaming himself, to the point where any mention of Ryan would immediately send him straight back into a depressive spiral no matter how happy he'd been a moment earlier. That was why Kevin had kept this idea a secret from his friend in the first place--that, and he wasn't sure if it was going to pan out and didn't want to get Neil's hopes up. He figured that if Neil asked where he got all the stuff he'd found, he'd just say it was from a garage sale.

Now, looking into the achingly familiar manic blue eyes of those portraits mounted on the wall, Kevin thought of those news reports about the mysterious killings that had been going on around town. If that really was Ryan, and he was somehow still alive...

"Why?" he whispered. Without really thinking, he reached out and pressed his hand against the painting as if to cup its cheek. "Why haven't you come home, Ryan? Where are you?"

*

The target was at home, alone in her bedroom playing video games. Casual, unbothered by any harm her actions may have caused. Shameful. In an icy swirl of perhaps not-so-righteous fury, the vigilante took form in the corner of her room and crept up behind her. With an average build and no weapons at the ready, she would be no trouble to dispose of.

"Playing dead in order to toy with an innocent man's feelings," he growled. "Some people would call it ghosting. I call it a crime punishable by death."

"Jesus christ, what the fuck?!" Wendy yelped as she spun to face the vigilante. "How'd you get in here?"

"You shouldn't worry about that," he told her, gloved hands already flexing in anticipation of tightening around her neck. Or perhaps this time he'd thrust his hand straight through her chest and rip out her heart--an appropriate punishment for her crimes. "You'll have plenty of time to figure it out once I send you to hell."

"Okay, seriously? What is happening here?" Eyes narrowed, Wendy put her game on pause and got to her feet to stare the vigilante down. "You said something about me playing dead..." Her eyes suddenly widened with recognition, and the vigilante waited for the fear to set in along with it, but instead she shook her head and laughed. A pitying laugh. "Wait, you're not friends with that, uh, that filmmaker guy, are you? Geez, I seriously must have dodged a bullet there."

"Filmmaker..." the vigilante murmured as the word echoed in his mind. Yes, that's right. The man she stood up was a filmmaker... of a sort. (How did he know that? How did he even know who this woman was? Those questions weren't worth dwelling on, he decided.) "You may have thought you dodged a bullet back then, but I'm here to see that the bullet circles back around and destroys you like you deserve."

Wendy crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, any trace of fear on her face outmatched by her sad, pitying smile. "Sure, keep the edgy sayings coming, Mr. Hot Topic. And what's with the getup, anyway?" she added with a nod to the vigilante's predominantly dark outfit. "Must be kinda warm."

Warm? The vigilante snorted derisively. No, of course he wasn't too warm. His blood, as it always had for as far back as he could clearly remember, ran cold like that of a snake. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been warm. And he certainly couldn't remember a time when he'd worn anything other than his current ensemble. Rather than waste time telling this insufferable woman as much, though, he simply took a few purposeful strides to close the distance between them, hands extended and more than ready to kill.

"Ugh, get away from me, creep!"

In a startlingly swift motion, Wendy's leg shot out and connected with the vigilante's ankles, sending him toppling to the floor. He hissed in irration, though not in pain--when his sensations were already perpetually numb, it would take a lot more than that to hurt him--and got to his feet, dusting himself off with a scowl. In the few seconds this took, Wendy grabbed a baseball bat from the corner of the room. Now she stood brandishing it in perfect athletic form with a battle-ready glint in her eye.

"Not another step, you hear me?" When the vigilante didn't dignify her with a response, she gritted her teeth and gave the bat a twirl--attempting to show off, it seemed, but her hands shook slightly and she nearly dropped the bat, only barely managing to regain her grip on it. "My mom is in the other room right now, and... well, she hasn't done anything wrong, so you don't want to punish her, right? And if anything happens to me..."

He stiffened at Wendy's mention of her mother. An innocent citizen? That was the type of person a vigilante was meant to protect at all costs; otherwise vigilante justice was no better than the police. But no one is innocent in this city. Even so, he understood the implicit threat--not that Wendy's mother would bring him down herself, but that either woman could very well call the police. And the last thing he wanted was to get law enforcement involved.

"...Fine," he snarled at last, turning on his heel with a twirl of his vigilante cape. "You can live a while longer. But I'll be back, and then you'll regret your sins."

He heard her gasp but didn't bother sparing her another glance as he let his form dissolve into a splash of red-tinted ice, sinking through her floorboards and off to thwart another criminal.

*

Slowly and carefully as a technician deactivating a bomb, Neil set the three of spades down across the top of the three other cards he'd lined up on the table. The humble beginnings of a tower stood for a moment, and he held his breath eagerly as he reached for another card to place on top, only for it to suddenly shudder and collapse like an anime girl who'd stood in the rain for too long.

"Dang it!" Neil threw his hands in the air in exasperation. When he did, a droplet of his own blood landed on his glasses, and he realized with a start that his hand was bleeding--just a paper cut, but still, he'd better wash up.

As he ran his hand under cold water, transfixed by the sight of the blood swirling down the drain, a sudden cracking noise rang out just above him. His head snapped up to stare at the spontaneously cracked bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back, stricken and gaunt, as shards of shattered glass rained down into the sink, where they mixed with the water and the blood. Neil shivered, his breath quickening.

Icy water... ice, blood, broken mirrors. All mixed together. Shattered. Blood, guts, ice, mixed together, down the drain. My fault my fault my fault my fault--

"No," he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his nails into his scalp as hard as he could. "No! I didn't do it, I didn't... I didn't mean to..."

Deep breaths, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. It sounded like Kevin's voice, worried to the point of being slightly patronizing. Neil grimaced, annoyed at his own brain for manifesting its self-preservation in such a way, but he complied nonetheless. Keeping his eyes wrenched shut, he took several deep breaths in and out until his heartbeat slowed to normal--he hadn't even noticed it speeding up--and his hands didn't shake when he lowered them away from his head.

"Hey, you know what'd really make me feel better?" he said aloud to nobody in particular, putting on a broad smile and wiping his hands off on a towel. "A nice hot bath! Yep, that'll counteract my blood running cold, alright..."

He ran his hands up and down his arms as he spoke, although he didn't know who he was trying to fool; the chill that had settled into his bones had nothing to do with the temperature. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure who this whole performance of forced cheerfulness was meant for... the studio, maybe. He wouldn't put it past them to hide cameras everywhere. Either way, even if it wouldn't fix his psychological issues, a bath really would be pretty nice. He put the plug in and started running the tub, with the water temperature set just hot enough that it would scald him a little at first.

He wasn't sure exactly what happened when he sat down on the edge of the tub to take his socks off, whether he slipped on something or leaned too far back or what, but suddenly he lost balance. And by the time he realized he was falling backward, he only had a split-second to curse his rotten luck before his head connected with the wall and he blacked out.

*

In the end, Kevin managed to get a pretty good haul from Ryan's house. In addition to the stuff he and Neil could use for their webisode, he'd retrieved the calendars and a couple other things it looked like Ryan had stolen from them, as well as their old communicator wristwatches. (He wasn't sure if the watches fell into the camp of things Ryan had stolen, or if they'd just brought them over to his place for a sleepover once and forgotten them there. Either way, Kevin figured it could come in handy to start using them again.)

"Hey, Neil," he called as he stepped into the clubhouse with the box in his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. "I'm back."

There was no reply. Frowning, Kevin set the box down with a slight grunt of effort and wandered through the living room and down the hall. There were a few playing cards scattered on the table, suggesting that Neil had been trying to make a house of cards but given up halfway. Kevin couldn't really blame him for that; assembling cards in such a way that they'd actually stay upright was yet another thing that had been more in Ryan's ballpark than in either of theirs. Still, that didn't explain where Neil was now...

"Neil? You there, bud?" Still being met with no answer, Kevin came to a stop outside the bathroom door, which was ajar with water pooling out from inside. "Oh, man, that's not a good sign..."

He gave a tentative knock, and when there was still no response, grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. The sight that met his eyes when he did so immediately made his breath hitch and his blood run cold. The broken mirror over the vanity reflected his slack-jawed expression as he stared at the overflowing bathtub, the pair of still-clothed legs dangling over the rim, and the smudge of blood on the wall leading down to the head of the man those legs belonged to, slumped inside the tub with his head submerged in the water.

"Neil!!"

Kevin sprinted across the room to lift Neil out of the tub. It then took him a few seconds longer to turn off the faucet and pull the plug, as by that point the shock had turned to dread and his hands were shaking. Once the water was slowly starting to drain, he fell to his knees and pulled Neil tight to his chest, one hand clutching at the back of his soaked-through t-shirt while the other fumbled across the back of his head searching for the source of the blood. It didn't take long for him to find the slightly matted patch of damp hair indicating where Neil had banged his head against the wall. Kevin swallowed hard as dread leapt up to claw at his throat. The only question is... how long was he submerged?

"Neil," he whispered, and was almost embarrassed to hear how hoarsely his own voice came out. "Wake up. Please."

No response. Kevin reluctantly pulled back to hold Neil at an arm's length, and shuddered at how limply his friend's body flopped forward. He noticed, with a white-hot jolt of irrational anger, that the four-leaf clover was still in place. Fat lot of good that thing's done for him. He grabbed the clover and crumpled it in his fist, all the while tears pressed against the back of his eyes; he struggled not to let them fall. Damn it... first Ryan, now Neil... What kind of protector was he? What kind of friend?

He slammed his fist, the useless clover still clenched within, against the drenched floor tiles. At that moment, the lightbulb above his head exploded and sent sparking wires raining down around him. As soon as electricity met water, it sent a nasty shock through Kevin's veins; he screamed out of equal parts surprise and pain and scrambled up onto the countertop, which was barely wide enough to support him.

On the floor below, Neil's body convulsed. Then his eyes snapped open and he drew in a gasp that turned into a scream halfway through. Although touching his friend's hand sent the current through his own body for a moment, Kevin was quick to grab him anyway, and he managed to pull Neil safely out of the electrified water and into a fierce embrace. Neil kept shrieking, and he squirmed frantically around, not seeming to recognize his surroundings at first.

"It's alright, Neil," Kevin assured him despite how hard his own heart was pounding. "I've got you."

"Oh..." Neil's body slackened, and he pulled back to blink slowly at Kevin, realization dawning in his eyes. His cheeks coloured with embarrassment and he ducked his head. "Uh, thanks."

Neither of them said anything else, for lack of ability or perhaps willingness to put it into words. After a moment, Kevin realized he was still holding the clover, and he handed it back to Neil, who took it with a dip of his head and a murmur of acknowledgement, and pinned it to his soaking wet t-shirt.

Somehow out of everything in the room, themselves included, that little scrap of plant matter was still intact. And although he wasn't superstitious, that simple fact was what would stick in Kevin's mind for the rest of the day, turning it over until he could only conclude: Yep, there's definitely something weird going on with that thing.

*

Despite the many months he'd prowled the city, this was the vigilante's first time in the hideout of a proper gang. It looked about the way he expected: dimly lit, no windows, weapons hung up on the wall and cigarette butts littering the floor. The gang members, dressed primarily in leather jackets with a few in denim, lounged in chairs leaning too far back, or on top of tables, or on their motorcycles parked right in the middle of the room. Most of them didn't even notice the vigilante as he approached. They were too caught up chattering and cackling amongst themselves like a nest of overgrown crows. The one gang member who did seem to notice the vigilante from the get-go simply looked up at him with raised eyebrows and addressed him once he got close enough to strike.

"Hey, haven't seen you around before. Looking to join the club?"

"Hardly," he snarled. "This whole place is crawling with criminals."

The whole room broke into laughter at that. The vigilante gritted his teeth, fists clenching at his sides. These people were different from the criminals he'd taken down before; between their numbers and all the weapons they had easy access to, they might just pose a serious threat if he wasn't careful.

"You're the ones, aren't you?" he went on once the laughter had died down and the gang members were all watching him with a mix of bemusement and curiosity. No trace of fear amongst them yet, but that would change... "Throwing bricks at innocent people, even seeking to damage their property. Absolutely detestable."

"Woah, hang on," another of the gang members cut in sharply, reaching for a weapon as they stood. "First off, the whole brick throwing thing was months ago. Second of all, we never did that to innocent people, you know!"

"Yeah!" yet another gang member cut in, pumping her fist in the air. "Only to those losers who blew up our boss!"

...Boss?

The vigilante slowly turned, a deeper chill than normal running down his spine, as a strangely familiar smug cackle echoed from behind him. He came face-to-face with a man in a tank top and baseball cap, sneering at him with his arms crossed. Max. Gulping, the vigilante took a step backward. He's their boss?

(How did he know that name? How had he known Wendy's name either, for that matter? Why, out of all the criminals in the city, did a select few ignite disproportionate resentment within him? He'd dealt with some of these people before, he knew, but when he tried to remember when and how it all just turned to slush in his brain.)

"Yep, those losers got what was coming to 'em," Max said. "Except not really, 'cause they didn't suffer enough. But it's okay, we'll get 'em extra hard next time."

"No..." For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the vigilante's voice shook with equal parts fury and sudden fear. "Don't you dare hurt them."

"Huh?" Max tilted his head, already slightly squinted eyes narrowing further. "Heyyy, wait a minute, aren't you one of--?"

Before he could finish that thought, the vigilante was upon him with a karate chop to the windpipe. It was a more reckless attack than he'd planned, and even as Max stumbled backward coughing, he could hear the rest of the gang grabbing their weapons and running up behind him. But it was fine; the vigilante could take them all on and then some. He could kill any number of people if it was for the sake of defending his friends.

(Friends? Did he have friends? Somehow it felt that he must have, once. But that was strange, because the only thing he could clearly remember himself ever being was a cold-blooded vigilante.)

*

"Don't you see? Society's the one to blame! It's society's fault that he had no choice but to become this way!"

As Kevin delivered this speech, waving his arms dramatically toward the focus of the scene, Neil spun the video camera around to point it toward himself. Hopefully the studio would think of the disorienting cinematography for this webisode as a bold artistic choice rather than thinking of it as amateurish and embarrassing. He then leapt back, breaking into maniacal laughter with his prop gun raised in the air. Under ideal circumstances, this role might have been better suited to Ryan, but... well, they couldn't stay hung up on him forever; they had a job to do.

"Eh-heh-heh! Thanks to society, I have the urge to kill!" Neil twirled around to show off his clown costume, while just out of frame, Kevin hastily put on a wig and fake mustache. "And now... I'll kill this innocent man, who's different than the guy who was talking a minute ago!"

(It was fascinating--fascinating and dumb--how a broken mirror and a bit of blood could set him off, but something as heavy as a gun in his hand only brought him the faintest twinge of discomfort, easily ignored for the sake of making a webisode. After all, as Kevin had assured him many times over the past few months, it was the gun and its villainous weilder who were to blame for what had happened to Ryan. On an intellectual level Neil knew that was true--and besides, if he hadn't deflected that bullet, all three of them would have died. But knowing that did nothing to redirect when and why the darkness in his brain manifested.)

Now, much to Neil's surprise as he took aim with his prop gun, Kevin shouted "Cut!" and walked across the abandoned lot they were filming in to turn the camera off.

Neil lowered the gun, confused, as his costar removed his costume with that now all-too-familiar look of concern etched across his face. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know... somehow I've just got a bad feeling about this," Kevin muttered. "Maybe try firing into the air a couple times first."

Neil complied, and was met with the expected result from the prop: a couple of clicks indicating an empty chamber. "You worry too much these days, Kev," he said as he fired one more blank into the sky and then lowered the prop again. "It's not a real gun; it can't--"

As he spoke, his finger accidentally pressed the trigger again, and he broke off with a yelp at the sudden burst of pain in his right foot. He dropped the apparently very real gun with a clatter and clutched at his injured appendage, losing his balance in the process. Kevin swore under his breath and rushed forward to catch him. Before his friend could reach him, Neil's other foot came down on a wide crack in the pavement. A chill ran through him, momentarily distracting him from the throbbing pain, but it passed as quickly as it arose without seeming to trigger any effects.

"By god, what's happening to you?" Kevin exclaimed as he grabbed Neil by the shoulders and held him upright. "You've been so unlucky lately, it... it almost seems like a curse."

"A curse?" Neil stiffened, but quickly forced himself to shrug and morphed his grimace into a dismissive eye-roll. "Pfft, what are you talking about? There's no curse! I've just been, y'know, having an off-day..."

"Neil." There was that concerned look again, that almost parental tone of voice, as Kevin stared him down and tightened his grip on Neil's shoulders. "A couple hours ago you almost died, and now... you can tell something weird is going on, right? And, look--" He sighed, gaze darkening. "I don't exactly know how to fix it, but whatever's happening, I can't just sit back and watch you succumb to it. I can't lose you, too, Neil... not after..."

He trailed off with a faint warble in his voice, lowering his head. Neil gulped, a heavy weight surfacing in his chest. It was true; though he hated to admit it, at this point it was hard to deny that he was cursed. And yet, even as his foot throbbed around the spot where the bullet was lodged and his shoe was slowly stained from within by his own blood, it was hard to convince himself that he should accept help. On some level, didn't he deserve this? Wasn't this a fitting comeuppance for getting one of his friends killed?

Yet here was his other friend, clutching at him ever tighter to the point where his grip on Neil's shoulders was nearly as painful as hitting his head or getting mildly electrocuted or shooting himself in the foot. I'm not the only one who lost Ryan, he reminded himself--another thing he knew perfectly well on an intellectual level, but easy to forget in practice. Kevin is hurting too. I shouldn't make him hurt any more.

"Fine, I admit it," he sighed, letting his tensed-up shoulders slump. "I'm unlucky, okay? And if you think it's possible--" He tore the clover off his shirt and glared down at it-- "then we're going to beat this thing."

*

For as tough as the gang presented themselves, it must have been most of these people's first time in an actual fight. The vigilante swerved to avoid weak punches, clumsy kicks, poor attempts at stabbing. It all blended together after a while, and he stopped thinking of the gang members as individuals; they were just an indistinguishable swarm of insects whose attacks were easily dodged. Unimportant, save for their leader.

The vigilante had Max pinned to the floor now, holding his thrashing form in place with one arm while he brought his other fist down on the ruffian's face, over and over, as hard as he could. Not every blow connected cleanly, and Max had managed to bite him several times already, but that was irrelevant. Criminals must be brought to justice. That was why the vigilante hated these people, wasn't it? Because they were criminals. Yes, what other reason could he have, when this was all he'd ever been?

And then, just as he managed to land a blow to Max's jaw that left him defiantly spitting out blood and a couple of teeth, the vigilante's spine snapped.

It took a moment for him to register what had happened. He just heard a loud crack, and a sharp pain shot through him, and suddenly he couldn't hold his legs in place and collapsed. Max wasted no time taking advantage; he delivered a kick to the vigilante's gut that sent him flying back across the room, where he hit a wall and slumped to the ground, gasping in breathless agony. At once the other gang members closed in on him. Grimacing, the vigilante drew himself up onto his hands and knees, then braced himself against the wall and, with a far greater strain of effort than expected, dragged himself upright. By the time he'd managed to get to his feet, dozens of knives were inches away from him.

Then, to his surprise, Max pushed through to the front of the crowd and held his arms out to hold back his underlings. "Nuh-uh, this one's mine," he told them, sneering as though oblivious to the blood dribbling from between his lips. "I said I'd get him twice tomorrow, and I meant it."

The vigilante flinched as Max took a swipe at him. But rather than a fist connecting with his face, he was met only with the shock of exposure as the bully grabbed his mask and triumphantly yanked it off his face. He was left dumbfounded, blinking, as his vision readjusted to the light.

Wait a minute, I remember--

And then came the punch, square in the nose. Ryan yelped, pressing his gloved hand over his nose to stop the bleeding. When he dodged another punch, his body failed to cooperate and he crashed to the ground again, back aching furiously and heart pounding against his ribcage.

How and why his back had broken, he couldn't say, but one thing was clear: he was horrendously outmatched. Max was saying something now, gloating as he advanced on Ryan with a dagger in his hands, but Ryan couldn't make out the words over the blood rushing in his head. Why on earth had he gotten into a fight like this in the first place? What was he doing? He had to get out of there!

With that thought, yet another thing happened that Ryan didn't entirely understand. (Ryan didn't understand, but the vigilante did. It was one of the few things the vigilante knew: dissolve, reform, enact ruthless vengeance, dissolve again.) His body shuddered, and suddenly he found his solid flesh and bone giving way to a slurry of blood and ice that slipped through the cracks in the floor and disappeared. Then he was formless, freefalling through the dark, or at least that was what it felt like. When he took shape again it felt like dragging himself out of quicksand. Yet when he raised his slowly resolidifying head and looked around, he found himself in the basement of his own home, staring up at the portraits of his ancestors that had started it all.

No. Not started it all. "I had a life before this," he whispered, voice raw with the shock of memory and too many months spent speaking in an inhuman growl. "My name is Ryan, I have a life and a job and friends, I..."

Yes, that's right. Friends. Where were they? He closed his eyes and tried to remember. Each recent memory that took form in his mind was accompanied by a crashing wave of guilt and regret, and soon his body shook and tears pricked at his wrenched-shut eyes. That's right... I became a vigilante, and I teamed up with such a horrible person, let him manipulate me, all because I was too afraid to go back and apologize. And then...

The last thing he remembered, just after the flash of light and shock of paralyzing cold, was the sound of a gunshot, something shattering, and Neil screaming.

"Oh, dear god," Ryan whispered. He raised his head, opening his eyes and lowering his hands from his newly tear-stained face, and sat back on his heels as though worshipping the paintings before him. "What have I become?"

*

The ropes were just slightly too tight around Neil's limbs to be comfortable; he couldn't resist squirming a little as Kevin laid out the open bible on the end table next to his proton pack and began reading from it.

"Okay, um, let's see... ex-or-ciz-amus te, omnis immunde spiritus..." He squinted at the yellowed, faded pages, biting his lip. "Omni satanica pot-es-tas, omnis incurs--incursio infernalis adversarii... uh..."

"You're doing great," Neil called from his position tied to the bed frame; Kevin gave him a weary smile and thumbs up.

As Kevin continued reciting the verse, occasionally stumbling over a particularly tricky Latin word, the room's temperature eventually dropped a few degrees. Neil shivered, but his heartbeat picked up in excitement. He could feel something stirring in his blood like ripples on a lake, and when the furniture in the room began to quiver, so too did his body in eager anticipation.

"...Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux..." A chill wind swept through the room; Kevin gritted his teeth, one hand pressing down on the bible to hold its pages in place while he grabbed his proton pack with the other. "Vade retro Satana! Nun-quam-suade mihi vana!"

The furniture rumbled louder. Neil's eyes widened as an entire bookcase lifted off the ground. "Kevin, watch out!"

"Hang on, Neil, I'm almost done. Uh, where was I... sunt mala quae libas..."

"No, Kevin, the--"

"Just one more line, okay? Ipse ven--"

"KEVIN!"

That last terrified yell was what it took for Kevin to finally turn, just in time to see the six-foot block of polished oak fly directly into him. Neil shrieked and thrashed against his bindings with all his might, but even if he weren't tied up, there was nothing he could have done. The bookcase came crashing down, its contents spilling out onto the floor around it in a flurry of paper. And when the dust settled, Kevin was pinned beneath it, unmoving.

"N... no..." Neil whimpered. Dread tightened like a noose around his throat as the horrible thought seeped into his mind: This is because of me. Now I've gotten them both killed.

"Oh, yes, what a tragedy... just your luck, isn't it?"

Neil's blood ran cold. He raised his head to see the translucent, smoke-shrouded figure of a giant clover looming over him. Its four leaves, dark green tipped with crimson and speckled with barnacles, opened down the middle to reveal a row of needle-sharp fangs. For a second, "Where did you come from?" was on the tip of Neil's tongue. But it was just as well that he was too terrified to speak, because no sooner than the question appeared in his mind, he realized the obvious answer. Oh, right. This is the demon that cursed me.

"Don't worry, your friend is alive... for now," the demon jeered. "But that could change. It's so easy for accidents to happen, you know?"

As if to demonstrate, the demon's leaves fluttered and suddenly a fire sprang up dangerously close to the scattered pile of books on the floor. When Neil screamed in protest, the demon laughed, and part of the ceiling gave in, sending down a controlled shower of debris to put out the fire before anything flammable could catch.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Neil exclaimed with a shake of his head; he'd be almost exasperated if he weren't so terrified. "You're really powerful and want to hurt people, geez, not exactly a challenging concept. So, what do I have to do?"

That question seemed to give the demon pause. "...Do?"

"You know, to appease you or whatever. If you're threatening me with Kevin's life, then there must be something you want from me, right?" An idea occurred to Neil just then, and his already hammering heart beat even harder, to the point where he hoped the demon couldn't hear it and tell how freaked out he was. "Hey, it must suck having to be a clover. What if a lawnmower or forest fire had gotten to you before I did? And if you like hurting people so much..." He paused, smirking as the demon leaned toward him with obvious interest. "Wouldn't it be easier just to possess my whole body instead of wasting time messing with my luck?"

"That's..." The demon hesitated, its leaves curling up in what looked like excitement. "Ah. Ah-ha-ha! You're a clever little mortal, aren't you?"

"But don't get it twisted," he put in, glaring defiantly up at the demon despite hardly being in a position to threaten anyone. "You have to promise not to hurt anyone else. Especially not Kevin."

"It's a deal!"

Before Neil could stop and reconsider whether this was really a good idea, the demon dove toward him, row of fangs wide open as though it were going to bite his head off. He flinched a split-second before something cold and stinging like nettles clamped around him.

When he opened his eyes again, the world was tinted dark green as if viewed through a dingy screen, his head felt hazy... and he couldn't move, at least not of his own volition. Even opening his eyes just then wasn't his decision. He heard himself cackle, felt his arms and legs flex far harder than he'd known he was physically capable of flexing, breaking the ropes that bound him to the bed frame and setting his body free to do whatever the demon wanted.

"Hah..." the demon muttered in his voice as it made him walk over to where Kevin lay, still trapped and unconscious. The demon knelt down and poked experimentally at Kevin's shoulder and forearm. "This one has more muscle. It might have been a better choice for possession, if it wasn't so damaged already..."

For one petrifying moment, the demon grabbed Kevin's head and stared intently at him, stretching Neil's face into a grin so wide it made his whole face ache, and Neil's mind raced with horrible thoughts of things the demon might make his own hands inflict upon his poor helpless friend. But the demon simply laughed and dropped Kevin, who let out a low groan as his head lolled to the side--an indication that at least he really was still alive. But all of a sudden Neil had trouble believing that small mercy was really worth it.

"Ah, well, this body will do," the demon decided. "Let's take it out on the town and see how long it lasts!"

*

This time when the vigilante materialized in Wendy's room, she did little more than roll her eyes and move to grab her baseball bat. However, rather than try to attack her or even growl out any threats, the vigilante took two shaky steps and then collapsed, catching himself against her dresser. Wendy's eyes widened as she took a closer look at his face. His mask was off now, revealing a pair of striking blue eyes glistening with obvious distress, cheeks flushed with exertion, and a streak of half-dried blood running from his bruised nose. And when he spoke, it wasn't in the gravelly tone she'd heard from him before, but in a quiet higher-pitched voice--almost a whimper.

"Please... tell me..."

Wendy hung back, caught between a sharp tug of sympathy in her heart and a very rational wariness based on their previous encounter. The vigilante tried to walk again, and again nearly fell; his face wrenched up and he let out a pained hiss. At that, sympathy won out over rationality. Wendy edged toward him with her baseball bat in hand, and when she was close enough, held it out to him.

"Hey, uh... here. It's not exactly medically sanctioned, but maybe you could use this like a cane?"

"Oh... good idea, thank you!" He broke into a grin, and Wendy shivered; somehow he was far scarier when his eyes were bright and cheerful. "Terribly sorry for how I treated you last time, by the way. I really wasn't myself."

"Uh-huh?" While the vigilante tested out the makeshift cane, Wendy sat down on her bed, arms crossed. "And who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Ryan... or at least I think I still am." His smile faltered, and he looked away, anxiously running a hand through his hair. It was starting to come unpinned, and his hat was askew; evidently he'd been through a lot in the few hours it had been since their first encounter. "It's been... strange, lately. I don't think I'm entirely human anymore, if I ever was. But I came back here because there's something I want to understand."

"You want to know why I ghosted your friend?" It was just a guess, but Ryan nodded; Wendy smiled privately to herself for having figured it out. "Alright, I can tell you..."

She uncrossed her arms and leaned back on her bed, thinking back to the disastrous date she'd gone on several months prior. It was a story she'd recited many times to friends, relatives, other first dates as sort of a half-joking warning ("So, as long as you don't blow it as much as that guy did, we should be good...") and the more she told it, the more warped and exaggerated it became within her memory. But when she really thought back on it now, it hadn't been so disastrous at all--pretty damn awkward, sure, but not even close to the worst date she'd been on.

"Kevin actually seemed really sweet," she recalled, smiling despite herself at the memory of his big dorky grin. "I would have gone on a second date with him. But then, first thing the next morning, I read in the news that some guy got arrested right outside the restaurant while we were on our date. And the criminal's name? Neil. Same name as the 'friend' Kevin had said was helping him out." She shrugged, lips twisting into a frown. "I just got kinda freaked out, you know? Like, 'oh geez, did I go on a date with a drug dealer or serial killer or something?' Of course it probably wasn't anything that serious, and pretending to be dead was probably an overreaction, but... well, what's done is done."

Wendy was so caught up in her own memories as she explained all this that she wasn't really observing Ryan's reactions. Once she concluded her story, she glanced over to find him sitting on the floor with his legs tucked up awkwardly beneath him, the baseball bat in his lap; he was staring at the floor, expression unreadable. He stayed like that for a long moment, not seeming to notice that Wendy had stopped talking, until she cleared her throat. Then he jumped to attention, eyes flashing like those of a woodland cryptid in headlights.

"Ah! Yes, of course... well, I still don't entirely understand, but I think I resent you less now." Ryan tilted his head and shot her another shiver-inducing grin. (Whether it was supposed to be threatening or not, she had no idea.) "And you're right; I almost forgot--we're all criminals too, Neil and probably even Kevin and especially myself! So how can I be a vigilante?" He answered his own rhetorical question with a shake of his head, manic grin softening into a melancholy smile. "It's ridiculous. I've been so foolish."

With that, his body began to ripple, losing a little of its solidity. But before he could break apart and dissolve through the floorboards like last time, a chirpy little beep-beep-beedle-beep noise rang out. Ryan's eyebrows shot up, and he glanced down at an accessory around his wrist... Wait, is that one of those communicator watches like the one Kevin had?

If it was, Ryan wasn't quick to answer it. He simply stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at the beeping device in silence. Although she knew even less about Ryan than she knew about his apparently only slightly more normal friends, and she didn't normally care to get too involved in the personal affairs of strangers, he was still in the middle of Wendy's bedroom. And the longer that little jingle repeated, the more annoying it got. So she cleared her throat again and asked, in as polite a tone as she could manage given the circumstances,

"So, are you gonna answer that, or what?"

*

It was a stupid, pointless idea. Not an idea at all, really. Just the last scraps of... not even hope, that was pretty much deplenished at the moment, but effort. The effort not to let everything fall apart even further than it already had.

Kevin had woken with a throbbing pain throughout pretty much his whole body. Judging by the crushing weight pressing down on his torso, he was lucky to have woken up at all. The only parts of him not pinned down were his head and right arm, and even those hurt to move, though at least the spinning in his head put some degree of separation between himself and his broken body. Forget about trying to wriggle free when it hurt just to breathe.

So there he was, stuck, the shelf slowly crushing the air out of him, and Neil was gone. Where to, he didn't know. When he craned his neck he could see the empty bed frame, and the ropes broken and discarded at the foot of it. The bible he'd gotten from Ryan's house was facedown beside the tipped-over end table, next to a crushed and twisted lump of metal and plastic that he was horrified to recognize as his beloved proton pack. So wherever Neil was now, he must have still been cursed... or worse. And there was nothing Kevin could do about it.

Unless. Grimacing at the way his joints twinged, he raised his unpinned arm above his head. There on his wrist, perfectly intact despite everything he'd been through, was his communicator wristwatch. In all the hubbub of that day, he'd never gotten around to mentioning them to Neil, so his friend wouldn't be wearing his. But what if...?

It was stupid. It was pointless. There was no way in hell. But it was the only thing he could do. In a display so lacking in dignity that he was grateful nobody was around to see it, Kevin used his teeth and tongue for lack of a free hand to dial in the frequency and send off a signal. The watch's screen flashed in affirmation; he let his head flop against the floor with a weary sigh. Now all he could do was wait.

When he was at Ryan's house going through his things, and he found those communicator wristwatches, he'd only found two of them. And although that could have meant a dozen different things, there was just one wild, far-fetched possibility that any last semblance of hope now rested upon: that the third watch was missing because Ryan was alive, and he was still wearing his.

He didn't expect to get a response. By the time he did, he was struggling to stay awake--funny thing, trying to breathe with fifty pounds of wood pressed directly on your chest really takes it out of you. But he snapped to attention, or the closest he could get when his head was swimming and his body was beginning to go numb from lack of circulation, the moment he heard that voice crackling through the speaker.

"H-hello? Kevin?"

The relief that coursed through his veins was so overwhelming, especially on top of everything else, that he could only laugh--only for it to quickly turn into hacking as his ribs offered a sharp jab of protest. He raised his sleeve to wipe away a streak of blood that dribbled from his lips before speaking into the watch.

"Ryan. Where are you?" He regretted wasting time with that question the moment he asked it; he could tell from the way his organs felt like they were curling in on themselves as he spoke that he didn't have the energy for a full conversation. So before Ryan could stammer out a proper response, Kevin continued: "Neil is in trouble. You've gotta help him."

"What?" The shrill uptick of anxiety in Ryan's voice was palpable, and even just hearing that voice in and of itself stirred up a whole miasma of feelings that there was no time to properly react to. "What's going on? Are you okay? You sound--"

"I'm fine," Kevin lied through gritted teeth. "And... I don't know exactly where Neil is, but I know he's in trouble." A choking mix of emotions and his own blood swelled in his throat as his slowly blurring gaze wandered to the facedown bible. "I've tried to do some stuff today that I couldn't do without you. I-- we need you, Ryan. So, please... help."

With that final plea, something broke within him like a dam that he hadn't even realized was cracking. His arm flopped to the ground, wrist landing near his ear, where the communicator watch kept emitting Ryan's voice as it slowly rose in pitch until he was almost shouting. But even as his friend called frantically out to him, Kevin found it harder to make out the words. He groaned, letting his head loll to the side and his eyes fall shut. The last sensation he was aware of as darkness closed around him was that there was something wet on his face.

*

"Kevin, are you still there? Hello? Kevin!"

He wasn't responding. Why wouldn't he be responding, if the situation was so urgent? Maybe because he couldn't respond. Because he was--

"What are you going to do?" Wendy's voice cut into the swirl of panic Ryan was rapidly descending into. She hovered over his shoulder, peering down at the watch with wide, anxious eyes. The watch's screen had gone dark. No signal. Yes, indeed, what to do?

"What else? I have to save Neil."

If Kevin didn't know where Neil was, then there was no way that Ryan should have been able to instantly find him. But when he closed his eyes and let his vigilante instincts take over, he found that he didn't have to know where someone was. Whatever dark magic was infused in him now, letting him exist in this not-quite-human state even after what should by all accounts have been his death, it was hardwired for vengeance. And saving Neil meant exacting vigilante justice on whoever or whatever was harming him. With that in mind, the vigilante dissolved in a flurry of blood-tinted ice and reformed seconds later in the place it somehow knew it needed to be.

The first thing Ryan noticed when he appeared on the rooftop was the storm brewing overhead. He raised his eyebrows at that; earlier that day there hadn't been a cloud in the sky--and for that matter, when he looked around, it appeared that most of the sky was still perfectly clear, with the storm clouds being localized around this building. The second thing he noticed, upon peering over the edge of the roof, was that he wasn't on just any rooftop, but a skyscraper that towered above every other building in the vicinity. Lastly, he noticed a flagpole at the far corner of the rooftop, several feet away from him. And that was when his gaze fell upon Neil.

Neil was laughing as he swayed back and forth, clad in a brightly patterned jacket that wasn't his usual style at all, his arms and legs wrapped tight around the tall metal pole. Above him, the dark clouds lit up in a flash, followed almost instantly by a rumble of thunder. Although these particular stormclouds didn't come with rain, Ryan shivered. An incredulous exclamation was on the tip of his tongue (What on earth are you doing, stop it, you'll be killed!) when Neil locked eyes with Ryan, and he realized with a jolt of horror that this wasn't Neil at all--his body, yes, but someone or something else was controlling it. His mouth was stretched into a grin far wider than what a human face could normally achieve, and rather than their usual brown, his eyes glowed a sickly shade of green.

"Why, if it isn't my dear friend Ryan!" Neil--or whatever was piloting him--called, raising one arm off the pole in an exaggerated wave. "Oh boy, the guy I got this body from is sure surprised to see you alive! And as much as I'd love to send you plummeting off the edge of this building, I did promise not to hurt anyone else, so..." He waved his hand in a circle, unnaturally glowing eyes crinkling with amusement. "How about instead I pull you in a little closer so you can get a nice good look when your friend's body fries?"

With that, a sudden gust of wind blew into Ryan from behind, sending him stumbling forward. When he attempted to regain his footing, his broken spine betrayed him once again and he flopped to the ground with an undignified oof just a few feet away from the base of the flagpole. Grimacing, he pushed himself up and crawled the remaining short distance to grab Neil's ankle. As he did so, he noticed there was a bloodstained hole in his friend's shoe, and that his pant leg was slightly damp and already bore a few singe marks. Between that and whatever had happened to Kevin... he shuddered at the thought of what his friends had gone through in his absence.

"Nice try, vigilante," the thing in Neil's body jeered. "But I've gotta say, you don't pose much of a threat since I broke your spine."

He stomped his other foot down on Ryan's hand; Ryan yelped and instinctively released his grip. And at the very instant he let go, in such perfectly unlucky timing that only a supernatural entity could orchestrate, the stormclouds above them opened up with a searing, crackling, blindingly bright lighting strike.

Neil tilted his head back and laughed at the top of his lungs as countless volts of electricity tore through him. That horrendous laughter drowned out Ryan's screams of protest, not that there was anything he could do anyway in his current state, when he couldn't so much as get to his feet. All he could do was lay there and gape in horror as Neil's body shuddered and his flesh began to sizzle and burn.

Though it felt like an eternity of torture, the lightning strike couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds. When it ended, Neil dropped like a ragdoll into Ryan's arms. Ryan, too stricken to even check for a pulse, simply stared blankly into his friend's glazed-over eyes. Then Neil blinked, and his eyes were glowing green again, and he laughed, the sound rougher now that it was being produced by a charred set of lungs.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! I wasn't expecting this body to survive that! Can you believe Neil is still kicking in here?" He tapped a finger against his head, then sat up with a playful kick of his legs. "...Or is he? It would be just like a demon to lie, wouldn't it?" He grabbed Ryan's chin with his burnt and blackened fingernails and forcefully tilted his head up so their gazes met. "You can't tell, can you, vigilante? So, how hard are you willing to throw your broken body around to try and save someone who might already be toast? Maybe you should just give up and go on with your day, hmm?"

While the demon taunted him, Ryan's mind raced to concoct a plan. Some miraculous last-minute solution that would fix everything... Neil would be able to think of one. Perhaps he already had. But that wouldn't do them any good when Neil was trapped and helpless within his own mind. If this really was a demon, and a powerful one at that, the only thing that might work was an impromptu exorcism.

"Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux! Vade retro Satana!" Reciting the passage from memory as rapidly as he could without tripping over his tongue, Ryan grabbed Neil by the wrists and held him tight while he hissed and tried to jerk away. "Nunquamsuade mihi vana! Sunt mala quae libas. Ipse venena bibas!"

An ungodly noise somewhere between a shriek and a roar erupted from Neil as he tossed his head back and convulsed. It was far too visually similar for comfort to his electrocution less than a minute prior, and Ryan wondered if the demon was doing it that way on purpose in an attempt to scare him into stopping. If so, it wouldn't work. Even if this process was as painful for Neil as it was for the demon possessing him, it had to be done.

Sure enough, as the final line of the chant echoed across the rooftop, Neil shuddered and slumped to the ground next to Ryan. When their gazes met this time, the demonic glow was gone, but Neil was breathing fast and shallow and his eyes were wide with lingering terror.

"Ryan," he whispered. "You're... alive."

"I think so," he replied with a tentative smile. "It's all a little confusing. But we're going to be okay now, Neil."

However, no sooner had those words left his mouth than Neil stiffened up again, eyes momentarily flashing green. "No," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head as if to dispel the demon's grasp. "Not yet. Still gotta... get rid of it..." He grabbed Ryan's hands and held them desperately tight, like a scared child clinging to their parent or older sibling. His eyes flashed once more, and this time when the glow faded, his face bore a strained smile. "I've got an idea. Ryan, don't freak out."

And with that, before Ryan could process what was happening and reach out to stop him, Neil sprung to his feet and took a running leap off the edge of the building.

*

For a while now, Neil had been having unusually vivid dreams. They weren't always nightmares, but they often were. Dreams about different worlds, different realities, different lives. Ones where him and Kevin and Ryan weren't all friends. Or worse, ones where they still were, but that wasn't enough to save them. One of those recent dreams, which began as an exciting fantasy only to devolve into a nightmare, was about some kind of flying vehicle. Ever since having that dream, Neil had made two vows to himself. Firstly, that as soon as he gathered the funds to afford it, he'd go back to school and complete his aeronautical engineering degree. Secondly, to always carry a parachute, just in case.

But the demon possessing him had no way of knowing that, now did it? And it wouldn't want to still be trapped inside a host body that was splattered all over the pavement. That was what Neil was banking on, at least. Otherwise he might really be in trouble.

As he fell, a stinging sensation rippled through his body. He shuddered, yet there was a smile on his face--no longer a grin stretched unnaturally wide, but an expression of his own volition--and his heart pounded not with terror but with exhilaration and boundless relief. Sure enough, the demon leapt forth from him and departed in a swirl of green smoke. And with it gone, he wasted no time in engaging the parachute--just in time to slow his acceleration enough that the fall wouldn't kill him.

Admittedly, he didn't exactly come down gracefully. He landed in a tangle of limbs and fabric that he had to shrug off the borrowed jacket, parachute and all, in order to escape, and the landing was just rough enough to deliver a painful reminder of the electrical burns covering the better part of his body. Still, Neil couldn't stop grinning as he gingerly picked himself up and dusted himself off. He was alive and no longer possessed; that was a win in his book.

When he craned his neck to look up at the roof, he thought he saw Ryan still sitting there. Neil grimaced as he recalled what the demon had said about breaking Ryan's back; hopefully that injury was undone with the demon being vanquished, but since Neil's injuries were still there, maybe that wasn't so. Either way, he couldn't just leave his friend up there alone.

As quickly as he could run with a bullet wound in his foot, he entered the building and took the closest elevator to the rooftop. But by the time the elevator chimed and its doors slid open, the rooftop was abandoned, with no sign of Ryan save for an abandoned hat, cape, and gloves, and a slowly fading dark red stain.

*

If Kevin hadn't already been surprised to wake up alive the first time, he sure as hell was now. The only reason he knew he was alive at all was the deep, persistent ache that wracked practically his entire body. That, and the warmth of the hand laid atop his own.

Forcing his eyes open with a pained groan, he turned his head to see the man sitting at his bedside. Ryan squeezed his hand and flashed him a sad smile when their eyes met. His vigilante costume was gone, traded for a simple dress shirt and tie, and his hair fell unpinned around his visibly tired face; the chair he sat in, upon closer inspection, was an old-fashioned wheelchair.

With some effort, Kevin pushed himself into a sitting position. Looking around, he found that he was laying on the couch in the living room with his chest bandaged. How Ryan had managed to pull him out from beneath the bookcase, he had no idea, but he sure wasn't going to complain about it.

"Ryan, you... you're hurt?" It was a stupid question--why else would he be in a wheelchair? "Did the demon...?"

"It's gone now," Ryan responded. "But..." His gaze lowered, and he dropped his hands into his lap to fidget with the blanket draped over his legs. "It was a costly victory, I'm afraid. In order to defeat the demon, Neil--"

His tearful speech was interrupted by the distant bang of the front door being thrown open.

"Geez, you could've told me you were going straight home!" Neil's indignant voice rang out down the hall. "I wandered all over town looking for you."

Ryan's head snapped up, and he and Kevin turned in unison to see their friend running toward them with a slightly crooked gait. With a cry of joyous disbelief, Ryan opened his arms, and Neil tackled him in an embrace that nearly sent him toppling over; Kevin had to lean forward to grab the back of Ryan's chair to keep him upright as he and Neil clung to each other.

"Neil, you're alive! I-I thought..."

"It's okay, Ryan," said Neil. Then, pulling back and glancing at Kevin with a melancholy smile: "I think we're all going to be okay."

*

"So, what do you think?"

As the ending credits rolled on their latest webisode, Neil and Kevin turned to face Ryan with matching expectant grins.

"Well..." Ryan drummed his fingers against the keys of the laptop and tried to think of something positive to say. "The costumes you used were a lot more fashionable than usual--wait, hold on. Weren't those my clothes?"

They were in Kevin's truck parked outside the studio's headquarters, with Neil in the passenger seat and Ryan in the back. It had taken a little over a week for them to recover to the point where they could comfortably climb inside a vehicle, let alone Kevin being able to actually drive, and the studio had already sent them several notes warning them that their pay would be docked for submitting their webisode behind schedule.

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that," Kevin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"To be fair, if he hadn't broken into your house and stolen a bunch of stuff from you, he couldn't have called you on your communicator watch," Neil interjected cheerfully. "Or tried to do an exorcism... but I guess that didn't really work out for him anyway."

"Hey, c'mon, it wasn't stealing!" Kevin gave Neil a gentle shove, prompting him to briefly wince but laugh anyway. "If we'd known you were still alive, we wouldn't have taken your stuff, Ryan, honest."

"Ah, I'll have to remember that for next time," Ryan quipped. He closed the laptop and handed it back to Neil, who tucked it away inside an oversized shoulder bag. "Well, that may not have been the best webisode we've made, but I can tell you two did your best."

"Yeah, it'll be way better once we get back to making them as a trio," Neil said.

It was still amazing to Ryan that his friends were so quick to accept him back after all he'd done. If anything, it made him feel worse about his prolonged absence, because he knew now that he could have come back at any point and they would have been glad to have him. It was easy to fall into regret when thinking of all that had gone wrong, and all that could easily have gone even worse. But the fact was, they were together again now--altered by what they'd gone through, and not entirely for the better, but still themselves.

And despite it all, the preceding events and the possibility that another horrible thing could happen to them in the future, he found himself agreeing with Neil's hopeful statement.

"Indeed..." Ryan reached out and took Neil and Kevin's hands in his own. They smiled back at him with the same residual traces of relief in their eyes that Ryan had felt every so often over the past week--relief that they were still there to smile at each other. "Gentlemen, I look forward to working with you again."

¤--END--¤

[random-mha-thoughts]

Fidgety (LoV x Reader)

Pairing: League of Villains x Reader, platonic relationship

Shigaraki, Dabi, Toga, Mr. Compress, Kurogiri, Twice

Anon requested: “idk if you do requests, but league of villains with a suicidal parental abuse victim? you don't have to if you're uncomfortable”

Genre: Comfort/slight angst

Warnings: Implication of suicidal thoughts and abuse

Word Count: 1,255

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ 

a/n: I haven’t been inspired by a request in so long.  Either because it’s finally angsty/feelsy or because I found the perfect playlist on Spotify to listen to while writing it.  I really like it, it’s the first I’ve written that I’ve been really proud of in a while, so I hope you guys enjoy it.  And I hope if this is something you need right now, I hope it makes you feel just a little bit better, treat this as my hug to you.

"You're a weird one."

Shigaraki's voice comes out of the blue, startling me into jumping.  He's casually carrying an energy drink back to his room.  It's late in the night, I didn't think the rest would be awake by now.  I spare him one glance before resuming my activity.  "Says the alcoholic with chapped skin and scratchy neck," I mumble a retort.

"Yeah, says the one organizing Kurogiri's alcohol cabinet at 3 AM," the boy snorts back.  He seems amused by my position, standing on a metal stepladder to reach the top.

"I wish it was a bookshelf," I mutter barely above a whisper.

"What's that?"

"You're awake too, you know," I voice just a little louder.  Amaretto before the gin, Henny right after, I think as I move the bottles around.

I feel Shigaraki scan over my figure again before he shrugs.  "If you need me, I'll still be awake, you know where to find me.  You don't have to be up late alone."

My hands stop moving for a brief pause.  His casual offer echoes down the hallway as his faint steps retreat.  The fingers grasping my glass bottles slowly rest on the wooden shelf, letting the words linger in the air, my eyes closing slowly.

Once the moment is gone, I pull one of the bottles forward from the perfectly arranged lineup.  There has to be something slightly off, or else it'll look too clean.

.

"I thought you were gonna do the dishes tonight, what happened?"

The shift in Dabi's voice to something slightly more deadly makes my skin minutely jump and freeze.  My eyes downcast to the cards in my hand, flicking at the worn corner of the joker on top.  "I forgot, I'm sorry."

I hear rustling from him, and I keep an eye on his shadow on the floor.  He uncrosses his arms, one of them lifting up towards me.  I screw my eyes shut.

His hand lands on my shoulder.  "It's fine, just do it tomorrow.  I already did them so Crusty won't get annoyed."  His aquamarine eyes notice my frozen figure before resting on my hands.  "You must really love those cards since you carry them everywhere.  What do you do with them?"

I'm still shaken by his sudden touch.  "Nothing, really," I mumble.

After a pause, his hand on my shoulder rests on my head, softer this time but still elicits a flinch out of me.  "You're not bad, kid.  Remember that."

My head rolls up to meet his blank face before he turns around and heads back to his room.  The warmth of his hand still remains on my head, sort of as a comfort.  It's foreign, but satisfying, and I miss it.

.

"You always do that!"

I flinch at Dabi's sudden outburst against Shigaraki.  I don't know what they're fighting about, I tuned out sometime before the screaming happened.  A brief image of two people bickering and another of a man's face in full view pass through my head.

"God, you're the worst!  Why'd you come here if you can't handle me?" Shigaraki taunts back.  "Just go back to where you came from!"

"How about I just burn you to ash instead?!"

My mind chooses to focus on my tapping on the glass I'm holding, my back turned to the two, but I know they're probably up in each other's face already.

"Gentlemen!  Let's be more civil, shall we?" Compress's dramatic voice rings out to stop the two.  Kurogiri joins him in breaking it up and reprimanding them to apologize.

If only it were that easy sometimes.  If only they were there earlier.

A warm hand suddenly covers mine to stop my tapping.  "Aww (Y/n) sweetie, are you scared?  Should I go take care of them for you?"  Toga brandishes her knife, catlike eyes sparkling as the metal reflects off the light.

"No, I'm fine, just keeping myself present," I answer too quickly and rip my hand away from her to take a sip from my glass to seem more natural.

"You know, you shouldn't hide your feelings like that."  She leans her head on her hand, propped up on the bar.  "You're valid, you matter here.  Big sis Toga will take care of all your demons, physical and mental.  I'd have so much fun if you let me!"  Her wide smile shows off her sharp teeth.

My drink slides down my throat which much difficulty, passing the lump forming.  I finger my deck of cards near my left hand, playing with the soft, worn corner of the top card.  "Thanks."  It may sound like empty gratitude on the outside, but her words mean more to me than she knows.

.

Shigaraki, Dabi, and Spinner went out on a mission and they still aren't back yet.  I sit at the bar where Kurogiri left me, shuffling through my cards again.

"Oh, (Y/n), there you are," Twice greets as he and Mr. Compress approach and sit in the chairs on either side of me.  I barely nod in acknowledgment at them.

The latter man observes my nervously shaking hands as I move cards around the stack.  "Dabi said you play with those cards all the time.  What do you do with them?"

I sneak a glance at him just briefly.  "I just...organize them.  Put them in order."  My stack is already pretty much in order.  I add in the last of the cards I'd left on the counter to hold onto, save for the Jokers.  I stick those outsider cards randomly inside the perfect deck, ruining the order.

"They looked pretty worn in and creased, how long have you had them?" Twice asks.

My finger comfortingly plays with the corner of the ace on the bottom.  The cards have long lost their fresh white color, some of the colored parts have chipped, and they're all slightly bent instead of pin straight.  They and I have been through a lot.  "I don't know, pretty long."

"They must mean something to you, which makes me a bit reluctant to give you these."  Compress takes out one of his blue marbles and places it in his palm.  Once he opens it, an unopened deck is revealed.  "A brand new deck erases all the emotions and memories from the old one, but I guess I was hoping you'd give them up in favor of making new ones."

I take them from his hand, opening the top.  The smell of new cardboard and paper hits me immediately.

"Well, it's from both of us," Twice adds quickly.  "We know you're probably holding onto your old life and you might not want to move on from it."

That can't be farther from the truth, I wish I can move on.

"But we hope you can perhaps bury them among your more positive experiences with us," Mr. Compress finishes.  "You're part of the family now, and there's nothing we wouldn't do to protect you.  You're important to us, we want you to be happy even if it takes a while to get there."

"And we'll definitely be there to help you get to that point!"

My hands clamp around the box of cards.  I'm afraid to even take them out, fearing that I'll soil the precious gift I've been given if I just touch them.  My eyes fill with tears at their comfort, body trembling as I want to curl in on myself.

As both of them embrace me, I can't shake the lingering thoughts of disappointing them, but I'll be damned if I won't at least try finding my purpose in life, and I know they'll help me every step of the way.  It feels right being with them here, maybe I can live for them, if that turns out to be enough.

[ghstandpucks]

Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch. 3

A/N: Hey everyone, thanks for all the love on the last chapter! I loved seeing that you enjoyed it! Also thank you to @pumpkinpatchmakar​ and @pizzasloot​ for your kind words after my update post <3 

I do know where the story is going, and I’m excited to write it all out! Just bare with me, between school and my heart being broken, it might take longer between chapters but I will get to them!

Tags are open, just let me know! Enjoy!

Prologue Ch.1 Ch.2 

           Nate was halfway to his apartment when his phone rang; an incoming call from his captain. “What’s up?” he asked as he answered.

           “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for the past hour,” Gabe asked. Nate now realized that he had seen all those calls and texts, but after getting your number he forgot about them. He cleared his throat.

           “Sorry Landy. I was at the rink with Y/N,” he stated, unsure of what the captain’s response would be. When Gabe remained quiet, Nate became a bit nervous. “You there?”

           “Y/N? As in Coach Y/L/N, Y/N?” he asked, and Nate could hear Gabe’s amusement over the phone.

           “Yes,” he answered shortly. Gabe laughed.

           “What happened? Practice ended 3 hours ago, what have you guys been doing…or do I even want to ask?” Gabe said suspiciously.

           “It was nothing like that. I heard someone still on the ice when I was about to leave and went to see who it was. It turned out to be Y/N and she was just skating around and asked me to skate with her,” Nate explained as he pulled into his apartment complex.

           “Oh, so she’s just Y/N now? Seems like you two got close,” Gabe chuckled. Nate groaned as he parked. Maybe telling Landy wasn’t the smartest thing. “Please tell me you at least asked for her number or something before you left.”

           “I did actually. I asked her as we were leaving,” Nate said, quieter than he needed to.

           “Wow, okay. She’s definitely got you interested, doesn’t she?” Gabe sounded amused on the other end. Nate mumbled out a yes, knowing he wasn’t going to be living this down anytime soon. He was happy with the little progress he made with you, but now he was sure Landy would look for any reason to bring you around, not that Nate wouldn’t enjoy seeing more of you anyways though. “Well, I guess that brings me to why I was calling in the first place. Mel and I are taking Linnea on a hike on Sunday and we’re inviting some of the guys to go since everyone is pretty much back in town. I was inviting you, and I think you should see if Y/N wants to come. I don’t think she really knows anyone here yet, and Mel wants to meet her. After I tell her about your afternoon she’s going to be dying to meet her,” Gabe chuckled. Nate perked up hearing that he had a legitimate excuse to text you right away, instead of trying to play it cool.

           “Yeah, I can ask her,” he said, a little too eagerly.

           “Great! And make sure you pick her up. She doesn’t need to drive when she doesn’t know where anything really is,” Gabe suggested, knowing his friend lacked skills in the romance department. Nate rolled his eyes, but he was grinning at the thought of seeing you away from the rink.

           “I know Landy. I’ll text her and see. I’ll let you know,” he said as he entered his apartment and plopped down onto his couch, saying goodbye as his captain became distracted by his daughter.

           On the other side of the city, you had fallen onto your own couch and immediately got on facetime. “Superstar! How are you doing sweetie?” Jeremy asked.

           “I think I just gave Nathan MacKinnon my number,” you said in one breath, throwing a pillow over your head. Jeremy laughed.

           “You think?” he asked. You threw the pillow off and looked at him.

           “I gave him my number. I stayed after to skate and he was still there and I have no idea where I got the courage but I asked him to skate with me and I taught him some skating, he taught me some hockey, and it was just really fun and then he asked me for my number…” you rambled off.

           “Hey, deep breath Y/N. That sounds like you both had a nice time. And is it really so bad to give an attractive hockey player your number?” Jeremy tried to be sympathetic because he could see the wheels spinning in your head. He had known you for too long to not know where this was going.

           “He’s on the Avs though Jer. I’m technically his coach. How is that ever going to work?” you asked.

           “I don’t know Y/N, I wish I could tell you. But it seems like you are starting to like this guy, and if he likes you too then I’m sure you can figure it out. Don’t overthink it. I’ve seen you do that a few times, always putting your career first. And although that worked then, you can’t keep running from everything outside of the rink,” Jeremy tried to reason with you.

           “I know,” you said, knowing he was right.

           “And know that whatever does or does not happen, I will be here as your biggest supporter,” he said. You smiled at him.

           “Thanks Jer. Sorry, I don’t know why I freaked out,”

           “Because you are starting to like him,” Jeremy smirked. Your phone chimed and you briefly caught the text from a number you didn’t know at the top. Tapping on it, you saw that it was from Nate. Before you could read anything else, Jeremy laughed. “And I’m guessing that is him?” You nodded.

           “I guess some of the team are going on a hike Sunday and he wants to know if I want to go,” you stated, your smile growing.

           “I want to hear all about this hike when you get home,” Jeremy said. “Hang up with me and text your Doug Dorsey back.”

           “This is not the premise of Cutting Edge,” you laughed at his mention of one of the main characters. Jeremy shrugged.

           “He’s a hockey player. You’re a figure skater. Close enough,” he said, before saying goodbye as he had to run to a team meeting. You hung up and opened up Nate’s text.  It read: Hey Y/N, it’s Nate. Some of the guys are going on a hike on Sunday and I was wondering if you would like to join us? Mel, Gabe’s wife, is going and he said she’s been wanting to meet you. If you have plans no worries. Just thought I would ask. You smiled, seeing as you had no plans for the weekend beside finishing unpacking and would rather spend some time getting to know the team better…and Nate.

Y/N: Hi! That sounds like fun. I would love to go as long I wasn’t intruding on a team thing. You answered. You were a little worried that your presence would be unwelcomed, being a coach. Your phone pinged with another message.

Nate: No you wouldn’t be. You were about to reply when a text bubble popped up, and the following appeared. I would like for you to be there. You were happy this wasn’t in person as your face became flushed.

Y/N: When and where? 😊 Nate texted you to be ready at 9am on Sunday, and told you where you would be going. He said he would pick you up, and you gave him your address. And as the day continued, you continued to talk with him. Saturday came, and neither of you had technically said goodbye as you fell asleep texting him the night before, so Nate didn’t feel like it was too much, too soon to continue your conversation the next morning. You were giddy when Sunday morning came and you were getting ready. You felt that you had gotten to know him a little more and were excited to spend some more time with him. Right on time at 9 in the morning, there was a knock on your door. You looked in the mirror, fixing your hair quickly before answering it. Nate stood there in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, holding two cups of Starbucks. “Good morning,” he smiled as he handed one to you.

           “Morning!” you replied as you took a sip, humming contently as you tasted the pumpkin spice latte. “Is this why you asked what I liked from Starbucks?” Nate shrugged as you turned away to grab your jacket off the back of your couch.

           “I’m just hoping you’ll forget about making me do those extra laps tomorrow,” he teased as he looked around your apartment. It was small, but not too small, with a few boxes still sitting in the corner. “Are you still not unpacked?” You let out a sigh.

           “I have too much crap. I need another bookshelf,” you shook your head and took another sip, exiting your apartment. “But flattery will get you everywhere in my book. I may overlook your extra laps.” Nate chuckled as you locked the door behind you and followed him to visitor parking. You blushed slightly as he held the passenger door to his car open for you. The both of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment as he started to drive, enjoying your coffee. “So, who’s all going today?” You finally asked.

           “Landy and Mel, Tyson, Burky, and Cale I believe. Landy invited pretty much everyone since we’re all back in town, but I think everyone else was busy,” Nate explained. You nodded.

           “Well I’m excited. Thanks for inviting me to tag along,” you smiled over at him.

           “Of course,” Nate smiled over at you quickly. You kept casual conversation as you made it to the outskirts of Denver and what looked like would be a pretty hike to an overlook. Nate parked and off to the side you saw Gabe with a beautiful woman and a toddler in one of those carrier packs standing under a tree. As you made your way over, Nate leaned down and whispered. “Don’t let Gabe start showing you pictures of Linnea; you’ll be sitting there for like 3 hours.” You giggled, catching the attention of Gabe. The woman who you assumed was his wife, turned also and smiled widely.

           “You must be Coach Y/L/N. I’m Mel, it’s nice to meet you!” She said, pulling you into a side hug as to not squish her daughter.

           “Y/N. It’s nice to meet you too!” You replied, barely missing the not so subtle wink Gabe sent Nate.

           “Hey Coach, glad you could join us” Gabe said, “This is our daughter Linnea,” he introduced the little blonde haired, blue eyed girl. You smiled at her tired little face.

           “She’s absolutely adorable!” You squealed looking at the little girl. You weren’t necessarily a kid person yet, still being in your early 20s, but this little one was just too cute! Just then the others showed.

           “Eww who invited our coach?” Tyson grinned at you. You made a face at him, about to respond before Gabe beat you to it.

           “I’d rather have her here than you,” he said as Tyson feigned hurt. The others laughed and after greetings were exchanged you all started to walk. As the guys walked ahead, you walked along with Mel and Linnea.

           “So how are you liking Denver?” she asked cheerily.

           “The weather is a nice change from SoCal, that’s for sure,” you let out a soft laugh. “I’ve really only been to like the rink and the grocery store, so I haven’t been able to explore much more than this. I was happy when Nate invited me to hike with you guys so I could see a bit more,” you smiled.

           “We should go get lunch then one day, and go shopping! If you would like to. I know hanging around the rink with the guys gets a little old,” she said sincerely, and you couldn’t help but feel excited at the possibility of making a new friend.

           “That sounds like fun! I’m not used to being around this much testosterone.”

           “Yeah they are terrible sometimes.” You both started to laugh, catching the attention of the guys in front of you. You locked eyes with Nate, and blushed slightly under the grin he was sending you. Tyson walked over to the two of you and slung his arm around your shoulders.

           “Coach, I have a question…” you looked at him apprehensively and he gave you a sly grin. “Who is your favorite so far?” Nate you automatically thought, but were nervous to say out loud.

           “Well it’s definitely not you,” you replied, shrugging off his arm to the chirps of everyone else.

           “I bet it’s Nate,” Andre spoke up with a grin, Nate shooting him a look. You tried to think of something quick to say, seeing as Nate was looking as uncomfortable as you were starting to feel.

           “No, he has extra laps to skate tomorrow,” you tried to joke, hoping to ease Nate. It worked, he grinned at you and chuckled.

           “You don’t even know if you can enforce that,” he teased back.

           “I will figure it out!” you yelled back dramatically. The rest of the walk went like that, with the guys chirping one another, and dragging you and Mel into it. At some point after talking a bit to Cale, you ended up next to Nate as your little group came to a stop at a look out point. The trees were turning color with the season and everything looked pristine and beautiful. When Mel suggested taking a group picture. You automatically started to back up and were about to offer to take the picture when Nate gently placed his hand on your back.

           “Your part of this group too. Don’t be trying to sneak off,” he smiled at you. You were about to reply that it was okay when Andre spoke up.

           “Yeah Coach. Grace our picture with your Olympic winning smile.” He said, sending you a wink. You laughed and shook your head.

           “Oh God. That one hurts my face,” you admitted. You were known for always smiling throughout your routines. Even if you fell, you kept your smile. By the end of a four in a half minute long program though, that smile usually felt forced and plastered, even if it didn’t look that way. Andre turned his camera around as a selfie and held it up since he was the tallest. You were toward the back with Nate, his hand still on your back and you stood on your toes to try to be taller, your short frame looking incredibly small next to the larger bodies around you. After the picture was taken and sent to everyone, you and Mel exchanged numbers as you all continued the hike back to your cars. It was just after 1pm and you all decided to get lunch. You enjoyed your time with everyone and were starting to feel like Denver could be home. After lunch, Nate drove you back to your apartment. You were slightly sad the day was coming to an end. He parked and insisted on walking you up to your apartment, even though you assured him it wasn’t a big deal. Opening your front door, he eyed your still packed boxes again.  

           “You know, I could help you put together a book shelf if you’d like,” Nate said, face flushing a bit. You thought it was adorable, someone as large as him flustered.

           “That’s kind of you, but I have to go buy one first,” you smiled at him. He shrugged.

           “I can go with you. You might need help carrying it,” he smirked and you let out a laugh.

           “Wow, I think you are just really trying to get out of doing those laps tomorrow,” you shook your head.

           “Are you really going to make me do those?” he asked, leaning against your door frame.

           “I’m not sure yet, I haven’t decided,” you shrugged, making him chuckle. You looked up at him and couldn’t help but smile, the thought that someone might actually care about you as a person, and not because of your accolades filling you with immense joy. He was offering to help you build a bookcase after all. “I might just take you up on that offer though.” Nate smiled and pushed himself off your door frame and extended his arms to you. You gave him a hug and have never felt quiet as safe so quickly as his large frame enveloped you.

           “I’ll see you tomorrow Coach,” he said as he pulled away from you and winked.

           “Have a good night Nate,” you smiled. As he walked away you shut your door. Walking further into your apartment, you plopped down on the couch and got your phone out of your bag. You saw you had a few new followers on Instagram, some from the team and a few of their significant others. Mel had tagged you in a picture, and you saw it was the one you had all taken, along with one of just her, Gabe and Linnea. You went and posted the picture as well, captioning it “I’m not sure what I like about Denver better. This team, or the view?”

           You busied yourself the rest of the day and checked your Insta around dinner again. There was a comment from Tyson. “This team is the view.” You couldn’t help but laugh and be thankful that you ended up in Denver.

tags: @bqstqnbruin​ @avsfans95​ @andreiaafaria​ 

[fanmoose12]

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 4/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Petra was standing in front of a coffee machine, trying to choose between latte and cappuccino. She almost pressed on a button with latte written on it, when a hand, which fell heavily on her shoulder, stopped her.

"Goodness, don't even think of buying coffee there!"

Startled, Petra whirled around. She gasped as she saw Captain Erwin standing in front of her.

"Am I... not allowed to buy coffee here?"

Was there some unspoken rule that newly promoted detectives couldn't take coffee from the precinct's coffee machine? Was she overstepping some line?

For a second, Captain Erwin's eyebrows drew together in confusion. But then his lips curved into a smile, as he let out a soft chuckle.

"Oh no, no, of course, you're allowed to order coffee there," he assured her. "But you really shouldn't. In Levi's words," he scowled, trying to mimic Levi's annoyed expression. Petra couldn't resist a giggle - Captain Erwin's impression was spot on. "It tastes worse than horse's piss."

Petra covered her mouth with two hands, stifling her laughter.

Captain raised his arms in a placating gesture. "His words, not mine. But it's truly awful. C'mon," he turned around and started walking, beckoning Petra to do the same. "I'll make you a better one."

***

As Captain was busy with preparing coffee, Petra couldn’t help, but look around his office. The office wasn’t big or spacious, but it was brightly lit and tidy. There wasn’t much inside, only a bookshelf, filled with case files and diplomas, a small leather coach and simple wooden desk. The desk, for some reason, attracted the most of Petra’s attention. It didn’t look different from her own, the same computer model, the same table lamp, however… there was a photo frame standing beside computer screen. She couldn’t see, who was pictured there, but she found it curious and a little strange nevertheless. She would have never guessed that Captain had a family. He didn’t seem the type.  

"Here you go," Erwin placed a cup in front of Petra. She took it with two hands, lifting it up and inhaling a deep, bitter aroma. It smelled perfect. She brought it to her lips, taking a first sip. Oh. Not only it smelled perfect, it tasted perfect too. She couldn't keep in a small moan of satisfaction that escaped her lips, as the hot liquid made its way down her throat.

Erwin watched her with amused eyes.  

"Thank you," Petra smiled sheepishly, blushing slightly, as she put the cup down. "It's the best coffee I've had in weeks."

"My pleasure," Erwin smiled back, drinking from his own cup.

Petra fidgeted. Captain’s expression was relaxed, but those bright blue eyes were so intense, she felt like he was staring into her soul. Why did he even call her there? Surely not just for coffee.

"C-captain?" Petra gripped the cup in her hands tighter. "Did you invite me there for any particular reason?"

"I wanted you to enjoy a nice cup of coffee," Erwin put the cup down and rested his chin on top of his hands. His eyes stared at her, following the smallest of her moves. "And to talk with you. How is the case going?"

"Um..." Petra swallowed, feeling uneasy. "It's, um, going."

Erwin slightly raised his eyebrow, but didn't push the matter further.

“Levi asked for a day-off tomorrow,” he said. “Would you be able to hold on without him? I know you’ve just been promoted a—”

“No, it’s fine!” Petra assured him eagerly. Of course, the prospect of surviving the shift without her more experienced partner was a more than a little worrying. But after what she had seen today in the interrogation room, maybe, it was for the best if Levi spent some time at home.

"Speaking of Levi,” Erwin began. “Does he give you any trouble?"

"Of course, not!" Petra exclaimed with way too much vigor.

Erwin smirked, raising an eyebrow higher. "Is that really so?"

Petra deflated, casting her eyes down. "Detective Levi is a great professional and I—"

"Petra," Erwin cut her off. "Levi won't get in trouble with me, don't worry. I'm asking as his friend, not as his superior."

"As his friend..." Petra whispered.

"Yes," Erwin nodded. "So if there's something I should know, please tell me. God knows, Levi would never tell me if something bothered him."

"I..." Petra nervously tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I think you should take him off this case. It's clearly too personal for Levi."

"Hm, maybe, you're right," Erwin scratched his chin. "I knew that appointing him to this case would cause some problems..."

"Then why did you? Give him this case?"

Erwin shrugged. "I wanted to see his reaction. To see if he had truly moved on from Hange's death."

That was... that was heartless. But as she stared at Captain's face, she didn't see the cold calculation or simple indifference in his eyes. Only uncertainty and worry. Maybe, it was his weird way of caring about his friend.

"You knew from the beginning, right?" she asked quietly. "That this case would involve detective Zoe?"

"I had a feeling," Erwin agreed. "The murder happened in the same apartment complex she used to live in, after all. Hardly could be a coincidence."

Right... so that's why the witness had recognized Levi. Did he really share an apartment with his partner?

"Forgive my bluntness...” she cleared her throat, gathering all of her courage to maintain a direct eye contact with Captain. “But what was the nature of Levi and detective Zoe's relationship?"

"They were partners," Erwin answered, his jaw set. "In every possible sense of that word.”

“Oh,” if before Petra’s cheeks were rosy, now they turned almost crimson read. She felt stupid for asking such a personal question. Clearly, her partner wasn’t the only one, who was still affected by detective Zoe’s death. “I shouldn’t have asked, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s nothing,” Erwin waved her off. “Levi isn’t the most open of people, so I understand the desire to… get to know him better.”

Petra nodded, although Captain’s words didn’t really help her understand anything. It also didn’t really make Levi’s story any clearer. She still couldn’t piece together what kind of bound existed between Levi and detective Zoe. They clearly were much more than just colleagues. Definitely more than just friends, too. Maybe, they were dating? Or even married? There were many ways in which the world ‘partner’ could be interpreted. Maybe, that’s exactly why Captain Erwin used it.

"By the way, did you finish questioning the witness?" Erwin asked, bringing her back to the present.

"We did," Petra replied, avoiding his gaze. The recent incident in the interrogation room still hung heavily over her head.

"I assume it didn't go that well," Erwin noted.

Petra sighed. "The man that the witness described.... Didn't fit the description of Zeke Yeager."

Erwin covered his eyes with a hand. "So he really is pursuing that theory..." he glanced up at Petra. "What was the description given to you by the witness?"

"Um, according to him, the killer is a tall man with brown and curly hair."

"And what makes you think he described a killer?"

"Huh?"

Erwin straightened out. "Are you absolutely sure that the man that the witness saw was a killer?"

"He went with the victim to her apartment..."

"But we can't know for sure if he was the one to kill her," Erwin said resolutely. "Did the witness say how that man left the building?"

"He finished his shift earlier," Petra answered, feeling more and more confused with each passing moment. “Do you think that someone else killed her?”

“I’m not stating anything,” Erwin replied, evasive as always. “I’m just saying that you can’t be too sure in any of your theories until you actually get some evidence. It narrows your scope.”

“A-aha,” now Petra got it. “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains must be the truth and all that, right?”

“Yes,” Erwin smiled widely. “Remember these words and you’ll do great at your job.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Petra smiled briefly, before furrowing her eyebrows. Something in Erwin’s words bothered her. Could it be that…

“Captain, do you… do you also think that it was Zeke Yeager, who killed that woman?”

Erwin didn’t answer immediately.

“I know it seems weird for you,” he began with self-deprecating smile. “And I know that Levi may seem like he’s obsessed with catching Zeke, and, maybe, he really is, but… You didn’t know Zeke. He was smart. Very smart. And he liked playing with people. I’m not saying that he’s alive, I’ve seen evidence that very much proved the opposite, but the fact that he’s somewhat involved in that murder is certain. The glasses belonged to Hange, and the blood was hers too. Who else could have gotten it? It’s either one of Zeke’s henchmen, maybe, someone, who seeks revenge for his death, or…” he trailed off, shrugging.

“But the description didn’t match!” Petra tried to argue.

“Wigs exist,” Erwin said simply.

Petra hanged her head. She wanted to protest, wanted to come up with some argument that would destroy this whole outlandish theory. Unfortunately, if Levi and Erwin kept overlooking one small fact that Zeke had died two years ago, she doubted there was anything that would be able to dissuade them.

“Oh, shoot!” Erwin suddenly exclaimed, glancing at his wrist watch. “I’m almost late to a very important meeting!” he got to his feet, gathering the papers on his desk. “Thank you for the company, Petra.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” she smiled prettily, even though her head was still reeling from their conversation.

“Good luck with your case,” Erwin said, as he followed Petra out of his office. “And look over Levi for me, okay? If anything happens, you know where to find me.”

He gave her one last smile and then hurried away. Petra stared at his wide back for a second, and then she pulled herself together, turning around and heading towards her office.

It was about time she got some actual work done.

***

To her surprise, when Petra had entered their office, it turned out that Levi wasn't there. She glanced to the side, his coat wasn't hanging on the clothes rack. However... his computer was on, the screen burning brightly in the otherwise dark room.

Petra couldn't take her eyes off that computer. She remembered her first day at work (it seemed almost surreal that it was only yesterday, it felt like weeks has passed) and how Levi was so focused on his computer, as though whatever was on his screen was the most important thing in the world. She remembered her desire to find out what was he working on.

She stepped further into the room, wondering where Levi was right now. He promised Moblit he'd visit the forensics department, maybe, he was there? But why would he need his coat for? And why didn't he turn off his computer?

Petra took another step, her eyes darting to the desk next to Levi's. Detective Zoe's desk. It was a little different than yesterday.

There was... There was a pair of glasses lying atop one of the reports. The same glasses they found on the scene of crime, Petra realized, as she saw a crack running through the left lens. But the blood was gone. Whoever cleaned them, did a real good job. Petra had a feeling she knew one particular person, who liked keeping things clean and tidy.

She felt a lump form inside her throat. Two years had passed, and Levi still didn't give up on her, hoping that one day she would come back. Petra couldn't decide if she should admire his loyalty or pity his naivety.

Either way, she hurriedly turned away from that desk. It made her feel melancholic and more than a little depressed.

If the glasses were there, it meant that Levi had already visited Moblit and his team. Where was he now? How much time did she have?

Glancing back, as if to check that Levi wasn't coming back this instant, Petra took a deep breath. And then she swiftly sat down at his desk.

Moving the cursor, she studied his desktop. There wasn’t much on it, just a few folders. She ignored the ones with the obvious contents – the ones named ‘cases’ and ‘reports’. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she saw the folder with a name ‘that fucking asshole’, she almost clicked on it, but then she saw another folder. This one was named ‘Sannes’, and Petra’s breath hitched, as she remembered Levi asking her about him. Could it be… could it be that this folder contained some evidence? The one that could back up Levi’s claim about Sannes’ involvement with criminal underworld? Feeling her pulse fasten, Petra opened the folder.

Well, she tried to open it, because as soon as she clicked on the folder, a new tab opened, requesting a password.

She cursed.

Petra tipped her head back, thinking. What could a man like Levi use as his password?

She typed four zeros and then pressed enter.

‘The password is incorrect. Please try again.’

Of course, it was too naïve to hope that Levi would use something as generic as this. But Petra wasn’t going to give up so soon. She opened the first drawer of his desk, trying to find something that would give her some sort of idea. Petra grinned as she found the old driver license. It was expired, but in the corner Levi’s birth date was written.

Bingo.

She quickly wrote the numbers and pressed enter, her hands slightly trembling in anticipation of seeing what was inside that folder.

‘The password is incorrect. Please try again.’

Shit. Closing the first drawer, she opened the second. She rummaged through it for a couple of moments, but found nothing, except old autopsy and ballistic reports. Petra groaned – she was starting to get desperate. She closed the second drawer with more force than was necessary, opening the third one. The last one.

It was empty, except— Except an old, tattered photo. Three people were pictured there – Petra immediately recognized Captain Erwin and Levi, even though they looked much younger. A bespectacled woman stood between them, her hands wrapped around both of their shoulders. It must be detective Zoe, Petra guessed, looking at the woman’s wide grin. Detective Zoe wasn’t the only one smiling – there was a delighted beam on Captain Erwin’s lips as well, and even Levi, as weird as it looked, was wearing a small, but satisfied smile.

They looked so joyous here, so… so happy. And now one of them was dead, and two others suffered heavily because of that loss.

She turned the photo around. There was something written on the other side.

The only time, when your face didn’t look so constipated, shorty! Keep it as a reminder

“Shorty?” Petra gasped, rereading the small note again. She would never dare to call Levi like that. Most people probably wouldn’t. Hange Zoe was clearly an exception. And it was obvious that Levi took her advice of keeping the photo to heart, the picture looked worn out, as though it was frequently held and looked at.

Shaking head, she tried to regain her focus. She didn’t come here to go through Levi’s stuff. Well, technically, that was exactly what she was doing right now, but she really didn’t mean to pry into his personal life. She did it more than enough today. She needed to guess his password, and, unfortunately, that photo didn’t help her in the least.

But what if…

Biting her lip, Petra bent over the keyboard. She almost finished typing ‘HangeZoe’, when the door handle began to rattle.

Petra jumped in her seat, frantically closing the password window on the screen and hiding the photo back inside the drawer. She wasn’t quick enough to get to her feet, though, the door began to open, as Petra erratically tried to think of some excuse to explain, what she was doing behind Levi’s desk, but nothing was good enough. She could quite clearly picture his furious expression, she already wanted to start apologizing, but then the door was opened completely.

And Petra saw Oluo, standing on the threshold.

“Goddamn it!” she cried out, heart still thumping way too loudly inside her chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

Oluo frowned. “I have never heard you curse before. And, by the way, isn’t that detective Ackerman’s desk?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked instead, ignoring his last question.

Oluo rolled his eyes arrogantly, all signs of his previous suspicion gone. Petra felt warmth spread through her chest at the sight of his annoying face. Never would she guess, but she missed Oluo terribly.

“Someone wants to see you,” he replied, leaning against the wall. “So finish whatever you were doing at detective Ackerman’s desk and let’s go.”

“Someone?” Petra blinked in surprise. “Who?”

“Djel Sannes,” Oluo told her with puffed out chest. He was clearly proud to receive a command from such important man. “Deputy police chief.”

The folder at Levi’s computer immediately appeared in Petra’s mind. She couldn’t open it and see, what his partner found so suspicious about that man. But, maybe, she could investigate it herself.

She got to her feet, adjusting her blouse and skirt.

“Let’s go then,” she joined Oluo at the doorstep. “Can’t make him wait, right?”

 ***

As they were walking through the precinct’s corridors, Oluo didn’t take his eyes off her even for a second.

“Do I have something on my face?” Petra snapped, feeling uneasy under his gaze.

Oluo hurriedly looked away, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. “No, of course, you don’t.”

“Then what’s the matter? You’ve been staring at me like I’ve grown a second head or something.”

“You look just fine,” Oluo huffed, still refusing to meet her eyes. “It’s just… you’ve changed.”

“Changed?” Petra let out a surprised chuckle. “People don’t change over a day, dummy.”

“Maybe, change isn’t the right word then, but…” he scowled, annoyed with his inability to express himself clearly. “You carry yourself with more confidence now and at the same time… you look more troubled than I’ve ever seen you.”

Well, she wasn’t sure about her newfound confidence, she felt nothing of the sort, but troubled? That was a vast understatement.

“A lot of stuff happened over these two days.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Oluo’s soft voice caught her off-guard. Petra glanced at him. Oluo was looking back. There was no amusement in his eyes, and his usual smirk was absent as well. He genuinely wanted to help her, Petra realized with a start.

“Yes,” she answered him after a moment, “I would love to talk about it,” she paused, staring straight in Oluo’s eyes. “With you.”

“Oh,” Oluo stopped abruptly, nearly colliding with someone. Petra giggled into her palm. He looked so flabbergasted. To Oluo’s credit, however, it took him only a few seconds to regain his posture. “I k-know a place!” he exclaimed loudly. “I found a new restaurant near the precinct, the food is delicious and it’s really nice p—”

“Alright,” Petra cut him off, still chuckling. “Let’s visit it tomorrow evening. If that works for you?”

“O-of course!”

“Great,” she patted his shoulder, before leaning in to press her lips to his cheek. “Then it’s a date,” she whispered into Oluo’s ear, before walking away, leaving him to stare after her with a dazed smile on his face.

Petra turned the corner and there it was. The door to Djel Sannes’ office. It looked the same as all doors in precinct looked – a sturdy, wooden door. Nothing unusual about it, and yet— and yet Petra’s palms were sweaty. Her heart was beating faster than usual too. Logically, she knew there was nothing to be afraid of, it was just a visit to her superior’s office. She talked with Captain Erwin earlier, and it wasn’t nerve-wracking at all. She would even call it pleasant. And she wasn’t even sure, if there was something wrong with deputy police chief, she had never met him after all. The only thing she knew is that Levi didn’t trust him, but Levi also believed that people, who had died two years ago in the explosion, were alive. His opinion clearly wasn’t the most reliable.

She just needed to get a grip on herself. What had Oluo said to her? She carried herself with more confidence? Well, maybe, the time has come to prove it.

Petra took a deep, calming breath and raised her hand, knocking on the door.

“Come in!” came a deep, booming voice from the other side of the door.

Petra took another breath, and then. She walked in.  

***

Deputy police chief’s office, as it turned out, wasn’t much different from Captain Erwin’s. It was a little bigger and his desk was a little fancier, but otherwise it was the same type of office every high-ranked policemen had.

Djel Sannes himself didn’t look as scary as Petra imagined. He looked kind of plain, actually. He was a middle aged man with wide shoulders, neat haircut and clean-shaved face. There were more than a hundred men like him in their precinct.

Petra’s heart rate slowed down a little.

“Detective Ral!” Sannes spread his hands in a welcoming gesture. “I was waiting for you!”

Petra put on a polite smile, sitting down on the opposite side of his desk. “It is an honor, sir. Do you wish to discuss something?”

“Just welcome you on your new position. You’ve been a detective for…”

“Two days,” Petra answered.

“Exactly!” Sannes snapped his fingers. “And we’re seeing each other only now,” he cocked his head to the side, looking at Petra. His expression was still easy, friendly, but his eyes became sharper. Colder. “You’ve been busy, I’ve heard.”

“We were appointed a new case tonight,” Petra nodded, pointedly ignoring the sudden change in Sannes. It was probably her nerves getting to her.

“Yes, a woman was murdered. Do you have any clue who had done it?”

“We are working on it.” Petra said with much more confidence than she actually felt.

“Good, good,” her false bravado had either gone unnoticed by Sannes, or he simply didn’t care enough to call her out on it. “And what about your partner? Detective Ackerman?”

“Um… what about him?”

“I know that man,” Sannes said offhandedly. “To put it mildly… he’s not the easiest person to deal with. Is he bothering you? If he is, don’t hesitate to tell me, I’ll appoint a new partner for you.”

“No, no,” Petra waved her hands. “Detective Ackerman is a very skilled detective. I like working with him.”

Sannes gave her a very skeptic look. “Is that really so? I find it hard to believe, actually.”

He reached over to the drawer, opening it and taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and sitting back in a chair.

“Do you smoke?” he asked Petra, offering her a cigarette.

She silently shook her head. Smoking inside the precinct was prohibited. But obviously Petra decided not to say it out loud.

“I should have fired that man a long time ago,” Sannes took another drag. “I would have done it, if Smith wasn’t so overprotective of him. He always had a soft spot for Ackerman. For him and that partner of his. Surely you’ve heard about her already?” he glanced at Petra, shaking out the ash into the ashtray. “Detective Hange Zoe,” the distain in his voice was so clear, Petra felt uncomfortable. “Between you and me, that woman got what she deserved. She was hot-headed and reckless, and in the end, that’s exactly what had gotten her killed.”

Petra wondered if Sannes had ever shared his thoughts on the matter with Levi. Sannes’ nose didn’t look like it was ever broken and Levi still worked as a detective, so she guessed they never had that particular conversation.

“But you’re not like them,” Sannes said. “You’re not a scheming bastard like Smith, you don’t put your nose where it doesn’t belong to like that Zoe did, and obviously you’re not a psychopath like Ackerman. I like you, Ral,” he grinned approvingly. “We should work together.”

“T-together?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “You help me and I help you.”

Petra honestly couldn’t believe her ears. So Levi was right after all. Although, she still had not even a hint of his connection to criminals, there was no doubt that Djel Sannes, deputy police chief, was a corrupt and malicious man. And it meant that Petra had to choose her words very, very carefully. She couldn’t let him know that she wasn’t on his side.

“And… what do you need my help with, sir?”

“Oh, not much,” Sannes put out his cigarette, the smug smile still present on his face. “Just keep an eye on your partner. If he does something suspicious… well,” he let out a small chuckle. “You know where to find me.”

“That I do,” Petra nodded with a smile she put on to mask her disgust. “Is that everything you’ve wanted to talk about?”

“Yes, that’s all,” he waved his hand carelessly. “You may go, but,” he gave Petra another careful look. “I’ll be expecting to hear from you, Ral.”

“Of course, sir,” she raised to her feet. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

It was only when Petra was inside her office that she could finally breathe out in relief. With each passing hour, her life was getting more and more complicated. She would never expect deputy police chief to ask her to spy on her partner.

Speaking of which… where was Levi? She hadn’t seen him all day.

Petra’s eyes darted to his computer, but she quickly changed her mind. She had more than enough revelations for one day. She was tired to the bone, too. She glanced at the clock – it was already past six, which meant her shift was finally over.

Grabbing her bag and coat, Petra hurriedly left the precinct. She had a crazy day.

And something told her – tomorrow would be no better.