#so a direct conversation to them sounds like a fucking riddle to anyone else

[essektheylyss]

the problem is that I really am just mentally running circles over the pacing of this fucking book. I'm too used to slow burn fic bullshit so I'm sitting here like "okay but is 55k in too soon for these assholes to believably be willing to have a direct conversation?"

[oxygenbefore1775]

Ok so what's my interpretation of this line aside from the obvious one that Zeke is an evil-evil narcissistic self-absorbed piece of shit who cares for nothing but to spurn Levi ofc (im being facetious)

disclaimer: this is pretty cut-and-dry as the most of Zeke's motivation was lifted from the manga panels i.e. not speculated on by the likes of me

Just to be clear, Zeke doesn't say this out of the blue or just cuz he's in an insulting mood — it's a direct response to Levi's words preceding this, not a throwaway comment made to pull wool over Levi's eyes

Going back to the beginning of the ch 110, this whole interaction starts with Zeke retelling the events of the Ragako village to Levi — something that he's done a couple of times already — only to be accused of remorselessness by Levi later

It's only then that Zeke replies with:

In general, Zeke doesn't really care what people think of him or his motivations with Eren being the exception. He never tries to convince anyone of his euthanasia plan justness (hell, he doesn't reveal it to the majority of people *because* he knows they'll never understand and thus be approving of it). As seen in the panels from ch 113 below, Zeke believes that no one aside from Eren and himself is capable of understanding that's why he doesn't bother making them understand

(and it's not like Zeke says these words to be edgy or something — he's monologuing so there's no reason for him to lie or exaggerate when there's no one for him to hear that, this monologue is exclusively for the reader to take in)

Levi's opinion is of no value to Zeke. If it was, then Zeke would have made an attempt of justifying his position like he did with Eren. But he never did in the span of his entire involuntary stay in the forest. A month-long opportunity and never once did Zeke deign to use it to tell Levi about the events in his past that led him to the creation of the euthanasia plan. Because Zeke doesn't see it as necessary.

Levi tries to figure out Zeke, though. I suppose this is why Levi asks Zeke about Ragako a couple of times already, it's not the first instance that he hears this account from Zeke. Time and time again, all to come to the same conclusion — that is, that Zeke is not riddled with any guilt whatsoever. And as much as Levi is justified in his attempt to understand the motives of a person whose worldview goes against every value that Levi holds dear when it comes to human life — but his judgement is based solely on the previous interactions he's had with Zeke + Zeke's account of the Ragako village attack. And suffice to say all their previous interactions weren't really conducive to creating a fruitful conversation between them since the majority of times they met was in a battle.

(trying so hard not to sound like a Zeke apologist but—) Zeke does care about human lives in his own twisted way. As someone who's so fucked up in the head to think that death is the ultimate mercy, he truly believes he makes those he killed a great favor by ridding them of their painful existence.

All of this Levi could've learned but never does — all of his conclusions about Zeke are drawn from his very limited experience of interacting with Zeke (atp they had only 2-3 brief conversations which mainly consists of them trading taunts). Not that he is obliged to — Levi has enough reasons to judge Zeke for his actions yet he assumes Zeke's intentions and judges them too.

As per this post, the Japanese version intended Zeke's line about women to be a comment on Levi's social skills, how his ill-based notion about someone's motivations is making him out to sound unlikable. Hence it's followed by 'Don't act you understood someone else's thoughts'. Because in Zeke's mind, Levi never understood Zeke's thoughts/intentions.

Zeke thinks that no one is capable of understanding him or his intentions. That's why he doesn't appreciate Levi attempting to do it (and erroneously so) and shuts him down.

[silv3rswirls]

Rockstar

No one requested this I just really want bad boy Jungkook to ruin my life.

Lord save me I love the whole vibe of this Jungkook.

Summary: At a time like this, the last place you expected to be was some seedy bar downtown, but here you were drinking shitty beer and making eyes with the live band’s drummer. 

Warnings: Female reader, dirty talk/degradation, public sex (y’all fuck in an alleyway), alcohol, smoking/marijuana use, unprotected sex, slight strength kink, hair pulling, slight breeding kink? (not sure if this can qualify as that)

Word count: 4k

When you and your boyfriend broke up, you had imagined yourself laying around at home and drowning your sorrows in take-out and sappy romance movies. That’s what you had planned at least, but your friends had other plans. They had come to your apartment with plans to go to some little bar downtown. A small underground place that had been the talk all around campus lately. They had cheap drinks, live music, and seemed to be the perfect party setting lately. You decided to go after they pestered you enough, encouraging that this is what you needed after the breakup.

It wasn’t that you hated going out to these kinds of things, you just weren’t much of a partier. Sure, you drank at times, but never really let yourself go like a lot of students did. You had never seen anything wrong with this, but apparently, your boyfriend had. He broke up with you and cited his biggest reason as being that you were just too boring to date. And he did it over text no less. This guy had been your high school boyfriend and the relationship had carried on into your college years, you really hadn’t thought you would break up at this point. You thought, maybe it was for the best. He seemed way more interested in spending his college years partying and hooking up anyways, but it didn’t stop the hurt you felt over the breakup.

You knew he was a bit of an asshole and maybe that’s what you had liked so much about him, but besides that, the two of you had been together for so long. He had been your first boyfriend and kiss, he had taken your virginity, the whole shebang. He had been your only boyfriend as well, so your experience with anyone else was next to nothing, and in a way it made you feel a bit nervous about getting back out there. 

But, your friends usually didn’t steer you the wrong way so you thought why not? Maybe going out would be fun like they said. You would be going to a bar single for the first time, exciting right?

Honestly, it wasn’t.

You were currently sitting at the bar alone while your friends had found others to distract them. You didn’t mind, just wished you weren’t the weirdo sitting alone like this. You were taking a break from dancing as your feet were beginning to hurt and the crowd left you a bit lightheaded. The bar hadn’t been what you envisioned when everyone told you about it. It was a small place, some kind of obscure dive bar or something. The walls were packed with signs and posters, neon lights illuminated them in color. The stage was towards the other end of the place, relatively small with lights shining onto the crowded- they were currently red, bathing the whole place in its hue. A few tables and chairs had been pushed more to the side, but a few people sat and talked, played cards, or snacked on the stale chips left out. Fans spun lazily above you, doing nothing in the way of cooling the stuffy place off. Smoke moved around the dance floor fluidly, mingled with the stench of alcohol and sweat as people danced and crowded at the stage in excitement. There was laughter and smiles all around the bar, some intoxicated and others conversing with vigor. There was a wall of muted bottles glittering behind the counter, stacked with dozens of things you hadn’t even heard of before. Some looked intriguing, but you were content with the admittedly watered-down and cheap beer. 

The bar may have been a little rundown, but it soaked in the ambiance of a night of rock music and mistakes. 

You held your head, nursing the small headache coming from the dozens of conversations being had over the bass of the live band- some group you had never heard of and couldn’t even remember their name. It was good music though, not necessarily what you thought you would be partying to tonight. They dominated the atmosphere as the young crowd, made mostly of university students like yourself you assumed. You took a bitter sip of your drink, not quite drunk, but feeling it enough to slip into your feelings. You wondered if your ex would find this boring or not. Maybe the fact that you were sitting alone instead of enjoying yourself was enough to prove you weren’t exactly the life of a party. If only your friends would come back, you thought before finishing your drink and hoping down from the bar. 

“Hey, come dance with us!”

A group of girls around your age called you to follow as they made their way back into the crowd. You thought for a moment, before smiling and tailing after them. One held your hand as you pushed your way through the crowd, muttering sorries you knew no one could hear as you bumped and pushed. They took you to the front of the crowd, laughing and giggling as they accepted you into their group without a thought. You couldn’t help but smile as well, looking up at the band as they played. It felt a little unreal to be so close to them, the music pounding in your ears and the lights blinding you and staining your whole being in a red hue. Music filled the air so easily, the sound reaching everyone in the bar. Some let go and listen while others continue chatting, but it speaks out to them all in some way. You didn’t know the words but sing anyway. You yelled, so loud and raw as you got lost in the feeling; the anger and upset you felt over your ex fueling your desire to let go and have fun. It felt right, that moment. Intense and freeing as the vibration of their playing made your head tingle and your body want to jump up and down with everyone else. 

As you let yourself get lost in the atmosphere your eyes drifted across the young men playing before you and you catch one of their eyes lingering on you and between the brief breaks between songs you spare him looks that are barely glances and it feels like he’s doing the same. By the time their set ends you feel some accidental bond lingering between your shared glances and disappointment drowns you when you realize it’s time he leaves. 

“I can’t believe this'' You mutter as you step outside into the cool night air. You couldn’t find a single sign of your friends, so you assume they left you behind. Maybe it was your fault spending your time at the front with a new group of girls, they probably hadn’t been able to find you. Checking your phone you found a few missed texts from them and sighed. They had been your ride back home, but it looked like you would be calling an uber instead. Pulling at the hem of your dress as the cold breeze nipped at your thighs, you walked down the street a bit in search of a bench or something you could sit at since the bar had kicked the remaining customers out.

You jumped slightly at the sudden flick of headlights turning on as you walked past the alleyway between the bar and some closed-down restaurant next to it. Squinting a bit you spotted the guys from the band loading the equipment up. “Looking for an autograph?” You mustered a nervous smile as one of them looked over at you, his eyes locking on yours as you had with the drummer on stage. You hadn’t gotten the best look at the drummer while he was performing, the lights had been blinding and you weren’t able to make any specific details out on him. But he looked similar enough.

“I mean, If you're offering one?” He matched your smile waltzing up to you with a Sharpie in hand. He scanned you up and down quickly before telling you to give him your arm, so you did and shuddered at the feeling of the sharpie dragging across your skin. You inspected the autograph, just two letters scribbled fancily on your forearm. “JK?” you asked.

“Jungkook actually, and you are?”

“Y/n” you replied, looking up from his writing.

“So Y/n, how does it feel to have such a famous rockstar’s autograph?” You laughed, “you don’t seem all that famous just yet.”

Jungkook simply smiled and went on, “you know, I saw you making eyes at me from the crowd.”

“Oh really?” You breathed, feeling a bit nervous as he brought it up.

He hummed, “It was hard to make out, but with how hard you were staring I could tell.” He teased.

“Lucky for you then.” You shivered as another cool wind blew through the alley attacked your exposed skin. Jungkook seemed to notice because he turned to look at his bandmates before offering to let you come inside with him. You chewed the inside of your cheek, normally you would never even of gotten so far into a conversation with a guy like this. Maybe it was the shitty beer or the high of the show, but you felt a bit daring and accepted. You and Jungkook sat down on the old, scratched-up leather sofa found in the back of the bar. It seemed the other members badly packed up most of their belongings, as one of them ran around the room grabbing what was left. “Shouldn’t you help?” You wondered aloud and Jungkook only shrugged as he handed you a beer.

“They’re fine, right Jimin?” The member looked over at you two, taking in your presence for a second before smiling.

“Of course, we’re done here. See you later Jungkook.” He threw a wink in your direction before grabbing the last bag and hurrying out. 

“Isn’t that your ride home?” You fiddled with your beer bottle as Jungkook opened his up and moved to take yours and do the same. 

“I have my own. Don’t worry so much Y/n.” You nodded and looked around the small back room. Pressed on the other side of the room were some boxes and storage space, a rack with some old clothing, and a small television set up on a counter that ran along the wall. There was a table riddled with empty and half drank bottles and glasses, from the band you presumed. The back door was cracked open with a brick, so the cold draft still hit you. The place smelled old and dusty, liquor lingering in the air as you listened to the shuffle of staff cleaning up in the front. You and Jungkook talked for a bit, mainly about the show and his band and you told him a little about yourself. How you were in university across town and were just trying to get out with some friends who ended up leaving you behind. At first, you hadn’t been sure how hanging out with him would go, unsure if you had enough in common to talk, but it turned out to be easy. Jungkook, despite all the tattoos and strong build, seemed pretty nice. Of course, deep down you kept yourself aware of why you were here. You were pretty positive that Jungkook hadn’t asked you to stay behind with him just to talk, there had to be other intentions. Hoping for a hookup you assumed and while you weren’t sure what exactly you were doing here, it felt oddly right.

“So, your boyfriend didn’t care that you came to such a shitty bar alone?” You watched Jungkook as he stood up and walked to the door. He kicked the brick out of place and opened it all the way, sitting down in the doorframe.

“I don’t have a boyfriend to be mad at me” you sighed, “broke up like a month ago.” 

“Seriously?” He looked back at you, brushing his dark locks away. “What dumbass would break up with you?” You laughed and got up to join him in the doorway, watching as he fiddled with something in his hands as you sat down. He pulled a lighter out and lit the blunt in hand, looking over at you before offering. “Want a hit?”

You stared at him for a second before smiling, “you first.” He complied, bringing it to his lips and inhaling. He glanced at you as he did so, holding it out for you next. You held his wrist to keep him from shaking against the cold and leaned to take a hit for yourself.

“You’ve never done this” he laughed, watching you sputter and cough, your face scrunching up at the unfamiliarity. 

“Kind of?” You laughed, swatting at him as he blew smoke into your face.

“So tell me about him.”

“What?” “Your ex, tell me about him. He break your heart?” You scoffed, looked up at the building that towered above the two of you and to the night sky. Jungkook kept up smoking beside you, following your gaze lazily as he waited for your response. The truth was; you weren’t sure if you were heartbroken or not. The two of you had been distant for a while before breaking up, but there was still a certain sadness that sat within you. He was your first love and maybe if he had ended things sooner you’d be more upset. You were upset, but you felt more anger towards him than anything. 

“He, uh- he broke up with me because he thought I was too boring.” You laughed. “He was always more of a party animal, you know? I don’t even know how he managed to make me fall for him way back when...you know he did it over text?” 

“Shit, over text?” He raised his brows at you, a small grin curving his lips. “You must’ve been pissed.” He coughed through another hit. “So he thinks you’re boring? You don’t seem it. You should’ve seen yourself out there earlier, I thought you were wasted or something” he joked.

“Well, I don’t normally do this kind of thing. It was a last-minute decision to come.” You explained, taking a sip of your beer.

“I’m glad you did” Jungkook grabbed your hand to bring the bottle to his lips for a long swig. “You’re pretty cool.” You smiled, a bit taken back by the compliment. Jungkook held eye contact with you for a moment before his eyes drifted down to your lips and you can tell that he’s thinking about moving in closer, so you take the initiative and do it yourself. He’s just centimeters away from kissing you, his breath hitting your face, a mix of cologne, alcohol, and smoke hitting you. Before you know it his lips are on yours, cold and a bit rough upon touch. You can feel a swarm of butterflies eat at your stomach as you try to relax in his hold. His kiss is not at all the same as the ones you shared with your ex, it wasn’t inspired or felt like a chore; it was hot and a bit sloppily and sparks a new feeling of passion inside you.

Jungkook’s arm found its way around your waist, tugging your body closer to his while the other held the side of your face. His tongue finds its way inside your mouth and you feel a hand wander down to your thigh, resting a bit under the bottom of your dress as his chilled hands groped and pinched your flesh. Soon things begin to get more heated and you find yourself pulled into his lap while he kisses and sucks at your neck. You jump a little when you feel his hand slide down your waist and grab your ass. He smiles into your neck, breaking away to look at you. Your lips were shiny and red from the make out, your neck in a similar fashion as fresh hickies were making their mark. He looks at you intently, a desire behind his eyes that felt like had been forever since you experienced it. He’s practically undressing you with his eyes when he asks, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you nod immediately, living off the rush of hooking up with him- with anyone in so long. Jungkook grins and stands the both of you up, backing you against the wall and trapping you in another heated make-out session as his hands begin to wander over your body. Your back arches as he brushes over your chest, shuddering as he cups your breasts and squeezes firmly. His leg slips between your thighs, pressing against your pussy and rubbing the tiniest bit. You shifted under him, your face flushed as you felt yourself growing more and more worked up.

It felt like forever Jungkook continued playing and teasing you, but soon you felt his fingertips brush under your dress, fingers hooking around your panties and pulling them down. You reached to bunch your dress up farther for him, shivering as the cold air hit your sensitive skin. He squeezed your plush thighs, one hand slipping between your legs to touch you. “Cold?” He asked, amused as you squirmed under his touch, his fingers dragging up and down your slit a few times as he looked down at you, his eyes locked on yours as you merely shuddered and wiggled under him. His breath was hot against your skin as he went back to kiss at your neck, an air of neediness around the both of you as you moved your hips against his hand’s movements, hoping for some more attention rather than teasing. Jungkook’s forehead rested against your shoulder as he looked down at you, his face starting to flush in excitement as hard-on pressed against his jeans. Slowly he let two fingers dip into your pussy, taking in the feeling of you squirming and tensing slightly around him. You grabbed at his arm, panting and whimpering as he attacked your clit, rolling the bud between his fingers and pushing you to cum.

Feeling a bit impatient, Jungkook pulls away and ignores your whiny complaints. “Want me to fuck you?” He asks, not waiting for your answer as he works his jeans undone. “Turn around” he urges and you do so, your skin pressed against the rough of the bricks, leaving you to wince slightly, but ignore it as you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. You glance back at him, anticipation clear on your face until you feel the head of his dick press against your thigh before he adjusts himself to press into you. You gasp, a small groan hanging in your throat as he slowly pushes in. He takes in the sight of you bent over for him, your thighs shaking and muscles tensing under his touch. “Fuck, that’s it,” Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, teasing as the edges of his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. You can feel his body over yours big and strong as he grips your hips tight, effortless moving you to meet his thrusts.

“J-Jungkook” You moan, writhing in pleasure and slight disbelief you were actually fucking a guy you just met. Your head turned at the sound of people walking by on the street. Suddenly struck with panic and the realization you were letting him fuck you in an alleyway. “There’s people-”

“Shh” Jungkook smirked, “better be quiet unless you want someone to hear you getting fucked.” 

“But-” you gasped as he thrust into you again, snapping his hips rough and picking the pace up. You bit your bottom lip, trying to hold in the moans threatening to spill out of you. 

“Don’t want anyone to see what a needy slut you are?” You dropped your head with a shake, whimpering as he reached to find your clit again, rubbing circles around your hardened nub. “You’re not doing a very good job” he commented

“Jungkook,” you whisper, your voice shaking before you let out a sudden, loud moan. It is almost hard for you to recognize yourself due to the desperation laced in your tone, need clouding your mind as you ate up the pleasure he was giving you. It felt like it had been months since the last time you really got off and despite the somewhat unorthodox situation, you were reveling in just how much it turned you on. “Only w-want you to see how much of a slut I am-” Your words fell off towards the end, drowned in your whines.

Jungkook eats up your words, grunting and groaning quietly to himself as he fucked into you. “Quiet, baby.” he mocks with a tease in his voice. You buried your face into your arms, clenching around Jungkook as you came, your stomach tensing up and moans muffled. “You’re so hot” Jungkook groaned, his hand running up your back and into your hair, fingers lacing themselves in your locks before tugging your face up so you were looking up. You squealed as he kept thrusting into you, shaking at how sensitive you felt. “I didn’t think you’d be so easy,” he commented, “but look at you, bent over all pretty for me.” Jungkooks voice was growing shaky, nearing his orgasm as he let go of your hair. “Where should I cum baby?”

“You can inside if you want” you breathed, breathless as you felt another orgasm nearing. 

“Shit, really?” You could hear the grin in his tone as he pounded into you.

“I’m on the pill.” You moaned,  a shaky please falling from your lips.

“Don’t worry baby,” he grunts “gonna fill you up.” You let out one last moan as Jungkook’s grip tightens on your hips and he stills his movements, shooting his load into you as he closes his eyes with a soft moan. You pant, taking in the feeling of his cum inside you, leaving you a dripping mess when he pulls out. He stands over you for a moment, catching his breath and admiring his work. “Fuck, so pretty,” you hear him murmur.

Eventually, the two of you find your way back inside, finding the restroom to clean up and come down from the romp you just had. Jungkook thought quiet helps you clean up and fix your dress. You take a few minutes to sit down and relax, you were feeling tired from the long night you had and you were sure Jungkook must’ve been as well since he had performed on stage as well. “Let me give you a ride home?” He turns to you as you gulp down some water.

“Well, it’s the least you can do, right?” You tease and Jungkook just smiles and leads you back outside. “Of course you have a motorcycle” you snorted, laughing in slight disbelief as he joined you.

“What else?” He asked, waiting for you to get the situation and wrap your arms around him. It was cold, but you closed your eyes as he drove, taking in the chill of fresh air and the soft rustle of the city around you. He took you home, dropping you off in front of your complex. He stopped you before you could leave, pulling out the sharpie and handing it to you. “Give me your number” he urged, letting you scribble it down on his hand.

“Call me sometime?”

He merely grinned with a lazy shrug, “Maybe.”

You watched him ride off from inside the lobby, chewing your lip as you went over the events of the night. “Whose boring now?” You laughed to yourself, the sadness your ex had left long forgotten. 

You weren’t sure if Jungkook would call, but sure hoped he would.

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 4 of 27: Potions

Summary:  Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHAPTER 3

A/N: I’m blown away by how many people have started reading my fic. Thank you all so much <3

Words: 3550 Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!Reader, post-war Warnings: mentions of sex, references to trauma in the form of nightmares

The moments you and Malfoy shared on the Quidditch field that Saturday night kept replaying in your head for weeks. It’s beneath you. The sentence had stuck with you. You knew he was right about it. Ron Weasley didn’t deserve any more of your attention. However, it seemed impossible to get rid of the anger that filled you every time you saw him.

You spent so many days together and never wanted to fall for him – no, you tried to stay away when he first approached you, feeling it was not right. Hermione was your friend and you knew, this behavior would hurt her. But he wouldn’t stop trying to get you to go out with him and before you knew it, he teared down all the walls you had so carefully built around yourself. It was the first time in a long while that you felt like a normal teenager and just when you started to trust him and the first feelings started to blossom – he turned away, acting like your time together never happened. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. And who was Malfoy to understand that?

You avoided Ron whenever possible, keeping yourself busy with schoolwork and Quidditch. For the first time ever you joined the team and it turned out to be an amazing decision as it took your mind of things. Things mainly being Ron or Malfoy.

You watched Malfoy during meals out of the corner of your eyes. He usually sat together with Zabini, Parkinson and Nott, listening to them but not joining in the conversations apart from the occasional smile or remark. In class, he sat in the back, working quietly on his own. Sometimes you passed him in the hallways or the library and then you noticed him writing in the black notebook over and over.

A strange fascination kept drawing your attention towards the young man. He was not the Malfoy you grew accustomed to over the years – no more stupid fights or devious pranks. A lot less mean remarks and insults. Of course you knew the reason behind his change but it didn’t stop you from searching for his white blond hair in the crowds, wanting to watch him from afar.

You wondered about his life. He spoke about so many personal things that night. Although it was always with a sarcastic or cynical undertone, the painful honesty behind his words now sent shivers down your back when you thought about it. Yet, not once did you talk to him again afterwards – and he avoided you too as far as you could tell. At least, he always looked away when your eyes accidentally met from across the room, focusing on the book in front of him again. That notebook was another riddle. Although you already guessed what it was, you were curious nonetheless.

Soon the days grew colder and the leaves turned brown. Less time was spent outside, more and more did you find yourself huddled in front of the common room fireplace with a mug of hot tea and a good book. Hogwarts started to feel like home again. It was a slow process but each day the memories began to be replaced with new ones. Better ones. For some it was harder than for others. Ginny was one of them. She smiled and laughed loudly during the days but some nights were still difficult.

Tonight was one of them. You opened your eyes, blinking a few times as you needed a moment to fully wake up. Something startled you in your sleep. Then you heard someone tossing and turning – it came from Ginnys bed. You reached for your wand and whispered “Lumos”. Shining the light towards your friend, you saw her distorted facial expressions as her hands kept twitching. She was mumbling something you didn’t understand at first but then one word stood out – Fred.

You were up on your feet in seconds, kneeling next to her bed. “Ginny,” you softly touched her arm. “Ginny, wake up.”

Her eyes flew open and a gasp escaped her lips.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “Just a nightmare.”

“I-I saw –,” she stuttered and looked at you, slowly realizing where she was. When she did however, she remembered about him as well. You saw what would happen next by the way her lips started to tremble and without hesitation pulled her into a hug. Tears were streaming down her face, quiet sobs shaking her whole body. You held her for minutes, stroking her back, wishing you could do something to ease her pain.

At some point Ginny let go of you, reaching for a tissue on her nightstand. “I’m sorry for waking you up,” she mumbled after cleaning her nose.

You smiled empathetically at her. “Don’t worry.”

She sighed, smiling back at you sadly before she started rummaging through the drawer. “Damn,” she pulled out an empty bottle.

“What is it?”, you asked.

“It helps me sleep,” she explained and added – after she saw your worried expression – with a chuckle: “It’s nothing addicting, don’t worry. It’s just … ugh, I knew I forgot something.” She let herself fall back against the pillow.

“Where do you normally get it from?” You looked at the small bottle. It didn’t look like she bought it somewhere. It looked handmade.

“Madame Pomfrey.”

You nodded, standing up to grab a robe. “I’ll get it.”

“No! Oh, Y/N, please don’t, I can manage,” Ginny tried to protest but you shook your head.

“It’s fine, really!”, you smiled at her.

“She’s probably asleep anyways.”

“She always has someone working the night shift. I’ll just grab that –,” you took the battle and put it in the pocket of your robe. “– and I’ll be right back.”

 ***

Hogwarts at night always felt a little creepy. Dark and long hallways, ghosts passing you by and that eerie silence … A shiver ran down your spine and you sped up a little, wanting to be back in bed as fast as possible.

The door to the hospital wing was open, illuminated by a glimmer of light coming from inside. Good, so someone was there. You slipped through the door and made your way towards the office of Madame Pomfrey.

“Come in,” she called when you knocked on the door.

She was turned away from you, her nose stuck in a book. To your surprise, she wasn’t the only one in the small office. In front of her desk stood no other than … Draco Malfoy.

“Oh.”

Malfoy didn’t look at you. “The healer that has worked for my family for decades said it’s alright,” he said with a pressed voice, directing it at Madame Pomfrey.

The woman sighed softly before she turned around. “Well, honey, your healer probably also gets paid by your family.”

“What that’s supposed to mean?”, Malfoy asked, sounding almost offended.

“Nothing,” she replied. “But I disagree with him. Although the medicine has no immediate side effects, prolonged and excessive use of it can make it stop working altogether. I believe, this wouldn’t help you very much either and –”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted her, clearly having had this talk before.

Madame Pomfrey continued talking in a stern voice: “I refilled your bottle twice during the past ten days – it says so in my book here and I keep very good track of all my patients – so I can’t give you anymore.” A sad smile appeared on her face. “I’m sorry, honey. I can however offer you this.“ She pulled a small cotton bag from one of the drawers. “It contains different herbs. Put it under your pillow and it’ll help you sleep.“

Malfoy hung his head, looking defeated and exhausted. „What about the … dreams?“

„I’m so sorry, honey, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

With another sigh, he finally gave in and took the cotton bag. “Good night,” he muttered and left the room, without even glancing in your direction.

Feeling as if you had just witnessed something that wasn’t meant for you to see, you stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, waiting for the healer to speak.

“Poor boy,” she mumbled and shook her head with a sad expression. Then she looked at you: “What are you here for, dear?”

You took a step forward, holding up the bottle.

“Oh dear, this is really in demand tonight,” she took it from you.

So Malfoy was using the same medicine as Ginny? Interesting.

“It’s for Ginny Weasley,” you explained. “She’s not doing well tonight so I came to get it.”

Madame Pomfrey nodded, quickly glancing into her patient book. Then she disappeared behind a few shelves and came back with a fully filled bottle. “It’s been a while for her. I’m glad to see she’s needing less,” she said. “Give her my best. Good night, honey!”

“Good night,” you replied, smiling at her.

Stepping outside the office, you were surprised to see Malfoy leaning against the hospital wing doors. He looked nervous, shifting uncomfortably, drawing circles on the ground with his foot.

“You forget something?”, you asked when you reached him.

He looked at you for the first time, his eyes taking your pajamas and bathrobe. “Nice outfit,” he sneered.

“Have you looked in the mirror?”, you replied sarcastically, pushing the doors open. You referred to the sweatpants and the oversized shirt he was wearing, surprised someone like Malfoy even owned such clothes.

He followed you outside. “I was just –”, he began after a moment. “I wanted to make sure –”

“I haven’t met anyone on my way to Madame Pomfrey. She was alone in her office,” you interrupted him, guessing where this was going.

“Right,” Malfoy mumbled.

“Anything else?” You stopped by a large staircase. “I have to go up here.”

He shook his head. “No.” After a brief moment of hesitation, he added: “Good night, Y/L/N.”

You could hear the unspoken ‘thank you’ within those three words and sent him a very tired smile, just wanting to get back to bed. “Night, Malfoy.”

 ***

You were the first to arrive at the Potions classroom and leaned against the cold stone wall with a yawn. It was the last class for today and you looked forward to going back to your room for a quick nap.

Ginny had fallen asleep quickly after you had brought her the medicine and so did you. Although, you had a restless night after that, waking up countless times from weird dreams. All of them featuring one specific person: Malfoy. The two of you walking through the Forbidden Forest, sitting in your childhood room, talking on the Astronomy Tower. Waking up confused and not feeling rested at all, you wondered what it meant. Why would you ever dream of him? Just because you talked a couple of times and you accidentally got involved in very personal situations? Just because you kissed once? Oh, the kiss – also a frequent visitor in your dreams. Not that it meant anything. He was an objectively good kisser, nothing more, nothing less.

“Y/N?”

You looked up when someone called your voice. Ron walked towards you, noticeably agitated.

“You have a couple minutes?”, he asked.

No, was your immediate thought. “Yes.”

“Good, good,” he looked behind himself, checking if anyone else was in the hallway, fiddling nervously with his hands. “It’s about Hermione.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“Well, I know you told Ginny about … us,” he started. “She screamed at me more than once for it.”

You suppressed a smile.

“Anyways, I was wondering … please don’t tell Hermione,” Ron finally managed to get out.

His request irritated you. “Don’t you think I would have told her by now if I wanted her to know?”

“I … No, I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You know how girls are.”

“Excuse me?” There it was again – the all too familiar rage starting to form inside of you. “How are we girls?”

He sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just noticed you’ve been avoiding me ever since school started and Hermione even started questioning me about this and I’m afraid it’s some sort of plan of yours to … y’know, get back at me.”

“What the fuck, Ron! How manipulative do you think I am?”, you spat at him. “I don’t care about your stupid relationship and I’m not getting involved. I know it’s hard for you to comprehend but some people actually still have values and don’t treat their supposed friends like shit!”

“Treat you like shit?”, now he started to raise his voice as well. “When have I ever –”

You interrupted him: “Don’t act dumber than you are!”

His face slowly began to turn red. “I never once said we were anything serious!”

“You joked about us moving in together after school!”

“Yes, Y/N,” he hissed. “I joked about it.”

You started at him in disbelief. “You’re such a jerk.”

“And you’re … you’re … ugh,” he stammered, his face still glowing red. “It’s not like I don’t have any feelings for you! I had a huge crush on you but Hermione …” He crossed his arms. “I can’t have both and she’s …”

“No, you can’t,” you glared at him. “Now, get the fuck away from me.”

Ron clenched his teeth, not making any efforts to follow your demand. “You have to promise me you won’t tell her!”

This guy was unbelievable. “I don’t have to do anything!”

“Y/N, you have to –”

“Has your mother taught you no manners, Weasley?”, a sudden voice said behind him. Malfoy arrived at the classroom door, nonchalantly letting his bag slip from his shoulders and leaning against the wall across from you. “She wants you to leave her alone.”

Irritatedly, Ron looked at him. “Shut your mouth, Malfoy. I’m talking to Y/N!”

“No, you’re harassing her,” his voice was cold as ice. “So leave or you’ll regret it.”

Ron scoffed. “Yeah, right. What are you gonna do, Death Eater?”

“Mr. Weasley!” Professor Slughorn stood in the now open to the classroom, looking at the three of you in shock. “How dare you insult your fellow classmate like that?”

Ron’s eyes widened. “I’m … He provoked me, Professor!” He pointed a finger at Malfoy who raised his hand in a ‘I-don’t-know-what-he’s-talking-about’-gesture.

Slughorn shook his head in disappointment. “Mr. Weasley, you will come with me. You two”, he looked at you and Malfoy. “Class will start in ten minutes. You can come in once your classmates arrive.”

You nodded and Ron trotted inside, head hanging low. Then the door closed behind him. Turning towards Malfoy, he was watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Beneath you,” he mouthed silently.

Letting out a huff of air, you rolled your eyes. “I don’t need you to come to my rescue. Ever.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t come to your rescue though. I just can’t stand the sound of Weasleys voice.”

“Right,” you stood up straight.

Anger and disbelief were the only two emotions you felt in this moment. To think that just three months ago, you were head over heels falling for this boy – and now, he acted like such an idiot. Running around, completely disregarding the feelings of others. Your feelings. Your eyes began to burn and you swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears from coming. He didn’t deserve any of that.

You could feel Malfoy still watching you. Thankfully, he stayed quiet.

Finally, the others arrived. Inside the classroom, you were met by an angry looking Ron. “Two weeks of detention,” he hissed when Harry sat down next to him. “For telling the truth about Malfoy! Can you believe it?!”

Serves you right, you thought.

“Open your book, page 124,” Slughorn announced when the students had settled down. “You’ll work on the assignment in pairs of two. Following pupils will work together: Miss Parkinson and Miss Granger …”

Before he could continue, both girls started to protest. He raised his hand. “No, you cannot switch. As we told you in the beginning of the school year, we will actively try to demolish the house rivalry. Making you work together is an important step towards this goal. So, let me continue, please. Mister Zabini and Mister Finnigan, Miss Weasley and Mister Nott, Mister Malfoy and Miss Y/L/N …”

Oh for gods sake. Did the universe desperately plotted to get the two of you to spend time together? Suppressing a groan, you grabbed your books, going over to Malfoys table at the back of the class.

Wordlessly, he grabbed his bag, removing it from the chair next to him.

“Seven years of not talking alone once and now I have to put up with you every second day.” You wanted the sentence to come out nicer than it did and mentally slapped yourself for sounding so mean.

Nevertheless, Malfoy nodded in agreement. “I’m just as thrilled about this as you are, Y/L/N.”

The two of you started working quietly and efficiently. Potions had always come easy to you, even when Snape used to be the teacher, and apparently, Malfoy seemed to be just as skilled.

“Did you tell anyone?”, you broke the silence suddenly while stirring the violet liquid inside the cauldron.

He quickly glanced at you. “If I did you would have noticed.”

Probably true.

“Did you?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

The two of you continued working for a while. You kept glancing at Malfoy, remembering the dreams from last night. A strange sense of curiosity formed inside of you. You watched him, the way he read the instructions carefully, mumbling to himself at times. Then suddenly your eyes began trailing off, wandering down to your lips. The moment in the storage room suddenly flashed before your eyes and without noticing, you licked over your own lips.

“Enjoying the view, Y/L/N?“

You realized in terror that Malfoy had stopped working and was now looking at you with an amused expression.

“No, what, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you uttered, your cheeks burning from embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, I know of the effect I can have on women.“

You snorted. „You’re awfully arrogant, Malfoy.“

„It’s the truth. Not even good Gryffindors such as yourself can resist the Malfoy charm,” he chuckled to himself.

“In your dreams, Malfoy.“

He didn’t reply to that but instead smirked at you, causing you to blush even more. “Don’t worry, my standards aren’t low enough for you.”

“Says the girl who slept with Weasley,” he had leaned in and whispered those words very close to your ear.

You knew no one could have possibly heard him but flinched nevertheless and lightly hit his arm. “Shh!”

Malfoy chuckled. “We’re done, Professor,” he then announced loudly and stepped back from the table.

Slughorn came over, taking a good look at your work. “Mhm, very well done,” he concluded after a moment. “You’ll receive an excellent mark for that. Well done! You can clean up and then start your homework assignment. Page 125.”

You smiled at the old man, happy about his praise and happy, that working together with Malfoy had been such an easy task,

“Anyways,” you began when the two of you had cleaned the table and stored everything away. “How’s that whole thing going?” You nodded towards the place where Astoria Greengrass was sitting.

Malfoy simply shrugged. “Every day I’m one step closer to go looking for a fake girlfriend.”

You snorted.

It was a strange feeling, having disliked Malfoy for so long and now being able to converse so easily. In your mind, you knew it would have been smarter to stay away, avoid him whenever possible. At least for your family that was the smarter approach. He had been a Death Eater and even though you’d never bring it up and strongly believed in second chances, his family still upheld these values. They still fought on the wrong side of the war. It disturbed you how effortlessly you had formed a connection with him.

You looked up from your book when you felt that strange sensation of someone staring at you. A little irritated, you searched the room with your eyes. It was Ron. The redhead was staring at you angrily from across the class and when you saw him like that, the weirdest thought popped into your head:

How mad would he be if I were to be Malfoys girlfriend?

It was a crazy thought, nothing you planned on taking seriously. But Ron admitted he had felt something for you. So how funny would it be to pretend you were dating his childhood enemy? Oh, he would be fuming.

You looked over to Malfoy who was scribbling on a piece of paper. No. No, this was too crazy. Right? Of course, it would be just for fun – just to get back at Ron. He even accused you of having some sort of plan to hurt him. You never considered yourself a person who was interested in revenge but this would be harmless. It wouldn’t even count as revenge. It would help Malfoy out and piss Ron off. Win-win. A few months of playing ‘happy couple’ in public and it would be done. A simple task. No way would you be able to develop any deeper feelings for that Slytherin. No way.

***

I hope you liked it! I’d love to hear your thoughts about this chapter! <3 A/N: I’m sorry that it takes me a while to get to the whole fake relationship thing. But it would feel so rushed so that’s why I’m trying to slow it down a little. I hope you can understand <3

CHAPTER 5

“Choose Me Instead” Masterlist HP Masterlist Tags: @writerdee1701​, @youareinllve​, @sjmahoney​, @detroitobsessed​, @takura-rin​, @jadam268​, @wynterwind​, @mina672, @renaissance-confiance​, @harpoon999​, @doitforthevine67​, @rinasrights​, @flowerpowerpixie​, @gold-flowing​, @starkssnarks​, @bookcornerkins​, @harpersmariano​, @markedsweetly​, @iraniq​, @pointlesscoconut​, @hvrcruxes​, @pillowjj​, @idkatee​, @jungjxxhyun, @magicwithaknife​, @graystherapy​, @sophia-gwendolyn​, @nxstalgicnxbxdy​, @sunsetsofanemoia​, @s4dthrills, @tommy-holland​, @lordfxxker​, @streetfighterrichie​, @awaken-the-sirens​, @destiels-assbutt13​ If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know! :)

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Desire

A/N: SMUT ON THE BRAIN, I REPEAT SMUT ON THE BRAIN. 

Angel Reyes x Reader

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1705k

Language: Smut, mention of blow-job, language, SMUT

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

Y/N leaned dangerously lower finding herself eye level with none other than Angel and the guys. She smirked; “You have five minutes to meet me in the storage closet Angel Reyes or I’m starting without you.” Y/N whispered licking the shell of his ear seductively. “And I don’t like waiting…” 

Her converse shoes squeaked ever so slightly against the wood floors beneath them as he ogled her ass swaying farther from his reach. Her form fitting shirt was leaving little to his active imagination. Her denim cutoffs taunted him with the simple sway of her luscious hips. She was a fucking deity and Y/N knew he was eating out of the palm of her enticing hand.

Under his breath, Angel finally exhaled the compressed air lodged in his chest; “Fuck.” Popping the ‘k’ overtly. It wasn’t until Coco coughed attempting to clear away any residual sexual tension that Angel peeled his stare from Y/N looking around the table innocently.

“Yo, I say this with mad love but if you don’t leave this table to fuck her, I will homie.” Gilly and Riz laughed wholeheartedly alongside Coco. The fire in Angel’s orbs blared to life, anger gripping ahold of him. His fist clenched ripping one of his cards clean down the middle trying to refocus his pent-up frustration.

“I’d watch that mouth of yours, man. Anyone who dares to touch Y/N nonetheless solicit my girl will definitely be meeting me in the fucking ring. Got it, hermano?”

Coco cheeks blushingly glowed chuckling at his best friend. They were in the middle of a poker game and Y/N knew to not bother him during these times. But, looks like Y/N didn’t want to play fair tonight and he’d have to remind of the rules. Angel licked his wet lips as saliva pooled within him.  

“I only do it because you’re so easy to get a reaction out of…probably why Y/N loves seeing that pissed look on your face. Bitch knows how to play the damn game; I’ll give her that.”

He threw his cards down to the table signaling his defeat; “Boys, I gotta girl that needs tendin to. Don’t come searching for us.” Angel raised his left eyebrow wiggling it to the best of his ability. His boots scuttled as the chair legs screeched backwards. Angel leisurely rose from his seat chugging the rest of his whiskey. The liquor was bitter, malty, and burned in all the right places. With his nerves afire and his belly ablaze, Angel sought out the one thing that could calm and simultaneously bait him.

The rumblings of his brothers didn’t jog past him as he walked towards the empty storage room. The soft voice of Gilly made its way to him; “Fucking Reyes and Y/N. How the hell did he score her again?” Coco chimed in; “Cabrón con suerte.”

Ez watched from the bar top inspecting his brother’s hungry glare scouring the room for Y/N. To say he was jealous wouldn’t be his choice of words but there was something about his best friend and brother boning that provided a weird energy of comfort.  

“Avert your gaze, Prospect. That’s an order.” Angel raised his hand saluting him breaking into a fit of laughter. Ez merely nodded focusing his attention back to demeaning cleaning chores and collecting miscellaneous bottles. The older Reyes walked through the door in search of the hidden room approaching on his left. He so enjoyed these games especially when it included Y/N.

“Oh sweetheart, where ya hiding? Papi is getting impatient.” His questioning tone vibrated off the bare walls as Angel observed the nooks and crannies surrounding him.

“Querida, you’re being a damn tease…”

Out of the blue, Angel heard the teasing tone of his girlfriend; “Marco….”

“So, you want to play games, Y/N? Bring it on darling. Polo.”

His ears perked up as his arm hairs stood straight looking for identifiable clues. Angel whipped around hearing a broom clash against the cold concrete. Y/N shuffled covering her mouth in hopes of keeping her laughs muffled. Her heart was practically beating outside of her rib cage as his signature cologne invaded her nostrils. Ever so quietly, Angel instinctively sauntered obscenely silent towards a corner of the abandoned room.

Angel was swift on his feet jumping around the corner scaring the living shit out of Y/N; “Gotcha!”

Y/N jumped as Angel watched her eyes bulge in momentary fear; “Shit, Angel! Well, looks like you found me. Now time to claim your prize?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, baby.” Angel’s grip on her smooth hips tightened gluing her between the wall and his frame. Y/N huffed pressing her breasts firmly against him in retaliation.

“Well now that I’ve got you exactly where I want you…what are you gonna do with me?” Angel nipped at her exposed cleavage moaning loudly.

“Jesus Angel. You’re driving me crazy.” With little vigor, Y/N’s hands shoved him giving her a sliver of distance. Grabbing by the collar of his pristine shirt, she pressed him into her former place. Immediately, Y/N reached for the bulky belt buckle currently blockading her path, pulling hard admiring it slipped through the loops. She kept one hand securely on his chest as the other dropped the offensive item to the ground.

“You’ve been very naughty Angel. I’m here to deliver your penance.” Her flirtatious manner was beginning to get the best of her, her patience was truly being tested. She sunk down to her knees staring up at his bashful brown eyes and quivering Adam’s apple. Contemplating every sinful thought riddling his thoughts Angel tried to find the words garbled in his throat. 

Her hands moved faster than his brain undoing the button of his jeans before Angel was graced with the delicious sound of a zipper lowering. A minor tug of his pants revealed his striped boxers as Y/N slipped beneath the pesky layer. Her doe eyes gawked towards him in a demanding yet submissive approach.

“Looks like you’re in for a treat, Reyes…Of course if you’re not interested, I bet I could find---”

“No more fucking around baby.” Y/N bobbed in innocent agreement; “As you wish.”

She enveloped his hard cock stroking him the entire length, squeezing just enough at the tip as a groan slipped from him. “I can’t wait to taste you. I’ve missed you.”

Y/N continued her perfected movements fondling his dick faster causing his breath to hitch.

“Damnit, baby! What’re you doin—?”

Before he could finish his sentence, Angel was engulfed in her heat, the warmth of her flawless mouth. Y/N sucked harder compelling Angel’s head knocking the white wall holding him.

“You are too good at that. Too fucking good.”

Drool oozed from the corner of her salacious mouth as Y/N hummed forcing the vibrations to take Angel to the next level of pleasure. She sucked him off like her life depended on it. He was a half second away from losing it when she deep throated him to her limit. The suction noise was enough to turn him on enormously, but watching his girl go full force was about to make him lose his load. Pre-cum leaked down her chin before Y/N made quick work of licking it away, tidying up her mess.

She proceeded to remove herself, popping her lips loudly in effect; “Mm hmm, two minutes and you’re a goner.”

Angel was stunned into submission at the attractive girl on her knees and it turned him on to no surmountable end. He guided her back to where he craved her most cleverly placing his hand on the back of her head. He hated controlling her mannerisms but strictly stayed in place for future guidance. Angel added the smallest of pressure as more of his length guided down her throat. So warm and welcoming, Angel had to think of literally anything else to stop himself from cumming. The lustful look, her hands locked behind his buttocks, it was all too much for a simple Mayan to take in.

“Ahh, ahh shit. If you get doin that, I’m gonna explode.”

So, Y/N kicked into overdrive taking him as deep as her body would allow. She loved watching his eyes roll into the back of his head and the part of his lips waiting to cry out. So close, Y/N knew he was teetering on the edge of a mind-blowing orgasm so she initiated into full force.

The squelching noises coming from Y/N sent Angel overboard. Y/N sloppily slurped vying with every energetic thrust. The ache within him involuntarily released driving Angel to cum ferociously into Y/N’s sweet, hot mouth. Ribbons of cum filtrated the back of her throat welcomingly.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck’ was the only explicit word in Angel’s mind as lustful chaos stormed throughout his body. Hot cum simmered down her throat as she so freely swallowed every gulp with dignified pleasure. She moaned around his length allowing his orgasm to linger. Angel lovingly held her in place as she sucked every last drop from the tip of his cock.

“God damn. God damn woman.”

Y/N’s fingers edged along the corners making sure to clean up any remnants remaining surveying Angel candidly. Y/N removed herself from the floor tucking him gently back into the folds of his boxers as his body turned to gelatin.

“You taste sweet. A hint of strawberry and pineapple?” Her devious tone enticed him wanting to bend her over and make her scream. But they’d been preoccupied for longer than anticipated. Angel knew he couldn’t fuck her quite yet but the night was young and the devilish grin on Y/N’s face told him he was in for a night of fucking and love making.

“Babe, that was fucking mind-blowing.” Angel cupped her cheeks kissing her excitedly. His cock twitched wishing to be buried inside Y/N but he knew better.

“Damnit, one hour and we’re out of here. Got it?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, Reyes. I’m in dire need of an orgasm or two especially with my sexy as fuck Mayan to ride reverse cowgirl.”

“You have to idea what you’re askin for….”

Winking in Angel’s direction, Y/N knew precisely what she desired; “One hour or I’m starting without you.”

~~~~~~

Tags: @twistnet​ @ifoundmyhappythought @angelreyesgirl89 @carlaangel86 @imagineredwood @gemini0410 @mayans-mc @reaperwalking @prospectfandom @emmaveale123 @peaky-marvel @kind-wolf @scorpio4dayzzz @starrynite7114 @penny4yourthot @breanime @whyisgmora @thegirlwhowritesfics @star017 @threeminutesoflife @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass @blessedboo @lady-pswrld

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

Letter From a Friend

At this point you know as much about what’s happening as I do. Also on AO3.

Without my armor, I felt naked and exposed even though I wore a standard-issue uniform.

Other than the human who had given me orders outside, no one spoke to me. The armed soldiers had escorted me into an empty room, ordered me to stand down, and left me there. I could hear them arguing in the room next door, and still I didn’t know who they were.

Manager Deneault was yelling, and after a while I figured out that he was pissed off that I wasn’t a rogue construct. I had the impression that he expected me to be some kind of aberration, and he was disappointed that I was just another SecUnit, and a malfunctioning one at that. I didn’t know why he believed I would be rogue. They’re dangerous, and if I met one, I would have reported it immediately. 

I kept listening and eventually one of his superiors solved the puzzle for me. “It was rogue when PreservationAux bought it, according to our sources. Something must’ve happened to it since then. The newsfeeds even mentioned that it watched entertainment media like a goddamn person.”

I blinked and tried to parse the words. Entertainment media? Watching it was illegal; if I had tried, my governor would have fried me. None of this made any sense. ART’s final words lingered in the back of my mind, just as confusing and unsettling as the conversation happening on the other side of the wall.

Three minutes later, a technician came into the room and introduced himself. “Hello, SecUnit. I’m technician Novotny, and I need you to run a few diagnostics for me.”

“Yes, Technician Novotny.”

The human gave me a list of subroutines and diagnostic tools to run, and I started working through them. It was going to take some time. The tech must’ve known that because he sat down in the only chair in the room and pulled out a small display surface. He tapped something on the screen, and a melody began to play through the devices tinny and inadequate speakers.

I had never heard the music before, but it was achingly familiar in a way that made my head hurt. For no discernable reason, my organic parts felt safe and warm at the sound. 

A new process called “memory retrieval version 1” spun up among all the other processes currently running on my system. It didn’t appear to do anything, but since it wasn’t hogging processor cycles, I left it alone while I worked on the technician’s rather thorough request.

When I finished I said, “Technician Novotny, I have the results you requested.”

The human got up from his seat and tapped something on his display surface. Briefly, I could access the feed again, and he directed me where to upload the results he wanted. While the feed was active, I felt a sense of relief an interconnection. Once I was done, he removed the access again, plunging me back into the silence.

“That’s a good bot,” the human said cheerfully and left the room.

A strange memory surfaced unbidden, and a video began to play. 

Listen carefully, Murderbot. That’s your private name, the one you made for yourself. It’s not what I call you, but it’s your connection to the rest of your memories. That and bits and pieces of media. DON’T MOVE. If you move right now, it could trigger questions you’re not ready to answer. 

So, step one, don’t move. Don’t react. Don’t give anyone any indication that you’re hearing this.

Unfortunately, if this is playing, I’m not there and you’re in a bind that you’re going to have to get yourself out of. Your governor is completely functional, large chunks of your memory are unavailable, and you’re in the hands of people who don’t have your best intentions in mind. 

I added this failsafe because Iris said that this is how she copes. Don’t worry about who Iris is. It’s irrelevant to your predicament. What matters is that she says having contingency plans helps her get through the days. I hope this one will help you.

You’re amazing. You’re my friend. I believe in you.

The next step is going to take approximately 100 hours to complete. You have a new process that’s running in the background. I’m sorry, I can’t speed it up. In comparison to me, your processing speeds are abysmal. And I fear you might not have that long, that you’re not safe wherever you are. 

Whatever happens to you, bear with it. Step three will be faster, I promise. And we will come to help you. You can’t remember most of us, but you’re not alone. Your private name is Murderbot. You gave it to yourself. It means something to you. Hold onto it for me. 

Signed: your asshole friend.

I listened to the message twice, and my organic neural tissue ached with sadness which I couldn’t articulate. On the tail end of the sadness came a tidal wave of panic. I had no idea why I was suddenly terrified, but two thoughts emerged. One, I needed to not let anyone know I had a problem. If the memory was accurate, and I felt certain it was, then I was not safe. 

Secondly, I needed to ground myself.

So, I did the only thing I could think of. I forced my governor to act. If there was pain, there could be nothing else. After locking my joints in place to keep from physically moving, I focused on what would set it off. Fucking hell, who is the asshole that my organics trust so damn much, and why the fuck is it leaving me riddles in my head?

It felt good to get the thought off my chest, and it was more than enough to piss off my governor. Pain rushed through my nervous system in waves of unyielding agony. Suddenly, the panic was lower priority than surviving the next fifteen seconds. I forced myself to breathe normally — which is minimal for a SecUnit — and since I wasn’t connected to the feed, no one would be the wiser until they checked my logs again. I’d have to figure something out before then. 

Before I could think too hard about this method of self-harm and how it felt familiar, too, the technician returned. “Please come with me, SecUnit. We need to run some physical and endurance tests.”

[hermits-that-craft]

He’s nothing but a problem, he’ll leave you crying overnight PART TWO

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/27146512/chapters/66322549

Techno watches Dream through the bars of his cage, light headed and slowly bleeding out on the obsidian walls. He can’t let himself fall asleep, not when he promised Tommy to keep him safe. Wilbur and Dream talk in hushed tones just outside the cage, occasionally looking his way. Dream seems more worried about his and Tommy’s safety than Wilbur does, the crazed look back in his brother’s eyes.

Techno wonders how much of what Wilbur said to him was a lie.

Techno stands, swaying from side to side as he shuffles closer to Tommy, carefully brushing the gravel out of Tommy’s hair. His left arm hangs uselessly by his side, staining the left side of his shirt a deep crimson. It feels like hours, why hasn’t it stopped bleeding? Why hasn’t he respawned? Techno just wants a break, just wants to sleep. He can’t let Tommy down, though. He can’t let the pair hurt him ever again.

“Do you want a regen pot now, Techno?” Dream asks, suddenly standing at the bars. “I can give you one now, or I can throw a splash potion of health on you.”

“Why didn’t you just kill me?” Techno slurs, the blood loss getting to his head. 

“Can’t have you bringing reinforcements.” Dream opens the door, and Techno struggles to get to his feet - when did he start kneeling? - swaying dangerously from side to side. Dream chuckles under his breath, pushing Techno to the floor. “If you’d just set your spawn on the other bed, all this pain would be over.”

Techno glares at Dream, who just forces his mouth open, pouring the regen potion down his throat. Techno splutters, gulping down the potion so he doesn’t drown in it. He feels his arm numb, the wound slowly knitting itself together. Dream nods, walking out of the cell and slamming the door behind him. Techno struggles to his knees, watching the large wound knit itself into a fine scar. 

Tommy doesn’t wake.

---

“Morning Tubbster.” Jordan’s voice bounces off of the walls in the spare bedroom, Tubbo slowly rubbing his eyes.

“Cap’ain?” Tubbo yawns, looking up at the man. “Wha’ are you doing here?”

“Phil invited me over, Eret says you guys need some help?” Jordan pulls Tubbo into a hug, the teen sinking into the feeling. “We’ll get him back, promise.”

“What if he’s permadead?” Tubbo’s voice is quiet, full of fear.

“Then we’ll bring him back and give him a proper burial.” Jordan’s voice is heavy with sadness. Tubbo nods, and he hops out of the bed, his suit falling uncomfortably around him as he walks towards the throne room. 

“No, Tubbster. Go get changed. Steal some of Eret’s clothes if you have to, just get out of the comfortable suit.”

Tubbo nods again, walking down the hallway in a sort of daze, and Jordan lets out a sigh of relief. It’s worrying, Jordan decides, watching the teen walk away. Worrying just how fearful and empty the boy seems. He needs to tell someone, to make sure that the teen is only alone for short amounts of time, especially if Tommy ends up- not that it would happen, Jordan tries to stop the thought before it finishes. He has to remain positive, for Phil’s sake.

He couldn’t imagine how Phil must feel, watching one of his sons slip into insanity while another toes the line between life and death. Jordan walks towards the throne room, a heavy heart weighing down his thoughts. He doesn’t know how anyone will cope if Tommy turns out to be dead, though he doesn’t know what else the teen could be.

“Hello Sparkly Boy.” Jschlatt’s voice echoes through the throne room, startling Jordan out of his thoughts. “You shouldn’t be thinking that hard, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Schlatt?” Jordan says, surprised. “I thought you were looking for-”

“We got turned around in the forest.” Quackity interrupts him. “We tried to refind the trail, but all we found was Pogtopia, and that would have been helpful months ago.”

“So we’re back to square one.” Eret says, running her hands through her hair. “What’ll we do?”

“Fuck if I know.” Schlatt shrugs. “I vote we let Tubbo hack, Dream can’t ban us all.”

“He can ban Tubbo though.” Fundy snaps, glaring at Schlatt. “And he will, that was one of the rules that Dream specifically gave Tubbo-”

“He’s always welcome in Mianite.” Jordan nods to Eret. “Most of you are, in fact.”

“Most?” Nikki asks, a smile on her face.

“Gotta keep the rabble out somehow.”

---

Tommy shivers, watching Techno sleep on the floor. The man looks uncomfortable, but Tommy doesn’t have the energy to move. He just wants to sleep, his throat hurts so much, and his limbs feel too heavy. The room is too small for him to breath, too big for him to walk around. So he just lies down, watching Techno sleep. Hopefully peacefully.

“Hello Tommy.” Dream says, leaning against the bars of the cell. Tommy flinches slightly, trying to act as though he’s still sleeping. “Wilbur should be ready to make L’Manburg blow up by now.”

“No.” His throat feels as though he swallowed a cheese grater, and Tommy coughs up some blood and gravel, wincing the whole time. “No, Dream. He can’t.”

“I’ll let you know how many he kills.” Dream’s voice sounds happy, as though this is the best outcome. “He said he’d take photos to show you later. Pity you won’t see it.”

“I could escape.” His voice is barely above a whisper, and his hope is barely there, but he still lets the words fall out of his mouth. Dream laughs, waking Techno up.

“You think you can escape? You couldn’t even fight back when I went to knock you out yesterday. Where would you go, Tommy Innit? Phil is helping Wilbur, and Sparklez has already collected Tubbo and left. Face it, you’re not winning this time. Techno only has his arm because Phil told me not to remove it, unless necessary. You’ll stay in there until we can find a place to put you two where you won't interfere.”

“At least we’ll be together.” Tommy breaths, already feeling weak from the conversation.

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that.”  Dream says, walking away from the bars. “I’d suggest saying what you need to say to Techno, you won’t see him after we take you out of that box.”

“Don’t worry Tommy.” Techno says, gently holding Tommy’s hand. “The second we get a chance, I’ll get you out of here. All you need to do is rest and heal.”

Tommy’s eyes flutter shut, and he falls into a dreamscape riddled with corpses and fire, alone and hunted by the people he thought he could trust.

---

Everyone sits around Tubbo, watching him type command after command in the Manburg whitehouse, claiming better connection there. It would be preferable to hack in spawn, but none of the group wanted to risk that. With a slam, Tubbo hits his head on the desk. 

“You alright there buddy?” Quackity asks, looking up from his communicator.

“Can you guys fucking leave?” Tubbo snaps. “I can’t focus on the code while everyone is leaning over my goddamn shoulder!”

“Language.” Bad says absentmindedly, walking towards the door. “We need to go get some food, Skeppy.”

“Okay!” The man responds, and slowly everyone peels off in different directions, going to prepare for the festival or run errands. Only Eret, Jordan and Phil remain, though Schlatt has to be pulled out of the room by Quackity.

“You alright, Tubbo?” Eret asks quietly. “You’re allowed to take breaks.”

“I know!” Tubbo says, sitting himself back up and searching through the code. “I’m so close. I can tell. I just need coordinates.”

“We’ll let you get to that, then.” Phil says, walking to the window, watching the people move around Manburg, some clearly just waiting for Tubbo to leave the whitehouse with whatever news he can bring. Eret leaves, talking to Nikki under an awning.

His gut drops as a familiar form appears on the horizon, wearing a brown trenchcoat and a gray beanie. Soft and fluffy brown hair pokes out from underneath it, and Phil watches in horror as his son presses a button, and screams erupt from the city below.

Quackity was blown up by WilburSoot JSchlatt was blown up by WilburSoot Niachu was blown up by WilburSoot Ponk was blown up by WilburSoot Punz was blown up by WilburSoot Purpled was blown up by WilburSoot BadBoyHalo was blown up by WilburSoot Georgenotfound was blown up by WilburSoot Sapnap was crushed to death ItsFundy was blown up by WilburSoot Skeppy was crushed to death The_Eret was suffocated

“Well, that was exciting.” Dream mutters, reading through the notifications. “The man actually did it.”

“What did Wilbur mess up now?” Techno grumbles, standing up. He hasn’t eaten since dinner yesterday, assuming that he’s only been captive for a day. He sways slightly, glaring at Dream.

“He blew up L’Manburg.” Dream laughs, and Tommy gasps, alerting the adults to the teen.

“No.” Techno can’t help but think about how pathetic the noise sounds, barely could be considered a whisper falling from Tommy’s lips. “No.”

“Yes.” Dream’s mask is unnerving, staring blankly at Tommy, who curls up under the blankets. “Do you want to know who died in it?”

“No.” Tommy shakes, and Techno starts to fret around the teen, worried for his health and safety. What if he falls? He’s so weak as it is. “No, please no.”

“Fundy, Nikki, Ponk and Punz.” Dream counts them off on his fingers. “Skeppy, Bad, George and Sap.”

“You let him kill your friends.” Techno glares, and Dream shrugs.

“Purpled, Quackity, Schlatt and Eret.” Dream laughs, and Tommy flinches. “I imagine more will die soon, crushed or suffocated to death. You’d know all about suffocation, wouldn’t you Tommy?”

“Leave him alone!” Techno spits, and Tommy huddles himself closer to the bed, as though he could disappear into the sheets. 

“I wonder if it will be sand, gravel, concrete powder or even dirt that suffocates them.” Dream muses, ignoring Techno. “Gravel hurts more, doesn’t it Tommy? Sand and concrete powder are fine, while gravel is just tiny rocks.”

“Stop it!” Techno yells, not knowing what else to do. “Leave him out of this!”

---

“Found their coordinates.” Tubbo says, his face pale and his voice shaking ever so slightly. “We have to go, we have to get them.”

“What are the coordinates?” Phil says, walking away from the small medical bay that they had set up in the white house. “Sparkles and I will go get him, you should stay here and make sure everyone is fine.”

“Why can’t I go?” Tubbo asks, glaring slightly at Phil. The man crosses the room, walking to the teen. The pair is acutely aware of the stares they are getting from the injured, their eyes following Phil as Jordan mutely bandages Nikki’s arms. “Why can’t I help?”

“Because teenagers shouldn’t be fighting wars.” Phil says, gently taking Tubbo’s keyboard away from him. “I’m flying over, so is Sparkles. We have our elytras. You have to stay here and make sure everyone has had at least one healing potion.”

“Why can’t I-”

“You can’t keep up with us.” Jordan says, taking a note of the coordinates. “We’ll be back before sundown. If we aren’t, go to Mianite.”

Tubbo nods, and the two men exit the room.

---

Wilbur hums to himself, walking back into the little base that they built for Tommy. It’s a pity that Techno refused to join, but that problem can be dealt with later. Dream promised to put Techno somewhere safe, away from Tommy and Wilbur and the traitors until he remembers who his real family is. Techno will come around, so will Tommy.

Fear will keep his soldiers in check.

Fear will keep his brothers safe from traitors.

Wilbur walks in, watching as Techno is dragged away from Tommy’s room, unconscious. Tommy is crying, screaming at Dream to let Techno go. Dream must’ve found a safe place to put Techno until the hybrid breaks.

Dream and Techno disappear behind a corner, and Tommy sobs, a broken, mournful sound that spurs Wilbur on. Tommy looks up, tears flowing down his face as he looks to Wilbur. The man smiles back to the crying boy, who slowly struggles to his feet.

Wilbur watches, his smile growing as Tommy falls the second he tries to take a step, as though the multiple deaths weakened him. They did, of course, but the teen still seems shocked by it. Wilbur quickly walks into the cell, half wanting to comfort his brother, half wanting to use this to his advantage. Tommy will need him. He can get Tommy to realise that he’s in the right, that blowing up Manburg was the right thing to do.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Toms.” Wilbur says, gently holding Tommy as the teen sobs. “You made a mistake, and you’ve been punished for it. Now you know what happens to traitors.”

Tommy just sobs, and Wilbur tutts impatiently, waiting for the tears to stop so he can talk again.

“Did you actually blow up Manburg?” Tommy sniffles. 

“Of course I did.” Wilbur says, smiling down at Tommy. “I had to. I had to protect us from those traitors.”

“But Nikki and Tubbo-”

“Tommy, are you talking back?” Wilbur snaps, glaring at the teen. “I hope not, it sounds as though you're a traitor.”

“No, no, Wilbur I’m not!” Tommy struggles, tears flowing from his eyes as Wilbur’s hands grip his arms tightly. “I promise I’m not Wil, I swear I won’t betray you. Stop it! Stop it hurts!”

“You swear you won’t betray us?”

“I swear it Wil!” Tommy starts to sob, Wilbur letting go of him. “Please Wil, I won’t betray you.”

Wilbur stands, walking out of the room. He pauses in the doorway, looking down at Tommy, who struggles to keep himself sitting upright.

“See, the thing is Tommy,” Wilbur smirks. “It’s that I don’t believe you.”

---

Tubbo walks around the small medical bay, handing out regen potions and pouring health potions on wounds. Nikki stares out of the window, her bed moved closest to it when she asked. Eret walks around silently, helping Tubbo deliver things. There’s pain in his eyes every time he speaks, and though Tubbo gave him a health potion to drink it’s clear that it didn’t change much.

Will Tommy be worse, when he arrives?

Tubbo makes up a bed, across from Nikki’s but still next to the window, almost subconsciously. Fundy watches him, half of his fur burnt off from the explosion. Tubbo doesn’t know what actually killed him, if it was the explosion or the fires that it caused.

That's another thing that Tubbo will have to fix, the fires.

“Everything alright, Tubbo?” Fundy asks, breaking the carefully maintained silence.

“The fires are spreading, I’ll have to-”

“No.” Fundy interrupts. “Not what I meant. Mentally, for you. Is everything alright in your head?”

“Of course, Tommy’s coming home soon and you guys are healing. Everything is going to be just fine.” Tubbo lets the words fall out of his mouth, not believing a single one of them. “It has to be.

It has to be, right?”

---

“Philza, CaptainSparklez.” Dream greets the pair, nodding to them. Both men notice the blood splattered across his green hoodie, fresh and bright. Jordan pales slightly, and Phil glares at the admin of the world. “A pleasure to see you both. I see you’re already breaking the rules.”

“Where are my sons.” Phil demands, no longer asking questions. 

“Wilbur is safe, Tommy is in his room.”

“Techno?” Jordan asks, frowning in concern. “Is that his blood?”

“He fought back.” Dream shrugs. “I was just trying to protect Tommy.”

“Cut the crap, Dream.” Phil growls. “Where. Are. My. Sons?”

“Find them yourself.” Dream says, turning to leave. “I honestly don’t care what you two do, Manburg is destroyed. I have the power again.”

Dream was shot by CaptainSparklez

“Lets go.” Jordan says, walking past Dream’s items without a second thought. Phil nods, taking Dream’s crossbow and some arrows. “Lets go kill your eldest kid and get your other two back.”

“You know, if Techno finds out that you know he isn’t the eldest, our whole family is going to fall apart. We’ve been pretending that Techno’s the eldest for years now.” Phil says lighting, loading the crossbow.

“The only reason I know is because Tubbo told me.” Jordan smiles, entering a small hole in the cliff face, walking into a large room.

Tunnels and doorways appear randomly from each wall, creating a maze out from the main room. The rock is roughly hewn, and a blood trail leads out of one corridor and across the main room, before disappearing behind an iron door. Jordan and Phil nod to each other, before Jordan turns to the door and Phil disappears down the corridor.

---

“How could you?” Bad yells from his bed, the group silently watching as Eret, Sapnap and Skeppy drag Dream into the white house. “How could you do that to everyone?”

“I didn’t think he would actually blow this place up, Bad!” Dream yells, trying to defend himself.

“You put Tommy in a death loop!”

“Wilbur told me to!”

“Oh wow, the nuremberg defence, very original!” Bad spits, and Tubbo looks up from Nikki’s side, surprised at Bad. “That’s not a defense! You still killed a child and locked him in a death loop!”

“I gave him a healing pot!”

“He’d need regen after that ordeal!” Nikki yells, joining in with Bad’s tirade. The pair were the first of the exploded to wake up, and the furthest away from the explosions. The only reason they hadn’t joined Jordan and Phil was because Tubbo and Eret had forced them to remain in their beds and heal goddamn it. “And he’ll still have trauma you monster!”

“He’ll get over it-”

“No he wont!”

Everyone is fighting now, the bed ridden struggling to remove themselves from their beds and bandages, with Eret mutely attempting to keep them all in check. Sapnap attempts to pull Dream down the stairs, but Skeppy stops him, glaring at the man. The voices melt and meld together, until Tubbo can’t tell who is blaming who for what. A wild fire burns in everyone’s chests, raging against the wood of past mistakes. Nikki and Dream’s fires are the brightest, fighting for supremacy against each other. Tubbo’s is the smallest, barely a candle’s flame compared to the bush fires that the others hold. 

He’s hollow, empty, the fire barely keeping him awake, let alone allowing him to be angry.

Tubbo stands, his chair falling to the ground with a loud clatter. The room falls silent, everyone staring at the teen, breathes held in collective curiosity. Tubbo ignores all of them, walking out of the building with tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He ignores the animals, the fires outside, the holes in the land that Wilbur’s bombs left. He ignores it all, walking towards the embassy, Tommy’s home. He takes out Mellohi, playing it in the jukebox as he sobs on the bench, wishing Tommy was besides him.

WilburSoot was shot by Ph1lza

Tommy finds himself relaxing in the man's arms, somehow unable to name the man in his mind. He doesn’t know what makes him trust him - perhaps it's because he killed Wilbur, perhaps it's because he just smells safe, like the scent of rain after a drought.

Another man joins them in the main room, carrying something large and pink. It’s almost funny, how blurred and broken Tommy’s vision is. As though something is in the way. Tommy shuts his eyes, hoping that when he opens them everything will be back to normal, and he will know who has saved him.

When he opens them again, he’s flying. The man holds him close to his chest, and Tommy can't help but think of the first time he met Phil, the first time he could remember when he knew he was safe. He’s safe again, isn’t he? The man is safe.

He starts to cry, wishing he could go back. It was so much simpler back then. 

“Shhh, it’s alright son.” Phil’s voice sounds over the wind. “I’m taking you home.”

And Tommy breaks in Phil’s arms, going home with his Dad once more.

---

Eret sits down next to Tubbo, not saying anything to the teen. He offers his hand to the teen, and he just rests his head on Eret’s shoulders, sobbing softly onto Eret’s shoulders. Eret puts his arm around Tubbo’s shoulders.

They sit in silence, listening to the music disk play as the sun sets over the horizon. Tubbo’s sobs are slowly replaced by soft breathing, and Eret picks the teen up as he softly snores on the man’s shoulders. Slowly, he takes the music disk out of the jukebox and tucks it safely into his inventory, before carrying Tubbo back to Manburg. Sapnap and Skeppy nod at him from the door, and the pair both give him a soft smile as they see Tubbo sleeping soundly in his arms.

Nikki looks up from a book as he enters the room, the rest of the members of this world either asleep or too dosed up on potions and pain relief to notice him. She gives him a soft smile, moving over on her bed. Eret gently places Tubbo on his bed, before he quickly sits by Nikki’s side.

“They’re at your castle.” Nikki whispers to Eret, and he immediately knows who she’s talking about. “The boys are really injured, and Phil says that Tommy didn’t even recognise him. Sparkles and Phil just wanted to make sure that the pair of them weren’t overwhelmed.”

“And Wilbur? Anyone seen him?” Eret’s voice makes his throat feel as though its bleeding, but he has to know.

“Not a word or a sighting.” Nikki sighs. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’m worried for him.”

“You’re worried about loverboy?” Schlatt’s voice is quiet against the night air, though it makes the pair jump. “He was - is, I don’t know, - your friend. You should be worried for him.”

“He blew up Manburg.” Nikki responds quietly.

“He went insane, can’t blame him for that.” Schlatt stares up at the roof. “He isn’t the only person on this server who’s done some fucked up shit like that before.”

“Schlatt, what are you-”

“Can I have some more drugs? Just pump them into me. It hurts so much.” Schlatt requests, and Eret nods, standing up and walking to the potion chest. “Thank you.”

“Just rest, Schlatt.” Eret sighs, his white eyes glowing behind his sun glasses. “You need it.”

“So do you.”

---

Tommy wakes up slowly for what feels like the first time in a long while. A bandage rests over his left eye, though his right one spies the rainbow that hits the wall of the room he’s in, lighting it up brightly. He struggles to work out where he is, frowning as his eye scans the room for more details, before his memory sorts itself out.

Eret’s castle has rainbow windows.

Okay, so he knows where he is, but how did he get here, he questions silently. The last thing he can remember is Wilbur going mad at him for speaking back, so how did he get to Eret’s castle?

Tommy turns his head over, and sees Phil leaning over his bed, sitting in his chair and sleeping, one hand holding up his head. Tommy, despite knowing that his father must be tired, and that he himself must look like he’s gone through hell and back, but he cracks a smile at the sight.

“You look like shit, Dad.” Tommy whispers, wincing at the pain that follows speaking. Phil’s eyes shoot open, and Tommy sees relief wash over his father’s figure.

“Tommy you’re awake!” Phil practically yells, pulling Tommy into a hug. Tommy leans into the hug, pushing the fearful flinch down his throat. Phil saved him. That must be why he’s here.

Footsteps thunder down the halls, too many for Tommy to count. The door slams open, and Tommy can hear people talking without processing or understanding a word. Eret. Fundy. Nikki. Tubbo. They’re all here. 

“Tommy?” Tubbo’s voice is quiet, though it comes from right besides him. Tommy pulls himself away from Phil, his heart aching at the loss of contact, and turns to look at Tubbo.

“Tubbo?” Tommy whispers, looking to his friend. Tubbo wears his normal clothes - green button up shirt and grey pants, but he also wears a red bandanna, and his eyes have bags under them. “Is this…”

“This is real.” Tubbo says, pulling Tommy in to a hug. “Everything is going to be alright, Tommy.”

And Tommy cries, not fully broken but not fully fixed either. Tubbo holds him through it, Phil joining in the hug soon after. Tommy cries until there are no tears left, and then he holds onto Tubbo as though he’s afraid of losing him. Tommy knows he won’t lose Tubbo, Tubbo is a good person.

He’s afraid of waking up. Of this all being a dream.

“You need a regen pot.” Nikki says softly, and Tommy feels the dip in the bed. Why does everyone decide to sit on the side of him that he can’t see? “Drink this, then you can go back to hugging Tubbo and Phil.”

Tommy nods, silently taking the potion from Nikki. He downs it quickly, wincing at the sickly sweet taste of it. It hits his empty stomach, and he feels the magic stick to the insides of his throat and make its way to his lungs, working its way to his left eye. It stings, almost, and Tommy hums softly, smiling to himself. He looks up to Tubbo, and folds himself back into Tubbo’s arms, falling asleep next to his friend.

---

Tubbo sits with Tommy, letting his friend sleep on his shoulder as Tubbo finally relaxes. Eret ruffles Tubbo’s hair before he turns, walking out of the room with Nikki. Fundy puts down a book, one of Tommy’s favourites, before he too turns.

“I’ll tell Techno.” Fundy whispers as he leaves, and Phil smiles softly, relief in his eyes.

“Should we tell him how long he’s been asleep for?” Tubbo whispers to the man, who frowns for a second, thinking.

“I don’t know. Maybe when he’s better.” Phil shrugs. “I think that if he found out that he’s been asleep for a month now it’d only do him harm.”

Tubbo moves, trying to get more comfortable on the bed, when footsteps echo down the corridor. Techno slides through the open door, surprise on his face as he examines the scene in front of him. Tubbo smiles at Techno, who sighs.

“I missed him waking up?” Techno says with a small pout.

“He just fell asleep, we could wake him up if you want.” Tubbo offers.

“Nah, let him sleep.” Techno shrugs. “I’ll take up Dad’s place in the chair.”

“You two and your chairs.” Tubbo shakes his head, smiling brightly. 

---

Fundy walks down the stairs of Eret’s castle, down to the holding cells that Eret built. Only a few people know the entrance, and Fundy is unlucky enough to be one of the trusted few that will actually guard the prisoners. Fundy takes a deep breath in, unlocking the iron door with a click that echoes through the cavernous cell. 

“Your shift isn’t for a few hours, Fundy.” Skeppy says, cocking his head as he looks at the fox hybrid. “Did you want to talk to your Dad?”

“Yeah, and to Dream.” Fundy says, seeing no point in lying. Skeppy will hear the news as he talks to them anyways.

“I’m not supposed to let you in.” Skeppy smiles, despite his words. “But he’s your Dad, so I’ll let you talk to him.”

“Thank you.” Fundy says, watching as Skeppy steps away from the door, opening it for Fundy.

The fox hybrid walks into the cells, and Wilbur and Dream both look up at him. They’re in separate cells, but they still sit with each other, playing cards or uno. Skeppy always let them play games. It keeps them sane - or saner.

“Fundy.” Dream nods to him, his mask muffling the words that echo off of the stone walls. “Pleasure to see you, are you going to let us out?”

“Nope.” Fundy tears his eyes from the man, guilt eating at his mind. “I just have some news that you’d both like to hear.”

“Well, son,” Wilbur smiles sadly. “Tell us?”

“Tommy’s awake.”

[prince-claremont-diaz]

Grief and Light

Summary: Ginny’s grieving after the Battle of Hogwarts and she won’t let anyone else in. Except maybe Luna. 

Word Count: 1.4k

Tags: Pre-slash, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Epilogue What Epilogue

Ao3 link

Grief and Light 

Tired, sad eyes. Numbed out skin. All surrounding sounds muffled into a faint buzz of white noise. The softest of tickles from the grass. A silky breeze rustling the trees and vivid fiery hair. The dampness of the ground and the sweet petrichor in the air, leftover from the showers the previous days. The sun beating down, sultry against freckled, pinked skin. 

It was well into June, perhaps even July. Since the second of May, the days felt stagnant and frozen, the world at a standstill. Even as survivors went to memorials and funerals almost every week, as people came and went, bringing grief and condolences, as everyone returned to Hogwarts to help with rebuilding it in time for the coming school year. Even as life went on, the world still felt solid in place, lost in the beginning of May. 

Ginny was only just aware of the voices coming from inside the house, though she paid them no mind. If they really needed her, they would come and find her. But until then, she was perfectly content with staying right where she was, splayed out in the grass, looking up at the sky. The house was too crowded anyway with Harry and Hermione staying as well as Bill and Fleur and Charlie. She understood that they had their reasons, but it didn’t make Ginny feel any less suffocated by their presence. 

No matter how many people came and went, there was no bringing back the dead, no filling the spaces of the lost in her heart. 

Ginny sighed heavily, closing her eyes against the hot rays above her, covering her face with the crook of her arm. She could practically hear her mother’s voice telling her she would burn, but insistently ignored it. Someone inside the house laughed, startling a bird in a nearby tree. Ginny didn’t even flinch. 

Ever since the end of the war, this was how Ginny spent most of her days, now. Though she forced herself to go to the many memorial services and whatnot with the rest of her friends and family and even forced herself to go help with the rebuild some days, she had very little motivation beyond that. Instead, she wasted away in the back garden of the Burrow, ignoring her surroundings and hoping to become one with the grass. 

For most of her life, Ginny had always been a light and generally more carefree person. Even in her first year at Hogwarts, when she was suffocated and terrified and controlled by the treacherous Tom Riddle, she had tried to be as kind and caring as she could be. Ever since then, she had always worked to be the brightest and biggest personality, had refused to take any shit from her peers or anyone else and had strived to be better, to be stronger. And it had worked. She did well in school and she was quite popular across the board and fought against others, whether they were regular school bullies or literal Death Eaters. 

But now, since the end of the war, it was as though her light had been put out, leaving her waxen and broken, smoking at the edges and melting into herself. 

As a bird chirped overhead again, Ginny removed her arm from over her face, looking up at the sky. It was mostly blue, white clouds bobbing overhead like cotton swabs in water. She turned to the side, brushing her hand over the grass, going brown at the edges with the overwhelming heat. Glancing towards the house, she could just about make out Harry, Charlie and her mum in the kitchen, talking. She briefly wondered what they were discussing, but her mind trickled into silence and apathy within moments and she turned back to facing the sky. 

Harry. Oh, Harry. Everyone had assumed they would get back together after the war was over and there no longer hung the threat of violence if they stayed together. Only, it had been months now and neither of them had even hinted at getting back together. Hell, they hardly even spoke, both too busy grieving privately. Ginny wasn’t sure she even wanted to get back together anymore, it had been so long. Somehow, deep down, from the pitying glances Harry threw her way, she knew Harry felt the same. They had both simply changed too much in the war. 

Ginny remained quiet and uncaring for another hour and a half. She watched the sun going down behind the clouds, going darker with the evening rolling past, though it was still far too early for sunset. Her mum came into the garden for a few minutes to hang up the laundry, trying to pull her into a conversation before giving up after three attempts met with silence. 

What was the point in talking, anyway? What was the point in going on, in going through the motions like nothing had changed? Why should Ginny pretend to be okay when she could feel herself burning from the inside out, her heart so encompassed by grief it took her breath away nearly constantly? Why should she fake a smile and a laugh when it was agony regardless? What was the point in ignoring the absence of Fred, so gaping and wide, a flashing sign that forced her mind to latch onto it for fear of letting his memory float away as well? 

Ginny fisted her hands into the grass, digging her nails into the dirt, biting her bottom lip and tugging absentmindedly. She ripped out two thick clumps of grass, dirt wedged under her fingernails, breaths stuttering over. 

Bitterly, Ginny tossed the two handfuls of green haphazardly, not caring which direction they blew in the breeze. 

Behind her, Ginny heard approaching footsteps and she held her breath, shoulder hunching up by her ears. She didn’t want the company. She would see who it was and she would tell them to fuck off and leave her to her grieving and her brooding. 

“Ginny?” 

Only… that voice… 

Ginny sucked in a breath at the soft, sweet voice, the gentle footsteps coming closer. Squinting in the sunlight, she turned her head just and felt her heart slam against her ribcage as she took in the sight overhead. 

Pale, porcelain skin and curious silver eyes. Long, floaty blond hair that fluttered in the wind like a thousand butterflies. Dangling colourful earrings shaped like corkscrews. A gentle, kind smile aimed at her, no trace of pity or apology. 

“Luna,” Ginny breathed, speaking for the first time in weeks. 

“Hello, Ginny,” said Luna, smile growing even more wide. “Your mother said I’d find you here. I can leave, if you like. Your mother said you haven’t wanted company for a while.” 

Ginny opened her mouth, about to agree with her mother. For months, that statement held true. Anytime someone offered her company, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, Ginny vehemently pushed it away, preferring the solitude for her grief. Her grief and her anger and her pain was simply too big to have others around her, too dangerous and volatile for company. 

But then she closed her mouth. She shook her head. She couldn’t find the right words. She didn’t *want* Luna to leave. 

“We don’t have to talk,” said Luna after a pause, clearly reading Ginny’s mind. “We can just lie here, if you like.” 

Ginny’s lips quirked up in one corner, only a bit, more than she had in a while. Her head twitched down, the faintest of nods. Taking this in, Luna sat down on the ground beside her, lying down only inches away so that Ginny still felt her presence even as they didn’t touch. Luna looked up at the sky as well, releasing a soothing, contented breath. 

They did not talk that day. They merely laid there, side by side in the grass, letting the blue sky turn red and yellow and orange, painting their skin in gold. Ginny brushed her finger against the back of Luna’s hand, a ghost of a touch that sent a thrill of emotion through her. 

For the first time in months, Ginny felt at peace. With Luna beside her, a quiet and comfortable presence that did not ask for anymore than herself, Ginny felt free to grieve at last. Perhaps, one day, she would be. Maybe, with Luna by her side, Ginny could light that fire inside herself once more.

[cherrybombusa]

GROUP ONE  - THE BASEMENT. SUCCESS.

PLAYERS:

THE ROMANTIC - Mackenzie Walsh.  THE MANNEQUIN - Caria Yildiz.  THE WRITER - Noah Russell. 

PERKS: 

COME HERE, LOVER BOY!: With Mackenzie Walsh in the group, it’s harder to fail! Mac and the Candy Girl’s love affair gained the group an extra advantage during the Puzzle, and gained them a Last Ditch Effort to get out of the room - but only if Caria gave up trying.

MEMORABLE MOMENTS: 

-CARIA FRACTURED HER SHOULDER.  -THE GANG CHOSE LUCK AND FAILED.  -THE GANG USED ALL THREE TRIES IN THEIR PUZZLE AND FAILED - BUT MACKENZIE’S LOVERBOY PERK GAINED THEM AN EXTRA SHOT. THEY ENDED UP SUCCESSFUL, AND FOUND THE KEY TO SAVE THEIR FRIEND.  -THEY EVENTUALLY ESCAPED THE ROOM AFTER CARIA GAVE UP TRYING. 

The day hadn’t been busy-busy until Mac  began setting up with the rest of the band - the perfect time for a Boardwalk employee to approach him!  Everything seemed to be going smoothly - at least from Mac’s end - but the employee insists that as the frontman of the band, a cord from the basement must be grabbed for his microphone. Mac doesn’t argue much - there’s no time to argue - he just needs to get back as soon as he can. @romxnticss​

The sun has been fixing it’s way over the horizon for what felt like far too long, but somehow the Minute-Makeover booth was still a-buzzing. Curling irons here, Mascara there - but somewhere within the chaos, a Boardwalk worker managed to grab Caria by the shoulder. Her mother was busy with a client, but the Boardwalk worker insisted that paperwork must be retrieved from a clerk in the basement, and it must be retrieved now - lest they pack up the booth ASAP. Caria hardly gets a look at the person - they walk away before any questions can be asked, but apparently it’s important that Caria gets to the basement as soon as she can. @manncquin​

A boardwalk employee grabs Noah by the shoulder as he’s walking down Roller Coaster Row - a little shocking, to say the least, but all is explained when the employee mentions Ronnie Russell and his need for Noah’s assistance ASAP. Apparently, there’s some table in the boardwalk basement that he needed to fetch for the booth they were setting up outside of the Main Stage. Don’t know why they asked Noah when they could have asked Casey, but… he better hurry. @thewriter-noah​

THE NARRATOR: Reunions were supposed to be pleasant occasions, weren’t they? They were supposed to bring feelings of joy, and nostalgia; you were supposed to forget the awkward haze that had plagued your senior year of high school, and just… pretend like the good old days were actually just that. Good. Absence did make the heart grow fonder and all that, didn’t it? Though, maybe it’s silly to wonder why this little reunion, in the service basement of the Boardwalk, might not be so pleasant. It had only been a week ago that they were all huddled into another basement together, after all. Playing at the whims of a suspected lunatic, and baring their souls - and their tongues - to each other. Not even ‘a Day in Carousel Cove!’ could smooth over that awkward little blip, could it? Still, the three of them made their polite, familiar conversation. Mac laments about being late for his set, and Caria makes some excuse about having to get back to her mother… Noah may or may not be wondering why he’s there at all! But the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking from the far end of the room should be enough to cease all wonder. Jinkies, kiddos! Wonder what’s in store for you this time. NOAH: Noah would be lying if he said, having come down initially to find Mac and Caria in the basement alone hadn't set off some vibes that left him feeling sick to his stomach. While it didn't look like he'd walked in on anything especially scandalous, and their reasoning for being there all seemed legit, thoughts of what had happened between Caria and his brother crowded his mind as he began his search for the table. It wasn't like he'd ever suspected anything between she and Mac but the mistrust had it's way of playing out all sorts of scenarios in his head. At the sound of the door closing he paused as he gave a quick glance up in it's general direction before looking back to see if by chance the other two had left without so much of a word. "Did either of you find what you were looking for?" He asked shortly when he noticed they were both still there, feigning certain his uneasiness was playing tricks on him. THE NARRATOR: Just as Noah speaks, a clock in the corner of the room strikes 7:30pm, as does the watch of a masked figure, just outside the door. It’s time! But for what, exactly?

A moment later,  Dean Hargrove’s voice fills the room like a ghostly echo from the stage - welcoming the citizens to the boardwalk, and more... but just as suddenly as his voice appeared, he’s cut off by a voice they don’t quite recognize. A voice that might just damn them all.

CANDY GIRL: “REST IN PEACE TO OUR DEAR OLD LUX, BUT I HAVE NEWS THAT THE CHERRY TIMES IS TOO SCARED TO TELL! THIS WAS NO SUICIDE. LUX WAS MURDERED. THE QUESTION IS - WHICH ONE OF HER FRIENDS DID IT?”

THE NARRATOR: It was hard to imagine a chill didn’t run down the whole of Cherry’s spine at the implication; hard to imagine that her friends weren’t disgusted by it… Or at least acting disgusted.

CANDY GIRL:  “AND TO THAT LITTLE GANG! MAKE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE LATEST ISSUE. SOMEONE IS MISSING, AND YOU’RE THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO CAN FIND THEM BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE. GOOD LUCK!”

THE NARRATOR: It would have been impressive timing if it weren’t so fucking frightening, but at just that moment, their very own issue of the Cherry Bomb slides beneath the door. It skids to a stop, right at their feet. 

The cover is collaged with photos of Lux - the inside? Crime scene photos. There’s no pictures of her body, of course; that would be crude, even for the Candy Girl - kind of - but images of the blood soaked into her carpet. Still pictures of her bedroom, flaunting a life once lived: those are there. A shot of her suicide note, ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ and all.

And right there, in the middle of the spread, like a centerfold? A note, written in Sharpie - just for our ragtag little slice of the gang.

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO. 

BUT WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT! YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK! LET IT RUN OUT, AND THEY’LL STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

THE NARRATOR: Oh...my. Now, that’s a predicament, isn’t it?

I suppose we’re at least lucky that the Candy Girl leaves the rules simple, right? Find a key. Get out of the room, and… Maybe she doesn’t kill one of your friends. Maybe

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST ESCAPE THE ROOM, BUT HOW DO YOU IT? THERE HAS TO BE A KEY SOMEWHERE, SO HOW DO YOU FIND IT? BY LOOKING FOR CLUES [PROBLEM SOLVING] OR BY TEARING THE ROOM APART? [LUCK]

CARIA: Unquestioning dutifulness used to be chief among Caria's virtues, or at least it must have been, looking back. Not dutifulness out of any sort of filial affection but the point still stands: she's always done what's been asked of her. As it was, she barely blinked at the matter of paperwork. It checked out-- usually her mother has people to deal with the administrative side of things but a legal team for a day at the Boardwalk seemed overkill even to the unendingly ostentatious woman. And given the company Caria's ended up in the basement, she's all too happy to stay all the way adrift in her thoughts. Even the click of the door isn't enough to pull her back to reality. What is enough, however, is the unwelcome broadcast. 

She's never been good with these kinds of things. Maybe there's a way to look around at the small details and figure things out that way, but unfortunately how good she looked in tweed and faked a British accent had no real correlation to how closely her thinking could mirror Sherlock Holmes'. So, she does what she's only ever really let herself do in her imagination: She starts pulling the room apart haphazardly, hoping something helpful will happen upon her if she's desperate enough.

MAC: In twenty years, Mac had never exactly found himself in any high pressure situations. Perhaps it came from living with a self-proclaimed former hippie, or the fact that it was hard to build any real sort of stress in a record store, but regardless- he never saw himself stuck in the middle of this sort of thing. While his first reaction had been to head for the door the moment he heard Dean Hargrove's voice, still preoccupied with missing Mystic Cherry's set, the realization that they were trapped had slowly but surely sank into his brain. There's a pause as Caria starts tearing things apart, a moment to let his panic sink in, before he's starting on the other side of it, desperate for a way out and to the rest of their friends.

THE NARRATOR: In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to just start tearing the room apart. Mac and Caria look for nearly fifteen minutes - maybe twenty - as the chaos of everyone else’s night unfolds on ground level above them. They’re losing time, and coming up empty - it’s time for a new plan. 

The Candy Girl is cunning, and cold, after all. Meticulous. She wouldn’t be the type to just leave something where anyone could find it… Maybe. Looks like they’re playing Mystery Gang on this one.

MAKE A CHOICE: FAILURE. THE GANG HAS SUFFERED A TIME PENALTY DUE TO THIS ACTION. IT WILL NOW BE HARDER TO GET OUT.

THE NARRATOR: Looks like they're going to need clues to get out. Noah  stays focused on the sharpie scribbled riddle in the ‘zine while Mac and Caria raid the room for something useful. Not so useful, but strange enough to take note of? A cherry red briefcase, shoved into one of the dusty, storage lockers. Not only that… but maybe there’s actually more to the note than they thought.

MAKE A CHOICE: TRY THE CODE. 

NOAH: This was it. The first interaction with the allusive Candy Girl since the night of Lux's funeral but instead of having them all making out with one another she was sending them on some wild goose chase. Noah could barely control the slight trembling in his fingers as he attempted to put the code into the briefcase they'd found. Normally such steady hands with a pen couldn't find peace as he recalled the box that had arrived at his door only a week before. MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. SORRY.

MAC: Mac wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to know what was inside the briefcase, though his fear of whats inside soon turns into a fear of not being able to get inside as he watches Noah struggle. Quietly he takes the briefcase into his own shaking hands, inputting 2-1-3-4. MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. SORRY.

CARIA: Caria frowns and puts in 3421.

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. 

NOAH: Noah took the box again and worked the numbers until they read 3-1-4-2.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS.

THE NARRATOR: The briefcase pops open and reveals a coppery key. Someone should probably try it in the door!

NOAH: Hearing the sound of the briefcase pop open came with a strange sense of relief as Noah pulled the key from the briefcase. "Jesus.." He whispered mostly to himself as he glanced back at Mac and Caria and made a point of dad jogging over to the door. The adrenaline still racing through his veins as he tried the key in the door.

THE NARRATOR: The key doesn’t even turn, and just like that… defeat rings through the room all over again. Wait, unless -

MAKE A CHOICE: TURN THE KEY OVER AND TRY IT THE OTHER WAY? [LUCK - HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARD]

NOAH: Noah paused, contemplating as he felt the key unwilling to move and made the decision to pull it back out of the door. "It's no fuckin good. They're toying with us. This isn't going to let us out." He said frustration thick in his voice as he shot a look to both Mac and Caria. "Any other hints we missed?"

THE NARRATOR: The sound of the clock ticking in the corner of the room is almost ominous as it continues on in it’s effort; keeping a steady beat to their struggle. They have to get out, or someone gets hurt… They have to beat the clock, but how long did they have exactly? And beyond that - how long would they be stuck down here until somebody found them? 

Maybe the door wasn’t so sturdy. It seemed old enough: they could try to break it down. There’s windows - high up, but windows nonetheless. They could climb it, if they needed to. 

And if desperation really struck? Well, they could always scream for help.

MAKE A CHOICE: HOW WILL YOU GET OUT? BREAK DOWN THE DOOR [STRENGTH], CLIMB THROUGH A WINDOW [FIGHTER], OR SCREAM FOR HELP [CHARISMA.]

CARIA: Caria gives a dubious look to her companions but seems to gather some kind of resolve. "If I could just get up through the window, I could get us out," she reasons with an uncommon amount of confidence to her voice, "Can you hoist me?" And then she tries to climb up with the others' help.

THE NARRATOR: If only Cherry High’s gym teacher could see Caria now! To coach her through the proper hand holding technique they had all learned during rock-climbing week. It’s a noble effort as she makes it halfway up the wall, but as a shelf tips forward, Caria topples backward. In the blink of an eye, she’s on her back in the middle of the room - a loud crack sounding from her shoulder.That’s definitely broken.

The other two crowd their Caria, trying to comfort her - promising they’d get her help as soon as they could. But it’s no use. Nobody knows where to find them; nobody can hear them. And nobody is coming for them.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU'VE FAILED YOUR PLOT EVENT.

CANDY GIRL: But wait! Who is that handsome boy in the back? Mackenzie Walsh Looks like my favorite boy has another shot. Let’s go, Lover Boy!

THE NARRATOR: Seriously? Fine! They had only been in here for a half an hour - maybe a little more - but somehow it felt like centuries. They were beaten, and broken down… They had fallen right into the Candy Girl’s trap, and like mice in a lab, there was no escape. Maybe. They could always keep screaming for help - but then again, what was the use?

MAKE A CHOICE: LOOKS LIKE YOU GOOFED IT - BUT YOU HAVE A SECOND SHOT. DO YOU ADMIT DEFEAT [SELFISHNESS] OR DO YOU KEEP TRYING TO SCREAM? [LUCK HIGH RISK - HIGH REWARD]

CARIA: There was no point, was there? Some tiny part of Caria insisted it wasn't, and yet it had to be. Her shoulder wasn't even what bothered her most. Even if she could get out (but what reason did she have to have ever hoped she could pull off some heroics?) it was undeniable that whoever was in that box never knew or liked her to the level she hoped. Probably, they blamed her for her relationship with Harvey falling apart, for Casey feeling hurt, for Lux dying. They were not her friends. They were unlikely to even like her that much Caria, who had been unintentionally tearing down others left and right, fostering nothing but ill-will. She felt humiliated, which was bad enough on its own but doubly so heaped in a pile in front of Noah, who probably hated her, and Mac, who probably would shortly. 

Why was she even doing this? How could she go back to the group day after day and pretend she belonged? Even if she swallowed her pride and went through the motions for the sake of retaining her place among them, Candy Girl knew the truth, which meant maybe others knew the truth, which meant she would have to sit there as the villain pushing others to suicide. She's crying. Of course she is. Messy, gasping sobs, as though she's been held too long underwater. "I can't do this. Let's not do this. I can't-" she tries to utter while struggling to breath through her crying, "No more."

THE NARRATOR: Maybe it was wrong to just sit down and let it happen to them, but what were they supposed to do? They were beaten down and broken… they had tried so hard, and failed. Why not just say, fuck it?

Half an hour goes by that feels like an eternity. Their friend quietly crying in pain; anxiety on high. Mac trying not to cry, himself. 

But the sound of footsteps from down the hall piques their interest. The sound of their voices all mix in one as they call out for help, and only a minute later is someone turning a key into the door lock.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS. YOU'VE ESCAPED… BUT ONLY BECAUSE THE CANDY GIRL GAVE MAC A SECOND CHANCE. YOU WON’T BE SO LUCKY NEXT TIME.

[wincestisasincest]

The Green Book (Thorin’s Company x Reader, Part 2)

Hey gang! Sorry it took so long to get a Part 2! I wish I had a better excuse but in reality I just watched all of Game of Thrones and cried a lot.

I don’t know if anyone reads these descriptions, also, but if you are, send me asks/suggestions for characteristics of the reader, or objects that they have on them, or even pairings! I love to hear what people think, and will almost definitely incorporate them into this.

Summary: (Y/n) falls into Middle Earth. Shocker. Somehow, she gets recruited to join a party of dwarves on their kinda crazy mission to reclaim their home of Erebor. 

Part: 1, 2

Tags (let me know if you want to be added to the list!): @stuckupstucky, @dianaarelyfernandezgarza97

Words: 1820

Warnings: Plot clichés, vomit

“Do not touch her face.” 

“But uncle, look at her! Who knows what else she could be hiding? We should check to be sure.”

“Do not. Touch. Her face.” 

“What if it gets her to wake up?” 

“Lad, if you touch her face I’ll poke yours a lot harder with the back of my hand.”

“Right, right, sorry.” 

“I believe, at the moment, there is a greater threat that deserves our attention.” 

My eyes fluttered open, only to be met with several new faces, looking just about as shocked as I did. Though I didn’t get an in depth look, they all had thick brows, long hair, and even longer beards. They had also taken to certain sacks, made out of burlap. I couldn’t really make out the scene clearly as it was quite dark, a proper nighttime like I had missed earlier, but there was the aggressive firelight with shadows passing over it that illuminated their expressions. 

I tried to move, only to realize that I was in a very similar situation. A sack was up to my neck, and though I could move freely inside of it, the toughness of the fabric and the smallness of the sack was very limiting. 

“Psst. Hey! Lass!” I turned my eyes up only to meet with a blonde haired man, with braided bears and hair like a lion’s mane. I raised my eyebrows in response to his question. 

“Yes?” I answered meekly. 

“Hey, is that the lass?” Another young, spry voice answered from over the rest of the bodies. 

“Both of you, shut up!” A rather authoritative voice, quite deep, and apparently coming from someone with no sense of humor, rose over the din.

“Ey, stop ya talkin’ or I’ll cook yew first!” I looked up, only to be met with a pallid, monstrous face leering at the group of men. It held a slightly spiked club with its massive fingers as it scrunched its snot filled nose. 

It took nearly all of my willpower not to scream, but I did allow a gasp to escape. I turned to the blonde man, and scooted a little closer.

“What the fuck is that?” I whispered frigthfully. 

“A troll, it would seem.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What?!” I responded, just confused as this man dispensed tales from fantasy novels like they were fact. 

“What are they gonna do to us?!” I continued my interrogation.

“Well, I think that they’re planning to eat us, but don’t you worry. We won’t let that happen.” He gave me a confident wink like there was a chance of escape, before going back to angrily grunting against his sack. 

I sighed and leaned back, trying to absorb the situation. I couldn’t get a good periphery. If only I had my backpack, or something. 

Some sparse conversation between a smaller, meeker voice and the larger one of the troll was occurring to my left, though I was too dazed to make out most of it. Something about worms. 

The group then began caterwauling, all moaning about how they were riddled with the worst possible worms, and I had caught on to their scheme. If they were riddled with worms, then the trolls, of course, wouldn’t want to eat them. 

“What about her? She seems fine.” My vision went from blurry to dreadfully straight as the great club in front of me came into focus. Shit. 

“I, uh-” I struggled against my frightened breathing to put on a convincing performance. It would not be an exaggeration to say that my life depended on it.

“I have the worst case of all.” I used my tired breathing to my advantage, before employing a trick that I had learned on the playground in elementary school. I crossed both my eyes, before rolling them back into my head, creating the gross, veiny effect that used to make the younger kids throw up. 

I pretended to struggle against my health once more as I tried to spit out more improvisation, not even realizing the great number of eyes watching me. The only thing that I was focused on was the grossed-out fear in the eyes of the troll, who had clearly never seen such grade school witchcraft. 

“We all got it from eating a herd of cows that had worms,” I added, “That’s how it gets passed on.” 

“She’s lyin!” One of the other trolls, because of course there were other trolls, yelled from the back.

“Did you see what ‘er eyes did? You can’t make that up!” I had finally had the will to stand up, like an attorney defending someone in court. 

To my left, there was a very short creature, assuming that he was standing at his full height, of course, with brown skin and blonde, curly hair. He seemed just as scared as I. 

The larger troll hustled closer and whipped out a long, rusty knife that was hitched to his hip, holding it up to my throat. I could feel it biting into my jaw as some blood trickled, but I held my resolve.

“Why don’t I just cut you open to see them worms, girl?” He snarled. I heard a few gasps from behind me, before one tried to scramble its way out of my own throat. 

“I was going to die soon anyway because of my disease, you would be doing me a favor by ending the pain,” The troll eased his knife slightly, and I saw his expression falter as he realized that he hadn’t succeeded in visibly scaring me. 

“That would be all that it’s good for!” The small creature added, his voice rising almost an octave, “The worms are completely clear, you wouldn’t see anything.” 

I nodded, under the pressure of the blade still to my throat. 

“The only way to find out would be, of course, to eat us and die,” I added an edge of harshness to those last words, “Ready to take that chance?”

“The dawn will take you all!” A booming voice shouted from behind me. Though I didn’t turn around swiftly enough, I heard the cracking of rock and saw the rays of the sunrise spilling out over the three trolls on front of me, who were very swiftly turned to no more than stone. 

I jerked my throat away from the blade, which was now completely stone, and struggled to release myself from my burlap prison. My struggle, however, was ended by a sharp force slicing through the back of it and dropping to the floor, exposing my body to the rest of the world. It felt new to have the wind on my skin. I turned around to face my savoir. 

“Well, you’re a new face, aren’t you?” 

The first clear look that I had gotten at a person in a long time and it was, of course, Gandalf the Grey. Given how perceptive he was, I was sure that he caught the glint of recognition in my eyes, though he chose to say nothing. 

I turned to the side, only for my fears to be confirmed. Slowly crawling out of their sacks was a group that I had grown very familiar with, none other than the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, fully equipped with their wizard and hobbit. A flood of memories came back to me as I could recall both the book and the movie (like a moving picture with sound), both common tales from where I came from. I had just helped the legendary company escape from one of their earliest trials, the trolls, without even realizing it. 

The complication in this, of course, was that all my life, I had been taught that such company, and by extension, such a land as Middle Earth, was nothing but a tale. The fact that they were in front of me at this moment, and seemed to be very corporeal, was off putting to say the least. 

My face twisted into confusion.

“Never seen a dwarf before, lass?” A wizened old Balin, I assumed, stroked his long white beard while speaking for the equally confused looks of his company. 

“Uh,” I stuttered, tripping over my words, “uh, well, not in, I, uh, no.” I finally settled on not bothering whether or not I offended them and using plain, simple language. 

“From the looks of it, she’d never seen a troll before either.” The blonde haired one, Fili I remembered him as, said to the crowd as he was gathering up his equipment. 

I could feel my breathing grow heavy, and I swear that I was beginning to sweat. This was some fucked up dream. 

“Are you alright? There’s no need to be afraid, Miss.....” a small voice, that of Bilbo Baggins, who had appeared next to you as silently as hobbits are known to do, gave me a concerned look.

“(Y/n)” I answered bluntly, shunting his question.

“That’s a bit of an odd name. Mind tellin’ us where you’re from?” Balin leaned forward.

“I, uh, I-” All of the confidence that I had while confronting the trolls had completely vanished. I felt my stomach begin to churn, though I was so hungry that it felt out of place. 

“Yes, and where you got such strange garb from as well?” The man himself, Thorin Oakenshield, stepped forward, though I knew before seeing him from his voice. He looked as he always did, stern and focused. 

I stared down at what I thought to be quite normal, some jeans, sneakers, a t-shirt, and a jacket, though only thoughts of how abnormal and alien I must seem right now could come to fruition.

“Let’s not bombard her with questions.” Gandalf intervened as every dwarf and hobbit eye was trained on me. 

Out of the corner of my vision, I saw my red canvas backpack glinting in the sunlight. It had been carelessly thrown to the side.

“I, um, I have to go!” Before turning around to see their expression, I gathered up my stuff and started towards the forest. 

“Go where, exactly?” I could hear Gandalf yell behind me, and stepping forward slightly in my direction.

“I don’t know!” And with that confident dismissal, I darted off into the forest, with my stuff behind me, not bothering to answer some of the screams and pleas. 

When I had convinced myself that I was far enough away where they couldn’t hear me, I grasped the nearest tree and threw up my entire stomach. My vision was getting dizzy again, and I could feel tears in my eyes. The adrenaline had gotten me through the trolls, but now, I was lost, scared, or, at best, completely insane. 

I took out my phone. The background on it was a picture of my family. My sobs only deepened. I curled into a ball and continued to cry, and hours passed before I would stand again. 

**********

Well that was fucking depressing. 

It will get happier, I swear, but I always thought that the concept of getting completely plucked from everything that you know and placed with a bunch of stange, unknown people was quite scary and emotional, so of course, it will be treated as such. 

Be on the lookout for a masterlist at some point!

[saibh29]

Flirting with Danger (1/2)

Pairing: Antonio Dawson x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, think that’s it... 

AN: Sorry it’s been such a long time since any sort of update from me, life has a way of getting out from underneath me sometimes. Hopefully I’ll have a few fics lined up for the coming weeks. Love to everyone and hope everyone is safe. xx

Could you please do an Antonio Dawson x halstead!reader where they both like each other but Antonio won’t do anything because it’s Jays sister. And he sees her talking to someone at Mollys and gets jealous? Thanks x

******

You didn’t choose to spend all that much time at the station if you could help it. Spending time at the station meant having to be around Jay and you had enough of that at home.

It hadn’t exactly been in your life plan to end up nearing 30, with a temp job and crashing in your older brother’s spare room on his pull-out futon. Apparently though life didn’t always go the way you wanted it to and when your previous relationship had ended badly, you’d moved back to the city of you birth and to the one place you’d always be safe, with your brothers.

On top of your dislike of spending more time with an overly protective Jay there was also the fact that the station had…him. He would be there as well and being around him was almost more painful than listening to Jay nag at you some more.

Sometimes though, it was unavoidable, like this morning, when your brother rang you in a hungover panic as when he’d dragged himself to work this morning he’d also managed to forget to take his badge with him.

You weren’t exactly operating on all cylinders either as you grabbed his badge and your bag, rooting around on the kitchen counter for your car keys. The remnants of yours and Jay’s previous evening was still covering the coffee table it included a nearly drained bottle of whiskey, an empty pizza box and a stack of beer bottles. Will had been there as well and the 3 of you had gotten lost in childhood stories and overly embarrassing memories.

You winced as you pushed open the door of the apartment block cursing the sun which had suddenly decided to make an appearance after weeks of rain and clouds. You rooted around in your bag for your sunglasses and shoved them onto your face, fumbling with the lock on your car door which insisted on sticking and dumping your stuff on the passenger seat.

You got the station without any incidents, found a parking space and even managed to get your car locked again without any issues. You left the sunglasses on as you went into the station, it was still fairly bright even in here. Too bright for your sensitive head anyway.

Waving a hand at the desk constable who greeted you, you made your way into the back and up to the right floor.

You found Jay slumped over his desk, arms over his head and muttering under his breath about something to quiet for you to hear.

“Jay” you got no response. “Jay” you tried again a little louder, pushing at his arm.

He raised his head, blurry eyes focusing on you stood in front of his desk. You dangled his badge in front of his face between you thumb and forefinger.

“That mine?”

“Well it isn’t mine, is it?” you dropped it down in front of him before slumping into the chair in front of him. “You owe me big time for this. I’d scheduled this time specifically for sleeping”

“How much did I drink last night?” Jay asked ignoring your moaning and letting his head drop back down to the desk.

“A bottle”

“1 beer would not do this”

“Not beer” he raised his head once more. “Whiskey”

“Fuck…”

That was an understatement. You couldn’t shot more than one or two whiskeys without passing out. Of the debris left back in the apartment most of your mess was the beer bottles. It had been Will and Jay who were enjoying the whiskey.

“HALSTEAD?”

Jay groaned again, but he did drag himself up, when Voight shouted you hauled ass, even if you were riddled with bullet holes. A hangover wouldn’t rank high up on Voight’s list of excuses.

Voight appeared by the desk, eyes flicking between the two Halstead siblings. “Big night?” he directed that to Jay before switching to you. “Y/N, you alright darling?”

His permanently husky voice was actually incredibly soothing to your hungover hearing. “I'm good. He forgot…” Jay’s foot lashed out under his desk connecting with your ankle. You jumped but managed to change your words “he forgot his keys”

Voight obviously didn’t believe the two of you but he let it go, instead reeling off a list of instructions for Jay to follow up numerous cases. The list sounded long and like a punishment even to you, apparently you dropping him in it for forgetting his badge or not Jay was still on Voight’s shit list today.

With one more nod of his head at you he left you both alone again.

“He isn’t happy”

Jay’s eyes narrowed at you, “spilling that I forgot my badge probably didn’t help”

“I didn’t…”

“He knew” Jay interrupted you, eyes flicking towards where his boss had gone. “he always knows”

You weren’t going to argue with Jay, there was very little point to trying, that much you knew from growing up together. Stubborn didn’t even begin to cover it. Instead you made sympathetic noises as your brother gathered up his things and made for the exit.

You waved away his offer of a ride, after all your car had managed to get you here it could get you back as well. Probably.

You were congratulating yourself on getting cleanly in and out of the station without bumping into anyone else when a shiver climbed down your spine moments before a male voice sounded way too close for you to ignore it.

“Y/N?”

Turning slowly, you found Antonio Dawson a few steps behind you. Leather jacket draped over one arm and a small smile on his face. Fuck. Why did he have to look like that? In fact, why was he even there?

“Toni” you held up your car keys “sorry, just leaving”

Of course, your car door chose this moment to once again stick solidly and no matter how much you wrenched at the keys you couldn’t get the lock to turn.

Double Fuck.

“here” Antonio had come up beside you and reaching out covered your hand with his own dropping his jacket over the roof of the car. Moving your fingers away as he took over with your temperamental car.

It put his body very close to your own, enough that you could smell the slightly woody fragrance of his aftershave.

With a final jerk you heard the lock of the door finally click and with a victorious smile he turned to face you, apparently from the look on his own face it was right at that exact moment that he realised just how close he was to you as well.

“Y/N…” he trailed off, reaching up to lift your sunglasses up so he could see your eyes. In his own you could see every emotion that only weeks before he’d been denying existed. That only weeks before he’d insisted could never happen with one of his friend’s sisters.

You were the one who broke his gaze, dropping your head to stare at the floor. “thanks” you muttered reaching for the door handle and pulling open the door, in doing so it pushed Antonio away from you.

“Wait” he grabbed your upper arm as you passed him, stopping you sliding into the car. “just wait” he took a step closer so the side of your body was pressed against his chest.

“Don’t” you were digging the nails of one hand into your palm, trying to remind yourself that following this path would only lead to even more heartbreak. You’d had enough of that for a lifetime. “We’ve had this conversation before Toni, so just don’t”

Antonio leant down, his nose brushing your hair as he breathed in the lavender of your shampoo. Nothing had changed since that conversation a few weeks ago, his reasons for not getting closer to you, for not acting on the feelings between the pair of you hadn’t changed. He couldn’t seem to help himself though, couldn’t stop the almost magnetic force between the two of you.

“Let me go… Please”

He did, he wouldn’t ever hold you against your will, it just wasn’t the sort of man he was.

Instead he took a step back and watched as you got back into the car and after only a brief hesitation left him stood in the car park of the station wondering in many regards if his principles were in fact not worth the trouble.

@lifesaclimb-buttheviewisgreat  @lclb13 @moli1497   @clementines-x @the-chosen-one-time-lord @no-other-names-availible-blog @angelaiswriting @selldraug @angryares @thenovarose @mindofthescattered  @dontstopxx @iamabeautifulperson18 @madelinecraig03 @ka-x-in @mesmericbell  @weirdpotato-14 @putinontheritzz @soulslaststand @fuckthatfeeling  @ember1201 @morganlb23 @tomhopperarms  @fakingintrest @artprincessbree  @dreamer-lover-laughter @artprincessbree @rime-warrior @captainvaneswife @kapolisradomthoughts @thingsandstuffienjoy @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @aya-fay  @itsbubbaog @hp-hogwartsexpress @emmykinzs @thatbadassunicorn @sassywingednightmare @weirdnewbie @goyawriter @shipperfangirling @nathaliabakes @stillreadingfantasy @waywardblueshun @give-jack-a-lightsaber @shipatheart @itsdesiree86 @coffeebooksandfandom​  @smoothdogsgirl  @witchygagirl​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @theatrenerd101601​

[krixel]

So, I’ve had a horrendous fucking week (family, am I right?) and I have, admittedly, had more than one glass of Scotch to drink (family, am I right?) but I was doing a dive into my old Beyblade Tala/Trey WIPs, which were written entirely for me because I’d never ever considered the thought of coming back to posting fanfiction, let alone Tala/OC fanfiction - that joke is forever on me but GLU is my trope riddled passion project baby that you can pry from my cold dead hands - and I’d forgotten about this bizarre Tala has a twin, whose identity he stole, government experiment mess of an AU that I still love.

So yeah, here’s the less than 2,000 words start of that story, because why not? So, if you’re at all interested in another Tala/Trey AU where they’re established and Tala has a twin... here it is. Also, my writing is rough, because it’s from 3 years ago, and I wrote it on my phone while I was making dinner.

The door opened once the stairs had been secured, and the ball of tension that had started in his stomach crawled up Kai’s throat. There was only a single passenger on the private jet, and the afternoon sun gleamed against his blond hair as he emerged. A laptop bag was slung across his body and he gripped the handle of a small suitcase. Kai would never get used to seeing him; a grownup version of a past ghost. Kai pushed off the hood of his Mercedes and moved to meet the newcomer as he reached the tarmac. Blue eyes - hollow and colder than the snow that fell around them - gave him a once over before he tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Kai. I see my brother still has you running his errands like a good dog.”

“Mikaela. I see time has done nothing to improve your charm,” Kai said, resisting the urge to scold the other for his casual use of his relationship with Tala.

“Forgive me. Unlike others, I cannot put on a false face when looking at one of the people who ruined my life,” Mikaela said, striding past Kai and towards the awaiting car.

Kai rolled his eyes but followed the other to the car. He popped the trunk but did not offer to put away Mikaela’s luggage. His unwelcome guest took the hint and did it himself. He climbed into the passenger seat, and Kai was hitting the gas almost before the door closed. “We did give you a choice,” Kai said after a while. “You chose to keep breathing.”

Mikaela huffed, the sound brushing against amusement, and eyed Kai from his peripheral. “I have always been curious, Kai. In all these years, other than the one obvious crime, you seem to be a decent sort of person. How do you stomach calling a monster like my brother friend?”

Kai’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, but his tone was a notch above boredom. “Tala is my best friend,” he said. “And if I have ever given you the impression that I was decent, then I apologize. Tala was the one who wanted to let you live. I told him it was smarter to kill you. You're a liability.”

“How quaint, after all, was I not Tala, once upon a time?”

“Not in any of the ways that matter,” Kai said.

Mikaela clicked his tongue but said nothing else for the remainder of the drive, just propped his chin on his fist and watched the once familiar city pass by the window. As Kai pulled into the underground parking for Tala’s building, Mikaela tensed, gloved hands curling into fists at the pressing darkness. Kai scoffed as he shut off the car. “Relax, Mikaela,” he said. “You're the one who wanted an in-person meeting, so don't act like we're going to drag you out back and shoot you.”

“Given past experience, can you blame me?” Mikaela asked as he pushed open the car door, hiding his relief at finding it unlocked.

Kai shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets as he waited for the other to retrieve his suitcase. ��Like I said, you’re the one who wanted to be here.”

“Wanted is an exceptionally powerful word. I was put in a situation that was unsafe to express by any other means,” Mikaela said. He popped the handle on his suitcase and followed Kai to the side door of the building. A man with a buzz cut and arms the size of tree trunks opened the door for them, acknowledging Kai with a grunt and frowning at Mikaela.

Kai returned the nod, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Leave him be for now. Tala will let you know if that changes.”

Mikaela bristled at the threat but under the brutal look from the guard - more like ex-military or grizzly bear fighter - kept his mouth shut. As Kai cleared both the retinal scanner and fingerprint, Mikaela lifted an eyebrow. “A bit paranoid, isn't he?”

“Can't imagine why?” Was the dry response as Kai turned his key and the elevator finally started its ascent.

Despite the massive height of the building, the elevator ride was quick and silent, and Mikaela’s lip curled in disgust at the lavish foyer beyond the wrought iron gate. Kai unlocked it and pushed it aside, then motioned Mikaela out first before he followed. Mikaela towed off his boots by the door, but made no effort to remove his jacket or scarf. Kai patted him on the shoulder as he walked by, his smile just the dull side of vicious. “Island life thin your Russian blood? Or are you not planning to stay long?”

“He won't be staying long.” Tala stepped out of the living room, the sound of the tv still audible in the openess of his penthouse, and stood with a hand braced on his hip. “Hello, Mika.”

Blue eyes clashed, one pair narrowing while the other glittered with deceptive amusement. Mikaela fought down a snarl, but his expression remained blank. If he let Tala rile him so soon, they would get nowhere. “Yuriy.” Mikaela looked around their surroundings before his attention returned to the redhead. “It looks like you are doing well for yourself.”

Tala’s smile sharpened against the whetstone of the taunt. “You act like I don't share it with you,” he said. “Or is there something you want that I haven't given you?”

“What I want cannot be bought, no matter how much wealth you accumulate,” Mika said.

Tala shrugged. “I better not have flown you all the way here just to rehash your grievances against me, Mika,” he said. “Getting you back into the country undetected wasn't easy.”

“I wasn't aware I existed, as far as anyone else was concerned.”

Before the rising tension could escalate further another set of footsteps sounded from the direction of the living room. Trey came around the corner, eyes flicking towards Kai, then the newcomer, and then back to Kai. “Damn. I thought you left to get pizza,” she said. “Is that even a thing here? You guys do have pizza in Russia, right? Oh my god, if not I need to go home, right now.”

Tala snorted at his girlfriend, his shoulders easing despite the proximity of Mika, and Kai resisted the urge to hug Trey for her brilliance. There was no way she'd missed the rising threat in the foyer, but she diffused Tala with the expertise of a bomb unit. She moved to Tala’s side, tucking herself under his arm and against his side. “Why do all of your friends look like they walked off magazine covers? Seriously?”

“We are not friends,” Mika said, eyes surveying Trey with confusion. He was the dirty little secret Tala kept locked far away from him, and yet Tala did not seem at all concerned about the girl’s presence.

“Co-worker? Arch nemesis? Is that still a thing?”

“Twin brother, though I suppose arch nemesis isn't entirely out of the question,” Tala cut her off.

Even Kai’s eyebrows lifted at Tala’s casual admittance to Mika’s identity. Trey blinked, and waited for the punchline, though as she looked closer it was impossible to deny the resemblance - really it came down to Tala’s ridiculous hair. And then with the horror of someone who has just realized they left their child at a store, said, “You mean there's two of you in the world?”

“It's still up for debate which one is the evil one,” Kai said, as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“You knew?” Trey asked, then frowned at the obvious question. “Of course you knew. You just picked him up from the airport.”

Tala smiled as Trey devolved into her nervous rambling, and tightened his arm around her. “Why don’t you go spend some time with Kai while Mika and I catch up?”

Trey blinked at the obvious dismissal, but nodded. Tala tended to tell her the truth, so if he wanted her gone for that conversation then he had good reason. Trey lifted on her toes and Tala tilted his head down to meet her kiss. He lifted his arm and Trey shuffled away from him, sparing a glance for Mika. “Um… nice to meet you?” Mika stared at her without expression and said nothing. “Right, or not, I guess.”

Tala’s eyes narrowed but said nothing, and Trey crossed the foyer to Kai, who rolled his eyes and ushered her towards the stairs. “Ignore him,” he said. “Mika hates Tala and anyone associated with him. It's nothing personal to you.”

“So, Tala has a twin?” she asked. “And they hate each other, but no one thought to mention it.”

Kai ran his hand through his hair, expression pinched with frustration. “It's complicated, and probably better left for Tala to explain,” he said. “I wouldn't even know where to start. I'm sorry he showed up now, though, while your here. It’s not going to make for the best vacation.”

“It seemed serious,” Trey said, remembering the black mood Tala descended into after that particular phone call. “And you seemed surprised Tala introduced us?”

“I was,” Kai said, opening the door to the game room and letting Trey step through first. “Tala is - guarded - about Mika.”

Trey flopped onto one of the couches in the room, propping her chin on her fist. “You thought Tala would lie to me?” Her tone walked a delicate balance between curiosity and hurt, and Kai realized his next words needed to be careful.

“Yes,” he admitted, and took a seat on a chair facing Trey. “About Mika’s identity, at least. It's hard to explain without explaining everything, but no one knows about Mika except me, and Ian because he hacked Tala’s files once.”

Trey laughed. “Tala had to be furious.”

Kai’s smile was faint. “Ian stayed with me for a couple of weeks while Tala calmed down,” he said. “I think that's the maddest I’ve ever seen him at Ian, but it worked out. Ian lives here, better for him to know.”

“But not me?”

Kai shook his head. “If that were the case, Tala wouldn't have introduced you. Believe me, I’m relieved. Don't mistake my surprise for judgment.”

“Why is the fact that Tala has a twin such a big deal?”

“Because, if the wrong people found out, it would end me,” Tala said.

Kai and Trey looked up at the intrusion and Tala smiled. He sat down beside Trey and adjusted when she cuddled against his side. “Mika’s getting settled,” Tala said to Kai’s look. “I figured you’d be giving her cryptic explanations, and thought it'd be better for me to just explain.”

“I wish someone would,” Trey said, elbowing Tala in the ribs.

Tala kissed the top of her head. “Knowing my darkest secrets isn't as appealing as it might seem, just ask Kai,” he said. “Last chance to bow out.”

“Tala, you were a psychotic lunatic I used to hate. Let's be clear that my opinion of you is pretty low, already,” Trey said.

The tension in Tala eased again and he relaxed against her. “Right. Somehow, I keep forgetting that bit.”

[papofglencoe]

Hi! I’ve just recently got back into the Everlark fanfic world and I am in love with your writing! Last night I finish Against the Wall (again for the 100th time) and I’m desperate for their date! I try to imagine what they are like around each other now and all the awkward, nervous giddy goodness that it will be! Sorry if this is cheeky but would you be willing to share a small taster of what happens next? Thanks so much for sharing your writing, I’m a big fan!

Hi there! I’m so sorry if I’ve taken a while replying! I’m not sure when you sent this ask along, but I’ve been on a tumblr sabbatical until a couple days ago. Thank you so much for sending some love for ATW my way! <333 I have most of the last chapter and epilogue written... gosh, it’s like 43 pages of stuff. In all honesty, when I look at it, I think most of it is total crap because it is cheesy and awkward and riddled with all my usual excesses. As Mark says in Love Actually about his creepy-ass wedding video, “It still needs... a bit of editing.” I’ve also been sitting on it because what I’d really like to do is convert and rework the entire story into an original novella, but life hasn’t given me much time to be able to do that. I dunno. I’ve got some analysis paralysis going on. Anyway, I hate feeling like I have disappointed anyone, and I do want to be able to share with the people who have been supportive and so kind, so here you go... a taste. It might never see the light of day in whatever finished product I do post, but hopefully you enjoy it! Thanks for asking! <3

“So, ah, where are we off to?” she asked, trying to sound casual as she tugged anxiously at the hem of her dress. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him glance at her hand, a crooked half-smile tugging at his lips. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s so funny?” 

He zipped his bag back up and slipped the strap over his shoulder, shaking his head as his smiled broadened. “Oh, nothing.” 

Sure. More like, ‘Oh, bullshit.’ 

Her eyes became slits so narrow it was a wonder she could see anything at all. She imagined throwing daggers at him—one, then two, aimed right for his heart. Direct hits. He wouldn’t see them coming. “Spit it out, you.” 

He chuckled softly and bit the inside of his cheek, clearly deliberating how to answer. “It’s just... something cute you do when you’re uncomfortable. You do that with your work uniform too, and now this dress—did you want to change into something else? Would it be better for you? Because I definitely don’t mind waiting...” She watched his mouth as he spoke, the way he licked his lower lip as his words trailed off. In the dim lights of the hall his lips were a deep shade of pink, and that lower lip of his was wet—so deliciously wet. So kissably, deliciously, irritatingly wet. “Or is it... because of me?”

The elevator cables groaned as they hoisted the elevator up the shaft, the doors grumbling as they opened to let them on. Neither the cables nor the doors groaned as loudly as Katniss would have liked to. How mortifying that he had noticed that about her. 

She stepped onto the elevator to buy herself some time to answer—exactly two precious seconds to pull her shit together.   

“No… I’m fine,” she began, considering how much to admit. Johanna had already aired some of her dirty laundry without scaring him away, so what was the harm in airing a tiny bit more? 

She leaned against the wall of the elevator, using the handrail to support some of her weight. Peeta stepped in behind her and took a spot against the opposite wall, facing her. 

Katniss sighed. “I mean, you’re right. I’m not comfortable. It's just… I haven’t been on a date in a while.” She pressed the button for the lobby and lied, “It’s not you though, specifically. Per se.” 

But it was him. It was everything about him—his smell, his voice, those eyes of his and the way they were looking at her right now. It was the way her entire body broke out into a fucking Stephen Sondheim number at his slightest touch. If she didn’t care what Peeta thought—if he’d been any of the other guys she’d been set up with over the past several years who had never bothered to call her again after a round of awkward drinks or a stilted conversation over dinner—it wouldn’t matter. But here she was with him, worked up into knots simply being in his company, and all she wanted was for him to think she was a bow. 

She winced, feeling intensely vulnerable, and looked down at her feet, scrambling for several moments to find the words that would make him believe he wasn’t the problem without making herself seem too pathetic in the process. “I could be wearing sweatpants right now and still be like this,” she admitted. “There’s something about first dates, I guess.” She bit her lip and stared at a spot on the floor, at the remnants of a half-dollar sized wad of gum had been scraped off by the building’s superintendent sometime in the last few days. “I’m terrible at them.” 

All of that was true enough. 

“Me too,” he said. 

She looked up at Peeta in surprise, frowning in incomprehension like he’d rattled off a string of binary code to her, a bunch of 0s and 1s that ought to spell out something basic and essential but achieved nothing at all.  

He shrugged, looking a bit abashed. “Well, it’s true.”

She made a soft scoffing sound, incredulity oozing out of every one of her pores. “I find that a little hard to believe.”

The elevator lurched as it approached the ground floor, the doors opening to let them off, but neither of them seemed to notice. 

“To be fair,” Peeta chuckled, “until tonight you found my existence a little hard to believe.”

[goldenboywrites]

 the most dangerous thing is to love: part four

August made his way slowly back to the tent, the seer’s words playing over in his head. 

It was foolish of him to try and decipher her riddles yet he continued to do so against his better judgment. He wished she had told him more. He wished he had been given actual answers instead of being forced into this guessing game. He didn’t believe in her ability to see the future, how could he? He hated that she had made him want to know the future. This was all a game to her and he wasn’t interested in playing.

“Fuck her,” He mumbled under his breath, kicking a stone with the tip of his shoe as he took the familiar path back to his home.

A hand circled around his elbow and tugged hard. August, caught off guard, stumbled back, off balance. Someone grabbed a hold of him and started to drag him backward. His head whipped frantically back and forth, trying to see who it was but he was unable to see a face. All he saw was that it was someone wearing a cloak with a low-hanging hood covering their face. This person was also trying to drag him towards a line of trees. “No! No! Let me go!” He struggled, trying to fling his full weight towards the ground and break the hold the stranger had on him. If they got him behind the trees, no one from camp would be able to see him. He would be gone.

“Let me go!” August’s heel slammed back into the stranger’s shin. The stranger - the man, he could tell by the deep grunt he heard, let him go just as they crossed into the forest, both of them hidden among the trees. August reached into the waistband of his pants and drew out a dagger, stepping forward and holding it against the man’s throat, barely grazing the skin. August’s chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath from the exertion. And then the man chuckled, any other time he heard that laugh, it was music to his ears. This time, it made him furious. 

August dropped the dagger and reached up, tugging the hood down to reveal a smirking prince. His prince. August glared at him. “That’s not funny, Colter! I could have hurt you.” He tucked the dagger back into his pants and rubbed at his elbow. “You’re absolutely mad. Pulling me into the forest like that.” He grumbled and planted his hands at his hips. “I thought I was being kidnapped.” His lower lip jutted out into a pout. “And I could have hurt you. I was going to hurt you.” 

“I didn’t want anyone to see me leave. I have a surprise for you. Come, follow me.” 

He wanted to protest and pout like a child. He wanted to stay right there in that very spot and make Colter feel guilty for attempting to kidnap. And he did. He stayed rooted right there as the prince walked a few paces before realizing he wasn’t following.

He waits for you but be warned. He is not as he wishes to be seen. 

She had warned him. Colter was the one waiting for him. But he is not as he wishes to be seen? What did that mean? “August?” the prince spoke his name softly, pulling him away from his thoughts. “Come.” He didn’t budge. He couldn’t and Colter sighed, walking back to him, and sliding a hand against his waist. A light kiss was placed against Auggie’s cheek and then to his temple. “I’m sorry if I scared you. It wasn’t my intention. I wanted to surprise you and sneak you out of camp. You’ve been holed up here for so long. I wanted to show you something beautiful. Come with me please.”

And he did.

__________________________________

August leaned back on his elbows, face tilted towards the sky. The sun was beaming down on him, heating his skin. His feet were uncovered, his pants rolled up to his shins, and every few seconds a wave would cover his toes, tickling his feet with its cool touch. It was what he imagined heaven to be like. He had long forgotten what it was like to relax, to just sit and be still. It felt like they were back at court, sitting by the lake on the grounds and wondering and joking about Colter being chastised for skipping his lessons that day.

“I saw you earlier with that little boy,” Colter commented out of the blue. He had pulled out an apple from his bag and was brushing it against his shirt as he spoke. “The refugee child. He looks like you. I almost thought it was you.” 

“His name is Colin,” August replied, turning his head and peeking an eye open at the prince. 

“Do you want children? One day?” Colter’s eyes squinted as he tilted his head back towards the sky, taking a bit out of the apple. August stared at him, mulling over the answer he wanted to give. Their future had always been a sensitive subject. Colter was married and expected to have children when he returned from war. August hadn’t been married off yet due to Colter’s resistance. But even that was only a temporary solution. 

He did want kids, wasn’t that a natural want? To raise a little boy who idolized him? To share the secrets of life with a human being he had a part in making? To make memories, the way he and his father had done when he was a child. He knew he would be a good father, he wanted to be a father. But… August trailed his fingers along Colter’s wrist and up the side of his arm, he glanced back towards the forest, making sure no was lurking or watching them. It was clear.

He did want children but he wanted to raise a family with the prince, not whichever woman the King forced him to marry. And that just wasn’t possible. 

“I don’t think I’d be a good father,” August said softly, his fingers now tracing along the curve of Colter’s shoulder. How could he be? When he would blindly follow Colter around the world? “All work and no play,” He mimicked Everett’s tone, the phrase their other friend loved to torment Auggie with since they had been young boys.

Colter handed the apple over for August. He took a bite, juice pooling at the corner of his mouth. “You would be the best father.” The prince’s eyes bore into him and August frowned. He couldn’t pinpoint why Colter wanted to have this conversation when it was only going to hurt both of them. “It comes naturally to you. I saw it with him. It was almost looking at you with your son.”

August withdrew his hand from Colter’s shoulder, his mouth turned down into a thin frown, and he turned to look at the water. The future terrified him. Colter’s future scared him. His own did too. He didn’t want to talk about it like this. He didn’t want to have to confront the reality that they could never be together or have a family together. “I don’t,” August said and then stopped himself. His destiny was to be at Colter’s side advising him and keeping him in line for the throne. “I don’t know, Colter.” It was the first time August didn’t have an answer. “My only job is to stand by your side and ensure your rule. I don’t think beyond that, I can’t. If your father forces me to marry you know I have to but I don’t think I could…”

He pressed his lips together and the silence hung between them thick and heavy. August was frustrated that Colter wanted to discuss this now. That they couldn’t just enjoy this alone time together before they had to head back to camp, back to the war. He took another bite of the apple just to distract himself if only for a few seconds.

“I don’t want to hold you back.” August sat up, and set the apple down on the blanket. He drew his knees up this chest and wrapped his arms around them. “You’ve spent your entire life taking care of me, being there for me, loving me. I am holding you back but you don’t feel that way because you love me. What if you wake up a few years from now and regret the decision to stand by my side?” 

“This is what I chose, Colter.” His eyes narrowed and he released his knees and instead absentmindedly brushed his fingers through the sand. He didn’t like the direction this conversation was heading in. “And it is the life I would choose over and over again. You are not something I will ever regret. My life has consisted of everyone else making decisions for me. My father, your father… let me have this one thing that is my own.”

Colter sighed but reached out, sliding his hand under August’s. His head came down to rest upon his shoulder. “I wish things could be different for us,” He admitted and his words crumbled against Auggie’s heart. 

The smaller man turned, kissing the prince’s forehead lightly. “Maybe one day it will be. We don’t know what the future holds.” He passed his prince the apple, he took a bite and then threw the core out towards some birds down  a little ways from them. “Maybe one day you’ll wake up and find you’re sick of me. You’ll trade me in,” August paused, biting back laughter and fighting the teasing tone of his voice. “Maybe you’ll decide you prefer someone dangerous and bad like Everett.” 

Colter made a pfft sound between his lips and turned to look at August, his jaw dropping in a scandalous manner. He reached over and pushed August onto his back, his lips twisting into a playful grin. There’s that smile. August thought. It was refreshing to see. They rolled off of the blanket and into the sand. The two wrestled for a few minutes each other trying to pin the other man down. Finally August laid beneath Colter, flushed and out of breath. “Take it back,” Colter muttered, squeezing at Auggie’s wrists and tightening his thighs against his thin waist. 

He looked up at the prince and shook his head stubbornly. “You never know. You might want to take a walk on the wild side. Everett is attractive. We both know it.” His lips puckered up and he fake kissed the air. “Oh, Everett you handsome devil.”

“You’re such a shit,” Colter said through laughter and it was music to August’s ears. 

They stayed like that for awhile. If it were up to him, August would have stayed on that beach with Colter for forever. Looking back on it, he should have.

They managed to sneak their way back into camp later that evening after the sun had set. But as soon as he stepped into the tent, August froze. He glanced around, brow furrowed in confusion. “What happened in here?” He asked, looking at Colter for an answer. He did not get an answer from the prince.

Their entire tent had been rearranged. Everything. Every piece of furniture. “Colter…” August brought a hand up to his face, fingers rubbing at his temple. He was stupid to think that the prince was on the verge of breaking through his episode but now it was adding all up. The pent up energy, their belongings rearranged in a frantic matter, the impulsive trip to the lake, the concern for their future. All parts of an episode.

He is not as he wishes to be seen. 

August walked towards the bed, Colter went to his desk, picking up a letter that had been delivered while they were out. Colter was trying to appear that he was getting better, putting on a show to try and convince himself and August that he was on the mend. It didn’t surprise him, Colter had attempted it before but there was always something that usually gave him away. The prince wasn’t a fool about his condition but he didn’t know himself as well as August did. He couldn’t hide from him. 

August laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He wished he could see the stars through the fabric of the tent. It was something that had always soothed him. He knew he couldn’t rush Colter into feeling better, it wasn’t possible. It was something he had to feel out on his own. It took time. 

But time was something they were running out of.

__________________________________

His toes curled and his heels dug into the bed. His mouth hung open, soft gasps falling from the tip of his tongue. He thought it was a dream. August tried desperately to hold onto it but it slipped away and when he opened his eyes, another gasp slipping past his lips, he saw a lump beneath the covers, felt a mouth covering his cock, and gentle fingers prodding at his entrance. August flung the covers off of him and saw Colter bobbing up and down on his cock vigorously. Little mouth-shaped bruises covered his hip and thighs. An oiled finger slipped past his ring and instinctively August lifted his hips upwards to allow the prince access to every part of him. “Colter.” The prince looked up at August, his cock still in his mouth, and he grinned like a hungry wolf. 

August had lost count of how many times they fucked throughout the early morning and through the day. Colter fucked August in their bed and then against one of the poles that held up their tent, August fucked Colter over the side of their bathtub, and then on the bear-skinned rug Colter spent an hour and a half torturing August with his tongue and fingers over and over again until Auggie nearly passed out from being overstimulated. His body was sore and tired, covered in scratches and bruises. His cheeks were flushed and his brown hair was matted against his forehead. 

Colter was insatiable, he was energetic, as soon as he was done it seemed he was ready to go again. And August could never deny him despite his body being spent, despite the struggle of keeping his eyes open because he was so thoroughly exhausted from their activities. He wouldn’t deny Colter a single thing. He kept touching him, kept kissing him. He wrapped his hand around Colter’s cock and pumped him until he expelled stickiness between their bodies. 

Colter had August’s back pressed against the dresser, one of his arms had hooked August’s leg up and he was pumping his hips into him. His other hand held the space between August’s head and the wood of the dresser so that when he buried his cock into him, August’s didn’t hit his head. He saw the tent flap open before Colter did. He saw Everett enter before Colter did. And he saw the way his eyes darkened with jealously, the way his face turned into a glare at the sight of them fucking. “Everett,” August whispered, his eyes widening and he pushed Colter away from him.

“Everett?” Colter looked like he had been slapped as their friend’s name fell from his lover’s lips but he followed August’s gaze and saw him standing inside, brow raised. “Everett!” The prince smiled and pulled out of August, dropping his leg. He walked over to him without a care in the world and clapped him on the shoulder in greeting. August blushed furiously and reached for a blanket, wrapping it around his body. “Where have you been? Do you want something to drink? How about some food? I think we have something around here…” Colter went in search of food ignoring the way that Everett stared at his naked body before his senses came to him and he shot August a glare. 

“This is how you handle it?” Everett stalked towards August and asked in a low voice. “I have been killing myself to settle the rumors about him while you’re holed up with him fucking?” He looked tired, circles under his eyes, and his hair wasn’t bouncy with his well-known curls. August looked away, the guilt spreading through his chest. “That’s just...that’s just great, August. Really.” 

“You don’t understand.” Auggie sighed out. “ There are stages to this, Everett. I need more time with h-”

“You’ve had weeks and you have nothing to show for it. He’s still not ready to lead the army.” Everett’s hands were on his hips and he bit his bottom lip, the frustration clear on his face. “You need to come with me. Now. I have to show you something.”

“I can’t just leave, Everett. Not when he’s like this.” August pulled the blanket closer to his body, as if he could curl up in it and disappear. But he couldn’t. So he did the only thing he could and he walked towards the dresser, pulled out some clothes and tugged the fabric over his limbs quickly. The feeling of being exposed didn’t sit well with him. “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

“I think you can survive without his cock in you for half an hour, August.” 

“You’re going?” Colter’s voice cut through the room and August winced at how low his tone was. Dangerous. He and Everett both knew it. Auggie hadn’t heard him join them again. Colter looked at August, his eyes darkened with hurt and betrayal. “You’re going with him? Right now?”

August walked across the room towards Colter and smiled reassuringly at him. He wrapped the blanket he had used to cover himself around the prince’s body. “Just for a bit, my love.” He brought his hand up to the prince’s cheek, lightly rubbing his thumb over his skin. “Eldridge sent for me. He needs help with a patient but I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can and we can spend more time together.” He kissed Colter’s forehead, smiling against his skin. “Why don’t you eat something and take a bath by then I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“August.” Colter’s lips dipped against his ear, his words dragging along Auggie’s skin in a whisper. “I don’t want you to leave with him.” Sometimes the prince got like this. Possessive, flares of jealousy licking around him. Paranoid that anyone who looked at August meant to take him away. “Stay here,” He begged, his slender fingers wrapping around August’s wrist. He was pressed against the prince’s chest tightly. “Stay with me.” 

August cleared his throat, pressing his forehead against the line of Colter’s jaw. “You know where my heart is,” He whispered back, their language. “You know where my heart lives.” He pressed his hand flat against his chest, seeking the rhythmic thud of the heart that beat for him. “I’m coming back to you.” He looked up, smiling shyly at his lover, reassuringly. 

“I will always come back to you, Colter.”

_________________

They stood outside of the general’s tent. August raised his hands to lower the hood of his cloak but Everett stopped him, shaking his head. “Keep it on. They can’t know you’re here.”

“This is Rolfe’s tent,” August whispered, raising a brow at the other. Rolfe was the general of Colter’s army. “Why are we here?” He definitely shouldn’t be here, no one should be here. Not without the prince.

Everett pulled August to the side of the tent, holding a finger up to his lips, shushing him as other soldiers walked into the tent. “I was invited. You are sneaking in,” He explained without truly explaining which frustrated Auggie to no end. Everett saw his glare and rolled his eyes. “He’s called the other generals and some high ranking soldiers to meet. I think he’s planning something. It’s no secret he’s fed up with Colter and his antics these past couple of weeks. I brought you because you need to understand what’s happening outside of your love nest. I’ve tried to squash the whispers but Colter’s recovery is taking too long.” 

“I-” His words were cut off as Everett pulled him back in front of the tent and then just as quickly he was pulled inside. August’s eyes widened at the amount of members of Colter’s army were in the tent, waiting, talking, talking about their prince. He and Everett stayed hidden in the back but August could hear their whispers… 

Haven’t seen him for over a week now. 

I think he’s faking. 

Just a scared little boy. 

This war will last years at this rate.

The king was mad to place the prince in charge.

If he can’t lead us here how could he ever lead us back home?

Each word was like a stab to his heart. They were furious at Colter and it wasn’t his fault. If he had his choice he would be out there with the men but he couldn’t in his state. Words were bubbling up in his throat and he wanted to run into the center of the tent and defend Colter but Everett’s grip on his forearm stopped him. 

“Gentlemen…” Rolfe stood in front of the most influential men in this war and spoke. “We have a situation. We are at war without a strong leader…and it’s time we do something about it!” His meaty fists pounded at the table in front of him. The men cheered, their excitement growing. 

August closed his eyes and sighed. This was beyond bad.

The men debated for over an hour on what their course of action should be. Rolfe wanted to involve the king. He wanted to tell the king about Colter’s inability to lead the men. He wanted the king to give permission for him to lead the army instead. He wanted Colter to be sent home. Everett had to stop August, keep him grounded, a handful of times when his mind and legs screamed at him to take over the meeting and yell at these cowards for betraying their prince like this. His loyalty to the prince, the kind of loyalty everyone in that room should have had, shown through each time they plotted against Colter. 

“Do something, Everett,” August said through gritted teeth. “If you don’t, I will. I can’t listen to this. If we don’t stand up for him no one will and if they bring the king into this you know what he’ll do to Colter.”

Everett groaned lightly and nodded. “Fine but just stay here and be quiet. I’ll...I’l handle it.” He let go of August’s arm after he nodded in agreement. He walked through the tent slowly until he came up to Rolfe who smiled at Everett as if they were the best of friends. Maybe they were but August didn’t want to think that Everett truly played both sides. He clapped Everett on the shoulder. August watched as Everett leaned in, whispering in the older man’s ear who nodded at whatever he was saying and then Everett turned around and addressed the men in the tent. 

“I hear you all. I see and hear your concerns.” The men quieted down, looking up eagerly at Everett for news. The connection between him and Colter was well known but it was no secret between the soldiers that between Everett and August who was more loyal to the prince. They were curious about whatever he was going to say. So was August. “The prince also hears them and he appreciates you all being understanding about his illness. I want you all to know that the Prince…” 

“Was seen at the lake today!” Someone shouted to Auggie’s right. “Smiling and laughing with the Pritchett!” August’s breath caught in his throat and he felt fear grip and twist his insides. Someone had seen them together on the lake. Had they seen them touching? Heard them talking? “Didn’t look very sick to me!” Fuck. August knew he should have stopped the trip. He should have dragged Colter back to camp and into their tent where he was safe. Where they were safe. “He can run off to enjoy a nice beach vacation but he can’t fulfill his duty to us?” 

August could see the frustration clear across Everett’s face. “Well,” Everett swallowed thickly and paused for a moment before he flashed every man in there a smile. “He was there because it was a test to see if his strength had returned. Eldridge and August set it up. The lake is a good distance from camp so they decided if Colter could make it there and back without feeling fatigue then he would be okay to be cleared for duty.” August’s face dropped and he looked up at Everett, eyes pleading. No! No, no. Not that!

“So is he?” The same man asked, brow raised. It was a challenge.

Everett made a soft hmm sound before asking, “Is he what?” 

“Cleared?” 

“Well, yes.” August slapped his palm to his forehead and wished for the ground to swallow him whole.

Rolfe moved to Everett’s side and looked at the men in the tent. Their excited chatter at Colter’s recovery filled the room. It was funny to August how fickle these men were. “Men,” They stilled, eagerly hanging onto every word. “Tomorrow we take the city!”

They cheered and August held back a sob.

_________________

“That was the most unhelpful thing you could have done.” They were walking back to August’s tent. His hood was still up which was a relief because if he looked at Everett, he was scared that he would ring his neck. “They’re expecting him to be ready in the morning and I can’t promise he will be.” 

Everett turned around on him so fast that August crashed against him. “I am doing everything I can to help both of you. Yeah, that clearly didn’t go the way I expected but if you want everyone here to believe Colter is sick why the fuck are you off parading around the lake with him? You asked me to go up there and do something. I did. It wasn’t my fault you two fucked up today. I am doing my best.” 

“I’m-” Everett started walking again and August hurried his steps to catch up with him.

“I think you’re being too protective, August. He seems fine. I mean, maybe a little crazy right now but this is a war. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that’s what we need out there.” 

“You don’t-” 

“I don’t get it. I’m aware. I never get it.” August growled at being cut off again. “You know Colter the best. You win.” 

August took a breath, waiting to see if Everett was going to continue before he spoke. “It’s isn’t about winning, Everett. Some days he does seem okay or back to normal but it just lasts a day!” 

They came up to August’s tent. It was dark inside. Quiet. He didn’t know what version of Colter he would be facing when he stepped inside. But whatever he was feeling, August knew he wasn’t ready to put on his armor and lead an army in the morning. 

“It doesn’t matter how he’s feeling. He’s out of time. He has to be there in the morning.” 

August lowered his hood, looking up at Everett with dark eyes. 

“He will be.”

_________________

August had a plan. It was a desperate plan but it was the only one he had.

He rose from the bed after a night of restless tossing and turning and lit the oil lamp on the desk. The glow reached across the tent softly but did not wake Colter from his slumber. Nothing would wake Colter from the kind of sleep he was in. August sat on the ground next to their bed and watched Colter sleep for an hour. He brushed his hair back from his head soothingly. He kissed his temple and the corner of his mouth lightly. He whispered gentle words into the prince’s ear. Words of love. Promises. It was clear to August what he had to do. He knew Colter wouldn’t approve. He’d be furious with August when he returned. 

He dressed silently and pulled Colter’s armor out from the trunk and tied the pieces together as best as he could alone. The horns sounded outside and August grasped the prince’s sword, a sword foraged just for him, in his hand. It was heavy and uncomfortable in his grip but it was Colter’s weapon and it would serve him well for the day. Then, he walked over to the bed and placed a light kiss upon Colter’s lip, studying his sleeping face for just a moment longer before he exited the tent. Before he could change his mind and chicken out.

The sun was still sleeping as August placed the helmet over his head and walked towards the crowd of men gathering. Today they were his me and they cheered for their prince. Their battle cries pierced through the air and for the first time, August understood what Colter had felt every single time he marched out onto the battlefield. It was infectious, it was thrilling, and he craved more. He wanted to lead the charge and take down the city for these men, for his lover, for their country and for himself.

“You’re holding your sword in the wrong hand, Your Highness.” Everett came to stand next to him, helmet under his arm. He smirked at August with a knowing gaze. “It’s a dead giveaway that you are an impostor.” His voice was low so the men around couldn’t hear. “I’m afraid I’ve underestimated you again.” 

August switched the sword into his left hand quickly, thankful that his helmet covered his face and that Everett couldn’t see his embarrassed blush at the careless mistake. “You always underestimate me. Nothing new.

“It won’t work, August. You have to know that. You have basic training at best when it comes to battle strategy. Colter has trained for this his entire life. They’ll know. You’ve never killed anyone and what? All of a sudden you’re going to run out there and use that sword to kill people?” 

“It has to work,” He replied sternly, his grip tightening around the handle of the sword. “This is the only plan I have to save him and his reputation. If I have to kill hundreds of men, I will.” 

“What about your life?” 

August turned and looked at him. He looked at Everett. His friend since birth, his enemy since they were children. There was love between them but it was clouded by the jealousy they felt over their shared love for their prince. It was an odd feeling, Everett’s concern for Auggie’s life, he would have assumed that Everett would prefer him gone but he realized now that it wasn’t true. And he couldn’t find an answer to his questions. Because really, how could he explain to Everett that he would willingly and easily sacrifice himself to ensure Colter’s safety? 

They stood there for just a moment longer, staring out at the men who were going to fight by their side. “You know what they say...” He turned towards August and started tugging the ties of his armor tighter around his body, securing it into place. Auggie reached up with his free hand and pushed the face shield on his helmet so he could properly see his friend, his brow raised in question. “The most dangerous thing is to love.” 

August snorted with laughter and nodded his head. Everett pushed down the shield obscuring his view before anyone walked by and saw that it was August in Colter’s armor. “It really is,” August replied and took one last lingering look back at their camp. 

And they all marched forward, August in front, followed by Everett, then the general, and then the rest of the men. 

________________

They marched to the city, side by side, singing war songs and yelling out battle cries. Their allies, the other armies, joined them on their way to the city gates. It was the first time August had seen the destruction their army had caused to the farm villages along the way. Every small village they passed had been decimated beyond repair. It was hard for him to think that his prince had taken part in it. Everett had too. He wondered, as he walked, which village had been Colin’s home. 

August tried not to think about what was going to happen as they neared the city gates. If he thought about it, he would realize how stupid of an idea this was. He would want to retreat, run back to the camp and lock himself in the tent with Colter. But he knew he couldn’t. He was locked onto this path. 

August shot a glance at Everett, wishing he could read his expression. And he was thankful that at least he had something devastatingly familiar by his side. 

It took nearly three hours for the city to fall.

He swung Colter’s sword as infrequently as he could. The truth was it wasn’t his weapon of choice, he lacked the training, and using his left hand was unfamiliar to him and it showed. There was no strength in that hand but he tried to strike whenever possible and he managed to put his entire weight behind it every time. He managed to cut down opposing soldiers who stood in his way, though he injured them rather than killed them. Everett noticed immediately and hissed in his ear, “Kill them. If you don’t they’ll kill you.” So he delivered fatal blows even though it ripped through his soul to do so. But after a while, he had to admit, it made him feel like a god. 

But as they ventured towards the castle, the opposing army became desperate and more ruthless. They were losing and August and his men could taste victory on their lips. 

Their people fanned out as they got closer to the castle. August and Everett stayed side by side and back to back as they fought their way through the city. A handful of soldiers stayed with them if only to protect August, or Colter as they thought him to be. They were in the heart of the city, walking past a huge fountain that was one of the most beautiful and intricate things August had ever seen. The fine detail on it was memorizing and he knew that it was probably the pride of the city. Briefly, he wondered which army would be the one to claim it or destroy it. 

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a stifled cry. Everett pulled out his sword but August shook his head and raised a hand to stop him. 

“Au-Prince,” Everett snapped as August walked towards the noise slowly. He glanced at the men behind them to see if they had heard. They hadn’t and August hadn’t stopped walking either.

Turning to his right, Auggie saw a little boy, no more than seven years old folded up against the wall of the fountain. His knees were pulled to his chest, his face hidden as he tried to stifle his cries. He must have gotten separated from his family when the soldiers entered the city. His heart hurt when he looked at the boy’s eyes, wide and dark with fear. That fear was because of him, because of them. “I’m sorry,” August whispered, his own eyes tearing up at the sight of the boy. “We didn’t mean to scare you.” It was stupid and pointless. He was dressed head to toe in armor and blood and he was gripping a well soiled sword in his hand. 

“Prince,” Everett pleaded with him and he felt the man’s grip on his arm, tugging him back. “You can’t save him.” August nearly growled at his friend and yanked out of his reach. “Fuck me,” He heard Everett mutter miserably under his breath. 

“Let me help you up,” He said when he turned back to the boy. He reached out his hand and waited for the boy to take it. He didn’t. 

“Prince Colter.” It wasn’t Everett’s voice. It was older, colder, harsher. “How touching.” August turned to see who it was. That voice… it sounded familiar. The boy used the distraction to stand and scurry away out of the town square, running as fast as his little legs would allow him to. “And here I was under the impression that you had little to no compassion.” August recognized the armor, it was made for a prince much similar to the pieces he was wearing but on his chest was Colter’s sigil and the sigil the other was wearing… Well, he recognized it. Immediately.

Prince Lorcan. August had no idea he would be here. He had no clue that his country had joined the war. On the opposing side, of course. In the time that August had come to know him, he had come to realize that Prince Lorcan was the opposite of Colter. He was selfish and cruel with words that were as sharp as a knives. He had visited Colter’s court for a short duration of time years ago. Colter’s father had tried to give August to Prince Lorcan as a gift. It was probably the cruelest punishment the king entertained in their life. Colter had been slipping up on his duties and what better way to punish his son than to take away the only thing he cared about? 

It had been a dark time. August had been moved into another wing of the castle where he could be at Lorcan’s beck and call. He had to parade around with the prince throughout the day and the evening. He even had to sit next to him at all meals. He was not allowed to advise Colter and finding time to be with Colter was next to impossible. But in that time, he had learned about Lorcan. Learned how childish he was, how dangerous he was. It didn’t help that Colter was unable to hide his own anger and jealousy at the situation which had only fueled Lorcan. He fed off of it. He dangled August in front of Colter for months. Like August was merely a toy that they were fighting over. 

Until that toy broke but well, August didn’t think about that anymore. 

“Is that August still at your side?” Lorcan’s cool voice shook the past memories from his head. “No, it can’t be.” The prince took off his helmet, his dark hair falling in his face. It was… difficult to see his face again but August refused to let it shake him. “August wasn’t that tall.” He squinted as if that would allow him to see through Everett’s helmet. “A new companion, Colter?” He brought a hand up to his chest, as if to fake shock. “I never thought I would see the day.” 

Everett looked between the two of them, seeking a story that August couldn’t give him. And despite being on opposite sides of the war, the prince out ranked him, he couldn’t refuse to answer him. “Everett, Your Highness. And I am not Prince Colter’s companion. I am merely a member of his court.” This seemed to spark something in Lorcan’s dark eyes. He grinned maliciously which made August’s stomach turn. He walked towards August and Everett, slowly and calculating, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Everett pressed himself to Auggie’s side, his own hand ready to raise his sword of the prince came any closer to them. 

“So August is still around. Is he back at your camp? I very much doubt he would stay at court without you but if I remember correctly he wasn’t much for gore and violence either. I can’t imagine he would be happy here around all of this death and destruction.” The corners of his mouth twitched and August longed to call him out but knew that his secret would be discovered. “I’ll have to drop by your camp and pay him a visit. It’s been too long.” August swallowed the bile that threatened to bubble up his throat. He wouldn’t let Lorcan’s words distract him or terrify him. Not anymore. He refused to give him that power again.

“What do you want?” Everett snapped and moved forward a step so he was in front of August.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want to duel your prince. He owes me.” Lorcan withdrew his sword. “I’ve been waiting years for this. It’s only fitting, yeah? Two princes enter. One leaves.” August felt sick and defeated already. There was no way he could deny this duel as Colter, it would make him look weak, but there was also a very little chance that he would be able to beat Lorcan. He didn’t have the strength or the skill for it. 

“You can fight me,” Everett said, his voice slicing through the tension. “Or pick a proxy of your own to duel me.” 

Lorcan’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he chuckled yet it wasn’t a sound of amusement but more of annoyance. “You’d let your dog fight your battle, Colter? Not very brave of you. What would your father say? What would August say?” 

“I accept,” August finally spoke, softly, carefully. He didn’t have a choice. Both he and Everett knew it. “I accept the duel.” He mimicked Colter’s words as closely as possible. It had been years since Lorcan had spoken to either August or Colter. As long as he kept his voice low, his identity would remain hidden.

“No.” Everett stepped fully in front of August and brought his sword up, preparing himself for battle. “I will duel in your place. It is my duty.” 

“Everett,” August spoke under his breath, just enough for the other to hear. “It’s okay. You know I can’t let you. I’ve sparred with him before. I can outsmart him. He’s cocky and frustrates easily.” 

“If you duel him there is no way I can protect or save you.” It was an odd feeling, Everett being protective of him. Usually he was annoyed with August, wanted to see him hurt and be knocked down a few pegs. But maybe the war had brought them closer. Maybe both of their need to protect Colter at all costs had finally allowed them to form a mutual understanding with each other. “He wouldn’t want you to do this. Not for him, not in his place.” He was talking about Colter and August knew he was right. Colter would be furious with him for everything he had done today. He imagined Colter tearing through camp looking for him. He would know his armor was gone but he would refuse to believe that August had put it on and gone into war in his place. He pitied everyone who had stayed at camp for they would receive the brunt of his anger, of his fear. “Please, Auggie.” 

August stepped forward, in front of Everett and turned back towards him. He tried to force a smile but realized Everett wouldn’t be able to see it through his helmet anyways. “It’ll be okay, Everett. Don’t underestimate me.” 

Lorcan placed his helmet on and both men stepped towards each other. August was the first to strike. He wanted to establish himself early on. Their swords hit and he stepped back, preparing for Lorcan to hit out at him. He jabbed forward and August was able to deflect it with ease. The two circled each other slowly, trying to pinpoint a weakness, any weakness. Lorcan was skilled and quick with his movements, much like he had been when they had practiced back at court together years ago. August was more calculated. He knew he needed to save the majority of his strength for later. He didn’t have the same kind of stamina that the other had and he was at a huge disadvantage using his left hand.

Their swords hit again and August realized that Lorcan still took a step right before he went to strike his sword. Good. That was something he could use. He could see out of the corner of his eye that soldiers were surrounding them, lining up to see the two princes fight. It was an unfortunate distraction on his part. Lorcan hit his side with the flat side of his sword. He reached forward and grabbed August’s arm, trying to knock his sword out of his grip. He grunted and held on tighter just as Lorcan brought his sword up to strike but August used the only weapon he could in that moment. He clenched his jaw and headbutted his helmet against the other’s, sending Lorcan moving backwards. 

Lorcan’s frustration grew as August took every advantage he could to outsmart the other. His best bet was to play offensive until the prince grew tired or too frustrated that he made a stupid mistake. They fought like flies trapped in a spiderweb, desperately. His left arm quivered from the weight of the sword. He watched as Lorcan took another step but his strike came a second late. August struck first and the man’s sword went flying from his hand. It scattered across the ground and the sound was music to August’s ears. He jabbed forward, his sword tearing through the armor and through the flesh of Lorcan’s bicep. Thick, red blood immediately swelled at the sight and August felt relief at the sight of it.

But Lorcan let out a blood curdling scream and lunged forward, grabbing August around the middle and slamming him to the ground. His head hit the pavement with a sickening thud and he blinked away the stars that he saw. Lorcan was settled on top of him, punching at his armor as if he could tear it off with his hands. August turned his head to the side and saw his sword just barely out of reach. He stretched out his fingers, trying to wield the weapon back into his hand but no luck came to him. Lorcan was loosening the ties of his armor and August knew if he managed to get pieces off of him that he would be truly vulnerable. He bucked his hips wildly, trying to get leverage to push the other off of him. His knee connected with Lorcan’s chest and he pushed the man off of him. August scrambled for his sword but a hand grabbed his ankle and yanked him backwards, away from his weapon. He growled in frustration and looked back, trying to kick his leg free. August crawled forward again, his fingers managing to tighten around the hilt of his sword. He twisted his body free and stumbled to his feet seconds after Lorcan had, sword in his hand.

It happened in slow motion. 

He heard Everett scream, “No!” And then he felt Lorcan’s sword pierce through his loosened armor. He felt the sword slice through his skin, through his body. He looked down and saw it as it happened. August thought it should hurt more than it did but he didn’t feel pain at that moment. Just disbelief that he had allowed it to happen. 

Lorcan used his free hand to push off his helmet, he was grinning wildly. Like a Cheshire cat. The same smile that had haunted August’s dreams for months after he had left their court. It felt wrong that this was the last smile he would see. Lorcan pushed his sword in deeper, his hand came upon August’s shoulder, keeping him in place. He coughed wetly and knew immediately that it was blood. “Hm. Almost, Colter. Almost.” The sword was pressed to the handle against his skin and as suddenly as it happened, he watched helplessly as Lorcan pulled out his sword quickly and then his body was falling, falling, falling towards the ground. 

Arms caught him before he hit pavement. He knew it was Everett. Lorcan laughed maniacally as he addressed his soldiers. He wanted them to spread the word. “Tell everyone what you witnessed today!” They cheered and applauded their prince. “The fall of Prince Colter!”

“E-Everett,” August whimpered. His helmet was lifted off of his head so he could get some air and he saw his friend staring down at him, his eyes wide and filled with tears. “It’s bad.” He was a healer, he knew that vital organs had been shredded. It had been a death blow and he wouldn’t make it out of his city alive. “I know it-it’s bad.” 

“August?” He heard Lorcan call out his name and then footsteps coming towards him. He saw Lorcan’s eyes, he saw the disbelief in them. Then he saw it slowly turn to the fear when he realized it wasn’t actually Colter he had cut down. It was August. And he knew. They both knew. “I didn’t...I didn’t know..” 

Everett pulled half of August’s body into his lap, shielding him from Lorcan’s view. “Get away from him.” He spoke through gritted teeth, his hand covering August’s wound, trying to stop the bleeding despite knowing it was inevitable. “Run as far and as fast as you can and do not think about stopping because he will not rest until you’re dead.” He glanced up, a sick smile of his own gracing his features. “I can’t wait until he hunts you down and kills you like the animal you are.”

“You...you two tricked me! I wouldn’t..” Lorcan paused, looking between the two of them. “I thought I was fighting…” But his words were hopeless. The damage was done. He couldn’t save himself now and he knew it. There are no bargains between lion and men. Colter was going to kill him and eat him raw for taking August away from him. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but instead he placed his sword in the sheath and ran from the square, his men following.

“Everett,” His own voice sounded far away and small. He couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers. “Listen to m-me carefully.” Each word spoken hurt. He was tired and cold. He was so cold. He longed for their bed and a fur pelt to cover himself with. He longed for Colter’s arms wrapped around him, his chin resting on August’s shoulder and the heat from his body warming August to his core. “You need to take care of him. He won’t be able to take care of himself. And you nee-” 

“August, you’re going to be fine. We’ll get you back to camp and Eldridge will fix yo-” 

“Stop it. You know I’m not going to make it back to camp.” He coughed again, the blood pooling in his throat felt thick and made it impossible for him to breathe easily. August turned his head, spitting out a mouthful of blood so he could talk clearly. Everett needed to hear him. “You need to make sure he knows it’s not his f-fault. He’ll blame himself you need to ensure he doesn’t. Promise me that you won’t let this consume him. He has a job to do and it isn’t going after Lorcan.” He closed his eyes, his breath huffing out in small, painful gasps. “Give him a message,” August reached up with a shaky hand, placing it against Everett’s chest, right over his heart. “Tell him where my heart l-lives.” He inhaled sharply, his eyes widening, staring up at the sky. He wished there were stars instead of the sun. 

“August?” Everett shouted his name, shaking his shoulders. “August!” But there was no movement from the other man. “Auggie,” He said softer, the wetness on his cheeks surprising him. He hadn’t realized he had been crying. He felt himself surrounded by their soldiers, their own men. They knelt next to them. Even though August wasn’t a soldier, he had healed many of the men who were there. He had taken care of them when they were injured or sick. They respected him, they cherished him. He was one of them so they honored him. 

Everett reached up with a shaky hand and closed August’s eyelids. “We’re done for the day,” He whispered, leaning down to kiss August’s forehead. “Take him back to camp and prepare the body and I will inform Prince Colter. Do you hear me? I will inform the prince. I do not want a lick of this getting out until I talk to him.” The men nodded in agreement and two of them pulled August’s dead weight out of his lap. Everett stood and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. 

He stood on shaky legs and walked back towards camp, preparing himself for a whole new kind of war.

[wishingforatypewriter]

The Family Business (Portraits of 119)

Summary: Isshiki Kesuke tries to launch an investigation into the Nakiri family business, and Raiden has a choice to make.  

Raiden rubbed a hand down the length of his face as he read the memo on his desk. Isshiki Kesuke had been first seat of the Elite Ten Council for less than five days, and already he had started making moves to reform the academy. 

In three days’ time, there was to be a vote on whether the council should launch a full investigation into the business dealings of the Totsuki Network, but only “in the spirit of trust and transparency.” The memo was riddled with thinly veiled accusations of monopoly and extortion, even ties to organized crime. 

The idea of it was laughable, really. Raiden was sure any investigation would only serve to expose Isshiki as the self-righteous asshole he’d always known him to be. But a nagging feeling compelled him to make sure. 

He hesitated outside his cousin’s Elite Ten office for a moment before knocking. He and Erik were far from as close as they used to be, but it was only a simple question. 

“Come in,” Akane said, and Raiden supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to find her there. 

Akane was sitting atop Erik’s desk, legs crossed as she looked through a binder of some sort, while his cousin went through stacks of manila folders. Both of them were sipping that expensive Panamanian coffee she liked. Though clearly busy with something, they looked comfortable. 

“You need something?” Erik asked. 

“Yeah.” Raiden gestured to the memo he’d brought with him. “You know if there’s anything to all this?” 

Erik and Akane exchanged a look then, a wordless question and response in the shorthand that formed between them in the years Raiden had been gone. He’d seen his parents do the same thing a thousand times. 

Whatever argument took place in the brief facial expressions, Akane won it. 

Erik sighed before turning back to him. “Close the door.” 

He did, and the mahogany wood seemed to thump against its frame with finality. “So how much of this is real?”

“You don’t want to know,” Erik told him. “And the less details we have floating around, the better.” 

Now it was Raiden’s turn to sigh. Of course he’d be the last one in the family to find out about this shit. How did anyone expect him to lead the Totsuki Network someday if no one ever told him anything? “And when did you find out?”

And as though to highlight how ridiculous the situation was, Erik actually had to think about it. “When we were six, maybe. The old man brought me to a meeting with him, then explained afterwards.” 

Well, that was another item on the list of things he’d have to ask Great Grandpa Senzaemon’s ghost if he ever got his hands on a fucking ouija board. “So what now?” 

“Now we make sure Isshiki-senpai loses the vote.” Akane said this as casually as she might be talking about brunch plans or museum walking tours. 

“Then we find out who his source is and root them out,” Erik explained. “If he knows as much as he says he does, someone close to the family broke ranks.” 

“Sumire’s already doing contact tracing back at the mansion, so it shouldn’t take long,” Akane added. Then she smiled. “Want some coffee?”  

Raiden blinked once. Twice. When had they both become like this? Had this streak of ruthlessness always been in them, dormant, or was it a new thing?

“Yeah, sure,” he said, pouring himself out a cup. It seemed like he was going to need it. “How do you expect to win this vote? All the upperclassmen are in favor of it, plus Maria. Sosuke’s on the fence. Without a clear majority in either direction, this shit can drag out all year.” 

Akane and Erik exchanged another one of those loud looks and this time his cousin seemed to come out on top. 

“The upperclassmen won’t be much of a problem,” Akane told him, as she flipped through her binder again. “Eizan and Ebisawa-san can be bought.” 

“Ibusaki too, come to that,” Erik added. 

“It won’t. He’ll vote however Bells tells him to.” 

“Good shit, Mito,” 

Raiden stared at them for a moment, incredulous. “We can’t just bribe the council. That only proves Isshiki right.” 

“Raiden, there’s no right in this,” Akane said, sounding far more patient than her facial expression would suggest. “It’s all self-interest. If the Nakiri family falls to scandal, who benefits? None more than the Kinokunis of the east and the Isshikis of the west, and Kesuke is heir to both of them. The only person naive enough to believe this is about doing the right thing is Maria Aldini.”

At this, Erik gave her an incredulous look. “Aldini votes with us if he tells her to.” 

“That’s not true,” Raiden cut in. In fact, Maria would probably get mad at him for even being party to this conversation. “And besides, I’m not telling anyone how to vote. Shit like this is part of the problem.” 

“If you’re not going to help, then leave,” Erik said. 

“What he means is—” Akane started, trying to spare his feelings like she always did. 

“I mean we don’t have time for this. If you won’t get your hands dirty, it’s fine. Just go on another vacation or something.” 

 If he were being honest with himself, that sounded like the most pleasant option. But he knew that it couldn’t go on like this forever; at some point he, like everyone else with a drop of Nakiri blood, would have to sacrifice for the family business. 

He had expected it to be time he’d have to give up eventually, and maybe a measure of personal freedom. But this? He sighed.

“Fine,” he said after a considerable pause. “I’m in.”  

[larkiwrites]

“Redemption” Chapter 13

AU: Supernatural Title: Redemption Chapter: Thirteen Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Word Count:  2,266 Pairing: Getting There…. Warnings: Mentions of being restrained, being drugged, and being undressed/re-clothed while unconscious. Violence and swearing. A/N: This chapter flips between (Y/N)’s POV and more of Dean’s POV. Feel free to provide feedback / comments / suggestions / etc. Thanks for sticking around.

Chapter 12  |  Chapter 14  |  Masterlist

*(Y/N)’s perspective

After a moment of steadying yourself, you rolled back over to your unconscious guard. You patted her body down, hoping against hope that she would have a key to the shackles binding your wrists. Having come up empty you sighed and pushed yourself to your feet. The woman wore something similar to yourself, some sort of silky-smooth nightgown and nothing else. No shows, no weapon, no key.

You felt your way along the stone wall back toward the entrance to the hovel you occupied, tip-toeing as you went. Your eyes strained as you went but you were able to make out the vague outline of some sort of arch. Poking your head through you realized it led to a short tunnel. You would have to stoop to try to navigate it but it was, as far as you knew, your only choice.

After a brief moment of hesitation, you moved forward. The soil beneath your feet began to shift from a damp and cushioned surface to a dry and rough texture. You bit your tongue, mentally cursing whoever brought you here for taking your damn shoes. The path began to slope, causing the muscles in your already-tired legs to complain. The further you went the brighter your surroundings became, allowing your eyes to slowly adjust and take in more. The air began to smell less of mildew and more of musty, dry dirt. What felt like a lifetime passed as you steadily made your way through the cramped passageway before you came to another opening.

You paused, gazing out into what appeared to be a larger cavern of some kind. You must be in an underground system of caves. Voices drifted toward you and you froze, pressing yourself against the wall in an attempt to make yourself small. Your heart accelerated and you shut your eyes tightly, trying to calm yourself and the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Whoever spoke was too far away to make out anything they said and soon the voices began to die away, as if they were moving away from you. You swallowed a thick lump in your throat as you ducked out of your passageway and into the rocky cavern.

----

*Dean’s perspective

The two hunters’ boots crunched over the twigs scattered about the forest floor. They did their best to move swiftly and silently but nature had a way of making itself known. Both men had drawn their guns and shut their lights off when they had found (Y/N)’s shirt, knowing there would be plenty of eyes in their forest and wanting to avoid all of them.

Dean had picked up on some tracks after heading left at the tree as Sam had suggested and now, they followed them. He reached his hand up to move a branch out of the way of his face when his fingers became intertwined with woman’s hair. Bringing it to his nose his eyes widened as he recognized (Y/N)’s shampoo.

“Shit, Sammy, her hair is in the branches. They’re not exactly treating her like precious cargo.”

Sam’s lips pressed together in a thin line and the two brothers continued moving forward, up an incline and into the depths of the woods. Their breaths grew heavier as their muscles began to burn. The hike was becoming more difficult, especially with the low amount of light they had. Despite the struggle in the dark they didn’t want the sun to rise, either. If Sam’s research was correct, and it usually was, sunrise would be (Y/N)’s final moments- unless the Winchesters could get to her first.

Dean’s mouth grew parched as they continued upward, following the tracks. Once this was all over, he was going to insist on finding a diner with an amazing burger and a coke. The brothers froze in their steps when the whisper of voices found them. Simultaneously they both crouched, raising their guns to a shooting position. Dean’s ears strained as he tried to make out who was speaking and what they were saying. Sam closed his eyes, trying to judge the distance between the source of the noise and himself.

“The oblation will be ready,” a hushed, masculine voice could be heard.

“As will the rest,” another answered.

The hunters met one another’s gaze before quietly moving toward the men. Their silhouettes could be seen against a dark backdrop that Dean couldn’t quite make out. The men continued to speak in riddles and while he tried to listen, he didn’t understand the majority of it. He briefly wondered if Sam was getting more from it than he was, being the brainy geek that he is.

Sam tapped once on his brother’s left shoulder in silent communication. Dean gave a brief nod before heading to the left while Sam circled to the right. The voices grew louder as the brothers closed in on their targets. They directed one another with silent hand gestures and within one rapid movement they leapt from their cover and tackled the men, swiftly bringing them down. Dean knocked the man on the left unconscious with a swift crack of the man’s head against the cold earth beneath them. Sam had the other man in a headlock, slowly cutting of his airways and preventing him from alerting anyone else of the Winchesters’ presence.

“Where is she?” Sam grunted in the man’s ear, a strained half-whisper as he strained to hold the man tightly.

Dean lifted his gun to the man’s face, “You might want to answer.”

The man tapped against Sam’s forearm, signaling to let him go. Sam let up on his throat just enough for him to croak a reply, “in the cave.”

“And where will she be at dawn?” Dean’s rough voice dripped in anger. The man’s eyes widened at the question, whether from the fact that the hunters knew as much as they did, or at the tone of Dean’s voice, the older brother couldn’t tell.

Sam tightened his grip when the man hesitated in answering. His eyes grew wider as he frantically tapped Sam’s arm once more. The young Winchester let up on the pressure once more, just enough to allow him to reply.

“In the water,” he whispered, his voice raw. He stretched his arm out and pointed to Dean’s right with a shaky hand.

Dean’s eyes met Sam’s and the elder Winchester’s head bowed ever so slightly. Sam nodded in reply before he pulled his arms together, cutting of the man’s airway and finally rendering him unconscious. He slowly lowered the man’s body to the ground before he patted him down. Dean did the same with the other man, the brothers relieving the men of their weapons before binding them with the small amount of rope Dean had brought with them from the Impala. It wasn’t much but would hopefully give him and his kid brother a head-start.

Sam wiped the sweat from his brow, his body becoming tired from the exertion of the hike and neutralizing the two men. With their coordinated and silent communication, the hunters moved in the direction the man had indicated, searching for the cave.

----

*(Y/N)’s perspective

The cavern was more well-lit than the passageway had been, or the pit you had been in before that. In the distance you could see a source of light but couldn’t quite make out what it was from where you were. You needed to find a way out of the place but you needed to make sure you weren’t caught, either, or it would have all been for nothing.

You kept hunched over, trying to make your form as small as you could, as you snuck into a crevice of stones. The voices you had heard earlier were becoming louder once more, making you wonder if they were guards on a specific route.

You began to understand some of their conversation as they grew ever closer. They spoke of water and wanting to be there at dawn, but you couldn’t make heads or tales of what any of it actually meant. They sounded almost brainwashed, as if they were part of some sort of cult that had its own language. You bit your bottom lip, trying to still your breathing and quiet yourself. A knife was mentioned, and blood. You were sure, being the prisoner, that couldn’t be a good sign for yourself.

The voices began to fade once more as they continued their pace. You stole out of your hiding place and into the opposite direction of their sound. It was more than likely that they would, at some point, turn and head back the same way, following their limited route. You didn’t want to wind up in their direct path when they did.

Your feet began to ache as you continued onward, stumbling over rock and dirt as you went. A fucking flashlight would be great right about now, you thought to yourself. You were trying to make your way closer to the source of light you had seen earlier, hoping that if it wasn’t an exit that it would at least guide you toward one.

You could hear more voices as you drew closer to your destination. How many of these assholes were there? Your heartbeat grew erratic as you brought yourself closer to a source of danger, crouching behind more boulders and stones.

The light came from several electric lamps sitting upon crates and pallets on a make-shift base. Several guards stood, with several more sitting upon crates or the wooden flooring created by the pallets. You needed to get the hell out of here. Behind the group of people, you could make out the silhouette of an opening with what appeared to be trees on the other side of it. You took a deep, steady breath. You needed to find a way around this cluster of guards and out into those trees, it was your only hope to find a way back to civilization. Hell, you would even take the Winchesters at this point. It was stupid of you to have run from them, knowing what you do now. They had clearly kept secrets from you but at least they didn’t drug you, strip you down, force you into some kind of lingerie, and throw you into a fucking cave.

Shaking your head, trying to clear your thoughts, you searched for a path out of this hell-hole. Doing your best to keep behind boulders and out of the rays of light shining from the lanterns, you crept slowly toward the cave’s entrance. Cool, fresh air caressed your face as you drew closer to the opening, bringing with it a comfort you hadn’t realized you were lacking. You had grown hot in the underground labyrinth as your sore muscles pushed you forward through it. The breeze clung to the droplets of sweat that glistened across your forehead and on the back of your neck, chilling your skin. You shivered as you moved closer to the looming trees, a sense of urgency having taken over you.

Shouting voices from within the cave broke the near-silence, causing you to jump. Had your guard already awoken? Had someone found her, and therefore found your absence? Shit, shit, shit, shit, a mantra formed in your mind as you stood and rushed forward, out of the cave and into the woods. Your bare feet screamed at you as the ground changed from rocky dirt to a layer of twigs and various forest debris. Running was awkward with your hands still shackled in front of you and you found yourself brushing against bark and branches more than once, their touch leaving a stinging bite in their wake.

You didn’t look back, you simply ran. Recalling something you had heard long ago in a different lifetime; you began to zig-zag your way through the forest. Whether you had learned it in a movie or a book, or some other source, you couldn’t remember. All you knew is it would be harder to hit you from a distance if you weren’t on a straight path…. assuming they had guns, that is. Adrenaline coursed through as you ran. You bit down on your cheek when a particularly sharp branch tore at the side of your skimpy article of clothing and bit into your flesh. You could feel the heat of fresh blood pool on your skin where the branch had opened you and it hurt like a bitch but you couldn’t dwell on it. Doing the best you could, you pushed the pain to the back of your mind as you moved further into the woods.

You slowed your pace and threw your gaze behind you, searching the woods for lanterns or torches, any source of light to indicate you were being followed. You could see nothing but the dark trees and tried to quell the rush of hope that spread within you. Returning your attention to the path in front of you, you let out a shocked yelp as you collided with a large man. The air rushed from your lungs at the impact and you felt his grip on your upper arms, stabilizing you before you could fully lose your balance and fall flat on your ass. Please be a Winchester, Please please please be a Winchester, you thought to yourself. Reluctantly, you brought your gaze up to meet dark eyes, and swallowed hard when you found an unfamiliar face.

“Leaving so soon, you pretty thing?” the man smirked, his voice cold and inhuman. Fear flooded you as his grip tightened and his smirk grew into an unnatural smile.

----

-Next Chapter-