#so many characters jostling around here lol

[shift-shaping]

colorful aravels and long yellow grass

the inquisition's representatives reach wycome, then venture forth to clan lavellan.

rating: t

pairing: solavellan

previous fics | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

The Inquisitor's unannounced absence from the ship had caused commotion among her retinue, but Solas wasn't particularly concerned. She had left a few random belongings behind, but her armor and staff were both missing. The ship had hugged the coast for most of its journey, so a trip to shore wouldn't be out of the question for someone who knew how to row. That this was a particularly dangerous area was less than ideal, but it was well within the borders of her homeland.

Perhaps most importantly, Solas knew she wasn't actually alone. Cole had been keeping a low profile on this trip, to the point that Solas was fairly sure only he knew of the spirit's presence. But now that Enaste was gone, so was Cole. Between his backup and Enaste's knowledge of the area, Solas had faith she'd be fine, and figured she went ahead to meet her clan.

Leliana had sent along one of her agents, a skinny city elf named Jester. That Enaste had managed to slip out from under them had set the agent on edge. Even after the Inquisition members disembarked in Wycome, he noticed Jester surreptitiously looking for any signs of what path she might have taken.

An older human woman with bobbed, greying brown hair waited for them on the docks. She wore a neatly tailored dress of high quality materials: a pale-brown, tooled leather bodice over a deep blue skirt. She greeted Jester politely, and introduced herself as Lady Guinevere Volant, the Inquisition's ambassador to Wycome, in a faint Orlesian accent. Then she looked past the agent, to Roshan and Loranil.

"I was informed the Inquisitor's family would be among her party. Forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but would the two of you fit that description?"

Roshan smiled. "I am her uncle, yes, but this one," he elbowed Loranil, who jumped. "Is a more distant relative from a clan in the south." He lowered his voice and covered the side of his face, pretending to keep something secret from Loranil. "You know southern boys, always a bit on-edge."

"I can hear you just fine, hahren," Loranil said, exasperated. The young warrior had spent a significant amount of time with Roshan during the journey, though the latter seemed to do most of the talking. At first Loranil looked excited to speak to an elder from a different clan, but as Roshan's tendency to meander through subjects became apparent, the boy was less enthused. Solas had joined them at times, as had Enaste, but he'd mostly stuck to the Inquisitor's company or played cards with Blackwall.

Lady Volant smiled warmly. "Andaran atish'an, my friends. It is good to meet some of Her Worship's family, no matter how distant." She seemed genuine in her words, or perhaps was simply a good liar. She looked to Solas then, and though he braced himself for misidentification, she evidently knew enough about the Dalish to quickly determine he was not one of them. "I was told there would be another elven mage with the Inquisitor." She gave a short bow, which surprised Solas. "Lady Montilyet wrote that you are highly skilled, and serving as something of an arcane advisor to the Inquisitor. It is an honor to meet someone that both the ambassador and Her Worship hold in such high regard, messere."

Solas nodded to her, and made a mental note to thank Josephine for her kind words. "Thank you. There is no need for such formality, however. I am simply Solas." He returned her smile.

Finally she turned to Blackwall, who stood stoically at Solas's side. "And you must be the Lady Inquisitor's personal guard, the Grey Warden Blackwall?" Solas had noticed Enaste refer to Blackwall as her personal guard on a few recent occasions. It wasn't an official title, but Blackwall wore it proudly.

Blackwall bowed to the ambassador. "Yes, my lady."

However, that Enaste's "personal guard," "arcane advisor," and family members were present while she was not was incongruous, and Lady Volant looked expectantly up at the ship. Isabela stood at the railing watching the group. No one else was coming. The ambassador raised her brows at Jester. "I was told Her Worship would be present. Perhaps I've misunderstood?"

Jester shook their head. "The Inquisitor will not be meeting us in Wycome. She has gone first to her clan. We will rendezvous with her there."

"Oh," Lady Volant was taken aback by this, but recovered quickly. "I see. I had hoped to introduce her to-- well, it doesn't matter now." She gave a polite smile. "I will join you, the location of the Dalish camp is not so far from here."

Lady Volant had a cream-colored horse, a Ranger, if Solas recalled one of Wisdom's lectures correctly. Most of the Inquisition's mounts were Ferelden horses, but Rangers were a breed specific to the Free Marches. The saddle, like her clothing, was straightforward and utilitarian but decidedly high quality, with subtle floral details worked into the dark brown leather. The blanket underneath was the same shade of light green that the Inquisition's agents and soldiers wore.

Between Roshan's directions and Lady Volant's information, their journey into the city's outlying plains to find Clan Lavellan was fairly short. It was still mid-morning by the time they saw the first Dread Wolf statues come into view. The camp was in a small valley, hidden among trees and spread across a shallow river. It was longer than it was wide, following the contours of the hills on both sides, and easy to overlook; were it not for Roshan and Lady Volant, they could easily have spent all day searching. Even the colorful sails of their aravels blended in with the tall trees and reddish rock around them.

The longer he looked, the more he saw; this was easily the largest Dalish camp he'd encountered in his travels. Wind rushing over the hill and through the grass around them stole away its noise, but as they ventured down into the valley a lively chorus rose to meet them: snippets of drums and wind instruments being played in short spurts, shouting from a training yard, laughter, banter, and above all, the shrieks and giggles of small children. He smelled campfire smoke, and burning herbs, and cooking fish that made him realize he had hardly eaten that morning.

Seeing the size and liveliness of her clan explained a lot about Enaste's steadfast defense of and pride for her people, but Loranil's reaction alone was proof enough that this was not typical for the Dalish. The warrior's eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open, the wonder in his expression almost child-like.

It ached to know that even this modest success was atypical, that a clan able to fill a small valley was not the norm.

The shape of the camp meant that they came immediately to a bottleneck. Two guards, a man and a woman, tensed and reached for their weapons. Before they could say anything, Roshan stepped forward and greeted them both warmly. The guards relaxed, but returned the greeting with more confusion than welcoming. "Who are these people, hahren?" One of the guards asked in heavily-accented elven.

"You can't tell?" Roshan put his hands on his hips and smiled. "This is the Inquisition!"

The woman guard frowned. "Surely this is not... the entire Inquisition?"

"No, no, just its best!" Roshan announced, still grinning. The guards exchanged glances and a few quick words, and the man quickly retreated into the camp. "Go get my niece!" Roshan shouted after him, still in elven.

The remaining guard frowned, now even more confused. "Enaste isn't with you?"

Loranil glanced at Solas nervously, knowing they both understood the conversation. Solas's brows furrowed, but he kept his expression otherwise neutral for the young warrior's sake.

"Ah, no," Roshan replied, also concerned. Even without knowing the language, the turn in the tone of the conversation set the others on edge.

Jester stepped forward, bowed to the guard, and apologized for not speaking what should have been their shared tongue. "Are you certain you have not seen the Inq-- Enaste?"

"No." The guard raised an eyebrow. "Abelas. I'm... I don't understand. Should we have?"

"No, well, maybe," Roshan said. He shifted his weight. "I'm sure she's fine. Just a little lost, probably."

It was then that the other guard returned with a short, white-haired woman in deep purple Mythal vallaslin --the same kind Enaste wore, but much more extensive. Her hair was in complex braids, decorated with weaving silver that looked somewhere between tree branches and halla horns. One of her ears was decorated with extensive piercings, also silver. The other was hidden by her braids. She wore a Keeper's robes, with green- and violet-dyed halla fur and leather in brown and white.

Solas knew this was Keeper Deshanna, and despite her diminutive stature --she was at least a foot shorter than Solas-- her aura commanded respect. But to his surprise, she did not begin by giving orders or even addressing the Inquisition's party. Instead, the first thing she did was smile kindly at Roshan and pull him into a tight hug. She whispered something to him, and he shook his head.

Only when they pulled apart did Keeper Deshanna address the Inquisition. "Andaran atish'an. What a pleasure to welcome you all to our home. I am Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel of Clan Lavellan." Her dark gaze swept over them, and she nodded slowly. "My First is not with you." Jester opened their mouth to speak, and Deshanna raised a gentle hand. "Hush. She will arrive shortly." Jester tilted their head, confused, and the Keeper went on. "I know my First. She is safe, but delayed."

Solas narrowed his eyes. Her confidence was impressive, but he had no other reason to believe her. Except, of course, that he also knew she was at least still alive: if the Anchor was gone from this world, he would feel it.

"Come," the Keeper said. She gestured into the camp proper. "We will feed you while we await her arrival." She smiled to Roshan. "I think you will be impressed with what Lahalaan has been up to since your departure."

"I sure hope so," Roshan said, but his happiness sounded forced. "It certainly smells good."

The Keeper led them past the guards, past the wolves at the entrance, and into the beating heart of Clan Lavellan.

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[specshroom]

hello hello, I stumbled across your writing and wanted to say how much I enjoyed “Blood In The Water” I was curious about how reader struck that deal with all the mer-creatures in the first place?! did they try to eat reader too? or did one/many have an attachment or attraction since reader grew up around that place? the whistling was soooo cool, like they were dogs trained to a command! does that mean they had struggles with communication at first? do the mer-peeps understand language or just body language? I’m full of questions 😂❤️ it was just so enthralling and love a good morally grey character! is reader struggling to make ends meet and that’s why they do this? or is it more of ‘it’s either me or them’ type scenario? OR reader is just like this is the easiest way to get money?! 👀 oml lemme stop here this is getting quite long— LOVE UR STUFF 😚

I'M SO GLAD IT INTERESTED YOU SO MUCH (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

I like to keep things up to interpretation cus I think it's more fun BUT I can answer a few of those.

- They definitely struggled at first lol. The merfolk can't speak human language and don't understand it. Humans can't speak mer-language either because it's mostly high pitched clicks and chitters. Reader figures out that the closest they can get to making sounds the merfolk understand is by whistling because it's loud and high pitched enough that they can hear it easily even through the water.

- They do share a lot of body language and mannerisms with humans (like kissing👀) so that made things easier.

- The merfolk do recognise Reader as a local and that made them more trustworthy. (Later on they marked the bottom of Readers boat so they know it's them🥺)

I wrote a little drabble to answer the "How did this happen?" question.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You sigh as you row your way out of the canal and into the open waters.

Your new patron lounges in his seat on the opposite side of the gondola, staring up at the clear blue sky. You preferred doing business at night when it's quiet, few braved these waters at night. Alas dwindling funds force you to suffer the business of the day. There's just too much comotion in the daytime, too many tourists.

Its been like this since the first rich fool "discovered" that your relatively small and unimpressive lake town actually boasts some magnificent and horrific monsters in the depths of the decievingly calm waters surrounding it. Now flocks of fools come to "test their bravery" by crossing the dangerous waters.

Conservationists and locals convinced them that hunting down the monsters in the lake would lead to environmental catastrophe and the snobs decided that it would be a better investment as a tourist attraction.

"Don't you get bored of this?"

Your patron slices the silence in half. You blink out of your thoughts, releasing the iron grip you had on your oar.

"I could give you a different job."

The well dressed man's tone is almost convincingly sympathetic. You keep your gaze locked onto the familiar waters ahead of you...until you hear the distinct sound of coins being jostled against one another. That changes things.

You hesitantly turn to where the stranger sits comfortably, grinning with pride.

"I thought so, it's always the same with you locals."

The tourist opens his money bag and takes out one gold coin. At least enough for a small meal.

"What would you do for it?"

He plays with the coin in his fingers before tossing it out of the boat and into the water. The carelessness with which he tosses his gold makes your blood run hot. Through the thick permanent fog that hangs over the waters, you can just barely see the gold coin as it sinks into the abyss and your stomach growls pitifully.

He holds out the pouch over the side of the boat, dangling it over the water.

"Would you dive for it?"

The sick thing is that you actually consider it. You stare intensely at the stupid pouch that could keep you going for a good while.

The man suddenly drops the pouch and you jump forward to catch it but he yanks it back up by the drawstring before it can touch the surface of the water. He laughs at his cruel humour and your blood reaches it's boiling point.

You don't know why it was that patron in particular that made you snap or why that bad day in particular made you finally put the knife skills your father taught you to good use.

But before either of you know it his laughter turns to bloody choking. You scramble off of him, panic clear on your face. He reaches for the knife in his neck but it's useless. His body sags over the edge of the boat and his blood mixes with the water. You watch with wide eyes as he takes his last struggled breaths.

It's silent for a while before you take your eyes off of the man Infront of you to look down at your red stained hands. You look around as if anyone could've seen your crime through the fog anyway.

After a while of just staring blankly at the still body Infront of you, you try to compose yourself and lift him off the side of the gondola. You manage to tip him over and watch his body sink down.

You stare at the corpse fading deeper into the water. Just as you ready yourself to leave the scene something rocks the gondola slightly and you fall on your ass, gripping the side of the boat.

You feel a breath on the side of your cheek and jump when you look over and see two big pitch black eyes staring at you from over the side of the boat. Your skin turns to ice, unable to move.

You hear chittering from the other side and jump again as another one peers over the furnished wood of the boat. The first one takes your frozen hand in their cold clawed hand and inspects the drying blood covering it.

They stick their tongue out and slowly lick all the way up your shaking hand, licking away at the blood as if cleansing you of your sin. The other makes a clicking sound that sounds oddly like laughter.

Once all the blood on your hand has been licked off, the creature looks up at you for a moment before disappearing below the surface once more. The other one doesn't look like it wants to go but a few clicks from the water convince it to slowly lower back into the depths.

You lean over the side of the gondola trying to get a better look at the creature before it leaves. You deflate when you don't see so much as a ripple in the water.

Suddenly, just as you were sure they weren't coming back, the same one from moments ago bursts from the water. In a second it cups your cheek and kisses you. It's hard and deep, more passionate than you'd ever had before. The creature releases you and this time before it leaves it gives a little wave with its strange webbed hand. You wave back, a little dazed, as the monster dives back into the water.

You have to sit there for a good while staring at the pouch of coin the tourist left behind and then back to the murky waters, touching your lips while contemplating what the hell just happened.

[hisunshiine]

—revelations under the moon

🌙 pairing: alpha!namjoon x omega!reader 🌙 au/genre: ABO au, fated mates au, angst, smut 🌙 series rating: M 🌙 wc: 9,468 🌙 series warnings: mentions of an off-screen character death (barely a character tbh), brief male masturbation, thoughts of 'cheating' (if they aren't true mates though..is it?), cursing, retelling of a fake historical fable that includes VERY brief mentions of murder and suicide as the consequence of a tragic hero's hubris explicit sexual content: biting, marking, knotting, semi-rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare 🌙 an: wow, i did not think i would get this out in time, january was a rough month for me, but my grandpa just finished his last lung cancer treatment last week, and im trying to just balance all the stress of real life, but yeah, i think it's getting better. thank you to my beta readers, @downbad4yoongi @moonleeai and @peachiilovesot7 i appreciate all your help, whether you helped in december or in february, it is much appreciated, as always. you're the best hype squad. this is also my first ABO story, so if you hate it don't tell me. LOL 🌙 summary: "When crescent rises, we shall rise as one, Aligned with moonrise, our time has begun." Alpha-heir Namjoon and his long time sweetheart are thought to be the next pair to rule Highscrest, but when Duskfall is attacked, the heir makes a decision that changes the course of not only his and his girlfriend's destiny, but yours as well.

This story is part of the "New Year, New Me Love" @bangtanwritershq gift exchange, written for the lovely @colormepurplex2! Happy Valentine's Day!

🌒🌒🌒 Tuesday - Waxing Gibbous

The loud chatter of the crowd irritates you; your senses are on overdrive after the past two weeks you’ve had. Packing and moving everything you own across the river during the New Moon was unexpected—almost as unexpected of it being a result of a peace treaty signed by the Beta of your old pack after the death of Alpha Tyvrin. 

A Beta jostles you in an attempt to move closer to the raised platform at the far end of the civic center, and you shoot him a quick glare before turning your attention back to the men on stage to avoid any drama. An Omega glaring at a Beta isn’t as bad as if it was an Alpha, but insubordinate enough still. The new tribe members do not know your previous role in Duskfall and have every right to challenge any hierarchical disrespect.

“Quiet, please,” a voice rumbles quietly, but everyone in the room follows the directive. You recognize the Alpha Father, or the father of the Alpha-Heir and most recent Pack Alpha of Highcrest, at the podium. Your irritation drops as your senses can finally focus now that the room is silent. The smells of so many new pack members still suffocates your olfactory system, but it’s bearable now. One scent seems to overpower the rest, a clean forestry smell that seems to dilute the others. “Good evening, and thank you all for coming tonight. We hope you all have been acclimating to the changes these past few weeks. If you have any concerns, please reach out to any of us here.” 

The Alpha Father waves over his son, stepping aside to let him take the lead of the rest of the meeting. Your eyes drink in the lithe movements highlighted by the fit of his suit. “Thank you, Alpha Father. For those of you who are joining us from Duskfall, at the time of the New Moon three months prior, I began the ascension steps. Right before your arrival, I had just finished the last of the three trials. All that remains is the bonding.”

You look around the room to see if anyone else is having the same reaction to his voice as you are—the crowd is transfixed; all attention is on the Alpha Heir Kim Namjoon. He’s young, almost thirty, but commands the stage. It’s not just because he’s handsome, though the blue suit and his dark brown hair help. His aura oozes from afar, your inner wolf screaming at you that this is a man you would follow and it’s your turn to receive a dirty look as you bump into the person in front of you. You turn back to the stage, ears attuning to his baritone as he continues.

“—final ceremony will take place in three days, and as you all know, I will be selecting my mate. I know that there are many newcomers who may be wary of joining the pack with all of these changes happening so soon, but please have faith in us. Highcrest will protect you all, and we will be at full strength as soon as the full moon rises in a week.”

Some applause breaks out, and his confidence soothes the wolf inside you that worries about this treaty. Highcrest sits on the eastern side of the Twin Rivers split, atop the range that leads to Twin Falls. Your previous pack, Duskfall, was integrated into Highcrest two weeks ago after Shadowhide attacked and killed Alpha Tyvrin under the cover of the New Moon, in a successful attempt at taking the land between the two streams. 

The fertile soil and access to the freshwater source has been a source of contention between Duskfall and Shadowhide for decades, and while a group consisting of the Alpha, Beta and his best warriors patrolled your western border, Shadowhide attacked. The Beta and a few others escaped by the grace of the moon, which gave the pack enough warning to prepare and kept Shadowhide at bay now that the act of surprise was gone. With the Alpha slain and the clock ticking before Shadowhide invaded, the Beta had no choice but to reach out to Highcrest for help. A peace treaty was signed, allowing all pack members of Duskfall to join Highcrest in exchange for their commitment to the pack. Any members who were against the treaty were allowed to leave of their own volition and go back to the main city, or find a pack of their choosing, but with the danger of Shadowhide’s takeover imminent, everyone agreed to travel east across the river and up the mountain range to the safety of Highcrest.

“Thank you to all of Duskfall’s former pack for all of your patience with us as we’ve worked to create a space for all of you here in Highcrest. After the ceremony, which is open to all unmated Omegas, everyone from Duskfall will officially be of Highcrest, and those who have not yet finished their commitment rites can do so at that time.”

You watch as Kim Namjoon waves over a tall, slender woman with sleek hair falling down her back. She is the picture of elegance, her walk stalking forward in a hypnotic fashion as she steps beside the Alpha-Heir and speaks to the crowd. You recognize her from the Apothecary you’ve been training in ever since you’ve settled into your new life here.  

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Min Everlight, an Omega of pack Highcrest. I am the head healer for the pack, and if Alpha Namjoon is ever unavailable, please come see me down at the Apothecary. I’ll help in whatever capacity I can in his absence.” Her hand moves almost subconsciously towards his, and they intertwine fingers. “We have committed our lives to this pack, and all of us up here will do our best to provide for Highcrest. Please stop by the apothecary this week if you haven’t yet received the Aconite to remove your Duskfall markings in preparation for your Highcrest one.”

Everlight stays linked to Namjoon as he takes a slight step forward to end the meeting.

“When the crescent rises,” he begins, and the people around you intone their response. 

“We, too, shall rise.”

Walking under the waxing gibbous, you and your Beta roommate, Sana, wave goodbye to one of your elderly neighbors. You’ve been checking on all of the members of your old pack, helping them in any way you can to get them acclimated after work. You go home tired every night, but you want to make sure this merger works.

Sana skips ahead as your new home comes into sight, singing the Alpha-Heir’s praises. “He’s so brilliant, I promise you this is the best thing that could’ve happened to us. And Min Everlight? She’s amazing, right? You’ve been working under her these past couple of weeks, isn’t she effervescent?”

You laugh at her excitement, answering her vaguely as you unlock the door to your shared home. “She knows her stuff, that’s for sure. I’ve learned a few new things already since we’ve been here, but most of it I already knew.” Sana dreamily wanders to her bedroom, ignoring your slight diss and chattering mostly to herself about how wonderful tribe Highcrest is. You plop onto the couch unceremoniously, thoughts on Min Everlight. 

Everlight is effervescent, with an inner glow that makes her the perfect Omega as mate for the Alpha-Heir. You’ve heard from the other women at the Apothecary that she and Namjoon have been dating for years. Longtime sweethearts and—if their little show on stage meant anything—his choice for his mate. This thought makes you feel sick, because ever since you walked away from Duskfall and followed him to Highcrest, your heart has thrummed for him. 

Taking a deep breath that you let out with a sigh, you change your line of thinking before you venture towards a vitriol hatred of your soon-to-be female leader. Min Everlight has been nothing but motherly and nurturing to all of you since your arrival, but the more you see her all over the Alpha-Heir, the harder it is to like her. Not just because of her romantic relationship with Namjoon, either, but that she represents everything that you almost were, and reminds you of everything you lost.  

You scratch at your upper arm over your shirtsleeve, where the Aconite serum you rubbed on earlier dissolves your Duskfall tattoo in preparation for your Highcrest one. The Aconite is diluted and mixed with other herbs to prevent poisoning that would weaken you before the ceremony. Sana disappears into the shared bathroom to shower, and you close your eyes for a moment not meaning to fall asleep as you wait for your turn.

The moon goddess blesses you with dreams of Duskfall past, memories of your destined path as the tribe’s Luna-to-be—the Omega paired to the now fallen Alpha Tyvrin—and you wake to the reality that all you have trained for was for naught.  

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday - Waxing Gibbous

Or, more like you wake with the sudden slam of a door, sitting upright as you squint to keep back the sunlight. 

“Damn, you slept on the couch?” Sana questions, looking cheery and well-rested.

You clear your throat to answer. “Yeah, I guess so. What time is it?”

Sana glances at her watch. “Um, it’s half past eight.”

“Shit, I overslept, and I’m supposed to meet with Everlight again today.” You stand abruptly, and begin organizing all of the large pillows on the couch, laying the blanket just so until you hear Sana laughing at you. You look up at her with a glare. “What?”

“I think you might be in pre-heat. You’ve fluffed that pillow at least three times, and that blanket cannot be folded over the back of the couch any more perfectly unless you’ve got a protractor in the cabinet.”

“There’s no way, it hasn’t been enough time since the last one.” You ignore her as you clamber back onto the couch, tucking your legs up under you seemingly forgetting your plans for the day.

“Your heat is probably gearing up because of some Alpha at the meeting last night. With Tyvrin gone, rest in moonlight, you’re no longer taking the suppressants are you? With everything that’s happened, it makes sense that you’d forget,” she theorizes, “and apparently Highcrest doesn’t have that practice here.”

You can’t believe you’ve forgotten. In Duskfall, you were chosen by Alpha Tyvrin to be his mate, and asked to take suppressants until the ceremony. This was to help to prevent you from having a heat, decreasing your pheromones from triggering any non-bonded Alpha’s into their ruts and endangering you. These past few weeks since the move, you haven’t been taking any suppressants, and you’re sure by now it's run its course and is out of your system.  

“They don’t practice that here?”

“No, weren’t you listening at the meeting? The Alpha-Heir doesn’t choose his mate the same way like in Duskfall. Highcrest has a different ceremony. All unmated Omega’s can be part of it.”

“But isn’t Everlight most likely going to be chosen anyways?”

“I hear there’s blindfolds involved, so maybe instead of sulking, and filling the apartment with your sour scent, you can just join the ceremony and give it a try.”

The news fills your chest with what feels like sunbeams, and you smile at the Beta as you relax into what you’re now realizing is a nest.

“Ah, the room smells so much nicer now. Also—you’re late.”

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday - Waxing Gibbous

Kim Namjoon sits patiently outside the Apothecary, waiting for Everlight to finish for the day. He can sense her inside, her scent a fresh scent of clean linen, just brought down off of the line after soaking in the sun. It’s always been the strongest scent to him, out of all of the women in Highcrest, and he’s sure that the Moon Goddess will prove her to be his mate this weekend when he ascends to his Alpha status. 

Fingers drumming along his clothed knee, he hums to himself as he watches the sunrays filtering through the trees as it sets. The small bell above the door chimes as small groups of girls and women of all ages trickle out from the shop—Everlight hosted a gathering after work for all of the newcomers to review the Highcrest ceremony procedures for women, and they all bow respectfully when they catch sight of him seated in the chair near the door. 

Namjoon can’t help but wonder what else they were working on today, his nose itches to investigate whatever new tonic or serum she’s put together this time—the smell is amazing. Like a warm honey coating his tongue, hints of bourbon with small bursts of brown sugar peaking his interest. He hopes it’s not something inedible, like the Aconite serum, and his curiosity getting the better of him, he stands, unbuttoning his suit jacket and moving to peer through the small glass windows framed in the center of the door. 

Ah, he thinks as he takes in one of the new pack members, Everlight must have let one of the Duskfall women teach a new tonic. Namjoon recognizes you through the dusty glass standing in front of the group, and remembers that his Beta, Seokjin, had pointed you out from afar when you first arrived.

🌑Two Weeks Ago 🌑 Monday - New Moon

“That’s Alpha Tyvrin’s mate, er—was his mate. They hadn’t actually had the ceremony yet, the attack happened before the full moon ceremony could happen, but she was set to be Duskfall’s Luna.” Seokjin’s finger points down the lane from the window of City Hall, connecting to a woman walking towards the villager housing area. Namjoon eyes you warily before posing a series of questions to his Beta.

“Will it be an issue to have two mature Luna’s in a pack? Should we offer to place her with another pack to mate with an Alpha?”

“I don’t know…I haven’t ever heard of something like this happening. Typically the Alpha has already mated the Luna, and since one cannot live without the other—”

“I see.” Namjoon understands why the Moon Goddess would create such a fate for paired leaders. “Had the ceremony already happened, she would be buried next to him. It could be a help, now that we have so many more people, to have two strong healers in the pack. Maybe she could travel on patrols in case of an attack?” He wonders how Everlight would react to finding out that there’s another Luna-trained Omega in the pack, and if this would be a way to spin it to lessen any blowback. 

Seokjin looks thoughtful, eyebrows lifted as he tilts his head and gathers his words carefully. “That could be a good option for the second Luna, so that their training and skills do not go to waste, especially now that our pack has grown…It could also be worth mentioning—with so many new members, it would be a good show of faith if you were to perhaps choose the Duskfall Luna as your mate—”

Namjoon’s growl silences Seokjin momentarily but he presses on when he sees no claws being barred. 

“I’m just saying, nothing helps unite two packs better than having one of their own integrated into the upper levels of the hierarchy. If we want to keep peace and help Duskfall feel loyalty to Highcrest, taking their to-be-Luna as your mate would be the smart move. You and Everlight aren’t fated, so it’s not like our pack would frown upon it under the circumstances—”

Namjoon’s eyes cut like daggers as he stares his Beta down, almost dragon-like in ferocity as he contains his inner beast. “Everlight is my mate, Seokjin. I would never betray her like that.” 

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday (present) - Waxing Gibbous

Looking at you now, Namjoon is glad to see that you and Everlight seem to have no issues working alongside each other. After reading through previous Alphas’ historical notes and reviewing the history of the packs of the Twin Rivers Valley, he decided that it would be best to keep you around, as he worries his newest constituents would revolt if they thought he had banished you from Highcrest. He spent the first couple of weeks talking to other elder members of Duskfall, and learned that a lot of the pack had come to rely on you as they became acclimated, that you had been going around to visit with them and check-in, and keep them all calm with the changes happening. 

He appreciated that you had taken this on as a duty, especially when you were dealing with the biggest blow of all. Namjoon meant to meet with you to thank you, but the longer he took, the more it felt fake, rehearsed, and like an afterthought instead of what it really was: an Alpha-Heir not yet familiar with his role, and learning about you from afar made him feel like a weird stalker of sorts that he had all this knowledge of you and your skills from others.  

Your skills would be most useful to their pack, and though you were meant to lead the pack by an Alpha’s side, you could still maintain some modicum of that role, just as the second to Everlight. Namjoon is sure this plan will work. He plans to have a meeting with Seokjin and Everlight tonight, that way he can make sure that they will follow his plan without any issues. 

He knows he could just order everyone to follow along, but using his Alpha to force others to do what he wants doesn’t always work out in the long run. The history of the tribal lands and the fact that there were three distinct tribes from the original one, up until Tyvrin’s death, is proof of that. 

It’s much better for a leader to have the consenting loyalty of his pack, instead of forced fealty that brews contempt and derision. Namjoon steps back from the door to allow another person to exit, and once again, the honeyed bourbon seeps through the opening. It’s much stronger this time, urging him to his feet almost against his will. 

He feels his blood thrumming, pounding through his veins like a rushing river. Namjoon checks his forehead, as if feverish, and notices his hand comes back with a sheen of sweat. It’s like he’s gone into pre-rut, which would be crazy. He’s pretty regular when it comes to his ruts lining up with Everlight’s heats, and she’s still not due for a little bit…

Namjoon stumbles backward, taking the three steps back to solid ground quickly as he tugs at the collar of his buttoned shirt. He’s too hot, it’s all too much, he has to do something, move, but he’s in the middle of the town, there are people who look to him to be more restrained than this standing all around…Namjoon trips a little on the gravel beneath his feet as he takes off back towards City Hall and away from Everlight, afraid that if she is due for her heat and his pre-rut was triggered by that, he would mount her right there in front of the last few people in the store and fuck her hard against the counter, not caring if everyone saw the powerful way he drove his cock in and out of her until he filled her with cum and knotted her.

He’s locked himself in his office, blinds closed with his fist wrapped around his thick length as he imagines it: his hands firm on the plump rounds of ass, spreading the cheeks apart as he spits between them, Omega slick lathering his cock with every stroke and the tight walls sucking him back in with every pump out, and when he cums—copious amounts leaking around his large hand—it’s only then that he realizes that it wasn’t the clean linen-scented Everlight he was imagining taking his knot.

🌔🌔🌔 Thursday - Waxing Gibbous

You’re irritated—more so than you’ve been since your entire life was turned upside down two weeks ago. The Beta that’s always around the Alpha, Seokjin, randomly showed up at your place in the morning saying you were tasked to go on a supply run to the nearest city. It makes sense—Seokjin explained that the Alpha had handpicked everyone in the group to help new pack members meet others and start to learn their ways, and you appreciate it, except for the fact that you don’t want to be far from home right now. 

In fact, because of the upcoming ceremony, Everlight had let all of the women training in the apothecary have the next few days off, as she expected to be chosen and wanted to prepare herself and her home for what was to come. You had mixed feelings when she initially announced this to everyone, because while you enjoy the respite from the constant go-go-go of changes around you, the reason behind it left you feeling miffed. 

All of yesterday, you spent time working at the Apothecary and were even asked by some of the others to show them some tonics and potions that they had never heard of, and while you enjoy teaching others, it’s quite draining to go through the motions while talking through every step you make, and why. The girls quietly scribbled down your words in their notebooks, committing your teachings to paper, which made you feel good about yourself, until reality hit about your future. 

It almost didn’t feel fair that you were so new to the pack and already others were looking to you to train and teach them new things, meanwhile another person is slated to take the position you’ve wanted and trained for your whole life. 

Shaking away your thoughts, you tap back into the moment, finally having arrived in the bustling city a little past mid-day. You hate all of the smells; the odor rising from the sewer grates and scents from the people who jostle you as they rudely push past your group. You hold back the urge to plug your nose, sighing out a weighted exhale as you follow Seokjin through the automatic sliding doors and into a grocer’s market. 

🌔🌔🌔 Thursday - Waxing Gibbous

Back in the forest, a half day’s trip from the city, Kim Namjoon spends his time in his office again, hiding out from his duties by disguising them as last minute studying and planning for the ceremony. 

He couldn’t bring himself to meet with Everlight the previous night, instead calling Seokjin only to discuss the plans for the supply run. He looked over the list of items Everlight needed in the apothecary, and only because the winter months were starting to fade away into spring meant this would be the last expensive trip until winter came again. 

Bees do not make honey in the winter, so why can’t he explain away the coincidence of the honey bourbon smell and the note written in Everlight’s scrawl next to the requested item underlined twice: Honey — we’ve been out for ages!! He doesn’t want to believe that he could be feeling this way for someone other than Everlight, but of two things he knows for sure: he smelled honey, and Everlight is distinctly NOT a honey smell. 

Seeing that on the list had Namjoon rise with a wild idea, to send the other Luna far, far away for the day, to help him clear his mind. In reality, he paces his office, wearing thin the once plush carpet with his worried steps until he can’t take it anymore. Crossing the room, he walks with such a force that no one dares to question where he’s off to. 

He knows where you live, knows that your Beta roommate Sana should be home, and when he knocks on the door with authority, he expects Sana to fling the door open so hastily that the movement sends the mixed scents of the apartment wafting out at him. Instantly, he expects his spine to straighten as his whole body is overwhelmed by the truth—except that never comes. No one is home, as a kind older woman politely points out to him after his third attempt at knocking. 

“Those girls went into town today, it seemed like the Luna had to drag Sana along with her,” she chuckled, clearly a pack member who was fond of the two women. “Did you want me to tell them you stopped by?”

“No! I mean—no need to worry them about my visit, I can talk to them tomorrow, thank you.”

He swiftly departs, deciding to just head home instead of back to the office for some peace.

“Joonie!”

Barely having set foot in his residence, Namjoon is bombarded with the irritating scent of laundry detergent. It’s too pungent; overwhelming in a way that he’s never experienced before. He catches himself before his nose wrinkles and Everlight ascends into his arms. He hugs her back, planting a soft kiss to the side of her head in an endearing manner before she pulls him into the dining room for an early dinner with his parents. 

Namjoon spends the evening engaged in conversation with his parents and Everlight, avoiding talks of the ceremony as best he can—despite his mother and girlfriend's best attempts. His dad eyes him warily—in that cunning way that only another Alpha can—sensing the change in the dynamics within the room. Namjoon is grateful his father remains quiet, simply watching the conversation over the nightcap of barrel-aged Cabernet Sauvignon from their cellar.

Once they call it a night and his parents disappear to their room, Everlight begs Namjoon to stay over, and unable to say no to the woman he’s never said no to before, he relents. He regrets this decision almost immediately, as his hopes that Everlight would help him take his mind off of the one thing that’s been at the forefront of it are crushed.   

“She’s just really good at healing. She knows a lot, like I can’t believe I’m even admitting it, but she knows things that I don’t. And the things I have been able to teach her, she learns it so quickly and easily. I’m actually kind of jealous.”

Namjoon can tell; Everlight’s face is scrunched up in a way that makes her look unattractive, and he doesn’t know what to do or to say to make her feel less insecure. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing she is joining our pack. It’s important to learn and grow continuously.” It’s as diplomatic as he can be at the moment.

“Yes, but she’s trained as a Luna, just like me. It’s a little like she’s trying to take my spot. Yesterday, while I was teaching, the other girls asked her to teach them something I didn’t know, and I just had to stand there and let her take over my lesson. The girls were so focused on her and taking notes, it made me kind of hate her.”

She’s looking at him, her eyes trying to find something within his, but he looks away, reaching for the light next to his bed.

Everlight reaches for him, aligning her body to his as her fingers grip his shoulders so she can position herself atop him.

“That’s why I can’t wait for the ceremony, baby. We can finally be a true, mated pair. Start our forever, with me as your Luna. No room for confusion from the pack about who will bear your pups.” Her eyebrows waggle up and down suggestively as she lowers her lips to his plump ones. “We can practice now if you want, you can scent me, let all the bitches in heat know to back off.” She kisses him again. 

Namjoon kisses her back, but her laundry odor fills his nasal cavity and her words are so off-putting for the role she hopes to take on for the pack. He can feel her hands travel down his ribcage, but nothing about her touch turns him on. Pulling away from the kiss, he catches his breath as he readies his excuse.

“Babe, I think we should wait,” his large hands hold her shoulders firmly before his touch grows softer, palms smoothing up and down her arms in a soothing motion. “The ceremony is so soon, and I want it to be sacred…I know that might sound cheesy and un-Alpha-like but—”

“No, you’re right.” Everlight smiles softly at him, but he can see the hurt in her eyes at being rejected. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed with all of the new pack members and the changes happening, I think I got a little over excited.”

“I love that about you, you know? You’re excitement over things, and how you want to be the best version of yourself for our pack. You’re already an amazing Luna in your own right.”

Everlight excuses herself to the bathroom, and Namjoon clambers off his bed, bare feet leading him towards his cracked bedroom window. In the light of the almost full moon, he can now see the noises that drew his attention moments ago: returning members of his pack walking down the path to their homes. 

There’s no mistaking it now. A warmth blooms from his groin, spreading higher until his neck grows hot from it as his nose and mouth feel thick with the sweetest bourbon honey scent. With you unaware of his gaze as you laugh with Seokjin and Sana, he feels jealousy boiling into his chest.

“Mine.”

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon

You wake up late on Friday morning, your body a little stiff and sore. You feel as if you slept with a heater on, sleep clothes clinging to your body due to the sweat that covers your skin. You try to shake it off, but the feeling doesn’t go away, even after a cold shower.

You’re not surprised you woke up mid afternoon after arriving back at Highcrest near midnight, but you suppose the excitement of what’s to come will keep you awake the rest of the evening. You have to meet the elders for the pre-ceremony rituals at the start of moonrise, so you eat a light snack in the hopes it won’t trouble your stomach too much. 

You know now that Sana is right. Your heat will kick in no later than tomorrow afternoon, with the confirmation of the night sweating and soreness symptoms appearing today, but you worry about what it will mean if you end up not being chosen…you’ll begin cramping and sink into Omega-space, leaving you vulnerable to other higher ranking pack members without a plan prepared to get you through your heat.

At quarter till six, you leave your home with a small bag of items and head to city hall, where Elder Aline waits for you and the other Omegas who planned to join the ceremony to arrive. Elder Aline was old—she worked closely with the Luna three times removed was in power, and lived to prepare both of her successors, and now would be helping to prepare this ceremony. 

You hug your bag to your chest as the last of the group arrives: Everlight. She only looks slightly surprised to see you in the group of seven Omega’s, but she fixes her facial features quickly and offers you a bright smile. 

“I didn’t expect to see you in the group!” Everlight’s tone is friendly enough, but the undercurrent of her words screams out territorial.

“Oh, yeah, my roommate said I should come as an unmated Omega to take part in the ceremony. It’s different from our previous pack’s tradition, and if I hope to carry out my duties and help with future ceremonies, the best way to learn is to be part of it, right?”

Your answer makes sense, perfectly curated to help push away any questions that dig too deep into your motivations, including yourself. Part of you knew that it would be beneficial to you if the worst comes to fruition, but the other part, the more primitive part, knows the real reason is because the wolf inside of you longs for your mate to be Kim Namjoon.  

Elder Aline calls for your attention, her weathered voice a calming stillwater that acts as a soothing balm to the nervous energy in your chest. She speaks to the group, sharing some information about how the rest of the night will play out before she leads your small group towards the outskirts of Highcrest, to the south of a small lake on the edge of the forest. The walk takes a bit of time to navigate the terrain, especially with an Elder leading. 

You allow her moments to pause and rest, clearly fatigued from traipsing through high grasses and uneven dirt, but soon enough you are there, and placed along the treeline, a small clearing awaits you. She makes quick work of explaining the first ritual’s steps, and you allow her voice to lead you through the routine. 

The cleansing ritual itself takes the better part of an hour, as everyone planning to participate strips down to enter the water under the light of the moon which now grazes the top of the trees. A small pouch filled with herbs and petals is handed to each of you to rid you of any lingering outside scents. You lather your skin, taking the time to clean every inch before stepping out to air dry. It’s colder than you expected, but no one wants to risk masking their scent for the ceremony. 

The elder had laid a simple white dress on the shore of the lake near your bag, and once dry, you sheathed your body with it, happy for the fabric to provide some warmth. She pulls a thermos from her bag along with small cups.

“Purified under the new moon,” she intones, handing you a steaming cup of tea. “Red azaleas, to pull out your emotions and attract your true mate.”

You sip it slowly, letting the heat warm your hands. The other women join you after the elder gives them each a cup, and you huddle in a circle, trying to stay warm.

“I think it’s good that we have so many of us for the ceremony,” Everlight speaks, her voice light and airy. “It would be a boring ceremony if I was here by myself.”

Her words were clearly chosen carefully, meant to sound like a compliment to the others for their company, while laying claim to the role not yet given to her by the moon. You bristle, feeling your body heat up. Her comments were starting to annoy you, because a true Luna was not insecure or haughty. She was a healer, a person that others could go to when they needed strength, compassion, or empathy. Everlight seemed to have forgotten this. 

“I think it is great that Highcrest’s tradition is different from ours, it feels more…pure.” You don’t know how else to describe it, but the act of having the alpha choose his mate through this ceremony feels like how it used to be. The elder hears you and her words confirm this. 

“This is the true ceremony. But come now, it is about time for us to begin.”

She leads you around to the north side of the lake. A small copse of trees had blocked the incoming sight, and now that you were closer, you could see the small gathering of pack members standing in a crescent.  

Directing you to step into the open space, she takes your cups from each of you as the seven of you line up with ample space between each other. You look around nervously. The cold you felt earlier when you were wet and naked exiting the lake was gone; you notice that you feel hot. You’ve felt hot since drinking the tea.

The crowd murmurs quietly to one another as you look around for Sana, finally finding her to the right near the top point of the moon shape they were standing in. She waves at you, a smile breaking across her face as she takes you in. 

All at once the noise in the forest dies out. The muttering follows suit, and Elder Aline steps before the crowd. 

“Before the great divide of the tribal lands, the Alpha’s mate was never set in stone until the ceremony was completed. Even if the Alpha had taken many lovers as a young pup, it matters not, for what the moon reveals is the truth. And an Alpha dare not disobey the moon, lest the pack fall weak.”

She then begins her tale of the history of the original tribe they descended from. 

“Many, many moons ago, we once existed as a proud and noble pack led by an Alpha of unmatched strength and wisdom named Lycaon. Under his reign, our pack thrived, united as one for the good of the group. We honored the ancient laws dictated by the phases of the moon, for we knew the moon's power was both a gift and a curse. Before the divide, we could shapeshift along with the phases of the moon.

But Lycaon, with his pride swelling within him like a thunderous storm cloud, began to question the moon's choice for his fated mate. He refused his fated Omega, instead choosing who he wanted, and not who our celestial goddess knew our pack needed. Ignoring the warnings of his most trusted Betas, Lycaon decided that his unborn son would also choose his own mate, not the moon.

At first, this defiance seemed to have no negative impact. But before long, cracks began to appear between pack members. By refusing the moon's guidance, the pack ended up with an Alpha-chosen Luna who was not prepared for her role. The rejected Luna fell melancholy, and took her own life, saying she could not watch the ruin of her pack. Some wolves found themselves unable to control their shifting, and began to attack their own kin in fits of madness. Other pack members grew weak—their bodies unable to withstand the impact of their dual nature.”

The entire crowd was enraptured hearing the tale, as Duskfall members did not know the history, and you are among them in learning the true history of the divide.

“As chaos descended upon our once-proud pack, Lycaon's authority waned as the full moon wanes. Desperate to maintain his grip on the pack, he resorted to ruling the pack with fear instead of respect. But his efforts only fueled the flames of discord, and soon, the pack was torn asunder by fights and betrayal.

In the aftermath of our pack's collapse, three new packs rose from the one, each led by a different wolf claiming to be the one true Alpha. They fought for the lands we stand upon today, with Lycaon’s son, Claudin, taking the hills to found Highcrest, and the other two packs fighting over the lower grounds.  Claudin knew that in order to reclaim the strength and glory we had lost, he must not allow pride or the greed for power seduce him into betraying the moon.”

A low murmur swept through the crowd. You knew your former packmates had the same thoughts running through their mind as you did—could this really be true? Was Alpha Tyvrin’s downfall predestined to happen in order to reunite the original pack? Elder Aline coughs, and you focus back on her.

“And so, this tale of Alpha Lycaon and our pack serves as a tale of caution for generations, a reminder of the dangers of hubris and the importance of respecting the ancient laws that govern our kind. Alpha Claudin rectified the treachery his father had done unto the moon, but we shall never shift again as punishment.”

A quiet settles upon the crowd, and the elder gestures to a group of children you didn’t notice before. They step towards each of you, and she asks you all to kneel. The small child before you has a face like a cherub, full cheeks pulled tight as he shows his teeth to you, eyes disappearing in his delight. 

He bequeaths a length of dark fabric, and his hands move so as to wrap the ends around your face, deftly knotting it behind your head. When you feel him step away, you stand back to full height. Your other senses are heightened, anxiety blossoming at what comes next. You hear footsteps, and sounds of awe and admiration sweep across the crowd stealing your nerves. You freeze in anticipation. 

“Alpha Namjoon has done what we once thought impossible, uniting two tribes where whence was three, and we must continue to follow the moon’s guidance. We must not deceive ourselves. The moon will not lead us wrong. It will not lead him wrong.”

Seconds tick by as you wait, eyes furiously trying to see through the thick material stealing your sight. Seconds turn into minutes and you can hear the faint rustling of bare feet traveling across the grass, the weighted foot falls accompanied by heavy inhales of the still air surrounding the area. You know the Alpha has entered the clearing—can feel a palpable shift in the energy as your body grows hotter by the second. His scent sings to you, and you whine lowly, wanting to follow it.

Again, the crowd responds to something unseen by you, this time it has your inner wolf crouching, tail down and ears back—showing submission. Another whine escapes you, a little louder this time. Your distress must be filling the area around you, you can sense the crowd’s movement, reacting to your scent. You begin to panic, fearing that a distressed scent would push the Alpha to choose another, not the scared, submissive and pathetically whining bitch in heat—

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon 

Namjoon walks up to the clearing surrounded by his closest advisors, some of whom had been absent patrolling the borders and securing their land the past several weeks, and returned in time for the ceremony. As he approaches, the sounds in the forest quickly fade, as if sensing his arrival.

He waits for his signal to enter the clearing, far enough away that he can only smell the crowd of his pack members standing between him and the clearing where the Omegas will stand. Namjoon spent all day in the forest, away from town preparing for the ritual by hunting for game to be used for the meal to feed his mate before the knotting. He also had to follow the same cleansing tradition, bathing under the light of the full moon, drinking the purified new moon tea, and dressing in loose, white linen pants.

He tried his best to clear his mind from the events of the previous evening, and once he was away from the bustle of the town square, he found it easier to convince himself it was just a fluke. After years of being with Everlight, the idea of being fully committed must have made him feel a bit scared, so he latched onto the idea of something new, someone different…you. 

Now, after his mindful afternoon in the forest, he knows he just has to trust the moon will lead him to Everlight, his mate. He knows her scent, knows it like he knows the taste of his mom’s cooking or the sound of his father’s favorite whiskey bottle opening.

As the moon climbs higher, he waits, steadily listening as the crowd quiets and Elder Aline speaks, recounting the tale of the original tribe. As she gets close to finishing her tale, Namjoon is tapped on the shoulder by Beta Taehyung, who motions to the blindfold in his hand. 

“It’s time, Alpha.”

Namjoon nods, taking the blindfold from the younger male and covering his dragon-shaped orbs. He fastens the knot, and he senses when another one of his trusted Betas approaches him. 

“I have the pouch here. Make sure to smell it deeply before—” 

Beta Jungkook is interrupted by Namjoon. “I know, I know. Smell it deeply before I let my inner wolf out to track my mate.” He lifts an open palm so Jungkook can place the small, organza fabric reticule into his hand.

When he hears his name, he knows that’s his signal. He follows the sound of the elder’s voice to enter the clearing.

“Alpha Namjoon has done what we once thought impossible, uniting two tribes where whence was three, and we must continue to follow the moon’s guidance. We must not deceive ourselves. The moon will not lead us wrong. It will not lead him wrong.” 

Raising the small sack to clear his olfactory senses, he inhales a piece of his own clothing, a small handkerchief he kept on him all week. A trick using olfactory habituation to cleanse his palate from the surrounding smells, allowing him to only smell his mate. The crowd shifts, he can hear stilted murmurs about his physique being on display since he was shirtless as he walks past his pack. 

Stepping fully into the clearing, he inhales deeply, and instantly he picks up the laundry scent that he’s so used to being surrounded by. It’s definitely Everlight’s scent—he’s almost positive—but it has an edge to it, a slight tinge that he’s not used to smelling. The longer he stands there, the more the scent morphs into a cloying, headache inducing smell. It’s almost fake, a manufactured scent that doesn’t entice him. 

He steps away from the smell of it, noting an undercurrent of something nice. The crowd reacts, confused at his actions, but he doesn’t care. He knows he has to trust the moon. And that bourbon-honey scent? He wants more of that. Lifting the pouch again to his nose to rid it of the sickly sweet smell, he drops his hand after a few inhalations, allowing the soft honey smell to seep into his pores. It’s alluring, growing more seductive by the moment, but then it takes on the additional bitter scent of anxiety, and Namjoon worries that something is wrong. 

He can feel his inner wolf scratching to get closer, to protect, to save his mate—when he steps closer, the crowd reacts again, so he grabs at his blindfold, tearing it free so that he can get to you. He needs to calm you down, you need to feel safe, to know that your Alpha is here to protect you. He’s closer to you than expected, and the whine you let out calls to him in more ways than one. 

His body feels alight with flames, he can see you’re trembling. His hand moves without him thinking, gripping the blindfold and tugging it up and off your head. 

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon 

The light of the moon feels blinding as you blink to adjust your eyes to the sudden return of your sight before it’s eclipsed by the broad body of the Alpha. His breaths are almost frantic, a heavy panting that moves his shoulders with each exhalation as his wild eyes roam your face. His neck gland is hidden by a tied piece of cloth, masking his scent partially and you want to bury your face into him, seeking safety and comfort. 

Your body responds to his proximity almost immediately, a simultaneous calming of the mind’s anxiety as physically you feel engulfed in a blaze, a sweat finally breaking out along your hairline as you’re thrown into full heat. Namjoon’s nostrils flare as he inhales you, his face looking triumphant as he kneels on one knee before you. He reaches for your hands, which tremble as he locks eyes with you. 

“Namjoon, what the hell?!” Everlight stands several omegas down from you, her face free of the blindfold, which now dangles from her fingertips at her side. She doesn’t move for a moment, not until she realizes the Alpha was not responding to her. Her steps don’t falter as she gets closer to you, but your scent grows sour as you take in the murderous look on her face.

Namjoon’s movements are quick and fluid. He stands and postures himself, keeping you protected behind him as he shoves Everlight back with one hand.

“Mine,” he growls. Everlight drops the blindfold, confusion blossoming upon her face. 

Namjoon turns to you, grasping your cheeks gently in his hands. “Mate.”

He throws his head back, and lets out a loud howl to the moon. 

Chaos ensues. The entire field grows loud as some pack members celebrate the ceremony’s success, while others gossip about the outcome. You can hear snippets of the conversations until another voice grows louder, shouting at the Alpha. It’s Everlight, your brain registers, she’s angry, her sour scent wafting in your direction as she screams. 

Some Betas you’ve never seen before hold her back, preventing her from coming closer to you and Namjoon. You back up, jostling into him, and the urge you had earlier grows so strong you don’t hold back. Jumping into his arms, you bury your nose into his neck, and you instantly melt against him, fatigued. Namjoon is startled but holds you tightly, and you can feel when he begins to walk swiftly away from the crowd.

You don’t question it, you just let your Alpha lead you to someplace safe. It takes a few minutes before you arrive at a small cottage, its windows lit with a soft glow. You recognize it for what it is—a mating cabin. Set far enough away from the town square that a newly mated Alpha and Luna can have alone time to get through the next few days. 

Namjoon sets you down, but doesn’t let you go. Opening the door, the first thing you see is a pack of water on the small wooden table. It’s one large room, like a studio with an open concept. There’s a small kitchen set up to the left, and straight ahead is a large bed. The sheets are clean and welcoming, and you can feel your body beginning to cramp as your heat kicks in. 

You knew it was coming—the low-grade fever, mild cramping, and more recently, increased slick and pheromone production ever since Namjoon touched you in the clearing. You shuffle, uncomfortable as slick leaks out of you, trailing down your thigh slowly.

You can hear Namjoon inhale sharply, before he’s kicking the door shut and grabbing you firmly. He doesn’t speak. His eyes say everything though, the adoration and lust sparkling in the low light in the room. 

“Alpha.” It’s a statement. It’s a request. 

His lips are on yours, devouring, tasting, suckling as if he can’t get enough of you.

“Honey. You taste like sweet bourbon infused honey…it’s intoxicating.” Namjoon kisses you again, this time his lips trail from yours to your neck. He teases you, teeth nipping at the skin as your thighs rub together seeking pleasure as he pulls sinful mewls from your throat. Your hands grip his upper arms, and you try to tug him towards the bed. You need him. You need his knot. 

“Please, Alpha,” you beg, and he shivers in your hold, aroused by your submissiveness. “Need you.”

Namjoon lifts you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. You grind against him, biting his bottom lip aggressively. You feel so hot—burning up—and he’s the only thing that can cure you from this growing pain. 

Your heat is in full swing, and you can tell it’s triggering your Alpha’s rut. He’s trying to hold back, be gentle and slow, but when you push your leaking core against him, he gives in. His hands fumble with the waistband of his linen pants before his heavy cock springs free, fully erect and searching for your entrance. You move your waist to help the angle of his cock, as one hand holds your hip and the other holds the base of his shaft to align himself. 

When the slight pressure on your slit gives, you thrust forward, forcing him inside you with ease thanks to your copious amounts of slick. You feel full, the head hitting in just the right spot. Attempting to create friction, you try to undulate your hips, but the resulting shockwaves from the tip meeting that sensitive spot causes you to clench around him. 

He freezes, feeling the quickening of your walls and you yelp in surprise when he throws you on the bed. The loss of him inside you feels unfair, but he steps out of his pants and soon crowds your body with his own as he climbs over your body. A firm hand presses into the middle of your upper back, before he grips your hips and pulls them upwards. The dress slides down, revealing your bare backside to him and you feel more than hear the growl he lets out. 

He leans against your body, ripping your dress up until you are able to slide the garment off your arms and throw it to the floor. A smack jolts you forward, but he adjusts you back into place. You feel his thumb drag over your slick covered folds, taunting you. 

“Alpha!” you whine, and he chuckles before realigning his length to your throbbing core. At this angle, he reaches deeper inside of you, and he begins to rock his hips, thrust after thrust inside you. His large hand grips your chin, turning your head to the side. 

“Want to see that pretty face as you cum on my cock, want to hear you cry for me when you take my knot.” His low baritone promises you pleasure beyond your imagination. 

He licks up your spine, kissing and nuzzling into your neck, and you know it's the spot he wants to mark you at. You beg him to do it, but he just shakes his head against your skin. “Not yet, my love.”

He kisses you with every thrust he takes, before sitting up more to pin you down to the bed. His movements grow sharp, hands grabbing at your ass cheeks as he pounds into you. Switching up his movements, you can’t believe he fucks so well when he begins to rotate his hips and slips his thumb into your mouth. You suck on it, drool leaking from your mouth onto the sheets as your legs shake. 

You clench again, involuntarily spasming every few seconds and you know you’re close—you tell him as much. 

“Fuck,” he curses, and you grip the bedsheets as he adjusts his hold on you. His hands move to your hips and he arches your back even more as he speeds up his own movements. They're fluid, your slick making it almost effortless for him to please you, to take you from behind like this until he’s so deep he could feel himself poking through your stomach—

“Take my knot, want you to have my pups, fuck—”he presses his hips flush to your ass, streams of his cum filling you up endlessly as your body wracks with euphoric release. You whine as you feel the intense pressure of his knot filling you before the pain of his marking bite overtakes your senses. 

You feel overwhelmed in a good way, pain giving way to pleasure as the bite seals your mated status and his knot begins to slowly deflate. Once able, Namjoon rolls you over to face him, nuzzling into you as you hold him close. Your heat was sated for the time being, but you knew that soon you would be climbing him once again to meet your needs. 

You wince as his nose grazes your fresh mark and he makes an apologetic face. Standing up from the bed, he grabs a bottle of water for you, twisting the cap off for you and proffering the drink. 

You take a full swallow, quenching the thirst you didn’t realize you had. Heats have a way of making you forget to take care of yourself in that way. The fatigue consumes you, and you drop back down to the bed. Namjoon takes the bottle from you and places it on the side table. His hands massage your calves, working his way along your thighs. His movements could put you to sleep, but you knew as well as he did that this reprieve would not last long. The moon shone through the window casting a faint glowing halo around Namjoon’s head.

He was yours. 

In the moon's tender glow, we're born anew,

The night's canvas echoes our ancient call,

Omegas and Betas, to their knees they fall,

For the Alpha, bound by destiny's fate.

To lead, to fight, to protect, to mate,

In lunar hours, gaze upon the sky,

Let Luna's wisdom be your guiding light,

Her soothing touch to mend wounds that cry.

When crescent rises, we shall rise as one,

Aligned with moonrise, our time has begun.

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2024. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

P5R Random Thoughts #3: Annoyance, Anger, and Conviction

Or, just a couple more random thoughts about Joker.

I actually do enjoy that Joker seems to sometimes get genuinely frustrated with his friends' antics - I don't know if it reads that way to anyone else, but a combination of his dialogue options and character model body language definitely reads that way to me.

He's gotten mildly annoyed with Ryuji's loudness on several occasions - often having dialogue choices that are essentially some variant of "keep your voice down!" Much as Joker feels what I suspect is quite a lot of gratitude for Ryuji's unflinching support and passion (he was his first friend in Tokyo, after all - no deal, just friendship), his dialogue options also become a lot more passive aggressive during early Kaneshiro arc - and small wonder, because Ryuji's eager carelessness actually did get them caught; thankfully by Makoto, and not law enforcement. Of course, he still cares a lot about Ryuji; I think he's just a little frustrated right now.

He's usually pretty chill with Morgana bossing him around - for what reason, I honestly couldn't tell you, but he does pretty much anything that not-cat recommends. However, when Morgana spontaneously invites Yusuke to stay with Joker without asking him, Joker kind of "!!" and looks at him. It's then followed up with everyone deciding to invite themselves to Joker's place, again, without asking him and Morgana encouraging it. The scene ends with Joker straight up elbowing/jostling Morgana in the bag after everyone's left for Leblanc. Pfft.

He tells Yusuke to hurry it up in Mementos when he gets too in the zone... and much as you can't rush an artist, they do near immediately get jumped by Shadows after that, so, you know, he does have a point.

Even with Ann, Joker frequently sweatdrops at her kind of out-there ideas of how to strengthen her heart. While I wouldn't call it annoyance, per se, there is at least one scene I can think of where two of the options straight up shut her down, and the last is basically a sarcastic "good luck with that", which Ann proceeds to take at face value as encouragement, leading to Joker sweatdropping once again. Lol.

So many of these are basically the equivalent of Joker going >:( at his friends and them typically completely not noticing which is funny as heck.

Also, because I'm the kind of person who loves to read into things, I think it can tell us a little more about Joker. What actually frustrates him here?

Drawing attention to the group in the real world - something he actively tries to avoid, at first, because of consequences for him, and then, because it puts the thieves at risk

Getting himself and the group into unnecessary trouble - so we've got two instances of Joker being mindful of potential consequences

People getting invited over without being asked first - this one's a little ambiguous as to why. Could be a simple courtesy thing, could be related to Joker's earlier obvious discomfort with people getting in his personal space without permission, could be that he likes his privacy. Personally, I suspect he's actually somewhat embarrassed and a little concerned about what his friends' reactions will be to where he's staying - I do have some reasons for this interpretation but ultimately, no matter what reason you ascribe, he's definitely not initially happy about this spontaneous invitation by Morgana.

I think we can even condense the first two and say that Joker seems to be a little more focused on outcomes and consequences than much of the rest of his group, who (before Makoto joins) very much people who act in the immediate moment. He's not quite on par with Morgana's brand of pragmatism, but he does seem to always be at least thinking ahead.

There are a few exceptions, however.

Joker's actual anger is something he is evidently not good at hiding. He has an excellent poker face, but his eyes and, apparently, the way he speaks give it away entirely. To hide his anger, he outright has to not say anything and obscure his face. That actually does not seem like someone who is especially good at hiding strong emotions, even if he can school the rest of himself.

Ann, of all people, has to make excuses for his obvious disdain towards a cop. Every single dialogue option is some flavour of snippy comment. His character model continues to stare directly at said cop, even after Ann interrupts.

He is not thinking about consequences here. Joker fucking hates cops, and he is either very bad at hiding it - or he has no desire to. A very similar thing happened with Kamoshida too. He has nothing but disdain for abusers with power and authority over those they hurt. He also outright doesn't trust the justice system at all after seeing how it failed him and so many others ("They do more than the cops" <-hello. on live tv no less.).

And this leads to something else that's actually a fairly interesting facet to his character that I'm curious to see if it'll get acknowledged in some way.

For the most part, despite the Metaverse confidence and flashiness (which I feel isn't a great metric anyways - all the thieves are like that), Joker responds to most compliments and successes by either complimenting the whole team in turn, or brushing it off as luck or not a huge deal. This is likely in part a cultural thing, but when it comes to genuine appreciation being shown, he does seem to have some semblance of humility about it all - which is why it's almost hilariously shocking how pushy he can be about helping others.

He chases after Ann because she's upset, even though initially she told him not to. He corners some of the students getting exploited by Kaneshiro and won't leave until they tell him the details, even resorting to playing into the rumours about him so that they'll talk. He overhears his confidants in some kind of trouble on several occasions and near immediately asks them about it, and then continues to bring it up if they don't elaborate. It's notable that these instances are some of the few things he decides to do himself, without Morgana's explicit encouragement. I suspect a lot of this is because he has so little faith in anyone else to do the right thing - he has no trust in the justice system, and most adults don't seem to care. But Joker cares, and he will listen to what happened, and he will do something about it, and he will help, and he does so by refusing to let up - he does not wait for someone to ask for help necessarily, he just kind of goes and does it. It's not like I can't see the rationale here, but it's also, kind of, a little bit... presumptuous, in a way.

Again, it's a fascinating contrast with his typical (at least apparent) humility, and his kind of wishy-washy dialogue from early game - Joker has always been firm about this.

The official forming of the Phantom Thieves at the buffet is a scene that really caught my eye for this. Again, much as Joker has the same level of anger as his friends, his answers are still largely "probably"s and "maybe"s. He "hadn't even considered" continuing to act as Phantom Thieves. But interestingly, there is one dialogue option that is stated with none of the usual hesitancy or vagueness - "I want to help people". <- It's the crux of his awakening. This is Joker's true conviction. And he's willing to do anything, be whoever he needs to be, to see this through. He wants to help. He can't bring himself to look away.

Asserting the Phantom Thieves' brand of justice is a conviction that arises later on through proof of the effectiveness of changing hearts, and as a natural extension of his growing familiarity and confidence in their methods. Joker nearly always needs a little push to get started, but once he gets going, he's kind of relentless. He doesn't seem to be truly all that angry with either Makoto or Akechi for their questioning of the thieves' justice (barring his initial reaction), but he does, again, get annoyed at the assumption that the thieves are somehow a threat to people who aren't inflicting harm onto others - Joker says the thieves only target "criminals", implying that even though others may see them as criminals themselves, Joker does not agree. And when Makoto winds up joining them, there appears to be no residual hard feelings from him - she's like them, and she's come around.

It's likely too soon for me to state with any certainty, but I do think that's what Joker is hoping for - that people will come around if he gives them undeniable proof that they help instead of harm. Every character has at least some "selfish" motive to being a Phantom Thief, in addition to the shared goal of providing courage for those left abandoned by society. Ryuji wants positive instead of negative attention for once, Morgana wants his memories, Ann wants to alleviate her feelings of guilt surrounding Shiho, Yusuke aims to understand the human heart, and Makoto wants to feel useful and needed. What about Joker?

He started off this story just trying to help. No one believed him. He was punished for "hurting" someone and there was nothing he could say or do that would convince anyone otherwise. It was his word against society's. And when the Phantom Thieves' motives are brought up, it's the same questions: aren't they going to hurt people? Aren't they dangerous and untrustworthy? And this frustrates Joker in a similar way to the rumours surrounding his own arrest, but now - now he has proof. Proof that they helped, proof that this works. It's undeniable, to him, that real good is coming of this. And so now he has a leg to stand on; he can actually argue his point by saying "the Phantom Thieves aren't like that; look at the people they're helping, and how the people who should've done something can't do half the good they do". It's no longer his word against the rest of the world. He's counting on people being unable to deny what they are forced to witness.

In a way, Joker now has grounds not just to plead the Phantom Thieves' justice... but also his own innocence and good intentions. His defense of their justice is also, I believe, a defense of his own ego, to an extent.

[cosmos-coma]

I've a little Valentine's Day request if you don't mind. Reader is a mage and Eskel's lover. She decides to make a surprise for him on this special day.

Saccharine

A/N: okay, I know you said "little", I know. But I'm finding out that I cant control myself with requests lol. But I may actually have to use this mage character now, I really love the concept.

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Words: 1.2k

Warning: real quick editing, just tooth-rotting fluff! (Oh, also no pronouns as usual)

________________________________

You had been up all night working tirelessly about the kitchen of Kaer Morhen. The entire keep lay in deep and silent sleep as the holiday of love and romance loomed with the next sunrise. You had really wanted to make it a holiday you’d both remember, and so you were pulling out all your magic and talents for it.

You had a very peculiar talent among your fellow mages, one that hadn’t been seen in a truly long time. Those that didn’t understand called your talents worthless and a waste of chaos. Those that did understand tripped over themselves to stay in your good graces. 

See you had the ability to use memories in your magic. Good or bad, yours or other people’s, you could see memories people had long forgotten if you concentrated hard enough or could choose to share them as well, though that one really wore you down to use. 

It was morning when Eskel found you, face down on the counter as you sat on your stool. Your forehead laid against a big roll of dough and your light snores puffed up bits of flour as you breathed out. 

“Darling…. Y/n, come on. Wake up…” Eskel encouraged as he gently jostled your shoulder. 

“Hmm… No, I need to proof for 5 more minutes… Let me rise..” You mumbled out, still asleep as you swatted at his hand. 

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” He laughed out and went over to the sink, fiddling around in the sink for a moment before tossing a soaking washcloth on your head. 

“AHH, I’M UP!! IM AWAKE!!” You shouted, half the dough sticking to your forehead and your hair. Eskel held back raucous laughter as he saw that, paired with flour that covered your entire face, 

“You look… ravishing. Ravishing and radiant was what I was gonna say…” Eskel laughed as he grabbed the washcloth from your head and began wiping your face off, really scrubbing to get the dough. “I went to go make you breakfast in bed for today, but it turns out you never even made it to bed.” 

“Ugh, ow. Too hard, scrubbing too hard…” you complained as you pulled your head away, “I got a little consumed last night, I guess…” you threw the leftover dough away, and cleaned up your station. “You know you can still make me breakfast… but let’s meet in the library, okay? It’s just more open than the room is.” 

Eskel knew better than to argue when you obviously had something planned, so he just nodded and kissed your head, “Of course, dear. I’ll be right there.” He assured and began pulling together everything he needed for a nice breakfast you would love. 

Your feet carried you quickly, gathering many of your bags and boxes from the kitchen as you brought everything up to the library in anticipation of your beloved’s arrival. 

“Y/n? My magnificent and flour-ridden- mage?” Eskel called as he nudged open the Library door, committing the greatest balancing act of all time as he carries various plates and bowls on a large tray. As he walked in deeper, candles flickered about on the large wooden table. Everything was set up in front of the largest windows in the entire keep, and the bookshelves surrounded your little nook, giving you privacy and quiet. There you sat on the little couch, a warm blanket around you, several opaque bags at your feet, no doubt holding your gifts for him. Fat and lazy snowflakes sauntered downwards behind you and made for the perfect scene.

“There you are,” An easy smile crossed his lips as he saw you and set the tray of dishes down. “Here is our full spread for breakfast… and lunch probably. I got a bit carried away making everything.” a chuckle came from him as he moved to slide in next to you. 

You grinned and kissed his cheek as he came in beside you, “you mind if I give you my presents right away? I just can't hold in the excitement any longer..” 

He laughed, “go ahead, let’s see them..” 

You grinned and handed him a small box. “I’m letting you know now. That I love you so much, but this is your valentines day, Birthday, Yule, hallows eve- Every holiday present for this year… I know I won't be able to top it anytime soon.” 

Eskel nodded, curious excitement filling him as he opened it up to see…. A box of donuts? An unusual blue glaze topped these small fried cakes as well as little purple decorations. He took one out and took a small bite, a sweet and cool taste washing over his tongue as a memory sprang forth.

It was a memory of you and him, early on in your relationship as you two were running and laughing as you tripped over yourselves trying to escape the downpour outside. It was a fleeting memory as he swallowed down his bite. The cool pattering of rain on his skin and the ringing of your laughter in his ears waned into silence once more.

You grinned as you watched him relive one of your favorite memories of you two, something so simple and mundane, but for some reason, it always stuck out in your mind. “You’re one of the few who refuses to ask me to use my magic, you who sometimes needs it the most,” you explained with a soft and loving tone. “So each donut is a memory of ours… each one is two memories… The longer you chew it the longer it lasts, but it still has to go away eventually.” You picked up the bags that lay at your feet, each only about the size of a coin pouch. 

“Each of these holds hard candies, so they’ll keep well on the path. But each color is a memory of you and another person. Vesemir’s memories of you are green, Lambert’s are orange, and Geralt’s are yellow.” You smiled as you explained, “some of them might be a little sad, but each is still a happy memory…”

Eskel’s eyes pricked with tears that couldn’t flow as he looked through each of the bags. There were at least 10 or 15 in each sack and he knew he could easily get this to last him for years to come. Silence wafted through the air as Eskel’s words got caught in his throat. 

You smiled and pressed a sweet kiss against his cheek, “I know, you don’t need to say anything. I know the path gets hard and that people can say some nasty things about Witchers and scars alike. I’ve seen the way it hurts you, Esk… So I just wanted a way for you to remember how much we love you.” you hugged him close, laughing a bit at the way he quietly buried his face in your neck. 

“I love you so much…. My saccharine sweetheart…” He laughed a bit to himself as he pulled back, piling the treats together off to the side so he could pull you into his lap to be even closer.

“Your sweets are lovely, but your love is so much sweeter.”

______________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @madamemelancholysstuff @dark-academia-slut

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[aminiatureworld]

Insecurity II

Characters: Xiao, gn!reader

Premise: It is hard not to take the hurtful words of others to heart, even when they are strangers.

In which the reader becomes insecure about their behavior and habits.

Word Count: 2,541

Warnings: Degradation of reader (not by partner).

Author’s Note: Finally finishing this request! Agh I had such a good time with Xiao’s. It was difficult, but I think the end was really emotionally fulfilling. At least, I hope it comes out that way lol! 

Anyways sorry for the on-and-off, my weekends being blocked out has been doing a number on my writing schedule. I hope to finish up the requests asap and open them up again. And I hope that you continue to enjoy what I write!

Xiao

You didn’t understand why you felt the need to sometimes listen to the pilgrims that passed through Jueyun Karst . Perhaps it was accident, perhaps it was nosiness. Perhaps it was the knowledge that, ultimately, the adepti cared little for the prayers of humans, and would be unlikely to listen to the influx of praise and wishes. It wasn’t perhaps the most honest thing you ever did. Maybe then that was why you ended up hearing what was never meant for your own ears.

The two old ladies’ faces were filled with awed serenity as they wandered through the mountain passes, as if unaware of the dangers that surrounded them in the land of the gods. Passing by stone tablets and ruins, they never failed to offer a word or a prayer. It was touching to watch them go, even if you struggled to covertly get rid of all the slimes and treasure hoarders that otherwise would cross with them, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of shared experience, a little moment that only the three of you shared.

“It’s so beautiful here, we ought to go more often.”

“Ah, but you know what they say, monsters everywhere. Besides, I can only cook so many dishes so often,” the lady jostled the basket she was carrying slightly. “All these years and you still rely on me too cook everything.”

“All these years and you don’t let me step foot in your precious kitchen,” the other woman replied teasingly. “Don’t you dare come in with dirty slippers! My slippers have never once stepped outside! And yet you complain about them being dirty.”

“It’s because you never wipe them down!”

Talk between the pair floated jovially back and forth, from discussions on the scenery to the birds, to the children in Liyue who might want to visit. It was easy to get lulled in by their conversation between whopperflower kills, and you found yourself hoping that the adepti might here even a sliver of it, the beauty of ordinary conversation.

“Ah! Do you know what I heard yesterday from that innkeeper?”

“Verr Goldet? What? She never likes revealing information to me. I think even Yanxiao is a more open mouth than her, and he barely speaks of anything except food.”

“Well he is a chef dear, you can’t expect much else; but Goldet did tell me something interesting as I was passing by to see if Yanxiao had any ingredients I needed, you know how it is sometimes when the ships come in late. One day I thought I might not even have enough flour! I really need to send a petition to the Qixing about this!

“Anyways what was I saying? Ah yes, I was walking towards the kitchen when I heard some giggling up on the roof. Now you know I was completely caught off guard, as they say Alatus is the only one who goes on the roof, and even then I suppose he spends most of his time in the mountains. I must have looked even more surprised then than you look now, for Goldet smiled at me and said: ‘Is everything alright?’

‘Well yes,’ I said, ‘only I am just wondering who is on the roof?’

‘Xiao’s partner is here’ is what Goldet said. And imagine! I was so surprised I turned right around for home without even glancing at Yanxiao! To imagine an innkeeper using Alatus’ name so freely! Then to imagine that Alatus has a partner! So I go home and I ask around, you know how our neighbor has a very open ear for these things, even if I never can remember her name. Anyways, she told me that not only is the fact that Alatus has a partner very old news, but, even worse, they’re a human!”

“That cannot be right!”

“It must be! Though I know, I was completely surprised too. It doesn’t seem proper after all, for a human to be involved with an adeptus.”

“It does seem disrespectful.”

“More than disrespectful! What does this person want to become, a god? They must be greedy to be so bold.”

“You may be right…”

“Honestly, I don’t know what Alatus would ever do such a thing, but even so, it’s his partner’s job to realize their place.”

The other woman might have said something in reply, but by then the shock had finally been overcome by shame and anger, and you had run off towards Mt. Aozang, monsters be damned. You knew it was a reckless thing to do, to leave some old women at the mercy of the Liyue land, could only hope that an adventurer might be passing by or otherwise able to help them. It was selfish, yes, but you could not think of anything in that moment besides the blood rushing through your ears, the tears that were fast welling up at the corner of your eyes.

Watching as the fish swam lazily in the pool outside Cloud Retainer’s domain you tried to make sense of the emotions jostling within you beyond the wall of hurt and shame that was clouding your mind. However any time you tried to explore what the two women had sense, convince yourself of the fact that you simply were not the evil person that they said you were, you came up empty handed. There was only the layer of hurt surrounding you.

Eventually the water became effused with golden light, as the sun followed its trajectory down below the horizon, the moon taking its place in the heaven’s. You knew that you had to go soon, that it was time to go meet Xiao as you usually would. Yet no matter how much you tried to convince yourself to get up your legs remained firmly fixed to the ground, your eyes following the patterns of the ripples across the water. You did not want to go see Xiao, you did not want to go anywhere really. Nothing at the moment seemed more enticing than retreating to an abode the way the adepti did, barring your door towards anyone who would enter, locking yourself away from the outside.

How could you face your partner? Now that the idea had been placed into your mind you couldn’t help but feel dirty, as if you had unknowingly committed some great wrong. You loved Xiao, how could there be anything wrong with that? Yet if two old women thought so low of you, who knew how many else did. Perhaps you were just being humored, humored by adepti and humans who turned around and shook their heads at your behavior. Perhaps Xiao even found you too familiar at times.

By the time you managed to convince yourself to stand up and go anywhere the sun had long ago disappeared. You weren’t quite sure how you made your way home, by some luck or vigilant being you managed to avoid any monsters or hoarders. The moment you reached your apartment you flopped onto the couch, not bothering to make it to your bedroom before falling into a deep, mercifully peaceful sleep.

The next day was spent in a haze, the day after that much the same. Every effort to shake yourself from your reverie was met with a wave of dejection and anxiety, and soon enough you stopped even trying to fight the insecurities that had come roiling up from within the dark recesses of your mind. Seeing Xiao was so much of an impossibility that you didn’t even bother thinking about it. You were too stuck in your own head after all.

Before you knew it two weeks had passed, and you had done little except wake up, go to work, come home, and sleep. You knew that if you kept going like this your fears would only get worse, but at this point, well, who cared? Certainly you couldn’t bring yourself too. After all, didn’t everyone think you were a grasper who had gone far above their station? What did it matter if you became a hermit? At least everyone would likely forget about you.

You jolted awake, your brain registering the noise in a sleep filled haze before your reflexes sprung into place. For a moment you peered at the figure in the doorframe, the light from the hallway at odds with the darkness of your bedroom. You had no sense of time, or space. Yet someone was here, and though you weren’t quite sure of your surroundings yet, you knew that this person was not supposed to be there.

“Who…” you trailed off as your brain finally roused itself from your slumber, and everything crashed back into you. “Xiao?”

Xiao’s expression, which was slowly becoming easier to read, was that of a deep scowl. “Who else would it be?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know, I was just, why, why are you here?” You replied, voice creaky from sleep.

“Why do you think?” Xiao’s tone was curt, full of frustration, though from what you couldn’t seem to grasp. “I should be asking why you’re here. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been nowhere.”

“Then why have I not seen you for two weeks. Is there something I did?”

“No!”

“Then why are you avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

Xiao didn’t bother to reply to your protest, merely raising an eyebrow as his scowl deepened. You realized then how ridiculous such a protest must have sounded to him. After all, you saw him nearly every day when you weren’t off adventuring, unless Xiao was struggling more than usual with his duties. You knew that this would require some sort of explanation, even if your mind balked at such a thing.

As if sensing your reticence Xiao slowly walked over to the bed, slowly enough, you realized, that it might give you time to ask him to stop. The idea was somewhat heartbreaking, as you began to imagine what Xiao might have been feeling these past two weeks. For, as much as you doubted what everyone else thought about you, you never doubted the love that Xiao might hold for you. It was your guiding star, and you could not let go of it.

Slowly Xiao situated himself on your bed, taking little time to settle before reverting to his unnatural stillness, as he became so statuesque that it seemed as though he was barely breathing. His hand was stretched out a little ways away from him, and you took the invitation to intertwine your fingers in his, grateful for the small bit of contact. For a moment the emotions of missing Xiao rose up inside you, overwhelming you, and you couldn’t find the breath to speak. However soon enough the urgency to explain overrode the need for physical contact, and you slowly began to explain.

Xiao said nothing as you recounted what had happened in the mountains of Jueyun Karst, his expression as stony and unreadable as ever, though you could pick out the occasional twitch in his brow that conveyed his displeasure. The gestures warmed you, even if you thought that you were not worth it. After all, no one else seemed to think so.

“Anyways, that’s what happened,” you finally finished, letting out a small sigh. Letting your gaze flick up to Xiao’s eyes you moved to say sorry, however your words died on your lips as your mouth began trembling a bit. What could you say that wouldn’t change what was gnawing away at you.

Xiao sat in his characteristic silence, only the sudden pressure on your hand now enveloped in his letting his emotions slip through. Eventually, however, he seemed to find some manner of words.

“How could you believe those fools?” The words were harsh, yet felt as if they weren’t pointed towards you, as if instead he was battling an invisible enemy, one fixed between the palm of your hands. “Do you really think so low of yourself?”

“Well, I, I don’t know. I don’t think so. But then I just remember what they said and ah,,,” you fell silent once more. “I don’t know if I could stand knowing that there are people who think that I don’t love you. Or, worse, that even if I do our love is doomed. Because I hear it and I think, what if they’re right? What if… what if I have somehow cursed you, have uprooted divine order. What if I must meet divine punishment, what if something happens to you? What, I, I don’t know!”

The sob that had so long buried itself deep within the recesses of your emotions finally surfaced, as you began to heave and shudder. Immediately Xiao opened his arms, clinging to you as you dove into his embrace and sobbed wetly into his shoulder. You felt somewhat ashamed by the scene you were making, for surely you were being too dramatic. Still the tears continued to flow, and still Xiao continued to hold you.

When you at last began to calm down, though your breath still hitched haphazardly, Xiao began to speak one more, his low, gruff tones making you want to lean against him and be lulled to sleep.

“As if you could be any more cursed than I’ve already been. I’m not a pure being that needs to be protected from corruption. If there’s anyone who should worry about upsetting the way of things it should be me for putting you in danger.”

“You know how I feel about that,” you murmured into his sleeve.

“I do.” You could almost hear the smile in Xiao’s voice. “I feel the same way about you.”

“But…” your voice died in your throat. Sighing, you buried you inhaled slightly, Xiao’s smell suffusing your senses, blocking out the voices warring inside you.

“I feel the same way about you. You were the one who helped me stop seeing myself as a monster, I won’t let you feel like you’re crossing a divine boundary. Anyone who says that is wrong. I won’t let them corrupt your thinking.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, unsure of what else you might say.

Something in your tone must’ve reassured your lover, for Xiao let out a soft sigh before relaxing his embrace slightly. You relaxed too, your breathing evening out to matching your partner’s.

Eventually the two of you must’ve fallen asleep for when you woke sunlight filtered softly through the curtains. Your gaze focused on Xiao, who was staring at you with an intensity that might be intimidating if you didn’t know it so well.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

“Good morning,” you replied, suppressing a yawn.

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Don’t do that again, please.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Xiao wrapped an arm around the small of your back, gathering you into his embrace before nestling his head against your shoulder. It was so very rare that the adeptus slept in, indeed if he slept at all. The thought filled you with warmth, as you fought your fatigue to watch him slowly drift off to sleep. Eventually however the urge was to strong as you drifted off to join your lover in sleep. The last coherent thought you had was how much you loved him.

[kiidwritings]

"lovesick drunk"

characters: Hitoshi Shinsou (Monoma and Mina mentioned)

pairing(s): Hitoshi Shinsou x fem!reader

genre: fluff hehe and mutual pinning

word count: 4.2k (4249 words specifically)

warnings + tags: drinking/alcohol usage (everyone is 18+ don’t worry), vomiting + descriptions of vomit, afab/fem!reader, no quirks AU, university AU (if i missed any let me know!!)

note: I don’t remember when I put this idea in my notes app, but it was probably really early in the morning when I thought of this lol. I’m actually taking a break from a longer Haikyuu fic I’m writing (even though this turned out pretty long lmao). Also, songs I imagine would play at the party are Strobelite by Gorillaz and maybe One Kiss by Dua Lipa hehe.

The bass was enough to shake your insides. Pop music poured out the giant, black speakers that were placed in the corners of the house’s first floor. People moving and dancing all about the already crowded living room. Vibrant-colored strobe lights flashed and swerved around the room, illuminating whatever it shone over in a colorful overlay, but only for a moment. Everyone was having a good time; drinking, chatting and dancing without a care in the world.

Except for Shinsou.

He stood pushed up against one corner of the living room like his back was a magnet against metal. In his hands, he held his cup with little to no punch close to his chest. Truly, he didn’t want to be here. His “friend” (if you could even call him that), Monoma, had forced him to come because “You’re not even going to be doing anything this weekend, Shinsou. Plus, I heard (Y/n) is going to be there, apparently, you’ve got the hots for her, don’t you?”

Shinsou grimaced and blushed at the recollection and hunched himself inwards more. The strobe light crossed over his way and he closed his eyes, seeing the bright light through his eyelids before it went dark again. Shinsou wasn’t exactly the social type. He spent most of his time either studying, sleeping, or reading. He felt most comfortable when it was just himself or his close friends (which there weren’t many of since only a select few had managed to squeeze through the secure walls of Shinsou’s boundaries).

When they first arrived, they were swarmed by Monoma’s friends, some he knew but most of them were new faces. Shinsou greeted them with small quick smiles and slight nods but mostly stood behind Monoma and let him do the talking. He blended right into the already dark rooms with his dark purple hoodie and loose black woolen jeans. The only noticeable thing about him would’ve been his piercing lavender eyes, or his matching unruly hair, or maybe the fact that he seemed to be the only one who wasn’t having fun. There were maybe about 15 to 20 people already at the house, the party only started 10 minutes ago.

Shinsou followed Monoma around like a lost puppy, occasionally sipping on his punch and adding a nod or murmur or even a small chuckle whenever needed. When his cup started to run low, he muttered, “Gonna go refill my cup.” but no one answered. He didn’t mind. At the punch table, he contemplated going back over to the group. He spotted an empty corner next to one of the speakers and jostled his way through the crowd of party-goers over to it, muttering quiet ‘excuse me’s. That’s how he found himself in his current situation; alone, irritated and a little sleepy. He had had about a cup and a half of punch, so he was nowhere near tipsy.

By that time, there had to be about over 80 people there and more filing through the doors. A majority of UA’s college second years were coming to this party, and Shinsou desperately didn’t want to stick around to see the aftermath of it. But then again, he really didn’t want to get a mouthful from Monoma for leaving early and never having any fun and living like a nerd to which Shinsou always rolled his eyes.

He checked his watch, ‘10:35 PM’ it read. Who knew how long his party was going to go on, it was Friday so people had time to drink and smoke and do whatever. Shinsou let out a deep exhale and stared down into his cup, twisting it sideways to see the red liquid inside rotate and slosh around. He was so absorbed in his cup that he didn’t even realize the figure bouncing towards him.

“‘TOSHII!!!” you squealed, throwing your body onto him in a sloppy and tight hug.

Shinsou barely had any time to move his cup out of the way before your body was flush against him. His hard lavender eyes widened as you nuzzled your head into his soft chest. He swallowed hard as you soon stood up fully, body swinging and hands still latched into his forearms.

You were clad in a velvet red dress that swished as you bounced around and a nice pair of black shoes that had a small heel to them, (h/c) hair had been done up nicely, a little disheveled from your partying. Your eyes were wide and they blinked frequently, your eyelashes fluttering along with them. You reeked of perfume and alcohol, yet he didn’t mind because it was you.

Shinsou cleared his throat before sputtering out, “O-oh, Hey (Y/n).” The back of his neck, ear tips, and cheeks sprouted the familiar warmth of blush. You smiled drunkenly at him and a small giggle escaped your plush lips.

“I wasn’t exceptin’ to see yooouu here! What ya’ doin’ all by ya’ lonesome?” You slurred, putting a pout on your last sentence. ‘Ugh, so cute.’ His hand moved to the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his, and sighed. “Monoma dragged me along, heh.” His mouth formed into a true smirk and you felt your heart clench. “I’m guessing you came with Mina, is she as drunk as you?” He asked, practically already knowing the answer since she the always the life of the party.

“Mhmm,” You nodded and hiccuped with one hand still on Shinsou’s arm to keep your balance, turning to the massive crowd. “She’s over there with the boys!” You pointed your finger out randomly, clearly not having any sense of direction with the amount of alcohol in your system. Shinsou just hummed, enjoying your presence and your touch, even if you were drunk out of your mind.

You and Shinsou had been friends since the beginning of college. You first encountered each other when you were moving into your dorm room. You insisted to your parents that you could move in by yourself, and so you were trudging your luggage up to the 2nd floor and down the halls from your car. You were carrying a particularly heavy box up the stairs, struggling to hold it and navigate upwards when you felt your foot strike part of the last step, and before you knew it, you were falling to the floor in slow motion. Your arms flew to cover your face so you didn’t bust your nose, and you and your box hit the floor with a THUD!, its contents spilling out. As you recovered from the wind being knocked out of your body, you heard a pair of rushed footsteps coming towards you.

“Gah, are you ok!? That was quite a fall.” You pushed your upper body up and saw a pale-skinned boy crouching down in front of you, a concerned yet sleepy-looking face. His lavender eyes were shimmery and mesmerizing, the dark circles only adding to his beauty. You snapped out of your trace, bringing yourself back to the situation at hand.

“Oh yeah! I’m fine, just tripped on the step.” You laughed off your little accident even though your temple had started to ache. The purple-haired boy hummed in affirmation before speaking again, “Well do you at least want some help with your stuff?” He spoke in a raspy monotone voice. It was hot.

“Oh yes, please!” You two began picking up various items that fell out and placing them back in the box. Once everything was packed up, you stood up carefully. “Thanks again umm..” He looked at you with sleepy eyes, “It’s Shinsou. Hitoshi Shinsou.” ‘Even his name is hot, suits him well.’ you thought, blushing a little. “Well thank you Shinsou. I’m (Y/n). I’m guessing you live on this floor?” Shinsou looked up from brushing off the knees of his pants, eyes half-lidded and lazy, and let out a small ‘huh?’ from being caught off guard. “Oh yeah, I’m dorm 224.” You smiled, “Hey we’re practically neighbors! I’m 218!” Shinsou hummed again, a small smirk on his face. An awkward silence fell over you two before you cleared your throat. “Well, I’ll be on my way now. Thanks again! Maybe we’ll see each other around campus.” You both nodded at each other before you made your way to your dorm room. Shinsou stared at your departing figure for a little before going back to what he was doing.

On the first day of classes, you walk into the lecture hall, head still fogged with sleep and a coffee in hand. As you scan the rows of seats for a covenant spot, your eye catches a familiar shade of purple.

“Shinsou!” You call, not too loud since it was barely eight (8) in the morning. He turned from his backpack, where he was taking out some supplies.

“Oh hey (Y/n).” You plopped yourself into the desk adjacent to him and giggled.

“What a coincidence, we have the same morning class!” You flashed him a friendly smile which he returned with that same handsome smirk.

Before departing to your next classes, you and Shinsou exchanged numbers. This exchange is what kicked off the beginning of your newfound friendship. You two went from brief texts about each other's day to in-depth conversations at three (3) AM when the other couldn’t sleep. You guys would hang out for study sessions and with your other mutual friends, which led to them witnessing what could only be explained as you and Shinsou’s poor attempts at flirting and obviousness.

You would say something teasingly and fail to notice the blush from in Shinsou’s cheeks or how he looked away bashfully at any compliments you threw his way. He also seemed to be completely clueless about how his laugh would cause your thighs to clench or how your face would burn whenever he wiped food from your cheeks, but not without calling you messy.

When the party was first announced, Mina had come to you, excitement in her eyes and body movement.

“(Y/nnn)!” You looked behind you to see Mina jogging towards you, cotton candy pink curls bouncing and a smile spread on her face. “Did ya’ hear, girl? There’s gonna be a huge party next Friday at the East Gamma house! Did you not see the invite I sent you?” You blinked, pulling out your phone and seeing an Instagram notification of a DM from Mina. You open it to see a post from a member of the ‘Unofficial’ Student council page. It was a brightly colored flyer with equally bright big bold text;

UA college sophomores are invited to:

UA's STUDENT COUNCIL EARLY SPRING PARTY!!

When: Friday, April 9th, 8:00 PM to 3:00 AM

Where: The East Gamma house

*Food and drinks will be provided! Please drink responsibly!

There were multiple people tagged in the photo who you only guessed were other Student Council members, some names you recognized but not knowing the person themself it belonged to. You pocketed your phone and looked back up at Mina.

“A party before finals season?” You questioned, quirking an eyebrow at your grinning friend. Mina put her hands on her hips and started walking, you following after. “I know you’ll be pulling all-nighters and studying your pretty head off, so why not unwind before finals?” You thought about it for a moment, taking in what Mina said and what would be logical. Mina took the silence as a sign of your skepticality. “Oh c’mon (Y/n)! Your grades are perfect, you have nothing to worry about! Plus,” She twisted her torso, turned to you, and winked her honey golden eye, “I heard your little loverboy Shinsou is gonna be there!”

Your entire face flushed hot with blush and your eyes widened. You gaped your mouth open and closed like a fish out of water, wanting to speak and prove Mina wrong, but no words came out.

It was true.

You had a crush on Hitoshi Shinou, the mysterious purple-haired boy who helped you when you tripped on the stairs like a klutz.

You fell hard for his dark eye bags and pretty face, his adoration for cats and his taste in music, his raspy laugh, and his down-to-earth personality. How could you not like him?

Mina giggled at your embarrassment and flushed face. “Oh, there’s no need to be embarrassed! You two would be so adorable together! Plus I’m certain he's got a crush on you too!” She looped her arm with yours, pulling you closer to her side. You looked at her, face full of embarrassment and a small pout. “Was it...that obvious?” You whined, hoping that if others hadn't noticed (besides Mina), then maybe Shinsou wouldn't have noticed either-

“Nope! We've all noticed! You know you're not very subtle.” You buried your face into Mina’s shoulder, groans muffled as she laughed. Mina turned her body to face and engulfed you in a hug, drowning your senses in the fruity perfume she was wearing. “Poor, poor (Y/n).” She cooed, resting her chin on your shoulder and yours on hers. “The party will be the perfect place to confess! Just don’t get too drunk, silly girl.” You didn’t respond to her, just digging your face deeper into her wool sweater.

In the weeks leading up to the party, you tried to think of a way to express your feelings. In movies, whenever the two love interests confess, they usually end up kissing and everyone cheering for their newfound love. ‘But this is real life (Y/n), not some stupid rom-com!’ You reminded yourself, patting your cheeks as you sat at your desk. You sat back in your chair, gears in your head turning as you gnawed on the end of your mechanical pencil. You contemplated the idea for so long, and before you knew it, Mina was picking you up from your dorm and you two were heading towards the East Gamma house.

And that’s how you ended up here: drunk out of your mind and clinging to Shinsou’s surprisingly firm arm like he was your lifeline. You were stumbling and tripping over your feet, Shinsou having to keep you steady so you wouldn’t fall.

“‘Toooshhiii.” You hiccupped, collapsing on him and digging your head into the crook of his neck, nuzzling and inhaling his scent. Shinsou stiffened. His heartbeat quickened and he could practically feel it against his ribcage. His entire face erupted in a deep blush and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. His arms were stuck to his sides, his plastic cup now forgotten somewhere on the floor. Your body swayed offbeat to the pop song blasting throughout the house and he felt your breath on his neck, hairs on the back of his perking up, and goosebumps covering his arms.

“Uh...yeah (Y/n)?” He gulped, letting his body go limp and sway with yours. His voice still had its same pitch, but his tone was flustered. Shinsou couldn’t believe that you were so close to him, bodies practically glued together.

Suddenly, you shot up and your face was inches away from his. Your features were blurred with how close you were, but he could see the smile stretched across your lips. You blinked your (e/c) eyes at him and exclaimed, “Come dance with me ‘Toshi! You’re *hic* over here bein’ a wallflower, let loose a lil’!”

Before he could protest, you had somehow regained all your strength and were dragging him out to the middle of the room, where lots of sweaty bodies were moving and grooving about. You pushed by people carelessly while Shinsou muttered rushed apologies to them. He felt the warmth of your hand leave and he watched you spin around, dress and hair swishing along with you.

You looked stunning even if you were piss drunk.

You grabbed his large hands again, lacing your fingers through his. A perfect fit. He looked down and saw the size difference, his hands clearly engulfing yours and the

“Dance with me loverboy!” You called to him, eyes virtually closed as you smiled big at him. Shinsou watched starstruck at your perfect form as a purple beam of the strobe light flashed over, illuminating your body in a purple hue. He felt his heart swell in his chest and his face bloom with blush.

God, he was so in love with you.

The two of you started swinging and moving, you had to get Shinsou’s body moving since he seemed to have two left feet. You two poorly and wildly danced, jumping around and moving with purpose, but never did your hands leave each other. Laughs and giggles escaped your chests as you two looked back into each other's eyes. Shinsou had a real smile on his face, not that smug smirk you’d grown accustomed to, but one where you could practically see his gums and his eyes were squinting. Your heart sped up and his contagious smile transferred to you.

The song pulsing throughout The Gamma House changed to one with a calmer melody. Your eyes met Shinsou’s purple ones. Although you were still drunk, your subconscious seemed to calm you down enough to steadily place your hands on Shinsou’s chest as he placed his on your waist softly. You lightly squeezed the thick, fuzzy material of his hoodie. It seemed you two were the only ones in the room, everything else became background noise as if you two were in a bubble.

“Shinsou…” You breathed, your body’s coming closer until the only thing separating you two was the fabric of you guy’s clothes. Your body swayed moderately, having gained some of your footing back. “(Y/n)...” He said back in almost a whisper, breath fanning out onto your face comfortably. Your stomach swirled and twisted just like your dancing before, butterflies swarming in your stomach, yet it didn’t feel like flusteredness. But you couldn't let your feelings go unseen, not tonight!

You hesitated before leaning in, puckering your lips slightly, they shined from your lipgloss in the party lights. Shinsou took in a deep, steady breath through his nose before leaning too. His eyes fluttered shut as your face closed in.

You felt a bang in your stomach, your eyes shooting open and a gag escaping your mouth. Shinsou’s eye opened too, his body shooting back but not enough in time for-

“BLERUGHH!!”

The room was silent. About 100 pairs of eyes were on you and Shinsou as the front of his hoodie and shoes was covered in vomit. There were gasps and ‘oooh’ and sounds of disgust breaking through the deafening silence. The uncomfortable warmth seeped through his hoodie and his shoes felt wet. You were now gripping onto his arms for leverage as your head hung, bile on your lips and chin and stinging the inside of your nose. Shinsou took in an uneasy breath, trying not to breathe in the smell of vomit. He took your hand in his before turning for the door and muttering, “Oh geez (Y/n) let’s go.” He could hear the party liven back up again as he stepped out onto the porch and down the stairs through the small groups of people who hung out outside.

When you two got far enough from the party and the music was faint in the distance, he stopped and let go of your hand. You finally looked up at Shinsou as he carefully yet hastily pulled off his hoodie, relieving his black cotton t-shirt, then taking it and wiping off the vomit on his now ruined converses. Your lip wobbled as you watched helplessly.

You felt horrible. Not only did you just puke your guts all over your crush/best friend, but you embarrassed him in front of the entire sophomore class! Oh, how was he going to even react to this?! You guessed he was saving all his anger until you two left. You wouldn't blame him if he wanted to cut all ties with you after this!

As Shinsou was holding his hoodie inside out, you began to sniffle, fat tears forming in your eyes threatening to spill.

“Shinsooouuu…” You whimpered, voice already breaking.

He turned and his face changed to one of shock. “W-what’s wrong (Y/n)?!” He said, dropping his hoodie and hurrying to you. You stood there, fists clenched and body trembling, tears running down your cheeks and head hung low. You felt his warm hands grasp onto your forearms, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the foreign contact. You pulled your balled fist up to your face, wiping away the tears that seemed to never stop as Shinsou had his body slightly crouched to your eye level, waiting for an answer to your sudden sadness.

“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong’?” You sniffed, eyes finally meeting his. “I just threw up all over your fucking hoodie!” You wailed, bringing your hands back to your face and turning away so he couldn’t see the mascara and makeup running down your face.

Shinsou blinked. Your entire mood just did a 360. One moment, you were lively and bubbly, dancing with Shinsou and having a good time. Then you were calm and about to kiss him. Next, you had just thrown up all over him and were mute. Now you were crying your pretty little eyes out.

“Hey hey,” He cooed, placing a hand on your back comfortingly. He moved towards you and pulled your body flush against his, your head now in his chest getting its fabric wet with salty tears. He rested his chin atop your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, rocking your body back and forth and hands running along your back. He waited until your sobs turned to sniffles and your breathing went steady.

“All better?” He asked as the rumble from his chest comforted you even more.

You let out a noise of confirmation before he let go of you, with a hand stray on the small of your back. He looked down at you, lips in a small pout and eyes puffy from crying. ‘Still so cute.’ He thought before bringing you back in for a hug. You hugged back, his warmth making you sleepy.

“Was that all you were crying over?” Shinsou questioned genuinely, a small smirk forming on his lips. You pulled back, body still close as his hand kept you in place, and looked up at him in bewilderment. He isn’t mad? “Wait...why aren’t you mad?” Your lashes fluttered as you blinked. Shinsou let out a chuckle before putting his hand on the back of his neck and averted his gaze to the stars above him. “You were drunk out of your mind, I should’ve expected it. Plus, you're too cute to be mad at.”

You kept your confused face before what he said sunk it and you flinched and felt blush light your face on fire, so hot that steam might’ve been spewing from your ears. You stood there, mouth agape as he laughed again, his laughter echoing off the surrounding campus buildings. “You’re even cuter when you're all embarrassed like this.” He teased, bringing the hand on his neck down and placing them both on your forearms, thumbs rubbing circles in your skin. You buried your face into your hands and mewled, “‘Toshiii, stop teasing me!” Shinsou let out another laugh, hands now in his pants pockets.

You two looked back at each other in sync. Your (e/c) eyes shimmer in the light of any street lamps and his violet eyes glowed like precious jewels.

“So…” You started, messing around with your fingers, “Does this mean you like me too?” Shinsou’s face went neutral before he smiled softly and brought a hand up to cup your face. “Wasn’t it obvious when I was gonna kiss you? Yes, (Y/n), I like you a lot.”

Your face broke out into a warm smile and heated blush, your heart began to beat like a drum and there were butterflies inside your tummy, their wings tickling your insides, this time not because of queasiness.

Your love trance was broken by a yawn, tears of tiredness pricking the corners of your eyes. “C’mon sleepy, let’s get you back to your dorm.” Shinsou said, bringing the hand on your face to your waist, leading along the path to your dorm building but not before picking up his hoodie that needed a desperate washing.

“Mhm’kay ‘Toshi.” You murmured, leaning your body against his, taking in the warmth he radiated, and walked alongside your new boyfriend. Even if you didn’t get your kiss from him tonight, you're sure there will be plenty more along the lines of your relationship.

Feel free to give criticism and feedback via ask, I’d love to know how to get better and to hear what y'all have to say about my writings!

Have a good day! :3c - alienkiid

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© all rights to this story are reserved to @kiidwritings! please do not plagiarize, modify, edit, or repost any of my work! I do not own the character(s) or the media that they come from. My Hero Academia belongs to Horikoshi Kohei.

[kuiinncedes]

just the keys to paradise

jatp au - prologue - part 1/15? - 1834 words

relationships: blaine & sam & tina & artie

okkkk we're doing it 🤪 idk how regularly i will update this (omg ongoing fic??? who is she) but i do have like technically a ~few~ chapters i guess done,,, and i am working on the next so . we're gonna try this lol

anyway if it wasn't clear this is an au based on the most amazing tv show ever with only 9 episodes pls watch or rewatch it on netflix the emmy-award winning julie and the phantoms !!! 🤪

that being said if you haven't watched it what are you doing jk i think you can still read this and hopefully it makes sense 😂 feel free to ask me if there's anything that doesn't make sense lol :)

also fyi in case it influences your decision to read: this will be more focused on platonic relationships for a while but will almost certainly have main endgames klaine, quinntina, and samcedes 😋

prologue title and lyrics in this part from "now or never" from the jatp soundtrack

plot and some dialogue from julie and the phantoms so like credit to all those creators and writers 🤪

warnings for this part: car accident, major character deaths (both of these are not actually in writing/"on screen" just implied at the end (especially within the context of this being a jatp au) and nothing really described -- if you want/need more details feel free to ask me)

read on ao3 or under the cut :D

--

1995

“Dudes, we fucking killed that !” Sam cheers when the smoke has cleared, going around and giving each of them something that could be called a high-five, just not to their hands. Tina laughs and cheers too as Sam excitedly taps her feet after she gets out from behind her kit, still elevated on the drum stage. Some of the workers applaud them from the audience space.

“Too bad we wasted that on the soundcheck,” Artie jokes, putting his guitar down and grabbing his water bottle. “That was the tightest we’ve ever played, yo!”

Tina grins and hops down from the drum platform. Sam slings an arm around her shoulders and she grabs his wrist. They’re both sweaty and too warm but she doesn’t mind having Sam’s heat pressed against her right side.

God, she thinks… that really was something else, even though it was just the soundcheck. She looks around at her bandmates’ faces -- shiny with sweat, red with exhilaration and exertion, bright with elation, eyes wide with excitement and --

Wow. They’re playing the Orpheum.

Blaine pats Artie on the back, jostling him enough to spill the water he’s trying to drink down the front of his shirt, but Artie just laughs -- he’s soaked with sweat anyway. They have spare clothes backstage just for this reason.

“Just wait until tonight, guys, when this place is packed with record execs,” Blaine says, looking out wonderingly into the empty (for now) audience. His grin widens almost imperceptibly, which is impressive considering how huge it already is.

“We’re gonna be legends!” the other three of them chorus, before Blaine can, and they laugh when he turns to them, affronted. “That’s my line!”

“It’s what you get for saying it ten times a day for the last month!” Tina teases. Blaine pushes her shoulder playfully, putting his hand within reach for Sam to grab. It’s a strange position considering Sam’s arm is still around Tina’s shoulders, but Tina adds her hand to their hold as Sam beckons Artie over from his side of the stage, barking out his name with joking anger.

Artie puts his water down and walks over to complete the group, placing his hand on top of Tina’s. “Tina, you were smokin’,” he says.

She rolls her eyes a little and grins back. “Pretty sure you’re just talking about the pyro. You guys were the ones on fire,” she says, pointing her drumsticks around at them.

“T, can you just own your awesomeness for once?” Blaine exclaims.

“Queen T!” Sam calls, pulling her closer into his side. She stumbles into him, laughing as the guys all start cheering it after Sam.

“Okay, okay! Thanks, guys, I got it!” she squeals, trying to get them to quiet down although -- they are in the Orpheum, where they’re playing later, it’s not like they have to be quiet -- while Sam leans his weight on her, causing them to stagger into the drum riser. Tina catches herself on it and Sam finally detaches from her and they’re still being loud and raucous and probably somewhat annoying to the staff, but she’s just laughing too hard to care.

“We’ve got an hour ‘til the show; I say we go celebrate before we become legends!” Blaine proclaims, jumping off the stage. The other three follow.

Tina starts, “Celebrate our last night of being -- ”

“Losers?” Artie interjects.

They’ve caught the attention of one of the Orpheum workers -- a woman with brown hair who’s wiping down the tables, smiling at them as Tina catches her eye. “There’s some nice restaurants around here,” she says with a wink. “You guys really killed it, by the way. But it seems like you know that.”

Blaine laughs, a little sheepishly. “Thanks. Uh, I’m Blaine,” he says. “This is -- ”

“Sam, hi!”

“Tina, how’s it going -- ”

“Artie, hey.”

Tina raises her eyebrows and stifles a laugh at Artie as he leans his sweaty arms onto the table that the woman just cleaned.

“We’re Sunset Curve!” Blaine says to complete their introduction.

“Tell your friends!” Sam calls, raising his voice and drawing the other workers’ attention to them. Tina elbows him lightly in the side.

“Nice to meet you,” the stranger says. “I’m Elle. So… what were you guys thinking for this -- what was it -- ‘celebration of your last night as losers’?”

“Well, we really can’t afford any nice places -- ” Sam starts.

“Oh, you know what? We should just go to Tip Top!” Blaine says, clapping his hands together. The others are quick to agree -- it’s the small, cheap diner where they spent the evening after their first “real” gig, and they’ve spent countless hours there since, annoying the staff and depleting their supply of plastic silverware. The employees there have learned to let them take what they legally can (and sometimes what they couldn’t), and the band is friendly with most of them. They haven’t been there in too long, having been working hard to get the Orpheum gig, and then writing and rehearsing like crazy once they got it.

Elle smiles as they excitedly and loudly recount stories of Tip Top to each other -- sentimental memories and the ridiculousness they got up to -- talking over each other and having multiple conversations at once.

“I guess you don’t need my recommendations?” she says lightly.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry, we’re good, thanks so much for offering,” Blaine answers, polite as ever.

“Have fun! Looking forward to seeing you guys perform again tonight.”

“Thank you!” the four of them exclaim as they make their way back to the exit. Tina yanks on the back of Artie’s shirt as he lingers at the table, a dumb look on his face that tells her he’s trying to flirt, or at least, his version of it.

“Tina!” Artie yelps and she laughs at the annoyed look on his face.

“You are not exempt from this last night of loser-dom celebration. You’re telling me you’d rather flirt with a girl than this?”

“Yes,” Artie grumbles. There’s no heat behind it, and Tina playfully pushes him sideways.

“Plus, we need you to drive.”

“You can drive!”

“Technically we all can drive!” Tina laughs at Artie’s horrified expression, probably at the prospect -- and memory -- of the one time Blaine drove them to a gig. “Just not your car!” she calls, jogging to catch up with Blaine and Sam, Artie running after her. “Your car is the fucking worst.”

“Don’t talk about her like that!”

“Blaine and Sam agree!”

That gets their attention and the two guys turn, Blaine asking, “What are we agreeing with?”

“I agree with Tina,” Sam says immediately. Tina nods gratefully at him.

“You don’t even know what we’re talking about!” Artie complains.

They’re at his beat-up car now and they pile in, Tina in the passenger seat laughing as Sam all but tackles Blaine into the backseat when he starts for the driver’s side, jostling her and Artie in the front. They continue shuffling around while Artie attempts to start the car, to many concerning -- but normal for his car -- noises.

“This thing is gonna go down and take us with it, Artie,” Tina mumbles teasingly, absentmindedly twirling a drumstick in her right hand. (She realizes too late that she probably should’ve left them at the Orpheum, but it’s not a big deal -- they’re not her favorite pair which are safe in their studio and she has extras backstage in case something happens to this pair while they’re out.)

The car finally starts with a rumble and Artie lets out a cheer. “We’re fine, T. Let’s go, y’all!”

“Floor it, Artie!” Sam calls from the back. The car accelerates comically slowly even as Artie presumably “floors it,” but they’re going somewhere.

After a few minutes, Tina finds herself unconsciously humming her solo in the bridge of “Now or Never,” only noticing when Sam interjects suddenly with his “Tomorrow!” leaning between the front seats and slightly startling her. She laughs and continues with the words, “‘Cause we got all we need today! ”

“Today!” Artie echoes, miming his guitar playing with one hand on the steering wheel.

“Living on a feeling that’s been running through our veins!” Blaine sings loudly, joining Sam in crowding into the front of the car.

“We’re the revolution that’s been singing in the rain!” It’s Sam’s line, but they all belt it at the top of their lungs together.

“That’s my line!” Sam exclaims at the same time that Blaine cheers, “My favorite line!” Tina continues to clap the beat for the next part of the song, Artie hitting the steering wheel in rhythm with her. Her face hurts from smiling.

“Artie, dude, where’d you go?” Blaine asks suddenly. Tina looks around at their slowly darkening surroundings that are completely unfamiliar. Slight panic rises in her stomach but she swallows it down; she’s with her boys, they’re safe, just a little lost.

Sam bursts out in uproarious laughter as Artie complains, “You guys distracted me!”

“Told you I should’ve driven!” Blaine says. He leans forward again and Sam follows. Tina stays quiet, pressing herself against the door a little to make room; her boys aren’t that much better but she’s always been completely hopeless with navigation and directions.

“You would’ve gotten even more distracted from singing and veered us right into a fucking building,” Artie grumbles, but he obeys as Blaine directs him to turn left and chooses to ignore his comment.

“Safe driving, am I right, dudes?” Sam cackles as he returns to the backseat, and Tina can’t help but laugh with him. “We’re gonna miss our gig, that’s how we’ll be legends!”

“‘Sunset Curve Skips Orpheum Showcase For No Reason’?” Tina suggests, turning around in her seat to face Sam.

He points at her. “Exactly. Or, 'Sunset Curve Skips Orpheum Showcase Because They Don't Know How To Drive.' The end of a promising career,” he jokes somberly. “No one would ever book them again.”

They fall silent and only the mutters of Blaine and Artie fill the car, along with the loud engine.

“Still haven’t figured it out yet?” Sam groans loudly, laying on his back across the backseats as Blaine is leaning awkwardly out of his seat to help Artie navigate.

“Not like you’re helping!” Artie says.

“That’s the street!” Blaine exclaims, pointing ahead. “The next intersection.”

“Give it up for Mr. Blaine Anderson, everyone,” Artie drawls, speeding up the car a little bit. “Perhaps not able to drive, but navigator extraordinaire.”

“You chose the wrong career path, dude,” Sam says, propping himself up on one elbow to clap Blaine’s shoulder. “Like, songwriting?”

Blaine looks down at him, raising an eyebrow. “Songwriting?” He gestures for Sam to continue.

Sam shrugs, sitting up finally. “Just, you know, songwriting, bro…" His gaze suddenly shifts and fixes at a point beyond Tina. "What th-- that car Artie!”

Tina snaps her gaze away from Sam just in time to see him yank Blaine down into his seat and the set of blinding headlights through the car windows in her periphery.

---

as a final note, i'm not sure if it can be seen this way but i'm not trying to erase artie's disability or anything and i believe i'm not doing that; as you might be able to guess, the car accident at the end of this is what paralyzes him, like in glee canon but just several years later (in his life not in actual time). please let me know if any aspect of this is disrespectful or anything <3

[bakubitch-minusultra]

Not Alone: Chapter One

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :3 anywho i hope you enjoy :)) The main love interest will be reader and bakugo i think edit: it is not going to be just bakugo it will be a love triangle k byebye for the second time oh also this is fem reader k bye lol

-> Word Count: 1.9k (I lowkey popped off)

-> Warnings: None rly just mentions of guns and blood

-> Tag list: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat

Chapter One

People would tell you that the world was made for two, but as Y/n sat in the silence of the old cellar two felt like a long lost dream. It was like wind rolling around you gently, trying to persuade you to move in all directions. It’s an ice cream cone on a boardwalk with the sun above and the salty ocean below. It’s a perfect place no one tries to remember.

Any mind left functioning in the world has evolved to be built for pain. Maybe once upon a time there had been a time and place where love and compassion was something for people to look forward to in life.

This wasn't that world anymore.

To Y/n, that type of world never existed anyways. The world had always been a selfish dark place where love is fleeting and the people are brutal. Once upon a time, true love accidentally affected those who were fortunate. But like every other beautiful thing, they polluted and corrupted it, and like everything else, it got sick.

Y/n’s seen it all. And in the end when it’s taken away the people who protested or cried the loudest, were the one who had taken it for granted the most.

Y/n looked around the cellar, in three days she barely moved. It’s her rule and because of it she can leave easier with the feeling of safety. She always ended a shopping trip with a quiet few nights in a cellar or basement.

Y/n wasn’t born to do this, she had to learn to move around quietly, how to sit still. She knew what she had to do to survive. She had lain amongst the dead, she had run through the dark woods, having to feel her eyesite clear like a wild animal and embrace the darkness.

She crept out into the beam of dust lingering in the stale air, sparkling from the sunlight that found its way down two stories into a dark cellar. The beam of light almost made her smile as she admired the light's determination. Y/n shook her head to bring her thoughts back to the harsh reality as she took her first step towards the stairs.

The explosions never seemed to destroy this home in any way. The stairs were in one piece, which had become a bit of a novelty to her. The old farmhouse was too far from any major centers or roads to have even known of the problems, at least in the beginning. The blood stain smears on the white siding outside proved that sickness has touched every single inch of this world.

The hard wood creaked under the weight of her first step. She held her breath and hoped that the creak went unheard. She slowly took another step up as she let out a shaky breath. On the third step she hesitated, listening for any sort of alarming sounds. Her heart was beating like it was trying to free itself from her constricted chest. She waited a second longer, it was another rule of hers. Never leave when you feel safe, always wait three more seconds.

She put her feet on the far sides of the stairs, where the rusty nails attached the boards to the frame. Shallow breaths make sounds in this new world, in the borderlands anyway. There was no electricity, no cars, no phones, no buzz. The world now sits quiet, as if it was sighing and taking a long inhale after what seemed like forever with mankind and the noise pollution. Y/n was at peace when she was at home, but here in the open world she was one of them. One of what was left of humanity. What scrambles to survive, most of the time seperate from everyone else.

Y/n looked through the cellar door and tried to keep her anxious heartbeat low and her breath quiet. She knew that her body needed to make some noises, but others she could control.

The house was simple. Farmhouses were always the best houses according to Y/n. They always sat a long way off the road, not that roads mattered anymore. They always have canning and pickling that would outlast any human. They always have safety supplies and extras of everything. Farmers lived the longest, just as Y/n’s father said they would.

Two trips a year was rarely enough, but Y/n knew that if she traveled any more than that she would be caught.

She walked through the small kitchen and was amazed at how pristine it still was. Everything was still in its place, just as it was the first time she came to the farmhouse, although now layers of dust had found their way into the home, along with the bits of weeds that grew in through the cracks. With no busy grandmother to buzz around cleaning and dusting the mess, everything shows the house’s years of abandonment. Vines grew up the sides of the house, like all houses. As always, she stood against the doorframe and put her hand at the top of her head as her measurement. She turned and looked at how much higher it is than the mark she foolishly put there last time she came.

She looked away from the mark and pushed away the memories of the happy little girl she used to be. She walked low to the ground toward the backdoor. She couldn’t help but laugh inside at how ridiculous it was that she still felt safer going through the backdoor, even though there was no front or back. There were only doors. They didn’t go anywhere anymore. There was no direction.

Nothing goes anywhere.

Y/n positioned the heavy pack on her back carefully. It contained jars full of heart and soul and survival. To Y/n each jar was like a gentle kiss from the old lady who canned and pickled from her own farm of fresh vegetables. She assumed there are no preservatives, no added colorings, no added salt. There weren’t any labels to contradict anything. For all she knew there was MSG in everything. Y/n found herself smiling at the letters MSG, they meant something to humanity once. That was before.

She fought back memories of nice old ladies and the world before. She had been to many worlds in her life, and being nineteen felt more life sixty most days. She took a deep breath and creaked the door open, as if the wind had opened it. She closed it and opened it again. It felt like the wind coming off the brown dirt field was playing with the door.

Her sharp eyes focused on the dirt yard. Nothing moved, everything was standing still. She knew that she should’ve been waiting for the night to travel, but she had stayed too long this time. She needed to get back. Things only lived so long alone, she knew this well. Her garden had died many times before.

The old barn door swung in the soft breeze, making it creak slightly as the long tan grass swayed and small pebbles scuttled along. Everything moved in sync with the wind. Y/n learned how to spot that.

Y/n pulled the door and cringed, she knew this was always the worst part of the walk home. She hated leaving this house.

She felt her eyes squint shot, as the intense light of the sun nearly blinded her. Her pack felt like tons of bricks on her back, but she took her first steps, desperate for the walk to be over with already. She tried not to jostle her bag too much because she didn’t want to break any jars. She learned the hard way that pickle juice is hard to get out and that backpacks were even harder to find.

Walking across the dirt and gravel driveway to the field was the worst. Y/n looked around, walking with her shotgun in her hand. She usually practiced often with her rifle and silencer at home. But on the road she always brought her shotgun. She saw it as her lucky gun. The thick cold metal made her feel strong, even though she knew what strength was.

To her, strength was not pulling the trigger. At this point in life she has yet to prove her strength to her own self. She always took the cowards path. Just like her dad told her to.

Her boots crunched along the path. She walked softly but some noises were unavoidable. She knew the noise would last until she reached the huge wheat field. Then she would be a whisper in the wind. She entered the field without looking back, when she reached the field she knew the rule.

Her legs groaned under the first steps, but after the first quarter mile she started to warm up and she enjoyed running. Her back was the issue, what with the pack being so much heavier than she had ever trained with. She gripped the shoulder straps tight until her arms couldn’t stand it for another second. Even then, she kept pushing until she reached the forest.

She ran deep intothe woods, always on the same side. Never the same path but always the same destination. The branches whipped past her. The edge of the forest was always the thickest. As the forest clears I see him. He’s smiling like always. He’s calm. He doesn’t run and jump. He waits to confirm that she hadn’t brought anything with her. He’s seen them before. He knew how bad it could be. Together both of them had seen the people get swarmed and taken, usually women.

“Hades.” Y/n whispered out of breath.

Instead of the warm greeting they both want, she quickly turned around and held her shotgun up. She walked backwards as Hades sauntered over to watch the forest. They sat behind a tree and waited and after a few minutes she put the pack down gently and climbed one of the huge trees. The thick branches were very rough against her hands. She sat on a branch and looked through her binoculars from the high viewpoint.

She could see the entire field of brown hay from where she was sitting. Y/n let herself have a weak moment and let herself imagine living in the farmhouse one day and harvesting hay. She felt her eyes strain as she tried to find even a single strand of grass moving in a way that would mean she was followed. She looked at the farmhouse sitting still and alone and hoped it would stay that way until her next trip.

She looked past the farmhouse and watched everything move just as it should. After coming to the conclusion that no one had followed her, she climbed down the tree, eager to lay in her own bed.

When her feet touched the dry ground, she looked at Hades, whose yellow eyes confirmed her thoughts. They were alone. She dropped to her knees and greetedhim as he bounded towards her. The large tundra wolf licked her face and raised his massive paws up to hug her. She would hug him so often when he was baby and one day he hugged back.

He nuzzled at her softly and nipped at her arms. She rubbed his huge soft ears and stood up. She patted him gently on his head.

“Ready?” She asked.

She picked up the heavy pack and adjusted to having it on her back again. The walk home would take an entire day if she could manage to keep a solid pace. Hades started the walk home by heading past the old broken oak tree. Their meeting place.

--

I worked really hard on this and so i hope people enjoy this although ik this chapter is a lil boring but i promise next chapter will be better k goodbye have a good day love u

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 14: No Call No Show

Characters: Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: We find out where Shane went Monday after work and exactly why she hasn’t been responding to any attempts at communication…and unfortunately, she’s not just taking some “me time.”

Want to reminisce about when this was just a happy little fluffy romance? Return to chapters past, or look at my other smutty drabbles here!

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings:  SHANE FIGHTS BACK, BUT DEFINITELY GETS HER ASS KICKED, SO FAIR WARNING, IT’S VIOLENT. Language, mature themes, emotional abuse, mention of narcotics (morphine), vomiting, foreshadowing and mention of potential future violent/non-con/dub-con activities, but if those acts occur, they will not be portrayed on the page, but rather between chapter or section breaks, so don’t worry. Also, I use the “R” word, but not to discuss non-con, but rather to add an educational note about why one should yell “fire” when one is being assaulted. Basically no Sy material whatsoever, but he’s mentioned, so I’m tagging it as such! Shane being somewhat blasé about her mortality. I really don’t want to trigger anyone, so please read with caution or wait until you emotionally are ready to deal with our girl going through the shit.

Author’s Note: Really REALLY nervous about this one. This is not the resolution you are looking for, my friends. In fact, it’s not a resolution, at all. Lol. I foresee many people disliking this chapter for some reason or another. That’s actually okay. It’s not a chapter you’re meant to “like” per se. I don’t “like” it. I’m prepared for it to get very few notes, and I’m positioning it anyway. I think it’s some of my better writing, but I hated putting Shane through the ringer like this. It’s just one of those chapters you “get through.” And honestly, if you truly didn’t like it please give me feedback so I can improve and tweak. {For reasons other than “My beebeeeeee!” or “never mention anything less than consensual ever again kthxbye” because a) of all, MY beebee too, and b) of all, that’s what warnings are for and why they should be read.} That being said, I hope it at least tides you over until the next chapter. At least you know where she is…not that THAT’S a big relief under the circumstances! Lol!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags: 

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland (apparently deactivated, idk what’s up with that)

@speakerforthedead0

@tumblnewby

@suavechops

@radkesgirl83

@wheretheriversrunintothesea

@heartfelt-pen

@auds24

@geekycanuck 

@lunarstarknight

@wilma-g 

@coldmuffinbanditshoe

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Previously, in Virginia…

"Shane left work Monday and hasn't been back since. No one has seen her. Apart from you, I presume. "

"I haven't seen her in about a week and a half. I'm training out of state for a job. I've been away from my phone since Monday, and I just got back to it now."

"She isn't…with you? I assumed…"

"Well, you know what they say, Susan. I'm coming back early if I can manage it. See if I can do something to help find her."

Three days earlier, in Missouri…

Shane blinked her eyes open to little avail. She couldn't tell where she was, other than what seemed to be the back seat of a fairly new-model large vehicle, like a Suburban or a Tahoe. She thought it was new because the new car smell was still overpowering the nicotine and tobacco odor of at least one of its occupants. She could also smell the sickly sweet stench of artificial cherry permeating the cabin. The source must be very close to her nose as she lay there helplessly restrained while the vehicle jostled down the road. The smell reminded her of the horrible liquid pain reliever her mother would give her as a child when she had a fever or leg pains. She had taken enough of it then to make her averse to most cherry flavorings as an adult. She wanted to retch.

She could also make out the faint glow of a dashboard lit with LED lights, brighter and softer than those of older models. But she soon had to shut her eyes again. Her head was throbbing and her memories were fuzzy. She remembered very little of Monday…was it still Monday? But she was trying to think, despite the pounding of many drums in her cranium where a brain should be.

She remembered staying at work late to finish notes. She remembered heading home…and she remembered forgetting her phone at her desk and deciding to turn around to get it…when suddenly she was surrounded by vehicles and unable to move without having an accident. Had she known the circumstances then, she would have tried to muscle through. The horrific events came flooding back in traumatic flashes like lightning, or the pulse of passing streetlights in an unfamiliar city.

She remembered…

The glass by her left ear shattered. A hooded, hulking figure reached in through the new opening, fumbling for the handle to open the door. She'd had the presence of mind to fight back there. To punch at the probing extremity. But the extremity hit back, landing a solid smack against her left cheek, stunning her for long enough that the cruel apparition found the unlock button, pressed it, and opened the door. She didn't go quietly. She fought like the hellcat her mother always told her to be. Her foot found the odd solar plexus and groin before enough dark nemeses arrived to overpower her. They dragged her away from her car and out onto the pavement of the church parking lot she'd used to turn around. She did not make it easy for them. She kicked and punched and tried to twist out of their grips like vices. She yelled "fire" as she was taught as a young woman, not knowing the men's intentions, but certain they weren't kind, and knowing that yelling "rape" was not always effective at summoning help. Either way, it didn't matter. She could have shouted anything. No one was near enough, or cared enough, to come to her aid. As soon as her soft hands hit the gritty pavement, though, the violence intensified. She lost count of how many times she got kicked in the back, stomach, ribs. One asshole even kicked her in the tit. She'd find out who that was and he'd find himself in a special brand of pain…if she ever got out of this alive. She heard them calling her awful names that she was sure she hadn't earned, and especially not from these guys. About six of them, she thought. She hardly knew six guys. She certainly didn't know six guys that would want her roughed up like this. She heard one of the men start to say "Come on, guys, we better save some for--" and with that, she blacked out to the tune of the distinct "thunk" of a wooden baseball bat making contact with the back of her head.

She wanted to forget…for it to be a terrible nightmare…to wake up.

But she was awake. This was a waking nightmare. The cold leather on her cheek was made colder by the harsh air conditioning blowing toward her from above and below. She shivered from the chill and from the terror she was trying to suppress. Where were they taking her? For what purpose? And for whom were they leaving parts un-bruised…though it didn't feel like it.

She finally felt them slowing, heard a turn signal clicking, the courtesy of which she applauded despite her position in the active abduction taking place, and felt the gentle displacement of her body toward the driver side, knocking her head into the door. A right turn. Not that it would matter too much, but at least when she escaped, and she made herself think "when" and not "if," she would know which direction to turn to get back to town.

The blow to the head had left her sensitive to light and sound. As she was yanked from the back seat, all she could see was the glow of a dusk to dawn light above them. Normally a soft, guiding light, this one just as well have been the sun itself the way it stung her tender eyes. She squinted against it, thankful as she never would have thought to be, when a shroud was placed over her throbbing head. She could still hear the power coursing through the bulb and fixture, though. Normally a dull hum, in the state she was in, it was as loud as accidentally switching your TV to the snow channel at full volume.

"Bring 'er inside." She heard an unfamiliar male voice say.

Two strong, ruthless hands grabbed her by the armpits, causing her to cry out in pain. Such a tender place to bear weight, and why even big strong Sy hated crutches…Sy. Would she ever see him again?

"Shut up, bitch, or we'll knock you out again." She believed them, and being fairly certain she had at least a mild  concussion, she wasn't sure what a second blow of an indeterminate velocity might do to her brain. She dealt with the stabbing pain as the men dragged her across what sounded like gravel, then grass, then something hard and smooth, maybe the slabs of an old, sunken, and somewhat uneven footpath. Soon, she felt the pain of her knees hitting what she assumed were porch steps. One, two, three of them. She was trying to concentrate through the fog now setting in, and maintain consciousness. Paying attention to the sensations, she told herself, was not only helpful for that task, it might help her escape. Remember the scents, too, she reminded herself. She tried to shake off the nauseating cherry and cigarette stench from her olfactory glands and take note of the bouquet around her.

Burnt leaves…gasoline…engine grease…the tang of sappy, just cut firewood…straw…manure…this seemed to be a farm. With a barn nearby…perhaps with horses. She loved horses. If she could find a gentle horse in the night…escape might be easier than she'd anticipated.

Entering the house was a noisy affair. There was a metallic keening from the spring of an aluminum screen door. She imagined it had one of those big swirly cross beams like her grandma's used to have that she always though was supposed to resemble a butterfly. A heavier, wooden door creaked open as the three figures muddled their way in, and the floorboards protested, as well, at the weight of her captors. So, she thought, not only a farm house, but an old farm house.

"Where do you want her?" the man on her left asked into what she only knew as the void, so far.

"Take her to the cellar. I've got things set up down there." a familiar voice chuckled and growled. How did she know the voice? Was he a patient? She couldn't think of anyone she'd treated that would want her abducted and brutalized.

"You got it, E." Ugh, for some reason it bothered her when guys referred to each other by their first initials. Girls, no big deal. But bros…there was something so thoroughly douchey and…familiar about it all…

"Hold on." the man called "E" said, and she heard footfalls approaching her. As he got closer, she smelled…patchouli and incense…and the sea…and it brought back a rush of pain from past trauma followed by literal pain from his punch to her gut. She hadn't been expecting it. Obviously. The wind had been taken out of her. Literally and figuratively. She did know this man…all too well.

"We've got some catching up to do, sweetheart." the pet name dripped like venomous honey from the tongue of the snake before her.

"Elliot." it wasn't a question. She coughed the name out like a pill that had gone down sideways.

Her escorts continued their transportation of her prone body to its destination…she didn't want to think FINAL destination, but the more she learned about her situation, the more she worried that she wouldn't make it out alive.

They had to get creative in carrying her down the narrow staircase to the cellar. They argued for a moment about who would take the top half and who would go backwards.

"How about the one who takes my top half goes forward and the bottom half goes backward?" These idiots. Where did Elliott find clowns like this who needed to be told by their prisoner the best way to sort out their domestic dispute.

She thought she felt them shrug, and silently take her advice as she felt herself being lowered down the stairs, feet first, panic threatening to overtake her restrained limbs.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they stood her up to remove her shroud, and cut the zip ties from around her ankles and wrists. She then noticed a small cell that reminded her of the ones in the sheriff's offices in some westerns she'd seen. She started to freak out, anticipating her future in that horrid place.

"Guys, please. No. Please don't do this. I don't know what Elliott's told you about me, but I'm a good person. I don't deserve this. I have a job and friends and a family who will worry sick about me. I am begging you to let me go. Please!"

"You're wasting your breath, lady." one of the men said, gruffly.

"PLEASE!" she appealed, desperate to get through. "Don't you guys have wives or girlfriends? Mothers, sisters, aunts, or female cousins? What if a woman you cared about was in this situ---" and before she could finish the question, one of the men punched her for what felt like the thousandth time tonight. She fell to her knees, vomiting. And the world went black again.

~~~~~~~

There were no windows. There was no clock. There was just a small twin mattress in one corner of the cell, and a bedside commode in the other. As accommodations went, it was hardly a Hilton, but it could have been worse. It was all lit by a 60-watt bulb in one of those hanging fixtures her dad had always called a trouble light situated on a hook on the side of one of the exposed joists outside the cell. He'd had a similar one for the longest time. He and mom will be worried sick before long, if they aren't already, she thought. The light was aptly named for these circumstances she was in. Trouble. A heap of it. And no idea of how to get out of it.

And honestly, no idea why Elliott would want her here. How he could do such a monstrous thing as having her kidnapped. How he came to live in this place when he never worked a day in his life. She was so confused. She hoped at the very least, he'd give her answers before he murdered her, if that was his plan.

She had woken up on her side, almost her stomach, with her right cheek on the scratchy surface of the bare mattress. Whoever put her to bed had been wise to position her like this given the likelihood that she might puke again. She noticed a small bucket, presumably for that purpose, next to the mattress. There was a caseless pillow next to her head, but she hadn't found that comfort during her nap of…she couldn't tell how long. Not that it mattered. The more she slept, the less time she'd have to process this horror movie she was currently living out.

She heard the door open at the top of the stairs and Elliott shout at one of his flunkies, "What do you MEAN you didn't get her phone?" a pause while indistinct words came from said flunky across the room, or maybe the house. "Well, find it. Tear that piece of shit Explorer apart if you have to. I want that phone." She took exception to her sweet little Norah getting called a piece of shit. That was her Millennium Falcon. And yes, she'd gotten flack for naming her Norah the Explorer, but she didn't care.

Elliott stomped down the stairs, grinning the most infuriatingly happy grin she'd ever seen on him. She wanted to maul him. To tear those stupid eyes out of their sockets with her own fingernails. But she controlled her anger and resisted even acknowledging his greeting of "Hey, sweetheart."

She ignored him.

"It's good to see you."

Silence.

"I missed you."

She stared right through him.

"I heard you and that meat head soldier broke up."

She scowled at him.

"There she is. There's my girl."

"I'm not your girl, Elliott, and I haven't been in years. Why am I here?" She broke. She couldn't take it.

"We'll get to that why soon enough. First, let's talk about why you and Cap'n Crunch are no longer breakfasting together? Soggy cereal? Limp toast? Was he letting you leave the table unsatisfied?"

"As if you ever satisfied me when we were together." She spat back, calling Elliott out on his notorious selfishness in all aspects of life and relationships.

"I've changed."

"Bullshit." she rolled her eyes.

"It's true!" he insisted. "I can give you references."

"I honestly don't give a shit. We're not together. Sy and I are. Happily. And you better let me go soon. He was expecting me at his place after work. He's probably out looking for me right now." she lied. It was worth a shot.

"Now it's my turn to call bullshit, because I know that isn't true." He looked at her with that patronizing stare he had.

"You don't know shit, Elliott."

"I know that your boy took off over a week ago for Virginia and hasn't come back, at least not the way he left. I believe he's supposed to be gone at least a few weeks. Maybe a couple of months. He wasn't sure at last report."

She was literally willing him to burst into flames before her. Her gaze revealed her hand.

"Told ya. You think you're the only one with connections at the fort? I've got me a sweet little sergeant who works in ATC over there. She can out-squat anyone else on base…and let me tell you, it shows." he lifted his eyebrow, lasciviously.

"You disgust me."

"Why? You never seemed to mind my…sexy imagination." he winked at her.

"No, I'm happy that you're getting it good on the regular from an ass that won't quit. But come on. You clearly only got with this girl because you thought it would give you the upper hand against me."

"Well, that's very self-absorbed thinking."

"Really, Elliott? Do you see where we are right now?" they looked around at the dank cellar and he shrugged, unable to deny or rebut. "And this woman. Does she know about this little scheme?"

He gave her one of his more evil grins. "Who do you think kicked you in the tit?" Okay…she was new levels of pissed off now.

"Why…the actual FUCK am I here, Elliott!?"

"Well, Shane, you embarrassed me with that little stunt at the bar a few weeks ago. You thought you were hot shit, parading your sasquatch of a boyfriend around in front of me, in my town, humiliating me as all of my friends watched. And then that dickhead sucker punched me in the parking lot. I shoulda pressed charges. But him being a veteran, I knew how that woulda gone in this town. I didn't have a snowball's chance. So I waited. And I planned. And I was patient. And I watched for my moment. And it finally came. I've been watching you leave work every night for the past week, and you're always with someone, or headed somewhere else, or going straight home. Last night…last night I knew was the night when you didn't leave until after 7. You were the last one out, and I knew that it had to be then. The plan, not that you need to know, is to plaster your social media with humiliating photos, piss off everyone that you love, including your precious Sy, and alienate everyone you've ever cared about until you're miserable and alone."

Shane was crying now. She thought she might be sick again. She reached for the bucket. The delusion of this man thinking that anyone in that bar besides maybe the ones that were there with him that night gave a shit about him. Thinking that the town was his. He was a nobody there. He hadn't grown up there, he didn't work there, he didn't participate in community events. He was kidding himself if he thought anyone cared enough about him that he should feel shame over her relationship with Sy, especially five years after their relationship with each other had ended.

"How's that for a 'why,' sweetheart?" he boasted.

"It's making my ask myself a lot of questions. Like why I ever agreed to go out with you all those years ago. Why I didn't see the signs that you were a psychopath sooner. And why I put up with your terrorism for so long thinking you'd ever really change. I can't believe I ever slept with you, you absolute barbarian." and she heaved into the bucket, non-productively. She hadn't eaten since lunch, and that had to be well over twelve hours ago.

"Well, ya did. And ya can't change the past. But I'm about to take your future into my hands. As soon as we find your phone, we're gonna have us a ball, little girl."

"You honestly think I'll cooperate with any of that?"

"You won't have a choice." he held up a little glass vial. "Morphine. A tiny dose of this stuff, and you'll do anything I tell ya."

"Please. Just let me go now, and I won't press charges. I won't go to the cops, at all. I'll call in to work with a headache, or something and you can live your life with Sergeant Squats and we can leave each other alone."

"A good offer, but I need to get something out of this. I need my pride back."

"And you're gonna get that by dragging me through the mud online from my own Facebook account? Is that really the way you wanna do this? When you could just show me what a great life you've built for yourself. This is a great place here, it seems, I mean, I only smelled it, and felt how big it was while I was getting dragged around the place. But, Elliott, if you had just told me about all this, I would have been happy for you!"

"This place is Sasha's."

"Oh." she grasped for something, anything to make him see how insane he was being without saying the words. "Well, I'd still have been happy for you finding an established woman with a great job. Why couldn't you have just written me a letter telling me that? An email! Something."

"This is how it's getting done, Shane. Because this is the only way that truly ruins your life in the process. Because at the end of all of this, the backlash is going to be too much for you, and you're not going to be able to handle this life anymore…"

"No. Elliott, no."

"Yes. You're gonna take one last hit of the morphine and drive that shitty Ford right into the lake."

"You used to care about art. About beauty. You used to be sensitive. You used to have a soul. What happened, Elliott? What happened to your humanity?" Shane asked, crying, in mourning for the man he used to be. The one that she used to care for.

"I fell in love. And she broke my heart. And nothing has been the same."

"Elliott, I didn't mean to…"

"Oh, fuck, not you, don't be stupid. No, Kara. I met her right after you kicked me out, and SHE broke my heart." he  turned and started up the stairs, pausing to look over his shoulder and say, "I'll be back when I have your phone. And I'll bring friends." before he ascended, shutting the door firmly behind him.

She had never been so relieved to NOT have her phone in her life. Hopefully, her coworkers had it safe and sound, and locked up at work.

Up Next: Chapter 15-Recon

[hpfannons]

Oh la la! Thats a fine choice of specimen. Thank you. :) lol. I only ask about the jealousy thing because I remember that Dick said one time that they only get to see him 2 months a year or something... I probably meant the batfam side i guess... lol but its good most Harry’s friend are okay or just roll with it... maybe I should asked some batfam moments during their stay in order hq... I really love that scene where Harry was on Dick’s lap and and the rest are just with them... I kinda want a scene with the same feeling...if you dont mind. xD thank you very much! glad to hear ur answer about fudge and umbridge. thank you so much... im really immersed in this au... looking forward to part 7. >_< thanks and stay safe y’all.

Glad you like my batfam! My best friend and I spent way too long going back and forth on people we could agree on for different characters (I think Tim and Alfred were the hardest… but it was years ago, so don’t quote me on that lol)

Sorry about the jealousy thing though, miscommunication on my part. I blame that for answering at 3 am on my phone XD

Yes, there is a lot of buried jealousy with the Batfam. Though surprisingly, most of it comes from Harry. That’s mostly because all these new family members come in while he’s at school, so it kind of feels like they’re all much more close knit with each other than with him because he’s not there for the large portion of the year.

They’re all happy to include him and catch him up with things he missed while he was at school… But there are some things you just have to be there in the moment for, because retelling the story just isn’t quite the same.

That’s not to say that the rest of the Batfam don’t have the same feelings as well, I think I’ve mentioned before that Tim and Harry especially are very close (actually best friends, on the same level as Harry and Ron) so Tim is definitely one of those people who feels Harry’s lost during the year the most.

Add on the fact it’s not really that easy to keep in touch with him while he’s at school, and it really is just hard on everyone.

As a side note, I fully believe the family would find some kind of way to make alterations to a communicator that will work at Hogwarts. Considering how many people who both use magic and have been involved with the Justice League in some way or the other, I find it hard to believe they haven’t found a work around for the whole magic screws with tech problem. At the very least, Harry would have a way to check his email from family, b/c making Headwig carry letters from Scotland to New Jersey and back is just cruel.

As far as the Batfam hanging out around 12 Grimmauld Place… They’re trying to be as non-confrontational as possible, even if there’s still some ruffled feathers from the first night. So the boys mostly go along with helping clean out the place under Molly’s orders - Jason was originally kind of prickly about it because he’s not a child (certainly not her child), so he found getting ordered around kind of insulting… Until his inner clean freak won out and yeah, this place does need a lot of work. Alfred has taught them all well, and it shows.

Tim mostly hauls himself up in the library when he can get away from clearing out pixies and de-gnoming the garden. He’s got like four notebooks full of information and Ron is a little shocked to find out Harry wasn’t kidding when he said Tim was worse than Percy and Hermione together when it came to information gathering.

Damian has less than stellar people skills at the best of times, and here he’s decided he doesn’t care very much for anybody over the age of seventeen (that’s not family anyway), so most of Dick’s time has been dedicated to keeping the youngest away from most of the Order. Not that he really blames him, Dick isn’t nearly as vocal about it as Damian, but he is also just completely done with all of them. He’s only playing nice because they’re here for Harry.

Bruce has also posted himself up in the library, reading everything he can get ahold of in regards to the history of the wizarding world trying to understand exactly what he’s son has gotten wrapped up in. Because lord knows nobody in this house is going to explain it to him… At this point he’s about one wrong comment away from telling them exactly where they can shove their ‘muggle’ excuses.

There was one notable evening though, when the boys as well as the Weasleys and Hermione were just hanging out in a parlor or sitting room or whatever it was supposed to be. Jason had been messing around with an old radio he found the other day and between him and Tim, they managed to get it working. The minute they recognized Britney Spears’s voice, there were four sets of eyes immediately on Dick who gave all of twenty seconds of resistance before he was up and dragging people along to dance with him. The impromptu party had ended up going on for hours, Tonks getting roped into the fun with them while Sirius and Remus smiled fondly from the doorway. Molly made a passing comment about bedtime, but didn’t argue back when that was quickly shot down by the other adults. Let the kids be kids while they could.

As far as soft moment’s for the Batfam… there are two that really come to mind, though they’re kind of sad though.

The first is really kind of short, but it’s after the battle of Hogwarts, and Harry’s come back from his final fight with Voldemort, and there’s just people everywhere in the great hall, but Harry knows exactly where he’s going. Bruce is standing to the side, watching while Jason’s getting patched up, and trying to keep an eye on his other kids as well. Everyone's a little banged up and bruised, but they’re all alive, and that’s the important part right now.

And then he sees Harry and there’s this almost tangible sense of relief because now all of his kids are present and accounted for, and Bruce feels like he can finally breathe again. And Harry just like collapses into Bruce who has to scramble a little bit to catch him, but then just stands there and holds him, because Harry is just completely exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally. And all Bruce hears is “I want to go home Dad.”, and honest to god Batman almost starts crying in the middle of the great hall in front of everyone.

The other is after the Triwizard Tournament, and everything with Mad-Eye Crouch, when Harry’s in the hospital wing. Everyone’s standing around trying to figure out what the hell just happened, and Harry wakes up still kind of groggy from whatever Madam Pomfrey gave him to knock him out, and he ends up breaking down crying in front of everyone.

Dick doesn’t even hesitate, he’s on Harry before the first tear even really starts rolling and just tucks him into the crook of his neck and let’s him cry it out. Except Harry’s been traumatized and he’s like full-on sobbing, almost wailing, and that just stabs everyone straight through the heart. Tim’s next, doesn’t say anything, just sits down behind Harry and tucks himself up against his brother’s back. Damian and Jason join in as well, Damian sitting on Harry’s other side and just quietly putting his head on Harry’s shoulder; while Jason sit’s down a little farther away, reaching out to put a hand on the back of Harry’s neck. Bruce is standing on the other side of the bed, and just runs a hand through Harry’s hair while they let him get it out and calm down.

And once he’s down to hiccups and kind of stuttery breaths, Dumbledore says something about leaving him be, and if looks could kill… Jason’s still armed, and he almost, almost goes for the gun. Bruce head’s it off at the pass though, saying he’ll go with them to discuss things further and also inform the league about what’s happened, but the rest of the boys will be staying.

Madam Pomfry insists on dosing Harry again, and after some reassurances that his brother’s aren't going anywhere, they get him to drink the potion. That’s as far as they indulge the mediwitch though. Tim and Damian both try to settle down in the bed on either side of their brother, though after some jostling around and being unable to really fit two teenagers and a ten year old comfortably in a hospital cot; Dick and Jason move another bed over flush against Harry’s and Dick manages to coax Damian into it with him, as long as the younger is able to keep hold of Harry’s arm. Jason retakes the seat he’d pulled up to the bedside, kick’s his feet up on the cot and settles in to keep watch over the lot of them for the night. And that is exactly where and how Bruce finds them the next morning.

[melody-fox]

for the ask 3 and 23

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

I have always loved detective stories, mysteries, crime and such, and growing up one of my favorite series to read was the Nancy Drew books. I devoured those things, I’d bring home like 6 from every library trip and would have them finished in 2 days. The library couldn’t keep up with my little addiction, so eventually I had to write my own. And I created what - now that I’m thinking about it - was very much a self-insert Mary Sue sort of character whose name was an anagram for Nancy Drew (have fun guessing that one). There wasn’t much of a plot, ever, just ideas of the mysteries she’d solve, the fun she would have and such. Lots of random action scenes in my head that were over choreographed and such.

That one has definitely been in there the longest I think. I think I was 12 or 13 years old.

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Okay okay okay okay okay here we go. This ask is the reason it took me so long to post this lol.

If you’ve followed me for a minute, you’ve probably figured out I’m obsessed with a lot of things, but specifically Supergirl and Supercorp right now. And I have these characters, their arcs and potential just bouncing around in my head on a daily basis. So of course, when I watch a movie or a tv show and they happen to have a blonde and a brunette or heck, just a really interesting idea or concept, I’m going to project my current obsession onto it.

So, if you’ve seen Edge of Tomorrow: Live, Die, Repeat, this should make sense. If not, eh, you’ll still probably enjoy this.

below the cut

Lena’s lost count. It’s been too many times. Too many. And every time, every single time, they die. Every time.

They’ve made it to the farm again. She has to be careful, quiet; Lena knows too much about this area now. There is a mimic buried barely nine yards from the barn, at least ten more in the field, the helicopter is an explosion waiting to happen, and Kara is still bleeding out.

This is the safest they’ve been so far.

Lena stops the car next to the barn and hurries around to the passenger side to help Kara out, careful not to jostle her shoulder too much.

“I’m fine, it’s alright,” the blonde protests, shakily standing on her own. “Besides, we need to get to that helicopter and keep moving.” She takes a step and grimaces, Lena’s hands hovering just behind her.

“You need to rest a minute,” Lena argues, catching Kara as her ankle almost gives out on her. She slings her good arm across her shoulders, looking the soldier in the eye. “Kara, it’s okay to rest. We have some time. Let me patch you up, and then we’ll find the keys to the helicopter.”

The blonde looks ready to argue.

“Just for ten minutes?” Lena says quietly.

Kara sags and nods. Her injuries must be a bit worse than Lena had assumed, she normally fights her a bit more on this.

They go inside the rickety barn, and Lena gets her situated on the cleanest, most sturdy chair she can find. She tries to make a bit of a show ‘looking’ for the supplies she’s already memorized the location of around the barn, and gets to cleaning and dressing Kara’s wounds.

It’s silent at first, only the sounds of Kara’s slightly labored breathing (probably a couple broken ribs) and Lena’s anxious movement around the place.

Coffee over there, pot here, water bottles in the cupboard. Stove on, the heat source right next to where Kara is sitting, keeping her warm. Lena murmurs pieces of her plan to herself as she starts putting together a quick meal for the two of them.

“What are you going to do once all this is over?” Once the water is beginning to boil, Kara starts up a conversation. And this is probably the fourth time she’s asked this question. Lena still doesn’t have a very good response. It’s hard to think of the future when you keep reliving the same horrible day over and over again.

So she doesn’t immediately reply, pulling out a box of instant coffee and pouring some into the water she’s boiled. “I’m not sure.”

Kara purses her lips. “What did you do before this?”

Lena shrugs. She picks up a mug with dubious cleanliness and pours some of the coffee in for Kara. “Nothing really important. Engineering.” Kara raises her eyebrows, clearly wanting the story, so Lena continues. “I worked with my brother at Luthorcorp. With the war, Lex had the company switch to making weapons. We were good at it, but I think I’d like to get back to creating good things instead of destructive things.”

Lena hands the mug of coffee to Kara, the blonde laughing quietly in disbelief. “I can’t believe you found coffee out here.”

“Pretty amazing, right?” Lena grins at her.

Kara nods and is about to take a sip before Lena holds up a sugar packet. “Oh, thanks.” Lena smiles at her and pours the white granules into her coffee.

She’s about to take it back when Lena stops her. “Wait, wait, you like three.” Kara stiffens as Lena turns to grab a couple more packets, pouring them quickly into the mug, muttering, “it’s three packs, I remember.”

Kara doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and Lena is forced to look up. The playfulness is gone, the gratitude. Kara’s brow has a crinkle, and her eyes devoid of the laughter they shared just moments ago.

Back up, quick, back up. Lena inhales sharply, and stands. “There’s- uh, I think I saw a shirt over there,” she mutters, gesturing to the corner of the barn. “Might be your size. Yours is a little worn-”

“How many times have we been here?”

Kara says it so quietly she almost misses it. It’s barely a whisper, and Lena halts, fingers twitching restlessly. They’re so used to fixing things, and this situation, this whole cursed situation has completely taken that ability away from them. Turning, she sees Kara struggling to stand, coffee abandoned on the floor.

“Lena, how many times?”

“Kara-”

“Where are the keys?” Her jaw is clenched and Lena doesn’t think she’s ever seen Kara this angry.

“K-”

“Where are the damn keys, Lena?”

Lena holds up her hands in a placating gesture before hesitantly handing over the keys from her pocket. Kara snatches them up quickly, shifting her weight to stay off her left ankle.

“You know how to fly it already, don’t you?”

“No- yes, well. I’m a Luthor, of course I can fly a helicopter, but Kara-”

“What are we still doing here?” she yells, grabbing her jacket from the chair and limping towards the door.

Lena swears. “Kara- Kara wait, please- Kara, if you start that engine you’ll die!”

Kara pauses with one arm in her jacket.

“This is as far as you ever go,” she whispers, her voice catching at the end.

For a moment, it looks as though she is about to argue, to talk, just maybe Kara will listen this time.

And then she’s off, out the door. Lena stumbles after her, the blonde surprisingly quick despite her sprained ankle.

“There’s a mimic just twenty feet that way, it’ll attack as soon as you start the engine. There’s half a dozen or more alphas in the east field, please just-” Kara doesn’t stop and Lena is begging, “Please, Kara, the only thing we haven’t tried yet is if you just walk away and let me go by myself.”

Kara pulls the coverings off the helicopter blades, tossing them haphazardly onto the ground. “Get in, Lena.”

“No, please just- go wait in the farm house, please, there’s food and clothes, let me go alone and I’ll be back soon-”

“We’re soldiers, Lena. I’m a soldier,” Kara argues, defiant. “I volunteered, this is my job. Soldiers die every day. What does it matter if I die?”

There’s a beat of silence as she’s given the chance to answer. She’s never made it this far in the conversation, usually one of them is dead by now.

What should she say?

What do you say to make someone listen when they are so determined to finish their suicide mission? How do you say I love you even though you barely know me? I know you almost as well as you know yourself. I have lived this day with you over and over again and please, just this once, prove me wrong and don’t be the selfless person I know you are. Put yourself first for once.

Just this once.

Kara’s still waiting for her to say something.

“I wish I didn’t know you,” she whispers. The crinkle deepens. “Kara, I- I wish I could go back and have never met you, never got to know you. But I do. I know you, and I know this day, and I can’t save you here. If you die here, and I go on and defeat the Omega…” she sighs, closing her eyes. “You’re dead. Forever. You’re gone forever, and I can’t live with that.”

“This is our mission, Lena,” Kara says. She gets into the pilot’s seat, and slams the keys in the ignition.

In the split second after the engine sputters to a start, the entire world around Lena explodes into a flurry of noise and chaos. A mimic bursts through the fence, firing a volley at the helicopter just as Kara gets it a few feet off the ground. The explosion throws Lena sprawling into the dirt. She scrambles for purchase on the ground to pull herself up.

There’s a gun in the barn, she has to get to the gun.

She can still save Kara.

The mimic is riding the helicopter like some sort of space cowboy from hell, and Kara is yelling, trying to maintain control of the vehicle. Lena barely makes it through the door of the barn before the blades come crashing through, taking the entire wall down as the helicopter and the mimic collide with the ground.

The gun is barely in her hands before she’s firing like mad at the mimic, the backfire shaking her entire body.

She sucks in a breath and screams “Kara!”

The helicopter explodes.

Her ears are ringing and she knows she’s been flung by the explosion again. She has to get to Kara, they don’t have much time. So she pushes through the pain, through the confusion and haze, and it’s almost like walking underwater but she gets up.

She disposes of what’s left of the mimic quickly, and finds Kara prostrate on the floor not a moment after.

She’s not getting back up.

Lena falls to her knees with a sob as she takes in the damage that’s been done to Kara.

They were so close.

“Lena…”

“Yes?” Bloody fingers knit themselves between her own, and the dulling blue eyes hold her gaze for the last time.

“M- my real name-” she pauses for a rasping breath, “is Kara Zor-El.”

“Wh-”

“F-find me s-sooner, -kay?”

Lena isn’t given a chance to answer. The light leaves Kara’s eyes, and Lena is left alone in the carnage.

The rest of the mimics crash through and take her in a moment, and she doesn’t even try to fight them.

Then once again, she’s waking up handcuffed at the base.

[alwaysraineh]

1, 3, 5, 7, 12, and 13 for fanfic end of the year asks!

i took forever but i’m alive and mostly well and here is an outpouring of love for you my dearest kellan ilysm!!!!!!! 💕🥰🥰💕💖💖💝💘💕

1. favorite fic you wrote this year

i answered this in jo’s ask but if i had to pick a second favorite i think it would probably be either tell me, love (how destiny is bullshit) or the kindest thing (is to never leave you alone) which are both witcher fics (and h13oly shit do i have a title style or what jfc i need to change that) and i had a lot of fun writing!!

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

hhhhhhhh am i allowed to pick a few??? .... my answer is yes bc it’s my blog and i do what i want and also not all of these are from finished OR published fics so... sorry lol (in retrospect, as i finish this ask... i may have chosen too many favorites.)

a. ‘No one is hunting Harry Potter, not anymore.’

b. ‘Castiel stands before the sign as one might stand before a ledge; world-weary, tottering on the very edge of their will to process the absolute bullshit that life has thrown at them. If he were a more aesthetic man, he might have a cigarette dangling forgotten between his fingers, or a fifth of whiskey in a crumpled paper bag. Perhaps a stiff breeze to ruffle his hair dramatically as he contemplates losing the last feeble connection he had to a life before.’ 

c. ‘He pauses as he passes the open doors of the drawing room; the sound of Granger’s screams and his aunt’s manic laughter resonate through the silence. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to pass this room without hearing them, without seeing the fear in Potter’s eyes, without feeling the claws of his own panic scraping inside his lungs. Two house-elves are carefully pulling down the last piece of art in the room, an old family portrait that Draco vaguely recalls posing for when he was seven, or maybe eight. The house-elves jostle the portrait; they are quick to steady it, but it has unbalanced the figures inside. The painted version of Lucius is unfazed, but painted Narcissa is leaning down to wrap an arm around painted Draco’s shoulders. Seeing the fear in his own eyes as the portrait wobbles is enough to steal the breath from Draco’s lungs.’

d. ‘”He hurts,” Cole says, meeting Dorian’s panicked gaze with one of equal terror. “I don’t know how to help him, I- I can’t help him.”’

5. most popular fic this year

oh, BY FAR it was ‘tell me, love’ and that’s not even just this year, that’s all time. i’ve never had a fic be that popular and its an odd feeling but a very good one

7. longest completed fic you wrote this year

uhhhhhh i don’t think finishing ‘just breathe’ counts since i started it two years ago and only finished it this year (wordcount 29k) so i think technically my longest would be ‘ad astra’ which is just under 5k

12. favorite character to write about this year

quarantine reverted me to middle school trash (but with taste now bc fuck jkr) and i have to say, with only a small amount of shame, that i really really really loved writing about goddamn draco malfoy this year

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year

ahaha hozier. always hozier. literally anything hozier at any time anywhere. hozier owns my entire being. but i think a close second would have to be either i’ll be good by jaymes young orrrrr maybe please don’t say you love me by gabrielle aplin bc holy shit both of those are just so good

[whump-my-dear-watson]

Whumptober day no.27+28+altno.16

"bound" "ransom" "beaten"

Character: Malcolm Bright

Fandom: Prodigal Son

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Malcolm is taken for ransom, but his captor isn’t after money…

A/N:  ok I really love writing for this show, but apparently, I can only write about Prodigal Son whump in a warehouse? Idk man, I always come back to it. Anyway, enjoy this one lads! 

 Warnings: uh blood, capture (I mean look at the prompts), depressed Malcolm (what’s new? lol) near-death experience, the last part is really heavy on the subject of death but (spoiler) he doesn’t die :P, hrmm besides just generally being whumpy I can’t think of any other warnings (for sure let me know if I should add somthn tho) 

Malcolm wakes with a start, feeling the restraints around his wrists like usual. It’s not until he opens his eyes he realizes they are not his restraints. Panic was beginning to set in, his confusion feeding into it more than anything else. 

Malcolm had found himself sitting bound to a metal chair in the middle of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. From his perspective he was alone. He took a big breath in and then let it out.. He had to focus. How long had he been out? Was this about a case? Had to be. 

Malcolm tried to pull against his restraints, no luck. For the time being, until he could think of a plan, he was trapped. 

“You’re awake. Good.” 

The voice came from behind, but before Malcolm could turn to see, the younger man had stepped into his vision.  He was hardly 20 Malcolm mused, not the first profile he would have pegged. 

The young man looked academic, a pair of sturdy glasses to go along with his knit sweater. This whole essence gave off a vibe, but Malcolm couldn’t quite place it. 

“Hello Malcolm Whitley.” 

Malcolm couldn’t help but flinch at the use of his father’s last name. His heart started to beat faster, maybe this wasn’t just about a case. 

  “What do you want from me?” he asked, doing his best to appear calm. He had to keep the upper hand, if one could have the upper hand while unwillingly bound to a chair. 

“Why, you are going to help me a great deal, Malcolm.” the young man’s face was earnest but malicious. 

With every second he was forming a better idea of what his captor was, what motivated him, what caused him to take action, but all his revelations he came to all led to the same conclusion: he was in trouble. 

  “You are such a disappointment, you know?” 

This caught Malcolm off guard, “What do you know about me?” 

“Ha! What don’t I know about you, Malcolm Whitley? You betrayed your own father, your own flesh and blood!” the crazed man stood in front of Malcolm, proclaiming this as if Malcolm had personally offended him. 

“He was a monster.” 

“He was a master. He was an artist, really Malcolm? What makes you think he deserves to be trapped all alone? Suffering for showing his true self to the world? What ever happened to loving your neighbor?” 

Malcolm’s face rolled back in disgust, the ever familiar nausea of thinking about his father making a show again. 

Malcolm knew he could debate with this kid all day, about how there is never an excuse to kill 23 people, but from the looks of it, it would just fall on deaf ears.

“Luckily, thanks to you, he won’t be trapped anymore.” the young man’s face morphed into a smile as Malcolm’s stomach dropped. 

“What do you- what are you-” Malcolm couldn’t think clearly. He was only safe because of those 4 walls that his father was unable to cross. He couldn’t breathe. “What are you going to do?”

“It’s what you’re going to do.” 

And with his words ringing in his ears the young man took a step closer to Malcolm, before hitting him straight across the face, brass knuckles inflicting most of the pain, and the loss of consciousness. 

  *** 

Gil finally found a moment to sit down and actually enjoy his coffee, he sighed content for a moment.  The silence of the station almost lulling him into a mid-day nap, almost. 

  He was jostled out of his break by a pounding on his office door. Gil sighed, of course, he couldn’t catch a moment. “Come in,” 

  Dani Powell entered, a yellow package in hand. “You need to see this.” Her expression was grim, “This came for the station. It was scanned. No bomb or anything, but honestly it might be worse.” 

Gil thought to himself what ‘might be worse’ than a bomb, but he pushed that aside to inspect the laptop that was in the package. 

“There was no password.” Dani paused before opening the laptop, unsure of what to say next. “It was only streaming one thing, a live camera.” 

Gil’s eyebrow’s rose, he still wasn’t sure exactly why this was his problem, it was New York City. Strange things happened, a live feed to a camera is not the worse thing to be sent to a police station. 

It wasn’t until Dani pulled up the video did Gil fully understand. His face drained of all color, the taste of coffee in his mouth going sour. Displayed on the video monitor was a dark screen, but he was able to make out the figure laying slumped in the chair, hardly moving. He couldn’t form words for a moment. He had so many questions, the biggest if he was okay, was his kid okay? 

“Bright. What did you get yourself into?” he mumbled before sinking into his chair. 

His hand on his chin he wore a far away expression. Dani looked unsure if to talk, but had to give more information. 

“It’s live, I put some people on tracking it, but whoever set it was smart. We’ve had no luck. Maybe with more time-but Lieutenant, it’s not looking good. Gil nodded. From a law enforcement perspective, he knew what had to happen, but Bright was his blind spot. He swallowed before giving Dani a direction, he couldn’t make any mistakes on this one. 

“Make sure that’s being monitored at all time, I’m going to take a Tarmel to Bright’s place to see if we can turn anything up. Let me know as soon as anything changes.” 

“Will do boss,” Dani nodded before exiting the room. Gil stared blankly at his office wall, willing it all to be a dream. For himself to wake up in his office chair having nodded off, Bright to be hounding him about another case. But this was real life. And this was a real problem.

  *** 

  Malcolm was awoken to a bucket of cold water poured over him, he whipped his head to get it out of his eyes, but without his hands to wipe the water, it continued to drip into his eyes. This was worse than the punches. Malcolm could handle a beating, but when it came to his eyes he couldn’t have anything covering them, he had to be able to see, he had to be able to perceive, it was all he was good at… 

He supposed that he was lucky that his captor’s intent wasn't to torture him, with all he knew about him that could get pretty messy pretty quick. By the time the water ran off his eyes and he was able to see again he noticed there was a change, specifically a small tripod set up to the left of him, the camera atop flashing a steady red telling him that it was recording. 

  That didn’t look good for him. 

Before he could get too far away with his imagination the young man showed himself to him again. 

“We’re one step closer to our goal, right Malcolm?” he said turning away from Malcolm to give a cheesy grin into the camera. 

Malcolm figured that meant he was ransom. Or being used for ransom, whatever the proper term was he couldn’t think over the pounding of his head and the incessant voice of his captor trailing on. 

“As you can see, I have someone here with me today. A  very special someone, who made a terrible mistake a while ago. Now he’s going to fix it.” 

  The man approached Malcolm, still talking into the camera. “If I’m not being clear enough, you release the genius Doctor Martin Whitley, or his disgrace of a son dies.” 

  Malcolm half expected the next hit, this one knocking him and his chair onto the floor. 

He had to admit that it did hurt, but Malcolm assumed it was more for dramatic effect than his pain. That might be coming later. 

*** 

 Gil replayed the clip that Dani had sent him on his phone, of the threat, of Malcolm being thrown into the ground. Gil couldn’t help himself but to replay it again, it couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than when he had seen the video last. 

At least Bright was awake, he thought. He was alive and breathing, beaten and bruised, but alive. Then again, whoever the maniac that was holding him seemed completely unhinged, and not very patient. 

  It wasn’t even Gil’s decision, if they could release Martin for Malcolm, they had a pretty strict “don’t negotiate with terrorists” policy, and no matter how much he cared for the hostage, there were no special circumstances. 

  Gil pocketed his phone, he couldn’t stomach another rewatch, somehow he was putting all the blame on himself again. If he was keeping a closer eye on Bright then no one would have gotten the chance to do this, but he couldn’t help it if the kid didn’t let anyone in. Or was that just another excuse? 

With a frustrated sigh Gil gave up with his self quarrel. He studied Malcolm’s loft. It was all he could do. His hands were tied with Martin, and there was still no luck with tracking the source of the video. How many empty warehouses could there really be in New York? Too many, he thought. Too many. 

“Has anyone talked to Martin yet?” JT asked him. 

  Gil shook his head, “No. There’s nothing we can do, even if we could let him go, we shouldn’t. It would be too dangerous to the world.” 

“What about if he could ID Malcolm’s captor?” JT asked, “He’s a freak, so I’m sure he keeps tabs on all of his obsessors, I mean the man probably has a scrapbook titled, ‘my fans’.” 

  “That’s a good idea. Take Powell. I’m going to stay here...there has to be something we’ve missed.” Gil started to drift off again. 

  JT put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “We’re going to get him.” 

  “But will it be in time?” 

*** 

 Malcolm kept his eyes closed now, when he controlled when he couldn’t see it actually helped him. Take his mind off of things anyway, of his busted lip and bleeding face, his most likely broken ribs and his captor that didn’t seem to be losing any momentum. 

  He would do this annoying countdown for the camera, telling them and Malcolm before he would receive another hit. But Malcolm could rise above it, after all, didn’t he deserve it? If it weren’t for him the Surgeon would be old news from yesterday's paper, but his constant presence only seemed to dredge up the past even more. 

  “Why-” Malcolm paused to spit a mouthful of blood. “are you doing this? What does Martin mean to you?” 

The younger man smiled briefly at Malcolm’s question. “Martin is my, well, father in many ways. Or, I am his son. At least, his son that respects and doesn’t disappoint him.” 

  Malcolm’s face creased in confusion. “How do you figure that he’s your father?”

“I was born in 1998. The same day the Surgeon was arrested. My disgrace of a birth father had abandoned my mother in the hospital, the same day Martin’s disgrace of a birth son abandoned him to the police. We were a match sewn by fate.” 

“You’re delusional.” 

“I am the only one seeing clearly!” he raised his voice. 

  Malcolm shook his head, blood dripping down his temple. “You want him? You want him as a father? You want him haunting your every waking moment? You can have him!” Malcolm matched his tone. 

  The young man shook with rage, “You don’t even know what you have.”

“What I have? I have issues! I have so many issues, because he not only killed 23 people, he ruined all of our lives! I’ve lived my whole life trying to get away from him, and now here I sit, about to die to release him! Can’t you see that this insane?!” 

  Malcolm broke down, drowning in his own anger which morphed to a sob. He almost forgot that he was being recorded. Hopefully, no one was watching. 

  The man was practically seething and Malcolm sunk back into his chair. It was no use. There was simply no talking his way out of this one. There was no way out of this one. 

*** 

  Gil looked down at his phone buzzing. He didn’t know if he could handle another clip of a video, but he answered the phone anyway. 

Dani was on the other line, “We have a lead!” she practically shouted, and for a moment...Gil allowed himself to hope. 

  “We’ve been analyzing the video and Malcolm got his captor to start talking about himself, he was born the same day the Surgeon was arrested and has been obsessed with him as his father for some reason. Weirdness aside, we got a real lead with his birthdate and a current picture. JT and I have had no luck with Martin, he claims he had ‘no idea he was so popular’. I wanted to sock him in the face,” Dani said the last bit quieter but Gil smiled. 

  They had a chance. Standing up from Malcolm’s bed he rushed the door, they had a sick man to arrest and their man to save. 

  *** 

  “We’ve spent a great deal of time here, haven’t we Malcolm? No dice though. No word that the Surgeon has been released.” the young man smiled.

“Have I really just misjudged your importance? Or do you really just have no friends? Either way, Malcolm Whitley, you haven’t been doing it.” 

Malcolm leaned his head back and looked to the ceiling. It was too late to try to fight him, he was too injured and weak. But who's to say he ever would’ve been able to hold his own? 

“Last count down everyone.” the man said, then the clicking of a bullet being loaded into the chamber echoed through the warehouse.

  Malcolm couldn’t hide the tear that slipped down his face. He wasn’t sure why he was crying, it was finally happening. He was finally going to die. Maybe it was because he was going to die because of his father, or because he could never see his team again, his friends. 

  “Ten minutes folks. What are you going to do? Are you going to watch me blow Malcolm Whitley’s brains all over this place, or are you going to release the doctor?” 

Malcolm had tuned him out at this point. He only wished that he had one more day. To hug his sister, to thank Gil, to tell Dani, JT and Edrisa how much working with them had shaped his life. However short. He would tell his mother that he forgave her. She was awful as a parent, but he couldn’t hold that over her now. Now that he was going to die broadcasted to the whole world. 

  His only hope was that they looked away. That they didn’t watch him die. Then again, what did it matter? They would be the ones that found him. Would Edrisa do his autopsy? Would the team be assigned to his murder? Would his father cry when he heard? What about Ainsley? She was so vulnerable right now, would she be assigned to do a story on him? On the way that he died? 

“7 minutes!” 

Malcolm couldn’t help himself diving deep into his thoughts, entertain them because this might be his last chance. He didn’t really want to think about it. Now that it was becoming a reality it wasn’t as gracious as he had thought it would be. Death. He had been surrounded by death all his life, it’s not like he could avoid it though. Could anyone? 

“3 minutes, you better hope that he gets released soon, I’m serious about this gun Malcolm...” 

Malcolm shut his eyes, he would close them on his terms. Not when the bullet hit him. He was supposed to choose. Not some stranger in a warehouse. Him. 

  “60 seconds, well, it was nice knowing you. Now you get to die as the disgrace you turned yourself into that day.” 

The gunshot rang though the warehouse making Malcolm jump. 

  His face was twitching uncontrollably, his eyes still squeezed shut. It didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought. Death. 

  He was still shaking, unable to open his eyes. 

  “Bright!” called a familiar voice from across the room. 

  Gil. 

  Malcolm hesitantly opened his eyes to see Gil and what seemed to be the whole of the department surrounding him. 

  Malcolm’s eyes followed the blood splatter to his captor laying face-first on the ground. 

It was over. It was really over. 

  “Bright, are you okay?” Gil asked rushing to undo his binds. 

  All Malcolm could do was nod, it was all too much. He had come to terms with death, and now yet again he was left shaking and broken, but this time, not alone. 

  “Let’s get you to the hospital,” Gil said directing Malcolm towards the awaiting ambulance. 

  Malcolm took his shaking hands and ran them through his blood-stained hair. He stopped in his tracks, and when Gil turned to stop with him Malcolm put both his arms around him and said exactly what he had been meaning to for the past 20 years. 

  “Thank you,”

[staycatcher]

Anguish 002- Anarchy

“Out of genuine free will, I, Lee Minho, exercise the divine right to reject my sacredly designed soulmate.”

Member: Lee Minho / Lee Know x Femme Reader (she/her)

Au: FratBoi! Minho + Rejected Soulmate AU

Genre: Angst, with added fluffy flashbacks past life to make it enjoyable lol

Rated T for a #@&% ton of swearing, violent bodily reactions/extreme pain, hospitals, drunk people, altercations, and just general intensity 👀💀

Note: It skips around a lot, a border is before and after the past life flashbacks/dreams and after those, it’ll say when/where it’s set!! Hmu if it’s still confusing~

Word Count: 4.3k

Anguish series 2/?-  001, ~002~ 

Edited: 210116 (Original: 190918 )

‼Edit: rewritten to exclude Kim Woojin, so the characters in the plot are now all scrambled and changed from the original!! If you’ve read this before- first of all thank you so much🥺💓💞- secondly you might want to reread because of the supporting character changes going forward!!😅🥰💝‼

Your eyelids flash open in the backseat of an unfamiliar sedan, the car jostling your seatbelt-less form about as it’s swerving fast down the side streets in the dead of night. Being brought back to consciousness unfortunately also brought agony that unconsciousness saved you from. Your current state knocks the breath right out of you, forcing out pathetic whimpers for breaths of needed oxygen, alerting the people in the front. 

“Y/n?” Through the agony just of just being conscious, you hazily hear Jamie’s highly concerned voice. This is the first time in your decade-long friendship that you’ve heard her voice sound like this. Though, you only hear your surroundings very blearily and distant as if you were some sort of different time and space. Her voice- it was full of fear!

 You just croaked out an incoherent sound as an acknowledgment as best you could between gasps for air. That’s all you could conjure, with your heart and brain pulsing magma through your entire body. Your insides must be neon at this point from the excessive heat and energy surging through you. You felt as if you were burning up, burning [alive]. Not even the overflowing tears, sweat, pathetic snot, and slobber could cool you from the intensity of the fever.

“Is she awake?!” 

“I think so? She’s making weird noises and she’s moving!”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh-” The rattling car slowed down a bit.

“KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE FUCKING ROAD, SEUNGMIN!” 

“I’M SORRY! JESUS!” The car sped right back up, maybe even faster than before, ramming into a harsh turn which came with an entourage of groans from both the vehicle and its passengers. 

“Fucking hell!” 

“I said I’m -fucking- sorry!”

“Just keep driving, for Christ’s sake! And I’ll keep giving you directions!-”

“Okay, okaayy!!~ God!”

You’re not quite sure how much time passed from the time when you awoke in this godforsaken sedan and when it reached a full stop. It could have been five minutes, fifteen, or an hour. The torture of rejection had you blacking out frequently on the turbulent ride to this unknown location. Your main focus is only on the sole fact that your soul was getting ripped apart each second, a chaotic ride was the least of your worries. The only stream of consciousness you remember is that you threw up in the backseat once or twice, and all-consuming, volcanic pain and fever. You also had no idea where in the hell they were taking you, and you weren’t in a state to care. Hell, you didn’t even know what was up and what was down, what year it was, you had much more prominent, violent, bodily reactions that took up all of your bleary concentration. 

Once the car did reach a full, screeching stop you heard the grating metal of the rush of seatbelts being undone, the jerk of the car’s ignition switch off with a gritty rattle of keys, doors being ripped open, slammed shut, only for the doors near you being ripped open in succession. It made your ears bleed, or maybe they were already bleeding. Wait, are my ears bleeding? 

“Holy shit!!”

“How in the hell did she puke that much?! My fucking car!” 

“Oh my god, Seungmin, shut the fuck up! We’re not worried about that right now! Help me carry her in!” 

“Okay, okay, okay! Jesus!” 

“Here, I’ll come on your side.” Another door slam. Soon after, you were startled to feel a pair of comparatively cold hands latch at each of your arms and gently ripping them out from under you, pitchy sounds of disapproval screeched out of you before they began dragging your wrecked body towards them. You weren’t conscious enough to feel the amount of humiliation you normally would at being fussed over like this, or how you may appear or what sort of public decency you might have. You could only spit out loud incomprehensible sounds of discontent. So out of it, you had no choice but to submit to whatever they were doing and allow yourself to be helped, even if you currently feel like your suffering is being heightened significantly. Your eyes were still swirling around inside your head in dizziness, brain throbbing, being upright only aggravated your body more with the forced movements and new changes in circulation. 

“And up!~” That was met with groans from all of you.

“Fucking hell there’s more of her than I remember!!” 

“Shut the hell- Literally no one has ever asked you anything, Seungmin.”

“It’s not like that! I’m saying she’s tall, Jamie! Why is she so long-”

”For the love of fucking theater, please put a sock in it. I thought you were supposed to be the quiet one!” You can barely hear them by now, their voices blurred away further and further until you once again float away and away, right back into the mercy of sweet, sweet unconsciousness. 

Soft snowflakes fall upon your warm cheeks- happy, smiling cheeks. It was only because of said precious snowflakes melting against your warm skin that you were made aware that your cheeks must be as red as the scarf your grandmother knitted for you. Despite all this snow, all you could see was what was vaguely forty or so yards away from you: A single figure among the rest, a handsome young man with whom you felt an immediate pull. 

Your train was about to leave and the rambunctious morning rush is now in full swing. The train you were supposed to catch to leave to a new city with a future waiting for you would take off soon, you kept trying to remind yourself. You couldn’t risk losing your train for a random stranger! But, despite all of your best efforts to carry on, you felt no urge to go and chase a suddenly meaningless mode of transportation. You felt full all of a sudden, complete, all because of some blurry stranger in front of you, whose silhouette you could barely even see amongst the hoards of people bustling past you in every direction.  

My god, does this mean- Could it be?! This feeling, this person, is that- 

“Is that ‘You’?” You heard your voice call out, loud enough to yell over the hustle and bustle, your eyes twinkling wide in wonder. 

Nothing else in this world could matter even half as much as this person in front of you. This person you hardly got glimpses of in-between rushing people. Not even the train that would take you to a safe, guaranteed future, seemed to weigh as much to you as this stranger. Just glimpses of this man, made things feel right, in a way you couldn’t begin to explain. A feeling deep, deep inside you told you that everything in your life has led to this. That you came to this train station to see him, and not to leave the city to another. If it was socially acceptable to slap yourself in the face for what you are currently thinking, what you are currently doing- you’d do it. You were going to miss this train, your ticket was not refundable, you had an opening to pursue-

“I’d assume so!” He tried to get out loudly all the while shoving through, inching closer. Without a doubt, he was just as affected as you. Seemingly, entirely more thrilled like he had no other plans than to meet you, despite the blatant fact he must have some. He’s at the train station at daybreak for god’s sake! 

“Where are my manners? I’m sorry!! My mother would have a fit- raising me better than this!” His tone was infinitely more friendly and silly than you would have predicted, especially in comparison with the words he said. Why is he smiling so wide while apologizing? For some reason you loved it! This must be one of his many quirks.

“My name is Minho Lee.” He came even closer as he was saying this with cool, confident footsteps inching your way despite the busy, disruptive rushed bodies, all with their own lives, their own hurried paths. All that was important to you suddenly was this beacon of a person in front of you, whose DNA was handwoven by the celestial, specifically for you, a matched set. 

“I’m Y/n, Y/n L/n- It-it’s a pleasure!” You offered your hand for him to shake. You didn’t even know what to say, you just relied on your natural politeness and ingrained manners to get those few words out. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss L/n.” And then he smiled, his angelic feline smile sealing the deal. Just with his sparkly smile and an electric handshake, all your doubts fade away. 

Park Jinyoung Memorial Hospital

Room 3025

“-I don’t want him here!! I’m not letting him come in here!“ You come to, the sound of a vaguely familiar voice waking you up. None of your other senses seem to be working well besides your hearing, and even that was dubious, barely catching any of the words that were being said, almost as if you were underwater. 

“Jamie! It’s been ten hours! He’s her soulma-“ Ten hours- since what?

“I don’t give a flying rat’s ass, Chris!! He’s the reason she’s like this! He could hurt her even more!!“ Jamie and Chris? Jamie and Chris- where have you heard those names again?

“Jamie, shut up!! Her monitors will go off, they said she might still be able to hear- you’ll stress her out!!” Monitors?! Monitors, what places have monitors? Are they talking about you? You think so- You tried to open your eyes to investigate, but they refused to budge.

“‘Think this is bad, Seungmin?! Think what’ll happen if Minho walks through the door-“ Huh?! Minho!! That name sounds familiar- The blaring sound of a heart rate monitor beeping interrupts your thoughts before you can continue much further.

“Don’t say his name! She’s reacting negativ-“ They have to be talking about you! The heart rate has to be yours right- you reacted and then the heart rate spiked- then the sound happened. WAIT, YOU’RE IN A HOSPITAL! You’re in a hospital and hooked up to things! Your monitors give off an alert, though that doesn’t shut up these people you’re hearing. 

“Oh?! So you don’t want me to say his name but you want me to allow his unstable ass to come on in and get some visiting hours on the books?! How does that even make sense, Chris!?” Oh wow. Okay, this is- a lot. 

“Jamie, be realistic-”

“No you guys be realistic! Y/n’s parents are flying out here and they’re allowing me to speak on Y/n’s behalf until they land. And I’m not allowing that fucker to come anywhere near this room until she’s healed a little-” Seriously, what in the hell is going on right now? So much is happening all at once, you just woke up- What happened?! You want to go back to your dreams, not a whirlwind of whatever the fuck this is.

“Who says she’ll heal? Her soul is dying-” Hold up! Pause. What now- ‘dying’?! DYING? WHAT’S WRONG WITH MY SOUL? 

 “SHE’S D-“ The voice tried to continue, only to be cut off, but it’s to be expected at this point though. All you can do is stand and watch… well in your case, lay down and listen... to try and help you make sense of this.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“It’s true! Y/n’s-”

“I said don’t… the two of you can leave now.” Oh god- this is just getting uglier and unpleasant by every shouted word. What on earth did you wake up to, well... you’re not completely awake to be fair. You can’t seem to feel or move. It's like you’re just floating around, distantly experiencing your sense of sound.

“Jamie!”

“Leave.”

“Jamie, I’m her friend too you can’t just-” They’re my friends!! That’s how I know these people! Finally some answers!

The sound of a door being burst open met with quick footsteps. “Is everything alright in here? What’s going on? Do I need to get a Doctor? Security?” Hearing the distress of this person made your heart race faster, yet again, nerves heightening by this highly concerned person storming in. 

Wait- what were you even in here for?

“No-”

“They were just about to leave, ma’am-“

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask all three of you to leave. We have to calm her down and then run some tests. It seems that Y/n's vitals became unstable again. We’ll contact you, Jamie, and her parents when we’re done, and you can come back.” 

You were out in the country, on your way to fetch some water from the well for you and your oversized family. Being a frequently forgotten middle child, you often get away with hiding away in these fields, perhaps with a book or some sewing project you worked at, or perhaps just taking in the sun’s rays, cloud gazing, or napping like a kitten in the pleasant sunlight. Alas, today wasn’t so kind to you and as your younger brother who was usually charged with this task, fell sick in bed, thus the task was passed along to you. 

The well wasn’t too far, a nice walk for some. But all this time could be spent doing something more fun, something filled with more imagination than someone your age should have. Something curious or something that instilled peace in your heart. Something that didn’t involve hauling water in buckets back to the cottage without it sloshing it all over the place, spilling it, and splashing onto your layers in your rush to get back. 

Out of breath and traveling back with a heavy wooden bucket filled to the rim with water in each hand, your hand-me-down clad self began walking back along the dirt road. When you finally decide to look ahead and not at the buckets, you spy two people on horses trotting your way. You shake your head a few times making sure that what you were seeing was actually happening and not one of your daydreams.

Today was not a day full of your mind's little tricks, this was happening. It was made real as each second drew nearer. The two seemed to slow down their trotting as if to approach you. As they grew closer, the clearer they became, making it all the more apparent that they were in some sort of uniform, clearly of higher status within the military. Your eyes grew to the size of the chipped plate you ate upon this morning. It wasn’t often you’d see or interact with anyone with a status of any kind, much less outside of the village, right outside your family’s humble cottage doors. 

Eventually, the two came to a complete stop in front of you. The first man on your right seems to have a stern look despite his pretty lips, he could only be described as beautiful. His face was angular yet soft but his aura made it feel sharp, his presence alone felt important. He cleared his throat, right when your eyes were about to wander to his companion, who’s eyes you could feel began to take you in. You gasped in realization, quickly set down your buckets, and deeply bowed, paying your overdue respects. You nearly forgot to, too startled by their presence, to say the least. 

“I beg your pardon, sirs! It’s not often I see military in the area, it certainly is a shock! Please forgive my manners!” You wobbly got out, still bowing at a ninety-degree angle and looking down low at your worn shoes, too embarrassed to look up now. They could beat you for your disrespect if they wanted to. Your mother would have killed you herself if she found out. 

“Let it rest, Sergeant.”  You heard a downright musical voice chide the soldier you made eye contact with earlier before continuing. “The poor girl is spooked, to say the least! Not much unlike that new recruit- what’s his name- Jeongin! Not unlike Jeongin’s horse!” You couldn’t hold in the snort at his execution of what you’re assuming is supposed to be a good-natured joke at your expense to ease tensions. He seemed to be just as flustered as you, his delivery mocked himself more than he could’ve attempted to mock you!

 When you finally decide to look up, you instantly make eye contact with him. Unfortunately, you become even more ‘spooked’ than before! This man was astonishing, completely, and utterly astonishing. He looked as if he were carved out of stone, but his voice was so sweet and mischievous. He was the sort of contradiction you’ve read about in books, you still couldn’t fully comprehend if this is just another one of your daydreams or your reality. His radiant features almost make you fall over before regaining balance, but not without emitting humiliating noises that had the two of them snickering.

 And you thought that other guy was pretty! Just one moment of eye contact with this one before immediately feeling tingles from your head to your toes and your face became even hotter now; hotter than the sun. 

“My soulmate?” He gasped in amazement, amazement at you. His eyes lit up like he was handed the keys to a castle for a weekend. He’s full of newfound energy and leaned a bit too much on the flirtatious side for your face to handle. Your face could only get so red. He was testing your body pigment’s limits and he didn’t say more than a few sentences. 

“Soulmate?” You whispered, fully astonished now. Your brain is surely gonna fry any second now. Your unrelenting plate-sized eyes zooming across the entirety of his being, trying to take it all in at once with the wonder of an astronomer looking at the night sky for the first time.

“You know what this means, Sergeant Hwang?” 

“Lieutenant , we have t-”

“It means I have some parents to meet!” 

“What are you- you haven’t even asked for my name!” Your voice ripped itself out of you without your permission, your sentence could only be described as informal.

“Right, you’re quite right, even if you were a bit informal, I’ll have to forgive you for that now that I have been equally as such.” Then all of a sudden he began to dismount the horse, making your eyebrows fly to your hairline. He quickly dismounted the horse with the grace of a dancer, and immediately began to approach you. While all this was happening, ‘Sergeant Hwang’ had no problem gawking at you and his superior, but you could hardly care. Most of your energy focused on your sense of sight now that he was coming out of the now blinding setting sun and off his high horse, literally. And what a sight to behold he truly was. His gorgeous, generously lashed eyes looking right into yours, now only a respectable foot away from you.

“What’s your name then, my love?” He asked, reaching for your hand, instantly giving you both a zap which makes you both giggle in awe. Just the touch of him had you toasting in your high collared cotton. The sizzling increased but the realization set in, your hands were the two final pieces to the puzzle. Nothing in your sheltered, naive world made so much sense or felt so right like this.

“It’s- it’s Y/n.~” You breathed, looking up from your connected hands into his sharp facial features that became soft with endearment, crystal eyes gleaming at you in response.

Sigma Kappa Zeta Fraternity House

Twelve hours ago

“WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING MINHO?!” Changbin started chasing after Lee Minho who already made it the majority of the way up the narrow, carpeted stairs. Changbin was outraged that he’d pull this shit, especially at a time like this.

 For some reason, in his mind, he thought that when Minho found his soulmate, his reckless behavior would cease. Alas, he witnessed with his own two eyes, Minho did just do the unthinkable and rejected the very person that was made for him. Shock and anger didn’t even begin to describe how Changbin felt. He had to get to the bottom of this, this just didn’t make any sense. This behavior just wasn’t acceptable anymore. Minho has gone too far. He could no longer tolerate his friend’s bullshit. Someone had to collect him and knock some sense into him!

If Changbin had to be the one to knock some sense to Minho he would. When he saw the way Y/n and Minho looked at each other, he was ecstatic that it was you he was destined for. He’d never admit to it unless probed, but he may or may not had eyes for you a semester or two ago.

Noting your understated beauty and the unabashed quirks like how you only sat in odd positions, the excessive amount of pens and highlighters you liked to use, and your unrivaled cuteness despite your grunge exterior. He knew you could be just the right person butter Minho up, but he didn’t even let you say a sentence to him before he severed the celestial bond before booking it the hell out of there without a second thought.

What Changbin wouldn’t give to find his own soulmate, his one and only, and to see how quickly Minho just threw his away- No, Changbin couldn’t just stand there and watch! Minho wasn’t being rational, he probably wasn’t even thinking at all! He was being completely and utterly selfish, a fucking coward.

Changbin was tailing after Minho now, catching up closer and closer with each stride through the masses of drunk or high college kids. Minho was beginning to run with a limp, palming at his chest, as he was shoving his way through crowds of endless people partying their sorrows away. The younger one started to notice the closer he got, the more clearer it was to see that his friend looked off. Like he was injured, or maybe seriously sick. As if he was not only running from you but also running away from the symptoms and the consequences of his actions. 

Changbin barely made it in time to catch Minho when he inevitably doubled over in pain, shouts of which were being swallowed down, only bits and pieces coming out as chokes and grunts, and he refused to even look at Changbin. Completely and utterly ashamed, and full of frustration as he was trying to get Changbin off of him. But changbin was easily stronger than him in this state. The swarms of people on the main level just aloofly made a bit of a way for the two boys, with a roll of the eyes, just assuming it was another drunkard wilding out with a friend coming after him.

“What the fuck has gotten into you, Minho?!” Changbin interrogated, holding Minho at his shoulders with eyes studying him with the disappointment of a father and the confusion of a child.

“Ssstop- just- fUCk! Let go of me-“ Minho was thrashing in his arms, at this point he rendered a fish out of water, in dire need of something out of reach to breathe clearly. Beginning to freeze up as well as he hissed breaths in and out, acting as if he was going to pass out soon if Changbin didn’t do something, but what exactly, Changbin had no idea. 

Changbin has only heard distant horror stories of people rejecting their soulmate, shit like his sister’s friend’s brother’s cousin. Never in his life did he think he’d witness such a thing right before his very eyes. Before now, he didn’t even know what the incantation even was to reject a soulmate! Was there an incantation to undo it? Was there more than one to reject someone and if so did it need a specific matching reverse incantation? Does Minho know the reversal to the one he recited? Or could you even reverse it in the first place-

“Minho!!” Changbin gripped him by the shoulders this time, forcing his thrashes to a stop, though Minho was still huffing and puffing far too much to be just from the quick dash he did. “How do you reverse this!?”

“It’s too late, it’s too late, it's too laaaate~!“ Minho wallowed, practically blubbering, his eyes dazed and distant.

“Get over yourself!!” Changbin gritted his teeth before smacking him across the face, shaking his own head in disbelief. 

“OWW- wHAt the fU-“

“I said, get over yourself!” Changbin clutched at Minho tighter, forcing him to look into his fiery eyes. “Think of others for once and grow the fuck up, already! You got yourself in this mess, now how do you get yourself out of it?” 

“I did it out of free will-” Minho gasped for air, glaring his once sharp eyes at him. “It won’t be easy-” With each second passing by Minho’s breaths became more labored, his body twitching and stiff with intensity, veins popping out, pleading for help. 

Unlike the quick wildfire of pain you went through, Minho experiences a slow, dull pain creeping up him, leaving him begging for it to be over before it even really began. Drawn out, slow and steady in the worst way, with each minute he began to wish it were harsher or to get it over with. This dull, icy knife cutting at him slowly, was truly torturous, like a death from a thousand cuts. 

Changbin, on the other hand, was honestly so disgusted with this entire situation, and the fact it was out of his best friend’s own doing, made it even worse for him to deal with.

 “I don’t care how hard it is!! I want to know how to fix it!!” Changbin scorned and silently prayed to the universe to give him the patience to deal with Lee Minho for the rest of the long night he knew they had ahead of them. 

[wickednerdery]

The Three Musketeers [FanFic]

Title: The Three Musketeers Author: @wickednerdery​ Pairing: Reid/Ethan/Lil Foyet(friendship), Barbossa, Pintel & Ragetti Rating: Teen/Mature Summary: When best friends Spencer Reid, Ethan Bellamy, and Lil Foyet work together to get one over on a patron at a Tortuga tavern they all get more than they bargained for. Notes: Right, so this piece is almost 10 years old, lol! But some y’all wanted to read my Criminal Minds/Pirates of the Caribbean crossover stuff so here’s the first piece; it’s something of a prologue to a larger story I was working on and takes place well before the first movie. (Notes of characters at the end.) There’s some violence and adult themes involving children, also it’s WAY longer than most pieces I write nowadays lol!

“It be too late to alter course now, mateys!” ~ Barbossa, PoTC:Curse of the Black Pearl

Little Spencer Reid was a scrawny boy of eight with greasy hair that fell into his eyes as he spun his head this way and that making sure no one was watching too closely. This was his job in the crew, given to him by Ethan who promised it was the least dangerous one there was. So far that had held true. This stuff always made the boy nervous nevertheless, but they were starving and without money to pay so what choice did they have? That and the other two stressed that it wasn’t exactly stealing, per say, if the person was too drunk or otherwise busy to take care in keeping an eye on their goods. Ethan snapped up some bread and rum from the sailors in the tavern who were too busy with their company for the night before he saw the jackpot. Set beside the dark boots of an imposing man was a basket containing apples. Good apples, ones ripe and ready for eating. The temptation was too much, but Ethan wasn’t about to just grab and dash…he was smart, he always examined, staked out, a target first. This target, the man with the bushel of fresh apples, was imposing even while sitting. A large hat kept much of his face in the shadows, but Ethan could see a bushy beard and long, dark, auburn hair held back loosely with a strip of leather. He was significantly older and it looked like the years at sea had already begun to ravage the man leaving scars and sunspots about the face and body. Still, he was a finely dressed man and wealthy enough to keep the monkey on his shoulder dressed better than most those Ethan saw on the island itself. The teen boy slipped past the man onto where his other crewmember, Lil, leaned by a post keeping watch as well. She turned her face to him and arches a brow. “Well?” “I need ya,” Ethan said simply before drawing the young girl’s gaze to the man with the apples. “On it faster than he’ll be on me,” she teased a touch before giving Ethan a kiss to the cheek and heading over to the man and his monkey. Like the boys Lil had grown on the island of Tortuga the child of a pirate and a woman…in her case a whore already dead at the hands of a jealous lover. Whether from guilt or just plain pity the madam allowed the small girl to live in the brothel even after her mother’s murder. So Lil was raised in brothels and even at ten capable of working seduction skills enough to catch the eyes of drunken sailors and distract them for Ethan to steal. That was how it all worked. Little Spencer kept a sharp eye, she a tempting manner, and Ethan a fast hand. They’d done this all long enough to avoid capture when working together and, for Ethan and Lil, to have no real fear in it. Only Spencer held the fear, just as only he held the knowledge of the immorality of the behavior. Ethan watched as Lil sauntered over to the man, shifted herself into his eye-line, and held his gaze with stormy eyes and teasingly quirked lips. There was always something strange about Lil; how she carried herself, demanded and got attention from all those around her. She was a force and even at twelve Ethan knew she’d only become more so as she developed into a woman. It was as frightening as it was exhilarating. The young man’s gaze then trailed to his frail runt of a friend still loyally keeping lookout for all of them. Spencer was the virtual opposite. Small, meek, and ever unsure in his steps the eight-year-old was more of a comfort to Ethan than anything exciting. Spencer kept him and Lil anchored to their abilities, stabilized in their emotions, and reigned in from their impulses. Altogether Ethan imagined they were a complete person – heart, mind, and guts – and without the other two he wasn’t sure any would truly survive. Ethan turned back to the target with his monkey and waited until he got the signal from Lil (a thrumming of fingers on the wooden table) before he tucked his frame in the shadows of swinging lanterns and jostling bodies to snap up the booty. He stuffed a small bag kept on his hip with apples before grabbing one more in hand. He moved out in the next rowdy crowd that passed and headed towards Spencer with a grin, showing off the apple in his hand. The monkey’s shriek came first, then a string of curses from its owner and a shot from a gun. “RUN!!” Lil screamed to her boys as she grabbed a knife up off the table and slashed at the target. The man cursed, struck out, and knocked the girl to the floor. “Ethan?” young Spencer’s eyes became saucers as his older friend started a full dash to him. “Run!” Ethan grabbed Spencer’s arm and the two boys began to move as fast as their legs could carry them out into the crowd that was the streets of Tortuga. Spencer could barely keep up, tripping over his own legs and those of others. “Ethan, what…” he couldn’t get the words out as his friend began to virtually drag him. “Ethan…Lil…” What had become of their third party? Had the man gotten her? Was she okay? Ethan took a sharp turn, grabbing hold of a fruit cart and pulling it down as he did. The curses from the vendor followed them, but what was more important was that sounds of a scuffle did as well. The man with the monkey was now busy arguing with the vendor. At the second shot heard young Reid let out a squeak of nerves. He wanted to eat, yes, but not get shot in the process. The fact that Ethan only seemed to enjoy this, the danger of the chase, just made him more nervous. “Ethan…Ethan, maybe we should, uh, just give the apples back and…beg pardon?” The older boy pulled the younger into an alleyway and dropped his voice low. “Men who shoot first and ask later don’t pardon, Spencer.” “Wha-what about Lil, Ethan?” The older boy almost smiled. “Lil can care for herself, Spencer, you know that.” “But –“ “I think he’s a pirate,” Ethan’s adrenaline had already forced a switch of topics. “A proper one?” As opposed to those lowlifes who boasted without ever making good that littered Tortuga in greater numbers than the whores. Ethan nodded. “The only way we get out of this is to run, hide, or try and parley.” “But…we’re not pirates.” “Not yet,” the older boy smirked some. Both boys had parentage in piracy, but only the elder wanted to carry on the legacy. Spencer Reid saw his father’s piracy as a form of abandonment; William Reid preferred theft on the high seas to his family and the youth had no interest in becoming like him. Spencer aimed to use his intelligence for good, to help others, and never to bring misfortune. The truth was he wasn’t comfortable stealing, or even keeping watch over Ethan and Lil when they did, but there weren’t many options being the only son of the Mad Woman of Tortuga. Ethan felt differently; the bastard son of pirate legend “Black Sam” Bellamy he wanted nothing more than to share in the life. He adored the stories he heard from the sailors, Navy and pirate alike, and hoped someday there’d be stories told about him. Being a pirate sounded thrilling and he could never understand how his friend saw it differently. While he had a set of morals, it was already skewed towards piracy. Young Bellamy did what he had to in order to survive, to thrive, and had ease about him when it came to the underhanded and devious. Spencer sighed some. “Can’t we just hide then? I can’t keep running like this.” He hadn’t the physicality of Ethan. “Fine, you hide,” Ethan pulled out a few of the apples and stuffed them into his friend’s pockets. “Keep these with you.” “Where are you going?” “We should spilt up anyway,” Ethan replied simply. The truth was Ethan sort of still wanted to continue the chase though. Hiding wasn’t his style except as a last resort. Spencer frowned, “Oh. Okay.” “Just…stay in the shadows and tuck yourself behind the pigs outside The Faithful Bride, okay?” It was where they usually met up at the end of the night if they didn’t spend all the hours of the day and evening together. “Aye.” Ethan smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you. You and Lil.” Spencer just nodded then watched as his friend dashed off out the other end of the alley. The small boy stayed hidden where he was for sometime before he began to take back routes to the pigsty, searching for their Lil as he did. *** Ethan took a few more sharp turns and random routes before he realized there was no one chasing him anymore. The young man let out a sigh that bordered on disappointment as he looked at the apple that, miraculously, had remained in his hand. He took a bite, savoring the juice that exploded into his mouth with the piercing of its skin before swallowing it down. The chase was over, time to enjoy the spoils. Ethan set his teeth into the apple again as he began to head out towards the water’s edge. He was half through the last alley and his apple when a dark figure appeared, blocking his way. Perched on the figure was the outline of a monkey that screeched at him angrily. Ethan froze a moment before he stepped back and turned on his heel to make another run for it. No dice this time as two others blocked his way. A tall, thin, fellow partnered with a stout one who held his pistol out and at the ready to fire. “It’d be unwise to make yer run, boy,” the monkey-man remarked just on the edge of amused. Ethan spun back. “Parley!” “Parley?” one of the two groaned behind him. The man before Ethan just laughed some as he began an unhurried approach to the teen. “Ye got no right to parley lest ye be a pirate, boy.” “Well, I am,” Ethan insisted stubbornly to the man he now realized was the leader of the crew. The moonlight caught blackened blood on the man’s face from Lil’s knife and Ethan stepped back with shaken nerves. “By birth, anyhow.” “’Ow’s that?” the skinny one spoke up almost curiously. Ethan’s back hit the stones of a building as the three pirates closed in. “My father is Black Sam Bellamy, surely you’ve heard of him.” The three men and one monkey looked at one another seeming to debate the lad’s truthfulness and their next step before the leader gave a cackle. “Right then boy, I’ll give ya the privilege of parley. Now what’s it ye need to say?” “I’d like to say it to the captain.” “I be him,” the man replied simply as his monkey grinned. “Captain Barbossa of the Cobra. Now…” Barbossa closed in on the thieving boy, made the oozing blood on his face something Ethan’s eyes couldn’t avoid as he brought a pistol up under the boy’s chin. “Speak!” Ethan shook under the hot, rageful, breath of the pirate captain, but spoke nevertheless. “I wanna join your crew.” It was the one thing he could think of that might prevent his death and finally get him what he always wanted…a chance to be a real pirate. The two men to his right seemed stunned, the monkey ticked its head in utter confusion, and Barbossa simply leaned back a touch to appraise the bold youth. “How old are ye, lad?” “Thirteen, sir. Captain. And I’m still growing.” In truth, from malnutrition and general poor living conditions, the twelve-year-old Ethan hadn’t even truly started growing. “I know plenty about ships and I learn fast. I’d make a good member of your crew. A loyal one too.” Barbossa considered the offer in silence as he continued his appraisal. True, the lad was slight in build, but being on the cusp of puberty and given enough food he had plenty of room to grow. Ethan’s fast hands and quick thinking could certainly be of benefit as well. “Ye ever worked a sword or pistol?” “No, Captain,” Ethan confessed with a touch of shame. “But I’ve fought by hand, with small blades, and won more than once. More than I’ve lost.” The monkey gave Ethan a smile that announced Barbossa’s decision before the man did. “Ye owe me payment for my apples and for the handy work of that lil’ lass o’ yers. You’ll work it off on my ship.” “Yes sir.” Then Ethan looked to the other two pirates before his eyes went to the bloody gash of the captain’s. “The…the girl…” “Yers, yes?” Barbossa smirked some. The boy avoided the question, worried what an answer could bring to Lil. “She alive?” The monkey heaved out the squeals of a laugh with the men. “She were when I left her,” Barbossa grinned out. The man hadn’t the time to trouble with the girl much beyond the slap. “Now, ye pay off yer debts…” Barbossa gave a wicked smile, “and we’ll see if ye ‘ave what it takes to be a true pirate after that.” “Aye Captain,” Ethan smiled back, not seeing the evil glint of Barbossa’s eyes through his own excitement. “I’ll do ye proud, I swear it.” *** Lil rolled herself under a table after the hit, playing possum until the coast was clear. The bar now emptied of her troubles the girl picked herself up off the floor and began to examine her state. Her straw-colored hair was more wild than usual, her hands red with pirate’s blood, and her cheek still stinging but otherwise she was fine. She’d live to fight another day without troubles or worry. After wiping her hands on the cloth bits that were her dress the girl grabbed an unattended bottle of run from a table and a lost apple off the floor before heading out of the tavern as she drank and ate. Whatever the boys might think, this was a victorious night in Lil’s book. The girl wandered for a bit, adjusting her posture to appear her most non-threatening and uninteresting in hunched shoulders and hung head. She swung the bottle back enough times that her legs grew unsteady as she approached their usual meeting spot, The Faithful Bride. There were no signs of her boys so she began to call out to them. “Spencer! Ethan!” A mop of scraggly hair poked up from behind a few of the pigs where they dozed in slop and their own filth. “Lil?” Reid’s voice mixed equal parts relief and concern. “Aye. Where’s Ethan?” The younger shrugged as he worked his way out to street where Lil remained, bottle and apple in hand. “He said he’d meet us here when he could. Are you okay?” As he got closer, out in the lights trickling from the bars and brothels around them, he could see the angry red handprint across Lil’s face. “I’m fine.” Lil had gotten far worse over the years and the pain still there was dulled by liquor now. “You get anything to eat?” “Oh, yeah,” Reid’s lips curled up a touch as if he remembered his pockets had been stuffed with his share of the apples. He pulled one out and started to eat. “What should we do now, Lil?” Lil finished her apple and tossed the core to the pigs before offering her friend some of the rum. The boy declined with a shake of his head to which the elder girl shrugged, drank some herself, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before finally answering. “I say we wait it out till dawn, then start searching.” “Okay.” Because Lil refused to sleep in the muddy shit of the pigs the two children tucked themselves in the doorway of a closed shop nearby. Lil laid herself across its length and had Spencer rest his head in her lap for comfort as he curled up into himself. Despite those instincts that told Lil her little friend was too weak to survive, that being rid of him would be the wiser thing for her to do, she kept him as close as she did Ethan. Something about the weedy boy was precious to her, something that went beyond his advanced intellect. It was his innocence, that purity of the soul he clung to even as those closest to him – Lil and Ethan – willingly discarded or had it torn from them bit by bit each day. She did not understand how or why Spencer held to it, but the fact he did fascinated her. The young girl began to run her fingers through Spencer’s hair as she hummed, then sang. “We extort and pilfer, we filch and we sack, drink me ‘earties, yo ho…” *** The morning brought nothing but sun and angry hollers from the shopkeeper for the little urchins to be gone from the front of his store. Too tired to do anything more Lil and Spencer left without argument and took to roaming the streets in search for any signs of the eldest of their crew. They came across none. Ethan had simply vanished in the night. When they reached the whorehouse where Lil stayed the girl offered Spencer a share in her tiny attic of a room, but the boy declined. He wanted to be home, to see if his mother was all right and if perhaps Ethan had somehow ended up there or at least left word somehow. “Lemme know if he did?” the girl requested as the sun lit up the colors of bruising on her cheek as it rose higher in the Caribbean sky. “Of course.” Lil smiled bright and bubbly a moment, then nodded a touch before heading inside. No one was waiting up for her, no one worried or cared. The morning crowd of exiting men simply walked around her as she made her way up to her straw heap of a bed to sleep. By the time Spencer reached home his mother was to ill to even speak with so the small boy took to wandering out in back of his shack of a house. There were no signs Ethan had stopped by in the middle of the night; the only sign of his best friend’s existence at all was Iggy, their shared pet iguana, relaxing in the shade of the foliage grown wild on the property. “Hey Iggy,” the eight-year-old noted with a frown as he settled onto the ground. The iguana seemed to sense one of its owners, or smelled the fruit, as he crawled out into the sun over to Spencer. “You seen Ethan?” The iguana made a gutteral noise in reply. “Thought not,” Spencer replied back before pulling out one of the apples and biting off a hunk. He took half into mouth and pulled the other half out to hold out to Iggy. The iguana snapped his jaw, taking the apple from the boy’s fingers. “Guess it’s just you and me now.” The iguana tilted his head some as he chewed. Reid sighed some already missing his friend deeply. Spencer only had two, Lil and Ethan, and now one was missing. He worried too…had Ethan been found? Had he been jailed or, worse yet, murdered over their group-effort theft? Lil didn’t seem concerned, but then she very rarely was. In all his years of knowing the girl Spencer couldn’t recall a single time she’d cried or even shown fear. Not when that drunken lout had tried to take her behind one of the taverns, not when she’d been whipped for stealing, and not last night when the monkey-man caught them. Spencer bit his lip, looked down some, and let his wavy locks fall into his face as he debated crying over the seeming loss of his friend, his best friend. He shook with the thoughts of it. Then he felt the rest of the apple being yanked from his possession. “Hey!” the boy snapped to attention as Iggy scurried away with the last of the trio’s prize. The last thing Ethan had given him, the last memory of his friend before the older boy vanished in the Tortuga night. Spencer wanted, needed, that last bit of apple back. “Stupid iguana! Stupid…blimey…bloody…” the boy cursed aloud as he made chase, tripping over rocks, roots, and his own feet in attempts to catch the animal. He skittered to a stop when the lizard dived into a hole in the dirt that the boy couldn’t follow him into. “You’re just like Ethan, ya thieving bastard! Stupid Ethan!” Exhausted and enraged the boy lay by the hole and began to cry. “Stupid Ethan,” he muttered, face and fists in the dirt, until he drifted off to sleep with the tropical sun beating down him. "Friends hold both the power to excel your life, or destroy it." ~ Adam Murphy

I took some of the background given to Barbossa in the books based on PoTC to use to my own advantage. Ethan is from Criminals Minds Season 2, Episode 18, “Jones” - I grew insanely attached to him, he ended up in many pieces lol - and Lil Foyet is an OC daughter of serial killer George “The Reaper” Foyet from Season 4-6 (mostly?) who’s also in my Criminal Minds Noir AU “Living for the Night” on my AO3.

Those Who May Be Interested: @lady-crowned-with-stars​ @chibiyanai​ @ultrarebelheart​ @holykryptonitekitten​ @darcee74​ @lareinedususpense​ @poetic-fiasco​ @star-spangled-pan-with-a-plan​ @dreatine​