#sorry he's scribbly I was busy making puppets

[daily-ethoslab]

[935] Anytime I'm in an art store and I see those little papers they let you draw on to test the markers, I draw etho

[nightimeowl]

4. Coffee Conversations

It was unusually windy when Amy stepped outside, pushing open the glass door and walking away with a bag of snacks. Amy sighed, exasperated. She eyed the local business shops as she made her way home, reading and taking in the sights from the sidewalks.

Anything to distract herself from the frustration and headache.

She’d been working at the studio for nearly three days now, Lawrence found her phone and gave it back to her, much to her relief. Amy had found nothing in the papers from the desk, nothing significant. Just scribbles and scripts, with the occasional reminder or note jotted around the edges of the papers.

Amy had been putting off the idea for a while as the police and the forensics team had already done a thorough sweep of the crime scene, so what use would going there really do?

"Amy?"

She stepped back after righting herself when she walked straight into someone. She was already apologizing before she even gave herself the chance to take in just who she ran into.

“Lawrence?”

Of all the people she’d been praying not to run into outside of “work”, Lawrence wasn’t high on the list. Didn’t mean she’d be pleased to see him.

She stumbled over her words a bit, wordlessly mouthing a few of the responses in her head before finally croaking out a response. “You-hi, hey!”

Lawrence found her expression amusing, hiding a smirk behind a closed fist before clearing his throat to continue talking to her.

“Hey.” His teasing smirk settled into a kinder smile. One Amy had grown familiar with over the recent days during her time at the studio. “Are you okay?”

Amy shook her head a bit and blinked, realizing she’d been staring off. “Yeah! Sorry. I’m good.”

There was a moment of silence between them before Amy looked at the ground, noticing her missing friend. “Where’s Ollie?”

Lawrence laughed. “At home. With my grandmother. She came to visit and Ollie absolutely loves her cause she spoils him.”

Amy laughed. “That’s cute.”

As they talked, the air settled. Amy felt more at ease and the two ended up walking down towards a cafe that recently re-opened it’s doors and Lawrence offered to buy her coffee.

The conversation never ceased, from simple topics such as Ollie and his grandmother to how they got their job at the studio. Lawrence had been working at a music shop before someone from the studio hired him on to help with the music and audio behind the scenes of the show Welcome Home.

He’d been working as an assistant with the sound director for a few years. A couple months ago, the studio been struggling to find a dog to replace the one that had retired a year ago that was well trained and would work alongside puppets.

Cue, Ollie.

Lawrence offered to bring in his dog as he’d been training Ollie since he was a puppy. Everything seemed to fall into place and the studio practically jumped at the opportunity.

“How about you?”

“Hm?” Amy blinked.

“How’d you end up at the studio?” He repeated.

“We’ll,” They finally reached the cafe, Amy held the door open for Lawrence before walking in behind him. “It’s not a long story. I just needed the job and I’m pretty good at fixing stuff. So, I figured it’d be a good fit.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.”

Lawrence was glancing over the menu overhead the tired employee standing behind the counter. He knew what he wanted, he’d been here before and they kept his favourite drink even after the re-opening. He did wonder what Amy would like though.

“What do you want?”

“I can pay-“

“I invited you.” Lawrence was already pulling his wallet out from his back pocket and pulled out a $20 bill.

Amy didn’t argue. Instead, she looked over the menu for the third time before gesturing to one of the pictures. “That one.”

Lawrence nodded and spoke to the lady behind the counter and slid over the bill when she gave him the price and gave him a round, plastic disk painted black with the number 07 on both sides.

They took their number and found a table that had been recently wiped, taking their seats before Amy placed her bag on the empty chair next to her.

It was silent between them.

Amy kept picking and fidgeting with her sleeve and Lawrence stared back and fourth between the numbered tag and Amy.

“You know, I’m actually glad I caught you today.” Lawrence broke the silence. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

This caught Amy’s interest. She picked up her head and stared at Lawrence with a smile before it faded once she noticed his expression. “Yeah?”

An employee walked over and handed the two their coffee. Amy picked it it up eagerly, anything to distract herself from the serious tone she heard coming from Lawrence, a usually playful and chill guy.

Lawrence noticed her nerves and sighed inwardly. “Amy?”

She glanced up.

“Remember, the other day, when you lost your phone?”

Amy nodded. Of course she remembered, she’d been panic for a while before Howdy calmed her down and Lawrence found it later.

What happened was after Ollie had jumped at her, he’d knocked her over hard enough that her phone slipped out her shallow pocket. And with the chaos of the bold introduction and greeting people who were clearly in a rush, she must have not noticed how her pocket suddenly felt lighter than it did when she entered the building.

“I was just wondering…” Lawrence gingerly scratched the side of his cup as he mentally picked at what his next words should be.

“Why were you taking pictures in the office?”

> Chapter 3: Little Jitter Bug <

> Chapter 5: Coffee Confessions <

[genshingarbage]

Hi! I recently came across your tumblrs and I wanna say ty for the stories both of you make. If you’re not too busy, do you mind if you can make a scaramouche smut, female!reader teasing him unknowingly and him getting turned on only to wreck you? Thank you! And good luck with life!

Aha... ha...ha...AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. You have NO IDEA what you've just unleashed from inside me- I have the most unholy obsession with this puppet. Congrats on being the first to ask for a Scaramouche one shot, and i am quite honestly more than happy to do his ask for you. Sorry if you lot hate the teasing and cliffhanger but uhm, like it's Scara so you should always expect the most extreme or unfair... - Mod Diluc

My Turn. ||One Shot||

Scaramouche x Reader

How long had it been since you'd shown up at your superiors office now? It was surely passing on for two hours, all because he'd promised you that today he'd be sure to take you out on a 'proper date'. Because even though this man was your superior, he was also, albeit something you were beginning to question now, your boyfriend. But here you were, lounging around in a chair while he remains nose buried into his scattered papers and forms adorn his desk. You didn't think the sound of a pen scribbling onto its given surface could irritate you so badly, but guess today was full of surprises eh? You'd made your discomfort to this situation very audible and visible barely thirty minutes ago now, and he'd simply just ignored you. You sighed, huffed, grunted, crossed your arms, tapped your fingers against your arm rest, but whether it was on purpose or not he merely sniffed his nose casually and remained eyes glued to the papers. What was so important on those damn papers anyway? Scaramouche was never one to be tardy when it came to his work and you knew this, but even he was pushing past his normal attitude given towards his own tasks now.

You couldn't take it anymore, whatever this was, it had officially overstayed its welcome. You were bored, you were hungry, you were annoyed something rotten with Scaramouche right now, and it didn't matter how you tried to phrase the sentence in your head- you knew the moment you voiced it out loud it was gonna come out as a jumbled and royally screwed up mess of just incoherent babbles. But either way you had to say something, anything! Because this was becoming ridiculous now, how he could keep sitting there and acting like this was all okay was beyond you now. Had he forgotten you were there at this point? It was unreal how rude he was treating you, granted he's always been a rude and harsh man, but this was just cruel now. Your mouth opened once you'd finally hyped up yourself to voice out your anger toward him, but then, it hit you... your mouth closed slowly again, a word never having once left your lips, as a very sly smirk was now adorn your features. If he's to keep you trapped here in utter boredom and sheer silence, you might as well create some fun hm?

|| 45 Minutes Later ||

This woman, was gonna be the death of him, he'd finally decided it. Here he was trying his best to finish these awfully painful result forms as fast as possible, so that he could leave this personal hell he called his office and take you somewhere nice, and you've now taken it upon yourself to tease him? In various ways might he add. Were you insane or just stupid? The Tsarista herself has demanded these forms be filled out by him personally, why? Fuck knows. But it was grating his nerves slowly that's for sure, and now you- he hitches his breath, a sharp inhale being sucked through gritted teeth. You were playing such a deadly game right now, having dared to sit on his lap, he'd immediately felt the way you tensed and froze for moment when doing so, yea, he's aware of how rock fucking hard he is down there, thanks to you bitch, and now you're fully aware that your little antics and teasing games have been affecting him oh so badly. It was bad enough when you were practically shoving a 'I'm bored' sign in front of his face, to which he gracefully ignored lest he have a fit and fry the furniture around him in an angry outburst. This was the last time he ever made a promise with you that's for fucking sure.

You were enjoying the feel of rubbing back and forth ontop of his ever growing bulge a bit too much in all honesty. Shocked in your own self's ability to rile him up so easily, but that being said, should congratulations really be in order? You're not exactly modest down there yourself right now either, you felt the damp patch form twenty minutes ago, but you being the good hard worker you are, opted to ignoring it in favour of continuing to feel your boyfriend tense and twitch under you so cutely. You didn't dare to look around however, one could only imagine the heart stopping glare he's giving you right now, if your hairs standing on your neck are anything to go by he's staring, hard. But this is his punishment, you won't allow yourself to start feeling bad now, he has work to do, okay, so do it tomorrow, or the day after, or the day even after that! If he finds it fine to make promises and not keep them; then you're going to become his own personal blue balls machine. Looking back on it now though, you never once were calling the shots here... were you?

This became painfully apparent when he made a loud click noise with his tongue, having finally reached the peak of his own limit. His hands roughly gripping your own in such a fast flash you could of sworn you saw sparks of purple electro fizzle from his fingers, that and also the numbingly intense tingle that rattled through your body and bones when his touch engulfed your own. You gasped softly from his sudden outburst and had no time to react while he forcibly guided your arms around your back, leaving you to look like nothing more than a vulnerable tied up play thing. You squirmed slightly in his vice grip, tempting the waters so to say, but the fact you only winced from the sheer tightening hold on you and your complete inability to move in the slightest indicated he was well and truly done with your little games. Shaking your head as nerves began to eat away at you like a fever burning up inside your blood, trying to now play the victim wasn't going to get you anywhere; but what other alternatives were there for someone as fucked as you right now?

"H-hey, Scaramouche, I'm sor-" was silly of you to think you'd be given permission to speak now, wasn't it? Since he merely maneuvered both your restrained wrists into one of his hands, his boney fingers hugging around them snuggly. The other hand now free wasted no time in latching onto your hair and tugging your head back hard, rough, causing you to silence your words and instead gasp out loudly. Your eyes being forced to glare up at the ceiling as your breathing kicked up in pace, the uneven rhythm becoming much more audible to you and most certainly him. He was far too enthralled in the scene playing out before him to give those damn report forms any notice right now, you'd been trying his patience since the moment you sat your ass down in his office. Giving your best effort to rile him up, well congratulations, you'd succeeded honey, more than expertly might he add, the strain in his lower garments becoming ever more increasing in discomfort. He pulled you backwards so your left with no choice but to be pressed even closer into him while your eyes remain wide eyed and glaring at the ceiling. His hand still tightly knuckled into your hair, he licks his lower lip slowly out of habit as he leans his face forward, drawing his lips now right beside your ear, which was now flushed red at the very tip.

The hot breath fanning across your ear only made your nerves reach a new high, your throat suddenly running crisp dry, swallowing down hard and slow trying to remain collected. But you knew you were divinely fucked when you heard that low chuckle emit from his lips, with a husky tone he grunted out right beside your ear; "My Turn."

Yea sorry guys, I started this one-shot like actually months ago, I have lost count now, i got distracted with personal life and stuff and when I finally wanted to get back to it I just didn't really know where to take it from this point on, so I decided to just wait till my spark flicked back but I've totally lost motivation for Scaramouche now after finding out he may just be another short anemo guy, gonna take me sometime to accept that and get over it, so I am leaving this post as a giant cliff hanger and posting it like this, better to have something than nothing right? sorry but not sorry- - Mod Diluc

[nillegible]

It wasn't supposed to hurt him. Ouyang Zizhen had used the talisman before, on his sister and his sister's idiot fiance (Now he was her fiance. Before the talisman, he'd just been a shixiong who absolutely refused to confess his feelings to her). In retrospect perhaps it was unkind. A talisman that was meant to force you to confess what you were hiding from the other person? Jiujiu would have smacked him for even thinking about using it.

Jin Ling would punish himself if it would help, would do anything, to snap the talisman, or to get his stupid uncle to just say his stupid secret, because right now?

Right now, his uncle is choking on his secret, literally forcing it down by strength of will alone while Wei Wuxian flutters around desperately, trying to destroy the talisman and Hanguang Jun plays his guqin. The spiritual energy from the Lan musical technique is so heavy that Jin Ling's skin buzzes with every note, and it's even more concentrated on the three older cultivators, visible threads of it sparking over their skin.

Jiujiu still looks like he is in agony, breaths harsh and ragged, choking, his face screwed up, twisted, awful.

"Jiang Cheng please, please, just spit it out, I don't care what you still blame me for, I don't care just say it," Wei Wuxian begs, but it's no use, his uncle shakes his head no, and Jin Ling covers his own mouth to stifle a sob. He hadn't listened when Jin Ling begged, either.

It's such a simple talisman, so terribly simple a compulsion that it's not meant to be fought or broken. Powered by the strength of the secret and the spiritual energy of the person it was affixed to… Jin Ling hadn't known it was possible to even try.

"Jiang Wanyin," says Hanguang Jun. He has to say it again to get his uncle's attention. "Let me help." His uncle stares blearily for a few moments, then nods again. Abruptly, even the gasping choked off noises break off, and Jin Ling rushes closer, but he's okay. He's still okay, slumping a little and leaning onto Wei Wuxian in exhaustion, but alive.

"Wei Ying," says Hanguang Jun, and apparently that means something to his other uncle, because Wei Wuxian immediately turns his attention back to paper he'd been scribbling on, and continues.

It takes Wei Wuxian a full hour more to break the compulsion, for his uncle to collapse sideways like a broken puppet onto him, and cough up mouthfuls of blood while Wei Wuxian rubs his back. "Thank you, Hanguang Jun," says Jiujiu.

Then he looks up at Jin Ling, who is frozen in place, not sure if he should run or fall to his knees and apologize, and holds out a hand. Jin Ling throws himself forward and hugs his uncle sobbing his apologies. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry."

“Stupid,” Jiujiu says, voice hoarse, but he doesn’t let go of Jin Ling until he falls unconscious, and Wei Wuxian disentangles him from the half embrace – Jiujiu’s other arm was clutching Wei Wuxian’s robes, tightly – and lifts him into his arms.

“He’ll be okay, right?” asks Jin Ling, a bit pathetically. This was all his fault, after all.

“Jiang Cheng will be fine,” says Wei Wuxian.

When Jin Ling thinks back to this moment, he will realize that Wei Wuxian sounded oddly broken, not just tired.

*

It turns out that Jin Ling had actually ruined everything. He’d been sure that his uncles cared for one another, he’d watched the weird way they held each other at arm’s length but seemed desperate for more, and only wanted to help them out. Whatever it is they were keeping a secret couldn’t be worth it right? Wei Wuxian was back from the dead. He was, not Jin Ling’s mom or dad or anyone else. Jin Ling had only wanted them to make the most of it.

Instead, all Jin Ling does is show Wei Wuxian that Jiujiu has some giant terrible secret that he would rather tear his lips bloody trying to suppress than admit to, and Wei Wuxian seems to give up. He’s cautious around Jiujiu after that, He’s polite. And that only makes Jiujiu angrier and frostier in turn.

This is not what had happened to Ouyang Zizhen’s sister and her husband! (They’d gotten married in the spring, Jin Ling had even gone to their wedding.)

Perhaps Jin Ling should have considered what would happen if the secret was a bad one.

“Would you tell me?” asks Jin Ling. He’s treading on dangerous ground here. Jiujiu hasn’t punished him for the stunt ( “You’re a Sect Leader now, brat, you pick your own consequences,” he’d said, and Jin Ling had assigned himself a lot more make sure Jiujiu is recovering okay missions, whenever he could make the time) and he doesn’t want to remind him to.

“Of course not,” he snaps, Zidian sparking in hollow threat on his finger. At least he scowls? When Jiujiu isn’t busy being angry, he’s been strangely melancholy, recently. Jin Ling hates that, too.

*

It’s Hanguang Jun that Jin Ling approaches in the end. Oddly, he’s the one who’s angriest at him, Wei Wuxian had just waved off his apologies and asked him to introduce him to the maker of the talismans, and never mentioned it again.

“I really am sorry,” Jin Ling tells him. “I want to know how to fix it.”

Hanguang Jun is silent for a long time, and Jin Ling braces himself for dismissal, to be told he can’t, that it was his fault in the first place, he should stay away from Hanguang Jun’s husband.

“It is hard to speak when you are afraid,” Hanguang Jun observes. Which, what? Yes, of course. But why now? Jin Ling nods uncertainly. “Why should Jiang Wanyin be afraid of Wei Ying?”

Oh. Huh? “He’s not, he’s never…” Jin Ling trails off, uncertain. He’d grown up secure in the knowledge that Uncle Jiang would protect him from the evil Yiling Patriarch. That he wasn;t afraid of him. Things were apparently far more complicated than that, but Jiujiu had never been afraid of Wei Wuxian. So why wouldn’t he tell the secret. What did he think his secret would do, that hasn’t happened already? They barely even look at each other anymore! Hanguang Jun just keeps his steady gaze on Jin Ling, waiting for an answer. “Um. He was afraid… to hurt him?” asks Jin Ling.

He gets a slight nod in affirmation.

“You’d think Senior Wei would know all the awful things already,” Jin Ling says, quietly. Wei Wuxian’s life kind of sucked.

“Sometimes, it isn’t the terrible things that hurt,” says Hanguang Jun.

Jin Ling peers at him closely. “Does Hanguang Jun know my uncle’s secret?” he asks.

“No,” he says, and explains nothing further. “And Wei Ying does not.” He looks up then, over Jin Ling’s head, towards the door. “Wei Ying does not need to know, if he trusts Jiang Wanyin.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, lightly. “Who would have thought Lan Zhan would be defending Jiang Cheng some day, hm?”

“He’s right, Wei Qianbei,” Jin Ling hurries to say. “Jiujiu cares for you. He says awful things, he’ll say, ‘You’re a stupid brat, who raised you, I should break your legs’ but he doesn’t mean any of it. Except maybe the stupid part.”

Wei Wuxian laughs again, then drops a hand to Jin Ling’s head. “I know, A-Ling,” he says, the name sounding so fond when he says it. “He’s my brother, and that part of him hasn’t changed.”

“He hasn’t changed,” says Jin Ling, fiercely. Jiujiu is the only constant in Jin Ling’s life, he wouldn’t just become something else.

“He has though,” says Wei Wuxian softly. “He’s all grown up, now. The last time I saw him, he was little older than you. And look at him now, keeping secrets from his shixiong.”

“I don’t believe he ever called you that,” says Jin Ling, because his nose is sour and he doesn’t want to cry.

“No, no, you’re right, he didn’t,” says Wei Wuxian, a little more cheerfully.

*

They put themselves back together slowly. Wei Wuxian makes an effort to reach out again, far more determined this time. With some pointed nudging from Jin Ling, Jiujiu tries his best to meet him half way.

It’s not easy. There is. There is so much between them that Jin Ling will never understand, broken promises and dead family, and debts that can never be repaid.

It shouldn’t be possible, to put all of that aside and start anew. Especially not for Jiujiu, who held his grudges forever, and didn’t quite believe in second chances.

They had once been the twin prides of Yunmeng though.

They don’t care that it shouldn’t be possible.

They do it anyway.

[Inspired by this post because holy shit I love Yunmeng Pride reconciliation fics so incredibly much, but it’s not always about divulging that secret really, is it? I just wanted to write one which is definitely about that secret but also not if that makes any sense. I’m not sure if I succeeded, if I confused you I apologize.]

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Clause ~ HJS [Request]

WORD COUNT: 10.1K

GENRE: Platonic, angst, mentions of gambaling, being owned by someone, fluffy/happy ending

PAIRING: Han Jisung x Fem!Surgeon!Reader

A/N: I hope this is okay for you sweetie, I'm still sorry about your other requests! 🥰💕

It was pouring with rain outside as you stared out of the window into the city, your boss was drowning on about your work while you pretended to listen. The rain hitting the windows made you think of that day, that one day that ruined your life and made you into somebody else's property instead of your own person.

"Y/n?" You turned your head to the side to look up at him, Park Jin-Young was staring at you from across the room. Your boss for the last 4 years and many more to come. He was in the middle of giving what you assumed to be one of his best speeches yet since he was talking to everyone in the room about upcoming events.  

"Yes Sir?" He shook his head at you knowing you hadn't been listening to him the entire time. You hardly ever listened to him so he pointed to the whiteboard that was behind him so you would see what he was yapping on about this time. Your name was there grouped together with the rest your band members Bang Chan, Han Jisung, Seo Changbin, Hwang Ye Ji and Shin Yu Na. The subunit that had been formed for you to debut with last year which was currently the most profitable under JYP. You'd been working for JYP for four years already but your group was only a year old, before them, you were doing solo work for advertisements, singing, acting and anything you could possibly get your hands into. JYP was just signing you on to everything and anything that would make money.

"You all have an award show in two weeks and I expect you to be on your best behaviour! I want you all practising hard-" His speech continued on but you just went back to staring out of the window drowning out his voice the way you always did. 

The rain was hammering down against the windows and the pavements but all you could think about was how lovely it must have been to be out there. Free to do whatever you wanted, walk around in the rain letting it hit you in the face without being screamed at that you could get sick. You couldn't even remember the last time you'd been allowed to do whatever you wanted without having to sneak off to do so. For this longest time, this had been your life. In and out of business meetings, being forced into a lifestyle that you did not want nor wish to have but it was your father's fault if it wasn't for him and his debt none of this would have even happened. You would have been free to live the life that you wanted instead of the one you were being forced into. Like a puppet on a string doing what everyone else expected of you and not what you wanted to do.

Thunder clapped loudly from outside of the building making you jump up as you looked up at your father, he had sweat dripping down his forehead as he waited anxiously outside of someone's office. He'd dragged you out of bed early that morning to take you out with the promise of getting breakfast together. Your first day off in over six months and you jumped at the chance,

"Did you warm up your voice as I told you to?" You frowned at the question but nodded in answer to him, you'd been warming up as he told you to all morning. You'd been practising between shifts at the hospital and doctors surgery you worked at since he told you to. 

"Good, Mr Park will be very impressed by you. You want to be a singer right?" You were about to tell him, no, that you'd never wanted to be a singer or in the limelight, it just wasn't who you were when two huge double doors opened and a woman appeared. She was dressed in a black dress and clutching a clipboard to her chest as she scanned the room, her eyes landing on you and her dad and she smiled brightly.

"Mr Y/l/n," Your dad rose to his feet and began brushing down the outfit he'd talked you into wearing. You were 19 years old and pretty sure you could dress but your father insisted that this be the outfit that you wore. It was a white blouse with a pair of black jeans. It made you feel as though you were going for a job interview. 

"Dad." You hissed as he continued to brush off the shirt nervously before ushering you into the room alongside him, standing you in the centre of the room directly in front of a huge desk. Floor to ceiling windows was behind the desk and a man turned around in a chair to face you and your father,

"Mr Y/l/n it's good to see you, I assume this is your daughter?" A man who was dressed in a white suit asked as he looked up from a folder in his hands, he stared at you and then at your father. The folder was then placed down gently onto the desk in front of him as he eyed you up.

"I don't have all day. Show me what she's got and then I'll see if she's good enough." You frowned harder wondering what was going on but your father smiled at you pushing you a little as he nervously whispered to you, 

"You have to sing for him okay, sing your favourite song." He moved away from you and you took in a deep breath before starting to sing the lyrics of the song your mother used to sing to you every night before you went to sleep.

After performing in front of the man he smiled brightly and stood up in his chair walking over to you as he looked you up and down, 

"She's quiet, you don't talk? Or ask questions?" You stayed silent as you stared at your father wondering what in the world was going on. Why the man had asked you to sing for him and then got up from the desk when you were done and began clapping. It was starting to set in that going for breakfast wasn't going to happen anymore which made you mad at the thought of being carted around on your day off. You could have had a nice lay in for the first time in years. You were working as a surgeon apprentice in a hospital as well as working in a private doctors practice and on Saturday's and Sundays you worked in a restaurant all to pay off your fathers debts. The debts he continued to round up day after day as if he didn't care that it wasn't him working his arse off to pay it off.

"She's always been quiet." He mumbled as he played with the sleeves of his coat. It was covered in holes since it was the only one he'd owned for years. Your family didn't come from much as it was and having a gambling father who didn't know when to stop didn't help you any. You glanced at your father who was avoiding all means of eye contact with you and then you bit down on your lip. You should have left with your mother when she left him all those years ago. You never would have been caught in this situation if you had done.

"Do you know what he's doing?" JYP asked as he walked behind you and whispered in your ear before coming out and standing in front of you once again. Staring up at the man you shook your head in answer to his question and then at your father.

"You didn't even tell her that you were signing her life away? That's very cold." You jumped as a folder was slammed down onto the desk in front of you and your name was splashed across the front, inside were different slips of paper with your fathers signature scribbled along the bottom.

"He...He signed my life away?" You stuttered out as you began reading over everything that was inside of the folder. Employee contracts, money contracts, debt calculators and then there were your schedules all packed inside. 

"You'll be quitting all of the jobs you have, you work for me." The man clapped his hands together and the double doors opened, 

"Your father will be taking this-" A silver briefcase was brought into the room and placed onto the table beside your paperwork. 

"Do you want to take a guess of what's inside?" There was an evil smirk plastered across JYP's face as he watched the way your eyes danced between the case and your father who was staring at it with glistening eyes. 

"Money. It's always money with him." You spat out coldly as you watched the case slowly begin to open. Inside it was filled with countless notes all for your father to take with him, 

"You'll be working with me for the next...Hmm, I think we went with-" JYP turned to look down at the contracts and smiled as he ran his fingers across the black and white paper. 

"26 years, 80% of your wages will come to me to pay back our fathers debt." Your mouth fell open as you turned to look at your dad who was picking up the case of money, 

"DAD!" You screamed out as if you had just been shot which was what it felt like, it felt as though someone had just shot you in the chest as he took the money over his own flesh and blood. 

"Don't, he's not worth it." Instead of coming across as cold and callous JYP seemed to really feel for the fact that your father was doing this to you.

"I'm paying back our debts with this, you'll earn off this in no time." Your father mumbled leaving the office without another word but you weren't through with him you began to storm out after him when the doors were shut in front of you. 

"We have much to discuss, take a seat," JYP said calmly as he sat down at his desk and pulled out paperwork for you to look at.

After four years your father proved to you that he wasn't going to use that money to pay off his other debts he'd ended up gambling it all into the ground before crawling back to JYP for more. But he had nothing more to offer, JYP wasn't going to sign you on for more years when after 26 you would be no use to him and all the debt would be paid off with your payment plan. That wasn't the only one you had thought, you worked for JYP of course. You did everything that was asked of you but you never did more than that. Instead, you spent any free time you could, working in a private surgery performing surgeries on people. The pay was exceptional which meant you could put a bunch into a savings account as well as having enough to spend on yourself.

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" JYP called out as he looked at everyone inside of the room, everyone exchanged glances with you and you looked down at the table. You knew what was going to be mentioned but you just hoped they would bring it up with you instead of the big boss.

"No. We're fine." Chan answered coldly before getting up to leave the room first, slamming the door behind him the rest of them all doing the same thing. 

"Y/n..." JYP asked as he watched you playing with the sheets of paper in front of you. 

"You keep running off during practices and not showing up on the weekends...Want to tell me where you're going?" JYP lent down on the table to look at you and as if someone was finally looking out for you the door opened to reveal his assistant telling him he was late for another meeting. You took the chance to rush out of the room and head to the practice room for your choreography practice.

"I don't get why she's here, she doesn't fucking do anything. She hasn't trained!" You were standing outside the dance studio when you heard Lia talking about you loudly to everyone else in the room. It was nothing new since they all regularly voiced their dislike for you even if you were in the room with them and you didn't blame them. You would hate yourself too if you were randomly placed into a group with no training. Chan had been training for seven years until he was finally chosen then there was everyone else who had to do weeks and weeks of auditioning just for the chance to be placed into the group.

"Where is she always running off too? I heard her father and mother died so she's not going to them," You heard Changbin laugh loudly as you swallowed the lump in your throat. Your father died last year after losing the house and then ending up in the streets, succumbing to the environment around him.

"It's not like she's got any friends either. She's so quiet it freaks me out." Yeji commented as she looked at Chan to see what he thought of all of this but the room was in silence again and you debated with yourself about walking inside. 

"What's up dummy? Scared to walk inside? Running off again?" Jisung's voice filled the air and you cringed at yourself while he chuckled softly. He was always coming across as cold and hotheaded with you all of the time, you thought it was just how he was but he seemed to be so kind to everyone else around him. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and smiled down at you,

"I was just- I don't...I didn't-" You tried to come up with something to say to him but he just rolled his eyes at you,

"I-I-I-I-" He mocked as he pushed the doors open and pulled you inside with him, dragging you out in front of everyone as he smirked at them all. 

"Look what I found!" He announced causing everyone turned to look at you and glared, they wasted no time in trying to hide the dirty looks they were giving to you. None of them cared what you thought of them, they just wanted to get on with the subunit things so they could get back to their main groups. That was all it was to them. Extra pay and something that they had to do even if they didn't want to do it.  

"Minho is coming to teach us the choreography, think you can stick around long enough so you don't fuck it up?" Chan snapped out as he raised his eyebrows at you waiting for you to come up with some kind of comeback which you never did. The reason he was telling you not to fuck it up was because of the countless choreographies that you'd messed up in the past but never showing up for the practices.  

You kept your mouth shut as you avoided his eye contact not wanting to get into a fight with the leader when you knew you'd never win. You'd never win because he would always find some way to blame everything on you because he hated you and you knew why he hated you. Never trained a day in your life. Got straight into the company without exceptions and you were basically the spokesperson for everything JYP could sign you up for but they didn't know why. Chan on the other hand spent over 7 years of training, living in a dorm from the ages of 13 while you lived in your own place that you paid for. They hated you for acting as though this was no big deal, treating it as if it was just a hobby instead of a job. They didn't know the ins and outs of everything and how you were working to pay off a dead mans debt that had been transferred to you the moment your father died. The words JYP had screamed at you the day you found out still rang through your head. You'd gone to him with the hopes of your father dying would get you out of the debt he owned but you were wrong. It was all transferred onto you and your head. Held over you until all the money was paid back.

"I still own you! You work for me until the debts are clear." He owned you. As if you were just a piece of property that could be passed around. As if you didn't have your own life to think about but no. 

"Y/n? You're at the back for this one." Minho said calmly as he looked at you, you hadn't even noticed he'd come into the room until he called out your name to move to the back. Minho was one of the nicest people you'd met in the company, he was always willing to help you out whenever he got the chance which was why he seemed to be your only friend. Only you never hung out outside of the company, you never went to lunch together or spoke about anything except work.

"Yeji and Lia at the front of Changbin," Minho called out as he began to order you all around and show you what the dance routine you would be working on was. Chan stared back at you to make sure you were still there and the music began to play through the speakers.

A week into countless practising and early mornings you were finally getting the routine done and perfected, going in for one to one practises with Minho whenever you could. It was a Saturday morning at 4 am, you'd begged Minho to come into the studios to help you as early as possible since you were expected at the surgery later that day.

"You're still having a hard time with one of the moves but it'll come to you, Jisung is your partner for it you should go to him for help." He mentioned after you both took a break to get some water together, he was watching you as you shuddered. The mere thought of going to one of the others for help was traumatising enough, you'd already been given so much shit about failing on some of the moves you didn't want to admit to needing help on a minor part. The song you were going to be performing at the award show was one of the slower songs you all sang, which meant you would be doing a slow dance in partners, Yeji and Chan, Lia and Changbin while you were with Jisung. No one else knew what it was like during the quiet times with your team, they just assumed you got along like any other unit together. Whenever you appeared on shows or interviews you all joked around as if you had been lifelong friends with one another but it couldn't have been further from the truth.

"It's okay I can do it alone." You mumbled to yourself as you got up from the floor ready to go over the move again when the door opened, Jisung was standing there looking unimpressed. It was 6 am and you were pretty sure it was the first time you'd ever seen Jisung at work on a weekend before noon so you were a little surprised.

"I already called Jisung over, I knew you needed the help." Your eyes locked with Jisung and he stared back at you coldly, he yawned as he dropped his bag down onto the floor. He hated being up early in the weekdays and now that his weekend was being invaded he was even angrier.

"Let's get this over with then! Some of us have social lives." The music started and you and Jisung started from the top of the choreography. 

"1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8!" Minho called out as he clapped his hands together in time to the slow beat that Jisung had to waltz you around too, his hand clutching onto your waist as you held onto his shoulder and hand. Moving around the dance studio together as stiff as ironing boards,

"You two need chemistry you know, gosh it's like you hate one another." Minho laughed as he watched you both together, Jisung was so tense and you weren't looking at him when you needed to. Jisung looked at you and then to Minho as he waited for more instructions to be given to him.

"You need to look at one another like the lyrics are meant for you," Minho ordered as he tilted your head to look up at Jisung but it was hard to pretend to be in love with him hen he hated your guts. The song was all about love, something Changin had written that wouldn't go with Stray Kids or Itzy so it was given to your subunit instead. 

"It's hard to do that when he hates me," You mumbled moving away from him as you went to answer your phone that was blaring from your bag on the other side of the room. Jisung watched you walking away and his mouth fell open. You really believed that he hated you? He'd never once meant for it to be taken seriously whenever he joked around with you, it was all playful banter and the way he was with most people. He never showed you his softer side though but he just assumed you knew it was him playing around.  

"Y/n speaking..." You answered without checking to see who it was and as soon as you heard your bosses voice flow through the speaker your eyes widened. Checking the time quickly you wanted to kick yourself in the teeth, the practice was opened 30 minutes ago and you had an hour to get there before the first surgery

"Right away. I'll be there as soon as possible." You hung up the phone gathering everything as quickly as possible before excusing yourself from Minho and Jisung who were frowning at you. 

"Where does she go?" Minho questioned as he watched you sprinting off down the hall, 

"I don't know but you know what," Jisung grumbled as he picked up his bag from the floor and began heading to the door, 

"I'm going to find out." He walked away from the practice room and followed behind you, darting into a room whenever you turned around to look behind you out of habit and then he followed you into the parking garage. Watching as you got into a cab and began heading off so he went in the direction of his car to follow the cab he was going o get to the bottom of this once and for all.

When Jisung watched you walk into the doctor's practice he assumed you were just going in to have a check-up and that was the reason you'd run away but after sitting there for four hours and you'd still not come out he began to get worried. Time began ticking on longer and longer to the point where he was late for work and he was supposed to be writing with Chan that day but he decided to cancel. If you came out soon he would go to work but if you didn't come out in the next ten minutes he would sit there and wait until you did. He wanted to know what was going on, without admitting to you that he was worried. 

"You did great, not just a pretty face I see." The main surgeon who has asked for your assistance on a heart replacement surgery said as you scrubbed down from the fourteen hour-long surgery. 

"Thanks, Dr Kim." You looked down at your hands as you washed them in the sink by the surgery room, the patient was being wheeled away to their private room to recover and was expected to make a full and perfect recovery. 

"Will we see you tomorrow or are you taking some time off?" You bit your lip, they knew that you did a lot of acting but they assumed it was on the side. The best thing about the private doctors that you worked with was that they hardly had time to watch movies, shows or even award shows unless they had booked time off. The only person to know who you were was your boss and that was because of the background check he'd had to do on you when he first hired you all those years ago. He didn't care that your father was in debt just that you were fully qualified to work as a surgeon which you were.

"I'll probably be here, I work every weekend and whenever they need me." You smiled softly as you headed towards the locker room to go and change into your clothes. The doctor's surgery was like the home you always wanted, all of the doctors were so friendly and kind to you.

"Y/n! Someone has been sitting outside for the last fifteen hours, every time I go out there he says he's waiting for you..." Panic began to set into your chest as you realised it could have been anybody from JYP, Chan if he decided to follow you out, Minho or even JYP himself. Your secret was about to be exposed and you had no idea what you were going to do about it. 

"He's been there all day?" You mumbled as you nervously began to pull at the straps of your bag and bit down on your lip, 

"His car hasn't moved, I went out to ask what he was going and he said waiting for you...Wouldn't give me his name and I ran the plate-" You shook your head at her telling her that it was fine that she didn't have to find out everything and anything. 

"It's fine," You glanced out of the window to see Jisung asleep in his car, his window rolled down as he slept soundly as if nothing could bother him. Relief washed over you a little when you realised that it was just him, he was the easiest one of your group.

"I know him, it's okay." You mumbled to her as you began to get ready to go out and question him on why he was sitting there. 

"Are you sure? I can get a guard to-" She stopped talking once you left the front door and headed over to the car, everything was silent as you stared at the snoring Jisung who looked as though he'd needed the sleep so you just casually pushed your hand through the window and honked the horn just to mess with him.

His skin drained of all colour as he jumped up suddenly looking around him thinking someone was breaking into the car, he held up his hands as if he was going to punch the air and then he stared at you.

"Morning sunshine. What are you doing here?" You raised your eyebrow as you looked at him looking at the car and then into his eyes, 

"What-What time is it?!" He yawned out, stretching his arms out to look around the car and down at his dashboard to see what the clock was saying, 

"You've been in there for over fifteen hours?" He questioned staring at the clock and then at you, his eyes clouded over with worry as he looked at you taking in your appearance. There was some blood on your temple and you weren't in the same clothes as that morning, 

"I was doing something-"

"Are you sick? You have blood on your cheek, did you hurt yourself?!" His voice came out panicked and you frowned as you looked at him trying to figure out what his angle was. Jisung was never kind to someone unless it somehow benefitted him.

"Careful Jisung. Someone might think you care." You mumbled as you pulled your bag over your shoulder and shook your head at him.

"Bullying me at work not enough? You've decided to take up stalking so that you can find new things to bully me for?" He frowned when he heard your reasoning for things he was never bullying you at work and if he had done he'd never meant to actually hurt your feelings. 

"No I- I thought something was wrong- Why were you in there for so long?!" He'd started off caring in his sentence but quickly snapped to anger as he questioned you on how long you were in there for. He got out of the car looking at you in the eyes rain was starting to come down and so you walked away from him deciding you wanted to head home. 

"I want answers, why are you running off all the time? Why have you been in there for fifteen hours?!" You ignored his calls until he grabbed onto your wrist and forced you around to look at him. The rain was pouring down between you as you stared up at him waiting for him to let go but he didn't, 

"Why do you care?! Huh?! What is it? Did Chan send you after me? Did he decide that hating me at work wasn't enough he wanted to follow me to my dream job?!" Jisung froze as he looked at you and then over at the door to the doctors, there was a small woman watching the both of you and as soon as she saw him looking at her she darted back into the surgery again. 

"Get in the car it's raining," Was all he said as he dropped your wrist from his hand and began heading towards the car but when he noticed you weren't following he turned to look at you. The expression on his face turned to anger as he realised you were just standing out in the rain,

"Get in the car Y/n!" You wasted no time in arguing with him, a free ride home was a free ride home. 

The entire journey had been filled with an uncomfortable silence unless you were giving him directions as he drove you home,

"This is your place?" He pulled up outside a huge house that was stood on its own no other houses attached to it and had a huge security gate around the front. 

"Yeah, I-I'll walk in." Jisung shook his head as he drove through the opened gates, watching as they shut behind him automatically after he hit one of the plates on the floor that shut and opened them from the inside. 

"Fancy." He chuckled as he parked up outside the front of the house and got out to help you out of your side of the car, 

"I'm fine Jisung." You mumbled as he held onto your hand and walked you towards the house, when you reached the front door you expected him to leave but he just stared at you. 

"You didn't think you would get away without an explanation, did you? Inside." He pointed to the front door and you opened it, this was the nicest he'd ever been to you in the years that you'd known him so you headed in. Taking off your shoes and coat as you hung everything up in its place, Jisung following along with you as he took off his shoes and jacket. 

Jisung's mouth was falling open as he took in the appearance of everything around him, the place was huge. The front door opened into the main area of the house that had a large grand staircase leading up to the top floor. 

"It's not mine. I'm renting it from JYP." You mumbled before he could ask how you could afford a place like this but the truth was you weren't renting it at all. It was your prison. The same could be said for the JYP building though only the home was better. The home was where you could escape into your own world, gardening in your back garden or cooking in the huge grand kitchen for yourself. Everything you would rather be doing than working for JYP. 

"It's so grand," He mumbled as he followed you towards the kitchen, you had rice and Kimchi on heat all morning so you plated you both some up before taking him into the kitchen. If he wasn't going to drop it you could at least come up with some kind of excuse to tell him. 

"What you said to Minho earlier...About me hating you. You know that's not true right?" He questioned as he stirred a small spoon around the cup he was drinking from, you stared down at the rice in front of you and shrugged your shoulders. It sure seemed like he hated you,

"You all make it pretty clear you hate me..." You mumbled trying not to come across as though you were feeling sorry for yourself because you weren't. That was never the case.   

"They don't hate-" He stopped trying to defend them the moment you looked at him, he knew that they had a strong disliking for you but he didn't know why. He just went along with it thinking it was all some kind of big joke until recently when he noticed they weren't letting up. Part of him always felt bad for you but he didn't want to be the one to break out of it all. 

"I don't hate you...It's just who I am, I'll bully you but I only mean it playfully...I don't think you're actually dumb when I call you dummy." He laughed awkwardly as he thought back on it all and then looked at you to see if you believed him. You weren't sure if you could trust him though,

"You're always so cold and mean but-" That was when you thought back on it more and more. All of the times that Jisung would step in if one of the girls were being too mean or if Chan was giving you too much of a hard time. He was always trying to protect you in some kind of way without showing you that he cared about you too much. 

"You're always there jumping in whenever it gets too bad...You always stop them before they get too mean..." You said slowly as you stared at him, he just drank from the cup as he nodded along to you. 

"So what's going on? Why do you always disappear?" He looked at you as he continued to try and get the answers from you but you avoided his eyes. It was hard to say no to him when he was giving you that look on his face which was just his face. It was as if he had some kind of spell over you that made you want to spill every detail to him

"I work as a surgeon there." You mumbled before drinking from your cup waiting for some kind of reaction from Jisung but he shrugged his shoulders. That was no big deal, everyone did things outside of JYP, he was pretty sure Yeji taught a dance class on the weekends and she didn't take extra precautions to hide it from everyone around her.

"Why do you keep it a secret though? It's an amazing achievement right? It means you’re smart, I-I mean not that I didn’t think you were smart before that but-" You scoffed as you thought about it, bringing your knee into your chest as you stared down at the mug between your hands. The years you spent studying, the early access into colleges all for it to be pushed down the drain the second your dad gave you a way to fund his habit.

"Try telling that to JYP, the man who owns the deal to my soul." Jisung frowned, he thought he was following along but now he was just as confused as before. 

"Deal to your soul?" You bit down on your lip before telling him everything, you had every right to tell him there was never a huge thing about keeping it a secret but you didn't want everyone to know. Why would you want everyone to know? 

"My dad borrowed money from him, to pay him back I am in a contract until I can pay back every penny he borrowed." Jisung frowned even more so, You looked at him and then down at your mug again, as you began explaining everything it felt as though a weight was being lifted off your chest. It was no longer just you and JYP who knew about the agreement.

"I thought your dad-"

"Died? Yeah, he did, but I'm still being made to pay everything off. That's why I get all the deals, all of my money goes to him. 80% of it anyway," You pushed some rice into your mouth and Jisung tried to follow along with it all in his head.

"So like in Barbie princess and the pauper." Your mouth hung open as you stared at Jisung who had just brought back a memory from your childhood. 

"Exactly like that." You giggled at the thought of Jisung watching a movie like that. His expression softened as he thought back on it all, all of the deals you were always taking no matter how much time they took. It also explained how you got into the company with no training and were placed into the top of the company. You were the one making JYP the most amount of money and it made sense that he would do it. 

"How much do you have left to pay him?" Jisung questioned, you stared at him wondering if you could trust him but decided to go for it anyway.

"Over a four million left out of ten million," You mumbled dropping the teaspoon down onto the table and ditching the cup of tea, you wanted something stronger as you realised you were going to be in debt for the rest of your life.

"That's not too bad, I mean do you have any saved up since JYP doesn't know about the surgeon job?" You smiled hopefully at the thought of it and nodded your head, 

"I have about half a million saved up, if I keep working myself into the ground I'll have..." You pretended to start working out in your head as you looked through the bottles of alcohol that you had in the room. 

"4 years knocked off the expected 28 year-long contract," You hissed as you poured yourself and Jisung a large glass of whiskey each. 

"I'll help you," Jisung said as he looked over all your copies of the paperwork reading through everything to see if he could find some kind of loophole or contract clause to get you out of it. 

He'd been sitting there for the last four hours trying to find it but he'd found nothing while you'd found the bottom of the whiskey bottle. 

"I'm indebted to the man, might as well sell a kidney at this rate! Maybe a leg while I'm at it," You giggled as you stole a desk chair from the study and began spinning around in it. Jisung stuck out his hand to stop you as he tried to keep his concentration on the papers but all of the reading was making his head hurt. There were so many different pieces of paper to go through, 

"You're making me dizzy," He grumbled as he shook his head turning to look at you. You were so drunk you were starting to giggle at yourself, 

"I'll bring my glasses tomorrow, I'll take a real look." He promised you as you continued to giggle to yourself on the chair, 

"You need to get some sleep, if you show up to work drunk they'll kick you out." He mumbled as he picked you up from the chair bridal style and began to carry you towards one of the bedrooms in the house. 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" You questioned as you laid down on the bed and stared up at him, 

"You're always so nasty at work, why can't you be nice there? I-I want you to be nice to me." You began to cry as you thought more about it, your drunken state taking over your mind as you cried to Jisung about how mean he was to you. How spiteful all of them were to you.

"If I start being nice now it'll look weird...I'll ease into it," He whispered as he brushed some hair out of your face but you just shoved his hand away. Telling him to leave you alone and never come back to you but he just shook his head, covering you up with the covers. 

"I'll come back tomorrow with my glasses to look it over, there will be a way out." He promised you as he left the room, shutting the door behind him as he walked out of the house, locking the door and posting your keys back through the letterbox.

A week later Jisung had been spending every moment he could at your place, reading through everything with a fine-tooth comb and some huge glasses. You were spending time together, getting to know him as you both worked closely to get to the bottom of your contract. Jisung had originally come up with an idea to prove that you weren't your father's daughter to get you out of the debt but you knew you were his. Being the spitting image for your dad had his downsides so he was left to go through the paperwork night after night. Even at work, Jisung was slowly starting to become more bearable to be around, he was defending you more and more in front of everyone without trying to hide it anymore. He no longer cared if it made it look weird he wanted them to start being nicer to you if they only knew what you'd been dealing with this whole time none of them would say the things they said.

"We have two more days until the show and I think we might actually all be ready," Chan said with a huge smile on his face, you looked over at him and he was even smiling in your direction. Jisung had been mentioning how much overtime you'd been investing in it. That was what he told them he was doing every night when he went to your place, practising since you didn't want him to tell everyone the truth. If they knew there would be no doubt that JYP would know next and that was something you weren't willing to risk. The surgery money was the one thing helping you get out of debt the most. Between reading through the contract and eating with you he was helping you practice, both of you getting closer as friends to the point where he was picking you up for work in the mornings to save you getting a cab.

"Y/n your phone is going off," Jisung whispered as he slid you your bag, you frowned as you looked inside to see that the doctor's surgery was ringing you and Jisung bit down on his lip. The surgery only called in the week if there was an emergency that they needed you for, they knew you had another job somewhere. There was no way that Jisung was going to be able to come up with some kind of excuse for you to get out of this practice and there was no way, no matter how much of a good mood Chan was in right now he was going to allow you to get away with it. 

"I'm going to take this outside," You whispered as you got up from the floor, all eyes were on you and you saw Yeji and Lia smirk at one another. Chan rolled his eyes as he thought you went back to your original ways and Jisung bit down on his lip staying silent.

"The runaway is on again," They giggled to one another before smirking at you, you looked down at the floor as you walked out of the room to answer the phone call to your boss. 

The words emergency surgery had you down to the doctors practice within minutes, you'd rushed inside to see your favourite patient being prepped as you looked at Dr Kim who had been the one asking for you. This was the biggest surgery of your life, it was a brain surgery with your number one patient who you had a rapport with over the years of coming to the same surgery. He was always cracking jokes with you since he knew who you were but he'd made a promise years ago to keep your secret with him. It was a running inside joke between you both that you would sing him to sleep whenever he stayed over or he was going to sleep for surgery.

"Mr Lee, I thought we weren't going to see you again." You said as you walked into the room drenched in sweat and panting heavily from running the cab to the building. He chuckled as he reached up to cup your face in his hands and smiled, he waited to see you smile and once you did his cheeks warmed up.

"I-I thought so too but I need the surgery, I couldn't go in without my favourite girl by my side." He squeezed your hand and you smiled at him weakly as you turned to look at Dr Kim. The surgery was one of the riskiest ones you were ever going to face in your life but if Mr Lee wanted you there then you were going to be there no matter what the case. Mr Lee had had brain surgery years ago when you first met one another since then he was in and out of the same practice for checkups on how he was healing. It was brought to Dr Kim's attention on the latest scan that they needed to perform the surgery again, only it was riskier than before because of Mr Lee's age.

"16-hour surgery, no breaks. He'll be awake throughout the whole thing." Dr Kim informed you as you both scrubbed up in the surgery room waiting to go inside. You knew the dangers of the surgery that Mr Lee would be going through, you'd been speaking to him about it months ago but no one thought he was going to need it until now.

"I need to know that I can count on you Y/n," You promised him that he could count on you and you got ready for the longest 16 hours of your life. 

The next morning when you left the surgery Jisung was waiting outside holding coffee in his hands and a bag of spare clothes. He'd called you over 50 times the night before while you were in the surgery room but you didn't get any of them until two hours ago when you finally got out and had a shower. You begged him to bring you some clothes and a coffee since you knew you had to go straight to the studios for one more practice. The thought of heading to practice after the night you hand made you want to pull your hair out but you had to act like everything was fine when really your world felt like it was falling apart.

"How did Chan take it?" Jisung stayed silent on your question which means Chan hadn't taken her running away very well so you headed towards his car wanting to get it over and done with. 

"You okay?" He questioned when he noticed how red your eyes were and your tear-stained face, you nodded as you got into the car wanting nothing more than to go home and be alone by yourself instead of at work. 

"Fine." He knew that you were clearly not fine but he left you to it not wanting to press you too much for the information you clearly didn't want to give out.

"Y/n!!" Chan barked as you walked into the studio fully clothed in your new practice gear, you'd changed as soon as you got into work and Jisung headed up to the studios to make it look as though he hadn't come with you. 

"You're late and you ran out-" Already having enough of Chan without it even started you snapped,

"I was busy," Jisung looked up as soon as he heard you snap back at Chan, he knew something had to have been wrong for you to finally speak back for yourself. The whole car ride you'd been silent not speaking at all, you hadn't even started singing which was what you and Jisung would do loudly whenever you drove together. Chan stared at you as he cleared his throat wondering why you were trying to pick a fight with him, 

"I don't see what could be more important than this-"

"That's because you can't see anything past your big fat ego," You mumbled not realising that the rest of them could all hear you and you were being stared at. Chan turning red in the face as he grew angrier with you, Changbin smirked and paid Yeji the money he owed her for the bet they all had on you to see how long it would take until you snapped. 

"What did you say?" Chan asked as he stepped away from the computer coming face to face with you but Jisung stood up and rushed in front of you. Jumping up to defend you for the 100th time that week but you'd had enough of Chan thinking that he was the only badly done to one. 

"It's been a long two weeks. We're all tired, how about we all just call it quits. I have somewhere to be anyway Hyung." He stared up at Chan as he begged him to cancel the practice, 

"Why didn't you say you had somewhere to go? I would have cancelled..." The whole atmosphere in the room changed as soon as Chan spoke to Jisung, it was as if no one had been mad and Chan was an entirely new person and you shook your head. Mumbling to yourself about how unbelievable they all acted. You turned to leave the room with Jisung, his hands on your shoulders as he pushed you out of the door. That was when Chan made a comment,

"I'm so sick of you thinking you're better than us," You turned to look at him as tears welled up in your eyes, 

"You know what. I'm not. I'm not better than any of you and I've never thought that. I don't even want to fucking be here but guess what sweet face I have no choice!" You yelled out as you dropped your bag onto the floor letting all of the medical work you had from work inside spill out onto the floor. 

"That's where I go whenever I run away! I'm a fucking doctor because oh yeah. Not everyone wants to be here like you." You turned to look at the girls as you tried to be as nice as possible, 

"I respect that this might be your true dream but it's not mine." Next, you turned to look at Chan, 

"I get that you trained for seven years and I respect that Chan, beside you being awful to me I think you're great at what you do but I trained for four years, worked for another four, holding down doing three jobs. Now I work this one and a surgeon job so don't tell me I haven't trained." Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you looked at Jisung and then back at the rest of them.

"I am in debt to JYP because my father sold me off to gamble away the money I have to pay back. So next time you tell me I'm not trained enough or don't deserve to be here. Take it up with your fucking boss." You snapped before leaving the room leaving the rest of them standing there with their mouths hanging open, Jisung calling after you as he tried to catch up to you in the building hallway but you just wanted to be alone for a while with your own thoughts.

After the award show, you didn't go to practice for a week since there was nothing expected of you yet. Jisung had been ignoring your calls and texts and didn't bother coming around to the house anymore so you assumed he wanted nothing to do with you since your breakdown in front of everyone. JYP still hadn't contacted you so you were guessing the others hadn't told him about your side job thankfully. You were somehow hoping that Jisung had been the one to talk them all out of telling JYP or anyone else for that matter. 

"Do you want a ride home?" You boss asked when he walked you out of the building late on Sunday night, you shook your head. 

"I think I'll catch a cab, it's okay-" You stopped yourself from talking when you saw Jisung sitting in his car keeping his eye on the door the entire time as he waited for you. 

"Looks like you have a ride, see you next week!" Your boss cried out as he walked over to his own car, you just stared at Jisung not knowing what kind of ground you stood on. 

"I'll take you home." He opened up the passenger door for you and took your bag off your shoulder, 

"No hello? No explanation as to where you've been? Why haven't you been answering my texts, I mean I get we're not friends but-" Jisung turned to look at you and you stopped talking as he began driving in the direction of your place, turning on the radio as he drove there in complete silence.

"Why did you bring me home if you weren't going to talk?" You questioned him more as he began walking up the stairs of your house, opening the front door and waiting for you to go inside first. 

"You're freaking me out with the not speaking thing." You told him but that was when he took your bag off your shoulder and placed it onto the coat hook and began pulling you towards your study in silence once again.

"Han Jisung! Talk to me right now!" You cried out as you stomped your foot on the floor like a child, you heard a chuckle coming from the room behind him and you frowned. Looking over to see that the door was cracked open and you could just see the shadows of people sitting inside, 

"Y/n let me explain," Jisung said as he finally said something to you for the first time in over an hour, 

"W-Who's in there?" The door opened and Changbin stood there wearing a pair of glasses as he smiled at you, 

"Come on!" Your heart began to thump as you realised that he was holding up some of the papers to your contract that was highlighted. Frowning you walked towards the room and headed inside to see that all of your group were inside, each of them holding a copy of a contract as they ran over everything, parts of it highlighted with bright sticky notes poking out of the side. 

"What's going on?" Your voice cracked as you looked at Chan who was sitting at your desk, he turned to Jisung to explain and he placed his hand on your shoulder softly. 

"We found the clause to get you out of it." It felt as though the ground was going to be pulled out from underneath you, you were waiting for one of them to start laughing loudly as they told you it was a joke or that they were extending the contract. 

"What clause?" You whispered as you walked over to Chan who was scattering the papers out for you to see it all there in front of you. 

"It took us a week but you figured you could use the help," He admitted as he pointed down at the different clauses as to why you weren't to be the way held accountable for your father's debt. Chan thought it was weird when he heard Jisung say that even though your father had passed you still had to pay it. Legally speaking if that person was no longer around you had no legal liability to pay it off.

"I can get out? I don't have to work for him?" Tears began to well up in your eyes as you stared over everything in the pieces of paper. 

"You can get out," Chan confirmed as he smiled up at you, all of them feeling heavily guilty for the things they had said and done over the last year of being in your group. 

"We're sorry...For everything, if we'd known we never would have...We never should have." Chan told you as you sat down on a chair beside the desk and stared at the papers, your way out finally coming towards you in bright lights.

"You have no reason to forgive us or even think about it but we want you to know how sorry we are," Changbin said as he got up from his chair and looked at you. Yeji and Lia were next as they got up to hug you tightly for the first time ever, you sobbed into their shoulders as you shook your head. 

"You've done me the biggest favour I could ever ask of you, you've- You've made me the happiest person in the world by getting me out of this." You whimpered into their shoulders before pulling away and wondering how you were going to get to JYP with all of this information and as if Jisung could read your mind he smiled at you. 

"We got a lawyer, he's going to go over everything we found and meet with you and JYP Monday morning. He's 100% positive that you will be out of the contract before Monday night." Without a word you screamed and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his neck as you sobbed happily to him. Thanking him over and over again for everything they had all done this last week in helping you get out.

The contracts weren't burnt months ago, the money you had earnt for the last year had been placed into your accounts - minus the normal employment takings for other idols. Now you were able to work full time at the doctor's surgery doing everything you'd ever dreamt of doing. Working as a doctor full time, going home every night to cook and work on your garden whenever you wanted to. Getting to have the life that you always wanted to have,

"Jisung's outside," Your co-worker said as she walked in from her lunch break, you looked outside of the window and shook your head when you saw him standing there. A brown bag in his hand as he waved it at you, 

"Lunch." Your boss ordered as he saw what you were looking at, you rolled your eyes before going out to your lunch break. Sitting on the hood of his car he waited for you to come over to him, 

"I bought cookies from Felix as well. He's been baking all night." You smiled weakly at Jisung who had done nothing but bring you lunch and dinner every night since you left the entertainment company. Jisung and you had become close friends despite the rocky start to everything. The rest of you were still on speaking terms but you couldn't see a friendship blooming between any of you just because of everything that had happened. Much to JYP's dismay but with the help of a fantastic lawyer behind you there was nothing he could have done to stop you. The lawyer had made it his one mission to get you out of the contract as fast as possible, making sure JYP knew that if he didn't let you got he would go to every tabloid he could to tell everyone what he was doing with you.

"Thank you, my Kind sir, Tell Felix I'll bring him some of my kimchi round." You mumbled as you bit down into a cookie and smiled at the taste. Practically perfect in every way the best way to have lunch as you started the sky, laying down on the car as you continued to eat the cookies. 

Tagline: @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @channiewoo​ @minholuvs​ @bisexualmess007​ @lkwonmj​

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 06

<= Chapter 5

Summary : Lukas gets to have a heart-to-heart discussion with an absolute asshole. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/81015496

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

AAAAH I'M SORRY FOR THE TWO MONTHS HIATUS I HAD A WRITER BLOCK---

Anyway uuuh, new chapter, I have no idea if it's good or not but still, here it is. I did my best to offer you a longer chapter as a compensation, it's twice the length of the last one.

Happy reading ! Thank you for waiting all this time.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Chapter 6 - “Oh. It’s you.”

The rest of the day had been… Quite blurry for the student. After coming back home, he had sat down at his desk, staring into space for… Minutes, hours, he hadn’t been able to tell. It was an understatement to say that he was in shock after what had happened. Even after everything, his mind couldn’t help but think this was just a joke, or that he had imagined the whole thing. But the script in his bag was a proof of the contrary. For a good while, the young man hadn’t found the courage to look back at it, as if it were some sort of cursed object, haunting him. But then, the Conductor’s words came back to him: “learn your text by tomorrow”. An order, a clear one, coming from one of his bosses. The student shivered as he remembered, soon bringing his hands to his face, massaging his closed, tired eyes. Oh, boy, why did he always get in that kind of situation… Even when he was a kid, he would often get dragged in things like this. He had thought this would get better as he grew up, but noooo, of fucking course it wouldn’t. Lukas let out a loud, long, exaggerated sigh, and stood up. He walked to his sofa bed all while dragging his feet and, once he was in front of it, it was like what was left of his energy left him. What a day . With another sigh, the student felt his body fall forward, and it wasn’t long before his face hit one of his pillows. Air was forced out of his lungs by the impact, though he did nothing but grunt in the fabric. Him? An actor? This couldn’t be right, this just… It wasn’t right. Sure, MJ was a jerk, but he still had the skills and the experience! In comparison, Lukas was just a law student- not a bad one, mind you, which only made it even more surprising to see him getting the role. It wasn’t like he had chosen the wrong scholar path, no, on the contrary, he was skilled in his major. But apparently, his bosses had seen something else deep inside that walking shell of anxiety… -“Uuuuugh...” his voice was low and tired. For a moment, he thought he was almost going to fall asleep like this, still wearing his clothes, but he reluctantly sat down. With a look full of weariness and unwillingness, the student’s attention went back to his bag, in which the script was. He didn’t want to learn the lines, and a single glance at his desk full of homework was a good way to understand why. But it seemed like his paycheck was now depending on it, as much as he would have preferred to remain a stagehand… -“Guess I don’t have a choice…” he mumbled, before moving his foot to reach for the bag, making it slide towards him, so he could open it. He supposed that he would be able to scribble down the answers to his homework during his lunch break… Or, at least, he hoped. And so, the young man spent the next two hours learning his lines, saying them out loud, so he could remember them. A good thing about his brain was that it learned pretty well from words and sounds. Thus, by saying them out loud, Lukas was pretty efficient in remembering them. Plus, truth to be told, those lines weren’t exactly as hard to learn as his law books… Not that it was a bad thing, far from it. At least, it made his job far easier. However, he wasn’t going to lie, there were a few parts that were harder to remember. Once he was done, the student hesitated on whether he should go to sleep (the reasonable option) or try to get some of his homework done. Sure, he was pretty tired, and the day had been filled by a lot of diverse emotions… But part of him knew he just wouldn’t be able to fall asleep knowing what awaited him the day after. He had always been very anxious, this was a secret to no one, and especially not himself… However, this whole thing was very new, and it made it all worse. And so… The student ended up staying up late until three in the morning, managing to get most of his homework done. One of the perks of being good at a subject was being fast. Of course, this would have given him much better results if he had worked on it seriously, without all the tiredness and all, but the context wasn’t really allowing him that.

Thus, Lukas packed up his college stuff for the next day and soon went to sleep for one very short night. Oh, well, not his first, far from it. Thankfully, he had a few sleeping meds he had kept from an old treatment, allowing him to fall asleep rather quick. However, this always came at a price- they made waking up a much more difficult moment, as his body was still very much under the influence of the medicine when that happened. And the next morning… Was no exception, especially since he only got to sleep for less than three hours. Fighting the urge to go back to sleep, Lukas managed to get up and prepare himself for college. New clothes, brushing his hair and teeth… It only took him a moment until he was ready to leave his small apartment. Oh, his face, however… It looked like it belonged to a rotten corpse, who had just come back to life… Somewhat. The trip to college was pretty ordinary, and so was his morning and afternoon, actually. He gave his teachers all the papers that were due, he aced one of his oral presentation despite looking like a dead man… No, really, this day was going well, which was surprising considering he was mostly surviving thanks to coffee and to the fear of collapsing in public. Yeah, no, he didn’t want any attention on him… Which was a funny thing to think about, because this was exactly what he was going to get with his new job! Once his classes were over, Lukas took the bus to his workplace, dread settling on his shoulders, heavier and heavier as the minutes passed. Oh, he didn’t want to get that role… Of course, he could tell his bosses, but there was a small part of him, deep down, that was curious about where this would lead him. Now, obviously, being a stagehand was a pretty classic job, one without risks… But this? While he was terrified of screwing up, especially since people would be looking at him… Yeah, there was something that prevented him from refusing this promotion. And, also, if that could piss MJ off, then it was a good bonus. The studio reception was calm compared to the day before and, for a moment, just a small moment, the student thought his shift was going to be nice. But ooh, no, he couldn’t have nice things- the moment he opened the door leading to the staff areas, he winced as many voices echoed around him. They were coming from all directions, through walls, doors too! It was a large cacophony in there, and people were running around, carrying stuff and bringing props for each shooting. Actions movies, dramas, comedies… Each type had its own part of the studio, but there was this central room linking them all together and, oh, this place was just a battlefield. Moving fast through the agitated crowd, Lukas tried to reach his accredited part of the studio- the children shows shootings. Avoiding props almost falling on his feet accidentally, sneaking between people carrying hot coffee, and bending down to avoid planks being carried around… He bumped into someone just before he got to open the door leading to his area. -“Oh, I- I’m sorry,” he stammered, quickly moving back, so he could apologize properly to the person he had bumped into. However, his eyes widened when he recognized the figure in front of him. Mike! The good twin. For a second, the latter’s face had alarmed him, as he thought he had bumped into MJ instead… But thankfully, while having the same face, the two brothers had very different hairstyles and fashion choices. The student let out a sigh- phew, he wasn’t sure he would have been ready for MJ’s bullshit right at the beginning of his shift. -“Oh, hey!” Mike seemed almost as surprised as he was, though his expression quickly changed to a warm, welcoming one: “Good to see you again- oh, wait, let’s, uh… Get inside,” he then mumbled, opening the door quickly so they both could leave the absolute war zone they were in. Lukas didn’t lose any time and followed the other like a shadow would, only getting the opportunity to sigh in relief as they found themselves in a much quieter place. Kinda ironic that the children shows part of the

studio was calmer than the staff hall... -“Hey,” he finally replied, now that the “battlefield” was behind them: “It’s good to see you too,” he answered trustfully, with a smile. He hadn’t seen the other since MJ’s outburst the day before, and getting the chance to meet him again was a good way of making Lukas’ day a little better and… Less chaotic. -“How are you?” he then asked, deciding to take a moment for a conversation with his only friend in the studio so far. Plus, he was… Worried. With what had happened the day before, and how MJ had thrown Mike’s puppet on the floor like it was nothing, he wanted to make sure everything was okay. -“Oh, I’m… Doing fine,” the other looked away with an awkward smile, which was an obvious sign that things had definitely happened yesterday. With how furious the actor had been when leaving the shooting, Lukas could very well imagine the latter taking his frustration on his brother. What an asshole. But, it was family business, and he couldn’t say anything about it, as a stranger. -“What about you?” Mike added quickly, visibly determined on changing the topic: “I heard you got the role, yesterday. Congrats!” The praise took the student by surprise, and he felt his cheeks reddening from the embarrassment. Oh, man, this was new, yeah… He wasn’t used to that kind of thing. His stance tensed up, and a sheepish smile took place on his lips. -“Oh, uh… Thanks,” he blurted out, and it was his turn to look away: “It’s… Really weird, I guess I’m just… Feeling a bit shocked, you know?” he turned his head back to his new friend and a nervous giggle escaped him. He was fidgeting, not really knowing how to respond to that. -“Ah, yeah, it’s your first time,” Mike nodded, remembering that Lukas had first been hired as a stagehand, not as an actor: “Don’t worry, children shows are the perfect way to start as a beginner. You know, with the public being less critical and all… I’m sure you’ll get used to it in no time.” The puppet maker was kind, trying to reassure Lukas and ease his anxiety. Too bad that his stage fight was skyrocketing since the moment he had stepped in the building again… Another nervous giggle left his lips, and he started to rub his arm, not knowing what to do with his hands. -“I suppose so…” he muttered, still smiling, though it looked less genuine: “It’s just that… I mean… Why me? I’m just a guy who wanted a part-time job. I’m not an actor, I don’t have any experience…” -“Well, from what I’ve heard, you were pretty good yesterday- oh, speaking about that…” Mike’s face darkened, as if he had just remember to mention something unpleasant: “I think you should… Avoid MJ, as much as you can, from now on. My brother, he’s… He didn’t take it well, I’m not gonna lie, and… I mean, you saw how he is with people, he’s not the best at being with others. Now, with what happened yesterday, I don’t think he’ll make your life any easier.” The student grimaced as he listened to his friend. Yeah… Yeah, he had seen that coming. With how livid MJ had been when leaving the set, it wasn’t surprising that the latter was going to make his shifts hell. God, he really hoped he would manage to avoid that jerk… -“Yeah, I… Kinda expected that,” he admitted, tilting his head to the side with a wince: “But, uh… Since he’s not part of the team anymore, I shouldn’t run too much into him… Right?” -“I wish I’d say yes, but…” Mike answered, his face showing conflict: “He has some other roles in the studio, and he might come see me now and then, so… Yeah. Be careful and do your best to avoid him. He’s not… The best person to be around when he’s like this.” “Oh, you mean all the time, then?” Lukas thought to himself, but kept his mouth shut. Not the best thing to say out loud, especially when it came to said person’s twin. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why Mike was making so many efforts for someone that clearly didn’t deserve them… But, then again, he was a stranger, it wasn’t his place to say anything. -“Will do,” he assured his friend, before looking at his watch and- oh, shit, he was going to

be late. Apparently, it must have been visible from his expression, because the puppet maker let out a soft giggle: -“Oh, yeah, it’s time,” he looked up, as if he were trying to remember something: “Last time I saw the Conductor and DJ Grooves, they were in the conference room with some investors. You should go practice in the meantime… My workshop is open, if you want,” he offered with a shrug: “It’s a small room, but I’m normally the only one there, so if you wanna have some quiet, alone time to rehearse, well… I need to help the stagehands for some set repairs, so I won’t bother you.” The offer was a really nice attention, another one that did help to make Lukas’ day a little better. Considering his promotion, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to help the other stagehands while waiting for his bosses, but… Well, practicing really wouldn’t hurt, especially considering how short his night had been. -“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” he gave Mike a warm smile, before pointing to a door on the other side of the room: “It’s this one, right?” he asked for confirmation. -“Yep, that’s the one! Just, uh… Please don’t touch anything, most of the puppets and costumes aren’t done, so they’re quite fragile.” Lukas assured him he wouldn’t, and even then, he didn’t have any reason to. At least, contrary to his friend’s twin, he knew how to respect someone’s work… And with that, the two waved to one another, before heading to opposite directions. The student walked to the door with a quick pace, wanting to get as much time as possible to practice. When he opened it, he was surprised to see that, yeah, the room was pretty small indeed, even smaller than what he had imagined. The place was full of puppets hanging from the ceiling, and the walls were covered in eccentric and colorful clothes. It was almost eye straining! Two out of the four corners of the rooms were used to stock supplies and different types of fabric, making the room even smaller than it originally was. Then, hidden in the third corner was a desk with a sewing machine on top of it. It looked like an old but durable one, the kind that would last years even if it was out-of-date. Other than that, the desk was full of smaller supplies, like needles, sewing threads, pens, pieces of paper, templates… It was like this room had no free space other than the center of it. Well, Lukas supposed this is where he would rehearse, then. Not like there were many other option… The young man closed the door behind him and made a few steps, his eyes looking all around him. He didn’t think it was possible to fit so many things in a single room, but, hey, he was wrong! He then shook his head- it was time to work. After clearing his throat, the student opened his bag and took the script out, flipping the pages up to the parts he had the most trouble remembering. Oh, jeez, he really was doing this, wasn’t he? This was so weird… But whatever paid his bills and his studies, he guessed. And so… He got to work. It was a lot easier to practice when there was no one around. No one to judge him, no one to mock him when he fucked up… Yeah, it made it all easier. Sure, he didn’t have any experience in it, but at least he had to admit it was pretty fun. Nonetheless, he still had no idea why the two directors chose him over an experienced actor like MJ… Like, of course he had noticed the latter was a huge asshole, but other than that, his acting skills were obvious. Maybe he was being used to give MJ a lesson…? This seemed like the most probable explanation. After all, MJ’s presence in the casting was supposed to bring attention to the show… And now, one of the most important roles had been given to a nobody instead. It didn’t seem like a good idea, marketing-wise. Law was his specialty, but that didn’t mean he was stupid when it came to other things. Lukas couldn’t believe he had been chosen for his “talents”, because he had none on that field. After a moment, he paused his practice, shutting his eyes and letting out an exaggerated sigh. Shit, this was distracting him. He couldn’t focus

on his lines. His acting skills, if he had any, were affected by it. It was like something was entering his mind from one side only to disappear through another. Memorizing the words was harder than he had thought it would be the day before, and he couldn’t help but grunt in frustration. Fuck, he knew he was able to remember those lines, he had learned much more complex texts before! This script was simple, so the young man put the blame on his short night of sleep. Furthermore, it was hard to memorize something only by starting the day before… He was about to start again when he heard the door opening behind him, cutting him short. The student turned to the direction of the noise, expecting to see Mike’s face and… Well, in a way, he kinda did. Except it wasn’t Mike. It was MJ, the evil twin. “Oh, fuck me,” he thought, paling up. For fuck’s sake, right after Mike told him to avoid his brother! Was it a joke or something?! Before he even got the chance to speak, MJ’s expression changed from a neutral one to one of utter disgust. Yeah, clearly, the other had expected to see his twin, but… Nope, Lukas had been the one in the room. “Lesson learned, never going back in that workshop alone,” the student told himself, though it was way too late to do anything about it. -“Oh. It’s you,” the actor spat, this time not trying to keep his nice mask on like he had been when they had met the day before: “The fuck are you doing here?” The celebrity’s eyes were glaring at him, all while examining him from top to bottom. It was… Very unpleasant, to be stared at this way. And being talked to like that? Yeah, no, Lukas was perhaps a shy person, but he didn’t want to let anyone walk all over him, especially not an asshole like MJ. Usually, he tended to flee conflict, but today was different. He was way too tired to deal with this shit. -“Yes , hello to you too,” he muttered as an answer, quickly putting his attention back to the script: “Your brother’s not here, but he told me I could use the room in the meantime.” Apparently, his tone didn’t please the actor, whose eyes narrowed in response: -“No kidding, I can see my brother’s not here, dumbass,” he shrugged and rolled his eyes: “I’m not blind.” Oooh, the insult didn’t fall on deaf ears, and it really rubbed Lukas the wrong way. He turned to the celebrity again, this time returning the latter’s glare: -“Well, good for you, I guess,” the student spoke louder than his previous mutter. His annoyance was much more visible, though he still remained polite: “If you’re looking for Mike, he’s with the stagehands.” -“Didn’t ask,” the actor retorted harshly. The other’s eyes then fell on the script, and his expression darkened. Well, shit, this couldn’t be good- and, just like Lukas had predicted, it wasn’t. MJ’s look of hatred was soon replaced by a mocking yet salty expression, one that the student really didn’t like. -“Aw, am I interrupting something?” the celebrity taunted him, leaning against the door frame as a smirk took place on his lips. -“Actually, yes. You are,” Lukas’ patience was running out. God, he wanted to punch that guy so bad… Well, not like he would ever do that, he wasn’t that kind of person. Still, the urge was there. In response to his honest words, the actor scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes again. God, that fucking asshole… -“What, don’t tell me you honestly think you have what it takes!” MJ’s tone had changed from a mocking one to a harsher, meaner one: “You have no idea how to play a role- lemme guess, you never had any theater courses before, hm?” At Lukas’ silence, the celebrity snickered bitterly: -“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re just a nobody, a guy who happened to be there at the right time. But you, an actor? Don’t make me laugh. You don’t know shit about acting.” Okay, now that was enough. Politeness was nice and all, but with this guy? No, nu-huh, nope, not happening. In an instant, Lukas’ attempts at remaining civil were thrown away through a window. No one could talk to him like that, and not even his anxiety was

going to silence him. -“Oh, I don’t know shit about acting, that’s right,” he talked back, his tone much more aggressive: “But at least I know how to be a decent person.” -“Excuse me?” MJ’s face showed a mix of bewilderment and fury, probably because no one ever confronted him like this in the past: “I didn’t steal someone else’s job!” -“Hah, that’s rich!” the student scoffed, raising his arms with a scandalized expression: “You lost your job! I didn’t do anything!” his voice echoed in the room as his anger intensified: “If you weren’t such an asshole, maybe you’d have kept your place in the-” However, the student didn’t even get the time to finish his sentence. The celebrity had dashed towards him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, bringing their face close as an intimidating gesture: -“Watch your fucking mouth,” was the warning he got from the other, whose eyes were fixed on his: “There are so many things I could do to make your life a living Hell. I have a lot of strings I can pull, and if I were you, I wouldn’t risk that,” the actor’s voice had got lower, like a murmur, a clear threat directed to him. But Lukas was just getting so fucking tired of it. Enough was enough. He grabbed the celebrity’s hand and pulled it away, forcing the latter to let go of him. -“So, let me get this straight: you want to destroy me because I pointed out how much of a jerk you were to everyone? And you still think you’re the decent person out of us two? You might want to rethink that, buddy.” The response he got was yet another glare, though this time there was no spiky answer. “Of course I’m right, asshole, can’t say anything back, now, can you?” he thought to himself, pride swelling inside him. Man, this was perhaps the first argument he ever won… Holy shit, yeah, it was- and he didn’t even stutter! Maybe he needed to be tired more often- yeah, no, that wasn’t a good idea. Air was forced out of his lungs as he was pushed away, though despite the fear of being punched, it never came. The look of pure hatred he was getting from MJ was almost burning him and, for a moment, he really thought he would get attacked- being someone who had never fought anyone, he wasn’t really confident about his abilities to fight back. But all MJ did was to step back to the door, a furious expression written all over his face: -“You wanna play that game with me?” he spat: “Fine. But mark my words, stagehand, I will win.” And not even giving Lukas the time to retort anything, the actor stormed off the room and slammed the door behind him. It screamed “ I am mad, and I want everyone to know that”. Lukas, however, did not give a single fuck about it. Perhaps it was the tiredness speaking (and it was), but if the other wanted to fight, then Lukas would be ready. Well, he probably wouldn’t in hindsight, once his mind cleared up… But at the moment, the young man’s anger was making him blind to many aspects. One of them being that MJ was a famous person who was indeed capable of destroying him, and making him fail his studies with just the right calls. But this wasn’t something Lukas would realize before calming down. And only then, he would ask himself “why the hell couldn’t I keep my mouth shut like usual?!” Until that moment… The student kept rehearsing, though his anger prevented him from actually anything. Today was going to be a long day…

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hopefully Lukas won't have too much trouble with this jerk of an actor :)c (who I love with all my heart)

=> Chapter 7

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 6 - Going Home

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, bitter to bittersweet, 2.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington is my bestie who makes me these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The next morning was uncharacteristically cloudy. It took the boys a long time to climb out of bed. Reggie was sprawled over most of the larger bed, and Bobby seemed to have stolen the covers (and Reggie’s teddy bear) to compensate for being curled up into one corner. Luke was face down on the couch and somehow not suffocating to death. Alex had lain awake for a while, staring out the window and watching the light slowly creep further into the room. He’d tried sleeping more and eventually his head was buzzing with too many thoughts to keep it up any longer.

It already felt like years from yesterday. Everything was this image of beautiful long hair and dark brown eyes that were a world away, and yet they had more gravity in them than he’d ever seen. Alex was ruined for tie-dye and puka shells for the rest of his life. He knew he’d see nothing else but Willie in them. Skateboards were in a whole other category. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just attached himself to another person besides Luke, Reggie, and Bobby.

He heard Reggie roll out of bed and enter the bathroom, and the motion caused the whole room to stir. Luke lifted his head, and after some confused staring at the arm of the couch, turned on his side and sighed heavily. A tired smile came across his face, and he had that besotted sort of look to him - the one the rest of the guys had associated with ‘Julie on the mind’ - and Alex finally understood. Did he look like that now, too?

Bobby sat up abruptly, a look of sleepy disorientation on his face. Reggie’s bear was clutched tightly to his chest, and he had to look down and realize it was there before gently setting it down on Reggie’s side. Luke simply gave him a puzzled look as he wordlessly climbed out of the bed and went to push Reggie over and share the bathroom sink to shave. Alex absent-mindedly ran his hand over the bottom half of his face, feeling the still-smooth skin underneath his fingers.

The morning was full of light chatter, most of them still too tired to gush about the night before. It was already too late to enjoy the continental breakfast the hotel served, and after each of them finished getting ready and packing, they all looked around at each other.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, boys?” Luke said. Reggie’s stomach growled loudly in the pause that followed.

“I’m gonna guess we find food?” Reggie responded.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I’m pretty sure he’s talking about where.”

All three of them looked at Alex expectantly and he blinked back at them.

“Are you guys just gonna stare or are we gonna eat?” he joked dryly.

They all headed down to the lobby and checked out, dumping their luggage in the van. Even though no one had mentioned the diner, there seemed to be the silent agreement that that’s where they were going. Alex briefly considered suggesting that the guys go to the arcade again, but thought better of it. They were all chill with Willie; he didn’t have to hide anything. Sitting at the same table they had the day before, Alex noticed the place was busy this time around.

A tall man with dark hair approached their table. Alex recognized him from the brief peek out the kitchen door, and the reminder from Willie later: Caleb. He had a clean look to him - pristine was perhaps a better word - and he smiled widely.

“Welcome boys! How are we this morning!” he greeted cheerfully. It greatly contrasted Alex’s first impression, but he thought to keep an open mind. Willie hadn’t really said anything bad about him, only admitted that he sometimes put people off, which Alex could understand if he was running a diner. The charisma was unexpected.

“Oh, we could eat!” Reggie said excitedly.

“Music to my ears,” Caleb said, clapping his hands together. “Anything I can get started for you?”

Alex didn’t pay attention to what everyone else said as he skimmed the diner for signs of Willie. Two other servers were going around but neither of them were him. There wasn’t a proper way to peek into the kitchen either, so if Willie were to show up he’d come through the door. The image of him skating up to them instead of walking nearly made Alex laugh aloud. Luke elbowed him in the arm. Looking up, he saw Caleb waiting for him to order.

“Sorry, uh,” he sputtered. “Toast and eggs, with the banana.”

Caleb merely nodded, as if he had expected as much.

“Wonderful. I’ll have those out for you boys in the blink of an eye.” He turned neatly on his heel. Alex tried not to be too obvious as he attempted to glimpse through the doorway as Caleb entered the kitchen.

“He was nice!” Reggie said.

“Doesn’t count,” Alex told him. “He’s the boss.” It hadn’t meant to slip out sounding that way, but there was likely a bit of truth to it. He was just...disappointed he wasn’t who he’d hoped to see. Alex guessed after so many chance meetings yesterday, reality had to resurface somehow.

Bobby shot him a worried look, but got distracted by Reggie pulling out a napkin and trying to make it into some sort of shape. Alex recalled the frog and wished he had kept it. Reggie’s turned out to be a fortune teller, but since he couldn’t write anything inside he simply used it as a goofy sort of puppet and kept trying to snap at everyone’s fingers.

Luke sat up in that way he usually did like a lightbulb had come on in his head, and he grabbed a napkin as well. Then he looked around, grabbed a pen from the host’s counter, and began scribbling words on the napkin as best he could.

“Got some inspiration?” Alex teased.

Luke shushed him as he focused on getting everything down, and then began humming a melody in a low voice, repeating it to himself. Caleb came back with their plates as he did so. As he carefully laid their orders before them, he eyed Luke in curiosity.

“Are we musicians, here?” he asked with piqued interest.

“Yeah, actually we’re Sunset Curve,” Bobby told him.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie added.

“Well, I certainly have friends to tell,” Caleb mentioned. “You wouldn’t happen to have done any gigs around here, would you?”

“We just played at the Pearl last night,” Luke said proudly.

Caleb raised his eyebrows with a slight smile.

“Impressive,” he mused. “Something tells me you could become big. Consider your meal on the house, courtesy of Caleb Covington.”

All of them looked at him in awe.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Luke said incredulously.

“Oh, of course!” Caleb assured. “You boys deserve all the help you can get to make it in the big leagues. If you ever pass this way again, you can count on us to serve you here and have a place in my hotel.”

“Wait, you own the hotel too?” Reggie asked.

“Just a small monopoly in the market,” Caleb shrugged. “All to serve rockstars like you.”

“”Right on!” Luke smiled, digging into his plate.

“You boys call me if you need anything else,” Caleb insisted as he made off with his empty tray.

All of them ate with enthusiasm. Alex tried to shut up the battle in his mind about how he felt over the whole interaction. Caleb was so generous, how could his first impression have been so wrong? Was he irrationally holding it against Caleb that Willie was nowhere to be seen and that was the only thing bothering him? It didn’t matter, he guessed. They had free food and guaranteed lodging any time they were in Vegas now. That was an investment in the future.

Luke continued to hum and tap and write the whole time, which only bothered the couple sitting behind him. Reggie was bobbing his head along and Alex could see the bassline forming in his head by the concentration on his face.

“Okay, I’m guessing we’re gonna jam this one out on the way back, so who’s driving?” Bobby wondered.

“Trick question,” Alex said. “It’s gonna be me so I don’t get carsick again.”

When they all finished eating Caleb came to clear away their plates.

“I rarely see plates this clean,” he commented. “Looks like you enjoyed yourselves!”

“Compliments to the cook,” Luke said. “They make some gnarly pancakes.”

“I hire the best,” Caleb told him. He rested their plates with one arm as they each got up to leave. “Safe travels, boys. And remember, I’m always looking out for you.”

Alex was the last to leave the booth and took a moment as the other three bounded outside. Caleb raised an eyebrow, waiting to listen.

“Um,” Alex hesitated, wringing his hands. “I met Willie yesterday. Could you just tell him Alex said goodbye? I’d appreciate it.” It wasn't even close to what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to go about explaining the entirety of the day before to this man.

Caleb gave a strange half nod, saying nothing in return. Alex guessed it was a silent promise - maybe he knew what Alex was actually talking about and wasn’t about to broadcast it to the whole restaurant? He didn’t necessarily come off as straight himself, now that Alex thought about it. It was slightly comforting. Returning a small smile to say thank you, he ran to catch up with the boys.

Bobby tossed him the keys to the van and they all climbed in.

“Okay, let’s get to jamming that song before I forget the best part!” Luke cried.

Alex started the ignition and felt his chest weigh a hundred pounds as he pulled away from the diner. Everything inside wanted to stay. Or find Willie and take him along. He peeked at intervals through the rearview mirror, hoping to see him running out from the diner to say goodbye. A hand grasped his shoulder and he turned to see Reggie looking at him sympathetically. He’d caught onto more than Alex had noticed. They only heaved a quick sigh as Alex felt his body begin to shake slightly and he focused his eyes on the road. It was going to be a long four hours.

Much later, the guys were gathered again at the hospital Julie’s mom, Rose, was at. The rest of them had their acoustics while Alex carried a cheap little djembe drum. They were dog-tired but Luke was pulling every ounce of his energy forward to keep all of them hyped. Currently, he was on the phone with Julie, verifying how soon she would be there with them.

“Hey, Alex,” Bobby nudged him as they sat in the waiting room. “Ballroom Blitz?”

“Now?” Alex said, looking around at the gloomy nurses and residents shuffling about their business.

“Yeah, as a warm up.”

He couldn’t help the smile growing on his lips.

“Okay, we just gotta keep Reggie in check.”

Bobby chuckled and shook his head, knowing it wasn’t going to happen.

Alex started up the beat on his djembe as Bobby grinned. Reggie sat up as he tried to figure out what they were doing.

“Are you ready Steve?” Bobby began, trying to stay soft so it wasn’t too alarming. Reggie beamed as he realized what was happening. “Andy? Mick? Alright fellas! Let’s goooooo!” He came in with the main riff as residents’ and patients’ heads turned to see what was happening. Luke had gotten off the phone and was already grabbing his guitar

They managed to get calmly through the verse before Reggie couldn’t help but let the energy take over.

“I see a man in the back, as a matter of fact, his eyes were as red as the sun! And a girl in the corner, let no one ignore her ‘cuz she thinks she’s the passionate one! OOHH YEEAAH!”

All four of them came together for the chorus.

“And the man at the back said ‘Everyone attack’ and it turned into a ballroom blitz! And the girl in the corner said ‘Boy, I wanna warn ya it’ll turn into a ballroom blitz! Ballroom blitz!” They were all getting into jamming now, and Alex was lost in the rhythm with the rest of them.

A nurse finally approached them with a loud voice.

“OKAY BOYS!” she cried, an expression on her face that meant serious business. Each of them faltered in the middle of playing and looked at her like chastised puppies. “Thank you, you sound lovely. Unfortunately, there’s a few patients we don’t wanna disturb, so if you could please save it for your little thing later, we would like that very much.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they all murmured sheepishly.

“Thank you,” she smiled exaggeratedly and went on with her business. Once her back was turned, Reggie pulled a funny face and shrugged, causing them all to suppress their laughter.

“You guys, we could hear you from the elevator,” they all heard. Turning around, Julie stood behind them shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Ray and her brother Carlos were only a few steps behind. Luke bounded over a chair, guitar in hand, to meet her.

“We ready boss?” he enthused.

“Yeah, we just need to check in. We told her we were coming, but not you guys.”

Like the dork he was, Luke simply made the shaka sign with his hand in excitement. Alex felt newly energized from the song, and knew that what they were doing meant so much to Julie and her family. Everything that had been weighing on him all day could be set aside for this.

Shortly, they followed the Molinas to Rose’s room.

“Hey, mom,” Julie said tenderly. The woman had a scarf on her head, and she looked so tired and weak everywhere except in her eyes.

“Sweetheart, who’s this?” she asked, pleasantly surprised.

“These are my friends, Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Bobby,” Julie introduced. “They’re a band called Sunset Curve, and they wanted to do something special for you today.”

She looked back at Luke and gave him a nod. He began strumming the intro to Your Song by Elton John and happy tears immediately welled in Rose’s eyes. She looked at her daughter and pride emanated from her being.

“It’s a little bit funny, these feelings inside,” Luke sang. “I’m not one of those who can easily hide….” 

Each of them continued to join in as Ray, Julie and Carlos all took turns embracing Rose. She whispered things to them in Spanish and kissed each of their heads, keeping hold of Ray’s hand as the boys continued playing. She couldn’t sing along as she wished, but she mouthed the words to every single song they played. The boys played for only an hour, but it felt like its own little bubble of time. Alex didn’t want to leave by the time it was over.

They had saved Yellow Submarine for last, and it came as a suckerpunch. Even though the song was supposed to be silly and Carlos was doing all the echoes at the end, they could all feel the undercurrent of grief wash through. The words became a metaphor for some fantastical land where nothing was wrong - where Rose was healthy, where each of their lives were fixed, where Willie was with them - a land of simplicity that didn’t exist. But they had created a moment in that tiny hospital room that felt so close to it, and they could all tell.

Alex felt strange that while everyone else had tears in their eyes at this point, he remained dry. He was moved, of course. There was something about meeting Julie’s family and doing this little performance that made him feel warmth greater than anything he’d known in his whole life. It made him wonder what was wrong with him. He watched as Reggie, who was a sniffling mess, tried to comfort a slightly tearful Bobby (which was a rare sight in itself). Luke wrapped his arm around Alex’s shoulders, smiling even with glistening eyes. For what it was worth, the guys made him feel at home and he knew he’d been a part of this just as much as them.

As everyone said their goodbyes back in the waiting room, Julie held out her arms and all the guys came to her at once in a giant group hug.

“You guys, I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” she said, words saturated with gratitude. “I will never forget this. My mom will never forget this.”

They all squeezed tightly before letting go. Luke and Julie’s hands took just a little too long to separate as she followed her dad and brother out of the hospital. Sighing wistfully, Luke watched her go until she was out of sight completely. The image of Willie skating along the street crossed Alex’s mind in a rueful memory. He was definitely going to hammer it out on his drums when he got home.

“Alright, boys,” Luke was saying. “Let’s head out.”

[kathyprior4200]

Welcome to Wacky Wally Wackford’s World!

Greetings, I say, greetings demons of all ages! The name’s Wally Wackford, an oh so suave man of business! You may not know me, but surely you’ve seen me…pretty much everywhere. Yes, I’ve never been the type to stay in one place for long. Life can be pretty wild at times. But that’s what makes it oh so fun!

 So what’s my story, you say, you say? Well look no further, ‘cause I have a tale to tell.

 I’ve been doing freelance work off and on, laboring at one job, moving onto the next. The jobs vary a lot, but I’m a Wally of many trades. (Yes, I’ve been fired many times as well, figuratively and literally…it is Hell after all.) Early on, I found out that living in poverty is never a lot of fun. I quickly learned how to scam other people…and boy did I enjoy it! It was the only way I could inch toward the top, get some power of my own. I’d make a few deals here and there and then when clients got desperate, I’d say something like, “Oh I’m so sorry but there’s an extra fee you have to pay. Forgot to mention that.” Then I’d point to that small scribbled section on the contract I added in moments ago.

 “I’m starving, sir!” they’d say. Or, “I left my money at home,” or my favorite: “Shove it up your trickster rear!”

 Sometimes they did pay me extra. Other times they didn’t…and those were the ones who soon forgot about everything forever. (chuckles).

 Anyway, moving on.

 Sometimes when my days got long and hard, I’d go to saloons for a nice bottled drink. The emerald colored Greed Mead is my favorite. Twirling my thin black mustache, I’d wink at some pretty imp gals nearby and say, “Hey there. You’ve been in Hell for a long time. Is that why you’re so hot?”

 Most of the time, I’d get a swift punch to the face in response. The glares on their pretty faces, “Take that remark to the Sloth Ring, lazy bootleg fucker.”

 So many aggressive people these days. I could tip my black hat to many imps and they’d either fall to my charms or roll their eyes. I was fine with that. There’s not much else to do in Hell then to live your life and amuse yourself with watching others struggle. In fact, pretty much every sin is encouraged, so why not keep going?

 After stalking around looking for more people to scam, I came across Loo-Loo Land in the Ring of Greed. I’ve always loved that place, its vibrant atmosphere emitting joyful fun and chaotic flair. I walked on over and asked the vendor, “I say, you have any jobs here?”

 “I’ve heard of you, Wacky Wally,” he said at the ticket stand. “You may be a good pick-pocket, but your skills are nothing compared to Mammon. In fact, this whole place is a fucking rip-off of Lucifer’s Lu-Lu Land!”

 “All the more reason to love this place!” I exclaimed.

 “Robo Fizz is putting on another show at 7pm tomorrow,” said the beefy imp vendor. “Made in Mammon’s factory and modeled after the famous imp Fizzarolli.” He then spoke in a low whisper, “It includes some behind the scenes moments for the VIPs…you know, with tentacles and ‘special features.’”

 “Oh that sounds delicious!” I said with a slow grin. “It’d be great to see how his…mechanics work someday…”

 The imp vendor rolled his eyes and flinched at my lighthearted comment. Always know what to say to get that grimace reaction.

 “Anyway,” said the vendor, “We’re running low on staff, so you can go sell those torches over there.”

 The imp pointed to a pink cart with Mammon’s jester face on it. I shrugged and got to work.

 I happily rolled my cart around, selling torches wherever I went. I could honestly stare into those mesmerizing green flames all day.

 “Torches here!” I drawled in my Foghorn Leghorn southern accent. “66% off when you buy four! Parties, decoration, destruction and more!”

 One time on my break, I got to talk to Robo Fizz about money, shows, sex and chaos. We even cracked some jokes together. The robot seemed a little nervous in my presence but then again, he was very unpredictable on a daily basis.

 “A duck, a frog, a demon and a skunk go into a bar. The bartender told them that the drinks were one dollar each. How did they pay for them? Answer: The duck had a bill, the frog had a greenback, the demon had a soul…but the skunk only had a scent!”

 “Hahahaha!” Robo Fizz laughed, sparks flying near him. “Your jokes are much better than Blitzo’s corny puns!”

 “Why thank you,” I replied. “But nothing beats your organ-playing animatronics in your ‘Wonderful World of Evil’ puppet show you did last month.”

 Robo Fizz grinned at the compliment. “You do anything else besides selling torches?”

 “I scam, I kill, I do a little bit of both. Oh and I’m also a great inventor!”

 “How marvelous!” Robo Fizz grinned. “Perhaps if you have enough mayhem in you, you could perform with me at the next Fizzarolli N Friends show!”

 “I say, I’d love that! I’m sure your show will be top notch, copyright be dammed…won’t it?”

 Robo Fizz smiled widely, hiding a strain. “You bet it will!”

 It was during one interesting day when I pushed my cart by a large tent where several Robo Fizz posters were posted. I held up a troch with a hand and called:

 “Torches, I say! I say! Get your inconvenient torches here!”

 Then before I knew it, the robot and a random imp crashed right into the cart.

 “Ow, I say OW!” I cried as the green flames quickly spread around. After getting the flames off me, I ran for the hills out of the burning park. I sat, dejected shortly afterward. So much for that job. Along with figuring out what to do next, I also happened to watch the imp fight off Robo Fizz…and the robot falling into the dragon’s mouth.

 How unfortunate.

 After helping Robo Fizz from the dragon’s insides, (killing said dragon, pulling out said robot, cleaning and making quick repairs), I inched closer to him and said, “You made some new friends, I say.”

 Robo Fizz stood tense with just long wires for his body, a metal skeleton of his previous appearance. “Yes…an old time co-worker of mine. A clown of an imp named Blitzo. He and his sisters were once part of a circus act called “The Amazing Imp Siblings. A bit dowdy if you ask me. ”

 Robo Fizz looked around. “Hahahaha! That was some chaotic fun. But now the park is ruined!”

 “I say, if I were you,” I told him, “I’d do all I could to get this park repaired and back on track. Costs a whole lotta money. The last thing you need is to have your boss disappointed in you.”

 A brief look of fear came on his face. “Oh yes, yes, good idea, Wally.”

 “And your friend…whether you upstage him or what, you’d best be sure Blitzo stays out of trouble. I lost my job and almost my life because of that fight!” My yellow eyes shined in a show of sadness.

 “I-I will not let master Mammon down…not that I have a choice.”

 “Let Asmodeus know what’s up as well.”

 Robo Fizz nodded, spun away and laughed. “Time to find that rodeo clown imp!”

0 0 0

 Later on after leaving Greed, I got a brilliant idea. It was after I saw some old fashioned 1800s snake man in Pride plow down buildings with a metal bulldozer vehicle. That was it! I could start my own business!

 I walked over to 666 News station. “Oh Katie,” I said in my sweetest voice.

 “What is it, scum?” she asked, sitting at a mirror and doing her hair. “Can’t you see I’m preparing for a back to back broadcast right now?”

 “I was considering doing my very own commercial about me exploiting…erm, employing other demons for my new factory.”

 Katie barked out a laugh. “Good luck with that, filthy old man! Now get out of my studio.”

 “Very well,” I said. As quiet as a hell mouse, I snatched a camera with an eye at the center and made my way out the door. The rest of the materials I needed came from a nearby junkyard. (Thankfully I avoided the wrath of some hungry kangaroo parasitic queen demon). I was running out of money fast; with no job around the corner, I figured I’d start my own!

 Even I don’t really know where I got my inventing skills from. Many say it was my natural trait. Others say I learned from other experts in the trade. After all, one of the quickset ways to a man’s wallet is through the latest technology.

 But I, Wally Wackford would not settle for your standard modern devices. No. I preferred to make things…well, wacky.

 In no time at all, I had built myself my own mini studio where I could film my commercial! Now, what to call my company? Hmm…

  The Onceler One In a Lifetime Opportunity? No, not enough Ws.

 Wowing Whimsical Wonderous Wonders? Nah, too many Ws.

 Ah…of course! What is a company if you don’t have your name on it?

0 0 0

“Uh huh, keep going, keep going, keep going!” Blitzo insisted at the I.M.P. office.

 Moxxie switched the channel again. This time, an imp appeared wearing a large black top hat, a white shirt and pants, gray vest, black bow tie and black boots. He held a cane in his hands and he also had a thin curly mustache. A mischievous grin of sharp teeth appeared on his face.

 “I say, I say!” the imp exclaimed, briefly pointing his cane at the camera. “Are you looking to get work making crazy contraptions and goofy gadgets?” “Crazy Contraptions” and “Goofy Gadgets” appeared in bold spiked icons to the imp’s left and right. The imp twirled his cane.

 “Well call me at Wacky Wally Wackford’s Wacky Idea ‘Factory!’”

 He pulled down another screen. The title appeared in bold red, gray and white letters surrounded by pinkish circles reminiscent of classic cartoons. “Factory” appeared in quotations. Wally Wackford appeared again.

 “Where you make the things and I make the money!”

 Wally Wackford then got up closer to the camera with a pleading look. “Please, I’m very desperate!”

 “Bingo!” Blitzo called, shooting and exploding the TV again.

 0 0 0

 It was actually really easy to find where Blitzo was and the new sinner inventors. The killing company of imps had me very curious. If they could start a business, why shouldn’t I? And being in the company of amazing inventors…

 I could almost see the soul dollar bills floating into my hands.

 I snuck up to the building, merged into the floor, eavesdropped on their fascinating conversation…

  0 0 0

Crash!

 A metal plank crashed into the room from above as Moxxie scurried out of the way. Loopty Goopty strolled down the plank. “Blitz!”

 “Loofa!” Blitzo called, saying his name wrong. “We can explain everything. I was…”

 Crash!

 Millie pulled Moxxie out of the way before another metal plank landed in the spot where he would’ve been. From on the floor, Blitzo’s butt was very much in view. Blitzo glanced down at him and remarked, “Oh chill out Moxxie, if you kiss my ass any harder you’ll go right inside me.”

 Moxxie turned beet red in the face and scooted further back. Millie helped him up again.  

 “Thanks for saving me again,” Moxxie said. “I would’ve foamed at the mouth and maybe died again.”

 “Why would you think I would ever ignore you?”

 Moxxie shrugged.

 Just then, the demonic form of a man rolled down the plank. His body was black and spherical, with a mint green head wearing a black bowler hat on top. He had a large bushy light gray mustache and pince-nez goggles with dark red spirals on the lens like Loopty. His grinning teeth resembled piano keys.

 “Lyle Lipton?!” Millie, Moxxie, and Blitzo asked in unison.

 “I don’t understand,” said Millie. “We thought you went to Heaven.”

 Lyle Lipton chuckled. “Heaven?” He rolled toward Loopty Goopty. “You don’t make millions in technological advances in robotics by not experimenting on the poor!” He laughed.

 Loopy Goopty grinned as he unleashed his weapons in front of Lyle Lipton. “Finally! We meet again at last! Now that you’re dead, you have no money to keep from me!”

 “Well, I’m a better inventor than you!” Lyle scoffed. “And I’ll make the most money here first!”

 “Nonsense you no good son of a bitch!”

 “Tie yourself in a knot, loony Loopty!”

 “Roll in your grave, fat shit inventor!”

 “Two robotic inventors?!” called a nearby voice. A steampunk blimp hovered in the air and a well-dressed snake demon appeared from a hole in his ship.

 “Who is that guy?” Lyle Lipton asked.

 “I’m the one and only Sir Pentious!” he declared. Several Egg Bois were steering his ship. The eye on his dark top hat peered at the other sinners in curiosity. “With my dominating machines, I aim to take over all of Pentagram City!” Then he muttered, “The repairs were a fucking nightmare to endure.” He glanced at the leftover cracks and holes on the metal sides of his ship.

 “Oooh!” Loopty exclaimed in admiration. “I’ve only seen such inventions in old time history books. How long have you been here?”

 “Since eighteen eighty eight!”

 “Love the loopy numbers!” Loopty grinned, making three small eights with his contraptions. “I’m Loopty Goopty! Lyle is my could’ve been partner in crime but actually rival!”

 “When you’re rich as me, who needs a dead partner!” Lyle exclaimed.

 “You’re dead too, you know!”

 “Where did you cowardly sinners get here?” Sir Pentious asked.

 “Well we just got here,” Lyle called. “Experimenting on the poor made us millionaires! Just…be careful when messing with anti-aging machines. Made us both old.”

 “A machine that changes one’s age?” Sir Pentious pondered. “That could prove to be ussseful in the future,” he hissed.

 “Oh, you should join us, snake man!” Loopy suggested. “Or me, rather.”

 Sir Pentious briefly glared. “Hmm. While I’m perfectly capable of spreading my constrictive terror on my own…I suppose having some…lackey sidekicks would suffice.”

 “Don’t call us lackeys!” Lyle sneered. “And I’m not working with him!”

 “Maybe if we briefly collaborate as a team…”

 Lyle grumbled in annoyance.

 After a moment, Sir Pentious sighed. “Okay, you may join me, but…”

 He spread out his hood, revealing pink eyes. “Don’t even think about crossssing me.” He pulled his hood back. “Now go gather your contraptions and help me manage those scrambled fucking eggs!”

 A bunch of eggs in top hats and suits rolled out and jumped on the two inventors, who were stunned.

 Loopty then laughed evilly. “Inventors to inventors it is!”

 Just then, I popped out of the ground in the room.

  “Did someone say, I say inventors?! Name’s Wally Wackford, and I am lookin’ for creative new people to exploit! I mean employ.” I twirled my mustache with an evil grin.

 At last, a chance to expand my business of the mass production of robotic Fizzarollis! All of Hell will go crazy when they get a chance to buy all the sex robots, the merchandise, everything...and all to profit ME!

 “Everyone, stop fucking up my walls!” Blitzo yelled. “Moxxie’s gonna have to fix all this shit! Satan’s balls! First we deal with Heaven’s table-scraps, now this?”

 I smiled. “Well I guess you can say, you say, you have a holey operation here, Blitzo!”

 I slapped my knee and laughed at my own joke.

 “Get out,” Blitzo muttered.

 Soon I doubled down on the floor laughing. “Oh! I said, ‘o’!”

 Blitzo yelled, “No, I’m serious, get the fuck out!”

 Everyone in the room looked at Blitzo in shock and surprise.

0 0 0

 And then, that one other time where I helped host the Harvest Moon Festival Pain Games!

 Wally Wackford a.k.a. me…stood on the wooden stage, holding a gray microphone decorated with an eye in the center and small horns on the top. I wore my usual white shirt, vest, white pants and dark boots. I twirled my black cane and tipped my black top hat.

 I spoke dramatically through the microphone.

 “Welcome, I say welcome all to Wrath Ring’s annual Harvest Moon Festival! To kick things up, we have the great prince Stolas-a here to user in this here Pain Games!”

 Stolas took the microphone from me and chuckled in slight embarrassment.

“How kind, Wackford.”

 Stolas then addressed the audience. “Greetings tiny Wrath Ring imps. I hereby welcome you all to another year of celebrating the spoils of your labor that continue to feed the citizens of Hell!”

 A crowd of imps glared at him and several boos were heard. Many of these Wrath imps were impoverished farmers who lived on scraps, meat or good crops if they were lucky. The food they worked so hard to produce was consumed by royalty and those in the other Rings. But the reward for their work was being underfed, underpaid and underappreciated instead. The unbalanced cycle had lasted for generations.

 I, too, stared at Stolas with a glare in my eyes. That rich royal thinks he can parade around, doing whatever he wants. Well unfortunately for him, I have plans of my own. Once he sees what I’m capable of…

 He will know who really rules the roost.

 Stolas obliviously continued. “I’m happy to kick off the start of these games that will challenge the toughest imps to show their skill and dominance.” He did a little wave with his fingers. “Good luck to you all!” He noticed Blitzo in the crowd beside Moxxie and Striker and spoke lower. “Especially that sexy little one there! Yoo-hoo, Blitzy!”

 “Oh fuck me,” Blitzo scowled.

 A gun went off and the games began.

 The first event was the race. Moxxie was instantly trampled by the other racers.

 The second event was the high jump. Striker climbed over the high wooden ramp structure with ease and raced after Blitzo who jumped past him. Moxxie struggled to keep his balanced as he reached the top. He slipped down, trying to use his claws to hold on. He fell with a splash in a small puddle…and was promptly chewed on by a monstrous black and white shark with several red eyes.

 The third event was an event with rope. Striker grinned as he held a tied up Blitzo. Blitzo’s arms, legs and horns were all tied up. Moxxie gulped as a stronger grinning imp tied him up with ease.

 The fourth event was tug of war. The crowd cheered as the two teams pulled hard. Striker, Blitzo and Moxxie were on a team. Moxxie stumbled and fell into nearby water, where the shark attacked him again.

 The fifth event was mud wrestling. Blitzo and Striker grinned as they wrestled each other, Striker getting the upper hand as he held Blitzo down, arms locked. Moxxie was instantly crushed in a football hurdle by a group of imps. As they got off of him, Moxxie sat up. And the shark leaped out of the water and over the fence.

 “Mother fucker!” Moxxie screamed as the shark crushed him. (Moxxie somehow survived all this.)

 I hopped back on stage.

 “I say, I say for the first year ever, we have a tie, for the winner of the Harvest Moon Pain Games!”

 Stolas took the microphone from me again.

 “The winners are…Striker, and my darling Blitzy!” Stolas did a one-legged pose as the crowd cheered.

 “Just say my name right!” Blitzo complained. He muttered “Fucking dick,” as he and Striker walked onto the stage.

0 0 0

After the event, I noticed that I.M.P. and Stolas had left. After sharing an undiscernible look with Striker, we parted ways.

 I soon returned to a special place in Greed, tired but determined. I walked alone down dark hallways, torches burning green flames on either side. I wagged my pointed red tail.

 I pushed open the double doors and came across a marvelous sight.

 Gold. Heaps of it, just shining brightly all around the vast spacious chamber. Gold pillars held up the cavern-like ceiling, a chandelier made of bones and diamonds hung from above. There were chests of necklaces, precious gems, goblets and weapons of every shape and size. Hanging on a far wall, concealed in shadow were angelic weapons…at least half a dozen.

 I stared around in amazement. Even Lucifer would be surprised if he could see this place.

 I raced around and tossed the gold coins into the air. In a craze, I rolled around in a nearby pile of green dollar souls. With a grin, I stood up and stared with pride at the grinning face of the jester printed on there.

 A face confident in his ability to deceive others, pursue wealth and bask in endless entertainment.

 The grinning face was all too familiar…

 …because it was my face.

 Wally Wackford leaned his head back, mouth open in a high pitched shriek as dark magic flickered around him. The imp form fell and morphed into shadow. In the imp’s place, a large black beast with thick fur, razor sharp claws and red eyes decorating the body. The figure stood up on two powerful furry legs and sat comfortably in a giant golden throne that occupied the center of the chamber. Angular jester clothing of red, gold and purple stripes adorned the wolf body. And finally, a large spiked black crown sat atop the dark loopy jester hat with bells at the ends. A white and gold jester face showed sharp white teeth and glowing yellow eyes. Dark clawed hands juggled fresh demon skulls into the air and popped them into his large mouth. He crunched loudly before swallowing every bit.

 My imp disguise was perfect. Literally no one else save for Robo Fizz and a few elites knew who was underneath. And even then, my magic was so powerful it could easily confuse anyone around me.

 Being an imp has its advantages; you can travel anywhere and gather information along the way. You can track imps from a killing company and find out where they’ll likely travel to next. You can affiliate yourself with your own robotic creations, some slave imps and succubi…and then in your own form, work with a fellow Deadly Sin on the next stage.

 A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

 Funny, really. Wally Wackford could easily be a separate being, born into poverty, learning to scam others at an early age and go up from there. I, however, didn’t need to learn anything…deceiving others and attracting material wealth was a natural talent. As was shapeshifting.

 Lucifer might not be happy with me coping his idea of a theme park…but business is business…and in Hell, anything goes.

 That incompetent prince Stolas would be dead soon enough. No more Goetia showoffs to get in the way of my rule and reputation. At least the prince’s wife was rightfully concerned with maintaining tradition that has existed for centuries. Aside from my dear friend Lucifer, I was, and should be, the most powerful being in Hell. I’ll keep exploiting those I choose because money is money.

 Those I.M.P. assassins have no idea who they were dealing with.

 I let out a crazed evil laugh, intermingled with a wolf’s howl. With a single touch of my hand, my nearby scepter turned into gold. I admired its shiny flawless sheen. Asmodeus, Leviathan, Lucifer, Satan, Belphegor, Beelzebub and myself…the Seven Deadly Sins…circus-loving rulers of the Overlords and in charge of maintaining chaotic order in our respective Rings.

  I, Mammon, had much to do.

[kiatheinsomniac]

Huntress II

[ I ]  [ II ]  [ III ]

(Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes flickered between the two women who were seated before her.

The one on the left was blonde with curled hair that cascaded in ringlets over her shoulders, complimenting her tanned skin. Her face bore dark brown eyes that glimmered with sparkling tears, they reminded (Y/n) of a lost fawn. She wore an elegant grey dress with detailed beading and a white front and clutched a tear-stained handkerchief in her left hand. She looked as though she had hardly slept since the murder. This one was Lucia - the daughter of a Count and Countessa from Venice.

The second was much darker-skinned. She had her ink-black hair parted down the middle with the upper half of her locks styled up in a bun. She wore a white dress with a red sash around the middle and embroidery over the skirt of it. Wrapped around her shoulders was a cascading cloak with all the detail of a tapestry and embroidered with patterned glass beads. She wore a golden circlet and red veil that was attached with a clip at the back of her head. Many earrings and bracelets, as well as a golden necklace, flaunted her wealth. This was Halime, the daughter of a very successful and wealthy Ottoman trader. She was very tired too and had been awoken from sleep to talk with the Witch Hunter. A cup of coffee was clutched in her hands to assist in rousing her sleep-fogged mind.

"I need every detail that you can remember about that man and anything that felt different about that night, what made it out of the ordinary aside from the murder?" (Y/n) questioned as she dipped a quill in some ink and poised it over some parchment.

"It was just another street party." Lucia began, "We go to them all the time. This one was in the piazza down the street. It started off perfectly fine but then he showed up. He wore white robes and a red belt with a symbol that looked like an arrow pointing up on it." (Y/n) scribbled this down in her cursive handwriting. "He was so handsome that you could have wondered if one of the old Roman gods had returned to walk the earth, I suppose that this foolishly made us put our guards down."

"Yes, vampires tend to be very attractive: it's what lures their prey into a false sense of security, it makes them desirable. Carry on."

"He was an excellent dancer. I was rather shocked that Elizabetta was dancing so well with him: it's no secret that she was not a very good dancer." Lucia paused, "I couldn't wrap my head around it but I ignored the red flag because I had no reason to sense that something supernatural was happening at the time."

"It was like she was a puppet on strings. . ." Halime spoke up in a soft voice, staring at the steam coming off her dark coffee, "Like he was controlling her, had her hypnotised. . . Can they do that?" There was a silence while (Y/n) noted down, what she believed to be, key information.

"Yes and that makes this vampire very dangerous; he is clearly very powerful. They all have simple powers, ones to help lure in prey. But some have their own unique abilities - it's rare to ever hear of vampires with the same personal ability. I hope that he does not have one. . . Please continue."

"His name was Ezio." Halime carried on, "I overheard him introducing himself to Eliza, I can remember gossiping about it. Eliza was drinking a lot of wine - usually, she would not drink but that night was an exception with him. I swooped in to make sure he wasn't trying to get her drunk and take advantage but he was so charming. He knew of my father's business too so we spoke about that for a while though he admitted to disliking coffee. In fact. . . looking back on it now. . . there was so much food there, so much to drink. . . he didn't touch any of it. . ."

"Human food and drink will make them ill, they can only keep it down for so long before they're sick. I've known one who tried so desperately to be human again - she was turned into a vampire against her will and some villagers were worried she would attack them. I thought I would have to fight her tooth and claw but she called me her angel and accepted death. . . She didn't want to live an immortal life as a monster."

"Do you think that Ezio was turned into one?" Lucia questioned.

"I can't tell yet. He may have been bitten, he may have been born a vampire, he may have traded his soul. I cannot tell as of yet. But, this is an investigation and you two must carry on telling me about the events of that night."

"Yes," Lucia looked to Halime, "I joined them perhaps an hour after he had been talking with Eliza and Halime. Poor Eliza was worried she would get too drunk and asked him to escort her home. We were both very against this, to begin with, but the way he spoke about her and how sincere he looked. . ." A sob escaped her lips, "He was so convincing and if only we'd persisted, she'd still be alive." Her young Ottoman friend turned to embrace her as she sobbed.

"You two found her in her room afterwards when you came to check on her. Was the window open?" (Y/n) quizzed. She felt sorry for the crying Lucia but she had to get her work done if she wanted to stop any more people from dying the way Elizabetta had.

"Yes, I was the one who closed it." Halime nodded her head, her bracelets on her wrists jangling as she ran her hand up and down her weeping friend's back. "We found her naked. . ." She looked to the door and lowered her voice, "Between us three. . . Eliza was not as pure as her family believe her to have been. I knew exactly why she wanted Ezio to escort her home - she wanted him to share her bed."

"I had a feeling that he had slept with her then killed her. It's very common for vampires to do that. Some get the blood pumping with fear, others with pleasure." She noted down Ezio's behaviour. One thing didn't add up. If Ezio had escaped through the window, the heel of the palm of the blood print on the window sill would be facing inwards.

"Thank you for your time, girls. If you remember anything else that you think could be useful, don't hesitate to find me." Halime nodded for both of them while Lucia continued to sob. (Y/n) could see the hollow look in the girl's dark brown eyes as she comforted her friend.

The Witch Hunter made her way outside to the gardens and walked around the wide of the building until she could see Elizabetta's bedroom window. Her (e/c) orbs widened as she squinted against the sun. There was a trail of dirty bootprints on the side of the white wall that led to the balcony two rooms down. He must have held onto the edge of the roof and made his way over! (Y/n) felt an anxiousness loom over her. He was incredibly athletic if this was the case. She attempted to recall the layout of the mansion. That balcony was part of the Doge's study.

Why would a vampire go there if he had an unfinished meal in the other room? It made no sense to (Y/n). She made her way back inside and paused outside the study. She knew that the Doge would not like her snooping around, therefore, she quietly pushed the door open and examined the room. Nothing seemed too out of order at first glance. She made her way over to the balcony and, sure enough, there was a bloody handprint on the rail. He had stopped in here.

(Y/n) pulled a pendulum out of her pocket. She had to find something missing in a room that she was utterly unfamiliar with. She wrapped the silver chain around her knuckles and held it up in the air, keeping her arm perfectly still as she watched the point of clear quartz settle in the air, going still. She looked over her shoulder at the door, making sure that the coast was clear before beginning.

"What did the vampire take?" Nothing happened for three moments before it slowly began moving back and forth, towards a bookshelf that was placed on the left side of the room. The (h/c)-haired female slowly stepped forwards, following the direction which it swung in before she paused in front of one particular part of the shelf. "Thank you. With that said, she pocketed the pendulum and ran her hands over the leather-bound books and volumes. Her eyes slipped shut as she ran her fingertips over the spines before they snapped open and she pulled a red one off the shelf swiftly.

It was old, that much she could tell, and it seemed to buzz in her hands almost - a thrum of energy was tied to it. Though, only someone so in tune with this layer of our reality would be able to tell. Someone like a vampire or a witch hunter. She flipped through the pages: all hand-written about precursors and magical items that she had never heard of before. This shocked her, she was so very well educated in her profession that she was surprised to discover something she didn't know. Her fingers ran along where pages had visibly been torn. Why did the Doge own this book? Why did Ezio want it? (Y/n)'s eyes narrowed and her heart fluttered as she began to get the suspicion that she was out of her depth. There was something going on here that she was not aware of, something that the Doge was hiding.

Something that the vampire wanted.

Her lips parted as a piece of the puzzle in her investigation fell into place. Elizabetta had been Ezio's key inside. Vampires, like many supernatural creatures, could not enter a place unless invited. She had been his way inside and he had not finished drinking her blood because he had his fill, cutting off a loose end at the same time, then attended to the real reason he had come here.

There was no way that she was not going to read through that red book, therefore, she tucked it into the depths of her cloak and walked back out again. This was her new piece of evidence. She could question the victim's parents later. For now, she needed to understand the vampire on the loose, not the corpse.

(Y/n) made her way into her assigned room which she had been showed to earlier. She turned the key in the lock behind her so that she would not be disturbed.

It was a small but snugly furnished room. The large four-poster bed in the close left corner with its red sheets and white pillows took up around a third of it. At the end of the bed was a trunk where her bags were being stored. The far wall bore two tall leaded windows on either side of it. Against the right wall were a table and a vanity. The fireplace was in the middle of the left wall. It had a plush wooden chair and black pillow by it. Candelabras were scattered across the room to provide light at night.

The (s/t)-skinned female unbuckled her dark grey cloak to hang it up on the coat rack by the door then sat by the plush chair in front of the fire, the book in her hands. She paused to look into the flames.

The soft crackling began to ring in her ears, echoing and it quickly became a raging roar of flames at war with firewood. Screams of agony and shrieked prayers rang in her ears, the cheers of a crowd. She could smell smoke and an awful burning as well as dusty hay.

Snapping herself out of it, she sprung from her seat and toed off her boots, curling up on the bed to read instead. Tears pricked at her eyes but she smudged them away quickly, opening the first page of her book in order to try and understand why the vampire wanted it so badly. This one was too important to allow him to get away, for he would be kill number twelve.

Her final victim.

♰♰♰

Series of papers were piled over the desk, some of them pinned to the wall. Ezio's eyes picked apart every piece of information before flickering up to a drawing of his goal:

The Apple of Eden.

He was determined to but this centuries-long war to rest. He had traded his very soul for it, for immortality, for a body that was stronger than a human's in every way, for him to stop wasting time on sleep. The only price was that he would have to drink the blood of humans to survive.

Too many lives had been lost to the war between Assassin and Templar and he intended to put an end to the killing once and for all. He wouldn't have made such a self-sacrifice if he did not believe that he would succeed. He knew that if he could put an apple, he could cause the final killings of the remaining Templars that would put all the bloodshed to an end, that would guarantee freedom of will.

His large hands, olive-toned, skimmed over the papers. trying to organise the mess.

He was inside a singular room: a large one at that. It was high-ceilinged and lit with candles and small fires on intricately carved marble candelabras. The stained glass windows were boarded up, the pews in disarray and many of the statues were covered by dusty sheets. Art, armour, fine jewels and old weapons, as well as books and sketches, were set around the place.

He had set up his workspace at the very back of the abandoned church where the altar had once been. There was a large bed with tapestries hung around it to replace the fact that it lacked posts. Rugs were layered on the floor and a case of wine bottles was stacked on the shelf. Well, they had once been used for wine but now they had been repurposed and held blood. He could no longer enjoy wine like he did when he was still the careless young human boy romancing every pretty woman in Florence.

A child laughed behind him before a sheet was pulled from a statue of an angel, causing dust to swirl in the air. The eyes were painted black and the paint ran down the angel's cheeks like demonic tears.

But no one was there.

"I will not tolerate your games." He growled to the daring ghosts of the church who soon fled the room, knocking over a book in the process of leaving. The church was full of wandering spirits, many of which were daring children who were in search of a little fun and entertainment.

But there was one spirit in particular. . .

A laugh resonated throughout the hall. For someone so recently dead, she was very strong. Though, this was simply because she had a direct link to Ezio: killer and victim. Her blood was still in him, after all.

"You won't get away with it. You'll be stopped." The ghost of Elizabetta smirked as she stood perfectly still behind where Ezio was seated at his cluttered desk.

"And who will stop me? Your Templar father?" He sighed, not wanting to entertain the taunting spirit.

"No. But she will." The ghost smirked, "I actually helped her out earlier, she knows what you took and soon enough she'll find out why. My father's hired her to avenge me by ending your supposedly immortal life." Ezio whipped his head around at this, tossing his tied-back dark down hair as he did so. His chestnut orbs glinted with anger and worry as to what the ghost was speaking of. His scarred lips curled down into a frown.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a witch hunter in the city — a very skilled one at that. She's travelled very far because my father would only settle for the best of the best. (Y/n) (L/n) ring a bell?" She smirked. Ezio turner back around and held his head in his hands. No! He had sacrificed too much on this path for some human to end it now!

"Begone! You're not welcome here!" He snapped, not even facing the spirit of Elizabetta who simply giggled as she vanished into smoke, her spirit having to leave the abandoned church now that she had been banned from it. She loved getting under the cold skin of the man who had ended her life so abruptly.

Ezio growled irritably in the dimly-lit room. Surely the spirit was only taunting him? But what if she was telling the truth? He wouldn't put it past the paranoid Dodge to do such a thing. Sighing, he stood from his cushioned seat and made his way towards a door in the corner which led down to the basement of the large church. Upon opening it, a spider scuttled across the stone floor, legs running rapidly over the uneven bricks.

The vampire stepped over the threshold and small, wall-mounted braziers lit up, the oil in them burning silently and causing a soft glow to illuminate the previously pitch-black stairwell. He found himself in a room full of stacks of shelves, dividing the dimly-lit and cluttered room into aisles. Inside the containers of preserving liquids were hearts, lungs, intestines, kidneys, brains, eyes, tongues, fingers and so on. Strings of cobwebs hung from the ceiling and mould was beginning to grow from the dampness that seeped between the bricks.

Closer to the back of the room were scrolls and papers tied with twine, coated in dust. The abundance of books could not fit onto all the shelves so they stacked up in piles, some of them lying open or discarded from where Ezio had ransacked the room for information on the Pieces of Eden or codex pages. Eventually, he made his way to a wooden box, sealed with wax and a sorceress's spell to keep it's magic contents inside.

A hidden blade protruded from Ezio's sleeve with a satisfying 'snnk' and cut along the lid of the box, slicing through the dripped red wax until he could prise the old box open with his hands. Inside, was a thick lock of braided blonde hair, healthy as the day it was cut. Mermaid's hair. It felt soft as sea-foam and smelled of a hot tropical harbour's breeze. They say, that if you capture a mermaid, she can tell you your future because they can read the very waves of the ocean.

But you didn't need the whole creature to do that.

Ezio wound the braid around his hand and whispered under his breath, uttering the question to the blonde tresses which he held mere millimetres from his lips. He needed to know if Elisabetta was bluffing or not and he had to know if this Witch Hunter was a true threat. Usually, he would not take the words of a ghost so seriously but he knew in his gut that something else was amiss here. A woman's voice whispered to him:

"She will find you and she will do everything in her power to kill you. Beware, for she will burn all that stands in the way of vengeance for her sisters."

[philliamwrites]

i could make you need me all the time (pt.1)

Fandom: Persona 5

Pairing: Akira/Akechi

Tags: #justice rank 8 spoilers, #slight angst, #persona 5 royal spoilers, #new semester spoilers

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Akechi is counting numbered days, preparing himself for the end. Akira being himself doesn't help.

Note: Part 2 | Inspired by “Make it Holy” by The Staves.

i could make you need me all the time

    Here is the thing: Akechi did not expect to get such a kick out of seeing the leader of the Phantom Thieves kneel in front of him with his nose bleeding and a purple bruise blossoming on his cheek.

    The fight was brutal and mean. Loki has knocked a couple of times against a door Akechi refused to open even though Akira’s insufferable, mocking smile tested his patience over and over again. He’s out of breath, the fabric of his white jacket glued to his sweaty back and the dull pain in his shoulder throbs more and more. Copper fills his mouth; he wants to spit out the blood and swallows it instead. He feels sick.

    “I really wish you weren’t such a disappointment to me,” Akechi snarls, surprised by how harsh and cold his voice is. Something flashes in Akira’s eyes as his head snaps up. Hurt is a pretty big, meaningful word, so instead Akechi settles for defiance and moves on, looking away quickly. Entangling gazes with Akira is confusing at best, dizzying at worst. He thought after spending so much time near him, sometimes on or under him, he’d be immune to Akira’s presence and any conflicting emotions following him like a noose around his neck. He hates being wrong.

    Akira’s answer is an audible exhale. He sways a little as he raises to his feet and even though Akechi can’t remember what he did exactly, he’s holding one side and leans into the other, saying, “Seeing how this isn’t how you usually fight in the Metaverse, I call it cheating.”

    Closing the distance between them, Akechi makes a sound that comes close to a laugh. He quickly covers it behind a cough. “Says the one with access to infinite Personas.” He joins Akira’s side and ducks under his arm to steady him. His body is like a furnace, radiating heat that sips right through Akechi’s clothes. He dips his fingers into Akira’s side, earning a soundless gasp he knows a little too well for comfort.

    “You’re pretty strong with just one Persona.” Akira’s head hangs like a puppet’s lifeless body, its strings cut off. It makes his hair fall forward, thick locks obscuring his eyes. Akechi smells blood and sweat, and underneath that coffee and the lily washing powder he’s come to known as Akira’s natural scent. He turns his head away. “You don’t need anyone else than Robin Hood.”

    Akechi simply smiles and digs his fingers deeper into Akira’s side where he’s sure a bruise stands against pale skin. Akira bites his lower lip. Loki’s scarlet grin flashes before his eyes, the pressure on his chest from a golden hoof that glints like the wicked edge of a knife. If Akira notices him stumble, it’s surely because of his extra weight and the overgrown railway, nothing else.

    “You’re right, I don’t need more Personas. I can eradicate my enemies with just one.”

    Loki snickers like a child that’s in on a secret with an adult, feeling rightfully included in shady business. Akechi ignores him, too occupied following the way back to the platform without tripping on bones.

    Akira snorts. “Are you trying to pick a fight?”

    “We just saw how that will end, no?”

    Akira glares at him and Akechi wonders if he’s aware it’s the same look he wears every time he’s about to climb on his lap and leave dark hickeys all over his shoulders and neck. He thinks about how easy it is to lean down and silence that pretty mouth for good. He also thinks how easy everything would be if he’d wrap both hands around Akira’s neck and end it here and now, saving him time.

    A vicious tug, a hard wall against his back and Akechi finds himself in the very same position as last evening. He tries to smile, but the adrenaline is still pounding in his blood and it comes out crooked and wrong. Akira is already on his knees, fumbling with the zipper of Akechi’s white pants.

    “Someone is a sore loser,” he points out indulgently, one hand pressed against the black wall behind him, the other running through Akira’s soft hair, forming a loose fist.

    They return to Kichijouji twenty minutes later, Akechi’s cheeks flushed and Akira’s hair sticking to all sides, but no one pays them attention save for a boy staring at Akira in awe like he’s just had a revelation—or rather an awakening. Akechi steps in his sight of line, a wide smile plastered on his face, but it feels all wrong as if someone stuck the donkey’s tail right on its eye.

    “Well, should you demand a revanche, you’ll find me in Shibuya from now on,” he says and busies himself with studying his watch, pretending he has plans after this—show him that he’s nothing more than another business meeting between many others, just a scribble on a page that’s taken up by dozens other scribbles. Unimportant. Replaceable. Just the side character to an insignificant short story.

    Akira, however, doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, kicking up some dust, his hands deep in his pockets as he shuffles around Akechi like a lonely puppy seeking comfort. He tolerates it for about twenty seconds. “Is there anything else?”

    Movements halting, Akira stands still as a stone, his body tense with anticipation for something Akechi can’t name. It’s subtle but he sees his shoulders straightening out, his head hovering above Akechi’s—a phantom inch separating their heights.

    “You tell me,” he says, adjusting his glasses. Akechi stares at the tip of his nose, remembering how it pressed against his cheek this morning. It looks sharp, just like the bridge, but he knows how soft Akira’s skin is. Those facts are irrelevant and useless, but they keep him awake at night just like the screaming and pleading voices of his ghosts, never shutting up. When they finally go silent, it’s always Akira’s voice he thinks of shortly before falling in deep, dreamless slumber. Right now, it asks, “What’s this duel really about?”

    Akechi snaps back to attention, his control of his expression slipping just a little, but it’s enough to elicit a confused stare from Akira. “There really is no deep significance to it,” he says. “I’m simply interested in seeing all of your capabilities.” Capabilities, strengths, weaknesses. Anything that might give him an advantage.

    “You want to see who will win between us,” Akira translates, shrugging. “Which is a weird way to assert dominance, but okay.”

    Akechi wants to kiss him, right here, right now in front of all these faceless people. Instead he turns away, grip tight enough on his suitcase his hand cramps up. “If that’s all, I will hear from you later.”

    He doesn’t come far. Akira’s hand is hot, leaving where it touches Akechi’s bare strip of skin between glove and the end of his sleeve burning. He whirls around—too fast, too sudden; too many prying eyes on them already whispering about what this means—Akechi tears himself out of his grasp so fast, a joint pops in his back.

    Akira’s eyes widen, clear as windows. He takes a step away, arm dropping back to his side. Time halts, Akechi’s control of his expression completely gone. He has no idea what face he’s making; he can’t even read Akira’s. All he knows is if he doesn’t save this, he’ll give everything away; every minute spent being someone else was for nothing; his whole life wasted.

    Don’t give anything away, whispers Loki into his right ear. He’ll be dead by next week anyway.

    Trust him, pleads Robin Hood into his left ear. It does not have to end like that.

    In unison, they say, Be yourself.

    “Sorry, my bad.” Akira shoves his hands back inside his pockets quickly enough before Akechi can look at them. “Thought you had something there.”

    “I see,” he says to the Liar. “Thank you. And do take care of that.” He nods towards Akira's bruise. “We wouldn't want your friends to worry too much.”

    Akira nods, still too awkward, still too taken aback even though Akechi doesn’t really understand the reason. It’s frustrating, Akira is frustrating. Two more days, then everything will be over.

    “Good night,” Akechi says. Akira’s reply is drowned in people talking, people laughing.

    He wants this all to go away.

[inkstaineddove]

Circling Eagles

Characters: Austria, Prussia; mentioned Hungary, France and Holy Rome

Summary: Austria is suddenly summoned to Berlin by Prussia for a vague meeting. Tensions run hot between them as egos due to an over abundance of ego and animosity in both, throwing their discussions off course to air grievances and bait the other.

Berlin, 1806.

Prussia was hunched over his desk in his study. The matter of France’s increasing territorial ambition had left him with more work to do than ever. He found himself a slave to all his papers as they stacked up, growing ever higher each day. He was roused from this by a light tapping on the door. One of his servants stepped in and bowed her head. He flicked his hand towards her as if to beg her to get on with it. "Master Edelstein has arrived, sir."

He harrumphed. "Have him wait five minutes in the parlor before sending him up. I'm in the middle of something." He returned back to his papers, scribbling out correspondence to generals on the front and to ambassadors throughout the European courts.

Not even a minute had gone by before the door slammed open. "Oh for heaven's sake, Gilbert! Who do you think I am, Baden? You can't expect me to wait around like your coy little mistress after you rush me over from Vienna." Roderich was leaning over the desk, in the Prussian's face.

Gilbert grimaced. Why did his beloved cousin have to wear so much fucking perfume? It never smelled good either, making it even less tolerable. "Get over yourself, Roddy. You know I would never treat your mistress like that. How is she, by the way? I've been so busy, I haven't had the chance to call on her. I hope she hasn't wasted away, having to capitulate with a man hardly capable of fulfilling his marital duties."

Roderich straightened up, his face red. Gilbert rose and shut the door. The staff didn't need to hear all this. "You jealous, spiteful little rat. If this is all you have to say to me, when I've been sending men to death to protect your pathetic little state, I've got no qualms signing a treaty with France and ending the whole thing! I'd love to join with him and rid myself of you, but tragically I have honor."

Prussia shrugged, barely suppressing his amusement at the other’s outburst. "I was enjoying myself, but you've always got to ruin the fun." He began rummaging through the stacks of paper on his desk. Eventually, he found what he was looking for. "Have you received any letter from us yet, dated a month ago after Austerlitz? I know your men were at the battle, but no one reported to me seeing you there."

"I know we got our asses handed to us and about the resultant treaty afterwards, as I negotiated that, but that's it. I'm assuming you tried reaching me about something else?" Austria gaped as he watched Prussia toss out the letter he had so valiantly fished for. "What was the point of that?"

"I'll show you instead. It's about that troublesome empire you clung so tightly to." Prussia led him out and down the halls to a darkened room in the basement. "Thankfully, it's really unsettling down here so I've had no trouble keeping my staff away from here. But it sure was a bitch wrapping the kid up in sheets and bringing him down here in the middle of the night. Without making a sound, should I add." He couldn't help the hint of pride in his voice. He lit the candles hanging by the sofa.

Roderich leaned against the wall, needing it for support. He felt queasy. There before him was the body of Holy Rome. It was a wretched sight. He was covered in wounds, his body appearing as if it had began bursting apart. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head, his tongue was swollen, and his face distorted. "What did you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything! He was sent here after Austerlitz in need of expert medical care. He got it, but everyday he kept getting worse. He became so shriveled up, completely disfigured and eventually unable to eat or move. I guess this is what happens when a state's dissolved by treaty. Almost feel bad for him, it might've been better if France had just gutted him with a sword." Prussia yawned, completely unbothered. As the years had gone by, he'd grown less and less fond with the empire-in-name-only. If anything, Francis had done him a personal favor. "I'm sorry you lost the seat of your power."

Austria was not taking this discovery well. He knew that Holy Rome ceased to exist in everything but name - hell, he agreed to it in the treaty - but he expected the embodiment of it to go slowly, peacefully. To eventually fade away till it existed in memory only. This was grotesque. A horror beyond any other imaginable. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, to drink till he was numb. So of course, of course, Gilbert would take this as an opportunity to douse the wound in vinegar. "How dare you! Insinuating that was the only reason I cared for him after all these centuries. To stand there, on your high horse, and act as if you're somehow more worthy than me because you're so callous, so uncaring towards this. Marvelous! Further proof that a ghoul has no soul! Are you proud, are you fucking proud Gilbert? Will this help you sleep at night, knowing you have to live in my shadow while I've gotten everything - the girl, the empire, the power - that you've wanted?" As he spoke, he pushed Prussia against the wall, his breath stinging hot against Gilbert's lips.

He saw red. Before he even knew it, he'd punched Roderich in the jaw. Before he even knew it, he'd spat on his cousin’s hunched over body, landing it right on Roderich's cheek. He knelt down and grabbed the Austrian by the collar. "For a little whore who can't defend himself, you really love talking a big game. What do you have that I don't have? I think we know who your wife would rather be with. You know that too, don't even fucking start there. This isn't the fifteen-hundreds anymore, Roderich. All your power comes from who you can get your monarchs to marry off to, whoring yourself around to each nation so maybe they won't recognize the paper tiger in front of them. What power can you really have if you're too weak to truly flex it? As for your empire-" He gestured towards the decrepit corpse of Holy Rome, "-he's over there. Rotting away, no longer any use to you. Now what puppet will you have to prop yourself up with?" He pushed Austria away and stood. "Get over yourself, you'd be less intolerable. Sure, you won't see me crying any tears for this nuisance, but I'm not celebrating. If he really means that much to you, then figure out what to do with the body. That's the reason I called you here. I don't want this shit here any longer. He’s stinking up my cellar.”

Austria spat the blood that was pooling in his mouth out. He wiped the spit off his cheek. "You're a barbarian. Who could ever love that? Uncivilized, uncouth, an ogre. Whoever you appeal to simply lacks taste, that's all. It's not an attachment to you, it's an absence of acculturation to be worked on." He paused. "Vigorously." Collecting his pride, he rose and dusted himself off. Roderich rolled his eyes. "I suppose a proper Catholic burial in Vienna will be due. All the royal honors. I'll invite the other German states, though I doubt they'll show, a fitting tribute to their allegiance."

"Burying it would be a waste. Haven't you heard what the others have been begging for? The whole specter of France has the weaklings begging for a united Germany." Prussia wrinkled his nose up at the concept of it. "If they get their way, it might be worthwhile keeping the damn thing."

"A united Germany? One where Bavaria, Saxony, and the two of us are all working together, fighting for the same goals and for the same nation?" Austria scoffed. "A fantasy. No, if I kept him in an accessible area and the idealists got wind of that, my God. It would be a propaganda victory for them if they believed I sided with them. I can't have that. It would be suicide."

"Just a thought. That whole group keeps clamoring for it more and more. I'm not sure how easily we'll be able to crush the idea. They seem to be putting all their hopes into it." Gilbert laughed. "It's ridiculous. They want every state to be considered equals in it. Can you imagine? Having us be equal to all of them? I'd be embarrassed having to consider Cleves a peer."

Austria gave him a pointed look. "I think what would be worse is us having to consider the other an equal. The day I look at you occupying the same plane as me will be my last. You'll always be that backwater nation with unchecked ambitions to me. Saxony and Bavaria have had the common sense to acknowledge that, it's you who's always been desperate to rise beyond his station. Funny, you'd expect a Calvinist to accept that he was predestined for mediocrity."

Prussia's blood ran cold. He clenched his jaw. "And you'll always be a dying star, clinging to its last streaks of glory. Too proud to admit when he's washed up and no longer en vogue. For all your trappings of wealth and culture, it never seemed to get you any class. You're still here, in the mud, where you'll always be. Come on, don't be afraid to admit that you like it." Austria shifted nervously. Prussia smiled. "I'll send the body to you. I figure you don't want it riding in your carriage with you, you're welcome."

They tersely went back up the stairs to the main hallway. Roderich collected his coat and checked his appearance in the mirror. "You're beautiful, please leave my home now." Prussia opened the door and, as Austria walked out, said, "Make sure to give my regards to the misses."

Roderich stopped and leaned in close to Gilbert's ear. "I will as we're going to bed tonight after I've fucked her so good. And I'll think of you, sleeping in that big bed alone, and I'll sleep like a baby." He strode off, leaving Gilbert in the dust. Another meeting of unfinished business.

[providentially-demonic]

Miraculous Mystery Skulls: Chapter Three

First Arc: a Spellcaster, a Ghost and a Mechanic walk into a bar Paris

Summary: On their honeymoon in Paris, the City of Lights, the trio of Vivi, Lewis and Arthur encounter more than sightseeing… in the form of monsters, supervillains and a pair of teen superheroes. Sometimes, miraculous things can happen, when you least expect it.

(A Mystery Skulls/Miraculous Ladybug crossover event)

A/N: This all started with this fic by @phantoms-lair and the silly idea of them running into Chat Noir and Ladybug while there. It grew…

It’s a tale of heroes, miraculous, found family and more (with a healthy dose of puns). Co-created and written with assistance from @phantoms-lair, so she deserves some of the credit and a lot of the blame! :P

Back to Chapter Two

Chapter Three. The Grand Master

This time Vivi woke Arthur early. The sun was just barely over the horizon and he groaned at her, pulling a pillow over his head. "It's too early. Wake me at a decent hour."

"Much as I'm enjoying the view," A fingertip trailed up the bare leg sticking out from under the rumpled sheets, eliciting a shiver that ran all the way up his back. "I want to get a move on. We're getting some breakfast at that lovely bakery—”

"And double checking my observations." Lewis chuckled.

"Shoosh you. And then we're doing a little more snooping before we go sightseeing. I plan on making short work of finding this butthead of a supervillain."

They were out on the waking streets about twenty minutes later, Arthur grumbling along beside them. They were nearly to the bakery when a girl handing out cologne samples attached to flyers accosted them, handing a flyer to Arthur and Lewis. "Try the newest fragrance from Le Parfum Agreste, 'Free Spirit'!"

Lewis smiled politely at her and tucked the sample flyer into his pocket. Arthur scowled at both the girl and the flyer impartially. Vivi was snickering at him when he paused, expression grim. "Hey, Vi? Still got that sharpie on you that you bought last night?"

She handed it over with a curious look and watched as he scribbled on the flyer. "I wasn't sure last night, when you said you knew who they were, but yeah..." He turned the flyer around for their inspection. "Now I am."  On the young blonde model he had drawn a black mask and a pair of pointed cat ears.

Vivi pursed her lips. "Mind you, I was bluffing a little, because that so-called 'master' was getting on my nerves, but I had a pretty good idea. You just confirmed it. How has anyone here not noticed?"

"People see what they expect to see, love. They don't see a teen model in a superhero. Or a baker's daughter." Lewis answered frankly.

Arthur frowned and stuffed the flyer in his pocket.

They arrived at the bakery shortly after. While Arthur and Vivi picked out pastries, Lewis scoped out everything else. When Sabine Cheng called up the stairs, "Marinette, you'll be late for your field trip!" and a flustered girl stumbled down the steps to give her mother a hasty hug, it was clear to see she was exactly who Lewis had said she was.

It was even more noticeable when she tripped over her own feet upon spotting them. Her blue eyes were wide and shocked.

Lewis picked up the sketchbook she had dropped and handed it back with a smile. "Don't forget this."

It took her two tries to get out a thank you, and she bolted for the door as soon as she'd managed to stutter it.

"That girl..." Sabine shook her head fondly after her daughter. "Sorry about that. Did you decide what you wanted?"

"It's fine," Lewis said with practiced ease. "Seven-four is not a height you see every day."

Sabine blinked, confused. Then her expression cleared. "Oh, you're American. Your French is so good I never would have guessed."

"Thank you. Um, how did you guess?" Lewis wondered.

"Metric system versus Imperial." Arthur answered him easily. "If you were from pretty much anywhere but America, you would have given your height as two hundred twenty-four centimeters, or two point two four meters."

Sabine smiled. "My— You both speak so fluently. If not for that, I never would have known you weren't from around here!"

Vivi chuckled. "We all speak it."

"Pretty fluidly, actually." Arthur grinned and elbowed her. She broke down in a fit of snickering while Lewis sighed.

"Ignore them, please." Lewis smiled pleasantly at Sabine. "I'll start the order and if they haven't stopped laughing by the time I'm done, they'll miss out on getting what they want."

"No fair," Vivi whined.

"Then settle down and decide what you want."

"I want to try everything!" Vivi flung her hands wide to encompass the whole bakery.

"I am not buying you some of everything, love. Get something we didn't have yesterday. We still have time to try different treats." Lewis folded his arms and tried to stare down Vivi.

“But, Lewis. One of everything—”

“Don’t make me have to tell my parents they’re no longer your favorite supplier of sweets.”

Vivi gasped, scandalized. “You wouldn’t—!”

“Try me—”

"While they argue it out, I'd love a half-dozen of your croissants and a box of the mixed macarons," Arthur smiled before turning his attention back to his squabbling spouses. "They can pay for their own. Oi, you two, there are other people who want to buy stuff!"

Vivi stuck her tongue out at Arthur. “You hush. You’re lucky I like you.”

Arthur held up his hand to display his golden wedding band. “No returns or exchanges.”

Sabine had a strange look on her face, glancing back and forth between the three of them. Rather than have her asking the question that could be seen burning in her eyes, Vivi and Lewis matched him, showing three matching wedding bands. “Yep, all of us.” Vivi chirped.

“Ahh,” Sabine flushed a little. “Forgive me. It’s not a common thing.”

“We’re used to it,” Lewis told her with a disarming grin.

After they had finally settled on the order, she began boxing up the pastries.

“Man, the posters of that kid are everywhere,” Arthur pointed out the window at a bus that prominently displayed the same young model from the flyer.

“Adrien Agreste. He’s a local celebrity,” Sabine said with a smile. “He’s in the same class as Marinette. She talks about him all the time. I honestly think she has a huge crush.”

Vivi’s grin was sly. “Oh, I think it’s possible he feels the same way.”

~~~~

Arthur wasn't sure what had driven Vivi to drag them all to a museum after breakfast, but he honestly wasn't complaining too much. Most of their research trips tended to be on the more— hazardous side, so a popular museum, crowded with tourists and school groups, was by far a less stressful choice.

Or it was up until the whole building shuddered. An alarm sounded, a polite voice declaring there was an Akuma alert underway and to please proceed calmly to the nearest exit.

"Another one?" Vivi scowled. "Does this guy seriously have nothing better to do?"

The wall next to her rumbled and collapsed. Lewis managed to scoop her aside before she was hurt. "There you are, interloper!" echoed a loud and very angry voice.

Standing on the level above them was a character that looked like he had escaped a Noh performance.. He wore a horned red and white oni mask, crowned with wild red hair and an elaborate costume. In his hands he held a long, double-bladed staff. He swung it toward them and a glow of crimson power shot out from the sweep of the blade. Lewis yanked Vivi out of the way, but another woman nearby wasn't so lucky. The scarlet power hit her and she transformed into a small, elaborate brooch, clattering to the floor.

"I am the Grand Master. I will turn you all into trinkets to keep the real treasure safe from your greedy, harmful kind!"

Glaring red eyes singled out Vivi and the Grand Master focused on her like a cat on a mouse. He swung his blade again. Three more people between Vivi and him were hit by the second sweep of scarlet and jewelry tinkled to the floor.

Vivi shook off Lewis's hand and leapt to her feet. "You got a beef with me, Grand Mal Puppet? Come and get some, just leave innocents out of it!"

Lewis dropped his human guise, towering flames licking around his skeletal form. He flung a fireball at the Grand Master, who batted it harmlessly aside."You shall not stop my wrath, specter!"

Lewis was unphased and summoned more balls of fire, lobbing them at the Grand Master, who dodged or swatted them aside. But he could not focus on Vivi, who was the obvious target of his ire. He swung the other end of his staff and this time the crimson force ripped through the wall above Lewis, showering him with bricks and debris.

There was still a school group nearby, and Arthur darted toward them, shouting back over his shoulder, "Keep the jewelry junkie busy while I get the innocents out of the way!"

"On it!" Vivi whistled at the Grand Master, still temporarily busy with Lewis. "Over here, you sad excuse for an Akuma! Hey, Lew, gimme something to work with!" Her frost-tinged bat was up and ready.

Lewis fired a fireball into the ceiling above the Grand Master. With a whoop of sirens, the sprinkler system activated. Lewis ducked under a staircase as water rained down.

"Hey, Grand Master, you need to chill out!" Vivi swung her bat and the water turned to ice in midair, a thousand deadly ice needles winging toward the masked Akuma.

Arthur ignored the tumult, herding the kids toward an exit. He had to grab a girl with a tumble of curls and shove her in front of him; she was too interested in filming the fight on her phone. "Record later! Run now!"

He grabbed a strangely familiar-looking blonde boy trying to take cover behind a display and crowded him and the girl toward the exit.

"None shall escape!" The Grand Master howled behind him.

"ARTIE!" Vivi shrieked.

Arthur gave the two another shove and braced for whatever was headed his way. He'd take the hit to shield the kids.

He saw red in the corner of his eye and Ladybug was there, swinging in to grab the one nearest her, the blonde.

Arthur leapt for the girl and wrapped himself around her just before a wave of force slammed into his back.

Whatever it was hit him like a ton of bricks and his breath escaped in a pained hiss as he curled himself tightly around the girl. They hit a glass display case that shattered around them. Wheezing, and pretty sure one of his ribs was broken, Arthur did his best to shield her from the falling glass and bits of jewelry from the case.

He vaguely hoped they hadn't been people once.

Ladybug touched down near him, her arm still around the boy she had pulled out of the way. Even through the haze of pain, Arthur recognized him as Adrien Agreste. He and Ladybug both had flushed cheeks and to judge by their expressions, it wasn’t exertion or fear. Adrien’s eyes were shining as he stared at his rescuer.

“Alya!” Ladybug reluctantly let go of Adrien and rushed over to where Arthur and the girl lay among the rubble of the display. “Are you guys okay?”

The girl, Alya, levered herself up off of Arthur. She had a cut on one cheek but was mostly unscathed. “I’m okay! This guy saved me!” She turned toward Arthur and gasped. From the look on her face, not to mention the thousand little pains he felt, Arthur could guess he didn’t look nearly as unharmed.

Ladybug gave Alya a gentle shove in the direction of Adrien. “Take Adrien and get out of the line of fire!”

Alya took off running, and Adrien followed after with one last worried glance back at Ladybug and Arthur.

With a wary look at where the Grand Master was trading blows with Lewis, staff versus fiery fists, Ladybug crouched next to Arthur. Her blush was gone and her cheeks were pale. “Thank you for saving her. Just stay still now. As soon as we defeat him, my miraculous cure should heal you.”

Grunting, Arthur pushed himself into a sitting position against the bottom of the display. “Be careful. One end of his staff turns people into jewelry and the other—” He barked a pained laugh. “Well, you can see what it does.”

She touched his metal hand. “I will, thanks. You stay still until we’ve taken care of him.”

Vivi had reached them by then and her worried gaze took in Arthur’s battered form. “Ladybug. can you get him out of here and to a hospital? Lewis and I can hold off the freak back there.”

Ladybug rose to her feet. “He’ll be okay, I promise. As soon as the Akuma is defeated, my miraculous cure will heal him and restore all the damage. We just have to stop the Akuma first.”

Vivi looked torn. Arthur waved his hand at her. “Go on, Vi. I’ll be fine. Help her take out the Grand Master guy, okay?”

Vivi crouched to drop a kiss on his temple. “Stay safe. I don’t need two ghost husbands.”

"Hey, don't you know it's bad form to cause a catastrophe in a museum?"

Ladybug looked up in relief. "There you are, kitty! Thought you weren't coming!"

"I'd never miss a chance to see you, Milady." Chat performed a neat bow where he was balanced on a railing above the fight.  "Is this a private cat-fight or can anyone join in?" So saying, he dropped off his perch to block a swing of Grand Master's bladed staff. "Ah-ah. Not a trick worthy of anyone calling themselves a master!"

Grand Master screeched in frustration and flung Chat Noir back with another vicious swing of his weapon. "Stay out of this, foolish cat. The interloper must be stopped!"

"Stop this!" Vivi rejoined the fight with a strike from her bat to the Grand Master's shoulder. Ice crystals formed on his elaborate sleeve where it struck.

Mad red eyes zeroed in on her and suddenly Chat Noir was ignored as Grand Master went after her. Vivi skipped back out of strike range.

Lewis risked the rain of the sprinklers to shield her from a second strike. The wave of force hit him and knocked him back several steps, leaving a ruin of his sleeve where the brunt of the blow had fallen. He grunted. "That actually hurt."

"Do you think I would have no skills against your ilk, spirit?" Grand Master mocked. "I am the protector of the miraculous. You cannot defeat me!"

Ladybug gasped, horrified. "M-master Fu?"

"I am Grand Master and I will protect the miraculous from you, unworthy of being near them," Grand Master hissed, turning his attention to her.

Ladybug gasped and staggered. It hurt worse than a physical blow. She'd feared it, but hearing it... Even from an Akumatized Master Fu—!

Suddenly Chat was beside her, gripping her arm nearly hard enough to hurt. "Don't listen to him, Milady. Your Kwami decided you were a worthy wielder of the Ladybug miraculous! Who would know best? Tikki or him?"

Her voice wavered. "I—” She looked up into Chat's eyes. "T-Tikki thinks I'm one of the best Ladybug's she's ever had."

"Then believe in her... And yourself, Milady. Like I believe in you."

Ladybug looked in Chat’s eyes and drew in a deep breath, holding it before exhaling. “Thanks, my kitty. I needed to hear that." Ladybug drew herself up. "Thank you for believing in me too."

"I—” Chat's voice wavered, and his smile was strangely soft. "I'll always believe in you, milady."

She smiled at him. “I know you will, kitty. Now, let’s take the Grand Master out of play.”

“At your service,” His grin was back to full wattage. “Your black knight is ready to checkmate this master.”

Vivi was back in the fight with a vengeance, whaling away at Grand Master with her frost-edged bat. Even with one arm damaged, Lewis was sticking close to her, throwing fire at Grand Master.

Ladybug swung into play, planting both her feet in Grand Master’s back, throwing him forward into a strike of the bat. “It’s got to be the staff,” she called back to Chat, vaulting backward to land on the railing above the akumatized man.

“Right!” Chat used his baton to vault to the top of a statue. “Looks like we don't rate in this fight, Milady!”

It was true. Grand Master's attention was firmly focused on Vivi and Lewis. Whatever had driven Master Fu into being Akumatized, it must have had to do with them. Ladybug was pretty certain it was because of the confrontation last night.

Ladybug went in for another attack, but the Grand Master saw her coming and hit her with a glancing blow from one end of his staff. It flung her back, and she landed in a panting crouch near where Arthur was slumped at the foot of the shattered display case.

“He's still not distracted enough for us to land a hit, Chat. Think you can help keeping him busy?”

“Always!” Chat gave her a smirk and a flippant salute, springing in to block a blow aimed at Vivi. “Don't you get it? She's way too cool for you!”

Grand Master growled and shoved him back several paces. Lewis steadied him and aimed a fireball at Grand Master's face. It blinded him but only for a moment and he lashed out with another wave of red-hued power. It forced them all to dodge.

There was a tinkle of broken glass, and Ladybug glanced over to see Arthur laboriously pushing himself more upright. “Hey, Master of nothing! Admit it. You're just a coward! Afraid to let the miraculous join the fight and too scared to own up to it! So you picked kids to cover your butt!”

Grand Master's attention snapped to Arthur.

Arthur deliberately winked at Ladybug and forced himself to his feet, shedding bits of glass and jewelry with every movement. “You know we're right, and that's how Hawkmoth got his claws into you!”

It worked too well. Grand Master howled with rage and swept Chat aside as if he weighed nothing. "You know nothing! You are unworthy! I shall protect them from you!"

He lunged toward Arthur.

Ladybug forced herself into motion and yanked Arthur away as gently as she dared. He groaned and nearly collapsed against her.

Vivi shrieked another battle cry and slammed her bat down on the back of the Akuma's head.

Arthur forced himself upright and shoved her away, leaning heavily on the wall. "Go. I can piss him off enough to give you the opening you need!" He barked a harsh, painful laugh. "Trust me. It's what I'm good at." He gave her another shove. "Hey, spineless! Man up and stop hiding behind kids!"

Grand Master howled and lunged again, though Lewis was quick to block him this time, but Arthur certainly had managed to fan his rage into a inferno.

Ladybug decided she'd best risk her "Lucky Charm!" Her miraculous dropped a round, red and black shield into her hands. “Really?”

She brought it up in time to deflect another blow of magic meant for Arthur. She wasn't sure what had done it, but now all of Grand Master's ire was focused squarely on him. It was more than enough distraction— if they could keep him from killing Arthur before they defeated him!

She glanced around, hoping for inspiration to strike. Water from the sprinklers pooled everywhere and ran down the stairs from the second level. Vivi's frost-rimed bat caught her eye and a plan started to form. Hoping Lewis could defend Arthur for a moment, she grabbed Vivi's sleeve and whispered her plan to her.

Brows creased in concern, Vivi nodded and turned her attention to the stairs. Ladybug caught Chat's eye and jerked her head toward the railing of the second floor. He caught on and vaulted up to it. She followed, shield tucked under her arm.

Vivi swung her bat and the water sheeting down the stairs turned to a solid layer of ice.

Ladybug dropped the shield at the top of the stairs, nodding at Vivi who went to help Lewis herd the Grand Master into position.

Chat had obviously deduced her plan, standing with one foot braced on the edge of the shield. “With my shield, or on it, Milady?”

“Little of both this time,” she smiled at him. He took position in the curve of the shield, and called on his Cataclysm. His clawed glove glowed with dark power.

Ladybug braced her foot on the back of the shield and pushed.

Chat surfed it down the stairs like he'd done it all his life, and used the forward momentum when it smacked into the floor to launch himself into an arc right over Grand Master's head. His hand landed on the stave of the double-bladed staff and the weapon began to disintegrate into black dust.

Grand Master staggered and went to his knees, his Akumatized form fading away and leaving a stunned Master Fu in his place.

Ladybug hurriedly caught the Akuma that fluttered away from the ruined weapon. She released it after it was purified with her usual words of farewell and hurried to scoop up the shield. Arthur looked horrible and she was desperate to help him.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” She flung the shield upwards, watching as it blossomed into the swarm of ladybugs that would fix everything. The shattered case was restored and the rest of the damage too. The ladybugs swirled around Arthur where he sagged heavily against Lewis and his wounds vanished. Lastly, Lewis's damaged arm was also healed.

Ladybug allowed herself a sigh of relief before hurrying to Master Fu's side and helping him sit up. “Master Fu!”

He looked up at her, his eyes haunted. “I could not keep him out. He knows I am the Guardian, but he could not command me to hand over the box, because I bade Wayyz to hide it before I was subsumed by his power.”

Ladybug sagged. “At least the miraculous are safe for now, but he knows where to find you now. We have to get you to a safe place.”

Master Fu struggled to his feet with her aid, accepting his restored cane from Chat and leaning heavily on it. “I feared this day might come. I have a second safe-house. It is not as comfortable as my current one, but everything can be moved there in short order.”

“We can help with that, if you're willing to let us.” Vivi stood in front of Master Fu, her bat gone, and her hand extended. She had a wary look on her face.

Master Fu regarded her, unblinking, for a long moment. Then he solemnly accepted her hand. “We have much to discuss, I believe.”

Ladybug's earrings chirped a warning. She groaned. “I have to go before I transform back. But as soon as I've fed Tikki, I'll be back. We need to get you and the box to safety, Master Fu.”

There was something old and sad in his face. “I think, perhaps you should call me Fu. I do not deserve the title of Master. Perhaps— I never did.”

((A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. I was sick as heck last weekend. Still trying to get over it, but it was a while before I had the energy to take formatting it.))

[journalxxx]

A Winter’s Tale

"...Oh no." Wilson's blood ran cold when he saw the destroyed drying racks and unearthed berry bushes. A row of thick icicles emerged straight from the earth, each one as tall as himself, disrupting the ground around the northern side of the camp, and nowhere else. He looked around frantically, but there were no other traces of the passage of the giant anywhere. "It was a Deerclops, then." Wendy remarked with her usual detachment towards all things tragic and monstruous. Wilson had to reluctantly agree with her: if it roared from almost a kilometre away like a Deerclops, and left trails of deadly ice in its wake like a Deerclops, it was probably a Deerclops. Webber and Wickerbottom put down their baskets of freshly shaved beefalo fur, and they all moved to inspect the base. "Maxwell? Wigfrid? Wolfgang?" Wilson called out, but he received no answer. The rest of the camp was undamaged, but also completely deserted, the missing survivors' tents empty. "Wilson! Here!" 

Webber was pointing at the side of the biggest chest near Wilson's alchemy engine. Crudely scribbled on it with a piece of charcoal that lay abandoned on the ground, there were only two huge words: Don't follow. The scientist recognised Maxwell's handwriting immediately. The way his usually flourished letters were deformed by the clear hurry and the roughness of the writing instrument made Wilson's chest constrict painfully. "...Oh no." "Wilson. I believe we don't have too many reasons for concern, all things considered." "Is that so?" Wilson inquired distractedly, more out of politeness than real interest. Wickerbottom's firm tone was often enough to call anyone to attention, but at the moment he was slightly preoccupied with examining the disastrous scenario of Maxwell and a Deerclops meeting eye to eye. No pun intended. "Indeed. The camp is almost untouched, meaning that the others must have managed to flee before the beast could catch them unprepared here. Some weapons, armor and food are missing. Maxwell even had enough time to leave a message. They must have seen it coming, and thought of a plan to deal with it." "...I guess so." Wilson was squinting at the horizon, trying to spot any sign of the beast. How did such a humongous creature vanish from sight in an area with no mountains or slopes? Maybe he could be able to spot the beacon created by its eye after the sunset... "Your meat statue is intact too. Clearly there haven't been any victims yet, and that leaves them some wiggle room for whatever strategy they may be employing." "That's true." One meat statue. Just one, for three endangered people. Not nearly enough, if things went wrong. And- well, it was both a relief and an anguish to realize that evidence pointed at Maxwell as the most vulnerable element in the trio. He would probably be fine if he died first, but what of the others? Or what if, by some bizarre trick of fate, he were to perish after- "Wilson." Wickerbottom's hand landed on his shoulder, interrupting his spiralling thoughts. "I hope you aren't thinking of looking for them." "Well, what else are we supposed to do?" Wilson blurted out, maybe a tad too harshly, as he was already checking the contents of his own backpack. Not enough healing salve, a damaged log armor, the pan flute- how did it get there? Would it be effective against a Deerclops? "They might need help- hell, who wouldn't-" "They left us a clear indication as to what we should be doing, namely waiting. Moreover, it's getting dark. I'm not going to lead a couple of children into battle against a wrathful monster in the middle of the night." "I would never ask you to do such a thing, but I cannot simply wait here-" "Young man, clearly you are not a fool nor a daredevil, so please refrain from acting as one. I won't let you wander off without direction in the darkness either." Her eyes became more sympathetic. "I'm sure they have the situation under control. Between Maxwell's resourcefulness and Wigfrid and Wolfgang's prowess, I'll be surprised if we won't see them all come back tomorrow by dawn." Wilson had to admit it made sense. He dreaded to think of what would have happened if the monster had targeted their group instead of the camp. A team made up of an old lady, two kids and a scrawny scientist had considerably fewer chances than one counting a veritable Valkyrie, a reborn Hercules and a scrawny magician. He couldn't help but be deeply concerned for his scrawny counterpart, though. He glanced at his surroundings again. The darkness was rapidly falling, as thick as oil, and no red glows were visible anywhere. "...You are right. We should at least wait until morning before doing anything." The evening passed with excruciating slowness, bearing no signs or sounds of ongoing battles from any direction. Wilson forced himself to swallow a sad excuse for a portion of meatballs, repeating himself that he'd need to be in good shape the following morning to search for his comrades. He would also need to be well-rested, as Wickerbottom thoughtfully reminded him, but he couldn't bring himself to sleep just yet. He waited, a spear clutched in his hand and huddled close to the fire, making sure the flame was always as high as safety allowed, at least to provide a visible landmark to ease the trip of whoever might, hopefully, be returning.

"...And this is why I insist you never let your beard grow too much." Wilson jolted awake with a gasp, finding himself exceedingly bent forwards, his face looming dangerously over the warm embers. He tightened his grasp on the spear he was loosely hanging onto when he must have dozed off, suddenly feeling as if he was about to fall, but two hands gripped his shoulders tightly, steadying him. They were as hard as flint and just as cold, their fingers roughly shaped and sharp. They weren't the kind of hands anyone ever wished to be touched by, but in that moment they were all Wilson was praying for. He blindly squeezed their owner's arm, breathing a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God." "I swear, if you manage to die by faceplanting into a fire pit or setting your head on fire after surviving everything I've thrown at you, I'm going to be massively disappointed." Maxwell plopped down on the log beside him with a groan. Wilson quickly scanned him from head to toe, noticing a comforting lack of bloodstains and torn fabric. "Are you all right? Where are the others?" "Yes, and there." Maxwell pointed behind himself. Indeed, Wolfgang and Wigfrid were striding into the camp chatting enthusiastically, a victorious smile on their faces and several huge chunks of meat in their arms. They nodded at Wilson when their gazes met. "Wilsön! Fear nöt, the beast is slain! We thank yöu for hölding döwn the fört." "Ehr, don't mention it. Are you two all right?" "Do not worry, tiny man! Monster was mighty, but we were more mighty!" "They may have a bruise or two on them. Nothing too drastic though, everything went surprisingly smoothly." Maxwell commented, throwing some wood into the fire pit and raising a small puff of crackling sparkles. "I guess I'd better go check on them. Are you sure you're not injured?" Wilson asked, squeezing the man's shoulder, with the tone of someone who didn't quite doubt the certainty of his claim so much as its sincerity. "Not even a scratch. Go do your thing, I'll help myself to some grub." The two fierce combatants were indeed almost unscathed, save for few negligible cuts here and there that didn't even require any stitches. Wilson almost couldn't believe that just the three of them had managed to take down a Deerclops that easily - well, it surely couldn't have been easy, but they seemed to have fared fantastically. Wickerbottom joined them briefly to congratulate them on the heroic deed, and soon they all headed back to their own tents for a well-deserved rest. Wilson, instead, joined Maxwell near the fire, where he was still busy munching on some jerky. "...You're going to be the death of me, you know?" "Curious. I could swear I've already been that. Multiple times. Too may to count." "What did I say about joking on murders? Especially mine?" "'One of these days I'll introduce you to their parents.' No, wait. That was about child abduction." Wilson casually, accidentally, so very clumsily, elbowed Maxwell on the head as he sat down beside him. "Really, though. Don't follow. Talk about ominous. I'm surprised your flair for melodrama didn't compel you to splash some blood around the message." Maxwell snorted, idly tearing apart the jerky into smaller strips before popping them in his mouth. "I'm sorry for neglecting to write you a ten-page essay detailing our current predicament and the several coping options that occurred to me, but I was a tad pressed for time." "How did you defeat it though?" Wilson mused, wrapping his arm around the other's waist. Maxwell dusted some invisible crumbles of food off his hands. "As much as I'd love to boast about my impeccable strategy, I'm afraid our greatest asset was luck. I had just loaded up on fuel, Wolfgang was in top shape and Wigfrid- well, I don't know, I guess she felt especially inspired for today's performance. I kept the beast's attacks focussed on a veritable swarm of puppets while the two brutes merrily hacked at it, et voilà." "Impressive." Wilson smiled. On a whim, he took the liberty of reaching beneath Maxwell's jacket, swiftly slipping the small wooden box from the inner pocket. "This calls for a celebration, I suppose." "Hey, that's the last one-" "Winter's Feast is almost upon us. I'm sure you'll find more in your gifts." There was indeed a single cigar left in the box. Maxwell raised an eyebrow, halfway between surprised and irked, but he didn't move to stop him. Or, at least, he didn't until the scientist brought the cigar to his mouth to cut it. "Not with your teeth, you animal!" Maxwell snapped, snatching it back so quickly that Wilson almost couldn't see it. He turned it over in his hand with a scowl, inspecting the surface to make sure there were no untoward indents. "Could you possibly be more uncivilized?" ...All right, he may have done that on purpose. Wilson barely held back a smile as he watched Maxwell press the sharp tip of his claw to the head of the cigar and rotate it with few rapid, expert movements, neatly piercing the outer layer. When he removed his finger, the hole was almost perfectly circular. He put the cigar in his mouth while he grabbed the tongs and selected a dark red ember from the firepit. He held the tip of the cigar above it, rolling it over the scorching charcoal without quite touching it, just close enough for the heat to sear the outer rim. His lips curled around the base as he drew small, rhythmic puffs to feed the fire, thick whiffs of smoke escaping from the corners of his mouth. It took Maxwell a good minute to light his cigar properly, but Wilson didn't mind: he could have spent the whole night watching that entrancing sight, and he would have called it a night well spent. When he was done, the scientist reached out to take the cigar, but his hand was unceremoniously swatted away. "I changed my mind. You don't deserve it." "Oh, come on." He protested, to no avail. He pouted and moved to stand up. "All right then, I guess I may as well go to bed. Enjoy your smoke." "Hang on, you spoiled brat. I do have something for you." Maxwell simply grabbed him by his shoulder and dragged him back down, almost toppling him over. Wilson watched curiously as he rummaged in his backpack, only to pull out... "Wow. An eye. You really shouldn't have." "Not just any eye. I snagged it before Wigfrid could gobble it down like a common meatball. There are much better uses for this than consumption." "Such as? A pair of glasses for you? Heavens, the lens must be massive..." Wilson took the Deerclops eyeball, and almost dropped it by accident. It was bigger than his own head, and unexpectedly heavy and slippery. His deformed reflection eerily stared back at him from the huge pupil. "No, no, Deerclopes are as blind as moles. I'm talking about weapons. This thing shoots lasers, pal! I'm sure that a genius of your caliber can come up with wondrous applications for such an extraordinary resource." "I'm sensing several things in your last statement. First, sarcasm. Second, prevarication. What do you want me to do with it?" Maxwell grinned. "How about an automated defense mechanism?" "Uh...." Wilson blinked. "I fear you may be genuinely overestimating the 'caliber of my genius'. I don't see how I could turn this into anything like that." "You don't see it yet, but you'll come round to my point of view as soon as you step close enough to an Ancient Station, I'm sure." "You want to go to the Ruins? You hate it down there." "I don't think they're even remotely as intriguing as you and Wickerbottom claim, and they're way too dangerous for pointless sightseeing. But there are valuable materials and knowledge to be found, if one knows where to look." "Hm..." Wilson examined the odd bulb more closely. Maxwell once said that those things were imperishable, and, seeing one from up close, Wilson could understand why. It must have been severed from the beast's carcass at the very least an hour earlier, but it was still warm and vital. A rich network of capillaries and arterioles carried bright red and oxigenated blood to each region of the eye, despite the clear lack of a systemic circulation. The stump of the optic nerve emerging from the back didn't bleed nor it appeared damaged, it just ended cleanly as if it had never been any longer. The whole surface of the eye was uniformly moist, keeping it well hydrated and protected from the outer environment. Maxwell could be onto something, there must still be a great deal of magic coursing through the organ to keep it so perfectly preserved and functional. He tilted the fascinating specimen sideways, admiring the visible crypts adorning the iris and the round recess of the pupil, almost expecting the eye to spontaneously roll between his hands to focus its gaze back on him. "...We'll see. If it can still shoot, it's a good idea to experiment away from the base anyway, just in case." When he finally raised his gaze from the eye, he noticed that Maxwell was staring at him. A hand supporting his chin, a thin strand of smoke rising up from his cigar, a small, amused smile softening his usually sharp features. "...What?" Wilson asked, a faint warmth raising to his cheeks. Maxwell shook his head silently, but he didn't stop studying him. "What is it?" Wilson asked again. "You have a certain look about you, when you put your hands on a new toy." "What sort of look?" Wilson pressed, while Maxwell retrieved the eye and carefully put it back in his own backpack. "...A good one." It always caught him off guard, when Maxwell decided to simply offer him a compliment instead of hiding it behind a barricade of prickly sarcasm. It wasn't terribly uncommon, not any more, but it still felt somewhat unexpected. Wilson didn't quite know how to reply as Maxwell resumed smoking quietly, staring idly at the darkness, the fingers of his free hand tapping an unrecognisable pattern on his knee. It caught Wilson's attention and he stopped to wonder, for maybe the hundredth time, how those dangerously sharp claws didn't accidentally poke holes into the fine fabric, or into Maxwell's own paper-thin skin. He lay his own hand on Maxwell's, his palm curling over his wrist and his fingers barely brushing his lumpy knuckles. "...I'm glad you're all right." He watched in fascination as the unyielding black shadow covering Maxwell's limb quivered and dissolved beneath Wilson's touch, slowly and neatly, like ice melting near a dwarf star. The solid darkness gradually receded completely, slithering away under the cuff of Maxwell's jacket, exposing the warm, pale skin and bony joints therein. Wilson ran his fingertip along the back of Maxwell's hand, following the prominent lines of the tendons back and forth. "As am I." Maxwell murmured, observing the process as well with some sort of languid interest. Wilson wanted to kiss him, he surely would have, but just a moment before he did, Maxwell offered him the cigar. The shadows had retreated from the other hand too, leaving it bare and white and soft, pinching the cigar between two long, lithe fingers. No doubt he intended to simply hand it to Wilson, but it just so happened that Maxwell was holding it just at the right angle and height for Wilson to take a drag directly from Maxwell's hand, so he did. He leisurely let his mouth curl around the wrapper and pulled a generous puff; it was decidedly not by accident that his lips brushed Maxwell's fingers too. He savoured the familiar bitterness of the smoke, letting it warm and tickle his tongue before exhaling slowly. It was an acquired taste, and by far not the strangest one he had developed in the last months. "Thank you." Regrettably, Maxwell didn't seem especially impressed by Wilson's gesture, but he did take his next drag remarkably quickly, almost as soon as Wilson's lips left the cigar. Wilson had no idea how late it was, probably very much so, but neither of them was in any particular rush to sleep. They sat in front of the dying fire for a long while, quietly sharing the smoke and the company. Wilson kept caressing the other man's hand absently, and eventually Maxwell's arm found its way around his shoulders, pulling him closer. His shoulder was just at the perfect height for Wilson to comfortably rest his head against it, and it would have been foolish not to take advantage of such a convenient arrangement. "...It was early. The Deerclops, I mean." Wilson sighed, leaning heavily against Maxwell as the tiredness of the day suddenly caught up with him. "I'm not sure winter has even started yet. And it showed up in broad daylight instead of at night, with no warning whatsoever." "Things are changing." Maxwell conceded gravely, briefly squeezing his shoulder. "I guess the Constant doesn't quite live up to its name any longer." "To be honest, it was never fitting to begin with." "Everyone's a critic." Maxwell rolled his eyes impatiently, then he smirked. "It's supposed to be a joke, you know? And a rather witty one, if I say so myself." "I don't get it, and I'm fairly well-versed in puns and the like." "You aren't exactly the intended audience." Wilson side-eyed him, a sharp retort forming on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of saying it. Because that, with Maxwell so close to him and so miraculously unharmed and so good-naturedly playful and so delightfully bathed by the faint light of the fire, that was an excellent moment for a kiss. He closed the gap between them, and relished Maxwell's immediate response, as if they had reached the same conclusion at the same time. Their heads were already bent at the right, well-learnt angles when their mouths touched, their lips already parted and inviting. Their tongues were tinged with the same smoky taste, their cheeks equally red and warm. It was Maxwell who broke that perfect symmetry, his hand sliding up Wilson's shoulder, brushing against his neck and cupping his nape, his fingers burrowing through that lush mess of hair to hold him even closer. It felt perfect, in a way that very few moments were allowed to feel, and Wilson, in his remarkable wisdom, eventually interrupted it himself before some other unexpected accident could, as it was inevitable. "Things are changing." Wilson repeated as he pulled back gently, just slightly out of breath, his hands barely slipping beneath the hems of Maxwell's jacket. "But we are adapting too." "And we're making a damn good job at that." Maxwell was, as experience had proved over and over again, almost completely impervious to wisdom. He kissed Wilson again, more fervently, teasing his lower lip with his teeth, tempting him with the prospect and the memory of a much more enjoyable lapse of judgement, and Wilson couldn't help but respond with equal passion. He embraced him fully, almost ready to climb on his lap then and there, to flick the cigar off of that stubborn hand that still wasn't touching him, so that it could be put to better use. The mandatory interruption the universe sent their way manifested as a loud snort coming from somewhere behind them, in the general area of the tents. Just Wolfgang snoring away, Wilson recognized, a very mild and inconsequential hitch in what was turning out to be a very promising sequence of events. Nevertheless, that minor hindrance was enough to make Maxwell positively leap away from him, breaking the kiss and the hug with almost offensive speed. The man had no qualms with discussing the goriest details of monster creation and human dismemberment in front of an audience composed of both children and his own victims, and yet God forbid anyone ever saw him indulging in any sort of softer emotion, not even of the most morally questionable kind. Luckily for him, Wilson was not only wise, but also exceedingly forgiving. He chuckled, earning himself a piqued glare, which he easily defused with a firm caress along the other's thigh. "Have you warmed up enough?" "I have the strong feeling that, regardless of my answer, you're about to delight me with a brilliant double entendre on how I could achieve an optimal body temperature." Wilson laughed and lay a quick kiss on his cheek before standing up. "I'll be with you in a minute." Maxwell gave him a look and stood up as well, stretching his back and walking back to his tent. It was a bit separate from the others, barely within the range of the light from the pit and half-hidden from view from the designated sleeping area by a bunch of assorted machinery. The optimal placement for both solitary meditation and companionable deviance. Wilson threw one of the bigger, greener logs in the pit, so that it would hopefully last until morning. He grabbed a lantern and two hot thermal stones and headed to the tent as well. Maxwell was already getting undressed, swiftly removing his collar in the barely safe glow that filtered through the fabric, and Wilson had to pause for a moment to take in the sudden intimacy of the atmosphere. Maxwell threw a questioning glance at him, and Wilson shook his head with a small smile. He placed the lit lantern on the ground, and one stone at each side of the fur roll, to ward off both the darkness and the late autumn chill. Unfortunately, by the time he was sprawled on the mat, as ready as he'd ever be and as naked as the day he was born, Maxwell had only divested himself of his shoes, jacket, tie, and waistcoat. Wilson groaned in exasperation as, as per habit, Maxwell unbuttoned his shirt with methodical, painstaking slowness, taking care of straightening it out afterwards, and fastidiously draped it on a wire hanger - a wire hanger, of all things. Where had that infuriating man even found a damn wire hanger in a place like that? "If we could conclude or at least start this before dawn, I would appreciate it immensely." "Hush, you." He glared at Wilson, or at least he tried to, as Wilson could see his train of thought derail spectacularly before the full display of the scientist's graces. He did, however, recover his scowl when his gaze landed on the bunch of balled-up clothes Wilson had unceremoniously shoved in a corner of the tent. "...You are wholly undeserving of the few mercies I have bestowed upon this land." "What? What are you talking about?" "Your clothes, you lout! You treat them like rags because you already know every tear and stain will eventually fix itself. The sheer nerve of you lot..." "Wait... You made it so?" Wilson blinked. "I thought it just sort of... happened." Maxwell snorted. He undid his belt and slid it out of the loops with a single, smooth gesture, then inserted the end into the buckle a few times over, neatly rolling it on itself with equally practiced movements that, for utterly unfathomable reasons, stirred a vague turmoil below Wilson's stomach. "Nothing 'just sort of happens' here. I specifically devised a way to make everyone's clothes - just the ones you wore when you arrived here, mind you - somewhat indestructible because I was tired of seeing every goddamn idiot on this existential plane frolick around wearing garments made of foliage or badly sewn ponchos, if not almost completely naked." "...What?" Wilson gaped, unable to believe his ears. Maxwell went on, undeterred. "You heard me. Out of pure kindness, I also granted a touch of color to whatever tasteless hand-made piece of wearable garbage you crafted - or do you really think that beefalo wool naturally turns red and blue the moment you baptize it as a winter hat? This might be a veritable hell of pain and despair, but it doesn't need to be utterly unsightly as well - what the hell is wrong with you, now?" Maxwell snapped, seeing as Wilson had started laughing like a lunatic about halfway through his tirade. And he kept going and going, shaking uncontrollably and holding his belly, unable to even try to contain the noise. He just couldn't help it. He couldn't even see, his eyes filled with literal tears and his facial muscles sore from the strain. When he emerged from his bout of hilarity, gasping for air, Maxwell was glaring at him, fingers tapping in annoyance on his crossed arms. "Are you quite done?" That was all Wilson needed to start giggling again like an overexcited toddler. Maxwell rolled his eyes, motioning to grab his shirt. "All right, fine, I'll be in your tent when you're done with- whatever this is supposed to-" Wilson leapt on his knees, grabbing Maxwell's wrists and preventing him from undoing the hard-earned progress he had made with undressing himself. He pulled him down until they both fell sitting on the mat, still cackling madly, and threw his arms around him, effectively trapping him on the spot. "I actually used to be afraid of you, you know?" He laughed against the other man's neck. "Honest-to-God terrified. I used to think that torturing me was your only purpose and source of joy-" "God, I know. Good times, weren't they? When the mere thought of stealing my last cigar or laughing in my face would have warranted you the most unimaginable pain humanly-" "-While you were actually busy employing the full extent of your dreadful, devious powers to make sure I respected your dress code-" Wilson snickered, before Maxwell decided to put an end to his nonsense by shutting his mouth with a kiss. It was much unlike their earlier kisses: it was fierce and hungry, imposing even, an urgent call to attention that Wilson immediately abided to. Maxwell's hands roamed over his back, swiftly sliding down to squeeze both his buttocks possessively. "Cheeky." Wilson smiled, forcing Maxwell's mouth to redirect its ministrations to his jaw, brushing his lips against that decidedly overgrown stubble that Maxwell loved so much, whether he cared to admit it or not. "Fooling around in my tent at night stark naked, that's cheeky." Maxwell retorted testily, digging his fingers in the dip of Wilson's lower back, massaging it in a way that drew a soft moan out of him and made him press their bodies closer against one another. That reminded Wilson very clearly of exactly how large of a portion of Maxwell's body was still regrettably covered by fabric, namely almost all of it, and he decided to take the pressing matter in his own hands. He hastily unbuttoned Maxwell's union suit and peeled it off his upper half - bare skin, at last! - leaving it hanging around the waistline as he stopped to take in the sight of Maxwell's torso. It always took him a moment to overcome the disquieting sense of frailty that those prominent bones and scarce flesh instilled in him, but he was getting better at it. Wilson kissed the hollow of Maxwell's throat, descending from there along the line of his sternum, nuzzling the barest hint of hair that graced his lover's chest as he pressed his hands just above his navel, against his stomach. He briefly marveled at the clear pulse of the aorta he could feel beneath his palm. In fact, Wilson was sure that one could very well write an entire anatomy dissertation just by looking at the man's body, seeing how admirably exposed and evident so many of his features were. The sharp angles of his clavicles, the jutting chords of his sternocleidomastoids, the defined profile of each rib, the deep blue veins standing out on the pale skin of his inner wrists and elbow pits, the pronounced dip of his anatomical snuffbox that was so clearly visible when he bent a shadow to his will with few precise hand gestures, were only few of the many small delights a keen eye and mouth could appreciate on Maxwell's physique. Wilson let one such mouth linger there, laying kiss after kiss on the slightly sagging skin covering his thin pectorals, worrying the small nipples with playful flickers of his tongue. He spread his hands on Maxwell's sides, letting his palms curl around the outline of his ribcage and following it back to his spine, back and forth, taking a fond note of the expansion of the man's chest with each breath. He felt Maxwell sigh and hold his head close, both hands digging in his hair and lightly scratching his scalp. He had a thing for messing with Wilson's hair, just like he had a thing for messing with Wilson in general, and the scientist, patient as he was, sometimes just let him do that. The diversion was pleasant, but Wilson had yet to achieve his goal. Eventually, he unbuttoned Maxwell's trousers and pulled them down, together with the rest of the bunched up underwear and, after some less than elegant manouvres that earned him a few disgrunted grumbles, he was finally able to triumphantly tear off the garments from Maxwell's legs. "Don't-!" Maxwell preemptively snapped, fully expecting Wilson to add his precious trousers to the untidy pile of his own mistreated clothes, but Wilson knew better. He stood up and straightened up the fine garment, folding it neatly in half and draping it on the wire hanger as well. He even folded up the underwear and placed in Maxwell's personal chest. When he looked back at Maxwell, the unguarded fondness he could read in his eyes informed him of the correctness of his approach. The way to some men's heart was through their stomach, and the way to some others' was preserving their wardrobe selection from creases and disarray. "Come here." Maxwell invited him, and Wilson gladly complied. Finally, finally he could feel the whole of his lover's body bared against him, finally he could relish the riveting friction of skin against skin, all the way down to their most intimate spots. There were more kisses, more and more kisses, hungry and teasing and languid and wanton, kisses that Wilson never seemed to get tired of. He cupped Maxwell's jaws, he felt their sharp outline under his fingertips as he tipped the other man's head at just the perfect angle to deepen the kiss as much as possible, loving how Maxwell's tongue responded in kind to his well-meaning intrusion, loving how other notable parts of both their bodies responded as well to the sweet attention. Unthinkingly, he wrapped his arm around the other's waist and rocked his hips firmly against him, earning himself a throaty groan that would surely come back to haunt him in his dreams. That seemed to inspire Maxwell to move further along the list of the many delightful steps that ought to compose a fully satisfying encounter between two similarly inclined gentlemen. He coaxed Wilson down on the fur roll, his long limbs perched possessively above him, to which Wilson had no objection whatsoever. Maxwell kissed him again, his mouth, his beard, his neck, leaving a trail of tingling wetness wherever he landed, tilting his head in the most comfortable position by lightly grabbing the scientist's hair - heavens, it must be a veritable mess by now, he'd better remember to wake up earlier to fix it first thing in the morning - while Wilson could do little more than enjoy that ravenous attention. Maxwell didn't stop there, apparenly hellbent on tasting every square inch of Wilson's skin, and he then descended to his chest. His mouth spent a delightful eternity toying with Wilson's nipples, while his hands roamed freely on the soft expanse of his abdomen, his fingers carding through the dark hair, first disrupting and then smoothing down the natural trail of the strands. Wilson moaned softly when those clever hands started exploring his groin, tickling the dark curls there too and stopping just short of reaching his erection, deviating then towards his thighs and hips. Wilson was indeed patient, but he was not above pushing that maddening man's head further down the road towards their common goal. Maxwell snorted and smirked at him. "Yes?" Maxwell mocked, resting his chin on Wilson's stomach, gracing him with a look of affected curiosity. As a reply, Wilson unceremoniously thrusted his hips upwards against the man's chest. "Oh. Mh. I see." Maxwell sat up and studied the evident problem with an expression that gave Wilson the sudden urge to kiss him and slap him at the same time. Maxwell had a wide range of expressions that caused that same reaction, in fact, and Wilson was in the middle of recalling a good dozen of them when suddenly Maxwell bent down, licked his lips - no less - and took the whole of Wilson's length in his mouth. "Ngkh- God-" Wilson eloquently declared, grasping at the fur beneath him with both hands. He would never get used to that, he would never be able to take in the sight of his own cock just disappearing into another man's mouth like that without having to remind himself that the act did not, in fact, conflict with any anatomical notion in his possession. That Maxwell could do it without any preparation or without gagging even slightly was a bit harder to swallow - ah! - but he'd rather not question that side of the issue at all. Maxwell stopped, with Wilson's cock firmly slotted in his throat, and looked at him, straight in the eye, as he slowly pulled away, his red, swollen lips sliding wetly along the engorged organ. It felt and looked obscenely good, and utterly sinful, and Wilson enjoyed it fully, daring the heavens to throw him in a deeper hell that the one he'd already lived in, before the devil himself unexpectedly switched sides. He kept watching in utter fascination as Maxwell's lips lingered on his tip, giving it a light suck before relishing it completely. Then they disappeared from the view, dipping lower, lavishing small pecks and quick licks around the base of his testicles. Wilson closed his eyes, already way in over his head, thighs trembling with pleasure and breath hitching with each tantalizing touch of that devious mouth. Maxwell's hands were light on his hips, leaving him perfectly free to move and thrust at his leisure, had he wanted to, and that somehow made the whole experience even more torturous. He kept himself still, letting his pleasure build while Maxwell's mouth toyed with him, producing a variety of wet sounds that seemed absurdly loud in the complete silence. He waited as the warm wetness of his tongue slowly made its way to his cock again, around the base, along the lower side, up to the tip, almost- almost taking him in again, but at that point Wilson realised that he wasn't sure he'd be able to- "Wait." He gasped, suddenly grasping Maxwell's shoulder. "I want..." One day. One day, maybe, he'd work out a fitting way to ask another man to sodomize him, provided he miraculously managed to survive long enough. Until that fateful day, though, he could count on Maxwell to cleverly fill the blanks using the subtle context clues a naked, panting, aroused, spread-legged mess of a man generously offered. Maxwell hummed, giving Wilson a moment of respite as he rummaged into his chest to get the improvised lubricant that Wilson had fashioned out of phlegma and Glommer's goop, and that Maxwell had agreed to try only after much, much persuasion. Soon, too soon, there were slick fingers carefully prodding at his rear. They did not do this terribly often, since life in the Constant tended to drain people of energy and time for leisurely activities at the end of a hard day's work, but it was often often enough for Wilson to abundantly know and eagerly await what was next. Nevertheless, it never failed to give him pause, how he longed to feel Maxwell's touch more deeply than he'd ever imagined he could possibly want to be touched. The first finger was cautious, delicate, not quite pleasant yet, but stimulating, shifting the focus of Wilson's senses from his front to his rear, rekindling the memory of the whole array of overpowering sensations that could be evoked from there. When the second joined, things got more interesting, as the dastardly duo started prodding around, looking for a certain gland that Maxwell located with such prowess and speed that would put a trained professional to shame. Wilson groaned, his hips automatically tilting in response to the strong feeling, and Maxwell's expression, almost eerily observant of each and every twitch and change on Wilson's face, softened into a small smile. With the addition of the third finger, Maxwell started stroking Wilson's cock too, and that was, once again, almost immediately too much. There was something positively devlish about the man's hands, about the way those thin, soft fingers curled around Wilson's member and seamlessly slid along it, barely even touching it and yet eliciting a wave of velvety sensations that made the pleasure in his rear seem almost negligible. Wilson moaned loudly, grabbing Maxwell's wrist to still him. "Keep it down." Maxwell warned him, without any real bite. He did stop stroking his erection though, and Wilson, feeling more than ready, decided to avoid that he might be tempted to resume. He rolled on his stomach, conveniently shielding his dick from further overwhelming attentions between a soft layer of fur and his own body. He waited, legs spread to grant Maxwell full access, back slightly bent as he supported his upper torso on his forearms. As inviting as he knew he looked, he was expecting Maxwell to pounce on him without a second thought, but it didn't happen. After a few seconds of puzzling silence, Wilson turned to look at him and, Lord, Maxwell was staring at the center of his back, giving him that look. Wilson had no idea what wondrous events might be unfolding somewhere between his sixth and his twelfth thoracic vertebra to warrant that sort of attention, but Maxwell was staring at him, as he occasionally did, with the expression a collector who's beholding the most desirable piece of artwork in a gallery - if said piece of artwork was also edible and highly palatable, somehow. There was really no other way to describe it. "...You may be right, you know. It was a foolish idea." He murmured, resting his hands on Wilson's loins and slowly sliding his palms upwards, until they curled around the angles of his shoulder blades. "It just occurred to me that I may have accidentally deprived myself of many exquisite views, in my short-sighted search for aesthetic appeasement." It took Wilson several moments to recall their earlier conversation about magical clothing shenanigans. It felt like it had happened hours before; maybe it had. Once again, words failed him, but luckily Maxwell wasn't expecting a reply. He ran his fingers along Wilson's spine, following the clear trail of his spinous processes, up and down, leisurely, repeatedly, eliciting a wave of small shivers that made Wilson squirm under his touch. He kissed him too, starting from the dip of his lumbar curve and climbing up all the way to his shoulders, lavishing small pecks all over the espanse of Wilson's back. He didn't stop there either, moving Wilson's hair out of the way to mouth wetly at the back of his neck, and on its sides, his hot breaths and tongue going so far as to tease the shell of his ear, his arms comfortably wrapping around the shorter man's torso. Wilson had been surprised to discover, months before, what an unexpectedly attentive lover Maxwell could prove to be. Even though he seemed to make a point of showing the whole extent of his selfishness and utter lack of human sympathy on at least seven distinct occasions per day, he rarely treated sex as a mere mean to achieve quick and strictly personal satisfaction. Wilson couldn't recall a single one of their encounters that had seen him any less than utterly sated and pleased by the end of it, often way beyond his own expectations, and, in all honesty, that wasn't just because of Maxwell's altruistic good heart. One had to be blind, deaf and severely inebriated to miss the sheer pride that oozed out of his every pore when he managed to coax a lewd moan out of his partner, or when he could read the raw need in his trembling limbs. Whether by innate talent or by acquired skill, Maxwell had a knack for guessing exactly what his audience wanted from him, and an equally developed passion for delivering exactly that, and some more. However, his formidable instincts seemed temporarily off the mark, or he must be deliberately ignoring them entirely, since his ministrations, albeit appreciated, delightful, alluring, flattering, tantalizing, arousing, artful, and another dozen of similarly poignant adjectives, were decidedly not what Wilson was craving in that exact moment. Rather prosaically, the object of Wilson's most immediate desires was stiffly poking against his buttocks, now and then, close but not quite exactly where it was supposed to be. It was ungodly distracting. "...Maxwell." He exhaled shakily, when Maxwell pinched his nipple while also sucking at an especially sensitive spot on his neck. He did not beg, most certainly not, although he didn't think he was entirely above that either, as a matter of principle. Maxwell just needed a friendly pointer in the right direction, which Wilson was more than happy to provide. And indeed, that was all he needed to say for Maxwell to move a hand between them, taking ahold of himself and nudging his own erection - yes, thank God, finally - right against his entrance. It occurred to Wilson, very suddenly, that in the whole night he hadn't even touched the damn thing once - hell, he had barely managed to take a good look at it. Very poor planning on his part, he would make sure to rectify his mistake later- They both instinctively held their breath when Maxwell slid in. It didn't hurt, not exactly, not any longer, but it was still a positively overwhelming sensation, more than just physically. There was something about the very concept of anal sex that still resulted deeply offensive to Wilson's most deeply-rooted sense of modesty, as well as to a wide range of his theoretical and practical academic knowledge. Fortunately, his waning reservations couldn't hold a candle to the wealth of discoveries he had made in the process of exploring said topic, and there were precious few things that Wilson valued more than knowledge. Most notably, the discovery of how undescribably rewarding it could be to offer himself so freely and completely to another man, and to be granted the same type of trust and enjoyment in return. Sexual intimacy, per se, wasn't new for Wilson, but his past experiences had never been... quite like that. He wasn't sure how or why, but none of the tepid memories of his past encounters could remotely measure up to how emotionally meaningful and, admittedly, carnally fulfilling his current relationship with Maxwell was. Those two factors alone were more enough to justify, at least in Wilson's book, much worse misconducts than the kind of harmless mischief a couple of deranged gentlemen could accomplish in the privacy of their own quarters. Maxwell waited, still and silent, head comfortably slotted in the crook of Wilson's neck, his measured breaths tickling the scientist's ear. Wilson waited too for his thoughts to gather after their little detour, and eventually he turned his head to the side and kissed the corner of Maxwell's mouth. They kissed again, for the millionth time, and it was just as delightful as the first. He squirmed under the other's body, testing himself, feeling the hardness shift slightly inside him, odd but not unpleasant, and reached behind to lightly squeeze Maxwell's hip. His lover moved then, starting to thrust with slow, regular, round motions, that Wilson regretted not being able to see, because if they looked just half as sensual and voluptuous as they felt, what a spectacular view he must be missing. He closed his eyes, letting that intense rhythm dictate the motions of his body as well, the cadence of his breathing, the involuntary tension of his muscles, the faint rocking against Maxwell's groin. He let his mouth part slightly when the thrusts became deeper, firmer, when the kisses along his neck and jaw resumed, hungrier. He did not bother to restrain a moan, many moans, when an increasing number of thrusts touched him just in the right place, just in the right way, to make his toes curl and his whole body shudder in sheer delight. "Keep it down." Maxwell repeated, a hoarse whisper right against his ear. Wilson could feel his pleasure too, his racing heartbeat thumping against his back, his harsh pants warming his cheek, the increasing force and speed of his pushes, now smacking somewhat audibly against his backside. If only Maxwell put that much vigour into chopping trees, he couldn't help but think, every single goddamn time, and every single goddamn time the thought would make him smile. He gripped Maxwell's hip tightly, encouraging him further, and his other hand palmed its way to cup Maxwell's nape, holding him close, closer, whispering inconsequential nothingness to him. Without warning, Maxwell's hand wormed its way beneath him, straight past his stomach and around his cock. He grasped it and tugged at it and, Lord in Heaven, he did that thing, that unbearable thing that started with a half flick of his wrist and finished with an unfathomable movement of his fingers that made Wilson simply see stars- Wilson positively squealed, but only for a moment, because Maxwell's other hand instantly clamped his mouth shut, sending the rest of Wilson's breath crashing down into a suppressed throaty groan. More groans followed, and whimpers, and few other selected noises his now restricted airways were capable of producing, while Maxwell's grunts were starting to grow more audible too. Wilson held onto the other man desperately, feeling his own pleasure build up exponentially with every maddening stroke of Maxwell's hand and every push of his loins, inching closer and closer to his climax, begging for it - begging now, yes, at least in his head - craving it- His pleasure exploded in Maxwell's hand, thick, hot, sticky. He tensed from head to toe, digging his nails in his lover's hip and neck and drawing the most erotic grunt out of him. He trembled and shuddered for what felt like an eternity, wrecked with the wonderful throes of orgasm, while Maxwell kept thrusting into him, chasing his own release with single-minded drive, until he eventually came as well with a groan that this time, curiously, sounded almost pained. Wilson shook anew as he felt the other's semen fill him, and no, not with disgust, that would have been an easier explanation, surely a more dignified one. They collapsed in a panting heap of trembling limbs, both sated and exhausted, slowly catching their breaths. Eventually, when the delectable fog of the afterglow cleared from Wilson's mind, he became reacquainted with the pleasant weight of Maxwell's body on his own, now wholly relaxed and quiet. His hand was still loosely draped over Wilson's mouth, and the scientist idly kissed his palm, flicking his tongue lazily between his fingers. Said fingers slowly animated in response, and they took to trace the outline of his lips and the prickly stubble around them, softly. Wilson hummed and then, cruelly, Maxwell just sat up, interrupting that most congenial moment. It turned out he had decided to fetch a rag, which he used to wipe the traces of their activities from their bodies as well as, if not especially, from the fur roll that Wilson had accidentally marred. Not that it was a bad idea, per se, but Maxwell's fastidiousness really tended to manifest at its peak in the least suitable moments. Eventually the unsightly stains were cleaned and a warm blanket was thrown on them, and Wilson was kind enough to forgive Maxwell's poor timing, rolling on his back and welcoming him properly in his arms. "How on Earth do you do that?" "Do what?" Maxwell asked, and Wilson gestured, very poorly, as if to grab an invisible member, and then gave it a dubiously pleasurable tug. Maxwell couldn't help but snort. "Oh, that. It takes practice. Months of practice. Years, even." "You don't say?" Wilson smiled, giving him a quick peck on his lips and leisurely stroking his chest with his palm. "How convenient. I think I may just have the perfect willing subject for lengthy experimentations." "How convenient indeed." Minutes passed, or maybe hours, as he idly kept caressing the other man. Maxwell's eyes had long since closed, but Wilson didn't quite feel sleepy, despite everything. There was something nagging at him, something both inconsequential and very, very important, something he was forgetting to- oh, right, right. He casually slid his hand down from Maxwell's chest, over his abdomen, to his groin, until it finally landed on the precious piece of anatomy he had so ungraciously neglected. "...Wilson." "Yes?" "What, in the name of all that is good and holy, do you think you're doing?" Wilson smiled, giving the soft cock a gentle, loving stroke. "If I may speak frankly, that is an eminently stupid question." "Don't be daft." Maxwell's eyes finally opened, and the very first thing they did was staring daggers at him. Typical. "I took down a gargantuan beast today-" "If I understood correctly, all you did was flipping through your book so far from it that you could barely see it." "I helped take down a gargantuan beast today," he magnanimously amended "and I also just finished thoroughly buggering you. I'm spent. Be still and let me sleep, there's a good fellow." As a reply, Wilson kicked off the blanket, sat up, and straddled the dismayed man with a wide, wide smile. "Wilson, seriously, you know that I can't possibly-" "I know that you have certainly been able to, at least once in the past. I don't like giving up without trying, if I have even a small, real chance of success." Wilson's smiled softened, just for a moment. Then he perked up again as he grabbed Maxwell's dick firmly and gave it a studied tug, surely not quite as effective as what he had in mind, but apparently well-executed enough to make Maxwell's breath hitch. "Now, what's the trick?"

[crystallinerage]

Road Trip to Confession City

I wrote  something, wow. Its just a classic meteorstuck davekat fic. Anyway I’m not fantastic at writing so feedback is appreciated.(Alt title: Dave Stole Fizzy Lifting Drinks)

The air on the meteor is calm, sedated almost. You and Karkat are just kind of chilling in Can Town, sitting just a little closer than would be considered normal back on Earth, you notice. You tell yourself not to worry about it, Earth's dead, and so are all the bullshit social rules that came with it. So who cares about what would have been okay on Earth, right? But, it doesn't stop the dusting of pink that creeps up your neck and onto your ears from just the thought of being so close.

Shit, come to think of it your hands are almost touching. So close that you could just reach over a little and close the space between you. You don't though. It would be too weird.

Karkat's occupied, scribbling doors and windows onto some cans to make buildings, and rambling about some movie the two of you watched a few nights ago. You're responding, but you have no idea what's coming out of your mouth. You must have said something funny though, because Karkat turns to you and laughs in a way that when you had gotten to the meteor you didn't think he was capable of. It's just so... soft and real.

It slowly dawns on you that you have to do something. Anything, just to get something out to tell him. You don't know if you're ready for this. Or if he is either. Or what you're going to even do. But before you can second guess yourself more, you sit up suddenly. It gets you a questioning look from Karkat. The kind where his thick brows are furrowed together, but one of them is peaked up a bit. Confused, sarcastic, and sort of endearing. Jesus Christ you need to get your shit together.

You lean back on your arm a bit, desperately trying to seem casual, "So uh... you wanna like, go somewhere?"

Fantastic. So well executed. The kind of intelligence and way with words that will get you three straight As on your next English papers. Aren't you just the pinnacle of speech.

Karkat's brows crease further. "Go where? And why, what's wrong with Can Town?"

"I... I'll explain when we get there ok?"

"that sounds extremely suspicious but ok, I guess out of everyone on the meteor you’re the least likely to be the one that does me in for good."

Karkat starts to stand up, raising an eyebrow in your direction. You walk towards the exit and wait as he catches up to you.

You walk in silence for a solid three minutes before either of you says anything. You start to wonder whether this was a good idea. Your stupid god tier pajamas don't have any pockets, so you resort to playing with the edge of your cape. You sneak a look over at Karkat from behind your shades and oh god he's looking at you. It's that look with just the slightest bit of confusion and concern. It makes your hands start to shake. Shit, you're staring now. You snap your gaze forward, hoping he couldn't see your eyes from behind your glasses.

He's still looking at you as he asks, "Hey, um, are you like good? You haven’t said anything for the past three minutes and while I’m usually all for you finally shutting the fuck up I still have no clue where you’re taking me and you’re being really goddamn weird about it."

You shrug and try to laugh it off, "nah dude everything is all good, 100%, The goodest it’s ever been and get this it’s about to be even better because would you look at that we’re here."

You panic a bit as you trail off and end up pulling Karkat into the nearest empty room with you.

Shit.

This was a really bad idea.

The room you’re standing in is almost identical to every other room on the meteor. Same grey walls, tiled floor, and fluorescent lights that strain your eyes even with your shades on. You better be able to bs your way out of this one fast.

You flex your fingers, letting go of the cape you forgot you practically had a death grip on. You get another look at Karkat. Oh no. He’s got that look on his face. The one that’s pretty much his standard brand of mildly-and-constantly angry, but with the slightest bit of anticipation in his eyes. The kind of look you’re only able to recognize because you spend so much time with him. On anyone else it’s a look that’s off putting, but with him it’s vaguely pleasant. It’s in the way he looks just slightly up at you, waiting for you to speak, and inevitably ramble your way into oblivion. Speaking of which, you’re doing it again, staring, that is.

You figure at this point Karkat has had enough of standing in silence having you stare him down, because he folds his arms across his chest, sighs, and says, “Alright, so now I KNOW something is up, you dragged me all the way out here, said next to nothing the entire time we were walking, and now we’re in a room that’s completely indistinguishable from any other room on this god forsaken rock and not to mention completely fucking empty. You still haven’t exactly explained what the hell were doing here, so tell me Strider, What. Is. The Deal?”

You let out a long breath, “Yeah ok I guess keeping you in the dark this whole time may have been a bad idea,”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. You probably deserve that.

“But just hear me out okay?”

“Alright Strider, I’m listening. What could be so incredibly important that you had to drag me out into middle-of-nowhere, Meteor City? Am I about to be graced with the most beautiful and moving rap about puppet ass and this room had the best acoustics? Is that it Dave?”

He’s leaning towards you as he says that. He’s close enough that you can see the way his black mess of hair curls around from behind his ears. You know he was just doing it to be sarcastic and condescending but shit if it doesn’t make your heart rate spike just a little. Nothing life threatening, no heart attacks today, but woah.

You laugh and it comes out a little shaky.

“Okay, okay uh, so this is probably gonna sound really weird but just don’t worry about it. I’m gonna say something that I didn’t want to say while we were in Can Town because there’s so many good memories and shit and us being really good friends-like super fucking good friends-and like hell I want to ruin that for myself,shit Can Town is like the one place I can stand to be for more than like two hours, and I also feel like I’d be kinda ruining the sanctity of it or some shit I don’t know -“

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

You sigh, God why is this so difficult? It’s not that hard Strider, just get those words out of your dumb shit mouth and hop on the feelings train to confession town. Easy peasy lemon squeezy and all that shit.

“Spit it out Dave.”

Of course this would be the one time you find it hard to speak, of course.

“Alright... alright I-I just, I like you ok, like... a lot. And it took me a while to actually realize it because I was just pulling layer and layer of repression over it and I didn’t want to let Rose know about it because I just know she’d go total therapist mode on my sorry ass so I was just kinda silently freaking out for a while and just kept pushing the thought further and further back in my head. As if I just ignored it long enough it’d go away completely. But then you’d do something that’s just completely fucking mundane and stupid and for some bullshit reason it’d like set something off in my head and I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it for literal days on end. And it’s been going on long enough where I kind of had to come to terms with it but as it fucking turns out that doesn’t help! It does exactly jack shit as a matter of fact! It just keeps piling up and the littlest things make my heart speed up and I know I’m kind of throwing a load of shit at you all at once and I basically already know you’re going reject me so hard I’m thrown from this plane of existence but if there’s any chance just... just please tell me you feel the same.”

Oh boy. You realize that that was maybe a lot at once. You cringe inwardly on yourself as you dare another look at Karkat.

He’s… stunned? You assume that would be an appropriate reaction. You have no idea wether it’s good or bad though and it’s eating at you. He looks at his hands, which are halfway inside his sweater sleeves, and back up at you again. There’s something in his eyes that makes you want to cry and scream out of impatience and the smallest, most microscopic bit of hope. You silently will him to say something. Anything really.

He meets your gaze even with your shades on. It’s terrifying, but it’s sincere and filled with earnest. You can see the small patches of red creeping across his face and the hint of a smile on his lips.

“I- oh... oh my god I- holy shit I woah I thought for sure that there was absolutely no way and that came so far out of left field i just woah”

The smile on his face widens, far enough for you to see his sharp teeth. It’s weirdly adorable.

He shakes his head, making his curls bounce out of his face, “I mean Jesus... yeah ok I mean I guess I’ll just cut to the fucking chase here, I like you too, like a whole lot.”

You could swear your feet have lifted off the ground at this point. You can feel how hot your face is and you’re sure you’ve flushed all the way up to your eyebrows. Your heart is moving at a pace you didn’t think was humanly possible. Is this really happening?

“Wait-you’re serious? Like 100% all jokes aside no funny business serious?”

Karkat’s grin threatens to split his face in half.

“yeah... I uh I’m serious.”

“You really like me, you’re sure?”

“yeah, yeah I really really do.”

Holy shit. This is happening. You’re at least an inch off the ground now, you’re sure of it.

Karkat’s fidgeting with his sleeves. You can see his hands shake a little. He looks up at you suddenly, practically bright red (but it’s not like you look much better).

“I- uh can… Can I yknow? Can I kiss you?”

You’re lifted another inch.

“Oh! Shit! I mean yes! Of course, fuck yes you can! God… fuck!”

He takes the two steps towards you that close the space. He hesitates for a second, but puts his hands up and grabs onto the hood of your cape. Oh shit you’re still floating. Embarrassed, you slowly lower your feet back onto the ground. Karkat laughs and, oh god, he leans in so that your foreheads are touching.

“You’re an idiot.”

What remained of the space between you is now gone. His lips are on yours and it’s so… soft. Not like you would expect from the guy that screamed at you for so long he could barely breathe once, but it’s perfect. It’s long and slow and everything you didn’t even know you wanted out of a first kiss. Before you realize what you’re doing you’re pushing your hands up through his hair. It curls around your fingers as you notice that Karkat has pulled you even closer, his arms around your neck.

You break for a second, less than inches away from each other.

“Sorry,” you breathe.

He smiles, “ For what?”

“For taking so long.”

And then you kiss him again.

[loveurn]

soonhyung doesn’t fear a lot of things, he dreads a lot of things but he doesn’t fear them. he’s been alive long enough to have seen almost everything, felt almost every form of fear and conquered it. it’s that same longevity that’s enabled him to lose his ability to be surprised, or confused. he’s seen a lot, enough really, so when he’s puzzled it intrigues him.

that brings us back to the fear aspect. the one fear he does have, circles around his niece and her wellbeing. it’s perhaps the reason he’d taken charge of her training upon learning her affinity for magic. he’s not sure when he grew so attached to her aside from the blood they shared, but having things he didn’t quite recognize around him, put him on high alert. 

ever the merry-go-lucky figure in her life he tries his best not to let it show too too much. especially when she’s in one of her moods, as she is now. the younger hasn’t wanted to talk to him since he visited the establishment the ma of her affections worked at.

still - he hopes this will turn out well. 

the knock at the study room door is enough to startle her, soonhyung peeking into announce his presence.

“can we talk sunshine?”

he softens her with the nickname, hoping it’ll ease him into this. meixi’s been working hard lately, on what he doesn’t know but he can sense the fae energy that’s been coursing around her space and knows she’s found quite the group of friends. she’s taken to dyeing her hair different colors and using transfiguration as a form of rebellion. it suits her and no one’s getting hurt so he allows it, especially when she thinks he can’t tell. her hair’s orange again, the curls falling from whatever explosion had puffed up in her face prior to him entering.

she’s the spitting image of her parents, and soonhyung hides the fondness that threatens to seep through his smile.

‘no.’

fair enough.

“you’re still mad.” ‘uncle - i can never show my face there again.’ “that’s what i wanted to talk about actually.”

this gets her attention. 

‘i can give him the potion?!’ “absolutely not. no love potions.”

he slides in as she physically deflates in her chair. he knows her enough to know this isn’t enough to really break her spirit, and meixi finds crushes as fast as the wind changes. that’s not the problem.

“when’s the last time you were there?” ‘since after you told me you went.’ “did you notice anything strange?”

probably not, her skills haven’t honed enough to realize, but she’d brought home the strange signature almost immediately after. soonhyung only picked up on it after experiencing it firsthand.

‘no? strange like what?’ “anybody new? weird?” ‘weird like you?’ 

fair.

it’s not unlikely for someone to fae to congregate in an area where they sense the energy. it’s enough to make him wonder what drew his neice to the salon in the first place. he hadn’t sensed anything when he’d encountered the man but perhaps - he hadn’t checked enough. he’s on alert, only because the magic is a bit foreign to him but it’s unmistakably that of a fae, but he’s not sure what it’s purpose is. fae are sneaky and if a trap is being sprung he needs to keep his niece as far away as possible, especially if it’s purposely luring her in without her knowing. 

the thought unsettles him but his intention isn’t to startle her.

“my bad, i’m thinking of somewhere else. get back to studying alright? i’ll be back in a bit.” he fastens his cloak around his neck, intent on masking his presence as much as possible for whatever he might face at the salon. “if you don’t finish this chapter tonight i’ll conjure a barrier that’ll block your two friends and trap you in.” with that as a parting gifts, and meixi’s protests on his ears he’s phasing through a portal.

and right outside the salon.

what had been subtle the first few times is in full force now. 

energy isn’t exactly a stench, it’s a heaviness, an aura around a place or a person. it’s very tangible to those who are sensitive and for all the years he’s lived he’s thankful for that sensitivity. a peek inside the salon reveals the person in question and the person of interest. there’s the man who his niece had been infatuated with and the woman who he’d had the unfortunate luck of meeting last time.

a beautiful woman, who’d had the smell of flowers lingering behind her.

he’s only come to observe but that’s cut short when the same male’s eyes lock on his.

here’s why that’s strange. soonhyung is almost one hundred percent sure the man is a human, not a magical bone in his body, much less any dormant affinity for such things. that’d been the reason for his first visit, so with this cloak, no one without a magical affinity should be able to see him. yet here this string bean is - staring him dead in the eye, smiling nonetheless and coming to open the door. 

soonhyung swallows down the questions as the door opens.

“my apologies, were you closed again?” ‘no, just fewer customers these days.’

even up close soonhyung senses no magical energy, what he does sense is more apparent when the man is this close to him. bags under his eyes with pin pricks of color swimming underneath the skin. to a human they’d look like he needs sleep, but to him - he knows exactly what it is and his eyes flit to the woman tapping her nail against the counter.

the unease starts to dissipate in favor of realization.

“i don’t mean to interrupt.” ‘no you’re fine, we weren’t busy.’ soonhyung watches the tips of his ears turn red, the color reaching across his cheeks and he feels for the poor bastard. he has no idea. ‘did you need to make an appointment?’ “my ward sent me to pick up dye, there should be an order for it?” it’s a cheat but a flick of his wrist conjures the order despite the confusion on the male’s face. the subtle use of magic doesn’t go unnoticed by the woman at the counter and that was his exact intention.

‘i didn’t have any orders but i’ll go check again, you can wait inside if you don’t mind?’

with the bait taken and the male on his way to go check the order, soonhyung fixes his eyes on the woman. her eyes follow said male to the back before they lock on his own. soonhyung sees the same colors flickering under the male’s skin, in her eyes and everything comes together all too quickly. 

“i thought someone was springing a trap for my ward - i see that’s not the case.” ‘this doesn’t concern you warlock. you have no jurisdiction here.’

briefly soonhyung wonders, if the poor man can hear the scratch in sanity in the undertone of her words. it must sound like a melody to him. humans are so foolish but soonhyung can’t fault them for what they don’t know. 

“my ward is quite fond of this man i’m sure she’d hate to see him become a puppet.” ‘always speaking like you know it all, who said anything about making him a puppet?’

she’s dangerous, confidence rolls off her in every motion, in how she doesn’t even change her stance to regard him and keeps her gaze locked on whatever occupies her on her phone. soonhyung has no jurisdiction here though, of that she is right. any attempt to report this would reflect badly on him, the fae council are tricky and prideful as hell. once a foot is dipped in, it’s hard to dip back out, which is slowly becoming the case for this poor worker. 

soonhyung can’t blame him, it’s near impossible to say no to a fae, especially one of her caliber.

“your game is attracting all sorts of energy to this place, they’re going to figure it out.” ‘and by the time they do, i’ll be done.’ “not because i’m annoyed by my ward’s infatuation but out of curiosity - why him?”

he really does feel bad for the poor sap. he half expects her not to dignify him with a response. something flashes across her face, and with fae it’s often hard to tell what the emotion truly is. but he’s seen it before, he always sees it in a fae’s eyes in cases like this. 

possession, infatuation, control. 

‘well, that’s my business isn’t it.’

‘sorry for the wait, i found it!’ they both sense him before he’s started walking out the back, so soonhyung straightens himself and she busies herself with her phone, all rises in energy having left the atmosphere. ‘i didn’t know we shipped out dyes but i guess she must’ve spoken to sohee. i quite like this color, let me know how it turns out ill be happy to help.’

soonhyung gets his answer right there. 

it’s the purity of course. poor guy. still, it’s not his business. soonhyung takes the bottle, cringing at not having checked the color before going along with the scheme. 

“thanks, i’ll let her know. sorry to take up your time.” ‘not a problem, come back anytime.’ one look from her and soonhyung decides he won’t be doing that. at least not yet. just because it’s not his jurisdiction doesn’t mean he can’t recommend the place to a few friends. 

after all, he’d lose major uncle points if meixi found out he knowingly let the love of her life get whisked away into the fae realm forever. he turns back to see the fae woman scribbling on the counter again, words leaving her lips and the lost look in the man’s eyes. 

yeah.

major uncle points. 

[gallifreyanlibertea]

A Throne for Two

a/n: This was a request! The original ask is put at the very end so I don’t spoil(?) anything. Sorry if it’s confusing, I haven’t written anything but short fluff in a long time. A special thanks to egg for helping me figure out motive and whatnot

“I don’t know if I like the word ‘smirks’ here, sweetheart.”

Arthur rolls his eyes as Alfred squints down at Arthur’s draft, snatching the red pen from Arthur’s hand in an attempt to go about scratching and scribbling on the paper. Arthur crinkles his nose in response. He blocks the pen’s path. 

Alfred tries it again, and Arthur smacks his hand. If Alfred knows it annoys Arthur, he doesn’t stop.

“That’s what you did in our interview, though, Alfred, you smirked.”

“It makes me seem… oh, I don’t know. Makes me look mean, don’tcha think?”

Alfred puts down the manuscript after a while, sipping from his champagne as a sudden gust of wind leaves his cape billowing behind him, and Arthur curses because he doesn’t have his camera. It would’ve made a good picture.

He would’ve captioned it Silver Star enjoys a drink after defending Metro City from one of its worst cyber attacks and his editor would’ve loved it. That was what had happened, after all, only minutes ago, the city shook under a series of hackings and other computer what-nots and Arthur isn’t interested in that sort of detail. He’s only in-charge of reporting the Silver Star, and how the man stops such attacks.

He’s in charge of the personality: the city’s own ‘superman’; and Arthur supposes that makes him the Lois Lane.

And being the one in charge, he finds it annoying when Alfred doesn’t allow him to mention details such as his frankly irrelevant facial expressions, because there should at least be a minute degree of truth to the media.

It’s a compromise, really, because it’s not like Arthur writes about the fact that it was Alfred himself who caused the cyber attack- nor does he mention the way those electric blue eyes of his glisten with anger, with hatred, because as far as both he and Alfred are concerned, the public doesn’t need to know the malicious intent behind the charade, the fictional character that was their beloved ‘superhero’. Alfred Jones, the Silver Star. 

And they wouldn’t. Not anytime soon, that is.

“I heard you might be getting promoted.”

Alfred says it out of the blue and Arthur hums, stacking his papers neatly on the tabletop.

“I sure hope I do, I didn’t spend an hour sweet-talking my editor for nothing.”

Arthur’s editor is a stocky man whose breath smelled eternally of smoke. Arthur shudders at the memory of the saccharine smile on his own face as he convinced his boss he was ready for a bigger responsibility… the steel in the undertones of his voice as he reminded his boss he had friends in higher places.

Alfred is clearly proud of him. He smirks.

And that’s the kind of thing he did! Arthur hardly tries to make him look evil in his writing, he only tells the truth because Alfred smirks, he hardly just smiles, and Arthur wants to bring it up in reference to their previous argument but he finds himself rather occupied as Alfred somehow manages to snake himself out of his chair, kneeling next to Arthur’s seat.

There is a pair of lips on Arthur’s own, gloved hands pull at the back of Arthur’s neck until he’s fully invested in the alcoholic kiss.

Alfred found it attractive when Arthur did evil, manipulative things.

Perhaps it’s because he had never expected the mousy little office-employee he’d plucked up off the streets to ever hold his own, but Arthur had definitely done more than that by now.

“You’re hot, you know that?” Is Alfred’s breathy explanation for his actions as he pulls away, peppering kisses along Arthur’s jawline, and Arthur doesn’t disagree.

Although, he definitely finds it jarring, to think the man at his feet had, not long ago, terrified Arthur to the point of him having to clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle his breathing so as the other wouldn’t hear him.

Which was exactly what he’d been doing a year ago as he crouched behind a pile of wood and garbage in an alley to hide from the supervillain at his heels.

“Come on, dude, not cool!” Silver Star had called and Arthur’s gasp escaped his lips as a foot collided with his shelter, sending it flying out from above him, scraping against the asphalt until it came to a screeching halt.

Arthur scrambled to his feet, yet before he could run, a gloved hand dragged him back by the shoulder.

“Slow down, sweetheart. I just want to talk.”

Nothing inside Arthur had led him to believe that the man towering before him- in a dark silver suit paying homage to his name, with details in black and purple, all colours that were equally menacing to Arthur at that very moment- had just wanted to talk.

“P-please, I- I’m just a, I’m-” Arthur had never thought he would be reduced to such a babbling mess, yet under the gaze of those electric blue eyes- ones that seemed not to fit the color scheme the villain had gone for- it didn’t seem all that impossible.

“You work for my father. Is that correct?”

It was something Arthur hadn’t expected to hear. He’d glanced up. He had blinked. “Ah… yes, I-”

He was quite honestly one of the lowest of the low, the most expendable of the bunch, and there was no way the Silver Star would go out of his way to seek Arthur out when there were so many others that would prove more useful. Or at least, to whatever master plan that mind of his had hatched up.

“Do you like your job, sweetheart?”

What kind of a question was that? “Yes, your father treats us well, he-”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Daddy dearest and I don’t really get along.”

Arthur chewed his lip. “I... He can be a bit harsh.”

A bit harsh was an understatement. Paychecks had been cut twice that year, Arthur barely earned enough to pay his bills and survive, much less indulge himself like he would rather be doing. 

“My father is a bad man.” The Silver Star said, with a voice suddenly hardened.  “Now, how would you like to quit? I see a future in newspaper journalism for you.”

“Sir, I-”

“Join me, I pay well.” It was hardly a request. The man cracked his knuckles, lips spread into a grin. “Unless you have something better to do?”

Arthur, most certainly, did not have anything better to do.

After all, what was better than being a puppet at the hands of a villain? What could be better than being bound by will to a man who dictated exactly how he wanted things written, and exactly what he wanted Arthur to report- sometimes going as far as whispering it into Arthur’s ear as Arthur typed away in his bedroom.

“You really don’t have to… be here,” Arthur had found himself scrambling for his next word at the sight of those eyes turning to glare at him. “Sir.”

“How else do you want to get this done?” Silver Star had said.

“Well, usually, I would just write the article up and email it to you and you could… edit and send it back?”

“Emails can be traced.”

Fair enough. Arthur had then turned back down to his screen, fingers tapping against the keyboard as the villain peered over his shoulder.

Alfred had been picky the first month or two. He was always so cautious about what Arthur said, how Arthur said it, how to build each word so as to topple his father from his throne, to incriminate him, to steal the massive influence of him and his business on the city.

“Change your word choice there.”

“I thought it… I, um, thought it was fine.”

“It’s nice writing, yeah, but-” Alfred told him there was a way to say things without quite saying them. That was how they would work from then on, he’d said. “Between the lines.”

Arthur had felt Alfred’s words as hot breaths on his neck. He shivered, only slightly, as he moved to fix the error.

Alfred gripped Arthur’s shoulder. “Next time on, work your drafts on paper.”

Boundaries were, and still are, a problem with Alfred. It was something Arthur would come to know, come to be familiar with. The heat that radiated off the Silver Star’s body was almost surreal at times, almost as if the man sitting next to him was, well, a man. A living, breathing human and not some entity from Hell.

It had taken time for Arthur to become comfortable with that fact.

“I never thought I’d see you enjoy yourself.”

Arthur hadn’t thought it either, yet there he’d been, months into their wicked sort of partnership and Arthur had hung up a business call with a smile playing on his lips.

Silver Star- or, Alfred, as he’d let Arthur address him, seeing as “sir” was getting a bit old- had taken a strange liking to the left side of Arthur’s loveseat. Arthur seemed to always see him there, monitoring Arthur’s every move with a stern furrow of his brows.

Arthur turned to him, “I’ve just scheduled a meeting with that charity.”

“What was so funny about that?”

“I’ve also accidentally released this information to the public, I’m dreadfully sorry if you show up to find a horde of photographers ready to catch you off guard.”

There it was, that grin. Alfred seemed pleased, and Arthur had found that he had come to crave the expression, like some sort of pet awaiting a treat.

“I knew it was a good idea recruiting you, sweetheart.”

And Alfred had suited up to donate to the charity, finding cameras upon cameras ready to broadcast the staged event to the public. It turned out, the citizens of their city were quite the suckers for these things.

Despite the fact that Mr. Jones Sr. had told the public time and time again exactly why he’d disinherited his son and what sort of evil really laid in that persona of his, it was interesting to see the public opinion flutter at the sight of the articles Arthur had written in Alfred’s favour. That was the first step.

The Silver Star was seen working with orphans earlier this week-

The Silver Star catches bank robbers red-handed- Oh, that one had been Arthur’s personal favourite, seeing as Alfred had let Arthur hire the robbers himself, something Alfred usually took it upon himself to do.

It had been refreshing, in the earlier months that Arthur knew the man, to feel himself beginning to be trusted. 

Yes, Arthur would do nothing to betray that trust, not when Alfred was doing his part pulling Arthur up the ranks of his newspaper company until his old, dusty furniture became brand and sparkling new, and the bottles of cheap beer in Arthur’s fridge became wine in his own wine cooler, bought with his own damn salary.

Arthur can’t remember a time, now, when he hasn’t been used to that luxury.

It’s a feeling he’s worked for all his life to achieve.

“I’m sending this to my editor, Alfred,” Arthur mutters as a final warning.

Alfred replies with another kiss, lips working on Arthur’s until Arthur can practically melt into the hand that cups his cheek, until he can taste the wine on Alfred’s tongue.

Alfred hates wine.

“I like beer better.” Alfred had said that day, and Arthur remembers the event to this very minute. The day Alfred had brought bottles of wine to Arthur’s doorstep at the stroke of midnight, with not one warning to the confused reporter, not caring to poke fun at Arthur’s striped, matching pyjamas.

Arthur had stammered, “I’ve… um, I’ve got, uh, beer in my fridge I think.”

“Villains look cooler sipping wine. I’ll get used to it.”

Arthur hadn’t known then, why he tended to lose his composure under that blue-eyed gaze.

“A toast to you.” Alfred had said and Arthur blinked.

“Me?”

“You.” Alfred sipped his wine and Arthur silently agreed. He did look cooler. “You turned out way better than I could’ve hoped for.”

Perhaps it was the wine that did it. Arthur doesn’t know to this day what had pushed him to the edge, and dear lord, had he not been tipsy, had he actually thought of the possible consequences of his actions, he never would’ve done it. He never would’ve even thought about it.

But Arthur was, and still is, an idiot, so he had leaned in to smash his lips against the lips of Metro City’s most notorious supervillain. Or, at least, that had been his title before Arthur came along.

Alfred hadn’t expected it, it seemed, but damn it if he was going to be caught off guard. As he later told Arthur, as an explanation for his actions, he was the human embodiment of spontaneity! No one bested him at that.

So Alfred had gripped Arthur’s hips, kissing back with a vigour of a man as young as he was, smiling onto Arthur’s lips, a self-satisfied sort of smile. It was as if he had expected it to happen. He had expected Arthur to have felt that way.

Alfred had the same smile on his face as he took Arthur to bed, and the same smile as he left.

“You’re leaving?”

Alfred had laughed just a little bit, swinging his legs over the side of Arthur’s bed. “I have something I need to take care of.”

Arthur had watched as Alfred slipped on his clothes, twisting the knob of Arthur’s bedroom door.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll be back.” A sly smile.

(Arthur had later learned that Alfred couldn’t sleep without following through with a tight regimen, which included taking his contacts off. Yes, those electric blue eyes were too good to be true, and Arthur had awoken the next morning to a pair of big baby blues- and Arthur had laughed, accusing Alfred of being too dramatic for his own good.

“You couldn’t have just told me you had to freshen up?”

“I liked getting you all worked up to see me leave.”)

So Arthur eyes his manuscript, the lack of markings being a sort of reminder of just how far he’s gotten.

He remembers a time when Alfred would make those scribbly marks on his work, when Arthur would let him make marks on his work. He crinkles his nose. He’s glad he’s past that, Alfred’s handwriting is truly atrocious.

“This is the final edit, Alfred, are you alright with that?”

It’s hardly a question as much as it is a declaration.

Alfred rises to his feet, “Whatever you think is best.”

Arthur supposes he and Alfred make a charming couple. Not a single person can guess what’s to come from the two that scheme so quietly, so secretively; no one can see it coming, what they have planned for their oblivious city.

Arthur takes a break from typing up his final draft and slides next to Alfred on the loveseat, deciding not to protest as he’s pulled onto Alfred’s lap, just as Alfred likes it. “Soon enough, Artie, my father won’t even know what hit him.”

“The city will be yours, my love.”

Alfred lets Arthur toy with the purple streak in his hair. “This city is going to be ours, sweetheart.”

Here’s the original request: 

I went for ‘power couple’!