#sword weekend begins

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Over the Limit - pt.v

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

summary: An unlikely group forms—did someone say road trip?

word count: 10.8k

a/n: It's officially been a month since I've started posting Over the Limit on Tumblr! Thank you everyone for the overwhelming amount of support💚

————

How are weekends meant to look for the average 20-year old? Finally sleeping in after having a week of 8am classes? Scrambling to your job that funds all your stupid vices? Maybe it was stressing over picking the sluttiest outfit you can wear since you had a frat party and needed all eyes on you?

That realm of life seemed impossible for you. When you’re from Brimstone you don’t have the privilege of worrying about those things—no, instead on this fine Saturday morning you’re groggily rubbing your eyes open at 6am, while Hunter is panicking about the land lord who’s five seconds away from knocking the door down.

“Dude just answer,” you say annoyed, you could barely sleep last night and the last thing you needed was this antsy land lord playing drums on the door.

“I fucking can’t!” Hunter whisper yells, crouching down to your position on the floor where you had slept the night prior. “He’s gonna hand me an eviction notice when he sees me!”

And that is how your weekend begins when you’re from Brimstone.

After ignoring the loud knocks for some time, the land lord left grumbling angry curses at Hunter.

“So you’re backed up on two months of rent?” you ask, learning the information from the man that was once outside the door.

The older guy sighs with a nod, “Yeah, you know how it is. I haven’t been getting much races lately. I should’ve put a wager on you when you raced that Blond douche,” he says with a hollow chuckle.

You frown. You know exactly how it is. It’s not rare for you to walk into the garage and hear the whispers of unhappy Sinners about their pay cut.

Race clubs had their own economy. The quickest way for racers to make money was by paying an entry fee to compete, with the total pool going to the winning racer or crew. Crews like the Sinners also occasionally hosted parties, collecting entry fees to boost their earnings.

But gambling was the bread and butter—side bets, wagers, and deals made on the outcome of races. Anyone could place a bet, whether it was on their own crew or against them, but most of the money came from outsiders: third-party crews or devoted townspeople.

And then there was the fastest, most dangerous way to make cash.

“Didn’t you have a sponsor?” you asked.

Hunter's jaw tightened, and a shadow of bitterness crossed his face. "Yeah, I did. But things went south," he muttered. "Sponsors aren't what they used to be. They're too caught up in politics, or they want a cut so big it's not worth the payout."

You nodded, understanding that finding and keeping a sponsor was a double-edged sword. While they offered financial stability and access to better equipment, they came with strings attached—controlling interests, unwanted appearances, and expectations that sometimes choked a racer's freedom. You had to be in at least the top 5% of racer's to even be considered by a sponsor, and Hunter was just that good. But that lifestyle was clearly not worth it for him. You don't blame him, you've heard the stories of sponsor's having crazy asks for their prodigies.

"You'd be a sponsor's dream you know?" he suddenly says.

You quirk a brow up, not knowing how so.

"You're a great racer, you get along well with the rich, you're submissive—

"I am not submissive!"

————

After some more banter with Hunter you finally proceed with your morning and freshen up. As you're standing in front of the bathroom sink, wondering how you're going to brush your teeth, you noticed two toothbrushes in the holder.

Hunter lived alone.

Not knowing the origins of the second toothbrush and not willing to risk it, you opted to brush your teeth using your finger, and splashed some cool water on your face, trying to chase away the exhaustion and pull yourself together.

As you stared at your reflection in the mirror, a chill slid down your spine. Shock had a strange way of altering a person’s expression—jaw locked, eyes hardened, gaze steely. The revelations of last night were etched into your face like battle scars.

You were scared. Everything you heard last night was real—things that will directly impact you and your loved ones. It wasn’t just some joke, it was real life. And about your father...ever since the revelations of last night, it's been weighing on you—if you should tell your mom about the foul play in her husband’s death. How do you even tell someone that?

Your hands tightened around the edge of the sink, water dripping off your face and pooling on the counter. You thought about how it didn't shock you more to learn that your father’s death was no accident. Did that make you a terrible daughter? You thought of Anton, always armed, always prepared for whatever might come his way. Of course this life was brutal. Your father had been a founder, a leader—how could it not be dangerous?

But who wanted your father dead?

That was rather the question that gnawed at you, digging deeper with every passing second. Who could have wanted him gone, and why? Your fingers clenched the porcelain sink harder, the tremor in your hands matched by the anger coursing through you. And then the tears came undone, streaking down your face and mingling with the water already on the counter.

“Y/n?” Hunter’s voice cut through the fog of your mind, followed by a knock on the bathroom door. “Hey, you okay in there?”

You sucked in a shaky breath, fighting to steady yourself. Now was not the time nor place for breaking down.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you called out, forcing your voice into something resembling normalcy. You wiped your face with the back of your hand and swung the door open. Hunter stood there, a towel draped over his arm, eyes shadowed with worry.

He frowned as you brushed past him, taking the towel and pressing it to your damp face. The silence hung between you.

Hunter’s gaze followed you as you moved, his eyes full of questions. “Y/n, look” he started his voice soft, hesitant, as if he was afraid that speaking too loudly would shatter you. "I don't know what's going on with you. But I know it's a lot. I already know that Jenna is a Viper and now this Ghost Smoke shit. You can talk to me about whatever you're dealing with if you want."

You paused, towel clenched in your fists, staring blankly at the wall. The weight of everything threatened to crush you, but you felt the warmth of Hunter’s hand as he reached out, resting it on your shoulder. That simple touch was enough to crack the fragile shield you’d tried so hard to maintain.

Tears welled up again, this time falling freely. Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out, each one tugging at the raw wound inside you. “Hunter, I don't know what to do.”

He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a firm embrace. The warmth and steadiness of him anchored you as you broke down, sobs shaking your frame.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his hand gently rubbing your back. “We’ll figure this out, I promise. You’re not alone.”

The floodgates opened, and you told him everything—how you met Jenna, her request to find dirt on Percy, your dad supposedly wanting out of the Sinners, and the revelation that Bullet and Apex weren’t just names, but legacies tied to betrayal and death. Hunter listened in silence, holding you tight, his own expression darkening with every word.

In that moment, the fear and uncertainty didn’t vanish, but they felt a little more bearable. You had someone who knew, someone who would stand by you.

————

You and Hunter sat side by side on his worn couch, the late morning sun casting a soft light through the window. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable now; it was a shared reprieve after an outpouring of truths.

Hunter leaned back, one arm resting along the back of the couch, the other in the bag of chips he pulled out for you two. Your breakfast. He let out a breath, shaking his head slowly. “So, Jenna came to you with this whole thing about Percy and the Ghost Smoke operation, and you just… jumped in? Talk about submissive.”

You punch his shoulder lightly, and managed a small smile, the relief of finally sharing the truth giving your chest room to breathe. “I didn’t think it would spiral like this,” you admitted. “It was supposed to be simple—find out what Percy was up to, help Jenna. But now, with what we know...”

Hunter’s eyes darkened as he nodded. “It’s more than just racing politics. It’s deeper, more dangerous.” He glanced at you, concern still etched into his features. “And you’re sure Anton has no idea you’re involved?”

The question hung heavy between you, but you felt more grounded now. You nodded. “For now, he doesn’t. But I don’t know how long that will last.”

A sudden thought crossed your mind, and you straightened. “Do you think Mikey knows Jenna is with the Vipers?”

Hunter shrugged, "She give you any reason to think that?"

"She was just... observant man. The other day—when we went on the drive. She remembered the Aston from the footage she saw of me and Jenna. Said something about how it was the car I rolled in with 'my girl' in."

Hunter’s smirk returned, and he nudged you again, playfulness edging out the tension. “Maybe she’s paying close attention because she’s totally into you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered. “I’m being serious, Hunter.”

“Alright, alright,” Hunter said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But on that note... we need to talk about the Aston.”

You frowned, a hint of confusion crossing your face. “What about it?”

Hunter leaned forward, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by seriousness. “Think about it. We crashed that meeting last night and got caught snooping around. The only lead they have on us is the car. They know we escaped in the AM. If they’re looking for anything, it’ll be that.”

Fuck he was right.

"I say we demolish it. Scrap it for parts or something."

"—no!" you exclaim interrupting his thought. "I'll find a place to have it stashed. Don't worry."

The older guy squinted his eyes in confusion. You were a mechanic, you never got attached to your cars. You knew better than anyone that cars come and go. Yet you couldn't let go of this one.

————

Being a mechanic had its perks, and one of the best was the network of wealthy clientele you’d built over the years. If someone had enough money to buy a custom-built, fully modded car from you, chances were they also had plenty of land—land that could discreetly store a car like yours. Now, you just had to hope their generosity matched the size of their bank accounts.

You stepped out onto the balcony as you scroll through your phone, siffling through your contacts.

"Hmm, maybe John might help me out," you mummer to yourself pressing call.

John was one of your more calm clients. He was the proud new owner of a 1969 Ford Mustang Mach 1. You’d delivered the car just over a month ago—the same night Anton nearly gave you a heart attack by pulling a mock robbery, complete with a gun pointed at you. You shook the memory from your mind, focusing instead on the call as it began to ring.

You first engaged with some small talk before you asked him for help. For all you knew he was a sponsor involved in some shady shit, maybe even involved in Ghost Smoke. Is this what paranoia is?

"I hope there's no complaints about the Mustang," you laugh lightly.

"No complaints Y/n."

"Amazing...so I actually need a favour," you said, leaning on the balcony railing. “I’ve got a car I need to tuck away for a while. Somewhere discreet. Think you could help?”

There was a brief pause, then a hum of consideration. “Hmm, yeah, I’ve got a lake house not too far from here. You can stash it there. No one will bother it.”

“Appreciate it. I’ll swing by later today.”

“Anytime kid,” he said before the call ended.

You exhaled, relief washing over you. One less problem to worry about—for now.

————

After letting Hunter know you’d secured a spot for the car, you set out for the address John had texted. The drive felt almost reflective, the Aston Martin humming beneath you like it understood the significance of this moment. Arriving at the secluded lake house, you carefully parked the car— the car that had genuinely started it all for you.

The Uber ride back to Hunter's was quiet, except for occasional small talk with the driver and faint chatter of the radio. You leaned your head against the window, letting the scenery blur as you reflected on everything that had unfolded.

Your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. Hunter’s name flashed on the screen. You swiped to answer.

"Hey," you greeted.

"Hey, where are you?" Hunter's voice was calm but direct.

"In an Uber. On my way back to yours."

"Cool, change of plans. Head to Brenda’s Diner instead."

You frowned, the name clicking in your memory. "Brenda’s? That’s in the next city, like forty minutes away. Why there?"

"Just meet me. We’ll grab breakfast, Hunter said nonchalantly. "I’m almost there already,"

Your confusion deepened, your brows furrowing. "Why are you suddenly all the way out there? And why can’t we eat closer to your place?"

He sighed, "Jenna texted me, okay? She asked me to come here, so I’m here. So just come.”

You blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what? Jenna texted you? Why does she even have your number?"

Hunter chuckled lightly, clearly amused by your confusion. "Relax, Y/n. Just come here. Who knows, maybe she’ll butter your biscuits or drizzle your pancakes."

"Excuse me—what?" you sputtered, but before you could say more, he hung up, leaving you staring at your phone in disbelief.

You slumped back in the seat, your mind racing. What in the actual hell is going on?

————

“Thank you sir," you say as you get out the Uber. You squint your eyes as you take in the red and yellow sign that said that read Brenda’s. Even the sun shined brighter in this town, from what you knew the town you were currently in—Countsville, wasn’t tainted with race crews and class differences. It was an average suburban town.

You couldn’t help but wonder why Jenna had called you here of all places. Did she have some secret life here? A hidden family? The absurd thought made you chuckle under your breath as you shook your head.

Pulling out your phone, you caught your reflection in the camera and quickly fixed your hair. A pang of nervousness hit you out of nowhere, making you hesitate. Why were you even nervous? Shaking off the feeling, you squared your shoulders and stepped inside.

“Ah, there she is! Y/n!” Hunter’s voice boomed, his arm shooting into the air to wave you over like you were lost in a crowd.

Your eyes darted to him, already settled comfortably in a booth, and then to the two women seated across from him—Jenna and the girl from last night. The one whose name you still didn’t know.

Your steps slowed as their hushed conversation came to an abrupt halt. Without a word, you slid into the booth next to Hunter.

Hunter leaned back in the booth, a smirk playing on his lips. “Took you long enough. Thought maybe you needed a treasure map to find this place.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned. Your gaze darted to Jenna, sitting across from you with her arms crossed and her focus firmly planted on the coffee in front of her. She didn’t even glance up when you sat down.

The girl sitting next to her, however—was the complete opposite. She was all smiles, her gaze bouncing between you and Jenna like she was waiting for something to happen between you both.

“Uh, hey. I don’t think we’ve been introduced?” you said, leaning forward slightly.

“I’m Aliyah,” she replied, her grin widening as she reached across the table, hand outstretched.

You took it, chuckling softly. “Nice to meet you.”

Aliyah’s smile turned teasing. “I’m Jenna’s sister.”

“Sister?!” Your jaw dropped as you let go of her hand, the word practically punching its way out of your mouth. Was she a Viper too? Did you get caught up in a family of snakes?

“Well it's nice to meet you,” you muttered, your attention flickering to Jenna. “So, uh, what’s this all about?” You doubt she invited you here to introduce you to her family.

Nothing. Not a word. Jenna’s silence was loud, deafening even, as she swirled her spoon in her coffee like you weren’t even there.

Hunter glanced between the two of you, clearly picking up on the tension. “Oh, this is fun. Should I just grab some popcorn, or…?”

You shot him a glare. “Not helping.”

“Not trying,” he quipped, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Anyway, why don’t you ask Jenna why we’re here? She’s the mastermind behind this little breakfast summit.”

You turned back to her, trying again. “Jenna?”

Still nothing.

“Seriously?” you asked, the irritation creeping into your voice. “You’re just going to ignore me?”

Jenna finally looked up, her expression cool and indifferent. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you talking to me? Hard to tell when you’ve been acting like I don’t exist for the past few days.”

Hunter snorted, barely holding back a laugh. “She got you there.”

You sighed, sinking back into your seat. This wasn’t what you had anticipated. Sure, you figured she’d be upset about you ghosting her, but you thought you’d moved past that. Last night at the meeting, it felt like you’d reached some kind of unspoken understanding. Yet here she was now, stone-faced and silent, her cold shoulder speaking louder than words.

“Anyways, can we get some actual food in here before someone combusts?”

Aliyah snickered, clearly amused by the dynamic. “Sure, Hunter. Anything to save the day.” She turned her attention to you. “You have to try these pancakes, Brenda’s makes the best pancakes in town!"

Jenna muttered under her breath, just loud enough for you to catch. “Probably too busy to eat pancakes these days.”

Your jaw clenched, but you forced yourself to stay calm. This wasn’t the time or place to start something. Instead, you turned to Aliyah, doing your best to ignore Jenna’s jab. “Yeah, pancakes sound good. Let’s do it.”

Hunter raised his hand to flag down a server. “Pancakes for the table, and maybe a side of good vibes, yeah?”

————

For the past 20 minutes, the table had been quietly enjoying their pancakes, the clinking of cutlery filling the gaps in conversation. You caught Hunter sneaking a glance at your plate, his eyes drifting to the fluffy stack of pastries and then to the glass jar of maple syrup conveniently sitting right next to Jenna. With a sly grin, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, clearly not letting his earlier joke die.

Aliyah finally broke the silence, her voice cutting through the calm. "Alright, since Jenna's committed to this whole silent act, I guess I’ll get us started. Last night was absolutely insane, and I think we seriously need to talk about everything we learned."

You frowned, glancing between the two girls across from you. “Wait, we? What do you mean, we?”

Aliyah looked at you like you’d asked a ridiculous question. “I mean we, as in all of us sitting here. Jenna, Hunter, me—you. We’re in this now.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your brow furrowing deeper. “But… Jenna got her dirt on Percy, didn’t she? That’s what all this was supposed to be about. What more does she have to do with any of this?”

The words came out sharper than you intended, and for the first time since you’d arrived, Jenna’s eyes snapped up to meet yours. Her expression was calm but laced with a distinct edge—and some hurt?

“Are you serious?” she said, setting her coffee cup down with a soft clink. “You think I can just walk away now?”

“Why not?” you shot back. “You wanted proof of what Percy was doing, and you got it. That’s what you asked me to help you with. This whole Ghost Smoke thing—it’s not your problem.”

Jenna’s jaw tightened, and her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, it looked like she was biting back a retort. Aliyah, however, was quick to jump in.

“It’s everyone’s problem,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. “Ghost Smoke isn’t just some petty racing drama, Y/n. It’s destroying lives, and if the Vipers start pushing it harder, it’s going to get worse. Way worse.”

Hunter nodded, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced by something more serious. “Aliyah’s right. Last night wasn’t just some casual run-in with Percy’s people. That dealer wasn’t joking around, and you saw how he talked about the ‘boss.’ They’re planning something big.”

You leaned back in your seat, the weight of their words sinking in. But still, a part of you couldn’t shake the nagging thought that none of this should fall on Jenna—or you, for that matter.

"I don't want you two getting involved," you said, your tone flat and detached, though the tightness in your chest betrayed the storm underneath. You stared at your plate, pushing a piece of pancake around with your fork, avoiding their eyes.

Jenna scoffed, the sound sharp and cutting. “Are you serious right now? You don’t want us involved? After everything last night?”

Your gaze remained fixed downward, even as her frustration bristled against you. “It’s not your fight,” you muttered.

“Not my—?” Jenna’s voice rose, and you finally looked up to see her glaring at you, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “You don’t get to make that call! You think you can just decide when you want me around and when you don't? Newsflash—you’re already in deep, and so are we. There’s no undoing it now.”

You stayed silent, your jaw clenching as you tried to tamp down the surge of emotions threatening to surface. She wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand.

You couldn’t drag them further into a world where people are pushing drugs—where people are capable of taking lives, just like they had taken your father’s and uncle's.

“It doesn’t matter why,” you said finally, your voice still low. “I just… I don’t want you involved. Either of you. That’s all.”

Jenna let out an incredulous laugh, throwing her hands in the air. “Unbelievable," she muttered, pushing back her chair abruptly and standing up, her frustration was palpable as she strode toward the diner’s exit.

You watched her leave, a pang of guilt twisting in your stomach. Hunter sighed beside you, leaning back in his seat.

“She’s not wrong, you know,” he said quietly. “You can’t do this alone. They were there last night. As much as you don't it to be true, they're now part of it.”

You didn’t respond, the weight of your own thoughts pressing down too heavily. Even though your intentions were to protect them, you couldn’t help but feel like you were only making things worse.

————

"If you grip the wheel any harder, it’s going to fuse with your hands," Aliyah quipped, casting a cautious glance at her sister.

Jenna shot her a sharp side-eye but said nothing, her focus fixed on the road ahead as they made their way home.

When it became clear that Jenna wasn’t going to return to the table, Aliyah had reluctantly followed her, leaving behind the unfinished business that had brought them all together in the first place.

“I don’t get it,” Aliyah said, breaking the silence. “I thought you two were fine last night. What’s with the sudden mood swing?”

Jenna’s grip on the wheel tightened even further, her knuckles white against the leather. She thought she had been fine too. Last night, things had felt different—maybe not perfect, but at least... manageable. But seeing you again today had stirred something raw and unexpected inside her.

It's not your problem, you said.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, her voice strained, as though admitting it hurt.

"Well I don't think your girl—sorry Y/n had any bad intentions. And if you really want to get involved in this Brimstone drama, then you have to make up with her eventually" Aliyah said, her tone gentler now.

Jenna let out a slow breath through her nose, her eyes never leaving the road. “It’s not that simple,” she murmured. “She ghosted me, Aliyah. And now she’s acting like she has to carry everything on her own, like I can’t handle myself. She wanted me around at first and now she decides I'm out? Oh I'm sorry I wasn't aware I was some fucking doll.”

“Or,” Aliyah countered, “maybe she’s terrified of something way bigger than you realize and doesn’t want to drag you—us into it.”

That struck a nerve. Jenna’s fingers twitched against the steering wheel as she mulled over her sister’s words. Was it fear? Was that why you were pushing her away? Her frustration softened slightly, but the knot in her chest didn’t loosen.

“Even if that’s true, she’s going about it the wrong way,” Jenna said after a moment. “I can’t help if she keeps shutting me out.”

Aliyah smirked faintly, crossing her arms. “So tell her that. You’re not the type to sit around and wait for someone else to fix things, right? Go confront her, like the fiery little Viper you are.”

Jenna rolled her eyes at her sister’s teasing, but the words stayed with her. Maybe Aliyah was right—waiting wasn’t getting her anywhere, and the Brimstone situation wasn’t something she could handle without you. As much as she hated to admit it, you were already too entangled with one another for her to pretend otherwise.

She exhaled sharply, determination taking root. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll figure it out. But if she tries to pull some shit on me again, I won't hold back."

Aliyah grinned. “Now that’s the Jenna I know.”

Aliyah sighed in relief, glad her words had managed to ease her sister’s frustration. She could have kept up the teasing, sure, but she knew better. Deep down, she understood the root of Jenna’s anger—it wasn’t just about the danger or the argument at breakfast.

You weren’t wrong, after all. As far as Aliyah knew, the terms of whatever arrangement you and Jenna had were clear: you’d help her get what she needed, and once she had it, that was that. Simple, transactional, with no strings attached. But that simplicity seemed to be the very thing eating at Jenna now.

It wasn’t just frustration; it was hurt. Hurt because Jenna realized you seemed okay with it all ending there—with the two of you going your separate ways. And it wasn’t okay for her. Aliyah could see it—the sadness in Jenna’s eyes, the way her jaw clenched just a bit tighter than usual. It wasn’t about the Ghost Smoke or Brimstone drama anymore. It was about you.

Her sister wasn’t mad at you for walking away. She was sad that you didn’t seem to need her the way she found herself needing you. Sad that she no longer had a reason to stay connected.

Aliyah glanced at her sister, who was staring straight ahead, her grip on the wheel lighter now but still firm. Jenna didn’t want to admit it, not yet, but she was falling. And Aliyah could only hope she didn’t hit the ground too hard.

As Aliyah mindlessly glanced at her side view mirror, she noticed something.

"Uhm sis, do you think that car's been following us?"

Jenna raises her gaze up to the rear view mirror and she spotted the same car that had been trailing them for a while now—a solid black Escalade. But California traffic is like that, the typical resident wasn't going to lane change like a racer. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Still, to be safe, she made a series of deliberate right turns, one after the other, her pulse quickening with each corner. When she glanced at the mirror again, her fears solidified. The car was still there.

“It’s not nothing, Ali. They are following us,” Jenna said, her voice low but tinged with rising panic.

Aliyah stiffened beside her, her wide eyes darting to the side mirror. “W-what? Who do you think it is? Percy? Or those guys from yesterday?”

Jenna’s jaw clenched as she considered their options.

"Aliyah, call Y/n. Now," Jenna ordered, her voice steady, tossing her phone to her sister.

Aliyah fumbled with the phone, her fingers trembling. “What do I even say? ‘Hey, someone’s following us, want to join the party?’” she muttered nervously, trying to mask her fear.

Jenna shot her a sharp look. “Just tell her where we are and what’s happening. She’ll know what to do.”

Aliyah hesitated for a split second before dialing your number. “It's ringing.” Aliyah whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

"Jenna?"

The girl driving couldn't help but feel relief upon the sound of your voice, maybe it was because you both have faced many high stakes situations together and have always made it out on the other side. And in that moment, she felt certain you’d all make it through this one too.

“Okay, so, there’s this car, and it’s been following us for a while. Jenna took a bunch of right turns, and they’re still there. We don’t know who they are, but—”

“Aliyah,” you interrupted, your tone sharp with focus. “Put Jenna on.”

Aliyah quickly handed the phone over, and Jenna brought it to her ear without taking her eyes off the rearview mirror.

“Jenna, can you lose them?” you asked, voice soft, sensing her hesitation.

“I-I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I’ve never done this before—what if I mess up? What if—”

“Jenna,” you interrupted gently, but firmly. “Take a deep breath. You’ve got this. But I need you to help me help you, okay? What’s up ahead?”

Jenna blinked, her focus flicking back to the road. “Uh, there’s a left turn coming up, and... a main road with a lot of traffic.”

“Alright, take the left. Make it clean.”

She nodded, her hands slightly shaky as she turned the wheel, the tires squealing lightly.

“Good,” you encouraged. “Now tell me what’s next. What do you see?”

“There’s an on-ramp to the highway coming up,” she said, her voice tight with nerves.

“Perfect. Get on the highway. Blend into traffic and use the cars to block their line of sight.”

“Okay,” she whispered, guiding the car toward the ramp as Aliyah sat rigid in her seat.

“You’re doing great, Jenna,” you said, keeping your voice calm and steady. “Just focus. You’re faster and smarter than them. Trust yourself.”

Jenna weaved into traffic, her grip still tight on the wheel. She glanced in the rearview mirror and tensed. “They’re still back there.”

“Stay calm,” you said. “What’s in your lane? Any big vehicles?”

“Yeah... there’s a semi up ahead,” she replied, her voice rising with nervous energy.

“Good. Get in its blind spot. Use it as cover. When you’re close to an exit, slip off. They’ll have to stay on the highway.”

She exhaled shakily, maneuvering into position as you guided her through. The tension in the car was thick, but she followed your instructions to the letter.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you said softly.

Jenna swerved off the highway, her heart pounding as the pursuing car sped past the exit.

“They’re gone,” she whispered, her voice thick with disbelief.

“You did it, Jenna,” you said, pride clear in your tone.

She let out a shaky laugh, her shoulders finally relaxing. “We did it,” she corrected, a small smile tugging at her lips.

The line went silent for a moment, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. Then, breaking the tension, your voice cut through with a sudden, determined tone.

��Jenna, listen. Can you go home, pack a bag for you and Aliyah, and meet me and Hunter at the mall we went to?”

Jenna’s brow furrowed in confusion. Moments ago, you were adamant about keeping her out of your life, and now you were asking her to pack a bag? She glanced at Aliyah, whose puzzled expression mirrored her own.

Aliyah shrugged dramatically, mouthing, “YOLO.”

“Why?” Jenna asked, her tone cautious.

“I’ll explain everything when we meet. Just trust me and do it, okay?”

Jenna hesitated, her mind racing with questions, but something in your voice made her pause. Finally, she exhaled. “Okay. We’ll meet you there.” And hung up the phone.

“Well, would you look at that—your little lover’s quarrel is finally wrapping up,” Aliyah teased, her grin wide.

“Shut up,” Jenna shot back, though the corners of her lips betrayed her as they curved into a reluctant smile. “I’m still mad at her.”

————

“You two are so confusing,” Hunter chuckled as he drove, his laughter filling the car. “Do you hate each other? Or are you about to jump each other’s bones? Seriously, I can never tell.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you couldn’t help but think he had a point.

“So, care to explain why we’re all packing a bag and meeting up with them again?” Hunter asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

“We’re going on a weekend getaway,” you replied nonchalantly.

Hunter’s head whipped toward you, excitement lighting up his face. “No way! I’ve always wanted to do the Bahamas.”

You laughed. “Not the Bahamas, Hunt. Just somewhere a few hours away. After everything that went down—the meeting, the girls being followed—I think it’s smart for all of us to lay low for a few days. I’m not taking any chances.”

Hunter nodded dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he was pledging allegiance. “Protecting your girl and your sister-in-law. I respect it.”

Ignoring his teasing, you redirected him. “Just drive us to the garage,” you said firmly. “I need to let Anton know we’ll be out of town for a few days. The last thing I need is him freaking out and sending a search party.”

————

As Hunter pulls into the garage, you take in the sight of the Sinners hard at work, each one laser-focused on their tasks. Was there a race coming up?

Stepping out of the car, your eyes land on Anton at the back, working on a car with Mason. You hadn't seen Mason in a while—not since the Sinner-Viper race nearly two months ago. Not that you missed him; Mason was one of the most aggravating members of the crew. Apparently, Anton in the moment thought so too, judging by the way he was yelling at him for some reason.

"Hey! Long time, no see."

You turned to see Mikey approaching, her brown eyes bright with curiosity.

She tilted her head, eyes scanning both you and Hunter. "So, what have you two been up to?"

"Oh, you know," Hunter chimed in, "just the usual. Saving the day and eating pancakes"

Mikey raised a brow, her skepticism softened by amusement. “Uh-huh. Sounds like you two are living the dream.”

She shifted her attention to you, crossing her arms. “Haven’t seen you around for a few days. No more late nights at the garage?”

You felt a flicker of unease. Something about Mikey always made you cautious, as if she could see right through you. Keeping your tone casual, you rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah, the Aston’s finished, so I’m finally catching up on sleep. Not much reason to be here right now.”

Mikey tilted her head, clearly not satisfied with your vague answer. “Really? And here I thought this place was your second home. What’s been keeping you busy?”

Before you could formulate a response, Hunter swooped in. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re not slacking off. We’re just gearing up for a little road trip.”

“Road trip?” Mikey repeated, her interest clearly piqued.

Hunter nodded, grinning. “Yeah, figured it’s time for some fresh air and open roads. Recharge the batteries, you know?”

You shot him a subtle glare, but he just winked at you, unfazed.

Mikey narrowed her eyes slightly, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “Interesting. Well, have fun with that. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Us? Trouble?” Hunter gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Never.”

"We actually came here to let Anton know we’ll be gone for a couple of days,” you say, flashing Mikey a polite smile. “Catch you later.” Without waiting for a response, you grab Hunter’s arm and drag him along.

“Would it kill you not to spill everything?” you hiss under your breath.

Hunter shrugged, his usual carefree grin firmly in place. “Relax. It’s gonna get out eventually that we’re taking a couple days off. If we act shady, it’ll just make people more suspicious.”

You sighed, shaking your head at his nonchalance. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Together, you made your way toward the back of the garage, where Anton and Mason were knee-deep in their latest project.

“I don’t know why I keep you around, Mason,” Anton groaned, his hands dragging down his face in exasperation. “You incompetent fool!”

Hearing your footsteps, he glanced up, his frustration momentarily melting into surprise. “Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” you greeted, keeping your tone light. “I'm kind of in a rush, but just wanted to let you know Hunter and I are heading out of town for a couple of days. Figured I’d let you know so you don’t worry.”

Anton’s brows furrowed as he straightened up, eyeing the both of you. “Heading out? What for?”

“Just a road trip,” you said casually, shrugging like it was no big deal. “You know, get some fresh air, clear our heads. Nothing major.”

His eyes flicked to Hunter, then back to you, his suspicion barely veiled. “Where to and who’s going?”

"We don't really know yet, wanna see where the road takes us you know? And just us two," you replied smoothly, lying without hesitation.

Anton’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he was going to press harder. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. But something feels off about this, and I don’t like it.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “If this is about something dangerous, you better tell me now. You know I’ll have your back.”

You swallowed hard but maintained your composure. “It’s not, I promise. We’ll be fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. Anton studied you for a moment longer before nodding, though his concern was evident. "Alright. Just be careful out there, okay? Keep your phones on and don't do anything stupid."

"Got it," you promised, trying to sound reassuring.

Hunter gave Anton a mock salute. "We'll be model citizens, swear."

Anton rolled his eyes but didn't press further. As you turned to leave, Mason chimed in from where he was leaning against the car. "Bring me back something cool! Like a souvenir or somethin'!"

Hunter snorted. "Sure thing, buddy. How about a map so you can finally figure out how to navigate a racetrack without crashing?"

You couldn't help but laugh as you walked away, though Anton's lingering concern weighed heavily in the back of your mind.

————

The SUV you “borrowed” from the garage rumbled along the highway as you adjusted your grip on the wheel, glancing at Hunter slouched comfortably in the passenger seat. Your packed bag sat in the back alongside his, evidence of your brief pit stop at home. 

The memory of Anton’s concerned expression lingered, gnawing at you. You hated that you hadn’t told him the truth. He’d lost his father too—same as you—and you knew better than anyone how much that loss shaped him. How much it shaped both of you. But unlike you, Anton didn’t know there was more to the story. That it wasn’t just a tragic accident.

You felt awful for keeping it from him, for standing there and letting him believe everything was fine. But what were you supposed to do? Drop that bombshell and then tell him you were heading out of town for a few days? There was no way he’d have let you leave. No way he wouldn’t try to step in, to get involved.

And as much as it tore you up inside, you couldn’t let that happen. Not yet. Protecting Jenna—and by extension, your fragile alliance with her—had to come first. There was too much at stake, and dragging Anton into it now would only complicate things further. Still, the weight of your silence felt heavier with each passing mile.

“You good?” Hunter’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you muttered, though the word felt hollow.

He raised a brow but didn’t push, thankfully. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, letting the conversation from earlier drift back in.

“I gotta admit. I thought Anton would take a lot more convincing.”

Hunter glanced at you with a smirk. “What, you thought he’d put his foot down? He knows you’re stubborn as hell. Probably figured there was no point fighting you on it.”

“Maybe,” you murmured, though a part of you wasn’t so sure. Anton letting you go that easily still didn’t sit right. He’d been wary, his words cautious, but ultimately, he hadn’t stopped you. You wondered if he trusted you more than you expected—or if he had reasons of his own for letting you leave.

Shaking the thought from your mind, you shifted the conversation. “By the way, you seemed pretty comfortable with Jenna and Aliyah back at the diner.”

Hunter shrugged nonchalantly. “They’re cool. Aliyah’s funny, and Jenna’s… well, Jenna. We were just chatting for a bit before you showed up.”

“Before I showed up?” you echoed, glancing at him skeptically. “She didn’t seem in a chatty mood when I got there.”

Hunter chuckled. “I guess I have that effect on people. Smooth-talker, remember?”

Something about the way he said it made you pause, a memory resurfacing. “Wait. Jenna texted you, didn’t she? How do you even know her?”

Hunter tensed ever so slightly, and you didn’t miss it. “Uh… well…”

The gears in your head were starting to turn. “Hunter,” you pressed, narrowing your eyes. “How do you know Jenna?”

He fidgeted with his hands, clearly stalling. “It’s complicated, alright? Don’t worry about it.”

Before you could demand an answer, the bright lights of the mall parking lot came into view, and you spotted Jenna and Aliyah parked and waiting near the back of the mall. Hunter exhaled dramatically, clearly relieved to be off the hook—for now.

"We're here," he announced unnecessarily, pointing out the obvious.

You rolled your eyes but focused on parking the SUV. As soon as you stepped out, Jenna's sharp gaze locked onto you, her arms crossed, while Aliyah waved with a cheeky grin. Whatever Hunter was hiding would have to wait.

You park the SUV next to their car and step out, heading straight for the trunk. Without a word, you pop it open before turning toward Jenna and Aliyah. Stretching out your hands, you motion for their bags.

Aliyah hands over her duffle bag without hesitation, but Jenna hesitates, squinting at you with suspicion. Her scoff cuts through the quiet as you turn around and load the bags into the trunk.

Following you to the back of the SUV, she crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. "Uhm, are you planning to explain what's going on anytime soon?"

You close the trunk with a sharp thunk and meet her gaze, keeping your tone steady. "I will."

You glance over your shoulder, flashing her a grin. "Oh, and hey—nice work shaking those guys. Not everyone's got those skills. Seriously, you were impressive."

As you turn back to the SUV, Jenna's voice comes softly, almost shyly, "Thanks."

You don't catch it, too focused on adjusting the bags in the trunk, but Aliyah and Hunter exchange knowing looks. Jenna's rare vulnerability wasn't something they saw often, and the faint pink dusting her cheeks didn't go unnoticed either.

————

You merge onto Interstate 5, the highway stretching south through California. The evening sun dips lower on the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of gold and fiery orange. Hunter has his window down, one arm draped lazily over the edge, while Aliyah hums along to a faint tune playing on the radio. Jenna sits diagonally across from you, arms crossed, her gaze fixed out the window. The soft pout on her lips and the sharpness of her glare suggest she’s deep in thought—and likely still mad at you.

You glance at her through the rearview mirror, unable to help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Even in her frustration, she looks ridiculously adorable.

As you bring your eyes back to the road, they flicker back to the mirror—and that’s when it happens. Jenna catches your gaze, her sharp brown eyes locking onto yours.

Crap.

She breaks the silence, her tone firm but tinged with curiosity. “Alright, enough stalling. Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

You’re relieved she doesn’t make a snarky comment about catching you staring. Instead, you sigh and focus back on the road, deciding it’s time to answer her question.

“I’m sorry,” you start, glancing briefly at her reflection, then at Aliyah. “To both of you. You were right earlier… about being involved in all this.”

Hunter nods in silent approval from the passenger seat, encouraging you to keep going. “…As much as I don’t want either of you involved,” you continue, catching him facepalming out of the corner of your eye, “there’s no avoiding it now.”

"Neither one of can help it, and that car following you? It kind of put things into perspective for me. So I think the safe option for all of us to get out of town for a few days."

Jenna raises a brow, her expression unreadable, but she doesn’t respond right away. Aliyah and Hunter both glance at each other, waiting for someone to fill the silence. When Jenna finally speaks, her voice is softer than you expected. “Still didn’t answer the question,” she says. “Where are we going?”

You shrug one shoulder, keeping your eyes on the road. “I don’t know,” you admit with a lopsided grin. “I’m just driving.”

Jenna stares at you for a long moment before exhaling and shaking her head. She doesn’t voice the acceptance of your apology, but something in her gaze softens, and you can tell she’s made her peace with it—for now.

“Unbelievable,” she mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear. “We’re on the run, and you’re winging it? Great plan, genius.”

Aliyah bursts into laughter, and Hunter cheers, “This is classic! Road trip roulette—who needs a destination when you’ve got vibes?” 

Jenna pinches the bridge of her nose, mumbling something under her breath, but you swear you catch the faintest hint of a smile.

————

The next hour passes surprisingly smoothly. Everyone keeps themselves entertained in their own way, avoiding any mention of the issues that pushed you all to leave town in the first place. Aliyah has her headphones in, swaying gently to whatever music she’s listening to, while Jenna scrolls through her phone, occasionally glancing out the window. Hunter fiddles with the radio, switching stations until he finds a faintly decent song, only to switch it again moments later.

You keep your focus on the road, but your mind drifts. A part of you wished you could bring back the easy banter you used to have with Jenna—back before you ghosted her. It would've made the drive so much more fun. Instead, there’s this quiet tension hanging in the air between you two, one you’re desperately hoping will dissolve sooner rather than later. At least Hunter agreed to take over driving on the way back. Maybe by then, things between you and Jenna will be better.

Suddenly, Hunter starts humming, his voice cutting through the silence. At first, it’s aimless, but then it takes shape.

“Ninety-nine bottles of milk on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of milk!” he sings loudly, grinning as he looks around at everyone.

You groan. “Oh, no. Don’t.”

Aliyah chuckles behind you, joining in softly, “Take one down, pass it around, ninety-eight bottles of milk on the wall!”

Jenna sighs dramatically but mutters, “This is so dumb,” just before she jumps in on the next line. Within minutes, the whole car erupts into an awkward yet oddly harmonious singalong, voices overlapping and laughter spilling between verses. By the time you hit ninety-five bottles, everyone’s belting at the top of their lungs.

It’s ridiculous, it’s cheesy, and it’s exactly what you all needed.

When the laughter finally dies down, Jenna clears her throat. “Uh, I need to pee.”

You glance at her through the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow. Internally, you can’t help but think, Really? We’ve only been on the road for an hour. Did she not go before we left?

But you don’t voice the thought. Instead, you nod, spotting a route stop up ahead. “Alright, we’ll pull over.”

As you exit the highway and roll into the rest stop, Hunter claps your shoulder. “Road trips, man. This is what it’s all about.”

You just shake your head, chuckling as you park the SUV.

————

As everyone steps out at the route stop, the golden light of the setting sun casts long shadows over the parking lot. Hunter stretches dramatically, mumbling something about his aching legs, while Aliyah is already darting toward the brightly lit convenience store, proclaiming her hunt for snacks. Jenna heads to the bathroom, and once she returns she lingers by the SUV, her arms folded, her body language closed.

“Need anything?” you ask, hesitating slightly as you approach her.

She shakes her head but doesn’t look at you. “I’m good.”

You nod, biting back the urge to say more, and join Aliyah and Hunter into the store. The shelves are stocked with everything from bags of chips to questionable gas station sushi.

Hunter immediately gravitates toward the candy aisle, gleefully holding up a pack of gummy worms. “You know you want some,” he teases, tossing a pack at Aliyah, who yelps and tries to dodge.

You chuckle at their antics but can’t help glancing back toward the SUV, wondering if Jenna’s still standing there, or if she’s wandered in.

She hasn’t.

Grabbing a couple of bottled drinks and a bag of chips, you head to the register. Aliyah sidles up beside you, arms full of snacks. “Do you think we should get something for Jenna? She barely ate earlier.”

You hesitate, and recall her eating a chocolate the day you both hung out at the mall and then grab that brand of chocolate from a display near the checkout.

Outside, you find Jenna leaning against the side of the car, scrolling through her phone. You hold out the candy as you approach. “Figured you might want this.”

She glances at it, then at you, her lips twitching like she’s suppressing a thank-you. “Thanks,” she says quietly, taking it without meeting your eyes.

There’s a pause. The others are still inside, their laughter faintly audible from the store. For a moment, it’s just you and Jenna in the fading light.

“You okay?” you ask softly, unsure if you’re even expecting an answer.

She finally meets your gaze, her expression guarded but not unkind. “I’m fine,” she replies, but her tone doesn’t match the words.

You want to push, to ask what’s really on her mind, but something about the way she holds herself stops you. Instead, you nod and step back, giving her space.

She seemed fine interacting with you in the group, she was more vocal. But once it was just you two she got all quiet. But she surprised you with her next words.

She finally glances at you properly, her eyes searching yours. “Thanks, by the way. For this. I know you didn’t have to.”

You swallow, suddenly aware of how close she’s standing. “You don’t have to thank me, Jenna. I just… I want to make sure you’re safe—and your sister!”

She nods faintly, looking down at the ground. For a second, it feels like the rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you under the flickering lights.

Before the moment can stretch too long, Hunter sticks his head out of the car window. “Yo! Are we road-tripping or setting up camp here? Let’s go!”

Jenna chuckles, the tension breaking as she steps back. “Guess we should get going.”

“Yeah.” You push off the SUV, giving her a small nod. “Let’s hit the road.”

As you both climb back into the car, you can’t help but glance at her through the mirror again. She doesn’t notice this time, and you’re glad she doesn’t.

————

"Hey, Y/n, remember the car I was driving yesterday?" Aliyah asks, her voice breaking the comfortable silence that’s fallen over the SUV.

It’s been about two and a half hours since you hit the road, and everyone is busy with their snacks. Conversations drift in and out, short bursts of chatter punctuated by the rustling of wrappers.

You hum softly, urging her to continue.

Aliyah glances at you in the rearview mirror, her tone casual. “It’s pretty cool that you own that car. My dad used to have the same one, and I remember him always going on and on about how rare it was. Small world, huh?” She shrugs, clearly amused by the coincidence.

You and Jenna freeze. For a moment, no one says anything, and the awkward silence hangs in the air like a weight.

You glance at Jenna through the rearview mirror, and she avoids your gaze. Great, you think. Of all the things to come up right now, this had to be it.

“Well…” you clear your throat, deciding Aliyah deserves to know at this point. “That was your dad’s car.”

Aliyah’s brows furrow in confusion. “What? No, his was black.”

“Yeah,” you admit with an awkward laugh, “and then I wrapped it green.”

The realization dawns on her, and she turns to Jenna, her jaw dropping as she whisper yells, “Oh my God! You like the girl who stole Dad’s car?”

Jenna’s eyes widen, and her face flushes. “Aliyah, shut up!” she snaps, but her tone lacks bite.

Aliyah smirks, clearly reveling in her discovery. “I mean, this is peak comedy. She stole Dad’s car, and you’re just fine with it?”

“I’m not fine with it,” Jenna retorts, but her lips curve slightly as if she’s holding back a smile. “And for the record, it was both of us who stole it.”

Aliyah raises her hands in mock surrender. “Oh, so now you’re an accomplice? Love that for you.”

While they bicker in their private conversation, Jenna’s eyes soften, and her gaze turns nostalgic. “That day was insane,” she murmurs, more to herself than anyone else. “We had no idea what we were doing, but it was... kind of thrilling."

Not knowing what the two girls were talking about, you glance at her in the mirror for the millionth time today. Jenna’s smile, faint and genuine, tugs at something deep in your chest, but before you can dwell on it, Hunter’s voice cuts in.

“Well, look at you,” he says with a laugh, nudging your arm. “Stealing the car of the dad of the girl you like. That’s one for the books, huh?”

“Shut up, Hunter,” you groan, shoving his arm off you.

He just grins wider. “Nah, I’m serious. You’ve really outdone yourself here. Romantic and criminal—who knew you had it in you?”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back into the seat, but an idea suddenly strikes you. "Alright, since we're all in a sharing mood, how about this—Hunter, how exactly do you and Jenna know each other?" Your tone pointed, almost teasing.

Silence.

Not a word, not even the rustle of snack wrappers from the backseat.

Aliyah breaks the tension, her brows knitting as she glances at her sister. "Wait...what? I thought we both met Hunter this morning?"

You glance in the rearview mirror. Jenna’s expression is stone cold, her face unreadable, like she’s mastered the art of giving away nothing. She doesn’t so much as blink, just stares out the window as though the question didn’t even register.

Hunter, on the other hand, looks like he’s sweating bullets. His hand fidgets with the strap of his seatbelt, and he clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, well… you see…”

Before Hunter can dig himself into an even deeper hole, Jenna suddenly bursts out laughing. The sound is so unexpected, so completely jarring after the tension-filled silence, that your head whips around to look at her.

Her laughter is light and melodic, the kind that shakes her shoulders and makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. For a second, you forget about the chaos in the car and just stare.

Her laugh is kind of… cute, you think, catching yourself and quickly looking back at the road before anyone notices.

Jenna waves a hand, her laughter dying down just enough to speak. “Relax, Hunter. Seriously, it’s not a big deal. Go ahead, tell them.”

Aliyah sighs loudly from the backseat, crossing her arms. “Okay, my patience is wearing thin. Someone better spill before I start throwing snacks.”

"Okay fine, you tell them Jenna, since you think it's so funny," Hunter mumbles defeated, shrinking into his seat.

Jenna glances at Hunter, who is clearly trying to become one with his seatbelt. With a small shrug, she answers casually, “I walked in on Hunter… being intimate.”

You blink, nearly missing your next lane change. “Oh, wow. That’s… embarrassing,” you mutter, trying not to laugh. But then your brain starts piecing things together, and you frown. “Wait a second. How does that even happen? Like… was this in public or something? Did you come to Brimstone, or were you—”

Hunter interrupts, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I was in Summer Valley, okay?”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, okay. Get that bag, I guess. But, man, from the way you were sweating, I thought it was something really bad.”

For a second, you think the tension has finally lifted. But then Hunter lets out a resigned sigh, muttering, “I was with someone from the Viper's crew.”

It all made sense now, why Hunter was so understanding of the idea of you being affiliated with a Viper—why there was two toothbrushes in his bathroom.

He had his own fucking Viper.

“What the fuck?!” you shout, your voice climbing a whole octave as you instinctively swerve the car.

Hunter grabs the oh-shit handle. “Whoa, whoa, focus! You’re driving, not judging!”

“What the fuck Hunter?!” you yell again, steadying the wheel as the SUV veers slightly back into the lane. Thankfully, it’s almost 8 pm, and the highway is relatively empty, so you narrowly avoid disaster. "You're fucking a Viper?! What the actual—"

Hunter throws up his hands defensively. “What’s the big deal?! You are too!”

You slam the brakes—figuratively, of course—your head whipping around to glare at him. “EXCUSE ME?!”

Your face goes red-hot, and you stammer, “I’m not—what—literally who?! I’m not fucking anybody!”

Hunter smirks, sensing your flustered state. “Oh, sure. But you wish you were fucking a Viper.”

If you thought you couldn’t blush any harder, you were wrong. From the backseat, Aliyah is howling with laughter while Jenna buries her face in her hands, her own ears tinged pink.

“You’re delusional,” you snap at Hunter, but your embarrassment only fuels his laughter. “Seriously, who even—"

“Doesn’t matter!” Hunter interrupts, his grin practically splitting his face. “I’m just saying, don’t judge me when you’ve got your own Viper situation brewing back there.”

“Hunter, I swear—”

Aliyah cuts you off, gasping between giggles. “Oh my God, I can’t breathe. This is the best road trip ever!”

Jenna groans softly, pressing a hand to her forehead, but the small, stupid smile tugging at her lips betrays her. She hated being teased, especially by Aliyah, who had the precision of a sniper when it came to embarrassing her. Yet, as the chaos bubbled in the backseat, Jenna found her thoughts wandering to the things Hunter had been saying to poke at you.

What had you two been talking about? Hunter clearly knew something she didn’t, and now, curiosity gnawed at her despite herself. She glanced at you, watching as you muttered under your breath and tightened your grip on the steering wheel like it might save you. It wasn’t just the teasing; something else was making you squirm, and Jenna couldn’t stop the faint curve of her lips from growing into a fuller smile.

She didn’t know what Hunter was hinting at, but the way your ears burned red and your gaze stayed glued to the road… she couldn’t help but find it a little endearing.

————

The freeway stretched ahead in an endless ribbon of asphalt, swallowed by the inky darkness of night. The faint glow of distant city lights barely pierced the dark sky, leaving only the occasional flash of headlights to illuminate the passing road signs and surrounding emptiness. It was quiet now, except for the hum of the tires against the pavement and the faint sound of Aliyah’s soft snores from the backseat. The earlier chaos had subsided, leaving the SUV calm in stillness.

You glanced over at Hunter, slumped against the window with his head bobbing slightly with the movement of the car. He and Aliyah had devoured the candy earlier like children on Halloween and, predictably, crashed hard. For the last thirty minutes, they’d been completely out, and you were silently grateful for the reprieve. Any more teasing, and you were sure your heart would’ve leapt out of your chest.

Your heart was still pounding, though.

You sigh as you wrestled with a thought you’d been avoiding for a while. You never addressed ghosting Jenna. You mentioned to her at the meeting that you’d talk later, but then you didn’t. And now, things between you were stuck in this strange, awkward limbo. You hated it. You hated the distance and the way your banter had evaporated into stilted exchanges.

More than anything, you wanted this trip to be enjoyable for both of you—for her.

“Hey, Jenna you awake?” you said softly, testing the waters. You knew she was awake. Her breathing wasn’t even enough to fool you. You just needed something to break the ice.

“Yeah, what’s up?” she muttered, her voice low to avoid waking her sister.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands flexing nervously against the steering wheel. Then you took a deep breath and decided to do what needed to be done.

“I just… I want to apologize,” you began, keeping your eyes fixed on the road ahead. “For ghosting you. I know it was shitty, and you didn’t deserve it.”

She didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel her eyes on you, listening.

“I… I had a conversation with my mom the first day I didn’t reply to you,” you continued, your voice soft and unsteady. “And it—it messed with my head. I found out my dad wanted out of the Sinners. That completely flipped everything I thought I knew. I was already so confused, and it just made things worse. And then…” You paused, forcing yourself to push through the lump in your throat. “It made me feel terrified. Of everything. Of this whole situation. And of you. Of what you made me feel—what I felt for—”

You clamped your mouth shut, cutting yourself off realizing you spilled too much. Your mind was already coming up with excuses for what you meant by what you made me feel. Heat crawled up your neck, your knuckles stark white against the dim light from the dashboard. You scrambled internally for a way to gloss over your slip-up, but the words weren’t coming.

“I’m not trying to excuse what I did,” you said after a beat. “There’s no excuse for it. I just wanted to explain, to tell you why I acted the way I did. And to say I’m sorry. Really sorry.” 

She's not saying anything. The silence stretched uncomfortably, and you risked a quick glance in her direction, her expression unreadable in the faint glow of the passing headlights.

Panic began to claw at your chest.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you blurted out, your words rushing now. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know what I did was shitty, and I know I have no right to expect forgiveness—”

"I know you didn't mean to hurt me, Greaser."

Greaser.

You smile.

And that was all she said until Hunter and Aliyah awoken from their slumber twenty minutes later. But it was enough.

————

"Damn, how long was I out?" Hunter grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted in his seat.

Aliyah stretched with an exaggerated groan, yawning as if she'd been asleep for days.

"Only about forty minutes," you replied, glancing at them. The weight in your chest felt lighter after your moment with Jenna, but a part of you braced for the teasing chaos that might erupt now that they were awake.

Aliyah groaned dramatically. "Ugh, I was hoping the driving part would be over when I woke up. Are we seriously just gonna spend days cooped up in this car?"

"We’ve only been driving for like three hours," Hunter pointed out with a shrug.

"And that’s not far enough?" Aliyah raised a brow.

Hunter nodded, turning his gaze to you. "She’s got a point, you know."

"...I have a suggestion." Aliyah finally says.

"Shoot," you encourage her.

She leaned forward slightly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she looked at Jenna. "How about we visit Markus? We’re probably close to him already."

Jenna’s face lit up instantly, her smile matching her sister’s excitement. "That would be amazing, Ali, but… are we really gonna risk leading trouble straight to him?"

Aliyah waved the concern off with a dismissive hand. "Come on, you really think those bad guys are gonna follow us all the way to LA?"

While the sisters debated, you leaned toward Hunter, lowering your voice. "Who the fuck is Markus?"

Hunter smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What’s the matter? You jealous?"

"What? No!" you snapped, scoffing like the idea was ridiculous. But your mind betrayed you, lingering on Jenna’s radiant smile. Who was this guy, and why did she look so happy talking about him?

The sisters’ conversation quieten down, and Aliyah finally addresses you, her grin still firmly in place. "Y/n, how does a trip to UCLA sound?"

Taglist: @godamnityess @machyishere @freakshow2501 @nwestra @mcchicken88

@101rizzlrr @snowdrop1026 @ilovesneezing069 @btay3115 @burntoutghost

@cobaltperun

[sylvesterelle]

Meditations in an Emergency

Reader/Simon "Ghost" Riley/John "Soap" MacTavish

“Like it feels so good to get and give a compliment and we should normalize doing it more often. Strangers reaching out across the great abyss for a moment of connection,” you say, leaning back and gesturing broadly. “Ships passing in the night with naught but a toot-toot of mutual appreciation.”

“I don’t think that’s how the shipping industry works.” Or: How to live well and get railed through the power of compliments.

Part 1 of 2, 5,857 words, mature, cw: alcohol, cannabis

Read on A03

"I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love. "

Frank O'Hara, "Meditations in an Emergency"

“I just think people should compliment each other more, that’s all,” you declare, biting the cherry off plastic sword that Kat, the bartender, had stuck in your Dirty Shirley. “Like we think these things all the time. Her scarf is pretty, or that guy’s got a cool haircut or whatever. We notice them, we think about them, but so rarely do we say it, you know?  Even though being complimented is the best,” you say emphatically, using the tiny sword to punctuate your words.

Kat nods and gives you a second cherry, because Kat is good people. Kat serves you doubles while charging for singles and listens to you ramble and lets you spread your notebooks and laptop on the bar when it’s slow, like tonight.

It’s early on a Friday evening which means you’re supposed to be writing. You pay the bills as a ghostwriter during the week and you like it, you do. The flexibility to work strange hours typing late into the night, remote so you write wherever you want like coffee shops and cocktail bars and anywhere loud enough to drown out the more distracting of your thoughts. 

But you spend so much time devoted to other people’s work that you’d promised to set weekends aside to work on your own ideas. Easier said than done, when there isn’t an irate publisher on the other end setting deadlines and demanding pages. And the problem with your own ideas is that you just have so many of them; find it hard to devote yourself to one without getting distracted by another, your hard-drive a graveyard of drafts in various states of decomposition.

But routine helped, so there you’ve sat every Friday night for almost two months—even if you’ve spent proportionally less time writing than people-watching and sweet-talking Kat into making you interesting drinks off-menu (“This is a dive bar,” she’s told you more than once. “We don’t even a menu to be off of.”)

It’s not not part of your writing process, you reason. You’re a firm believer that life is stranger than fiction, and many of your most delightful ideas have come from observations and unusual interactions—the very reason you’d been thinking about the importance of compliments. 

“I just think we should be more intentional about finding joy in each other. For example, what would you say, darling Kat,” you begin, batting your eyes at her sweetly, “if I told you that you look fucking incredible now and always, you’re so hot it gives me hives if I look at you straight on, and more specifically that little curl that’s coming out of your ponytail is particularly fetching and I like it a lot?”

Kat rolls her eyes, which is as good as a smile for her. “I would say you should slow down on the Shirleys.”

You wouldn’t say the two of you were friends, not really, but there was a familiarity and ease in the relationship now that warmed you. You’d met her your very first night while on your usual ramble to learn a new place, begin to make sense of its curves and corners and spirit. The neighborhood you’d found an apartment in wasn’t the best, but it was furnished and month-to-month and good enough for you. Best of all, you’d only needed to wander in the snow a couple blocks before you’d struck gold: drawn like a moth where a plain, unmarked door had opened, spilling warm light and the sounds of overlapping laughter into the night. 

Inside it really was a dive, all sticky floors and old dollar bills pinned to the ceiling, a jukebox that took dimes and a blonde bombshell behind the counter who served with a decided lack of smile. But a week of you showing up and chattering at her had cracked that icy shell enough to get a name and a few raised eyebrows instead of complete silence. By the time you’d earned your discount as a regular around the third week, she’d occasionally comment on your more interesting trains of thought, offer some piercing observations and insights of her own if she was in a good mood.

A couple more weeks, and you know her well enough to bring a second iced coffee when you arrive for the evening, Kat pulling a bottle of Irish cream from the well as you remove the lids in a dance that has become comforting in its routine.

Yours is now slowly melting beside you, momentarily abandoned in favor of the syrupy-sweet mess that was waiting for you. Kat’s sipping the last of her own as she considers her verdict on your compliment, hip propped against the side of the bar.

“I don’t know if I’d particularly appreciate a stranger saying that to me. Don’t want strangers saying anything to me, really,” she frowns, “but particularly the bit about the hives.”

“Alright, I might have gone too hard out the gate with that one,” you admit. “But more importantly, I think you might be in the wrong profession for strangers not talking to you.”

She flips you the bird, heading to greet the two regulars that had slipped into place at the end of the bar. It was still early enough in the night that the place was mostly empty, only a few singles and two-tops stopping for an after-shift drink, giving you and Kat plenty of time to talk. It’d get rowdy enough later on, the voices louder, the jukebox queue a little more violent—but you’d found that among the chaos was often when you did your best writing.

“Hives aside, you know what I mean though, right?” you continue when Kat returns. “Like it feels so good to get and give a compliment and we should normalize doing it more often. Strangers reaching out across the great abyss for a moment of connection,” you say, leaning back and gesturing broadly. “Ships passing in the night with naught but a toot-toot of mutual appreciation.”

“I don’t think that’s how the shipping industry works.”

You ignore this, already imagining renting a sailboat somewhere sunny, tropical. “I always thought it’d be fun to be a sailor,” you say dreamily. “Kerouac was a Merchant Marine, did you know?"

Kat makes a face.

“What, you didn’t like the book?” You’d loaned her a copy of The Dharma Bums the week before, slim and beloved enough that you carried it with you instead of borrowing from the local library, like you usually did. You had a collection of library cards now, rattling around in an old Altoid tin—the only souvenirs you kept from all the various cities you’d visited in your travels.

“It was fine. Good, even, if you’re into that sort of thing,” she say, swirling her coffee around. “He’s just so fucking mopey. I wanted to shake him, like c’mon man, you need to stop thinking about your life and actually fucking live it.” Kat’s the most animated she ever gets. Which, admittedly, is just slightly more expressive than usual: eyes narrowed a little further, three degrees more derision in her tone.

Kat prefers nonfiction. History. Facts. Still reads everything you recommend, but rarely finishes one without getting frustrated with protagonists making dumb decisions and whining about their life choices. And while some of the books she recommends to you are a little dry at times, they’re certainly illuminating—and the last one about organ harvesting was surprisingly catalytic for plot ideas.

You shrug, acknowledging the point. She’s not wrong, but you tend to live most of your life in your own head and your own worlds, so it doesn’t bother you in quite the same way. Although, now that she mentions it…

“You know, all of this is kind of to my earlier point. Giving someone a compliment is like the ultimate shortcut to living outside your head. You’re not all wrapped up in your own issues and thoughts, but appreciating the world and the people around you. Even if you don’t say it—which you should—it means you’re paying attention. Noticing.”

You drain the last of your Shirley, swapping it out for the iced coffee and swirling around the diluted ice. “Proposal: we make a game of it, tonight. We notice.” It wouldn’t be that different from what you and Kat normally did; share little observations on other patrons, trade theories on this person’s job or that person’s backstory. They’d just be a little more…intentional about it. "Keep your eye out for any interesting hats or weird pins or extremely sexy noses and come and tell me. That way we can both enjoy it,” you entreat, clasping your hands together in anticipatory delight.

You know better than to suggest Kat actually compliment anyone. You’re optimistic, not delusional.     

“What constitutes an extremely sexy nose?” she asks, frowning at you.

You shake your head pityingly. “Oh Kat, that’s something you feel in your heart.”

She rolls her eyes and heads to the other end of the bar, where a nicely-dressed couple sink uncertainly onto the cracked vinyl stools. Looking around like they might be feeling just a wee bit out of place. You catch the woman’s eye, smiling broadly. “I love your dress,” you tell her, and feel the joy of her answering blush bubble sweet and bright in your veins.

…

You pride yourself on having excellent ideas, but this is easily one of your best. You get a tremendous amount of writing done, unusually productive while riding the high of giving out compliments left and right. Not so many that it feels insincere and never any you don’t mean. But Baader–Meinhof was a real sonofabitch because it’s true that the more you look, the more you see to appreciate. 

Like Bobby, the union electrician with his first name embroidered on the pocket of his work-shirt. It catches your eye because it’s not machine-printed but carefully done by hand, illuminated when he leans over to order a Schlitz. His wife’s work, he shares you when you comment on it. “She’s paid special for her embroidery but still makes time to do every last one of my shirts. So I can carry her love around all day,” he says proudly, unabashed even when his friends tease him good-naturedly. 

Then there’s the lady whose cheetah-print nails match her furry coat, who winks at you when she catches you looking admiringly from across the bar. Right after her is the burly biker who reveals an entire themed photoshoot of his toy poodle when you compliment the photo on his lockscreen. Others in between, some you speak to, some you don’t—but all you appreciate in a way you vow to do more in the future.

Inevitably, little pieces of what you observe trickle onto the page, fleshing out bits of characters and sparking ideas you jot down in bursts of inspiration. You won’t know until later if you’ll end up keeping any of it, but you like the thought that that you’ll always have some part of this moment—the people, the place, the time—woven into your writing. A little souvenir in-and-of-itself.

Though the night gets progressively busier, Kat swings by from time to time to share her observations: money fished from strange locations, custom bank cards, funny pins she read when customers leaned close to shout their orders over the music—partially your fault, after you compliment an old geezer’s song choice and spend twenty minutes with him, combing through the catalogue and cackling as you feed dime after dime and queue enough dad-rock to last a fair few hours.

All told, you’re feeling fucking incredible as it nears midnight and the synth solo from Toto’s “Rosanna,” has you wriggling in your seat. You’ve a few thousand words under your belt and the high off all those little moments of kinship is making you feel sparkling and happy and well, which, historically speaking, is sometimes a challenge for you.

You grin at Kat when she slumps next to you, enjoying a brief reprieve from new customers.

“Whatcha got for me, killer?” you ask, fishing in your bag for a granola bar. She takes it with a grateful look, shoving half of it in her mouth and talking as she chews.

“You’re gonna fucking love this. A mohawk, dude. In 2024.”

You perk up, looking around the room. It’s pretty packed now, but you can’t believe you missed a cut that attention-getting. “Liberty spikes?” you ask hopefully. You adored the punks of your acquaintance; always had interesting thoughts and insider tips on the local music scene.

Kat shakes her head. “Nah, it was cut short. Gym rat type, I think. Good tip, nice accent. Scottish,” she clarifies around the last of the granola bar. “Talked some shit about the ‘natural superiority of whisky over bourbon’ when he got a Maker’s for his friend.”

You hum, still craning your head. “See where they sat?”

She shakes her head. “Asked about smoking though, so probably on the patio.”

Calling it a patio was generous—a small bit of grass with a couple white lawn chairs and an ashtray, mostly. But there was a heat-lamp that worked roughly sixty percent of the time, which made the bar very popular with those in the know on cold nights like this.

“Speaking of, ‘bout time to take your break?”

If it wasn’t too busy Frank, the bouncer, would watch the bar while you and Kat split a joint in the back, sitting in companionable silence and pointing out shooting stars and passing satellites—clear skies a benefit of the city’s frigid nights. Kat knew a startling amount about astronomy but absolutely nothing about astrology; could tell you the history of the universe up to the surface of last scattering, but blinked at you when you’d asked if she was a Scorpio or a Capricorn.

Kat checks the clock then whistles to get Frank’s attention. You shove your laptop into your bag but  don’t bother with a coat—your cheeks are flushed from the warmth of the crowd and you don’t mind the cold, not really. 

The patio initially looks abandoned, silent but for the wet sound of car tires moving through the snow-choked alley. Not totally surprising; most balk at below-zero temps even with the lamp. Snow clumps heavy and wet on top of the plastic chairs and the overturned garbage pail that serves as a footrest but the sky is clear, a thousand tiny pinpricks of light visible in the heavens. You breathe in until the night air fills your lungs and you feel fresh and clean and cracked open wide, just pouring out love into the world.

Movement in your periphery catches your eye and oh, Kat was right, not a punk at all.

You’re not quite sure what to make of the two men standing half-shadowed near the lamp. Big is the first word that comes to mind and perhaps that’s sufficient for now, since you can’t seem to stop ogling the breadth of their shoulders and mouthwatering thighs long enough to notice anything else.

Kat had thought gym-rat but you’d put money on those bodies not just being for show—there’s too much power, too much potential for carnage disguised in that plush softness that comes from muscles in repose.

“Why hullo there, barkeep,” the one with the shaggy, soft-looking mohawk greets Kat jovially, his Scottish accent just as charming as promised. “And barkeep’s friend,” he adds, nodding to you as you come close enough to get a good look at his face. To latch on to details like the too-blue shade of his eyes and the too-sharp canines in his smile, the silvery-white starburst of a scar across his stubbled chin.

“Christ you’re pretty,” you hear yourself say. This happens sometimes, your mouth just venturing off on its own to get you into trouble.

Kat groans overlap with the man’s chuckle. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing,” he says, propping the lit cigarette between his lips and sticking out a hand. His palm is warm and callused against your own as you properly introduce Kat and yourself.

“I’m Soap, this here’s Ghost,” he offers in turn, nodding towards his friend who steps forward, murmurs a quiet greeting. He’s enough in the light now to reveal dark eyes shadowed under a hood, skeleton gloves and a matching skull-print balaclava pushed up far enough to accommodate a lit cigarette.

“Fuck me, that’s cool as shit,” you grin at him, immediately charmed by the weirdness of it all.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” the man says affably, his voice a rumble deep in his chest. He doesn’t smile but there’s a little twist of his mouth that could be amused, if you squint.

“Jesus Christ,” Kat mutters, eyes shutting briefly in second-hand embarrassment. “She’s on a mission about compliments tonight, noticing people,” she tells them with bemused emphasis, turning to clear off the chairs and kick snow off the garbage can.

“I just think it’s important to be more open with our affection, even with strangers. Especially with strangers,” you argue, dropping into one of the seats and pulling out the battered Altoid tin that holds your stash and a few pre-rolled joints. “Will this bother you?” you ask the men, holding up one.

They shake their heads, amused.

“Good, because it’s my fucking bar,” Kat snorts, grabbing it from your fingers and dropping into the chair next to you.

“What, you own this place?” you say, flabbergasted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kat holds the joint in her mouth and cups a hand around her lighter flame, coaxing it to life despite the wind. She takes a deep drag, tilting her head up before releasing a thick cloud of smoke into the air.

It looks wicked cool right up until she folds in half, coughing desperately on the tail end of the exhale. You can’t fucking blame her; you’d bought it off your teenage neighbor, a science prodigy who claimed to have developed the perfect strain. Ivy League, he called it, since it had paid for his entire college fund.

Kat straightens up, red face feigning composure as she passes you the joint. “You never asked,” she finally says.

And that was just…well, fair, actually.

“Huh,” you say brilliantly, struggling not to cough on your own exhale and bidding adieu to any dreams of looking cool in front of all the fucking fashion models around you. “You know, I did wonder when you’d get in trouble with your boss about the free drinks thing. And the drinking on the job thing. And the this on the job thing,” you say, frowning as you contemplate the joint.

You offer it up to the men and Soap takes it, your hands brushing long enough to send a little fizz through your blood.

“You’ve known each other long, then?” he asks, taking a puff. Turning a vibrant shade of red as he heroically—and futilely—tries to hold in a cough.

“Oh, we go way back,” you say very sincerely. “I helped her bury the body of her ex-husband years ago, a mafioso named Jimmy the Janitor because he cleaned up, if you know what I mean.”

“I met you two months ago. And I’m a lesbian,” Kat contradicts blandly.

“I didn’t know that, either!” you exclaim, smacking her in the shoulder. “What the fuck, dude, I would have tried flirting with you ages ago.”

“You’re not my type,” she says devastating, and Ghost snorts when you dramatically mime a dagger to the heart. The joint glows red between his full lips, crossed with scars that shine silvery in the moonlight and trail up beyond his mask. Exhales in one long, smooth breath and looks suitably smug about it, the fucker.

“I do seem to remember you saying something earlier about me being ‘so hot I give you hives.’” Kat reminds you. “You telling me that wasn’t flirting?”

“Nah, that’s just being neighborly,” you beam at her.

“I shudder to think what your flirting does look like.”

“That’s the appropriate response, honestly.”

Ghost barks out a laugh and you shoot him a cheeky wink before turning back to Kat. “Alright then killer, gimmie the goods. What is your type?” you prod, hooking your ankle around her own. “Is it a black cat, golden retriever thing? I can bark, babe, just say the word.”  

Soap damn near chokes on his drink but Kat only sighs, more fond than exasperated. She takes the joint and leans in, bringing your faces only a few inches apart. You watch, riveted, as she brings it to her cherry-red lips and inhales deeply. Holds your gaze and leans ever so slightly closer, the moment stretching into eternity as she releases a slow, deliberate cloud of smoke directly into your face. You bring a hand to your mouth, think you might actually be drooling.

“MILFs,” she answers finally, devastatingly. She tucks the joint between your fingers before patting your hand and heading back inside—as good as a kiss on the mouth from anyone else.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” Soap's voice is rough as the door closes behind her.  

“You’re telling me, pal,” you sink comically in your chair. “I think she broke me.” You’d already been drunk off the night’s joy but now you felt lightheaded with desire, literally dizzy with it.

This is not an uncommon response to Kat, you suppose. Nor, you expect, to the pretty lads that remain.

You summon your forces and sit back upright, kicking over the newly empty chair in offering. Ghost takes it, the plastic frame creaking under his bulk while Soap drops down on the garbage pail, resting his elbows on jean-clad knees. You pass around the rest of the joint in companionable silence, and it’s just…nice, all of it. The cold at your back and the heat of the lamp on your face, the fading alcohol buzz replaced by the sweeter, steadier high of the weed, always better at gentling your nerves and clearing your head. The easy camaraderie of smokers cast out into the cold, the same thing in almost every city and country you’d ever seen. You smile, thinking back on all those shared lighters and bummed cigarettes over the years. All those ships passing in the night.

“Gettin’ us a refill,” Soap finally says, standing up and snagging Ghost’s empty glass, hooking their pinkies together briefly in the action. You note it and immediately drop the thought, scalded. Know you will literally, actually combust if let your brain run-rabbit imagining the two of them together. All that muscle, all that strength, curved around each other, curved around you…

“What’ll it be, bonnie?” Soap’s warm voice snaps you out of your reverie and you flush, sure from his smirk that he can read the direction of your thoughts. You were legendarily bad at poker—couldn’t keep a neutral expression if they paid you to.

“Dealer’s choice, please and thank you,” you grin at him despite your embarrassment; turning down a free drink is against your moral code.  

He gives you that shark-like smile and Ghost tsks as he heads inside. “You’ll probably regret that, birdie. Johnny’s got atrocious taste.”

“Aye can fucking hear you, you Manc twat,” Soap calls from the door, a little extra Scottish in his snark. Ghost chuckles lowly, stretching his feet out into your space.

“It’s Manchester then, our kid?” you tease, kicking your foot playfully against his boot. Leaving it there when he lets you. “Whose your fighter then, Liam or Noel?”

He considers for a moment. “Liam. I like his spunk.”

“’A man with a fork in a world of soup,’” you quote, nodding approvingly. “I get that.”

You toy with the Altoids tin and debate lighting up another one.

Ghost fishes a pouch of rolling tobacco out of the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie and holds it up questioningly. “Clever boy,” you praise, and he leans forward to pass it to you, big hands dwarfing your own. When he settles back in his chair, he tangles his feet with yours properly and you feel a little flutter low in your belly.

You prep the blunt in a practiced motion, balancing the tin on your knees as you sprinkle the peaty tobacco overtop the flower evenly. “I’ve always been more of a Blur than Oasis fella, myself,” you finally offer to distract from the weight of his gaze. “Damon Alburn, the man you are,” you say, putting a fervent hand to your heart.

“Oi, we talking about the Gorillaz then?” Soap calls out, juggling glasses as the door shuts behind him, muffling the chatter from inside. “Fucking choon after choon, them,” he declares, dropping back onto the pail.

He passes Ghost a rocks glass filled with an inch of amber that matches his own, his eyes tracking where your tongue runs across the filter paper, wetting it. He trades you the finished smoke for a glass with something alarmingly orange in it, another plastic sword stuck with three cherries laid across the top.

You sniff skeptically, all sweet and citrusy and strong. “This must be off-menu.”

“Dive bar innit, no menu to be off of,” Soap points out, and you smile at the familiar response.

You take a curious sip, looking up in surprise when you taste a bright splash of orange and vanilla across your tongue. “That’s fucking incredible,” you say, eyes wide. “What is it and why haven’t I been having it all night?”

Soap grins at you, looking suspiciously pleased with himself. “Had a feeling you were a lass that’d enjoy a slow, comfortable screw against the wall.”

Ghost groans, and you squint skeptically at Soap. “Who doesn’t, what’s that got to do with my drink?”

Soap laughs, delighted. “That’s the name of the drink, bonnie. A Slow Comfortable Screw Against The Wall,” he says with emphasis.

Ah. Well. That’s—oh, motherfucker. “Does Kat know that?” She’s probably laughing her ass off inside, the sadist.

“Oh, aye. She seemed amused. Though she made an unnerving amount of eye contact while stabbing the wee cherries,” he says, eying the garnish. “Scariest fucking thing I’ve seen in a minute. Put me in mind of someone we know, actually,” he says, giving Ghost a wry look as he takes a sip and sets the glass down.

He pulls out his own lighter to coax the blunt to life, a battered Bic with SOAP scrawled in thick, Sharpied letters. He lets out a pleased sigh as the opaque smoke curls through the cold air then leans forward to rest his elbows back on his knees.

“Now, as for why you weren’t getting it slow, comfortable, or otherwise before now, I couldn’t say,” he tells you, blue eyes glinting with mischief. “But I think I speak for both of us when I say we’re more than happy to provide for the rest of the night. Isn’t that right L.T.?”  

“Right enough there, Johnny.” Ghost’s voice is closer to a growl, setting off a delightful curl of heat in your belly.

You nibble on your straw and pretend their attention isn’t going straight to your head, twice as good as the drink or the drugs. “You know what they say about variety and spice of life. Might get bored with just a screw against the wall. Got any thoughts on horizontal surfaces?” you tease, enjoying the way Ghost smirks around the blunt.

But oh, is that a dimple you suddenly see carving out of one scarred cheek? Before you’re even conscious of it you’re balancing one hand on his knee and leaning in for a closer look. “I adore your dimple,” you tell him sincerely, undoing any hope you had of appearing cool and hard-to-get. “It is very cute.”

You give him a businesslike pat on the thigh and start to pull away, but he catches you gently before you get too far.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he purrs, petting over the soft skin of your wrist with one gloved thumb. “We’ll keep you entertained, don’t you worry. Bored is the last thing you’ll be, right Johnny?” Ghost says, squeezing gently once before letting go. You try to play your delighted shiver off as one of chill, but you suspect your violent blush isn’t selling it.

“Oh, I fuckin’ swear to it, L.T,” Soap answers, winking at Ghost before unfolding his big bulk from the garbage can. “We’ll give you what need, bonnie, promise. Starting with this.” Then his arm is around your waist and you’re in the fucking air and—

Oh, that’s not so bad, actually.

Soap sinks into the lawn chair and settles you across his lap, surrounding you with delicious warmth and a scent like whisky and salt air. Your brain goes a bit soft and cottony for a moment and you latch on to the gentle pressure of his arms. Manhandling has always been a shortcut to your most devastated self, the kind of stupid and sweet and sated that you’ve only found once or twice through chemistry or luck or sheer fucking determination, and it bodes very well for the night to come.

Besides, for all he wears only a bomber jacket, the Scotsman is radiating heat like a furnace and it’s the perfect sensory foil to the plummeting temperatures, a few clouds coming to fleck the sky.

“Saw you shiver. Couldn’t let our girl be cold now can I?” Soap says, chucking you under the chin like a kid. Should be stupid but you fucking like it, can’t help but smile up at him. Can’t remember the last time someone treated you so sweet, like you were something to protect. To indulge.

Ghost’s eyes are fond on the pair of you, reaching out to trap Soap’s feet the same way he had yours a few moments before. One of his hands reaches to splay possessively over your thigh, resting it there and turning your insides liquid.

There’s no reason it should be as easy as it is, getting all wrapped up in each other as the night stretches on and the clouds continue to gather, chatting quietly and smoking through the rest of the blunt and finishing your drinks just as the first fat, fluffy flakes of snow begin to fall.

You watch, delighted, as the storm kicks up in a sudden flurry, a magical, glimmering coat that turns the world into one whole thing. Untouched and perfect and silent except for the tides of your breath and the slight hum of the heat lamp, small sounds within a vast, quiet night.

You sigh in Soap’s arms, totally and unexpectedly content, luxuriating in the way your blood hums in anticipation of the night’s inevitable conclusion.  

People asked if you got lonely, sometimes, travelling the way you did. Never staying anywhere for more than a few months, only occasionally breezing through past towns for a few loved-up reunions before the wind starts pressing at your back.  

And though it’s true you’ve been seeking a place of your own, a place where you could belong, this, too, means something. To have these beautiful, fleeting moments of connection with once-strangers, to lose yourself completely in the headiness of such quick intimacies, no less passionate or kind or devastating for their brief duration. All those countless moments of connection—romantic, sexual, platonic—coalescing into a kind of soft sweetness to hold on to long after you’ve forgotten a name or had a face grow fuzzy with memory.

All of that sweetness is swirling inside you as you nudge Soap’s chin with your head, drawing his attention from where he’d been conversing softly with Ghost, one hand petting absently at your waist.

“Take me home?” you ask softly, and his eyes melt at the question, his hand coming up to thumb a little desperately at your mouth.

“Oh, the Cap’n would love that,” Ghost drawls. “Fall arse-over-tits over a sweet thing like you walking through the door.”

“My home,” you clarify, though you’re not opposed—especially if their friend (captain?) looks anything like them. “I live like four blocks that way,” you chuck a thumb vaguely over your shoulder.

“Well why didn’t you say so, bonnie’,” Soap says, standing up and dumping you on your feet. Before you can be too offended, he grabs your chin and presses his mouth against yours, searing hot and leaving you breathless when he pulls away too soon. You look up at him a little dazed and he pets his thumb across your chin, grinning. “Ghost is right. Too sweet for your own good, darlin’. T’wouldn’t be right for us to let you walk home alone, sweet thing like you. Not in a neighborhood like this.”

“Au contraire mon frère, I’m fast as shit,” you tell him, narrowing your eyes. This occasionally happened when you got crossfaded in particularly the right way, became possessed with the urge to tear off down a darkened street, drunk on the feeling of wind against your face and your heart hammering in your chest. Feeling like you could fucking fly. “No bad guy’s gonna catch me, no way.”

“That right, little rabbit?” Ghost moves as silent as his name, a sudden warmth at your back without you even noticing he’d left his chair. He curves that big body around you, nipping at the soft skin at your neck and caging you in against the firmness of Johnny’s chest. “Gonna let us chase you?” he near growls.

The thought sends goosebumps rising along your arms. To be wanted, to be chased. To be caught. Ghost groans when you lean back against him, tipping your head back to nip at his jaw in return. “Home. Now,” he commands lowly, pulling down his mask.

You can’t help your shit-eating grin as you tug them through the door and the thinning crowd to collect your long-abandoned things from the bar.

Kat eyes the three of you suspiciously. “If I find cum anywhere on that fucking patio I will have your balls in a bear trap,” she threatens.

“No promises,” you wink at her, laughing when she flips you the bird. You shrug on your coat and pick up your bag, which Ghost immediately appropriates, slinging it over one shoulder. He ignores your amused tug on the strap, looking over your head to plot the swiftest exit.

“Don’t wait up, babe!” you say, blowing a kiss to Kat as Ghost tows you and Soap toward the door.

“Call me if you need help burying the bodies,��� Kat offers in response, and you cackle at the uncertain looks the late-night crowd shoots you both.

And then it’s just the three of you and the cold and the night, pressed together like you’re one body in the snow-crowned streets. 

[solar4seekstron]

Before and So Forth Chapter Seven: Megatronus

Transformers One x Cybertronian!GN!Guard!Reader

Solars Indie Series

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Eight

Introduction Indie Series

Content: 18+, You ad Megatronus basically got married you’re welcome my simp muffins

TW/Tags: A couple flashbacks, Sentinel being an asshole, Looong aft smut bro Megatronus is husband matural, Poor starscream I swear, What’s soundwave and shockwave talking about? Hmmmmmmmmmmmm, boy can’t wait to see what happens in the next chapter after this. :3

-Flashback: The beginning—

You were walking to the tower. First day as part of the guard. You’d past by Soundwave and Shockwave who were in a private discussion. Starscream was yelling at some guard while he and a few others just seemed annoyed.

During the large meeting and different training sessions throughout the entire week.

The primes and the superiors desciding who to pick out which guard will be a part with them like meetings, training sessions, training groups and so forth.

Continuing you would wait for the letters that would come in the weekend. When you opened your mail it was only two. Starscream wishing to recruit you for his training sessions and meetings. And the other from the prime himself.

Megatronus prime. You were surprised.

He didn’t seem to be that interested in you that much before. Wonder what it could have been?

You then started to think about a couple days ago when he watched you train under Starscream. You were able to get a good balance and take on Starscream almost too easily.

But he was still a little stronger then you either way.

He just stood there close to the door with Vector, Amalgamous, and Mirconus prime.

When you fell onto your back with starscream on top.

His pede on your chest to keep you down. You let out a groan as you looked up at him. Starscream making a speech with a grin before taking his pede off you and helping you up.

You giving him a small smile as you congratulate him.

Unknown to you Megatronus optics were staring at you specially. Taking note of your smile and frame.

In better words to say he was definitely intrigued by you and at that moment definitely knew he had to have you work under him. And by the way you spoke and see things when standing alongside your comrades.

You could be a good guard and warrior in his cause after the war.

And so when it came to his and the other primes eating along with sentinel.

He made sure to give good reason to have certain guards. Including you to be a part of his group. The others didn’t pay much mind. Solus and Sentinel being the only two to raise a brow. You were a bit different from the other guards he asked for.

But Zeta saw it as him wanting to add some more to his group that isn’t fully one note.

Ever since he watched you, honestly you became one of his favorites. Years went by and he tried to stay strong with dealing with his feelings for souls. His love for her only washing away from his grasp.

He would always catch himself watching you when you would either train or clean your swords after going on a mission,

At one point, he knew you must be the one when you were able to catch him be surprise with being able to hold him from behind. Your arms around his neck while you’re behind and tried your best to choke him out.

—————————————————————-

You were able to get behind Megatronus after he was able to get you to let go of his swords.

Getting above then behind him when he was caught by surprise. He then turned his helm to glance at you when your arms were around his neck and your legs trying their best to wrap around his large torso.

He then stood. Arms down still holding his spear while the others tried to not laugh at you and whispered to each other.

”Come on! Get Down! Let’s Go!”

You said while pulling with your arms still wrapped tightly around his neck. Your grunts heard as Megatronus just glanced at you for a moment before titling his head to the side a bit.

Unfazed by your attempt.

His helm then facing forward and optics almost closed as he let out a sigh before his cervo moved to grab you by the back collar of your frame.

Lifting you with ease and holding you up infront of him as he stared at you in optics level. You looked at him with a chuckle. Nervous while his optics seem emotionsess but then..cheerful you noticed?

He let out a deep chuckle and gently put you down.

Praising you and the others for doing a good work of training. Something he rarely does. You and the others leaving for lunch while Megatronus stayed in the training room.

Thinking deeply about the way you touched him from behind, you small grunts from behind him. So confused but also intrigued.

But…he had to be sure.

You would make you way to the lunch room with the others the same room. You soon bumped into the chest of shockwave who was holding some energon.

He stared down at you with his yellow optics glowing for a moment before leaning his helm down to speak.

”Wish to be my watch buddy for this poly bot drama series???”

You were leaning back to create somewhat of room between you both. Then just nodded. “Why not.”

Shockwave then walked away. You shrugged and walked. The others already ahead of you until you bump into another chest. It being Soundwave this time.

He was just standing there with his arms down to his side.

You looked at him.

A moment of silence between you both until he spoke. “Question: Y/N with Soundwave lunch Together?”

You let out a soft sigh and nodded. “Affirmative.”

Rumble and Frenzy then popped out of his chest with a hooray. Then sitting on his shoulders as you both walked to the lunch room.

Starscream already there at an empty table.

You sitting next to him with your usual smile on your dermas. You didn’t notice when he glanced at you with his red optics.

Drinking his energon while you spoke to Soundwave and Frenzy.

Shockwave already having his energon and gently tapping his chin under his optics. Rumble looking up at him confused but also amazed.

It was so peaceful…nice.

-End of Flashback—

You stood there. A strange gut feeling in your stomach as you heard the call ended.

Megatonus telling you that tonight is the night. The others probably already know now? This could either be good or bad. You soon turned around only to then bump in sentinels chest. Jeez what’s up with you and chests in this tower.

You continue to remain silent as your optics, along with your frame remain still.

Sentinel standing before you with his optics almost closed. Cervos behind his back as he stood there almost emotion less.

Him having a frown on his dermas as he stared down at you.

Having been standing behind you when you spoke.

Having quietly opened the door when he saw you hide in the room. You would quietly whisper as you took a step back. “Sentinel-“

He then spoke. His voice a bit more low as he continues to stare down at you. “My Y/N. Who was that you were just speaking to?” He took a step closer.

You took a step back. “Was it that purple brute you seem almost fond of?”

He continues to take a step closer.

Eventually your back is against the walk. Him standing just a few inches before you as his optics appear dim.

His cervos then against the wall trapping you. His helm leaning low, closer to your helm as he spoke in almost a whisper.

”You should know my offer still stands. I suggest you make your choice before tomorrow. Or else….”You’ll be exposed” if you don’t. If you know any better of course then you’d do as your surpior commands, hm?”

You just stared at him before looking away glancing at the floor. His cervo moved from the wall to hold your chin.

His frame getting closer to yours as he spoke. “Come now. Why make this harder hm?”

He soon has that shit eating grin on his dermas once more before his helm became closer to yours. Barely much distance. You finally spoke.

”I am well aware of your knowledge of my relationship Sentinel. And I can handle whatever happens to me or him any day and any time. I don’t need your offer. And I don’t your poor threats.”

Your cervos pressed against his chest to create some room. He seems even more irritated then he usually does.

Then he spoke. His voice almost normal.

”I see..” His small grin still there before stepping back to give you room. His cervos no longer against the wall and your chin. Speaking once more as his cervos move to behind his back.

“I suppose you shouldn’t keep your special partner waiting…I’ll see you in next weeks meeting.”

He finished. You just stared at him for only a second before starting to walk your way to the door. He continues to watch.

Checking out your frame until the door closed behind you.

He’d then call for Arachnid through the comm.

“Arachnid what is the progress of our new friends..Response?” He asks with a grin.

She can then be heard through the comm. A sly grin being heard. “They accepted, sir.” He lets out the chuckle and the comm ends. He places his cervo on his hip abd looks around before closing his optics.

Thinking back to his time with Zeta Prime that night when he kissed you.

—Flashback—

After his kiss with you that one night. He made his way into Zetas private quarters. After Zeta closed the door behind, his voice spoke with confusion and anger.

“What was that? You’re seeing one of Megatronus own soldiers and starting some kind of relationship with them??” Sentinel only chuckled as he placed the data pads on the desk.

Before feeling Zetas cervo on his shoulder. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Sentine just turned around like he said nothing and finally spoke. “Come now Prime. You con’t expect a surpior like me in an army like this not try to find some form of relationship. Besides, it’s not like we’re official.”

He smirked until Zeta kneeled down.

“I told you nce this war is over and everyone has calmed down from the Quintissons defeat. You should be more patient. Just…I am trying to keep an army in tact and it’s not easy when trying to create a relationship.”

Sentinel stood there for a moment with a bit of a frown.

He’d then walk closer to Zeta. Placing a soft kiss on Zetas dermas and gives him a heart felt sorry as his optics shows sadness. Zeta just stared at him before looking away.

Deep in thought as he thinked.

While he didn’t notice, Sentinels optic twitched a bit. It returned to be two faced when Zeta turned back to him. Then spoke in a sad tone.

”I just wanted to feel something and well you’re always so busy. And-“

Zeta stopped him. His cervo gently holding his chin as he looked down at him with soft optics. Speaking once more. “Just…don’t do it again sweetspark..”

Sentinel gives him a warm smile. The two then embracing each other. Sentinel then have an annoyed look on his face before returning to sweet and innocent after pulling away.

The two sort of made up that night as well as the following ones those nights after.

—End of Flashback—

———————————————————————————

You made your way to Megatronus sleeping quarters. It was already late out and most guards don’t patrol the primes sleeping quarters. You made your way to Megatronus door and gently knocked.

Megatronus soon opening it and pulling you in.

Before you knew it the door was closed and Megatronus sat you on his berth. Locking the door.

You then questioned. “Megatronus are you alright?”

He’d then pull out his cog and walked up to you. He seems so excited about something. You then were surprised when he jumped onto the berth in his cogless form.

Mask off and an actual smile on his dermas as he stared down at you You now leaning back with your elbows supporting you up.

He spoke the whole time was you listened to him.

“I am more then alright! The primes have accepted to keep our relationship secret and if any other bot were to tell. Then they’ll be greatly dealt with! Our courtship ends today! And we can truly be together.”

You just stared at him. You’re so surprised and soon you have a smile and your cervo moves to hold the side of his cheek.

He leans into the touch before leaning down. His dermas connecting with yours.

Both of your optics closed as his is and his frame soon presses against yours. Making you lay back fully and his cervos soon wrapping around your waist.

The kiss both passionate and full of need. You soon have your other cervo on his shoulder. Gently pulling him closer. His kisses becoming more heated. It’s honeslty a lot easier and nicer to kiss him with his smaller form.

You then stopped and pulled away for a moment. His optics looking at you confused. Your cervos holding his cheeks when you started to speak. Asking a certain question.

“What about Solus?” He just stared at you for a moment. He seemed almost mad but controlled it as soon as he spoke.

“She is as no matter for us, sweetspark. So don’t worry about her when our day comes tomorrow.”

His forhelm then pressing against yours, staring at each other once more. Your optics closed as a small sigh leaves your lips. You can relax now a little about the whole situation.

You then feel his dermas against yours. Creating another make out session . He then whispered.

His dermas still against your own. Gently speaking with optics almost closed. “When we can walk more freely after tonight. You work ever have to worry about such silly things my love.”

As the heated kiss continued, Megatronus moved his cervo from around your waist to gently grip your thigh to move it to be around his own waist.

Slowly pulling away as he presses his panel against yours.

He pulled back only a little bit where his dermas are against yours as he whispered. “The final day..Devotion. Shall we get to it my love?”

He gives you another loving kiss. You soon returning it as you let out a soft chuckle.

Continuing to kiss until Sentinels stupid smug face appears in your mind. His words about next week and all sinking in. Should you tell Megatronu?

You were pulled form your thoughts when Megatronus then moved to your neck.

Placing warm kisses and letting out soft sighs. His cervos moving and feeling up your frame.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment before making a choice. You’ll deal with Sentnel yourself then let your soon to be Conjunx. And any other prime will for you.

And so, your cervo moved so your arms are around his neck.

Not too tightly as he returns to your dermas. You returning the kiss. It becoming more and more heated as the seconds go by. You whispering his name between kisses.

His cervo moved from your waist to your panel. Asking for entrance.

Soon you both hear your panel click. Your valve being exposed by the cold air. He then presses a digit against the node before gently rubbing against the inner walls.

He lets out a soft but deep chuckle. Feeling you shiver and under him.

Your legs doing the same thing around his waist. Speaking once more. “So wet for me already I see? Shall I tease my little Conjunx….Or should I give it to you now hm?”

He soon puts in three digits in your valve.

You struggled to speak. Your moans getting a little louder. He then pressed his glossa past you dermas while his arm around your waist gets tighter. You know this means he’s getting more excited.

You let out soft moans in the heated kiss.

He curved his digits inside you. Making you arch your back and pull away from the kiss.

Megatronus moving his helm to your neck. Giving it a wet lick then a kiss. Soon gently sucking at the front of your neck. His digit moving back and forth in your valve as his own panel clicks open.

You were getting so close to your climax. Feeling it getting closer and closer. He then pulled his digit out before you can finish.

You helm now longer pressed harshly against the berth. You then glanced, looking down at him. He had a devilish smirk on his dermas then sat up. Bringing his cervo to his intake.

Licking the juices from your valve as he continues to stare down at you.

As if you weren’t blushing enough already. Your usual smile on your dermas as he leaned forward being above you once more. His kiss a little more softer before whispering.

“If you keep smiling like that. I might get carried away.”

He teased before pulling away, sitting up once more while his optics never left yours. He then moved his cervos to hold your thighs.

Making them go around his waist more. His spike against your open valve.

He then started to line his spike to your valve. Pressing the tip slowly coming through just past the walls enough. Already stretching you. You let out a gasp.

Your cervos gripping at his arms as you already struggled with how large even his tp is for you. His cervos moving to hold your waist. Holding it firmly while your cervos remain holding them.

Your legs shakin.

Megatronus watches your face as his spike slowly makes its way in deeper into your valve. You can feel you valve being stretched out so large it’s surprising to say the least.

Tears falling from your optics. You shutting them closed harshly as you try to handle the pleasure and pain at the same time.

Megatronus made sure to give you gentle kisses on your cheeks. Gently whispering “shh shh” to you as you get use to his size. He stayed still. His spike barely halfway in while his optics stared down at you.

After a few moments, you’d slowly nod. Your helm turned away and optics still shut.

He then started to lean back and started thrusting his spike slowly.

Only letting it go almost half way through. The thrust slow amd the size itself was enough to create a large amount of pleasure.

You let out soft moans and groans. Megatronus doing the same as he watching his spike enter and exit from your valve. Being so tiny just perfectly squeezing his spike.

He would continue this action for a while. You soon hitting your climax after just a few minutes. And so although it isn't time yet.

He’ll make sure you have plenty of pleasure.

After you have another round of climax he’d sit up straighter. Moving your legs up and pedes placed to be over his shoulders for a better entrance. His thrusts becoming almost harsher. Slow and harsh thrusts.

His grunts becoming louder. Slowly pushing more and more of his spike into your valve.

Although he’s stretching you out even more. The pleasure his spike is giving being able to cover up the pain. Mostly.

You would slowly look at him. Seeing that he has his optics closed.

His cervos now holding your thighs. Keeping them up against his frame. His legs wide. After a few minutes he would then lean forward. His helm over yours to the side and his chest and waist is over yours.

You turned your helm a bit to the side to face him while his optics remained closed.

His intake open a little as he moans and groaned.

Slowly his spike getting deeper and deeper inside. You covered your intake. So scared of getting caught. And before you knew it. Your optics soon growing wide.

He was fully in you. The front of his hips fully pressed against your aft.

Your valve stretched possibly beyond its limit. You and Megatronus stay completely still for a while. Your legs were now at both your sides of your frame. The front of his frame pressed almost harshly against yours.

Your cervos placed on his shoulders now while they remain pretty close to your helm.

You’d then feel something warm and flowing into your valve. Making your legs shiver and shake along with your frame.

Megatronus then let out a load groan for a moment, Before pulling away. Moving his cervos against the berth to support himself up. His spike still deep inside you.

He kept his optics closed for a little moment longer before opening. You stared up at him with tired optics.

His white ones almost closed as he just stared down at you. After a couple minutes, you’d both smile and both of your forhelms pressed against each others.

Dermas soon connecting with passion and love.

Optics closed as he pulled his spike out of your valve slowly. Causing the both of you to groan. His cum pouring out of you. You feel yourself become slowly empty after being so full.

He made sure to hold your legs. Moving them to be over his own as he sat straighter.

He continues to look down at you. Then clicking his spike back into his panel. His cervos then gently rubbing your hips then go to your waist.

He leaned down and gently kissed your forhelm.

You let out a soft sigh. Moving your cervos to hold his cheeks while he still leaned over you. You’d then ask. Your voice soft.

”Should we?..You know.”

He lets out a small chuckle and nodded. His forhelm stays now against yours while he continues to stare down at you with loving optics. You doing the same.

Your dermas kissing once more. Closed optics.

Both of your chests soon opening. Your sparks glowing and shinning the already bright room. You both let out soft sighs and continues your soft and gentle kissing as both of your sparks dance together.

Your cervos around his shoulders to hold him close.

Like how his cervos holding your waist is to keep you close. You would feel him flowing through you. All in…5 minutes..

When you both were finally bonded. He would slowly pull back. Both of your chests closing. You slowly opened your optics. Only to see him staring down at you with almost a frown.

He then spoke. His voice low and rough yet soft at the same time. Leaning down just a little.

”Tomorrow will be the day. But only after I am able to deal with the commanders of the Quintissons meeting.” You optics more open as you sit up and spoke.

“Wait what? Megatro-“

He stopped you with another soft kiss. His cervos holding your arms as his digit gently rubbed them. He then slowly pulling away just a few inches.

His white optics bright as he spoke.

“Once we have our victory. I shall return and announce my love and commitment to you as promised. You just have to stay with the other guards in case we need you sweetspark.”

You let out a soft sigh before looking down. His cervo then holding your chin and kissing your forhelm.

He then helped you clean yourself then helped you stand. Your legs will defiently be sore in the morning.

Giving a few more loving kisses on your shoulder and helm effort walking you out. “Until then sweetspark.” He spoke.

”Untill then.” You responded as you walked out. Waving to him as he does the same.

———————————————————————————

You stared walking away. You cant wait to start not having to leave his room at night and sneak away at times. Primus you almost feel like a tramp. As you walked and kept a look out for any sound of others.

That is until you saw them.

You noticed Soundwave and Shockwave speaking to each other at the corner almost out of view from the others.The two seemed to almost be arguing at each other.

You descided to just keep walking hoping they wont notice you pass by. But instead, you felt a cervo around your wais. You were fats to try to fight the bot grabbing you but they was faster.

Pushing you against the wall and putting a cervo over your intake.

It was Starscream. Your optics then showed annoyance as he stared down at you while others can be heard in another hallway.

You would try to remove his cervos while Starscream leaned closer. His helm close to your yours. Staying by the side. His face close to your shoulder as he stared glancing at you with side optics.

He then asked once he spoke. “Please. Tell me.”

He’d move his helm only an inch back. His red optics still staring dagger into you as you stared back at him.

“Would you have accepted my courtship and become my Conjunx…”

As he spoke his last sentence. In a question his cervos moved to gently hold your shoulder. The other still around your waist to keep you against him. His voice much deeper then usual.

“If you weren’t already courted and..Someone else’s Conjunx?” Your optics went a bit wider. His own narrowed. Seeming almost..sad.

Makes sense. He probably watched you or something.

Maybe he put it together not to mention he can probably smell the heat radiating from you. That’s why you’ve been avoiding the others.

He then moves to where his helm is in front of yours. You were about to speak but he stopped you.

”Get out of the tower. You don’t need to draw attention to yourself after bonding with someone in the guards. I’ll have a ‘talk’ with you tomorrow and with your…New partner. Understood?”

You’d slowly nod. He then letting you go and starts walking away. He is then heard yelling at a few guards.

Maybe Soundwave and Shockwave.

You’d then let out a quiet sigh and started walking away. As you left the tower you thought about his words. So he didn’t see you walk out of Megatronus private quarters not to mention going down the direction of it.

So it mustve been further.

Clsoer to when you passed the meeting rooms is when he followed you. So he thinks you’re with one of the guards? Who does he think it can be? He’s seemed really sad.

Just another thing to deal with. It being bigger now. Oh boy.

Youre not too excited about his reaction when he learns of your actual partner. Jeez, probably will be the same with Soundwave and Shockwave.

But there’s also Sentienl in the matter at hand. And just as you were thinking about him.

Just turning down a corner getting closer and closer to your home. All of a sudden Sentinel was infront of you.

Making you stop in your tracks. He would have his sly grin plastered on his dermas. Resting his cervo against the wall next to you both as he stared down at you.

You crossed your arms as you looked at him. You then spoke. Your voice annoyed and rough.

“What?”

He lets out a deep chuckle and poked at your chest teasingly. Speaking in amusement.

“Finally finished the courtship I smell. Your big brute of a Conjunx truly has no shame. Unlike another prime we know. He doesnt even want to until it’s been a while since the end of the war. If we even win.”

He said before glancing behind him. Then looking back to you and leaning down a little more. Opening up his spark chamber showing he isnt sparked just yet.

He’d then wait for you to respond. You looking at his chest before looking back at him. You’d then scoff and walk past him with your arms now down. He had a bit of a frown on his dermas and his cervo moved to grab your arm.

”You know. I’m pretty ashamed I couldn’t be the one to claim you.”

Your optics grew wide when he said this. Looking back at him. He then spoke once more. “I only hope the damn brute takes advantage with a catch like you. So.”

He leaned down. His dermas close to your audio sensors. Speaking once again.

”Because if he screws this up. I’ll be there to take my chance….Like a certain..red bot?” You shivered a little. Barely visible for him to notice.

You just looked at him and glared while he kept smiling. Letting go and standing more straight.

”See you tomorrow. Oh. And you’re so well behaved to not talk back like earlier. I like that. But I also like a bit of spunk in a soldier…Keep it up. And I might have a harder time resisting.”

He deeply chuckled and flew away. You watching as you let out a huff and turned away. What a jerk.

You’d make your way home and threw your keys on the table. Looking around. When your and Megatronus relationship is revealed.

He might ask you to go live with him after. You sat on your berth. Looking at your cervos as earliers flashbacks appear to you. The way you pressed your cervo against his arms and shoulder during your time feeling so much pleasure.

The way he held you so tightly. Groaning next to your audio sensors and even moaned your name at one point.

How you remeber your legs having a mind of their own and squeezed him tightly. The way your valve missed his spike when he pulled away.

You can’t wait to fall asleep with him next to you. His spike deep in you still in hopes to be sparking with his little one. To raise his little one alongside him.

You also think about the feelings of your bond with him. Remembering how he held you so gently while his spark danced with yours. Growing more and more connected with each other.

The way he kisses you so gently, treating you like glass and the way he presented his love to you that wasn’t interfacing.

To see him more and more without his mask and help him with his cause.

The dream he often spoke to you and the others when you started to train under him all those years ago. Your legs squeezed togther as you get excited.

Tomorrow you can stop having this secret!

You’d lay down in your berth. Your helm looking at out the window where you get a clear view of the tower. A soft smile on your dermas once more as you closed your optics.

Imagining yourself with Megatronus. Both with smiles and a little one in your arm together with his to hold the little one.

What a perfect future.

With Megatronus—

He sat at his berth. His mask off while staring at it. His arm resting against his knee. His helm low while his optics go from dim to bright.

Thinking about you. The positives…and negatives with Solus.

Flashes of his fights with her and the others over the many years before and after meeting you. He thinking have his first kiss with her when she had him believe that they’ll be together for a long time. Until he found out about the others. He ‘d let out a sigh as you appear now.

The way you smiled when you both first met.

The way your optics sparkled when he spoke of his feelings to you. Although he noticed how you looked at the others.

The trio of course. He knew he had to sta strong to not get hurt.

But seeing you never made a move and how you always put your work and protection over many others in the army first.

On the battle field or even at the tower when training. You never made a move. He remebers the feeling of when he started to grow more and more in love with you and your strength.

How the night before he pulled you away and confessed, he felt nothing but pain and sadness.

And how his spark felt so much lighter when you accepted his courtship. Even missing the nervous look that was once on your face when he confessed ton you.

He then thought about your time together.

The way you sqeezed him so tightly he thought he might break you. Though scared he might break you. He was defiently more turned on with how strong you were.

How the way you smiled so warmly to him as you both began only got him more riled up.

The way your cervos gripped him. Letting him know you wanted him to continue just as your valve did around his spike.

You are truly something to him.

His mind was already made up when he saw you train for the first time. He soon realized. He had a large grin on his dermas while looking out the window.

When was the last time he smiled like this? Must’ve been years. So use to frowning and all.

Like you he thought about his future with you. Looking out his window Pretty sure one of the windows in the long towers of apartments belonged to you.

Wondering if you were looking out as well.

He then imagines a little mix of himself and you running around. You next to him with a newborn while the other plays with toys. His mask off with a smile as he gave you a kiss and you both embraced with your little ones in both your arms.

He let out a soft chuckle.

Then moving to lay down in his berth and his lights turning off. Tomorrow before he goes on his mission. He’ll find you and promise to return. That is fact.

To him…

Slowly closing his optics with a smile. Just as you in another building. You both imagining each other in each embrace. The others in the background celebrating and the sound no where. Just the two fo you together.

In peace.

Oh man I cant wait for everyone too know about their relationship. Yeap the trio will be sad but at least reader and Megatronus will be happy together hehe.

Sentinel in jail and the war finally over after the meeting ambush. :D

I hope you guys enjoyed this very much and get ready for angst in next chapter. Hope you all enjoy this and feel free to either praise or yell at me in the comments. As always a repost is appreciated and I hope to see you guys in the next chapter and cry. Have a good whole week my simp muffins!!!

[daycourtofficial]

How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 3.2k | warnings: depictions of violence

Summary: Eris tells his sons a story, letting them know how a strong knight defeated an evil dragon and saved the kingdom.

Note: this is a part of my gingerfucker series and mentions events that are detailed in ‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind’. This is also anplay on the ‘retellings’ prompt for today - thought it’d be fun to have Eris sanitize how Beron died as a fairytale story @erisweekofficial

“Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.” - G.K. Chesterton

The sound of wood clashing rang through the room before being immediately followed by a trio of giggles. Eris stood outside the door, arms crossed debating what to do, listening as the children inside pretended to be knights defeating an evil king. Or was it a dragon they were fighting and they were Peregryn warriors? It was impossible to keep track of Atlas, Nyx, and Leif’s antics. Their interests changed so quickly, it was impossible to keep track of what was the thing to be during their playtimes.

Their games of make believe often took elements of Eris’s life and formed a hodgepodge of stories where most of the time they are brave warriors seeking to defend their lands.

The boys enjoyed it. Eris’s back didn’t whenever he was deemed the bad guy, their small swords leaving bruises that seemed to last for a week.

Early fights between the boys had led to many tears - they all wanted to be the hero, the good guy. They did not know the males their fathers had been before, the males who had done unspeakable things to survive.

Before he could make the decision himself, Leif had made it for him by appearing in the door way and holding onto Eris’s trouser leg. Eris ran his fingers through Leif’s red locks, forcing his son to look up at him.

Leif was incredibly sensitive - an empath like his mother, Leif often became overwhelmed incredibly quickly. Fat tears would begin rolling down his cheeks before anyone could realize what went wrong. Nyx and Atlas, both a few years older than Leif, often became too rambunctious for the smallest Vanserra.

But Leif’s eyes were bright and full of joy, not a hint of upset on his small face.

You and the Archerons had gone to spend the evening in a cabin a few miles away. You weren’t far from the Forest House or from Eris’s mind, but you insisted you needed a weekend before this next babe came to be yourself. Three kids under five was going to be a lot and the two of you wanted to soak up every moment possible before having a newborn again.

Unfortunately, Leif took the separation from his mother much harder than Atlas did, but seemed to be doing surprisingly well. Eris crouched down, getting down to Leif’s level to ask, “are you alright?”

The small boy nodded before a yawn escaped his mouth, betraying his real feelings.

“Are you tired?”

Leif’s nod at that question was more pitiful, as if a full nod were too taxing for the small boy. Eris opened his arms, allowing Leif to wrap his arms around Eris’s neck before he stood back up, walking into the playroom, finding it impossible to find the floor from the toys scattered across it. He got peeks at the green rug beneath, but various plushies and toy armor littered the floor hiding it.

Eris whistled, the two whirlwinds slowing down enough to take form as small boys, their swords going lax at their sides.

“Is this a playroom or a graveyard for lost toys for all of Prythian?”

The two looked to each other as they fell into a mess of giggles, the cousins looking completely unrelated. Atlas so far had inherited no features from his mother, the little boy pale and freckly much like his father, his cheeks often pink from how hot he ran.

Nyx on the other hand was quite tan, a byproduct of the time he spent in the sun this summer. His small wings fluttered in excitement, not quite strong enough to launch him from the ground but enough to produce a decent wind.

Eris had gotten all three of them washed up an hour ago, allowing them to work out the last of their energy in the playroom where he knew they wouldn’t get dirty again. He figured Lucien had crept off to his own rooms to change, his clothes dripping with water after Atlas snuck his hound, Pumpkin, into their bath and Lucien had to chase down the wet beast.

Eris was so amused at the sight he didn’t tell his brother he could simply call for the dog, instead letting him slip and slide across the floors in an attempt to get to him.

The boys stood in their pajamas, all looking up at Eris. He moved his head toward the door, motioning for Atlas and Nyx to follow him.

“Come on. Time for bed.”

The two small boys groaned, but Leif merely nuzzled into Eris’s neck as he carried him into the room down the hall.

Despite the size of the Forest House, Atlas and Leif did much better when sharing a room. The two had been kept separate when Leif was born, until Leif was around eight months old and Atlas woke up just about every night and dragged Leif into his bedroom.

Most mornings Eris found Leif in Pumpkin’s dog bed in the corner of Atlas’s room, curled up with his older brother, Pumpkin sleeping peacefully on his son’s bed.

The first morning it happened caused Eris to spiral. Finding Leif’s crib empty sent him on a hunt throughout the house, waking up everybody in the process until he went to check on Atlas, finding the small babe in his brother’s arms.

It has been several years and the boys fight on occasion, but overall are quite happy to share a room. For tonight they get to have Nyx share their room too.

To prepare for their cousin, the boys grabbed their mattresses, pushing them together on the floor and putting pillows and blankets all over the floor so all three of them could lay together.

Nyx’s wings were still quite small - not big enough to support his weight, they barely stuck out around his shoulders. The sight of Nyx’s wings still sent a twinge of guilt through Eris.

It had been centuries since your wings were taken from you, but Eris still remembers the venom he had spat at you right before you lost them and how incredibly small you looked when Tamlin had showed up with you, your back a bloody mess.

You had made peace with it long ago, but every so often whenever he finds himself with an Illyrian nearby, he wishes you could have those wings back, even if for just a moment. To watch you glide in the air, the winds of Autumn that had pushed him so far holding you up.

Eris lit the candles in the room, dusk casting the room in darkness. Leif’s fingers gripped his collar tighter as he crouched down, failing to put him on the floor.

“Can you tell us a story?”

Atlas perked up at Leif’s sleepy voice, practically vibrating in excitement. “The one with the dragon, please daddy?”

Atlas clutched his hands together in pleading, bouncing up as Eris agreed. He knew what Leif’s question was for - the small boy didn’t want to be set down yet, too content in his father’s arms to be left alone. If only Beron were alive to watch him cave to the demands of toddlers - his heart would stop beating in anger.

Eris stood back up, all attempts of removing Leif forgotten as he moved to the rocking chair in the corner, sitting with Leif curled up to his chest just like he had done hundreds of times before. Atlas and Nyx followed, sitting right in front of Eris on the mattresses that lay across the floor. He rocked for a moment - both to gather his bearings, deciding where to start the story, and because the anticipation killed the little boys before him.

“A long, long time ago, there once lived a knight.”

“What’s his name?”

Atlas was quick to shush his cousin, annoyed at his interruption no matter how many times he had heard the story. Leif began tapping on Eris’s chest, wanting him to keep talking, the sound of his voice soothing.

“We’ll just call him the knight. The knight lived a long time ago in a kingdom that doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Why not?”

Eris had no idea where Nyx’s inquisitive nature came from - his father certainly didn’t look too hard at the world outside of his dim perspective. The boy probably spent too much time with Azriel - anytime the spymaster was seen by either of his kids, they both ran rampant with questions of “why” and “how”, partly because Azriel would answer every single one of their questions, and because in their presence, he would also ask why and how and who questions.

“You’ll find out.”

Nyx opened his mouth, but Atlas moved his hand over his cousin’s mouth. “Stop.”

Eris continued with his story. “The knight lived in a land ruled by an evil dragon. He breathed fire at anyone who dared try to overthrow him.”

Nyx’s eyes grew large, excitement filling them as Eris pretended to breathe out fire.

“He was a big, nasty beast. His fangs are the size of a door. He had big red scales that covered his entire body, shielding him.”

Maybe he began embellishing these stories a bit.

“The handsome knight-”

“When’d he become handsome?”

Atlas slapped his hand onto his forehead in aggravation and Eris had to bite his tongue from laughing. The little boy hardly ever stopped talking and to watch his frustrations at his cousin doing the same was very amusing.

“He was always handsome.”

Eris had slowly been telling Atlas and Leif stories of his life in a much more palatable manner. Replacing their grandfather with a dragon, making Amarantha a dragon, making Rhys an evil king who hated him. He’d never admit it to anyone, but it was quite fun.

In one story he made Lucien a donkey just because it amused him. Lucien had been less than thrilled at his fictional depictions, even going so far as to try to tell his own stories to the boys. They didn’t like Lucien’s storytelling, so much so they begged him not to tell any stories.

“The incredibly good looking knight decided he needed to make a plan to kill the dragon,” giggles accompanied his words. “The knight had one issue: he was in love with a princess from a different kingdom.”

Leif gasped as if this were a new story to him - he enjoyed all aspects of Eris’s stories, but Leif was always happiest to hear about the princess. Whether or not Leif knew the princess was his mother, Eris wasn’t sure.

“And her king wouldn’t let her live in the kingdom of the dragon.”

“Why not?”

“Because dragons love the taste of princesses!” Nyx shrieked a little, and for good measure he added, “and the taste of little boys.”

Eris enjoyed riling his brothers up when they were young - one of the traits the centuries haven’t worn down. Once they both stopped screaming, Eris continued his story.

“So, the knight began planning with the other knights of the kingdom. They spent months making a plan to get rid of the dragon. He was killing their crops, even eating some of the people, and hoarding all of the kingdom’s gold. No one had any money or food. They devised a plan and set a date to take down the dragon. On the night before, the knight slipped away to see his princess one last time, to catch a glimpse of her before going to battle.

“She was as beautiful as he remembered, their last meeting was months ago and he thought of it often. Her king didn’t approve of their relationship, but they met secretly without him knowing. She invited him up into her chambers, where he told her the plans for the next day. He wanted to say goodbye, wanted to see her one last time. He gave her a kiss farewell-” giggles filled the room. “And then the knight left once more. It was the hardest thing for him to do.”

“What was?”

“Saying goodbye to his princess.”

The boys were enraptured in the story, paying close attention to every word from Eris.

“Why?”

Atlas didn’t admonish Nyx for his question, wanting to know the answer himself.

“Because he loved her very much.”

He rubbed Leif’s back softly, rocking the chair gently as he continued.

“The knight left the princess’s tower, heading to find a secret weapon.” Nyx’s wings fluttered, the wind brushing over Eris and Leif. “He walked through the kingdom to find a special, magical sword. It had been hidden centuries before, waiting for the rightful person to come find it.”

Atlas pretended to wave a sword in his hand, making sounds that somewhat resembles clashing as he and Nyx pretended to be fighting with swords.

“The knight rode in on his horse, meeting the other knights as they rode in and fought the dragon head on.”

“Did the horses fight?”

“No, they stayed far away as the knights used their swords to pierce and stab the dragon over and over again, but he remained unharmed.”

Atlas and Nyx began acting out the story, Atlas grabbing a pillow and pretending it was the dragon.

“The dragon paid special attention to our knight, his teeth sharp as he kept scratching and biting the knight. He was injured, but he kept fighting on with his magical sword. The dragon hit him with his tail, causing the sword to go flying through the air.”

Eris’s voice rose and fell with the story, his words glossing over the atrocities of the day. He could not figure out a nice way to add in how their mother poisoned at minimum twenty-five of Beron’s closest advisors.

Their mouths were wide open now, desperate to know how the tale ends, Nyx allowing his inquisitive nature to take a backseat to Eris’s storytelling.

“The knight thought it would be over as the dragon snarled at him, opening his mouth so the knight could see his big, nasty teeth. He could even see some of the spinach he had eaten for dinner.”

The boys erupted in giggles, softs echoes of “ewwwww” littered the room.

“The knight had accepted his fate. He knew it was over, and all he could think about was how grateful he was he got to see his princess one last time. He had closed his eyes, preparing to die, but the dragon stopped breathing his nasty breath in the knight’s face.

“The dragon had turned, only to find one of the other knights, Sir Flint, had come from behind. He had picked up the magical sword and slashed the dragon’s neck!”

Tiny gasps came from his audience, but he continued to his favorite part of the story.

“Blood poured out of the dragon as he fell, his big body making a big thunk as he fell. Some say it even caused an earthquake because he was so heavy.”

Eris couldn’t tell them about the extent of Flint’s sacrifice - not yet anyway. But he would make sure they knew his name, even if he were merely a fairytale hero.

“Once the dragon was slain, the knight removed his armor to show that he was secretly a prince the whole time!”

The boys screeched in excitement, jumping up and searching for their swords to start fighting again, disappointed to remember they were left in the playroom. Once they settled back down, Eris continued.

“The other knights gave the prince a crown, making him king of the kingdom. His first act was to go find his princess and bring her to his kingdom, making her the queen.

“The end. Now, I think it’s time for bed.”

The boys groaned in protest, but complied. Grabbing their blankets and settling onto the beds all over the floor. Atlas and Nyx nestled in, hiding themselves amongst the blankets and pillows. Eris stood, Leif’s body having grown heavy with sleep, his steps careful to navigate the various pillows, trying to find a spot for his son.

Leif groaned at the stirring, but Eris was quick to hum softly, soothing something in Leif.

“What happened to the prince?” Nyx’s wings fluttered with anticipation, the blankets moving with his joy, wanting to know what happened to such a brave male.

Eris leaned in conspiratorially, the boys leaning into him as if he were going to tell them a secret.

“His kingdom is long gone, but he’s still alive. He wanders the lands of Prythian. He was last seen in Winter a few years ago. They say he hunts for little boys who stay up past their bedtimes.”

Their small shrieks made Eris want to laugh, but he kept a straight face despite himself. He looked to Leif, his youngest son much more susceptible to these tall tales, only to find him asleep once more. His eyes were closed, his round cheeks pressed into his chest making the freckles on his face scrunch together.

Atlas and Nyx had quickly thrown the blankets over themselves, their voices quiet telling the other to stop talking. He was able to find a spot for Leif next to Atlas, gently moving his head to a new pillow, draping a blanket over him.

“Good night.”

They echoed his sentiment, their voices muffled through the fabric of their blankets. Eris shut the door behind himself, listening to the two cousins bicker back and forth, their voices getting quieter as the dark lulled them to sleep. He started walking down the hallway, only to find Lucien walking his way. His brother changed his stride to walk with Eris, following him through the halls.

Eris and Lucien had agreed to keep the kids for the first night you were gone, and Rhysand would pick them up in the morning and keep them all day and night. His brother in law had been incredibly confident he could handle the three boys on his own, perhaps from some well-placed snark from Eris at how his one child was much different from two, let alone a third.

Eris didn’t have to manipulate people anymore, he could live as he wished to, showing whatever image of himself he wanted. But he’d be damned if he ever stopped tricking the High Lord of the Night Court for his own amusement.

“I was thinking about tomorrow.”

Eris hummed as Lucien spoke, the two moving toward Eris’s sitting room, both in desperate need of alcohol and to not have someone clinging to them.

“I heard from Nesta that Rhys was so smug he could handle the three boys by himself that Azriel and Cassian are going to some sporting event.”

“Hm, wonder where he’d get such ridiculous notions of himself, as if he had something to prove.”

Lucien’s laugh was barking, but he continued. “I think we should give the kids a bunch of sugar before they go to Night. It’ll drive Rhysand up a wall. He may never want to see your kids again, though.”

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Thanks for reading❣️

[misswynters]

Off Screen Story

Ewan Mitchell x fem!reader

[a/n: feeding my own agenda lol

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

The sun set on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the set of House of the Dragon. Filming had wrapped up for the day, and the cast and crew were beginning to disperse. Ewan Mitchell, who played the brooding and intense Aemond Targaryen, walked off the set with a sense of satisfaction. He was eager to catch up with his co-star and longtime girlfriend, who played his on-screen wife, Lady ___ Velaryon.

"Hey," Ewan called out as he spotted you by the catering table, pouring yourself a cup of tea. You turned, a bright smile lighting up your face as you saw him.

"Hey yourself," you replied, setting the teapot down. "How was your day?"

Ewan shrugged, a playful grin on his lips. "Same old. Aemond broods, Aemond schemes, Aemond rides a dragon. You know the drill."

You laughed, the sound like music to his ears. "Well, you do it so well. I think you were born to play this role."

"And you were born to play Lady Velaryon," he retorted, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around your waist. "I mean, who else could pull off being both fierce and elegant?"

You leaned into his embrace, feeling the familiar warmth and comfort that only Ewan could provide. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mitchell."

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I aim to please."

The two of you found a quiet corner on set, away from the bustling crew, and sat down on a pair of folding chairs. You sipped your tea while Ewan stretched out his long legs, looking relaxed and content.

"Do you remember our first scene together on The Last Kingdom with Phia and all them?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ewan's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Of course. How could I forget? You nearly knocked me out with that wooden sword."

You blushed at the memory. "Hey, that was an accident! I was just really into the character."

"And I was really into dodging your swings," he teased, earning a playful swat on the arm from you.

"But seriously," you continued, your tone softening, "I think that's when I knew I liked you. You didn't get mad or frustrated. You just laughed it off and helped me get it right."

Ewan's expression turned tender, his gaze locking with yours. "Well, I think I knew I liked you from the moment I saw you. You were so passionate, so dedicated. It was hard not to be drawn to you."

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for the man beside you. "We've come a long way since then, haven't we?" He nodded, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. "Yeah, we have. And now here we are, playing husband and wife. Life has a funny way of working out."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The sky turned a deep shade of purple, stars beginning to twinkle overhead. It was moments like these that reminded you how lucky you were to have found each other, both on and off-screen.

"I was thinking," Ewan said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Maybe we should do something special this weekend. Just the two of us."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What do you have in mind?"

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "How about a little getaway? We could rent a cabin in the countryside, away from all the chaos. Just relax, enjoy each other's company."

The idea sounded perfect, and you felt a surge of excitement at the thought. "That sounds amazing, Ewan. I could definitely use a break."

"Great," he said, leaning in to kiss you softly. "I'll make the arrangements. We'll leave Friday evening."

You kissed him back, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you. "I can't wait."

Friday evening arrived faster than expected. Ewan had managed to keep the details of the trip a secret, only telling you to pack for a weekend away. You trusted him completely, knowing that whatever he had planned would be perfect.

As you drove through the countryside, the city fading into the distance, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Ewan had chosen a scenic route, the landscape dotted with rolling hills and quaint villages. The cabin he had rented was nestled in a secluded spot, surrounded by lush trees and a sparkling lake.

"This is beautiful," you breathed as you stepped out of the car, taking in the serene surroundings.

Ewan grinned, looking pleased with himself. "I thought you might like it."

The cabin was cozy and charming, with a rustic yet modern feel. Ewan carried your bags inside, setting them down in the master bedroom. You followed, taking in the warm, inviting decor.

"Thank you for this," you said, wrapping your arms around him from behind. "It's exactly what I needed."

He turned in your embrace, his arms encircling your waist. "Anything for you."

The two of you spent the evening relaxing by the fireplace, talking and laughing as you reminisced about your time on The Last Kingdom and the early days of your relationship. It was easy to forget about the pressures of filming and the outside world when you were with Ewan. He had a way of making you feel cherished and loved, no matter what.

As the night wore on, you found yourself curled up in his arms, feeling utterly content. The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the room. You tilted your head up to look at him, your heart swelling with love.

"Do you ever think about the future?" you asked softly.

Ewan's expression grew thoughtful as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. "All the time. Especially when it comes to us."

You smiled, feeling a sense of warmth spread through you. "What do you see?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "I see us, happy and together. I see more getaways but always with each other. I see a life filled with love and laughter."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his words, feeling a profound sense of connection and understanding. "I see the same thing. I can't imagine my life without you." He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

The weekend passed in a blissful blur of lazy mornings, long walks, and intimate moments. You felt closer to Ewan than ever before, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing day. It was a reminder of why you had fallen in love with him in the first place, and why you knew you would always choose him, time and time again.

As you drove back to the city on Sunday evening, you felt a sense of calm and contentment settle over you. The weekend had been exactly what you needed, a chance to reconnect and recharge. You knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, as a team.

Ewan reached over and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for this weekend. It was perfect."

You squeezed his hand back, smiling at him. "No, thank you. For everything."

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I love you."

"I love you too," you replied, feeling the truth of those words resonate deep within you.

A few days later, you and Ewan were scheduled for a joint interview to promote House of the Dragon. The two of you arrived at the studio, hands intertwined, your chemistry palpable. The interviewer, a seasoned journalist named Claire, greeted you warmly.

"Welcome, Ewan, and ___. It's great to have you here," Claire said, smiling brightly as she motioned for you to sit down.

"Thank you for having us," you replied, settling into the plush chair beside Ewan. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

The cameras rolled, and Claire began with the usual questions about the show, your characters, and the experience of working on such a high-profile project. You and Ewan answered with ease, your natural camaraderie shining through.

"There's been a lot of buzz about the chemistry between your characters on the show," Claire noted, leaning forward. "Do you think that has anything to do with your real-life relationship?"

You exchanged a quick glance with Ewan, both of you smiling. "I think it definitely helps," Ewan said, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "We have a deep connection off-screen, and that translates into our performances."

You nodded in agreement. "It's easier to convey those intense emotions when you genuinely care about the person you're acting with. Plus, we trust each other completely, which makes taking risks in our scenes a lot easier."

Claire's eyes twinkled with interest. "Can you share any fun or memorable moments from the set?"

You laughed, recalling a particular incident. "Well, there was this one time during a battle scene where Ewan got so into character that he accidentally knocked over a prop tree. It was hilarious because he just stood there, looking so apologetic while everyone else was trying to stay in character."

Ewan chuckled, shaking his head. "I swear, that tree came out of nowhere."

The interview continued, with Claire asking more personal questions about your relationship. "How do you balance your professional and personal lives, especially when working together on such demanding projects?"

"It's all about communication and support," you explained. "We make sure to set aside time for ourselves, away from the set, to just relax and be a normal couple. And we always have each other's backs, no matter what."

Ewan nodded, his hand finding yours once more. "Exactly. It's not always easy, but it's worth it. We're each other's biggest fans and strongest support system."

Claire smiled, clearly charmed by your dynamic. "It's wonderful to see such a strong bond between you two. Lastly, what can fans expect from your characters in the upcoming episodes?"

You shared a knowing look with Ewan before answering. "Without giving too much away, I can say that there are some intense and emotional scenes coming up. Our characters face a lot of challenges, but they also have moments of deep connection and understanding. It's going to be a rollercoaster ride."

Ewan nodded in agreement. "Definitely. There are some twists and turns that will surprise everyone. It's been an incredible journey, and we're excited for fans to see what's next."

As the interview wrapped up, Claire thanked you both for your time. "It's been a pleasure talking with you. Your chemistry is truly off the charts, both on and off-screen."

"Thank you," you said, feeling a warm flush of happiness. "It's been great chatting with you too."

Ewan leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "We'll see you at the premiere," he added with a grin.

As you left the studio hand in hand, you felt a sense of fulfillment. The interview had gone perfectly, showcasing not only your professional work but also the deep bond you shared. With Ewan by your side, both in your career and your personal life, you knew you could face anything that came your way.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood

[strawberrygummiess]

easy.

idia shroud x gender neutral!reader 2.4k words cross posted on ao3 "Now, you sat on the sidelines, watching the team endlessly run the routine over again, clutching your cat/space heater to your chest to fight off frostbite. You severely regretted not talking to Idia more while you shopped for souvenirs and snacked on various apple products. At least you could admire him from afar."

You worked very hard for your relationship with Idia. Slowly but surely getting closer to him by sneakily probing Ortho and Azul out of any information they would give you (of course, in Azul’s case, not without a price). And it had all culminated in a budding friendship where he could barely stand to look you in the eye during a conversation, but he at least was happy to play Blockcraft with youoccasionally.

Baby steps, you supposed.

You knew Idia loved Sled Over Heels before he mentioned it to the group so while you knew his interest was piqued by Epel’s pitch to Sebek, you were pleasantly surprised to see him so excited to see him voluntell (or maybe volundemand was more appropriate) to join Epel on his homecoming trip. It was a win-win for you, seeing a brand-new city and hanging out with your crush at arguably the most romantic time of the year.

It was too bad fate was determined to make your trip to Harveston the most un-romantic, miserable weekend ever. You were here with Epel and his sledding team, freezing your butt off in Harveston. Back in your world, the cold hadn’t bothered you too badly, but the chill in Harveston was unlike anything you had experienced before. Even with the thick coat on, the bite of the winter wind still gave you full-bodied shivers. You had never been so grateful for Grim’s higher-than-average body temperature, gripping him tightly to your chest whenever he misbehaved, or you were just too cold to deal with the outside air. Which, to his dismay, was frequent.

On top of the cold, the competition took up much more of Idia’s free time than you anticipated. You weren’t a stranger to the boys’ competitive streak, having seen them all display it throughout your time at Night Raven College but, the introduction of the Royal Sword Academy’s participation in the competition kicked the team into high gear.

Now, you sat on the sidelines, watching the team endlessly run the routine over again, clutching your cat/space heater to your chest to fight off frostbite. You severely regretted not talking to Idia more while you shopped for souvenirs and snacked on various apple products.

At least you could admire Idia from afar. You really liked his new braid.

When Epel frantically gathered the team after practice, Grim struggled in your hold. Keeping him still for this long was challenging, and he was getting tired of being cooped up in your arms.

“Let me go, henchman!” Grim grumbled, still squirming. “I’m starving!”

“Just wait- I’ll put you down when we start walking towards town, okay? Besides, you’re warm,”

Grim wiggles again, before finally breaking free. He gives you a smug look before prancing ahead of everyone, and then taking off into a full sprint towards town, yelling about smelling something tasty! Sebek and Jade begin to chase after him. You watch as the scene quickly descends into chaos.

“Ugh! What a mess. Maybe you should keep that thing on a leash,” In his frustration, you hear Epel’s twang, words strongly laced with Southern animosity. You grimace in embarrassment, quickly apologizing for Grim’s behavior. You glance at Idia, who’s staring off in the direction they ran in, completely indifferent to you standing next to him.

Great, you’ve annoyed him into silence.

You’re sulking the entire way back to town, watching Idia from behind while Epel yaps about the competition and the “Welcome Feast,” You’re too busy trying to figure out ways to salvage your “romantic” getaway to listen.

You needed to find time to corner him into a conversation. Of course, you needed to be careful that you weren’t too enthusiastic, or else you would scare him. But you can’t be nonchalant in case you bore him. And you had to be topical, but not too on the nose about the conversation, so mentioning Sled Over Heels seems safe enough-

You run into Idia’s back. You squeak out an apology, moving around him.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,”

“Duh,” He grins, and you feel your body relax (you didn’t even realize you tensed in anticipation… this crush of yours was just terrible) after seeing he wasn’t annoyed. “Off in sla-la land, huh?”

“…Sla-la land?”

“Um, yeah, like, sledding,”

It was neither clever nor funny. It was entirely endearing to you, though.

You go to respond, but you see Grim sneak past your peripheral, and you know scolding him is more important than trying to salvage the conversation with Idia.

-

Once you’ve finally settled on a team name (you can’t help but sulk a bit that no one thought “Granny Felmier” was clever; a product of being from different universes), you join the rest of the town at the Welcome Feast.

It’s lively and warm, and you enjoy stuffing your face with different foods after freezing in the cold. Grim, for once, is behaving himself, giving you time to finally relax without keeping a watchful eye. Luckily, this allows you to think about your approach to Idia. You've noticed he settled into an opposite corner, shrunk down as small as possible. Social settings were antithetical to Idia’s entire demeanor, and it was obvious to anyone who looked in his direction that he was incredibly uncomfortable with the size of the party. You thought about approaching him, the conversation topics from before floating through your mind. Hopefully, he wouldn’t shut down before you even opened your mouth. He emanated an “don’t approach, don’t converse,” aura, brooding in the corner of the room. Maybe you could ask about practice or pretend to devise a strategy for them to use in the real race.

“Hey, Prefect,” Epel taps you on the shoulder. “Do you mind taking a bowl of fruktsoppa Idia? I don’t think he’s moved from that spot since we got here, and besides, I think he likes you best,”

You’ve never been so grateful for Epel in your life.

You grab the bowl and practically prance to Idia, head full from the compliment. He looks up at you, relief flooding his features once he realizes it’s you. Or when he realizes you brought him food. Either way, he looks happy. And pretty. So, so pretty.

“Hey, uh, I brought you some soup,” you say, suddenly feeling awkward. All the confidence you had while approaching him is out the window. “It’s fruit soup. I don’t know how to pronounce it like Epel did.”

“Is it… cold?”

“Soup typically isn’t cold to begin with,” You sit next to him, careful not to spill the bowl on you or him. You set it on the table and begin to shake your hands. “It was burning my fingers actually,”

Despite your warning, he takes a spoonful of fruktsoppa and gulps it down quickly.

“LOL,” you always loved how he pronounced the text-speech. “This is barely lukewarm. But it‘s good, thanks,”

You quickly say something before he gets too comfortable eating in silence.

“So, um,” You try to remember any of the topics you were supposed to talk to him about.

“How are… sports?”

Your question shocks a laugh out of him. He sputters out his soup as he devolves into a series of giggles.

“How are sports? What are you, a stereotypical sitcom nerd? Cri-i-i-inge!”

“Pot meet kettle! You’re only competing because of your favorite anime,”

“Sled Over Heels is a valid reason to compete. It’s the best sports anime to exist! Totally not cringe,”

You shake your head and giggle. It’s very cringey, but you’re charmed by it. You watch him take another bite of the soup, propping your head up in your hand as you stare at him. His coat is perfectly oversized, a welcome change from his usual hoodie. Plus, his hat and new hairdo do wonders for his face; something you barely see. While you poked fun at him for joining the group for an anime, you were happy he was here. You benefitted from it more than he ever knew.

“…I feel like the protagonist of a bizarro weirdo shoujo anime right now.”

“What?” You can’t control your voice. If you weren’t so focused on the surge of embarrassment coursing through your body, you’d notice the boys laughing at your outburst. Instead, you were focused on trying not to look guilty. You were probably failing.

“Look at you! You’re drooling all over the table, like some incel shut-in after he maxed out his love-bar in his otome.” His grin is splitting his face right now.

You cannot believe you're getting bullied by him right now. You cannot believe he’s right.

You can’t think of a clever retort, and you can’t even imagine denying the fact. You just try to avoid his eyes while hoping you’ll get cold enough to get rid of your flush. You’ve been intolerant of the cold the entire trip, but you start to think that if you ran outside without a coat, your body would be so hot that the snow would melt under your feet as you walked. You wonder if you’ve been this obvious the entire time and he was just being polite.

“Lawl, nothing to say because you were caught right? You’ve always been a weirdo,”

Idia starts giggling again, trying to keep his hair out of sight. If you catch the pink in his hair, you’ll find some ammo against him. Right now, he’s relishing someone being more pathetic than him.

It’s okay, he’s charmed by it.

“I guess it takes one to know one,” You mumble, utterly defeated. You chose to ignore his retort; and stand, claiming Grim has been quiet for too long.

At first, Idia thinks nothing of it. It was weird for you to stare at him. Him. But then, his mind began to race.Was there something on his face? Was he just that weird-looking? Were you only hanging out with him out of sympathy? He knew you were out of his league, but he always thought you were into it- at least a little bit. Idia glanced at you, watching you sit with Grim, petting his head absentmindedly while he devoured slice after slice of smörgåstårta. He’d rather not confront what it meant for you to leave so abruptly. Maybe he was wrong about your feelings to begin with. Idia sighs and puts his head in his hands. He would be the person to mess everything up.

-

After embarrassing yourself with Idia the night before, you tried to find solace in the rest of the team. The boys, however, were happy to humble you further.  To be (playfully) bullied by your crush was one thing, but to be the butt of Sebek’s “you’re obsessed” jokes felt extra humiliating (although, you had to extend your thanks to Epel once more, for calling the kettle black). After everything, you wanted the race to come to an uninteresting finish. You weren’t necessarily advocating for them to lose, but you were hoping there would be no more opportunities to be humiliated. However, it seemed they had other plans and showed determination in a way you had never seen before.

Team sports were usually a disaster for Night Raven College students, but now you were convinced they had a genuine chance of winning first place.

Once the team reached the pitstop, you couldn’t help but be excited by their performance. Despite a tear in Sebek’s plushie, they were making exceptional time. You joined Granny Marja in congratulating them; passing out their snacks while she reinforced the stitching on Sebek’s plushie.

A twinge of embarrassment pangs through your stomach as you hand Idia his sandwich, your hands accidentally brushing. You couldn’t even feel his hands through the thick gloves you both were wearing, but it still felt strangely intimate.

“You guys are doing great. I expect you to win, okay?”

“Yeah… thanks,”

You both stand awkwardly for a second.

Your mind is racing, and your heart is beating wildly. The rest of the team is preparing their sleds for the second leg of the competition, but Idia is still standing in front of you, tightly gripping his sandwich like he’s waiting for you to say something. Or like he’s psyching himself to say something to you.

A rogue thought flies through your brain. You should kiss him. No, you probably shouldn’t. You couldn’t. He would be so flustered he’d lose the competition. It was tempting, but you couldn’t.

“Idia!? Are you ready to go?” Epel calls. “We can’t let those RSA punks beat us!”

Idia glances at them and begins to shuffle his feet. He keeps hoping you’ll make the final push. He knows he won’t.

He makes it to his sled and takes one last look at you. You’re still staring at him, air puffing from your lips. Snow speckles your hair, and he swears your eyes are sparkling. You look like a typical shoujo love interest, right before they do something drastic; like confessing their love for the MC before kissing them dramatically.

So, he really should’ve seen this coming.

You bound towards him, and before he can scream at you, you grab his collar and pull him down to your height, pressing your lips to his cheek. It feels like you're kissing him forever, but as soon as he gets used to the feeling, you’re releasing him. He can faintly hear cheering (and polite claps from Jade) but it's like everyone else around him is muffled. You’re telling him something, but he can’t hear you, his ears are ringing too loud. He feels his face burning hotter than his hair, and if he thought the pink tips from yesterday were embarrassing, the hot pink color must be mortifying. He just turns and faces forward, readying his plushie for Epel’s command.

“Go Idia! You have to win this thing!”

Your cheers of encouragement ring out into the air as the team takes off from the pit stop, snow flying wildly in the air as they speed off. You’re waving them off until they disappear from your sight. Your grin is massive as you help Granny Marja pack up the rest of the equipment, ready to meet your team at the finish line. Based on how they took off; you’re hoping your good luck kiss propels them to finish first.

--

“Your kiss was a total party-wide stat debuff; there was no way for us to recover in enough turns to win!”

“Oh, for the love of- shut up!”

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

hihi, for the spotify wrapped thingy, can you do 76 for Sirius and Remus please?? Or if it's one number for each, 67 for Remus then ! thankss

Labour- Sirius x Hufflepuff!Malfoy!Reader x Remus

Summary: Readers boyfriends help her with the burden of being Lucious’ younger adopted sister

(I just made it Sirius and Remus in one. Hope that’s fine)

A flurry of pastel fabrics flashed past Remus and Sirius as they stood outside of the hufflepuff dorms, waiting to take you on a late night adventure. Neither boy expected to be met with their girlfriend crying as she ran down the halls.

Both boys looked at you and then back at each other as they chased after you.

“Wait, love, come back!” Sirius whisper shouted, as the two tall boys easily caught up to you.

Lightly grabbing your arm, they pulled you into an empty classroom.

“What happened, sweet girl?” Remus asked, lightly stroking your tears away, as Sirius lifted you to sit on one of the desks.

You sniffle a few times before wiping your nose with your sleeve and beginning to explain what had happened.

“Nothing is ever good enough for them. Making prefect wasn’t good enough because I’m still just a hufflepuff. Getting into the quidditch team isn’t good enough because I’m still not better then Lucious. And now the only woman who I can call a mother is forcing me to come home for the weekend to help with a dinner party,” you explain as you pull out the letter to read, “‘ you are to be rarely seen and never heard at the party, and are to quietly serve food. Make sure not to eat much, as I see we’ve needed to buy you a bigger size uniform this year. From Mother.”

“That bitch,” Sirius snarls.

“Sirius!”

“No, he’s right love, she sounds like a bitch,” Remus defends.

The realisation that your boyfriends love you more then your own family sinks in, and you begin to cry again, though this time the tears are more bitter sweet then just bitter.

“Wh-why am I such a burden to them? I once asked mother why she kept me if I’m such a disappointment and she told me ‘if you weren’t connected to our name we would put you with the elves’. I just don’t understand it!” You shakily cry out.

Both of your boyfriends hold you as they look to each other.

“Stay at my home with Sirius and I,” Remus lovingly whispered into your hair.

“I-I can’t do that…” you reply, both shock and regret present in your tone.

“You can and you will. I’ve left my shitty family too so I’ve got practise in the whole thing. James, Peter, Rem and I will come with you on Saturday to pick up your things and we’ll be there for you,” Sirius told you, holding you gently by the shoulders so you’d look into his genuine eyes.

“Trust us, Dove, you are loved by so many of us, and my mother pretty much treats you as her daughter anyway,” Remus comforts as he holds your wet cheek in his palm lovingly.

“Let us be your knights in shining armour, saving our princess from the horrible beasts,” Sirius convinced you dramatically as he holds you tight with a fake sword extended, making your bright smile shine out.

[roseistifosi]

A Night in Monaco (part one) AS 12

-------------------------------------

Words: 1.4K A/N: This is the first fic I ever wrote so please be nice loll, BTW

TW: Pregnacy ?

Monte Carlo, Monaco, 1993

The opulence of Monte Carlo sparkles under the starlit sky, an endless expanse of luxury and extravagance that feels almost otherworldly. You, a young bartender working in one of Monaco’s most exclusive venues, navigate the bustling bar with practiced grace. The clinking of glasses, the murmur of animated conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter create a vibrant tapestry of sounds that is both exhilarating and exhausting.

It's the weekend of the 1993 Monaco Grand Prix, a time when the city’s usual glamour is amplified tenfold. The streets are packed with racing enthusiasts, celebrities, and high-profile guests. Your bar is no exception, brimming with a mix of excited patrons eager to celebrate the high-octane event.

With your striking (your hair color) hair and penetrating (your eyes color) eyes, you move fluidly among the patrons, your uniform crisp and your demeanor friendly yet professional. Your days in Monte Carlo have been a whirlwind of bright lights and fast-paced social interactions, a sharp contrast to the quiet life you left behind in Solna. The energy of the city is a double-edged sword—thrilling yet overwhelming.

On this particular evening, as the bar’s atmosphere buzzes with excitement, a man walks in who immediately captures everyone's attention. Ayrton Senna, the Brazilian Formula 1 racing icon, enters with an aura of intense charisma and unparalleled skill. His dark suit and the confidence he exudes seem to amplify the allure of the Monaco night.

You notice him as he approaches the bar. The usual commotion seems to fade into the background as he steps into your space, his presence commanding attention. His dark, contemplative eyes meet yours with a warmth that contrasts sharply with the cool demeanor of his public persona.

“Champagne, please,” Ayrton says, his voice carrying a soft, melodic accent.

Your hand moves instinctively to retrieve a bottle of champagne, your mind momentarily distracted by the celebrity in front of you. “Of course. It’s quite the night for champagne,” you reply with a smile.

As you pour the drink, your conversation starts with small talk—questions about the race, the city, and each other’s lives. Ayrton’s charm is evident, but it’s his genuine curiosity and thoughtful responses that draw you in. He speaks with an intensity that makes you feel as though you’re alone, despite the busy surroundings.

Hours pass, and the bar begins to empty. The crowd thins, leaving behind a quieter atmosphere that feels more intimate. Ayrton, noticing the change, suggests you take a walk outside. You hesitate for a moment, then agree, feeling a mix of intrigue and anticipation.

The streets of Monte Carlo at night are a far cry from the daytime frenzy. The city breathes softly under the moonlight, and the calmness of the night provides a stark contrast to the earlier excitement. Ayrton and you walk through the serene avenues, your conversation flowing with an ease that comes from genuine connection.

You end up at the Hôtel de Paris Monte-Carlo, an establishment as renowned for its elegance as for its exclusivity. Ayrton leads you to his suite, and the opulence of the surroundings only enhances the sense of intimacy between you. The night unfolds with a blend of passion and tenderness, your connection deepening with each shared moment.

As dawn begins to break, the reality of the situation settles in. You wake alone, the suite’s luxurious furnishings starkly contrasting with the emptiness you feel. The bed beside you is neatly made, and the silence of the room is punctuated only by the soft rustle of paper.

On the pillow next to you lies an envelope, meticulously placed. With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, you pick it up and carefully open it. Inside is a letter, written in Ayrton’s elegant script.

“Dear Y/N,

Thank you for a memorable evening. I regret that I had to leave before you awoke; my schedule demands I return to my responsibilities. I hope the night was as meaningful for you as it was for me. Enclosed is a small token to ensure you are well taken care of.

With warm regards,

Ayrton S.”

Along with the letter is a sum of money, not as compensation but as a gesture of respect and care. Your emotions are a tangled mix of gratitude, confusion, and a sense of loss. The night was both exhilarating and ephemeral, a fleeting connection that has left a lasting impact.

You read the letter several times, each reading stirring a new wave of emotions. The words, though simple, carry a depth of sentiment that makes the experience all the more poignant. Ayrton’s departure, while expected, leaves a void filled with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia.

You carefully tuck the letter away, deciding to keep it as a memento of a night that has transformed your life in ways you haven’t yet fully understood. The money, though practical, is secondary to the emotional significance of the letter and the night you shared.

Then, about a month later, something happens that will change everything. You begin to feel unwell—persistent nausea, fatigue, and an odd sensitivity to smells that hadn’t bothered you before. At first, you dismiss it as stress or perhaps a lingering flu. But when the symptoms don’t subside, you decide to visit a doctor.

Sitting in the sterile, white-walled clinic, you fidget nervously, your mind racing with possibilities. The doctor, a kind woman in her forties, conducts the examination and then asks you to wait while she runs some tests. The minutes tick by slowly, each one filled with growing anxiety.

When the doctor returns, she has a gentle expression on her face, one that conveys both understanding and seriousness. “Mrs Y/L/N” she begins softly, “I have some news for you. You’re pregnant.”

The words hit you like a freight train. Pregnant. You’re pregnant with Ayrton Senna’s child. The reality of it all is overwhelming. You sit there in stunned silence, your mind reeling as you try to process the enormity of what you’ve just heard. The news is a shock, and your mind races with questions and uncertainties. The reality of raising a child, especially one conceived during a brief encounter with someone as famous as Ayrton Senna, is daunting. You grapple with the implications of your situation, trying to come to terms with the fact that you will be raising a child on your own.

[milligramspoison]

Hi! First two MCR shows for 2024! Except part of the list started in 2023 thanks to fucking Mikey and Chris!

I also have a list of MCR’s 2022-2023 tour if you also want to check that out! Anyways ty Mikey and Chris for starting this list off 11 months early 😭

MCR @ WWWY

Hey Chris commented a sunset emoji under Mikey’s post that announced day 2 of WWWY, referring to Pete’s Amazing New Mexico Sunset post from 2005 (writing this on November 17th, 2023- 11 fucking months to go lmao)

Mikey also replied to Chris’ comment

Mikey is also very excited to play Disenchanted! (Love this for him)

Not WWWY but it deserves to be here -> Gerard’s cat costume from Toronto night 2 made it into the show Carol & the End of the World! (Hi it’s January 29th, 2024 as I’m writing this bullet point)

Frank is back on his fortune cookie bullshit (hello it’s March 18th, 2024 as I’m writing this)

American Idol contestant Abi Carter sang WTTBP for her top 20 performance on April 14th, 2024!

Chris posted the Pete and Mikey emo critters on his story on May 17th, 2024, using 🌅 as the fucking caption 😭

My Chem’s facebook got hacked on July 25th, 2024 😍

They’re doing additional songs after they do TBP in full, possibly the B Sides and Living With Ghosts 👀 (update they didn’t do either 😭)

Teenagers surpassed 1 BILLION streams on Spotify!!

I’m Not Okay will be added to Fortnite October 17th! (And will already be in the game by the time this post goes up!)

Close up of MCR’s (and FOB’s) merch for the festival!

The Swarm fly also returns for whatever reason 👀 (it was a big symbol during the last tour so I’m surprised it’s back for two one off shows)

DAY BEFORE WWWY WE HAVE THE BAND SOUNDCHECKING FAMOUS LAST WORDS (it’s officially WWWY weekend!!!)

MCR’s first show since March 26th, 2023!! (That’s 573 days aka 19 months!!)

Frank’s first tonight’s our night post involving MCR since last year 🥲

Mikey was spotted watching Mayday Parade’s set!

A CLIP OF THEM SOUNDCHECKING ON THE 18TH

Mikey was also spotted watching Dashboard Confessional’s set!

A third Mikey (and this time Kristin too!) spotting!

A fourth Mikey spotting and he’s with Patrick of FOB this time!!

WHITE FLOORING IS BEING LAID OUT

MCR’S STAGE AROUND THE BEGINNING OF FOB’S SET

MCR’S STAGE TOWARDS THE MIDDLE OF FOB’S SET

MCR’S STAGE AROUND 9:45PM

Pete of FOB hyped up the crowd for MCR’s set during the FOB set!!

WHATEVER THIS IS THEYRE TESTING STUFF FOR MCR’S SET

4 separate stage lights for them as of rn…….

GERARD AND MIKEY’S PARENTS ARE THERE

GERARD GOT A HAIRCUT

THE END FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE OCTOBER 7TH, 2007

DEAD FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE AUGUST 27TH, 2011

RAY ALSO HAD TWO GUITARS (obvi but still exciting nonetheless 😭)

“Fuck yeah” ~ Gerard

“Kisses for you!” ~ also Gerard!

SHARPEST LIVES FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE MAY 9TH, 2008

RAY’S WINE RETURNS

“Spicy, you're fucking spicy” ~ Gerard ofc

I DON’T LOVE YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE OCTOBER 17TH, 2022

Gerard asked the audience to bark as they were going into House of Wolves 😭

HOUSE OF WOLVES FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE MARCH 20TH, 2023

CANCER FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE MARCH 19TH, 2023

They also got a violinist for Cancer and it sounded incredible

The violinist was Kayleigh Goldsworthy!!!!!

DISENCHANTED FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE OCTOBER 7TH, 2007

There was also blooming and decaying flowers during Disenchanted!!

And there was also swords at some point during the set too…

RAYRARD MOMENT

“I got all this fucking honey in my mouth, it broke my ass! The fucking softest hands!” ~ Gerard, whatever he was rambling about 😭

WTTBP WAS REPRISED AT THE END OF FAMOUS

Blood was played on tape for the first time in many years!!

The band had an encore following the entirety of TBP!

I’m Not Okay was the first song of the encore!

A fan rushed the stage and touched Frank before being escorted off 🤦‍♀️ (BE NORMAL PPL they’re human just like the rest of us)

The look Gerard gave the stage rusher was super funny tho 😭

And they ended night one off on Helena!

DAN AND PHIL REFERENCED NO BUT SERIOUSLY IMAGINE IT

VIDEO OF THEM REFERENCING IT

Frank and Gerard goofing around <3

Marina Toybina styled their outfits (or at least Gerard’s) for night one of the festival!! (She also styled a lot of outfits for Gerard on the last tour!)

“Hey everybody!” ~ Gerard as he was going backstage!

MIKEY WATCHED FOB’S SET AND SANG ALONG TO MMRS

Gerard got on their tippy toes to reach over to fans on the other side of the fence 🥹

FRANK SPOTTING (WWWY night 2)

Cherry, Miles, and Lily (Frank’s kiddos) watching the Dunes set from yesterday <3 (and a bonus- it’s also Frank’s second tonight’s our night post for MCR since last year!)

Pete of FOB once again hyped up the crowd for MCR’s set during FOB’s!!!

GERARD IS IN THE SAME OUTFIT

RAY IS IN A BLACK SHIRT AND JEANS

“FUCKING ACE MAN” ~ Gerard!

Pixels of Mikey and Frank!!!

“Thank you” ~ Gerard after I Don’t Love You 🥹

KAYLEIGH RETURNED ON VIOLIN

SERENITY PRAYER BEFORE MAMA

KAYLEIGH ALSO DID VIOLIN ON MAMA TONIGHT

“BAG FULL OF KNIVES”

“There was a summer, I started collecting knives. Big bags full of knives. It’s because my friend died. And I was hoping somebody would try to hurt me so I could kill them. And he fell down. And one day he went to sleep forever.” ~ GERARD BEFORE SLEEP

“Vegas, I want you you to let go of everything. Everything!” ~ also Gerard before Sleep!

Gerard also laughed during Sleep 😭

“BELLISSIMO”

“THIS IS A SONG ABOUT BEING IN THE DREAM. AND DYING. BECAUSE THATS ALL DREAMS DO” ~ GERARD GOING INTO DISENCHANTED

WTTBP REPRISE AGAIN DURING FAMOUS

NA NA NA IS THE FIRST SONG OF THE ENCORE

SECOND SONG OF THE ENCORE IS HELENA

“Good night Las Vegas!” ~ Gerard before Helena!

WWWY POSTED PROFESSIONAL FOOTAGE OF MCR’S SET

GERARD WRAPPED THE MIC CORD AROUND THEIR NECK JUST LIKE OLD TIMES

This photo of Gerard…

AND THIS PHOTO OF GERARD WITH RAY AND MIKEY

Gerard met some fans after the show!!

RAY’S STAGE LEFT TATTOO HAS MADE AN APPEARANCE

Some of the photos Beemer took last night!

RAY AND HIS WINE RETURN ONCE AGAIN

INCREDIBLE video of Gerard

Hi if you’ve made it this far! Welcome to the 2024 list for MCR!- that feels so good to say omg

I’m so excited to be posting this after having it in my drafts since last November. And it was so exciting to be liveblogging about an MCR show again with everyone!!

I hope it isn’t a long time before we all can do this again. Following the tour was such an incredible experience for me and to do it again for two nights only this weekend was amazing

Anyways, thank you if you’ve made it this far. And I hope all of you enjoy looking back on the list!!

My Chemical Romance forever and ever, okay? <33333

[paperbackribs]

Clear Lungs, Full Heart

content: alpha Steve Harrington, omega Eddie Munson

Eddie wasn’t surprised to work out that Steve is an Alpha. If anyone was born to fuss and fret over the safety and well-being of a pack, it’s him.

He’d assumed as much from a distance: you don’t often get shoulders that broad or hands that big in the other secondary genders. But any awareness Eddie had of him fell away when the golden boy of Hawkins High dropped into obscurity, one day up and deciding to avoid the Tigers and the sycophants that came with them.

At the time, Eddie had shrugged. He could care less about the goings-on of one more rich, athletic asshole. Now, having survived the Upside Down, he’s learned that Steve Harrington is not only a good dude, but he is the tank, the protector, the sword and shield that guards the kids in their fellowship of heroes and has helped save the world on more than one occasion.

Could an omega be blamed for feeling a little stirred in the face of all that?

And it’s a good face too, Eddie mulls, watching the afternoon light pour lovingly over Steve’s strong features. Having found a mutual appreciation for Steve Martin, the two of them are about to watch The Three Amigos in Steve's lounge. Eddie is enjoying a pre-film smoke outside before they begin while Steve keeps him company.

He taps the cigarette in his hand, ashing it to the cement below as he watches Steve shift and drum his fingers restlessly. Steve paces to the edge of the pool, looking down at the building foliage on the surface and clicks his tongue. “I should’ve cleaned this weekend.” He glances up at Eddie but looks away almost immediately.

Eddie exhales a plume of smoke, pursing his lips as Steve walks to the kitchen door before pacing back again. Shoving his hands into the back pockets of his blue jeans, Steve stares resolutely at the woods that abut his backyard.

That is until Eddie inhales and exhales smoke once more, which is when he twitches. Swaying to his side like he’s about to lean into Eddie before abruptly straightening again.

All of this Eddie watches with a vague sense of entertainment. Steve’s as jittery as if he’s got ants in his pants, but his lips are pressed tightly together. “All right,” Eddie says finally before Steve loses it, “What’s going on with you?”

He taps the building ash and Steve glances over before swiftly turning back to the woods. “It’s stupid,” he mutters even as a light blush forms on the high of his cheeks.

Eddie grins, his curiosity only ratcheting at the betraying flush of blood under thin skin. “Oh, now I have to know, Stevie.” He holds his hands behind his back while leaning forward in a coy manner, “What’s got you all riled up?”

A thrill of excitement sparks through him as Steve’s eyes flicker over his lips like he can’t help but stare, but he only sighs and looks away to the woods. “It’s nothing. Just Robin getting in my head about health stuff.”

Eddie straightens abruptly, throwing his cigarette away to latch a hand onto Steve’s arm. All playfulness dying at the idea that Steve is unwell. “Are you okay?”

Catching his expression, Steve’s face softens and he places his hand over Eddie’s, gently squeezing it in gratitude. “Nothing like that. It’s about you.”

Eddie’s mind stutters: is he sick and no one told him? It’s only when Steve snorts that he realises that he accidentally said that out loud. “No,” Steve repeats, gaze flickering to the curl of smoke rising above the still-lit cigarette at their feet. “It’s just,” the red across his cheeks deepen and he looks away before finally blowing out a breath to say in a rush, “They’rebadforthepups.”

Eddie wiggles his finger in his ear, sure that he’d misheard the jumble of words, “Say again.”

Steve raises one hand over his eyes, hiding behind it as he repeats more slowly, “They’re bad for the pups. Smoking, that is. Cigarettes can cause cleft palates and make them weaker in the womb. That’s what Robin says anyway, but I tend to trust her about these things.

“Steve,” Eddie says slowly, “I’m not pregnant.”

“I know,” Steve says with gritted teeth, still hiding behind his hand and refusing to look up.

“I’m not even seeing anyone.”

Steve hums a noise that makes it clear he knows how ridiculous he sounds right now, but Eddie’s still confused because, if he’s not even pregnancy adjacent, why would Steve care? “Do you know anyone else that’s become pregnant recently?” He ventures, trying to unravel this mystery.

“Nope,” Steve’s voice is high and strained with cheeks a glowing crimson to rival the burning cherry at their feet. Eddie sniffs the air surreptitiously while Steve’s not looking, opening his mouth slightly to allow any nuances to filter in.

His tastebuds are subtly coated in the green, earthy aroma of freshly cut grass on a summer’s day, filling Eddie with the familiar sensation of safe and happy. But other than a general sense of identity there is very little for Eddie to tease out, no great sense of emotion or purpose within the invisible indicators inherent to all alphas, omegas and even, to a lesser extent, betas.

As he often does and despite his awkwardness, Steve is keeping a tight rein on his pheromones, leaving Eddie with no clues but for what he can see and hear.

“But you’re concerned about my imaginary pups being hurt by my real smoking habits?”

Steve huffs a short laugh at Eddie’s description and he must have decided to own his embarrassment because he drops his hand and adopts a wry expression. “Yes, which is why it’s stupid of me to be worried, and also pretty fucking rude since it’d be none of my business anyway.”

Watching Steve’s eyes dip to Eddie’s waist only to quickly flit away like he doesn’t want to be caught, Eddie starts to form a suspicion. A little niggle that has hope stuttering in his chest. He stops closer again, tilting his head so that his scent freely wafts through the air, the crisp and clean smell of fresh rainfall teases at the edge of Steve’s earthy soil.

Blinking in surprise, Steve’s nostrils reflexively flare, and his hooded eyes drop to the slim column of Eddie’s neck, a heavy, flickering flame steadily building in their depths.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, letting his breath caress across his lips, licking his own, and watching Steve’s pupils expand. “Yeah, Eddie,” his voice is full of gravel.

“Would you perhaps be concerned because you keep imagining a possibility…”

Steve’s lashes flutter and he draws a steadying breath, mouth parting like he’s testing the air around them. Eddie wonders what exactly Steve smells, thinking that perhaps freshly fallen rain is blooming into thickening clouds, a coming tempest fuelled by anticipation.

“…Maybe even that you might want to be the reason why I’d have pups to protect.”

Steve exhales in a shudder, one large hand reaching out to grip Eddie’s hip as if to keep him from running. He leans in close, drawing the edge of his nose over Eddie’s cheekbone, down to his neck and nuzzling under his hair. Eddie’s breath catches, the hunger that had started low in his belly rising to a heated simmer. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” Steve growls against his skin.

He presses forward and Eddie gasps, hands flying up to spear through Steve’s hair as he licks a firm wet stripe against his scent gland. Steve sets his mouth over it and suckles, leaving Eddie a moaning mess with the decadent pleasure rippling through him.

Steve draws back, expression almost feral while drawing Eddie’s hips closer, pressing him against his burgeoning length, “Eddie, tell me if this is dumb, tell me that I’m out of my mind—”

The keen bewitchment on Steve’s face has delight popping through Eddie’s chest like fizzy soda and confidence begins to steadily fill him; Steve finally wants him back and Eddie is going to seize the chance while he can. “I think,” Eddie interrupts playfully, pressing little kisses against his jaw before completing his sentence, “That we’re going to come back to that kink you’ve got knocking up around there, but for now…”

“For now…” Steve asks hopefully, voice wreaked, and Eddie takes him by the hand, drawing him through the door, into the kitchen, and hopefully further. “For now,” he answers, “I think we should be doing some practising.”

Steve laughs, a loud open sound of joy and he scoops Eddie up before he rounds the kitchen island, propping Eddie on the counter and tilting his head up to take his lips once more, a collision of passion that he obviously savours by the low rumble sounding at the back of his throat. The noise is almost a deep purr unlike any Eddie has heard before and he draws back, nibbling on Steve’s silky lip before teasing, “You keep that up and I’ll think you’re putting on a mating display.”

If he weren’t so close, Eddie may have missed the flicker of alarm that crossed Steve’s face at his words, but he does see it and it cools his ardour somewhat.

Alphas purr, it’s what they do. Sometimes to convey pleasure or contentment, for pack bonding and sometimes in healing, and, at the exclusive end of the spectrum, as a display to attract mates. He’d thought that Steve’s worrying about second-hand smoke had to do with some sex thing, a pregnancy kink that Eddie managed to trigger somehow. But by the reserved expression that briefly crosses his face, Eddie wonders whether he’s underestimated the situation.

Nevertheless, Steve tries to shrug off his brief, faltering moment by smiling slyly and falling back onto old alpha stereotypes, “We’re always throwing our weight around one way or another, right.” Chuckling like Eddie’s in on the joke he presses forward, but Eddie draws back, placing a finger over Steve’s now pouting lips.

Because, yeah, knotheads like to throw their growls and roars and other vocalisations around, just as easily as pushing out their pheromones to mark their territory. Or, Eddie wryly acknowledges, what they usually think is their territory, but Steve is very different.

From the moment Eddie had fallen into the unfortunate adventure that had been Spring Break, all the way through his recovery from the demo-bat injuries and even now as a member of the found family that is this pack, Steve has always been very careful about how he presents around them all.

He’ll scent the kids for protection, just a casual tussle of the hair or with a friendly headlock, and he’ll scent Robin in an extension of the deep bond of siblings, but otherwise, he keeps his hands and pheromones to himself. The closest Eddie’s ever heard to a hierarchical growl from the guy was after Lucas jumped from the trees into the pool, missing the concrete edge by an inch and turning Steve livid at the risk he’d taken.

And with Eddie, he’s been the most careful of all.

Eddie had taken his distance to mean that Steve was uninterested in him, as an omega at least. He’d taken his friendly overtures and what has become a treasured friendship as a signal that Steve wants Eddie as a buddy but nothing more. Yet the hard grip Steve has on his hips and the heat in his eyes tell Eddie two very different things.

“What was Robin saying that got you thinking about all this?” He asks, knowing that Steve can be stubborn and that the best way to get into his head at times is through a roundabout route.

Correctly reading that Eddie won’t be diverted from his tangent, Steve sighs, tipping back with a resigned expression; although he keeps his hands still wrapped around Eddie’s hips, a tentative connection lingering in the press of his fingertips.

“She doesn’t like that I still smoke when she’s not around,” he begins, “And you never really think that’s it’s going to happen to you…” He nods at Eddie’s guess. “Cancer?”

“Yeah, so she changed tactics and started listing the infections and asthma risks the kids could get from second-hand smoke.” Eddie hums in encouragement, “Sounds good so far.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “She didn’t think the excuse that I won’t smoke around them is good enough so she decided to list all the ways it could hurt someone else, someone that I care for,” his voice trails off and Eddie’s heart thumps, one long hard pulse that he’s surprised doesn’t create a hole in his chest from the vigour of its movement.

He’s sure that shock must be writ large across his face because wanting a good time with your buddy Eddie is very different from what Steve is hinting at, but Steve doesn’t see his expression because he screws up his face, looking over Eddie’s shoulder as he admits, “Robin may or may not know that I’ve had a thing for you for a while now and she may or may not have used that as a means to convince me to avoid smoking from now on.”

“A thing?” Eddie asks cautiously, not wanting to break the moment with clumsy words, wishing instead that he could simply open his scent fully to Steve and allow him to smell just how keenly Eddie wants him back.

Has wanted him ever since Steve looked at him with comforting eyes in the boathouse while Eddie was emotionally and physically strung-out from watching Chrissy’s gruesome death, convinced that Hawkins PD would sooner shoot him dead than take him in for questioning.

Steve’s steadying presence and calm voice, extended for the trembling omega next to him, had caused a riot of emotions that took Eddie months to unpack.

But Steve’s avoiding his gaze now and has tightly drawn in the sweet scent that had just started to unfold into a rich earthy deepness. So Eddie tamps down on his urge to lay himself bare, unsure of why Steve looks so uncertain and sad when surely expressing his feelings to someone who had jumped into his arms at the first hint of reciprocation can only be a good thing.

Shoulders slumping a little, Steve sighs. “Never mind,” he mutters, “She just got in my head a little.”

Eddie’s heart starts again, but this time in trepidation; he can feel something precious slipping through his fingers, and he won’t allow it. Can’t. He takes his courage in his hands and ventures forward, careful again, “I would like that — if you had a thing for me.

Steve startles, “You would?”

Heartbreak dampens the rain and Eddie reaches out, spearing his fingers through Steve’s locks comfortingly. “Yeah, baby. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t have much to offer a pack, Eddie.” Steve meets his gaze, eyes sad and resigned. “Didn’t get into my safety schools, working a minimum wage job. I’m not exactly the alpha dreams are made of.”

Eddie slides his palm down to lightly shake Steve by the ruff, hoping that he knocks some sense into his head at the same time. “Do I look like the type of omega that wants to stay at home, treated as precious glass?”

“I don’t know,” Steve tries to joke, “You’re pretty impossible to budge first thing on a Saturday morning.”

“That’s because it’s a precious and holy time of the week, sweetheart.” Eddie bops him on the nose and Steve squints at him in miffed betrayal. “You know what I want in an alpha?”

“What?” Steve asks, hope and caution warring across his face.

“I want an alpha that cares. One that looks after a scared omega on the run who he barely knows, an alpha that chases after the little shitheads we call pack because he wants them to have a carefree childhood despite the Upside Down.” Steve’s face softens like hard soil after a summer rain, and Eddie continues, “I want an alpha who may or may not have a pregnancy kink—”

Steve snorts, eyes filling with begrudging amusement.

“—but is going to quit smoking because he doesn’t even want the possibility of asthma or cleft palates or whatever else it was that Robin said near the people he cares about.”

“He sounds like a pretty good alpha,” Steve murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss against Eddie’s lips.

Drawing back by only an inch, Eddie softly strokes his thumb across Steve’s cheek, sure that his eyes are shining with the love that he hasn’t named yet even as it sits strongly in his heart, “He is. And if he would like this to be something beyond just a good time, something greater for the both of us, then I can tell him that there’s an omega that has more than a thing for him.”

Steve’s breath catches, eyes blinking in hopeful shock, “More?”

Eddie smiles, “Much more.”

Steve’s hand slides up from Eddie’s hip, caressing him in one long stroke from his tailbone to the nape of his neck where he loosely clasps him, pulling him down to close the gap between. Eddie hums and loses himself in the kiss, sweet rain falling on welcoming earth to create a space rich with possibilities, unfolding into a beautiful future.

Steve licks his lips before asking with a wry smile, “But, uh, about the cigarettes…”

Eddie laughs, head tipping back before he exuberantly clasps Steve’s head between his palms, pressing honeyed kisses against this adorable man. “Robin is a very smart woman.”

“A genius,” Steve agrees slyly.

“And what do we do with geniuses in this pack?”

“We follow them.”

“Exactly,” Eddie happily hangs his arms over Steve’s shoulders. “No more smoking,” he promises, feeling summer-sun bright with the new world now open to him.

Other steddie fics over at Ao3

[browneyesandhair]

Non-Exhaustive List of Soulmate Fics: Merthur

Okay, I'm bored so I'm compiling my favorite soulmate fics. Here's the Merthur edition:

True Love by platonic_boner

Summary:

AU where soulmates can’t lie to each other. (That’s okay, Merlin wasn’t planning to lie to Arthur anyways! Haha.. ha.. ha…)

Don't Know You by platonic_boner

Summary:

Arthur can't wait to meet the voice inside his head.

Sharing is Caring by platonic_boner

Summary:

Arthur hadn't really given his soulmate much thought, until he beat a peasant with a broomstick and every blow hurt like he was hitting himself.

Thousand Times Worse. Or Better? by elirwen

Summary:

Forced by Morgana's nagging, Arthur visits soulbond guidance office. Merlin Emrys is asigned to be his guide. That's where the simple ends and complicated begins.

Deeds by the5leggedCricket

Summary:

Arthur is coming of age, and that means he’s about to get Deeds—marks on his body telling him of his soulmate’s greatest accomplishments. But as he tries to find his soulmate, he also makes some worrying discoveries about the kind of person his soulmate is.

Take Your Pain Away by BlueGrassSax

Summary:

Merlin was young when he came to realise that his soulmate was either really clumsy or lived a chaotic existence. Being able to take on the injuries of your soulmate is just a fact of life, a fact that Merlin happily accepts as he learns the ins and outs of his healing magic. But coming to Camelot has disrupted his long held trust in the Fates, for how can someone as bull-headed and arrogant as the prince wear his mark?

Now I Will Unsettle the Ground Beneath You by nu_breed

Summary:

Merlin's dreams have always fuelled his art, but they've always been abstract and removed from reality. Soon after he meets Gwaine, he starts to see vivid images of a past full of death and magic and love for a King who was ripped from him. Things only escalate further when he spends a weekend in the country with Gwaine and meets his group of friends, which includes aristocrat and It Boy, Arthur Pendragon. Merlin soon realises that no matter how hard you try, one thing is certain, you can't fuck with destiny.

Heart Lines by PeaceHeather

Summary:

Everyone is born with a heart line, a pigmented mark running from the heart down the left arm to the palm, which turns color when the person comes of age, telling them when it is time to seek their soulmate. Red indicates a romantic love, while blue is for platonic "heart-friends", as the minstrels called it. Uther had always told Arthur to ignore his heart line, that it wouldn't matter who his soulmate was; princes did not marry for love, after all. If was lucky, he'd be able to keep her as a mistress, so long as he did not get any children with her. Uther hated magic and would have urged Arthur to ignore the heart line anyway, if he could. Arthur wasn't sure his soulmate was really a woman despite Uther's assumptions. But Arthur's heart line hadn't even come into its full color yet, which meant he hadn't come of age in the eyes of the gods, despite being named crown prince by Uther. So it really didn't matter: whoever his soulmate was, he wasn't yet ready to meet them. Then one day his heart line comes in, and it's neither red nor blue.

the gold of you that can't be seen by Fleetling

Summary:

Arthur grins at him, waves his chubby hand. "Father!" he says, because he knows he should be formal with his father. There is no Pa here, no Dad or Da. There's something shiny on his father's head. He points to it. "What's that?" "Prince Arthur!" hisses the woman holding him, but his father only chuckles. The woman relaxes, just slightly. "It's a crown, my son. One day, you will wear one just like it." Arthur tilts his head, curiously. "What colour is it?" He thinks it's grey, just a shade off of the silver of the swords. It's the same silver-grey as half of the household's shiny jewelry, a not quite true silver. He doesn't think he likes it. "It's gold," says his father. "There's a lot of gold here in Camelot, my son." Arthur nods his head, and labels that silver-ish colour gold in his mind.   (Or: in a world where you can't see the colour of your soulmate's eyes until you meet them, Arthur can't see gold, and it makes his life as a prince much more difficult.)

Of All The Planets In All The Galaxies, He Walked Into Mine. by supercalvin

Summary:

On Camelot, the base planet of the Albion Intergalactic Alliance, the people have a unique gift where the name of their soulmate appears on their arm. Finding one’s soulmate could be as easy as taking a shuttle over to the next planet or it could take years for destiny to find its way to their side of the galaxy. Ten years ago, Ambassador Arthur Pendragon found out the name on his arm wasn’t from any known language in the galaxy. He hadn’t had much faith in love ever since.

The Druid Consort by bluevalentine69

Summary:

27-year-old Alpha Prince Arthur has been married off to 16-year-old Druid Prince Merlin to unite their kingdoms. Meeting for the first time at dawn to be handfasted by the customs of Merlin’s druid people - and expected to mate that night by the customs of Arthur's wolf-people - neither prince is best pleased by the situation. Tomorrow they will belong to each other in body and soul. Turns out, married life's not so bad ...

Four Days To Fall In Love. by CupCakezys

Summary:

In a world where everyone has a soulmate (or two or three), Arthur Pendragon knows he is destined to be alone. For Arthur can see his heartstring, could follow it to where his soulmate lived, and that could only mean one thing. His soulmate had magic, and should they ever meet, Arthur would have to kill them.

the world entire by schweet_heart

Summary:

The world is very still, and it occurs to Arthur suddenly how quiet it is. The bells don’t toll for dead manservants, only for princes and kings, but that just makes the clamour of his heart seem louder.   “Very well,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. “Then I’m going to have to save him.” Episode 1x13 AU. Nimueh accepts Merlin’s offer to exchange his life for Arthur’s. Arthur does not.

Hear Your Heart Sing (Love, Love, Love) by schweet_heart

Summary:

Merlin used to like the idea of finding The One – until he fell in love with Arthur Pendragon. Now he has a boss he can't date (but can't stop thinking about), a soulmate he can't find (who has terrible taste in music), and a best friend who can't believe he still hasn't got his act together (even though it's seriously not his fault). Sometimes, life is unfairly complicated, even without your soulmate singing painfully catchy tunes in the back of your head.

Dreams Don't Turn To Dust by goodluckgettingtosleep

Summary:

In a world where every person starts dreaming about their soulmate on the day of their 16th birthday, Prince Arthur is expected to be the soulmate of a beautiful princess. But when the big day finally rolls around, it turns out that his true soulmate is as far from a beautiful princess as one could get... a peasant boy with magic.

Let it be you by amithia

Summary:

This is all Gwen's fault. Merlin never wanted a stupid smartphone in the first place. Now, he has a smartphone and a supercilious, posh git bullying him on Whatsapp. He really should block the prat. or The one where Merlin doesn't block the prat and finds out that, maybe, smartphones aren't so bad after all.

Feather and Fang by 0hHeyThereBigBadWolf

Summary:

Everyone knows that magic users have magic dæmons. Creatures of myth and legend. Some appear normal but have hides in unnatural colours. It's a way to pick them out of a crowd, find them, even when they try to hide in plain sight.

The Worst Wizard by bluevalentine69

Summary:

Merlin is the worst wizard in wizarding school: his spells are accident prone and he is generally a walking disaster. When the time comes for his class to summon their familiars for the first time, many of the students summon powerful magical creatures. However, upon Merlin's turn, he summons a very unamused, regular human as a familiar: Arthur. Based on this prompt: https://kinksofcamelot.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=557070#t557070. Now with original artwork!

Strangled by the Red String of Fate by idlestories

Summary:

“It has its roots in a legend from the east, sire. I believe it’s called the red string of fate.” “Fate?” Arthur said incredulously. “What, is he going to be the one to kill me?” “Getting more likely by the minute,” Merlin supplied. “Shut up, Merlin.” Gaius held up a weary hand. “Legend has it that the string connects people to the person with whom they are most compatible.” There was a beat of silence. “You have got to be kidding me.”

octarine by schweet_heart

Summary:

Merlin isn't Arthur's soulmate, and Arthur isn't Merlin's, yet somehow in spite of themselves they're everything to one another. Which is why, when Arthur finally starts seeing in colour, he isn't willing to let Merlin go without a fight. Written for Merlin_Holidays Fest 2016.

you are my favorite mistake (it can only be fate) by muItifandomjess

Summary:

When Merlin accidentally creates a mental link between himself and Arthur, they discover far more about each other than they could ever have imagined.

[corpsebasil]

wait omg im thinkinggggg about knight nikolai because when am I not

imagine him being like…more committed to his oath in this one. hear me tf out

just look at him Jesus Christ

So your chambers are connected to his with a panel in the wall. Easier to get to you if you’re in danger, obviously. And you spend a lot of time with him as his princess. Time spent getting to know the man behind the armor.

(lol behind the armor get it anyways)

Headcanons of mine about his favorite activities to do with you:

- horseback riding

- playing cards

- reading quietly in each other’s company

- sneaking into the kitchens and baking.

omfg imagine him with like some flour on his face and the two of you are just making a giant mess. huge mess.

like—

You: give me that!

Nik: It’s not my fault you can’t reach it.

You: you’re WAY TALLER THAN ME.

Nik: jump, princess.

You: I will climb you like a tree—

and the whole time he’s got your spatula above his head, high up, and grinning down at you while you’re pouting and attempting to snatch it back.

but ONE NIGHT he doesn’t stay in your rooms with you to play cards. It’s your weekend tradition so obviously you’re confused. he’d been avoiding you all week, actually.

he didn’t wake you up to join you on his morning runs (he even looked a little guilty about it when he came back sweaty and you had your arms crossed), didn’t have breakfast with you like he usually did when he managed to sneak away from the barracks, and stayed calmly avoiding eye-contact from where he leaned against the wall during dinner.

so naturally you’re confused. that’s how you find yourself knocking on the door that separates your rooms, demanding answers from your knight.

no reply, so you go in. and boyyy are you shocked.

he’s sitting in the chair at his desk, head in one of his hands, a bottle gripped in the other. he’s halfway in by the looks of the significant amount of empty space inside.

he looks up when you enter and he shakes his head in a simple ‘no’ gesture. Whatever that means.

OKAY DRABBLE TIME

^^thats me to him btw

“You’re avoiding me.” You say. His fingers grip the neck of the bottle tighter, his eyes slightly bloodshot and tired. “Tell me why.”

It’s not a optional—it’s a demand.

“Princess..” he begins, voice hoarse as he sets the bottle down and sits up straighter. “Go to your rooms.”

“I give the orders last time I checked.”

His expression is pained when he tries again.

“Please go.”

“No.”

“Princess, please. Go.”

(I WILL STAY! I COMMAND IT)

He stands swiftly and moves over to you, gesturing to the door at your back.

“Do not be difficult.”

“Then tell me what I’ve done wrong?” You watch as he runs a hand over his face, his entire manner one of distress. “You’re my—” You pause. “You’re my friend.”

“That’s the problem.”

“How—”

“I made an oath.” He snaps loudly, then curses under his breath. “I swore an oath to you. To the crown.” When you only stare, perplexed, he walks in a slightly wobbly line over to where his sword rests. “When I was sworn in as Captain of the guards you held this sword. You gave me that honor.”

“I—its tradition for the princess to—”

“I swore an oath. To you.” He makes a pained noise and runs a hand over his face again. Then he frowns and shakes his head. “I stood in front of every one of my knights and pledged my loyalty to them. But I was pledging to you.”

By now you feel slightly winded as you watch him, your fingers trembling at your sides as you try and sort through what he’s saying.

“Nikolai..” you begin, moving a step closer. He doesn’t move, but you see his jaw tighten, a muscle twitching. “What are you telling me?”

“I swore an oath.” He replies quietly—almost desperately—and goes on. “To protect you. To honor you and I—” You watch him take in a deep breath, your heart racing. “I cant do that anymore. Not when I disrespect you every single moment in your presence.”

Your mouth dries.

“You’ve never disrespected me.” You insist softly and he gives you a sad, defeated smile.

“I disrespect you every time I look at you.”

“Nikolai—how—”

“It’s the way you—” He pauses and reaches out, his fingers hovering next to your face for a moment. His knuckles just barely graze your cheekbone before he sucks in a breath and stops. “It’s the way I think about you. All the time. It’s killing me.” He swallows and places a hand on his chest over his heart. “I swore to protect you, die for you..” a shake of the head. “…but all I can think about is…” another shake, his knuckles brushing down your face to rest against the edge of your lips. You aren’t sure you’re breathing. “What it would feel like to..”

You’re staring in mute shock as he watches your mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he’s tilting your chin up to him, his eyes moving back to yours. You step closer involuntarily and his pupils seem to dilate a fraction at your nearness.

“Tell me to stop.” He murmurs, looking at you raptly. “Tell me I’m disgracing you. Tell me I’ve lost you.”

“You won’t lose me. Not ever.” You breathe.

Nikolai is still for a moment before leaning in, your eyes shutting on a nervous inhale when you feel him getting closer. He touches his forehead to yours for a brief second before carefully, almost cautiously, pressing his mouth to yours.

Oh.

You’re surprised not only by the wave of desire that rushes over you but how fast it hits you. Suddenly you’re clutching his shirt, yanking him closer as he groans into your mouth, parting your lips for deeper kiss. He’s literally starving for you good God.

[asmutwriter]

Captain Hook x F!Reader

DESCRIPTION: You decide to have a fun day out at the beach with your friends. Accidently bumping into one of the most feared pirates during your travel.

A/N - This is my first time doing a request so I do hope that you enjoy :)

WORD COUNT: 2654

WARNINGS: implied violence, swearing, kidnapping, smut, nipple play, temperature play, oral (f recieving), fingering, p in v, unprotected smut, creampie, sub reader, dom Hook, praise

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

"There’s no one here" you say. Looking out the passenger car window at the beautiful sandy beach before you. Considering the sunny day, and the fact it was a weekend, you were expecting more people.

You get out the car after your friend parks. Shielding your eyes with your hand. Spotting a family in the distance, as well as what appears to be a couple closer to the car park.

"I told you it’d be quiet. Its why I love this beach. There’s never anyone here"

"Yet you’ve never stopped to question why?"

"Its just because there are rumours" she smiles, a pretend wickedness as she tries to deepen her voice "rumours of smugglers, thieves, pirates, and everything else that scares people off". She makes her voice normal again, giving a small shrug with her next statement. "I figure that, if we do come across them, then we could fight them off. If we meet any of them".

You roll your eyes. Grabbing your towel. The three of you head to the sand. You lay your towel onto the floor. Grabbing the bottom of your sundress and pulling it up over your head. Leaving you in your one piece.

"I still think you could rock a bikini". You chuckle. Sitting on the towel and shoving the dress into your bag. Taking out some sunglass and placing them over your eyes.

"I feel more secure like this" she laughs. The two of them also disrobing down to bathing suits. You lie down. Beach towel under you. Sunglasses on. Hair done up in a messy bun. You had your eyes shut as you bathed in the summer glow of the sun above you. Hearing the waves crash against the sand. The distinct sound of your two friends by your side.

"Hey Y/N!" you hear one of them call out. You open one eye. Looking over you see your friend holding a frisbee. She wiggles her eyebrows at you. "Want to play?"

"You know I do". You stand. Brushing the sand off of yourself. You go over, joining your two friends a little way away from where you had been previously lying. Standing in a triangle as the three of you take it in turns throwing it to one another.

One friend throws it towards you. Misjudging it completely as it flies over your head. Towards the water. "Shit" she mutters. You laugh. Turning as you do a light jog to catch the frisbee. Hearing your friends calling your name as you bend down. Paying them no mind, thinking their just telling you to 'run faster' or somethng. You take the item in hand. Brushing the sand from it as you stand up.

Your body stills as you feel something cold and charp on your shoulder. Tilting your head upwards. Eyes meeting someones. Stubble. Red hat. And a sword resting near your neck. He grins at you. You hear your friends call out your name again. More frantic this time. You bring the frisbee up. Jabbing it into his neck. The suddenness and pain in his throat causes him to drop the sword. You turn. Dropping the frisbee onto the floor as you go to run.

"Go!" you yell out to your friends. Watching as they run too. Grabbing their bags and various items from where you had previously sat. Your legs start to move in quick momentum, seconds before you feel a sharp pain through the back of your head.

-

You come to. Feeling a headache begin to take place as you hear voices. The soft swaying of the floor under you. The memories from the past day come back as you swiftly open your eyes. You see a bunch of men. Your eyes scanning quickly as you count five. All with swords or guns around their waists as they appear to mock each other. You were sat on some sort of barrel. Arms tied behind your back. A towel loosely draped over your shoulders.

"Oh good" a voice speaks next to you. You look. A shorter, mildly less intimidating man stands next to you. "You’re awake. The captain will be happy that you’re awake".

"Why am I here?" you whisper through gritted teeth. Trying to fight your bindings.

"Well you see-"

"I wanted new crew members" a deeper voice speaks out. You turn your head. You see a tall man, long hair, and a dark moustache come out from near the front of the ship. Near to where you're sitting. His eyes meet yours as he smiles at you. "Now my plan was to have you and your friends join me. But you managed to make them run away before I could grab you all". You remain silent. Eyes watching him as he comes over to you. He kneels onto one knee. Bringing a hand up. Well, a hook. Placing it under your chin. The coldness of the metal hurting your skin.

"Why don’t we have a little chat in my private office?". He reaches the hook behind you. Feeling him undo the restraints arund your wrist in one small swipe. You jump at the action. He stands. Holding his actual hand out for you to take. You do. Trying to control your hand from shaking like a leaf in the wind as he takes you to his office.

Shutting the door behind you as you go in. Your hands grabbing the towel and wrapping it around yourself more as you stay standing. "Please can I go home. I-I wont tell anyone. I promise. I just want to go home". You watch as he walks over to his desk. Resting against it.

"I told you - I need new crew mates. And you made the other candidates run away. Therefore you are my only choice". Your clench your jaw. Shutting your eyes as you try to regain your thoughts.

"But I’m a woman". You speak. Confidence in your voice as you open your eyes. "Don’t you know that it’s bad luck to have a woman on board your ship". He lets out a soft chuckle.

"I do not believe that a woman as beautiful as you could cause any sort of bad luck". You feel your cheeks turn slightly red at the notion.

"But you’re a pirate" you whisper.

"I prefer the term captain". He folds his arms over himself as he scans his eyes over your body. "What is your name?".

"Y/N"

"Well, Y/N, lucky for you I’m feeling generous today. So how about I give you a proposition? You stay on my ship for a week. Help out the crew, eat and drink to your hearts content. But if you still hear land calling your name then I will allow you to go back to your home"

"A week?"

"Of course, you could leave now if you’d like. In fact, you are free to leave whenever you would like. But I warn you, its a long swim back to the main land". You scoff slightly, turning your head as you grit your teeth.

"Deal" you say. Turning your head back to meet his gaze. He smiles. Unfolding his arms as he goes over to a trunk. Opening it he pulls out a variety of clothes. Trousers and shirts. He places them on top of the trunk.

"Get dressed. We have work to do"

-

Captain Hook had asked to see you in his office. You thought you were in trouble due to his stern nature, but soon realised it was due to your agreement. It had been a week since he'd found you on the beach. So today was the day that you needed to decide if you were staying or going.

He sat at his desk. Waiting for your response. You fiddle with the sleeve of your shirt. He takes in a breath through his nose. Hands - well his hand and hook - layed on the table. "I've seen how you are with the rest of the crew. You love the work and the people. You get on well with them. I've never seen Starkey so happy to see.. anyone before". You chuckle slightly. Looking down as you fold your arms. "You should stay"

"I can't just leave my friends and family. They will be worried about me"

"You can send a postcard"

"But-"

"You enjoy it here, correct?". You nod. "Then why go back to your mundane life when you can stay here. With us. Where you could have gold and all sorts of riches. All with a simple flick of the wrist and its yours". You bring your head back up. "You could have anything you want. Just ask". You take in a breath. Your eyes scanning his.

"I want to go back to my family" he nods. Pushing himself up off the table.

"We will be pulling up to land within the hour. You may leave when we dock". Coming over to you. Using his hook to gently brush away the hair from your face. "I will miss you, Y/N" he puts the item under your chin. Lifting your head up as you meet his dark eyes. A short moment passes. He bends down. Gently placing his lips onto yours. You shut your eyes at the soft embrace. Feeling him pull away, your eyes flutter open again.

"What was that for?". He half smiles.

"A goodbye". You smile at him. Your hands coming up to cup his face as you kiss him. A more solid, yet soft kiss. Moving away as you go to take a step back. His hand coming to your lower waist as he pulls you into him. He bends down and kisses you. Hard. Your hands fists at his jacket. His hand comes up. Removing his hat and placing it down onto the chair. Going back to your lower spine. He moves you backwards. A soft gasp leaving your lips as you come into contact with his desk.

He wastes no time. Wrapping both his arms fully around you. Lifting you up onto the top of the counter. His hand coming to your front. He moves away. Eyes watching yours as he brings his hand up slowly. Over your stomach. Between your breasts. Moving to the side as he rests his palm over the clothed boob. You let out a gentle sigh as he begins massaging it.

His lips crashing onto yours again. Being a harsh contrast to the treatment he's giving your chest. He moves away. His hook going to the top of your shirt. Before you can question him, he drags down the sharp object. Ripping your shirt from you. Your hands go to your torso. Covering yourself as your cheeks redden. He kisses you. Gently removing your hands from you as he rests his forehead onto yours. Meeting your eyes.

"Let me show you how beautiful you are". He kisses you again. His hand going behind your back. Unclasping the bra and tossing it onto the floor. Running his metal hook over your nipples. You flinch at the coldness. Your nubs rising almost instantly. He smiles. Bending down and taking one of them into his mouth.

"Holy shit" you mutter. Your hand going to his hair. Thankfully he'd already removed his hat so you could easily grip his dark locks with your fingers. You shut your eyes. So focused on his tongue on your skin that you hardly register his wondering hand. Instinctively moving your hips as he removes your trousers and underwear. Only fully registering where his hand is when he presses his thumb onto your clit.

You jolt slightly. Causing him to move backwards at the sudden movement. Your eyes screwed shut as he rubs gentle circles onto your nub. Your mouth a silent 'o'. He removes his thumb. Before you can protest at the lack of contact, he's replaced the digit with his tongue. Pressing it firmly onto you. Your hands still remained in his hair as you pull him closer to you. The wet muscle dragging, moving, flicking, over your sensitive hole.

You feel his hand come up. Letting out a truly sinful moan as you feel him push a finger in. Then another. Curling them at the same speed that he moves his tongue. "Fuck. Fuck. I'm-I'm gonna cum".

"What do good girls say?" he murmurs against your wet cunt.

"P-please?"

"Please what?"

"Can I cum? Please. Please can I cum?" you beg. Feeling his grin against you as he hums an answer. With that you feel your orgasm wash over you. Filling your body. From your fuzzy brain down to your curling toes. Your pussy tightening around his digits as your fingers lock their grip on his hair.

Loosening as your high fades. Keeping his steady gaze with dazed eyes as he stands up straight. Seeing his moustache glisten with your juices, but you're too fucked out to feel embarrassed. "Open my sweet". You do. Your tongue sticking out slightly. Feeling him place his fingers onto it. You close around the digits. The taste of your essence filling your mouth. A soft moan leaving your lips before he removes his fingers with a soft popping noise.

You hear vague noises. Not paying them much mind. That is until you feel soft lips hit yours again. Opening your eyes you meet your captains dark ones. Filled with lust and longing as he looks at you. His hand on your cheek. "Do you think you can take my cock?". Your eyes glance downwards. Connecting the noise. He must've removed his clothes in that short time as you can see his broad and defined torso, and proudly standing shaft.

You bite your lip slightly before meeting his eyes again. Nodding. He smiles. Standing up straight as he lines himself up with your hole. You grip at the edge of the table as he pushes himself into you. A strangled groan leaving your throat as he bottoms out. Feeling his hips mold so perfectly into yours. His hand comes up, cupping each of your breasts before moving his hand to your hip.

Your eyes shut, throwing your head back. Starting the movement is slow. Gentle as you adjust to him. His foreplay had done wonders as you take him fully. Feeling him hitting that spot so perfectly inside of you. "Look at me Y/N" he says. His voice a deep gruff. You open your eyes. Yours glazed over from being cock drunk. His filled with a yearning as he fastens his pace. He brings his hook down. Careful to angle it in a way that wont cause either of you harm, but so that the harsh coldness hits your clit.

You tighten around him. Gasping as you arch your back. He rubs the cold metal against your core as he continues to piston into you. "P-Please" you manage to let out. Broken speech as your brain turns to mush. "Wan- cum". He smiles. Leaning over slightly as he kisses you. His hips and hand still working on your most sensitive parts.

"Cum for me". You shut your eyes. Clenching around him as your orgasm washes over you. Knuckles turning white from your grip on the wood beneath you. A drawn out moan leaving your lips as you shut your eyes. He grunts. His nails digging into your skin as he pushes himself into you. A soft smile coming over your face as you feel his seed spill into your clenching pussy. His hips move slowly until he stops. Feeling him become soft inside of you before he pulls out.

Grabbing your ripped shirt from the floor he uses it to clean you both up. You let out a soft whine in protest as he touches you. Grabbing your jacket and wrapping it around your torso. Your eyes flutter open as you feel him lean over your body. Gently kissing your forehead.

"That was a very, very good goodbye".

TAGS

@disney-girl67

[syndxlla]

best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high reward and self-indulgent Zelink fan fiction. Canon-compliant. Takes place between both and totk

Chapter Six: This is Home

Read chapter five here

My masterlist

Song: Run To You by Leah Michele

Summary: Link is brought on to investigate a new strange monster plaguing the farmers in Hateno. He is faced with a new type of post-traumatic experience he doesn’t expect to have.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, suspense and horror, PTSD, squint and theres very base-line sexual content, GRAPHIC descriptions of animal mutilations!

Word Count: 3.5k words

Authors Note: I didn’t update for two and a half months and said “lemme give you guys the best chapter yet” (imo). Thank you for being patient with me. I restarted school, closed one musical, opened and closed a 30 performance long run of another musical and literally fell in love with a man 16-years-older than me in that time lol. Also I wrote this in one sitting and I’m starting chapter 7 now 🫡. Its unedited be nice.

Also please do not make fun of me for using a Leah Michele song for this chapter its so good and it works really good so just shut up. Kloveyoubye

The summer starts to get hotter. A week passes and nothing changes, neither of them ever address the hand holding, Link is fixing the hole in the roof and Zelda is reteaching herself how to fix a clock, an activity she originally learned at the age of seven. Everything is so normal, the sun starts to set a little later, and the fireflies have started hatching.

Link never really thought he would end up in a position to do housework. He tried to get Bolson to fix the hole before Link bought it, but it would take a certain number of wood piles and when Link went out to get them he got a little distracted. And by distracted he means ending the sandstorm in the desert caused by the Divine Beast. It just got put on the back burner, and now here he is, using basic tools to hammer in new shingles. He wipes his brow, his shirt off again. He takes a look at the hammer in his hand, thinking about the savage Lynel sword that same hand has swung.

The passage of time is weird.

Maybe he does want to go back to work. Going from Demon slayer to roof repairman in two and a half weeks is a little jarring.

He hears a groan of frustration from inside the house, and makes his way inside, where it's much cooler.

“Everything alright?” He asks, looking at the girl who’s hunched over the kitchen table.

“No, this is absurd.” She slams the machine on the kitchen table. “I can’t remember how to do the most basic thing in engineering ever.” She frowns.

Link chuckles and places a dirty hand on her shoulder as he walks past her. He moves to the water basin and wets a cloth that he wraps around his neck. “I don’t know the first thing about that stuff, so you have me beat.” He shrugs. “Man, what I would give for an hour at Lurelin right now. Or better yet a weekend at Tabantha. I bet the weather there is a comfortable 60 degrees.” He sighs. Trying to slyly put the worm in Zelda’s ear about a possible trip.

Zelda groans, “I agree. I don’t remember it getting this hot.”

“This is just the beginning, wait until it’s the midsummer festival.”

“A festival?” Zelda’s face lights up.

Link nods, “It’s something they started about thirty years ago. It’s right here in Hateno. People from all parts of the kingdom will travel for it.” Link drinks some water, leading against the counter at the hip. Zelda makes special effort not to admire how his obliques curved. “There’s music and dancing, it’s quite fun. I was invited last year as a special guest. The “chosen hero” or something like that.” Link shrugs.

At that moment they hear a sharp knock on their door. It startles both of them. Link moves to answer it, setting the rag and cup down.

“Dantz, what is it?” Link says as he opens the door to a distressed farmer.

“Master Link, so good to see you,” His voice is shaky, “I didn’t know who else to go to.” Link listens more intently, Zelda even stands. “Two more of my cattle have been killed. When I heard you were back in town I knew you could help me. I don’t know who—or what—is killing them, but it's not a moblin. It’s something darker.” He’s speaking a mile a minute.

“Slow down,” Link stops him, “When did this happen?”

“In the night, I came here as soon as I could. They were covered in something… unnatural. Please, Link.”

Link turns back to look at Zelda. “Stay here.”

“What? No. I’ll come with you!” She moves to him and Link stops her. If this is anything like what Cado saw at the castle, he didn’t want her to be anywhere near it.

Link completely turns around and puts his hands on her shoulders, “Zelda, you cannot.” He stays sternly.

“Why? You don’t have to baby me. I can help you.”

“Zel-“

“I’m better! Please don’t leave me-“ Before she finishes the sentence she’s falling back down, like she was going to faint again. She had gotten herself worked up and now her heart was weary again. Link catches her before she falls, her knees knocking together.

“Oh, Goddess.” Dantz says. “Should I help?” He asks and Link snaps, telling him ‘no’ a little too forcefully.

“Zel, come on, let's get you to bed.” He wraps her arm around his shoulder. “Dantz, I’ll be there within the hour. I’m sorry.” Link says in a calmer tone.

“I understand, Link.” He nods and turns to leave.

Zelda can’t get up the stairs and Link picks her up, carrying her up to her room. He places her in bed as she starts to cry.

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” He brushes her hair out of her face. She takes his hand.

“No. It’s not.” She replies. “Stop telling me it’s okay.” She groans. “It’s ridiculous that I can’t do anything without this happening.” It was the second time this week.

“I have to go help them.” His hand is held back by her, but she eventually lets it go.

He turns to leave her, pulling his green tunic over his messy hair, and getting ready for combat. He isn’t even anticipating a fight, but he wants to be ready. He puts his gloves on, and straps both his sword and shield to his back. He even gets his bow ready because he has no idea what it might be. It sounds serious.

It’s the first time he’s been entirely suited-up since the castle. He forgot how natural it feels. He forgot how much he felt like himself.

Zelda has gotten up and stands at the railing of the loft. “Be careful.” She says in a weak voice.

Link looks up at her, he wants to stay here with her and hold her and let her know that it's going to be okay. “Please rest.”

He walks out the door.

The cattle are lying dead in the corner of the pasture. Flies buzz around them. Dantz and Link examine the scene, a pit in both their stomachs.

“What could it be?” Dantz asks.

Link crouches down, getting a closer look. The gunk is a deep maroon color, almost like malice but thinner, almost like a glossy serum as opposed to a thick slime. Link takes a risk and touches a bit of it that was strewn across the grass, rubbing it between his fingers. It didn’t seem to hurt him the way malice did. He sniffs it, it’s rotten and foul. He gags almost immediately. Link wipes his hand off in the grass.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.” He admits. “And I’ve seen a lot.” This was only confirming his worst fears.

“The other ones that were killed were left like this too.” Dantz explains, “There isn’t even any meat taken out of them, only their eyes are gouged out.” He points out.

“Whatever is killing them is doing it for sport.” Link stands back up and folds his arms. “This is bizarre, I must say.” It was starting to be late afternoon, he still had a few hours of sunlight. “What did you do with the other ones that were killed?” Link asks.

“We tried to clean them up and butcher them for food. But the meat inside was rotten, like it was poisoned under the skin.”

Link hears a giggle from behind them and turns around to see the two daughters of the rancher watching them from behind a post. When he catches them staring they both hide.

“How old are your girls?” He asks.

“Siva is eighteen and Catli is sixteen.” Dantz replies. “They are my pride and joy, I can’t let anything bad happen to them.”

Link advances towards them, “Girls.” He smiles, charming as ever. They both sneak out from behind the post, sheepish and giddy. The older steps forward.

“You’re the hero.” She puts her hands behind her back. Link nods.

“Can you girls show me the edge of your property?” He asks, wanting to test a theory. They both happily nod and start to lead him, he notices especially how Siva looks at him as she walks by. She was very agreeable: long, dark and curly hair and alluring eyes. He follows them. They take him past the fence and through the forest, the younger chatting and asking questions about his quests and whatnot. He just smiles and nods, answering with basic “yes’” or “no’s”.

Link’s theory starts to prove right, he sees a set of two acorns on the ground, then a pair of two foot tracks, and eventually, at the end of the property, where two songbirds lay dead at the bottom of a tree, both covered in the same strange goop. Whatever this is, it’s looking for things in pairs. Like two sisters.

Link would never imagine putting these girls in danger, and would send them home in about an hour or two when it started to get dark, he just wanted to lure out whatever was killing with a pair.

He sat down at the base of a tree, and listened as the girls talked themselves up, clearly competing with one another for who can be the most impressive to the hero. Link decides to let them have their fun, it’s not like he was getting this attention from Zelda.

Zelda.

She’s all he could think about. He listens to the girls for a full hour, but doesn’t comprehend a word they’re saying because all he can do is think about the woman he left at home. He wishes he hadn’t left her home, she’s probably sad and lonely. Or maybe she isn’t, perhaps she’s enjoying some alone time. He doubted it, though. He was sure she was fuming at him for just leaving her, for going in such a rush. Proximity can cause problems, maybe this was good for them.

Link must have zoned out because all of a sudden the younger sister was gone, and he was left alone with Siva. This was dangerous territory.

“Where did your sister go?” He asks, clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh! I told her to go get her tapestry to show you! Of course.” Siva says in a tone that was a little too flirty for Link’s liking. She sits next to him, facing him. Link knew the look on her face, and he knew he should stand up and put an end to whatever was about to happen. “Because you know… now we’re alone.” She sighs and leans in.

Stop. Stop. Stop. He tells himself but doesn’t move, he lets her place her lips on his.

Link is not an experienced kisser. He’s had a few drunken nights in the last three years where he ended up in a Gerudo’s bedchamber or a stable-workers hideout, and while those were all agreeable experiences, he’s never actively sought them out. It was always nice to get the tension from his journey off, though.

Link makes the mistake of kissing her back, and she’s sighing into his touch and he’s pulling her in. Being alone with a woman he’s been in love with for three years and not being able to touch her or talk to her the way he wants to has left him with a lot of pent up energy, it felt good to get it out.

Link puts his fingers through her hair, and starts to kiss down her jawline and neck and she’s letting out the prettiest little sounds.

And then he starts to think about Zelda. The sounds Zelda would make, the feeling of her hair intertwined in his fingers, how her lips would feel against his…

Zelda.

Zelda.

“Zelda.” He sighs, and then Savi is pulling away.

“Hm?” She asks, and Link is dazed and confused, thinking with anything other than his brain. He doesn’t know how long they were kissing because suddenly it's much darker outside, and if Dantz caught them like this, Link would be the one hunted down and killed, not whatever monster is out there.

Link immediately feels stupid, this was a rookie mistake. He shouldn’t have let it happen.

“What?” He responds to her, and then out of the corner of his eye, he sees something run behind the tree. “Shit.” He jumps up. “You need to go. Right now.” He pushes her back towards the house. It wasn’t far, she’d be okay. “Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

She nods, also remembering their reason for being out here. She runs back home and Link shakes his head, trying to refocus. He sees it again, it’s fast, moving from tree to tree, but further away. Link grunts and starts to slowly follow it. He isn’t sure if it saw him. It’s tall, and it’s dark. He would guess it’s a Moblin by its size but it's much too fast to be a moblin. Perhaps a wizzrobe? But he could hear its feet on the grass. Link starts the stalk, prowling towards it like a predator.

He doesn’t think it knows he’s following, because he’s able to follow it halfway up Madorna Mountain before he accidentally steps on a branch that snaps loudly. Again, a rookie mistake. Link was out of practice, rusty. He silently curses himself for that. The beast turns around to look at Link, but he’s able to hide behind an oak tree. It was still a little light out, and the lights from down were getting smaller and smaller as they worked their way up the mountain.

Link stayed vigilant. It’s been a long time since he’s had to fight a new enemy, and he wasn’t sure how powerful this was going to be. It gets quiet, he doesn’t hear it move. Even with Link’s impaired hearing, he had a knack for the details, but not today, not now. A cricket chirps but it’s silenced halfway through its sound. The wind goes still. A cloud covers the moon.

He girds up, and moves from behind the tree to keep following it, but he’s met with a horrific sight.

The creature is standing there, about six feet away from Link.

It startles him. He’s met with a feeling of dread.

It’s tall, probably seven feet. It’s hunched down, a humanoid-sort of beast that looks like a shadow covered in the same maroon gloop as the animals.

Link freezes up, he is paralyzed with fear because he knows exactly what it is.

He knows who it is.

It opens its eyes, those awful, yellow, glowing eyes. He chuckles at Link and it fills his skull. It wasn’t quite human, like it was a pile of goo that was regaining its strength and slowly rebuilding itself into a human. Into a phantom.

They stare at one another, his laughter taunts Link. Link can hear his heartbeat in his ears. His palms start to sweat. He is met with the images of three weeks ago. The battle, the castle, the evil.

Ganon.

Or at least some form of him.

He doesn’t move, he just laughs at Link. The boy swallows, and he wants to run, but he rolls his shoulders back.

“Courage and Bravery are two different things.” Zelda’s words ring in his memory.

He grabs his sword.

The Master Sword unsheathes with a light ring, and it glows in the darkness.

In an instant, the monster is screeching and howling like a Lynel and melting away from the light of the sword. The pure power of the holy blade made the beast slowly melt into the ground, like an ice cube in the desert. It covered its eyes, and screlted into the forest, echoing no doubt into town.

Link walked closer to it, waving the blade, spinning it in his hand until the creature was completely put away.

Whatever that was, it isn’t very strong. It will surely get stronger, though. Link had a feeling this was not the end of it. It left behind a puddle of goop. Link’s stomach dropped when he realized why it was killing for sport and in pairs of two. It was probably seeking Him and Zelda. Unable to differentiate what living things were hylian and what was cattle or animals. The stealing of the eyes surely had something to do with it regaining its strength, but what?

How did it know to come look in Hateno already?

After sheathing the sword and thanking the Goddess, Link took a moment to bury the secretment. He still felt sick to his stomach. Why did he freeze up like that?

Maybe that final battle had more of an effect on him than he thought.

He heads home, explaining to Dantz what had happened and what he saw, sugar-coating it a little and just saying it was a ghost. Link wasn’t sure how long it would stay away for, but hopefully long enough he could talk to Impa about it. Clearly the Master Sword was protecting him. He made a special effort to avoid Savi.

When he gets home, he drops his equipment off, pulling his gloves and boots off and leaving it all in his little corner downstairs. He pulls his shirt off. He would sleep out with Epona again tonight, he would need to to avoid the nightmares. His Mare had that effect on him. The feeling of safety and home.

Zelda was asleep, snoring lightly in her bed. He stayed quiet and went to sit at the table, grabbing a baked apple to silence his rumbling stomach. Guilt washed over him as he remembered what he did today. Savi came onto him, but he knows he shouldn’t have let that happen. He was ashamed of his conduct.

The laughter of the phantom rang in his ears. Flashes of its grin and glowing eyes projected in his mind. He felt ill.

Link disassociated. He sat at the table for three hours and it went by in minutes.

What snaps him out of it are the screams of terror he hears from upstairs.

His mind immediately jumps to the worst possible situation. He grabs the master sword and sprints upstairs. He sees nothing but a scared girl, crying from a nightmare.

“Zelda, what is it?” He asks, setting the sword town and running to her. He kneels by her bed and takes her hand. “I’m here, what’s wrong.” He whispers.

“You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

“B-but. The guardian, it got you. It killed-”

“It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real.” Link reassures her. “I’m here, breathing, alive as ever.”

Zelda shakes her head, she’s clearly so traumatized that she cannot differentiate dream from reality anymore, she probably thinks him saying that is the dream.

“Here, feel.” He grabs her hand and places it against his chest where his heart is. “Feel that?” He asks, “Bum-bum. Bum-bum.” He whispers. “That’s my heart. Its pumping, it's beating.” Zelda sobs and he pulls her into his chest. “It’s okay, I got you. I’m here.”

He holds her for a moment and then stands up, “I’ll get the stool if it will help you sleep.” He turns to go.

“Stay with me.” She asks, tears wetting his collarbone.

“I’ll be right here, I’ll grab the stool.” He says.

“No, stay with me.” She says, and gestures to the bed.

“What?”

“Please. I cannot sleep without you by my side. I’m too afraid I’m going to lose you again.” She sniffles.

“Zelda I can’t-“

“Why?” She asks. “Because of decorum? Because I’m royal? Because you don't want to get caught?” She picks up her hands ‘None of that matters anymore’ she signs.

Link nods, “Are you sure?”

“Please.” She pleads.

Link moves back to her, trying to control his racing heart. Zelda scoots over to she’s closer to the wall, and Link carefully crawls into the covers of the bed. There wasn’t a ton of room, there would be no way for them to lay in the bed without being in full contact. “Is this okay?” He asks as he pulls the covers up.

She nods.

“Hold me?” She asks.

Link looks at her and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to kiss her. He nods and lays his head down, his chest facing up. He pulls her into his chest, wrapping his left arm around her shoulders and his right arm over his stomach to her waist. She tries to control her breathing, and it gets easier as their hearts begin to sync up.

Link wants to cry too, because this is the safest he has felt in a hundred and three years. This is the most at home he has ever been. He mentally-pinches himself because he’s sure he’s dreaming. But he doesn’t wake up, in fact, he starts to fall into the deepest sleep he’s ever had.

Every muscle in his body starts to relax, his eyes get heavy, and the scent of the girl on his chest fills his dreams with images of fairy forests and gentle ocean waves and the time of day when the sun moves into twilight.

This is home.

[yellowocaballero]

Ashen Wolf Byleth & Teen Dad Yuri

The blade fell, and the beautiful ghost stepped away. “We don’t like surface people here. If you two are plotting anything, I’ll kill you.”

She said it so simply and easily, as if Dimitri’s death would be the work of nature or the Goddess and not her own two hands. Dimitri turned around, heart jumping into the throat, and met the eyes of his beautiful ghost for the first time.

The girl was solid, real, and around his age. She was wearing a strange, bastardized version of the Academy uniform, silver and embroidered with a strange symbol over the heart. Her hair gleamed navy blue and her lace stockings barely hid her defined thigh muscles. Her grip on her sword was excellent and her stance spoke of barely restrained power. The woman could kill him in a flash, and the stroke that cut his throat would shine like moonlight.

Like Dimitri loved a long fall and short impact, like he loved the light at the end of the tunnel, like he loved betting all in on the longest chances, Dimitri fell in love instantly.

I need to update Weekenders but there's about twenty reasons why I haven't done it yet. But while I've been posting it I've been writing a shitton of other stuff, only some of which is decent, so I thought I'd post the beginnings of this story while I finish up the New Game+ Claude POV fic. This is most of what exists so far, and I probably won't finish it. Writing Dimitri's POV actively made me feel more insane as a person.

TW for references and flashbacks to Yuri's canon past. Around 15k of an absolutely demented Dimitri, a deeply smarmy Claude, a disturbingly feral Byleth, and a Yuri who is just doing his best under the cut.

i.

Dimitri was rapidly growing obsessed with the beautiful ghost. 

He tried to confess to his colleagues in the Blue Lions, but they just gave him sympathetic eyes and confiscated his training sword. A typical lack of faith in their leader, but Dimitri had to accept that it was well deserved. He was perfectly aware that Felix, Sylvain, Dedue, and Ingrid didn’t believe in ghosts, much less beautiful ones. Mercedes, Ashe, and Annette believed whole-heartedly in ghosts, but they thought he was being weird about it. So Dimitri was silenced, ostensibly for his own good. It was for his own good - future kings couldn’t exactly run around talking about beautiful ghosts - but it still felt like an odd form of betrayal. 

And he still couldn’t get her out of his mind. If only he had proof, Sylvain would make fun of him just a little bit less. All he had to do was be patient and wait for his time to come. Sylvain would see. They’d all see. 

The time came sooner than expected, with unexpected company. Dimitri and Claude were walking back from an important (Edelgard’s words) and mind-numbingly boring (Claude’s words) administrative meeting when he saw her again. They were walking a side path along the very edge of the monastery, using it as a shortcut between the main building and their own dormitory, and in the thick night their solitude was complete. Complete save for a shadow in the distance, darting from the forest and across the path like a minnow in a stream. 

Dimitri dropped his books in shock. Claude stopped short, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“What’s -”

“It’s her!” Dimitri cried. “That’s her! Hey - miss, please wait!”

The books and company were no longer important. Dimitri set off after her at a run, only barely aware that Claude was hot on his tail. As always, the ghost disappeared almost instantly - she crossed the path and dove into the tall shrubbery against the stone walls of the monastery, where she disappeared. Dimitri had seen her appear from the ground and disappear into walls before, only barely visible from the corner of his eyes, and every time she slipped like water from his fingers.

This time was no different. Dimitri skidded to a halt at her disappearing point, pushing aside thick branches in a desperate search for terrestrial beauty. There was nobody and nothing - the girl had walked straight into the monastery walls. Foiled again.

“Dammit!” Dimitri yelled. Claude’s eyebrows jumped up. “I was so close that time!” 

“You know curse words? I owe Hilda a hundred gold.” Claude poked his head over Dimitri’s shoulder, watching his desperate search without helping whatsoever. “What was all of that about? Did you see someone?”

“Didn’t you?” But Dimitri already knew the answer, even as he said it - nobody ever saw her but him. “I’ve been seeing this girl since I arrived at Garreg Mach. She appears from thin air and disappears into nothing. I suspect she may be a ghost. I’ve searched high and low for her, but I haven’t been able to find her. And she slips through my fingers again!”

Claude hummed, scratching his chin. “Now that you mention it, maybe I did see a figure…”

Dimitri rocketed upwards, snapping several branches. He whirled on Claude, who took a large step back. “You did? Was she short, wearing silver clothing, unmistakably beautiful?”

Claude held up both hands in a plea for innocence. “...it looked kind of humanoid?” Figures. Dimitri turned back around, scanning the area again. If he could just follow her trail - maybe there would be a scent of death? Of ozone? Of the unknown? “Hey, if it matters that much to you then I’ll help you look. Can’t afford to rule anything out - even ghosts.” 

“You’re a true friend, Your Grace,” Dimitri said seriously. Claude nodded back, equally seriously. “And even if she isn’t a ghost, an unknown person at Garreg Mach is highly suspect. She doesn’t seem to wear a habit, armor, or a uniform. It’s our responsibility as leaders to investigate mysteries like this.” 

“Uh huh.” Claude slipped into the thicket with him, easily fitting into the barren spots where Dimitri already accidentally snapped off all the branches. Dimitri was already seriously knocking on the castle walls, searching for secret passages or weaknesses. “But not to tell a staff member?”

“I decided a while ago that I could handle this on my own,” Dimitri said stiffly. Wasn’t like anybody was willing to help him, anyway. “Some endeavors are personal.”

“I know that feeling.” Claude hummed, and Dimitri heard the distinct screech of metal scraping on metal. “So are you this invested because of the ghost thing or the beautiful thing?”

“With the potential non-invited guest at Garreg Mach thing, Your Grace.” 

A terrible grinding sound split the night, and Dimitri winced. He was a bit sensitive to unexpected loud noises. Felix knew, and liked to sneak up on him and yell in his ear. “I’m a future duke and you’re a future king, Your Highness, I think you’re meant to speak less formally to me.” 

“We’re both future leaders of our respective countries,” Dimitri said seriously. “Isn’t that more important than a discrepancy in titles? I’d like to show respect to you as it befits your station, not your title.” 

More awful screeching filled the air, accompanied by a final grinding scream and a muffled thump. “Is that why you’re the only person who calls Petra ‘Your Highness’? I think that’s why you’re the only guy in this school she approves of.” 

“Really?” Dimitri asked, pleased. Politeness always paid off! “I simply think it’s disrespectful to treat her as anything less than royalty simply because she is here as a political hostage - an outdated practice that I believe - I’m sorry, what’s that sound?”

“Oh, just opening a secret passage.” 

“I see. I just think it’s an outdated practice that ought to be illegalized, and just between you and me I actually highly disapprove of - I’m sorry, a what?”

Dimitri turned around from his fruitless inspection of the wall for the first time and saw Claude squatting nearby. He had cut away the brambles surrounding the area with the tip of an arrow he pulled from somewhere, and a large manhole was resting on the grass next to him. He was currently sticking his head down a dark hole of indeterminable depth. Dimitri hadn’t even noticed a manhole! 

Well. If the beautiful woman was a beautiful ghost, then she had undoubtedly gone through the wall. But if the beautiful woman was an everyday extremely attractive girl, then the manhole might be how she had escaped so quickly. 

Finally, a lead! A path towards her! Dimitri did not know why he was a little disappointed. Was he secretly hoping she’d be a ghost? That would be a little impractical. Maybe he was just upset Claude had found it?

Claude popped his head back up, upside-down braid swinging back against his cheek. “Now isn’t this interesting?” For the first time, Claude seemed invested. “The sewer system doesn’t run underneath this path. So what’s an access point to the sewers doing right here?”

“...why do you know the sewer layout of Garreg Mach?”

“I’m a fan of a good mystery,” Claude said, completely ignoring the question. Perhaps. “How do you feel about a little exploration on this fine moonlit night?” 

Oh no. Dimtiri abruptly felt a little anxious. “Your Grace, I don’t believe students are allowed in the Garreg Mach sewer systems.”

“What if it’s not the Garreg Mach sewer system?”

“That may be less allowed.” A little awkwardly, Dimitri added, “And I really wouldn’t want to accidentally break a rule and get in trouble.”

Claude gave him a look of blatant disgust. Dimitri hung his head in shame.

Finally, Claude took pity on him. He sighed and clapped Dimitri’s shoulder - once in camaraderie, twice in sympathy. “Your Highness. Are you really going to let some little rules get in the way of you and your soulmate?”

Dimitri perked up. Putting it like that…and he really didn’t want to look uncool in front of Claude, who was probably the coolest person at the school… “I suppose Lady Rhea would understand if it’s for the sake of love…”

“Attaboy.” Claude shoved roughly at Dimitri’s shoulder, pushing him into the hole. “Now let’s dive into the sewers. Lords first!”

Thankfully, Dimitri wasn’t obligated to fall down a hole face first. There was a wooden ladder descending downwards, warped and fragile from the damp air, and although Dimitri descended into the dark with no hesitation he had to force himself to move slowly and grip the fragile rungs with utmost care. 

The darkness was absolute, and Dimitri and Claude navigated by feel. They climbed for what felt like ages, and Dimitri’s absolute concentration made the period of time span even longer. Claude prattled on above his head with some random thoughts and observations, but Dimitri was focusing too hard on the ladder to register what he was saying. 

A boot knocked him on the head. Dimitri’s hands spasmed, crushing the rung into splinters, and his grip was completely lost. Dimitri bent backwards a terrifying foot before he righted himself and regained his balance, grabbing the side of the ladder and swinging himself heavily downwards. Of course, that broke the side of the ladder, and suddenly Claude was yelling a great deal of expletives as one side of his ladder began to slide downwards. 

“Let’s readjust our approach,” Dimitri said mildly. He changed his grip to grab the two sides of the ladder, his metal gauntlets digging into the wood. “Get ready to slide, Your Grace.” 

“Are you nuts -”

Dimitri kicked off, taking his feet off the rungs and loosening his grip on the sides. His slide downwards was alarmingly fast, and he could feel the musty air rise up to meet him. Claude was still yelling, his voice echoing up the empty tunnel, and a familiar wave of adrenaline rose to wash Dimitri’s mind clean.

He couldn’t help but grin. The wind tousling his hair, the swooping sensation in his stomach, the possibility of death and the high probability of injury - a recipe for excitement. Dimitri’s favorite sort of excitement - the sort that cleared out all of the nasty little thoughts that clouded his mind day to day, that made him forget all of his problems and memories and wounds and that focused him onto the present moment. It was a thrill that conquered all ills, and it was more or less the only time that Dimitri was ever happy. 

His professor didn’t like that about him. Before Garreg Mach, Felix was the only person who was aware of Dimitri’s little addiction, but the Blue Lions professor had sniffed Dimitri out fast and never stopped giving him a hard time about it. Dimitri honestly didn’t think it was the professor’s business, but he knew they did not agree regarding that fact. It didn’t matter - Dimitri wasn’t about to change.

A light sprung from the darkness, and Dimitri immediately kicked his heels against the ladder and slowed his descent. The light brightened as Dimitri fell, and he was able to make out a hard-packed dirt floor just in time to bend his knees and soften his landing. The impact still rattled his legs down to the bone, but he hadn’t sprained anything.

Dimitri immediately jumped backwards, watching Claude come to the same conclusion and slow his descent. Unlike Dimitri, he didn’t stick the landing - he fell in an ungainly heap on the floor, gasping for breath and groaning. His hair was wildly mussed, and he looked a little green. His cape had ripped off his shoulders, and was currently hanging like a defeated flag several feet above their heads.

“What is wrong with you.”

Goddess, they’d be here all day. “You’re the one who kicked my head.” Dimitri wiped the splinters off his gauntleted hand, extending it down to Claude. Claude squinted at him in increasingly ill-hidden hatred. “Come on, have a little adventurous spirit. I thought you were here to explore the unknown?”

Claude pushed himself upwards, and Dimitri silently curled his hand and returned it to his side. Figured that Claude wouldn’t want to touch him. An expected reaction, honestly. “Sure I am. Now our way out of here is unknown too. Guess we have no choice but to press onwards.” 

“I’ll lead the way,” Dimitri said - perhaps betraying the fact that he had no intention of going backwards. “I believe we’re already out of the woods. Look yonder - see the exit?”

There was, indeed, an exit. They had landed in a narrow rectangular room, and there was clearly a door at the far corner where the right wall intersected the back wall. Light shone from within, and Dimitri eagerly led them forwards towards the light. 

He could even hear sounds, signs of life - the distant coursing of a river, and a familiar quiet symphony of sounds. They were the sounds of life - a soundscape of an ordinary day at the marketplace at the base of Garreg Mach, marked by shuffling feet and quiet voices. 

“Is that people?” Dimitri whispered, excited. “What are people doing this far underground?”

“Is that people?” Claude whispered, incredulous. “Does Rhea know about this?”

“Perhaps they’re ghosts!”

But Claude just shook his head, and for the first time he seemed a little grim. He sped up, walking briskly until he overtook Dimitri. Dimitri fell back, letting him take the lead, and listened curiously as Claude muttered under his breath. Dimitri couldn’t make out the words at all - too quiet, perhaps.

“Ghosts!” Claude hissed. “Perhaps they’re ghosts, that’s fun, not dangerous -”

“Maybe they’re an army of ghosts,” Dimitri volunteered. Claude hissed something that sounded suspiciously similar to the Almyran term for the Fodlan ethnic group. He probably mishead. “Honestly, Claude, what happened to your thirst for adventure -”

“I thought I would get to see Dimitri Blaiddyd stomp through some sewers for an hour! I didn’t expect to stumble into real life people!” Claude stopped at the entryway, peering forward into the cavernous expanse beyond them. Dimitri stopped too. Quite involuntarily. “Holy - that’s a settlement! What is a settlement doing underneath - that’s a village! There’s no way Rhea doesn’t know about that. What else is that woman hiding?”

Dimitri coughed, frozen perfectly still. Cold steel kissed his neck. “Ah. Er. Some help?” 

Claude ignored him, steadily working himself up. Dimitri had never seen Claude actually unbalanced before. It was unsettling. “Just when I thought I had five percent of that woman figured out, she pulls the rug on me again. I’ll never get anything good out of her this way. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I might have to fall back on the B&E plan -”

“Some help, Claude!”

Instantly, Claude said, “What B&E plan?”

“Don’t move,” the beautiful ghost said. 

Claude turned around. 

Dimitri had to assume it was the beautiful ghost. The sword was raised against his neck upwards, showing that the wielder had to significantly lift her arm to hold it. The voice was unmistakably a woman’s, light and delicate and young. It wasn’t ethereal - rather, it was solid, as solid as the steel against his skin - but there was still something otherworldly about it. 

Claude stared at Dimitri, wide-eyed. His eyes traveled downwards - yes, the ghost had to be short - and he froze just as solid as Dimitri for a flat second before he relaxed. Over Claude’s shoulder, Dimitri could see the settlement stretching out before him - at the lean-tos and tents and shacks, at the people in rags milling about who were already beginning to stop and stare. The underground people were dirty, and the underground village was filthier. Dimitri immediately saw some elderly hugging the walls, and more foreigners.

Undoubtedly, Claude had seen what Dimitri saw. Claude was currently ahead of him - he was staring at the beautiful ghost with mouth agape, eyes wide. A hot flash of jealousy burst in Dimitri’s chest. Claude got to see the ghost’s face before he did! How incredibly unfair! 

“Hello, there. Sorry for…uh, dropping in.” Claude slowly raised his hands, showing himself unarmed. Dimitri wondered where he had stashed his extra arrows. “We…come in peace?”

The sword at his neck flashed. It was well-kept, but clearly old and cheap. “Who are you with.” 

“We’re not with anybody!” Claude said hurriedly. Bizarrely, he had immediately adopted an accent - a thick, regional Almyran accent, coarse and rough. “Please, ma’am, stay your sword. Don’t you have any idea who you’re holding hostage? He’s a very important person. If he goes missing your entire house will be endangered. It’s safest for everybody if you just let him go.”

The blade stilled. “...is he rich?”

“Oh, very! I know people who would pay thousands for his safe return!” 

“What did I expect,” Dimitri muttered. 

“And who are you?” the beautiful ghost asked. “Are you rich too?”

“I am but this man’s humble aide!” Claude said instantly. He bowed flamboyantly, with a distinctive Almyran flair. “A loyal and devoted servant am I, to His Royal Highness! My ten brothers and sisters wouldn’t have two coppers to scavenge together to pay a ransom, honest! Tell you what, tell you what - let me help!” Claude straightened, pulling out his most roguish and charismatic smile. “Let’s be friends, Fodlan beauty. Give me your demands, and I’ll deliver them straight upwards all the way to the top. I’ll be back with thousands! You can give the pale boy back later. If you want. How about it?”

The sword wavered. The ghost spoke again, her voice laced with doubt. “You’re both wearing the Academy uniform. Brother did say that the prince was attending school this year.”

“Beautiful and good intel sources! Surely you’ve heard of me, the Almyran vassal that follows around the prince and attends school with him?”

Dubiously, the ghost said, “Brother says that the vassal’s Duscuran…”

“I am disappointed that your brother cannot tell the difference between the Duscur and Almyran people!”

“It’s not like that…”

Claude promptly said something in - Almyran? When did Claude learn Almyran? The ghost said something back in Almyran, undoubtedly dubious. Claude pointed at Dimitri’s shoulder, showcasing Dimitri’s fine cape, and then at his own - and the distinct lack of yellow cape, which was probably still pinned to the ladder. The beautiful ghost murmured in assent - obviously Claude was a poor vassal, not a rich king, see his complete lack of cape. 

The beautiful ghost said something, and Claude’s eyes sharpened. He grinned and bowed even lower - a vassal to a princess. 

In the Fodlan language, Claude said, “Then His Highness and his loyal vassal would be honored to hold an audience with the lady’s esteemed brother.” 

“You talk stupid.” 

“You would really get along with my best friend, my lady.” 

“I’m not your anything.” The blade fell, and the beautiful ghost stepped away. “We don’t like surface people here. If you two are plotting anything, I’ll kill you.”

She said it so simply and easily, as if Dimitri’s death would be the work of nature or the Goddess and not her own two hands. Dimitri turned around, heart jumping into the throat, and met the eyes of his beautiful ghost for the first time.

The girl was solid, real, and around his age. She was wearing a strange, bastardized version of the Academy uniform, silver and embroidered with a strange symbol over the heart. Her hair gleamed navy blue and her lace stockings barely hid her defined thigh muscles. Her grip on her sword was excellent and her stance spoke of barely restrained power. The woman could kill him in a flash, and the stroke that cut his throat would shine like moonlight.

Like Dimitri loved a long fall and short impact, like he loved the light at the end of the tunnel, like he loved betting all in on the longest chances, Dimitri fell in love instantly. 

“Night night,” the love of Dimitri’s life said, before hitting him on the back of his head with the pommel of her sword, drawing black curtains over Dimitri’s eyes. 

__________

Dimitri sat in an office. A rather inauspicious turn in this kidnapping saga. 

He was sitting down because his head still hurt. He wished he was standing and showing his future brother-in-law the respect he deserved, but his future brother-in-law insisted that he tend to his probable concussion and sit. Dimitri wanted to protest - the man had already personally healed him, and his head didn’t hurt any more than usual - but the man seemed stressed enough, so Dimitri sat obediently in front of his desk. In an office. In an underground slum funded by the church. Which existed. Was that what taxpayer money was going towards?

Yuri explained the entire situation to him and Claude as he healed the bump and gash on Dimitri’s skull. For a given value of ‘entire’ - so far, Dimitri mostly just understood that the church organized a homeless encampment underground that accepted any members unconditionally and functioned roughly like its own little nation. The main encampment of Abyss was Garreg Mach itself - a basement floor of the monastery that had sunken into the ground after some unfortunate geographical events around seven hundred years ago. Dimitri wanted to ask if it was a possible problem that Garreg Mach was located in a sinkhole, but Yuri didn’t leave much time for questions.

The name of the slum was Abyss, and its inhabitants had little contact with the outside world. There were children in Abyss who had never stood in the sun, and infirm who hadn’t felt the sun’s warmth since they were well. Apparently the few inhabitants who regularly left Abyss used one of a series of secret passages in Garreg Mach, with entrances and exits that spanned the width of the monastery. These secret passages were very well-hidden, and an Abyssan well-versed in their usage could disappear and reappear throughout the monastery like…a ghost. 

They didn’t have visitors very often. Not many people knew about Abyss, and strangely enough the people in the loop didn’t care to visit a damp, filthy underground slum. They had even fewer Academy students fall down manholes and stumble into this inverted land of wonder. Hence why the sight of Dimitri and Claude caused certain Abyssans to panic. With their swords. 

These Abyssans were named Byleth, which was a lovely name. Potentially alliterative, too. 

“Your Highness.” Yuri was gritting his teeth together. “I am…so sorry.” 

“No harm done,” Dimitri said instantly. He wanted to express to Yuri that it was actually a great honor to be harmed by his sister, but he didn’t know how to say that in a normal way. “We were the intruders, after all. Byleth was just defending her home.” He turned to Byleth, who was standing stiffly behind her brother in a perfect match to Claude’s stiff stance behind Dimitri. Dimitri had barely taken his eyes off her, and yet she had failed to make a single facial expression. Fascinating. “Your swordplay was incredible, by the way. The way you held that sword to my throat was impeccable. I assume you’ve been professionally trained.”

“Here and there.” Byleth looked pleased, making Dimitri feel like a star. She pointed awkwardly at the silver sword at Dimitri’s hip. It was the same old sword Dimitri always had - some antique of the royal family, passed down from generation to generation. “I like your sword.”

Instantly, Dimitri said, “Thank you! Do you want it?”’

Byleth hummed. Yuri’s eyes widened a fraction, and Claude stifled a groan. “My sword is pretty old…”

“Here, take it.” Dimtiri immediately undid his belt and handed the sword over to her, belt and sheath and all. She held it up and admired it, testing its weight. Yuri’s jaw clenched. “Consider it my apology for following you uninvited into your home.”

Byleth nodded, twirling the sword easily in her hands. It was tremendously attractive. “Apology accepted. We’re even.” Her mouth twitched infinitesimally into something that may be loosely deemed a smile. Yuri’s eyes widened severely. “Thank you.”

Dimitri looked away, coughing. His face felt like it was going to melt off. “You’re welcome. It - ah, it suits you.”

“Do you think so?” Byleth asked, pleased. Perhaps. It was very hard to tell. Her voice was in a very strict monotone, but their deep spiritual connection meant that Dimitri could vibe these things out. “It does match my outfit.”

Dimitri would never be able to think of silver again without thinking of her. “I’m hono -”

“Your Highness.” Yuri’s voice hadn’t changed; nor had his words. His expression didn’t seem any different and his body language hadn’t shifted. But something about him was far now far less welcoming - something was different, all the same. “We’re very grateful for your gift, and for the forgiveness you’ve extended towards us regarding what happened. But it would be highly irresponsible of me to keep you here any longer. Abyss isn’t safe for somebody like you and your…vassal.”

“Khalid, sir.” Claude winked loudly at Dimitri, making absolutely certain that Dimitri understood that Claude was giving a fake foreign name. Yes, Dimitri picked up on that. “Really, wonderful place you have here. Very chic. Couldn’t possibly be that unsafe - if we had a good tour guide.”

Frostily, Yuri said, “I’ll have some scouts escort you back topside immediately. I’m certain Lady Rhea is looking for you.”

“It took her three days to notice that I tossed Lindhardt into a well, so I’m certain we have at least that long.” Claude leaned forward eagerly. “Who founded this place? Whose idea was it? Why is it underground?”

“Somebody who is no longer with us,” Yuri said, curt and even. “I’m the leader of Abyss now. And as the leader, it’s my responsibility to get future leaders of Fodlan back to their cozy beds.”

Claude flapped an easy hand. “Sure, let’s get the future leader of Fodlan back to bed. But this humble vassal’s awfully interested in this operation you’re running. Don’t suppose you could allow me to run around a bit? Check some things out? See your tax records?”

“I think even vassals have someplace to be, Khalid.”

“Why are you saying his name like that?” Byleth asked Yuri. She paused a beat. “Never mind. I don’t care.”

“There’s a great deal of places this vassal should be,” Claude said cheerfully, “but I think there’s only one place where I have to be.” He easily slid into the unoccupied chair next to Dimitri, leaning forward and folding his hands on Yuri’s desk. He had to nudge apart several scrolls of parchment and pieces of paper to do it - the man’s desk was stacked with forms, work, and quills. “Let’s put our cards on the table, huh? There’s a lot the church doesn’t tell us peons, Yuri. I’m willing to bet you know a lot of it. So in exchange for you telling me what you know, I don’t tell Lady Rhea what I know about a certain somebody trying to lop off the head of the future king of Faerghus. Sound good to you?”

Yuri crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, one thin purple eyebrow arching. “You have a lot to learn about the art of the deal, kid. What will Rhea say when she learns that Prince Dimitri and Duke Claude were out past curfew skulking around slums?”

“Duke Claude’s happily asleep in his warm bed, and every member of his House is sufficiently paid to corroborate that story.” Claude smiled winningly. “Khalid is a humble vassal interested in touring your fine slum. Khalid might also have some other gossip that you might be interested in.” 

“Like what, kid?”

Claude’s grin widened. “I might tell you tomorrow morning. After my visit.”

Yuri was silent. His eyes flickered to Dimtiri, then to Claude. He glanced at his sister. “By, wait outside?” 

Byleth nodded and exited the room. Dimtiri yearned for her achingly. But Yuri just straightened, face as blank and unreadable as his sister’s, and said something to Claude in Almyran.

For the first time, Claude was struck off balance. He looked at Dimitri, eyes wide, then back at Yuri. He said something empathetically, shaking his head, but Yuri just responded curtly.

In the Fodlan language, Claude said, “On the honor of my father and mother, no. I’m not trying to -”

“Really?” Yuri said. “You’re a novice at this con artist thing, kid. You’re too rich to do it well. Word of advice - don’t smile like you’re hiding something, smile like you’re keeping a secret.”

Claude pulled back a little, and Dimitri saw that he was almost pouting. “You don’t know me.”

“I know things about you that you don’t know about yourself.” Yuri looked at Dimitri, expression gentle and soft and bland. Like sheep’s wool, or dandelion fluff on the breeze. “Do you want to hang around Abyss a little longer too, Your Highness?”

Images of Byleth wielding his silver sword, flicking the blade in a deadly dance, spun through Dimitri’s mind. If he left Abyss now and never saw her again he would lose what little scrap of will to live he had left. Dimitri couldn’t keep losing good things. He was running out.

“Yes!” Dimitri said - a bit too quickly, a bit too empathetically. He coughed, forcing himself to settle down. “I mean - yes. As a future ruler, I should see how the other half lives. It’s important for a ruler to understand the needs of all of his people.”

It was perfectly true. It wasn’t what he was thinking, but it was perfectly true. Dimitri had the faint notion that perhaps he and Claude were missing the point of something important, something much bigger than them - than Claude’s secrets or Dimitri’s love story - but the allure of secrets and love was fairly overpowering at the moment. 

Easily, as easily as he said everything else, Yuri said, “My sister’s not on the market to entertain you. I can steer plenty of other lovely ladies or gentlemen your way, but she’s a little busy with her own work.” Yuri tilted his head, looking at Dimitri through half-lidded eyes. Dimitri flushed a little. “If you insist, I’d be happy to spare some time for you. But I’m afraid my sister is just too busy.” 

Claude stood up, chair skidding against the hard stone. “I just put my family’s name on this! As -” Claude said something quickly in Almyran, which completely flew over Dimitri’s head. “ - I am vouching for Prince Dimitri. I wouldn’t even say that for me, but I can sure as hell say it for him. You can trust us.” 

Yuri’s face was unchanged. “I’ve heard that one before.” 

And although Dimitri didn’t understand half the conversation - although he knew that there was subtext he wasn’t getting, that there were things about the world he just couldn’t see - he understood the right thing to do well enough for now. Standing in the midst of Abyss, it was clear.

Dimitri stood up, bowing low at Yuri. “I apologize for our intrusion. I see that my classmate and I have overstayed our welcome. I have no desire to add to the heavy burdens you and your village already bear. Please, if you can help escort us back to the surface, we’d be very grateful.”

When Dimtiri straightened, he saw a peculiar look on Yuri’s face. It was a little thoughtful, and a lot of another foreign emotion. “What will you do now that you know we’re here?”

“Ask Rhea how we can help,” Dimitri said immediately. Left implied: and confess to our wrongdoings, like good children. “Or you, if you’re amenable. Abyss is not located within my lands, but I am aware that many places like Abyss reside in the darkness of Faerghus. If I can do anything for you now - learn what you can teach me - then I consider it education on how to provide for my subjects in the future.”

“He’s sincere,” Claude said firmly. He stood up too, thumping his heart with a closed fist. “I haven’t been sincere since the poisoned fig incident, but I can swear too. We just want to help. So let us help - it can’t be every day you have two future leaders of Fodlan asking you what we can do for you.”

Yuri stared at them for a long few seconds, expression glazed smooth and unreadable, before he finally sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And I suppose you want my sister as a tour guide.”

“You just said she’s busy,” Dimitri asked, tilting his head in confusion. “I assumed she wouldn’t be available to show us around.” 

Yuri narrowed his eyes - damn, the man was impeccable. Dimitri had attempted one subtle fib and he was caught out immediately. But the lie served its purpose, and something subtle in Yuri’s shoulders untensed. Dimitri hadn’t realized that they were tense at all.

Yuri opened his mouth and said -

“Boss! Did we really kidnap the prince of Faerghus?”

The door thumped open with such immense force that it smacked against the far wall. A truly giant man strode inside, followed closely on his heels by a blonde woman wearing an unsettling smile and a short dark-skinned woman picking at a cuticle. On the tail end of the party was Byleth. She nodded at Dimitri, who nodded back in a daze.

“I told them you were busy,” Byleth said serenely. 

“Yeah, busy with His Royal Highness!” The large man stopped in front of Dimitri and carefully scrutinized him from head to toe. Dimitri allowed himself to be scrutinized. “Damn! What are they feeding you Academy kids these days? You’re solid muscle. Not as much as me, but not bad either!”

Dimitri fought the urge to sweat. The women flanked the big guy, blinking at him curiously. “I train frequently.”

“Really? Guess Bye-Bye’s found another freak.” The dark-skinned woman yawned, nodding at Byleth as she stood at her brother’s side. “You should hang out. Hit each other with swords or whatever.” 

“Greetings to His Royal Highness and friend!” the blonde woman yelled, almost at the top of her voice. She put her hands on her hips, lifting her chin in the air. “Welcome to the home of Constance von Nuvelle! Our decor may be lacking, but our hospitality is second to none!”

“Really?” the other woman drawled. “I think the rats add some pizazz.”

“Silly Hapi! The rats are disgusting!”

“Bye-Bye eats garbage too, but we don’t give her a hard time about it.”

“Hospitality, huh?” Yuri smiled, and for the first time it seemed a little real. “Balthus, obviously you don’t have anything more important going on. Can you host our two noble young visitors? Who we didn’t kidnap?”

“We were a little kidnapped,” Claude said. 

Balthus grinned, propping a hand on a hip. “I dunno, are you paying me?” 

Quickly, Dimitri added, “We’ll compensate you for your efforts, of course.”

“Wait,” the dark-skinned woman asked the room, “are we holding you hostage? Because it sounds like we’re holding you hostage.”

“Sold, kid!” Balthus thumped a friendly hand on Dimtiri’s back. He didn’t stumble, which seemed to shock Balthus before he withdrew his hand and quickly covered up the motion. “You look like a good hand with a weapon. Not you, Almyran guy, you look like a wimp.” Claude narrowed his eyes, but Balthus just looked backwards at Byleth. “You should spar with our new friend, Byleth. I’ll finally get to see you knock a different musclehead on the ground!”

Constance squealed, clapping her hands. “Byleth and the new children can play together! Oh, how heartwarming! Socialization is a rare opportunity for Bylie indeed!” She looked at Yuri and stage whispered, “We cannot afford to lose this chance, Yuri!”

“Byleth doesn’t know a lot of kids her own age,” the dark-skinned woman told Dimitri and Claude. “She’s…a little awkward.”

Byleth blinked at them.

“Wow,” Claude muttered, “you don’t say.”

“I forgive you for holding a sword to my neck,” Dimitri said earnestly. “You were doing the right thing.”

“Seriously, are we holding you hostage or not?”

 Yuri’s eye twitched. But his posture had fully loosened, and the presence of the strangers seemed to make him breathe a little easier. “We aren’t. And Byleth isn't a puppy we need to socialize, Hapi. You know how noble boys are.”

“Noble boy and his loyal vassal,” Claude added quickly, sticking stubbornly to the bit. Dimitri had no idea why, but Claude rarely vocalized his reasons for doing anything. “What do you think, Byleth? Want to hang out with us, or want to stay with your brother?”

Byleth stared at both of them unblinkingly. Finally, after a long few seconds of thought, Byleth said, “I want to train with Dimitri.” 

Hapi shot a canny look at Yuri. “Balthus’ll supervise. Connie and I too, if you want.” 

For a long second Dimitri thought Yuri was going to say no anyway. Dimitri would have accepted it. It would have robbed Dimitri of the only good thing left in his life, but he would have accepted it. Good things came and left all of the time, and part of life was learning how to deal with that. Dimitri liked to fancy himself an expert in it. He could lose one more thing - one flash of hope. 

But Yuri only sighed. “Alright. Supervised. Now get out of my office, all of you, I’m far too busy to juggle nobility on top of everything else.” Claude perked up. “All of you. You want to talk about Rhea - we’ll do it after dinner.” 

“Understood!” Claude bowed at Yuri again, and Dimitri hastily copied him. “You won’t regret opening your doors to us, sir!”

“Uh-huh.” Left unsaid - he definitely already was. “Out of my office, then. I’ve been away for too long and I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

Byleth tilted her head, a frown tugging at her lips. “You should leave less often. Your work piles up. It stresses you out.” 

Yuri gave her a big smile, as if he was keeping a secret. “But if I don’t leave, I’ll never experience the joy of seeing you again.” 

“You’re corny, Yuri.” 

“Love turns even the best of us into cornballs.” Yuri and Byleth shared a look, empty and opaque, but in that blankness Dimitri saw something far deeper than he had ever experienced. “Just look at Constance. Every time she looks at herself in the mirror she gets sillier.” 

“Excuse me, my sweet Yuri -”

“You’re excused, my darling Constance.”

“Must we fight,” Hapi panned, monotone and disinterested. “We’re a family. Look. You’ll make the baby cry.”

Byleth blinked at Hapi. “But I can’t cry.” 

“Look. You’ll give the baby psychological issues.” 

Balthus laughed again, cracking his knuckles with a pop that echoed throughout the cramped office. “This’ll be fun! It’s been a while since we’ve had a good adventure, eh Yuri?”

“Yes,” Yuri said, “that’s altogether what I’m afraid of.”

Truthfully, at that point Dimitri was no longer listening. He was just looking at Byleth, the girl who could not cry. And Byleth looked back at him, the boy whose heart was always crying. They saw each other, the heart-burdened and the heartless, and something in one reached out to balance the other.

And although the weight of the world above them crushed Dimitri’s shoulders, although they stood within damp and filthy slums tucked into the bowels of the planet, for those precious few seconds Dimitri and Byleth existed in the world with no obligation to anybody but each other.

_____________

ii. 

Yuri was sitting in this bathroom fruitlessly scrubbing blood out of his one good outfit when he received word that Lady Rhea was requesting an audience. Because it was Rhea, he also received word that she was already waiting for him in the destroyed classroom. 

Damn it! He had just returned! And he didn’t have anything to wear!

In the end, he was forced to keep Lady Rhea waiting another fifteen minutes because he had to dig out an older, rattier outfit and re-do his makeup. Approach: ‘I’m in my twenties, my stare is cold and piercing, and damn it I belong in this conference room’. Then he had to waste another five minutes because his hair was a wreck and his hands still smelled like blood. By the time he finally speed-walked down the halls and skidded to a stop in front of the classroom doors Yuri was twenty minutes late and already fighting the urge to freak.

As always, he halted at the doors. He took a deep breath in, then out. His outfit was dingy, which made him feel like crap, but the power makeup helped pick up the slack. He inhaled, exhaled, shook out his limbs, and entered the classroom. 

Rhea was standing in front of a blackboard, her back turned to the door. She was dressed in an old brown cloak, but with the hood down and her beautiful green hair left to flow over her shoulders the figure was unmistakable as Rhea. She was writing in beautiful and flowing script on the blackboard with a piece of stubby chalk, and speaking in a low voice to the child standing next to her. The child was staring up at her, eyes wide, chewing on a knuckle. Th child’s dark blue hair was pulled into a stubby ponytail, and she was wearing only a tattered black dress and swimming in a brown jacket sized for a large adult man. 

“ - your name. See, this is the B…like ‘bye’. Can you say ‘bye’?” The child blinked owlishly up at Rhea. “That’s alright. You’ll get it. You’re doing a great job already.” 

Yuri coughed, and Rhea quickly turned around. With a strange start Yuri noticed that she was dressed down even more than usual, her face plain and wearing only a simple white dress underneath the cloak. Without her own makeup, she seemed tired. She smiled wanly at Yuri, who bowed back. The child turned around too, gnawing fastidiously at her knuckle. 

“Yuri. I’m sorry to call upon you again so quickly after your return. Did all go well?”

“The job was done.” Deepen your voice, sound older - sound disaffected, yet sincere. Yuri wondered if he would ever live long enough that he could stop pretending to be older. “The deceased is no longer a threat to the church.”

“He was a threat to the safety of Fodlan,” Rhea said firmly. Yuri wasn’t sure about that one, but he did appreciate Rhea’s conscientious efforts to only toss absolute bastards into his pen. “I’m afraid I must ask something of you yet again, Yuri. This is important. I cannot fully disclose to you why this mission is so important, but please trust me when I say that this is a matter extremely close to my heart.”

Yuri straightened, folding his hands behind his back. He wanted to die a bit. Another important mission? As if managing Abyss, captaining his rogues, and assassinating bastards weren’t enough missions? 

How long would she keep punishing him? 

But Yuri just bowed. It was no effort at all to keep his expression placid. “I can accomplish any mission you give me, my lady.”

“I know. That’s why I’m trusting you with this.” Rhea put both hands on the girl’s shoulder and squeezed. The girl squirmed uncomfortably. You and me both, kid. “Yuri, this is Byleth. Byleth, this is Yuri. Why don’t you say hi?”

Byleth stared at Yuri, gnawing on her finger. Somebody probably ought to slap those knuckles with a ruler. She wasn’t a young child - twelve or thirteen, perhaps - but the habit and the wide eyes made her seem younger. 

Yuri gave her his special ‘talking to vulnerable kids’ smile. “How do you do, my lady?”

Byleth stared at Yuri. A theme. 

Rhea frowned, squeezing Byleth’s shoulder one last time before dropping her hands. “She hasn’t talked much since it happened. She…doesn’t seem to remember anything.”

“Anything about what happened?”

“Anything at all. She can’t seem to recall anything about her family or her life. Darling, you ought to get your knuckle out of your mouth.” Rhea ducked her head, staring steadfastly at Byleth. The girl slowly dropped her knuckle from her mouth, looking a little spooked, before Rhea lifted her head again. “Byleth here was kidnapped. There are…some forces in Fodlan that place great value in Byleth. I don’t know how they learned about her, but they haven’t left her in peace since they found out. They’ve tried to kidnap her several times, but their latest attempt was successful. The Church knights were only able to rescue her two days ago. The knight who rescued her brought her to me immediately, and now I must bring her to you.”

“Have you spoken with Aelfric about this?”

“Of course. He’s already given his consent.” Rhea’s eyes glimmered strangely in the light. Sometimes the only emotion from that woman Yuri could truly understand was the dark depths of her sadness. “Discretion is of the utmost importance. The people after her will not give up.” 

Ah. Yuri understood. “Does she have a valuable crest?”

Rhea put a hand on Byleth’s head, slowly stroking her hair. Byleth went cross-eyed looking upwards and gawking at the hand. “Byleth is a very special girl.”

Alright, so don’t tell him. “You want to hide her and her family in Abyss?” 

But Rhea just shook her head, expression mournful. “Byleth is an orphan. She will be alone in Abyss. That’s why I must ask for your help, Yuri.”

In the girl’s big dark eyes Yuri saw only trouble. Abyss sheltered plenty of people in hiding, but the people after Byleth seemed to be on a different level. If hiding the girl here brought danger into Abyss, then…

Then she was still a girl who needed help. Yuri would deal with any danger as it came. 

“Madame Birch will be happy to take her in.” Yuri smiled at Byleth again, taking care to crinkle his eyes and gave it positive energy. “My friend Madame Birch takes care of kids just like you, Byleth. She’ll be so excited to meet you. I know some girls her age in your house who’ve been begging me for another friend.” 

But Rhea just shook her head, expression somber and firm. “The forces after Byleth are powerful. I need to place her with the strongest person in Abyss - the person most able to protect her. That’s you, Yuri. Please take her yourself.”

Ah. What?

For the first time, Yuri had to fight to keep his expression and tone still. “My lady, my workload frequently takes me out of Abyss.”

“Then I can reduce your workload.”

That perked Yuri’s ears. He was a fool for not recognizing it immediately. Rhea was desperate. Her emotional involvement in this was far greater than keeping a tool out of the hands of the enemy. Byleth had to be family somehow - maybe even a secret daughter. Having a secret daughter of Lady Rhea in Yuri’s back pocket…under his exclusive supervision…

It was a death knell if anything happened to the kid. But the leverage was too good to pass up.

Fuck, he could even negotiate right here and now. He ought to send Byleth out of the room for this, but it was important that she understood what was happening and why. As much as she seemingly could - the girl may be a little touched. It didn’t matter, obviously, but it would necessitate a change in approach.                 

“Well,” Yuri said slowly, “the greatest distraction from Abyss would be my jobs. I would like to stay in Abyss full-time. Give her a more consistent upbringing.”

Rhea’s eyebrow quirked upwards, but Yuri was unrepentant. She knew what she was doing by looping him in. “I’ll reduce the quantity of jobs I assign you.”

“To once every four months, perhaps.”

“Once every two.” 

“That would be highly detrimental for Byleth’s childhood development.”

Evenly, Rhea said, “Going forth, I will give you a job every three months at maximum. Is that a deal?”

That was fucking fantastic. Yuri was almost lightheaded, but he pressed on. “Sounds like a deal. But raising a child is no simple matter, my lady. Child-proofing the environment, educating her, feeding her…Abyss is run on a razor-thin budget. The expenses concern me.” 

Rhea sighed. “I will funnel more money into your personal budget to compensate for the expense.” Yuri waited patiently. “And into the Abyss orphanages. Anything else, Yuri?”

She could be such a sucker sometimes. Sometimes Yuri wondered if she let him do it. Definitely not. Probably not. 

“I’m satisfied. You’re as generous as always, Lady Rhea.”

“This is in exchange for Byleth’s safety.” Rhea’s expression sobered, the soft silk solidifying into stone. “In exchange for what I’m giving you, I need her safety absolutely guaranteed. Nothing can happen to this girl.”

“No need to fret, my lady. Abyss is the safest place in Fodlan. Nobody even knows we exist.” Yuri bent down a little, smiling at Byleth. She had regained access to her knuckle, and was chewing it fastidiously again. “What do you say, Byleth? Want to go home with me?”

If the girl wasn’t touched, she must have understood. She must understand that the woman who would not admit to a relationship with her had just bartered for her residency with a teenage assassin, den mother, and prostitute. All things considered, the price had been insultingly low. 

Byleth just stared at him. Alright, maybe she didn’t understand. That would make this harder. Yuri really should have asked for more money. Teach the girl the first and most important lesson of her new life: that you should never sell yourself for less than what you were worth. Or market value, if you couldn’t get any buyers otherwise. Maybe this was just market value. 

Smile, Yuri. Smile. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together, Byleth.” 

Byleth blinked. At least she was a quiet child. This would be easy. 

______________

This was impossible.

This was shit. Absolute and complete shit. Why wasn’t she like Bernadetta? Yuri had thought she would be like Bernadetta. All Bernadetta did was nap, read, exhaustively detail the plot of her book, and cry. Byleth couldn’t even read. Apparently, when children couldn’t read, they decided to follow you around instead.

Everywhere. She followed him everywhere. When Yuri sat in the small storage room he co-opted as an office she crawled underneath his desk and swiped at his ankles. When Yuri visited the rogue’s encampments and gave the leadership its newly tightened security measures, she ran around the training field and started waving wooden training swords around. It took three rogues to wrest a sword from her. When Yuri made the rounds of Abyss and talked to its citizens, hearing every problem and offering every condolence he could, she hovered at his heels and gawked at every conversation with wide eyes. 

It was like having another googly-eyed shadow. Yuri didn’t have five seconds to himself anymore. He couldn’t even visit the tavern and unwind by flirting with one of his regular hook-ups - something about having a thirteen year old (twelve? Fourteen?) hovering at your elbow really killed your game. This must be what the older girls used to refer to as cockblocking. 

Byleth still hadn’t said a word. She observed, but never really listened. Still couldn’t read or write. She could catch the rats scuttling around the gutters with her bare hands. The girl may be touched. Which, again, didn’t matter - but it made it extraordinarily difficult to convey to her the importance of ‘me time’. Or ‘don’t eat that’. Or ‘put down that sword’.

It was official. Byleth was a demon. Figured that the wolf in sheep’s clothing would spawn a feral little wolf cub. Yuri should have charged more. 

At least Aelfric had his back. The cardinal had little time to sneak down into Abyss, but he had begun sparing whatever time he could towards playing with Byleth. Aelfric practically begged Yuri to allow him to spend time entertaining Byleth, saving Yuri from the effort of begging Aelfric to take her. Last time Yuri checked, Aelfric spent their time together teaching Byleth her letters in the destroyed classroom. And thank the goddess for that. 

“I don’t understand why she didn’t ask me,” Aelfric said, for roughly the hundredth time. They were sitting at a stone desk in the classroom, eating a coarse but filling breakfast. Byleth was cramming a hunk of bread the size of her face into her mouth. “I have my duties, but I would have gladly forfeited them for the sake of this child. You’re barely more than a child yourself, Yuri -”

Yuri couldn’t help but bark a sharp laugh. “You do realize that you and my mother are the only people who have said that in a decade.”

“That doesn’t make it untrue,” Aelfric said gently. Yuri ducked his head, focusing on pressing a napkin into Byleth’s hands and directing her to wipe her own face. There was no way this girl even knew how to do her makeup. Ridiculous. “Rhea shouldn’t have put this responsibility on you. I don’t know what she was thinking, honestly.” 

That made Yuri feel a little defensive. Byleth pushed away her plate, gnawing on her final hunk of bread, and Yuri pulled over her writing tablet. Aelfric had even sprung for a few pieces of paper and pencils dyed bright colors. Yuri hurriedly placed the paper and pencils in front of her. Last he remembered, drawing was an activity favored by younger children, but Byleth couldn’t exactly partake in the age-appropriate activities of gossiping, bullying other girls, sewing, or reading. Goddess, did she even know how to sew or embroider? Yuri would have to teach her.

“I could beat anybody in Abyss in a straight fight,” Yuri said. He hoped his defensiveness didn’t show. It was a little harder to hide with Aelfric. “Even you. More importantly, I know how to be stealthy and hide myself and others. I know the Abyss system like the back of my hand. As far as Abyssans go, I understand why Lady Rhea thought I was the best choice.”

“I’m not doubting your talent, Yuri,” Aelfric soothed, “I just don’t understand why Rhea couldn’t have put Byleth in the care of an adult. You have enough responsibilities of your own without adding another one on the heap.”

Yuri bristled. “I’m almost eighteen.”

“Eighteen with the burdens of a thirty year old.” Aelfric sighed, and Yuri guiltily subsided too. It wasn’t right to get defensive at Aelfric. After everything the man did to help him, he at least deserved the benefit of the doubt. “I just want you to enjoy what remains of your youth. There’s a sweet nun volunteering at the orphanage -” Yuri groaned. “Yuri, why can’t you hear me out on this?”

“You’re always going on about finding a nice girl, Aelfric -”

“Because you’re re-traumatizing yourself with all of these men,” Aelfric said patiently. Yuri looked down at his hands, restraining himself from picking at a manicured cuticle. “Look at you, Yuri. You haven’t changed any of your habits. You’re still trying to appeal to men. You have to begin to heal.”

There was something heavy and old in Yuri’s chest. It was a burden that never grew lighter - a pain that never retreated. The best he could do was ignore it. But Yuri kept picking at it all the same. “It’s not my fault that men continue to approach me.”

“But it’s your responsibility to turn them down. And men wouldn’t approach you so often if you didn’t wear all that makeup.” 

When Yuri spoke, his voice was quieter than he expected. He had wanted it to be louder, stronger. But something had cut it down. “It’s not for them…”

A small, bony finger poked Yuri’s side.

He looked over at Byleth, who was staring at him with her usual wide, serious eyes. She picked up her picture and presented it to Yuri, who took it and inspected the image carefully. 

It was of them. The girl was a far better artist than he expected, and although the proportions were a little wonky Yuri could clearly recognize all three of them. They were sitting on crates outside of a tent - a tent that resembled the ones in Abyss, but was more reminiscent of a standard issue mercenary’s tent. Yuri was drawn with great care, sitting straight backed on the crate and staring straight at the viewer. His makeup was exaggerated and poorly applied. Aelfric sat on Yuri’s left, wrinkles clearly outlined and his blood-red habit engulfing his figure. The red lines on the habit seemed closer to bloodstains. 

In comparison to the rest of the drawing, Byleth’s figure was remarkably undetailed. She only drew the faint outlines of herself, with a few expressive lines demarcating an abstract face. The greatest level of detail was in the giant brown jacket she never took off - the careful impressions of its stitches and metal buttons were a strange contrast to the ghost wearing it. 

“This is excellent,” Yuri said, genuinely impressed. Sometimes it was easy to think of her as younger than thirteen-or-so, but at other times her true age was perfectly obvious. Even the ghostly Byleth felt more like an artistic choice.  “I like your usage of color. It’s very powerful.” He pointed at a spot in the upper left of the page, tucked in the corner closest to Byleth and furthest than everybody else. It was just a tight swirl of green pencil - the gradient of density between the thick middle and loose outsides giving the green a strange halo-like impression. “Is this the sun?”

Byleth gave him a disgusted look. Yuri could guess: ‘the sun isn’t green, moron’. Potentially: ‘what sun? What’s a sun? I know only the Depths’. 

“Then what is it?” 

Byleth tugged the drawing away from him, replacing it on the table and attacking the page with a pencil. Chewing the edge of the pencil, mind working furiously, she carefully wrote out a word. She stared at the word, scratched it out, and then tried again. She put down her pencil, nodded in satisfaction, and showed it to Yuri again.

He squinted at the page. In messy, juvenile script underneath the halo - with an arrow carefully drawn towards the halo, in case he missed the reference - she had written ‘SOHTHESE’. 

“Sohthese?” Yuri asked, hiding confusion. “Is that a friend of yours?” Byleth shook her head. Then she nodded. “Is…that a yes or no?”

“She’s making great progress, but her spelling needs work. Let me see.” Aelfric held out a hand, and Yuri silently passed him the page. Aelfric took one look at the page and his eyebrows jumped. “I think she means ‘Sothis’. Is that correct, Byleth?” Byleth nodded vigorously. “Where did you hear that name, Byleth? I don’t think I ever told you that.” 

Wait. That name was a little familiar. “Is that the name of a saint?” Yuri asked. “I didn’t know you were giving her catechism classes.”

“I’m not. And it’s the name of the Goddess herself. It’s not very well used - typically only scriptural scholars use it with any regularity.” Aelfric frowned down at Byleth, and for the first time his expression seemed troubled. “Where could you have heard that word…?”

“Wow,” Yuri panned, “I wonder where the secret daughter of Lady Rhea heard the name of the goddess. The world may never know.” 

“Please, Yuri, be serious.” Aelfric was still frowning, staring at the paper intently. Byleth gestured for him to give the paper back, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just stared and stared at the paper, walking mental paths far beyond the provincial little world of Yuri and Byleth. 

“Aelfric, I think she wants the paper back.”

“What? Oh, yes.” Aelfric looked up, still somewhat dazed. “Could I potentially keep this, Byleth?” Byleth shook her head no. “I see. That’s alright, then.” He passed it back, and Byleth tugged it firmly out of his hands. She replaced it on the table, smoothing it over carefully. 

“I didn’t figure you for the religious type,” Yuri told Byleth. Byleth shrugged. “Are you going to become a nice nun too?”

“There’s nothing wrong with marrying a good woman and settling down,” Aelfric scolded lightly. “A home and a family is the greatest joy a young man can have. If you don’t change your behavior, you’ll never find happiness. I’m only worried about you.”

An extensive, agonizing rip split the air. 

Byleth was holding up the carefully constructed drawing in clear view of both men. Making direct and unblinking eye contact, she looked at Aelfric and ripped the paper straight down between Yuri and Aelfric. Yuri and Aelfric stared at her in shocked silence as she finished cruelly ripping Aelfric from the paper, balling up his figure in one clenched fist and carefully replacing the cropped page on the table. Yuri, Byleth, and Sothis looked very happy together. Aelfric’s face was split in half. 

Silence burdened the room. Aefric and Yuri gaped at Byleth in pure shock. Byleth happily took a blue pencil and began threading in streaks of blue in the green halo. 

A bark of laughter escaped Yuri’s chest. His chest was light and full, and the thick iron bars that held his broken pieces together loosened and allowed him to breathe. Another burst of laughter escaped the abandoned prison, then another, and then the inmates began running the asylum. Yuri began wheezing, clutching his own stomach as he laughed uncontrollably. 

Then Byleth laughed too, a light and ugly snort. It was the only sound he had ever heard from her. After weeks, the first and only sound Yuri had ever heard from Byleth was laughter. No tears, no screams of pain, no words begging for help, no moans for food - just laughter. A small smile painting the face of the girl as silent as death.

Yuri and Byleth, two prisoners unrestrained for the first time that they could remember, laughed together in defiance. 

In the end, Byleth had given the picture to Yuri. She had forgotten about the whole incident after a few months - a few years later, when prompted about that picture and the Goddess, Byleth would just stare blankly in confusion. She didn’t remember those days well.

Yuri remembered them. He remembered the picture too. He had placed the picture between two pages of a book and hidden it inside a desk. It remained in that desk for a very long time, and nobody but him ever knew it existed.

_____________

And then he lost her. 

He lost her. Aelfric asked if he could babysit her for the day, and because Yuri was tired and wanted some time to himself and to actually go on a freaking date for once he said yes, and when Byleth’s curfew at 2100 passed she and Aelfric still were not home. Aelfric knew to get her home by curfew. He knew that Byleth had to stay in Abyss for her own safety. He knew.

Yuri combed all of Abyss, top to bottom. Images of Aelfric and Byleth floating face down in the canal flashed throughout his mind. But a rogue stationed at one of the entrances from the monastery into Abyss said that he let Aelfric and Byleth through the entrance only a few hours ago. Apparently Yuri had asked Aelfric to take Byleth to the chapel to pray. The guard hadn’t thought twice about it. Yuri was Byleth’s guardian, but it was Aelfric. Some people were above suspicion. Some people could take children wherever they wanted. 

Yuri sprinted back to his room and threw on his spare pilfered Academy uniform, stolen from the closet of a noble boy who should have known better. He pulled on the jacket as he ran, feet thumping in time with the omnipresent dripping of water and the squeak of rats, and his mind was nothing but blaring static as he unscrewed the entrance to one of the least-known entrances into the monastery. 

He climbed the ladder at top speed, stopping only to grab the stone handle at the very top of the chute. He pushed full force against the handle, and after a second he heard the hard grind of stone on stone as the mechanism was activated and shifted the statue of Saint Cethlenn to the side. It was one of the finicky trapdoors that was almost impossible to access from above ground, but relatively easy from below. Yuri often had morbid daydreams about Garreg Mach falling under attack and how he would evacuate the entire population of the school out through the tunnels. 

Yuri clambered out of the tunnel, hoisting himself into Seteth’s office. He looked around - empty, but the sound of voices echoed from the adjacent room - and quickly stood up so he could push the statue back into place. The voices were Rhea’s familiar cadence and another unfamiliar deep male voice. In any other circumstance, Yuri would have cared about revealing himself in front of a stranger.  Today, he barely thought about it. Yuri burst out of Seteth’s office and skidded into the main chambers, ignoring Seteth’s cry of alarm and the rustling sounds of the guard’s armor. Yuri only halted when he was directly in front of Rhea, looking up into her alarmed green eyes.

Yuri bent double, leaning on his knees and gasping for breath. Rhea leaned over him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. The other man in the room was absolutely huge, with big hair and bigger muscles. If it wasn’t for the Academy student’s uniform he would have assumed the man was in his thirties.

“Whoah,” the big guy said. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Where,” Yuri gasped, hard and heavy, “is Aelfric?” 

Rhea paled, eyes widening. Fear. Why fear? “He told me he was visiting you today. What’s wrong?”

“Sounds great! So it’s official that nobody knows where Father Aelfric was, then?” The big guy waved around a thick folder of paper, one hand propped on his hip. “Because I hung out in his office for an hour waiting for him to show up to our appointment. He said it was important, too! All this stuff about helping save me from expulsion. And the guy can’t even show up? We’re talking about my future here!”

“Our guard saw him taking Byleth to the surface!” Yuri cried frantically. The big guy’s brows furrowed, but Yuri couldn’t be assed about him right now. “I can’t find Aelfric or Byleth anywhere in Abyss! Lady Rhea, you have -”

But Rhea was already straightening and turning to the guards. In a tone he had never heard before, she said, “Find Cardinal Aelfric and bring him to me immediately. Shut down the monastery until he and Byleth are found. Nobody in or out.” 

“I know where he might have gone.” The big guy flipped the folder open, flashing messy stacks of paper and ripped pages from books. “I got bored waiting around for him, so I went through his desk.” No wonder this guy was about to get expelled. “Never knew one guy could get so into his ancient mausoleum hobby. Would you happen to know anything about this, Lady Rhea?”

Lady Rhea was silent. Yuri was still shaking. He should have been shocked, he should have been horrified. But he wasn’t. Yuri knew. Yuri had always known, he just hadn’t wanted to see it. 

“This is all my fault,” Yuri whispered. He wanted to throw up. He knew this sort of nausea - the kind invoked by visceral disgust at something you found within yourself. “I let him take her. I let him run off with her. This is all my…”

The way Aelfric looked at her. The way he was constantly volunteering to babysit or entertain her for the day or homeschool her. Yuri had given him everything he wanted - every unsupervised visit, constant knowledge of her location, everything. Because Yuri had trusted Aelfric. 

Trusted. He could be doing anything to her right now, because Yuri had trusted.

Hands, unimaginably large and hairy. Sagging flesh pressing against his own. Was this how Byleth felt right now? Were big hands on her chest? Awful pain, burning like fire. What did Byleth look like when she was in that pain? Did she make the same sounds he had? The squeals and moans. Did they like hearing them from her too? 

“Yuri. Yuri, you have to breathe.” Lithe, strong hands enveloped Yuri’s hands and squeezed tightly. The melodic sound of Lady Rhea’s voice barely permeated the haze. “You’re at Garreg Mach, Yuri. You’re in the home of the Goddess. You’re seventeen. I’m here. Nothing may harm you so long as I’m here.” 

“This is my fault,” Yuri gasped. “This is all my fault.” 

“No, Yuri. Look at me.” Yuri shuddered a final breath before looking up at Rhea. Her expression was intent, but she was still so calm and composed. Yuri couldn’t say the same at all. “This is my fault. I didn’t share my suspicions with you. I’m the one who encouraged you to trust him. This was - this was all me.” 

It was? 

Rhea had known? Rhea had known that Aelfric wasn’t honest? She had known that Aelfric would take Byleth and she hadn’t said anything -

“I know.” Rhea’s expression creased, and a deep pain surfaced in her features. “I just thought…he loved her mother as I once did. Surely he would feel the same as I do…but I suppose not. People still disappoint.” 

Yuri tugged his hands out of Rhea’s, and she let them go. He scrubbed at his face, constantly fighting to keep hold of his breaths and sanity. He was not about to have another stupid flashback. He wasn’t. Not in Garreg Mach and not in front of the stupid Archbishop. He wasn’t going to catastrophize. Byleth was fine. He had fucked up and failed her and it’s all his fault that terrible things are definitely happening to her right now, but it was fine.

“I hate men so damned much,” Yuri muttered miserably. Some part of him was appalled that he had cursed in front of the archbishop, but every other part of him was far more concerned with far more important things. “I’m never trusting a man again. All men do is make children suffer.”

The big guy laughed awkwardly, passing the file folder to the somber Rhea before scrubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “On behalf of men, I guess I have to apologize. I like to think we’re not all that bad…not that I can blame a - um, you, for how you feel. Tell you what, alright?” The big guy flexed an arm, as if he was at a bar trying to impress Yuri, and clapped his hand on his admittedly impressive bicep. “I’ll save this little girl myself! I’ll chase down Father Aelfric, kick his ass, get that little girl safely home, and redeem men in the eyes of women and - ah, you, everywhere! Or my name ain’t Balthus von Adalbrecht!”

A von Adalbrecht. Great. Yuri couldn’t repress the sneer. “Your uncle yells the name of his wife’s brother in bed.”

Balthus stared at Yuri blankly. “How do you know that?”

“How do you think?”

“Oh. Oh! Oh, gross! Why’d you have to say that, man!”

“Blame him,” Yuri snapped. “I don’t need the help of some meathead nobleman. I’ll rescue her myself.” 

But Balthus just shrugged - as if this really was such a simple thing. “Why can’t we both rescue her?” 

“Because I don’t know you!”

“I just introduced myself. Balthazar von Adalbrecht, call me Balthus.” Balthus stuck out his hand, waiting expectantly for a handshake. “And who’re you supposed to be, kid from nowhere?” 

“I’m nobody. You ought to forget you ever saw me.” Rhea was already going to give him an earful over allowing himself to be seen. But Balthus was standing so expectantly, and despite that awful little trivia Yuri just shared he was still looking him in the eyes. “What do you even want from me?”

“What, you think that just because I want to help it means I want something from you?” Yes, that was exactly what Yuri thought. He wasn’t stupid. “Listen, pal. Even nobodies need some help here and there. I’m not exactly a saint, but any half-decent person would want to help you out. Since I’m the strongest, coolest guy in Garreg Mach, that means I have to help. It’s not exactly complicated.”

“There’s no such thing as decent people,” Yuri said sourly. 

Balthus whistled. “You’re a regular beam of sunshine, aren’tcha?”

“I haven’t seen the sun in weeks.”

“You haven’t what now?”

“Take Balthus with you, Yuri.” Lady Rhea’s tone brooked no argument, and Yuri had to give up. It was always a waste of time arguing with a noble. They would just take what they wanted anyway. “You two will take our elite church knights and rescue Byleth. I can lead the way - I think I know where Aelfric and Byleth are.” Rhea’s expression darkened, sending something crawling up Yuri’s spine. Seeing a dangerous expression on her felt…well, it felt more dangerous than usual. “I suspect he is desecrating a corpse right now.” 

“Wow,” Balthus said, impressed. “What the hell did I just walk into?”

“Captain Jeralt will arrive with the forces soon. We’ll leave then.” Rhea turned around, and Yuri and Balthus exchanged troubled looks. Her voice was poisonous. If she sounded like this, what expression was she hiding so carefully? “Aelfric will learn what Byleth’s true family is capable of.”

“Hell yeah!” Balthus cried, pumping a fist. “Go, fam!”

“We aren’t fam!” Yuri snapped. “What does that even mean?”

“But Lady Rhea just said that the bad guy’s gonna learn what -”

“That doesn’t make you fam.”

“But I’m on the team, and the team’s fam, so -”

“What is fam!”

At the time, Yuri’s only consolation had been the fact that he wouldn’t have to deal with Balthus for very long. He was a strong fighter with a compassionate heart, but if Yuri never saw another wealthy and spoiled nobleman again it would be too soon. Yuri hadn’t noticed when Byleth entered his heart, but that final and disastrous kidnapping session had proven it - whether they wielded the weapon or were the weapon, the people closest to you always hurt the most. Better to close your heart.

There were a lot of things Yuri hated about himself. The list was too long to count. But there was always one thing about himself that Yuri hated the most. One thing he just couldn’t stand.

Yuri just couldn’t close his heart. He just couldn’t do it. Every time he failed, and every time he had regretted it. There was no benefit to letting people in. He just couldn’t stop.

But Balthus had saved Byleth’s life that day. So maybe there was a benefit or two. Every once in a great while. 

If you were lucky. 

_________

Three days after Yuri and a moron saved a little girl from a bastard, Abyss received a visitor. 

Yuri received him outside the ruined classroom. It would probably be more professional to bring him to Yuri’s office or something, but Yuri frankly intended to get rid of him as quickly as possible. Team up with the church knights once and suddenly they think that they have the right to go stomping all around Abyss. But you couldn’t exactly tell the captain of the church knights to get off your lawn, so Yuri told Byleth that he would be back in a few minutes and stood outside the classroom in increasingly frustrated wait. 

Byleth had made big eyes at him. She obviously hadn’t wanted him to go. Ugh. He really hoped that this wouldn’t turn into a surprise administrative meeting that took five hours and never accepted Yuri’s input into anything. Yuri was re-teaching Byleth poker - she had undoubtedly already learned before she lost her memory, which was another strike against the ‘secret lovechild of Lady Rhea’ theory that had been admittedly punctured by the corpse of her mother - and she was unsurprisingly excellent at it. Girl was a genius in math.

But Jeralt didn’t show up wearing armor. He was wearing casual, battered furs, leather, and a familiar canvas jacket. Surface people were always tense and anxious in Abyss, expecting to get mugged by rats with daggers at any moment, but there was a different quality about Jeralt’s anxiety. He seemed as if he was steeling himself for something. 

“Yuri.” Jeralt’s voice was always attractively husky, but it was closer to hoarse now. “Doing well?”

Yuri bowed, noting the bandage on Jeralt’s temple. “Yes, sir. All healed up. And you? That hit you took looked nasty.” 

Jeralt huffed a laugh, rubbing the bandage. “I’ve taken hits from bigger monsters. Don’t worry about it. I would have come to visit earlier, but they only let me out of bed this morning.” Jeralt cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “Ah…is Byleth doing alright?”

“She’s been having nightmares, but she’s fine.”

“She is?” Jeralt looked unreasonably alarmed. “Is she waking up at night? What are you doing to help? Tea -”

“She’s been sleeping in my bed the past few nights, so I’m keeping an eye on her.” Yuri eyed Jeralt, suspicions only growing. There was something off about this conversation. “Can I help you, captain?”

“Right. Ah, right.” Jeralt shifted again and coughed. Mysteriously, he took off his cap and held it tightly. “I was hoping to drop in and say hello. See how she is.” 

Like hell he would.

“Byleth is busy doing her schoolwork.” Yuri’s voice could have frozen a flame. “You’ll have to come back later.”

“We don’t have to talk.” There was something old and weary in Jeralt. His husky voice was more of a rasp. “I just want to see her.”

Before he could restrain himself, Yuri snapped, “And why do you want to see her so badly?”

Snapping at the captain of the church knights. Fantastic. This was how you protected people - by alienating everybody else who wanted to help. That would do it. 

Jeralt did want to help. The man had been withdrawn and quiet during their rescue mission, but he had been the first to rescue Byleth’s mother’s corpse and prevent it from melting into the monster. He probably would have been the first to rescue Byleth if Yuri hadn’t gotten there first - if Yuri hadn’t used a careful vein of magic to swap positions with her. Byleth had landed safely near the entrance and Aelfric had found a nasty surprise when he turned to look down upon a girl laid out on an altar and came eye-to-eye with Yuri’s dagger. 

But that didn’t mean anything. Aelfric had helped Yuri and Byleth too, and look where that got them. Yuri didn’t know anything about Jeralt. He could have ulterior motives. He worked closely with Rhea, who was nothing but ulterior motives. The only person Yuri was certain didn’t have ulterior motives was Balthus, who was just clearly too stupid. 

Jeralt didn’t grow angry or defensive. He just looked a little sad. Yuri crossed his arms, fighting the urge to bristle. “How are you holding up, kid?”

“I wasn’t the one who was kidnapped.”

Jeralt huffed a small laugh. “It ain’t exactly easy on the onlookers, either. It’s alright if you’re not alright.”

“I’ll persevere somehow.” Yuri was quickly losing track of this conversation. Why was Jeralt asking about this? “Did Rhea tell you to check up on us?

“Rhea doesn’t know I’m here. She’s…strongly encouraged me to stay away from Abyss.” Jeralt’s mouth twisted unhappily. “She’s right. I really shouldn’t be here. I just…wanted to see her.” 

“And why is that?”

For a long, long moment, Jeralt didn’t answer. Great. He couldn’t even think of a good lie. He couldn’t even say that he wanted to make sure she wasn’t injured, or assure himself that he had gotten her out of there intact - Yuri would have even believed those bland excuses. But he had nothing to say for himself at all. How suspect. 

The door creaked open, and Yuri spun around just in time to see Byleth poking her head out of the classroom. Yuri opened his mouth, ready to reprimand her and shuffle her quickly back inside where no suspicious men resided, but he was too slow. The second Byleth saw Jeralt her eyes widened, and Yuri saw her eyes light up for the first time. 

“Jeralt!” Byleth cried. 

She dived forwards, and Jeralt automatically crouched down to accept the hug. They squeezed each other tightly - Byleth hanging on for dear life, Jeralt fighting shuddering breaths. His hand pressed on the back of her lead, warm and protective. 

So she could speak. Yuri had been wondering. Her first word of her new life was…Jeralt. That was fine. Good for her. And Jeralt.

“Hey, kid,” Jeralt rasped, throat thick. “How’ve you been?”

Byleth patted the top of his head. 

Alright, that was enough. Yuri took the white collar of Byleth’s neat little navy blue dress, pulling gently until he reeled her back away from Jeralt. The effect was somewhat like a scruffed kitten, but whatever worked. Yuri’s carefully tied puffy twin pigtails didn’t help the kitten impression. 

“Don’t run towards strange people,” Yuri scolded. “This is why you keep getting kidnapped.”

Byleth wriggled around until Yuri finally sighed and released her. Jeralt slowly rose, but Byleth ran back towards him and tugged hard at his jacket. Jeralt raised a patient eyebrow, watching Byleth carefully. 

Yuri had distantly noticed it before, but now that Byleth drew attention to the jacket it was obvious. It was a very familiar jacket. Not identical to Byleth’s old one - the giant canvas jacket that she never took off - but it was similar in fit and cut. 

“What do you need?” Jeralt asked. Byleth tugged harder at the jacket, as if she was trying to pull it off him. ���Use your words, kid. You can do it.” Byleth heroically attempted to rip the jacket from Jeralt’s body. Yuri made a strangled noise, but Jeralt didn’t blink. “You have to start speaking up sometime. I bet Yuri over there wants to hear your voice too.” 

Byleth’s eyebrows ticked together, but she finally released the jacket. She stared fixedly at Jeralt, who amicably allowed himself to be stared at. Finally, she said, “Aelfric lost jacket.” 

Automatically, Yuri corrected, “Aelfric lost my jacket.”

“Aelfric lost my jacket,” Byleth parroted. She poked at Jeralt’s canvas jacket again. “I want the jacket again.”

Turned out that there was one way Byleth could be even more trouble - opening her mouth. Yuri sighed, already regretting his life. “Byleth, you’re being incredibly rude. You can’t just ask adults to -”

But Jeralt was already shucking his jacket, with no hesitation or thought, and passing it to Byleth. She brightened, clutching the thick material tightly and burying her face in it. She smelled it deeply, making Jeralt’s expression crease into something absolutely unfamiliar to Yuri, before swinging the jacket on and allowing it to swallow her up yet again. This edition went to her knees, looking far more like a baggy coat than anything else, but she beamed up at Jeralt in absolute joy anyway. She turned to Yuri, spreading her arms out and silently bragging about how great her new jacket was.

Something that should have been obvious weeks ago suddenly became extremely obvious. “You’re the one who gave her that first jacket. The one she never took off.” 

“She never took it off?” Jeralt smiled a little, but the weight on his shoulders only seemed to grow. “I gave it to her after I rescued her from her kidnappers last time. She was - ah, she just seemed cold. I assumed she had thrown it away or something.”

“You’re the one who rescued her?” Hadn’t Lady Rhea mentioned something about this? “Wait - are you the one who brought Byleth to Garreg Mach?”

“Yup. It’s why I wanted to see her again.” Jeralt patted the top of Byleth’s head, who swelled her chest in pride. “She’s picked up a habit of getting into trouble.”

That did explain it. No wonder he was invested. After so much work invested in keeping her alive, Yuri would want to check up on her too. Why couldn’t he just say that?

Byleth looked seriously up at Jeralt. “Thank you for the jacket.” 

“I knew you had manners in there somewhere.” Jeralt crouched down again, looking just above Byleth’s head. Yuri had noted weeks ago that she didn’t like eye contact, but it seemed that Jeralt knew that too. “Try not to lose that one. But if you do, come right back to me and I’ll give you another one. Alright?”

Byleth nodded. 

Jeralt sighed. He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. Byleth leaned into the touch a little. “Be more careful from now on. Your world will only grow more dangerous as you get older. You have to be ready, so train hard.” Impulsively, he took the cap off his head and placed it on her own. It fell over her eyes immediately, far too large for her, but she hurriedly pushed it upwards. “Listen to that brother of yours. His life looks hard enough already, so don’t make it any harder.” 

Byleth’s eyes widened. “Brother?”

“Brother?” Yuri squawked. “Please, Captain, Rhea hired me to supervise her. This is just an arrangement.” 

Jeralt shifted to look at him, and Yuri saw flint in his eyes for the first time. “We need to separate Byleth from her past life even further. We don’t know if Aelfric told anybody about the identity of Byleth’s mother. Connecting her to you is safest for both of you. Guess I should have asked first, but it’s a matter of her safety.” 

“This is an arrangement.”

“Then arrange a fake relationship. You need some excuse for why you’re joined at the hip. Pretend she’s some orphan you took in under your wing - it’s not even a lie.” Jeralt straightened, turning to look at Yuri for the first time. His expression was somber and serious, but he looked smaller without his jacket. “Look, kid. I admit I wasn’t happy when Rhea passed her off to you. Rhea has her own reasons for everything she does, and you’re…” 

He trailed off, clearly struggling for political correctness, before Yuri took pity on him. “An ex-whore who moonlights as Rhea’s lackey?”

“Saints, kid, that’s not what I was about to say -”

“What’s a whore?” Byleth asked loudly.

Yuri looked down at her. “Somebody who’s so good at something that they never do it for free.” Byleth nodded sagely, and Yuri looked back up at Jeralt. Jeralt didn’t seem happy, but Yuri wasn’t paid enough to entertain him. “And even if you weren’t crass enough to say it, it’s the truth. You don’t trust Rhea and I do whatever she says. Trust me, Captain, I wouldn’t be happy either. You don’t have to cozy up to me.”

“I wasn’t happy because you’re seventeen years old,” Jeralt said firmly. Yuri rolled his eyes. Not this shit again. What was with adult men always reminding him that he was in his teens? Did they get off on it or something? “I knew Rhea would put her with somebody she trusted absolutely. I just didn’t want that person to be you.” 

Of course he didn’t! Who the hell would? Yuri was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion about Jeralt’s relationship to Byleth - nobody else would have thought to rescue a corpse before an imminent battle - and no self-respecting father would want their daughter around somebody like Yuri. Byleth was pure and innocent. As innocent as a thirteen year old could ever be - wiped clean of her old life, completely noncognizant of the world around her. How often had she seen the sun since she met Yuri? She hadn’t even spoken before now. The girl had a damned imaginary friend, for heaven’s sake. Byleth was innocent in every way, and Yuri was filthy.

“Saints, kid, don’t give me that face. It’s not because of your background. It’s just obvious that you have more than enough on your plate. Don’t you have a city to govern? Evil errands to run for Rhea? I just don’t know how the hell you have time.” 

“Do you think I can’t do it?” Yuri snapped. “I have more than one skillset, you know.”

Jeralt exhaled heavily, scrubbing his face. “You are the least charitable - never mind.” He was uncharitable? Maybe he just didn’t buy stupid lies. “None of this is coming out right. What I’m trying to say is that you need whatever help you can get. Calling yourself siblings would make your life easier. But I’m hardly going to force you into it. Do whatever you want, kid. I’m not in charge of you.” Slightly quieter, he said, “I’m not in charge of either of you.” 

Yuri wanted to call Jeralt a bad father. He knew already that Jeralt was probably the best father he’d ever met. Taking up a job with somebody he clearly hated for the sake of staying near a daughter he was barely allowed to see. Who he couldn’t even claim, because some mysteriously evil people were after her and she was safest in complete anonymity. Some fathers would cheer at the opportunity to ditch their daughters, but the pain in Jeralt’s voice was real. And yet he wanted to tie her to Yuri. 

It would only contaminate her. He was already ruining her. Yuri had to stay away, he had to keep her out - if only for her own sake. To protect her from Yuri, and to protect Yuri from the world. Yuri couldn’t let anybody else inside. Too dangerous for everybody.

But refusing Jeralt’s proposal wouldn’t protect her from the world. And maybe a father was thinking about a factor that Yuri had missed completely. 

The fact that her mother was a shockingly well-preserved corpse and her father had to disown her. Rhea was somehow related to her, which was bad enough, but she couldn’t claim her either. Even Yuri had a mother. To the world, Byleth was alone. That was…

“Fine.” Yuri had lost this battle. He had probably also lost the war. Whatever. He fought for his own side anyway. “But I won’t force her to call me that. She’s not terribly attached to me.”  

It was the rational thought. Yuri had repeatedly left her alone with a freak and allowed her to get kidnapped again. It was a miracle her real family hadn’t fired Yuri the second she got kidnapped. 

But Byleth’s brow furrowed in outrage. Yuri fought the urge to startle - he had almost forgotten she was there. “I like you.”

The words stopped Yuri short. He wasn’t sure why. They weren’t strange words, were they? 

His hesitation must have been obvious, even to Byleth, because she promptly grabbed him in a giant hug. It was small, comforting, and warm. Her small body fit nicely next to his, and when he folded his arms over her he could almost envelop her. 

Jeralt just gave him a wry grin. “I guess you were too far away to hear. Remember how I was right next to you when you swapped positions with her?” Yuri nodded. “When she appeared in your place, I scooped her up and put her on my horse immediately. I think she knew what had happened. She called out your name. Damn near tried to jump from my horse and run towards you too.” 

That didn’t seem right. But she had hugged him after the fight, hadn’t she? Balthus had called it adorable. Come to think of it, Balthus had asked if Byleth was his sister too…Yuri hadn’t known what to say. He didn’t know what to say now.

Jeralt propped a hand on a hip, smiling. “You see that, Byleth? Yuri didn’t know you liked him. From now on you’ll have to speak up and tell him you like him a lot.” Byleth nodded fastidiously. “Attagirl. Hey, can you take that book from the inside pocket and pass it to your brother? It has something he might want to see.” 

Byleth eagerly separated from Yuri and completed the errand, pulling out a small book from a jacket pocket and passing it to Yuri. Yuri opened it and began flipping through it, just barely catching scraps of documents and notes that came slipping out. 

“Check the last few pages,” Jeralt said. “We found it in Aelfric’s things. Actually, that klepto student found it. Is that guy a friend of yours or something?”

“Or something,” Yuri muttered. 

Byleth stared up at Jeralt. “Is Balthus my brother too?”

“No,” Yuri said.

Jeralt shrugged. “If you want. He’s rich, so maybe you can fleece him.”

“I already tried,” Yuri said distantly, flipping through the book. Something about four crests…notes on a very familiar crest. Balthus’ pilfered paperwork had already revealed that Aelfric had targeted him for his crest. That had burned. Yuri was trying not to think about it. “He’s broke and only attracted to older women.” 

Pity, too - Yuri could have had an excellent sucker on that reel. He made his move during the ‘post-rescue a little girl drinking party!’, but Balthus just pointedly pretended he didn’t pick up on what Yuri was doing and started talking loudly about how Yuri reminded him of a hypothetical younger brother. It was frustrating. Yuri still didn’t know why Balthus had helped him. There was probably a secret motive that Yuri just hadn’t picked up on yet. Or maybe Balthus actually -

Yuri stopped short. This page was about Balthus. About the von Adalbrechts, and some sort of mysterious crest in their family legend. Right alongside a personality profile on Balthus…notes on his attendance and conduct issues…character notes…records of meetings and conversations with Balthus…lists of broken school rules…apparently psychologically unstable…

Yuri flipped a page backwards. It was on him. He caught a few paragraphs on his history before he quickly flipped forward. He didn’t want to know what Aelfric thought of his personality. Probably just called him a slut for two straight pages. Definitely marked him down as psychologically unstable.

But there were people besides Yuri and Balthus in the notebook. Right after Balthus’ incomplete profile, there was another name and short descriptor. Constance von Nuvelle. Another rich bitch noblewoman. Current student of the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery…extremely high grades for her first few years at the school before they plummeted half a year ago. Now at risk of dropping out. Extensive record of conduct issues, same as Balthus. Aelfric made note of…severe psychological instability, whatever that meant. And a certain crest…

Yuri flipped through Constance’s profile until he found another. Hapi, no last name - a commoner. Extensive hypothesizing on the power of her crest and little information about her. Current resident of a church in the middle of nowhere. Psychologically unstable.

“This explains why Aelfric was having those private meetings with Balthus,” Yuri muttered. “I guess we both have powerful crests. These two women must also have powerful crests…but why keep tabs on them specifically? Why keep tabs on all of us?”

“Aelfric talked about blood a lot,” Byleth said seriously. Yuri really shouldn’t have left him alone with her. 

“I should contact Lady Rhea about this,” Yuri said. He continued flipping through the book - going through Yuri Leclarc, Balthus von Adalbrecht, Constance von Nuvelle, and Hapi’s profiles again and again. Four strangers placed right next to each other, thrown together by fate. “She’ll definitely be interested in learning about Constance and Hapi.” 

Byleth peered over his arm, trying to take a glance at the book. Yuri let her. She could barely read. Maybe secrets would incentivize her to keep learning. “Are they important?”

“Probably not,” Yuri said. 

But even then, he had lied. Even then, he had already known. 

Call it intuition. 

[cyberskulzzz]

Could you do Rory (mbav) headcanons??

sorry I took so long,I dont know if I ate or if these are absolutely controversial but hope you enjoy<333

Rory Keaner Headcanons

General headcanons:

•Trans female to male (ftm) and definitely grew up catholic. 

•His dad and him dont have a great relationship due to that,the only reason he was able to transition was his mom,which he is very close to and thankful for.

•He went no contact with his dad as he got older.

•A bit of a mommas boy. 

•I think he’s either straight or pan,idk I just get the vibes. 

•Had a crush on Benny at the beginning of their friendship. 

•Listens to fallout boy. 

•YAPPER obviously 

•Obsessed with sour candy and will eat way too much of it till he gets sick. 

•Has the deepest sleep ever and can literally sleep through 13 hours every weekend. 

•No social filter what so ever,doesn’t mask at all. 

•Has a hot wheel collection of cool race cars. 

•Great with kids cause he’s energetic and playful obviously. 

•I feel like nowadays he’d dress in a 2000s teenage dirtbag way but maybe Im also just delusional,who knows. 

•Dog person 100%. 

•A stoner,I just see it,not a lot but occasionally with Erica or Benny,they try not to smoke with/around Ethan there cause weed just makes him more anxious. 

Boyfriend Rory:

•That boy immediately stalked your socials,any information he could get was appreciated,it also meant that it was easier for him to flirt/start a convo with you,cause let me tell you that boy was NERVOUS. 

•Clingy,texts you every five minutes and follows you around like a lost puppy. 

•Sees anything as a date,from keeping you company at appointments or while running errands to just doing nothing all day,its a date. 

•Worships you and the ground you walk on,that boy is so obsessed with you,sometimes he’ll just stare and ask himself how he pulled you. 

•This might be controversial but I think he’s trans I just see it,and you being his first long term partner gives him SO much gender euphoria,he just adores you. 

•Will not stop talking about you,no matter the topic he finds a reason to bring you into the conversation when talking to Benny or Ethan,which annoys them,a lot. 

•A gentleman,respective of your boundaries although he might be a teeny tiny bit too fast forward or pushy sometimes.  

•LOVES to hear you yapping,though I feel like he’d zone out sometimes and just admire you (blah blah blah proper name place name back to my stuff). 

•He was those starwars lightning swords(I think thats what they’re called please don’t come for me🥲🤞) and you guys have play fights with those. 

•Just a lot of play fighting in general. 

•Although I see his music taste going more into 2000s emo,pop punk,if youre a pop girly/boy he will listen to the pop girlies,I could see him especially liking Sabrina Carpenter or Taylor Swift (him and Ethan start arguments about Taylor cause Ethan‘s not a fan apparently.)

•Can be forgetful,might forget dates or to include or offer to include you in the groups plans,he does feel incredibly sorry when he notices though. 

•Will offer to turn you into a vampire more than once but is definitely scared to actually bite you cause he doesn’t want to hurt you or scare you. 

•Very stubborn when arguing and will give you the silent treatment,not for long though. 

•You’d routinely watch some paranormal documentary on date nights along with getting pizza. 

•That boy has ADHD and maybe a bit of the tism (same Rory same) so he’s always down for activity dates,I could see him LOVING the fair or an arcade. 

•I feel like his (giving) love languages are gift giving (and he’d go all out with it) and physical touch. 

•Love language wise when it comes to receiving for him,is 100% words of affirmation,compliment or praise him and he’d immediately melt. 

•A bit out of character,maybe a headcanon for when he’s a bit older of course (and confident)but I could see him having lingerie polariod pics of you in his clear phone case,without your face on it cause he doesn’t want to show you of like that,its just a reminder for him. 

•LOVES LOVES LOVES hearing your gossip and is really really invested in it too,if its from your social life or even just pop culture doesn’t matter,that boy will be listening full time. 

•Would definitely take you on night flights to enjoy city lights or you’d people watch through windows so you could gossip. 

God I love him

Taglist: @pr3ttyf4wn, @pinkestglittercat, @ray2o2, @bettyweir, @throwback-town, @t0b7z-pl47h0u53

Divider credit: @ianrkives, @witchrealms, @thecutestgrotto