#thank you to this show for filling the hole legends of tomorrow left

[blazethecheeto]

my favourite part of agatha all along is how fucking unserious this show is. the gen z dialogue, the unique, iconic characters all carrying their own baggage, them all being at each other's throats at any given moment, the amount of gay.

it turns any slightly horror plot into something sheerly comedic in a matter of seconds due to the characters being their bratty selfish incredible selves. like, agatha is on the CEILING, her limbs twisted and demonically screeching, and the first thing jen says is 'she's faking it'.

i cackled.

seriously, this is literally legends of tomorrow. queer ragtag team with unique powers/personalities, with fantastical witchy plots and can change their tone from campy to horrific in a matter of seconds. i love it. i love it so much. 10/10. also i think rio and agatha should kiss.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

The Art of Failing [1]

Werewolf!Joel Miller x F!Reader, Vampire!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Warnings: violence and mild gore, mentions of blood and injures, reader is described as active and able to fight, eventual smut, loss of a child, angst to fluff, more warnings to come based on individual chapters

Chapter Warnings: anxiety, self doubt, mentions of blood

Word Count: 10,360

Summary: The Division of Mythological Affairs was created to protect and serve the supernatural community while keeping the knowledge of their existence a secret. You hoped to become an Agent of the DMA like your mother before you. Just as your dream begins to fall apart at the seams, you stumble across a missing persons report that could change everything. You are desperate to solve the case, to prove your ability, and you find yourself with unlikely allies⏤ a werewolf running from his pack and a vampire shunned from his coven. The stakes are high, lives are at risk, and success hinges on the three of you learning to work together.

[a/n: it's here!! i'm so excited to officially share this because it was so much fun to write and i'm even more excited to show y'all the rest]

MIDDAY MADNESS

"failure does not mean your life is over."

Every workplace had that one employee who was deemed irreplaceable. 

The employee who showed up early, went the extra mile, and made the lives of those around them easier. The one who had a passion for their work⏤ who was born to do what they do with a smile on their face. You were that employee. Without you, everything would collapse into chaos and madness. Mayhem would fill your 8-storied workplace to the brim until it was spilling out into the unsuspecting streets of Austin, Texas. Riots would break out. Fire would engulf the city. The world would never know peace. Without you⏤

“Hey, coffee girl!” The sharp, angry voice startled you and the precariously stacked drinks in your hands nearly toppled over. You readjusted your hold on the carriers with a breathy sigh. “Where the hell is my cappuccino?” 

Perhaps calling yourself the most irreplaceable employee here was a bit of a stretch. You were important though. Your job was vital. If it weren’t for you then your co-workers would be caffeine deprived which would lead to headaches which would then lead to mistakes and errors in paperwork which would, eventually and inevitably, lead to worldwide destruction somewhere down the line. You were needed here. You were vital and a necessity. At least, that’s what you told yourself over and over in the form of a mental mantra. It was either that or get caught in the abysmal, black hole your life seemed to be right now.

“Here you go, sir.” You angled the carrier so he could scoop up the cup on the far left. The man yanked his cup away hastily, nearly knocking over the other drinks again, and rushed away without even so much as a ‘thank you’. You pressed your lips together in annoyance.

You were vital. You were vital. You were vital.

With a brief pause to piece your patience back together, you pasted on a broad smile and began to continue your morning deliveries. For two years, you had been taking coffee and lunch orders, scheduling meetings, running errands, and doing basically every other busy work task put on your plate. It was exhausting, both mentally and emotionally, but it was the price to pay. You wouldn't take this kind of treatment anywhere else and the only reason you still put up with it was because it was just a stepping stone.

Today you were a glorified assistant.

Tomorrow you would be an Agent.

An Agent of the Division of Mythological Affairs.

It was a title not many held and was exclusive for a number of reasons. The DMA was established decades ago to police and protect the supernatural community. It was the responsibility and duty of the DMA to keep the peace amongst the community while also keeping said community secret from the rest of humanity. Knowing that the monsters of myth and legend were real was privileged information. The only reason you were clued in was because of your mother. She had been an Agent herself years ago and you grew up surrounded by supernatural forces. Hell, your childhood best friend was a forest nymph. 

As you grew older, you grew more passionate about the world you were blessed to know and the dream to walk in your mother’s footsteps took root. You trained and you studied, desperate to make the world a better place, and thus far all you had succeeded in was mastering the skill of carrying four drink carriers without dropping them.

After delivering the final cup of coffee, you made your way up to the eighth floor. There was about fifteen minutes before you had to get down to the lobby for your next task of the day, and you planned to spend it begging. You greeted familiar faces as you passed them. The separation of labor could be seen in the change of clothes as you got to the higher floors. Everyone you passed now were dressed in nice and expensive suits. It was the upper levels that housed the policy makers⏤ more politician than soldier. 

The eighth floor was the nicest of them all with open windows that let in natural light. There were no ugly cubicles littering the bulk of it. Instead, modern and sleek furniture sat around the space and private offices were housed here. 

“Hey, have you seen Captain Roberts?” You asked Stacey, one of the secretaries you saw in meetings every once in a while, and she didn’t even lift her eyes up from the magazine she was flipping through. She just pointed to the right towards a hall of offices. You mumbled a thanks and continued on. There were a few different Captains who worked in this sector of the DMA, but Captain Roberts was in charge of the Agents and Analysts you worked with most often.

You were halfway down the hall when an unfamiliar, armored figure stepped out of the conference room to leave. Mandalorian. Your pace stuttered in shock as you stared wide eyed at the intimidating man stalking toward you. There were too many vampire covens to count, but a few were infamous enough to merit memorizing.

The Mandalorians were one of them.

Their signature being the impenetrable armor they wore at all times⏤ faces they never revealed to anyone. It wasn’t unusual to see a Mandalorian or two wandering around the building. They occasionally worked contracts with the DMA picking up on bounties. Not all DMA sanctioned bounty hunters were Mandalorian, but the best undoubtedly were. You didn’t recognize this one though.

His all silver armor was haunting and his gait spoke to strength and skill. He was close enough now that you could see your wide, staring eyes in the reflection of his visor, and you forced yourself to snap your gaze to the floor as you passed. The air was tense around him, it followed him like a dark cloud, and his heavy boots stormed past you without pause. You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder to watch him a second more. His worn out cloak whipped around him at the pace he marched out with and a few suited men practically leapt out of his way to avoid being in his path. 

You let out a low whistle and turned back towards the conference room he had just left. Being on the radar of a Mandalorian had to be a fate worse than death, and you pitied whoever had pissed off that one. Outside the conference room door, you adjusted your work blazer and took a steadying breath. You were vital, this organization was lucky to have you, and you would be an Agent if it were the last thing you did. You rapped your knuckles against the door and waited until a deep voice called out for you to enter. 

Inside the room were three others. They sat at an elongated conference table centered in the room with their backs to Austin street views out the floor to ceiling windows. On the wall across from the windows were large screens designed for calls and it looked like one had just ended. Of the three people in the room, you only recognized one. Captain Roberts, a gruff man in his late sixties, stood at the head of the table with a few folders and papers spread out in front of him. He was built like a grizzly bear and had the temperament of one as well. The red of his beard was graying and you still hadn’t gotten used to his bald head quite yet.  He used to have hair thick and long enough to braid, but when his hair started to recede he chose instead to just lose it all.

“If that’s all, I have other matters to attend to.” Captain Roberts cleared his throat and motioned toward you. It was a dismissal on his part, and you stepped closer while the two other suited individuals packed up their belongings to leave. The second they were out of sight, Roberts groaned. “Perfect timing, kid. I hate dealing with Olympus representatives.”

Your jaw fell open and you pointed to the door, “Those were…” You had never met the souls responsible for carrying the messages and words of the gods and goddesses back down to Earth. “Really?”

“Try not to look so excited. The gods are dicks and they live to make my job more difficult.”

“You say that about everybody.” You replied and wandered over to stand by him. Your eyes darted down to the papers scattered on the table. It looked like a missing person report. “I saw a Mandalorian in here earlier.” The report looked like it was talking about a child. You narrowed your eyes and pulled it closer. The Mandalorian was reporting his own missing child. A young boy who had disappeared overnight. “Why were you meeting with a Mandalorian and Olympus representatives over a missing kid?”

Roberts snatched away the reports to tuck them into a folder with a chastising glare. “I didn’t. I was meeting with the representatives when the Mandalorian burst in. Kind of like you did.”

“You were happy with my interruption a few seconds ago.” You argued. Roberts gave you a tired glare, and you nodded toward the folders in his hands. “You know I was talking to Hannah downstairs a few days ago and she was telling me that the number of missing kids has skyrocketed this last month in comparison to previous months.”

Roberts grunted, “What have I told you about being nosy?”

“Maybe I could help.” You offered. “I could⏤” Roberts scoffed out your name with a shake of his head and made a beeline for the door. You scrambled after him. “Roberts, come on. Please.” 

“You came all this way up to beg me about a missing persons case?”

“Well, I actually came to beg you about applying for the Agent qualifications exam, but I’m not picky about what I beg for. I’ll take what I can get.”

“No.”

“Roberts⏤”

“I said, no.”

You locked your jaw in annoyance as you both climbed into the elevator. In order to sign up for the qualifications exam you needed the approval of a Captain. It seemed no matter how many times you begged Roberts to write you the letter of recommendation allowing you to sit for the test, he always had some excuse to say no. Any Captain’s letter would do the job and you could technically find another to badger about this, but you were the stubborn kind. Captain Roberts had been the one to qualify your mother, and you wanted him to be the one to qualify you too. 

“If you just gave me a chance,” You snapped, “I could do it.”

“We’re not getting into this again.”

“Give me a real reason then!”

Roberts glared at you with a look that would have anyone else cowering or running for the hills. You could see beyond the anger and frustration. Beyond the huff and glowering. Underneath all the rough Captain bravado was someone who cared, but right now it was infuriating. Roberts rubbed his bald head and shook it with disdain, “Your mother wouldn’t want you risking your life like she did.” It felt like your heart had stopped in your chest. Of all the excuses he had plied you with in the past this was the first time he used your mother as one. “She would want better for you.”

“Don’t.” You whispered.

“You’re a bright girl. You say the word and I can get you a job in research. You would be a hell of an Analyst⏤”

“I don’t want to be an Analyst! I want to be⏤” 

The elevator doors dinged open and you both grew silent. A small group shuffled onto the elevator making small talk. You stood stiff and straight, arms crossed over your chest, while Roberts pouted on his side of the elevator as well. Three floors down and the group dispersed leaving you alone with the Captain once more.

“You can do better than this, kid.” Roberts said firmly. “You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“This. This is what I want for my life.” You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze again. You just stared at the numbers at the top of the elevator door, each lighting up as you got closer and closer to the ground floor. “I just wanna help people like mom did.”

“There are other ways to do that.”

The elevator reached the bottom floor and you finally turned to Roberts, “Are you going to approve me for the exam or not?”

Roberts held your gaze for a moment, sadness seeping into his blue eyes, and he sighed, “No. No, I’m not.”

You bobbed your head once, biting back the burning threat of tears prickling at your eyes, and you hurried out of the elevator. Roberts called out after you, making others near the elevator doors glance in your direction, but you didn’t pause in your stride. 

There was a small cubicle, amongst a sea of others, down a hall connected from the lobby that you called your own. It was tiny, just big enough to house a computer and a bit of desk space for you to stack busy work all over, but it was yours. The cubicle wall was decorated with pictures of friends, family, and a spattering of Halloween decorations you had put up for the upcoming holiday.

You dropped into the seat, Roberts’ denial ringing in your ears, and your eyes landed on one photo in particular. It was your high school graduation and your mother had her arms wrapped around you proudly as you both beamed at the camera. The sight of it made your stomach turn and without thought you tugged it off the wall where it hung to stick in a drawer. Your mother was a hero who changed so many lives, and you could only wonder what she would think if you now⏤ sitting at a cubicle buried in busy work and covered in coffee stains.

You had buried yourself in errands and paperwork to distract from the bitter rejection of Captain Roberts. The small voice at the back of your mind whispered that all you had to do was seek out a separate Captain for your letter of recommendation. You knew for a fact that the Captain who worked the neighboring district handed out letters like candy. They had the mindset that the test would weed out the ones who didn’t deserve to be there, and you were confident you could pass. It was a quick and easy solution, but it felt too much like cheating in your eyes. 

A part of you wished you could kick your pride to the curb. A dream was a dream, right? It didn’t matter how you got there as long as you got there. You blew out an irritated breath of air and leaned back in your seat to stretch your spine. No matter how many times you repeated those words in your head they didn’t seem to stick. 

“Hey, pumpkin.” A voice drawled from behind you, and the condescending tone of it immediately made your blood pressure rise. Slowly, you turned in your seat to face the bane of your existence. Agent Miles Jackson was average in height but constantly acted as if he were compensating for something or another. You assumed it was his lack of a bearable personality. The weight of his stare gave his brown eyes a beady quality and his thin lipped smile could only be described as smarmy. He winked at you and the urge to gouge his eyes out washed over you. “What’re you doing here?”

You furrowed your brow, “Working. I know that’s an unfamiliar concept to you.”

“Ha ha. Funny.” Miles snorted. “I meant, why the hell are you still here and not picking up my lunch?” You opened your mouth to complain, but he cut in. “I want my usual from that sandwich place right down the road. The faster the better.”

“Miles⏤”

The man turned on his heel and began to march away before letting you say another word. You glared at his back where his light blue, wrinkled button up shirt was untucked from his one size too small dress pants. You just wanted to throw something at the back of his head. With a huff, you pushed to stand and grabbed your purse from the drawer under your desk. Between the morning you had and dealing with Miles, you were seriously going to need a drink tonight.

It took no time at all to pick up the food. You called ahead on your walk, and the workers there knew you fairly well as a regular. When you got back to the building there was a commotion in the lobby. More people than normal were milling about and a steady flow of people were streaming out of the first floor bullpen⏤ the exact place you were heading. You slipped through the crowd and as you got closer and closer to where Miles’ desk was the noise began to increase.

“⏤'nd you’re not fuckin’ listenin’ to me!” 

The words reverberated into the hall stopping you dead in your tracks. Calling it a yell would be underselling the wall of sound that slammed into you. It was a roar⏤ earth shattering, enraged, and excruciating. You rushed into the bullpen, hand clutched tight to the to-go bag of food, and gazed over a sea of desks. The bullpen was where most Agents worked day to day. Usually, the routine tasks involved speaking to concerned citizens or interviewing suspects. A good bulk of the work involved filing reports when not out on the streets working on a case. However, the room was nearly empty and continued to get even emptier as people rushed past you. At the center, with the agent you were looking for, was a man you didn’t recognize. 

He was gruff with broad shoulders covered in a worn out flannel. A peppering of gray littered the thick, dark hair atop his head and even spilled into the scruff on his face. The clear details that could be seen from a mile away was the redness in his face, the vein protruding along his neck as he yelled, and the rage simmering in his dark eyes. His anger was volatile and palpable. Your focus seemed to zoom in on the flash of pain, and once you saw it… it was all you could see. This was a man suffering. Amongst all that rage was heart wrenching fear and agony.

“Sir⏤”

“Don’ you fuckin’ ‘sir’ me.” The man snapped and shoved at Agent Jackson. “You son of a bitch, listen⏤”

Miles pointed in his face and the man snarled in response. “Don’t you take a tone with me. Do you know who I am?!” You got closer and you could see the man’s canines lengthen and his brown eyes flickered in shades of a burning gold. Wolf. He was a werewolf. Genetically speaking, there were hundreds of lineages from the initial werewolf. Unlike vampires, who were similar regardless of the coven, wolves differed. Based on what you could see here, this guy was probably from a local pack. The ones around here didn’t necessarily need the full moon and their emotions controlled a lot of their abilities. Miles ran a hand through his hair with a huff, “Now, Mr. Miller, we have your statement. If you’ll be patient with us⏤”

“Are you fuckin' kiddin' me right now with this bullshit!?”

You weren’t sure how this guy got stuck talking to the least empathetic and least helpful Agent in the entire building, but your heart went out to him. While Miles rattled off a long winded excuse, you crept forward to set the food on his desk and your eyes landed on an open report. The wolf’s name was Joel Miller, and as your eyes scanned the page you understood his rage.

“Your daughter is missing?” You gasped. Both men snapped their gazes at you. Miles glared at your intrusion, but Joel’s narrowed eyes held more questioning than rage toward you. You picked up the report to read the details, but all you could think of were the other missing children cases⏤ the Mandalorian this morning and his missing child. The report in your hand was poorly written which you expected of Miles. “When did you last see⏤”

“I already took his statement.” Miles snapped at you.

Joel, on the other hand, pointed his finger at the file with a glare, “Does it not say it in there??” Sensing the tension, you were hesitant to nod your head. Joel filled in the blanks though and snarled at Miles. “You fuckin' bastard. Are you not takin' this seriously!? She's a kid! She's only fourteen! I swear to the Gods, I’ll⏤”

“I assure you that we have what we need.” Miles snatched the report from your hands. “You’ll have to excuse my assistant. She isn’t trained." You sucked in a sharp breath, your own rage beginning to bubble up, at his words. As if you needed extensive training to read a piece of paper. “Pumpkin, you’re excused.”

“I’m not your assistant.” You spat at him. “Have you considered the other missing kids?”

Joel’s eyes widened, “'Scuse me?”

Miles scoffed and shook his head to glare at you, “That has nothing to do with⏤”

“And there was a Mandalorian here this morning whose kid disappeared overnight.”

Miles chuckled and the sound pissed you off further. It had the same effect on Joel Miller who looked close to shifting into his wolf form to leap across the desk and maul the man. Miles motioned toward you, “Well, that’s it then. Mandalorian.” You furrowed your brow. “I would bet my money on this being a blood feud. Wolves vs fangs.”

You shook your head, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“The wolves took the vampire kid, and in retaliation the vampires took the wolf’s kid.” Miles argued confidently. He turned to Joel and gave a slight shrug while scooping up the bag of food you had brought for him. “We will look into the matters, and we will call you with further information.”

“That’s it? You’ll call me?” Joel yelled. The wolf slapped the bag of food out of Miles’ hand and to the ground. “My daughter is fuckin' missin' 'nd that’s all you’re gonna give me right now!?”

Miles slammed his hand against his desk while staring at his lost meal. His glare toward the wolf deepened, a move you found to be hilarious considering Miles was far from intimidating, but you watched as his hand went to his hip where his service weapon rested. Your eyes widened and you set a hand on Miles’ chest to draw his attention to you.

“Stop.” You warned. “That’s a bad idea.” Miles locked his jaw and you tried to defuse the situation. “This isn’t right. Your theory is wrong. A wolf pack would never use a kid as a bargaining token in some rivalry.” You scoffed. “And the Mandalorians are the only vampire coven to allow children in their ranks. They literally adopt kids off the street to raise and care for. But you think they kidnapped a wolf’s child?”

Miles suddenly grabbed you by the arm roughly and squeezed hard enough to make you wince. The sound of a low warning growl filled the air, but all your attention was focused on the loathing rage in Miles’ eyes. He seemed… unhinged, somehow. With his other hand, Miles pointed a finger in your face. “Listen to me, pumpkin.” He snapped. “You need to stop playing ‘Agent’. You’re a bookish errand girl who has no idea what she’s talking about or trying to get involved in.” His words stung even more with Captain’s Roberts’ rejection still ringing fresh in your mind. “It’s pathetic how desperate you are to be an agent like your mommy. Especially considering, you’ll never be what she was. You’ll never be more than the useless, desperate⏤” 

Your hand curled into a fist and lashed out before you had even a second to think. Miles’ nose crunched under your now throbbing knuckles and blood splattered down his blue shirt. He cried out in pain and you stiffened in realization at what you had done. “You bitch! I’ll get you fired for this!”

Angry, embarrassed, and frustrated, you spun on your heel to rush away. Miles was still hollering behind you in a rage and before leaving the room you gave one last glance over your shoulder. The goal was to glare at Miles or admire the new shape of his nose, but as if pulled by an unseen force your gaze landed directly on Joel. Once you made eye contact with the wolf, there was no looking away. There was a haunting power in the way he stared back and it seemed to singe a hole through your very being, and you could feel his agony⏤ his devastation and desperation. The embarrassment you felt grew as you realized you were useless to him. Just like Miles said. You mouthed a quick apology and left in a hurry.

Downtown Austin had a district for the supernatural. Not that any human knew that it was for the supernatural specifically. With the right words, a person could find themselves in underground Austin where a market and community lay hidden. As you saw no reason to sit around and wait for the consequences of your actions to find you, you climbed into your car to drive across the city to see a friend. Once parked, it took no time at all to find your favorite bar. It was one owned by a witch and open to any and all who were interested.

Despite being underground, ‘Lucille's’ did not feel closed off or stuffy. The ceiling was high, a spell cast to mimic the natural lighting for the time of day, and the walls and furniture were decorated in greenery making the room feel like a clearing in a forest. Usually when you were here it was late evening or night time so the bar would be lit accordingly, but as it was literally 2 in the afternoon it was pure midday sunlight that shone down on you.

The bar wasn’t empty. A number of patrons sat around enjoying a casual lunch or drink, but you weaved through the tables to make your way to the actual bar. It was made of thick mahogany wood and glass. Behind the bar, the shelf was lined with liquors and raw materials. Jars filled with dragon scales, phoenix feathers, wormwood, and any other ingredient that could be used for spells or drinks. There was a glow from behind the shelf itself that shifted in a swirling of soft colors. 

As you sat down on a cushioned bar stool, you saw a familiar forest nymph walking out of the back carrying a box. Her pale green skin was accented by a darker, vine like pattern that encircled her limbs and torso⏤ made even more clear to see due to the loose, white tank top she wore. Her vibrant pink hair was pulled back into two buns atop her head and littered with yellow and blue flowers. She dropped the box with a grunt and her brown eyes landed on you in shock.

“Whoa! What’re you doing here??” 

“Hey, Nima.” 

“You here for lunch?”

“Not exactly.” You gave her a tight lipped smile as she bounced over with a bright grin. She stood close enough that you could see the slight movements of the vine-like pattern on her skin and it must have been close enough for her to see the misery in your features. Before she could begin her interrogation, you lifted your dominant hand to nod toward your bruised knuckles. “Can I have an ice pack?”

Nima wrapped a handful of ice in a rag for you to set on your hand and listened quietly as you told her about your day from start to finish.

“First off, I’m making you a stiff drink.” Nima grabbed a glass and she knew your preferences enough that you didn’t need to say a word. “Secondly, after you down this we’re getting in my car and we’re gonna go kill Agent ‘Shit for Brains’.” Your lips twitched up in amusement. “Thirdly⏤”

“How many bullet points are in this pep talk?” You asked. “Just so I can keep track.”

“You would make a gods damn brilliant Agent.” Nima paused in drink making to point at you. “I don’t care what anyone else says.” She shook the metal tumbler three times before pouring the drink in the martini glass. The light pink liquid bubbled and fizzed. She set it in front of you and you raised an eyebrow at the glittering light that shimmered from the bubbles that popped in it. Nima shrugged, “So, I added a joy charm to your drink. Sue me.”

The corner of your lip twitched up and you didn’t hesitate to bring the drink to your lips. The fizzing bubbles of the joy charm tickled your mouth and it reminded you of eating pop rocks as a kid. Unlike the pop rocks, it left an immediate light hearted buzz in your brain that made the glow of the lights around you seem a little bit brighter. Coming here had been the right decision. Between the drinks and Nima’s threats against Miles’ life you were feeling a bit better.

Nima stayed with you chatting for a while longer, but when a group of elves noisily wandered in she had to veer away to serve them. You finished the last of your drink, pushed the glass aside, and then folded your arms to lean on the bar with a hum. The joy charm left your brain with the happy buzz, but your heart still felt heavy. All you wanted to do in life was help others, like your mom had, and now you were going to get fired. You couldn’t even provide support for the people who were helping others.

So much for being vital.

You absentmindedly began to count the bottles on the expansive shelf in hopes to keep your mind occupied until Nima could come back and distract you. It was around 116 that you felt somebody sit on the stool right beside you. Any annoyance you felt at a stranger picking a seat so close to you when there were so many other open stools was muted by the effects of the joy charm. You continued to count and at 200 the stranger said your name.

Eyes wide, you turn your head and the sight of Joel Miller’s glare you jumped in surprise, “Gods!” You were sitting up now, half hanging off your stool, while gripping the edge of the bartop. “What are you… How do you know my name??”

“I asked 'round.” Joel replied gruffly. Unsure of what to say, you bobbed your head awkwardly. He had his arm resting on the bar as he faced you, and his hand was balled up in a tight fist. The wolf was wound up tight⏤ ready to snap at the slightest provocation. “Now tell me more 'bout the Mandalorian.”

You scrunched your nose, still in disbelief that this wolf followed you in the first place, “Um, DMA restricts me from giving out the information of someone else. I’m not really supposed to do it without going through the proper channels.”

“Yeah, well, you don’ really got a job anymore, far as I can tell.”

“I still have a job. I haven’t been fired.” You countered with a nod then mumbled. “Yet.”

Joel leaned in closer and you stiffened at his growl, “You think my Ellie missin' has somethin' to do with the Mandalorian?”

You assumed that was the name of his daughter. “I can’t say anything for certain. I mean, I don’t know anything⏤”

“You knew more than that bonehead Agent.”

“That’s not hard.” You mumbled with a quiet snort. Joel did not seem amused and continued to burn through you with his gaze. You cleared your throat and nodded. “All I know is the number of missing persons cases involving children has been higher this last month than usual, and some Mandalorian is missing his own kid.” Joel gave a slight nod and you could see the wheels turning in his head. You shrugged, “But I don’t think it’s the feud between wolves and vampires doing this. I know that’s what Miles assumed but… I just have this weird feeling that⏤ that something else is going on.”

Joel clenched his jaw before speaking, “Why?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, defeated. “I don’t have evidence or a good reason. It’s just a... gut instinct.”

You squirmed under Joel’s continued gaze until he finally looked away. He turned in his seat to face forward and now you were the one staring. With how tense the wolf was, he looked to be made of stone. A handsome statue wearing a scowl that could fill even the gods with a chill. 

Nima bounced back over and gave Joel a skeptical glance. She raised an eyebrow at you in question and you waved your hand in front of your neck to signal her to leave him alone. Nima scooped up your empty glass and carried it away. 

“Where is he?”

Your head snapped back to Joel, eyes wide, “Sorry?”

“Where is the Mandalorian?” Joel demanded slowly. “I wanna talk to 'im.”

“I⏤I have no idea, man.” A laugh of disbelief left your lips. “The local Mandalorian coven is a mystery. They’re more tight lipped than any other coven I’ve heard about. Only a few people even know where they hide.”

Joel narrowed his eyes at you. “That’s all you got for me?”

You scoffed, “I’m sorry. If I had known you were going to stalk me out of the building⏤” Joel rolled his eyes with a huff. “⏤then I would’ve prepared accordingly. My bad.” 

Joel hissed a curse under his breath. His eyes closed and a hand rubbed his jawline before resting over his mouth⏤ attempting to settle himself, you assumed. You glanced over at Nima who was staring at you in concern and you gave her a quick nod and pointed to the wolf beside you. A few moments later, Nima came over and placed a glass of dark liquor in front of you. She mouthed the words, ‘You good?’, and you gave her a tight lipped smile. She shot Joel another wary glance before moving over to her other customers. 

You cleared your throat and pushed the drink in Joel’s direction. He opened his eyes and stared down at the drink. Joel sniffed the air then furrowed his brow, “That’s Lavagulin.” You shrugged. That sounded right, but you didn’t know the dark liquor types well enough to confirm it. His gaze turned skeptical and paranoid, “How do you know my drink of choice?”

“Oh, I don’t.” You held your hands in surrender. “Nima does.” You pointed to the forest nymph who was flipped a tumbler with a broad grin. “I don’t know how she does it, but she can guess anybody’s drink of choice. I’ve never seen her fail.” Joel stared for a second more before picking up the drink and taking a long sip of it. You rubbed the back of your neck nervously. “Listen, I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. I wish I could help.”

Joel didn’t respond to your comfort and just continued to drink. You briefly considered calling Captain Roberts. Miles had probably already gone to the man to snitch on you for breaking his nose. There was no way you wouldn’t get canned for the attack, even the Captain couldn’t protect you from that, but somebody should know that Miles was out of line with a citizen. Joel Miller needed real help to find his daughter, and gods knew that Agent Miles Jackson wasn’t going to be of any use. As the thought crossed your mind, you tilted your head. Help. Joel needed help.

“I could help.” You blurted out loud.

“What?” Joel was nearly finished with his drink.

“I could help!” You repeated. Why hadn’t you thought about this before? Joel needed help, and you needed to prove that this was a job you were more than capable of. “My mom was an Agent⏤ one of the best. She had all these connections and…” Joel was now facing you entirely as he had turned in his seat. For the first time since you met him, you saw more than just anger, panic, and pain in his eyes. There was a flicker of hope. You shot him a smile. “I think I can find out where the Mandalorian coven is.”

Joel leaned forward on his seat, “Where?”

“We need to go to my apartment. There’s a journal with a map.” You jumped up and began to root through your bag for your wallet. 

“What’s going on?” Nima came back over. “You leaving?”

“Yeah, it’s a⏤ it’s a long story.” 

“Everything alright though?”

You huffed when you couldn’t find your wallet, “What? Yeah, no. It’s fine. Just give me a second. I think my wallet is buried under here somewhere.”

Nima shook her head with a frown, “I’m not taking your money.”

“What’re you talking about?” You demanded.

“You don’t have a job. I’m not taking your money, babe.” You winced at her half true comment. The DMA didn’t pay you all that great anyways considering your position wasn’t super high on the career ladder. But then again, if you solved this case and proved your worth then you could be the Agent you knew you were capable of being. Suddenly, Joel held out a few folded bills. Your eyes widened, but Nima snatched the money from his hands with a smirk. “You on the other hand, I can very much take money from.”

Joel ushered you out of the bar as Nima waved after you and demanded you call her later. The wolf said he’d follow behind you in his own truck which you figured he wouldn’t have a problem with considering he had done it once before. You just prayed the plan you had in mind was actually going to pan out.

If you had known you’d have a near feral werewolf sitting in your living room this afternoon, you would’ve cleaned up a little better before leaving in the morning. You scrambled through your room searching for the journal that you knew was somewhere around here.

“You got it, yet?” Joel barked from the other room.

“Almost! Just⏤ Just hang on!”

Finally, you found the journal buried under a stack of papers on your desk. You mumbled your relief and immediately began to flip through the journal pages searching for something that could point you in the direction of the Mandalorians. You knew for a fact that your mother had a connection⏤ either directly or indirectly. You managed to find the vague map scribbled out midway through the journal. It wasn’t much, but it was more than you had ten minutes ago. You took a quick picture of it with your phone and began to leave your room only to pause. Frozen in place, your eyes darted over to your bedside drawer. After a second of contemplation, you hurried over and pulled out the handgun tucked away for safekeeping. The only ammunition you had was regular bullets and silver ones. Neither would help against a vampire, especially a Mandalorian vampire decked out in ceremonial armor, but the idea of having it on you brought some semblance of comfort. You tugged on your shoulder holster and triple checked the weapon before safely tucking it in place. The last two things you grabbed before leaving your room was a jacket to wear over the holster, keeping it mostly hidden, and your mother’s old badge.

When you stepped out into the living room, Joel was standing and staring at a few pictures on your wall. His eyebrows were drawn together, deep in thought, as his attention was focused in on a picture of you and your mother from when you were a child.

You cleared your throat and his eyes snapped back to you. You opened your mouth to explain the picture, but Joel closed the space between the two of you back on target, “Where is it? The coven?”

“Here.” You opened your phone to point to the picture you had taken.

Joel narrowed his eyes, “That’s all you got? You don’ got an address or somethin'?”

“An address?” You scoffed. “They live underground in the middle of nowhere. Sorry I don’t have a PO box to type into google for you. We can find it with this. Let’s go⏤”

“We??”

You set your hands on your hips with narrowed eyes, “Yeah, we.”

“You’re not goin'.”

“I’m not letting you and your pack stampede into a vampire coven!”

“I don’ have a pack.” Joel shook his head, and you tried to hide your surprise. “I work better alone. Now give me the map.”

“Fine,” You corrected, “I’m not letting a lone werewolf storm a vampire coven.”

“And how is addin' a human to the mix gonna tip the odds in my favor, sweetheart?” Joel scoffed and motioned to you.

“For one, they won’t kill me on sight for being a werewolf.” You argued. “And two,” You pulled the badge out of your pocket and flashed it to him, “I’m an impartial party. A peacekeeper.”

Joel snarled, “If they do have my kid for some reason, I don’ plan on keepin' the peace.”

“Yeah, see, that sentence proved my point. You need me.”

Joel opened his mouth to argue more, and you were fully prepared to counter anything he threw your way, but then he surprised you by locking his jaw and giving you a stiff nod. You hadn’t actually expected that to work. Joel turned to leave your apartment with a grunt and you hurried after him.

“Also, we’re taking my car.”

After another short lived argument, you managed to wrestle Joel into your vehicle. According to the map, the coven was just outside Austin city limits, truly in the middle of nowhere, and it would take at least an hour to get in the vicinity. Then you’d have to search for it further. The drive was just as awkward as you would’ve guessed it to be. Joel didn't seem like the type of man who enjoyed small talk even on a good day let alone right now. Unfortunately, the more nervous you got the more you seemed to want to talk.

“So, can I ask you something?” You blurted.

“No.”

“Oh.”

An even more tense silence filled the air between the two of you as you focused on the road ahead. Joel sighed and shook his head, “What?”

“You said you don’t have a pack.” You continued on with your line of questioning despite the lackluster permission he gave.

“Is there a question somewhere in there?”

“Is it true?” You asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a werewolf without a pack.”

“Well, now you have. Congrats.” Joel replied dryly. 

Your cellphone began to vibrate and the name ‘Captain Roberts’ flashed on the screen. You ignored the call, “So, it’s just you and your family then?”

“It’s me 'nd Ellie. That’s it.” Joel grunted. He shrugged after a beat, “Got a brother too but he’s still in the pack. Tried to leave when I did, but I convinced him not to.”

“Oh, so you left on your own.” You voiced the thought aloud. Your phone began to vibrate again. ‘Captain Roberts’. Ignore. “Why…” You were very, very curious as to why a werewolf would willingly leave his pack to be on his own⏤ or on his own with his daughter, you should say. But, it seemed too personal for you to pry into. “What’s Ellie like?”

Joel paused in thought. “She’s smart, but she’s also trouble. Bit of a little shit.” There was a small smile on his face as he said the words. “Obsessed with these stupid jokes 'nd puns.”

“She sounds fun.” You chuckled. “You said she was fourteen?” Joel nodded once. For the third time, your phone began to vibrate and you hit the ignore button with more force than needed. “What⏤”

“You ain't gonna answer that?” Joel questioned.

“No.” You shook your head. “It’s just gonna be a long conversation about disappointment and it’ll probably end in my termination. Roberts, the Captain, likes me, but Miles⏤ the Agent whose nose I broke⏤ he’s kind of a big deal.”

Joel scoffed, “He’s a big deal?”

“Not in a ‘good at his job’ way. More in a ‘my daddy owns you’ kind of way.”

“Got it.”

“Yeah, when he said he was gonna get me fired he meant it.” You sighed. “It’s all about knowing the right people, and he’s related to the right people so it’s even worse.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“You’re telling me.” You mumbled with a sigh. This time there was a notification about a voicemail being left along with the missed calls. That was not a message you were eager to listen to. The rest of the drive passed in silence, but it wasn’t as tense as the start of the trip. You drove your car off road where the map suggested. The map had a shaded portion where the coven supposedly was, and you prayed they hadn’t recently moved. You drove, scanning for some kind of the symbol drawn on the map, and when Joel spotted it carved into a tree you parked the car. “So, you’re not going to like what I’m going to say…”

“Then don’ say it.”

“I think you should stay with the car.” You said it anyways.

Joel stared at you as if you had grown a second head, “Are you outta your gods damned mind? I’m not sittin' here 'nd waitin'⏤”

“If it’s me alone I can talk to them as an Agent of the DMA and question⏤”

“You’re not an Agent.”

“I’m also not a werewolf.” You snapped. Joel had his jaw locked so tight that you could hear him grinding his teeth against one another. You held a hand out towards him to plead your case. “I’m not gonna say that I get it because I don’t have a kid. I could never fully understand how you feel right now, but… Joel, I’m going to do everything in my power to help you find Ellie. If we go in together it’ll stir them up, but maybe if I’m alone they’ll stay calm enough to answer some questions. I’m not a threat to them. I’m just a dumb human, after all.”

Joel turned away and rubbed his face. The exhaustion and frustration were clear to see. He sighed, “Fine. You have twenty minutes. Twenty minutes 'nd then I’m goin' after you whether you like it or not.”

“Deal.” You agreed.

You reached over him, he stiffened at the closeness, but you mumbled an apology and rooted through your glove compartment. There was a small, travel bottle of perfume that Nima had tucked away for you. It was one you never used, a bit too strong for your liking, but she was adamant about keeping it around in case of emergent night outs when you needed to get ready on the go. There was a collection of hair products and makeup tucked somewhere in your back seat too.

After finding it, you opened the car door and began to spray it all over yourself. It took only two squirts of the bottle when Joel began to cough. He rubbed his nose with a deep frown, “What the fuck are you doin'?”

“I’m trying to get the smell of wolf off of me.”

“You’re ruinin' your scent.” Joel grumbled with no further elaboration. You sprayed yourself three more times just to be sure, and ended up hacking up a long yourself as the strong floral scent hit you like a truck. Joel chuckled, “See?”

“Here’s to hoping the Mandalorians hate how I smell too. I’ll be right back.”

You closed the driver’s side door and marched out to walk past the tree with the carving. Joel called out after you, and when you glanced over your shoulder you saw he had rolled the window down. Joel nodded once, “Careful, sweetheart.”

With a reassuring smile, you gave him a thumbs up that he shook his head at before rolling the window back up. Your reassuring smile falter once you faced away from him and you steeled your nerves as you pressed into the thick of the trees. You could do this. You could handle this. You were vital.

The goal was to follow the trail of carved symbols in the trees. It drove you deeper into the forest and after finding four more you noticed that the path had looped you into a circle so you were back in front of symbol three. Worry briefly flooded your senses as you thought you may have taken a wrong turn and time was ticking down. Joel would be kicking down your car door to come find you and gods knew with the amount of perfume you wore it wouldn’t be hard. 

You blew out an annoyed breath and kept on, but you only got a few feet further when a figure suddenly loomed in front of you. 

“Gods!” You cried and scrambled back a few steps. The Mandalorian in front of you was towering in height and immensely broad. He wore navy pieces of armor, and you couldn’t fathom how someone so large and dressed in so much metal could be so loud. He stood still, like a statue, and his blank helmet stared down at you. Quickly, you readjusted your stance and cleared your throat. With as much confidence as you could muster, you pulled out the badge and flashed it at him⏤ introducing yourself as an Agent with your last name. “I’m with the DMA, and I’d like you to take me to your leader.” You winced as the words came out awkward. “I mean, I’d like to speak with someone on a missing persons case. I believe it would be in the benefit of your coven. Is there someone in charge I can speak to?”

The Mandalorian said nothing and you tucked your badge back into your pocket. You weighed the pros and cons of opening your mouth again, but before you could come to a conclusion he held his hand out toward you. Hesitantly, you reached out and the second your fingers brushed against his the Mandalorian tugged you toward himself and threw you over his shoulder. A cry of disdain left your lips but the world became a sudden blur of color and sound as wind whipped past you and with a few blinks you were no longer in the forest. He dropped you with no announcement and you grunted as you hit the cold, stone floor. 

“Thanks for the warning.” You scoffed and tried to get your bearings. Nausea rolled through you and the room felt like it was spinning. When your brain finally caught up to what had happened, you glanced around to see he had carried you into a cavern. Light spilled from overhead, like a spotlight, and with a glance up you realized he had dropped down into this cave system.

“Come.” The Mandalorian grunted and you struggled to your feet to follow him.

As he led you deeper into the cave, the walls were lit with torches. Doorways into other halls and rooms were carved into the wall, but this Mandalorian led you straight down the center. Other Mandalorians like him began to gather and peer out of the spaces to stare at you and it took all of your might to keep your shoulders straight and your chin held high.

At the end of the cavern, was a circular room that was taller than it was wide. A stone structure was built in the center of the room and the shape and fire burning at it’s center reminded you of an old timey forge where weapons used to be made. The navy Mandalorian you had been following barked out in a different language⏤ Mando’a if you remembered correctly⏤ and a different Mandalorian with a helmet of gold stepped out from a back doorway into the room. The shape of her armor seemed more feminine and around her waist hung a thick metal hammer.

“You are not the Agent described to me.” She said in a smooth and calm voice.

“Sorry?” You replied confused.

She repeated your last name. “You are not her.”

Your eyes widened, “Oh. Oh! Right, no. Um, you’re thinking of my mother. You knew her?”

“Very well.” The Mandalorian confirmed. Two other Mandalorians stepped into the circular room just to stand against the wall with the large navy one, and it made your skin crawl nervously. It seemed like overkill. Just one Mandalorian could demolish you. You didn’t understand why they needed a total of four with you. “Why are you here, young one?”

You nodded, back to business, “This morning I saw a Mandalorian at the DMA headquarters. He was filing a report on a missing child. He was⏤ His armor was all silver. Like a shiny silver, and his under suit looked brown?” You tried to recall any details you remembered of him, but it was really the bright shine to his armor that stayed in your mind. “Anyways, we’ve had a string of missing children and I wanted to speak to this Mandalorian⏤”

The three Mandalorians behind you barked out a word you didn’t recognize and you jumped in place. The leader hummed, “He is no Mandalorian.”

“Uh,” You squinted with a twist of your lips, “He looked very Mandalorian⏤”

They barked the same word again. She spoke once more, “Din Djarin.”

“What?”

“That is the man you seek.” She said. “He has broken his creed. He is Mandalorian no longer. We do not associate with him.” You scrunched your nose in disbelief. Of all the rotten luck. You manage to actually find the mysterious Mandalorian coven only to find out that the one Mandalorian you sought out was excommunicated from his coven. Great. “Is that all you have come for?”

“Technically, yes.” You replied slowly. “Unless, do you know anything about his kid? Or where I can find him?”

“No.” She answered simply and bluntly. Fantastic. Outside the room, you could hear hissed whispers and low growls. Two sounds you never considered good news. “Are you prepared to pay your price?”

You focused back on her, “The price for what?”

“For your life.”

At those three words, you felt your blood run cold. Nowhere in your mom’s journal did it mention any sort of price. The noises outside grew louder and one of the angry growls was unfortunately familiar. You cursed under your breath and turned just in time for two Mandalorians to drag in a thrashing Joel. They forced him to his knees with a hiss. One gloved hand clamped around the back of his neck and you saw Joel’s teeth lengthen as the color of his eyes began to flicker in shade.

“Joel.” You blurted and his eyes lifted to meet yours. You gave a discreet shake of your head, and the burning gold of his eyes returned to a warm brown.

“Your twenty minutes was up.” He grunted.

“Young one.” You spun in place and the leader of the Mandalorians was dangerously close. You tried to take a step back, but her hand wrapped around your throat. Joel snarled for her to let you go, and you held up a hand behind you in hopes to reassure him. Her hand wasn’t restricting your air. It just rested there. A vague threat. “Will you pay your price?”

You swallowed, unable to see a situation where denying her ended well for either of you, “Yes?”

The leader used the hand around your throat to tilt your head up and to the side, exposing your neck, and then she moved quicker than you could see. Her other arm was a blur and you felt a sting of pain against your neck. The room’s air seemed to thicken with tension as she held up a blade smeared with your blood. She released you and began to stalk toward the forge. You rubbed at your neck nervously. You weren’t bleeding out, but it shook you to your core all the same. The leader whispered in Mando’a before flicking beads of your bright red blood into the fire at the forge’s center. The blue flames flashed white before returning to their natural state.

She turned and tucked the knife away. “You have paid your price. Paz will take you above ground.” She nodded to the navy Mandalorian that had brought you in. “The wolf stays.”

“Wait, no⏤” You began.

“He will die for trespassing.”

“Hang on!” You scooted away from Paz. “Can’t he pay the price? Or can I pay for him?” Somehow, through a helmet, the leader managed to shoot you a dry look. That’s how you interpreted it, at least. Paz was stalking toward you as Joel thrashed in the arms of the Mandalorians and your mind raced for a plan. Just as he reached out to grab you, you blurted, “Riddur!”

The room froze and even Joel paused in his rage to stare at you. The leader titled her head. You pointed back to Joel, “He is my riddur.”

“You know what that word means?” She questioned.

“Yes.” You nodded. The Mandalorians were the most family oriented of the vampire covens. The bond between lovers was sacred. ‘Riddur’ was translated to spouse, but it carried a heavier weight than the english word. They may have hated wolves, but you prayed to the gods that they respected the bond enough to let it carry over outside the coven. “Please. Don’t do this.”

There was an agonizing pause where you could feel your heart trying to beat out of your chest. The leader gave a curt nod and you breathed a sigh of relief. “You may take your riddur and leave.” The Mandalorians released Joel and stepped back. You hurried over to his side to loop an arm through his. “But, young one?” You stared at the leader and the gaze she cast your way was nerve wracking. “Do not come here again. The price to pay next time will be steep.”

You nodded and mumbled a thanks before dragging Joel out the way you had come in. All the Mandalorians in the cave continued to stare. Joel kept pace with you and whispered, “Ellie? Did you find the Mandalorian we were lookin' for?”

“No. He’s not here. He was kicked out of his coven.” You replied. “We have to look elsewhere.”

Joel spat a curse out under his breath, but thankfully he continued to rush out with you rather than turn back. As you reached the spot where you entered you suddenly remembered that it hadn’t been you who came in. You stared up at the hole in the ground and sighed, “Joel⏤”

“Hold on.” Joel scooped you up and jumped. You yelped in surprise at the height he managed. It cleared the hold and he landed on the ground by the edge. At the landing, you heard his knees crack and Joel grumbled in annoyance before setting you down. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” You replied.

The two of you sped through the forest and didn’t slow your pace until your car was in sight. Joel glanced your way, “Riddur.” He repeated the word. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, uh, it means spouse?” You offered. “In the werewolf setting I suppose the closer term would be ‘mate’? It’s a bond between lovers.” Joel raised an eyebrow and you felt your cheeks grow warm. “I just knew that Mandalorians took that kind of thing seriously. It was the only idea I had to get us out of there.”

He stared for a long moment, long enough to make you nervously rub the back of your neck, and then he nodded, “Thanks for that. I… I appreciate your help.” Joel grunted uncomfortably. Your lips twitched up into a smile. The two of you reached the car and climbed in. Before you could start it up, Joel cleared his throat. “It was 'cause of Ellie.”

“What?”

“Earlier. I know you wanted to ask why I left my pack. It was for Ellie.” Joel responded. “She… We’re not related by blood. She’s actually… Ellie is only half wolf.” Your eyes widened in surprise, but you stayed silent so he could continue. “My pack didn’ want half breeds. That’s where they drew the line.” Joel sunk in his seat and rubbed his jaw⏤ a nervous tick of his you were realizing. “But she’s my daughter. They didn’ get that so I left.”

You pressed your lips together and started to reach out to touch his shoulder, but at last minute you dropped your hand and shot him a smile. “Thank you for telling me. We are going to find her.” You shrugged. “We need some other way to find the ex-Mandalorian, but we have a name now and I… I‘ll think of something. I swear it, Joel. I’m not gonna rest until we find her, okay?”

“Yeah, alright, sweetheart.” He replied. You started the car and began to turn it around when Joel let out a cough. “You smell awful, by the way.”

“Thank you for that. Appreciate it very much.” 

Come hell or high water, you were going to find Din Djarin. As you drove, a few ideas came to mind. Terrible, terrible ideas, but beggars can’t be choosers at the end of the day. You shot Joel another glance out of the corner of your eye and your resolve steeled. This was more than just about redeeming yourself and getting your job back. You were going to find Ellie for Joel even if it killed you.

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[cafecourage]

The moment they realized they loved you. (Isekai Au Edition) Part 2

If you want more information on this AU here is the Link!

Sky:

- It started slow and very sweet.

- He took a long time realizing who you were. But he still believed in the others when they started to recognize you.

- When your behind him cheering you on, he feels invincible. Since during his adventure Impa tore into him pretty badly when he was late to save Zelda.

- Your presence is comforting to him. It feels like home despite being on the ground.

___________________________________

Being back in Skyloft was a small blessing for the chain. The tight knit community had already welcomed the travelers with little to no questions about their origins. It was a stroke of luck that they landed in front of the bazaar in the early morning when no one else was up yet. Their first day there was a resting day in attempt to gather information on the black blood monsters and inventory checks.

Sky took his time catching up with everyone. Letting the Headmaster and Sun know about the situation that had the hero hopping around in the timeline. Then he needed to go down to the small settlement on the surface to check on them. Sun did already tell him that things where still safe down there and that he should take a break. But he still would rather check it out himself just in case something did happen it better to be safe than sorry.

Despite being able to jump off from any of the decks in Skyloft. He automatically went towards the plaza near the tower of light. During his adventure it was the quickest way to the opening above Faron Woods. Sky was just turning the bend when he saw his Loftwing was already there on the docks and under its wing was You. You were trying to put a small amount of distance between you and the bird but the creature kept bring you closer to hold.

“(Y/n)!” Sky was baffled at his Loftwings reactions to you. He dashes to your side. “I’m so sorry. He isn’t normally like this.”

“It’s fine.” Your uncontrollable laughter the was full with childlike glee finally reached him. “In fact, I think he recognizes me!” You whispered smiling. The Crimson Loftwing cooed now leaning into his masters touch as Sky softly pet the side of his necks. Sky wondered if what you said was the truth. Since a Loftwing and its rider do share a special connection, it’s fully possible that his also felt and heard you. “Hey Link?” Suddenly your demeanor changed. “Can I ask something?”

Your bashful and embarrassed expression made Sky feel soft inside. “Of course.”

“One of these days can you show me around the sky or the surface?” You shifted awkwardly from him. He actually forgot that you haven’t physically been to his era before. That for the longest time you only saw things from his point of view without the ability to truly explore anything. “You don’t need to- “

“Are you free now?” He quickly cut you off. “I was actually heading down there now to check on the settlement.”

“Really?” Your face seems to brighten but then you remembered something and leaned closer to him whispering again “I don’t have a Loftwing though.”

He gently takes your hand “my Loftwing is strong enough for both of us.” He guided you to his side. You eyed the bird with uncertainty but you let him help you up onto the harness. Sky got on behind you reaching around you to get the reins. “Hold on to me if you get scared.” He teasingly warned and before you could question him. His Loftwing took off nose diving off of the deck.

You let out a small squeak as you latched onto his tunic. Sky almost felt bad that he actually scared you. But once in the air and on a steady path you finally opened your eyes again. “Woah!” The sight was nothing special but it was still just as beautiful. The clouds below them created an endless sea of white. “It’s so pretty.” Pride bubbled up as Sky watch you taken in the beauty of his home. This was just the start of what he wanted to show you as different locations came into his mind. “Hey.” You looking over your shoulder with hope in your eyes. ”Next time can we go to the Lumpy Pumpkin? I remember you singing high praises about their pumpkin soup.”

Sky tried to think of what he wanted to do tomorrow, right now there wasn’t anything that needed his attention. “If we have time tomorrow, I can take you there for lunch or dinner.” Maybe he could take a break from being a hero for a bit.

“Great! It’s a date then.” You sent a wink his way that sent his brain into a haywire before looking back into the endless sky. He was lucky his Loftwing is able to steer himself. As dot’s where finally connecting in Sky’s head. Pure love and affection bubble up as he embraces his new found feelings.

- He will be the one to uno reverse card on you. All love and affection will drown you instead. There was so much he wanted to tell you before to thank you for being by his side and encouraging him.

- Cuddle time will start here because of his need to make sure you know your loved too.

- He would be the one to confess first, but it would probably be played off as friends telling each other that they love each other.

- You’re not dense but overly affectionate. He might just need to spell out how you make him feel on a daily basis. Maybe then you’ll understand what you’re doing to him.

___________________________________

Legend:

- It hit him like a freight train.

- He isn’t mad at you. He is mad at himself. He had made his dues with what the people he had lost. Yet here he is. Already going too far.

- Your ability to make the situation brighter slowly eroded the walls he put up years ago.

- It might be all in his head, but he swears that you always make sure his needs are met even if he is trying to hide them.

___________________________________

“Link!!!” You barreled towards him ignoring the questioning stares the people of Windfall Island. “Link! Link! Link! LOOK!!!” You hold up a pink rabbit stuffed animal that you bought. “It you!”

The veteran in question huffed, “seriously of all things.” He turned on his heels “I’m going back on the ship.” He didn’t know why he was still entertaining your antics at that point.

“Wha- Hey! I was joking!” They were stocking up in Windfall and Legend was not happy to be on a boat nor in the ocean again. He wouldn’t say that he afraid.

Just… cautious…

You on the other hand looked like you were having the time of your life on the ship talking the it’s Captain and crew member’s. Yet most of the time you would stay by his side. The reason was obvious but nether wanted to talk about it.

Which is why you dragged him out to the port island. ‘An easy distraction.’ You told him, ‘I can show you around so we won’t get lost!’ He wasn’t worried about that. Legend trusted you. A fact he will never say out loud. However, he would rather hole up somewhere and escape the world then be here.

A soft hand took his when Legend reached the docks. He already knew who it was since you’ve been following him like a lost puppy all day. “One more place please?” You looked at him expectingly. “Then you can go back.”

“What are you a child? Why can’t you just go alone?” Legend snapped back, “you don’t have to be around me.”

“Legend I like being with you.” You pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “However.” You let go of his hand. “I also understand if you don’t want to hang out anymore and want to go rest.” There was no fighting back. No offense to his words. Nothing. Just a warm smile that filled him with warmth, that was accompanied by words fueled by unlimited care and understanding which made his heart beat faster. The silence between you two seemed to give you an answer. You turned around. A panicked feeling shot through. Legend was surprised with himself when he almost reached out to you when you walked away.

Instead, he watched you go. In the wake of his own emotions, he realized what had been happening. How he has been acting around you was starting to get familiar. “Not again.” He whispered disappointed in himself.

___________________________________

- Legend is going to be bitter about it. He isn’t going to take it out on you, but his mannerisms are going to be different after this.

- Not quite closed off, but it’s almost like he is mourning another loss.

- You would need to drown him in love and affection before he realizes you like him back. But like Twilight, he is going to be heartbroken if you decide to leave him to go back home.

___________________________________

Wild:

- Its progression was as natural as breathing.

- He just got off of his adventure so he always had you by his side. Just being near you is second nature.

- If anything, he was more than excited to actually have you physically be here alongside him.

- It rare to see ether of you not near each other when traveling together you two are inseparable.

___________________________________

The only upside of being in Wild’s Era is that the champion knew what to expect, it’s chaotic was normal for him and actually brought him a bit of peace. You came with that peace of mind. Having you join the chain to him was almost like you never left his side in the first place. From the moment he woke up after being told his name and what he needed to from Zelda, he was aware of your presence. You were the one to encourage him to explore the ruin kingdom. You were the one to recognize structures that the people in his world didn’t know about. The weird part was that you didn’t know how he was before the calamity, but he didn’t question that fact too much. He was more than happy to have someone treat him as a different person from before.

Now having you physically with him. Wild wanted to bring you to all of your favorite locations that you vocally told him about.

But that had to wait for now, because the downside to Wild’s Hyrule was the amount of things that wanted him dead. Moblins? Bokablins? Those guys are fine to fight they were push overs unless infected with the black blood. Actually, most of Wild’s monsters were like that. Once you get a hang of fighting them and recognize their patterns. They are a breeze.

A common threat that was annoy to deal with however, was the Yiga Clan. Which leads to the situation Wild and the others found themselves getting in while on the road to Hateno. He should of figured that they were going to strike when he got back to his Era. But he honestly didn’t think it would be in this quantity they were out number but thanks to Warriors taking control of the situation where managing. He was trying to make sure everyone was accounted for and was alive when he heard a string of curses coming from his right.

You had been knocked on the ground by a Blade Master. Your sword was near the clan member. Wild felt his world freeze in that moment as he bolted towards your body. With a falcon bow in hand. Wild side jumped. Locked in an ancient arrow and let it go.

The arrow sped towards the Blade Master. Hitting him directly. Turning the Yiga member into a bunch of Sheikah blue ribbons before collapsing into an orb where the arrow hit.

Wild slide towards your body. A pulse he needed to feel a pulse. Placing the tips of his index and middle finger on the base of your thumb and wrist. He pressed lightly to feel the blood pulsing beneath his fingers. A sigh of relief escaped him. Wild was lucky that the battle had come to an end. As the other Yiga members ether retreated in horror of what happened to one of their own or cut down quickly.

Hyrule join him soon after shooing him out of the way gently. Wild didn’t move from your side all that much. He didn’t want to. Just in case you left him too. He doesn’t know a life without you in it. A world like that just doesn’t exist.

Wild knows the name of the cause of his feelings. It’s the same thing that drives him to share his experience with you. He wants to be by your side and to make you happy.

___________________________________

- He is protective but not controlling. If anything, he wants to spar with you more. So, you can get better at fighting.

- You can bet he is going to start making you taste the different foods he had discovered, or sneak out to visit areas in his world more often. He doesn’t want you to miss a thing.

- There is so much he wants to do with you. So much he wants to share. So many things to say. That he just wants to do it all at once so there can be new things you both can discover together.

(Part 1)

[flowesona]

The Midnight Channel [1/2]

Yandere ??? x reader

Inspired by Persona 4 (2008)

“Have you heard about the midnight channel?” (Y/N) dragged her attention away from the rain drumming on the window of her classroom to see her friend leaning over to talk to her. 

“What?”

“If you look at the TV at midnight on a rainy night, you’ll see your soulmate.” Jungkook rested his chin on his hand as he spoke wistfully.

“Come on. Don’t tell me you believe in that nonsense? Sounds like someone made it up when they were bored.” (Y/N) snorted, but ceased her laughter when he didn’t seem to waver. 

“You’re kidding me?” Now, their friend Taehyung, who’s been quietly eating his lunch and enjoying their company joined the conversation to take (Y/N)’s side.

It was ridiculous to say the least. Jungkook was a reasonably intelligent guy. There was no way he could think all that soulmate hokey-pokey was legitimate, right? 

“Well, I know a friend who tried it, and he said it worked. We should try it tonight!”

“Yeah, right.” Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his lunch now forgotten as he dragged his chair closer to (Y/N)’s to help defend her side of the argument.

“Who do you think you’ll see?” (Y/N) humoured, only for Jungkook to shake his head somberly.

“Not saying. But we have to try it, I trust Namjoon to tell the truth-”

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Her friend was cut off by a sudden voice. A young man was standing next to her desk, rocking on his heels. Lunch was coming to a close and people were starting to reenter the classroom and take their seats, yet this pupil was drawn to stand by her desk instead.

“Hey…” She felt guilty for not remembering his name, letting her voice trail away.

“I heard that you’re single. And I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me?” The boy had such a giddy smile on his face it unsettled her to no end. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know you well enough.” (Y/N) tried to reject him as politely as she could, but he seemed adamant. 

“Just give me a chance? Please? I know I’m not the best looking guy around, what with that idol back in town, but I promise I will treat you like a superstar!” The raising of his voice was starting to draw attention to the duo, people even peeking in from the corridor to get a peek at the drama going down. 

(Y/N) felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Sure, this boy seemed nice enough, but there was something about his smile that was so forced it hurt to look at.

“Leave me alone, I said-”

“Mr Kang, I don’t believe this is your classroom. Get out.” Before the situation could escalate any further, the student was grabbed by the scruff of his collar and pushed towards the door without the chance to say another word. The onlookers dismissed themselves, their chatter filling the halls.

───── ⋆⋅ ☂  ⋅⋆ ─────

If having to deal with one clueless boy was bad enough, (Y/N) found herself being plagued by another before the day was through. Whilst Jimin had an undeniably kind heart and his softly spoken words were often what she leant on when times were tough, she wasn’t in the mood for company.

“You’re sure that you don’t want to come to my place? You know my mom’s an amazing cook, and I rented that new movie just in time for-”

“I’d rather just go home, Jimin. It’s been a tough day. Maybe another time.” (Y/N) gave her friend a reassuring smile before leaving, droplets of rain making her shiver lightly and clutch her parka over her body just a bit tighter.

Even so Jimin trailed after her, hoping to change her mind by gently pushing his umbrella into her hands so she wouldn’t get as soaked as she first expected and whilst the heartfelt gesture was appreciated, she was exhausted and not ready to deal with another person snapping at her heels.

After two minutes she stopped to talk, turning briefly to address the student, whose gaze resembled that of a kicked puppy more than anything.

“Go home, Jimin. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She plugged her earphones into her ears and let herself finally breathe as she heard his footsteps slowly fading, the light rain tapping against her umbrella in a soothing manner to 

Distract her from the embarrassing scene from earlier in the day. She became so caught up in her music she ended up colliding into someone’s chest. 

“Watch where you’re going, idiot.” The stranger spat at her. His blonde hair was becoming matted with rain and his clothes were barely protected by the heavy leather jacket as the downpour became heavier by the minute.

“I’m sorry. Here, do you need my umbrella?” 

The boy grimaced before reaching out to take it. Before he turned away, (Y/N) heard a quiet ‘thank you’ from under his breath as she took off in the opposite direction to get home before she became fully drenched.

Unbeknownst to her in her panic, the boy was staring after her, fingers clenched so tightly around the flimsy plastic handle that it was starting to hurt.

───── ⋆⋅ ☂  ⋅⋆ ─────

Rumours were quick to spread in the usually sleepy town. With its only claim to fame being the birthplace of a famous idol, people clung to whatever excitement they could find, and (Y/N) had already had several people texting her to ask about the dramatic event and offer words of comfort.

As she desperately tried to cheer herself up with a cup of cocoa and the warmth of her blanket, (Y/N) was still restless. She glanced over at the TV in her room, a big enough flat screen she’d weedled her mother into buying with her only child privileges. 

“If you look into your TV at midnight on a rainy night, you’ll see your soulmate.” 

She let out a chuckle at the thought. Yet, she couldn’t help glancing out the window to see the rain pelting down, nor checking her alarm clock to see it was three minutes to midnight.

There was no harm in giving it a try, right? After all, she could shove it in Jungkook’s face when she could conclusively say it was a stupid legend.

Suddenly, as she was caught up in her thoughts not even realising that she’d been staring into the screen in her daydream, the TV crackled to life. Through the heavy static she could see a figure. 

As shadowy as it was, she could somewhat make out Taehyun’s figure, seeing as his visage had all but plagued her for the day. (Y/N) shook her head, trying to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating but the image was gone as soon as she opened her eyes, leaving her kneeling in front of a blank TV screen.

Trying to erase the questions that plagued her mind (Y/N) crawled into bed, closing her eyes to rest for a while.

───── ⋆⋅ ☂  ⋅⋆ ─────

(Y/N) felt completely disgraced the next day. She could hear people whispering all around her about what had happened yesterday, how she’d rejected someone in such a cold manner. The story had flown around the school overnight, much to her dismay.

“Taehyun hasn’t turned up at school today. Do you think he’s heartbroken?” (Y/N) overheard a couple of her classmates gossiping.

“Poor guy. He just wanted a chance but she’s humiliated him in front of everyone.” One of the other girls replied. (Y/N) stood up abruptly, letting her chair fall onto the floor with a loud clang.

The noise drew everyone’s attention to her, but she just walked out trying her hardest not to burst into tears.

“(Y/N)!” She heard someone calling her name but it was white noise.

It wasn’t until there was a hand on her shoulder to stop her in her place that she snapped out of her hysteria.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Through her slightly blurry vision she could make out Jimin, his face crumpled with concern.

“I-I-I’m fine!” She choked out.

“Is it that guy who was bothering you yesterday? We can just bunk off school today and you don’t have to see him. How does that sound? Let’s-”

“Leave me alone Jimin.” (Y/N) finally said with a heavy sigh. He was sweet, and she could tell he cared, but she just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“You don’t mean that, right?” Her friend was shocked at her abruptness, when she would normally find a much sweeter way to reject him.

(Y/N) didn’t reply, turning to walk away and her herself in the library only to have her hand snatched back.

“Whatever is wrong, you know you have me, right? If you want me to fight that Taehyun boy to the death I’ll do it to make you happy.” Jimin was almost pathetic in how he was pleading for her company. “Just let me help you.”

(Y/N) just slapped his hand away.

“Leave. Me. Alone.” She snapped, leaving the rejected boy to wallow in pity as she stormed off. Once again all eyes were on her, and regret was starting to build up, but she brushed it off in her pursuit of some serenity in the library.

The library, whilst still crammed full of students studying for their exams, provided some solice. The kind eyed library assistant had led her to a corner amongst the history books, and whilst he opened his mouth to say something - presumbaly to suggest a book, or offer her a drink - he closed it again upon seeing her stormy expression, and left her in peace.

───── ⋆⋅ ☂  ⋅⋆ ─────

Feeling more isolated and hated than before, (Y/N) spent the evening in bed with a book Jungkook had lent her, trying to immerse herself in the fictional world rather than facing the real one. However, the rain pattering against her window reminded her of last night. Was seeing Taehyun on there a trick of the eye? Was he really her soulmate? Or was there something more to it?

With her restless mind she was still awake as the clock crept towards midnight and, unable to quell her mind and knelt in front of her cold black television screen.

Once again, it flickered to life. But this time, rather than just showing a silhouette, there was something happening.

It was Taehyun, and he was crawling away from some other shadowy figure, obscured by the strong static.

“No… you’re not… I  love…” Through the muffled sound she could hear his voice, crying out as if he was witnessing a monstrosity. Her hand almost wanted to reach out to touch him, but she was frozen in place, only able to watch. She saw a flash of his face, terrified beyond all else, before the image cut out entirely.

She leant forward again, trying to see if it would come back, but the TV stayed black.  Switching it on only showed a late night horror movie, not the scene that she’d seen before. 

Was Jungkook’s friend right about the Midnight Channel showing your soulmate? Was she mistaken to reject the eager boy? And more importantly, what was happening to him? Was he in trouble?

Trying to erase the questions that plagued her mind (Y/N) crawled into bed, closing her eyes to rest for a while.

───── ⋆⋅ ☂  ⋅⋆ ─────

Maybe it was the caffeine from doubling the espresso in her usual coffee, but (Y/N) knew from the moment she stepped out the door that something was wrong.

The fog was so thick that (Y/N) could barely see ten metres in front of her. Still she persisted, hoping that by being early she could get an extra hour of studying in before someone would bother her. There was the occasional passerby - one of the school librarians hurrying past with a heavy book bag weighing down his back, a shopkeeper with their keys in hand to open up in time, and a leather-wearing stranger on a noisy motorbike. Even with these small reminders that civilization was alive and well amidst the weather, there was still an eerie atmosphere.

And (Y/N) was right to be afraid. The fog’s density was not enough to hide the secret waiting for (Y/N) as she turned the corner. When her eyes landed on the sight she staggered back, the urge to puke stronger rising up.

There was a corpse dangling from the telephone line.

Everything seemed to blur together, from her screaming for help to one of the passersby calling the authorities in the place of the shell shocked (Y/N), to someone finally pulling her away and covering her eyes.

Her mind was static as she felt someone comforting her, pressing her face to their hard chest. The regular heartbeat helped soothe her breathing, and the scent of cologne enveloped her sense to numb the pain. 

She didn’t question the comfort for a second, relishing the warmth and protection from the sight that was sure to haunt her for the rest of her life. The sight of her former admirer, a sweet innocent student, hanging from the telephone pole.

“You’re okay, (Y/N). Don’t look. You’re safe.”

───── ⋆⋅ ☂  ⋅⋆ ─────

“So you’re telling me prior to yesterday you had no contact with Mr Kang at all?” For what felt like the hundredth time that day, (Y/N) shook her head.

“Well, as soon as you sign your statement you’ll be free to leave. Take care.” The detective didn’t offer her any consolation as (Y/N) attempted a signature with her shaky hands.

She was so ready to collapse into her bed, but there was still something tugging at her.

“Do you know about the midnight channel?” She spoke up, her voice slightly hoarse.

“Is this related to the case at hand, Miss (L/N)?” The detective had a sour grimace, his forehead creased with the stress at hand, and (Y/N) felt slightly worried about poking the bear.

She shook off the feeling.

“I’m not sure. But thank you, I’ll go now.”

It couldn’t be just a coincidence. There was some connection, and (Y/N) wanted to seek the truth even if the police force could not.

Stepping outside, she felt a weight on her chest as heavy as the fog. Somewhere in the sleepy town was a murderer. They were perfectly blended in, you could see that much. Life was going on, people briefly discussing the murder under hushed breath before discussing the more conventional gossip aloud.

Even with some unknown guilt burdening her mind, (Y/N) could slip into life again as she found her friends waiting outside for her, Jungkook giving her a warm hug and Taehyung offering her a bottle of water seeing how wearing the morning had been. 

Even as she walked home with her friends, there was still something amiss in their sleepy town. And the trouble lay closer than she could possibly imagine.

Part 2/2 coming 11/09/20

[liibrii]

Kita Shinsuke x gn!Reader

Synopsis: Hitchhiking through the countryside you catch a ride from a handsome stranger, which just might turn out to be the greatest decision of your life – or your greatest mistake.

wc: 2k || thriller-ish, mystery-ish

a/n: heavily inspired by one of my all time favourite songs; The Count of Tuscany. tbh this fic was just an excuse for me to listen to it on repeat for several hours :P as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

In the bathroom of the roadside gas station you change into your best clothes and brush through the tangles in your hair, wash your face, scrub your hands to make sure there's no dirt beneath your nails. No one in their right mind would pick up a scruffy looking hitchhiker.

You decide to stand outside where everyone who drives in to fill their gas tanks will notice you. On a small chalkboard you bought for a few hundred yen in a convenience store you write the name of your destination with the prettiest writing you manage and even add a smiley face. That should do the trick of gaining attention.

You've almost reached your destination already. The western sea of Japan. Being born on the eastern coast you have watched the sun rise above the ocean your entire life. At least once in your life you want to see it sink in the vastness of the sea hugging your homeland.

Would a train or a bus bring you to your destination faster? They would, sadly your wallet disagreed with that option. Hitchhiking really was the best option even if you often waited for hours with no luck. Still it wasn't all bad; one time an elderly lady stoped to give you a lift. You sat in the back as the front sit was occupied by her dog who excitedly turned to sniffle and lick your face, begging for scratches. She made you stay for dinner and even prepared a futon for you to sleep. “All my children and grandchildren moved to the big cities.“ She scratched behind the ears of her dozing four legged companion as you drank tea while sun slowly set behind the hilltops. “Slowly but surely we are bein' left behind. Seein' someone so young come 'round makes these old bones incredibly happy.“

Following morning she wished you good luck on your journey. Her name and address are written in your dairy. When new year comes in a few months you mustn't forget to send her a gift. You watched her stroll away, one slow step after another, dog trailing behind, her back bent under the weight of years. Is that what the future holds for you?

You try to keep a positive outlook, at least you get to see the beauty of the countryside. The green hills and vast fields of rice swaying in the wind are a sight that takes your breath away. Summer's coming to an end. It will soon be harvest season.

Your legs are starting to hurt. Hours have passed and nobody pays you even a second glance. Under the hat your hair sticks to your skin, droplets of sweat trickle down your back. You're all but ready to give up and start looking for a place to stay the night when a man about your age approaches.

He has caught your eye before. Something about his overalls and silvery hair glimmering in the sun made him stand out from the others. He kept glancing over at you while filling his tank.

“I'm not goin' as far as ya want,“ his eyes glance over the chalkboard you're holding. “But if ya want I can give ya a ride to the next town over.“

You eagerly nod. “That would be great!“ You offer him a hand. “You can call me y/n!“

His hand is calloused. Hand of someone working outside. “Kita.“

Ride is comfortable. Kita is more on the quiet side but once you mention how pretty the landscape looks with all the swaying fields he laughs . It's a bright sound that makes your heart skip a beat. He tells you he works the fields, not all you see, but many of them. Talking to him quickly becomes easy. To your surprise you find you have a lot in common. When you arrive to the town and he stops by a small inn offering rooms you're almost reluctant to leave his company. He hesitates when taking your backpack from the back seats. “I know we just met,“ he softly says, “but could I take you out for dinner? Maybe tonight?“

How could you possibly say no? You've been travelling on your own for the past two weeks and the loneliness is starting to get to you. And he's cute.

When he picks you up a few hours later he's wearing a nice button down. He combed his hair though you preferred it when it was all messy. “I'm not late am I?“

“No, I'm just a bit early.“

“Here,“ he shyly averts his eyes when he hands you a small bouquet of spider lilies that have yet to open in full bloom.

Your cheeks flush. It has been a long time since anyone gifted you flowers. “Thank you,“ you say, sincerely.

Kita takes you to a small family owned restaurant down the street. He opens the door for you and pours you tea while you skim through the menu. Talking to him is so easy. He mentions he used to play volleyball back in high school, that many of his old teammates went on to play professionally. Embarrassed you have to tell him you know very little about volleyball. As you speak his eyes linger on your face. Sports have never been your strong suit, you admit.

“Don't feel bad over it,“ he reassuringly smiles. “So how come yer travellin' these parts?“

Your dream of seeing the sunset over the sea seems so simple when you tell him but Kita nods. There's wisdom in his eyes you don't usually see in your peers. Why are you so relieved he doesn't find your dream childish? “I just want to see the country, get to know the land and the history,“ you eagerly continue.

“There's an old castle ruin not far from the town. Tourists often visit it. If ya want I can show ya 'round,“ he offers.

A trip to ruins does sound nice. Even a little bit romantic. One more day staying around couldn't hurt, right?

Kita's smile widens when you agree. “I'll pick ya up tomorrow. Would around midday be alright?“

For the rest of the night you're all giddy on the inside. You can't wait for tomorrow to arrive. Kita walks you back to the inn and waits till you're inside before heading his own way. What a gentleman, you think to yourself. Meeting someone like him was the last thing you expected.

Whatever road lead to the castle in its days of glory has long since been claimed by the nature. Kita walks with steps of someone who has walked this path a thousand times before. You trail behind him, your clothes getting caught in branches all the time. When he sees you struggling he slows down and even offers to carry your small backpack for you.

“This castle used to be really important back in the days,“ he explains while you catch your breath. “It's strategic position is really important. There's a legend my grannie used to tell me. Durin' the Sengoku period the youngest son of a shogun fortified himself in this castle and defended it for months. Then his enemies dug tunnels beneath.“ He offers you a hand to help you climb over a pile of rubble marking what once were the castle walls. “Filled them with wood soaked in fat and set it aflame. Castle crumbled and buried hundreds of soldiers beneath it. Some say the son of the shogun still haunts this place.“

“An interesting story,“ you say, ignoring how every hair on your body stands up.

By the time you reach the ruins you're drenched in sweat and yet once the view of the valley beneath opens up you forget all about the fatigue. You step closer to the ledge and peek over it. The side of the hill plunges straight down. Deep below you see tree tops. If you slipped -

A hand grabs your shoulder. “Careful. The stones 'round here often crumble.“

You murmur an apology. Kita's hand lingers on yours, his eyes following when you walk away to have a closer look at the ruins. They're covered with grass and small trees sprouting from the crack between stones. Funny, you can't see any tables with information about this place. Having a map would surely help with orientation. You can't be the only tourist with a knack of getting lost.

Kita approaches you with a smile. “Wanna see somethin' really cool?“

You follow him inside the ruins. “Watch yer step,“ he holds the branches of a lonely tree so they don't smack you as you walk by, “it's easy to trip 'round here.“

Walls here are better preserved, higher. The shadows they cast seem longer. You follow Kita inside the labyrinth of crumbled stone. An uneasy feeling of being watched grows inside you as your approach scares off a flock of birds.

Kita pushes away a curtain of poison ivy to reveal a gaping hole where the walls lean on the cliff towering above. Cold gust of wind makes you shudder. “Here,“ Kita offers you a torchlight. Your hands are cold. Fingers barely capable of wrapping around the black plastic.

He turns to you, his eyes carefully examining your face before he enters. “Ya comin'? Be careful where ya step, the stairs are slippery.“ He offers you his hand. It's warm.

“There's a natural cave beneath the castle.“ His calm voice echoes through the winding staircase. “Apparently it used to have a small pool for the nobles to cool in durin' summer. It's filled with rubble now.“

Light of the torches casts eerie shadows on the walls. Stone surface under your fingers is cold and damp. You follow Kita through a narrow hallway and soon enough you reach a small cave. It probably used to be bigger but a part of the ceiling caved in.

Rubble crunches under the soles of your shoes. In the eerie silence all you hear is your breathing and unsteady thumping in your chest. Somewhere in the distance perhaps a ghost of a long deceased soldier- you curse yourself in your head. Why are you trying to scare yourself?

You look up to see stalactites growing from the ceiling. How many thousands of years old must they be?

“They only grow about a millimetre per year. Must be tens of thousands of years old.“ Kita's voice makes you jump. How did he know exactly what you were thinking?

Only now you notice he's standing between you and the exit to the hallway. His eyes are fixed on you. He's closing off the only exit. Pounding in your chest quickens. This place is starting to suffocate you. 

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

You really did follow a complete stranger into a cave beneath an abandoned castle. What an idiot. Naive, trusting idiot.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

Slowly, like water dripping from the ceiling it sinks in you may not make it out of here.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

Ah, don't be stupid! You still have years to live! A boring office job to take on! When was the last time you spoke to your friends?

Kita's eyes never leave yours as he steps closer. In the dim light it all seems so- Kita wouldn't- But you don't know him, do you? Torch rolls from your shaking fingers.

Is this really how it ends? Hidden from the sunlight, caught like a mouse in a trap of stone and cold cutting to your bones? You can't breathe. Will they ever find you? Tears well up in your eyes. Why? What have you done to deserve this?

You're shaking. Will you ever see the sunset over the vastness of the sea? Will you lay beside the unfortunate soldiers from centuries ago till you become only clean, nameless bones?

A shaky plea for your life is all you manage to stammer. Through the tears his face is just muddled colours. Is this really how you die?

Warm touch of his hands cupping your face, thumbs wiping away tears, his soft, gentle voice, paralyse you. “Hey, why are ya cryin'?“

[loreweaver-universe]

And...then.

That was pretty cool.  Watching Mrs. Ikari grapple with her own mental illness and urge to die was very interesting.  Seeing her hit that moment of peace and clarity was very satisfying!  I liked that part of it a lot.  It’s so tragic that outside of her head she was destroying her house while struggling with her mental illness.

As for Keiichi...He’s a lot more human than his wife gives him credit for, and humans get tired.  He’s worn out.  He’s exhausted, and he doesn’t have much of anything that gives him hope for the future--he’s lost the career of his dreams, and he’s taking care of his frail, increasingly mentally ill wife by working three jobs with almost no breaks.

I have no idea what the hell is going on at the end there, though.  Inokai tells him he doesn’t think there’s no place for him anymore, they walk outside...to a cartoon world?  Which Keiichi acknowledges with a “What is this...?”  I’m going to need to watch the next episode before I have any clue what that’s about.

All in all, a good episode.  And apparently the start of a linked series of episodes!  Which is good, because after this there are only two left, and I’d love for the storyline to be brought home.  I look forward to seeing what Maniwa’s doing, too.

That’s all for tonight--I plan to do more liveblogging TOMORROW, though, since I have a dentist’s appointment on Wednesday and I’m gonna want to just relax all day after getting a couple teeth out.  Tomorrow we’re doing the second half of Baccano episode 11!  We’re finally going to get to see Maiza and Szilard’s confrontation.  That is, if they don’t immediately cut away from the party to the train.

As always, thank you all for tuning in, and thank you to my 64 patrons who make it possible for me to do this for a living!  And thank you again to the people who responded to my call for help last time, you filled in the hole in my emergency savings quite nicely.  I’ll see you all next time!

IN OTHER NEWS:

I recently completed my mostly-blind playthrough of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild!  You can see the full playlist of those streams by clicking here!

I recently completed my blind playthrough of Transistor!  You can see the full playlist of those streams by clicking here!

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OTHER PEOPLE YOU MAY ENJOY:

I may have been one of the earlier Steven Universe liveblogs, but a whole community of livebloggers has sprung up over the last five years!   I linked to a bunch individually for a few wrap-ups, but honestly, this end-slate is already eight billion miles long, so I’m just gonna link to my links page.  Click here if you want recommendations of other livebloggers, or other neat people, or webcomics and podcasts that I recommend.

[youarejesting]

BTS365 Prompts.Week 35

[Full Masterlist] [Prompt Masterlist] [Tag yourself here]

Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester. Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

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       Aug 27th - 2nd Sep

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Kim Seokjin - Dog 

Kim seokjin was young and a little strange, his parents wished he could be like the other kids in the street and run a muck but he just didn’t. 

“Perhaps we get a dog?” He heard his father talking, “something that will bring him out of his shell”

“That might be good, we can go tomorrow as a family to the pet shop and pick one together”

And they did just that, driving to the pet shop and holding his mother's hand as they crossed the road into the super store. 

“You get to pick, okay my genie” his mother always called him that and it always made him feel special to have a nickname. 

While they walked around the store heading towards the back for the kittens and puppy enclosure his mother cooed. But his attention was taken by three tiny creatures so small. 

His parents were still walking away as he heard a chuckle, “they are cute aren’t they, would you like to hold one?”

Time passed and he sat on a mat in a little room and played with the three sugar gliders. “Jin where were you, we were worried sick?”

“Mum I want to pick these three” he grinned, so boyishly it took his parents by surprise. This is what they wanted their son to bloom. 

Min Yoongi - The one who wasn’t

You were in a car accident, your car hit him and you were both put into medically induced comas to stabilize. You don’t remember any of that all you remember is waking up beside him in a field the two of you spent your days and night talking and building fires to stay warm. 

You found as time passed the two of you had no hope of being found. Were you abandoned? Him by his band members, and you by your family. The two of you decided not to dwell on those thoughts and just survive in the present. Taking the time to build a house Under a big bright tree that glowed at night and if you pressed your ear to the trunk you could hear strange sounds. 

The two of you created a sustainable life. One year, two years, and then three, you were both still alone together in the forest by the sea. You both traveled as far as you could but felt yourselves growing weak so you went back to the home you had made under the tree feeling rejuvenated once more. Until one day the tree opened and you both looked inside you saw a warm light and Yoongi saw cold darkness.

He turned to you and kissed you with everything he had and the two of you stepped through.

Yoongi woke in the hospital bed in the Coma ward and he heard beeping when he looked over he saw you, just how he remembered but he fell unconscious for what felt like a second, and when he woke up once more he saw the bed across from him was empty.

“Yoongi we thought you would never wake up,” Namjoon called.

“We thought you would be content sleeping forever.” Seokjin laughed.

Jung Hoseok - bow tie

Hoseok, a street dancer, had been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and was given community service in none other than a ballet school. It was as if his worst nightmares had come true, there should never be rules when it comes to dancing if it felt right then move to the beat. 

Here he was cleaning the floors and fetching water bottles and towels, he had to admit though whilst delivering fresh towels to the class he ducked his head in apology as the door slammed behind him. By the dancer didn’t falter he moved like he was floating and Hoseok wanted nothing more than to move to the music and learn the moves. 

When the song ended the young man took a towel and thanked him humbly before sitting down. “Do you see that class is a fine example of what real dancing is?” Hoseok scoffed audibly and bit his lip he didn’t mean to “something wrong mister Jung?”

“Your definition of dancing is different from mine, anyone can leap and twirl ma’am but what is it if it doesn’t move you, why structure a dance so strongly. Give the guy some freedom and he will make something greater you have him trapped in the steps” 

Hoseok thought for a moment before standing on the tops of his sneakers “what was it a point, tap, lift, a turn slide leap wow but the hands are so dry how much more could you give with a little more added in”

He did it again adding more footwork, more passion, expression and more arms he had strength in his legs he had flexibility he just used it differently. 

Kim Namjoon - corset @adorablepumpkinsblog

You were wearing your finest dress to the ball, but of course it was a little too tight. You had been lazy reading in the library instead of doing your chores and you even snuck a few biscuits for your tea. Mother would be ashamed. 

It would be bearable a few hours at most and then you could return home. Your mother and father talking with the parents of potential suitors. 

They had turned away for a brief moment letting you out of their sights but it was all you needed to make haste out of the room and awkward dances that ensued. You made it to the green house and let out a sigh of relief. 

You smiled this place was beautiful, taking a watering can and walking around leisurely watering the flowers, the corset was digging into your ribs making them cave into your chest crushing your lung. Humming in an effort to slow your breathing and push through the pain you continued watering the flowers. 

“What are you doing?” A voice said and you gasped, turning to face him, Kim Namjoon the not so eligible bachelor on every girl's mind including yours. 

“I am watering the plants, and escaping the dances, and you?”

“Alas, I came to water my plants and of course boycott the festivities if you will”

“If anyone asks we were merely mingling and you offered to show your plants” you couldn’t even send a coy smile as the pain marred your expression. 

“Ah this corset!” You gasped, dropping the watering can on the ground the contents splashing the bottom of your dress. Your breathing was getting worse and you were clutching for the strings at the back of your dress he seemed to realise what you were doing and assisted you immediately. 

Your gasp was audible and filled with a sense of relief, “I um broke the back of your dress…” his voice was nervous and apologetic but he removed his jacket and went to place it around your shoulders to cover you like a gentleman but he stood in the watering can slipped and fell against you almost squishing you and the carnations. 

Park Jimin - Accordion

Jimin saw an old man on the corner playing an accordion with a small tin in front of him, the man's fingers shook and he looked so cold. He saw you walk over and take off your coat and place it over his shoulders talking softly. 

Jimin had just bought a hot soup he wanted to eat but carried it over to the man and smiled. 

“You look a little cold grandpa, where are your mittens and scarf”

“Ah you two are so sweet,” the man breathed, taking the hot bowl of soup. The young girl hummed putting on the accordion. 

“I played on a tiny kids accordion as a kid let me see if I remember” she played a rendition of London bridge badly making the old man laugh. 

Kim Taehyung - Frankenstein

Bang Sihyuk moves about the room before he flicked the switch, he was making the perfect son, hand picked features all created by hand. He was perfect and like a skilled surgeon there were little to no scars on his body, and only two visible on his face he had one small scar around his left and from the corner of his nose to the corner of his lip. 

Bang PD was furious with the eyes, he had made them slightly different he contemplated starting again to make him more symmetrical. But he had a time schedule and decided against it, that was the past. Today he made history and the perfect son he never had. 

He woke and took a few breaths and Bang talked to him the whole time, helping him move and gain his strength.

Tae loved animals and jazz music and painting, he would paint scenes he wished he could see but only heard through story. He dreamed one day to leave the basement. 

Jeon Jungkook - Outside

Jungkook had heard stories about them, everyone had different names for them and for him, he called them the ‘Outsides’. Creatures that as the sunset crawled from their holes in the ground and roamed the earth. The rule was to always shut and lock your houses and to never step outside before sunrise or the outsides would take you. 

They were pale creatures with long limbs and nimble fingers; they stood as tall as a two story house and as thin as a lamp post, their long thin legs parted taking car length strides. 

If they had facial features jungkook wouldn’t know their faces were too bright to see their glow was like the aura of the moon. Some called them moon spirits for this very reason. If anyone saw their face they wouldn’t live to tell the tail. 

If Jungkook had seen their face he had repressed it, a mistake when he was younger that had almost cost him his life. 

He was just going to retrieve his toy he left in his tree house, and when he got there the ‘Outsides’ had started their prowl. 

He saw the light pass by the tree's window and froze, it hadn’t seen him but the next thing he knew there was a hand in the window long and thin and he ducked past the long fingers and slid down the ladder and sprinted to the house. They were closing in, they moved so slow but they stepped so wide. 

He swept under a set of legs and made it safely back into the house.

At least that’s what he remembered no more no less, there were legends if you are seen by them or if you look them in the eyes things could happen but nothing ever did. 

All he knew was as the years moved on and he grew not only older but taller and more handsome, his friends began to make fun of him for walking too slow for their liking so he tried to take bigger strides. 

[narendur]

Sometimes I wish my dreams were less intense

I had this long-ass dream last night (below cut. Contains dystopia, zombies, action stuff, AI, a throuple, and a happy ending).

A dude guy is dissatisfied and spends a lot of time chatting with his house manager AI. One day a lady smashes thru his dining room window. She collapses with relief at escaping the copbots and they end up chatting, she politely asks to use the shower quick.

He wrestles with calling the cops on her and heavily talks to HM about it; decides not to just as she comes out of bathroom - she overhears and is snarky but grateful. HM clarifies that he is only partly connected to uplink, has made things private to protect dude guy’s conversations, as HM is doing more than he should by program. Lady is safe. She is v grateful about that.

They continue to hang out sometimes (particularly after missions lol) and have like, tea and stuff. She is really cagey about where she works. Reveals last name (‘work and lineage’ name) and he is baffled - she explains it’s just a cultural thing. He asks which one he should call her and she laughs.

One day she’s got a weird look in her eyes and asks if he’d like to meet her boss. He says yes, and they make arrangements for the boss to come over. Boss (Madame(?)) comes over, they make tea. Dude guy tries to cook for the first time, makes plain lentils (which he dislikes) and soggy pasta. Just as ladies are about to show him how to make better food, HM alerts them the police are closing in.

They leave real quick, thru the living room window. Dude guy grabs his target practice bb gun. They’re on a skyscraper - use the plastic window curtain to stretch down to the road. At this point 2 drones come around side of room and they start running. Lady and HM are giving dude guy pointers on how to dodge shadow to shadow, but he’s kind of just running flatfooted down the middle of the street.

When they run into a zombie, lady says, “they can be useful diversions, but if they get close to you just kill 'em.” Then she stabs the crap out of its head with a dagger. Dude guy is upset about this because, “there are zombies!?!?!?!” She kinda ignores him and continues to run, as they’re still pursued by 2 drones.

HM talks to dude guy in his head, negotiate control of gun arm. Grabs gun aims back and shoots the small, pellet bullet - one of the drones goes down. He shoots the other down as more zombies appear and Lady angles towards the fire escape stairs of a building (shorter in this area). HM holsters gun and they run up the stairs to the roof.

Here Lady explains that the zombies are the result of a major factory accident nearly a century ago - legend says there are still people working there, but the sprawling, smoking machine doesn’t seem to do much but pollute now. Dude asks why he’s never seen or heard of this before; she explains that all windows in the inner city district are designed to show a pleasant glamour when aimed that way, and if he never really left the system available to him it’s not surprising he never saw it. He’s a bit cowed.

She then produces two grappling guns and asks if he knows how to use them - he says no. HM tells him that he knows how to use them, and that the drones will be sweeping out from their last known location, not far back. HM asks for full control of the body for the duration of the chase. Panicky, dude guy assents, starting to explain to Lady when HM takes over. HM quickly explains he factory reset the apartment when they left and jumped to dude guy’s tracking implant, disarming the tracker. Lady sighs with relief and hands over a grappling gun.

They fly rooftop to rooftop to nearly the edge of the city. Behind them, the drone sweepers fully lose their trail, just sweeping in slowly larger and larger circles. HM nods to Lady and steps back from body control. Dude guy is surprised by the electric-y shield wall they are facing, and looking back sees it is a massive dome, enclosing the inner city, outer city, and factory. “Has this always been here? What’s it keeping out?” Lady shakes head and produces a small device (studfinder shaped?), and says, “not out, in.” Then holds device up toward wall and 'scifi noise’ wall opens a hole in it.

“This will alert the system, we need to get through now. Come on!” She shoots grappling hook through hole and grabs him, saying, “hold on!!!” He clings to her waist.

 They sail thru and the breach closes behind them. We are met with a significantly greener city - still apartment buildings and streets, but mostly smaller, and no where near as gritty as the city inside the dome. One large skyscraper rises above the others - the lady points it out; “Thats my work. We should head there. They’ll be able to help get you dechipped and set up with somewhere to stay and stuff. Also then we can finish tea with the Madame.”

They drop down to the street, (“Aren’t there zombies here???” “No silly, that’s what the wall is for.”) and walk through a neighborhood to the skyscraper.

Arrive at skyscraper, lady takes him to receptionist and helps him fill out the forms; name, age, etc. They also explain to the attendant that there is an AI identity on his microchip right now and that if possible they’d like to provide a stable body for HM. Attendant says she’ll see what she can do. Lady says she needs to go get out of her work stuff and cleaned up and she’ll be back.

Dude is nervous in waiting room - HM soothes him. They go in for surgery before the lady arrives - he gets a quick check up and put into the healthcare system, and then it’s a very simple quick procedure, with only a local analgesic and some tweezers under the skin on the back of his neck. They wipe the chip down and wrap it up, telling him to take good care of it.

Lady is waiting outside, says that the attendant came by while he was in surgery and left a note saying where to take the chip, and also a packet with info about food and housing. She says she scheduled tea with the madame in a few weeks, and they have a place ready for him if he wants a basic income apartment, or he can browse work options if he wants. He says he’s a bit overwhelmed, and that he just wants to lie down and get his buddy out of the microchip pls and thanks. Ok she says.

They head out into the afternoon daylight, and walk down the street to a tinkerer’s shop, where she pays some money and they offer over the chip - the gal says she’s been working on a body for HM all morning and that she thinks she should be done by evening, especially with what the company is paying haha. Dude guy is protective and anxious about his buddy and kind of wants to stay, but Gal says she can send HM over to his new apartment and Lady points out that they’ll just be anxiously sitting around, and reassures that Gal will be careful. Lady and Dude leave while Gal croons motheringly over the chip.

Lady and dude go for dinner and chat, enjoying the atmosphere of a small, family owned restaurant. He tries some new food and really enjoys it, asks politely for recipe. Gets it ^_^ romantic overtones.

They head to his new apartment on foot, she hands over his key and stuff and they find it’s a similar layout as his old one, but there’ a window in the kitchen where the door was and the door is now in the living room. A noise sounds from the dining room; lady sits down while dude goes to investigate; HM is there! With a body! Reading a brochure. Sitting on the floor cuz there’s no furniture. Dude and HM embrace, and they montage outfit the house together. Romantic overtones. HM helps dude cook recipe from restaurant (food and furniture delivered). Lady swings by to help sometimes. Montage ends with the three of them seated, eating meal dude cooked. He looks happier.

They chat - it’s been a couple weeks, she’s been on jobs and such lately and v busy. Mentions they’ve got tea plans tomorrow, asks if they’re cool if she crashes on their couch for old time’s sake. Dude jokes that if she stays over any more often she’ll just be living there lol. She wiggles her eyebrows with a mouthful of food but convo moves on.

They go for tea after brekkie. They talk about art and hobbies and stuff, then the madame mentions that she could probably help him look for a job if he wants to make a bit more spending money than min. income allows; would allow purchase of different house, etc. Dude says he’ll think about it; takes some pamphlets and stuff on how to job search.

Lady, dude and HM go back to dude’s apartment, walking romantically three abreast through the nearby park. They stop at a food truck for dinner, and eat on a nearby bench watching the ducks. They arrive home in the evening.

Lady goes to bed, we see HM and Dude stay up a bit at the computer, and see him apply for a job as a cook (wage is $12.50/h!) before bed.

When lady leaves for work the next morning, she kisses Dude. We pan back and see HM raise a hand to his lips in the hallway, hesitate, then head forward and gently rest his hand on dude’s waist. Dude happily leans into him.

Song with notable lyric “I was made for loving you” plays.

Fin.

[angelspigeon]

New Akusai fanfic!!!

It got inspired by sophkat7 on twitter!!

I got a bit carried away and HERE WE ARE!!

If you want an easier access, you can also check the fic on my AO3 just here => |  °| <=

A legend said there was a World, lost among many and many and many other Worlds, where special fruits grew on trees. If you shared one of them with someone, your fate will be linked forever with them.

“Come on, Axel, pleaaaaaase!!! Everybody will go there!!! Pence, Hayner and Olette will go there!! Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase!!”

Isa could hear those pleas as he was putting down the huge pot of soup on the table.

A few instants after, Lea appeared in the dinner room thought Isa didn’t have called for his family to come. His look slid along the deep plates perfectly lined with spoon around and the little bowl with homemade croutons smelling garlic lying in there.

“Uuuuuuh… there is a party in Destiny Islands,” he said, looking annoyed.

“Is there?” Isa replied with a smirk.

“Yeah. Uh… Everybody will go there.” He rubbed his hair. “Pence, Hayner, Olette, Aqua, Terra, Donald, Goofy, Mickey… Ventus, Naminé, Kairi, Riku.”

Isa stared him, still wearing a smile on his lips.

“And so, I thought we could go there. Staying at night?”

“They have school tomorrow,” Isa replied.

“I know buuuuut, if we leave early enough? Or maybe using a cordorfdakness,” he mumbled.

Isa leaned toward him.

“Excuse me?” he said. “I didn’t understand what you tried to hide me.”

Lea sighed and sat next to him.

“I know you’d say no.” He watched everything on the table. “Can you be the mean parents and tell them we can’t go?”

“I never say ‘no’,” Isa pointed out.

Lea looked up at him, surprised.

“You didn’t?”

“I didn’t,” Isa replied. “For once, why not.”

“You’re amazing! I love you!”

Lea jumped on his feet and kissed his favorite blue guy.

   After the party on the beach, Himiko and Toya, Sora’s parents, alongside with Shiraki, Riku’s dad, and Madam Minami Mira, the Mayor, invited everybody for a big meal. It has been cheerful with such an amount of food, you couldn’t even imagine people having that much. And yet, because Kairi, Riku and Sora’s close friends hadn’t been invited for the said party. It was barely possible to imagine more fishes turned into soft filet or balls in sweet sausage, neither such amount of salad or just potatoes in varied form. Really, Lea never saw that.

Almost never saw that.

Because, once, he saw such a quantity served at Isa’s table. The difference was that, here, they were more than thirty and at Isa’s they were only three…

The hosts were undoing the table, giggling and joking as the kids were in Kairi’s room. They were in the Mayor’s house because it was the bigger one. And Naminé lived here with Kairi. Because she liked that. Because she wanted to see Riku and be with the memories she thought be hers…

Wished be hers.

Lea approached Isa who helped with the tidying. He had nothing else to do and if he could help someone, he’d gladly do it.

“Do you think we can go grab ice cream?” Lea asked to him, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

“We will take the coffee,” Himiko said, next to them.

If Lea had tried to be discrete, she had heard it and was friendly smiling.

And so, the former Assassin was surprised. It was addressed to him, right? His doubts were so big, he showed himself tilting a little his head on the side.

“Yes. You prefer a tea?” she wondered.

“I… uh…”

“It’s the first time Lea is invited to a dinner,” Isa informed politely as he was taking the last plate on the table.

“Y… Yeah.”

“Oh! Don’t worry!” she smiled. “We will take a coffee, or a tea, and chat a little. Between adult. And then, the dessert if the kids feel it. If not, I think you can go read them a story or… whatever you’re doing there.”

She smiled even more and Lea was even more lost. They will not play with the teenagers while eating ice cream?

He started to understand why Mickey left with Goofy and Donald! He didn’t want to be trapped in formality.

Aqua and Terra would take the coffee with them but… still.

“Do you want a hot cocoa?” Isa wondered.

“No, no… I… I will take the same as Isa. Please?”

“I’ll take some tea, please,” Isa smiled politely. “And the sugar pot, please.”

“Of course. There are a few flavors, I’ll show them to you, don’t worry!”

Lea felt so bad as she was walking away to prepare the coffee and tea. All of this was so weird… so weird. Coffee and tea in place of dessert? In place of playing with the others?! It was mean!

And he felt so incredibly stupid.

“Coffee and Tea? And what do we do now?”

“Don’t worry, Lea,” Isa said as he brought the dirty dishes to the kitchen. “We will just talk around the drink.”

“Talk of… what?”

“Things.”

“I’m not sure I can hold the conversation,” Lea said, walking next to him. “Do you want me to take that?”

Isa gave him the plates though they were almost at the big sink filled with soapy water.

“Thank you.” Isa kissed softly his cheek. “You’re perfect, Lea. They will love your chatting no matter what.”

“You say that because you love me,” he replied.

“It’s a little correct. But you own my Heart because you’re absolutely wonderful.”

He smiled tenderly to him and went back to help the others with the tidying.

  Pressing himself on the side, Lea smiled a bit to Himiko who slid hot water in his cup. Immediately, the little bag of red fruits freed steams there and they swirled around. He waited just one minute while the others were talking about the educations of the children. Who was learning what, what about the notes? How many comrades they had, etc.

Lea sipped his tea. And took the sugar pot to slid one full spoon. And more. Two. Three. Four… he noticed the look of his lover, which was on him, and he smirked slightly to him. Isa bent and took a few little cakes in the big set that had been installed in the center of the table. And put it in Lea’s plate. The former assassin pushed the plate between them. Isa smiled a little more, watching him with tender love in his eyes.

  “Uuuuuugh!”

Lea let his back crash in the sand.

“Are you okay?” Isa asked, bending over him.

“Yeah, yeah, just… ugh, so tired. I’m not done for that. I’m not a dad…” he sighed.

Inside, the teenagers were still in the rooms, playing, joking and preparing themselves for the night incoming. Most of the parents had left for their own house and Lea and Isa hesitated if they had to do it. With a Corridor of Darkness, it was easy to pass from one World to the other…

“You’re learning, Lea.”

“You’re learning too, and yet!”

“I’m just skilled for the decorum. Don’t worry. Roxas and Xion always plot against me because I’m too strict.”

“Yeah, but you’re perfect anyway.” Lea rubbed his face. “I’m sorry, I suck…”

“You’re not.”

Isa sat next to him, his fingers passed in the red hairs and he bent to press a myriad of kisses on his cheeks.

Lea laughed softly and grabbed him by the waist and made him roll on the sand. As he did, Isa slid his hands on his cheeks, his thumbs caressing them.

“I’m really gifted to have ya, y’know?” Lea muttered against his lips.

“It’s the same for me,” he replied.

“I love ya,” Lea whispered in the hole of his ear.

Just before kissing the lobe. And then his throat, his hairs tickling him and making him laugh and whisper his name.

He loved him. He loved him so much and had not enough words to tell him to him. Whatever how often he’d kiss him, bring him to do stuff outside, would lay in his arms and mutter his name, again and again…

“I want to be with you forever…” he muttered.

He caressed his lips with a tender thumb.

“I’m yours,” Isa said under his breath.

“I’m yours too,” Lea replied, kissing tenderly his scar on the forehead. “A Legend says this World has strange fruits. A fruit bonding with someone if you share it with them. Forever.”

Isa nodded slightly. Roxas and Xion talked about that all the time because it was deeply anchored in their memories.

Sora’s memories.

Riku had talked about it today, too.

Kairi, once…

“I’ll grab one for you! And we will share it!” Lea was ready to rise up but he stayed on place. “If you’re okay?”

Isa smiled and kissed him tenderly, softly, with a strong passion.

“Of course,” he said. “I want to have my life intertwined with yours. Forever.”

Not that it wasn’t already done. Their lives were made to be together. They were meant to walk alongside the same path.

Forever.

And nothing could tear them apart…

Lea took his hands to kiss them and got up, helping him to do the same. He stepped aside but held Isa’s hand as he was searching for a Paopu fruit, walking by his side, enjoying the warm weather even if the night was slowly cast its veil upon the day.

As he was searching the precious fruit, he kept glancing to Isa with a smile.

Even if he didn’t find the Paopu, he’d be happy to be next to him. He loved every moment with him. He was the only one whose silence didn’t bother him.

There was nothing wrong when he was by his side.

Nothing.

They kept walking, walking and walking.

As they did, Lea caressed his fingers, leaning in here and there to kiss him. And Isa happily kissed him back when he could.

Lea kept glancing around and, suddenly…

“Here!”

Isa looked as his boyfriend showed a big star-shaped fruit. It was hanging in a curbed tree, hanging above the sea.

“Lea, maybe ano…”

“I’ll get this one! I’ll show you my love!”

Isa let go on his hand to slide them along his cheeks, pressing a kiss on his nose.

“I know you love me.”

“But I want to impress you!”

“And you impress me all the time,” he said. He kissed his cheek tenderly. “But go on, if you want to.”

“Look at me!”

The redhead smiled and walked to the tiny island with the tree above the water. He blew a kiss to Isa who acted like he could actually catch it. He pressed it against his chest, while trying to prevent his longs blue hairs to paste against his skin.

He watched as Lea climbed on the trunk and started to walk toward the big fruit. He was doing carefully. It wasn’t time to worry his lover!

So he moved with tiny pace and even sat next to the fruit. He bent and grabbed the edge of the fruit.

“Lea, take c…”

“What?!”

The man lost his balance and his whole body dashed toward the waves. He rose his hand as high as he could in his fall. As he plunged down the sea, his hand kept above the surface, saving the fruit.

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!!!” he let out.

“Lea! Come back!” Isa called.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Lea started to swim, just with one hand, and came to the beach. He ran to his lover and grabbed him by the waist, making him swirl in the airs.

“Lea!” Isa let out, thought he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m just so happy!! I’ve got it! We’ll be together forever!” he said happily.

“Of course, we will,” he said, hugging him back, kissing his cheeks with tenderness. “I’m your forever, Lea. I’m just yours.”

Lea kissed his arms tenderly. He caressed Isa’s throat and then went on his knee, still holding the fruit.

“Isa… Do you want to share the rest of your life with me?”

“Lea… You’re…” He smiled tenderly. “Of course.”

Isa knelt next to him and kissed his lips tenderly. And smiled even more when Lea held out the fruit to him. They knew nothing about the Legend and maybe it really was just a Legend… so they could bit together in the fruit. So they could bond to each other. Until their last breath.

Breath they hoped lose together…

 Nothing seemed to have changed.

Lea and Isa were bonded forever but nothing seemed to have changed. What could have changed? They loved each other so much, they always knew they were meant for a live at two…

As Lea woke up, just because he needed to go in the bathroom before coming back for a longer nap, he noticed something on his hand. In the dim light coming through the windows, he could see it, next to the thumb, just a bit under it. It was a Paopu fruit. But a bite had been removed from it. He frowned. From where it came?

He rubbed it, trying to erase it, but he couldn’t. The drawing seemed to be deep in his skin. Like a tattoo.

“Mi amor?” he said, leaning over Isa.

“Hmm… I’ll get up…. Don’t… worry,” he said, rubbing his forehead before holding out his hand.

Lea gave him his and leaned over him, wanting to press kisses on his face.

“It’s not th…”

He stopped in the mid of the word because he saw their hands intertwined, saw the Paopu formed by their hands.

He moved them to him.

“I think the magic works and you can’t push me aside,” he whispered.

Isa who glanced at the clock and noticed the hour, had his eyes just coming back to him. To their hands intertwined. And he saw the tattoos mixed together… A smile appeared on his lips and he pressed his lips over it, mostly on Lea’s hand.

“I never meant to push you aside. Now go back to sleep or you’ll be obnoxious all day long,” he said, winking at him.

“Isaaaaaaa…”

“Do the big spoon, please. Forever?”

“Is this a forever meaning forever the big spoon or forever with you? Because I like when you’re doing the big spoon too!”

“Forever with you.”

Isa kissed once again the Paopu linked on their hands. Lea hugged him tenderly and kissed his throat, saying again and again how much he loved him…

[lostonehero]

A high school teacher au

"Dude I heard we're having a sub today." A Male student elbowed his buddy.

"Mr. Prince is out today? Ah that sucks." His friend said sitting in his desk. "Wonder who is going to substitute."

"I dunno man, but like I hope it's Mr. Flowers he is so chill."

The two students along with the rest of the class turned to face there substitute teacher.

"Oh shit it's the history teacher Mr. Ceit." The boy whispered.

"Ugh his stupid scar always gives me the creeps." His friend sighed sinking into his chair.

A girl at the front of the class raises her hand when the bell rings. Mr. Ceit nods for her to talk. "Uh Mr. Ceit why are you covering for Mr. Prince you're a history teacher not a English one."

Mr. Ceit just sighed. "I was asked so I will. Now I will only say this once my facial scar is none of your business so I want to hear no comments about it."

A different girl raises her hand then speaks. "So sir what are you going to teach us since ya know you're not a English teacher. Mr. Prince lets us watch a movie when he isn't here."

Mr. Ceit smiles. "Well miss that isn't going to happen." He waits for the groans to end. "What we are going to do is a writing project." More groans filled the room. "Now quiet, the essay will be based on the following story I will tell, and I will only tell it once. Your essay will be a reflection on the tale I tell." He takes a breath. "Now this story takes place a long time ago across the sea...."

.....

Rumors have spread across the kingdom of women going missing. The town folk blame the dragon of the forest, a giant snake with wings, and teeth that can impale ten men at once. The king had already sent many many knights over the span of years to kill this dragon, but this time with the rumors pressure was mounting.

So the king send a special knight of his royal court, one that knows powerful magic, and was loyal to only him. The hero was sent to the rumored cave of the beast. Crowds cheered as he left and promised to kill the terrible dragon.

The hero traveled far through the dense forest finding the beast's cave. To his horror he saw all the missing women from years passed alive. The dragon must be keeping these women as slaves, death would be too good for this dragon. The hero hid until he saw the monster land with more women on his back. He wasn't loosing his chance, he cast a spell, a very powerful spell that he wasn't even sure what it would do to the beast.

The spell hit his mark, and the dragon let out a earth shaking scream, as the beast was turned to a man. The women froze spotting the hero, and instead of cheering they began to yell curses and began to approach the hero with anger in there eyes. The older women helped the now human dragon to his feet, and the mysterious locked box that appeared next to him back to the cave.

Now the truth in this tale was that the dragon wasn't a monster. He was taking in battered women, abandoned wives, and any women who would come with him. The hero destroyed a sanctuary for these women.

What did befall this hero, well what the dragon would tell you is that he took these women by force back to the kingdom. If you asked the hero he would of said he saved these woman from the dragon he slayed. You wouldn't ask the women because they were lost to the whim of the men in the kingdom because they were considered property not equal to the men. The king was pleased with the women returning, he even took a few for himself.

The hero brought back the property of the kingdom, and the dragon was defeated.

........

Mr. Ceit looked at the somber classroom. "Now get to writing, Mr. Prince knows that you will be handing these in."

A boy raises his hand and doesn't even wait until the teacher notices before he speaks. "That is some feminist fairy tale ain't it. Women can't build a society by themselves that's the biggest flaw in your story."

Mr. Ceit slowly smiled. "My I'm sure your mother would love to hear that, and shouldn't you be writing that down."

The way he said this made the boy shudder and look back at his paper not saying another word.

Another girl raises her hand waiting for approval before speaking. "What happened to the dragon Mr. Ceit?"

Mr. Ceit tilts his head. "You're the first to ask that in all my years telling this story. Well I think a locked box tells the answer."

The girl frowns at the cryptic answer beginning to write.

The bell rings after awhile and the students pile out leaving there written essays in a messy pile as they exit the class. Mr. Ceit fixes the pile and sighs stacking them onto Mr. Prince's desk. He then pulled out his worn backpack from under the desk, and headed to his classroom to grade tests. At least he doesn't have to grade those essays on his story.

.......

The next day after classes end, Mr. Prince knocks on Mr. Ceit's open door frame. "Hey Dee thanks for covering."

Mr. Ceit looks up from his desk. "It's Dorian Roman, I hate that nickname."

Roman flinches at his tone but continues to smile moving to sit on his desk. "So what's up with that tale you told? The essays painted quite the picture."

"I have to agree with Roman, Dorian." Virgil poked his thoughts through entering the classroom as well.

Dorian sighs seeing as both English teachers decided to visit. "It was just a old fairy tale I know."

"Not one I've heard of, and as you know Dee I thrive off of them." Roman looks at Dorian who in response pushes him off his desk.

Roman makes a scene of it gasping looking hurt. This only made Dorian roll his eyes. "I mean it's a interesting tale, what's it from?" Virgil asks.

Dorian frowns. "The past Virgil like most everything. Now can you let me finish my work in peace?"

Roman groans. "Oh come on Dee, why won't you tell us?"

"It's not important Roman. Just a tale from the medieval era, nothing is special about it. Besides it's a fantasy not real so drop it." Dorian hisses unconsciously gripping his backpack.

"What's with the defensiveness Dorian?" Virgil quirks his brow.

Dorian's face goes red as he looks away from the two. "It's nothing just something I wouldn't go talking about. It didn't happen so why make a big fuss about it."

"Well legends and story's come from history, and everyday life. So what is it based on? Which kingdom?" Roman's curiosity was lit.

Dorian gets up abruptly taking his worn bag with him. He rushes without a word not noticing a box fall through the tear that grew on the old bag.

Roman ran and caught the bag. "Dee you dropped something."

Dorian ignored him as he headed to the exit yelling. "I'll see you tomorrow Roman."

.........

Roman looked at the box in his hands. It was old that was obvious, but it was beautifully painted and carved. It was like if a fire met scales twisting into a box. He couldn't read what the words were carved onto the surface, but he knows that it's locked from the keyhole shaped like a snake's mouth. He was awestruck at this box.

Virgil saw the look in Roman's eyes, but didn't understand why. "Roman no just return it to him tomorrow."

"But it's so pretty." Roman cooed.

Confusion was painted on Virgil's face. "Pretty? Roman it looks rotten, and like it's barely holding together. It's probably a family thing."

"What are you talking about Virgil it's beautiful. Look even the lock is carved like a snake opening his mouth." Roman hands the box to Virgil who takes it with a grimace.

"Roman are you sure you're ok?" Virgil held the rotting box seeing no lock on the box, but a empty hole to show the box being empty. "It is just a rotten box, and it's empty. You're not on anything are you?"

Roman snatches the box back heading down the hallway. "Virgil I think your eyes are broken. Let us just ask Logan and Patton." The English teacher runs to the science wing with Virgil following him.

The students watch Mr. Prince run down the hall carrying a rotten box with Mr. Nightengale following behind. The students decided to abandon their afterschool activities to see what's unfolding.

Roman bardges in holding the box interrupting a community club Patton roped Logan into hosting with him. The students look at Roman on instinct. "Tell Virgil here that he's wrong, and the box looks amazing."

Logan pushes his glasses up then rubs his temples. "Roman if this is another one of your drama acting lessons please stop."

Patton elbows Logan. "Logan come on it is really good acting."

Roman seems to deflate as he hears the whispers of the students around him, and the comments from his fellow teaches. "Guys seriously it isn't rotten. It's beautiful."

Virgil sighs. "I'm surprised you haven't got a splinter yet Roman."

Roman looks at Virgil then back at the pair of teachers, and sighs frustrated. "Fine I'll ask Dee tomorrow." He stomps out.

"Virgil is Roman ok?" Logan asks.

"I actually don't know." Virgil looks at Roman leave.

.......

Roman actually gets to school early unlocking his classroom heading to his desk. He takes out the box from his bag, and begins to pick at the lock again. It looks like he hasn't slept much. He hears a knock on his door and just makes a noise of acknowledgement.

"Uh Roman kiddo you ok there? I just wanted to drop by." Patton is radiating concern.

Roman sighs sitting back leaving the makeshift lock pick in the box. "I just thought if I opened it you guys could see what it actually looks like. All I'm getting is nothing."

Patton frowns looking at box seeing the lock pick in a rotten hole. "Uh kiddo I don't think that is right."

Roman blinks. "Is it upside down?"

Patton watches as Roman begins to tinker with the rotten box again. "Roman that isn't what I meant by that, you're trying to open a rotten box."

Roman "Patton it's not a rotten..... oh." A soft click grabs Roman's tired focus as a soft tune begins from the box. He couldn't place the music.

Patton freezes hearing the music come from the rotten box. The pair stare at the box not noticing Virgil leading Dorian to Roman's classroom apologising about the whole box thing. Logan was also tagging along wanting to see if Roman returned to normal.

"It is just a old rotten box I was attached to. Stop apologising for Roman." Dorian sighed freezing when he sees Patton and Roman stare at the old box with awe. Then something else hit him it was a sound of a music box. That tune was familiar he just couldn't place it.

Virgil tilted his head hearing the tune and he moves his eyes to the source, it was that rotten box. "Roman if you cursed us I swear."

Logan was standing not believing what he was hearing, they're had to be a explanation for this.

Roman out of sheer awe began to mess with the lock picks again, and another click happens, and the music abruptly ends. The box opens suddenly making Roman jump. "Ah it's open."

Dorian pushes passed Patton looking at the rotten box swiping it from Roman.

The students began to file in, but due to the commotion a mass began to stand outside the classroom watching this unfold.

"Dee come on I just want to see what's inside." Roman says getting up moving closer to Dorian.

"Open it? Roman it is a old rotten box I decided on a whim to keep after things." Dorian hisses finally looking down at the box in his hands. It wasn't rotten anymore, and it was open.

"It isn't rotten anymore.... That is impossible." Logan stammers.

"It's pretty." Patton looks at the box.

"I think this is cursed as fuck." Virgil says stepping back.

Dorian looks in the box and nearly drops it when a glowing smoke slowly sinks out of the box. His eyes began to water, and his lungs burned as the smoke enveloped him. He dropped the box coughing, and he falls to his knees.

The smoke only surrounded Dorian. The others were shocked but wanted to help there fellow teacher, no friend. "Dee are you ok?" Roman rushes towards Dorian, but he can't get pass the smoke that seems to have a mind of it's own.

Logan rest his hand on the smoke like it's a wall. "Impossible it's soild. I can't explain this."

"Dorian are you ok? Come on you can fight this." Patton tries to look brave.

The smoke begins to fade slowly, Dorian is still coughing and tinges of red drip from his lips. He is barely able to kick the box away before he feels the strong urge to vomit. Thankfully Patton rushes with a trash can he immeditally empties the contents of his stomach.

"Call a ambulance, now someone." Patton's skin has gone pale seeing the bright red in the trashcan.

Virgil nearly passes out dialing 911 alerting the authorities of the emergency. Logan began to comfort Virgil who was now having a full blown attack.

Roman grew pale collapsing to his knees next to Dorian. "I sor- this is my fault. Please don't die because I was stubborn. Dorian I'm sorry."

Dorian wanted to say something but he threw up more red, now with large chunks of things he was scared to look at. Everything felt like it was on fire. He was crying even that hurt. He couldn't even produce a sound if he wanted to. Another wave of red comes out, everything sounded quiet and fuzzy. Something was making a buzz next to him, it was so quiet, and he was in too much agony to even try to piece it together.

Roman helped the paramedics carry Dorian to the ambulance he decided to go in the car with him.

......

The trashcan had to be carried out as biological waste with a hazmat team. The box as well even though it was empty, and crumbling. School was cancelled.

.......

Dorian looked around in a haze as noises from every side filled his head. His body still felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside out. Something was in his throat and he needed it out, he couldn't move is arms or legs. He was falling out of his head panicking. There were voices around him, he couldn't focus on them he needed this out. He somehow managed to flip over causing himself more pain. He coughed out more red but it was so blurry he couldn't tell what it was.

He got his arms working so he could push his face off the ground. Someone was trying to pick him up, he tried to yell no because it hurt, but only liquid dripped out of his mouth, and something hard. He started to black out again.

.......

He slipped into consciousness again a bit more lucid. His arms had no more use, and his legs felt like mush. A vague notion of what was happening crossed his mind, he didn't like it. Something screamed at him to accept it. He was too tired and numb to fight.

......

[okimargarvez]

THE HEARTMENDER

Original title: L’aggiustacuori.

Prompt: Luke’ brother broken with his girlfriend and Penelope tries to help.

Warning: O.C.

Genre: romantic, comedy, angst, family, friendship.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Luke’ brother (O.C.), O.C., Emily Prentiss. 

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 37 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💑😘😈🎈.

Song mentioned: Hai delle isole negli occhi, Tiziano Ferro.

This story is based on actual events.

GARVEZ STORIES

THE HEART MENDER

 As soon as he enters the room, she realizes there's something strange. The man places the bag against the wall, not next to the desk, as he usually does. And his head is low. He doesn’t even caress Roxy.

-Hey, love, what happened?- she reaches him and takes his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. -We took the unsub, we saved the whole family... it's a day to celebrate.- he still doesn’t show signs of life. -What’s happened?- the worry is getting wider and wider in her heart.

-As soon as we landed, my mother called me. For Tomaso.- he pulls off her hands from his face and holding them, sitting on the couch. -He and Elisabeth have broken.- first the woman seems to take the news well, or rather, has no reaction. -Tomaso is very depressed and has been eating almost nothing for a week. My mother can’t sleep, she's afraid he may do some mess and my father has had an ulcer.- her eyes widen more and more, until she bursts into tears. -No, baby.- he makes her put her head on his chest.

-He was really in love, you could see from the way he looked at her and... I know you think Tomaso is stupid, but he is not, and anyway she was improving him... I can’t understand...- between a sob and the other, she is able to say a few consistent sentences. She can’t stem the flow of tears. In addition to Luke's young brother, she imagines his parents destroyed by anxiety. -What happened?- she stops to look him in the eye.

Man sighs. -I didn’t understand, but it must have been a stupid thing. She was jealous and afraid he would betray her, so she wanted to talk with his friend, to make sure he was really a boy. And this stupid must have answered her with some obscene phrase. She was so offended, and the next morning she replied him by repeating that phrase, the same words, identical, adding that it was over.- Luke sighs again, shaking his head and then letting his gaze be magnetized by the female .

-But it's terrible, I can’t believe it! For a bullshit like that?!- she seems to have taken this even worse than him. He knows her, even if they haven’t been together for a very long time, now he has learned to read her, and she, except for some small things, is an open book. -Really?- she wipes the shiny eyes with the palm of the hand.

-Yes, that's what I thought too... it makes no sense.- he shrugs, shakes his head once more and then takes it in his hands. Penelope wonders what he's thinking right now and what she can do to make him feel better. This is the task that has been entrusted to her by fate.

-Oh, honey...- the woman hugs him, and Luke feels every negative emotion disappearing. He is enjoying the grasp, savoring every single caress on the back, every delicate and precise touch, immersing himself in her scent and warmth. Soon, however, he realizes that she has begun to cry again, even more intensely, her breast is shaken by sobs, she is in advanced crisis mode.

-No, baby, there's no need to do that.- he takes off her glasses and observes for a few seconds her red and puffy eyes. The image of a crying Penelope is certainly not rare, he should have gotten used to it, but no, he will never see it as normal. It is as if the pain he felt had all moved into her, and it is not something that happens only between them. She absorbs all the evil in the world, both what they punctually meet at work, and the minor evil, homely, hers, of their friends and colleagues. He can’t let her carry all this weight alone, but often, when she is at this stage, he is not able to reach her.

I hate so many things since I know you and I don’t even know why, but I sense it... I hate: my name only without yours, every fucking goodbye, I hate when you hate yourself and you pull me away, because...

-What?- instead of returning to his arms or groped a smile, to thank him for having tried anyway, Penelope gets angry. -Your brother is in pain and even your parents, I seemed to understand, didn’t feel very well.- she raises the voice, without realizing it. -What's wrong with you?- she shouts.

Their relationship is still too immature, full of holes to fill. So, knowing that this is not the right path, the self-defense of the man is activated and he answers: -With me?- they move away from each other only a few inches, apparently. She needs the distance, because only by touching him, her decision will waver. -What's wrong with you, rather. Tomaso doesn’t have a terminal illness, he has only...- he recognizes the pungent and almost offensive nuances in his own voice, even if he struggles to admit that it belongs to him. She would like to slap him, but she silences him in another way.

-No, don’t dare to say it, Luke Alvez.- she calls him by his full name only when she wants to excite him or is angry with him. And pissed off it should be read as wound. It seems that the first option is to be excluded a priori. -Is that what you think?- he sees the shadow of a disaster, the first signs of the tornado about to fall on him. And he doesn’t do anything because he is not too surprised. After all, it seemed too good to be true, that they were meant to be together, or rather, that they could be together without getting hurt. -So, if I left you like that, suddenly, because it annoys me that you snore, just to say, you would be happy, right?- the hypothesis makes him tremble, but outside you can’t see anything. -It is not a tumor, after all.- she too (partly) regretted what she said, but can’t stop.

...you have islands in your eyes and the deepest pain, rest at least an hour only if I meet you... and I love you, and with the hands I say what I don’t know, and you love me... synthetic plot of a historic day

-They are two different things.- he hears himself responding, but it seems that a stubborn child has talked in his place. And in fact, it is not clear whether it is more important to understand who is really right or just to show that the other is wrong.

-Ah, yes, Luke?- she voluntarily cripples his name. -In what? Because I just don’t get there.- she crosses her arms and moves away a few inches, until she reaches the arm of the sofa.

The man feels all repressed tiredness, heavy eyes and a grumbling stomach. They haven’t even had dinner yet. He struggles to remember how they ended up in this discussion. -Why we can't forget everything and enjoy the evening?- it's all he wants, not a 5-star hotel, oysters and champagne, or drive a Lamborghini, but a simple evening spent with the woman he loves and that makes beat his heart in a thousand different ways. He looks at the watch on his wrist. -And to get a pizza...- Penelope loves eating pizza, because it has become part of their ritual, every time they do, on Sundays, they eat it together. And today they risked not being able to do it, because the jet was running late.

-How can you talk about pizza while Tomaso is so sad.- she doesn’t pronounce it as a question, but as a pitiful lament. -What kind of insensitive man are you?- Penelope's opinion has always been important to him, and he worked hard to convince her that he wasn’t the macho heartbreaker that she had painted in her head. That he is much better than that.

-Pen...- he stretches a hand in her direction, but he hasn’t really hope.

-Don’t call me Pen, and don’t touch me.- she pushes him away with a thrust on his chest. -Eat the pizza alone, or rather, eat them both. Cause you have a lot of space in here!- then she stands up and walks in the direction of the bedroom.

-But where are you going?- he doesn’t follow her. A little for the shock, a little because he doesn’t know what she wants he to do, what is the best choice.

She comes out like a thunderbolt, the biggest bag she has, the red one, overflowing, with the zipper open. He recognizes a piece of one of her most sober pajamas. -We see tomorrow at work.-

 He had gotten used to waking up and seeing first of all her face half submerged in a cascade of blond hair. It is strange and sad to hear nothing but the emptiness next to him. Even the bed feels colder, although it was normal, before a few months ago, to sleep alone. We get so attached to new routines so quickly... Time is slowed down. Every action seems prolonged to infinity. All the red traffic lights that separate them. From whom did she go to spend the night? One of the girls? Or from Spencer? Did she be able to sleep? Because for him it wasn’t a simple undertaking. It was a disturbed and discontinuous sleep, and every time he emerged from oblivion, he forgot that she wasn’t there.

Finally, here is the elevator and then the door of her office. He opens it without knocking, seeing her busy to work. She doesn’t even jump. Perhaps she expected it. Is he so predictable? -Hey.- he puts his hands on her backrest.

-Good morning.- she replies, in a distant, professional tone.

-Are we back to the ice queen?- he can’t help annoying her. He hopes to provoke a reaction in her, that everything has been solved in a soap bubble. After all, if she took it so much, it is precisely because their relationship has just blossomed, and she is afraid, as much as his, that the other half is not so serious. It's his fault that he couldn’t tell her how much he loves her. Penelope doesn’t answer, so the man decides to try another tactic. He lowers and hugs her from behind, feeling the sweet tickling of her hair in the uncovered parts of his neck. Even in this case, she almost doesn’t react. He gives her a few moments.

-You have finished?- she impetuous asks. -Because I would have some work to do.- almost like it when she cries or when, rarely, she shouts at him; often the two things happen simultaneously.

-Penelope, I don’t want to argue with you.- he pulls off, with difficulty, but turns the chair in his direction, so that she is forced to look him in the eye. -Not then for a bullshit like that.- but here, he made the same mistake the day before.

-That's the point, Luke!- she blurts out, jumping to her seat. -According to me, it's not a bullshit. And then, we have a case.- saved by the bell, one might say. Luke snorts, letting her go, and resigning himself. But only for this round.

 Sometimes the case is a mocking bastard who enjoys playing with the circumstances. That's why the two lovebirds end up working together with an apparently simple case, while the rest of the team deals with a much more complex one. Too bad that there is not one thing that they agreed. -Sarah has strong self-injurious tendencies and feeds on other people's pain.- Penelope has difficulty tolerating the simple fact of being alone with him in her private space. She snorts, moving away a little with her chair.

-I don’t agree.- she speaks without looking at him. -It's just a woman who has never received love from anyone. Surely if someone gave her some love, she wouldn’t try to kill herself or others.- Luke is not sure if she's referring exclusively to this case. There is something accusatory in her tone. Maybe it's true, maybe he wasn’t able to show her how much he cares about her. He gave it too much for granted.

-Pen...- unlike her, he has never stopped staring at her. He sees her wince and is quick to correct himself. -Garcia, no offense, you're not a profiler. There is clear evidence in favor of my thesis.- she crosses her arms. -You let yourself be influenced too much by your feelings.- the woman stands up, a flash in the pupils behind her glasses.

-Once you loved me for this.- she exclaims in a voice so pained that it breaks his heart. This time Luke doesn’t stand without doing anything, waiting for the course of destiny.

-Hey!- he gets up in turn, grabs her by the wrist and without hurting her, he forces her to rotate until her head ends up against his chest. Even with heels, she is still lower than him. -I still love you for this.- both remain stuck in shock, because they realize at the same time that it is the first time that he has said it with such depth that it leaves no room for doubt or misunderstanding. It is not a friendly declaration. -But it doesn’t change the fact that Sara Wilkins is our unsub.- he adds, brushing her hair gently and using a calm tone of voice.

But Penelope doesn’t want to give up. She warns her rigid body against his. -How can you be absolutely sure?- he sighs, still cuddling her, partly against her will.

-There are all the telltale signs.- and that's why the rules of fraternization advised against mixing private life and work.

-So, she will have life imprisonment and her tormentor will be free to ruin another woman's life. Beautiful justice!- she subsists in his hug, but doesn’t try to get free anyway. It is already a good sign.

-We can’t do anything else, I'm sorry.- he hates using certain sentences of circumstance.

-No, it is not true. You’re a man, a macho like the others.- and here it is, the accusation she aimed at from the beginning. Luke detaches his arms from his girlfriend, trying to hold back the nervous that he feels move from the stomach to the head and vice versa. He bites his lips and counts up to thirty. She stands still to look at him, perhaps partially repentant of what she said.

-No, I can accept anything, but not this. You can’t say that I'm a macho, you know that I grew up among women, what education I received from my mother and my grandmother.- incredibly he manages to remain calm and that's exactly what makes her angry even more. Why doesn’t he start shouting, doesn’t he shoot sentences that he doesn’t really think, doesn’t make mistakes, like any other human being?

-But you are still a male. And you can’t help but have certain thoughts.- the calm of him feeds her fire. He is about to ask what kind of thoughts she is referring to, but the door opens and Prentiss enters, perfectly unaware of the clash between titans in progress. Although perhaps she had already guessed something when she decided to let them work together. She wasn’t afraid that they can compromise the case. They're both great professionals, yes, even Garcia.

-What happens here? Do we have any news?- she looks first one and then the other. Penelope tightens her lips, allowing him to speak first.

-Maybe. In my opinion, Sarah is our unsub, but Garcia doesn’t agree.- he is doing what she asked for, leaving her spaces, but she is hurt because he has called her by last name. One of the few things like a statement that he had told her, since they were together, it was just that she would never be only Garcia, for him, but Penelope. Even at work, he would never see her again as the computer genius, the oracle of the BAU, or at least, not only.

-Well, having different opinions is not necessarily bad, just respect that of others, even if they are wrong.- Emily watches them exchange a fleeting glance, both immediately look away. The low heads, like two schoolboys who were put behind the blackboard with the donkey's hair on their heads. -So, Garcia, why don’t you believe that Sarah is the killer?- she puts her arms crossed, keeping the answer.

But neither of them expects that she shakes her head and decide to give up. -Leave it, boss, he's definitely right.- Emily thinks a second whether to remind her that she prefers not to call her that authoritarian way, but then notices her defeated expression, her shoulders lowered and decides to keep quiet. -I don’t feel very well, could I go home sooner?- the brunette woman tries not to look at Luke.

-Sure, Penelope. Do you need a ride?- the blonde shakes her head and in a moment she has prepared the bag and put it on her shoulder.

-No, I'll take the subway.- Emily can almost feels Luke hold his breath, trying to become invisible.

-All right. Let me know something, tonight.- she takes her friend's hand for a second. Penelope nods and smiles.

-Sure. And thank you.- as soon as she leaves the room, the chief gives Luke a push, without saying a single word and the man hurries to reach Penelope. Fortunately, the elevator has just arrived and he succeeds, risking to lost the hand, to stop the closing of the doors and slipping inside. She changes completely expression, trying to stay away from him, even though space is limited. -What do you want? Why don’t you leave me alone? - but he doesn’t let himself be beaten down. He turns to her and looks at her in that way.

-Because I'm your boyfriend, Penelope and I love you and I can’t understand what you have. I have the right to be worried.- she doesn’t reply anything and remains silent until they reach the parking lot. He lets her out first, but then he puts one hand, with his open palm, on her back and leads her in the direction of his truck. -Get in the car.- he says, firm tone, decisive. If sweet ways don’t work...

-Do you see that you are the usual man who expects his woman to do all you want, immediately?- in fact, he feels a thrill hearing her calling herself as his property, but at the same time doesn’t agree with what she has said. He always believed in the importance of sharing every choice within the couple. Exactly like his parents did.

-No, I am a man convinced that the person who is temporarily more stable must convince the other to cooperate.- she opens the door, sits on the side of the passenger. -Penelope, please.- he takes her hand and she doesn’t run away. She is about to give up. It is clear, it is written in her eyes, in the way she trembles. -I can‘t argue with you. Do you want to know how I would react if you left me? I would go crazy, I would lose my mind. It is the truth. Please, let's make peace.- she plays for a few seconds with the male fingers, and finally looks up to meet Luke's eyes.

-Really?- he takes her face in his hands, firmly, and puts his forehead on hers. He nods, feeling a weight less on the heart, then inserts the key and starts the engine. Their fingers remain intertwined throughout the journey, even if neither of them says anything, they enjoy the silence and still remain silent once they get out of the car, yet they don’t seem to need words, they have already understood. The key in the lock seems to turn an eternity, to turn endlessly, but finally they are inside. Just a few greetings to Roxy, and then, there is complete oblivion. They quickly get rid of clothes, they remain only with underwear. Luke picks her up, holding her from her thighs and she leans against the door; he kisses her neck and she does absolutely nothing to censor her moans. Before they become one thing, they look into each other's eyes, the man's gaze is so hungry that she literally melts in his arms and shouts his name, then whispers it, and again screams, going to rhythm with his thrusts.

Neither feels guilty for taking advantage of a situation that seemed decidedly disastrous. Or for making love in the afternoon, while their colleagues and many other people are working. Sometimes we need to be a little selfish, to think only of ourselves.

 Cuddles follow the passion. For a few hours they feel like wrapped in a bubble that separates them from the rest of the planet. But then, the world comes back to knock on their door. -Did you talk with your brother?- they are lying on the couch, Penelope with her head resting on his chest.

-No.- he answers quietly, hands wrapped between the breast and the hips of his partner.

-Don’t you think it's appropriate to see how he is?- she turns slightly to look at him.

-Sincerely not, he is a big boy, not a kid.- he feels her stiffen more and more, but doesn’t give up. It can’t happen again. He doesn’t have the strength to face a new discussion on this topic. Yet he makes the same mistake. -You're too anxious.- he underestimates the whole thing.

-Maybe are you not enough.- she slides out one for one the male fingers from her body and moves to the opposite end of the couch. Luke sighs, already feeling the first symptoms of the headache return.

-Penelope, you don’t understand, the relationship between brothers is different from all the others. It doesn’t mean that I don’t love him, but he is thirty years old, he knows how to do it alone.- and here again, anger and pain mixed up in a lethal cocktail. But she has decided to be strong, she will not cry, not even a salty drop will run through her proud face.

-So, the fact that I am an only child because my half-brothers have only a part of DNA in common with me, I don’t know what the fraternal relationship is?- she has always been able to twins his words to her favor.

-I didn’t mean to say this.- the man passes a hand through his hair.

-Well no. You meant exactly this.- Penelope stands up. He watches her take the bag, heading to her room and type something in her cell phone. He remains on the threshold of the room, doesn’t even make a single attempt to stop her. Maybe, again, that's exactly what she wants. But this situation is too exhausting.

He finds the courage to ask only one question. -Are we again in crisis?- she stops, stares at him, then grabs the handle, gives a pat to Roxy and nods.

-Yes.-

 While waiting that the person on the other side of the door opening it, Penelope wonders why she is less excited about talking to an almost unknown than with her boyfriend, as long as she can still consider him so. Finally, someone appears. She recognizes her instantly. Elisabeth doesn’t seem to be physically affected by the separation: the red hair, which betray her Irish origins, are beautiful as always. And even the clothes are perfect. The younger one doesn’t seem too surprised to find her outside the house.

-Hello, I don’t know if you remember me, I'm Penelope, Luke's girlfriend.- she starts talking right away, for fear that the other reconsider it and will close the door.

-Yes, of course.- even if they have practically never talked, you certainly can’t forget a girl like her. FBI agent, very funny. And sensitive. Her degree in psychology must serve something. In the Alvez house there wasn’t a single nosy authorized to do so. -Why you're come here?- she puts her arms on her hips, in a waiting position.

Her tone of voice is polite, but it transpires a certain amount of annoyance. Penelope swallows, feeling uncomfortable. -Sorry for the trouble, it's just that... Tomaso...- she has the right to know the real situation. -... it's very bad, and also the rest of his family. I just wanted to understand what happened. And maybe you'd do well to talk to someone, too.- she smiles, but a little voice in her head repeats that Luke was right. It was a bad idea to come here. And the sigh that Elisabeth issues before replying, confirms it.

-Penelope, don’t take it, but... I'd rather be on my own. I'm sure your intentions are good, but... there's nothing you can do.- but most of all are the young woman's bright eyes, to convince her that this is not her place.

-I... I'm sorry, really. If you need...- the only thing she can do is leave her number. Elisabeth holds her hand a second, unable to thank her in any other way. Sometimes time heals wounds, sometimes it digs only a deeper abyss that separates us from the people we love.

The woman wonders where she may have read or heard this phrase, when she notices a vibration inside the bag. Seven missed calls, all by Luke. Sighing, she answers. -Penelope, why didn’t you answer me until now?- the man is halfway between despair, anger, the desire to scream.

-I've been busy.- but her icy tone instantly extinguishes his fire.

-But...- he can almost imagine her making a gesture with her hand, to silence him.

-I have no time. I'll call you when I come back.- and she hangs up, leaving him in the company of silence.

 What drives her to ring another bell, when she knows she's wrong, that she's wrong, and that Luke is the one who's right? Perhaps stubbornness. Not wanting to admit defeat. She then decided to renounce, but now fate is out of controll and she will have to face the consequences. The door opens wide and gives her the vision of a beautiful man in overalls, worn and battered. She could almost mistake him for Luke, except that his brother is slightly taller and thinner, less muscular, but no less charming.

-Penelope?- the surprise lasts too little. Was he waiting for her? Am I really so predictable?

-Hello, Tomaso.- she tries not to stare him.

He leans, looking at right and at left. -Is Luke there, too?- he asks, continuing to scrutinize behind her.

-No, I'm alone.- Tomaso nods and gestures for her to enter, then sitting on one of the armchairs. The house doesn’t look as bad as its owner, but still carries the traces of Elisabeth, and not only in framed photographs, but in the puzzles hanging on the walls, in the figurines. She and Luke have been together for so little time, yet the apartment of the latter has completely changed. She can’t imagine how would be if she would have to resume her own things and vanish, not leaving a single sign to testify to her passage.

-Uh.- awkward silence. Penelope clears her throat.

-Listen, I know that we never talked and that maybe I'm not even too nice for you...- Tomaso interrupts her, leaning forward, stumbles a bit and finally manages to regain his balance.

-Stop. Penelope, is the exact opposite.- he brings the face close to that of the woman, not enough to intimidate her, but still too close for someone who is not her boyfriend. -I envy my brother very much. Luke is a damn lucky man.- she sees something strange in her brother-in-law's green eyes, but above all she feels his breath.

-Uh, Tomaso, you're drunk.- she tries to increase the distance, rubbing against the seat of the chair. He bends his head to one side, as if evaluating her words.

-It can be.- he shrugs. -But maybe this will help me tell you the truth.- he approaches again. -I have always thought you are a sexy bomb and apart from this...- the look that launches at her leaves no room for doubt. Sure, it could be the beer talking, but... -I envy what you and Luke have. That asshole loves you madly, has never loved anyone as much as you and you feel the same.- she had never noticed that he gesticulating so much. -I'm not really gone, unfortunately, so I guess if you're here and he is not, it’s because you two have divergent opinions.- Penelope feels the need to laugh.

-It can be said so.- finally, the man restores the right distances. He tightens his lips and shakes his head.

-Here. And I can easily imagine that Luke is feeling like shit, right now, forgive me for the vulgarity.- she already knew it inside herself, but hearing someone else say it was a blow too big to deal with.

She prefers to change the subject. -I... I spoke with Elisabeth and she told me...- but it is clear that Tomaso is not interested in finding out what she has to say.

-Never mind.- pain and suffering are manifested in many ways, some bizarre. -I was fine with her, but there wasn’t between us what is between you and my brother.- she stares at him, in absolute silence. -I don’t know how to explain it to you, Penelope. You two are like the characters of a damn movie, one of those who make all women cry, or one of those novels that my mother reads. What is between you is... destiny. You two are Romeo and Juliet, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.- Penelope opens her eyes wide, then closes her mouth, tries to repeat in her head what she has just heard, because it can’t be the truth. But it's useless to try to deny it, it's the same thing she always thought, even before he asked her out. Destiny.

But there is a battle going on inside her, and her insecure part wins temporarily. -So we are dead or divorced?- maybe Luke has taught some tricks of profiling to Tomaso, because he seems to read her mind almost as well as Luke does.

-You have understood perfectly what I mean. You must accept that you aren’t Cupid, Penelope. You can’t force people to love each other or even be happy.- yes, she has get this alone. -But you're risking losing Luke in this way. He could never leave you, but at the same time it takes a moment and he will close up as a hedgehog and you could lose the combination to access his heart.- the man stops a second and then laughs without any kind of warning. Just as abruptly back, he becomes sober and lucid. -Ok, this is really too sentimental. Maybe I'm really drunk.- it looks like he's negotiating with someone. -But if it would happens, Luke would die and in that case I could never forgive you.-

 In silence I look at the souls that pass, between all these souls you are the most special, because you smile also pursued by pain ... and I love you, even if you suffer and then claim not to show, when you would you like that your smile reverses the counter rule that rule the masses... and you love me... you say that there are only good people, the bad ones are just alone and maybe it’s so

For the third time in the course of a single day she finds herself waiting outside a door, without knowing what she will find beyond the threshold. He gave her a bunch of keys but she decided not to use it. She doesn’t know if she can still consider herself as his girlfriend. She rings the bell and hears the noise of Roxy's jumps, which probably recognized her. And then he appears. Inscrutable.

-Penelope.- also the voice doesn’t leave any clue on his mood.

-Uh, hi, Luke.- she has nothing better to say after vanishing for hours. It is almost eleven o'clock in the evening and perhaps that's why he drags her in, grabbing her by the arm, without bothering to dose the strength and closes the door just as vehemently. And so, Penelope discovers that even Luke can seriously piss off.

-Where fucking have you been, why have you never replied to me, why do you always have to put others in front of me, am I so unimportant for you?- but also that he is unable to be bad with her for more than five seconds. He switches quickly from anger to pain. The words of Tomaso resound as a warning in the woman's ears.

-No, Luke, listen to me, please.- she takes his face in her hands. Luke doesn’t retract, but turns his head in the opposite direction and closes his eyelids. -It's not like that, I love you.- she struggles not to let herself be taken in by the need to cry and keeps a firm tone.

He opens his eyes and gently detaches her hands from his face. -Well, you have a bad way to show it.- it can’t, it should not be too late. This can’t be what was in their destiny. -I also love you, but I can’t continue living this way...- what Tomaso said is about to happen, he is about to close in his own world and exclude her from it. -...you have a big heart, but maybe too much and I'm an overly possessive type, I don’t know...- but Penelope doesn’t allow him.

-No, Luke, I don’t want to lose you!- she knows what are the things he wants to hear, and this time she doesn’t let herself be governed by pride. -It's my fault, you're right, I didn’t think I could hurt you, I just wanted your parents and your brother to be better and I couldn’t understand that I can’t force others to be happy and sometimes people just need time...- and he doesn’t need anything else. Luke pulls her against him, so much so that it's hard to breathe.

-Stay a little quiet.- he exclaims, with an authoritative tone. -I’m in love with you for your big heart, but sometimes it is difficult to manage.- she trembles in his arms, lost in those eyes, bewitched by her lips so close and the head that turns, as never happened to her before with anyone else.

-Just sometimes?- she giggles. -You're my priority, Luke, you and our happiness. I'll never forget it again.- he loosens his grip to grab her face.

-So you will not play Cupid role again?- Penelope nods and makes a cross on the heart. Then she raises her hand like a scout, for safety.

-I swear.-

@arses21434 @kathy5654 @martinab26 @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @thinitta   @myhollyhanna23 @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado  @shyladystudentfan @cosmicmelaninflower inlovewithgarvaz

[classydeerfox]

BTS royalty AU - The Rose’s Empire

I hope you all enjoy this I worked really hard on it :) Chapter two will be out next Wednesday 

Masterlist

Genre: 

Royalty/ medieval AU. Fluff, angst lots of angst

Word count:

6k

Summary:  

Thousands of years ago there was a great, powerful kingdom; some say one of the greatest kingdoms to ever rule the earth. Not because of its vast land or heroic military power or even its immense wealth but because of its ruler. One ruler, one rulers great actions that were sung by children and written in legends even after their language was long lost to the ages, one ruler that showed the world that kindness, love and friendship are the 3 most powerful things that will prevail over hardship, death and hopelessness. How one ruler, and his friends helped save a kingdom

Based on This Post

Chapter one:

The sunlight shined down within the castle walls as the little prince ran around the garden, wooden sword in his right hand and a wooden shield in his left, he ran around chopping at the garden flowers and bushes “I am the king!” he shouted slashing the bushes “You shall bow down to me or be killed!” He screamed hitting this time a pile of roses, the little prince yelped in pain as his hand cut across the thorns from the roses and he toppled to the ground.

His mother, the queen was soon by his side checking his wound. “It’s only a small cut, now stand up straight, you don't want the king seeing you like this over a little cut” She smiled pinching his cheek and wiping the tears away from his eyes. “But let this be a lesson to you now Jin, before you are king. Our people are roses, if you get them to obey you through fear then their sharp thorns will go deeper than these thorns ever could. Always respect our people, they are what makes this kingdom, not us, not your father. Without them we would not be here. Remember that Jin” The little prince stops his sniffling and nods. His mother smiles and stands up “Now run along Jin, i’m sure they need help in the stables cleaning the horses.”

That night Jin was lying in bed, while tossing and turning trying to get to sleep he felt his stomach rumble, clutching his tummy he got out of bed, grabbed his candle and made his way towards the kitchen. He wasn't supposed to be out of his sleeping quarters after dark but he’d done it dozen of times before, he’d learned all the guards patterns, it was a piece of cake to sneak past them. Slowly and quietly he snuck through the corridors, tiptoeing past the guards. Just as he made it to the kitchen he went to open the cupboard where all the puddings were stored when he heard a plate hitting the ground.

He turned around holding his candle into the darkness “h-hello?” he whispered. His mother had warned him about monsters coming to eat little princes that disobeyed but he always thought it was just a story, something he was told to trick him into following the rules. Slowly he walked towards the sound “H-hello..?” He asked, this time his voice more nervous. What if it was the monster?

He could hear shallow breathing, coming from under the table. Jin took a deep breath, if it was the monster there was no chance of escape so he decided to brave it. After the count of three he’ll look under.

One..two..three

He shone the candle under the table. Ready to face the monster.

But it wasn’t a big scary beast, it was a small boy, smaller than him, skinnier than him but looked just as scared as him if not more, with a loaf of bread clutched between his bony fingers. They both looked at each other in shock for a few moments when the tiny boy climbed out the opposite side to Jin and started running.

“Wait!” Jin called running after the boy.

The boy didn't listen, opening the back door that goes out into the garden, the tiny boy ran as fast as he could but his frail frame was no match for Jin and soon Jin had caught up to him, tackling him to the ground. The boy cried in pain and panic desperately trying to escape. “Stop!” Jin angrily whispered as he heard two guards talking not far from where they both were. The boy didn't, still trying to move “If you run know the guards WILL catch you, if you stay still, i will make sure you're out of the garden, back into the villages without being spotted” He firmly breathed, the tiny boy froze.

“Now are you going to run if i get off you?” The small boy shook his head, no. Jin got off the him just as they both heard the two guards come closer “Quick, behind them bushes” Jin whispered as the both ducked behind the damaged bushes Jin had spent just that morning slashing.

The two guards walked passed them, towards the kitchen back door to guard. “We can't move until they move around the back, otherwise they'll see us”Jin said as he peeped over the bushes to look at them. “They should move in a few minutes, it’s cold they’ll want to keep moving” Jin tuned to face the small boy who was sat still frightened, clutching the bread to his chest.

“Did you steal that from the castle's kitchen?” Jin asked and the boy looked up in panic so Jin jumped in again, as not to frighten the boy ”It's ok if you have, i go down all the time and take a pudding it's just why would you take bread when you can have a pudding?” Jin smiled trying to seem more friendly.

The small boy didn't seem to understand Jins friendly tone and replied “B-bread- bread will last longer than pudding” in a barely audible whisper looking down. It was at this point where Jin realised just how thin the boy was, his skeletal figure, sunk in cheeks, the boy was starving.

“D-do your parents not give you bread?” Jin asked concerned

The boy shook his head  “They're both dead” he said, even in the darkness Jin could tell the boy was welling up and lacking the skills to be able to deal with someone crying he swiftly changed the subject “I’m Jin by the way” He smiled placing out his hand proudly “Prince Jin”

The small boy, taken back by this it took him a moment to realise that Jin had placed his hand out to be shaken. “I-im Taehyung” He eventually stuttered placing his hand out to shake Jins. Jin smiled as they both shook hands “Well Taehyung, it’s nice to meet you”

“n-nice to meet you too”

Just as soon as they separated their hands the guards started to move “Come on, this is our time to move”Jin said grabbing Taehyung's hand and guiding him out of the bushes. Jin lead Taehyung around the back of the garden towards a small hole in the wall “Go through there, it will lead to the back of the market. I trust you know where to go from there?” He asks. Taehyung nods and bends down to crawl through when Jin tells him to wait “How do you eat without your parents providing for you”

“I- i steal” Taehyung says clearly ashamed, looking down at the floor.

“B-but that's bad. The guards will catch you. You'll have your hands chopped off” Jin protests.

Taehyung shrugs “if i don't i'll die”.  Jin thinks for a moment, “Meet me here tomorrow just after dusk” Taehyung nods before crawling through the hole and going off into the village.

Jin starts to make his way back, carefully entering the kitchen and quietly shutting the door behind him. He walks up to his candle and picks it up and sneakily makes his was back to his bedroom.

The next day all Jin could think about was the boy, after a restless night the small frame of the boy, his visible bones and tattered clothes seemed more disturbing. How could anyone live like that? In his father's kingdom how was thtis allowed? Jin had never seen anyone like that before, he didn't even think people could be like that, so skinny and ..sad. . His eyes, they just were filled with fear and sadness even in the darkness the emotion was visible. As sorry as Jin felt for him all he could think about was what the boy was doing now, was he safe? If he doesn't have any parents does he not have a home? There was so many questions running through his head that as soon as he was sent up to his sleeping quarters he just sat by the window waiting for the sun to go down, eager to see the boy again.

Eventually the sun had set and Jin snuck out to the kitchen again. He grabbed a large cloth and placed 3 loaves of bread and a pudding in the it along with a block of cheese before wrapping it up, placing it in his pocket and making his way out to garden. Before opening the door he placed his ear against it, listening for guards, there was muffled talking that could be heard behind the door. Jin kept listening for a few minutes until the voices faded. Waiting another moment to make sure they were gone before opening the door. Quickly he ran across the garden to the back wall where the hole was.

He bent down into the hole “Taehyung?” He asked

There was a silence for a moment “Yeah.. i-i’m here” the small voice called from within the hole. Less than a few moments later the frail boy crawled out and stood up to meet Jin.

Jin smiled “Hiya!” He exclaimed holding out the wrapped food towards Taehyung. “This is for you”

Taehyung took the cloth and unwrapped at, there was a moment of confusion and happiness “T-thank you” He exclaimed unsure what to do with himself.

Jin smiled back before sitting down on the grass gesturing for Taehyung to do the same.

They both sat there in silence for a moment as Taehyung picked up the pudding and started stuffing his face. He devoured the pudding within seconds. “Woah… haha slow down you'll give yourself a stomach ache” Jin awkwardly laughed.

“S-sorry” Taehyung relies wiping his mouth “I've never had one of those before” He giggles.

Jin could tell Taehyung was much more comfortable by the boys body language. Even as a boy he was taught that to be a good leader and fighter he must be able to read peoples body language,with Tae there was no aggression in his posture but there never was at any point of their time together. There was no fear or awkwardness though, Tae seemed more comfortable and relaxed which made Jin not only happy but proud of himself for being able to make another human comfortable around him. Most people he met were always so formal and stiff, no one was there selves around royalty, always keen to put forward their best image. Jin had already caught Taehyung stealing so there wasn’t much need for Tae to put a fake image forward combined with the fact if Taehyung lacked parents he probably wasn't taught the etiquette ways for anything. This made Jin realise that he had never had another friend his age before.

Everyone he knows are his teachers, servants or guards and the only person that talks to him like an equal is his mother: he’s never had a true friend before.

“How old are you?” Jin asked

“Seven” Taehyung replies with a mouth full of cheese

“I’m ten” Jin smiled excited. “We can be friends?”

“I-i’ve never had a friend before” Taehyung confessed, taking a huge bite from a loaf of bread.

“Me neither! We can best friends” Jin cheered, nudging Taehyung's shoulder.

They both smiled and Taehyung pulled out another loaf of bread, breaking it into two “here” he said passing half a piece into Jin's hands.

They both sat there eating the bread talking, giggling until it started to rain. “I should go” Jin sighed annoyed to be leaving his new friend so soon. Taehyung nodded and they both stood up “same time tomorrow?”

For the next few years Jin  and Taehyung continued to meet up at night, Jin would bring him food and they would sit for a few hours talking. Throughout this time Jin became more aware of outside the castle walls, how the poor live, the crime rate, the bad harvests and so much more. They became close friends so much so that when Jin turned 16 he was allowed to pick his own personal servant, Jin went against his father's ‘better judgement’ and picked Taehyung. Since then taehyung moved into the castle and him and Jin have been even closer friends since.

“Tae!? Hey taehyung...KIM TAEHYUNG!”

“What-what i’m coming” Tae shouts running into the room in a panic “What Jin- oh”

In front of Tae was a half dressed Jin with the top half of his torso and head trapped within in his shirt. “What happened?” Tae laughed, there was a pause, even without seeing his face he could tell Jin was going red with embarrassment. “It's a new top OK. It doesn't fit”

“I can tell it doesn't fit” Tae says trying not to laugh

“It's not funny! Help me out” He shouts, after a moment of soaking up the hilarious view Tae began to help.

“Alright come on” He giggled grabbing the top of his shirt as they both pulled away from each other eventually pulling the shirt away from Jin.

“Thanks”

“No problem, maybe next time get a shirt that fits” Tae joked searching Jins draws for a suitable, fitting top while Jin sat on the bed “Not funny, anyway it was your fault for not giving them the correct measurements. You're supposed to be my servant”

“Well don't breath in so much when i measure you! It’s OK to have a bit of a tummy Jin” Tae smirks

“I DO- I do not have a tummy” Jin pipes up but Tae just shakes his head laughing.

“Here” he states passing Jin the top “This should fit”

Jin grumpily takes the top from Tae’s hands mumbling a thank you while getting dressed into it.

“I’ll go bring you breakfast then” Taehyung says walking out the door, Jin makes a noise of approval.

Taehyung makes his way down to the kitchen, past the guards giving each one a polite nod and smile, which they return. He makes his way into the busy kitchen “Chef! The prince has awoken and wishes for your finest cuts of pig, your freshest eggs and the best, juiciest grapes, picked by the most beautiful virgins” Tae says in a formal, recited tone lifting his arms wide into the air gently gliding towards him.

Not amused by Taes speech he turns towards him “here” he grunts, sloping an overcooked egg and a uneven lump of meat on a tray. “And the grapes..?” Tae asks in a disappointed whimper

“in that box” The chef then goes back to his work kneading some flour.

“Alrighty then” Tae mutters rolling his eyes. Chef was never much of a happy soul but Tae still liked to try, it was just a shame Chef didn't like the trying.

He couldn't go back to Jin with that pile of mush on his plate, he turned, looking around on the table where he saw Hoseok “Hoseok! Hobie! The jester of hope! J-hope!” He exclaimed walking towards him.

“What is it Tae?” He asked knowing what was coming

“You wouldn't mind, would you if we maybe swapped breakfast meals?”

“Not happening” Hoesok bluntly replied picking off a grape and placed it in his mouth

“Come on Hobie! Help me out, Jin will be mad if i give him this” He says holding up the plate of food a little too close to Hobbies face.

“If it’s that big of a problem ask chef for another” Hoseok shrugs

“Ask chef?! Are you mad? No thank you Hoseok I like my life”

Hoseok sighs “This is the second time this week you've asked to swap meals with me!”

“That’s only twice!” Taehyung shrugs, desperation in his eyes

“Yeah and it’s Tuesday.. And anyway it’s not my problem Chef doesn't like you”

“Well how do i get him to like me? And please Hobie, i’ll get you some extra time off to visit your family”

“You can’t. He hates people like you, everyone else loves you so he will hate you. Some people are just like that” Hoseok says before swapping plates with him “I want an extra day when i see them on Thursday” He commands and Tae nods smiling quickly making his way back to Jin’s quarters when gets stopped “Hey, Taehyung, give these to the prince. They’re his sleeping medication. He told me he was running low” Namjoon calls from the stairs a few steps behind. He jogs up to Taehyung passing him small glass bottle filled with a dark green liquid. Taehyung looks at it and shivers “That can't taste nice” to which Namjoon chuckles

“Yep but it does its job”. Taehyung thanks him before carrying on his way to Jin's quarters.

Once he arrives he places the food on the table, setting it up neatly as Jin writes a letter on the desk in the corner of the room.

“There, You could say it was for for a king” Tae smiles admiring his work. The table was set out beautifully  with even a flower pot for decoration “Or at least a future king” He looks up towards Jin smiling, proud of himself but Jin is still concentrating on his writing with a slight frown on his face.

He waited patiently for a moment. ..then another, then another until -”God damn it Jin your food will get cold!” Tae shouted. Jin sighed and looked up towards the window “Do you think Jimin will agree for us to start accepting Knights and guards as gifts from other allied kingdoms?” He asked tapping the feather quill on his chin.

“I don’t know, i’m not Jimin” He shrugged

“Of course he wouldn’t. What was i thinking” Jin said to himself scribbling out a line.

Jin eventually stood up and walked towards the table “This looks nice, you could say it was fit for a king. ..or soon to be king at least anyway” Jin laughed to himself, Taehyung gave a forced laugh “Good one Jin” He replied through gritted teeth.

After a few mouthfuls of stuffing his face he stopped and pulled a grimace “It’s cold” He frowns.

“Well yeah… i did tell you” Taehyung said pulling a face at Jin behind his back.

“Dont pull faces at me” Jin says stuffing another mouthful of egg into his mouth which receives another face being pulled by Tae.

“You know if it was anyone else that did that they would be put in the stocks” He says turning around to face Taehyung.

Tae shrugs smiling “Glad i’m not anyone else then”

Once Jin finishes he gets up and walks back towards his desk sealing the letter with some candle wax and a stamp “Pass this to Jimin, its suggestions for new battle plans. I want him to read them before our meeting tonight ” Tae takes the letter and places it within his shirt for safe keeping.

“Anything else?”

“The stables need cleaning and my armour needs shining” Tae nods and leaves the room.

He makes his way to the training field where no doubt Jimin would be.

It was a slightly dull say with fresh dew covering the grass and the sky covered in clouds with a few gray ones spotted around. It was windy and cold, as Tae walked across the field towards Jimin he felt his goosebumps on his skin rise and he shivered slightly. Jimin on the other hand was covered in sweat. Red flustered cheeks with some of his hair sticking to his forehead as he slashed his sword through the air.

Standing at least 5 foot away Taehyung called his name “Jimin”

Jimin stopped immediately, turning to look towards “Yeah?” He asks stabbing his sword into the ground for it to stand by itself before walking up to him panting slightly. Instinctively Tae steps back a little, Jimin is scary, Even when he doesn’t mean to be he is.

“I-i urm. This is from Prince Jin, he wants you to read it before your meeting tonight”

Jimin takes the letter from Tae “Thank you” He says giving him a nod.

Tae takes that as signal for him to leave and speed walks/runs away back into the castle.

Once Taehyung left his sight Jimin went to put his sword away and opened the letter. The letter read of new ideas to unite with their neighbouring kingdom, Arion. As soon as Jimin realised this he ripped the paper in half and threw it on the ground storming off the village to find someone he can vent to, the only person he feels truly comfortable with; Jungkook.

“I’ve bloody had it with Jin!” Jimin screams walking into Jungkook's home. “Him and his bloody idea of uniting with Arion! It's not going to happen- woah what are you doing here?” Jimin asks seeing Hoseok sitting down on a chair next to Jungkook.

“He lives here now” Jungkook states

Jimin frowns trying to hide is embarrassment “Right, well urm i wanted to talk to you” He says calmly giving Hoseok a death stare encouraging him to leave.

“I’ll leave you two alone then” Hoseok says getting the message, just before he leaves speaks up again “I know it’s none of my business but surely uniting with Arion is a good thing..?”

Jimin turns to Hoseok and he regrets opening his mouth almost instantly. “Do you know who rules Arion? Min Yoongi” Jimin spits getting closer to Hoseok, right into his face “Min Yoongi is a monster. He’s killed hundreds of my men. Hundreds! He doesn't want an alliance and he will never get one. Our kingdom does not and will never unite with monsters like him. Ok?” Jimin spits. Hoseok says nothing, just leaves quickly out the door.

Jungkook sighs “Well that was a nice way to introduce yourself”

Jimin shrugs “He shouldn't be so stupid then”

Jimin turns and sits down next to Jungkook. There's a moment of silence as Jungkook waits for Jimin to calm down before starting to talk. “How are you?” Jungkook grins

“Not funny Kookie” Jimin says, a slight smile appearing on his lips as they both look at each other. “How did you and him end up living together anyway?” Jimin continues.

“He use to share a house with one of the old town criers. Well that was until the old man went mad. Started accusing Hobie of “ He made quotation marks with his hand “being a spy” Jimin interrupts frowning “Wait, how do you know he’s not?”

“Oh no one listens to that old bastard, i don't think he's spent a day sober in the past 5 years”

Jungkook gets up and pulls a bottle out from the back of the cupboard “Want some?” He asks popping the cork and taking a drink from it himself, Jimin holds out his hand as Jungkook passes it him.

“I've been practicing you know” Jungkook smiles

“Oh yeah?” Jimin beams, taking a swig of the wine

“Yeah! And I am so good I bet I could beat you now” He says pulling out a wooden stick and slashing in the air like you would with a sword, which receives a small chuckle from Jimin

“Hey! I could” Jungkook smiles trying to act offended by Jimin's chuckle.

“Well then, if you think you could beat me we shall see. You, me tomorrow morning just after sunrise in the training field.” Jimin smiles standing up “Prepare to be humiliated Kookie” he passes the bottle back. “No you prepare to be humiliated park Jiminie!” Jungkook calls back.

Jimin ignores that last comment “I need some new armour by the way”

“Oh yeah? Well you’ll have to put in a order like everyone else”

Jimin huffs “What’s the point in having a blacksmith as a friend then?”

“Urm i’ll think you find it’s because no one else is willing to be friends with you”

“It’s not my fault they’re all afraid of me” He cries flapping his hands into the air which receives just a stare from Jungkook. “Well i have to keep up an image don't I? I’m the scary knights commander. My men fear me so my enemies fear me even more” He protests but Jungkook just shrugs

“You could have made friends with Hobie but you blew any chance of that happening now”

Jimin shrugged, not wanting to be friends with Hoseok anyway.

Taehyung had finally managed to finish cleaning the stables and shining Jins armour just before dinner so he made his way the dinner hall where already the chefs were out preparing the table and the jester was in the back corner of the hall practising juggling. “Hey Hobie!” Tae called walking over. As soon as Hoseok saw it was Tae he stopped juggling and called back “Hiya Tae!”

Once Taehyung managed to get over towards him he noticed that something was off about Hoseok, he didn't seem as jolly as he usually was. “Are you ok?”

Hoseok took a moment, thinking about how to reply “Jimin is terrifying isn't he?”

Which received a laugh “So you've finally met him then”

“Yeah, Jungkook and him are friends?” He asked confused “...why?”

“I don’t know, i think i’ve heard someone say they knew each other as children? But he’s also the only person who isn’t scared of him” Tae answers shrugging, just as soon as he finished speaking Chef shouts “The king will be here in five minutes people! Let’s get a move on!”

“Well i’ve gotta get ready” Hoseok says, they both separate as Hoseok goes to the front of the hall, in front of the table. Taehyung goes to the back of the table and stands behind the seat where Jin sits and waits. After a few moments the trumpets sound and the large doors open as four guards walk ahead separating to each side of the door as the King walked in proudly, head held high as he strolled over to his seat, belly jiggling beneath his thick layers of silk and cotton clothes followed by his mistress. Wearing the Queen's old jewellery, caked eye makeup and a purple dress, she swayed her hips and pushes her chest forward as she struts behind him.

Then Jin follows a fair few steps behind them. He gives Taehyung a smile as he walks up to his seat standing behind it. “Did you give Jimin the letter?” He asks quietly as just so the two of them hear it. “Yes, oh and also i lost a bet with Hoseok and I promised him an extra day off when he visits his family on Thursday” Taehyung lied

Jin pauses for a moment “Who’s Hoseok?”

“The jester” He nods towards the boy in the centre of the hall who is juggling 7 balls.

“Oh Jhope! ...Tae how many time have I told you stop betting! This is like the 5th time this month I’ve had to help you out”

“I know, I know! So does he get an extra day?”

There was another pause “I guess so”

Tae smiles thanking him just then the King places his hand into the air motioning for everyone else on the table to sit and the feast to begin. The trumpets start playing and Hoseok moves to the centre of the hall providing the entertainment.

As the feast begins the King and his mistress are chatting away, the woman snorting and laughing repulsively loud as the king very clearly gropes her.

Tae looked away disgusted as so did everyone in the room.

“Oh stop it haha” She would coyly giggle as the king rubbed his hand across her thigh and tried to place his hand into her top to reach her breasts. “You and me are in for one long and passionate night tonight” He tried to whisper but said made it loud enough so that everyone in the room could hear.

“Oh baby, i wish we could do it right now” She purred

“Ohh you are one naughty girl” He barked placing his face into her chest as she giggled. Tae couldn't help but look at Jin. He was eating a lot slower, staring ahead of him, chewing on his food more harshly. Probably because he lost his appetite from his seeing his dad and that woman grope each other.

“See Jin! You’ll get yourself a real woman like this one day don’t you worry about it” The king laughed looking over to Jin who kept his eyes firmly on his plate

Jin was clearly embarrassed so much so that after they had all eaten and the king had dismissed everyone no doubt so him and his mistress could do it right there on the table Jin just stormed off. He did however give a quick thank you to Chef and J-hope for the entertainment; which was much more than than the king did.

Tae followed Jin but he stormed off so quickly that Tae had to basically run after him to catch up.

“Jin! Jin wait” He called. Eventually he got to his bedroom Tae followed, shutting the door behind him.

Jin was pacing back and forth, hands up through his hair as he tried to calm down. “Jin..?” Tae asked slowly walking towards him but Jin started to shout “REAL WOMAN?” he screamed kicking a stray pillow that was on the ground. He moved to sit on his bed, rocking back and forth, hands over his head “Does he know how humiliating he is? He’s a disgrace to our family” He shouts, this time with tears rolling down his cheeks. Tae sits beside him and pulls him into a hug, Jin doesn't resist, hugging back. “Mum died and what did he do? Nothing he didn't even go to her funeral! He was too busy shagging that bitch that he had been fucking since i was 4!” He cried. “Real woman? She is not a real woman! Mum is! And he doesn't even talk about her, she should be alive not him. It-it’s not fair” Jin broke down crying hysterically, Tae just held him gently soothing him until he calmed down.

Once he calmed Jin pushed off him and looked away “No one knows about this” He murmurs wiping his eyes Tae nods and smiles placing a hand on Jin’s back “I’m here for you Jin. Just like you was there for me OK?” He smiles. Jin nods, wiping the tears still falling down his face. “You should probably go anyway. I have a meeting with Jimin right about now” He says composing himself, Tae didn't argue just nodded and got up to leave. Just as he left the room he saw Jimin walk up. Jimin gave him a quick nod of approval still somehow with that intimidating, scary look in his eyes before entering Jin’s room.

Jimin entered seeing Jin facing the window “Prince Jin..” He called waiting to be formally welcomed in “Ah’ Jimin come in” He motioned “Drink?”

“Please” Jimin answered as Jin filled two glasses with some red wine, passing one to Jin. “Did you read my letter?”

“Yes and I don’t agree with them. Were not going to unite with Arion, with Yoongi, he’s killed too many of our men, our friends Jin”

Jin paused for a moment, taking a sip off his wine “Look I know you and Yoongi have a past but this is what's best for our kingdoms. They were our friends you’re right but that’s the price of war and we’ll lose more of our men, our friends if we don't unite”

But Jimin just shakes his head “They don’t even want to unite. They want to tear your kingdom down brick by brick, even if we managed to unite some how i wouldn't doubt for a second that Yoongi would place assassins on the both of us. There would be more killing and we would be defenceless against it! He's a monster Jin. Heck i bet hes already got spies here now” Jimin explains, frustration in his voice audible

Jin just sighs nodding “You're right, even if we did unite i could never trust him or his men but we can’t stay at war forever”

“We won't” Jimin says taking a step closer to Jin before continuing “We need to get rid of Yoongi. If he’s gone then there's no one left to rule leaving us to take control”

“And how are you going to kill him? Hm? Because you out of all people should be aware of how good he is in combat” Jin says turning around to face the window. That comment made Jimin instinctively place his hand on his stomach, the scar lining his whole stomach. The only time he came close to death was by Yoongi’s sword.

“I’ll train harder, I know I can beat him” He pleads.

Jin shakes his head “How would you get the chance Jimin? We don't have the men to go to battle again”

Jimin nods processing his thoughts before speaking “I go over there, i go there and i kill Yoongi myself”

Jin laughs “You can't be serious”

“I am! I go there and i get him by surprise him, catch him off guard and kill him. Then I come back get our men and we claim Arion as our own”

Jin pauses thinking, could it work? “Alright fine but you're not going on your own i want you to bring at least 5 of your bestest men and I want a full detailed plan of your attack before i complete allow this.” Jimin nods his head taking another sip of his drink to cover his face as he smiles.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Everybody Wants to Rule the World (except Len and Mick)

Fic: Everybody Wants to Rule the World (except Len and Mick) (ao3 link) Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow, the Flash Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: After the Oculus spits Leonard Snart out, he and Mick go home and let the Legends carry forth hunting down the mysterious time-travelling saboteur by themselves. Clearly this is a mistake, because next thing they know, they're waking up in something that people are calling "Doomworld."

Well, that just means it's up to Len and Mick to fix it -

Except that, too, is a mistake, because now they're somehow ruling the world and, worse, the official owners of one Barry Allen, speedster.

A/N: No actual dubious consent was involved except in the world-ruling.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After everything, they go home.

Len's still nauseous from his adventure in the Oculus - not unlike a whirly-gig, he'd explained, just through time - and Mick, well, Mick was pretending he was over the whole Kronos thing a lot more than he really was.

He only has so much room to feel hurt, and the hurt of losing Len had eclipsed it all - right up until the Oculus had spat Len out onto the floor of the Waverider in the middle of one of the worst timestream storms either Rip or Mick had ever seen.

According to Len, the Oculus swallowed him, but didn't think he tasted good. Too much truck with speedsters.

Len's explanations for the Oculus change every time. Nobody ever pointed it out.

It didn't matter, not to Mick. Len is back. He’s back. They’re back together.

They go back.

Back to Central, Len's beloved city. Back where they belong.

"There's still more to do," Ray said to Mick, right before they'd left for home. "Travel the timeline with us. Help protect it with us."

"We're thieves, not heroes," Mick replied. He hesitated. Ray had been kind, trying to fill the hole Len left behind, backing off when Mick had made it clear he didn't want that hole filled. "But thanks for offering, Haircut."

They spend some time lying low when they get back. Nice, quiet. Looking at blueprints like they're thinking of pulling a job, but not seriously. Fiddling with their guns.

Quiet.

It's two weeks before Len says, "I think I died."

It's another two days before Mick says, "I think I did, too."

Another two hours before Len says, "I remember it."

Two minutes before Mick says, "Me, too."

They look at each other.

"Two hours?" Len offers, getting up to get the hard liquor, the stuff that's been sitting in the corner, waiting for them to get their act together. It's the way they've always done it when fists didn't get them where they needed to go - the drink let them pretend it was the alcohol spilling feelings, not them.

Lets them pretend they got so drunk that they both totally black out the whole experience, too.

"Make it two days," Mick says. They have a lot to talk about.

He goes first. Kronos is - he learned a lot. He did a lot. He suffered a lot. Some of that was Len's fault. Some of it wasn't.

There were some good parts. Ginny, his AI - he'd liked her.

"Parked her somewhere secret outside Nanda Parbat," Mick says. "But I told her to go to rest in Keystone if I didn't come for her."

"We can go pick her up," Len offers. "Put her in the basement."

Mick's shoulders, which had been tightening up at the thought of more time travel, relax. The basement. Yes. That was good. Their favorite, most legitimate safehouse - more warehouse than anything else, but the cops wouldn't touch it. They kept parts of their stashes there.

It would be a good place to put Ginny and her ship. Give her a place to rest her head not too far from Mick, but not so close he might feel compelled to use her. Not close enough for the nightmares, which have never gone away, to gain in power.

"We should do that," Mick agrees.

Len goes next. He talks about his motivations with the crew, how they changed; he goes back in time, talks about how killing his old man after so many years of terror felt; jumps forward again, talks about 2046, how he'd been afraid of losing Mick; back again, talks about Barry, the superhero, about how being a supervillain filled some part of his soul...

He talks about Kronos. How he'd felt, waking up tied on that ship. About Mick's threats.

About smashing his hand.

"I'm sorry," Mick says. They don't do that, don't say that, but this one was a whopper of a fuck-up. He can always blame the drink, all three of them he's had. Nowhere near his tolerance.

"I shouldn't have left you," Len whispers, and Mick understands that he blames himself.

Talking that out takes the rest of the evening.

They're sick the next day - even drinking slow, that's a lot of liquor - but they keep going. Scab after scab, wound after wound, until they've lanced every boil, till they're back to equilibrium.

Hot and cold, fire and ice. Balanced.

"So," Mick says, as they put back the bottles. "Sara, huh? Thinking about her as a third?"

They've been looking for a while. They've always worked better with a third, someone to keep company with when Mick burns too hot or Len goes too cold, someone to remind them they don't want to split apart, but they've never found someone worth keeping. Mick's content to let Len do the footwork; he's far more charming.

"I was," Len admits. "But she's pretty tied up with her new gig with the timeline, and I think we've both had enough of that."

Mick nods, not disagreeing.

The next day, Len gets to planning their next job. Seriously, this time. "Need to get our grove back before we go up against the Flash again," he says, grinning.

The first heist - Coast City - goes well enough. Not great - even Mick has to admit it's a little boring without having to account for the Flash - but well enough.

The next one - in Bludhaven - goes great. Mick rediscovers the joy in getting one over the cops, Len gets to indulge his taste for violence

(The Oculus didn't let you move, Len explained; not frozen but limp, forever and always. Some days he wakes up certain that he’s still there, for all that Mick shoves books about sleep paralysis at him.)

Mick's dragging his feet about going to pick up Ginny, afraid of nightmares, so one day Len sets up a nice burn for him - picnic blanket, giant bonfire tended to by other people, singing and dancing, some holiday of Len's that Mick loves - and does it himself, which means Mick comes home to their warehouse and Len tells him she's in the basement.

"How did you find her?" Mick asks, amazed. Ginny, like all time ships, is designed for camouflage.

Len shrugs, a little abashedly. "Ever since the Oculus spun me through its core like a ball inside a washing machine, I have a good sense for things that go through the timeline. Like a weathervane. Or a compass."

Mick nods, doesn't comment, and goes to talk to Ginny.

That night, Len's the one with nightmares.

They don't talk about it again. It's not their way to, not without the drink and the excuse - not without an emergency.

An emergency is what happens a few months later, in April.

They're having a quiet day - Mick working on souping up their cycles, Len reading a fiction book for once - and then suddenly Len's head jerks up like he's heard an explosion.

"What's up?" Mick asks, reaching for the gun sitting within reach - always within reach.

He's expecting many things - anything from the Flash to time pirates and back - but Len shakes his head and jumps to his feet, eyes wide with panic.

"The timeline," he says. "We need - guns, and to the basement. Now!"

They go.

At Mick's instruction, Ginny puts up her strongest shields, the ones that have never even been tested, designed to hold off an Oculus blast if need be. (Mick had designed them in his head in those long, painful months without Len, installing them only recently.)

Just as Ginny confirms that they are in place, the timestream surrounds them.

"Did we take off?" Mick asks, staring at the green swirls out of the window, which had previously shown nothing but dirty concrete walls.

"No," Len says grimly. "The timestream came to us."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know. Someone is shaking the foundations of the world and re-writing them."

"An aberration?"

"No, worse. They're actually changing the entire course of the timestream. Reality itself."

"Will we be affected?"

Len puts his hand against the window pane. A curl of blue light within the green reaches back, brushing the pane from the outside almost lovingly, a caress from a dear friend.

"No," he says, and his eyes are strange and not the color they were a moment ago. "Our shields will hold, I think. But the world..."

"Shit," Mick says feelingly. He rather liked the world.

He hoped what they found when they went out wouldn't be too bad.

The time storm lasts the whole night - they curl together in Kronos' bed; Mick rewriting his terrible history in the eerie blue glow of Len's eyes - and in the morning they come out to find...

"An evil dictatorship," Len says flatly.

"Should've guessed, really," Mick agrees.

"They call their centralized organization that runs the world Doomworld. They're not even trying to be subtle!"

Mick picks up a newspaper while Len's ranting. He hums. "Looks like some guy calling himself Lord Eobard Thawne solved global warming, though."

"Well, yeah; what's the point of making your own universe if it sinks in a few years, I guess. Wait, Lord? How goddamn pretentious. What do we know about him?"

Mick grins. "You're going to like this," he says.

Len arches an eyebrow. "Changed universe," he reminds Mick. "I don't think I'm going to like any of it."

"This you will."

"Fine; I'll bite. What is it?"

Mick hands him the newspaper. "Eobard Thawne is a speedster."

Len pauses even as he takes the newspaper and spreads it before him.

"You're right," he murmurs, looking at the full-page spread showing Thawne running in a streak of red light. "I do like this."

-------------------------------------------------------

The world, they find, hasn't changed all that much.

Really.

The Particle Accelerator still happened, for one thing; the Flash's exploits, for another. Star City is still - well, a raging dumpster fire, but that's normal for Star City.

Honestly, the only thing that's changed is the almost phlegmatic way everybody accepts Doomworld and what Len has taken to snidely calling the Terrible Trio – Eobard Thawne, Damien Darkh, and Malcolm Merlyn – as their evil overlords.

Oh, there's a resistance, of course - what evil overlord dreamland doesn't have a nice little resistance to hunt down and destroy at their leisure? - but it's not much to look at.

"They don't even appreciate a challenge," Len grumbles.

"Pathetic," Mick agrees.

They can't find the Flash anywhere, and it seems like Sara is now a brainwashed death-squad member. They haven't see any of the other Legends, but guesses weren't good.

"Haircut might be able to make something to fix the brainwashing," Mick suggests. "If we can find him."

"Maybe," Len says, watching Sara and a black girl he doesn't recognize prance around in black leather and lethal smiles. "But if these assholes will dress them up like fetish models, I don't know if we can afford to wait for him to build something."

Mick nods grimly. That hadn't occurred to him, but it should have.

He doesn’t like the blank way Felicity Smoak smiles from her position standing behind Malcolm Merlyn in the newspaper photos much, either. She’d been nice. She deserved better than being a supervillain evil overlord's secretary.

"So," Mick says. It's a question.

"Yes," Len says. It's an answer.

That's all they need to say to each other, after all these years. They might be villains, sure, but they didn't work with the Families and they didn't truck with people who exploited power to cause others pain.

And they certainly didn't permit it in their city now that they were supervillains.

"He'd better not have killed the Flash," Len mutters darkly. "I liked him."

"There's got to be a way to fix this," Mick says. It's more hope than anything else - that timestream flood had been something new. Different. Scary.

Even Kronos had never heard anything like it.

But it makes Len nod, more determined than ever.

In the end, it takes them ten days, most of which was spent planning for contingencies.

They go to Star City, where Damian Darkh makes his home. The main hub of Doomworld is where the old STAR Labs used to be in Central, of course, but Darkh clearly had a grudge against the Star City vigilantes, or he wouldn't have made himself the mayor of a fairly insignificant city or sent his death squads against them - luckily, those he already captured were sentenced to public executions which had yet to take place.

Darkh is expecting heroes to attack, that much is clear with the obvious guards and shields. But he hasn't discounted the threat potentially posed by his fellow Doomworld leaders - he also has defenses against sneak attacks (Merlyn) or speedsters (Eobard).

He doesn't have any proper defenses against a clever thief who's happy to distract him with a smile and a story while his partner ices him in the back.

(Mick's few extra months of being a Legend were very useful - Darkh is so eager to use him against the others, he forgets about Mick's poor, dead partner.)

Once Darkh is dead, it's easy enough to call in Merlyn, nominally for a meeting, only for Mick to light the whole waiting room he's in on fire.

Merlyn really shouldn't have spent all that time on defenses to magical and sword attacks. Acknowledging diversity can change your life - or save it, in this case. Even if it is only diversity in styles of killing people.

"Two down," Mick says.

"One to go."

They return to Central even as word spreads of the two deaths in Star City.

Thawne is expecting them - generally, anyway. He's a little surprised to find them already waiting in his throne room.

"Captain Cold and Heatwave," he says ingratiatingly, clearly willing to play the cards he has with a slick snake-oil salesman's smile. "Welcome. It appears you've done me a favor. What reward -"

"This city is ours," Len says, and fires.

Thawne dodges.

"You don't want power?" he asks. "You could take Merlyn and Darkh's places -"

"I don't want to rule the world," Len says, firing again. Thawne dodges like it's nothing and the shot goes wide of the mark.

"Pity you won't listen to reason," Thawne says with a smirk, and charges straight at Len, hands buzzing like chainsaws.

The sound he makes when he's yoinked into Scudder's mirror-world is honest-to-god hilarious.

"Payment time," Scudder says, appearing on the outside of the mirror.

"Not yet," Len says, stepping out from the side of the room where he'd been play-acting for Scudder's mirrors. He aims his gun and freezes the mirror. If Scudder's right, and Len does trust him to know his own powers, then in just a moment -

The mirror shatters and Thawne staggers out, totally disoriented. That disorientation means he doesn't dodge or run, leaving him open to be hit dead on by the blast of Lisa's spare gold gun.

Mick's idea, since Lisa's off in the Caribbean, relaxing. No one ever expects Mick to use anything but fire, especially not now.

Speedsters can shake off a lot. Gold plating? A little trickier. Thawne will have to figure out the vibrating frequency of gold before he can escape that.

Len doesn't give him a chance to do that. He ices the gold statute and shatters it into a hundred pieces.

"Payment," Scudder insists.

"I'm sorry I tried to kill you," Len recites through gritted teeth. A deal's a deal, no matter how dumb. "And the rest of the stash that I owe you is in the place on Willow Street."

Scudder studies him suspiciously. "And you won't try to kill me or Rosa again?"

"Don't date and then cheat on my sister again," Len shoots back. “Either of you.”

"...right," Scudder says, wincing in acknowledgment. "Me and Rosa are moving to Star City. No hard feelings?"

"Good luck with Star City," Mick says, swapping out the gold gun for his own heat gun to start melting the remaining gold pieces. His tone is final. Scudder makes like a tree and leaves.

Len hopes he also makes like a mirror and reflects, but he doubts it.

"So, that's that," Mick says.

"Good riddance," Len agrees. "Now the world can go back to normal."

Now that the threat is gone, they can restore the Legends and get them to fix the time stream.

No problem.

"Sir," someone says from the door. There's a small crowd of people in business suits.

"What?" Len asks.

"I suppose the first order of business is, how would you like to be addressed?" one of them asks.

"Addressed?"

"As the new leaders of Doomworld," the person clarifies.

Len and Mick exchange horrified looks.

Maybe not 'no problem'.

It turns out the entire system of Doomworld relies on there being an evil overlord, a role that can be obtained by murdering any of the three existing leaders. Since Len and Mick did the murdering, the role falls to them.

"That's a terrible system of inheritance!" Len exclaims. "Is everyone going to be gunning for us, now?"

"No, no," the chief bureaucrat says soothingly. "It only applied to the original three – Lord Thawne, Master Darkh, and Ra’s al Ghul, also called Lord Merlyn."

"Wait. Only them? But why?!"

"They were all planning on getting each other," Mick says.

"Of all the stupid..."

"What's the consequences if we don't do it?" Mick asks the guy.

The list is - very, very long.

The Terrible Trio had been very thorough. They ruled the whole world, not just parts of North America - the world was now under a unified world government, all of which referred to and was subject to the great big administrative body which was Doomworld. Doomworld was designed to fall apart without an overlord. If Doomworld fell apart -

World war.

"You've got to be kidding me," Mick says flatly.

"Afraid not," Len drawls. He's regained his cool. "Don't worry, Mick; it's just until the Legends fix it, right?"

"...right."

"Oh, and there's the matter of the personal inheritance," the bureaucrat says.

"Personal?"

"Yes, of course. Lord Thawne's pet."

"A speedster with a pet," Len says, looking amused. "What is it? A cheetah? Peregrine falcon?"

The bureaucrat nods at the doorway, where Barry Allen is being lead in by a leash attached to some sort of high-tech looking collar. "Another speedster," the bureaucrat says.

Len gapes.

Mick gapes.

Barry rubs behind his head. "Uh," he says. "Hi, guys?"

This is a serious problem.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"So let me get this straight," Len says. His voice is cool, but Barry can tell he's incredibly pissed off. "You have to obey the leaders of Doomworld - currently us."

"Yep," Barry confirms.

"And you need to be in physical contact of some sort with us for at least an hour a day or else you're in agony from the collar that none of us can remove, not even with our guns." Len sounds positively murderous.

"Eobard didn't get to do anything," Barry assures him. "He was too bust plotting against Merlyn and Darkh - he thought they were going to team up against him - so he just liked making me beg for him to touch me and then, uh, petting my head."

"Creep," Mick grumbles.

"I don't disagree," Barry says rather fervently.

"So how much do you remember of the timeline?" Len asks.

"Enough to know it changed," Barry says. "The speed force protected me from losing my memories."

"Right," Mick says. "Ramon ought to have the same, right?"

Barry makes a face. "They made him a millionaire," he says ruefully. "It might take a while before he remembers everything."

"We'll call him and get him to remove the collar," Len says firmly. "You can't possibly stay like this."

"Of course not," Barry agreed.

Unfortunately, Cisco refused to be found. His secretary apologized, then announced he was busy, then admits he's on a trip - not due back for a few more days. No way for him to return early, sorry.

"This is ridiculous," Len says.

Barry agrees, trying to hide his restless fidgeting. He was going to need that physical contact soon, but he didn't want to pressure the two supervillains who were currently in the middle of saving the world.

Mick's hand falls on Barry's shoulder.

All of Barry's muscles go slack with beautiful, wonderful release. He sighs happily.

"Appreciate it if you mention it next time," Mick says. "Don't want you to suffer."

"You try to light me on fire on a regular basis," Barry reminds him.

Mick shrugs. "That's for fun. This is just creepy."

Barry has to agree. Obeying Eobard Thawne - who took great pleasure in bringing up Flashpoint and force-feeding Barry Big Belly Burger for days on end - was not his idea of fun. Fighting Len and Mick was - closer.

Especially since Barry and Len made their deal, and then they went on the trip with the Legends. Mick had been really helpful for fighting the aliens.

Mick leaves his hand there as long as possible, but eventually he just yanks Barry onto the couch, squished right between him and Len. It's blissful. Barry could nap. Barry might nap.

"This isn't good," Len says.

Barry cracks an eye open.

Len has been studying paperwork all evening. Barry had assumed it was for a heist.

"What isn't good?"

"All that work for a unified world government," Len says, looking disgruntled, "and no one's worked out a way to feed the parts of the world with famine? We're going to have an uprising calling for our heads - mine and Mick, that is, since they were brainwashed into loving the first trio - if we don't solve this."

"That's bad," Barry acknowledges. If Len and Mick died before they solved his collar problem, his 'ownership' would transfer to...well, Barry doesn't want to find out. Not to mention avoiding war and famine! "How do we fix it?"

"We need to buy time," Len says, reaching up to rub his eyes. "Mick and I, we left the Legends before any of this happened, so we don't know what doohickey the Terrible Trio used to fix the world up."

"You didn't check before killing them?"

"No time with the speedster," Len says. "And Darkh had Sara brainwashed to be obedient - except she was prancing around in skin-tight leather. We didn't want her to suffer."

"Merlyn had some of the Star City squad," Mick puts in. His eyes are still hot with anger. "Felicity."

Barry nods. "So you took them out."

"It seemed wise to prioritize that," Len says. "Now we just need to get the Legends to tell us what they were doing so we can reverse it."

Barry nods again. "Makes sense. Where are they?"

"Sara's in Star City and we've, uh, summoned her. But the others? No clue."

"We haven't really had time to look," Mick grumbles. "Stupid evil overlordship."

"I can go look for them," Barry offers. "I mean, I'm your, uh, pet. I probably have enough authority to get them to come with me. And I'll be much faster."

"What about your physical contact issue?"

"I'll run back and we can do it, then I set out again," Barry says. "I'm fast enough that it won't really lose that much time."

"I'm not sure we'll have time," Len says, shuffling through the papers. His drawl has dropped off almost entirely, which Barry takes to mean that he's really worried. "If we want the machinery of Doomworld to keep working and not dissolve into world war around us, we have to spend a fair bit of time 'receiving' an audience. While sitting on - no. No. They did not name it that."

"What?" Mick asks.

Barry sniggers. He knows what Len found.

"What?" Mick says again, looking between the two of them, Len's exaggerated horror and Barry's shit-eating grin. "What is it? What'd they name it?"

"I think," Barry says with relish, "that he's talking about your Throne of Darkness."

Mick stares for a second and then puts his head in his hands. "I need a drink."

Barry reaches out and presses a hidden button the way Eobard always used to.

A person appears, wearing a Doomworld uniform, looking inquisitive.

"Bring alcohol," Barry instructs. "Including some of that stuff Eobard was always drinking. Oh, and lots of dinner. Thanks!"

The person nods and retreats as silently as they came.

Barry smiles, pleased.

Len and Mick are both staring at him in disbelief.

"What?" Barry says. "You have to play the role until the Legends fix this, right? Might as well enjoy some of the perks."

Besides, ever since Eobard said he'd changed the fabric of reality to create a type of alcohol that actually worked on speedsters, Barry has been dying to try it.

"Oh, god," Len drawls. "We've shacked up with an optimist."

"We're fucked," Mick agrees.

"You're both drama queens, that's what you are," Barry tells them.

---------------------------------------------------------

Mick's amazed that the system works as well as it does. Both generally - the administrative body that really runs Doomworld is seriously insane - and interpersonally, with Barry.

Barry runs out every morning to go search for the Legends, which takes some doing - they don't know what city they're in, or if they're under a different name, and at any rate they don't know how to fix their brainwashing anyway - and comes back around noon for lunch and to spend a few hours sitting at their feet at the Throne of Darkness, which is apparently an entire gigantic hall in which the leaders of Doomworld listen to problems and rule on them like Hollywood's idea of fantasy universe monarchy.

Barry says he's much more okay with the whole thing now that there are pillows. He refuses to take the third throne, saying it's better to be underestimated and also it would keep him from leaning against their legs and getting his hair petted, all the physical contact his collar requires.

Mick suspects he just likes having his hair petted.

This suspicion is borne out by how often Barry just so happens to ‘accidentally’ cuddle himself around Len, who can be counted on to fold like a house of cards at the merest suggestion that Barry could use some more contact, even though he has clearly met his quota for the day.

Len provisionally gives the third throne to Lisa, who point-blank refuses to return from her Caribbean vacation to do paperwork.

Mick is unsurprised. Paperwork sucks, even when he has Barry to help speed-read it and Len to help make decisions. Not that Len can always help - there's so much to do, they've decided to split it.

The relief on the faces of the Doomworld bureaucrats is noticeable. Apparently the Terrible Trio had created the structure to rule the world and then promptly dicked around instead of actually ruling it, with a side order of prompt execution if someone pestered them too long about doing their fucking jobs.

It’s a lot of work, ruling the world.

Mick does get to put in place a few committees to take his rough ideas about the criminal justice and mental health system to flesh out into actual proposals. He’s kind of hoping to see what they come up with before they fix the world and go back to normal.

(Barry is sitting next to Mick and Mick’s got an arm slung over his shoulders, his fingers on the back of Barry’s neck, kneading the tense muscles there a little. Barry sighs with happiness. Mick suspects he’s being used for backrubs.)

Turns out someone ended up making Ray a janitor, of all things.

He’s still a mechanical genius, though, so he has a couple of ideas that could result in a mental ‘realignment’ for people who have been brainwashed. Unfortunately, like most ideas, it was still in the beta testing stages.

Mick’s all in favor of getting him to finish that as soon as possible, with the assistance of Felicity and everyone else who had an interest in technology assigned to prioritize that project.

Meeting Sara had just been…creepy.

She and her partner – Amaya Jiwe – had swanned in and flirted their asses off, but not in the way Sara normally flirted. More like bad Bond girl flirting.

Len dismissed them very quickly.

“I liked her,” Len said plaintively afterwards. “I don’t like this her.”

Barry puts a hand on his knee. “We’ll fix her.” He hesitates. “When you say you liked her…”

“I was considering if she’d like to join me and Mick for an ongoing threesome,” Len clarifies. “It didn’t work out, as it happens.”

Barry’s eyebrows go up.

So does the placement of his hand on Len’s thigh.

“We’re looking for a permanent third,” Mick says, watching with interest as Barry’s hand creeps up. “Someone who likes us both.”

“Both,” Barry says nodding. “Very important. Actually…”

“Whatever happened to Iris West?” Mick asks. Pointedly.

Barry’s shoulders droop. “Eddie Thawne is alive,” he says. “So that Eobard Thawne can be alive. Iris doesn’t even remember we dated.”

“She’ll remember once we fix the world,” Len says soothingly. He hasn’t noticed the hand, because he’s an oblivious idiot – all physical contact is the same to him: initially terrifying until he’s given himself permission to accept it, at which point he doesn’t really notice nuance. It’s amazing he’s as good at flirting as he is, given that he doesn’t notice when it’s happening to him.

“I don’t want Eddie to die again,” Barry objects. “He was – he is – a really good guy.”

“You thinking of shaking up with both of them?”

“Iris is a one-true-love sort of person,” Barry says with a sigh. “Even if she liked me, she’d liked Eddie first and…well. She got together with me because everyone seemed to expect us to, and she grew to love me more and more along the way, because she’s amazing like that. But if she had a chance with Eddie…well. Iris can be my anchor without being my girlfriend. Or wife.”

“Ouch,” Len says.

“Yeah,” Barry agrees. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“So you’re not a one true love sort of person,” Mick says. Also pointedly.

“No, not really,” Barry says. “I’m pretty open to, uh, new ideas.” He pets Len’s thigh again, looking hopefully at Mick like he’ll come closer.

“Red,” Mick says. “If you want to play ‘the evil overlords take advantage of their spoiled pet’, you could just ask.”

Barry blushes tomato-red. “Uh,” he says.

"We'd be into it," Mick adds.

Barry grins crookedly. “Well. I mean. In that case…”

“No one is having sex with anyone until that collar comes off,” Len says.

Barry’s shoulders droop. “Why not?” he whines.

Mick agrees. He’s pretty close to whining himself. “Lenny…”

“We don’t know if he’ll feel the same way after it’s off,” Len says, and his voice has a tone of finality. “It could have features we don’t know about.”

“I promise I never even once thought about Eobard that way,” Barry says, looking nauseous. “He was, like, my mentor.”

“Ask again after your collar is off and we’ll see.”

Barry pouts. “Fine,” he says, and starts pulling his hand away.

“You can still feel me up,” Len clarifies. “We’re just not doing anything else.”

Barry grins.

“So, Len,” Mick drawls. “Barry, huh? You thinking of him as a third?”

“For longer than I’m going to admit,” Len concedes cheerfully.

“Good,” Barry says.

------------------------------------------------------------

Len is going to murder Cisco Ramon.

Well, he would, if he could goddamn locate the guy.

Mick has taken to feeding grapes to Barry while they’re on their throne. Barry has taken to lounging in increasingly suggestive positions.

Len is now beset by two people complaining about the lack of “evil villain despoils the intrepid hero” roleplaying going on.

And it’s not that he’s not interested – he is, far too much; he’s been trying to think of a good way to explain that supervillain vs. superhero fights are actually his terrible method of flirting to Barry for months prior to the trip with the Legends – it’s that he actually does have some morals in there. Somewhere.

He’s currently regretting that, but oh well.

Ray and Felicity can’t help with the collar, though they tried.

“It follows absolutely zero logic,” Felicity says, frustrated. “It’s like…”

“Someone just thought it up into existence?” Len asks.

“Yes! Exactly!”

Len sighs.

“We’re working very hard on the memory restoring device, though,” Ray says.

“Right,” Len says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s going to develop a headache, he just knows it. “And how is your vigilante boyfriend doing?”

“Vigilante boyfriend?” Felicity laughs nervously. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I mean, vigilante boyfriend. Sounds like something out of a comic book.”

“Or a movie,” Ray adds.

“Or a movie based on a comic book!”

“Or an animated television show inspired by a movie which is based on a –”

“I know that Oliver Queen is hiding in the rafters as we speak,” Len interrupts. Yep, headache, right on time. “Also, both of you have your shirts on inside out. I don’t mind if you take off some time to canoodle with the vigilante boyfriend who – let me remind you – I have pardoned. Just don’t let it interfere with your work.”

“Don’t worry,” Felicity assures him. “It’s been very inspiring. I mean, moving. Uh. I mean…”

“Just…stop.”

Len goes and has his secretary call Cisco Ramon again.

Still no luck.

Murder.

Where the hell is this guy?

The sooner he gets Miracle Inventor Man in his grasp, the sooner he can stop ruling the world.

Well, the sooner he can sleep with his husband and their new pet (not the kink he would've expected Barry to have, but he's very pleased regardless) and then stop ruling the world.

Priorities.

Len hasn’t even had a chance to steal something in ages.

Maybe he should take up the offer from the guy over in Metropolis to let him take over some of the running-the-world business…running a gigantic corporation has to be better experience for running the world than high-end theft, right…?

That’s when Len gets ambushed.

By heroes.

“What the fuck even,” Len says flatly, his back against the wall, gun up and out and at ready.

It’s Ramon, of course, and Caitlin Snow (wearing some weird get-up and with white hair) and Kid Flash – what was his name again? – and Iris West and Joe West and Eddie Thawne and some guy who looks like Harrison Wells but god only knows what he goes by or what universe he’s from; Len’s stopped counting. They’re all pointing various types of tech at him, which given Ramon’s capabilities, Len isn’t going to question.

“You need to let Barry go,” Ramon says.

“Are you kidding me?” Len exclaims. “I’ve been calling you for three weeks trying to get you to help me do just that! Your secretary kept saying you were busy!”

The whole group looks taken aback.

“I know you’ve been trying to get me to come in,” Ramon says cautiously. “I thought you wanted to take me out.”

“If I wanted to take you out, I’d send the death squad I inherited from Darkh,” Len says. “I want you to come help me fix Barry’s collar.”

“We’re not helping you fix Barry’s collar!” Iris exclaims.

“To get him out of it,” Len says, aiming for slow and loud and very clear since he’s clearly dealing with idiots. “Thawne put him in it; I want him out. It’s creepy.”

“He sits at your throne –”

“He needs a certain amount of physical contact a day or the collar shocks him, and I need to look evil overlord enough to make this whole system not collapse,” Len says. “It’s mutually beneficial.”

“If you’ve taken advantage –” Joe starts.

“He’s the one who’s flirting, not me,” Len shoots back.

“He is not!”

“Can we just get his collar off?” Len demands. "Then we can defer to his opinions on the subject."

“How do we know this isn’t a trick?” Cisco demands.

Len grinds his teeth. “Because –” he starts.

He doesn’t get a chance to finish, because there’s a familiar flash of lightning and suddenly Barry is standing there, blinking at all of them.

"Uh, hi, guys," Barry says. "...why are you pointing guns at Snart?"

"He's keeping you as a pet!" Joe exclaims.

Barry blushes.

"Clearly that part isn't the issue," Iris says dryly.

"...no," Barry squeaks. "But, uh, this collar..."

"I'm on it, man," Cisco says. Then he glances at Len. "Uh. Sorry for missing your calls and assuming you were out to kill me."

Len waves his hand. Bygones, bygones... "Actually, can you also fix the device for the Legends' memories?" he asks. "I want to not rule the world anymore."

"Really?" Iris asks.

"It's mostly paperwork."

"Huh," she says. "I could do a story about that -"

"Iris!" Joe snaps.

"- but will definitely wait to do that until after we finish rescuing Barry," she hastily concludes.

Cisco goes into a huddle with Ray and Felicity.

The other would-be rescuers get served coffee. They seems somewhat bewildered.

After an hour or so of awkwardness, Len decides to recruit them to doing his paperwork.

Mick wanders in a little later, only to stop and stare.

"What?" Len asks.

"The boys told me you'd been ambushed by the resistance and that you'd instead recruited them into doing your paperwork," Mick says, starting to grin. "Hadn't realized they were being serious."

"You seriously need to improve medical care globally," Caitlin says, nose buried in a pile of papers.

"Congrats, you're now in charge of that committee."

"What? No. I'm evil now! My name is Killer Frost!"

"Perfect for an evil overlord's chief henchwoman of medicine," Len replies. "Not seeing the issue."

She opens her mouth.

"Or are you suggesting that a position of great power and influence isn't sufficiently evil?"

"I - guess?" she says. "I feel like there's a flaw in that logic..."

"Nah, not at all," Mick says. "You're overthinking it. Have you testing what goes colder, cold gun or ice powers yet?"

"We should do that," Len says.

"Not in here, please," the long-suffering chamberlain says.

Len is convinced he has the meta ability to appear whenever anyone mentions destruction of property.

What? It’s possible. This is Central City...

---------------------------------------------------------

With Cisco's help, they get the collar off in three days.

Barry whoops and hugs him. "Thank you! You're a lifesaver, man!"

"The only thing I'm saving you from is your inability to get laid," Cisco replies, rolling his eyes, but he's grinning broadly. "Better yet, I fixed the brainwashing machine."

"Even better," Barry enthuses. "When..?"

"The Legends should be remembering their original timelines as we speak."

"That means Len will be in a great mood," Barry decides.

"TMI," Cisco immediately says. "So much TMI."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Still TMI!"

Barry sticks out his tongue and goes to run down Len and Mick.

Who do not look happy.

"What's the matter?" Barry asks.

"They don't know how to fix it," Len says. He's glaring.

"We have some ideas..?" the new guy - Nate? - says sheepishly.

"Do you even know where this so-called Spear of Destiny is?" Mick asks, not sounding impressed.

"Uh..."

Mick and Len make identical expressions that signify oncoming headaches and/or homicide.

"But they'll go look for it right now, right?" Barry says hastily. "No need to worry, Len; they'll figure it out. Won't take more than another month or two."

"Right," Sara says, eying the two world leaders-slash-supervillains like one might eye an unexploded bomb. "Sure, we'll get right on it."

"We need to make sure we keep some of the good aspects, after all," Barry says, going to Len and Mick and leading them away from the Legends. The Legends take the hint and scoot away at speed. Barry's sure Len and Mick will be happier to see them once the whole "we're still ruling the world" thing has faded a bit.

Mostly sure. They really hate the paperwork.

(If Barry ushers them out a little faster than he might've otherwise, he is in no way admitting that 'we were considering Sara for a threesome' has anything to do with it.)

"I guess," Mick grumbles. "Global warming."

"World peace," Barry points out.

Len sighs. "Another month or two?"

"I'm sure," Barry lies. "Besides! Good news: the collar is off."

Suddenly, Barry has their full attention.

He's not going to lie, he rather likes it.

"Guess another month or two won't be too bad," Mick rumbles, his voice suddenly lower and a whole lot sexier.

"I think we'll find a way to keep busy," Len purrs in agreement.

Barry gulps.

Oh yeah. This is what he's talking about.

--------------------------------------------------------

(It takes more than two months.)

[thewrestlingmuse]

Thank You, Taker, Or What Wrestling Means To Me

(Originally posted to my Facebook shortly after Wrestlemania 33, now with revisions!)

I'm a pro wrestling fan. A huge one, and have been for a good part of my life. A lot of people don't understand why, or they just plain think it's ridiculous...but I want to tell you a story about my life, and how it was changed by a bunch of musclebound, sweaty men and women pretending to kill each other.

I was probably eight years old, give or take, the first time I watched a wrestling match--well, several wrestling matches. It was patently forbidden in our house, because my mother thought it killed brain cells and was overly violent. Dad, however, liked it, and he'd sneak it when he could get away with it. I can't tell you which classic program I saw, but I can tell you the promotion and the wrestlers that made an impression: it was a WWF show, featuring the likes of the Road Warriors, Hulk Hogan, and the Undertaker.

These were the three matches that stuck with me. There were others, and I don’t think I sat still for the whole program. Still, I remember being awed and a little scared by the vicious Road Warriors stomping to the ring in their spiked shoulder pads, with their crazy hair and face paint. I remember the charismatic Hulk Hogan, resplendent in his red and yellow, who made me a raging Hulkamaniac with his smiles, his fury, and his flexing.

However, the one wrestler that stuck with me on a primitive level was the Undertaker. His eerie music made me wary, and it was during this period that he was stuffing his fallen opponents into body bags after the match. I remember an interview with the shrill and spooky Paul Bearer, just before the Undertaker spoke up from beneath the brim of his hat. He was a pale giant with evil in his eye and a voice as deep as grave dirt. Yes, the ghoulish Paul Bearer could control him with that powerful brass urn, but the Undertaker moved with purpose and conviction...he was more than an instrument of his manager, he enjoyed those battles.

He was a monster, and he was terrifying.

I never forgot him, not for the rest of my life. That walking corpse with the dead gaze chilled my blood even seven years later, when wrestling came up in our house again. My mother had been gone for two years now, so there was no hiding: only Dad in his favorite chair, looking both puzzled and frankly upset as he announced that he wasn't sure he liked Hulk Hogan anymore.

"What?!" I asked, incredulous. Everyone liked Hulk Hogan, even people who didn't know wrestling! I loved Hulk Hogan!

"Dad, why?"

"Because he's a bad guy now."

That was the night I watched WCW Monday Nitro for the very first time, bearing witness to the aftermath of the single most shocking and memorable heel turn in professional wrestling history. Nothing stopped me from going straight down the rabbit hole, and with the grief that haunted me, the troubled sibling that terrorized me, and the single parent that was just absent enough to give me my head, I marked out hard. Greedily, I tumbled into the heart of every storyline when I tuned in. I scoffed at the nWo and cheered Sting’s visits from the rafters. I was especially enchanted by the enigma of Diamond Dallas Page, not because he was older and smaller than most of the other wrestlers, but because he represented a new breed of the Hogan Era. He worked hard, he never gave up, and he fought for his dreams, but he did so with a practicality and a pragmatism I aspired to. Determination, drive, and desire weren’t lofty or unattainable: they were there for the taking. Heroes were just people, and I could be one, too.

I bought the magazines with carefully saved lunch money. I’d have bought way more merchandise if I hadn’t been so broke. I loved professional wrestling on its surface unironically and with a passion, and while I had no real insider knowledge, I knew it was athletic entertainment.

Still, for the better part of a year, WCW owned my soul. However, I finally got curious about the WWF...so I eventually started switching back and forth on Monday nights.

And wouldn't you know, the Undertaker was right there.

I read about him a little in the magazines, and he was still a terrifying sight, but it wasn't until I tuned in that I saw he wasn't the same soulless monster that struck fear into my heart as a young child. No, the Undertaker was very much a man, one with a dark past and demons that lived within him. He'd lost his mother as a child, the same way I had, and there were monsters in his life that even he couldn't slay: a brother that wouldn't let him walk away from a fight, tragedy he couldn't escape, and the conniving Paul Bearer, once a valued friend and father figure, had turned his back on the Undertaker and began using his own demons to control him instead of the sacred power contained within that magical brass urn. Through it all, he drew strength and an otherworldly power from his pain and darkness to become feared, adored, and absolutely unstoppable.

The war with the nWo fell swiftly away in the wake of that. This man had suffered just like me, and he'd become a superhero. As thrilling as the physical battles were, as impressive as his athleticism and agility for a man of his size proved to be, more than anything I saw myself in this man. I saw my heartache, I saw my struggle, and I ached to rise the way he had...the way he did every time he was beaten down in the ring.

I wanted to be able to sit up, like the corpse come to life. I wanted to shut the casket lid on my fallen enemies. I wanted, more than anything, to find as much power in my pain as the Undertaker had.

Very soon, the fate of the WCW became secondary to the struggle of the Undertaker. I was one of his faithful creatures of the night as he was finally driven into battle against his own brother, and I watched as those wars stripped him of his soul. Even as he rose to lead the Ministry of Darkness in a hellish siege against the WWF, I sat horrified by his actions against the innocent Stephanie McMahon...and while I reviled the heel he had become, I still found a smile on my face every time his entrance music played.

The years passed, and I not only grew older, I grew wiser. I became more of a smark, a smart mark or educated fan, and through heel turns and face runs, the Undertaker was always my guy. I drifted away and back from wrestling as the eras passed and the industry changed, and learning more about the way things worked only made me love the Undertaker more. The man behind him, Mark Callaway, wrestled zealously through ungodly injuries because he was old school at heart, a warrior in his soul. He was loyal when he was so over with the fans, he could have written his own ticket. He was so devoted to the business, and to the man who put him on the map, that he became the unofficial man in charge in the locker room,

And on top of it all, Mark Calaway breathed life and color into a character that I turned to in my darkest hours so I could stand against my own hardships with my back just a little bit straighter. Through family conflict, financial ruin, personal catastrophe, and even sexual mistreatment, I would think of those cold, remorseless eyes, the square of his shoulders, and I would fight to stand like the Undertaker, be he the tortured Dead Man, the Lord of Darkness who ruled the Ministry, the big dog of the yard calling himself the American Badass, or The Last Outlaw still quick on the draw after twenty plus years in the wilds of the squared circle. By any name, in any costume, Mark Calaway was a dazzling athlete, and the Undertaker was never less than the stuff of legend.

Heel or face, new or old, no matter the era, the clang of that ominous gong and the haunting strains of a funeral dirge filled me not with fear and dread, but with strength and even hope.

Because you can't stop someone with nothing left to lose: you can't kill a dead man.

Tonight, as I watched Wrestlemania, I watched as the Undertaker was laid to rest in the middle of the ring, and as Mark Calaway walked down that ramp for the very last time. He went out the way he wanted, he said goodbye...then he kissed his wife and stepped into legend.

After he got pinned, I watched the walking corpse slip his jacket and wide brimmed hat back on.

Then I watched as that otherwordly man with the black heart and the painful past carefully removed his fighting gloves and laid them in the middle of the ring.

I watched the monstrous Lord of Darkness stand tall as he slipped off his long black coat, dusted it off, and folded it up.

I saw my hero remove his hat, and lay it atop both...and I watched that mythological creature become a man.

A man I respect, a man I admire, and a man to whom I am so grateful, I wept as I watched him walk away for the last time.

I'm not ready to say goodbye. I never will be, but Mark Calaway has shed enough blood, sweat, and tears. He's earned this, and I wish him all the best...but I will mourn this loss. Tonight, I mourned unabashedly as I wept while he laid the Undertaker to rest, and tomorrow I will mourn as I watch Monday Night Raw, wistfully realizing that the Reaper of Wayward Souls probably won't be there.

But when Roman Reigns appears, I'll pray they take advantage and turn him heel. When Tuesday night Smackdown hits, I'll turn to Bray Wyatt instead, and revel in his sinister exploits. I'll still mark out when a cool match turns up, and I'll find new heroes to cheer.

I will always and forever love watching a bunch of sweaty, musclebound men and women pretend to kill each other because they do more than toss each other around: when the right person and the right gimmick comes along, they can tell stories that make them into gods and heroes.

I love wrestling because of the Undertaker, and Mark Calaway, and tonight, I needed to cast my voice out into the void.

To Mark Calaway, from a grateful fan: thank you for being my hero.

Thank you for being the Undertaker.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Proverbs and Psalms

for friday, july 17 of 2020 with Proverbs 17 and Psalm 17 accompanied by Psalm 28 for the 28th day of Summer and Psalm 49 for day 199 of the year

[Proverbs 17]

Wisdom’s Virtues

A simple, humble life with peace and quiet

is far better than an opulent lifestyle with nothing

but quarrels and strife at home.

A wise, intelligent servant will be honored above a shameful son.

He’ll even end up having a portion left to him in his master’s will.

In the same way that gold and silver are refined by fire,

the Lord purifies your heart by the tests and trials of life.

Those eager to embrace evil listen to slander,

for a liar loves to listen to lies.

Mock the poor, will you?

You insult your Creator every time you do!

If you make fun of others’ misfortune,

you’d better watch out—your punishment is on its way.

Grandparents have the crowning glory of life:

grandchildren!

And it’s only proper for children to take pride in their parents.

It is not proper for a leader to lie and deceive,

and don’t expect excellent words to be spoken by a fool.

Wise instruction is like a costly gem.

It turns the impossible into success.

Love overlooks the mistakes of others,

but dwelling on the failures of others devastates friendships.

One word of correction breaks open a teachable heart,

but a fool can be corrected a hundred times

and still not know what hit him.

Rebellion thrives in an evil man,

so a messenger of vengeance will be sent to punish him.

It’s safer to meet a grizzly bear robbed of her cubs

than to confront a reckless fool.

The one who returns evil for good

can expect to be treated the same way for the rest of his life.

Don’t be one who is quick to quarrel,

for an argument is hard to stop,

and you never know how it will end,

so don’t even start down that road!

There is nothing God hates more

than condemning the one who is innocent

and acquitting the one who is guilty.

Why pay tuition to educate a fool?

For he has no intention of acquiring true wisdom.

A dear friend will love you no matter what,

and a family sticks together through all kinds of trouble.

It’s stupid to run up bills you’ll never be able to pay

or to cosign for the loan of your friend.

Save yourself the trouble and don’t do either one.

If you love to argue,

then you must be in love with sin.

For the one who loves to boast is only asking for trouble.

The one with a perverse heart never has anything good to say,

and the chronic liar tumbles into constant trouble.

Parents of a numskull will have many sorrows,

for there’s nothing about his lifestyle that will make them proud.

A joyful, cheerful heart brings healing to both body and soul.

But the one whose heart is crushed

struggles with sickness and depression.

When you take a secret bribe,

your actions reveal your true character,

for you pervert the ways of justice.

Even the face of a wise man shows his intelligence.

But the wandering eyes of a fool will look for wisdom everywhere

except right in front of his nose.

A father grieves over the foolishness of his child,

and bitter sorrow fills his mother.

It’s horrible to persecute a holy lover of God

or to strike an honorable man for his integrity!

Can you bridle your tongue when your heart is under pressure?

That’s how you show that you are wise.

An understanding heart keeps you cool, calm, and collected,

no matter what you’re facing.

When even a fool bites his tongue

he’s considered wise.

So shut your mouth when you are provoked—

it will make you look smart.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 17 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 17]

A David Prayer

Listen while I build my case, God,

the most honest prayer you’ll ever hear.

Show the world I’m innocent—

in your heart you know I am.

Go ahead, examine me from inside out,

surprise me in the middle of the night—

You’ll find I’m just what I say I am.

My words don’t run loose.

I’m not trying to get my way

in the world’s way.

I’m trying to get your way,

your Word’s way.

I’m staying on your trail;

I’m putting one foot

In front of the other.

I’m not giving up.

I call to you, God, because I’m sure of an answer.

So—answer! bend your ear! listen sharp!

Paint grace-graffiti on the fences;

take in your frightened children who

Are running from the neighborhood bullies

straight to you.

Keep your eye on me;

hide me under your cool wing feathers

From the wicked who are out to get me,

from mortal enemies closing in.

Their hearts are hard as nails,

their mouths blast hot air.

They are after me, nipping my heels,

determined to bring me down,

Lions ready to rip me apart,

young lions poised to pounce.

Up, God: beard them! break them!

By your sword, free me from their clutches;

Barehanded, God, break these mortals,

these flat-earth people who can’t think beyond today.

I’d like to see their bellies

swollen with famine food,

The weeds they’ve sown

harvested and baked into famine bread,

With second helpings for their children

and crusts for their babies to chew on.

And me? I plan on looking

you full in the face. When I get up,

I’ll see your full stature

and live heaven on earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 17 (The Message)

[Psalm 28]

A David Psalm

Don’t turn a deaf ear

when I call you, God.

If all I get from you is

deafening silence,

I’d be better off

in the Black Hole.

I’m letting you know what I need,

calling out for help

And lifting my arms

toward your inner sanctum.

Don’t shove me into

the same jail cell with those crooks,

With those who are

full-time employees of evil.

They talk a good line of “peace,”

then moonlight for the Devil.

Pay them back for what they’ve done,

for how bad they’ve been.

Pay them back for their long hours

in the Devil’s workshop;

Then cap it with a huge bonus.

Because they have no idea how God works

or what he is up to,

God will smash them to smithereens

and walk away from the ruins.

Blessed be God—

he heard me praying.

He proved he’s on my side;

I’ve thrown my lot in with him.

Now I’m jumping for joy,

and shouting and singing my thanks to him.

God is all strength for his people,

ample refuge for his chosen leader;

Save your people

and bless your heritage.

Care for them;

carry them like a good shepherd.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 28 (The Message)

[Psalm 49]

Wisdom Better Than Wealth

For the Pure and Shining One

A poetic song, by the prophetic singers of Korah’s clan

Listen, one and all!

Both rich and poor together, all over the world—

everyone listen to what I have to say!

For wisdom will come from my mouth;

words of insight and understanding will be heard

from the musings of my heart.

I will break open mysteries with my music,

and my song will release riddles solved.

There’s no reason to fear when troubling times come,

even when you’re surrounded with problems

and persecutors who chase at your heels.

They trust in their treasures and boast in their riches,

yet not one of them, though rich as a king,

could rescue his own brother from the guilt of his sins.

Not one could give God the ransom price

for the soul of another, let alone for himself.

A soul’s redemption is too costly and precious

for anyone to pay with earthly wealth.

The price to pay is never enough

to purchase eternal life for even one, to keep them out of hell.

The brightest and best, along with the foolish and senseless,

God sees that they all will die one day,

leaving their houses and wealth to others.

Even though they name streets and lands after themselves,

hoping to have their memory endure beyond the grave,

legends in their own minds,

their home address is now the cemetery!

The honor of man is short-lived and fleeting.

There’s little difference between man and beast,

for both will one day perish.

Such is the path of foolish men

and those who quote everything they say,

for they are here today and gone tomorrow!

Pause in his presence

A shepherd called “Death” herds them,

leading them like mindless sheep straight to hell.

Yet at daybreak you will find the righteous ruling in their place.

Every trace of them will be gone forever,

with all their “glory” lost in the darkness of their doom.

But I know the loving God will redeem my soul,

raising me up from the dark power of death,

taking me as his bridal partner.

Pause in his presence

So don’t be disturbed when you see the rich

surround you with the “glory” of their wealth on full display.

For when they die they will carry nothing with them,

and their riches will not follow them beyond the grave.

Though they have the greatest rewards of this world

and all applaud them for their accomplishments,

they will follow those who have gone before them

and go straight into the realm of darkness,

where they never ever see the light again.

So this is the way of mortal man—

honored for a moment, yet without eternal insight,

like a beast that will one day perish.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 49 (The Passion Translation)

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Trouble on the Way - Chapter 4/4 (Ao3 link) Fandom: The Flash, DC’s Legends of Tomorrow (total AU) Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart Series: Sequel to Bad Moon Rising Warning: explicit adult content

Summary: It occurs to Len that maybe he’s been willfully ignoring reality when it came to Mick’s new condition. Oh, sure, he’d done the basic research, the public stuff, but he’d been so determined not to make Mick feel like any more of a freak than he already did that he’d perhaps skimped a little on some of the details that were turning out to be more relevant than he’d originally thought.

Time to fix that.

A/N: Will only make sense if you’ve read the first one in the series, as it follows straight on it, but I think the first one is one of my best standalones, so I’m making this a sequel instead

An executive decision was made that (in the spirit of the first one) this series is going to be like a minimum of 70% kinky smut, because we can always use more of that in this fandom, so, uh, mind the full set of warnings on Ao3.

———————————————————————————–

Len slouches back against the wall of the bar, hand wrapped around a pint of beer. He's feeling pretty good, all things considered. Sure, the place is loud, rowdy, and smells bad, but the beer is surprisingly decent and the air isn't too smoky. He's found himself a nice corner where he can have his back safely to the wall and he’s all wrapped up in his parka and two layers beneath it, just as he likes it.

Both layers are actually Mick's, actually. Len would've had to be blind to miss how Mick kept sniffing at Len and smiling, especially when Len's in bed or sitting by Mick, not to mention his appreciative comments the day before about Len answering the door for him, so Len had made the obvious calculation and grabbed a button-down Mick had worn a few days ago and dug up an old sweater of Mick’s to go on top of it.

It’d been very successful.

He smirks, remembering how Mick's jaw dropped in a very satisfactory manner when Len strolled out wearing that get up and announced that they were going out to get a drink.

"You've got no fear, do you?" Mick said, shaking his head, getting up and heading towards Len. “Crazy bastard – it’s only the day after the moon –”

"You know you want to go," Len purred in response. "Wanna show me off, don't you?"

Mick groaned and dropped to his knees, crawling forward. "You drive me nuts, Snart," he growled.

Len gulped, watching Mick crawl to him. "Now, Mick," he half-heartedly protested. "We're meant to be heading out."

"Oh, we'll go out," Mick said, running his hands up Len's legs. "We'll go out all right. But I ain't gonna show you off; I don't need to. You're gonna show yourself off, aren't you? Control freak."

Len shrugs. He's a bit of a control freak, it's true.

Mick laughed. "I bet you will," he says fondly. "You're my prize, best in the box." He ducked his head, nuzzling Len's inseam, working his way up Len's inner thigh. "My partner," he rumbled. "Len..."

"I guess we can take a little extra time before going," Len conceded.

"Stick 'em up," Mick said. "And keep 'em there."

Len laced his fingers together behind his head.

"Good."

Mick's fingers made quick work of Len's jeans, popping open the button and unzipping, pulling Len out. He rubbed his cheek against Len’s cock, smirking as Len groaned, and then, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Len’s, Mick leaned down, forgoing any delicacy to wrap his lips around Len’s cock.

“Fuck,” Len croaked.

Mick hummed happily and just went for it. No neatness, no tricks, no subtlety, just Mick doing his goddamn best to drive Len insane.

Len’s knuckles went white keeping his hands behind his head. Turns out years of being able to hold that pose while being searched by angrily policemen who kept smacking at him with batons to try to lure him out of position so they’d have an excuse to beat an allegedly hostile suspect down is absolutely useless when it comes to resisting an amorous werewolf with a wicked sense of humor.

The worst part, of course, is that every time Len’s fingers so much as slipped even slightly out of position, Mick stopped until Len got them back into place.

The challenge somehow made it all the better.

Goddamn Mick. And he says Len's a control freak.

Of course, once Len was done, Mick had gotten all revved up, and well, Len firmly believes in the equality and reciprocity aspects of a good partnership.

Suffice it to say that it'd taken them a good extra hour to get out of the house.

Clearly the answer to Len’s introversion and dislike of loud, rowdy gatherings is to get him into an appropriately mellow post-orgasm-and-brief-nap languor. Len smiles at the memory and shifts a little in his chair. Time to change the direction of his thoughts or else he’d start having trouble sitting still.

Though the idea of pulling Mick into the bathroom for a quickie is intensely appealing...

A trail of iridescent bubbles float into Len’s face, forcing him to wave them off and glare at the offending nereid, who blushes and looks away.

On second thought, maybe this isn’t the right bar to be having quickies in. It's a super bar, which meant that the whole variety of supernatural creatures in Central was on display: wolves and vamps and dryads and selkies, everyone and everything.

No lightning spirits, but Len’s not surprised; the Flash had left a garbled voicemail on Len’s phone saying something about gorillas which Len isn’t touching with a ten-foot pole. Why the Flash is dealing with a zoo problem, Len doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know.

He suspects it’s because the Flash has been particularly protective - read: absurdly over-invested in everything - of Central City ever since his battle royale with that other lightning spirit had spurred on a large black whirling cyclone over the city, destroying large swathes of it. Some people had called it a black hole, which was just frankly ridiculous.

Magic is magic, but you get that close to a black hole, nothing’s going to help you, in Len’s view.

“What’re you thinking?” Mick asks, draining his own beer.

“…nothing much,” Len replies, his mind having wandered off into thinking about how some supernaturals didn’t seem to need to breath the way humans did and wondering about whether supernaturals could travel in space and maybe-not-maybe imagining him and Mick in dashing sci-fi uniforms pirating the galaxy.

“I don’t want to know?”

“No.”

Not until Len has a chance to visit a costume store, anyway.

“Want another drink?”

Len looks down at his still half-filled beer. “You want to start a fight,” he predicts.

Mick beams.

Len shakes his head and slides his beer over to Mick. “Finish that, then get me another,” he orders. “Oh, and tell the bartender I want some fries.”

“Fries it is,” Mick says, finishing Len’s beer in a few swallows. “Oh, and some of those cheese things.”

“Can’t go wrong with cheese,” Len agrees, then watches appreciatively as Mick heads over to the bar. He can’t help but feel a slight frisson of excitement; he’s always enjoyed watching Mick fight when there’s nothing else at stake – a nice bar fight’s always been his favorite part of going out to bars at all – and Mick’s clearly feeling it tonight, smug and satisfied after the moon going so damn well. It’s going to be beautiful.

Sure enough, Mick makes it to the bar, puts in his order, and starts getting into some shit with one of the tough guys hanging out there, some guy in a leather jacket that doesn’t make him look nearly as tough as he thinks it does.

Of course, with Mick, it’s even odds if that’s going to end up in a fight or in Mick finding a new friend, because Mick does that. He’s ridiculously good with people, even if he doesn’t think that he is; it’s all a matter of putting him in the right context.

"Heeeeeeeey," someone says not too far away from Len.

Len tries not to roll his eyes. C'mon, man, at least give her a pick-up line to go with that.

"Hey? I mean, excuse me?"

It takes that long for Len to realize that the person being so badly approached is him.

He turns his head slowly, disbelievingly.

"You're a college student," Len says flatly.

"...I'm into older guys?" the kid tries. He's brunette, short, kinda twink-y. He's got a hearing aid, and his clothing practically screams rich boy. "And I actually graduated early, so..."

"No. Just - no."

"If you'd give me a chance, I could show you -"

Len holds up a hand and, when that doesn't work, pins the kid with a look that cuts him off mid-sentence. "Kid," he says, because he remembers being young and dumb. "Just stop the embarrassment now and move on. For both our sakes."

"But -"

Len's eyes narrow. "Kid, do you know the phrase 'no means no'?"

"...yes?"

"I'm saying no. Now leave before I make my ‘no’ even more clear - and in case that was too subtle, I mean 'before I break your bones'."

The kid slinks away, though not without some sincerely longing looks back at Len.

Len shakes his head in amusement. Guess there's always one. Len knows he's pretty hot, he uses it often enough in trapping marks, but he's not sure how Mick hanging all over him earlier hadn't been clear enough. Hope springs eternal, he supposes.

That first kid was funny.

The next four people who sidle over to hit on him are not.

"You're popular," the stormster who's been sitting a few seats down the bar comments.

"You noticed," Len says dryly.

"That last woman was pretty smoking. Just saying."

"I'm taken," Len says, trying to see where Mick had gotten to - ah, the pool tables, showing some rube what's what. Good man. Fight must've gotten derailed.

"You're Cold, aren't you?" the stormster asks.

Len actually looks at him for that one. "That's me," he says, eyes narrowing until a name pops into his head. "Mardon, is it?"

"Yeah."

"Did you actually try to tsunami the city?"

"Not my finest moment," Mardon concedes, coughing a little in embarrassment. "Anniversary of my little brother's death."

"Tough. My sympathies."

"Thanks."

"Try it again and I'll ice your balls off."

"I have no doubt," Mardon says, wincing. "And you’re not the only one to make his feelings on the subject known. Say, you planning anything coming up? I'm not short or anything, nothing desperate, but, well, ever since the Flash came around, it’s been harder to find good jobs..."

"I might," Len allows. "Why you asking me?"

"You're one of the few people with a good record of pulling shit off against the Scarlet Sparkplug. Figure I'll get in with someone who knows what they're going."

Len hums thoughtfully, thinking about it. On one hand, a supernatural crew would be pretty cool, and Mick never said that their pack had to be wolf-only. On the other hand – tsunami.

“If it changes anything, I’ve hooked up with a wolf myself recently,” Mardon offers. “He’s got some banshee blood, good with electronics, sonic stuff.” He winces a little. "Pretty sure he tried to hit on you earlier, but he's normally better than that."

"Gimme your contact info," Len says. "I'll consider it."

Weather manipulation - you could do a lot with that. Sure, Mardon was clearly more emotional, but if Len could manage Mick, he could easily manage Mardon. Bringing along a tech guy would be good, too, especially if Mick was looking for more wolves. That would also add a new element to Len’s battles against the Flash, which could be interesting…

“Hey, pretty. This seat taken?”

“Yes,” Len says without looking. “Buzz off.”

A heavy hand falls down on Len’s shoulder and spins him around with inhuman force. The guy in front of him is a giant – not literally, since Len supposes it's possible those also exist, but he's a head taller than Len, and Len's not a short man. Even without that, the man has supernatural strength, and Len of course does not. This is a rather unfair match.

Len's favorite type.

"That wasn't very nice, pretty boy," the wolf - and it is a wolf, like Mick, practically half shifted given how goddamn hairy he is, or maybe he just looks like that normally - says, growling out his words.

Len is unimpressed.

The wolf mistakes Len's disdain for fear, or something of the sort, as he then grins, over-long tongue lapping out to lick his lips. "So," he rasps, running the thumb of the hand still clapped onto Len's shoulder along Len's neck, "how you plan to make it up to me?"

Len is deeply unimpressed.

Still, Mick likes this bar. Len will try the diplomatic approach.

"You came up to me," he says flatly. "You asked a question, you got an answer. Now if you know what's good for you, you'll do what I told you the first time and buzz off."

Len never said his diplomatic approach was particularly diplomatic.

The wolf laughs nastily. "I don't think so," he says, still going for the raspy voice. "I think -"

"I don't have any Tylenol on me," Len interjects. "But there's a drugstore down the way."

The wolf blinks, off his stride. "What?"

"For that cold of yours," Len says helpfully. "You keep doing this thing with your voice." He coughs as demonstration.

Mardon sniggers into his drink. He's not the only one.

The wolf's eyes narrow and he tries to rally. "You won't be laughing long," he says, low and threatening. "Not after I drag you down and fuck you right here on the floor, fill you up like a bitch like you needs -"

"As if I'd sleep with anybody so crass as to be half-shifted in a super bar before the fighting's even started," Len says, because his patience for being hit on has gone down to basically nothing, and his patience for threats was never all too great to start with. "And even if I was so stupid, I feel like the bartender might object."

"No one'll object once you're moaning beneath me," the wolf says confidently.

"I won't be," Len says. "Last chance to buzz off before I put you in your place."

The wolf laughs nastily. "You're expecting your dumb brute wolf of a partner to come rescue you? Well, I don't think -"

"You don't think," Len says, his voice cold, because being rude to Len in an attempt to start a fight is entirely understandable, but insulting Mick is just uncalled for. "And you clearly don't listen either, since I said I would put you in your place."

"You?" the wolf scoffs. "What could you do to me?"

"Well," Len drawls, "you're a big strong werewolf, stronger and faster than I'll ever be, and little old me's got nothing -"

The wolf smirks and tries to speak.

"- except a gun aimed at your hip and loaded with amped up silver rounds, of course."

The wolf straights up immediately, his eyes dropping down to Len’s lap where, indeed, Len has pulled out his regular-style gun - more subtle than the cold gun, luckily - and is aiming it at the wolf with all appearances of casualness.

Len’s an adrenaline junkie, not stupid. Why in the world would he go to a supernatural bar, filled to the brim with creatures that prey on mankind, in order to start a bar fight and not bring a weapon specifically tailored for the supernatural?

"I'd shoot you before you got a step closer," Len says meditatively. "Since wolves aren't anywhere near faster than guns, I’d hit you, too. And while you'd stagger back, trying to rip it out of your flesh - you'd succeed, of course, this bar's got a no-killing-whatever-reason banning rule - I'd pull out my cold gun, which can freeze lightning in its tracks, and I'd see you well you fare for a month or two re-growing that foot of yours from frostbite."

The wolf is gaping at him. Len lets his eyes flicker across the room, taking its measure - they have an audience, but they mostly seem neutral or in Len's favor, good, and then adds, "But I'm not going to do that."

"You're...not?" the wolf says, clearly puzzled. Possibly a little hopeful that it meant that Len was softening to his beyond-terrible approach, because he clearly doesn't have any intelligence whatsoever.

"No," Len says, and leans back onto the bar. "See, my 'wolf of a partner', as you call him, has been wanting to get into a fight since we arrived, and -" here Len smirks "-he's coming up right behind you."

The wolf spins around just in time for a few hundred pounds of enraged Mick Rory to hit him dead on.

There's roars and shouting all around as they roll away from Len and into the middle of the crowd, spectators rushing in to watch and cheer.

Len leans back triumphantly and gestures to the bartender with the hand that isn't holding the gun - he doesn't lie about guns unless he has to. "Another beer," he says to the amused looking djinn-of-many-bodies' closest incarnation. "And I believe my partner put in an order for fries and those cheese things?"

"Coming right up," the bartender replies, shaking his head in amusement.

"Thanks, Damian."

"It's only going to make it worse, you know," Damian tells him before disappearing, likely to join up with the version of him that works in the kitchen.

Len's not entirely sure what he means, but Mardon's nodding along. "Good luck," Mardon says before Len can think of a way to react. "I'll look you up in a few days for that job - if I can get past the line at your door, that is!" He roars with laughter.

Len dearly wants to ask what the hell Mardon thinks he's talking about, but he doesn't because Mardon wants to work with him, and that means maintaining an air of competence even when faced with unexpected insinuations of knowledge.

Mardon drains his drink and salutes Len before heading out the door. Len nods at him, then starts brainstorming what it could possibly mean.

Presumably Mardon's talking about all the people hitting on Len. Maybe the sorceress' malediction backfired off of Mick and onto Len in reverse, making him irresistibly attractive to people instead of making Mick irresistibly attracted to them? But if so, how could Mardon tell? He didn't seem affected.

Was there some sort of guidebook supernaturals got when they turned? Because damnit, Len needs one of those.

"Pardon me," a chirpy voice says. "I don't mean to interrupt, but that was a most impressive display."

You've got to be kidding. Not another one already.

Shit, if it’s related to the malediction, Len'd better take this to STAR Labs sooner rather than later, embarrassing as it might be.

He turns to tell the guy what's what, then stares. "Do you have a death wish?" he asks Mr. Beige-and-Pastels from the day before. "First you come to my door, now you come up to me in a bar? You stalking me or something? Because I will put an end to that, you hear me-"

"I am sorry about yesterday," the guy interrupts apologetically. He still sounds chirpy and cheerful. Len didn’t even know you could sound apologetic and chirpy at the same time. "It was the moon, and I wasn't thinking clearly."

Len would hurt him right now if he wasn't so obviously oblivious. And almost professionally good-natured sounding. He's got to be in some sort of sales position; no one naturally has that type of smooth yet bland cheeriness. Oddly familiar, actually.

"Don't see how that's my problem," Len points out.

"I understand entirely, and it's my fault for burdening you at that time -" Well, an apology is always appreciated, Len supposes. "-but I was hoping that we could start again fresh, on a better foot."

People actually say that in real life? Len had thought it was just sitcoms.

Also...

"You remember that I pulled a gun on you, right?" Len asks skeptically. "I don't see why you're so hot and bothered to be making my acquaintance despite that."

"No, no, it was perfectly understandable! You were defending your home base from intruders."

Supernaturals support 'stand your ground' laws; Len is not even a little surprised. Territorial bastards, the whole lot of them - though he guesses it helps to have rapid healing abilities when it comes to forgiving people for being trigger-happy. You forgive a lot more if you’re not dead.

"Uh-huh," Len says, crossing his arms and giving the guy a skeptical look, hoping to convey that this conversation was going nowhere.

Though this guy did keep reminding him of someone he swears he's met before.

The guy coughs a bit. "Yes, well," he says. "That's in the past now. I was just hoping to introduce myself, properly this time - my name is Dan, and I -"

Wait.

Wait a goddamn second.

"Hotline Dan?" Len asks, because that voice is goddamn unmistakable now that the guy’s not high up on moon-day hormones. "What the fuck?"

The guy - Dan, freaking family-friendly telemarketer hotline Dan - looks just as taken aback as Len.

“You’ve called the supernatural assistance line?” he asks, blinking. “Well, that’s forward-thinking of you.”

“We talked literally the day before yesterday! You hung up on me!”

“I did?”

Len resists the temptation to say 'Yes! You did!' because he has the feeling that they'd just end up going in circles. "I asked some questions about sexual practices and new mates," he says, pinning hotline Dan with a glare. "You called me a pervert and told me to get stuffed."

Dan blinks rapidly. "I - uh - I mean – well, regardless, it seems to have gone very well for you, I'd say?"

Len's jaw drops a little. This guy is an idiot. He's not actually trying to say –

"After all, you and your mate have certainly had a very fruitful and enjoyable full moon, it appears,” Dan says, trying on an ingratiating smile.

Yes. He's actually trying to comment on Mick and Len's sex life. In public.

Len wonders for a wild moment if him killing the guy would qualify for the Darwin Awards. Surely this counts as an intentional attempt to remove yourself from the gene pool..?

"It's quite obvious he's, ah, treating you well," Dan adds, clearly totally misinterpreting Len's expression and deciding to dig that hole of his a few feet deeper. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea, we can all smell how thorough he was -"

"I showered twice," Len says, vaguely horrified. It’s not that he cares that people know – he’d be wearing a turtleneck if that were the case, because his neck currently resembles a goddamn disaster zone for how many hickies Mick worked long and hard on – but…seriously?

Dan coughs. "Well, it's your first moon," he offers. "After a few, when the mating bond settles down, your scents will merge and it will be less obvious. Well, that or -"

"What's this about the mating thing not having settled?" Len asks, interrupting. He doesn't like the sound of that. He’d thought things were settled – he and Mick were going to keep being excessively co-dependent partners, as Lisa likes to say, except with the addition of regular sex, backrubs and pancakes. Mick's not going with any goddamn pack. "I thought - what more does there need to be?"

Dan blinks. "You don't know?"

"No, I don't know, that's why I'm asking," Len says. Years of keeping his temper in the face of aggravation are the only reason he’s not ripping off Dan’s head right now. "You're the hotline guy, so talk."

“Huh, I would have thought you would,” Dan says, and seems uninterested in continuing.

Okay, that’s it.

“Well, I don’t, so why don’t you tell me?” Len snarls, catching Dan's arm and reeling him in closer. His answers are right in front of him and guess what, hotline Dan? You can't hang up on a guy in person.

"...you're very attractive when you do that," Dan croaks.

"Seriously?!"

"It's not my fault! Mates are measured on a certain scale of desirability and you - well, you're very desirable."

Len scoffs. He knows he's hot; he doesn't need fluffing up. But after the first glance, most people figured out that he was a notorious violent criminal-slash-supervillain and dropped it. The guns and his general misanthropy usually helped with that. "Yeah, to a very specific audience."

"No, generally!" Dan insists, looking surprised. "You must know - to a wolf, you're really something very special."

Len rolls his eyes. Very special, his ass, what sort of pick up line –

"Wait," he says, suspicion rising up in his mind. "Has everybody who's been hitting on me been a wolf?"

"Well, I'd imagine so," Dan says. "You're in competition."

"I'm in what?!"

"A pack is judged by the strength of the wolf and the will of the mate," Dan says. Len vaguely recalls him saying something like that on the phone, but it hadn't seemed all that important, more metaphorical than anything else, really.

He'd forgotten that to supernaturals, metaphor often was reality.

"There are a number of established packs in the city," Dan is continuing. "Most wolves are involved in them because of the social instinct, the need to be a part of something, and because the competition between packs is pretty fierce, and violent."

"No shit," Len says. "They're beating out the gangs for the most territorial scuffles this year."

Not to mention the Families themselves, which is pretty impressive. Len never thought he'd see the day when there was any organizations more persnickety about maintaining territory lines than the goddamn Families.

Of course, the fact that the relevant organizations are werewolf packs goes a long way to redeeming it in Len's mind.

The police's as well, since unlike the gangs or the Families, the wolf packs generally fight with tooth and claw, not guns, and had a lot less collateral damage as a result. Really, as long as you didn't run straight into a wolf brawl you could walk down the street across from one without fearing for your life.

Scared the rubes, though. Central City homeowners wondering how to deal, please press one.

"Well, that's the danger in starting a new pack, you see," Dan says. He's incredibly earnest. Almost painfully so. "A new pack with no members starts at the bottom - unless they can find a mate that's strong and proud and willful. That'll give them a leg up."

"You're joking," Len says, unable to resist his skepticism. "Finding a girlfriend - or a boyfriend, or a non-binaryfriend, whatever - is no substitute for strength in numbers."

Dan shrugs. "For wolves, it is," he says. "That's why you're so desirable. You're strong and your will is -" His eyes drift a little closed. "It's really something..."

"You are being used as an information source," Len says. "Nothing more. Stop hitting on me."

"You can’t hold me responsible! You took on another wolf!" Dan protests. "Several, even! By yourself!"

"Not in an actual fight,” Len points out, even though he’s got the feeling this argument is well and thoroughly lost.

"Physical strength is only half the story," Dan says dismissively. "The will is what's important - you defended yourself, your homestead, you stood steadfastly by your mate -"

"We've been partners thirty years," Len says. "Well before the werewolf crap. Of course I'm standing by him."

"Most wolves don't have that. It's why he was able to claim you as a mate - a declaration that he's starting a new pack, a brazen challenge to the rest of the wolves in the city, to the established order."

Brazen challenge to the establishment. Yeah, that sounded like Mick.

"And, naturally, the competitive instinct of the remaining wolves gets fueled by that, and everyone simply had to go see you and judge you, to see what sort of pack is being formed."

Len sighs. He remembers Mick said something about showing off Len. He'd thought Mick meant more in the strutting about and preening about getting laid on the regular going forward sense, which he supposes this is just a more elaborate version of.

“And then, of course, you reacted so excellently – it was clear to all who looked that any wolf that won you for their own would be able to form a strong pack, and thus the competition began.”

“Competition for me,” Len says flatly.

“It’s traditional,” Dan says.

“For me. Because they want – what? To date me for independence and pack-power? Everyone wants a new pack?”

“Well,” Dan says, flushing a little, “if you were to mate with someone who was already in an established pack, your power would be added to that pack’s power, and therefore there would be a readjustment of the power dynamics regardless…”

“Now you’re definitely fucking with me,” Len says. “You can’t expect me to believe the power dynamics in Central City get reshuffled every time a wolf gets laid.”

“No, no! Just mates. Mates are – it’s different.”

“So why’s the competition for me?” Len asks suspiciously. “Wouldn’t getting Mick to join a pack work just as well?”

“It would,” Dan says. “Though if a wolf has claimed a mate – it’s quite rare, actually, the commitment involved on both sides is immense and necessarily mutual, far more like a marriage than a relationship –”

Len got werewolf-married because of a sex spell?

He’s never telling Lisa.

She’ll die laughing and then resurrect herself just to make sure he never lives it down.

Not that he objects to being married to Mick – they’re already married for tax and testifying purposes, after all, and now they get to add sex to the mix, so no harm, no foul – but still. Something that should’ve probably been mentioned.

Though in fairness, Mick was somewhat distracted at the time...

“– and of course assuming the mate is considered widely desirable, the likelihood of a wolf in the midst of competitive fever, with his focus fixed on pleasing and winning his mate, showing off that he’s the best, would agree to join a pack at that time…”

“Not high,” Len says. “Good.”

“I don’t suppose you would be amenable to meeting a few –”

Len gives Dan a Look.

“…I suppose not.”

“No. Now, one thing I still don’t get. How does dating someone – fine, marrying someone – make you more powerful?”

“It doesn’t,” Dan says. “But if a mate is filled with magical strength -"

"I don't have magic," Len objects. He's one of the few of the Flash's enemies that doesn't, in fact; it's well known.

"But a wolf does," Dan says. "And it would be reflected in the strength of your character. Not in terms of your virtues as regular civilization would have it," he adds hastily, foreseeing Len's obvious retort. "But in what wolves see as attractive. Your sharp mind, your observant eyes, your ruthlessness, your violence, your protective instinct, your loyalty, your wariness -"

"My paranoia is a selling point now?"

"We're wolves," Dan points out. "We may be men, too, but some of our instincts still harken back to the forest."

"But real wolves don't kill or be killed," Len insists, recalling some of those goddamn Animal Planet/Discovery Channel documentaries Mick's gotten into. "Their structure allows for -"

"That's 'cause we're not real wolves," Mick says, panting a little from exertion, sweating, but grinning broadly. He's clearly the victor - Len can see the other wolf limping away, scowling and nursing his well-deserved injuries. "We’re men, too, and mankind’s the most vicious, territorial bastard species on the planet. What're you talking about?"

"The fact that I'm apparently the newest hot girl in school," Len says dryly.

Mick loops an arm over Len’s shoulder. “That you are,” he says, grinning with a bit of teeth at Dan, who skitters a step or two backwards in a way that even Len can tell is respectful and please-don’t-rip-my-head-off-for-flirting-with-your-mate. “My hot girl. Or guy. Or neither. However you’re feeling today.”

“And all this apparently has some sort of impact on pack politics in Central,” Len says pointedly.

“We’re going to have the best pack,” Mick says happily, totally missing Len’s attempt to flag to him that maybe they should have talked about this. “Relax, Snart; it’s me beating up people who hit on you. You like watching that anyway.”

“Point,” Len concedes. He does like watching that. Mick in action in Len’s defense has always had appeal – almost a feudal sort of feeling, a man fighting in your name and for your (mostly non-existent) honor.

Yeah, that wasn’t so bad. Len could live with that, a few fights by Mick, giving them time to collect the best pack in the city – like Len would accept anything less than the best –

Though Len’s not getting caught flat-footed again. He and Mick are going to be having a long chat about what to expect next, and Mick’s not getting out of it with pancakes this time.

Actually, now that Len thinks about it –

“Say,” he says. “How long is this whole competition thing going to last, anyway? Till the next moon?”

“Oh, no,” Dan says. “A season or two, at least.”

“Half a year?”

Dan nods happily. “Yes, of course,” he says. “Possibly up to a year. Or until you get pregnant, of course, that would quite settle the issue.”

Len snorts. “Not sure if the competition’s starting to get to your head, but I’m still a guy.”

“And we’re wolves,” Dan says, sounding puzzled. “Supernatural biology utilizes a magical capacity for childbirth in order to enable pregnant individuals to continue fighting without significant impairment; any supernatural being, regardless of gender, is capable of impregnating any other being, regardless of gender.”

"Well, that seems like something that ought to be on the hotline before getting hung up on -" Len starts to say, snide and insulting, before it hits him.

Specifically, the very hot but – he’d assumed – theoretical dirty talk Mick had been pouring into his ear the last few days.

Dirty talk that accompanied the also very hot but very unprotected sex they've been having.

“Mick!"

"What? What'd I do?"

Len groans. This is going to take a while.