#that said: please tread carefully with the final chapter. it's noted at the beginning but bears repeating

[novelconcepts]

the other side of someday [complete]

When the Yellowjackets’ plane crashes in the Wilderness, they aren’t the first. Another team has already been here. Other girls have already died here.

As Taissa discovers when she awakens with a long-dead goalie sharing her body, dead doesn’t mean gone.

chapter 1/4 - head

chapter 2/4 - hands

chapter 3/4 - hips

chapter 4/4 - heart

M; 49k words

A blink of the eye, and graduation is here again. She’s packing up her dorm for the last time, smiling gently—if a bit awkwardly—at half-remembered girls who try to catch her eye down at the local watering hole. Her parents are embracing her, excited beyond words for the progress their daughter has achieved in only a few years. “Just think,” says Van lightly, “four years ago, your plane fell out of the sky. And now you’re Columbia-bound. You should take your story on the road, use it to spread hope across the nation.” Taissa very subtly flips her off in the reflection of her drink. Van beams. “Seriously, dude. Proud of you.”

[roseinaugust]

Like an Old Enemy

Chapter Seven: Meet Me At Our Spot

Summary: Miraculous Enemies AU. Gabriel Agreste has the Black Cat Miraculous in his possession, so when his wife, Emilie, "disappears," he sends his son, Adrien, undercover to pose as Ladybug's partner. Two years later, the once famous duo are sworn enemies. Marinette might have loved Chat Noir once, but now she would stop at nothing to defeat him. Adrien will do whatever it takes to bring his mother back. Best friends in their civilian lives, Adrien and Marinette find obstacles and complications when they can no longer deny their love for each other. But will they be able to understand and forgive the mistakes of their past? Or will they be doomed to end as bitter rivals a second time?

Rated: T

Pairings: Ladybug/Chat Noir Enemies, Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng Mutual Pining

Word Count: 9,027

Read on: ao3

A/N: I am only posting part of this chapter on tumblr so please read the rest on ao3!

“No, Adrien.” Gabriel Agreste said with a note of finality.  Adrien’s presence in his office barely disturbed him as he tapped at something on his tablet. 

Adrien hadn’t expected his father to agree right away, but the quickness of Gabriel’s refusal made his temper flare.  His fingers began to ache as he clenched his hands together behind his back to prevent an outburst. Gabriel couldn’t be bothered to stop working long enough to have a conversation with his son. 

Adrien needed to stay focused. He had to be there, he could finally progress with Marinette—although he still didn’t know if it was a date or not. “Father, I understand your concerns,” he didn’t, “but, the entire class is going. It will look suspicious if I am the only one not attending. People are already starting to grow skeptical of how often I miss class, especially after the akuma on the first day of school.” This was a strategy he’d used once before to gain permission to attend Marinette’s birthday party last January. 

Adrien knew the best way to convince his father was to target one of the three things that Gabriel believed were important: his mother, control, or the upkeep of public appearances. The first was a nonstarter; any mention of Emilie would result in punishment. The second would only work if Adrien had something to offer his father in return, which he didn’t. The third however was perfect because it threatened the first two. If anyone grew apprehensive of the Agreste family or the Gabriel brand, everything would collapse. They operated precariously, shrouded in the shadow of secrecy, but there was only so much that could be stuffed in a closet or brushed under a rug. Eventually, someone would peak behind the curtain, unless there was no reason for anyone to go searching. 

Gabriel’s eyes flickered up to Adrien for the first time during their conversation before returning to his work. “You had a perfectly reasonable excuse to miss class that day for your photoshoot. There is no reason for anyone to suspect that you are Chat Noir.” Adrien pictured the lucky charm in his pocket, a reminder of what he was doing this for.

“It’s not me that they are skeptical of; it’s you.” Gabriel’s focus diverted to Adrien instantly. Although he craved the attention earlier, now Adrien wished his father’s gaze would return to the tablet, or to his designs, or really anywhere that wasn’t him. He squirmed under the scrutiny, fidgeting and taking a step backwards. He could do this, he was going to fight for what he wanted. “Scheduling a photoshoot on the first day of school brought up questions about your parenting. They are concerned that you’re too strict.” His father’s face was unreadable, a neutral landscape with maybe a hint of annoyance, but Adrien knew mines were buried underneath. He needed to tread carefully. “No one believes you are Hawkmoth, but if someone begins to look into our family…” Adrien trailed off at the sight of his father’s hardening face. He gulped. “If you permit me to go tonight, it should be enough to dispel any concerns.”

Gabriel’s brow lowered, his mouth a line of displeasure. He weighed the options before dropping his attention back to the tablet in his hands. “My decision stands. You are not going.” 

Adrien dropped his hands from behind his back, unable to restrain himself. “But, wh-why?” He sputtered, incredulous at this refusal. His father ignored him, typical of his dismissals. Adrien was expected to accept the answer and leave, but he stood motionless in the center of the office. He couldn’t accept this, he needed to be at Andre’s tonight. Disbelief mutated into anger. How was he not concerned? Sure, Adrien was exaggerating the severity of his classmate’s suspicions, but how could Gabriel be so blasé? “It’s just ice cream. I’ll be home—”

“No, Adrien.” Gabriel interrupted, refusing to look up at his son. The sucker punch of his father’s stubbornness knocked the wind out of Adrien. Crescent moons imprinted on his palms as he balled his fists by his sides, red-hot anger burning inside him. 

“But—” His negotiation attempts were once again cut short.

“No.” Gabriel clipped. 

“Why can’t I go with my friends?” The words overflowed before Adrien could stop them. The incessant tapping on the tablet halted at once as Gabriel snapped his focus to his son. 

“Friends?” He asked through gritted teeth. “I didn’t send you to school to make friends. You are there to learn Ladybug’s civilian identity—something you have failed to achieve for the past year!” Although Gabriel remained seated, Adrien stayed alert. He was close enough to the door that should his father pounce, he could escape. “I have allowed you to stay in school despite your inadequacy to complete this task, but it seems my generosity has spoiled you. Perhaps I should withdraw you from school.” 

Adrien’s eyes widened as he followed the thread of his father’s threat. School was his only lifeline, providing him with a few glorious hours of reprieve from Gabriel and this insufferable house. Without school, he knew the isolation would suffocate him. No Nino, no Marinette, just the expansive fortress of his house and the ever-tightening collar of Gabriel’s control. Any anger welling inside him spiraled down the drain, replaced immediately with quickening heartbeats of dread. “No!” He winced at his desperation and hung his head. 

“No what, Adrien?” He scowled at his son, his voice rough as gravel.

“Don’t take me out of school.” Disgust. That’s all Adrien could feel as he begged his father. He was a coward. A useless, intimidated, coward, and he hated himself for the power Gabriel held over him. He’d always surrounded himself with powerful and brave women—his mother, Ladybug, Marinette—to help him find his courage, but without them by his side he was the same scared boy that he feared he would always be. He didn’t have the strength to fight his father alone. And so he didn’t fight; he followed orders, became docile and sacrificed the things he wanted to be able to survive. “Please.” He lifted his head in time to see the twisted turn of glee spreading across his father’s face. 

“Very well, but anymore outbursts and I will not be so lenient.” 

“Thank you, father.” Adrien choked out, hating the fact that he needed to act grateful to Gabriel. 

“Go to your room and be prepared for an akuma tonight.” He resumed working on the tablet. 

Although he was dismissed, Adrien stood still, attempting to collect himself. This was not how today was supposed to go. He should be on his way to meet Marinette. She was going to be so disappointed. By some miracle, she had agreed to go with him, and now all of his efforts and anxieties were in vain. She’d understand—she always did when the topic of his father was brought up—but it wouldn’t change the fact that he wasn’t there. 

His hands snaked inside his pockets once he started to move towards the exit. His fingers found their way to the lucky charm, a habit after months with the talisman. As much as he wanted to believe in the gift from Marinette, he knew it was obsolete. If it were true, he would have been able to stand up to his father, he would be brave, and free. If it had worked, he would have the things he wanted. Yet, once again, they were just out of his reach. He was a dog, snapping at the tantalizing bone placed farther than his chain allowed. He pulled every which way to reach the prize, but it never budged. He could never get closer, tiring with every second that passed with his struggle, and Gabriel—his owner—loomed behind him, threatening to pull the chain back, dragging Adrien farther and farther away from the bone. Eventually, he would stop struggling; but he still had some bite left in him today.

He reached the heavy wooden door to the foyer and paused. Eyes forward, refusing to look back at his father, Adrien clenched his jaw. Resentment overpowered his obedience as he said, “I wish it were you instead. I wish you had disappeared instead of mom.” 

“And I wish it were you.”

A/N: Reminder that this is only part of the chapter so read the rest here

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary: It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula implied Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: So sorry for the delay. I had a lot of unexpected things going on in my life. This chapter goes out to @mitsukatsu. Happy belated one year friendiversary! I’m so glad we have our friendship! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

                                                 Chapter Nine

Zoe found it rather unusual that the hospital decided to discharge her in the wee hours in the morning. Perhaps they needed an extra bed or just saw it fit to let the scientist go before the “morning rush”. Whatever the case, she wasn’t one to complain. Lying on her back, propped up on some cushions from the sofa, she stared upwards towards the ceiling, hands resting on the visible slope of her stomach. Tired. Nauseated. She just wanted to fall asleep and yet, her mind still reeling from the overload of new information prevented her from doing so. 

“I can’t guarantee that it won’t taste dreadful seeing as it came from a can, but you need something to settle your stomach.” 

The scientist didn’t turn her head to acknowledge Dracula as he strode into her living room. For some reason she had yet to put a finger on, Zoe had agreed to let him come in. Just for a few minutes. A few minutes that had turned into over an hour. Now the vampire had basically made himself at home in her own kitchen. As he went to place the bowl down on the coffee table, her eyes immediately flew over to the stack of documents the hospital had allowed her to keep. The lab results that could easily hold the keys she needed to begin unlocking the twins’ genetic codes. 

“Careful!” She snapped, lunging forward to gather the papers as if they were some sort of precious artifact. “Do you realize how important these are?! The last thing I need is for them to be damaged.” Zoe eyed him incredulously, holding the documents close to her chest. “What even is that?”

“A proper acknowledgement of thanks would have sufficed.” The vampire exhaled, setting the dish down after a long moment. “And it’s some vegetable soup I found canned in your cupboard. Highly doubt it holds the nutrients your body needs, but in such a short span of time, it’s the best I could’ve come up with.” Dracula eyed the papers she clutched tightly. “Might I inquire what it is that you are doing? Or rather, plan to?” 

Zoe seemed to ponder the idea of humoring him with an answer. “Research.” She responded curtly. “Which is why I cannot risk having anything spilling onto them. And besides,” the scientist frowned. “I am not hungry.” 

Dracula’s lips pressed into a thin line as he eyed the scientist with visible annoyance. Taking in a deep, unnecessary breath, he forced a smile onto his face and pulled up a chair beside her. Zoe eyed him suspiciously as he folded his hands onto his lap. 

“Two boys.” He mused, nodding at the idea. “It is a very welcoming thought knowing that the Dracula name will be continued.” 

“The two chromosomes that determine the sex of our two babies should be the least of your concerns right now.” Zoe commented with a frown. “What should really be on your mind is what lies in their genetic makeup. Their overall DNA construction.” When she caught Dracula smiling, her frown deepened. “What?”

“You said our babies.” He replied with a smirk. “It’s nice to see you’re getting used to the idea of the two of us.”

“There is no two of us.” She replied point blank. “And if you continue to press my buttons, I can assure you there will only be one of us.” His continued look of amusement only made her blood boil hotter. “Why won’t you just leave? Your mere presence in my house right now is giving me a headache and I’ve already had one hell of a night.” Zoe gave a nod towards the door. “If you hurry, you can be back at your flat before you burn into a crisp.” 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Dracula chuckled. “Sometimes I have difficulty telling your regular attitude towards me from your hormones.” He watched as Zoe reached for the television clicker that sat on the table with the intention to beam it at him. “Alright, alright…” He gave in, holding his hands up. “I suppose I’ll leave you to your own devices, but only because you are in need of rest.” The vampire offered her a smile, though he did not receive one in return. “Get some rest, Dr. Van Helsing. I’ll be seeing you at the Harker Foundation soon enough.” 

“I’ll wait for that with bated breath.” Zoe muttered, rolling her eyes. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Her eyes followed the Count as he made his way towards the exit, narrowing when he turned his head as if to say something. 

“Rest well, Zoe.” Though his voice lacked any insincerity. “I mean it.” 

Zoe said nothing as he turned away, opening the door before slipping out into the night. She listened for his footsteps, half expecting him to waltz right back into her home. When she was certain that he was gone, the scientist sighed and allowed her shoulders to relax. It had been quite the long night to say the least and the need to clear her mind enough for her to focus was at the top of her priorities. 

“If I go as far to boldly assume you and Count Dracula are becoming closer, would that be a correct assumption?” 

Zoe’s facial features tightly scrunched in aggravation as Agatha’s voice met her ears. Maybe if she ignored her. Maybe if she didn’t look in her direction. Perhaps the ghost of her great, great aunt would disappear. But despite the wait, the silence, she could still feel the specter’s presence. 

“You are entering into dangerous territory, Zoe. You truly have no idea what he is capable of. While he acts as if he cares, the vampire is very skilled in the art of manipulation. If you fall into his trap, digging yourself out is nearly impossible.” 

“I am far from having any relations with Count Dracula.” The scientist grumbled, opening her eyes but keeping them averted from where Agatha stood. “And I can handle myself quite well, thank you. I’d much appreciate it if you’d just go away.” 

“Whether you realize it or not, my intentions are for your very own good. Your sanity isn’t in the strongest of places and it wouldn’t be right if I were to pass on without keeping an eye on you.” She paused for a moment before adding. “And Count Dracula.” 

“You being in my life right now is what is making me insane.” Zoe countered with a long sigh. “Having to deal with a vampire AND a ghost is just another layer to the tipping tower of my anxiety. Not to mention I’m dealing with pregnancy on top of that.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Now please, I beg of you, leave me be. I need time to think things over.” 

“I’m concerned you’re growing fickle with your loyalty to the Van Helsing name.” When Zoe didn’t respond to this, Agatha merely sighed. “Tread carefully, Zoe. Do not let what grows within you change who you really are.” 

The scientist chewed on the inside of her cheek in a strong attempt to not respond. It would be wise on her part to not fuel the flames with her rather...pesky and persistent ancestor. After a very few, long moments, Zoe turned her head in the direction of where Agatha should’ve been. Just like Dracula had, the woman finally had the decency to leave. Exhaling, she rearranged her stack of papers and set them off to the side. 

“You are causing me quite a lot of drama.” She mumbled, placing a hand on her stomach. It still felt kind of silly addressing them. It wasn’t as if they were even born. Yet sometimes it was oddly comforting. “But I am going to look on the brighter side of things and assume it will be all worth it in the end...I hope.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe caught sight of the bowl of soup Dracula had made for her. Pursing her lips, she gingerly lifted it from the table and studied it carefully. Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t dare do anything to it that would harm her--or his offspring for that matter. And it did smell rather pleasant. Stomach rumbling, Zoe picked up the spoon. As she took in a mouthful, surprised at how good it tasted, she made a mental note to not let the vampire know she actually enjoyed it. He didn’t need the extra ego boost. 

“We’re going to be okay.” She mumbled, looking down at her stomach. “The three of us…” Zoe took in another spoonful and glanced towards the paperwork. “I’ll make sure of it.” 

                                                    XXX

Due to her doctor’s recommendation to take it easy as well as the unfortunate matter of cutting into her sick days, Zoe finally returned back to work at the Foundation. Though facing Bloxham was not the most pleasant of things to look forward to, the scientist had grown rather restless at home. There was only so much she could do research wise without a lab and no one to trust to know her secret. 

Zoe frowned softly as ran her hand down the very visible bump of her stomach. Just in the past several days, she had begun to really show. Something she felt a little self-conscious about. Carrying twins made it look like she was much farther along than sixteen weeks. It still felt surreal that she was nearly five months along. How time had seemingly flown, slipping like sand between her fingers.  

“Zoe, it’s wonderful to have you back!” 

The warmth and welcoming sound of Jack’s voice greeted the scientist’s ears as her former mentee strode up and pulled her into a gentle hug. Out of all things, it was rather pleasant to see him again. He was, after all, one of the very few she could call her a true friend. Upon stepping back, the young doctor’s eyes scanned the woman over. 

“You look great.” He commented, offering her a genuine smile. “It’s been rather dull without you here. Not much excitement.” He paused. “And Count Dracula hasn’t exactly made his presence known since your absence.” Jack shook his head at the thought as if trying to clear something from his mind. “Anyway, how are you feeling? Dr. Bloxham didn’t force you to come back, did she? You’re sure you feel alright to come back?” 

“It’s lovely to see you too, Jack.” Zoe smiled softly. “And yes, I feel perfectly capable to return to the Foundation. I just needed time to recuperate. Doctor’s orders, not exactly what I had intended. But to maintain a healthy pregnancy is more important than my addiction to work.” She chuckled at that. “Good to know I haven’t missed much. There were moments where I had my concerns about how things were functioning.” 

“Well, if you need anything, anything at all, just--”

But Jack was abruptly cut off by the clean, swooshing sound of two sliding doors opening. Both he and Zoe turned their head to see Bloxham entering the room with her ever present unreadable expression. Her eyes briefly flickered over at Jack before focusing on the other woman. 

“Dr. Van Helsing.” She nodded, her tone flat. “I’m glad you’ve seen yourself fit enough to return to work. Your lack of participation has been noted but...excused.” Bloxham’s attention turned to the file folder of papers Zoe had tucked underneath one of her arms. “And those would be?” 

“Prevalent to my work with Count Dracula.” Zoe said, trying to remain unsuspicious as she readjusted them in her grasp. “Nothing of great importance. Just something I had on hand while I was at home.” If her boss only knew what the contents within were. “I’m assuming that the Count will be paying us a visit later on tonight as per scheduled?” 

Within the last several days, Zoe had received over a handful of texts from the vampire--of which she replied very few to. Just enough to keep him out of her hair. Since the hospital fiasco, this would be the first time in weeks they’d be face to face. A twinge of nervousness panged in the bottom of her stomach as Bloxham threw her a quizzical look before relaxing. 

“See to it that tonight’s session meets our highest expectations. Due to your...holiday, we’ve lost valuable time with Dracula. It is unknown how long his willingness to come in will last.” Bloxham’s lips pursed together as she grabbed her magnetized badge. “I look forward to your findings, Dr. Van Helsing. Do not let me down.” 

Zoe hadn’t realized she’d been literally biting her tongue onto the faint, metallic taste of blood met her taste buds. She ground her teeth as Bloxham walked casually away well aware that Jack’s eyes were on her. Exhaling, she turned to the young doctor. 

“Well, that was friendlier than she usually is.” He attempted to joke, giving her a reassuring smile. “At least she didn’t chew you out. Why just last week, Henderson in forensics dropped a bunch of the new vials the Foundation had ordered and from the earful she gave him, I was convinced he was on his way out the door jobless with a box of broken glass.”

Not that she intended to let anyone near her experiments, Zoe made a mental note to avoid Henderson’s clumsiness at all cost. The last thing she needed was for all of her important work to go to waste. Vials were one thing, but what they would hold was a completely different matter. 

“I’m going to go get situated.” She said, feigning a small smile. “I think it’s best I dive back into the thick of things. After all, I might as well busy myself before my version of Interview with a Vampire tonight.”

“Nice touch, Zoe.” Jack laughed. “Never took you for a movie type.” 

“I suppose I’m full of surprises then.” She responded, unbeknownst to Jack how true that statement really was. “I’ll be seeing you then?” 

“Bloxham has us all working overtime.” The young man answered. “So the chances of us crossing paths today are inevitable.”  

“Good then.” Zoe nodded, clutching her documents. “I look forward to it.” 

                                                     XXX

Though it wasn’t much, the small office like space designated to her personal belongings proved to be usable enough. Zoe exhaled as she sat down, pushing aside the clutter that had begun to build on her desk. Setting the folder onto a cleared spot, she opened it carefully. Still crisp as the night she had received them, Zoe peered down at the test results from the night at the hospital. 

The hardest part of being homebound for two weeks was not having the access needed to further her research. Yet, Zoe was smart and resourceful enough to scour the internet for something, anything that would prove of use to her. And as luck would have it, she had found a possible piece to her ever growing puzzle. 

“Cell-free fetal DNA…” She muttered, looking from the sticky note where she had scrawled the information down and then back to her computer screen. “Possible specimen matter. Requires blood to be drawn from the mother which, when tested, allows one to extract fetal DNA presented from the placenta that has been dispersed through the woman’s bloodstream.” The keys on her laptop clicked rapidly as Zoe’s eyes remained fixated on the screen. “Subject One: Dr. Zoe Van Helsing.” 

Zoe leaned back in her chair and studied the text on the screen. Experimentation. It was something she had considered but never when it came to her being the subject. Absentmindedly, she placed a hand on the apex on her stomach. Going about this was going to be hard. Not to mention very difficult seeing as it was a top secret project. Especially since subject two’s involvement was undetermined at this point. For all of this to work, she would need his full, committed participation. 

With a long sigh, she returned her fingers to the keyboard. “Subject Two: Count Dracula.” 

Obtaining a blood sample from him would be the easiest part. Her reasoning for doing so she could fabricate. Zoe had all of the equipment at her disposal, it was just a matter of finding the time to use it for her own devices. A knock came at her door, causing the scientist to snap back to reality. Quickly stashing away the documents into her desk and closing her screen, she straightened up in her seat. 

“Come in.” 

The door creaked open to reveal one of Bloxham’s head guards. Zoe tried to ignore the pounding in her chest as he cleared his throat. Surely he had no idea of her plans. No one did. So why exactly did it feel like every artery in her body was about to burst?

“Dr. Bloxham wanted me to tell you that Count Dracula has arrived.” The man said, his tone emotionless. “I’ll be the one to escort you to the room.” 

“Right then.” Zoe sighed, standing up slowly. “If you don’t mind me requesting privacy after you doing so, I believe it will be best if he and I were alone. He seems to be more willing to offer up information when it is just the two of us.” If any of this were to work, she’d need that in order to speak to him. “You may wait outside of the door if need be.”

The guard narrowed his eyes but gave a nod of confirmation. Slipping a voice recorder into her pocket, Zoe trailed behind the guard feeling slightly winded. The pregnancy was starting to take a toll on her whether she liked to admit it or not. As the guard slid the access card through the slot in the keypad, the thick metal doors glided open to reveal the familiar room with a table situated in the center. 

“Ah, Zoe, so wonderful to see you again.”

Dracula sat at the opposite end of the table, his dark eyes fixed on the scientist as she stepped into the room. Motioning for the guard to exit, Zoe strode forward and took her usual spot across from him. She could feel his eyes taking in every inch of her body, focusing mostly on her stomach before they finally met hers. 

“It’s been awhile.” He commented, leaning against the table. “I was beginning to grow concerned after I learned about your medical conundrum. I’m glad to see you’re okay.” 

“Yes.” Zoe replied, straightening up. “I’ve been taking it easy.”

“Always good to follow a doctor’s order. Or rather, in today’s age.” He gave a small smile that Zoe struggled to tell was genuine or one of judgement. “So, what do you have planned today? Shall I give you more history about my existence, or have you something else in mind?” 

“I require another sample of your blood.” She said, watching him carefully. “It’s for an important matter.” 

“Color me intrigued.” The vampire said, resting his elbows on the table. “What exactly are you looking for this time? You aren’t going to lose them again, are you?”

“This is for an important matter.” Zoe said, a hand resting on her stomach in an attempt to give him a silent cue. “Your willingness to provide me another sample would be greatly appreciated and would prove vital in the cause…” She racked her brain, trying to think of a reason in case they were being monitored. “...A cause in learning more about your physiology.” 

Dracula was silent for a moment. “Take what you must. I suppose it is for a good cause after all.” His eyes returned to her stomach. “I’m hoping you’ll keep me updated if you find anything of interest. You know I am a man of science.” 

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Zoe nodded, relieved by his compliance. “Allow me to grab some vials.” Hopefully Henderson hadn’t destroyed the lot. “I will return momentarily.” 

Dracula didn’t reply as Zoe made her way across the room and to a metal tray that had been set off to the side. There was no needle this time, it would prove useless as it had during their first attempt. The vampire already had his wrist exposed by the time Zoe returned to his side. Her stomach crawled as he drew his sharp nail across the pale skin creating an open wound. Holding the vial carefully, she collected the dark blood as it dripped down. 

“Is that enough?” He asked, sounding surprisingly genuine. 

“For now.” Zoe replied, quickly placing the top on and giving it a few turns. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” The vampire smirked softly, his skin already knitting back together. “I am at your service after all.” 

Their eyes met, neither of them speaking. Something within Zoe began to stir that, at first, she thought was merely heartburn. But the longer they looked at each other, she came to the realization it was butterflies in her stomach. Feeling the heat rush to her cheeks, she bit down on her lip and immediately turned away. No, this was not happening. It was only hormones. Bloody hormones. She certainly wasn’t having the tiniest amount of feelings for him. 

“I should go and take this to the lab before it expires.” She said quickly. “You can see yourself out, I presume?” 

“Usually I am escorted so it isn’t a problem.” Dracula chuckled. “Same time as always?” He paused, causing Zoe to feel that much more uncomfortably hot. “You know how to reach me in case you require some personal assistance sooner.” 

“That won’t be necessary.” She replied, clearing her throat. “I should really be going. Good night, Count Dracula.” 

Before the vampire had a chance to reply, Zoe had already made her way to the double doors and exited the room. She said nothing as she brushed past the guard. Her mind was reeling so much so she hadn’t even realized she’d made it to the lab. Finally stopping to catch her breath, Zoe noticed that the area was vacant. With a sigh of relief, she made her way over to one of the counters. 

FRAGILE. DO NOT TOUCH. She hoped this would keep Henderson and any others from messing with the contents. Looking over her shoulder, she quickly began to rummage through one of the drawers. Producing a long needle, she swallowed hard, slightly ill at the thought of what she was about to do. Despite the cancer and the various blood tests, her hate for needles had never lessened. 

“I’m only doing this for you.” She mumbled, glancing down at her stomach before preparing the needle and syringe. “This better work.” 

Tying a band around her upper arm, she felt around for a good vein. Taking a deep breath, she plunged the needle through her flesh and watched as a vial began to fill with her own blood. It was slightly lighter than Dracula’s, something she made a mental note of. Once she was convinced she had enough to work with, she removed the needle and topped the vial. 

FRAGILE! DO NOT TOUGH. She scrawled upon the sticker, hoping that it would prevent others again from messing with it. Eyeing both vials, one belonging to her and the other to the vampire, she pursed her lips, turning her head to glance over at the slides and a nearby microscope. 

Pulling out a voice recorder, Zoe cleared her throat before pressing record. 

“Monday, April 25th. Experiment One. Testing cellular immortality.” 

[wkemeup]

Guiding Light (1)

series summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra and now, Bucky can’t breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.5k warnings: hold onto the fluff while you can 😈 🖤series masterlist 

Sweat dripped along the side of your face, beads tingling against your neck as they ran down from your brow. Dampened flyaway hairs, a brush of your sleeve over your lips, and you stalked your prey, stalking around Natasha as she sent you that teasing smirk, warning you she was readying to pounce. It was her only tell.

An agonizing minute of circling the ring, just pacing around one another, waiting for someone to strike, and Natasha dove forward at you. Her hands gripped onto your shoulders and she swung her body weight out around your waist to send you barreling to the floor. Your back landed hard against the mat with a heavy thud and even Sam cringed from the sidelines as he watched.

In the moment of distraction as Nat glanced over to Sam who had started throwing playful taunts at her, you kneed her right in the hipbone and rolled out from under her weight, gaining the advantage enough to swing your legs against the back of her knees and send her tumbling to the ground. Red hair flowing up around her head like a halo as you pressed the heel of your hand to her chest, kneeling proudly above her.

A smile broke out on her face through labored breaths. “Well shit.”

You laughed, extending a hand to her and she took it graciously. After you helped Nat up to her feet, you bent over the ropes of the ring in an attempt to catch your breath, taking the weight off of your tired legs. Muscles aching and skin glistening in the aftermath of the long-winded training session, you reached for your water to find the plastic empty. Sweat dripped off the edge of your chin to the mat beneath you as you crinkled the bottle in your hand and tossed it into the bin.

Nat wordlessly handed you her own, half-filled, and offered you a swing. You took it gratefully and chugged back the remainder, a sliver spilling out the sides of your lips though you hardly noticed it amongst the sweat. You handed it back to her and she sent you that cocky smirk again, shaking her head in a laugh.

You narrowed your eyes and she nodded cheekily towards the double doors of the gym. Following her gaze, you clench your jaw at what she had been eyeing.

Bucky.

Towel draped over his shoulder, gym bag filled with gloves and boxing tape hanging from his left hand, as he walked into the gym with a natural swagger that was sure to have you biting on the edge of your lip. 

He was wearing a pair of black sweatpants he had stolen from Sam’s closet nearly a year ago and a thin SHIELD t-shirt that didn’t do much to hide the ripple of muscles beneath the fabric. His left arm reflected under the florescent lights as he walked, unashamed of the appendage within the constructs of the compound. He’d come so far from the shy, withdrawn man you’d met three years prior.

You must have been staring too long because Bucky narrowed his eyes on you, even from the distance, smiling softly, just barely a curve of his lips, but it was evident enough to set a wave of butterflies in your stomach. This man managed to intimidate every stranger he came across, stood six feet high with a build that could take down most men and carried a past filled with such horrors and violence. He shouldn’t be able to be as gentle and as kind as he was with you. But he was. And he is.

He was a paradox. An enigma. He was everything all at once.

A flush rushed to your cheeks and you waved awkwardly at him, ignoring the way Nat struggled to choke back her laughter. Bucky returned the gesture, lifting his hand subtly, and nodding at you. The unspoken connection you shared incredibly obvious to those around you though you made every effort to stifle it when they asked.

Bucky set his bag by the wall, reluctantly dropping your eye, and began wrapping his hands.

“You guys are absolutely pathetic, just so you know,” Nat teased under her breath. “You tell him how you feel, yet?”

“Nat!” you hushed, shoving her in her side enough to make her unsteady on her feet.

You stole a glance back at Bucky to find him caught up in conversation with Sam, though neither of them appeared to be particularly pleased about it. He seemed to be distracted enough to not have overheard Nat’s comment, even with his advanced senses, which let your heart slow again.

A steady sigh left your breath as you brushed the sweat from your forehead, and you admitted, “he knows how I feel, Nat. I don’t gotta say it.”

Nat rolled her eyes, though she still wore that smile on her thin lips. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Y/n.”

Your relationship, or lack-there-of, with Bucky wasn’t exactly easy to define.

The first day you met Bucky, he had already been living in the compound for a few weeks. You had been out on a month-long reconnaissance mission in Guatemala while he was getting acclimated to his new living arrangements and you missed the apparent welcome wagon. Though from Steve’s retelling, Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled by the sudden influx of new people in his life wanting to know him and his business, trying to reassure him of a truth of his innocence he wasn’t ready to hear. He stayed seclusive to his room and barely spoke a word to anyone outside of Steve.

It took a whole week after you'd arrived back home before you ran into him for the first time in the kitchen. One morning, well before the sun had risen from behind the trees, you found him pouring what looked like his second cup of coffee. 

You were dressed in your running gear, folding your right leg behind you to stretch the tops of your thighs, when he brought the mug to his lips. He sighed as he took a sip of the steaming coffee and you noticed that he looked years younger when he didn’t wear that constant scowl upon his face, when he thought no one else was around to see something softer, something vulnerable.

He had caught you staring and set the mug on the table, his features hardening in a protective layer. 

You jogged over to him and extended your hand, a careful smile on your lips as you introduced yourself; an agent of SHIELD who had spent nearly five years in combat missions before Steve personally requested your transfer to the Avengers Initiative. He’d seen how you worked when you’d been assigned to his team on a few missions overseas and how you defended him without much of a second thought against Hydra’s double agents in D.C. You knew Steve well by that time and you were more than happy to take permanent residence in his team.

Steve had told you so much about Bucky that it didn’t even cross your mind to tread carefully around him. From all of Steve’s stories from the forties and working closely with him and Sam to help track Bucky down from behind a computer after the chaos in the capital, you felt like you knew him, like he was an old friend you hadn’t seen in years.

He had stared at your hand for a few awkward seconds before he finally gritted his teeth and shook it. His grip was firm, solid, and you tried not to focus on the rough feel of the callouses on his palm or the warmth of his skin. You smiled pleasantly at him as he grimaced back at you, like it took all of his energy just to tolerate being in the room with you, though he tried. It wasn’t personal and you didn’t take it as such. You could recognize trauma when you saw it.

He dropped your hand almost immediately, eyes darting to the floor. You made a note to be more careful of initiating physical contact and the fact that he liked his coffee black, and gave him a quick nod, telling him simply you were happy he was here, and left for your jog.

Determined to get to know the new member of the team and help him get settled amongst the admittedly chaotic nature of the compound, you learned his routine. He largely kept to himself, sneaking out of his room only to escape to the gym in the late hours of the night and steal food from the pantry when no one else seemed to be around. He was still in survival mode; sneaking around like he didn’t belong, as if he believed if he was caught eating it would be taken away. Even if he knew he was safe, it came as instinct. It was something he would have to unlearn.

It was around five in the morning before your runs that you’d find him in the kitchen, pouring his cup of coffee. He wasn’t as startled by your presence anymore but he still retreated back to his room after his mug was filled.

One week later, you began starting the pot for him before he even made it out of his room, leaving out the plain white mug he always seemed to use amongst the sea of novelty cups and colorful glasses the team had obtained over the years, and took your position by the wall to begin stretching. 

The look of surprise on his face, though incredibly subtle, was enough to get you beaming. You made every effort to suppress it as to not make him uncomfortable but the sweet way in which his hand grazed over the mug, the sigh in his shoulders, and the shake of his head as if he simply couldn’t understand why anyone would do such a thing for him, no matter how small, pushed the smile out of you anyway.

He glanced back at you, gestured to the coffee in question, and you gave him a slight nod. He swallowed, pushing out half of a smile you were certain took most of his will power to produce and he poured his freshly brewed cup. It was your first victory with him.

After a while, he started to sit at the counter while he drank his coffee as opposed to sneaking back off to his room. He’d sit in silence, staring off into the kitchen as you stretched a few feet away. He’d leave as soon as you said your goodbye and made your way outside.

The morning you found him standing in the kitchen, wearing running shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt he must have borrowed from Steve, you couldn’t stop the grin that pulled at your cheeks. So quietly you almost didn’t hear it, he asked if he could come with you, mumbling something about how Steve had been on his ass to get some fresh air.

You took a risk and teased him by asking if he would be able to keep up with you, despite being a super soldier and all. It was the first time you saw a crinkle by his eyes, the softest of smiles on his lips that made your stomach turn. While you didn’t speak another word as you ran, he stayed at your pace the entire time.

It became part of your routine. You’d meet Bucky in the kitchen, go for your morning run together, and end up back in the kitchen for coffee afterward. It took a few days of that before he started talking to you and once he did, you never wanted him to stop.

He was shy; quieter than the Bucky that Steve described from his childhood, though he was incredibly observant and far more intelligent than the papers gave him credit for. His voice was rough from a lack of use but you noticed quickly that the words seemed to spill easier from his lips when he talked about Steve. He told you about how small Steve used to be, about their adventures as kids, and how he’d have to rescue Steve out of nearly every fight, though it seemed to be reversed these days.

The first time you laughed at something he said, it wasn’t even an intentional joke, but the flash of surprise on his face made your heart swell. He looked at you like you were something from another world, that the very idea of him doing or saying anything that could produce such a beautiful sound was so completely foreign to him. He started smiling more after that.

Soon, you started spending time with him outside of your morning runs. He’d find you outside as you read on your favorite bench down by the water and he’d sit contently just staring out into grounds as you continued your book, stolen glances up at him every few pages. You’d catch him while he was training by himself in the gym, sweat dripping down his brow as he beat the life out of a punching bag, and sarcastically ask if he wanted advice on his form or if he wanted you to grab Sam to try his right hook on next. It was the first time you’d seen him laugh; full bodied and echoing through the gym. You knew instantly from the twist in your stomach that you needed to hear more of that like it was the air you breathed.

Months later and it evolved to meeting up on the roof of the building with blankets and hot chocolate so you could show him the constellations and consistently sitting next to one another on the couch after you all but begged him to come to movie night with the team. It turned into dragging him into the city to visit old landmarks and new bookshops and sitting on the floor of your room listening to the latest playlist you’d made up for him.

It became quick glances at one another when you didn’t think the other was looking and sprinting down the hall the first time you heard him scream in the middle of the night. Cautiously wrapping your arms around his shaking form until he caved against your touch, too afraid and panicked to keep up his guard, especially around you, and you held him through the early hours of the morning. It turned into asking FRIDAY to alert you when his pulse started to increase in his sleep and a nightmare was coming on so you could catch it before it began.

He started to let you touch him even when he wasn’t being ripped awake from the darkest corners of his mind a few months after you met.

First it was his hand when you noticed the anxiety radiating off of him when Tony insisted the team take part in a fundraising gala to help with the Avengers’ public image. A soft brush, just barely noticeably, but Bucky thought about it the rest of the day. Then, it was his forearm as you reached across the table to give it a squeeze casually as you tried to grab his attention while he’d gotten lost in his thoughts over his cereal and he’d burn his eyes to the spot where your touch had left him, feeling empty without it.

While you could feel the unspoken connection you shared, though you denied it was anything more than friendship despite Sam and Nat’s teasing, it was the first mission you went on together changed everything.

You were both assigned to the west wing of the building, seeking out intelligence on a known arms dealer, when a stray agent had gotten the upper hand on you, striking a blade right between your ribs. Blood pooling at your stomach and you fell to your knees, watching as horror flashed over the blue in Bucky’s eyes, quickly replaced by a rage you’d only heard stories of as he killed the combatant.

He gathered you into his arms, holding you tightly to his chest, as he shouted into the coms for a med evac. You’d never heard his voice shake like that before. He was screaming at you to stay awake as the darkness took over your vision, and you swore you had seen tears in his eyes.

When you gained consciousness again, Bucky was sitting in a chair on your right in the med bay. His hand wrapped so tightly around yours, you couldn’t quite feel it from the ache it left behind, unaware of his own strength. The relief that washed over his features when you woke, the pale blue of his eyes clouded by the strain of red lines and dark circles below, confirmed what you had been wondering. That he cared as much as you hoped he did.

After that, you were no longer shy about seeking him out when you needed him. This unspoken, undeniable, connection you shared kept you afloat. Three years since you first met the reserved, withdrawn soldier, and he had become your best friend, your closest confidant, the one person you put above everything else.

He was everything, though you never said it aloud.

Saying it to one another made it real, made it something that could be taken advantage of and targeted by your enemies. It was too vulnerable to admit those kinds of feelings, to confess that you’d fallen in love with your best friend, with the man who had given up so much of himself and struggled just to look in the mirror most days, because if anyone else knew, if your enemies found out the extent to which you’d go for him, what you’d do to ensure his safety... they’d be able to extort you for almost anything.

You wondered if Bucky felt the same, but you didn’t dare ask him.

So, you kept to seeking one another out when the nights became too dark, cheeks flushing red with gentle smiles, watching one another’s backs on missions even if you had to go out of your way to do so, curling up next to him on the couch, and accompanying you on your morning run. Close and still never close enough.

Stolen moments. Real moments. But hidden. From the world and from yourselves.

“Y/n?”

You blinked rapidly, startling yourself back to focus. Nat was watching you with a mischievous grin that only confirmed she knew exactly who you were thinking of.

“Don’t even say it,” you warned and Nat held up her hands in surrender. She nodded towards where Bucky had been standing and you realized he had crossed the plane of the gym and was heading in your direction.

“Hey, Y/n,” he greeted softly, climbing up into the ring and swinging his legs between the ropes.

“Hey,” you responded breathily and you spotted Sam rolling his eyes teasingly behind Bucky’s back.

“Thought you might want a real challenge in the ring,” Bucky offered, the left of his lips curving up just enough to lift at his cheek.

“I’m hurt, Barnes,” Nat scoffed, feigning offense as she jumped down from the platform to join Sam on the sidelines. The two of them snickered to one another as they both headed towards the free weights on the other end of the gym.

Alone, you tucked a strand of damp hair behind your ear and looked up at Bucky. It was a wonder how you still managed to feel this nervous around him, like a kid with a schoolyard crush. Even despite all the time you’ve spent with him, the nights innocently curled under his sheets to protect one another from the horrors in your sleep, the time spent stitching each other up after missions gone wrong, and the completely obvious fact that he was so enamored with you that he could hardly stand to go a day without seeing you, you still couldn’t get used to the butterflies in your stomach.

“Think you can handle a round with me, tough guy?” you taunted, a smile tugging at your lips.

Bucky chuckled, that sweet kind of sound that you thought about when you were in your worst moments. “���Course, I can. I’m worried about you, sweetheart.”

There is was. Those little pet names he gave you. You didn’t suspect he did it intentionally as they slipped out with a different name depending on the day, but you noticed rather quickly he didn’t share those names with anyone else.

“You forget I’ve taken you down before,” you teased, stepped out back into the ring and stretching your arms behind your back until you heard a soft pop. “Don’t hold your punches this time.”

“I am a super soldier. You remember that, don’t you?” Bucky smiled, shaking out his legs as he followed you to the center of the ring.

“Yeah, a super soldier that’s got an affinity for Pixar movies and a certain ice cream shop in Coney Island. Remember that? Rainbow Sprinkles?”

He pressed his lips to a thin line, shaking his head at the nickname you had doled out to him the day he worked up the courage to venture out to the old memory with you. He was shocked to find the family owned shop he visited with his little sister still standing and he ordered the same thing he used to get back when he was young. You couldn’t let it go the whole walk around the city, laughing and clinging onto his arm for support, though he didn’t much mind that at all.

The deadliest assassin of nearly two generations and he orders rainbow sprinkles on soft serve vanilla ice cream.

“Watch yourself, Y/n,” Bucky grinned, adjusting his stance as he cracked his neck to the side.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Bucky shrugged and you let out a breathy laugh.

Then, you charged.

Bucky was exceptionally skilled in combat, but you were trained by some of the best fighters in the game. You could hold your own against him, even in the stray moments he forgot to hold back the full force of his strength.

It wasn’t because he underestimated you that he held his punches, because he saw you as an equal on the battlefield before he ever saw you spar, but because he was capable of ripping a door off its hinges on pure accident and could dent a solid metal bar with his grip. He had to be careful with you, for more reasons than he’d say aloud.

Your left swing was caught by his forearm and you spun around to plunge your elbow into his ribs, sending him back a few feet in the impact. He chuckled to himself, urging you on, and he easily defended your next three punches, blocking each one before you could land against his body. On your fourth swing, he caught your first in the air and twisted your arm to a painful enough position for you to let out a shout and he released you.

“Told you to watch yourself,” Bucky teased, pacing around you in the ring. “You’re telling me what you’re gonna do before you do it. I can see your hits coming from a mile away.”

“Oh, so now you’re teaching me a lesson?” you laughed, shaking your head.

“Maybe I am, doll. Don’t want you getting caught off guard in the field.”

“I didn’t seem to have any trouble against Nat,” you countered, raising an eyebrow auspiciously.

“Well I’m not Nat, am I?” Bucky said carefully, gently, a more serious tone to his voice. “There could be more super soldiers out there, and they won’t hold their punches like I do. I just want you to be ready for it.”

You paused, watching as the teasing nature upon his face quickly fell to the anxious twitch of his jaw line. It was in small moments like these that you were reminded of the man you knew in the beginning; timid, insecure, trying his best just to believe that maybe not everything he touched turned to stone. He'd come so far since you’d known him but he had moments where he was still afraid, still nervous he could lose everything all over again, and it peaked through in glimpses, especially when it came to you.

“I know how skilled you are but I just... I want to make sure you’re prepared,” Bucky sighed, lowering his hands. “You can understand that, can’t you?”

“I am prepared for it, Buck,” you replied, moving closer to run a hand over his bicep, bringing chills and calm in its wake. “You can see my hits coming because you know me better than anyone else. Some random bad guy in the field isn’t going to be able to read me the way you can.”

Bucky nodded, his tongue running against his teeth as he took in your words. It took him a minute, and it usually did, to bring him back from the dark thoughts in the corners of his mind.

“Alright? Let’s get back to it,” you smiled, shoving Bucky lightly in the shoulder to pull that grin back onto his lips. It took a moment longer, but as he watched you jumping to circulate the energy back into your muscles, he couldn’t begin to suppress the smile that etched its way back to his face.

This time, he came at you. Right arm swung out to your shoulders and you ducked to the side, dodging his punches in a rhythm you could only find when it was Bucky opposite you in the ring. Almost in a dance, you circled around the ring, catching a hit to his side that caused him to grunt and he clipped your hipbone hard enough to make you step back a few paces.

It wasn’t until he overswung with his left hand against your cheek that you saw the perfect opportunity. You let out a feigned cry, gripping at the side of your face as you stumbled your feet to the edge of the ring, collapsing against the ropes.

It stung, but no more the ache in your muscles and the hits from Natasha you sustained. It was expected that he’d get you at least once, but you milked it to get the upper hand.

“Y/n!” Bucky shouted, frantic nerves in his voice as he rushed over to you. His large hands set on your shoulders, exceptionally gentle, and carefully turned you around to inspect the injury he believed he caused. “Shit, shit, I’m so sorry, doll. Let me see it. Are you-”

The moment you faced him, you pounced, sending the two of you barreling to the ground. Bucky landed with an oompf and your full body weight on top of him. His hands gripped at the fabric of your shirt to keep you steady in the fall, though he winced as he adjusted his head against the mat.

You smirked, the pride of getting Bucky to the ground a feat not many could claim.

“You faked it, didn’t you?” Bucky grunted, a teasing grin on his lips.

You shrugged, tucking a hair behind your ear as it fell down onto his face. “Maybe you can’t read me as well as I thought you could.”

Bucky chuckled, staring up at you. The cool of his left hand reached up to brush a fallen strand of hair behind your ear; an unconscious, almost instinctive movement he didn’t realize he was doing until he felt the flush of your cheeks register in the plates of his fingers.

His laugh faded away the longer he kept your stare, though that look of something between awe and longing stayed present on his features, almost permanent. Perfect, ocean blue eyes held your gaze, impossible not to find yourself lost in.

His hands unbunched from your shirt and you felt them flatten against your hips. Strong hands holding you still but giving you the leniency to move without resistance, giving you the choice to stay and you took it without a second thought. Heart pounding in your chest as your eyes flickered down to his lips; perfect, pillowy, and parted, panting.

The whole world seemed to stop spinning in that moment; a moment you’d found yourself in more times than you could count, though it never seemed to move further than the longing glances, so desperate to close the space between you. The hardened muscles of his chest so evident against yours, the thick curve of his thighs, and his hand pressing so delicately into your hips.

It was so familiar, this dance; ending up in positions like this where it would only take a breath, a moment of courage, and a lapse of a few inches between you until your lips were on his. It was something you’d thought about constantly; wondered what it was like to kiss him, to touch him, to hold him intimately in a way few others ever did.

His eyes were on your lips and you could feel the thunderous beating of his heart through his chest. Too many times you’d been this close, on the edge of something more than friendship that you’d been longing for but too terrified to take the plunge, too many almost kisses and almost confessions. Maybe if you just leaned forward a little, he’d meet you half way...

You let out a shaky breath, eyes daring to dart to the shades of blue, falling closer, his lips ghosting over yours so subtle you could hardly feel it when suddenly, a cough echoed through the gym.

Heart skipping a beat, you turned your head to find Sam standing at the edge of the ring, arms folded over his chest and an eyebrow raised amusingly.

“If you two are done staring into each other’s eyes, we got a mission.”

You scrambled off of Bucky, muttering an apology as you brushed the wrinkles from your tank top. Bucky offered you a hand, helping you back to your feet, and you noticed his release was slower than usual, his fingers trailing against the back of your palm.

“What’s the op?” you asked.

“We need to obtain intel from a Hydra base,” Sam answered, eyeing Bucky with a careful stare. You took a step closer to him, the cool metal of his left hand brushing over yours. “It’s just us, Cap, and Nat. Suit up. We leave in ten.”

With that, he turned and headed back to the double doors, leaving you and Bucky alone again.

After the doors closed behind him and silence took over the gym, you turned to face Bucky. He was stiff, hands clenching at his side as he kept his focus on the wall at the far end of the room. The sharp clench of his jaw reflected in the muscle twitching in his cheek.

“Buck? You gonna be alright?” you asked carefully, keeping your voice as steady as you could manage.

He nodded, though he still couldn’t look at you.

You slipped your hand up the side of his arm, rubbing it soothingly and intentionally let it rest against the flesh of his shoulder, upon the marred skin over the thin layer of his t-shirt. He swallowed, his shoulders relaxing somewhat as you dug your fingers against the scars, massaging the tender area. It was all the seemed to ground him whenever Hydra was brought up, let alone when he was asked to walk right into one of their bases.

“I can talk to Steve,” you suggested. “I’m sure he’d understand if you sat this one out.”

The first time he went on a mission to a Hydra facility, he had been locked in a room identical to the one they kept the soldier in and you found him in the heat of a panic attack, curled up in the corner of the cell. It took nearly seven minutes before he recognized who you were and the fear in his eyes wasn’t something you easily forgot. It had been better since then, but it was always a struggle.

There had only been one time when you convinced him not to go, when he gave in and listened to your pleas. While he stayed him, you had been hurt, badly; caught up in a reign of hellfire from Hydra combatants he would have been able to protect you from, or so he told himself. You’d come home with so many bruises, he had a hard time finding a patch of unmarked skin as you were carried in Steve’s arms through the hanger to the med bay.

He couldn’t risk that happening again.

“No. No, doll. I’m good,” Bucky said, pushing out a smile you could tell was forced. He wrapped his arm over your shoulders, hugging you against his side for a moment as he worked on stilling his heart.

You leaned against him, content to let him hold you as long as he needed before he found the strength to head off to his room to suit up.

“I’ll be with you, you know. The whole time. You won’t be able to get rid of me if you tried,” you reminded him, nudging his side playfully and drawing that smile from his lips you adored. Genuine. Crinkling by his eyes. A relief in his chest.

He should have held onto the feeling as long as he could.

---

this is definitely a set up for the shit that goes down in part 2 that really kicks off the whole series, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! feedback is always appreciated 🖤

tags 🥊 @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @panic-naran / @fairislesheets / @kaliforniacoastalteens / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @daydreamsquad / @deanssweetheart / @maybesomedaytho / @montypythonsholysnail / @saharzek / @jillybeaner13 / @chubby-dumplin / @searchingforbucky / @alohafromhell1 / @tabalugax / @shesalatesh / @whyamidoingthistomyselfhelp / @aliensbecameourstyle / @bucksgoat / @serpensortiaaa / @trash-rats-unite / @hungry-pasta / @nervosaa / @lbuck121 / @sweetheartbarnes / @get0verit

[kuroyurishion]

Symbiosis AU Part 1

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): Platonic DRLAMP

Chapter Summary: Thomas finds an intruder broke into his house. Neither he nor his Sides are happy about it. 

Warnings: Cursing, Spiders, Guns, Breaking into someone’s house, violence and other weaponry, Blood

Additional Note(s): Thank you to the amazing @thesearcher1092 for making the awesome TikTok that inspired my brain to write this up. It was a long time coming, but it’s finally here! I know I said I wanted to make one fanfic about it, but my brain was like “why not make a whole AU about it”. So, enjoy!

Ready? Let’s Begin. 

Chapter 1: Intruder Alert

Thomas was trying to have a relaxing day off. After weeks of work, he finally has three days to himself, and he was determined to make the best of them. He was rewatching The Office on his couch when he felt a sinking feeling in his gut. He tried to ignore it, but it kept getting worse. Groaning, he pressed pause on his computer.

“Virgil?” he called out carefully. His anxious side had a tendency to lash out, so Thomas had to tread carefully. Virgil showed up in his usual place by the stairs, hood drawn and arms crossed gripping his sleeves. His eyeshadow seemed darker than usual.

“Yeah?” Virgil asked. Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“You alright there buddy?” he asked.

“...Yes? No? I don’t know! Virgil exclaimed, gripping his arms tighter. “I woke up this morning feeling off. Something’s bugging me, and I don’t know what it is.” 

There was a sound, and the two looked over to see Logan in his usual place. The logical side adjusted his glasses before greeting his Host. 

“Salutations Thomas, Virgil.” Logan greeted. “Perhaps I may offer an explanation and a solution to your current problem.”

Virgil looked a bit relieved. “Sure, Teach. I’m all ears.” he said, still gripping his sleeves.

Logan nodded and turned to Thomas. “What Virgil is experiencing is a feeling of restlessness, as his fight or flight mode is being activated.” he explained. His Host looked confused.

“Why would his fight or flight mode be activated? It’s my day off. I’m literally doing nothing.” Thomas questioned, gesturing to the blanket and computer on the couch. Logan cleared his throat and fixed his glasses.

“Well, there’s a good explanation for that.” Logan said. “These past couple weeks have been stressful for you, haven’t they?”

“Yes?”

“Constantly in and out of the house, going to work, keeping up with a healthy social life, planning new videos?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. My stress levels were so high.”

“I was working overtime.” Virgil piped up.

Logan nodded at him before continuing. “Because of all these activities going on for a long period of time, your body has already been conditioned to have the fight or flight response on, as Virgil has been making sure you’re on your toes at all times.” Logan explained. “Now you want to relax, but the sudden shift from high stress to the mundane causes Virgil,” He paused to look at said side, “to be confused, as he is your anxiety. There’s too much adrenaline in your body, and has no place to go. Thus, the feeling of restlessness.”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” he said. “So your solution to this?” he asked, gesturing to his body. 

Logan flashed him a quick smirk. “I’m glad you asked.” he said. “Exercise has been suggested to help with feelings of restlessness, so I suggest going out and taking a walk in the park, because there is no way I’m going to let Thomas watch The Office for the nth time.” The two Sides ignored their Host’s noise of protest. 

“I guess a walk in the park wouldn’t hurt.” Thomas mused. “I have been wanting to have a healthier lifestyle.” 

Virgil sighed, knowing that this was a better option than by watching The Office again. “Sure, why not.” he agreed reluctantly. He really didn’t want to go outside, but the extra adrenaline had to go somewhere. 

Thomas gave a little cheer as he left to go get ready, and both Virgil and Logan returned to the Mindscape. In a rare occurrence, all the other Sides were there waiting for them. Patton looked especially excited.

“We heard everything!” the Moral Side exclaimed, eyes wide. He was holding a large picnic basket. Beside him, Roman carried a large rainbow blanket. “It’s a nice day outside, so why don’t we have a picnic while we’re at it?”  he suggested.

Logan wondered when Patton had the time to make food for a picnic in such a short notice. As he asked, Virgil turned to look at Janus and Remus, who were looking at him amused.

“What?” he asked defensively. They got rid of the labels a long time ago after a long series of talks that may or may not have included some crying, hugs, and a massive sleepover at the end of the day. 

“It’s so like you to agree to not go outside.” Janus answered. Virgil shrugged in response, fidgeting slightly. Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Got ants in your pants, emo? I can make it happen literally if you want?” he crowed, wiggling his fingers. Virgil shot him a disgusted look and Janus sighed over Remus’ cackle. 

“It’s not that I want to go outside.” Virgil responded. He had yet to let go of his sleeves. “This feeling I have. I think it’s more than restlessness.” He didn’t know what would happen, but he could sense the danger in the air. Virgil bit his lip when Thomas walked out the door, reminding him to lock it, and checked that he locked it at least three times. Hopefully, his feelings would go away so he would be proven wrong. 

***

When Thomas was asleep after their nice day at the park, his Sides were huddled together in the Mindscape’s living room. It was close to 1:00 in the morning, and there was a tense silence between them as they sat in each other’s presence. 

“Don’t tell me you're still feeling restless, Dark and Stormy!” Roman exclaimed tiredly. Virgil groaned. The restless feeling didn’t go away. 

“I don’t know why I can’t calm down!” he responded, frantic. “We went to the park, we got the adrenaline out, so why can’t I,” Virgil suddenly went rigid, “calm down.” he finished. There it was again. There was danger nearby. Something dangerous was coming closer. 

“What’s not wrong this time?” Janus asked cautiously. Virgil didn’t answer as his mismatched eyes, his right one purple and his left one green, glowed and narrowed. No one spoke or moved as they watched their Anxious Side concentrate. The tension was thick as the others wondered what was going on. Then, the sound of the wiggling door knob echoed throughout the Mindscape. Someone was trying to break into Thomas’ apartment.

The Sides wasted no time. Virgil activated the fight or flight response, jolting Thomas awake. The Host growled angrily, but stopped when Janus waved his hand and silenced his voice. 

“Do try not to be quiet.” he hissed. “There’s someone in your house.” Suddenly the door downstairs was thrown open. “Slowly now, hide in your closet.” Thomas nodded frantically and obeyed. 

Once Thomas was safely in his closet, the Sides crept downstairs to observe. They saw a large shadowy figure walking throughout the first floor. It was opening the cabinets and drawers as if it was looking for something. They heard the figure talking to someone.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” the voice growled. It was male, deep, and dark. There was another muffled voice. An accomplice perhaps? Were they talking over an earpiece? “A Manifestor lives in this shabby place? Doubt it.” the man scoffed. 

The Sides returned to the Mindscape in anger. How dare someone break into their Hosts’ house! But no one was feeling as angry as Virgil, who grit his teeth in anger. He was the one who had to protect Thomas from things like this! If only he was more careful…

“We need a plan.” Logan said, snapping Virgil out of his musings. The Logical Side had a glare on his face as he looked at everyone. “Clearly this intruder is looking for something of Thomas’.” 

“He called Thomas ‘Manifestor.’” Patton whimpered. “What does that mean?” No one wanted to admit it, but they had a strong feeling they knew what the man was talking about. And they didn’t like it. They wanted answers, and they wanted them now. 

Virgil smirked. “I have a plan.” he purred. The Sides shivered at the sight of their Anxious Side. His smile was all teeth and dangerous, fangs out and dripping with venom. “A beautiful, bloody, plan.” 

***

Thomas grunted in pain as he was forcefully tied to the chair. He was found out, dragged from his hiding place, kicking and screaming all the way.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” he growled. The man didn’t grace him with an answer. Instead he took out what looked like a recorder and pressed a button.

“This is recording #1678. My name is Dr. Sawyer. Now, please tell me your name?” the man said. 

Thomas growled. Dr. Sawyer continued with disinterest. 

“Subject is highly aggressive. Will proceed with caution.” he said and continued to ask questions. Thomas answered every single with one with a growl or a curse. Finally, after hours, the doctor became impatient. “Listen kid,” he sighed, “you’re in a dangerous situation. Follow my orders and answer my questions, or else.” 

Thomas’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Or else what?” he asked slowly. The doctor raised an eyebrow, as if to question whether or not Thomas was stupid enough to talk back. 

“Or else I’ll have to resort to extreme measures for your answers.” the doctor responded stoically. “Don’t mess with me.” He turned around, presumably to retrieve a weapon or something to force his captive to answer. 

Thomas glowered at him. He felt a strange tingling sensation, comfortable and familiar, and smirked.  “No.” Thomas whispered, eyes harsh. “You don’t want to mess with me.” 

Then suddenly, the world went dark. Dr. Sawyer jumped back in surprise and looked around wildly. He couldn’t see anything, just the cold black, like an abyss. “Who’s there? What’s going on?” Dr. Sawyer called out into the darkness. His voice echoed. He saw his subject standing there in the distance, arms crossed and his back turned. Dr. Sawyer approached him. 

“Excuse me?” he called loudly. He reached his hand out to grab his subject’s attention, but fell on his back with a loud thud when he felt a shock run through his body. Dr. Sawyer screamed in pain and clutched his hand. Looking up, he went to get up and yell at his subject, but paused.

He was held at sword point, the tip pointed close to his throat, by his subject. Or was it? The figure wore a white regal outfit with a red sash. Its eyes glowed a bright, angry red. “Get up.” it demanded. Dr. Sawyer slowly complied. 

“I demand to know what is going on!” he shouted. The figure didn’t grace the doctor with an answer. Rather it disappeared, along with his subject, right before his eyes. The black floor was engulfed in a dark mist. Dr. Sawyer tried to catch up to it, but found he couldn’t walk. He struggled to move his legs when he felt something grip on them. Looking down, he saw green tentacles curling up his legs. He screamed as the tentacles pulled him through the floor. He fell for a couple minutes as he struggled to grip onto something until he collided with the floor again.

He got up again, groaning. He heard the footsteps first, and then the green tentacles came back and wrapped around his body, lifting him up from the ground upside down, leaving only his head visible. Dr. Sawyer gasped in shock when he saw another figure, this one dressed in black with a green sash and holding a morning start threateningly, smiling creepily at him, eyes glowing a toxic green.

“Welcome, Fucker!” the green figure greeted with a slight bow. He raised the morning star. “Now please don’t move!” With that the green figure swung, and kept on swinging. Dr. Sawyer felt blow after blow from the morning star. He can feel the blood pouring out his head and the shortness of his breath. He could feel his lip break open and his bones crack from the hits and from the tight squeezes of the tentacles. The green figure cackled with glee as it continued hitting the doctor. 

At last, the green figure stopped. The green tentacles let go of the doctor, and he fell to the ground unceremoniously. He heard the snap of fingers and felt his bones set themselves, but his bleeding didn’t stop. He lay there, eyes closed and gasping for breath. 

Moments later, he stood up. Opening his eyes, he saw a blurry figure dressed in dark blue with glowing dark blue eyes hidden behind glasses. The figure nodded in greeting. “Salutations.” it said. Dr. Sawyer snarled and swiped at the figure. It sighed, as if it expected him to do that. “I apologize in advance.” the figure stated and with a snap of its fingers, held a gun in front of the doctor. The doctor heard a click and the figure said, “Run.” He did just that, turning sharply on his heel and running far away from the dark blue figure just as he heard the loud bang of the gun. He ran with short pants, eyes blown wide, looking back to see if the dark blue figure was following. He couldn’t see it, but he could still hear the loud shots. 

What he saw so far was absolute madness. Unfortunately, he didn’t look where he was going, and became… stuck? Dr. Sawyer found himself unable to remove himself from the sticky substance.  With wide eyes, he noticed that he was trapped in a spider’s web. An unpleasant shiver shot down his back. He could feel the web shake. Something big was coming closer, and closer. Dr. Sawyer couldn’t help but feel fear.

“How nice of you to drop by.” a low voice said. Dr. Sawyer couldn’t look up, but from his line of vision, he could see a deep, dark purple spider leg close to his face. Then, he could hear a faint hissing sound. He could feel something crawling on him, and the sensations sent unpleasant shivers down his spine. What was... ? And then it clicked. Spiders. Hundreds of spiders were crawling on him. He struggled to move, to kick the spiders away, but he couldn’t. The spiders crawled and crawled, covering his body. They moved to his face, their legs covering his eyes. Dr. Sawyer could feel his heart leap out of his chest, his vision blurring, his breathing ragged as he felt spiders crawl down his face and into his mouth. And he screamed. 

When Dr. Sawyer woke up, he was no longer in the spider web or in the dark room. Instead, he could see all white, and he was strapped to a chair. In front of him were two more figures. One was wearing yellow and black, the other wore light blue and gray. The yellow figure spoke first.

“Good night.” the yellow figure said. 

“Did you learn your lesson?” the light blue figure asked kindly. Dr. Sawyer groaned in agony. 

“Who did not send you here?” the yellow figure asked harshly. Dr. Sawyer didn’t answer, too angry and too confused at his situation. Instead, he spat in the figures’ direction, causing them to recoil slightly.

“How kind.” the yellow figure spat back. His eyes glowed a poisonous yellow. The light blue figure looked at the doctor disappointedly. 

“I’m so sorry for this.” it said solemnly, and their forms began to morph, growing taller in size. They morphed into a large green frog with muscular arms and legs and a large yellow snake, large fangs poised and ready to strike. They loomed over their captive, who was shaking despite his exhaustion. In front of them were the rest of the figures. The red and green figures had their weapons out -was that his blood on the morning star?- pointed at him threateningly. The dark blue figure held its gun steadily. There was a purple figure standing there, too, with its eight dark purple spider legs coming out of its back. And protected by all of them, was his subject. 

“I told you.” his subject said with tired yet proud eyes. “I told you not to mess with me.”

The large yellow snake hissed, grabbing the attention on Dr. Sawyer. The doctor looked into the snake’s glowing, yellow eyes, swirling with flashes of purple and green, and slowly, lost sensation in his entire body. He slumped forward in his chair, and closed his eyes. 

To Be Continued

Taglist: 

@bluebandedagate

(Anybody else? Just let me know :D)

[baskervilleshound]

Her Cookies Were to Die For (PART 6)

((ahaaaaa so it’s past 1AM whoo p s. But in my defense, this chapter got way longer than i originally expected it to be- which is great! But this chapter is actually super special, because it pays homage to one of my favorite Ahit comics ever. The wonderful miss @fedoraspooky allowed me to write out the scene from her Snatcher comic. Hopefully I did it justice. Thank you so, so much for letting me write it out ;;u;;

Guys, if you haven’t seen it, here’s a link: https://fedoraspooky.tumblr.com/post/611345241098829824/lil-continuation-comic-thing-from-this-post-and but if you haven’t seen it yet, don’t look at it till after you read this because it’s technically spoilers for this chapter lolz ANYWAYS. time to get spooky. Please enjoy! ))

“Snatcher, help!” Hat Kid cried as she fought against the vicious Subconite that lived in the muck.

The ghost’s vision was hazy, and he felt weak, but without missing a beat, he stretched one of his long arms out to latch onto Hat Kid before pulling her out of the water, and back up onto the dock with him. She was covered in what appeared to be the blue goop. Snatcher had knocked her directly into it by accident.

If he had known that it was the kid touching him, he wouldn’t have launched her off of the dock in the first place.

“Ugh…kid, are you ok…?” Snatcher grumbled weakly. His head hung over the dock as if he couldn’t lift it as more of the blue goop dribbled out from between his fangs.

“I saw you, Snatcher. You’re sick, and I knew it,” Hat Kid breathed as she watched the blue goop beginning to mysteriously evaporate into the sky off of her coat. It was as if the liquid was being beckoned into the sky, as if some sort of tractor beam were pulling it upward. Except, there wasn’t one. This goo seemed to have a mind of its own.

“What is this, exactly?” the girl asked.

In moments, she had pulled out her Dweller Mask and looked at what remained of the blue liquid on her coat, as well as the strange blue orbs of light now littering the bog.

“They’re souls,” Snatcher huffed. “Yes, kid. I’m sick, and I keep throwing up souls. You were right. There, are you happy now?”

Hat Kid immediately crouched down next to the ghost and put a hand on his long back, gently brushing it against the fluff on his neck.

“No, not at all,” the girl said softly, shaking her head. “I never wanted you to be sick…I was just scared that you were, because I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Well. That makes two of us, kiddo.”

Snatcher went to pull himself back up so he wasn’t lying on the dock any longer, but he found that he simply couldn’t. Not right now.

“Can you get up?” Hat Kid asked.

Snatcher grumbled in response. He knew that he couldn’t, but he definitely refused to admit it out loud. However, he didn’t have to. The girl knew in an instant.

“Maybe you need some souls- here, pull out your magic contract thingy, and I’ll let you borrow mine until you feel better, ok?” Hat Kid said urgently. “C’mon, write one up for me and put the little stamp on it, and I’ll sign it for you- promise!”

Regardless of how exhausted and tired Snatcher felt, he couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“AhahahahahAAAAH!!! Kiddo, you’re going to make me cry with your idiocy. You do realize that your soul is worthless to me unless I eat it, right?”

Hat Kid nodded rapidly, a look of determination on her face.

“Yep- you can have it! If it’ll make you feel better, I don’t need it.”

Snatcher clicked his tongue and shook his head before letting out a deep sigh.

“Kid. Listen. You can’t just go offering your souls to people, alright? You do know that if I were to eat your soul, you would die. Yes?”

Hat Kid’s face fell and she swallowed hard. No, she didn’t know that. Last time Snatcher had taken her soul, she had been just fine…albeit having a little empty feeling inside. But he hadn’t eaten it, no. He had only held it for her.

“But…what about you? I don’t want you to die,” Hat Kid whispered. “What can I do if I can’t let you borrow my soul?”

Snatcher felt a bit warm inside. It made him uncomfortable. This girl-who he tried to kill several times- was doing everything that she could to make him feel alright. She had even offered him her own very soul! But for some reason…he simply couldn’t take it. He would have no issues ripping it straight out of a Mafia’s body, or even any other intruder in his forest. But Hat Kid….? The idea of eating her soul sent shivers down his nonexistent spine, and he hated it.

“Kid, I’m not taking your soul. Stop talking about it. And I’m not going to die. I’m just not used to losing souls like this. Or puking. That too.”

Hat Kid looked as if she were about to cry. That made Snatcher feel even worse. Regardless of how strong the alien girl was, she was still only nine. And that certainly was showing in this moment. Regardless, there wasn’t much that the ghost could do at the moment.

He felt his vision beginning to fade once again, and before he could even give Hat a warning, he had went limp on the dock. His fangs were still wet from the souls that had been expelled from his body.

---

Hat Kid had done her best not to panic after Snatcher had passed out for the second time in two days. As quickly as she could, she did her best to get the ghost back onto her ship. She didn’t want anyone to find him as weak and tired as he was. What if they hurt him?

What if she hurt him?

Hat Kid swallowed hard as she remembered the note that she found lying in Snatcher’s forest. It had been crumpled up and half buried under a root. Queen Vanessa had sent him a gift in a box. What the box held was a mystery…but Hat Kid had a nagging feeling that whatever had been in it, had something to do with how bad Snatcher was feeling. And those strings wrapped all around his body…and whatever that spiky thing was sitting in the center of his stomach.

Carefully, she tucked the large ghost into her pillow mountain before blowing him a small kiss.

“Goodnight, and feel better, BFF.”

Hat Kid made her way into the kitchen. As expected, Cooking Cat was still in there, messing with her stove.

“I see you brought the big grump back, honey?” CC meowed as she pulled some fresh, hot toast out of the toaster.

“Is he getting sick again?”

Hat Kid frowned and nodded, her eyes becoming glossy.

“I don’t know what to do, CC. He’s throwing up souls. And I guess without them, he feels weak. I don’t know what to do,” the girl breathed, removing her hat and beginning to wring the rim of it. “CC, what do I do?” she choked.

The cat smiled and put the dry toast on a plate before giving it to Hat Kid.

“Well, I’m not really sure how to cure a sick ghost, but I know we can start trying to make him feel better. Maybe some toast would settle his stomach down, hm? He’s pretty big, so I’ll make like four more for him. We’ll start with that, okay?”

Hat Kid slowly nodded, wiping her eyes. She simply stayed by Cooking Cat’s side as she toasted more bread, adding it to the growing pile on the plate. When she was finally finished, the cat patted Hat Kid on the head with one of her soft paws.

“Go on then. See if you can wake him up and get him to eat.”

Hat Kid did as she was told and bounded into her room, being careful not to drop any of the toast.

“Snatcher…! I got you some-!” Hat Kid paused when she realized that she couldn’t see Snatcher in the mountain of pillows. Had he left? Or perhaps, he was buried in the pillows. Hat couldn’t be sure.

Setting the plate down on her desk, Hat slowly treaded through the pillows, looking carefully for a mound that looked like they may have a ghost underneath. Carefully, she began to gently pull the pillows away. Sure enough, she revealed a shadowy foot. Wait- a foot?!

Her heart beating rapidly with excitement, Hat Kid began quickly pulling the rest of the pillows off as fast as she could. In moments, she finally revealed what had been hiding underneath of them.

It was Snatcher, alright. But now how Hat Kid normally saw him. Instead of a long, noodle-like ghost, what instead lied in the pillows in peace was a shadowy version of his former identity…the Prince.

Hat Kid’s breath was nearly taken away. He looked just like he had in the story book! Except for the fact that his skin was still dark hues of purple, just as Snatcher always was. She simply sat there and watched him for a moment before grabbing her umbrella. With eyes as wide as saucers, she gently poked the Prince right on the forehead.

The ghostly royal immediately let out a grunt and half opened one of his eyes before his form began to change. Immediately, his long arms propped him up, and his back arched. Large tufts of spiked fur immediately stuck up on his back as his two legs began to twist back together once again into one big, ghostly tail.

His princely attire vanished and formed back into the sleek form of the Snatcher in a matter of moments. After the ghost was done stretching like that of an overgrown cat, he let out a large yawn, holding a clawed hand in front of his mouth as he did so.

“Ughh…Waddya want, kid…? Don’t you know it’s RUDE to-.” Snatcher paused midsentence as he looked at Hat Kid. She was staring at him as if he had grown six heads atop his shoulders. Her eyes were full of astonishment, and what appeared to even be shock.

Uh…kiddo?” the ghost nervously murmured, now rubbing his claws together.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

[ohshcscenerios]

Find Me

Chapter Eighteen - Choose Your Own Adventure

Previous Poll Result: Kasanoda

Kyoya wasn’t expecting to hear back from him so quickly. When they had spoken a few days ago there was hesitancy in Ritsu’s voice, implying Kyoya’s favor would take some time. Considering his request, even a yakuza heir had to tread lightly when evading the other yakuza families’ operations. Kyoya expected to hear from him in a few weeks, not in two days. 

He set his tea down beside a sloppy pile of employee files and answered his phone. “Kasanoda, hello.” Kyoya greeted calmly. He heard sirens faintly resounding in the background accompanied by nearby masculine voices talking over a staticy manpack. 

“Kyoya, I need you to meet me at the field behind Tokyo’s highway welcome sign. I’ve already called the Hitachiin family but I think you should see this too.” Ritsu said anxiously, trying to raise his voice over the noise blaring behind him. 

Kyoya’s expression fell as he stood from his seat and looked for a stray jacket. “What did you find?”

“Ritsu took a deep shaky breath and sniffed back a wet swell of tears, “I’m so sorry Kyoya. I don’t know how this happened. I’m so sorry.”

Kyoya snapped his fingers to grab his friends’ attention and pointed toward his bedroom door, silently telling them they need to leave. He reached for a black jacket slung on the couch’s spine and slipped it on while pressing his phone against his ear with his shoulder. The others quickly followed suit; abandoning their readings and layering on their jackets. 

Kyoya gripped his phone again and quickly made his way to the garage with his friends close behind. 

“Talk to me Ritsu, what’s going on. What did you find.” Kyoya asked again, much more sternly. His patience was wearing thin as it was. 

Ritsu wiped his nose with his sleeve and cleared his throat, “They found a body.”

Kyoya stopped before he reached a winding stairwell, forcing his friends to skid to a halt behind him. His unseeing eyes stared into the dark hallway before him while distraught thoughts screamed in his mind. 

Please let it not be Haruhi. Please let it not be Haruhi. Please let it not be Haruhi.

He felt a firm hand touch his shoulder and it gave him the shock he needed to continue moving. They quietly descended the stairs and walked through the foyer toward the garage. Kyoya wouldn’t bother Tachibana to drive them, not at this late hour, but he wasn’t mentally sound to drive himself. He’d need to ask the ever level-headed Takashi to take the wheel. 

Ritsu took a deep shaky breath before continuing, “I’m sorry Kyoya. I’m so sorry. Kaoru’s gone.” 

Kyoya snapped his phone closed without thinking. He didn’t mean to rudely hang up on Ritsu, he wasn’t angry with him, he had just heard enough. Ritsu’s words hadn’t fully registered until they settled into a black Honda. Kyoya buckled himself into the backseat while Takashi took the driver’s and Tamaki sat beside his raven haired friend whose eyes seemed distant and dull. 

“They found Kaoru’s body in a field off 36.” Kyoya announced quietly, almost in a whisper. The words didn’t sound real as they fell from his mouth. They didn’t sound like his. 

Tamaki and Mitsukuni clasped their mouths as angry tears cascaded down their flushed cheeks. Their muffled wailing filled the compact car as Takashi drove into the dark night, silently shedding a few tears as well. 

Kyoya couldn’t cry. He felt too stunned to cry. He was stricken with grief, his chest burned in agony at the loss of his dear friend, but there was also a pinch of relief. A small pinch of guilty relief that it wasn’t Haruhi’s lifeless body they had found. 

It was the most difficult car ride he’d ever suffered through. He couldn’t console his weeping friends and wouldn’t dare ask them to stop. They had every right to grieve Kaoru’s death with ugly tears and breathless mourns. All Kyoya could do was offer to hold Tamaki’s trembling hand. 

The thirty minute drive seemed like seconds during Kyoya’s dazed shock. He didn’t count the minutes tick by while he watched distant stars litter the night sky. Time didn’t even seem to exist, not right now. 

In the near distance they saw red and blue lights chaotically flashing ahead. Several police cars were clustered together with portable search lights highlighting the ditch below. An ambulance wasn’t there, meaning they had already taken Kaoru’s body away. Takashi switched the hazards on while he slowly came to a stop on the highway’s shoulder.

Ritsu stood at the top off into the grass speaking to three of his men. When he noticed the car pull up he dismissed his men and began walking to meet his friends. 

Kyoya was the first out of the car, even opening his door before Takashi came to a full stop. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull Ritsu into a comforting hug or slap him out of misdirected rage. 

“Why did you call me?” Kyoya asked as he stepped up to Ritsu. He settled on keeping his hands to himself, stuffing them into his pocket instead. “Thank you for breaking the news to us, I know that was difficult, but why did we have to meet you here?” 

Ritsu reached into his pocket while looking over his shoulder and carefully slipped out a tightly folded piece of paper. He kept it close to his person as he offered it to Kyoya. “One of my men found this note taped to Kaoru’s back. Don’t read it now. Wait until you drive away. The police don’t know we took it.” 

“This could be evidence used to solve Kaoru’s murder, what are you doing stealing this?” Kyoya seethed through his teeth, his eyes momentarily turning wild. 

Ritsu took a hesitant step backwards and gulped, “You don’t understand, if they take this with them you’ll never see it again. They’ll dust it for fingerprints and shove it into a plastic sleeve where it’ll rot in a cardboard box in the back of their evidence warehouse. They won’t treat this seriously but you should.” 

Kyoya considered his words while he stared at the folded paper pinched between his fingers. It looked like ordinary notebook paper but if Ritsu spoke the truth... it would be far from ordinary. 

He offered an open hand accepting the paper, “Alright, I’ll take it, but why give it to me?”

“It might involve Haruhi.” Ritsu said sadly. 

Kyoya’s eyes widened and stared at the folded paper resting in his palm, suddenly afraid of what could be written inside. He quickly stuffed it into his pocket followed by his hand and took a deep breath. 

Mitsukuni looked around the open field before asking, “Where’s Hikaru?”

Ritsu’s shoulders slumped as he sighed, “He left with the ambulance. He refused to leave his brother’s side.”

A long moment of silence passed between the men. They fought off the traumatic image of Hikaru weeping over his brother’s body bag, unable to fathom that kind of pain. The kind that ripped through your body and spirit like sharp merciless blades, slicing through you until you prayed for the sweet kiss of death. 

They could only imagine the kind of torment Hikaru and his family was suffering right now.

Kyoya cleared his throat, “Thank you Ritsu, I appreciate you calling me tonight. I apologize but we should be going now.” He couldn’t bear to stand so near to his friend’s crime scene. The flashing lights, muffled radio calls, and yipping search dogs were clawing at his sanity. He couldn’t bear thinking that beyond that grassy ditch his dear friend’s body was carelessly thrown to rot alone. 

The reality of it all was grinding away at him, painfully stealing his good faith. His mind was still clouded by the numbing shock but he was beginning to crawl through it. He didn’t want to be here, of all places, when he finally broke down. 

Ritsu nodded with a knowing look in his eye, understanding what his friend needed. He clapped his hands together and stared at the crunchy asphalt beneath his shoes before turning to leave. 

Takashi reached out and patted Ritsu’s head, expressing his gratitude for a job well done. Ritsu smiled to himself and placed his hand atop Takashi’s, accepting his kindness. No words were said as they all parted ways. 

Should Kyoya read the paper or turn it into the police? (Click to Vote)

Woah, did you see that coming? Better question is... who’s next? And why?

[saiilorstars]

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 15: I Don’t Know

/ Previous Chapters /

Fandom: Law & Order SVU

Pairing:  Rafael Barba x Original female character

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ` 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Chapter Summary: There seems to be a lot of things Rafael suddenly stops understanding about himself, especially where Montserrat is concerned. For example, why the hell does he care so much if people don't listen to the fact Montserrat doesn't want to celebrate her birthday?

"Montserrat, you better get going!" Kara exclaimed while Montserrat lazily drank the remainder of her orange juice by the kitchen sink. "Don't you have work or something?"

Montserrat drowned the last of her orange juice then dumped the glass into the sink. She turned to her roommate with hands on her hips. "Yes, why are you pushing me so much? Don't tell me you're inviting Sonny over because that's just too early."

Kara deadpanned her for a good minute before responding. "You're just going to be late. You told me you were dealing with a tough case. You shouldn't waste time."

"I won't," Montserrat promised on her way into the hallway. "I'm just going to get changed then go."

Kara started picking up her own breakfast plate and brought into the kitchen. As she was depositing it into the sink, someone knocked on the door. "I got it!" she warned Montserrat before heading for the door. To her surprise, she found Rafael standing on the other side. "Uuh...should I get Montse?"

Rafael quickly shook his head. "No. I thought she'd be at work by now."

Kara rolled her eyes. "That's what I'm saying. She's running so late today!"

Rafael wished she would speak lower. If Montserrat was still in the apartment it meant she could overhear them.

It took Kara a couple seconds to realize that if he hadn't stopped by for Montserrat, it meant he wanted to talk to her. "What do you need from me?" she asked in confusion.

Now Rafael had thought long and hard about talking with Kara. On the one hand, it wasn't any of his business...but on the other hand, he wanted to help Montserrat. And because he was more inclined towards the latter, he was right there. "That surprise party you're doing for Montserrat next month...maybe it's not such a good idea."

Kara made a face that basically told him he was crazy. "Why would you say that?"

"Because…" And there was the trouble, wasn't it? Rafael knew exactly why Montserrat wouldn't want any party because she told him...but he couldn't tell Kara that.

"Oh God," Kara's eyes widened in alarm, "Does she know about it already?"

"No!" Rafael said fast. "I'm just thinking that since Montserrat's not very comfortable with her age she might not like a party."

Kara instantly calmed and even snorted. "Please. She'll like this party just as she liked all the other parties I've thrown for her. It's sort of our little thing. She pretends she doesn't want a party and then I make her a party and all is well with the world."

"I think this one might be the exception," Rafael said bluntly, his hard look making Kara frown.

"Why would you say that?"

Before Rafael could come up with another lie, Montserrat emerged from her bedroom. "I swear to God if that's Sonny already, Kara…!" she came out of the hallway fixing the collar of her blouse, stopping when she saw their guest. "Morning, councilor. I didn't know you knew where I lived."

"Not that hard to figure out when you have Casey around," Rafael briefly glanced at Kara, both silently agreeing not to mention their conversation to Montserrat. "I just wanted to know if you're working things out with your brother now…"

Montserrat made a weird smile but nonetheless nodded her head. "Yeah, um things are better. Since you and Casey blabbed to my Dad he basically threatened to punish us until we talked. Thank you for that, smart-mouth. Did I mention I really hate that mouth of yours?"

Rafael rolled his eyes. "You're welcome."

"I'll be in my room if anyone needs me," Kara backtracked into the hallway for her bedroom, though she was sure neither actually heard her.

"Did you really come all the way here to ask about me and my brother?" Montserrat turned for the living room to get the remainder of her things.

"I was in the neighborhood," Rafael shrugged, eyes still flickering to the hallway. He was sure Kara was planning that party as they spoke.

"Really?" Montserrat clearly didn't believe that for a second.

"Yes, really," Rafael mimicked her tone, flashing her a smile afterwards. "You caught me, though. There was another reason I stopped by."

"And what would that be?" Montserrat picked up her jacket and started slipping her arms into it.

"Your birthday," Rafael watched how she froze for a second then resumed her daily routine. He felt like he needed to do something for her, because he was sure if that party went through and she still didn't want it...it would be chaotic.

"What's there to talk about? It's like a month away and, as I've said before, I'm not celebrating it," Montserrat made a quick show they should leave and only yelled at Kara that she was leaving.

Yet another clue that she didn't want anyone to know about her birthday.

"I understand - halfway anyways - but have you considered your reasons for that?" Rafael followed down the hallway.

"Considered what? It's my birthday, it's my age, it's my decision. I thought you understood the whole 'it's my choice thing'," she sent him a side-glance that left no doubt of where she stood in regards to her birthday. "It's literally your job."

"I'm not being sarcastic here-"

"-and neither am I!"

The two headed out the street.

"It's hardly a thing to get yelled over," Rafael's snap was involuntarily that time. Here he was trying to help but instead he was going to get his head chewed off.

Montserrat took the memo and moved slightly ahead to turn.l and face him. "Sorry. But why do you keep insisting on this? You're not throwing me a party right?" she laughed at the idea.

"I can swear that I am not," Rafael said with a tight smile. "But what about the others? What if they want to give you presents or...celebrate?"

"They won't because only you, Kara - and I imagine Sonny knows now - and I made it pretty clear that I don't want. You all understood and you're not gonna mention it to the rest of the squad, right?"

Once more with a tight smile, Rafael replied, "I will not."

Montserrat smiled cheerfully. "Okay, then we're good. I don't see why we need to keep talking about this...Unless you want to argue with me? But I honestly think it might be a little early for that."

"I'm good," Rafael said since he had no other options at the moment. But you won't be in a month.

~0~

Cameron tyler. The same clueless, rich boy the squad had interrogated last night now turned out to be a possible suspect.

"How the hell did we miss this guy?" Nick, for one, was quite offended the young man had pulled one over them so easily.

Olivia was nearly offended as well, but she was more focused on helping Sarah out. "Cameron Tyler puts himself at the club on Friday night, puts himself in a cab with Sarah, puts himself on her block in Brooklyn."

"Admitting what he can't deny," Fin said the obvious since they had substantial evidence of Cameron with Sarah, including one picture of Cameron holding a drunken - nearly passed out - Sara out in the street.

"But he does deny going up to her apartment," Olivia reminded, irked that it was the only thing they couldn't easily prove.

"Maybe Sarah doesn't remember or doesn't want to admit that it was somebody she knew," Montserrat threw the other alternative out there.

"Either way, we have to tread carefully," Olivia pushed herself off the edge of the conference table. "Cameron Tyler is a smart one. That condolence call? He was trying to get in front of it.

"Because he's a pro," Amanda took a guess.

Sonny purposely hung up his desk phone loudly enough to gather the attention of the rest of the squad. "That was east Hampton P.D. They're not big fans of his." he got up from his desk and move towards the conference table while he explained what he had learned about Cameron Kyler. "A year ago, he was accused of sexual assault by a cater waitress, Celine Dubois. She recanted a week later."

"Recanted?" Nick nearly snorted on the spot. He knew exactly what made that waitress suddenly recant. "How much did that cost?"

"Let's find out," Montserrat got up from her chair to get a head start on the research.

~ 0 ~

One didn't need super powers to know that Celine had been bought out by Cameron to keep quiet on her assault. Still, talking to her didn't lead to much new information. In fact, it sort of brought the squad back to the beginning.

The underground party.

Since Sarah didn't want to speak to any of them, the squad went with the next closest honest informative they could get for their case.

Nicole found herself in the interview room, pouring her guilt to Montserrat and Amanda over giving the watch to Sarah.

"I feel terrible that we gave her the watch, but Sarah was Finally ready to have a good time," Nicole brought a hand to her forehead. "If we hadn't done that...she'd still be on the path of recuperating."

"It's not your fault," Montserrat said for about the third time. "You're not the one who hurt Sarah. But listen, did you know Cameron would be there?"

Even though for Nicole it made no sense bringing in Cameron, she still responded. "No. On a fall weekend, he's usually in the Hamptons."

"Mm, but he knew she'd be there," Amanda said, not so subtly.

"Oh, well... well, he knew we were all going out. I mean, maybe Matthew texted him. I could ask him."

"Matthew, your fiance?"

"Yeah, him and Cameron grew up together. They're best friends."

"Okay, and when did you start working for Cameron?" Montserrat asked, taking note of just how close Cameron was with Sarah;s social group.

"He just hired me this summer. He was a real lifesaver," Nicole said just a bit too relieved. It made the two detectives pause for a second.

"How do you mean?" Amanada finally asked.

"Mm, there was this, uh, party at Cameron's house fourth of July weekend, and I got really wasted and missed my Sunday brunch shift. The restaurant fired me, but Cameron said that he would take care of me," Nicole's missed the concerned looks from the detectives while she went on with her story. "I must have, you know, passed out. Tequila. I'm never touching that again. Uh, I think I fell. I don't know."

"Did you have any injuries?" Montserrat felt like she knew where this was going.

"Uh, sore all over. I, um... I even tore my earlobe," Nicole's hand reached up to her ear as the ghost of the memory resurfaced.

"Was Matthew there?" Amanda felt sick knowing exactly what happened at that party.

"No, he was stuck in California on business, but Cameron found me the next morning, and I was a total mess, but he was great," Nicole smiled so cheerfully, so grateful that it really just made Montserrat and Amanda - as well as those watching behind the one-way glass - want to throw Cameron in jail already. "He gave up a summer Sunday to take me to the doctor."

~ 0 ~

"Look, I know I'm a cop but can I just say I really want to kick Cameron's ass with all my might?" Montserrat didn't bother with the looks of Liv. She knew deep down the Sergeant wished the same.

"Where do I join?" Amanda came to stand beside her, the two almost high-fiving each other.

"It's not going to be easy telling Nicole any of this," Nick's words earned himself a double-take from Olivia.

"She doesn't think that she's a victim. If we tell her, we make her one."

"But if we don't, then we'l never catch Cameron," Fin pointed out. "Plus, she works for this guy. What kind of cops would we be if we let her keep working for her rapist?"

"Not good ones," Sonny went ahead and answered. "Now we can use Sarah to get Cameron to confess because other than her, we have nothing for this case."

"You mean wire her?" Montserrat wondered if Nicole would be up for that after they told her the truth.

"Cameron's guard is still up about Sarah. I mean, he thinks he got away with Nicole, so we get her to wear a wire and maybe we catch him in a lie," Sonny's plan wasn't half bad, and it really was the only thing they could do to get Cameron.

With that, the detectives turned to Olivia with the same expression.

"It's your call, Liv," Fin said, leaving it entirely up to Olivia, much to her dismay.

~ 0 ~

Inside their UC van, Montserrat shifted on her seat while she adjusted the volume of her comms. Even if she wasn't looking, she could feel Olivia's burning stare on their hearing equipment. Even though they had told Nicole what happened to her, and Nicole accepting to wear a wire to talk to Cameron, Olivia still felt like they did more harm than good to Nicole. It was guilt that would subside once they saw Cameron behind bars, but it didn't make it easier right now.

"Cameron just pulled up," Amanda informed the others who were parked near Cameron's apartment. They were to quickly go in to arrest Cameron once they had what they needed.

Olivia moved towards their desk to speak with Nicole one last time before things got started. "You ready, Nicole?"

There was a long minute of silence before Nicole answered with a shaky "yes".

Still, Olivia gave indications for the others to be ready in case of anything.

Cameron had come in with his girlfriend but sent her off to speak with Nicole. His casualness began to fade once Nicole touched base on the Fourth of July party he had. It was the first sign of confirmation for Nicole that he was guilty of her rape.

Instead of stopping her, it made her more determined to get the full confession out of him.

"I'm pregnant," the words left her mouth before she could truly think about it. However, it didn't seem like it would be a mistake considering Cameron's face paled in that minute. It got worse for him when flatout told him it was not by her boyfriend-fiancee. "I think something happened to me at your party.. Did you see any guys with me?"

Cameron's desperate attempt at casualness was revolting. "Uh, yeah, some. I mean, by the time I went to my room, you were pretty sloppy, flirty."

Nicole swallowed the urge to slap him right there and then. She crossed her arms in an attempt to help herself. "And then you just found me the next morning, naked on that lounge chair?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you were passed out cold."

"Okay, well, I guess that I'm gonna need the names of all the guys at your party."

Cameron stiffened. "What? Why?"

"Well, for a DNA test, because one of your friends must have had sex with me while I was passed out, so I'm gonna need their names."

"You don't need their names."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, you were really aggressive with me…."

On the other end of the wire, Amanda snorted and looked at the others. "Did he really just say that?"

"C'mon Nicole," Montserrat hoped the young woman had the restraint to let Cameron keep going. "Afterwards, she can smack him and throw a lamp on him."

"Gonna pretend like I didn't hear that," Olivia warned, but everyone knew she agreed.

"We had sex?" Nicole demanded to know from Cameron. "You and me? We had sex, and you didn't tell me?"

Cameron stuffed his hands inside his pockets and shrugged. "I figured you knew. I thought you were cool with it. Besides, I wore a condom, so I really don't see how-"

"Were there any other guys?"

"No, no, no. Everyone left. It was just us. Maybe this happened at a different party."

Nicole knew she was getting him. " Well, we can do a DNA test, because I need a screening anyway."

Cameron almost gaped on the spot. "You're gonna keep it?"

"Well, I really haven't thought about that. I don't know what else to do, 'cause Matthew, he'll leave me."

"Matthew doesn't have to know. I'll take care of this. Of you. Not just for the procedure, but the stress of it. This never happened."

Nicole pushed further, because it was right at the tip of his tongue. "What never happened? I was too drunk to know. I had bruises. My earlobe was torn."

Nicole felt her skin crawl when Cameron grabbed her arm. "Shh. It's okay. I'll take care of all of this. I'll wire money into your account-"

Nicole shook his hand off her. "Do you think that if you pay me, I am not gonna tell people that you took advantage of me?"

Cameron raised an eyebrow, looking almost offended she was accusing him. "Hey. It wasn't like that. You were all over me."

"I was passed out cold!"

"Did Sarah put you up to this?"

"No!"

"Does anybody else know?" Cameron inched forwards, making Nicole step back.

"No. Of course not!"

Cameron just barely grazed her arm when his front door was forced open. "Cameron Tyler! Police!" Finn's voice echoed in the living room as he lead the way inside. "We have a warrant for your house, your phone, your computer - and did we mention you're under arrest?"

Before Cameron knew it, Nick had cuffed his hands to his back. "I want my lawyer right now!"

"A little late for that," Sonny gave the nod for Nick to start dragging Cameron out.

~ 0 ~

Being the bearer of good news felt good - at least that's what Montserrat kept repeating to herself in order to lift her spirits. Whilst they'd interrogated Cameron - until they had concrete evidence of rape - she'd gotten a call from Casey with some plans for the night she wasn't particularly looking forwards to. Sonny mentioned to her she was looking pretty down despite the win they had that day.

"Just personal problems, Carisi," she mumbled and led the way into Rafael's office. Sonny knew that when she went to last names it was for a upsetting.

Together they presented their fine work for their ADA and hoped to get his confirmation that they could call it a done case.

"But Sarah's still not talking?" Rafael managed to point out their one flaw in the case. The two detectives slumped their shoulders. At the sight, and knowing exactly what he'd done, Rafael smirked. "You did well. And we don't need Sarah's cooperation with everything you've got. It's a done case, detectives."

"Hm, so Amanda was wrong? There's actually something that makes you happy, Barba," Sonny was met with a deadpanning look from the ADA.

"You mean besides the coffee?" Casey's sudden input to the conversation made them glance at the doorway. The ginger ADA stood with a proud smirk on her face. "And sometimes not even that."

If Rafael was deadpanning before, he was glaring now. "Let's not go down this road, Casey."

"Oh, calm down," Casey waved a hand at him and walked further inside. "I just came to collect my cousin. You ready?"

Montserrat barely shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, I guess."

It was clear as day that whatever they had going on, Montserrat didn't want any part in it. Still, Casey tried to act as if she didn't notice.

"Gael and Damian are coming to pick us up in five. You said you didn't want to change, but I-"

"I'm good how I am. Let's get it over with," Montserrat walked towards the door, almost pushing Casey in the process of her quick pace.

"You don't need a minute to freshen-"

"NO! Let's go!" Montserrat practically shouted before leaving, not even looking back to see the reactions of the others. She met Kara just outside the building, looking far too cheery for this night.

"Hey, why the face?" Kara asked as soon as she saw Montserrat's glare still lingering on her face. "It's your early birthday dinner-"

"-I know-" Montserrat tried to say but Kara was so clueless that she just went on without noticing Montserrat's clear intent of shooting the dinner down.

Casey had tight lips and that was only out of courtesy and understanding for her cousin, otherwise the lawyer side of her would've taken over. "Okay," she said quietly and looked at the two men with her.

"Should someone go see if she's okay?" Sonny asked while Rafael just stared at Casey. He was examining. "I fear for Kara."

"She'll be okay," Casey said fast. "You're relieved, detective."

Sonny playfully rolled his eyes. "If I get my head chewed off in the morning by her, I'm coming back for you."

"You know where to find me," Casey made a motion for her office.

Sonny bid goodbye to her and Rafael then walked out. He had half a mind to go check on Montserrat but he thought maybe he'd just anger her even more. He'd noticed on the way here how quiet and reserved Montserrat had gotten, and he just couldn't figure out why. Hopefully he'd learn soon.

"Family or friend plans?" Rafael suddenly asked Casey, startling the ginger out of her thoughts. If she'd been more alert, she would've noticed he was still examining her.

"Both," Casey turned to his desk. "Kara and Damian are like family, so…"

Rafael have a nod but he wasn't quite convinced it was just that. "And yet Montserrat doesn't seem too happy about your plans."

"It's just dinner-"

"-don't belittle my intelligence, Casey," Rafael flatout scolded her.

"I'm not lying! It's a birthday dinner!" Casey exclaimed then suddenly realized she didn't have to explain herself to him. Of course by that point it was too late to stop talking. "Gael and Damian are going away on a business seminar and they don't know if they'll be back by next month."

Once again it was the birthday topic had returned.

Rafael pushed himself up from his seat and gave Casey that sideways tilted stare that said he knew there was more. "Montserrat explicitly told me she did not want to celebrate her birthday at all. she doesn't want any mention of it to anyone who doesn't know. So…" he started moving around his desk, very watchful of Casey's subtle shifts on her feet, "... If Gael, Damian and Kara are so intent on making birthday celebrations it's because they don't know that Montserrat doesn't want to celebrate her birthday. She never told them anything. But you know," he leaned against the front of his desk, arms crossed and with a full-fledged smirk on his face. "Or else you wouldn't be giving me that look right now that's basically telling me to shut up. Did I get it...or did I get?"

Casey rolled her eyes. "This whole confident thing you carry with you is kind of annoying sometimes. And when I say 'sometimes', I really mean it's annoying all the time."

"So I'm right," Rafael's response only irritated her even more. "You know-" he pointed at her, "-why Montserrat doesn't want to celebrate her birthday. She told you."

"And she told you nothing so this conversation shouldn't even be happening," Casey warned him to stop before he crossed a boundary.

"But I'm not asking any questions about it, am I?" Rafael pointed out and made no attempt to get even a clue from her. "I know all about boundaries - it's part of my job. So believe me when I tell you that I have no intention of sneaking around trying to figure out what Montserrat is hiding because it's none of my business."

Casey looked him over with newfound curiosity. "If that's not your intention then why are we here? In fact…" she took a few steps towards him, "...why bring this up? If you don't care, which I've seen when it's real, why are we discussing this?"

Oh, now she'd gotten silence. That was rare.

"You're a confident smartass so what the hell are you doing?"

Casey made a very good point, but if Rafael was honest, he wasn't sure of the answer. He didn't know. He just knew that it irked him seeing people try to force something on Montserrat when she made it so clear that she didn't want it. Perhaps it was similar to his job, but it didn't satisfy him.

He just didn't know.

[latent-thoughts]

I Will Always Test You (Chapter 2 - The Proposition)

[Co-Authored with @emeraldrosequartz​]

Rating : 18+ (there be lots of citrus here; kinks galore).

Warning: Forced Marriage; Dubious Consent; Nonconsent Touching; Use of strong language and terms.

Pairing: Loki/Original Female Character

Summary: Loki and Iona Trygvedottir have never gotten along. She is a headstrong lady-in-waiting to Queen Frigga, and Loki is… well, Loki. The simmering animosity between them begins to boil when Frigga chooses her to make regular visits to Loki in the dungeons, bringing him luxury foods and items of interest. She takes the opportunity to give him a piece of her mind. Meanwhile, he’s set on paying her back for all the insults and slights she insisted on lobbing at him while he was locked up - in the most vindictive way possible.

[Thor: The Dark World AU; No Ragnarok; Enemies to Lovers, Arranged Marriage]

A/N: Loki is now the Allfather, and Iona knows that she's in trouble. But not the kind of trouble she had expected.

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IMPORTANT NOTES:

Bold Text = Loki’s POV

Normal Text = Iona’s POV

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Iona paced about in her chambers, awaiting a reply from the queen. She had sent her a small missive this morn, asking after her wellbeing. It was really an opening for more interaction that she had sought, but the queen hadn’t bitten.

After the Allfather had fallen during the first Dark Elf attack, the Allmother had been grief stricken and near inconsolable. Hence, she had secluded herself in mourning after King Odin's funeral, refusing to see anyone but her eldest handmaid or her sons.

Now, the kingdom was in a flux. Against all expectations, Thor had abdicated. And that left only one person to ascend to the throne of Asgard--Loki.

Never in her life had Iona expected this to happen. Yes, Loki had been king regent for a short few days, but no one had expected it to last. It didn't last.

Now, he was king by succession, pardoned by Thor before he had renounced the throne. It all reeked of a deep conspiracy, but how could Iona blame Thor in all of this? He was supposed to be noble hearted, he wouldn't put someone ruthless and unkind on the throne, would he?

The answer was uncertain, and hence, Iona was plagued by anxiety. More so for herself than for all of Asgard... for Loki was sure to make her a target of his ire.

She had certainly spent the last one year pulling the tail of a caged tiger, assuming that she was at a safe distance. Now, that tiger was free, prowling all over the throne of Asgard and possibly looking for his vengeance against her.

For a bit, she entertained the thoughts of going back home to her family estate. But there, she was sure to be pressured into marrying some craggy old man of riches. Her mother would not let her live it down that she couldn't secure the hand of prince Thor.  It'd be an embarrassment.

No, she couldn't go back home. Not right now. Her only hope was that she'd be able to convince the queen to relieve her from her duties. That would allow her to leave Asgard altogether, and put some distance between her and Loki.

She needed that to happen soon... for she knew that whenever Loki saw her next, he was going to torment her somehow…

Her restless thoughts were interrupted by a respectful knock on the door of her chambers.

“Lady Iona?” a small, rather mousy female voice asked from behind the closed threshold. “His majesty, King Loki, has requested your presence in the throne room. I’ve been sent to escort you.”

Iona stiffened, almost wanting to run to the bifrost instead of heading to the throne room.

The wretch didn't even give her the grace and courtesy to come on her own. No, he had to send someone to make sure that she immediately heeded his command.

Clenching her fists, she opened the door and nodded to the servant.

"I'm ready."

She was most certainly not ready.

Finally, when they reached the entrance to the throne room, the servant took her leave and left her alone. Alone to face Loki…

With her heart in her mouth, Iona stepped inside the throne room, trying her best to keep up her facade of noble sangfroid.

Loki leaned back on the throne.

HIS throne. He leaned back on HIS throne.

He held HIS Gungnir, in HIS throne room. In HIS palace.

And he watched Iona like a predator as she walked through the massive doors into the enormous empty hall, her footsteps echoing throughout the chamber. He didn’t speak until she was at the foot of the golden dais, bowing to him in deference.

“My dear Iona. Please, stand.” His voice dripped with sadistic delight.

The familiarity with which he spoke her name made her shiver with dread. She didn't like the tone of his voice either--so conceited.

He was most definitely mocking her, sarcasm flowing like a brook from his notorious silvertongue.

She rose and stared up at him, clutching her hands together, trying to appear unperturbed. Her heart, however, fluttered against her chest like a hummingbird.

"Your majesty, I was told that you wished to see me. I'm curious as to what purpose I can serve for you."

She tried her best to keep the sarcasm from dripping into her voice. That wouldn't do. She had to tread carefully, for Loki now literally had the power to make her life utterly miserable.

Loki huffed a chuckle and sat upright, leaning his weight on the arm of the throne as his fingers slowly twirled the golden staff in his hand.

“Yes...you’ve always been a curious little thing, haven’t you? I do so love curiosity. It makes life that much more interesting, wouldn’t you agree?”

His words confused her, and hence, she stared at him blankly.

"I... well, yes. There would be no progress without curiosity, sire," she stated in agreement, a bit hesitant as she saw a wicked smirk forming on his lips.

Oh she hated it when he smirked like that. That expression was the harbinger of trouble.

She watched him apprehensively as he lifted the Gungnir slightly, pointing it in her direction. She knew that he could very well kill her in that moment, and it made her knees wobbly with fear.

However, he didn’t use the power of the magical staff against her. He simply placed it right next to the throne. It stood upright on its own, glinting in the bright firelight of the room, looking like a silent observer of their tense interaction as Loki opened his mouth to speak again.

“And would you also agree,” he said as he stood and began walking down the stairs toward her, gaze locked onto hers, “that, given this curious turn of events, you might find yourself in a position to be especially accommodating to the newly crowned Allfather of the Nine Realms? Perhaps a touch remorseful for past slights?”

He stood in front of her, still several steps up, which gave him a significant height advantage. The horns and full formal royal garb added a great deal of gravitas and--he knew--intimidation to his stance.

"What?" she squeaked, embarrassingly high pitched and nearly shrill.

In all honesty, his words terrified her. What sort of accommodation did he want from her? For a moment, her thoughts were filled with the possibilities of turning a noble into a thrall. It wasn’t impossible for the king of the Nine Realms to do so, no matter how shocking or unheard of...

Forcing her composure back somehow, she cleared her throat and tried to speak again.

"I do not understand, your majesty. If it is my apology that you seek, then I will give it to you with the utmost respect and depth of sentiment. I deeply regret causing you any distress with my conduct in the past."

She even clutched her heart in a show of humility and remorse, dearly hoping that he’d buy it.

“Mhm...” he hummed as he closed the distance between them in a few long steps.  He reached down and gently lifted her chin with his knuckle, staring down into her amber eyes. “I forgive you, dear Iona. For all the spite you showed me while I was imprisoned. For every unkind word you spoke behind my back. For all the gossip you started and propagated at my expense. I forgive you for all of it.”

He bent down and gently kissed her forehead, holding her chin up firmly with his hand. When he pulled back, his eyes danced with mischief.

“And now that we’ve moved on from that dreadful part of our history, I have a proposition for you. One I’m fairly certain you’ll be unwilling to refuse...”

Iona desperately wanted to take several steps back to escape him. But it would be an insult to the throne and the Allfather, and she couldn't afford to make that kind of a social gaffe. Already, she was in so much trouble...

His lips on her skin... Norns, she did not like how they made her nearly jump out of her skin.

"Sire, I'm in no position to take up another job while I'm serving the queen," she explained hurriedly, hoping that the mention of the queen would stop him in his tracks. "I'm bound by my duties."

Loki just laughed darkly and shook his head. “My dear, I’ve already spoken with the queen. She is delighted to release you from her service for this… unique opportunity. And your parents are positively thrilled...”

With one final grin that made it seem like his dark mirth might bubble over into a genuine evil laugh...he bent down on one knee.

“Iona...” he said, his voice gravel and silk all at once. “Beautiful, faithful, loyal Iona...”

When he looked back up at her, it was decidedly NOT a look of love or affection. His face was lit with nothing more than mischievous glee and long-awaited vengeance.

“Be my wife… my queen.”

Iona stumbled back, eyes wide and disbelieving. Loki despised her. His spite for her was so clear in his eyes right now. What was he trying to achieve by proposing marriage to her?

"Wha-" she croaked, unable to even form a full word in her shock.

This was a nightmare. It couldn't be anything else. Why else would Loki be doing this?

What trick of his was this?

For a moment, she felt light-headed, and she feared that she'd faint. She had to take a few deep breaths to remain stable on her feet. Fainting in front of the cruel king would only add to her woes.

"Is this some kind of..." She broke off mid-sentence, taking another deep, fortifying breath. Her heart was thudding against her chest. "Are you making a jest?"

That last question came out, despite her best efforts, as a shriek.

In mock offense, Loki brought an open hand to his heart in a gesture of wounding.

“Iona! Surely you don’t believe that I, the Allfather, would jest about something as important as selection the next Queen of the Nine Realms? I’ve always admired you - I said as much when you so graciously visited me in secret while I was in the dungeons. And I would love nothing more than to have you by my side. The time I spent locked up gave me such an appreciation for your beauty, your grace, your talents… and your discretion.”

He smirked again as he stood, and took her hands in his. Everything in his body language was genuine. Everything in his expression was malignant.

“And now we can be together… forever.”

Iona stared at his hands gripping hers, certain that they'd soon turn into coiling snakes. They certainly felt like manacles. His grip was a vice, strong and unrelenting, and she couldn't pull out of his hands at all.

"Sire," she gasped, shaking her head. "I..."

Swallowing thickly, she tried to gather her thoughts. They had all been scattered all over the Yggdrasil, it seemed.

And the absolutely menacing look in his eyes wasn't doing anything for her poor, overworked heart. This was most definitely a trick, but she didn't know what exactly he was planning to do here.

She couldn't reject his proposition either; no one rejected a proposition from the king. Not without a great and potent reason. She had no pretext for a refusal.

"I... I need time to think about it, sire," she finally managed to say, her voice trembling with the effort.

Loki looked at her with a closed-lip smile, like an adult watching a child about to throw a tantrum. That was to say, smugly and degradingly.

“There’s nothing to think about, Iona. Your parents have already approved. In fact, they’ll be here tomorrow evening for our betrothal ceremony.”

Loki revelled in the thrill bursting in his chest. Even though he was planning to make her life less than savoury, she was the perfect solution for some of his problems--none of the other kingdoms would try to foist their eligible daughters at him in hopes of garnering some political alliance; no need to go through the tedious social gatherings that preluded royal courtships.

Iona was of… acceptable noble heritage. And the story he had told her parents about how he had fallen in love with her during his imprisonment, with a twinkling tear tracking down his face at the sheer emotion he felt for her… ah, it was a delight to watch them take the bait, leaving her to him with hardly a question. After all, they had always aligned with the royal family in the past, in the hopes of getting close to them. Now was their golden chance...

Loki reached up and ever so gently stroked her cheek, practically daring her to move away from it.

“You will make a most beautiful bride, my dear.”

She closed her eyes as he stroked her cheek, her mind nearly swimming in different, scattered directions in order to escape reality.

"Why?" she whispered, feeling so helpless. "Why are you doing this?"

He waited until she opened her eyes, then brushed away the tears that began to fall down her cheeks. “Because I love you, Iona. Why else would I be doing this?”

With that, he bent down and planted the most gentle kiss on her lips, lifting her face with his hand to meet his.

A shiver ran down her spine as he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, sensual even, but she knew that the intent behind it wasn't. Still, his lips were surprisingly soft, and her body reacted to them before she could tell it not to.

Her hand came up to rest against his chest, his armour cold against her skin. Weakly, she clawed against that armour in whatever defiance she could muster. It was all that she could do to protest…

Oh, how easily he could lie. She wondered if he had lied to the queen too--his own mother. Was there any line that he was not willing to cross to get his revenge?

Slowly, she tried to pull away from him, to break the kiss.

He didn’t let her.

Loki deepened their kiss, even moaning in pleasure as he slid his tongue between her lips and began to partake in the sweetness of her mouth. This wasn’t the eagerness of a passionate lover here--it was dominating, controlling, overpowering… and it obviously wasn’t going to stop at mere kissing.

He practically lifted her off the floor as he pulled her close, taking her mouth with all the skill of a great warrior and the ferocity of a predatory animal.

Iona was well and truly afraid now... of what he was doing, or what more he might be planning on doing.

She now had both of her hands against his chest, pushing against it with great effort. Loki, however, was not budging even a bit. His tongue stroked hers repeatedly, making her gasp and squirm at the sensation. It was all very feral and dark, and she wasn't prepared for it at all.

When he lifted her off the floor, she began to panic.

Turning her face away from him, she pried her mouth from his, at last, taking a deep breath to fill her lungs.

"Let me go," she mumbled weakly, her voice unsteady. "What are you doing?"

Loki stopped, but did not let her go. He kept her close to him, feeling her supple little body trembling against his chest. The feel of it was maddening… how long had it been since he had enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh? He allowed himself a moment to indulge in it, taking a long, deep, shuddering breath.

By the time he looked back into her eyes, he was fully in control.

“Iona, I’m giving you everything you’ve ever wanted. A life of royalty. Status. A crown. THE crown, my dear--Queen of Asgard, Allmother of the Nine Realms. You will never be called a mere lady again; you will never lift a finger in service to another… except me, of course.” He grinned at her, feeling her breath on his face. It was intoxicating, this rush of power and triumph. His hands began sliding around her waist then, tickling her skin through the soft fabric of her dress. “And I ask for so little in return...”

"You've never been so benevolent to me," she said in a small voice, wiggling against him as he slid his hands around her waist.

Despite her misgivings, his words were beginning to affect her. All of what he had just mentioned, she had wanted. She had been groomed to want it.

How could she resist such a great temptation?

Norns, because he was most certainly going to do something unsavoury to her…

Yes, she had wanted the crown, the luxuries...all of it, but she hadn't imagined it all with Loki as her king and lord husband.

"I've never been kind to you. You want s-someone who loves you back, don't you?" she asked, looking at him with wide, silently pleading eyes.

With a simpering grin, he put his forehead against hers.

“But my dear… you already do.”

He slowly lowered her to her feet, then took her hand and began leading her up the stairs of the golden dais… towards the throne.

“All that past unkindness was simply your way of trying to process your feelings for me. I understand now, darling. At first, I was greatly insulted--and perhaps I did not react in the most becoming manner. But I see now what your actions truly meant, and with that knowledge I find my own feelings for you are too strong to ignore.”

The words came so easily, like pouring water from a carafe.

They reached the top of the dais, and he pulled her to the throne, seating her on the wide armrest. “Now that we have both realized how much we care for each other, all that is left for us is to marry and lead the Nine Realms. As spouses. As lovers. As everything we need to be… for the people.” He smirked again, his emerald eyes burrowing into her soul, watching her as she struggled to resist his inveigling.

“I love you, Iona. And all you must do is love me in return.”

That was the facade of their bargain. And he knew that she was hungry enough for the title of the Allmother to accept it.

Iona felt so utterly vulnerable, with nothing protecting her from Loki’s clutches now. Her parents had consented, the queen had consented... no doubt moved by his smooth lies.

He was so good with the lies that she herself was getting pulled into his charm, little by little. It was akin to slipping into quicksand.

Oh, but the thought of being with him constantly... of being in his bed as his dutiful wife… was a daunting, intimidating thing. She didn't know if she'd be able to handle him.

But... did she even have a choice?

All she was expected to do was to accept this ‘great honour’ graciously. Not one person had thought to ask her first--or even tell her, for that matter. Her fate had been sealed without her consent or knowledge.

What else could she do but accept it with grace?

It wasn’t even that bad, was it? She’d be the queen of Asgard, after all. The Allmother. She’d get to have her own powers...

Swallowing thickly, she looked up into his brilliant green eyes and nodded slightly, silently begging the Norns to show her some mercy.

"I'll... I'll try my best, sire."

With a victorious grin, he took her in his arms and moved her onto the seat of the throne, insinuating himself between her suddenly spread her legs. He was absolutely sure that she could feel his raging hard manhood pressing against her most intimate parts, their clothes the only barrier between them.

“There’s my good girl...” he purred as he reached down, gathering the fabric of her dress and pulling it upward toward her waist. “Now...show me how grateful you are.”

_______________________________

[roman-writing]

two, across (6/8)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Lysithea von Ordelia

Rating: E

Wordcount: 6,748

Summary: Lysithea can barely keep afloat under the workload of giving undergrad lectures and finishing off her PhD thesis. Meanwhile Dr. Hilda V. Goneril is somehow both the laziest person as well as the most successful young professor she has ever known. It’s absolutely aggravating.

Author’s Note: Please be aware of the rating increase for this chapter. There is explicit sexual content (finally), which includes but is not limited to: oral, strap ons, stupid banter, and some slight overstimulation.

Read it here on AO3 or read it below the cut

Almost a whole week passes before Lysithea is able to work up the courage to ask if she can stay over at Hilda's apartment again. She tries to manufacture some excuse as to why she should come over, but eventually gives up on any pretense.

When she finally does ask, the work week is nearly finished. A three day weekend is fast approaching, with the Monday a national holiday. Lysithea is standing in the doorway to Hilda's office, waiting to be taken out to lunch.

Hilda shuffles through a stack of student reports when she answers Lysithea's request. “Of course! You’re welcome over whenever. Just so long as you, like, text me you’re coming or whatever."

“So you can pretend to clean up for guests?” Lysithea replies in a dry tone. Her arms are crossed.

“So I can piss you off by making it even messier.”

“I knew it.”

Hilda crouches down to start rifling through more stacks of reports on the ground. “Yes. All part of my cunning plan. I have an image to uphold, you know."

"Is that why you do it? For your carefully manicured image of laziness? Not because you actually like the mess?" To drive her point home, Lysithea gestures at the entirety of Hilda's office, which is mostly hidden by stacks of papers and books.

Hilda gestures with a paperback before tossing it back to the floor. "I refuse to incriminate myself. In fact, this line of questioning is borderline entrapment."

Lysithea rolls her eyes. "Oh, hurry up and come grab lunch with me already."

"I'm trying! My TA put the damn marks somewhere different this time, and it's driving me crazy! I've told him a squillion times that they need to go -! Oh! Found them!!" Hilda rises to her feet, stuffing a few loose pages haphazardly into her bag. "Okay, we can go now!"

"Finally."

--

This time when Lysithea comes over she brings a gift. The bag of cider bottles bumps against her shins as she chews her lower lip outside Hilda's apartment. Behind her, night is falling, turning the sky a dusky purple. The brass 2-A plates on the door gleam in the last fading rays of sunlight on the horizon.

Steadying herself with a deep breath, Lysithea knocks.

Hilda answers the door wearing shorts and one of those tight-fitting black undershirts she prefers, the kind that strategically hangs off her shoulders. It gives the illusion that it might slip completely free without ever actually being in danger of doing so. Her hair is loose and long, hanging down her back.

"You don't have to knock when you've already texted me a million times saying you're coming over. Just come in," Hilda says, exasperated.

She waves Lysithea inside, barely looking at her, already striding back towards the kitchen.

"It was not a million times!" Lysithea calls after her.

Hilda's voice drifts from the other room. "Four times is basically a million times. I know you're polite and all, but it's just me we're talking about."

Lysithea toes off her shoes and closes the front door behind her, locking it and casting the chain as well.

The smells of cooking waft from the kitchen. Lysithea wanders in that direction. Hilda is humming to the music playing from her tablet. Her back is turned, and she puts down a pair of tongs to perform some perfectly executed air drums.

Lysithea lingers in the kitchen doorway. She takes a moment to admire the glimpse of bare skin, the flex of muscle along Hilda's back and broad shoulders. Her mouth goes dry. She swallows.

"What are you making?" Lysithea asks, placing the cider on one of the countertops.

"Baked chicken parmigiana. It'll be ready in forty." Hilda opens the oven door, and slides a full dish inside before slamming it shut once more. When she turns, her eyes alright upon the bottles. "Ooh! Are those for me?"

"No, they're for your cute neighbour and her cat."

"Well, I can't blame you there."

Hilda begins rustling through the grocery bags to see what Lysithea has brought. When she leans over, Lysithea catches a glimpse of generous cleavage, and quickly averts her gaze. So far, all her carefully laid plans for being cool and composed about this whole evening have been wholly tossed out the window.

Turning to the drying rack piled high with clean dishes, Lysithea grabs a dish towel. She dries and puts away the various pans and cutlery that have accumulated there. It strikes her that she now fully understands Hilda's system, and doesn't need to ask once where anything goes.

"I'm not that hungry yet to be honest," Lysithea says while she goes up on her toes to try to put a cutting board away.

"That's fine. Just let me know when you are." Hilda twists the oven dial off. Then she crosses the kitchen. "Here. Let me get that."

Standing directly behind her, Hilda takes the cutting board and easily reaches up to tuck it beside the bamboo steamer. Hilda's arm brushes against her, and Lysithea has to clear her throat. It does nothing to stop the burning in her cheeks however.

Hilda does not linger there, as much as Lysithea might have wanted her to do so. Though she trails her hand across Lysithea's back as she moves away, opening up a nearby drawer and pulling out a bottle opener.

"You want one?" she asks, picking up one of the bottles of cider.

It's tempting, but Lysithea shakes her head. "I shouldn't. Just soda, please."

"You know where it lives." Hilda taps the floor cabinet with her bare foot.

"What a gentleman." Lysithea grabs a glass for herself. She bends down, opens the cabinet in question, and pours a glass of sparkling lemonade.

"Your gentleman privileges were revoked when you started leaving spare clothes in my bedroom. Honestly, at this point I should probably just cut you a key."

"I wouldn't say no." Lysithea tries to keep her tone light and playful, but the implications of what she has said are not missed.

Hilda hesitates when she lifts the bottle of cider for a sip. Lately most of their conversations have felt like this. Like a dance around an inevitable topic neither of them are willing to address.

Then Hilda ruins it. "Great! On that basis, I'll start charging you rent, too."

Making a face, Lysithea lowers her own glass which she had been taking a sip from. "I am not going to pay two rents."

"I'm implying that you should just move in with me already. Duh."

"So I gathered." Lysithea can feel this conversation already treading dangerous waters, and she has barely walked through the door. She veers it towards safety. "Speaking of rent, you're still using my Netflix login. Does that contribute to my share?"

Hilda pretends to mull over the idea. "Only if I get to pick tonight's show."

"No horror," Lysithea says with a glare. "And no more drag races, either!"

"Why do you hate fun?"

"You know what? I'm picking the show this time." Lysithea starts towards the bedroom.

"Oh noooo," Hilda whines, trailing after her. "Not another nature documentary! Those narrators are always such a turn off!"

"I like learning new things."

"So do I. But I also like taking a break, and letting my braincells regenerate with some good old fashioned trashy television."

Crossing the bedroom, Lysithea sets her drink onto the bedside table and flops onto the mattress. It is so easy to fall back into these habits. It's most as though the last few weeks of staying away from Hilda's apartment never occurred.

Hilda sits beside her, cider in one hand, tablet in the other, already flicking through a list of shows for them to choose from. The music has been paused. She hands the tablet over while tilting the bottle back for a sip. Lysithea takes the device, and scrolls for an acceptable alternative to the documentary she originally had in mind.

"What about this?" Lysithea holds up the tablet for Hilda's inspection.

"Too sad. I would be a blubbering mess twenty minutes in."

That seems fair. Though Lysithea does not point out that she has extra tissues in her bag for just that purpose. She had started bringing them after the first experience of Hilda becoming a sobbing wreck during an emotional chick flick.

Lysithea keeps scrolling. "This?"

"Saw it last week. Was bored out of my mind, and abandoned it halfway through for a new jewellery project and a podcast about infectious diseases."

"You're so picky," Lysithea grumbles.

"Then pick something good for once."

Lysithea sticks out her tongue at her, then turns the screen around again. "Okay. How about this one?"

"Ohh, I've heard that one's good! But also thought-provoking. After the week I've had, my brain is not up for it." Hilda takes a last swig of her cider before setting it aside. "Turn around. I want to do your hair."

Setting the tablet aside, Lysithea gives up on the idea of finding a show for now. She turns without question. "What's wrong with my hair?"

Hilda touches her arm, and guides Lysithea back so that she's seated between Hilda's legs. "Nothing. I just want to try out a few different styles and see how they look on you."

"Hmm," Lysithea says in mild suspicion, but Hilda's fingers are running through her hair now, and she doesn't actually want her to stop. Hilda's hands are gentle and inquisitive, expertly parting her hair into sections.

"I can't believe this is your natural colour," Hilda says. "You know, when I first saw you, I thought you dyed it."

Lysithea snorts. "Like I would ever do that."

"Well, I mean, now I know better. Obviously."

"Neither of my parents have this hair colour. They're blonde but not like -"

"Peroxide blonde?" Hilda supplies helpfully.

"I was going to say 'etiolated' but yeah. Sure."

"Outstanding crossword clue, but not a word I would ever use to describe you."

"Are you sure about that? You should never try taking me to the beach, then," Lysithea says dryly.

Hilda has begun to pleat Lysithea's hair. "Let me guess: you go full goth. All black. Big hat. Sunglasses. Parasol."

In admonishment, Lysithea tickles the sensitive underside of Hilda's knee. Hilda squeaks, and jerks her leg.

"Don't be an ass," Lysithea says.

"You really wanna start a tickle war? Huh, punk? When I have you trapped between my legs?"

"That would mean risking the integrity of the braid you're working on, which you would never do."

"You severely underestimate how competitive I am."

Immediately Lysithea stiffens. "No tickles."

"Wow. Hypocrite much?" Hilda teases, but lets the topic drop. "Anyway. This summer we're going to the beach."

"What? Why?" Lysithea can't keep a slight whine from her voice.

"Because I want to take you swimsuit shopping. And also I want to wreck some fools at beach volleyball."

Lysithea has exactly zero doubt that Hilda would do just that. "Do you realise just how sunburnt I get?"

"That's what sunscreen and beach umbrellas are for. Now, let's see how you look."

Tying off Lysithea's hair with a spare elastic band from the bedside table, Hilda reaches for her phone. She uses the forward facing camera as a mirror. With her chin resting upon Lysithea's shoulder, Hilda studies their reflections on the screen.

"Not sure if a braid is quite your style," Hilda muses. She picks apart the braid with one hand, running her fingers through the waves left behind in Lysithea's ghost-pale hair. "Maybe a bun?" She twists the hair up, and her mouth forms a contemplative moue in the mirror. "I'm thinking something classic and scholarly. But stylish, not dowdy. You know?"

"Yeah. Sure," Lysithea replies, but she is not paying any attention.

She isn't even looking at herself in the reflection. She is too focused on the way Hilda is tucking a stray flyaway behind her ear, and the way Hilda's face rests so comfortably beside her own, and the way Hilda's chest is pressed against her back.

In the reflection, Lysithea's staring does not go unnoticed. Their eyes meet in the mirrored phone screen. Hilda grins, mischievous. She presses a kiss to Lysithea's cheek, and Lysithea is so preoccupied by it that she does not register the camera shutter noise indicating that Hilda has just snapped a picture.

Leaning her chin back in the crook of Lysithea's shoulder, Hilda wraps her arms around her to play with the phone in both hands.

"Cute," Hilda murmurs. She modifies the image slightly, and then sets it as her background.

Lysithea can feel Hilda's smile against her neck. The corner of Hilda's mouth is curled in one of her signature grins, the kind that she never can get enough of, no matter how much time they spend with one another.

"Hilda."

"Hmm?" Hilda tosses her phone aside, but remains where she is seated, wrapped up around her. She glances at Lysithea with a curious cant to her smile.

Before she can even comprehend what she's doing Lysithea turns her head and closes the distance between them. It is a chaste press of their mouths. Hilda freezes. The moment Lysithea realises what she has done, she pulls away. An apology is still on the tip of her tongue, when Hilda grabs her face and pulls her back down.

Lysithea isn't quite sure how it happens, but the next thing she knows is that she has turned around in Hilda's lap and is being thoroughly kissed.

One of Hilda's hands has pressed against Lysithea's lower back to steady her, and is now slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to trace the waistband of her skirt with clever fingertips. It sends a shiver racing up Lysithea's spine. Of the many ways Hilda is lazy, this is not one of them. She kisses skillfully and cannily, leading Lysithea along until Lysithea clutches at her shoulders.

Lysithea's knees dig into the mattress as she kneels over her, straddling one of Hilda's legs. When Hilda bends her knee so that Lysithea is seated upon her thigh, a coil of heat spools low. A noise rises, unbidden, in Lysithea's throat and is trapped between their mouths.

Hilda pulls away just enough to ask, "Is this alright? Can I -?"

"Yeah," Lysithea breathes, already tilting Hilda's head back for another kiss. "God, yeah."

Hilda's hands grasp at her waist, urging Lysithea to rock against her. Lysithea's grip on Hilda's shoulders tightens. When a whimper escapes her, the world pitches sideways as Hilda tumbles her over so that she is pressed back against the warm-scented sheets with Hilda crouched over her on all fours.

This time when Hilda reinitiates a kiss, it is urgent. Hilda lies flush against her, and rocks until Lysithea is gasping. She grasps at the back of Hilda's shirt, the fabric bunching between her fists. It does nothing to ground her; she can feel the pool of heat spreading in her stomach with every roll of Hilda's hips.

"Ha-Hang on. Just -" Lysithea pushes weakly at Hilda's shoulders, and Hilda immediately pulls back. Lysithea stares up at her, as if unsure that this is even real. "Are we -? Are we really doing this?"

"Do you mean in, like, a metaphysical sense?" Hilda asks, slightly breathless. "Or just in a 'oh my god are we finally gonna bone' sense?"

"The latter, of course." Though in truth, Lysithea thinks it's a little of column A and a little of column B.

"Okay. Good. In that case: only if you want to. Because I want to. Like a lot. But if you don't want to, then -"

"I want to," Lysithea blurts out before Hilda can even finish.

Tugging at the hem of Lysithea's shirt, Hilda says, "Great. Glad we've established that. Now, can we get this off? I've been dying to have you naked and under me for, like, months to be honest."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"What? And risk scaring you off?" Hilda snorts. "No way! Besides, who doesn't like a little anticipation, am I right?"

Lysithea makes a face, but helps Hilda get her top off. "No, thank you." Her voice is briefly muffled by cotton until the shirt is tossed carelessly onto the floor. "I much prefer to just get to the point."

In a single smooth motion, Hilda lowers herself down on her elbows once more so that their bodies are pressed together from chest to calf. Lysithea shivers when Hilda runs one of her hands lightly from her shoulder and stopping at her hip to toy with the waistband of her skirt. Slowly, she nudges Lysithea's head to one side so she can ghost her mouth against Lysithea's neck.

"Don't worry," Hilda breathes against her throat, "We'll work that bad habit right out of you."

Hilda shifts. Even through a layer of black fabric Lysithea can feel the flex of muscle in Hilda's abdomen as she presses a thigh between Lysithea's legs and drags it slowly upwards. Lysithea has to clench her teeth to keep herself from making a noise. Hilda repeats the motion, long and slow, so that she can hear the first faint creak of the mattress, and the entire bed rocks slightly.

Throughout it all Hilda is still lavishing Lysithea's bare neck and shoulders with attention. She has to pause to push aside some of Lysithea's long pale hair.

"Should've left it in the braid," she says, laughing softly against Lysithea's throat.

Lysithea takes the opportunity to tug at Hilda's shirt. "Can you take this off?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Hilda pushes herself to her knees, and divests herself of both shirt and bra, casting them to the floor alongside the last scraps of Lysithea's dignity. Lysithea sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth, and stares.

"You okay there, tiger? You're not going to faint on me or anything, right?"

Lysithea opens her mouth to respond, but no sound comes out, so she shakes her head instead.

For a moment, Hilda's brows furrow. "Wait. You've done this before, haven't you? I mean it's totally fine if you haven't, but, like -"

"Once," Lysithea admits.

It had been in the last year of her undergraduate studies. She hadn't enjoyed it too much, but she hadn't hated it either. She'd been indifferent to the classmate who had asked her during one of their final study sessions. Honestly, she had been surprised at herself for replying that yes she would go back to his dorm for the evening. He didn't speak to her again after graduation, and that had suited her just fine.

"Though I know what I like to do to myself," Lysithea adds.

"Okay. Cool." Hilda has reached over for the elastic hairband, and is tying her own hair back into a single ponytail. "Just tell me if you want me to do anything different or whatever. I'm always open to requests, and feedback, and stuff."

"I'm fine with anything," Lysithea says, leaning up on her elbows to remove her own bra and fling it aside.

Hilda's answering grin glints wickedly. Her voice lowers to a note that makes Lysithea's breath catch in her chest. "You say that, but we'll take it nice and slow."

"As opposed to what?" Lysithea asks, but Hilda has placed a hand on her chest and is pushing her gently back down.

"As opposed to me strapping up and fucking you 'til you can't walk straight for the next few hours. Now, lie back. I want to go down on you."

Lysithea lies back. Her heart thuds in her chest. She feels dizzy and they have hardly done anything yet.

Hilda takes her dear sweet time working her way towards her final destination. She is languid but thorough. She teases Lysithea's breasts with mouth and teeth. She kisses her way slowly down to Lysithea's navel until Lysithea is squirming beneath her. Her hand inches up Lysithea's skirt to toy with the elastic band of her underwear before sliding the fabric down her legs. When Lysithea reaches for the zipper of her herringbone skirt however, Hilda nudges her hand aside.

"No, no. Leave it on. Just for now."

"Why?"

"Because the hot librarian look on you really does things for me."

"And here I thought you wanted a hot goth."

"Listen. There's only enough room for one hot goth in this family, and you're looking at her."

Lysithea gasps on a laugh, when Hilda begins to kiss up along her inner thigh. "How are you goth? Your favourite colour is pink."

"Excuse you. Pink is goth!" Hilda insists, but it is impossible to take her seriously when her head has been reduced to a bump beneath Lysithea's skirt.

"Is your strap on pink, too?"

"Why? You want to find out?"

"Yes."

She can feel Hilda snicker against her leg. And then Hilda places an open-mouthed kiss to her clit, and all thought of banter goes sailing out of Lysithea's head.

Her lower back arches, pushing her further against Hilda's mouth, but Hilda's hands hold her firmly in place. The slow, deliberate pace drives Lysithea half mad. Hilda rushes through nothing. Every time Lysithea's breathing starts to grow irregular and she clutches at the bedsheets like a lifeline, Hilda moves her attention somewhere else.

Lysithea loses track of time. She gasps towards the ceiling, her eyes squeezed shut. Dimly she is aware that not much time could have passed in the grand scheme of things, but it feels like she's taught classes shorter than this.

"I swear to god, Hilda, if you don't hurry up, I'll -"

At that, Hilda pauses entirely. "You'll what?" she asks, her voice muffled.

Thighs trembling, Lysithea doesn't answer.

Hilda pushes Lysithea's skirt up so that her flushed face comes into view. Her mouth and chin are slick, but she doesn't seem to care. "No, go on. I'm super curious to hear about what you'll do to me."

Lysithea's cheeks are already red. She glowers, but the effect is ruined by the way her legs are splayed open, and her breathing is ragged. "I'm - I'm really not good at dirty talk, if that's what you're aiming for."

Hilda shrugs, smiling. "Like I said. Nice and slow."

"You also said something about requests?" Lysithea asks. She waits for Hilda's nod before saying, "I don't like being treated like I'm made of glass, and I don't want nice and slow."

For a moment, Hilda just stares at her with wide eyes. Then she wipes her face clean with both hands. "Am I dreaming?" She lightly smacks her own cheeks. "Is this a dream?"

"Hilda."

"Right! Okay. Yeah. I'm on it. Just give me a sec."

For someone who had seemed to enjoy making Lysithea wait, it takes an impressively short amount of time for Hilda to kick off her shorts, and step into a harness. Though she has to rummage around beneath the bed for a plastic storage box beforehand.

Hilda is seated on the edge of the bed with a bottle of lube in her hands, and Lysithea sits up to run a hand across her back. She kisses Hilda's shoulder and relishes the reaction that invokes.

"You know," Hilda says, "this is really not how I expected this night to go. Not that I'm complaining or anything. Because I'm really not, let me tell you."

"I see that my suspicions are confirmed, and all you're good at is talking."

Hilda blinks at her in surprise, then laughs. She turns, pushing Lysithea back onto the mattress so that Lysithea lies beneath her.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Hilda grins down at her. "I am great at multitasking."

Hilda is lying between her legs, and Lysithea can't think of a witty retort. She's still incredibly wet from when Hilda had started using her mouth, but regardless Hilda has taken every precaution, and the toy is slick with lubricant. It is also predictably, violently pink.

Lysithea angles her head back, when Hilda kisses the line of her jaw. Her skirt bunches up around her waist. She bites her lower lip but can't keep a whimper at bay as Hilda eases the tip of the toy inside of her. Her knees splay open to accommodate the stretch, and one of Hilda's hands glides up her thigh to grip her by the waist and hold her steady.

A dull thrill of pleasure winds up Lysithea's spine as Hilda takes the time to work the shaft fully into her. By the time their hips are brought flush together, Lysithea is panting towards the ceiling, her breaths coming in short sharp bursts. She can feel Hilda's mouth at her neck, the gentle rasp of teeth at her throat.

Then Hilda pulls back. She draws the toy almost completely free, and sinks it fully in place once more in a single slow thrust. The second time the motion is repeated, Lysithea angles her hips up to receive it. The joint movement sets the toy more firmly inside her, and draws a sound from her lips.

The noise seems to spur Hilda on, for the next thrust bears a bit more weight. She uses one forearm to hold herself up, and her other hand grips Lysithea's waist tight, urging her along, encouraging a more exaggerated roll of her hips. It isn't until a steadier pace has been set that Hilda pushes off of her forearm to kneel between Lysithea's legs.

Shifting somewhat, Hilda guides Lysithea's knees to the angle she wants, and murmurs, "Relax. Let me do the work."

Relaxing is the absolute last thing on Lysithea's mind. Lying back like this, she can't reach Hilda's shoulders, so instead she grabs at the bedsheets for purchase. Hilda drives her hips forward, and a sharp cry is wrenched from Lysithea's throat.

"You alright?" Hilda asks even as she thrusts again at the same pace.

"Y-Yes."

The single syllable ends on a breathless noise. Hilda drives the toy to its base again and again in a hard, steady, unrelenting rhythm. A jolt rushes headlong through Lysithea with every thrust. The mattress creaks in time with their movements, and the bed's base knocks against the wall. At any other time she would have been relieved that the bed is situated against the wall facing the living room and not a neighbour's apartment, but she can't bring herself to care now.

Lysithea doesn't know how Hilda is able to maintain the pace, let alone increase it. At one point, Hilda has to pause to readjust, almost effortlessly lifting Lysithea's hips so that she can brace herself and continue with short rapid thrusts. With a hard quick rhythm, it doesn't take long for Lysithea's breath to start hitching every time the curved end of the toy is lodged deep inside her. She comes with a sharp cry, hands grasping at Hilda's lower back when there's no sign that she will relent and slow down.

Eventually, Hilda does slow and instead grinds their hips together, her hand wandering downwards until her thumb is stroking softly against Lysithea's clit. She continues until Lysithea is shuddering and seeing stars again. Fingernails digging into Hilda's lower back, Lysithea can't stop her hips from bucking when Hilda maintains that constant pressure all while keeping the touch of her thumb feather-light.

When a broken note cracks at the back of Lysithea's throat, Hilda stops.

"Sorry," Hilda breathes. "Too much?"

Lysithea nods faintly, and her voice is strained when she says, "A little. But keep going."

For a moment, Hilda does nothing. She watches Lysithea with an intense and unblinking expression. Her forearms tremble slightly, and Lysithea can feel a light prickling of sweat that has gathered along the divot of Hilda's spine. A few strands of pink hair have escaped from Hilda's ponytail, and stick to her temples.

Then she starts moving again, and Lysithea hisses through clenched teeth. She squeezes her eyes shut. Hilda resumes a staccato rhythm of shallow thrusts, but her thumb circles slowly, out of time and gentle in comparison. Lysithea's lower back is set back down on the mattress, and the sudden shift in angle makes her grind her hips upwards to seek more friction against Hilda's fingers. With her free hand, Hilda holds her down by the waist, carefully controlling the balance between the hard press of the toy and the soft caress of her thumb.

Whenever she touched herself alone, Lysithea has always stopped after finishing. This is new. This wavers on the bleeding edge of beyond the pale. She feels trapped in a fugue state where every single one of Hilda's motions seems too much to bear and not enough simultaneously. As if from a distance Lysithea hears the feeble, plaintive whines that escape her own throat.

Hilda only slows to a halt when Lysithea's heels begin to slip and flounder against the bedsheets. Lysithea can still feel small aftershocks racing through her, clenching at the toy until Hilda pulls out of her. Lysithea is barely aware of the sticky silicone bulge against her already slick inner thigh.

Hilda sounds winded when she speaks, "Alright, I would really appreciate if you'd just, like, do literally anything to me, because I am unbelievably turned on right now."

With trembling hands, Lysithea tugs at the harness to loosen it. Hilda helps, their hands fumbling as Lysithea leans up to kiss her. After the harness has finally been kicked to the foot of the bed, Lysithea manages to get Hilda on her back. Her arms and knees can barely keep herself up, and Lysithea has to drop down to her elbows.

Whereas before Hilda's movements were precise and controlled, now they are sloppy and desperate. She is already making high-pitched impatient noises, as Lysithea leans down to mouth at her breasts.

It takes Lysithea a moment to realise that only one of Hilda's hands is clutching her shoulder. The other is already between her own legs. A glance down confirms that Hilda has buried three fingers up to the knuckle inside herself, and is frantically seeking release.

"Now who's impatient," Lysithea mumbles around Hilda's nipple.

"I don't think you understand how close I am," Hilda gasps. "Please, just -"

Lysithea reaches down. Rather than push Hilda's wrist aside, she manoeuvres her hand in such a way that her fingers can slip against Hilda's clit at the same time.

Immediately, Hilda cries out. Her free hand tangles in Lysithea's hair and holds her in head in place. Even so, Lysithea is nearly dislodged by the shuddering jump of Hilda's hips every time Lysithea's fingers circle her clit.

Hilda is noisy. She writhes when she comes, gripping the back of Lysithea's head tight, and chanting the first broken syllable of Lysithea's name until her cries dissolve into utter incoherence. Shivers continue to roll through her, slowing in time with both their fingers.

When Hilda's muscles begin to relax, and she pulls her fingers out of herself, Lysithea follows suit. Rolling onto her side, the two of them lie on their backs, and the only sounds in the room are their harsh breathing. Lysithea can feel Hilda's arm pressed up against her own. Gracelessly, Hilda wipes her own fingers off on the sheets, but otherwise does not move.

Lysithea dares to break the silence. "Are you normally so quick to get off?"

Hilda lets out a huff of breathless laughter. "Not really, no. But fucking you was hot. Like, really hot. And this thing -" Hilda weakly hooks her foot into the harness' straps, and lifts it a little from the bed. The pink dildo dangles comically from the ring that holds it in position. "- was rubbing me the whole time. I almost came, like, twice when I was getting you off. Why? We're you not impressed by my godlike stamina?"

Lysithea rolls her eyes, but Hilda is grinning at her with that old familiar roguishness, but for the fact that her hair is darkened with sweat, and she is both very naked and sated. Like a proverbial cat, though Lysithea herself has never felt less like a canary.

"I would be lying if I said no," Lysithea concedes.

In response, Hilda brushes the backs of her fingers against Lysithea's leg. Then she sits bolt upright. "The oven!" she says with wide eyes, until she places a hand over her chest, and heaves a sigh of relief. "Oh, wait. I turned it off. Thank god."

"It hasn't been forty minutes anyway," Lysithea adds.

"Are you sure about that?"

Hilda leans over her and taps her phone on the bedside table just to wake up the lock screen display. She tilts the screen towards Lysithea so she can see.

Turning her head aside on the mattress, Lysithea's stares in incredulity. "An hour and a half?"

"Yeah. That chicken parmigiana would've been charcoal." Hilda bounces a bit further down the bed, picking up the strap on and giving it a preliminary wipe down on the sheets as well.

Lysithea sits up, and swings her legs over the side of the bed. The moment she does so, her skirt falls around her knees. She can feel the area of fabric that has been soaked through. With a grimace, Lysithea unzips her skirt and slides it down her legs.

"We may not have ruined dinner, but we have ruined my favourite skirt," she laments. Then looks at the bed. "And your sheets."

"I'll wash them." Hilda holds out her hand, and Lysithea passes the skirt over to her.

"Thanks. Though it is your fault, to be fair."

"That's a compliment, thank you very much. Totally worth it. Eleven out of ten." Hilda checks the skirt's tag to see if there are any special washing requirements. She grins over the skirt at her. "Wanna mess up some more clothes?"

"I am going to need a few hours to recover," Lysithea says. "And a bath."

"Can I join you?"

Hilda has begun to strip the pillows of their casings, chucking the fabric along with her skirt over towards the bathroom door. Gripping the edge of the bed, Lysithea studies in fascination how relaxed Hilda is. About everything. Meanwhile just sitting here leaves Lysithea reeling, like she's in some alternative dimension.

They have just had sex -- really quite fantastic sex, if Lysithea is being honest with herself -- yet they still haven't spoken about anything in any material sense.

"I really like you," Lysithea blurts out before her courage fails her.

Hilda snorts in amusement, tugging the bedsheet free from the two corners of the mattress nearest her. "Well, that's good. Otherwise this would be kind of awkward. Can you get up real quick?"

Lysithea gapes at her. "Wait. That's it?"

"What do you mean: 'that's it?'"

"What do you mean: 'what do I mean?'" Realising that this is starting to border on the ridiculous, Lysithea lets go of the sheets she has bunched in her hands. "I just - I just was hoping for something a bit more -- I don't know -- concrete."

Hilda eyebrows have risen towards her hairline. "Concrete."

"Are you just going to repeat everything I say? Because if so, then -"

Hilda interrupts before Lysithea can finish that sentence. "I think you need to see an optometrist, because I am pretty sure I've been dropping hints that I've been super into you and wanted to date you for at least, like, three months now -- maybe more -- and I am not someone known for my subtlety."

A slow flush mottles Lysithea's pale cheeks a ruddy hue. "Oh."

"So, anyway, is that a yes on the bath? Because otherwise I can just take a shower after you're done."

"That's a yes to the bath." Lysithea staunchly refuses to feel embarrassed by how easily this conversation has occured after worrying about it for weeks and weeks.

"Great." Hilda leans over to drop a brief kiss to Lysithea's temple. "Now, I'm going to throw all of these sheets in the washing machine, chuck this -" she brandishes the bright pink dildo like a battle axe, "- in the dishwasher, and then make sure we get to actually eat something tonight. But first, I'm going to need you to get up."

She tugs at the bedsheet under Lysithea for emphasis.

Lysithea sighs. "Alright. I'll go run the bath."

She tries to stand, but her legs wobble and she has to sit immediately back down or else risk collapsing to the floor. Delicately clearing her throat, she stretches her legs out, and can't suppress a slight wince at the twinge in her knees and thighs.

"Nevermind," Lysithea says primly. She does not meet Hilda's gaze. "I'll go run the bath in a moment."

Hilda laughs.

--

They don't leave the apartment for almost two days. By the time Sunday evening rolls around, Lysithea feels more well rested than she's been since starting the PhD program three years ago. She is also significantly more relaxed. It is a joint effort, a combination of copious amounts of both sleep and sex.

Eventually however, Hilda is champing at the bit to get out of the house even for a little while. She drags Lysithea down the road for walkies, and to grab some cheap takeaway for dinner. Neither of them could be bothered to put on real clothes. Lysithea is swimming in a borrowed pair of black sweatpants and a white hoodie with a gold crown threaded across the back.

Hilda holds her hand. She laces their fingers together, and swings their arms in a broad arc, chatting all the while. Lysithea allows it, but feels a bit silly. She casts a glance around and tightens her grip whenever someone passes them, but nobody seems to care, least of all Hilda.

If the past few days have taught Lysithea anything, it's that Hilda has very little concept of shame. She acknowledges its existence, but disregards it utterly. More than once, Lysithea had to scurry around the apartment and draw the curtains, while Hilda strode about wearing not a stitch of clothing.

Not that Lysithea would ever berate Hilda into putting on clothes when they are alone. She rather likes the view.

At the restaurant, their order, which Lysithea had called in back at the apartment, is already sitting on the counter in plastic bags, waiting. A weary-looking cashier with a five o'clock shadow - one that has extended to well beyond eight o'clock - rings them up on a battered register.

Hilda swaps cash for the plastic bags. After she's scooped up the change, she heads towards the exit. "Let's hurry back. I want you to ride my face."

Lysithea almost trips. Her face burns, and she looks over her shoulder to find the bored cashier completely ignoring them. She hurries through the door after Hilda, who is waiting for her on the street just outside. This time however, Lysithea is the one to reach for Hilda's hand. She receives a playful stroke against the sensitive skin of her wrist in return. It sends a shiver of anticipation racing up her arm.

By the time they actually get around to eating at the apartment, the food is cold and Lysithea's knees are sore. They stand in the kitchen, leaning against the counters, and eat directly out of the cartons. Lysithea is wearing nothing but one of Hilda's oversized shirts, and Hilda is wearing nothing but an impressive smattering of bruises at her neck and shoulder. Lysithea admires them while she twirls her fork through cold takeaway.

"So," Hilda waggles her eyebrows as she puts aside her carton of food. "I take it that you're still really great at being available for dating?"

Lysithea shrugs. "Depends on who's asking. I'm very picky, you know."

Hilda bumps their shoulders together. "C'mon and date me already. Officially, anyway. Since we've basically been dating for, like, months now, except without all the great sexy times I could have been providing."

Lysithea tries to hide a smile by taking an extra large bite of food. She isn't very successful. "Oh, fine."

"Oh, fine," Hilda mimics. "Like you aren't dying to be my super cute and awesome girlfriend."

"Well, when you put it like that -"

"- How can you resist?" Hilda kisses her cheek. "Trick question. You can't."

Rolling her eyes, Lysithea allows the fork and carton to be taken from her hands and placed aside. She accepts another kiss, when Hilda drapes her arms around her neck.

"I was eating that," Lysithea says.

"You can eat me instead."

"I already did."

"Well, apparently you're still hungry."

"You're insufferable," she mumbles against Hilda's mouth.

"You love it."

Lysithea does. She kisses Hilda rather than say it aloud.

[dearlazerbunny]

Lie to Me (Ch. 6 of ?)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 1,060

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug for being actual ANGELS

Requested Tags: @deraniel @iamverity@yasnooshka24@themusingsofmany@dark-night-sky-99 @wegingerangelica

You’re nose-deep in several thick files as you wander your way through SHIELD’s corridors- infinity stones, there’s no mention of anything like that- when someone shoulder-checks you hard enough to send you sprawling. Papers flutter everywhere, covering the hallway in photocopies and sheet protectors, and you make a small noise of dismay- it’s going to take ages to put everything back in order.

“Ah, shit, my bad. I wasn’t looking where I was going. You okay?”

A hand appears in front of you, scarred and calloused, and you take it gratefully as you get to your feet. “No harm done, um…” your eyes widen when you realize it’s Agent Barton who’s standing in front of you. He wears jeans and a hoodie with the sleeves rolled up, his clothes exuding casualness but his posture belying his alertness. “Agent. Sorry about that.”

His eyes sharpen as he gets a look at you- realizing who you are. His gaze is enough to make you take a small step back in anticipation. They don’t call him Hawkeye for nothing. “You.”

“Um… yes?” Carefully, you try to inch your way around him and begin picking up your scattered research. “Did you need something?”

The toe of his boot pins a stack of notes to the ground as you reach for them. You freeze. “What are these?”

“Just some notes I pooled from some colleagues. Nothing especially important.” He stoops to collect the papers in question and scans them briefly. His grip is so tight it crinkles the edges.

“About him.”

You don’t ask who he’s referring to. “Well, yes, but also Thor and Odin and Asgard in general… he’s referenced a few things I don’t recognize so I’m just rereading a few documents to see if I’ve missed anything-”

Agent Barton looks up at you sharply. “Like what?”

“Um-” Something in your chest tells you mentioning this infinity stone- whatever it is- probably wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest. “Just a few names, places, things like that. I doubt they’re significant, but I like to be, um. Thorough.” Tension is radiating off the man in waves- it feels like he’s holding an arrow at your throat, poised to release his bowstring at any moment. He makes a noncommittal grunt and steps back a few paces, which you take as a sign to finish picking up your stuff. You have no doubt he can tell you’re lying, but based on his demeanor your goal right now is to survive this conversation and live to see another day.

“So he’s talking to you? Fury said the interrogators aren’t getting anything out of him.”

Tread carefully. The cautious voice in your head sounds vaguely like Trickster’s, strangely enough. “Occasionally.”

“About?”

“Just a few things here and there… as I said, I’m cross-referencing it with some studies…”

You’re stalling, and he knows you’re stalling. Barton’s sigh sounds like it weighs a thousand pounds, and the lines in his face sink from crevices to valleys. “Look, kid, I’m not going to be able to help you if you don’t give me anything to work with.”

“Help me?” You stand, folders tucked under your arm. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with in there. I do.” His words are as haunted as his eyes. “Sooner or later he’s gonna cut you down to nothing and then kick you while you’re still wondering what the hell hit you. He’ll get inside your head and twist everything around until you don’t know which way is up-”

“-I don’t think he’d do that!” You blurt out, unable to stop yourself. His voice is just so… harsh. So sure, like he’s absolutely certain Trickster is going to reduce you to nothing but ashes in a matter of days. Something about it rubs you the wrong way. “I… I don’t think he’d do that.”

“He already has. Multiple times. He killed hundreds of people in two days.”

Well, you can’t argue with that. “Yes, he- he did.”

“And you’re defending him why?”

“I’m not defending him,” you argue. “I’m just… trying to maintain a neutral mentality. It isn’t my place to judge him. That’s not what I’m here for.”

Barton looks at you like you’ve suddenly grown extra limbs. “Then you’re a better man than I’ll ever be.” He pauses. “Or he’s just gotten to you already.”

“‘Gotten to me?’ Agent, please, I believe I’m capable of-”

“I don’t give a shit about what you’re capable of, because I know what he’s capable of. You haven’t seen anything, kid.” The darkness in his voice sends needle pricks down your spine, and for a long moment, the two of you stare at each other as though only one of you will walk away from this conversation. Then Barton looks away, and the spell is broken. “I’ll talk to Fury. Get you put on another assignment.”

“You can’t-”  

“I can, and I will! You think I like being the closest thing we have to an authority on that maniac? On what’s inside his head? I don’t. I’d cut off an arm and a leg not to know those things. But as long as I do I’m sure as hell gonna make sure no one else gets ruined by that psychopath.” His words are poison, and you have no way of avoiding their burn as they trace lesions down your cheeks.

“Clint?” A woman’s voice breaks through the bad taste in your mouth. When you glance at the Black Widow, standing a few feet away, you can see the worry on her face. “You’ve got a three o’clock.”

It’s almost as though strings are cut from his joints- something in him dissipates; his anger dissolves to a simmer. “Right. I’m headed there now.” Both you and Romanov watch him stalk away. You expect something from her- a rebuke, a threat, a warning- but she simply gives you a soft nod and follows the way he went.  

Once they round the corner, you feel you can finally breathe. If you had the courage, you’d say to him, he has just as many scars as you do. I know he does, I see them in his eyes. But you don’t, and so you turn and go the opposite way, trying to get as far away from Barton’s warnings as humanly possible.

A/N: Back on the writing train I believe. Sorry for the delay. Life’s been busy going “let’s make you miserable!” And I’ve been busy going “bitch TRY ME”

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

dick grayson fic rec post

i’ve read a fair amount of dick grayson/nightwing-related fic over the last few months–and have so many favourites that i revisit frequently!–that i thought it was about damn time that i made a rec post. feel free to add on any gems that you think i’ve missed.

s/o to @cautiousamber who actually inadvertently got this ball rolling, and who is just awesome in general.

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these fics are listed in no particular order. almost all of them are sourced from ao3 and a lot of them feature dark themes, blood and violence. i’ll put fic-specific warnings next to each title, but make sure to check out the tags on the fic itself before reading in case i missed something that you’d rather not read.

-

like a rubber band until you pull too hard by @perissologist Summary:�� Morgaine le Fey curses Dick Grayson to absorb the pain of everyone he loves.

Warnings: Violence, blood & gore, whump, some swearing. Also, it’s Jason Todd/Dick Grayson, tho that’s not the focus and more or less subtext until the last few paragraphs of the fic.

this is a gloriously simple h/c premise that packs in so much potential that i’m still kicking myself for not thinking of it before. the writing is wonderful, the interactions between dick and his family are heartfelt without being sappy, and the writer treads a fine, fine line between jason’s general standoffishness and the aching core of his love for his family so damn well. 

Half Lost, Half Found by takadainmate Summary:  Driven underground, Batman fights to keep Nightwing alive.

Warnings: Violence, blood & gore, graphic descriptions of injury, some swearing. And it’s, uh, incomplete, and likely to remain that way.

this… THIS is the fic that truly inspired me to make this post, because everyone needs to read it. rich in detail and full of glorious h/c, it manages to give us a nuanced, dynamic portrayal of bruce and dick’s relationship even while ratcheting up the tension as batman struggles to keep a gravely injured nightwing alive and save them both from Peril. it lacks the final chapter where (presumably) they are rescued and finally get a chance to recover, but i would 100% recommend reading what’s there even if you aren’t a fan of incomplete fics.

Black and Red by Eboni_A Summary:  Jason Todd is the Boy Terror to Dick Grayson’s Boy Wonder and proud of it. Where Dick is graceful, Jason is brutal, but they work together like clockwork. When a serious illness takes Dick down, Jason makes it his duty to watch over him. Jason loves his adopted brother and will kill to protect him.

Warnings: Violence, chronic illness, blood and gore, swearing, dick is fourteen and jason is twelve and they go through a lot of Shit. first person perspective.

this is nominally set in the young justice universe but there are a lot of changes–with jason todd adopted far earlier than he has been in other batman media and working as a batman sidekick of a different name while dick is still robin. given i’m not a big fan of reading robin-era fics (literal children in Peril makes me squirm) or first-person perspective, this fic still managed to win me over with how well-rounded and sympathetic it made an angry and prickly jason todd feel. dick also has to deal with a fairly serious medical issue, but despite spending most of the fic in hospital, his humour and charm and bravery shine through.

Collar Me (Don’t Collar Me) by CaramelMachete and spread_my_wings Summary:  A basic patrol ends in a common injury. However, complications may turn a simple broken arm into something potentially career-ending. Dick copes as best as he can. Until he doesn’t. His family tries to help.

Warnings: blood and injury, serious complications of said injury, descriptions of surgical procedures and discussion of permanent disability. some swearing. a work in progress.

i am obsessed with this fic. spoiler: the complication is compartment syndrome, and the way the fic approaches not just dick’s ways to cope with this, but other members of the batfam and several of dick’s friends ring very true to their characters. it’s emotional without being melodramatic and wonderfully written. an update on this fic ranks among the highlights of my day, honestly.

through sandstorms and hazy dawns by Makalaure Summary: “Robin,” Bruce grinds out, “stop talking. You need to stay sharp.”

Dick knows he is walking a fine, fine line. “Aw, come on, B,” he says, going for cheerful but feeling like something in him, something he has kept carefully in check till now, is about to snap.

Warnings:  mature themes, mentions of forced prostitution, homophobic language, implied paedophilia, implied past abuse, and exoticisation. panic attacks.

this is a beautiful fic, dealing with all the highs and lows of the earliest stages of bruce and dick’s relationship–both of them utterly out of their comfort zones but learning all the same. being batman’s first robin is so much more of a struggle than dick ever lets on later in his life, and in spite of everything, their growing love for and wonderment at each other shine through like a beacon.

Yellow Submarines by jerseydevious Summary: A collection of Batfam prompt-fics.

Warnings: there’s some swearing, violence and blood in some fics, but mostly harmless, i think.

not all of these are dick-related, but each and every one of these 52 fics have made me cry like a lost child. i love this author’s batfam–they’re softer, more open, and utterly unafraid to love each other with all their heart. it helps that the writing flows so well, too–there are some phrases here that will stay with me for a very, very long time.

Atropa Belladonna by Embleer_Firth0323 Summary:  A routine traffic stop sets off a domino effect that will forever shatter Officer!Grayson’s entire world–transforming a once temperate existence into a lurid nightmare of obsession, deceit, violence, and finally murder.

Warnings: Rape/non-con, abuse, suicide. suicidal thoughts, violence, blood and gore, multiple character deaths (none of the batfam), discussions of pregnancy and miscarriage, swearing, first person perspective. i’m sure i’m missing some warnings; please check the tags for the fic. there are also chapter-specific warnings in the notes that precede the chapters.

HOKAY. this is a VERY long, very soap-opera-y retelling of the infamous tarantula arc from the comics. somehow, it is even darker, but hopeful in that all of the damage it inflicts on dick and those close to him is actually acknowledged and addressed. the world around this particular version of dick is rather nicely fleshed out and full of likeable people… bar catalina, of course. catalina flores plumbs the depths of awfulness and digs even further when it comes to her relationship with dick, but even at her worst, her anguish and trauma is always palpable. it’s a long, difficult, but extremely engrossing read. 

i would recommend reading this author’s other novel-length fics as well, but beware that they deal with very, very heavy topics, and not always with the deftest or most sensitive hand.

Come One, Come All and The Only Thing To Say by incogneat_oh

both of these are really cute fics where members of the batfam care for/spend time with an injured!dick. they are sweet, rich in detail, and honestly a delight to read. warnings-wise, i can’t think of anything beyond the odd swear-word.

Little By Little by paramountie Summary:  Six times Tiger found himself stuck in Bludhaven.

Warnings: swearing, blood and injury, mind control, violence. Tiger/Dick. 

this fic builds on all the the strengths of the Grayson comic series–a breezy tone, spy/thriller content, and tiger and dick’s fun dynamic. this fic is very funny and kind of heartbreaking in turns. my only caveat is that this dick tends very much towards the happy-go-lucky, quippy, emotional, a-bit-of-a-disaster characterisation that tends to plague him in fanon–but to be fair, that is the persona he put up while at Spyral in Grayson.

O Clouds Unfold by lowflyingfruit Summary:  Over the years, Alfred tries to introduce the younger members of the Batfamily to the noble sport of cricket.

Warnings: none that i can think of, really.

THIS FIC DELIGHTS ME ON SO MANY LEVELS. little snippets of alfred bonding with bruce’s adopted kids over the years by trying to introduce them to cricket–alfred’s voice is consistently amazing, and it is charming af from beginning to finish. 

i’d recommend all of this author’s batfam fic tbh.

Tectonic Doom by paganpunk2 Summary:  Dick and Tim head out for a week of brotherly bonding in the wilderness only to find themselves caught up in a scheme to put humanity on the ‘extinct’ list.

Warnings: violence, blood, injury and gore, minor character death

this is a lovely, long, plotty fic–with a wonderfully imaginative premise that’s brought out in rich detail, with so much glorious, glorious Dick/Tim bonding. there are way, way too few fics that focus on these two.

Ducklings on the Freeway by pentapus Summary: Jason worries about the younger Robins. He doesn’t worry about Dick – Dick’s untouchable, and even if he wasn’t Jason wouldn’t care.

(Or Dick gets hurt, and it freaks Jason out more than he expected.)

Warnings: swearing, injury. Jason/Dick, but more subtext than anything.

jason’s voice in this fic is so perfect–the tentative ways in which he reconnects with his family, and especially dick, while still dealing with a fuckton of trauma and resentment ring very, very true. and tired-but-knowing!dick is a delight as always.

-

this is maybe ~33% of the recs i had in mind, but this post has gotten long and i’m tired, so. i’ll add more later. if you have anything that i’ve missed, please feel free to add it to this post!

[reggiesreputation]

Friends Don’t Lie Part 1

So this is my first fan fiction ever please be nice?? I am so open for feedback and requests of Jonathan or Steve!! Anyways here we go!

Warning: swearing

The sound of a horn honking broke my concentration as I was applying the final touch of mascara to my lashes.

“Y/N, Jonathan’s here.” My dad called from downstairs.

I silently curse as a scramble for my shoes and socks. He’s always early. Why is he always so early?? I eventually find my second converse and throw it on along with my backpack as I race to his car.

“I’m here the same time everyday. You do know that right?” He jokes as I pull on my seat belt from the passenger seat.

“And you realize I like to sleep in as long as possible right?” I rebuttal as he pulls out of my driveway. He just laughs at me and turns up the radio. Girls on Film by Duran Duran fills the speakers. “Is this a new mixtape?” I question, turning down the volume a few notches.

“Yeah just made it this morning! All the best pop and rock hits of the week.” He beamed as he handed me the cassette container with all the songs.

“Shut up I love The Romantics!” I screamed as you scanned the list of songs. “You always have good taste Byers.” I smile up at him. He blushes and thanks me as we pull up to Hawkins High.

I opened the door and closed my eyes as I let the cool October breeze fill the air. “Ah it feels so nice! I could stay out here for days! By the way, are we still on to go to the pumpkin patch later?” I asked as we walked up the stair of the school.

“Oh crap I forgot. I-“

“Oh my gosh don’t tell me youre cancelling again! Is it Nancy?? You know I’m all for you getting the girl at your dreams, but not at the cost of our friendship.” I groan as we approach you locker.

“Look it’s just, I could never forget about you. But I think she may really like me.” His whole face was beaming. I hadn’t seen him so happy since the day he got his record player. How could I be mad? He’d do the same for me if I ever found a guy.

“Okay fine. But you owe me big time Byers!” I yell as we part ways for day.

“I’m forever in your debt!” He responds, earning some judgmental looks from the girls in the hall. I laugh as I head into Mrs. Fuentes’ English class.

I sit down and begin to thumb through the chapter I was definitely supposed to read for the day. But my last minute studying was quickly interrupted by Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington slamming his books on the desk next to mine.

“Jesus Steve what did the desk ever do to you?” I say as I close The Great Gatsby.

He looks at me with hurt and concern in his eyes. I immediately feel bad for sounding so sharp. “Why do you care?” He sneers as more students file in the classroom.

“Hey, look I’m sorry Harrington. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I just- are you okay? Do you want to talk?” His frown starts to fade and before he can say yes the bell rings signaling the beginning of a test I was definitely going to fail. As class droned on Steve slipped me a piece of paper. As I unfolded it it read: ‘life really sucks sometimes. I feel like I’m losing Nancy. I’m sorry for being a dick.’

My chest tightened as I read the note. Once upon a time me and Steve were actually closer than me and Jonathan, but then high school came. Theatre kids and popular kids just couldn’t mix. He would still smile at me in the hall, sit by me in class. But the movie nights, sleepovers, and bowling escapades ended. I looked over at the boy next to me before deciding to write him back. When Mrs. Fuentes wasn’t looking I handed him another paper.

‘Look I’m no expert in relationships, but I do know the milkshakes at Bennys can cure any kind of sadness. We could meet up after school if you wanna talk?’ He smiled from ear to ear remembering all the times we went there as kids with my parents. He mouthed yes as I looked at him waiting for an answer.

As the bell rang I packed up my stuff and spoke to him, “so you gunna pick me up or drive separately?”

“You live a street away I’ll just come grab you. Save the planet a little.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ah yes we’ll definitely be saving the planet in your gas guzzler. Uh, anyways, I gotta head to chem, but I’ll see you later! Pick me up at 5?”

“I’ll be there!” He beamed as I turned the corner.

My heart fluttered at the thought of getting dinner tonight with Steve, but I internally kicked myself at the reaction. Though I’d harbored a crush for the boy since the fifth grade, he would never see me that way. We’re a part of two different worlds. Plus and most importantly, he has a girlfriend. I tried to keep telling myself that I was just concerned for an old friend, but I couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts during the rest of my classes.

Soon enough the bell rang and I went to meet Jonathan at his car. As I walked out to the parking lot I saw him and Nancy laughing by his car, and a pissed off Steve sitting in the drivers seat waiting for his girlfriend to join him. Nancy saw me in the distance and hugged Jonathan before heading off to join Steve.

“Look I know you’re in love with the girl, but could you at least try to be more subtle? She does still have a boyfriend you know.” I spoke up as the doors of the car closed.

“Y/N, you know I’d never condone any kind of cheating. We’re just friends.”

“Jonathan, we’ve never hugged each other like that. If you really want this you have to talk to her. I think you guys are really hurting Steve and that’s not fair to him.” He shifted into the seat uncomfortably. He knew I was right. We sat in silence before a few seconds before he spoke up.

“I know it’s wrong. And I don’t want to hurt Steve. But being around her is like a drug. I just can’t stay away. You know she invited me to the Halloween party at Tinas. Practically begged me to go. And I said yes.” I stared at him in shock. Jonathan Byers at a party? I never thought I’d see the day.

“I mean that’s good for you. I’m really glad you’ve met someone who makes you happy, but you have to think about Steve. I mean aren’t they going to that together? I heard them talking about their couple costume a few days ago in home room.” His smile faltered as I finished.

“Yes they are...”

“Look Jon, I love you. And I want you to be happy. But you need to tread carefully around all of this. Or you and Steve could end up getting hurt.” I reached out for his hand and he took it in his. We gave each other a look of understanding and rode to my house in silence while The Talking Heads filled the car.

Flash forward to five on the dot. The doorbell fills the house as I bound down the stairs before my dad could answer and interrogate the poor boy. Luckily I was faster and open the door to Steve smiling down on me.

“Hey! Ready to go?”

“Yes! Those milkshakes are the only thing that got me through the day!” He laughs as we get into the car.

“How do you like Devo?” He asks reaching towards the stereo.

“Oh I love them! Their new album was killer.” I say as he turns up the volume. We chat about our days as we drive to the diner. The highs and lows, and homework assignments. The conversation flows so naturally like we never stopped being friends.

When we arrive in the diner we both just look at each other and smile. “Man this place hasn’t changed since we were kids. Can you believe it?” He spoke as we seated ourselves in our old favorite booth.

“It really hasn’t. Look here I’m pretty sure this is a stain from the time I spilled syrup all over the place!” Steve couldn’t help but chuckle as he thought of the accident.

“Oh my god you go it everywhere! Even in our hair!” He choked through laughs. I was about to respond but we were interrupted by the waitress.

“Well hey guys! I’m Laura and I’ll be your server tonight, anything I can get you?”

Before I could speak Steve said “Well both have the number three with a chocolate milkshake.”

“Okay I’ll get that right in for you.” She smiled as she took our menus from us.

“What if I didn’t want the number three anymore? We haven’t been here in years I mean my taste buds could have changed.” I spoke as the waitress disappeared behind the counter. He just smiled as I looked sternly at him.

“Oh cmon you haven’t changed that much! I may not know your current favorite song or color, but I know you’ll always be a number three gal.” I blushed at his comment. It was weirdly sweet. He was right I mean I would have ordered the number three anyways. I tried to shake those thoughts from my head and inquire him about the reason we were even here in the first place.

“Well you’re lucky I haven’t changed too much. Uh anyways...how are you?” I ask almost in a whisper. I didn’t want his smile to fade, but I wanted to help him.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I just- I don’t know if Nancy loves me anymore. She’s always with Jonathan and she tells me they’re just friends, but I don’t think just friends talk to each other more than girlfriends and boyfriends do.” He ran his hands through his hair as he spoke. I could see the anxiety and the fear in his head.

“Hey I- I can’t say I get it because I’ve never had a boyfriend”

He interrupts me before I could continue, “wait you’ve never had a girlfriend?” He asks looking up at me. I almost freeze where I am. Red being to fill my cheeks as I realize what I’ve just said. “I mean it’s fine there nothing wrong with that, I’m just surprised.” He says trying to ease my embarrassment.

“Uh why would you uh, be surprised?” I mumble.

“Well I mean look at you. You’re really pretty. And funny and smart. I mean I always had a crush on you in middle school.” He said as if it were nothing. I nearly choked on air as he spoke. Before I could respond the waitress came over with our food.

“And here we are two number threes. Do everything look okay?”

“Yes, perfect.” Steve smiles at her. She gave us one last look before hiding back behind the counter. We sat in silence for a minute before Steve spoke up again.

“Sorry for making it awkward. I mean I don’t like you now obviously. But back then, you were pretty great. And not that you aren’t now- it’s just we don’t talk anymore you know?” He was petrified as the word vomit kept coming out of his mouth. I was at a loss for words. I couldn’t believe Steve had had a crush on me. My whole body buzzed at the thought. I could tell he didn’t want to talk about this anymore though, so I finally got out of my head and spoke up.

“Um well I don’t know why I never dated. I guess I just never found the right guy. And the guys I liked never liked me. I never did have the best luck.” It comes out as almost a whisper. He just looks at me With was it pity? God is this turning into a pity part for me? “Look I just, what I meant to say was though I’ve never been in a relationship, I’ve still felt heartache, and I’m really sorry you’re going through it. I know we haven’t spoke in years, but you know I’m always a phone call away. I’m here if you need me Steve.”

I reached for his hand and grasped it in mine as I changed the topic. His expression changed to one of relief. Relief of a rekindled friendship, of knowing that even if things with Nancy crashed and burned, he would have someone to lean on.

“Y/N, thank you. I’m just so confused. I feel like I’m chasing a dream. The more I reach the more she flees. Into his arms. I’m surprised she even agreed to go to Tinas party with me tomorrow at this point. Of course she still invited Byers, which means I’ll turn into the third wheel.” He grumbled. I squeezed his hand for reassurance as he finished. He gave me a weak smile in return.

“Look I’m going to the party too. Jon is my best friend, maybe I can keep him with me for a while so you can figure things out with Nancy” He perked up as I spoke.

“Would you really?”

“Yeah. I mean what are friends for?” I felt sick even saying the words, but I mean I wanted Steve to be happy. And if that meant keeping Jonathan away from Nancy, well then tomorrow was going to be a very interesting night.

“Oh my god you don’t know how much I appreciate this! God just, thanks Y/N. You’re a good friend.” He said letting go of my hand and getting his wallet out to pay the bill. I could feel a sick feeling bubbling up inside me. And it wasn’t from the milkshake. It was that word again. Friend. Every time we said it I hated it more.

Before I could further frustrate myself over the word Steve stood up and held his hand out. I took it in mine and we walked back to his car in silence.

The drive back was mostly quite. He tried to inquire about any boys that had caught my eye, but I quickly told him that there wasn’t anyone right now. Which is a huge lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. As we pulled up to my house he spoke before I got out of the car. “Look thanks again for tonight. I feel better. Less alone. And maybe we could do this again sometime? I do miss us hanging out.” He places a piece of hair behind my ear as I take in his words.

“Um yeah, I think that would be really nice Steve. And it’s no problem. You know I’d do anything for you.”

He smiled. “Yeah I do. Go get some sleep. And tell your dad I say hi.”

“For sure! He’ll be ecstatic to hear from you. And you too Harrington. Take care of yourself. And goodnight.” I say as I climb out of the car.

“Night Y/N!” He hollers as he drives off into the night. When I can’t see his car anymore I step inside the house and breathe for the first time in what feels like hours. All I can think think about is how cute Steve looked tonight. How I wanted to kiss him, tell him that I would never treat him they way Nancy does. But I couldn’t. I’m fucked. So very fucked. Tomorrow sure was going interesting I think as I eventually climb into bed and get some sleep before whatever was to come.

[daydream-hobii]

Shelter of Hope | Chapter 3

Genre: Poly!AU; Hybrid!AU; Fluff; Angst

Pairing: Hybrid BTS x Female!Reader; Human!Reader, Human!Namjoon, White Persian Cat!Seokjin, Siamese Cat!Yoongi, Border Collie!Hoseok, Calico Cat!Jimin, Australian Shepherd!Taehyung, Siberian Husky!Jungkook

Summary: Y/N and her husband Namjoon are the proud owners of a hybrid shelter, protecting and saving as many hybrids as they can. They have a couple of their own, a cat and dog hybrid, whom they love with all their hearts. In the shelter, they gain some hybrids with trauma filled pasts, and one particular one who no one seems to want. What will happen when their little family of four turns to eight?

Warning: Mentions of Abuse, Sexual Assault, Depression, Anxiety; Suggestions of Smut; Read with caution <3

Word Count: 1,123

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12 // Chapter 13 // Chapter 13.5: BONUS // Chapter 14 // Chapter 15 // Chapter 16 // Chapter 17 // Chapter 18 // Chapter 19 // Chapter 20 // Chapter 21 // Chapter 22 // Chapter 23 // Chapter 24 // Chapter 25 [FINAL] //

Author’s Note: Welcome to Chapter 3! Please let me know what you think of this chapter, I love getting feedback! I hope you enjoyed it!!! ^_^ 

           It was almost time for Namjoon and I to go home. After the three new hybrids came, we both took time with each of them. Namjoon took the two more aggressive hybrids while I took the Persian cat.

           I watched him sit on his bed through the large glass window. He knew I was there but wouldn’t make eye contact. He held his knees to his chest. I looked at my clipboard once more, biting my lip. He was a white Persian cat hybrid, 25 years old. He was older than me and Namjoon, but closer to Namjoon’s age.

           He had beautiful blonde hair with white ears, extra pink inside them. His tail was bushy and very matted. He took a bath, but it didn’t help the matted parts. He had beautiful green eyes with bits of brown speckled through them. Normally Persian cats were very rich breeds, being as much as six million won. I wonder why he came here…?

           I walked into the room, making him jump and look my way. I gave a soft smile, shutting it and sitting on the floor. I bit my lip, looking him up and down. He had bruises and cuts, but nothing that looked too serious.

           “Hi, I’m Y/N, the owner of this shelter,” I whispered, making him look at me harder. He seemed to be examining me, his eyes searching my entire body. “What’s your name?”

           “Jin,” He said, looking back down. “Full name Kim Seokjin.”

           “That’s a beautiful name, Jin,” I replied, smiling softly. “My husbands last name is Kim, too.”

           “It’s a popular name,” He replied, no longer trying to look at me. “What kind of shelter are you?”

           “Well,” I started, frowning. “we like to rehabilitate hybrids from the terrors of their past. We do extensive background checks on adopters so each hybrid can go to a loving home.”

           “I was in a loving home,” He growled, looking at me. Since he was a cat hybrid, his pupils were slits, showing me how angry he was.

           “I’m sure you were,” I replied, softly, treading carefully. Jin looked at me like that for a second, before huffing out, looking away again.

           “They loved me,” He choked, making me frown. “They pampered me. I had whatever I wanted, since I was young. I was their prized possession… then they got her.” He glared at the bed, making me bite my lip.

           “Whose her, Jin?” I questioned. He looked at me, going soft a bit.

           “That looks uncomfortable…. Would you like to sit on the bed with me…?” He asked, moving over and patting the bed. I tried not to sigh in relief. He was opening up a lot faster than I could’ve hoped for. I nodded, smiling and carefully walking over, sitting on his bed.

           “Thank you, Jin,” I whispered, smiling softly. He nodded, crossing his legs and playing with his hands in his lap.

           “You’re welcome,” He mumbled. I watched a couple of tears fall, making me frown again. “Her is the younger, prettier cat the adopted. They got her from a breeder…. She was a teenager, with pale skin and blue eyes….”

           “And they just… forgot about you?” I questioned, making him sigh and nod.

           “They forgot to feed me, or they no longer pampered me. Their kids started to make fun of me, and made me sleep in the living room,” He said, finally looking me straight on. “I’ve never slept in the living room…. Then, one thing lead to another… I started fighting back, so I got disciplined….” He rubbed his bruised arm gently, making me frown more. “They got rid of me… so here I am.”

           He looked at me, a couple more tears falling. I bit my lip, carefully reaching towards him and brushing away his tears. He flinched slightly, making me pull back, but he grabbed my hand, placing his back on his cheek. A soft purr erupted through his throat as he shut his eyes. He turned his head, kissing my hand, making me frown.

           “Yeobo,” A soft voice sounded, making me turn and Jin jump. Namjoon smiled in apology to the cat before looking at me. “We need to close up.”

           “Okay baby, I’ll be there in a minute,” I replied, dropping my hand and looking back at Jin. “Do you need anything before I leave, Jin?”

           “Will you be back tomorrow?” He asked, his eyes gaining more life as he stared at me.

           “Of course,” I replied, smiling softly. “Try and get some sleep. I’ll see what we can do to get those mats out.” I pointed to his tail, making him frown and nod.

           I stood up, walking to the door. I stopped once I opened it, turning back to see Jin staring at me with sad eyes.

           “Jin?” I said, making him move his head to the side. “If it means anything, I think you’re the most handsome Persian I’ve ever met.”

           He smiled bright, the first smile since being here. I nodded, grinning as I walked out, shutting and locking the door. Namjoon was waiting there, smiling softly.

           “You got him to talk, huh?” He asked, holding my hand and beginning to walk to Hoseok’s room, where Yoongi and Taehyung still were.

           “Yeah. He was a rich cat that got replaced,” I said, looking up at him. “He’s so sad.”

           “I could only imagine,” Namjoon replied, stopping and leaning down to peck my lips. I smiled up at him before turning to Hoseok’s door.

           I walked in quietly, looking to see all three snuggled up together on his small bed. Hoseok was in the middle, snuggling close to Yoongi, resting his head on Yoongi’s chest. Taehyung was behind Hoseok, snoring softly with his arm tight around the two, hand flat on Yoongi’s back. I couldn’t help but smile as my heart swelled, quickly taking out my phone and snapping a picture, Namjoon chuckling softly.

           “I think Hobi is a part of the family,” Namjoon whispered, making me look at him with wide eyes and a huge smile. “but we’ll do it tomorrow, okay? It’s late.”

           “Deal,” I said, kissing him passionately before walking to the boys, waking them up softly. They groaned, making me chuckle.

           “Yoongi, Taehyung,” I whispered, making them stare at me, half asleep. “It’s time to go.” Hoseok gripped Yoongi tighter, making me chuckle. “Or, you can stay here…?”

           “We’ll stay here,” Yoongi mumbled, kissing the top of Hoseok’s head before falling back to sleep. Taehyung didn’t even respond, just started snoring again.

           “Well, looks like it’s just us,” Namjoon said, walking over and kissing all of their heads.

           “Let’s go home,” I said, holding his hand tight. Tomorrow, Hoseok will be added to our family….

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Affairs of the Heart - Chapter 2

Note:  This is the first story in a planned series set in this universe under the umbrella ‘Hardy Investigations’.  Case suggestions are welcome, but it will be a long time to fruition if submitted!  This story is fully written, so they would be utilized in future stories.

General warnings: mature content, occasional language.  This chapter contains smut.

Beta’d by the amazing and wonderful @stupidsatsuma!

Masterlist

Summary

September 1948 - Mrs. Mark Latimer hires Hardy Investigations to find out if her husband is having an affair, requiring some duplicity and ingenuity to find the truth as they go undercover.

Ellie opened the sliding door with a flourish, falling easily into the simpering ‘woe is me’ routine that never failed.  “Oh, thank you so much!”

“Of course ma’am, what seems to be the issue?”  Mark Latimer was decently handsome, early thirties with an easy grin and kind eyes.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t stepping out.

“This way.”  She led him through her ‘home’ to the overflowing toilet, fluttering her hands and acting as sympathetically pitiful as she could.  “Can you help?”

“Absolutely, let me see.”  Setting his toolbox on the corner of the tub, he crouched by the toilet and reached behind it, twisting the shutoff valve until the water stopped.  “No gentleman caller to be of assistance?”

Ellie pouted, leaning against the doorframe and watching him work.  “My boyfriend must have clogged it this morning before he left without realizing it.  He’s gone away for the weekend.”

“Without you?”

“He took his wife up to Bristol for her birthday.”

Mr. Latimer stopped moving for a moment, and she knew she had his attention.  Her goal was to find out how he felt about affairs without confronting him head-on or throwing herself at him.  “That’s a shame,” was all he said, tone carefully neutral, and she had to tread carefully.

“Not an ideal situation, but it is what it is,” she said airily.  “D’you know what’s wrong?”

Dusting off his hands Mr. Latimer stood, glancing over his shoulder on her.  “Looks like it’s blocked.  Might you have a plunger?”

“Closet.”  She didn’t move out of the doorway, forcing him to brush up against her on his way there and back.  “I’m so grateful you’re able to come out, I don’t know when he might have been back to take a look but I couldn’t wait.”

“Wives can be demanding.”  He wasn’t particularly chatty, which was making it hard to get a read on him.

Ellie nodded.  “It’s so hard for us to be together except here.  We can hardly stroll the High Street, can we? And there are few restaurants where we can be seen together.”

“How does he explain away his time?”

“Working late,” she scoffed.  “Which is true enough I suppose.”  She let out a tinkling laugh.  “I’m his secretary.  He works very hard during his late hours in the office, though not necessarily on company business.”

Mr. Latimer laughed at the implication, nodding approvingly.  “Yet I suspect he enjoys his work.”

“As do I.  I just wish we had somewhere to go like a regular couple, you see.  Somewhere we can have a meal I don’t have to cook, where we can be amongst others.  So much sneaking around makes me feel like a dirty little secret.”

He glanced over at her, watching her for a moment as he worked.  “You deserve something nice,” he said slowly, focusing back on his task.  “I may have a recommendation.”

“Oh?  Please do!  Somewhere nice, but not so nice his wife might expect to go?”

“There’s a little place about two miles out of town, it’s called ‘The Office’.  Quiet little restaurant, geared towards couples with… complications.  You won’t find it in a guidebook or anything of the kind, mostly by word of mouth.  The sort of place where if a wife knows about it, perhaps she’s keeping a ‘dirty little secret’ of her own.  I hear it’s nice.  Discreet.”

“Sounds lovely,” she gushed, eyes narrowing at his back.  “Where is it?”

“Two miles down the main road.  It’s called ‘The Office’ so when a curious wife asks where her husband’s been, he can give the name truthfully without giving anything away.”

“How clever!” Ellie tittered, as he finally pulled a wadded up hand towel from the toilet bowl.  “Oh my, how’d that get in there?”

Mr. Latimer stood, holding it away from him by the tips of his fingers.  “I fear this may be done for,” he apologized, “but I would not recommend keeping it, for cleanliness’ sake.”

“Thank you so much, you’ve no idea how helpful you’ve been.”  She gestured for it to be thrown into the tub, letting him wash his hands before leading him back towards the door.  “And I will take your dinner suggestion under advisement.  What do I owe you?”

“Complimentary call,” he turned at the door, giving her a charming smile.  “It was nothing.”

Elle gave him her brightest smile.  “Thank you again!”

She waved until he was out of sight, locking the door and drawing the curtains.  They had tentative confirmation that he had another woman, and where he took her.

Now what remained was when, and gathering the evidence needed.

Alec scowled, skulking just outside the bathroom window of his own offices to confirm Mark Latimer was suitably occupied before heading down the hill to the plumber’s truck.  Letting out a quiet ‘ha!’ of victory at finding the driver’s side door unlocked, he slid into the seat and looked around.

Unsurprisingly it was a cluttered mess, with scraps of paper and garbage littering the cab.  Deciding to start with the paper, he carefully nosed around.  Despite the chaos, he wanted to leave no clues that someone had been rifling through the van.  A peek through the glovebox produced a box of condoms, hardly a smoking gun but certainly suspicious.

Pulling out the box to note the brand, he found a business card rubber-banded to it.  It was for a restaurant called ‘The Office’, with directions printed on it.  A glance at the back found a handwritten note reading ‘Tuesdays, 5:00’.

Perfect.

Slinking into the house doubling as their offices and Ellie’s ‘home’, Alec listened carefully.  The bathroom light was off, and he took the chance of creeping towards the sitting room to find Ellie at her desk, scribbling in a notebook.

“El.”

“He’s gone,” she promised, not looking up.  “Did you find anything?”

Straightening he strolled in, settling himself in the chair next to her.  “You could say that.  I only know where and when he meets her.  And that a faithful husband has no need of condoms in his work van.”

“The Office.”

“What?”

“Is it called ‘The Office’?” Ellie repeated, smirking at him as she leaned back in her chair.  “I already know that.”

Alec scowled, crossing his arms.  “Aye. Tuesdays, 5 o’clock.  Standing date, I think.”

“And you found condoms?”

He nodded, not pleased with her smug look.  “In the van.  He’s certainly guilty, it’s just a matter of ‘with whom’, and catching them in the act.”

“Rubbers don’t guarantee he’s guilty,” Ellie complained, “though the restaurant certainly implies it.”

“You don’t need them at work,” he protested.  “Why have them in the car?”

Ellie stood, demurely smoothing down her skirt and hair before settling crosswise on his lap.  “What, you think it impossible to feel physical desire during the work day?”

“I…”

She shook her head, laughing as he flailed.  “Oh, aren’t you precious.”

They kissed, and suddenly the idea didn’t seem to absurd.

Alec came with a shuddering groan, collapsing on top of her.  Ellie relaxed her legs, letting them fall to the side as she glided her nails down his spine, waiting for their hearts to calm.

After a minute he rolled off of her, tugging her along until they were on their sides face to face.  “That was nice,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her sweetly.  “What’d I do to deserve that?”

Ellie just hummed, hooking her thigh over his hip as they kissed lazily.  She kept one eye on the clock because they had a potential client appointment in just over an hour, but for now she was content to lull him into false security.

When she deemed him ready she slipped her hand between them, palm finding him easily and beginning to move.  Once his eyes fluttered closed, she moved in for the kill.  “Alec?”

“Yes darling?”

“I want a raise.”

After a moment he sighed, stilling her hand as he opened his eyes again.  “What?”

“I do half our cases on my own,” she said firmly, “and you just present to the client.  I don’t feel my salary reflects my value.”

Alec nudged her away, shifting up the bed to lean against the headboard.  “Ellie…”

“You know I’m worth more,” she prodded, “that half our reputation – your reputation – is because of my work.”

“I do know that, of course I know that.”  He ran his hand over his face then through his hair, ruffling the strands.  “Quite frankly we’re both worth more than we make.  If we were in London maybe we would.  But we settled in Broadchurch for a reason, and the situation is what it is.  I have our salaries – both of ours – calculated out of the leftover after all other expenses.  You know this, you’ve seen the books.”

“I still believe I deserve a bigger piece of the pie,” Ellie said firmly, sitting up as well and turning to face him.  Letting the sheet fall to her waist, she deliberately crossed her arms to accentuate her breasts, not above playing dirty.

His shoulders slumped, and he settled one palm on her closest knee.  “There’s also convention.  You already make twice what the next-highest paid woman in the town does.  It’s raising eyebrows.”

“Since when do you care what people think?” she scoffed.

“When it’s you they talk about.  I don’t appreciate the way they malign you, or the things they imply about us.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed as he dropped eye contact.  “What sort of things?”

He set his jaw, staring at the opposite wall behind her head.  “They’re basically saying you earn your wages on your knees, rather than sitting at your desk.”

“Is that all?” she rolled her eyes, shifting to put her back against the headboard next to his and taking his hand.  “Actually, I’d probably do better if I charged you for sex and played secretary for free,” she mused, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Stop it.”  Alec smiled reluctantly, squeezing her palm.  “My point is, I absolutely know your value.  But part of it – and mine – is our reputations.  Now, I’d be open to discussing other forms of compensation for your work, but cash is out of the question.”

He tugged her down on the mattress, shifting over her and pressing open-mouthed kisses to her skin.

“You could make dinner once a week,” she suggested, smiling when he nodded.  “And, let’s see, what else… you could clean the toilet here.”

His lips frowned against her skin, and he grumbled for a moment, before sighing.  “Aye, all right.”

“What else…” Ellie teased, wrapping her arms around his neck as his lips wandered.  “Mhmm, you know what would be really good?”

“Name it.”  He sucked a nipple into his mouth, cause her brain to short-circuit as she grunted.

“Unh.  Um… oh, I remember!”  And she pushed on his head until it was level with her hips, bending one knee to plant her foot flat on the bed, spread wide.  “We’ve got a potential client due in thirty and I’ll need to get dressed and put the kettle on before they get here, so hop to.”

Alec laughed, a carefree sound she only heard when they were alone, and kissed her thigh.  “As the lady wishes.”

Ellie hummed as she let herself into her house.  “I’m home!”

Backup was the first to greet her, and she bent down to accept his puppy kisses as she glanced into the sitting room to find her father glued to the telly set.

“Hi, Dad.”

David Thomas grunted, not looking away from the screen.  “What’s for tea?”

“Mummy, Mummy!”  Fred hurtled down the stairs, crashing into her legs and hugging them tightly.  “You’re home, you’re home!”

“Hello, Freddie,” she laughed, combing her fingers through his hair and holding him close.  “How are you?”

“Good!  Mummy, I’m hungry.”  Wide eyes stared up at her, and she barely refrained from rolling her own.

“Give me a few minutes.  Where is your brother?”

“In here.”  Tom’s voice echoed from the direction of the kitchen, making her eyebrows raise as she headed towards him.

He was pulling a roast out of the oven, the smell mouthwateringly good.

“What is this?”

Her son shrugged, not meeting her eye.  “You said you would be late today,” he mumbled, “and I thought you would be hungry.”

“I am.”  Joining him at the counter she took the carving tools, testing the meat and pleasantly surprised to find it finished.  “It looks wonderful, thank you darling.”

Tom flushed with pleasure at the praise, turning off the oven.  “Freddie already set the table, so we should just need drinks and then we’re good.”

“Wonderful.”  Kissing his cheek, she turned to her younger son.  “Fetch Granddad, will you?  Tell him tea’s done.”

He ran off in a whirlwind, leaving them alone.

“How did you know what to do?”

Shrugging, Tom carried the roasting pan to the dining room table.  “You had said what you planned on cooking, and I just… found the recipe.  I hope it’s alright.”

Ellie followed, absentmindedly fixing the place settings as she watched him.  “Thank you for taking the initiative, but what on Earth gave you the idea?”

“Alec.  Will they be here?”

“No, they’ve gone to Bristol, Daisy’s aunt is meeting them there tomorrow.  He gave you the idea?”

“He said… he said the world is changing.  That it’s important to help the ones we love, even if it’s by doing something we don’t want to.  That it’s unfair to expect you to do everything around the house when you work all day and we’re here, doing nothing.”

“Hogwash,” Ellie’s father blustered, trudging in.  “It’s the men’s job to work and bring home the pay, and the women’s job to make a home worth coming back to.  Men have no business doing meaningless housework, and women should not be taking good jobs from the menfolk.”

Ellie bit her lip hard to keep from snapping.  “Of course, Dad.”  It was pointless to argue with him, knowing nothing she said could change his mind.  Quietly, though, she muttered to Tom, “Don’t you dare listen to a word he just said.  You and the world at large would be much better served listening to a man like Alec.”

“I know,” he promised with a grin.

“Right, shall we say grace?” she asked once they were all seated, taking her sons’ hands and lifting them in prayer.

As Fred led the supplication, she stared at her own father.  She loved him, she did, but the idea of her sons growing up to be men just like him terrified her.

Closing her eyes, she thanked God for Alec.

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (89/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[25 May 234 Before Age.  Planet Pflaume.]

Luffa was trapped in Pflaume City.  The entire population had been evacuated before her arrival, taking every space-worthy vehicle with them.   Beyond the city's outer hull was the deadly atmosphere of the planet Pflaume, an ice giant incapable of supporting carbon-based life forms.   For the time being, it seemed the only safe way out of the city was a transpatial portal controlled by the Saiyan King Rehval, and he would not share that passage until Luffa heard him out.

To that end, King Rehval had created a mystic projection of himself, so that he could speak with Luffa directly while simultaneously hiding somewhere in the city.  With no other alternative, Luffa began walking through the parkland of Pflaume City's uppermost level.   The arcane image of Rehval floated alongside her as she moved, though Rehval himself remained seated upon a stone bench, accompanied by his attendant, Pozet.  

"You've gone to a lot of trouble to arrange all of this," Luffa said.   "First you created that twisted imitation of my wife, and sent her to murder our own people.  Then you convinced me to help you track down the killer, only you left the planet right before we were supposed to make our move.   I figured out you were trying to trick me, and followed you here, only to find it was a trap.  Only instead of killing me, you want me to listen to your speeches."

"Not a speech, Luffa," Rehval said.   "A parlay.   You consider me an enemy, and you have good reason not to trust me, but the Saiyan race depends upon a lasting peace between us."

"Then destroy this city," Luffa said.  "Even I can't survive out there, and you have the means to return to Planet Saiya.   There's your peace."

"I don't want to kill you, Luffa," Rehval said solemnly.  

"But you tried!" Luffa shot back.   "A couple of years ago, you sent a band of your soldiers to hunt me down.   When we first met, you tried to blame that on your father, but today you say that you were the one ruling from the shadows."

"I sent those warriors to take your measure," Rehval explained.  "When you first emerged as a Super Saiyan, I only had rumors and speculation to work with.   For a time, I was willing to wait and see, but then you founded the Federation, and by then the accounts of your powers were beginning to approach a consensus.  I ordered my soldiers to kill you, but in fact it was just a test to see if they could.  When none of them survived, I had my answer, and so I put my plan into motion."

"Think about it, Luffa," Pozet said with a cheerful smile.   "Those goons never stood a chance against you, so you can't really be that upset over it, can you?"

"That's not it at all," Rehval said to Pozet.   "What upsets Luffa is that I would send ten of my loyal warriors to die for nothing.  She's upset that I would create you as a living weapon to assassinate my own subjects."    

"Oh, right," Pozet said.   "The whole compassion thing.   She's so unlike the rest of you Saiyans, master.   I have to admit, it's very captivating."

"You talk a lot about the good of the Saiyan race, Rehval," Luffa said, ignoring Pozet completely.   "But all I ever see is Saiyans getting slaughtered like livestock to further your schemes.   I ran into your little 'Honor Guard' on Planet Saiya.   They're all dead now.  I don't know what you did to those poor bastards, but at least they're finally free of you."

"Means to an end, Luffa," Rehval said.   "Maybe you can afford to worry about individual Saiyans, but I have to consider the future of our entire species.  I used the Honor Guard to help me keep our people united."

"United as what?" Luffa demanded.   "Your mindless slaves?"

"If that's what it takes, then yes!" Rehval said.  My grandfather ruled with an iron fist, because he knew he had to do whatever it took to keep that first generation under control.   Their descendants would grow up in the kingdom he created, and each new generation would be more accepting of the monarchy."

"And you want me to help you control them," Luffa concluded.

"I want you to become my queen," Rehval replied.  

Luffa stopped dead in her tracks.  

"You've got to be kidding me," she said.  

"This is about more than a political alliance, Luffa," Rehval said.   "The alchemical arts have shown me ways to study the history of our race in ways you could hardly imagine.   To an extent, I can even chart our future.  I don't have all the answers, but I do know that our survival depends upon overcoming the Saiyan wanderlust.   Our population has to work together as a united people, or we can never move forward.   The Rehval dynasty works, Luffa.   It would have worked for other kings in the past, except for one thing.   One unavoidable refrain in Saiyan history: you."

"Me," Luffa said.  

"Once, I thought the stories of the old heroes were exaggerations at best.   But as I looked into my scrying pool, I learned that the strongest of them each made a profound impact on the course of history, and not always for the better.  Many of them overthrew whatever government the Saiyans happened to be ruled under at the time.   Some of the old heroes were liberators, some were tyrants, others were revolutionaries.   You've heard of Yamoshi, haven't you?"

"The God-Saiyan?" Luffa said.  "What about him?"

"He was the first," Rehval said.   "Or at least, the oldest of the line that I could find with my alchemy.   "From him, the lineage of the old heroes began.   Yamoshi tried to destroy the Saiyan order of his day.   He failed, but the boldness of his attempt reverberated throughout history.   Through Asparaj, through Darbock, then Chanisp, and now you."

"If you're so worried about me screwing up your precious plans, then why am I still alive?" Luffa asked.

"You're not listening to me," Rehval said.  "Yamoshi's enemies killed him.   A thousand years later, another invincible Saiyan arose.   Perhaps he agreed with Yamoshi's philosophies, perhaps not.  But he was influenced by Yamoshi's life, one way or another.  Yamoshi wasn't simply a powerful being.  He was a legend.   Killing him didn't prevent him from changing the course of history.  Yamoshi's enemies may have solved their immediate problems by killing him, but my agenda deals in centuries, not years.   With you, I have to be very careful."

"Then it's the next Super Saiyan you're really worried about," Luffa said.  "No matter what you do to deal with me, the next Super Saiyan might still upset all your dumb plans."

"Once, I had hoped that if the old heroes weren't a myth, that I might have been one of them," Rehval admitted.  "When I discovered the pattern, I dared to hope that the only living Saiyan powerful enough to alter destiny was me.  The timing was about right-- it's been about one thousand years since Chanisp's era-- and no one else seemed to fit.   But when you emerged, I realized how badly I had miscalculated.  I never dreamed that there was a sudden transformation, but in hindsight, it makes a lot of sense."

He stood up, and approached Luffa, until he would have been close enough to touch her, if he had truly been there.  Luffa could hear his breath, but couldn't feel it, even though his lips were only inches away from her own.  

"This has been the fundamental conflict that defines Saiyan history, Luffa," he said as he pointed to her and back to himself.   "There are Saiyans like you, who have greatness thrust upon them, and then there are Saiyans like me, who strive to achieve greatness.   The Rehvals of history, we gather power and influence any way we can.   Our goals and agendas may vary, but we've all tried to build something out of the Saiyan people.  And then, out of nowhere, you Luffas spring up to threaten it all."

He suddenly clapped his hands together and gripped them tightly with his fingers.   "The conflict is inevitable.  We're Saiyans, after all.  And we can't help but be natural rivals.  You resent my 'honorless' rise to power, and I see you as an outsider beyond my control.  So we do battle, like all the other Rehvals and Luffas before us, and Saiyan civilization is decimated in the struggle.  The survivors spend the next millennia rebuilding from the chaos, and then another Rehval and Luffa emerge, and it all crashes down again."

"You make it sound so inevitable," Luffa said.  "Like we don't have a choice."

"But we do!" Rehval exclaimed.  He turned away from Luffa and began waving his hands excitedly as he paced around.   "We've always had a choice, but we never knew the consequences of our decision.   Throughout history, you and I have always chosen to be enemies out of instinct and pride!  Never considering what our battle would do to the future.  Your mother told you the story of Yamoshi, Luffa, but it doesn't mention what happened after the final battle, does it?   If it had, then maybe the next Super Saiyan would have tread more carefully."

"So I become your queen," Luffa said.   "What does that solve?"

"Everything," Rehval said.  "By working together, we can accomplish things our ancestors never would have imagined.  You'd be more than just an enforcer, Luffa.  In time, the people would see you as a symbol of the state."

"The 'people' hate me," Luffa said.   She pointed at her bright yellow hair with one hand and her glowing green eyes with the other.  She hadn't powered down from her Super Saiyan form since she arrived in the city.   This was enemy territory, after all.   "I've been reading their minds, Rehval.  Not that I needed to, but they're terrified of what I am."

"I can change that!" Rehval insisted.  "They only fear what they don't understand.  The Super Saiyans of Legend were forgotten because history is written by the victors, and in the end, it's the Rehvals of history who overcome.   We don't have to defeat you Super Saiyans; we just have to outlast you.  With you by my side, I can incorporate the Super Saiyan into the state culture.   Luffa can be Saiya's hero, just like you're the hero to your alien Federation."

He approached her again, and reached for her hair, though the image of his hand could only pass through the thick shocks of gold.  

"Give yourself to me," he said, "and I can make the people worship you as you deserve to be worshiped."

Luffa gasped and then bit her lower lip.  Rehval smiled at this.  

"That's what you want, isn't it?" he said.  "To be acknowledged and appreciated.  That's why you returned my kiss, with interest, back on Planet Saiya.   You talk about pride, Luffa.   Let me indulge that pride.  When I'm finished, the first story every Saiyan child will learn from their mothers will be yours."

"You... you can do that?" Luffa asked.  

"It would take some time, but with your cooperation, it would be a simple matter to tie your public relations to my own," Rehval assured her.   "Your power will legitimize my rule, and my rule will legitimize your power.  One day, Saiyan women will dye their hair gold and wear green contact lenses as a fashion statement."

"And all I have to do is marry you."

"We would have to keep up the appearances of a loving couple, but from what I've seen, that wouldn't be a problem for you," Rehval said.

"That was before I found out you'd been lying to me," Luffa said.  "I know about your past marriages, the consorts, and a few other women you keep secret.  Not to mention the aliens.   I'm not sure your public would approve of them."

"Ah," Rehval said.

"Ah," Luffa replied.  

"You've probably already guessed that I altered my own memories to fool your telepathic powers," Rehval said.  "You read my mind, and saw only what I wanted you to see.   That I was trustworthy, completely innocent of any action taken against you, and that I had fallen hopelessly in love with you at first sight."

"And a bachelor," Luffa added.  

"I literally removed all of my memories to the contrary before you arrived on Saiya," Rehval explained.   "It's an alchemical technique.   So I believed everything you saw in my mind just as much as you did.   In a sense, that edited version of me really is a bachelor, one deeply infatuated with you.   And I could become that man again, if you liked."

"You've got to be kidding me," Luffa said.  

"Not at all," Rehval said.   He pointed to his head and smiled.   "When I came to Pflaume City, I restored my memories to normal, but I enjoy customizing them from time to time.  You and I don't have to be lovers, but from time to time, I could make myself into someone who doesn't remember deceiving you, someone better suited to your romantic tastes.  You look skeptical, but it's really a simple procedure now that I've--"

"No, I believe you could do it," Luffa said.   "I just can't believe that you would."

"It's a very liberating experience," Rehval said.   "If you're interested, I could do the same for you.  I'd need some time to prepare, though.   It took fifteen months for me to prepare the potions for myself, and every brain is different.  But I could use an excuse to spend more time in my laboratory, and--"

"Is nothing sacred to you?" Luffa asked.  "You'd really mold yourself into anything I want?"

Rehval chuckled.  "Is that such a surprise, woman?  I've already told you what lengths I'd go to for the Saiyan race.   Is it so hard to believe I might stoop to the same levels for you?"

"But your attraction to me was fake," Luffa said.  

"Not quite," Rehval said.  He gestured to Pozet, who now sat beside him and took his hands in her own.  "When I constructed my homunculus, Pozet, I used tissue samples from your wife to give her a resemblance to her.  I modified this, of course.  Pozet is like a Dorlun, only she has no life of her own, which gives her an unusual perspective on the Dorlun survival ethic.  But her love for you is based upon the emotions Zatte possessed when the samples were collected.   I used this as a template for the emotions I planted in my own mind."

Involuntarily, Luffa took a step backward.   The image of Rehval and Pozet moved toward her to maintain their distance.

"I created Pozet to understand you better, Luffa," Rehval said.  "And since she was madly in love with you, I decided to experience that love for myself.  When I restored my memories to normal, I found that some of that attraction remained.   Again, we don't need to be lovers to reign as king and queen, Luffa.   But we can be, and I think we would both enjoy that."  

Luffa pointed at Pozet, who was now nibbling Rehval's earlobe.   "And what about that?" Luffa asked.  "You seem to have your hands full in the romance department."

"Pozet?  Well, you could consider her something of a gift," Rehval said.  "I wasn't sure your wife would accept your decision, and I wasn't sure you'd have any romantic interest in me, so I thought Pozet would make an acceptable consort for you.   A copy of Zatte devoted to you, but safely loyal to me."

"You don't need her anyway," Pozet said as she batted her eyes at Luffa.   "My master and I can satisfy you in ways she could never imagine."

"Is that right?" Luffa asked in a low voice.  

"Think about it!" Pozet said.   She pointed at her chest proudly as she spoke.   "I'm not alive, so I can't be killed!  Dorluns are such fragile creatures, and so preoccupied with their own safety.  It must be so... frustrating for you in the bedroom."

"That's enough, Pozet," Rehval said gently.  

"No," Luffa said.   "I want to hear this.   You said she was a gift to me, right?"

Rehval nodded and made a gesture for Pozet to continue.  

"I knew it," Pozet said as she stood up from the bench.  "You're just like the master.   Underneath all that savage nobility is a total freak, huh?   You must have all kinds of wild fantasies, all bottled up inside, because you don't want to play too rough.  Well, take a look at this..."

She opened her silken robes and let them drop to her ankles, revealing a sheer negligee that left very little to the imagination.   Satisfied that the two Saiyans were paying attention, Pozet turned around in a full circle to give both of them a complete view of her outfit.  

"Just like you wife's body, down to the smallest detail," Pozet said.  "Except for the skin and hair color, of course."

"I can't argue with that," Luffa said.  

"Now, imagine you've got all this, and no limits," Pozet said.  "I'll do whatever you tell me, and if you manage to break this body, my master can just make another one for you.  Or two, or three..."

"And if I get bored with you?" Luffa asked.

"Then you can stuff me in a crate until you're ready to play with me again," Pozet said with a laugh.   "But I'll be thinking about you the entire time..."

"What a vulgar little monster," Luffa muttered.   "No wonder you evacuated the city, Rehval.  I wouldn't want to be anywhere near this thing in a public setting."

"She's a work in progress," Rehval said.   "I've been... training her... in various techniques.   All for your benefit, of course, but I won't pretend that it hasn't been stimulating."

"It sounds like you've worked out all the details, Rehval," Luffa said.   "Except that I'm already married."

"I leave that matter up to you," Rehval said.  "If you can convince her to join our little family, I'll let you keep Zatte as a courtesan.  You'll have to divorce her first, naturally, but if you prefer her company to mine, you're welcome to her, so long as you keep it private."

"Oh, I doubt she'd buy into what you're selling," Luffa said.   "She's very jealous of our marriage.   I don't think she'd approve of sharing me.  Besides, the whole evil clone thing would bother her."

"I suspected as much," Rehval said.   "Which is why I sent one of my Pozets to stow away on your ship when she left Planet Saiya."

"You mentioned that earlier," Luffa said.  "Why did you do that?"

"Because Zatte could make trouble for us," Pozet said.   "She was on her way here, to find me, and we didn't want her getting in the way while Master made his proposal to you."

"I don't want to press the issue, Luffa," Rehval said, "but you are trapped in this city, and you will be unless you accept my offer and join me.   The three of us can consummate our new alliance in a scenic part of the city, or you can refuse, and I'll leave you imprisoned here until you change your mind.   But Zatte will not be coming to pick you up, I've already seen to that."

"I see," Luffa said.  

"I realize this must be humiliating for you," Rehval said.   "But I urge you to understand that I'm only doing this for the sake of our species.   The best thing you can do for everyone involved is to yield to the circumstances."  

"All right, just give me a minute to think about this," Luffa said.   She turned away from them, but the image  simply shifted around as she moved.  Luffa rubbed her chin thoughtfully and closed her eyes.  

"What's to think about?" Pozet asked impatiently.  

"You couldn't understand, my dear," Rehval said.   "Luffa's a proud Saiyan woman, and I've cornered her.   No matter how much she might want to accept my terms, a surrender is still a surrender."

"I should have worn the latex outfit," Pozet grumbled.  "She wouldn't hesitate if she saw me in that."

"You can really make your subjects love me," Luffa finally asked.  She pointed to her hair again and added: "Even when I'm like this?"

"Our subjects, Luffa," Rehval assured her.   "And yes."

"Can you alter my memories so I won't have to remember what the Tikosi did to me?" she asked.  

"That would take time," Rehval said.   "But I can do that for you, certainly."

"And you're sure your homunculus can stop Zatte from causing any problems."

"Don't worry about that, sexy," Pozet said with a smile.  "There's a good chance she's dead already."

Luffa smiled back.   "You're sure about that, are you?" Luffa asked.  

"Positive," Pozet replied.  

Luffa began to laugh.    

As she did, Rehval and Pozet looked at each other and smiled.  

Luffa continued laughing.  

"Is something wr--?" Rehval started to ask, but Luffa started laughing louder to cut him off.  

Rehval and Pozet looked at each other again.   This time they were not pleased.

"You're a fool," Luffa finally said.  "You actually think you have the advantage here."

"I take it you disagree," Rehval said.  

She pointed at Pozet, and her face twisted with revulsion.  "How many of those things did you sneak aboard my ship, Rehval?" she asked.  

"Just one," he said.   "But--"

Luffa laughed again, but not as long this time.  "And it's no different from this one that I'm looking at right now.   You actually think this cheap copy stands a chance!"

"Posturing won't change the situation, Luffa," Rehval said.  "We can speculate all day about whether your wife can defeat a Pozet, but the fact remains--"

"Vengeance Cannon," Luffa suddenly said.   Before the others could react, she touched her fingers to her forehead and swung her arm to a spot on the deck just beneath her feet.  There was a flash of crimson from her fingertips, and a beam of light ripped through the ground, and down into the lower levels of the city.  

"What are you doing?" Rehval asked.   "If you fire blindly through the deck like that you could rupture the hull, and--!"

"I'm not firing blindly, Rehval," Luffa said.   "I was aiming at a spot six levels down.  I just wanted to show you that I could hit it without damaging anything else.  Now that I've located you, I don't want you thinking you can slip away before I get to you."

"You're bluffing, Luffa," Rehval said with a sigh.   "My ki is completely hidden from you.   It would be pointless to--"

"Oh, shut up, Rehval," Luffa said.   "Did you actually think I followed you all the way here just to stand around and listen to your stupid plans and philosophies?"

"Honestly, I was somewhat surprised," Rehval said.  "But if you had something else in mind, I haven't noticed."

"Then you really weren't paying attention, Rehval," Luffa said.  "Back on Planet Saiya, I was trying to show you how to how to help me use my technique, remember?"  

She held up her hand and yellow sparkles suddenly appeared over her palm.    They floated across the fabric of her gloves and spilled between her fingers, vanishing before they could reach her boots.

"Golden Duster," she said.  "You remember how it works, right?  I suffuse an area with tiny particles of my own ki, then use it to sense gaps large enough to be people hiding their own ki energy."

"Enough," Rehval said.  "You yourself admitted that your technique was useless on a planetary scale, not without someone as strong as me to help you--"

"Yeah, that's true," Luffa said.  "If you'd stayed on Planet Saiya, I probably never would have been able to find you on my own.   But this is floating city we're on isn't anywhere near as big as a planet, is it?  I just needed time to spread the energy.  Had to do it slowly so you wouldn't notice me doing it.   Fortunately, you're so in love with the sound of your own voice that you gave me all the time I needed, and you never even noticed what I was doing."

"You're lying, Luffa," Rehval said.  "You taught me all about the Golden Duster.  You couldn't have found me so quickly.  Not even you have that kind of skill."

Luffa laughed again.  "You want to bet?" she asked.  

She held up her index and middle finger of her left hand and smiled as a crimson light appeared on her fingertips.  "I'll call my shots.  Try not to move around too much.  You're so close to the outer hull that I might breach it if I miss."

"Wait, what are you--?!"

She pointed her hand at the floor.  "Vengeance Cannon," she said.  As she spoke, a beam of red light lanced out from her fingers and tore through the deck, and the deck below that, and the deck below that...

"Down, master!" Pozet cried.  She shoved him away, just as the beam of crimson light entered whatever room they were in.  The holo-image before Luffa showed her attack striking the floor at Pozet's feet, only to fizzle out before it could penetrate the deck.

"That was a rotten trick, Luffa!" Pozet said.  "I'll make sure Zatte suffers for this."

"You think that sort of talk is going to piss me off?" Luffa asked.  "Make me reckless enough to throw me off my game?  Let's find out.  Vengeance Cannon."

She fired again, and this time Pozet looked up at the ceiling, apparently sensing the trajectory of the next attack.

"Pozet, don't bother," Rehval said.  "She's found us.  All we can do now is--"

Before he could finish, the ceiling above them exploded, causing tons of debris to rain down on their heads.  Pozet leaped atop her master's body to protect him, but he shrugged her away and used his own powers to repel anything that might have harmed him.

"She missed?" Pozet asked.  "How could she miss?  Her first shot was almost perfect!"

Rehval might have explained Luffa's strategy to her, but there was no time.  The clouds of dust kicked up by the explosion had obscured their holographic view of Luffa's position.  They never noticed that she had moved away from that location, or that she had begun smashing her way down the path her first attack had made through the deckplates.  To Rehval's credit, he managed to see Luffa coming, but only as a blurry shadow in the dust.  Before he could even say her name, she had landed on the deck less than twenty yards away from them.

"Stay away from him!" Pozet cried.  She positioned herself between Luffa and Rehval.  "I won't let you--"

Luffa stalked towards them, her eyes wide with fury.  "Was this abomination supposed to win me over, Rehval?  Did you really think I'd accept it as some sort of consort?  It only shows how little you really know about me."

"Bravado's cute and all," Pozet said, "but don't forget who you're dealing with.  I have all of Zattie's abilities, Luffa!  And I have the poison I used to kill dozens of Saiyans!"

Luffa continued to walk towards them.

"My body's riddled with the stuff.  If you so much as touch me, you'll keel over.  It doesn't matter how strong you are!"

Luffa didn't stop.

"Master, what do I do?" Pozet asked.   "You said she would love me.   I wasn't prepared for this!   I never expected--!"

Luffa threw a roundhouse kick at Pozet's neck.   In a fraction of a second, the homunculus's head was torn away from its body, which collapsed to the floor.   The head was engulfed in a yellow flame, and Luffa ignited the decapitated body with a similar flame by stomping on it.  

"And that's why I'm not bluffing about my wife," Luffa said.  "A true Dorlun would never die so easily, but your puppet doesn't care one way or the other, so it's unprepared to deal with setbacks."

"I see your point," Rehval admitted.  "But Pozet doesn't need to kill Zatte to stop her.   She can disable your ship's engines.  Zatte isn't my enemy in all of this.   If she's the survivalist you say she is, she'll assess the situation and save herself."

"That...that's up to her," Luffa said.  "I don't need her help to defeat you."

"But you want it, don't you?" Rehval asked.   "You want her to be here, if only to share in your victory, but she's not coming this time, Luffa.  And you know exactly why that is."

"I betrayed her," Luffa said.  "All those nights I was with you, when I should have been with her.  If she doesn't know already, your little doll will tell her, isn't that right?"

"It's not too late to accept my offer," Rehval said.  "Pozet offends you.   I can see that now.   But we can convince Zatte to see things our way.  We can--"

"You really don't get it, do you?" Luffa shouted.  "All you care about is bending and flexing the situation around until it fits your agenda.  You don't accept the consequences of your actions, you just look for a loophole.  Well it ends here, Your Majesty.  Today you and I are going to stand up straight and take everything that's coming to us.   If it costs me my marriage, then that's what I deserve.   But I promise you, the price you're going to pay will be much higher."

As she stepped towards him, he raised his arms to defend himself, and this was as far as King Rehval could go.   From his perspective, he could only see Luffa vanish before his eyes, and in the next moment she was behind him, shoving him to the ground and wrapping her left leg around his.  Before he knew what was happening, she had him caught in a leg slicer hold, and she was pulling his heel towards his thigh, with her shin caught in the backside of his knee.  

"Here's my counteroffer, Rehval," Luffa said as he cried out in pain.   "First, I'm going to pull your knee apart.   Then I do the other knee.  Quit squirming."

He tried to raise his hand to attack her, and when she noticed this, she fired a burst of energy from her mouth which left the flesh on his arm pink and blistered.   Rehval's squeal of agony was unlike anything she would have expected to hear from him.   It was music to her ears.

"See that was a bad move," Luffa said.   "I was going to get to that arm eventually, but now you've just accelerated my timetable.   So I guess I skip ahead to your other arm, unless you need it to open the portal out of this city."

Rehval could only scream.  

"I'd urge you to think about this carefully, Rehval.   It's for the good of the Saiyan race.   Well, maybe not, but to hell with them.   If I were you, I'd start worrying about my own skin.  But take your time in deciding.   I'll be working over your legs for a few minutes at least.

"You really had me fooled for a while there, didn't you?" she went on.  "Yeah, it was a really clever plan.  You're a smart guy, Rehval.   Bet you feel really smart.   And handsome?  Oh yeah, you're gonna be the best looking man I ever killed.  I--!"

Suddenly, she sensed something.   It was a ki signature, and a very strong one, stronger than Rehval had ever been able to produce.  But it wasn't the intensity of the power that shocked her.   Nor was it the mere presence of another person in Pflaume City.   That was a mystery in itself, since Luffa had surveyed the entire structure only minutes earlier and found no one else on board.  What shook her to her very core was how familiar the ki was, and how impossible it was that she could ever sense it again.

Still, Luffa's warrior instincts prevailed, even in a moment of uncertainty like this.  She released her hold on Rehval, and shifted to a chin lock as she pulled him to a standing position and turned her back to the nearest wall that would allow her to face the newcomer.  

"Another trick?" Luffa asked Rehval, who was gasping and coughing in her arms.  "This one is low, even for you."

"Y-you... sense him... then!"  Rehval said.  "No... not a trick.  A precaution.   When you destroyed Pozet, that was his signal to come out and save me."

"Save you?!" Luffa asked.  "Why should he...?"

Even as she asked the question, she began to consider the possible answers, and while she couldn't guess the whole story, she knew enough to realize just how terrible the truth would be.  She could sense him getting closer, smashing through bulkheads as he approached the section of the city they were in, and then he came into view.

"Stand away from him, woman!" he shouted.   He was a Saiyan adolescent.   A boy of fifteen years at most, but as he converged on Luffa's position, he carried himself with all the confidence and swagger of a grown man.

She released her grip on Rehval and allowed him to collapse to the floor, but it had nothing to do with the boy's command.   So great was her shock that she barely heard the words as he spoke.  Indeed he continued speaking, raving about the glory of the Saiyan crown and how this base assault on his sovereign would not go unavenged.  

Luffa heard none of this.  She was too astonished by what she saw: Her unborn son, alive and nearly grown.  

And he was loyal to her worst enemy.  

NEXT: Sins of the Fathers