#then allowing two weeks for them to adjust to meeting one mouse should be enough before they meet a few more.

[swagging-back-to]

ok update i decided im gonna introduce mochi, sushi, and jasmine to the main colony and I'm going to sell both ten gallon tanks and the 30 gallon, keeping the 15 gallon for a quarantine tank.

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

Thanks // Part 9 // Jay Halstead x Reader

Description: A step forward in their relationship and a visit to Mouse starts putting things into perspective. 

Words: 2527

Warning: Smutty goodness, NSFW

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader, Jay Halstead x Mouse!Platonic, Reader x Mouse!Platonic

A/N: Part 9 is finally out! The moment we’ve all been waiting for. With the requests and school, it’s given me time to really feel like I can work on this and make it worthy of you guys reading it, since it’s not the only thing I’m working on any more. Which means updates will be more spaced out, but I hope it’s worth the wait.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

When you began to rouse from your sleep, you almost forgot that you’d fallen asleep with someone in your bed. Strong arms were wrapped around you from behind, holding you to his chest. His leg was situated between yours, and the last thing you wanted to do was leave the bed. Or wake him up. The last time you’d experienced him asleep, he’d been in the midst of a nightmare. Now, he seemed to be sleeping soundly. Carefully, you turned in his arms to face him, fingers dancing along his facial features. 

“This is a good way to wake up,” he mumbled, eyes still closed. 

“I think I can agree.” You didn’t let him open his eyes before pressing a kiss to his lips, which he gladly accepted, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush. 

It was a lazy kiss, lips moving slowly as you relaxed into him. His hands roamed along your hips and back. Your hands were just as curious, pushing your palms up under his shirt to slide along his back and over to his chest. The lazy kiss took an unexpected turn as he pulled you on top of him, your knees on each side of his hips. 

It was slightly different than you were used to because of his situation. Your foot brushed against his left leg, but your right foot met the blanket. You didn’t dwell on it though, especially not as his hands firmly held onto your waist, pulling your hips down into his. The change of pace, the sudden contact, all of it made you gasp. Jay taking full advantage, tongue slipping past your lips to begin exploring you further. 

Your hands rested on his shoulders, which gave you the upper-hand to finally pull away, panting for air. Jay looked up at you, lust evident in his eyes. You almost had to remind yourself why you stopped when you continued to look at him, lips red from the intensity of that make-out session, cheeks flushed. 

“If we keep going…” you told him softly, knowing you’d never want to stop. Honestly, you didn’t want to stop in the first place. But he’d made it clear the night before that he wasn’t entirely ready, and you weren’t going to push it. 

“Yeah…” he agreed with a tired smile, pulling you back down to his lips. 

It was instinct as you moaned softly into his mouth, hands finding the hem of his shirt. As if he knew what you were doing, he sat up, allowing you to slide his shirt up and over his head, letting it fall to the side of the bed before lips met again. You let your hands glide along the now exposed skin of his chest and stomach, along his arms. Feeling the muscles under your fingers, feel each ridge and imperfection. 

He followed suit a minute or so later, pulling your tank top up. Once it was off, his eyes scanned your exposed torso, hands running along your ribs to your breasts. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact, a soft sigh coming from your lips. When you looked at him again, there was that same cocky smile. 

“You sure about this, Jay?” you asked softly, trailing your lips along the angle of his jaw to his neck. 

“No,” he admitted, “but I don’t want to stop.” You hesitated, your eyes meeting familiar green. “Don’t stop,” he said again, kissing you. 

If he was okay with it, you weren’t going to say no. You wanted him on so many different levels that it felt a bit overwhelming. It had been so long since you’d felt this way about somebody, and now that you were with him it didn’t feel real. As if this was some dream you were going to sadly awaken from. Feeling his lips on your shoulder, though, trailing down to your chest was enough to make you realize this was actually happening. 

You couldn’t help it as your hips ground down into his, eliciting a moan from him against your skin. As much as you were enjoying this, you wanted him. And it was fairly evident that he wanted you in the same way. 

“Jay,” you sighed, leaning back to hook your thumbs in the waistband of his shorts, looking at him as if asking for permission. 

“Don’t stop,” he said again with a small nod. 

That was enough for you to pull his shorts down, getting up off his lap to let him get them off the rest of the way. It was your opportunity to take your own shorts off. It was the first time seeing Jay in all of his glory. It was also the first time to see all the marks marring his skin. It caught you off guard more than anything, fingers reaching out to gently trace some of them. He took a deep breath, eyes not leaving your face as you took it all in. 

“Jay,” you said softly. 

You’d been through med school, knew what some of the marks meant. Others seemed like they had been more superficial. You wondered how many were from the war, how many were from protecting the city of Chicago. There were some that you even wondered were self-inflicted, though you knew better than to ask. He’d talk about those if he was ever ready, if he ever trusted you enough with that information. 

You said nothing else, bringing your hands up to each side of his face, holding him firmly as you looked at his eyes, full of worry and fear. There were no words to express what you were thinking, so instead, you pressed a hungry kiss to his mouth. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you to him, feeling him press against you with need and desire. A small reposition and he was sliding into you, gasping into his mouth with eyes shut, allowing yourself to just feel. 

You settled onto his lap, adjusting before opening your eyes to look at him again, hands moving to the back of his neck and shoulders. It felt like electricity wherever the two of you met -- hands, lips, chest, thighs, where you were joined. You tried to focus on his face, on how his lips were slightly parted, how he tried to keep his eyes open to look at you. 

Slowly, you rolled your hips, using him as leverage for your motions. You kept a fairly slow pace, your moans mingling with his as his hands continued to roam the expanse of your skin. Eventually, you had to pick up the pace, desire continuing to build as you kissed him again, tongue exploring his taste. 

“Y/N,” he moaned against your lips, hands tangling in your hair.

You were getting close, changing the angle slightly. That elicited a groan from your partner, your lips pressing against his neck between your soft pants, skin slick with a thin film of sweat. It took a couple more rolls of your hips for your toes to curl, tightening around him as a flood of ecstasy flowed through your veins with a choked out moan coming from the back of your throat. Jay’s hands held onto your hips, keeping you moving until he followed close behind. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to move off him for another minute, pressing slow, soft kisses against his neck, up this jaw, across his cheeks, until you reached his lips. 

“That was…” he said softly, looking at you with that signature smile. 

“Yeah. You feeling okay?” you asked, knowing the night before he had significant hesitations, and that morning it all seemed to disappear overnight. 

“Amazing actually. I trust you, more than anybody else. And it’s crazy and not like me, but I can’t just ignore that feeling, Y/N,” he answered, kissing you again. “As much as I never want to let you leave this bed, we should probably head out soon.” 

“You think Mouse is going to be happy about this?” Jay just nodded, tracing patterns on your back before you moved off him back to your side of the bed. Realization seemed to hit Jay as soon as you covered yourself with the sheet. “I have an IUD,” you quickly assured him. “I’m going to go hop in the shower real quick.” 

He pulled you to him, giving you another kiss with a smile before letting you up. The hot water felt good against your skin, but nothing compared to Jay’s touch. You were falling for him, and it was hard and fast and catching you completely off guard. It wasn’t like you to invite someone up to your apartment after the first date, or to sleep with them after the first date either. But Jay had not only stayed the night, but you’d had an amazing morning with him.

By the time you got out of the shower and dressed, Jay had already gotten changed into a pair of jeans and a different t-shirt than the one he’d gone to bed in. You figured he had more than just gym clothes in that bag of his. Not only that, but he’d started a pot of coffee. You came up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist from behind and pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades before resting your cheek there. His hands came down to yours, gently swaying at the contact. 

“I could wake up like that more often,” he told you, grabbing two travel mugs out of the cabinet and setting them down on the counter. 

“What changed your mind, Jay?” you asked him. “Not that I’m complaining, ‘cause that was a great way to start your day. But after last night, I was expecting a few more weeks of waiting.” 

“I didn’t want to be scared anymore. Like you said before, this is the Jay you know. And I don’t know. Just hearing you say that you were willing to go at my pace, not pushing it made me realize that you care about how I feel about it all. Truly, the psychiatrist. I didn’t want to be scared about it with you,” he answered softly. 

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t agree because you knew I wanted to,” you admitted, your voice muffled by his shirt. 

“No. No coercion happened. I promise. Now, let’s go visit Mouse.” You could hear the smile.   

The ride down to the nursing home was spent talking about work, about the possible game plan for applying for guardianship of Mouse. Jay seemed to be very excited about it all, knowing it was possible to bring his friend closer to his home. That he’d be able to help Mouse a lot more than just sitting back and watching him just exist and not get to live. He wasn’t his disability, far from it, yet he was treated like such. It seemed to be a sore spot for Jay, understanding the notion. 

When you got down there, Mouse was sitting in his wheelchair next to the window like always. Jay sat next to him in his usual spot, you taking a seat on the opposite side as the three of you looked out the window. It didn’t take long for Mouse to say something. 

“Outside?” he asked, the excitement evident in his voice. 

“Yeah, Mouse. Let’s go outside,” Jay agreed, standing and walking to the patio with him. You followed close behind, shooting Jay a smile. The three of you got situated on the patio. 

“I want to run an idea by you,” Jay told his friend, looking over at the man. You weren’t sure if you should stay or go, but by the look on Jay’s face you figured it would be okay to stay a little longer before leaving the two alone for a while. 

“Hmm?” Mouse hummed, continuing to look out at the trees. 

“Well, how would you feel if I told you I might be able to move you back to Chicago?” Jay asked, a smile forming on Mouse’s face as he looked over at him. 

“Home,” he said simply, Jay nodding in agreement. 

“Yeah, back home. You’d still be in a place like this, but Y/N would help me pick out a good one. And I’d be able to visit more often. Or we could take trips to the lake or to parks. You wouldn’t be stuck in here all the time, Mouse,” he explained. “And they wouldn’t give you those medications that make you tired as often. But it might take a while. Is that something you’d like?”

“Want home,” he agreed with a jerky nod. 

“I would have to apply through the legal system to become your guardian, Mouse. Instead of how it is now where the State of Illinois gets to make the decisions for you. I would be making the decisions about your medical care, how you live. And I wouldn’t make a decision without it being okay with you first. Is that okay?” You could tell he was trying to keep the explanation simple, not wanting to confuse his friend. 

“Yeah. Home,” Mouse agreed again, Jay’s smile reaching his eyes. You stood up, coming up behind Jay and leaning down. 

“I’m going to give you two some time. I’ll be back in a bit,” you told him, Jay turning his head to look at you with a smile and a small nod. You kissed his cheek before walking away, getting inside before Mouse spoke again.

“Told you. Pretty,” Mouse told Jay with a smile. 

“That you did, buddy. We went on a date last night, and I stayed the night at her place,” he told Mouse. “She’s so patient, so understanding. It’s a nice change of pace from Erin. I feel like I can just exist around her, that I don’t have to hide anything.”

“Nightmares?” Mouse then asked. 

“After I got shot, she stayed the night at my place one night that I wasn’t doing too good. She knows about them. And she handles them pretty good. Maybe one day I’ll tell her about the accident.” Mouse nodded again.

“She...good for you. Jay’s happy.” Jay couldn’t help but smile at Mouse’s statement, knowing it was true. 

“I am happy, dude. She makes me really happy. But, having you in Chicago is going to make me happy too. You and me against the world, like always. Just, now we have a third, making our duo a trio.” 

The rest of the day went by smoothly, you joining them again for dinner before taking Mouse to his room. 

“Y/N,” Mouse said as the aid started to walk in. Jay had headed to the restroom before you left, leaving you with the other man. You looked at him, eyes meeting. He was in there, you could see it. “Jay happy. Take care.”

“I’ll take care of him, Mouse. I promise,” you assured him. “We’re going to head home, but we’ll see you next week.” Mouse yawned as he nodded, the aide taking care of him from there. 

When you met up with Jay, he kissed you softly before walking out to the car. It was going to be an adventure with him, you could tell that already. It was going to have its ups and downs, but you knew you wanted to be in it for the long run. You hadn’t been more sure about anything else in your life.

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[ladynestaarcheron]

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter One

ao3 - masterpost

back on my bullshit, y'all! as i have chattered about, this is my fix it for acosf. we've established that because acosf ignores canon from the original trilogy and is so poorly edited that emerie has two--count 'em, two--on-page tragic backstories...i am completely at liberty to ignore what I please, and so are you. i'll let you know chapter by chapter what you should keep in mind.

this one's not critically important, but I just want to say it: in acosf, nesta's revealed to be taller than average, and two inches taller than feyre. wrong. nesta's short. feyre's the tallest and she's only 5'6", elain's an inch shorter, and nesta's 5'3" on a good day.

anyway. enjoy!

---

There's nothing quite like stepping into Feyre's beautiful new home to remind Nesta just how truly ugly she is. The literary part of her, dulled by the wine from last night and the downward spiral of the past year, appreciates the contrast. Sometimes she still likes to narrate her life in her head as though it were a book. What would she write here? The woman curves her foot inside her boot, as if that would stop her from dirtying the marble. That's a nice line, isn't it? A good hook. But she isn't a woman anymore, so it wouldn't work.

"This way," Cassian says, unnecessarily waving his hand behind him.

It's probably supposed to be insulting, that Feyre has sent him to fetch her. But she doesn't care. Feyre can do what she likes. Just as Nesta will do what she likes. She'll sit through this scolding, turn down the invitation to stay for lunch, go home and sleep until she wakes up and has another night like last.

Although perhaps she'll spend less this time. If only to avoid this headache again.

"They're waiting in here," he says, stopping in front of one of the doors. How many rooms are there in this mansion, anyway? Feyre might've mentioned it on the tour, but she doesn't remember. Only remembers that decorating the walls are dozens, maybe hundreds of pictures of Feyre and Rhysand and Morrigan and Cassian and Azriel and Amren and Elain and their father, and none of Nesta. Or their mother, for that matter. She remembers that very well.

"Wait," Cassian blurts out as she lays a hand on the doorknob.

Nesta angles her head slightly. Not a full turn, not to look at him.

"Do you want your tea?"

Rolling her eyes, Nesta opens the door and shuts it--pointedly, she hopes--behind her.

Her sisters look up from the couch where they sit, heads close together. Little cakes and sandwiches and tea are arranged prettily on the glass table.

"Nesta!" Elain says, leaping up."You're here early!"

Nesta bites her tongue to keep from answering Five whole minutes. No use snapping at Elain before they've even begun, is there?

"Let me take your coat," Feyre says, standing up too.

Ah. So this would be this sort of meeting, then. These...luncheons, that they sometimes try to have with her. But it's nine in the morning.

It pulls at her heart, that they still try. And makes her sick to her stomach. She winces as she feels it. Too much alcohol and not enough food to add any extra queasiness. This will not be easy for her.

"Heard you had quite the night," Feyre says, voice bright and cheery in a way that does not quite match her eyes. "Sit down, sit down."

She does, opposite them. They take note.

"Do you want to try these macarons, Nesta? Raspberry. I made them."

"We got this new cinnamon tea...from the Continent. I think you'll like it."

Her sisters try again a few times, and eventually she says, "I'll take tea."

"I'll pour it," Feyre says quickly.

Great. Wonderful.

This isn't so bad, though, she thinks as she sipped her tea. She'll get through this...whatever it is. Force herself to make some conversation, say Feyre's newest art project is pretty, force down half a cookie and tell Elain it tastes good. Then she'll agree to see them for lunch in a week. And that will be all.

How long can they possibly keep her for? An hour? Two hours? She can do that.

And then Feyre clears her throat. "Nesta," she begins. "Elain and I...have something we want to say to you."

Here it is. She should've known better. Tea and macarons, at nine in the morning? Of course not.

"And we're only saying this because we care about you," Elain adds quickly.

"Yes. Yes, right. We are. And...well...what we want to say is..." Feyre looks to Elain, who nods encouragingly.

Good grief. Will this never end?

"We know that...all of this...has been...difficult...for you to adjust to."

Nesta's heart stutters. They wouldn't. This--this isn't happening.

She keeps it off her face, though. She is cool, impassive. Blank. Nothing.

It doesn't make Feyre give up, but it does make her duck her head. "We...understand. But we think...we know that because we love you we can't allow this to go on any longer." Feyre clamps her mouth shut as she finishes, appearing to be holding her breath.

Nesta only raises an eyebrow slightly. Inside, she is not nearly as calm.

"All of the...drinking, Nesta," Elain says, lips beginning to tremble. Oh, no, not this. Anything but this. "And the m-males." She cringes as she said the words.

The color leachees from her face. She wants to die. There is no Mother, she knows, because if there were any being with mercy, they would surely split the earth beneath her feet and take her down.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Feyre says, now the one hurrying to add on to the other. Elain nods, but she looks sick. "Just that--you hadn't really...there was Tomas, but other than that--"

Nesta flinches violently when Feyre says his name. She still isn't making eye contact, though, so she doesn't notice, and continues.

"--so the--switch. From not being with anyone, and then...and these males don't care about you. And I wouldn't--I would never judge you, Nesta, really, but it doesn't appear as though you're...enjoying...yourself." She shrinks back.

"So then," Nesta says, proud of herself for keeping her voice even, "you are judging me."

"We're just noting facts," Elain says.

"And...all right, let's take a step back," Feyre says, swallowing. "We're not here to criticize you. We only want to offer a solution."

"A solution," Nesta repeats flatly. To her problem. To her.

"A--not a solution. Help. We want to help."

Elain clenches her hands into fists in front of her. Feyre stills as she visibly holds her breath.

"Well?" Nesta says after half a minute of this, voice still deadly calm. "What is your solution?"

Who will be the one to say it, she wonders? Elain, frightened as a mouse already, or Feyre, ill at the sight of her?

It's Feyre. Perhaps being High Lady makes her feel responsible. But she exhales sharply, picks up her head, and says, "We think it would be beneficial for you to spend some time in the library."

Nesta blinks. A library? That...doesn't sound--

And then she realizes. Not a library. The library. The one off the side of that mountain, where Hybern had attacked...where Bryaxis had lived...where all those priestesses...those priestesses...

"Are you out of your mind?" she blurts out, losing grip on her faux calm completely. "You want me to go to that library? Are you insane? How is that possibly supposed to help?"

"Nesta--"

"With those--those sycophants? Who worship that thing?" The thundering of her heart blocks the sounds from her sisters' protests. "Is that what you want me to be? Some acolyte of that--you want me to pray to that--how can--how dare--"

"Nesta, please!" Feyre cries, hands thrown up in front of her.

"We don't mean that at all!" Elain says, tears in her eyes.

Nesta's chest heaves as she struggles to catch her breath, her mind too full of that...Cauldron. That thing they all worship--that thing that did this to her--to Elain--to Father--

"Please hear us out," Feyre says. "Sit back down, please."

Nesta falters. She hadn't even realized she had jumped up. She fights to keep her cheeks from reddening in shame. Stupid--she shouldn't have lost control like that--and what if something had happened? Shattered a window, shattered one of her sisters' bones?

"Thank you," Feyre says as she sits. "What we mean is...to spend time at the library during the day...working on entirely secular things. Nothing to do with any worship at all. Not reading those books, not participating in any prayer, not even wearing their robes."

"We would never suggest you do that, Nesta." Elain's voice is tight. Feyre reaches out and holds her hand.

"Just during the day," Feyre continues, "and then at night staying in the House of Wind."

"So you don't even have to share a room with any of them," Elain is quick to clarify. "Or eat with them. And you could go to that private library, too, remember?" She still fights back tears, but her voice takes a hopeful turn upwards.

Nesta latches onto everything inside her and holds it down tightly. "What would I even be doing there?"

Elain and Feyre exchange a look. Was that excitement? They probably take it as her willingness to go. That is not what this is.

"So, day to day, it would involve librarian duties. Reshelving books and such. And over time, if you find something you're interested in, aiding a senior librarian with her research. Or perhaps doing some of your own, if you'd like. But...the real purpose, Nesta..." Feyre sneaks another look at Elain before saying to her, "is for you to heal."

"We're not saying there's anything the matter with you," Elain says, jumping in before she can respond. "Just that...you've been hurt. And w-we take responsibility for not being by your side all this time. That was obviously wrong. We thought...well...we know you've always preferred to be on your own. But you're--you're hurting yourself too much. We can't just let you do that anymore. We love you," she finishes, choking back a sob. Her tears start falling from her eyes, but she does her best to keep quiet.

Feyre squeezes her hand, but doesn't turn to look at her. She keeps her eyes focused on Nesta. "Look, we know...it'd be a big change. But just...give it a few weeks. Get a feel for it. And if it's really not working...and you don't like it..."

"Then what?" Nesta asks, hollow.

"Don't worry about that," Feyre answers, firm. "We'll think of something else."

She's going to be sick right here. She cannot handle this...concern. Their trying. It's too much.

And now she has to say no. And Elain will cry--maybe Feyre, too. And then she'll have the rest of them upon her; Rhysand leading them to storm down her apartment, probably. It'll drive her down further, and perhaps be the last snip needed to finally sever the frayed, sole remaining string tied between herself and her sisters. Goodness knows she has ripped apart the tie between her and Amren, had stomped out the one between her and Cassian before it even had a chance to be something--

"Hey," Feyre says, placing a hand on her knee. "Stay with us, please."

"We know it's not easy." Elain speaks slowly, breathing deeply and fighting back her sobs. "But...don't think of it as a big thing. Just one step. One change. And w-we're not abandoning you to do this alone."

Feyre stands up and moves to sit by Nesta's side. Elain takes her other.

"I know how you feel," Feyre says, quiet and calm, squeezing her knee. "I've felt the same. If you can't do this for yourself...that's fine. Just please, please. Do it for us. Please."

Nesta narrows her eyes on Feyre's hand. She doesn't open her mouth for fear of what might come out. She won't give this voice--can't--

"I killed two innocents," Feyre says in that same voice, and suddenly, Nesta forgets her own thoughts as she turns to face her.

"It was my third trial," she continues, meeting Nesta's gaze, "Under the Mountain. Amarantha made me. I could've killed myself...and I was going to. But then it all ended and she died and Tamlin took me back to Spring. And I..." Only now does a tear slide down Feyre's cheek. But she just wipes it away and musters a small smile. "I promise I know how you feel. Please do this for me."

There are some truths Nesta knows. That she is not worth anyone's effort because of who she is, what she is. Which is defiled. And rotted. And small. And ugly. And these are the reasons why people give up; why she deserves that.

And yet, here her sisters sit, quietly crying, begging, beside her, and they are not giving up.

It's not exactly seeing the chance, rather...knowing it's there. In her periphery. Out of reach from where she is now, but...perhaps she can get there.

And Nesta realizes that there is a small, nearly insignificant--except it's the most important, isn't it?--part of her that throughout this whole drowning tempest, remembers what it is like to breathe. And it wants to breathe.

The girl who gave everything she could against the Cauldron may be buried, but she's not dead yet.

So she nods once.

Elain gasps and throws her palm against her mouth. Feyre squeezes her leg so hard she thinks she might draw blood.

"Thank you," Elain chokes out, crashing her head onto Nesta's shoulder.

Feyre doesn't say anything; only leans onto her other side.

Nesta doesn't relax. She sits there stiff and unmoving. But that distant, minuscule thing inside her flickers and breathes.

[matrixreimagined]

The Dream Chronicles

Chapter Four on A03

or read it here!

Neo felt the pseudo-wind whip around him as he floated upwards almost leisurely until he was taller than any of the skyscrapers around him. The city scape spread out as far as the eye could see. In the distance, he could see mountains encased by a blue sky. A blue sky that had long ago been scorched.

He slowed down. It was like a video game. It wasn’t really him that was moving—it was his surroundings. He stilled, for a moment, taking it all in.

All that he had thought was real, just an elaborate dream.

All that he had thought was a dream, it was real. And it was waiting for him on the other side of the screen. The thought brought a smile to his lips as he looked down.

Trinity and Morpheus were only dots in the distance.

He began the descent, noting how his jacket billowed. Neo rolled in the air to face down as he soared back to the opposite rooftop before pulling upright to land on his feet next to Trinity.

Morpheus’ eyes were wide as he stared at Neo with something akin to awe.

"Already," Morpheus said, "already you can control your descent and trajectory?"

Neo looked at Trinity, unsure of what to say. Her hard gaze softened when they met his, but she still appeared tense. She flipped out a phone and hit the connect button.

"Tank, take us out," she said, and Neo felt the code around him burst bit by bit. And then his vision changed. Instead of Morpheus and Trinity, he was staring up at a metal ceiling lined with wires and tubes.

Apoc was by his side, quick to unplug him.

Neo sat up. The crew stood gathered at the console but were looking at him with a reverence that he recognized from his dreams. It had always made him uncomfortable but now it was overwhelming.

"If you all aren’t actually doing anything, go to bed." Trinity was already on her feet. Her tone brooked no room for argument and, immediately, Mouse, Switch, Apoc, Cypher and Dozer trailed off. "Morpheus, the office."

Trinity turned on her heel, crossing the main deck.

With a last, awe-filled look at Neo, Morpheus followed.

Neo glanced between the door they had gone through and the operator before asking, "I don't have to go with them, do I?"

"Nah, this is between them. She's scary when she's angry."

Neo laughed, stifling a yawn as he swung his legs over the chair. "You don't have to tell me."

Tank nodded, a smirk on his lips. "I’m Tank, by the way."

Neo blinked at him, surprised at the introduction, and then he remembered. He knew them. They didn’t know him.

And he wasn’t even sure if he did know them. It was all so confusing and, aside from Trinity, he wasn’t sure what and who he could trust.

Ghosts and shadows, he thought back to his conversation with Trinity earlier. Close to reality but not quite real.

He glanced back to the door. He needed her. To talk with her. To figure things out. Just to be by her side while he thought through shit.

He noticed that Tank was still looking at him and it occurred to him that he hadn’t actually responded to the introduction. "Right. I’m Neo."

"Good to meet you. Officially. Given the dreams, and all."

Neo nodded, reaching a hand up to rub at his eyes. It still boggled the mind.

"You feeling okay?"

"Tired," Neo said. "My body feels like I was really fighting Morpheus."

"Your mind makes it real. As far as your brain is concerned, you just went three rounds with Morpheus and then pulled that superman shit in the jump program."

"Superman thing?"

"You know, making a mockery of the fact everyone fails the first jump by floating and flying over the gap like it was nothing." Tank grinned before adding, "That ain't normal, Messiah."

"Which is why Morpheus was pushing."

"Yep. You'd still be in there if Trin hadn't gone all mama bear. Looks like a good thing, too. You ain't going to pass out on me?"

Neo shook his head. "No, but can I lie down for a bit?"

"Go for it. Come find me whenever and I'll run you through some more trainings. You, uh, you remember your way around?"

Neo nodded, covering a yawn. "Yeah."

He pushed up from the chair and made his way towards the crew quarters, his mind barely registering where he was going. Step by step until he reached the door he recognized as his own. He pushed it open and kicked off his boots, eyes already starting to close. Asleep, the moment his head hit the pillow.

.......................................................

"He's the One!"

"I don't care! He is still human, Morpheus! We never, ever, start sparring the first day, regardless of what he already knew."

"He could fly."

"I was there, Morpheus. I saw it too. But you are so obsessed with the One, you're blinded to the fact that Neo is still human! He's barely woken up and you're acting like he's completed his training!"

"Did you see him in there, Trinity! What he's capable of? We don’t know his limits."

"And we won’t find them by breaking him! Jesus Christ, he isn’t a weapon. No matter the extent of his powers, he is still human!"

Morpheus regarded his first officer, seething before him. He shook his head, unable to understand.

"Not two months ago, you were completely against me trying to free him—said he was too old, that it was too much of a risk. Then a week later, you stopped arguing and started picking up shifts just to watch him— don’t deny it. I thought, maybe, you were beginning to see what I see. But you see something different when you look at him."

He wasn’t wrong but it was irrelevant.

"He’s a man, Morpheus. He still bleeds. Neo needs to be treated as such, not like some lost messiah."

"But that’s what he is."

"It’s not." It came out harsher than she intended. "He does not need to eat, sleep, and breathe being the One. He is so much more than that."

Morpheus closed his eyes, leaning against the desk. A sigh escaped him as the moment passed. Without opening his eyes, he spoke, "He woke up and said your name. When you weren’t there, he started ripping out his IVs. Dozer tried to block him at the door, and he started swinging." Morpheus shook his head. "He was so desperate to get to you. He recognizes the rest of us, but in that moment… I don’t know what he knows. I don’t even know what you know. But I will trust your judgement." Morpheus opened his eyes. "What do you propose we do?"

Trinity felt herself exhale. It wasn’t over, not by a longshot but the captain was listening. That was a start. A step in the right direction.

"Let him do his trainings, let him follow the course that any other redpill would take. Give him time to adjust—at least a week to catch his bearings and align the world from his dreams to the real world. Then we take him to the Oracle."

It was reasonable, neither could deny, even if they both disliked the proposed timeline. It still felt too short, but she could always push for more time if Neo needed it. By then, at least, they would know more.

Morpheus acquiesced with a nod.  "We will start training tomorrow," he said, "but he will need to be tested eventually, Trinity. If that's what he's doing after an hour, imagine what he'll be like after a week."

And fuck, she knew that, too.

"I'm just asking for time."

"I'll allow it lest you take it anyway." Morpheus gave her a smile. "And perhaps, in time, you’ll be able to share with me whatever… whatever it is that is going on with you and Neo."

Trinity nodded gratefully and turned to leave. Her hand was on the door when Morpheus spoke again. "Trinity." She turned. "He’s lucky to have you."

The captain didn’t miss the way she flushed as she turned back to the door, not saying anything. She paused, taking a breath, before walking back out to the main deck.

Her eyes scanned the room. It seemed that everyone had followed her orders, at the very least. She had worried that they would have been too overcome with excitement, but the room was empty, save Tank sitting alone at the console.

Neo was nowhere to be seen.

She crossed to the operator, who glanced up as she walked over.

"Hey, mama bear."

"You’re hilarious," she said, although her face did not change. "Can I get a readout of his brain waves while he was in the Construct?"

"Already ahead of you. Sent a copy to both you and Morpheus. Should be on your scanner when you go back to your quarters."

Trin nodded. "You’re the best."

"That award might go to your boyfriend." Tank leaned back in the chair, as he recalled. "He didn’t even make the first jump… he fucking demolished it."

She sighed, moving to lean against the console desk. Her hand ran roughly through her hair. "He can fly."

"I thought Mouse was going to shit himself."

His words had the desired effect and Trinity cracked a grin. "How was Switch?"

"Got over excited and nearly broke one of the monitors. Christ, Trin, everyone was losing it on this side. What he knows already, what he’s been able to do. Even Cypher couldn’t begin to explain it. If all that dream shit wasn’t enough, no one who sees the readings of what just happened will be able to deny it."

"It hasn’t been more than two hours," Trinity said. "He barely has his footing in this world. Hasn’t even begun any sort of real world regimen, Tank."

"We’ll get him started. Between you and Apoc, you’ll bust him into shape in no time."

"I’m not worried about that. I know he’ll be fine. But he’s coming into this world with so many expectations on his shoulders. And we don’t even know how much he knows. Yes, he’s had dreams of this place but that doesn’t mean he’s outlined a path to destroy the Matrix."

"We’ll talk to him. We’ll find out what he knows and build from there. No one is asking him to destroy it tomorrow. He’s got time to figure it out."

She shook her head and said, "He’s not a weapon. He isn’t. And this is what I’m afraid of. When the Council gets a hold of him…"

"They won’t," Tank said, almost smirking. "You won’t let them."

Trinity stared at the operator before letting a small laugh escape. "True." She folded her arms over her chest. "But I can’t protect him from everything. Especially since…" she trailed off.

"You can say it." Tank’s expression was devoid of judgment and far too kind and understanding for her tastes. She preferred him when he was being a sarcastic little shit. "You can say that Neo is the One. With what we just saw, I’m not sure Lock himself would be able to deny it."

Trinity was saved from responding with the door to the office opening again, Morpheus exiting looking positively exhausted.

"Where’s Neo?" he asked without hesitation, finding only Trinity and Tank.

Tank answered, "Said he was feeling tired and asked to go lay down."

Morpheus nodded. "So you took him back to the infirmary?"

"He said he knew the way," Tank said.

"I’ll make sure he has blankets and is settled. Then I’m going to bed. I suggest you both do the same. The alarms will let us know if a sentinel comes close."

Trinity nodded, the lack of sleep catching up with her. "Will do."

"Good night, Captain my Captain." Tank watched as Morpheus left, waiting for the footsteps to fade. "Take it day by day," he advised. "It’s too much for any person to take in at once. I’m still reeling from what he knows. Morpheus is damn near going insane. I can’t even begin to imagine how this is for you."

She stared down at the ground, unable to deny how much Neo was affecting her. His presence, his knowledge. His confusion tugged at her heart strings and she felt torn between playing his fierce protector and picking up where they had left off earlier, before Apoc and Switch had interrupted and forced them to remember their surroundings.

It didn’t matter, she supposed.

Asleep, in the real world, Neo was shockingly safe. From Agents, from Morpheus, from his own curiosities. At least until morning.

"I’m not going to lie," she said finally. "I’m scared. For him. Of him. I’m not sure how to manage all of this. He talks to me like he knows me. And I find myself talking back, like I know him. But I don't. Today was the first day I spent with him awake for more than five minutes. And I keep reminding myself of that but, honestly, I don’t care. And then that scares me."

Tank nodded along. "You two… have something. Whether it’s based in dreams or not, you and Neo have something. And love, even just infatuation, can mess with the most put together person and tear them apart. And this is more than just that."

"I know."

"So, give yourself a break. No matter what happens with you and Neo, your life just changed dramatically. You’re allowed to take time to adjust."

"It just seems—"

"Tank!" Morpheus’ voice echoed from the hall into the main deck.

Trinity grimaced and Tank gave her a commiserating look as he shouted back, "Yeah?"

Morpheus crossed the threshold onto the deck. "He wasn't in the infirmary. Are you sure that's where he went?"

"He said he was going to lie down," said Tank, "and that's where I’d imagine he'd go. Did you check the crew quarters?"

"He wasn't in the one we assigned for him, nor any of the other empty ones."

Her heart stuttered as the obvious thought hit her. Swallowing, she asked, "Did you check my quarters?"

Morpheus and Tank both looked at her wide-eyed.

Keeping as blank a stare as she could, she reasoned, "We’ve established that he’s seen me naked. And he knows the book on my bedside table in Zion. I think it's safe to assume, if he's going off of memory, that he probably sleeps with me."

Tank was trying, desperately, to keep a straight face. She could see his lips twitching as he worked at stilling his features. It was a losing battle. Eventually, a giggle bubbled up. His hand went up to cover his mouth and Trinity resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Laugh it up," she said as Tank shifted into truly guffawing.

"Oh my god," he laughed, leaning back in the chair, "I’m sorry. But this…" The laughter continued and she caught Morpheus’ gaze.

She could see the confusion, the wonder in his eyes.

"Do you…" Morpheus’ face was reluctant, even as he made the offer, "do you want me to have him moved or…?"

She waved a hand. "It’s… fine. We’ll work it out, Neo and I. Whatever it is that’s going on, we need to be the ones to sort it out." Trinity gave him a small smile. "I’m going back to bed. I’ll see you all in the morning."

"Have fun!" Tank called, still laughing.

The walk to her quarters never seemed so long. She took a breath before opening the door, slowly as to avoid the creaking.

Sure enough, even in the dark, she could make out the lump on her bed that certainly wasn’t blankets.

Trin closed the door and toed off her boots and socks. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet. She paused for a moment, looking down at the man in front of her, nestled in the blankets, stirring ever so slightly.

Neo’s eyes flickered open and he inhaled. "Hey," he murmured.

"Hi," she replied softly, not wanting to disturb him.

Neo opened his blankets upwards, making room for her to climb in. She did so, settling in between his arms in a way that felt right. She closed her eyes as her head rested on his forearm and quickly drifted off into sleep.

[just-my-sickly-pride]

The Night Comes Down || Brian May x fem!Reader x Roger Taylor

summary || one of the first rules you’d ever made with brian, your friends-with-benefits, eight months ago, was that anyone could back out of the arrangement at any time, for whatever reason, and then everything would go back to normal. back to how it was. and that’s fine. you have no problem with that. you’re fine. you’re so fine. it’s... fine.

rating || no smut, but some implied explicit content. warning: there is a brief scene where reader is being heavily pressured into kissing someone at a party.

word count || 9.7k

author’s notes || all good things must come to an end! so i’ve been working on this series for over a year. how did that even happen?? anyway yes this is the end of the try series. no it’s not a happy ending. i debated back and forth for a long time whether to end the series or not, but it felt too weird not to. and i couldn’t figure out any reasonable ‘happy’ way for it to end. a big big big thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me for this entire journey, or part of this journey, or even if you’re just tuning in now - thank you! and if you’re still somehow invested in this little ’verse after all this time, don’t abandon me just yet 👀 p.s. i think i’ve ironed out most of the timeline issues but don’t look too closely. this series is not my proudest in terms of continuity

masterlist

tag list: @the-huttslayer​ @scorpiogemini @redspecialty​ @supersonicfreddie​ @killer-queen-xo​ @a-night-at-the-0pera​ @rogerscupboard​

     Part of you had known it was inevitable. Another part of you liked to pretend that it wasn’t. But it was.

    It still felt like it had come out of nowhere, though.

    Brian was watching you cautiously, adjusting the grip on his laptop and workbook. “Did you… want to say anything, or…?”

    “Um…” You blinked a couple times, and shook your head. “Uh, no, I’m just… surprised?”

    “I feel like I’ve mentioned her a few times,” Brian said.

    “Once or twice, maybe,” you said. “I didn’t know that you and her…”

    “Yeah.” Brian scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, we hooked up, like, two weeks ago, and then again a few nights ago, and we’ve been talking every day, so.”

    “Oh.” It sounded twisted, wonky, but you forced a smile onto your face, wondering why you felt so… uncomfortable hearing about this. “That’s great. And you like her?”

    “Yeah, I really do,” Brian said, and his voice sounded warm, and he had a little smile on his face, and something ugly and strange twisted in your gut. “And I want to take her on an actual date, but obviously, I’d feel a bit weird about it if I still had, y’know. A, uh, side arrangement. But you’re all right?”

    “Of course,” you said brightly. Side arrangement. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? That’s great, Brian, really. I’m – really glad you’ve found someone.”

    “It’s been a while, that’s for sure,” Brian said with a chuckle.

    “Are you going to tell Rog?”

    Brian frowned a little. “Um, no, I don’t think that’s necessary. I never had – anything with him. And he’s already met Dani, so.”

    “Oh!” Ah, Christ, that had sounded dreadful, even to your own ears. “Where– Where’d he meet her?”

    “The other day.” Brian gave you a sheepish smile. “The morning after. She ran into him in the kitchen.”

    You pushed a strained laugh out of you. “Oh, right, yeah, great.”

    Brian chuckled as well. “Yeah, it was a little awkward, but what can you do, right?”

    You swallowed, and nodded. Your face hurt from smiling.

    “You’ll love her,” Brian said. “She’s wonderful. She’s so smart, and funny, and she’s so pretty. I mean, so pretty. Absolutely beautiful. Completely knocked my socks off when I first saw her. Can’t believe she fancies me.”

    “Great,” you said. You were saying great too much. “She sounds–” Don’t. “–so great.”

    “She is.” Brian beamed. “You’ll have to meet her soon.”

    “I’m sure I will,” you said.

    “Yeah, I’m sure,” Brian said. He sighed happily. “Well, I should head off.”

    “Yeah, course,” you said. “Me too.”

    “I’ll message you,” Brian said. “We can arrange a dinner at the flat or something.”

    “Can’t wait!”

    Brian smiled, nodded in satisfaction, and then said, “All right, see you later.”

    “Bye!” You turned around and hurried away, in the opposite direction you needed to go.

    Hmm. Huh. Right. Okay. So. Brian just. He just.

    You went to the food court and sat down at the first available seat you could find.

    You took out your phone and immediately went to message Veronica.

    Brian just

    Your thumbs paused.

    He just what? He just found someone he wanted to date, and ended his arrangement with you. On paper, not that big of a deal. It was part of the unwritten contract of it all: any person was allowed to end things for whatever reason, and there would be no consequences. A rule you had written yourself, all those months ago.

    Side arrangement. Side piece. Dirty secret. Not as good as the real thing. Not as funny or smart or pretty or wonderful or beautiful as Danielle.

    You froze. Whoa, where had that come from?

    You weren’t jealous. You couldn’t have been jealous. You’d never wanted to date Brian. You still didn’t want to date Brian. You didn’t have a crush on him, and you never had. Brian didn’t break up with you.

    So what the everloving fuck was going on in your head right now?

    You put your phone away. Nope, you couldn’t go crying to Veronica for no damn reason. This had always been bound to happen, and now it had, so you just needed an hour or so to process it, and then things would be fine. You’d go back to normal.

-

    Your idea of ‘normal’ seemed to greatly differ from Brian’s.

     You didn’t hear from him for a week. Whereas before you’d talked every other day, he went almost totally radio silent. Every meme or message you sent was either seen and ignored, or responded to with a vague Haha or a thumbs-up.

    You met up with Roger on your usual catch-up night, but you hadn’t gotten very far into anything before he stopped and said, “You’re not really feeling it, are you?”

    You made a face. “Sorry.”

    “It’s fine.” He passed your shirt to you, and he fetched his from the floor and slipped it on. “So… Brian has a date tomorrow night.”

    You frowned. “He does?”

    Roger nodded. “Yeah, he didn’t tell you about it?”

    You looked down at your hands. “Um, no. He didn’t. I haven’t heard much from him, actually. After he… ended… things.”

    “Whoa,” Roger said, climbing onto the bed. “Wait, really? With you?”

    You nodded, and suddenly felt your throat close over. But you were not going to fucking cry about it, Jesus Christ. You swallowed it down, and gave Roger a mild look of interest. “Yeah. I didn’t even know he liked Dani, and then I ran into him at uni last week, and he just sort of said, ‘Hey, while I’m here,’ and then that was it. But I didn’t know the date was tomorrow night. He didn’t tell me.”

    “I’m sure he was just distracted,” Roger said. “He gets like that with a girl he likes.” He shook his head. “Damn, he must be serious about her.”

    “Yeah, must be.”

    Roger paused, and then said, “Are you… okay?”

    You shrugged. “Yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

    “I dunno, it’s a pretty big… thing to have ended.”

    “No, I’m fine,” you said lightly, giving him a smile. “We’re still friends. And I’ve still got you, right?”

    “Yeah,” Roger said, although he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

    “Yeah. So I’m good.” You sighed, willing away all the gross mess of emotions you were feeling. “I’m not really feeling going all the way, but making out sounds good, if you’re down.”

    Luckily, that immediately distracted Roger, and he didn’t ask any further questions. And you poured everything you had into your kisses, hoping it would distract you, too.

-

    You were hoping things would settle down for you, emotionally, over the next two weeks or so.

    But that didn’t happen. Everything grew to be so much worse. Exponentially. You didn’t know whether you hated Brian, or Dani, or hated them as a couple, or if you just hated yourself. You couldn’t bear to be in the same room as the two of them, and you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to Dani. The thought of trying to be friends with her turned your stomach. She wasn’t particularly annoying, and she wasn’t a bad person in any way, but just something about her face and her voice and her fucking presence in your life just infuriated you.

    You couldn’t get the idea out of your head that she looked like a mouse. Or a rat. Small pointy nose, big dark eyes, slight buck teeth. She was curvy, and at least a foot shorter than Brian, although it was hard to tell with the heels and platforms she always wore. Her hair was browny-blonde and long and thick, and she wore it slicked back in a pony, like Ariana Grande. Her ears glittered with delicate piercings. She liked to draw on freckles.

    She was pretty. For a rat.

    You did your best to hide how you felt about her. You thought you should’ve gotten a freaking Oscar for how well you hid it. At least from Brian. On the rare occasion that Dani wasn’t by his side, you let him talk about her, and did your best to seem encouraging.

    There was a part of you – a bigger part than you wanted to admit – that believed they were going to break up soon enough. Then things could go back to normal, and this weird hiccup could be forgotten.

    But they didn’t break up. They stayed together.

    And so you ended up ranting about it all to Veronica. You knew you were really going on about it, and somehow you kept finding things to say about the situation when you knew there was nothing really more to say. Veronica listened, to a degree. But her advice was sensible and responsible and mature and you really didn’t feel like being any of those things. You wanted to throw a goddamn tantrum.

    So you turned to Roger. Thank God for his high sex drive.

    He wasn’t completely clueless. You had an air of desperation about you that you knew he could sense, and knowing that was almost enough to make you draw away from him, too.

    Almost. But he always took such good care of you. It was selfish to keep asking him to meet up, but you felt like you would explode if you didn’t.

    About a month after Brian and Dani had started dating, you and Roger were making out on the couch. It was rough, as sex frequently had been these past few weeks, and Roger’s grip on your waist was bruising as you rocked against him. Things were moments away from moving to the bedroom, when the front door opened unexpectedly.

    You quickly looked up, a deer in headlights, and your stomach dropped.

    “Oh, sorry,” Brian mumbled, ducking his head.

    “No, it’s fine,” you said, and you’d tried to go for nonchalant, but your voice came out too sharp.

    Roger tilted his head back. “Hi.”

    “Hi,” Brian said. You watched as he kicked his shoes off and chucked his keys on the kitchen table.

    “Sorry,” he said again, shooting you a quick glance. “I’ll just, uh…”

    He hurried to his room.

    There you were, looking already thoroughly debauched, on his couch, in Roger’s lap, and Brian had just ducked his head and ran.

    You stared after him, your heart twisting around itself. He hadn’t even… He didn’t…

    Once, he would have taken one look at you and pounced on you. He would’ve begged to kiss you, would’ve torn your clothes off.

    Now, he acted like he’d walked in on Roger having a one-night stand with some girl he’d picked up at a bar. He acted like he’d never even been attracted to you at all.

    Was it really so easy for him to move on? Were you really that forgettable?

    “You all right?” Roger asked, his thumb touching your bottom lip.

    You snapped to look at him. Shit, how much had you let on? “Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Just lost in my thoughts, nothing important.”

    “You sure?” Roger asked.

    You bit your lip and nodded. “Mm-hm. How about you take me to your room and fuck all those stupid little thoughts out of me?”

    Roger paused for a moment, like he wanted to say something more, but your tongue darted out, lapping at the pad of his thumb, and you kept your eyes on his as you licked his thumb into your mouth. You watched, half excited, half relieved, as his eyes glazed over, his gaze fixated on your lips around his thumb.

     It sickened you to even think about it, but you definitely had a little voice in the back of your head that hoped Brian could hear Roger fucking you.

-

    “We should hang out,” you said to Brian. Just over a month, now. Final exams were breathing down everyone’s necks. It didn’t help your situation. “I feel like I never get to see you anymore. You’re with your girlfriend all the time.”

    You’d run into him at uni. That was almost the only way you got to see him these days. And he no longer hugged you hello or goodbye, just kept a firm, amicable amount of distance between you.

    He didn’t often look you in the eye these days, either. He shifted about whenever you talked, like he wanted to be somewhere else.

    “Mm, yeah, maybe,” he said.

    You swallowed down the hurt. “How about a movie night? Or we could just hang out, just the two of us.”

    “Um.” Brian scratched his nose. “I’m pretty busy at the moment. Maybe we could do a group thing? That’d be fun. Me and Dani, John and Veronica, you and Rog.”

    You frowned. “Me and Rog?”

    “Yeah.”

    “We’re not together.”

    Brian shrugged. “I just thought– Well, I think it’d be nice. You two suit each other.”

    “We don’t want to be a couple, Brian. What are you on about?”

    “I just think it’d be good for you, that’s all. Being in a relationship is, well, really nice, and I think maybe you and Rog should at least give it a go.”

    You were gobsmacked. You wanted to throw something, yell a stern reminder of, Hey, are you fucking stupid? Do you not remember the past eight months of our lives where you seemed perfectly content to not be in a relationship? Remember how many times the two of us were hounded by our friends about dating? You fucking hypocrite.

    But you didn’t say any of that. There was an unspoken rule that neither of you ever brought up your old arrangement. It was as if it had never existed.

    Most of the time, it seemed like Brian wished it hadn’t. Like it was some embarrassing secret.

    “Well, we don’t want that, so you can mind your own business,” you said. “And where does Freddie fit into your little equation, anyway?”

    Brian shrugged again. “He could bring a date along as well, I don’t know.”

    “We’re not going on a– a quadruple date. Jesus.”

    “Just an idea,” Brian muttered.

    “You can still hang out with friends without your girlfriend, you know.”

    Brian sighed. “Okay. Well.”

    You sighed as well, gathering yourself. You tried again. “What about a party, or something? We haven’t been to a party in forever.”

    Brian hesitated. “Well, one of Dani’s friends is having a party this weekend.”

    Not exactly what you’d meant. “Maybe a little group of us could go?” you suggested. “If Dani’s all right with it? That could be fun.”

    Brian nodded to himself. “Yeah,” he said mildly. “Yeah, that could work. I’ll ask her.”

    “Great,” you said with a smile that you most certainly had to force onto your face. You began making a quick retreat, not waiting for him to formulate an excuse. “Text me, okay?”

    “Yep,” he said, and you could tell he was already forgetting about it completely.

    But, to your surprise, that weekend, you got a text from him. Dani said it’s all right if you and the others want to come along.

    Your lip curled. It hardly sounded like Brian wanted any of you there. great, you replied. pres at yours?

    I’ll actually be having pres at Lachlan’s, Brian sent. He’s one of Dani’s friends. But I’ll send you the details of the party and I’ll see you there.

    But no one else wanted to come.

    “No thanks,” Roger grumbled. “I’ve met some of Dani’s friends. They’re all complete wankers.”

    “But I don’t want to go alone,” you whined.

    “Ask Freddie. He’s always down for a good time.”

-

    I can’t darling, Freddie texted. work early the next day. they said if I turn up hung-over or still drunk one more time they’ll fire me

u don’t have to get that drunk, you replied hopefully. just drink a bit and then go home early

    then what would be the point of going lol?? Freddie sent.

-

    “Sorry,” Veronica said. “Studying.”

    You sulked. “You can’t afford to take a break just for a couple hours?”

    “No. And, honestly, I don’t want to enable whatever thing you’re going through right now. I think getting drunk around Brian would be a bad idea.”

    “I’ll be fine,” you said. “I just want an excuse to hang out as friends, okay? That’s all. It’s not enabling, it’s supporting.”

    Veronica made a sound that told you she disagreed. You huffed and gave up. What did she know, anyway?

-

    “Hey, Dea–”

    “I’m not going to that party tonight,” John cut in smoothly, not even looking up from his textbook.

    “But–”

    “I’d rather sever my own foot.” He glanced up at you, giving you an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry. I just can’t stand being around Brian and Dani. They’re insufferable.”

    At least that you could agree with.

-

    everyone else is busy, you texted Brian. You bit your lip, debating whether to ask, but, damn it, fuck it all – can I come to lachlan’s pres and go with u guys?

    It took him two hours to reply. Yeah, sure.

    You felt sick. This was a bad idea.

    It was by far too much trouble for what it was worth to get to Lachlan’s. You were terrified of turning up before Brian and Dani, so you arrived two and a half hours after when you were meant to be there.

    That was better. It was easier to rock up when everyone was already pissed.

    And they were very much pissed. Lachlan answered the door. He was tall and stocky, with brown hair and blue eyes. The sort of guy who looked like he’d played some kind of contact sport in high school, probably football, but now didn’t have a regular training schedule, and so was slowly losing the muscle he’d once had, replacing it with beer and burgers. The sort of guy who’d lose all of his hair by the time he was thirty-five, and get married so he’d have someone to get his beers for him when he was watching the game with the boys. The sort of guy who wanted kids because he liked the thought of telling people he had a couple of boys, rather than actually wanting to be a father.

    Or maybe you were making a snap-judgement.

    You introduced yourself, and he gave you a lopsided, skeezy grin, letting you into his place. “You here all on your own?” he asked.

    Your shoulders tensed. “No,” you said. “I’m a friend of Brian’s. Dani’s new boyfriend.”

    “Oh, yeah, sure, I know that. But you don’t have anyone to bring along with you?”

    “Not tonight,” you said vaguely. “Busy schedules. Finals aren’t too far away, and all that.”

    “Yeah, sick,” Lachlan said, looking you up and down. “Well.” He gestured with his beer to the crowd. “Make yourself at home.” He shot you another grin that made your hands grow clammy. “I’m glad Dani brought you along. Can’t wait to get to know you.”

    You gave him an uneasy smile in return, and frantically looked for Brian and Dani. You found them – Dani was sitting on Brian’s lap, yuck – and fled from Lachlan.

    “Hi,” you said.

    “Oh, hey,” Brian said, and you could tell right off the bat he’d had a bit to drink already. His hand was splayed over Dani’s thigh, holding her to him, and you couldn’t bear to look at it. “Thought you weren’t gonna come.”

    “I’m just late,” you said. “Hello, Dani.”

    She gave you a polite smile, but didn’t try to engage in conversation.

    Brian didn’t even notice. He squeezed Dani a little bit closer. “Well, you gonna drink?” he said.

    Yes. Yes, you were. You held up your plastic bottle filled with Sprite and too much vodka. “Yep.”

    Brian gave you a thumbs-up.

    Dani turned to him. “Just need to go to the bathroom, baby,” she murmured, tapping his hand.

    “All right, baby,” Brian murmured back, and you only just stopped yourself from making a face. The word baby sounded clunky, uncomfortable coming from Brian. “Be careful.”

    Dani leant in for a kiss, and you turned away, uncapping your bottle and taking a decent swig, grimacing at the burn. 

    Brian didn’t like pet names. You knew he didn’t like pet names. And yet this ‘baby’ thing had sprung out of nowhere, and it drove you up the fucking wall.

    You listened until the sound of Dani’s heels against the floorboards faded before you spoke. “‘Be careful’,” you muttered.

    “What?” Brian said.

    “She’s just walking to the toilet,” you said. “Not like she’s gonna get assaulted on the way.”

    Brian looked mildly annoyed. “I just don’t want her to trip and fall over and hurt herself. She’s a lightweight, and she’s wearing heels. I’m just… trying to be a good boyfriend.”

    You sighed. “Yeah, okay,” you said, not wanting to hear a word of it. You took another hefty swig of your drink. “I think I’ll, um, join the rest of the party.”

    So much for hanging out with Brian. You wanted to be near him, wanted to talk to him, but you couldn’t bear it for more than five minutes.

    You knew what it was – you wanted to talk to him how you used to. But you couldn’t do that anymore. Instead you had some weird, watered-down version of the Brian you knew.

    You joined in half-heartedly with a few drinking games, but quickly discovered that you weren’t really in the mood for getting smashed anyway.

    Brian and Dani stayed in their own little corner, giggling and whispering with each other, kissing and cuddling and being generally disgusting.

-

    You didn’t even think they’d bother coming to the actual party. But they did, and the group of fifteen or so people in Lachlan’s sharehouse all staggered along the street for about ten minutes to get to the main event.

    You’d managed to get along well enough with some of the girls, and Lachlan wouldn’t leave you alone, so you had no choice but to socialise. Which was good, in a way, because you lost Dani and Brian as soon as you walked into the party.

    Not that you particularly liked the girls you were talking to. Everyone just had such a weird vibe, like they weren’t sure if they could be bothered to talk to you, but also felt obliged to make you feel welcome. They kept bursting into laughter and you had no idea why, and no one bothered to explain the jokes. But then they complimented your outfit and asked you how your day had been, and they listened with encouraging nods and wide eyes of interest when you answered. Until someone said something that they found more interesting, and then they turned away from you when you were halfway through a sentence. It was off-putting, to say the least; you couldn’t seem to find your footing.

    Lachlan, however, was the icing on the cake. The sour, out-of-date icing on the stale cake. He flirted with you incessantly, either not picking up your clear signals that you weren’t interested, or just ignoring them. The others weren’t helping, either, egging the two of you on. A whole lot of wink-wink-nudge-nudge that you were not enjoying at all.

    You should’ve just gone home. You didn’t know why you didn’t just leave.

    But, for some reason, you stayed. Maybe you hoped that Brian would see your discomfort and come and talk to you – not that you’d seen him for the past hour – or that this strange group of people would want to talk with their friend Dani, and you’d be able to swoop in and catch up with Brian without Dani hanging around awkwardly.

    Whatever it was, it was a stupid reason.

    And then came truth or dare.

    You didn’t want to play, but you were roped into it regardless. There was a rule, you found out, that you were allowed to back out of one truth or dare, and you had to drink if you did so – but only the once, so you had to choose wisely. Someone dared you to show everyone what underwear you were wearing.

    Needless to say, you drank instead.

    You could tell that no one was very impressed with any of the dares or questions you came up with, even though your friendship group loved your questions and dares. This group seemed to like the brainless shit – if it was gross, or sexual, or nasty in any way, they were all over it. Barely anyone chose ‘truth’.

    Then it was Lachlan’s turn, and he turned to you. He grinned, and your stomach sank to the floor. “Dare you to kiss me,” he drawled, and the crowd gasped and ooh’d dramatically.

    You didn’t even hesitate to snatch up your cider, but Lachlan quickly said, “You’ve already drunk, you can’t do it twice.”

    “Well, I’m doing it twice,” you snapped, and took a swig.

    You received jeers and boos for that, and Gina, the girl beside you, took your beer from your hand and said, “You can’t do that!”

    “You gotta kiss me, that’s the rules,” Lachlan said above the sounds of everyone else.

    “I don’t want to,” you said, your voice wavering.

    “You have to,” said Savannah. “You have to, you have to, it’s the rules.”

    “Come on,” said – whatever her fucking name was. “Stop being such a pussy, just get it over with.”

    Lachlan was starting to look a bit pissed off by now. “Fucking hell, just come and kiss me,” he said. “Don’t be a bitch about it.”

    Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel your hands starting to shake. “Jesus – no, all right? I don’t want to,” you snapped.

    The room felt too loud, too stuffy, too overwhelming.

    “Lachlan, just think of something else,” you said.

     “Okay, fine, whatever,” Gina complained. “Just do something else.”

     “No, I gave you a dare already,” Lachlan said sourly. “It’s not even that big of a deal, like, I don’t even know what the problem is.”

     “If she doesn’t want to-”

     “That’s the fucking rules,” Lachlan said, throwing his hands in the air like you were the one being unreasonable. “Is that not the fucking rules? Goddamn.”

     “Okay, then just kiss him already,” said whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was, waving you over. “Whatever, just hurry up.”

     “I’m fucking bored with this shit already,” Savannah said. “Just kiss him or don’t kiss him, whatever. God, this party sucks.”

     “It doesn’t suck, she’s just being a bitch,” Lachlan protested.

     “Don’t call me a bitch,” you said.

     “I’m just teasing,” Lachlan said, crawling over to you. You shrunk away from him, your heart beating like a cantering horse, and he grabbed your wrist. “One kiss, c’mon,” he said, his voice light and friendly, like you were happy to play along.

    But you weren’t happy to play along. You didn’t know if everyone was too drunk to notice your obvious discomfort, or they didn’t care, but this was crossing the goddamn line.

    “Fuck off, Lachlan,” you said, trying to pull your wrist back. You’d wanted your voice to be tough, to be assertive, but it was small and weak, and then Lachlan leant in for a kiss.

    You turned your face away. “Lachlan–”

    “Just fucking kiss me, for God’s sake, woman,” Lachlan growled, and grabbed your face with his other hand.

    You pushed his hand away, and, without thinking, blurted out the one word that your panicked brain told you would stop everything in its tracks: “Nickleback.”

    “What?” Lachlan said, and, good fucking God, of course that wouldn’t work, you were such a fucking idiot, and now you had no back-up plan, nothing else to do, and that word was supposed to stop things, why wasn’t it stopping things–

    But then Lachlan was gone, and you felt a hand grab your other wrist and yank you up from the floor, and you unthinkingly leant into the body the hand belonged to as you were led from the room and into a bedroom, and the noise around you became muffled as the door closed behind you.

    Then Brian was setting you down on the bed and sitting beside you. In an ideal world, he would have wrapped his arms around you and you would’ve been able to breathe again, like in a movie, but instead there was an awkward amount of space between you as he gingerly asked, “Are you all right?”

    You barely even snuck a glance at him. You were humiliated by what had just happened, humiliated by needing him to rescue you, humiliated by your desperate craving for his touch, his comfort. You stared at the floor, curling in on yourself, and you nodded silently. Your hands still shook from adrenaline, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

    Brian sighed. “I’m sorry about them. I didn’t know…”

    You shook your head. “It’s fine,” you mumbled.

    Brian said nothing for a while, and then he reached over and patted you on the back. So achingly unfamiliar, and you felt your shoulders grow even more hunched than they already were. You didn’t think he’d ever touched you like that. Like you were a complete stranger.

    You ducked your head, squeezing your eyes shut. Don’t you dare fucking cry.

     There was a soft knock on the door, and Brian said, “Yeah?”

    You glanced up to see Dani poke her head in, and you quickly looked away again. “Hey, baby,” she said.

    Your stomach crawled.

    “Is everything okay?”

    “Yeah, it’s fine,” Brian said.

    “All right,” Dani said. You could feel her hovering awkwardly.

    Brian said your name, catching your attention, and then said, “I’ll just… let you have some time to yourself, all right?”

    You said nothing. You did nothing. And Brian stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

    “What happened?” came Dani’s voice from just outside the door.

    “Lachlan was harassing her,” Brian said.

    “They were just playing,” Dani said. “They’re all drunk, it’s just truth or dare.”

    “No, I know, but…”

    “You didn’t have to run in there like there was a fire and pull her out of there like that. Everyone’s going to ask me what that was all about. Where did that come from?”

    Your ears were straining to hear Brian’s response.

    “I… I just knew she needed to get out,” he said eventually.

    “She could have left if she was uncomfortable.”

    “She gets really anxious sometimes, she just freezes.”

    You realised, then, that he must’ve heard you say ‘Nickleback’. He must have heard it and immediately known that something was wrong.

    You groaned quietly to yourself, covering your face with your hands. Your ex-friend-with-benefits had heard you yell out your old safeword in the middle of a party, and had felt obliged to rush in like a knight in shining armour to swoop you to safety. Jesus Christ.

    “She’s an adult, baby,” Dani said. “I’m sure she was fine.” You heard someone sigh. “It’s sweet that you guys are friends, but you don’t have to…”

    “What?”

    “Look out for her that much.”

    “What do you mean? She’s my friend.”

    Dani was silent for a while. “Did you guys used to…?”

    The air was sucked from the room. Your ears strained to hear every word.

    “What?” Brian said, clearly thrown.

    “Did you used to date? It just seems like…”

    “No,” Brian said quickly. “No, we never dated.”

    “You’re not lying to me?”

    “No, baby. I promise you, we never dated.”

    You grimaced.

    Someone sighed again. “Okay,” Dani said. “Good. The last thing I’d want is for you to be friends with an ex.”

    Brian chuckled. It sounded forced. “Yeah, of course.”

    “I’m glad we agree. Gimme a kissy?”

    You could’ve thrown up right then and there. A kissy?

    You could hear them murmuring to each other, and Dani’s voice had a particular whiny, baby-talk tone to it that made you want to ‘accidentally’ open the door into the both of them. But then they left, and you were even more alone than before, and you lay down on the bed and curled into a ball, feeling sorry for yourself.

    It was time to go home.

-

    By the grace of God himself, Brian offered to wait outside with you, sitting beside you on the kerb, while you called a ride home. Dani stayed inside with her friends.

    “I’m sorry about… what happened,” Brian said, and you went still as a statue.

    “What do you mean?” you said softly.

    “Lachlan, and all of that.”

    You let out a breath. “Oh,” you said. “Yeah, that. It’s fine.”

    Silence. It wriggled under your skin like cockroaches.

    You wanted to touch Brian. You wanted him to touch you. You wanted Roger there, too. You wanted them to want you, like they used to. You wanted to be allowed to want them like they used to love.

    But Roger wasn’t there. And Brian barely was, either.

    “Brian?” Dani called from the front door.

    Brian twisted around. “Yeah, I’m here.”

    “Oh, okay. Just checking everything’s good.”

    “Yeah, we’re fine. Still waiting for the car.”

    “Okay. See you inside.”

    “Yep.”

    “Miss you, baby.”

    Brian chuckled. “Miss you too.”

    You waited until Brian had turned back around to face the road, and then blurted out, “Why do you let her call you that? You hate pet names.”

    Brian frowned, looking to you. “What?”

    “Pet names. You hate them.”

    “I don’t hate them,” he said.

    “You don’t like them, at least.”

    “According to who?”

    “According to you,” you said. “You told me. And you never–” You never called me anything but my name when we were fucking. “You never said you liked them.”

    “Well, I do,” Brian said. “And why do you care, anyway?”

    “I just think it’s weird,” you said, and you were aiming for casual but you knew you sounded brash. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

    “I’ve never had a girlfriend the whole time we’ve known each other,” Brian said. “You don’t know what I’m like when I’m in a relationship.”

    “You shouldn’t change who you are when you’re in a relationship,” you said. “That doesn’t make sense.”

    “I’m not changing who I am,” Brian said, his face pinched. “What has gotten into you?”

    “Nothing,” you said harshly. “I just think you’re lying to yourself. You don’t like calling her baby, and you don’t like being called baby, and I just think it’s weird that you wouldn’t just say that.”

    “Well, I just think it’s weird you think you have the right to comment on my relationship,” Brian said. “I like calling her baby. And I like it when she calls me baby.”

    “But you don’t,” you insisted. “I can hear it in your voice.”

    “What?” Brian exclaimed. “What the fuck are you on about?”

    “I know you, okay?” you snapped. “I know you far better than she does. And I know you don’t like pet names, but you won’t tell her for some reason.”

    “I won’t tell her because I like them,” Brian said. “And she knows me, too, you know.”

    “She’s known you for, like, two months! Less than!” you said. “That’s nothing.”

    “Why…” Brian floundered. “There isn’t some – time limit on these things. You can’t judge if someone knows someone better just by how long…”

    “I just don’t get it,” you said. “Maybe that’s my fault, but I don’t get how someone can just walk into your life and suddenly they’re the most important person you’ve ever met when you’ve only known them for five minutes.”

    “You’ve clearly never fallen in love,” Brian said snootily.

    “Oh, fuck off,” you scoffed. “You’re not in love with her.”

    “How would you know?”

    “You’ve only been dating a couple weeks! Come on, Brian. You can call each other baby all you like, but I know you.”

    “I like pet names,” Brian said, his voice hard. “I just never called you one because, in case you’ve forgotten, you were never my fucking girlfriend. So, for the love of God, can you stop acting like a jealous ex.”

    It was like a stab to the gut and a twist of the knife all at the same time. All you could do was sit in stunned silence.

    Brian looked at you, almost like he was waiting for a response, and when he never received one, he sighed, stood, and left.

    Your chin wobbled, your vision blurred, and you scrabbled for your phone in your handbag.

-

    Roger opened the door. “Hey–”

    You leapt onto him, kissing him furiously. He stumbled, but kept his balance, one arm curling around your waist and the other groping for the door, pushing it closed. You spun him around and backed him up, pressing him against the door, and ducked your head to suck at his neck, palming at him through his sweatpants.

    Roger jumped. “Oh, God, okay,” he said with a surprised laugh. “You’re really…”

    You nodded, and captured his lips again, nipping at his bottom lip. “I want you so bad,” you breathed. “I want you to fuck me hard, Daddy, please.”

    You didn’t wait for him to reply, and kissed him. You slipped your hands into his underwear, and he tensed underneath you, surprised again.

    You needed him to fuck you, to bruise you, to bite you. To make you feel wanted, needed. To mark you up, to make you scream, to make it hurt. You needed it so badly that your hands shook.

    Roger put a hand to your collarbones, and you thought he was going to choke you, but instead he pushed you back, just enough to stare into your face.

    “Are you sure you want to call me Daddy?” he asked unsurely. “You seem a little…”

    “What?” you said.

    “Not yourself,” Roger said. “Are you– Have you been drinking?”

    “The fuck does that mean?” you said. “I just really need you to fuck me hard, does that not sound like me?”

    “I don’t–”

    “Roger,” you cut in sharply, and then quickly softened your tone into something whinier, needier, more enticing. “Daddy. I want you. Please.”

    Roger’s frown never disappeared. “I don’t want you to call me Daddy,” he said.

    You blinked, taken aback. “Um, okay,” you said. You could still work with that. “No Daddy.” You went to kiss him again, but he held you away.

    You resisted huffing in frustration. “Roger…”

    “This is about Brian, isn’t it?” he said.

    “What?” you said. “No. Why would it be about Brian? I want you.”

    “You’re drunk and upset and jealous, and you want me to fuck you how he used to fuck you, because you miss it.”

    A slap to the face would’ve hurt less. Your hands fell limp at your sides. “What?”

    “Is that not what’s happening right now?” Roger said, his hands dropping as well. “Is that not why you’re over? You went to that party, got yourself all worked up and upset, and now you want to be fucked how Brian used to fuck you?”

    You blinked. “N– No,” you said, and you meant it, but the more Roger said it, the more you thought that maybe he was right, and you hadn’t even realised.

    “Because it’s what it feels like,” Roger said. “It feels like I’m just an outlet for you. It’s not even about you and me anymore, it’s about you and him.”

    Oh my God. You hated to admit it, but he was right. You covered your mouth with your hands, horrified at yourself. “Fuck, Roger, I…”

    “I’m ending the arrangement between us,” he said simply. “It’s not fun anymore, and it’s definitely not healthy. You need time to… I don’t even know. But you need time, and I don’t really feel like being collateral damage. Especially not with end-of-year exams literally just around the corner.”

    No. No, no, no, fuck, not this, anything but this.

    “No, Rog, please, I’m sorry,” you said. “I wasn’t thinking, I– I can’t–” You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “Please. I…”

    Roger sighed, and pulled you into a hug. You clutched onto him, and, finally, cried. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured sympathetically, stroking your hair. “This whole thing has really messed you up, hasn’t it?”

    “I c– can’t lose you t– too,” you sobbed into his shirt.

    “You’re not losing me. We’re still friends. It just… won’t be with the benefits anymore. For now, at least. Maybe forever, I don’t know. See how things go. But I’m never going to stop being friends with you.”

    Your body shook as you cried, and Roger rubbed your back, letting you ruin his shirt.

-

    The Bee Movie played on the TV, but your heart wasn’t in it. You leant against Roger, a cup of tea in your hands, and one in his. You were exhausted from crying, and you almost found yourself nodding off. Normally there was nothing more fun than enjoying the trials and tribulations of Barry B. Benson with Roger, but now not even casual bestiality was enough to cheer you up.

    Roger didn’t say much, either. You had no idea what he was thinking, although you were pretty sure he wasn’t really watching the movie, just staring at the screen.

    “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice breaking a little.

    Roger sighed. “It’s okay,” he said, giving you a soft, sad smile. “I know you’re going through a tough time right now.”

    “I don’t even understand why,” you said, your bottom lip trembling. Not again. “I never liked him like that, not ever. I know I never liked him like that. I didn’t want to go out on dates with him, or be his girlfriend, or any of that. So I don’t get why it – hurts so much.”

    “Your thing went on for a really long time,” Roger reasoned. “And now it’s gone. I can’t blame you. I…” He bit his lip. “I… kinda miss it too, to be honest.”

    You frowned at him in confusion. “You miss… Brian?”

    “I miss…” Roger took a sip of his tea. “I miss the dynamic, I suppose. We actually got a lot closer because of it. And it was fun, you know? Especially the threesomes, those were really fun.”

    You managed a tired laugh.

    “It was just nice to have… a thing, that was ours,” Roger said. “Us three, I don’t know. This thing that was ours. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

    “No, it does,” you said. You paused, and then said, “You and Brian aren’t as close now?”

    Roger shrugged a shoulder. “Not… really?” he said unsurely. “We haven’t really hung out a lot recently. I mean, we’ve been studying a lot, so I haven’t really seen much of anyone as of late, but, like, for a while, me and Brian hung out a whole lot, just the two of us. Guess you end up feeling closer when you have to talk about your feelings all the time. And when you see each other naked every so often.” He shot you a smile, and you smiled back. “But now it’s sort of in a weird place. I mean, none of us have seen him a lot, he’s just with Dani all day and night. Which makes sense, they’re in their honeymoon phase. But I do miss… that.”

    You nodded in understanding. “It doesn’t even feel like he wants to be around me,” you said in a small voice. “Like I’m not even friends with him anymore.”

    “You are,” Roger assured you. “You just… both have to learn how to be… normal friends again.”

    “And us too,” you added.

    Roger blinked, but nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, us, too.”

    You didn’t want to say it, you knew you shouldn’t say it, but the alcohol had loosened your tongue: “You gonna miss me?”

    Roger’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he took a big breath in and out, shaking his head. “Damn,” he muttered.

    “Sorry, ignore me,” you mumbled. “I’m just being sad and pathetic.”

    “You’re not sad and pathetic,” Roger said. “But I’m not gonna miss you, you’ll still be around.”

    “You know what I mean,” you said.

    “Yeah, I know,” Roger said. He sighed again. “I don’t think… it would be good for either of us if I answered that.”

    You said nothing. It felt like Roger wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

    “But…” You looked to him, and he looked to you. “Can we still be friends like before?” you asked him. “I mean, just – with Brian, he won’t even hug me hello or goodbye, he barely looks at me, he doesn’t want to be near me, I just–” You shook your head. “I couldn’t stand it if you did that, too. Can we at least just be friends?”

    Roger nodded. “Of course,” he said.

    “Yes?”

    “Yes, of course,” he said again. “I promise you, okay? I like hugs just as much as you do.”

    You nodded, reassured. “Thank you.”

    Roger threw his arm around you and gave you a squeeze, then took his arm back.

    A month and a bit ago, he would’ve left his arm there, around your shoulders. You would’ve pressed closer into him. Probably eventually would’ve lifted your head to kiss his neck, or maybe your hands – or his hands – would’ve gone wandering.

    But a squeeze was something, at least, and you were grateful for it. You told yourself you were grateful for it.

-

Three-ish months later

    The air was just starting to cool, and, for the first time in a while, you pulled on a jacket.

    It had been a while since you’d seen your flat. You’d gone home for the summer – not for the whole time, you still had rent to pay and you didn’t want to waste it, but for a few weeks – which had been a welcomed change of scenery.

    After how your previous semester of uni had ended, the last thing you’d wanted was to hang around the flat.

    It had been an uncomfortable summer. The mid-year break, last year, you hadn’t gone home. You’d told your parents it was because of the rent thing, but in reality, it had mostly been about Roger and Brian. A month off uni, and your flatmate Lucy had gone home for the break, meaning you had a free house? That had been a wild couple of weeks.

    You shook your head. Stop, you reprimanded yourself. It did you no good to reminisce. You’d had an entire summer to sort things out for yourself, to reset, and it was a bad idea to let yourself slip. You’d barely spoken to Roger or Brian all summer, just to give yourself some space.

    You’d missed them. A lot. Maybe cried once or twice. Maybe more. But that was only for you to know.

    You doubted that they’d missed you.

    The thought still felt like a stab to the gut, and you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head at yourself. Stop it. Stop.

    There was a knock on the front door, and you were momentarily surprised – but you knew it was Veronica. You took a moment to get your thoughts together, then hurried to the door to let her in.

    She greeted you with a joyous cry of your name and a warm hug. “It’s been so long!”

    The two of you rocked from foot to foot, and you breathed in her familiar smell. You hadn’t seen her since before Christmas.

    When the hug eventually ended, Veronica sighed happily. “Can’t believe I’ve missed you,” she said, and you laughed, giving her a backhand slap on the arm.

    “Cow,” you said.

    “So you’ve kept the same place?”

    “Yep,” you said.

    “Lucy still your flatmate?”

    “Yeah. It works well, so.”

    “No, no, she’s lovely,” Veronica said with a nod. “Did she want to come to drinks tonight?”

    You glanced towards Lucy’s room instinctively, even though you knew she wasn’t in there. “She’s not coming back until Wednesday, I think.”

    “Ah, well, answers that question.” Veronica gave you a smile. You could tell there was a question on the tip of her tongue, and you just stood there, waiting for her to ask it.

    She sighed again, resigned. She knew she’d been sprung. “I wasn’t going to ask. I– I wasn’t sure if I should.”

    “I’m okay,” you said. “I’m fine.”

    Veronica squinted at you unsurely, like she wanted to press you for further information, but wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. “Fine?”

    “It’s been a bit rough, but I’m okay,” you said.

    You’d tell her the truth soon enough. You had no willpower when it came to Veronica. But you weren’t in the mood for a whole conversation right now.

    “So you’re all right for tonight?”

    You rolled your eyes. “Am I capable of getting drinks with my friends? Yes, I think so.”

    “Even though Dani will be there?”

    “Brian and Dani have been dating for, like, five months now – and don’t say it like that. Brian isn’t my ex.”

    “Roger’s dating someone,” Veronica blurted.

    Your heart leapt into your throat. Stop. “Oh?” you said, and it sounded warped and wonky. “Since when? Good for him. Have you met her?”

    “Once,” Veronica said. “Just last week, when I dropped by the flat. Her name is–” She let out a laugh. “Actually, this is really funny. Her name is Freddy.”

    You laughed. “What?” you squawked. “Freddy?”

    “Freddy with a Y,” Veronica said. “Roger made that very clear when I met her. As if that changes anything.”

    “God, I bet that’s confusing in bed,” you said.

    “Yeah, well, I’m guessing the ‘with a Y’ part makes all the difference for Roger.”

    “Freddy,” you mused. “What’s it short for?”

    “No idea. But she’s not as hot as you are.”

    You shot Veronica a mock glare. “Roger isn’t my ex either.”

    “Still,” Veronica said lightly. She hesitated, and then said, “Have you spoken to either of them recently?”

    “No, not really,” you said, as casually as you could muster. “Look, Ron, could we just… table this conversation for later? I’m not really up to it.”

    “Yeah, of course,” Veronica said, waving a hand. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll keep my nose out of it. Let’s just go. Are you ready?”

    You took a steadying breath. “So ready,” you said, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

-

    Arriving at the local pub felt like coming home. The smell of beer, the roar of conversation, the bundles of people crowded around tables. The floor was sticky, there weren’t enough places to sit, and the prices up on the chalkboard on the wall were far too high.

    You scrunched your nose. Coming home sucked.

    “I forgot how much I hate this place,” you yelled into Veronica’s ear. “We need to find somewhere less popular, Jesus.”

    “I know,” Veronica said. “I’ve mentioned it to John; he thinks the same.”

    “Next time.”

    “Yeah, next time.”

    You said that every time.

    Veronica corroborated her instructional texts from John with the view in front of her in order to find everyone else. They were tucked away in a corner booth, crammed into the space.

    You’d had enough trouble as it was, trying to fit everyone into a booth. You couldn’t even imagine how you were going to make it work with two new people in the group.

    Veronica took your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze as you neared the table.

    There was John, at the end of the booth, facing you – his eyes lit up when he spotted Veronica, and began shifting over to make room for her beside him. At the end of the table, on a chair, was Freddie. He noticed John’s line of sight, and he turned to you, his smile wide.

    You couldn’t really see the others. Just the back of Brian’s head. But that was hard to miss.

    Freddie stood up to give you a warm hug as Veronica tossed around a few ‘hello’s and slid in next to John. “Darling!” Freddie said. “I haven’t seen you all break.”

    “I know, I’m sorry,” you said.

    Freddie waved you off. “It’s fine,” he said. “I understand.” He glanced towards the other occupants of the booth.

    “Don’t start,” you muttered, and Freddie gave your arm a swift pat.

    “Speaking of which,” he said, turning. “Roger, Brian, you remember our dear friend, I’m sure?”

    You resisted elbowing Freddie in the side, giving Brian and Roger tight smiles.

    At the same time, your eyes landed on Dani and her browny blonde Ariana Grande ponytail and her mouse face and her curvy body pressed into Brian’s side. And beside Roger, tucked under his arm, was a blonde, tanned girl. Blue eyes, like Roger, but hers were light, strikingly so, and a perfect full face of make-up. Her brows were dark and bold, and her lips looked pouty and soft.

    ‘Not as hot as you were’ your arse. This girl looked like she modelled in her spare time.

    Your jaw clenched. You resisted dragging Veronica away by her ear and having a word with her.

    Stop it. Stop it.

    “This is Freddy,” Freddie said.

    “With a Y,” Roger added quickly.

    “Yes, with a Y,” Freddie said dryly. “Roger’s new flame.”

    “Hi,” Freddy said with a smile. Her teeth were very white. She lifted a well-manicured hand to fiddle with the silver chain around her neck.

    You could see the discolouration on her knuckles. Well, at least you knew her tan wasn’t real. That was something. Wasn’t it?

    No. It wasn’t. She looked incredible anyway. Didn’t even matter that she was wearing fake tan. What a stupid thing to think.

    You introduced yourself.

    There was a pause where no one really knew what to say next.

    “Hi, by the way,” John said.

    Relieved, you gave him a smile. “Hi, John, how are you?”

    “Not too bad. Do you want to find a chair?”

    God bless John Deacon. “Let me help you,” Freddie said, and you both began wandering through the crowd together, knowing there was no way in hell you’d be able to find a chair.

    “How are you?” Freddie asked. “Actually, sod the fucking chair, let’s get a drink.”

    “Sounds superb,” you said.

    “Try again,” Freddie said when you’d gotten in line. “How are you?”

    “Fine,” you said. “And you?”

    “Good, fine,” Freddie said. “Lonely. I want a boyfriend. Everyone else is in a godforsaken relationship, so I only think it’s reasonable. Look at me, the token lonely, single homosexual in a group of straight people. Right out of an early 2000s chick flick. I may as well start wearing skinny scarves and a vest and talk about how much I love shopping. Do you think I’m sassy enough?”

    “Stop it,” you said. “If you start wearing skinny scarves, I’ll strangle you with one.”

    “If I start wearing skinny scarves, I’d practically be begging you to,” Freddie muttered.

    “I’m sorry you’re lonely,” you said. “I could be your wingwoman, if you like. We could go out together.”

    Freddie gave you a smile. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he said. His eyes scanned the chalkboard, as did yours, but it was more habit than anything else. “What did you get up to during the break?”

    “Slept,” you said, and Freddie chuckled, nodding in agreement.

    “Ate too much,” he added.

    “Yep, that too,” you said with a laugh. “Never left the house.”

    “Except to buy more booze.”

    “Or take the bins out.”

    Freddie laughed. “Isn’t summer wonderful.”

    “Oh, it’s just perfect,” you said, and it came out so bitter, with such a sneer in your tone, that Freddie cracked up. A few heads turned, but they usually did, with Freddie.

    “Did you stay here or go home?” you asked.

    “Both,” Freddie said. “Mostly here, though. Just wanted to see the family for a while, but I’m far more comfortable here.”

    You nodded.

    “Did you talk to Brian and Roger much?” Freddie said.

    You shook your head. “No.”

    That was all.

    “Well, shit,” Freddie said. “That’s all just completely fucked, then?”

    “It’s fine,” you said. You reached the front of the line, and went to order. Freddie followed you.

    You ordered a cider, then Freddie ordered a pint. “What do you think of Freddy with a Y?” Freddie asked as the bartender poured your drinks.

    “I’ve barely met her,” you said. “Didn’t know she existed until Ron told me just before we left mine.”

    “Jesus,” Freddie said. “You really haven’t spoken to them.”

    “No,” you said. “And Roger doesn’t post much on social media, either, so. And Brian posts far too much, so I know way too much about him and Dani for my liking, which is wonderful.”

    “I’m sorry,” Freddie said. “God, I’m sorry it’s all gone to shit, I really am. That’s miserable, darling.”

    “It’s fine,” you said. The bartender set your drinks in front of you, and you and Freddie collected them, weaving your way back to the table.

    “Did you… get around to dating much?” Freddie asked.

    “Wasn’t in the mood,” you said.

    Freddie said nothing. Message received.

    You arrived back at the booth. While you’d gotten a drink, you hadn’t solved the seating problem.

    You bunched up next to Veronica. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t unbearable.

    You met Brian’s eyes across the table. He gave you a warm smile. It hurt. You hated that it hurt. “I haven’t said hi yet,” he said, like you hadn’t just gone three months without seeing or speaking to each other. “How you going?”

    “Good, good,” you said, and took a swig of cider. “You?”

    “Yeah, great. Get up to much?”

    “Not really. Did you?”

    “Not too much,” Brian said. “Dani and I took a little trip south. That was nice, wasn’t it, baby?”

    “So nice,” Dani said with a cheeky, knowing little grin at Brian.

    He shook his head at her, and she giggled, then reached up for a quick kiss.

     You knew about the little trip south. Everybody knew about the little trip south. Brian had waxed poetry about it on Instagram for every single day they were away. “So lots of sex, then,” you said.

    Veronica choked on her water, and Roger burst out laughing.

    You hadn’t realised he’d been listening to the conversation.

    Dani’s face was turning tomato-red, and she hid her face behind her hand. Brian managed a good-natured chuckle, albeit a slightly forced one, and you could tell he was rubbing Dani’s knee under the table.

    “What, what was the joke?” Freddie said immediately.

    “Nothing,” you said, and turned to Roger. “So, Freddy, with a Y, how did you and Roger meet?”

    “Bumble,” Freddy said, unabashed. “About a month ago?”

    “Yeah, about that,” Roger said.

    “Yeah, Ron said,” you said. “That’s nice.”

    “So there’s…” Roger licked his bottom lip. “There’s no one you’ve got your eye on, then?”

    “No,” you said, uncomfortable. Why would anyone want you? You were messy, you were too much. You were demanding. You were easily replaced.

    You took a sip of cider. Stop.

    It had been three months, for God’s sake. Three months of no contact, and still you were left with an ugly, twisted feeling in the pit of your stomach after everything that had happened.

    None of it had even mattered. You’d always known it had had an expiration date. You were just…

    You hated feeling like this.

    “Hey,” Veronica said suddenly, raising her glass of water. “Let’s make a toast, shall we? To the new year. To– to passing our classes, and to ramen, and to… fresh starts.”

    Everyone raised their glasses, saying something along the lines of cheers, and began clinking their glasses together. You took a moment longer, but joined in.

    Veronica met your eyes to clink her glass to yours. “Fresh starts,” she said with a small smile.

    You couldn’t quite say it back, so you smiled and nodded, then took a sip of your cider.

    You could feel Brian’s and Roger’s eyes on you. You pretended to be interested in something happening across the room.

    God, you couldn’t wait for this chapter of your life to be nothing but a bad dream.

[hazytaezy]

i’ll show you, if you show me.(m) jk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2,173

genre: gamer jk, best friends au, slight fluff in the form of (y/n) is literally jk’s biggest fan, smut-ish??? minor nasty-ness, but a general warning that smut is implied and sort of written, humor (to me lmao cause I think I’m hilarious)

warnings: 18+, nsfw, language

“game night suddenly gets a little more interesting when Jungkook forgets to hang up from your video call.”

“Alright, (y/n). We are in the last half of the battle and we just about have it. I’ll be operator, you get my six. Let’s get tactical!”

A soft exhale escaped your lips as you listened to your best friend through your headphones.

Jungkook could be both endearing AND annoying.

Sometimes you wondered how he could accomplish the two at the same time. But he was charming after all.

“Yeah, yeah Jeon. Same old song and dance. I’ve got you.”

The game launched to life and your character quickly rushed off to scavenge for items that could be turned into armor.

You had first come into contact with Jungkook when you were both twelve years old.

It was Christmas Day to be exact. Both gleaming with joy as you hurried up the stairs to set up your newest prized possession- an Xbox.

You couldn’t quite remember which game introduced you to each other, but what you did know is that you beat him.

Tremendously so.

And you never let him live it down.

Ever since that day, you both spent most of your time speaking to each other every night. Eventually teaming up and forming what you called yourselves, “The Indestructible Duo.”

People grew to hate you. Once anyone saw both of your usernames enter the server it was game over.

You both loved it.

It was your typical best friend bond. The only thing separating you from everyone else was that you hadn’t ever met in person.

As time went on, e-mails and phone numbers were exchanged. Graduations were had, colleges were trudged through and brand new jobs were offered.

But one thing remained the same, Saturday game night.

You would always joke that this was the reason that you didn’t have a life, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

So that’s how you were here today. 2 a.m. on a Saturday with glossy eyes from staring at the screen for the majority of the night.

“How’s the job been going, Miss editor?” You could hear the sarcasm dripping in his voice. Jungkook was a writer and as far as he saw it, you worked for the enemy.

“It’s fine.” You mumbled through your sips of tea. “I keep telling you to submit your novel, but soMEBODY’s too chicken shit.”

Jungkook scoffed as he slew the head off of another forest monster.

“If it’s not good enough for Harper Collins, then it’s not good enough for your publishing house.”

“Dude, you sent your first novel to a major company. All I’m saying is, in the hands of the right editor, ME, that shit would be flying off the shelves.”

You jammed your thumb into the up arrow, drawing your sword to shoo away the oncoming goblins.

“You know I love you, but the only reason you think that is because you are my best friend and you know it.”

“No. I really don’t, Jungkook. Do you remember that bird house you made for your senior project in high school? The one you made out of floss and hot glue? Yeah- it was an atrocity. AND! I told you!!!”

The familiar warmth of his laugh filled your ears and you sat back for a minute to relish in the sound.

“It was really bad, wasn’t it?”

If Jungkook could rank the top ten most painful positions to fall asleep in, sitting upright with his head hanging over the side of his game chair would come in at number one.

This is how game nights would usually end. You slumped over and Jungkook listening every once in a while for your soft snores to come through.

A sound he had grown to look forward to.

One might call it adoration.

He removed his headset and untangled the controller cords from his feet, delicately setting them on his dresser. His body went into autopilot and made the motions to shut down the game, not before saving their progress. You would have his head tomorrow if he forgot to save.

He has made that mistake only once.

Jungkook peered down at his attire, wondering if he really did have to change into new boxers just because he spilled a tiny bit of soda on them.

He could practically hear your voice in his ear, “Men. They are do disgusting”.

It only made him want to defy your thoughts and just wear them.

Opting for the easiest route out, he hooked his thumbs through the waistband and stripped them off. He tossed them to the side watching as they got snagged onto a knob of his dresser drawer.

He had slept like this many times before. There was this one time he had the nastiest flu and any clothing made his fever skyrocket.

Anyhow, he liked the way his sheets felt against his body.

He let his mind wander on what you had said earlier. Ever since Jungkook had expressed that he hoped to be a writer someday, you had been his number one fan.

He almost felt like you were destined to meet because your interests went hand in hand.

He felt a warmth grow in his belly as he thought back to all those video chat sessions while you were both in college.

He would read aloud the chapters he had finished that week as you were working on your homework. You would laugh at the parts he knew that you would and would stop him mid-sentence to tell him to change something.

A characteristic that would annoy some, but Jungkook was grateful for your honesty and how much you cared.

You were just so incredible, he couldn’t believe that he-

fuck

fuuuuUuuUUuck

Jungkook felt the familiar twitch from below.

A betrayal that he had grown accustomed to as of recently.

This had been happening more and more. He would think about how wonderful you were and then all of a sudden he would be sporting a half hard tent in the sheets.

Sure he had thought about you when you were younger, but he always chalked it up to teenage hormones and the fact that he had a girl best friend.

But lately, after every Saturday game night and sometimes throughout the week,

Okay who was he kidding. It was everyday.

Jungkook would catch himself thinking about you.

In more lewd ways than one.

He would get so far as to letting his hand wrap around his length, allowing gentle pressure to relieve the aching feeling. But then he would stop himself.

“She’s my best friend.”

Tonight was different, though. You had spent most of the game convincing Jungkook he was good enough and that you loved every bit of his work.

You had even said that you loved him, which was a new thing they were doing.

Being adults made it less weird to share your feelings and you both knew that you loved each other.

Platonically, of course.

Except all too much recently, Jungkook has had this nagging feeling in his stomach.

Platonic wasn’t a word for it.

He squeezed his eyes shut with a huff and flipped on his side. He could think about his novel. He could do this.

He wouldn’t think about you again tonight.

He just simply wouldn’t.

“Fuck it.”

Jungkook kicked the sheets off of his body and let his hand creep lower on his abdomen. He envisioned your smiling face. One that you had given him a couple nights ago. He remembered how his breath caught in his throat as he watched the strap of your dress momentarily slip off of your shoulder.

A rhythm had finally set in as his hands moved up and down.

He felt the familiar stick, which only made him hasten his pace.

He wondered how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock. You had gorgeous lips.

Most of your conversations were spent with him staring at them.

Just the though alone of you looking up at him, mouth closed around him, coaxed a moan from the back of his throat.

“Jungkook.”

He could practically hear you calling out his name.

“Jungkook”

It all felt so real. He wished that it would be.

“Jungkook???”

Fuck, wait.

His hands dropped as he tilted his head out into his room.

“Are you okay? Jungkook?”

He didn’t understand the expression “My heart fell into my stomach.” until now.

He shot up from his position and leaned forward to see his headset glowing bright green. His hands flew towards his computer and shuffled the mouse around to wake it up.

Hovering over the video call icon, he almost hesitated to click to find out his fate.

Call with (y/n)- ongoing, since 5:50 p.m.

His mouth felt dry.

But he didn’t have any time to dwell on the fact that he felt like he was going to vomit.

He could still hear you calling out his name.

Quickly, he adjusted the headphones to rest on his head and let out a silent, ragged breath.

“Yes?”

“Hey! Finally! What happened? I fell asleep and I woke up to you saying my name?”

Shit.

Had he been saying your name?

Jungkook cursed again under his breath. Damn his imaginative writer brain that caused him to leave this earth for a fleeting moment.

And for it to fucking utter your name while he was pleasuring himself.

“Y-yeah! All good!” He was still trying to catch his breath. He hadn’t noticed he was breathing this hard until now.

“You sure about that? Because it sounded like you were touching yourself and saying my name.” (Y/n) deadpanned into her mic.

He was dead.

Gone.

Here lies Jeon Jungkook. King of the dumbasses of his time.

Why they fuck wasn’t self vaporization a thing?

About 30 minutes ago, you had woken up to delicious moans and someone purring your name.

You would have thought it was a figment of your imagination, had it not been for the blinking video call icon on your screen.

You knew you should have said something. And quite honestly you let it go on for far too long, but the twinge in your stomach made you stop.

Next thing, your hand was sliding into the front of your unbuttoned jeans.

“How-how long have you been listening?” Jungkook nearly spoke in a whisper.

“Does it matter? Tell me what you were thinking about, Jeon.”

He could hear your smirk.

“Are you serious?”

“Serious.”

He froze.

He hadn’t thought about what he would do if you ever reciprocated these feelings. He didn’t even know where to start.

“I- I was thinking about your lips.”

“My lips where?”

You knew what you were doing.

Jungkook leaned back into his chair and let his hands rest back to the position they were in before.

“Wrapped around my cock. How good they would feel.”

Your thighs squeezed together and you didn’t know if you had ever felt a rush of arousal come that quickly from just words alone.

“You know…I’ve thought about this plenty of time. I think I could make you cum in zero seconds flat.”

Jungkook felt like his entire world was spinning.

So, he hadn’t been the only one thinking these things.

“God, I wish I knew where you lived. I want to be able to touch you.” He murmured.

It never felt strange that they didn’t share their addresses with each other. What with it being the digital age, they never had a reason too.

Not until now.

He reached over and pressed the video call button. His body acting on pure desire before his brain and once he realized what he did, he rushed to hit the end call button.

But he was met with a smiling (y/n).

A smiling, pantsless (y/n).

He watched as you rolled your hips up towards your hand.

His brain felt like it was going into overdrive.

Not only was he seeing you partially nude for the first time, but you were also touching yourself.

Thinking of him.

“Tell me how you would have me if you were here, Jungkook.”

He watched hungrily as the fabric of your underwear rose up and down like a guide for your fingers.

“I’d spread those pretty little legs and taste you. I’ve wondered what you taste like.”

“Do you want to see what you’ve been thinking of?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

Jungkook watched as you stood up and slowly lowered your underwear, kicking them off once they were around your ankles. You kept your legs shut and looked towards him with hooded eyes.

“Let’s see you.”

You took your bottom lip in between your teeth and awaited his next move.

Jungkook tilted the camera down to show off his quite embarrassingly fully hard cock.

You sucked in a breath and allowed your legs to be open just enough for you to run a finger over your clit.

“Do you want to see what I do what I think of you?” You tried to keep your voice level, but it came out in a sort of whine.

“I’ll show you, if you show me.”

[iggy-of-fans]

Of Being Ladybug 9

Previous          Master List

The cons of not believing

(- - )

Tim looked at his phone in surprise. He’d been in Paris for only a week to help train the Miracles, and already Bruce was calling him? Was hell freezing over? Did someone die?!

“B?” Tim whispers, not wanting to wake up Stephanie. There is silence on the other line. Tim frowns and moves to the other room so he can turn on the video.

“Bruce?” he asks again, now looking at the brooding older man. He looked like Joker just shat in his coffee.

“Tim… I… when you were younger… how… what could I have done to support you more?” Bruce finally bit out. His pauses long and his eyes drawn together. Bruce was looking to the side and was speaking quietly. Tim recognized the room as Steph’s before she moved into his room. A new sibling? AH! Bruce had been petitioning to have the previous Ladybug brought under his custody. He’d been blocked and turned away every time. It seemed Diana was extremely excited to be teaching a new Ladybug, had in fact claimed her as her sister. Bruce had been told that he had enough children and that he didn’t need to “corrupt” another one.

“Is the new sister having a hard time adjusting? Shouldn’t you be asking Dick?” Tim asked, relieved no one died…again.

“… Marinette is fourteen and about to graduate high school this Christmas. She was tossed to the side by her family for some unknown reason. She was torn from her friends and responsibilities. Since receiving the Miraculous at thirteen, she has hardly had a minute to breath, let alone figure herself out. And when, by all rights, she should have had the time, Diana takes her, shaves all her hair off and tells her “[W]ith every hair that falls, a part of Marinette must die. As your new hair grows, Maria will grow as well.” She wasn’t allowed to sew or draw or bake or cook. She wasn’t allowed to do anything that had any connection to her previous life,” Bruce’s hands and jaw were clenched.

Tim frowned again. What?!

“Marinette trained from dawn to dusk, but was never allowed out of the house, nor to shadow her on missions. She was to study, to train, and to sit quietly and behave herself.”

“You’re kidding?! No wonder her friends here are so worried! They’ve been trying to contact her!” Tim growled. He felt ready to go hunt an Amazonian.

“What would you suggest I do? She thinks further ahead than anyone I know, has strategies and back-up strategies and back-ups for the back-ups. She has social anxiety, with a history of being bullied. She skipped grades and then stopped for some reason. She had the same teacher for years, despite having been bullied by classmates. I just… I need to hear from someone who is closer to her age and had similar problems. What can I do?” Bruce wiped his hand down his face. He looked so tired.

Tim sighed and thought back to when he was fourteen. He’d been Robin for three years by then already. What could he have used? More time together? More friends? More sleep? Did any of this help his new sister?

Tim shook his head, “I don’t know, B. I was more interested in being Robin than being a teenager. Time with you was always good. Sibling time with as well. Maybe call Dick. He’s always been the best adjusted out of all of us.”

Bruce just nodded, gave his half smile and was about to sign off when a light went off over his head.

“Tim, one last thing. Please look into the school and classmates for me. Something tells me Marinette was being held back against her will.”

Tim frowned more. He nodded before signing off and sending a message to the Miracle Team that Marinette would be able to speak in the next week and would video chat with them soon. He was about to text Jason when Stephanie called for him. He put his phone down and walked back to bed.

( # , # )

Richard Grayson was used to getting calls at weird times. But two in the morning and from Bruce’s civilian phone? He sent a quick prayer up that no one died and answered.

“What’s up, B? Miss me already?” He asked cheerfully.

Bruce looked tiredly at the camera, “Dick. I need some advice to help your newest sister adjust.”

Dick’s eyes widened. Bruce finally got custody! That’s good. But he looked so exhausted. He wondered what happened.

“Adjust to what, specifically? The fighting? School? Is she moody? What’s going on?” Dick asked. When did he become the one to give PARENTING advice to his father?

As Bruce talked about what he’d learned from Marinette’s journal, Dick became more and more angry. He was a guy, but even her knew that you never cut a girl’s hair without permission!

“Sounds to me like she just needs to believe that this is real and permanent. Just be there when you can. Talk to her about decisions and let her work the way she is used to on missions. Thing’s will fall into place after that” Dick said pragmatically. There really wasn’t much to do but be there. He wished he could be there to help in person, but India had recently fallen prey to the mouse Miraculous. He and Starfire were there to capture the thief that was misusing the Miraculous.

Bruce sighed and nodded, before hanging up. Poor Bruce. Dick would do his best to get done here and head home. He was excited to meet his new sister! He sent a message to Jason and Tim, warning them of the new sister and to be nice if they caught her on the video chats.

< ( ^ ^ ) >

Bruce sighed, exhausted. He hadn’t meant to call the boys yet, but this was not something he wanted to go in blind to. Diana had made a lot of mistakes with Marinette, and she deserved better than that. Bruce had only glanced through the journal to get some insight, but it seemed Marinette suffered from Imposter Syndrome, social anxiety, abandonment issues… And Diana, who only exasperated the problems. Keeping her locked away, training her to exhaustion, taking her hobbies and passions, killing any and all aspects of her personality. Bruce had thought Marinette was just shy. This though. He frowned. Had he known about this he would have treated Marinette very differently. Maybe an hour of sleep would help him clear his head. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

< ( >< ) >

Alfred stared blankly at the ceiling. Something wasn’t adding up. For all that her parents were busy people, they seemed to love their daughter a great deal. He couldn’t imagine they had just randomly abandoned her for being a hero. Not when they hosted Chat Noir for dinner one night. Not when they seemed so proud of their daughter with every award she received. Something was off. Alfred wasn’t a detective, but he would find out what had truly happened if it killed him.

{ J }

Jason stared at his phone, re-reading the message from Dick. A new sister, huh?

‘Che, poor kid. Dealing with B all on her own. I’ll have to make this quick,’ he thought as he lifted the binoculars.

He was currently in Germany, following a suspected Miraculous user. The information about the Horse Miraculous stated that they could open portals anywhere. And recently a string of missing women from Cologne was becoming very concerning. Especially when companions and eyewitnesses all claim the same thing: a glowing yellow circle opening in the air and the woman vanishing through it. Jason watched silently as Cass walked down the street below. The tracker and her own training would hopefully keep her alive long enough for Jason to find her and the rest of the women. Nothing below. Maybe check the other side? Just as he was getting up, he felt a fist to his head. And then black.

*!!*

Luka looked at his phone. Marinette was finally in contact again? The day Black Canary had landed, they had bothered her from dawn to dusk to talk to their old leader, but were stonewalled, as her new guardian didn’t think it was a good idea to be constantly reminded of her failure. The team had shouted that it wasn’t Marinette’s failure alone, but the whole teams. And more over, the League’s, as they never took their calls for help seriously. Canary was pretty quickly chased away by them, and another trainer was sent. Green Lantern 1 and 2 were a great help for Kaefer, but the rest of the team didn’t see any real benefit from them. And they didn’t care in the least about Marinette. They didn’t last very long either. It went on like this for a year. Trainers came and went, all of them parroting the same thing. Luka had a new reputation now, as the trainer wrecker, on the team. And as a civilian? He became completely cold and closed off. Only his teammates saw any warmth from him. But even Juleka was being steadily pushed to arms length. Paris did this to Marinette. And none of them, not her friends or her family, even cared.

<(**)>

When Marinette woke up the next morning, she knew immediately that she wasn’t alone. Looking out through blurry eyes, she saw the figure of a man standing by her window. He was turned away, looking outside with the sun streaming in. She tried to remember how she got to her room.

A knock at her door had her quickly closing her eyes and pretending to be asleep. Bruce went to the door.

“Master Bruce. I thought you and Miss Marinette might enjoy some breakfast.”

“Thank you, Alfred. Will you be joining us for breakfast?”

“I’m afraid I have an errand to run in town this morning. But I will be sure to return for lunch. Do try not to burn the kitchen down.”

“You can sit up now, Marinette. I heard the change in your breathing earlier.”

Marinette cracked an eye open. Why? She sat up on her bed and looked up at her current guardian.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Bruce gestured at the end of the bed, carrying a large tray filled with waffles, fruits, yogurt and coffee. Marinette shook her head mutely.

After Bruce set the tray on the middle of the bed, he sat down and looked her in they eye.

“Marinette, what I said last night still stands. I want you to feel at home here. This isn’t temporary. Two of the oldest boys are already calling you their newest sister. Marinette, most of my children are adopted. In fact, only one of my kids is related to me by blood. I wanted to bring you here from the beginning, but lost the custody battle to… Anyways, you’re here now. I want you to feel at home and remember yourself. To have a safe place to just be.”

Marinette felt her eyes watering again. Was this… was this real? But her parents had promised to always be there too, hadn’t they? Marinette nodded. Eventually everything would come to an end. But for now, for just this moment, she would allow herself to be comfortable.

“Okay? Okay. So, I wanted to talk to you about school and extra curriculars. Your work schedule… “ Bruce pulled a notebook out of his breast pocket. Her eyes widened. He… He wanted HER opinion?

“No school” her voice was barely above a whisper, her hands clenched in the blankets and her head bowed. She missed his nod of understanding.

“No school. Just distance education with tests and exams taken in the principle’s office. But I am more interested in what you might be interested in taking in University. Are there any particular courses that interest you? Is there a career path you’d like to follow? We will have to start the applications right away if you want to get in for the Spring term.  And what about extra curriculars? Dance? Ice dancing? Gymnastics? Parkour? Sewing? Singing? Music? Most of the kids all learned piano from me at some point…” He was looking in his notebook and tapping his pen against his pants.

Wah…? Marinette felt her jaw drop.

“Am I overwhelming you? It’s okay to take a few days to think things over and let me know…” Bruce looked at her face, jaw slack and eyes wide. Marinette just nodded.

“Breakfast?”

 Tag List

@maya-custodios-dionach @dur55 @driftingmoonlitpetals @kill-the-purses @annabellabrookes @a-marlene-s @queenmj10 @loveswifi @elmokingkong @aestheticnpoetic @animalgirl05 @northernbluetongue @lilacandcream @yin-390 @silvergold-swirl @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo @goblinwhoships @weird-pale-blonde-person @ @moonlightstar64 @krispydefendorpolice @kuroko26 @ladylupa @jardimazul @welcometopradasa @thatrandomfandomgirl @imanerddealwith @sidd-hit-my-butt-ham @loysydark @nataladriana9

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Run To You - Chpt.1

Summary: Bucky has had the day from hell and all he wants is to buy what he needs and get home to his sick kid. Enter Steve Rogers in the wrong place at the wrong time and Bucky’s day goes from bad to mortifying.  Master list is HERE :)

Content Warnings: A smidge of bad language, but really ya’ll should expect that from me by now lol

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Who’s ready to start a new adventure with me? I knew I wanted to write a kid!fic with Bucky and Steve but I didn’t expect it to go quite this way until I jokingly called a friend “Captain Clueless” and then couldn’t get that name out of my head in relation to Steve. I fell completely in love with this little universe as I went and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. XOXO - Ash

Chapter One

Bucky Barnes is not at his finest. He just got off a sixteen hour shift from his job as an ER nurse and can barely keep his eyes open. The shift should have ended four hours earlier, but a tour bus accident had them overwhelmed on what had already been a busy night. Bucky was looking forward to catching a few hours of sleep while Becca was at preschool but nope, he came home to a frazzled best friend/ babysitter and a sick four year old. It was always something with Becca, her immune system just wasn’t what it needed to be. Bucky couldn’t fault her for that, she had been born premature and that unfortunately resulted in a whole host of health issues for the little girl. He would never regret adopting her, it was the best decision he’d ever made, but some days parenthood wore on him. 

Bucky moves the load of laundry Natasha had started for him into the dryer. It smells clean but there will forever be a slight stain from puke on the ladybug print sheets. He can try his heavy duty stain remover on it later, but he knows there is only so much that can be done for white fabric and bodily fluids. There’s a reason most of his scrubs are black. After checking in on Becca, Bucky begs Natasha to stay a little longer so he can run down to the bodega to pick up a few things for when Becca wakes up. He would have sworn they had an extra bottle of Pedialyte, but apparently they’d used it up during Becca’s last bout with the flu. 

Natasha waits patiently, listening to Bucky complain about his shift while he quickly changes out of his scrubs into a pair of soft grey sweats and an old Blink 182 tshirt. She’s been his best friend since their first year of college when they met in Intro to Biology. The two of them have been inseparable ever since, both even choosing to stay in Brooklyn after college instead of going back to where they were from. Natasha’s family was from Russia but traveled a lot so she was happy staying in the city that felt like home to her, and Bucky would have done just about anything to avoid going back to the tiny town in Indiana where his parents were still selling drugs out of their trailer and making each other miserable. 

Bucky had thought he was free of his family forever when NYU accepted him into their nursing program. It was his way out of a poverty stricken little town that people rarely escaped from. Bucky had left home at eighteen with no intentions of returning, and he probably never would have, but during his last year of nursing school he found out through Facebook that his thirty eight year old mother was pregnant. To no one’s surprise, his mom was still dealing, still with his deadbeat dad, and was too far along when she found out she was pregnant to have any other option than having the baby. It was a repeat of the situation she’d found herself in at sixteen when she had Bucky. Knowing what it was like to grow up in that house, Bucky couldn’t allow another child to be brought into such a toxic environment. As soon as his mom confirmed the news was true, he hopped on the next flight out to Indiana and started the process to legally adopt his sister once she was born. 

When Rebecca Grace Barnes came into the world nine weeks early the doctors said it was a miracle she survived. She was so small, just barely three pounds, and needed to stay in the NICU for just over a month. Bucky had made arrangements with his professors to turn in exams and papers online, barely managing to finish up his nursing degree while biding his time before he could go back to Brooklyn with his baby sister. It had been a wild ride trying to get his nursing career started while caring for a newborn but Natasha had been a life saver. She and their other friend Clint had stepped up in a huge way, helping to watch Becca when he needed to work and daycare wasn’t open. Their schedules had gotten even messier recently when Becca started preschool. Bucky is counting down the days until kindergarten starts so their schedules will align enough for him to only lean on Nat and Clint one or two days a week at most. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Natasha throws a balled up Minnie Mouse sock at Bucky who’s too tired to dodge and instead gets a face full of pink fleece. 

“Yeah, Nat,” Bucky sighs, wishing he could take off his aching prosthetic but knowing he’ll need both hands for shopping bags. “I’m getting you a choco taco and a red bull this time. I got you.” 

Natasha nods happily, completely unphased by Bucky’s eye roll. She’s getting her wake up juice and her crunchy chocolatey sugar, and that is all that matters.

Bucky rushes around the bodega grabbing everything he’ll need to deal with a sick kid, throwing things in the basket without even bothering to check price tags. His bank account will hate him, but he doesn’t exactly have time or options to find the best deals. Grabbing Nat’s items and an iced coffee for himself, he waits in line as an older man chats with the clerk while the teenager rings up his order. The television in the corner is playing the local news, apparently Captain America visited a rec center in Brooklyn recently. There are sound bites from elderly residents and young kids fawning over him, and one of the Captain himself extolling the importance of community and keeping kids off the streets.

Bucky thinks his eyes will get stuck in the back of his head with how hard he rolls them. “This fucking guy.” Bucky grumbles as he places his basket on the counter, unloading his stuff. 

The clerk nods in silent agreement.

“I’m sure he was a ‘bright shining beacon of hope’ back in WWII but he has no clue what’s going on in the real word nowadays.” Bucky continues.

The clerk nods once again and Bucky, feeling particularly exhausted and grumpy, yells over at the TV, “It’s not all rainbows and sunshine Captain Clueless!”  

“Captain Clueless?” A deep voice rumbles from behind him, “I’ve been called a lot of things over the years, but that’s a new one.” 

Bucky sees the clerk's face go pale and the kid freezes, confirming what Bucky feared when he heard that rich baritone behind him. Oh fuck. 

Turning around, Bucky prepares himself for the worst. Instead, he finds an extremely amused looking Captain America holding a bottle of water and a bag of swedish fish. 

“I’m… I… I didn’t mean…” Bucky stammers. He doesn’t know how to politely explain I meant every word but never meant for you to hear it. 

The register pings as the clerk frantically finishes ringing up Bucky’s order, trying to get both men out of the shop before the situation can get any worse. The sound startles Bucky and he turns around to see the green blinking $58.79 on the little box. His stomach sinks, there went grocery shopping for the week. But, he reasons, Becca won’t want much for a few days while she recovers and he’s no stranger to a ramen-only diet. They’ll get by, just like they always do. 

Before Bucky can hand over his last three twenties, a sleek black card taps against the card reader and the machine starts blinking, processing it. Bucky spins around in surprise only to literally face plant into a solid wall of muscle. Muscle that smells like tea tree and mint, yum. Bucky moves backwards in surprise, bumping into the counter but getting himself away from the giant of man who’s also moving backwards after their collision. 

“It’s on me.” Steve tells him with a shrug. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” Bucky insists, “I insulted you.” 

“You were just being honest.” Steve reasons, “I don’t get to hear people’s honest opinions all that much.” 

“That has to be weird.” 

Steve chuckles, “Pal, you got no idea.” 

“Well, thank you. And I am sorry you heard that.” Bucky collects his bags, still dumbfounded by the whole experience. 

“I’d like to hear more about why you said it. Whatever you think it is I’m missing about the twenty-first century. I’m just out for a run so if you don’t mind company on your way back to wherever, maybe we could talk?” 

Bucky shakes his head. The man actually wants to learn how to be a better person after being insulted by a random grungey stranger in a bodega. “You really are Captain America.” Bucky murmurs, still stunned. 

Steve chuckles again; a deep, throaty sound. “Yeah, guilty as charged. But you can just call me Steve.” Steve winks conspiratorially and Bucky thinks he might actually combust. No one should be allowed to be that good looking. 

Bucky waits as the cashier rings Steve up for his things and Steve taps his card again to pay. “I thought it was weird enough getting a card that swiped when I came out of the ice, but now this one doesn’t even swipe. It just taps and poof, done.” Steve says with a faint tone of awe. 

Bucky can’t imagine how many things Steve needed to adjust to after waking up from the ice. “Far cry from what you were used to, huh?” 

“Well, it sure beats keeping coins in old coffee cans.” 

Bucky glances over at Steve as they leave the bodega together, “You do that whole ‘awe shucks, man out of time’ thing really well. Is it real though? No offense, you can’t really be that well adjusted. You’re still human.”

Steve meets Bucky’s eyes for a moment, crystalline blue piercing into smoke grey-blue, assessing him. After a few beats he decides Bucky is someone who can handle the truth. “It’s a lot easier to do that than to curse up a storm every time some piece of tech pisses me off. Plays out a lot better with the whole Captain America image too.”  

“I didn’t think Captain America even knew how to swear.” Bucky teases. 

“He doesn’t, but Steve Rogers does. I grew up in Brooklyn, I know how to curse.” 

Bucky laughs, swinging his bags idly as they walk in silence for a few steps.

Steve breaks the silence, reminding him of why they’re walking down the street together in the first place, “So really, why do you think I’m so out of touch? Because I thought SHIELD did a bang up job teaching me about the world and what I missed while I was out.” 

“I’m sure they did, but SHIELD is still an agency with their own ideas and agendas. I promise you, you got a watered down version of real life. Do me a favor; when you get home look up what they say about The Great Depression and WWII. Do a little research on how we look back at those times. Then think about how it really was back then when you were living it. I would bet you lunch that the two don’t line up.” 

“I never thought about it that way.” Steve admits. “I’ll look it up today, promise.”

They arrive on Bucky’s stoop and he climbs up a step, looking down at Steve instead of up at him. He wants to know what Steve thinks once he does some research but doesn’t know how to ask. Luckily, Steve beats him to it. 

“I’m going to need your number if you’re taking me out to lunch.” Steve says casually, a light hint of teasing. 

Bucky blushes, trying to remind himself that he was the one who threw the lunch bet out there. Steve Rogers would never just ask him out like that. “I… uh… um…” he fumbles anyway.

Steve takes a step back in retreat, his own cheeks flaming. “I’m sorry, that was. I’m sorry. You clearly have a sick kid to get back to, and I’m sure a lovely wife waiting for you too.” he motions at Bucky’s bags. “Thank you, for being honest with me.” Steve turns to hurry off and, thankfully, Bucky’s brain catches up with him.

“Steve, no.” he blurts out. “No wife. Sick kid, yes. But no, um, no one else. If you want my number, I’ll give it to you. My schedule is a little weird because of my job but I do want to know what you think when you get done looking things up.” 

Steve smiles up at Bucky, soft and hopeful and genuine. It isn’t the All American facade grin he uses for the cameras, and it feels all the more special to Bucky because of it. Steve hands over his phone to Bucky so he can enter in his contact info and then sends him a quick text so Bucky has his number too. “So, I’ll call you later then?” Steve tries, sounding a little unsure still.

“Yeah, I’ll look forward to it, Steve.” Bucky looks up at his doorway, knowing he needs to get back to Becca but not wanting Steve to leave quite yet. 

Steve takes the hint and gives him another soft smile and a small wave as he turns and heads off down the bustling city sidewalk. 

Bucky stands there a moment, collecting himself and trying to process it all, before hurrying back upstairs to his little apartment to relieve Natasha of babysitting duty.

*** New chapters will be posted on Sunday and Wednesday nights until the fic is complete ***

[theodorecanaryhood]

This time is different

Found a new obsession as I'm taking a short break from DC fanfiction. Discretion is advised as this fic is steamy af 😉

Diego Sechi x female reader

You had rotten luck with men lately. Since your shitty ex left you high a dry 4 years ago, not a complete lose as your little boy, Oliver, is a complete angel.

You worked your way up the ladder in the entertainment industry, mostly behind the scenes. But every opportunity that came knocking, you took it.

It was 6 weeks of working away from home and in Central London with high end models. Thinking they were better than you cause they were skinny, flat stomachs, salad eating bitches. You had no idea what to expect, but you missed Oliver like crazy. Your best friend, Alison, was looking after him.

You were just heading from King's Cross to st Alban's when you got a video call from Alison.

'Hey' you said answering with a bright smile,

'Little chap wants to say goodnight' Alison said as Oliver's face appeared on screen.

'Hey little angel' you said smiling at him,

'Mummy I miss you' he said, 'when will be home?'.

'Not long Ollie, few more weeks. Auntie Ali looking after you ok? I love you' you said, Oliver blew kisses at the screen.

'I love you too mummy' he said, though he was only 4, he was light years ahead with intelligence.

...

2 weeks you'd been here and you were getting homesick so badly. You just wanted to cry, didn't help that the woman staying in the room next to yours in the hotel was wheeling her son around. Made you homesick 2000 times more.

You weren't paying attention to where you were going obviously, that's when you bumped into this guy. Knocking his books out of his arms.

'I'm sorry' you squealed as the books sent a thud to the floor,

'That's ok, I wasn't looking where I was going' the stranger said as he picked them up. He stood up, pushing his glasses up his face and smiled shyly at you.

'I wasn't looking either, was just...nevermind, sorry again. I'm y/n' you smiled, holding out your hand. The man smiled and took your hand and shook it.

'Diego' he said, he was tall, blonde, strong jaw and from what you could see through his jumper. Quite muscular.

'What book is that?' You ask, pointing to the top one.

'The theory of quantum physics and string theory. And how they are connected' Diego replied. Damn, hot nerd alert.

'Most I read up on is how the heroic mouse saved Christmas' you chuckled, Diego gave you a confused look. 'I have a four year old son' you said.

'I see, well, must be hard to be away from him' Diego said, you looked at him.

'How did you know that?' You asked, Diego shrugged.

'Seen you before, never a kid though. Just assumed'.

'Well, you are correct. And yes it's very hard to be away from him. But he's in good hands' you replied.

'His dad' Diego shot back, you winced a little.

'No actually, my friend Alison. His dad left shortly before I gave birth. Haven't seen or heard from him since' you explained. Diego gasped a little.

'Sorry, I assumed again' you waved him off.

'No problem, happens all the time. By the way, what is your accent?' You ask, Diego laughs a little.

'Italian' he replies. Even bloody hotter you thought to yourself.

'Well, I better get to this studio if I want to keep my job. Which I do' you chuckle a little as Diego steps aside for you to leave.

'See you around' he calls out.

...

Models everywhere with next to nothing on getting interviewed, most of them dumb as shit, some extra dumb. Mostly just pretty people with 0% personality. You were doing up reports and statuses when a man's voice creeps up from behind you.

'Completely intolerable aren't they?' You jump and turn around, to find a hot blonde in nothing but swimming trunks.

'Kind of' you reply shy, the model starts laughing which confuses you.

'Y/n, it's me' he says, wait...Italian accent. 'It's Diego'.

'Holy shit you look...different' you exclaim. Diego laughs more as you turn red.

'Sorry I can't help it. I knew you didn't recognise me. The glasses and jumper' Diego said as he stifled laughter.

'Actually the fact you were wearing clothes was what threw me off' you say folding your arms.

'Ok ok, was wondering what you're doing after this' Diego asked you seriously. You looked at him shocked,

'Nothing really, why?' You asked.

'There's this lovely Italian restaurant not far from here, when I feel homesick I go there. Food is close enough to home. Want to go?' He asks you. The fact he was on full display with only trunks on made you flustered. And let's be honest, you wouldn't say no.

'I would love to' you smile, Diego does a little dance of joy.

'Awesome, I'll grab you from your room. Have to get clothes on' Diego says with a wink.

...

As promised, Diego came to get you and took you out to dinner. You got to ride in his sports car. Drink wine on a balcony under the sunset, plus the fact that Diego was talking to the waiters in Italian made it even more romantic. They say French is the language of love, but Italian is definitely up there.

Diego took you back to your room like a true gentleman.

'Want to come in for coffee?' You asked, Diego went shy and nodded.

'I'd love to' he almost whispered. As you walked in with him behind you, you took a breath. It had been 4 years since you had touched a man.

'Can I ask you a question?' You asked as you handed Diego his coffee while he sat at the little table and chairs, he nodded. 'Why are you a model? I mean, you're smart, like really smart' you said, Diego smiled.

'I started this to pay for my tuition, like how some people become waiters or strippers to pay for college. I grew up in a small town in Sicily, so I'm not from a wealthy family. I always loved science as a kid, so this is temporary' you briefly touched Diego's hand as you grabbed your mug.

'I get that, you are fitting for the role. But, you seem different to everyone else' you said as you sipped your coffee.

'You mean I'm not stuck up, in love with myself or thick as shit' Diego chuckles, you nod. 'Yeah, that's why I don't date models, they're too much into themselves as models and not as women'.

'I also get that, Oliver's dad was a fitness instructor. So all he cared about was being the biggest guy in the room'.

'Was he as big as me?' Diego asked you as he slid his chair round the table closer to you.

'No, smaller' you smiled, Diego leant into you closer.

'Can I steal a kiss?' Diego whispered, you leant in as to say yes. Diego closed the gap between the two of you and kissed you hard. You were so lost in the moment until a thought crossed your mind, you pulled away to look at Diego.

'Me having a son doesn't bother you?' You asked sincere, every guy you tried to date would leave after the first or second date. Because you have a kid.

'Should it?' He asked you, you smiled and grabbed his face. Pulling him in and kissing him again.

Diego picked you up and carried you over to the bed, throwing you down and kissing you more. On your jaw line, neck and chest.

'Don't stop' you whispered, you didn't realise how long it had been since you had been with someone. Too long.

'Only when you tell me to' Diego whispers back, Diego removes his clothes, then he removes yours.

'Wait' you say as you leant up and rubbed Diego's abs, which makes him laugh deeply, throwing his head back.

...

Lying in bed, the two of you have kissed for a while now. You were aching for him, he was aching for some release.

'You ready?' Diego asked as he hovered over you, you bit your lip as you nodded.

Diego slid his manhood into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Then as you breathed, Diego began to thrust slowly into you.

'Uh' you moaned out in delight...finally some release from something other than a vibrators or your fingers.

Diego bit your neck and collar bone as his thrusts got deeper and harder. You were a writhing mess underneath him. Diego grunted with each thrust, kissing you again as he placed one hand on your thigh and the other on your hip.

'Switch over' Diego said as he rolled over and pulled you up, you now on top of him.

You slid back down onto his piece as you began to get a rhythm. Diego smiled at you as your rhythm got faster. Diego pounded into you from below.

'Fuck, y/n I'm close' Diego breathed out, you kept going finding your spot, you found it quick from your angle and sped up, going harder too.

'Me too' you breathed, Diego leant up and kissed at your tits as you grabbed onto his shoulders.

'Fuck' Diego said as he slammed back down, cumming into you. You following suit as you rolled your hips out, enjoying the last of your high.

You collapsed next to Diego smiling as he kissed your head, rubbing circles on your shoulder.

'Been a while since I've done that, almost forgot how good it can be' you whispered, Diego kissed you again.

'Will you be mine?' He asked you, you looked shocked and bit your lip again.

'Are you sure?' You asked, Diego smiled and nodded.

'Of course' you smiled and buried your face into Diego's chest. 'I also can't wait to meet Oliver' Diego said which got your attention.

This is it, this time is different, different to the rest. He's not running, he's staying. Staying with you, always.

[wingsofkpop]

Finding SKZ - 4: HH00

pairing(s): Hybrid!Bang Chan x Reader, Hybrid!SKZ x Reader

genre: Hybrid!AU, Dystopian!AU, heavy Angst, pinch of Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, violence, blood and gore, possible triggering topics

word count: 6,4k

synopsis: After rescuing an abandoned hybrid from his fate of death, he has one other favor to ask of you. Not only do you have to find his eight other hybrid brothers, but you have to keep them safe from the deadly dangers of your city: Miroh

chapter directory

The cold air dissipates as you enter through the doors of your apartment building. You release a sigh at the change of temperature, adjusting the strap of your bag to lay more comfortably on your shoulder. Not really in the mood to strike up a conversation, you quickly dart past the evening security guard talking to one of your neighbors on your floor. Unfortunately, just as you were about to reach the elevator button, your name is called: 

“Oh, (Y/N)!” 

You curse under your breath, muster as best of a smile as you can and turn to face the elderly woman. A bright grin was across her wrinkled face, and for a second, her expression reminded you of a recent horror movie you saw. You can’t remember the name, but it did have some sort of demonic old lady that went around trying to eat her grandkids. 

You hum, trying to distract yourself from the image in your head, “Hi, Ms. Friel. I was just-” 

“-Sweetheart, how many times have I told you to just call me Paula?” Ms. Friel chuckles and shakes her head, “Ms. Friel was my mother. Bless her soul.” 

Awkward. 

“Right, sorry.” You take a quick peek at the clock mounted above the security guard’s desk. With a weak smile, you continue, “As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I-” 

“-I just wanted to talk to you for a moment, dear. This won’t take long.” 

You really wish you had it in you to deny her request, but you couldn’t. Curse your mother for raising you to respect the elderly. 

You nod, “Of course. What is it?” 

“Well, I just wanted to ask you if someone else has been staying in your apartment recently.” The older woman tilts her head to the side. Her icy stare pierces straight through you, almost as if she can see the dark secrets you’re keeping to yourself. “I’ve been hearing noises. Even when you’re away.” 

You were afraid of this. Ms. Friel has always been all up in your business ever since the day you moved in. When you were still together, you had given your ex-boyfriend a key so he wouldn’t have to wait outside your apartment whenever your classes ran late. The first time he used it, Ms. Friel called the cops on him, when you specifically told her your boyfriend was allowed in your apartment. She claimed she thought he was a thief and was just looking out for you. You know she was actually looking out for herself though. 

All the more reason not to tell her you’re currently housing three hybrids. With more coming. 

You shrug, “It’s just my friend. His dorm is getting renovated so he’ll be staying with me until it’s done.” 

Ms. Friel hums, “Oh, I see. Does he ever leave the apartment? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him leave.” 

“You’ve probably just missed him the last few times,” You laugh awkwardly, nearly leaping in delight as the elevator doors open with a ding. A few others file out while you push your way in and feverishly press the button for your floor. You throw your neighbor one last smile, “Sorry, I have some work I really need to finish. It was good to see you.” 

Thankfully, the doors close before she can reply and you’re free to sink back against the metal wall with a sigh of relief. You lift a hand to brush back your hair while simultaneously thanking the gods for saving you from that situation. The last thing you need is your neighbor to go snooping around your apartment and find something she’s not supposed to. You should still warn the boys though. 

When the doors swoosh open again, you waste no time in making a mad dash for your apartment. Usually, the days where you have both class and work are bearable. But today just sucked. Your professor was in the worst mood so now you not only have your final next week, but you have to turn in a research project on a topic you barely know anything about. On top of that, two of your coworkers are sick, or “sick”, and your boss needs you to work a double shift both Saturday and Sunday which your workload really cannot afford right now. 

Chan and you were also supposed to go hunting for Felix, who you may have a possible lead on. It’s not for sure though. It really surprising how many hybrids in Miroh are called Lee Felix. 

As soon as you push open your apartment door, the aroma of something cooking has your mouth watering. You never got the chance to eat anything other than a granola bar this morning and a bag of pretzels during your lunch break, so you were pretty hungry. Whatever Chan was making really wasn’t helping the your stomach’s anger. 

After taking off your coat and shoes, you wander into the living room where you find Woojin sat watching some movie on Netflix. He turns at your presence and a warm smile lifts to his lips, “Hi, (Y/N). I’m glad you’re home.” 

At his kind words, the hardships of your day seem to melt away. You return his with a genuine smile of your own and answer, “Thank you, Woojin. Trust me, I am too.” 

“Hard day?” 

“A little. But it’s over now.” You allow your body to sink into the sofa with a sigh and lay your head on Woojin’s lap. The hybrid chuckles, his ears bouncing with his laughter, as he places a gentle hand on the top of your head. Your eyes flutter shut at the soothing touch. Exhaustion finally beginning to take its toll on you and you were truly tempted to surrender to it, but a familiar voice has your eyelids parting again: 

“We missed you, you know.” Chan stands in the kitchen door with a soft smile across his face. Four mugs, likely filled with his special ramen recipe, were balanced on his muscular arms. The smell has your tummy rumbling again which the hybrid caught. He rushes over to where you’re laid down and offers one of the cups, “Here. I can tell you haven’t eaten all day.” 

Your eyebrows furrow, “How do you-?” 

“-Because I know you.” 

An foreign silence arises in the space between you and the wolf hybrid. Shocked, you dumbly take the food and mutter a quick thanks, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight blush spreading across your cheeks. You sit up and begin to delve into the soup, the liquid slipping down your throat and settling in your aching stomach like a dream. Woojin also starts to eat while Chan calls for Seungmin, who emerges from the bedroom with your laptop in his hands along with a bright grin across his face. 

“I think I found Hyunjin.” Your spoon clatters against the mug as you drop your utensil out of surprise. The older hybrids were no better with Chan staring wide-eyed at the youngster and Woojin trying not to choke on his mouthful of noodles. Chan shakes his head, “W-What do you mean?” 

Seungmin rolls his eyes, “What do you think I mean? I found Hyunjin.” 

“Like actually?” You ask, forgetting all about your appetite and setting the ramen aside. “What did you find?” 

The three of you watch as Seungmin settles himself on the chair beside the couch and places the laptop on the coffee table in front of you and Woojin. He fiddles with the mouse pad, giving Chan the time to take the seat next to you, and turns the screen to face your direction. 

The page was pulled up to an Instagram about some sort of hybrid entertainment program. There was only so much you could see, but you could tell this “show” was pretty popular. There were over one thousand followers following whatever this was. Then again, you didn’t like how shady some of the posts seemed. 

Woojin speaks first, “I don’t understand. What is this? Why would these people have Hyunjin?” 

You turn to Seungmin to receive an answer, only to find that his face had grown much more paler. Panic moves in the depths of your gut, and just when you were about to inquire about his silence, Chan beats you to it: 

“I’ve seen this before. It’s a hybrid fighting ring.” Your panic shifts in nausea as you turn to peer at the hybrid with an incredulous look. He meets your gaze and nods toward the laptop, “Look at one of the videos.”

Balanced on the edge between curiosity and confusion, you do as Chan suggests and slide onto the floor to pull up the most recent video posted on the account. Almost immediately, shouts and cheers spills through the speakers of the computer and you almost debated turning down the volume. But your focus is snatched by the situation taking place in the video. 

Horrified, you watch what seems to be a pitbull hybrid lunge for a bloody cat hybrid. He knocks him to the ground with a powerful leap and proceeds to lay punch after punch on his already marred face. The feline collapses to the ground, his face already beginning to swell after the violent attack. Victorious, the pitbull climbs to his feet and flashes the crowd a bloody smile and winning pose. The video tries to play again, but you’re quick to stop it again. Once was enough, maybe too much. 

“Wow.” Woojin’s whisper awakens you from your trance, and you turn to see him with a faraway look on his face. Chan reaches over to place a gentle pat on the older hybrid’s shoulder before leaning over to put a comforting arm around his shoulder. Woojin shakes his head, “After the circus, I didn’t think it could get any worse…”

You try to overlook the stone forming in the back of your throat and instead turn to Seungmin, “So what about Hyunjin?” 

Seungmin gulps, “W-well, he’s considered the “runt” of the ring…” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means they use him for easy wins.” Chan sighs, still in the process of comforting his blank-faced brother. He glances at you with sad eyes and continues, “Basically a person who’s looking to make quick cash from a fight will put their hybrid against him, the weakest fighter, and is destined to win.” 

“But that’s horrible,” You scoff, suddenly disgusted at the realization of why this Instagram is so popular. “This whole thing is horrible.” 

“Humans are horrible.” Seungmin pipes up, but quickly waves a dismissive hand toward you, “All except you, noona, of course.”

Chan sends you a weak smile, “It’s like you said, (Y/N). Miroh is dangerous for hybrids. Always has been.” 

And it always will be. “We should come up with a plan and get Hyunjin out of there as fast as possible, who knows what he’s been through at this point…” You trail off, gazing at the laptop screen with a sullen expression. First Chan, then Seungmin, then Woojin… How much worse could this get? 

Seungmin chuckles, “Way ahead of you, noona.” 

The beagle hybrid steals the device again to feverishly search for something else. After a couple seconds, he turns it back around and points to the screen, “They have a fight scheduled for this Friday at midnight. All we have to do is show up.”

Briefly skimming through the information, you shake your head, “Maybe, but we still need to figure out how we’re going to get Hyunjin out. Then again, our plan last time didn’t really go as planned.” 

Ouch. Through the corner of your eye, you can see the guilt spread across Chan’s place. You felt ashamed for saying it, but even so, you’re not really wrong. This time, you need to be careful and have some sort of order of operations. 

Hyunjin’s life depends on it. 

~~*~~**~~*~~

“How much, again?” 

“$50.” At the taxi driver’s answer, you pull out two twenties and a ten from your wallet and hand them over. Your driver accepts the money, types something onto his credit machine that prints out a receipt and hands it back to you. With a final goodbye, you join the two other hybrids outside the car. 

Chan looks up from your phone, “Everything okay?” 

You nod, “Yeah. All good.” 

“Good.” The hybrid turns back to the device and speaks into it, “Seungmin, that’s your queue. Show us the way.” 

After a lot of arguing, Woojin and Chan found it best that Seungmin remain back in your apartment for this mission. The beagle was less than happy with the decision and even went as far as trying to convince you to change his brothers’ minds, but Chan wouldn’t budge on this one. Though, after what happened last time, you really can’t blame him. Anything could happen. Anything dangerous, that is. 

“Right,” Seungmin’s voice is a bit shaky over the line, meaning that your phone probably wasn’t getting the best signal. “You guys are gonna head straight down this street and make a left into an alleyway just before you pass the barber shop.” 

“Thanks, Min. We’ll keep you on the line as long as we can. (Y/N)’s phone may lose signal.” 

A sigh emerges over the call, “Don’t worry about me. Just find Hyunjin and bring him home.” 

Woojin replies, “We will, no doubt. We’ll be back before you know it.” 

“Sure, hyung. Be careful.” 

And with that, Chan, Woojin and you make your way down the dim, barren street. The place where you’re hoping to find Hyunjin is quite literally, the worst part of Miroh you’ve ever stepped foot in. Rundown buildings on streets with very few lamps. Lewd and inappropriate graffiti plastered on every available surface. Shops with boarded up windows and indestructible, metal doors. Everything screams shady. 

These parts of town are what people usually call “The Forgotten.” Basically, after WWIII, when these parts of the city were destroyed in bomb raids and warfare, the new government never invested any money into fixing them back up. Only unemployed, homeless and other unlucky individuals end up living in these parts. A lot of hybrids make their way here too from what you’ve seen in the news. 

The three of you reach the alleyway in one piece where you spot the door you’re supposed to enter through. Unfortunately, your phone call with Seungmin doesn’t last the trip. With a sigh, Chan offers your device back which you accept and stuff into the pocket of your jeans. He nods and murmurs, “You guys remember the plan?” 

“Yeah.” You hum and before you can bite your tongue, you reply, “Do you?” 

Chan’s eyes glitter within the darkness, boring into your own with some sort of emotion you couldn’t read. It stays like that for a moment, just the two of you staring at each other before he ends the moment with a stiff nod, “Yes. I do.” 

“Great. Let’s do this.” Woojin pushes past the both of you to take up the lead. You and Chan have to sprint to keep up with his quick pace, halting just when you reach the door. After making sure each of you were ready, the bear hybrid reaches forward and pushes open the obstacle. Instantly, your nostrils are hit with the scent of hard liquor and cigarette smoke. Scrunching your nose, you follow Woojin through the doorway, peering behind your shoulder to make sure Chan was on your tail. He was. 

You piece together you guys had entered an abandoned car shop, judging by the vast open space and totaled vehicles. It was pitch black all except for some lights in the center where you could already catch a glimpse of some sort of iron cage. Dozens of people surrounded the structure, sipping from red cups and inhaling from cigars. Looks like the excitement hasn’t started just yet. 

“Come to see the fight?” 

You nearly jump at the new voice and barely stop yourself from colliding into Woojin. You step beside the male and discover the source of the question. It was some middle-aged man, maybe forty, with barely any hair atop his scalp and tobacco stains all across his teeth. His eyes were beady almost like a rat’s, and a shiver crawled down your spine when he rakes them down your body. 

“Yeah. It’s our first time.” Woojin hums, nodding toward the makeshift arena. “Hasn’t started yet?” 

“Nope. Have to give them some time to get the little freaks ready beforehand.” From the corner of your eye, you see the bear visibly tense. “And welcome. Allow me to buy y’all some drinks on the house. I’m thinking tequila for the pretty lady-” 

“-And I’m thinking you can fuck off.” The sudden growl is followed by an arm around your waist. You peer up to see Chan sneering toward the man, his eyes narrowed with disgust, “Look at her like that again and I’ll throw you in the ring myself.” 

The pervert takes the message loud and clear and quite literally makes a mad dash for the closest group. You shake your head, “Chan, that really wasn’t the smartest idea.” 

He drops his limb from your body, his expression once again calm, and shakes his own head, “I wasn’t going to let him look and talk to you like you’re some piece of meat. You can’t smell his perverse intentions like I can.” 

Instead of arguing further, you choose to let the moment go and make your way in the direction of the cage. The two hybrids follow closely behind you, and if it was the right time, you would have made a joke about having your own personal bodyguards. But to be honest, you were very grateful for it. Especially for what Chan did. 

You just try not to think about the butterflies fluttering in your gut. 

“Keep an eye out for the owner. She has to be around here somewhere.” Chan reminds both you and Woojin as you station yourself on the far-end of the ring where fewer people were. You nod and set out to do just that, scanning groups for any sign of a familiar face. You’re unable to find the woman you saw in pictures who is the supposed owner of the fight center, also fighters like Hyunjin. Yet, there’s still no luck when a bell sounds and a person enters the cage. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for joining us today. We are well aware in how eager you are to get started.” The suggestive tone of the announcer's voice has your blood boiling and fists clenching at your sides. These people come here to get enjoyment out of watching hybrids beat the living shit out of each other. How sick has the world actually become? “As always, our night will consist of three rounds. The winner of the first round will go on to the next, and so on. Are you ready to have some fun?” 

A round of cheers erupts throughout the garage and echoes in your ears like a haunted siren. The announcer throws his hands up and shouts, “Amazing! Let’s meet our first pairing of the night: 

“Our newcomer is a doberman pinscher with claws and teeth like knives, weighing over two-hundred and twenty pounds! Welcome, the Destroyer!” You flinch as a burly hybrid darts around the arena to snap his teeth at you and everyone else through the metal chains. The people roar wild at his show, feet stamping and hands applauding in delight. Out of instinct, you move closer to Chan beside you who’s leaning onto the cage with one hand weaved through the chains. His eye catches yours. 

This is not going to go well. 

“And for his opponent, we have everyone’s favorite puny dalmatian hybrid weighing in just under one-hundred and thirty pounds! Everyone give it up for the Runt!” Though the volume isn’t as hefty, some still cheer as Hyunjin makes his way into the ring. Your stomach turns at how small he is compared to the Destroyer, his skinny figure nothing against the doberman’s muscles. His short, spotted ears were drawn backwards indicating his fear. Then again, you could tell how scared he was just by the look on his face. 

Behind you, you hear Chan inhale a heavy gust of air. Without thinking, you reach and take his hand into your own, hoping to calm his obvious tension. His voice is pained when he murmurs, “They cropped his ears.” 

“Guys, over there.” Woojin’s comment awakens the both of you from your reverie, and you’re quick to snatch your hand away from Chan’s. You follow where the bear is pointing, finding the woman you had been looking for earlier just across the ring. You move to head toward her when you’re stopped by Chan. 

He gives you a pointed look before shaking his head, “After the fight, remember?” 

“But Hyunjin-” 

“-It has to be after, (Y/N). We have to watch him fight.” 

He means watch him lose. 

Even so, knowing the intensity of the situation, you relent and return your gaze to the ring. The announcer was rambling about rules and other things you barely cared about. You were more focused on the trembling dalmatian hybrid and how there was no good end to any of this. You could hope all you want, Hyunjin’s not leaving here unscathed. 

“Three… Two…” With each number, the announcer steps back further and further away from the hybrids. Your anxiety grows at the clear line of charge the doberman has toward Hyunjin. One knock and he’s down. 

“One!” At the screech of a bell, the Destroyer takes off toward Hyunjin. Horrified, you watch the dalmatian hybrid barely duck away in time for the other to zoom past. He dashes to the other side of the arena while his stronger opponent gathers his bearings. Hyunjin was safe for maybe a minute before the doberman is off again. Blood lust written all across his face. 

Hyunjin isn’t as lucky this time. He manages to dodge a punch, but the other hybrid is smart and drags his other hand up to scratch at his arm. The gash immediately starts to bleed, blood spills down Hyunjin’s flesh and taints the ground red. Cradling his wounded limb, Hyunjin fails to see his opponent throw another punch and takes a hit right in the nose. 

He falls back onto the ground with a sickening thud and a sharp cry. Your heart aches at his desperate attempt to flee in trying to back away from the approaching hybrid. The doberman only grabs his ankle and yanks him toward him. He picks the dalmatian up by his throat and tosses him against the caged boundary, only to trap him there. Unable to watch, you hide your face in Woojin’s shoulder, and shudder with every crack of skin against skin and bone against bone that reaches your ears. 

You don’t look back until the announcer calls victory for the Destroyer. Tears brim at your eyelids at the sight of Hyunjin’s limp body against the cage, his face swollen and caked with blood. A couple younger boys emerge from the shadows to drag him out of the ring while the announcer announces the next opponent. 

“C’mon, now’s our chance.” You almost forgot about your previous objective until Chan grabs your wrist and starts to drag you through the crowds, Woojin close behind. You reach the woman just in time for the bell to ring and the second round to start. 

Her steel eyes gaze across the three of you with disinterest, lips pursing at the rather violent crack of bones that ensues. With a sigh, she hums, “Can I help you?” 

“How much for the dalmatian hybrid?” In your previous plan, you weren’t supposed to be so blunt, but after seeing Hyunjin in such a manner, you couldn’t help it. The hybrid has had to endure this time and time again for god knows how long. You’d be damned if he stands it any longer. 

The woman rolls her eyes, “He’s not for sale. If you want a dalmatian hybrid, just go to the fucking pet store.” 

“We don’t want any dalmatian hybrid.” Woojin backs you up, crossing his arms over his chest. “We want him.” 

“Well isn’t that too fucking bad, cause it ain’t happening. I suggest you quit wasting my time before I have my guys kick your asses out.” 

Before she can walk away, you stop her with a hand on her arm, “Wait, please. Just hear us out-” 

“-Sweetheart, I paid good money for that bastard only to find out he was a runt. He brings in easy pay, so like I said before, no deal.” Defeated, you allow the owner to escape your grip and recede into the cheering crowds. With her departure, the hopeful piece of your soul crumbles to dust. So much for the plan. 

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. Angling your head, you peer at both hybrids. Woojin’s expression was contorted into disappointment and frustration while Chan was staring at the ruckus going on inside the arena. You didn’t like the intensity of his gaze. Something about it made your skin crawl. 

The bear hybrid scoffs, “Great. What are we supposed to do now?” 

“I don’t know.” You shake your head, “We have to find another way I guess. Maybe come back-”

“-No.” Chan’s sudden voice interrupts your own. Wide-eyed, you turn to the wolf hybrid only to find his eyes still on the cage. It seemed as if the Destroyer won the second round too, although he was a lot more bloody and marred than he was with Hyunjin. Chan sighs, the sound long and heavy, and meets your gaze, “I have a plan, but you’re not going to like it.” 

“What do you mean?” Your eyes narrow, studying the way Chan shrinks beneath your stare. “Why am I not going to like it?” 

“What if we could win Hyunjin somehow? Like as a prize?” 

At first, confusion overtakes your mind at Chan’s strange words. You open your mouth to inquire further, but then your eyes transfer to the ring again. The realization hits you like a firm kick to the chest, and for a moment, you thought your heart had stopped. Feverishly, you shake your head, “Absolutely fucking not. It’s not happening.” 

“(Y/N), please. Just consider-” 

“-Consider what?” Winded and crazed, you throw your hands up and continue, “I am not throwing you in a fucking cage so you can get your ass beat. We find another way-” 

“-And what if there is no other way!?” Chan cries, stepping closer to put his hands on your shoulders. “(Y/N), this might be the only chance we have at ever getting Hyunjin back…” 

You wince as his words travel straight into the depths of your heart. Unable to meet his gaze, you look instead toward the Destroyer who’s hastily licking at a wound on his wrist. Your eyes linger over his sharp claws, bulging muscles and the fangs poking through his lips. When you speak, you will yourself to remain strong, but you can’t help the crack in your voice, “I can’t let you do this… He could kill you, Chan, you could fucking die... “ 

The hybrid cups your cheeks with both hands and forces your eyes to connect. With a weak smile, he chuckles, “I’m not dying on you anytime soon, (Y/N). That would be the worst decision on my part.” 

You can’t reply, 

“Listen to me,” He swipes his thumb over your cheekbone. His whisper is faint, loud enough for only your ears to listen in, “I know I can win this. I can get Hyunjin back. I just need you to trust me.” 

Everything inside of your head was telling you to say no, to laugh in Chan’s face and call him an idiot for ever attempting. But the softer part of yourself was telling you the opposite. Beneath his brown-eyed gaze, you felt helpless, trapped in a war between your head and heart. Memories flash through your mind like sparks of fireworks: You see Woojin’s scarred palm in your rearview mirror. You see blood pooling on the floor like an ocean of waste. You see the stupid leash around Seungmin’s neck. Most importantly, you see Chan sat defenseless in that dark alleyway. 

Before you can change your mind, you nod your head, “You better win.” 

Chan smiles, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. He hums, “I will. For Hyunjin and for you.” 

~~*~~**~~*~~

Surprisingly, Hyunjin’s owner actually agreed to your offer. If Chan wins against the Destroyer, she’ll hand the dalmatian hybrid over with no other questions. You didn’t like the spark of excitement that entered her eyes when you told her Chan was also a wolf hybrid. Or how she asked if Chan has ever been “aggressive” with you before. That didn’t sit well in your stomach. 

“You okay?” You turn your gaze away from the cage at Woojin’s concern. He tilts his head, and if he hadn’t had his beanie on, his ears would be twitching too, “You look like you’re gonna be sick.” 

“If anything goes wrong, then I probably will be.” 

Woojin shakes his head, “(Y/N)-ah, Channie is going to win. There’s no doubt about it.” 

While Woojin’s persistence somewhat eases the nausea stirring inside your stomach, it doesn’t make it falter entirely. It’s not like you didn’t have faith in him, because you certainly did, he’s strong, clever and agile. But you just can’t stand the guilt that if something bad happens, Chan’s life is on your conscience. You took him in that night so you’re responsible for anything bad that happens to him. 

That’s all this feeling was… right? 

“Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we have yet another surprise show for you all tonight.” Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watch the announcer as he walks around the ring. You try to ignore the sight of the Destroyer, seething with brutality and hunger. “An unexpected challenger has decided to test their luck against the Destroyer. We’ll see who comes out on top tonight.” 

You debated covering your ears to avoid the loud applause, but force your hands to remain clasped into your lap. The announcer waits for the crowd to die down before continuing, “Our next opponent for the night is none other than a wolf hybrid, folks, weighing over one hundred and sixty pounds. Everyone, put your hands together for Bang Chan!” 

Your heart picks up as Chan languidly steps into the ring. He was shirtless, the planes of his muscles apparent in the stage light. The combination of his tanned skin and blonde hair made him seem like a beacon - your beacon - of hope. He surveys the crowd outside the metal cage, stopping when his eyes connect with yours. He sends you one of his soft smiles and a wink. And you can’t help the upturn of your own lips. 

You mouth for him to be careful. He nods, looks at you one last time then turns to his opponent. 

The announcer shouts, “Count with me, folks! Three… two…

“One!” The bell shrieks like a banshee, the sound cutting into your ear drums. With your heart racing, you watch Chan and the Destroyer begin to circle one another. The doberman obviously knew this round wasn’t going to be as easy as his last few. You didn’t know if that knowledge gave you hope or fear. 

All of a sudden, the doberman charges straight at Chan. You hold your breath as your companion dodges his attack and also trips him in the process. The other hybrid goes flying against the chainlink barrier face first, his body colliding with a rough clank. Your relief doesn’t last because he’s on his feet in less than three seconds. 

Chan goes for him this time around, effectively picking him up and throwing him back against the cage. He lands a right and left hook on his face before delivering a couple hits to his stomach. The Destroyer groans in pain, clutching his torso. The wolf backs off and allows his opponent to catch his breath. He takes the time to look in your direction and send you another smile. 

You almost do the same until movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. You gasp and scream, “Chan, behind you!” 

It’s too late, the Destroyer takes the wolf by surprise and collides into his back. Chan attempts to regain control, but the doberman had his arms pinned to his sides, his knee driving blow after blow into his waist. Each strike sends an ache to your own chest. You weren’t the only one though, Woojin was anxiously chewing at his own lips too. 

Chan manages to free himself and shove his opponent away. His stance was a lot shaky, but he deals a right hook with no trouble at all. The doberman stumbles, giving Chan just the right moment to charge himself. 

Forcefully, Chan knocks both the other hybrid and himself to the ground. The two tustle for power over one another, rolling across the floor of the ring. To your disappointment (and sanity), the Destroyer gains the upper-hand, straddles the wolf and delivers one strike to the face after another. Similar to his final takedown of Hyunjin. 

Screaming rings in your ears, and it took you a moment to realize it was your own. You were screaming for Chan - for your hybrid. You had never been so panicked in your life, the night at the circus never compared to this. Chan. His name was all that left your lips: 

“Chan!” 

Your calls somehow give Chan the strength he needs to turn the tables and flip the other hybrid so he was beneath him instead. He knocks out the doberman with not one, or two, but many, many punches. The fast pace in which his arm moved back and forth made you dizzy. You felt like you could faint, but it probably wasn’t for that reason. 

The next few moments move by in a blur. The announcer pronounces Chan the winner of the night and the owner returns with an unsteady Hyunjin leaning on her shoulders. The younger hybrid quite literally launches himself into Woojin’s arms, sobs and cries and thank yous falling from his lips. You barely have time to relish the heartfelt reunion before Chan returns, frantic and wide-eyed. 

“We have to go now.” 

“What do you mean? Hyunjin-”

“The cops are here, (Y/N)!” Your excuse falls short on your tongue at Chan’s response. Your relief from before is stripped away like an adult takes candy from a child, and you almost forgot to breathe. “We have to go. Right now.” 

Chan, with a firm grip on your wrist, leads you through the bustling and panicking crowds and into darkness. Woojin is not far behind with Hyunjin on his back. His pace grows quicker at the booming voices that echo through the garage, indicating that anyone who attempts to escape will be shot. Your heart beat picks up. 

“Shit,” Chan hisses when the four of you reach the back wall of the building. You’d expect they have some sort of backdoor in places like these, but apparently not. Instead there was a single, broken window a couple feet above your heads. “Shit. We’re so fucked.” 

“Not necessarily. Just climb up. Let me go first.” Woojin offers. Chan nods, waits for Woojin to transfer Hyunjin onto your shoulders and lifts his brother up to the escape. Woojin fits through easily, and after a few seconds calls for Chan to send Hyunjin. 

You hand the dalmatian over. Through the corner of your eye, you notice the beam of flashlights flitting throughout the garage and whisper, “We need to hurry up. They’re starting to search the place.” 

Chan doesn’t reply, but heaves Hyunjin up a lot faster than he did with Woojin. He falters though, obviously hurt from his fight earlier. You rush to help him and manage to get the younger hybrid out the window. Even so, the lights are a lot closer. You won’t have enough time for the both of you to fit through. Just one. 

“Here. You go.” 

Chan shakes his head, “Absolutely not. You first.” 

“There’s no time for arguing. I’ll be right behind you.” The lie is bitter when it leaves your lips, but you know you have no other choice. Chan, knowing your time crisis, takes the bait and allows you to help him up to the window. Once you’re sure he’s able to get out of his own from there, you rip your hands away and murmur, “I’m sorry.” 

If Chan called for you, you didn’t know because you were already taking off further into the darkness. You follow the back wall as much as you can, finding yourself among various totaled car and truck. Nonetheless, you could still see the lights slowly closing in. It was only a matter of time before the police find you and you’d be fucked. 

But at least the boys are safe. 

Just one you were about to give up hope, an arm suddenly yanks at your leg and tugs you beneath one of the cars. You try to scream, but a palm stops any noise from leaving your lips. The stranger hums a warning just as dozens of feet passed by where you’re hidden. You hold your breath, convinced they’d be able to hear the pounding of your heart and you’d be caught anyway. But somehow, there is a god. 

The police fall away and all that’s left is you and your unknown savior. Only when they’re sure your captors wouldn’t return does the stranger remove their hand. You silently cough and scoot away from the figure, harshly whispering, “Who the hell are you? Why did you-?” 

“-We’ll talk later. Right now, we have to get out of here.” 

You can tell its a male from his deep voice. Just as he’s about to slide from your hiding spot, you grab his arm and yank him back, “No. Tell me who you are first.” 

The stranger sighs and gives you a pointed look through the darkness, “I think you’ve been looking for me actually: 

“The name’s Minho. Lee Minho.”

[millionfantasy]

Time with Toby (I): Meeting

The leaves crunching beneath her feet echoed throughout her ears. With a low sigh the woman brushes her stray light brown hairs out of her face mask and moves her hand to touch her short cutted hair. It helps having short hair for certain situations. 

Cracking her fingers she stops walking, “I know you’re there. Come out now. I am not in the mood for games of hide and seek.” she calls out in her thick English accent.

The sound of rustling in the tree above her was heard, then a low laugh. ‘Male.’ Emily thought to herself. 

“How did you know I was following you? I was being quiet,” a male voice questions. Emily believes he has a stutter or something of the sort, but she also heard some cracking of bones. Possibly. 

“You obviously were not quiet enough. Now come out,” she looks up and sees a figure in the tree. She raises an eyebrow, “You really do not want me to come after you.”

The male huffs, she could now see that his body sort of… ticked and twitched. That's what was making that cracking of bones sound.

“Oh now that sounds fun. I certainly have the time for a game of cat and mouse, though I’d rather be the cat…” he moves and actual features could now be made out.

He is wearing a face mask which is covering below his nose, similar in a way to the one worn by Hannibal Lecter along with a pair of orange steampunk-styled goggles.

“… and you can be my mouse,” the man looks down at her as he crouches on the tree branch holding onto a hatchet.

Emily took a deep breath and sighs pinching the bridge of her nose under her mask, “What the scampered fuck do you want?” she asks, moving her hand away from her face. 

“I have orders to kill anyone who steps foot in these woods,” he jumps out of the tree and attempts to kick the female in her stomach.

She saw this attack coming. Grabbing his foot with ease, she pushes him with it forcing him onto his back. She then turns around and walks away. 

The man got up unfazed and flung his hatchet at the female in front of him. 

There was a floosh sound then a thud. The hatchet lodging itself in the tree near Emily’s head. 

Her eye twitched under the mask she is wearing and her lip curled in vexation, ‘You have to be kidding me,’ she thinks to herself as she fixes the mask on her face. Turning to the laughing man she sends a glare that he can’t even see, “Who are you?” she asks as she crosses her arms, tapping her right foot and staring at the guy.

He smirks under the mask, “Names Toby, why do you want to know though?” he looks at her, eyes full of amusement, “You wanna know the name of your killer or something?” he asks smugly.  

Emily shakes her, “No, just wanted to know the name of the idiot who obviously wants to die, so it wouldn’t bother me later.” she shrugs. 

Toby stares at her tilting his head, “Uhm what?” he looks confused, “The guy that you killed? You mean me?” he points at his chest.

Emily wants to facepalm. She really does, but she restrains herself from doing so. Instead she simply gave him a single nod of her head.

“Ah, okay. Well this will be fun. More fun than I thought it would be to kill you,” he states before walking closer to his opponent, ready for her this time. He threw a quick jab at Emily’s face with a closed fist which Emily flawlessly dodges but his other fist dug itself into her side. 

‘Hard and heavy hitter, as well as quick,’ Emily made mental notes to herself so she could make better adjustments to her attacks on this man, ‘Toby’ she reminds herself of his name. She drives her right foot into Toby’s left side since his right fist was the one that had landed an actual hit, leaving his left side open for the taking in the process. Once her leg made contact with his body her left hand shot out and decked him clean in the right cheek.

Toby stumbled from the impact but otherwise was unperturbed, concerning Emily for a split second but she overall kept her composure standing her ground, weaving through Toby’s advances. She lands many good hits onto this man but he doesn’t even wince, this was troublesome. 

While dodging Toby’s attacks, Emily sends another fist into his face and receives a punch to her own, knocking her mask off.

Toby stopped moving and stared at Emily’s face, “Wait. You’re a female?!” he walked over placing his hand on her flat chest and gave it a squeeze. “Holy shit! Where are your boobs!”

Emily knocks him in the face once more kicking him away from her body. Her face feels a bit hot now but it does not stop her from focusing on her opponent, although at the moment he seems to be perplexed about his discovery. While he is busy getting his mind fucked Emily leans down and picks up her mask and places it back on her face. She really has to kill him fast now before he runs off to blab about her. So she reaches for her weapons on her back, two clock handled swords that strongly resemble the minute and hour hand of a clock, and hold onto them ready to end this guy’s life. 

Toby sees that she is equipped to end his existence and he runs to get his hatchet out of the tree. “Okay listen. I know I probably should not have said that… or uh… touch you,” he placed his hatchet into the latch on his hip,” So I’ll tell you what. I will let you walk away with your life if you could just tell me your name,” he pulled his mouth guard off showing his smirk and his decayed cheek making Emily grimace. 

She stays quiet though and stares at Toby. He no longer seems to want to fight her but she has no choice but to finish him off. She never leaves a witness. 

Stepping closer to Toby, Emily positions her weapons in a way to prepare herself to kill him quickly. Upon seeing this Toby sighs and backs up. “Don’t worry, mystery woman. I’ll find out your name,” he saluted to her, “Until then,” he then climbed back up into a tree. 

Irritated, Emily runs to the tree he climbed up on but let out a groan seeing that he was gone. She sighs and puts her weapons away making her way home. 

Weeks pass by and Emily is no longer worried about Toby in fact he’s been visiting her often and at first she had tried to kill him but he kind of grew on her. She is, however, annoyed that she allowed him into her life. 

At this second she’s sharpening her weapons and creating new ones for the hell of it. That was until she heard someone at her door. Getting up with a gun in hand she opened it up immediately pointing that gun at the person at the door. 

Kiwi holds her hands up. “Whoa, just me Miss Emily,” she pointed at a tree, “And Mister Tobias is here to see you again,” she walks inside after Emily allows her to then looks at the tree seeing Toby waving at her excitedly.

Emily rolls her eyes then looks at him then motions for Toby to come inside with a head nod. He walks over only tripping once this time and is holding poorly picked weeds, “These flowers are for you,” he smiles as he hands them over to her. 

Emily looks at them with a raised brow then hands them to Kiwi, “Put those in the trash bin please,” Emily told Kiwi and watches as her companion throws them away then she looks back at Toby, “Those were not flowers. They were weeds…” she looks at the rejected look on Toby’s face and feels bad, “But… Thank you for the thought I suppose,” she moves her body allowing Toby inside.

He looks at Emily and smiles again, “Oh sorry. I just thought they were pretty and they reminded me of you,” he shrugs and walks inside looking around, “You changed things up again. There are now more than one chair at your table,” he teases Emily and Kiwi laughs a bit at Toby’s observation but Emily doesn’t even crack a smile making Toby feel a bit awkward, “So uhm, Em… We’ve been talking to each other for a couple of weeks now and I was wondering if you would like to have a date or something here?” he asks her. 

Emily stares at him, “A date? As in you’re romantically interested in me,” it was indeed a question, but it sounds more like an accusation. It made her heart flutter for sure though and it made her feel something she has never felt before, an actual romantic connection between another person and it worries her. 

“Yes. I am romantically interested in you and I know you are romantically interested in me because who isn’t,” he smirked at her wiggling his split brow, “Now just say that you agree,” he looked slightly down at Emily folding his arms across his body waiting, “If I say no will you continue to bother me about this?” she asks him, crossing her own arms across her body.

“Yes. I will keep on asking until you agree to have a date with me,” he smiles at her this time, a sweet admittingly cute smile.

“Alright, just one bloody date and that is it,” she sighs and looks at Kiwi, “Can you leave for the rest of the day and night?” She actually asked, she didn't want to send Kiwi out if she didn’t have a place to go.

“Yeah, I had plans anyways,” she quickly said, she was excited that Emily and Toby were finally going to have a date. She has been wanting them to be a couple since she saw the two of them together. With that, Kiwi walks out the house and leaves. 

Toby looks at Emily, “So I’ll make dinner for us,” he walks into the kitchen and looks around but Emily stops him.“No, I will be cooking. You nearly burned my house down the last time you were in my kitchen. Now go sit down at the table and wait,” she ordered Toby and he swiftly sat at the table listening to Emily’s command. 

As Emily cooks she thinks about herself with Toby and she smiles to herself. She may seem like she hates being around this person, but she actually really enjoys Tobias’ company and she wants to keep him around. He brings a type of excitement and a really good feeling to her heart and stomach that she’s never had before and she loved it. She also loved being an asshole to him too. His reactions were always different and the way that his twitches and tics made him talk was honestly cute to her and she liked it. So at this second she decides to entertain this date idea for him, for now.

[lovely-sanie]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖞 𝕬𝖜𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: Path 1 〈Ask Him To Drop You Off〉

├ Genre: ATEEZ Pirate AU

├ Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping

├ Word Count: 1,560

├ A/N: I’m on a roll! Another part for you guys!

☞ The Intro | Path 1 | Fight Him | Tell Him Yourself | Hide behind… | Faint

Previously:

“You have two options,” the captain states. “We can drop you off at the next port if you wish, or you can stay, learn the ways of the seas, have an adventure.”

You think about the offer as you sip on the water. You were looking forward to going home, but the idea of having an adventure calls to you. The idea that you could see the world, even a portion of it, sounded like so much fun.

“As much fun as an adventure sounds, my family needs me,” you tell him.

He nods. “We’ll drop you off at the next port. We should reach it by nightfall.”

“Alright.”

The captain walks back to his desk, looking back at Seonghwa before he rounds it. “Get Yeosang. We need to plot our course with the added stop.”

Seonghwa nods. “Yes, sir.”

The captain grins. “Very funny, Hwa.”

Seonghwa snickers, doing a mock bow, before leaving the room, presumably to find the person that the captain was talking about.

From then on, you receive no attention from the captain. Yunho doesn’t have much to say either, his demeanor more somber than before you stated your decision. He checks you over silently then stands.

“You’re healthy. As soon as you finish that water, you should head out to the deck.”

You nod. “Thank you.”

His smile isn’t nearly as bright as you were expecting. “Just doing my job.”

You soon finish the water, setting the metal cup back on the tray before standing. You give yourself a moment to adjust to the movement of the ship before walking over to the door. You think about saying something to the captain, or maybe even Yunho, but you decide against it.

Stepping out of the room, you head towards the light at the end of the hallway, squinting when you emerge on the deck of the ship.

The sun was high in the sky, allowing you to see details you hadn’t been able to see last night. 

The ship’s deck was near gleaming under the bright rays of the sun. Even through the cleanliness, you could see the wear and tear that a life on the seas had brought the ship. Paint was peeling from the wooden railings and not all of the boards of the ship were smooth. You could see some places where boards had to be replaced, and some places where the railings were patched up, albeit not very well.

There were only a few people on the deck that you could see, one of them being San. There was an urge to turn and hide, but you gather whatever courage you can, reminding yourself that you would be off this ship by nightfall. It’s enough to allow you to face him head-on as he comes over to you.

“You got your wish,” he states, his face stone-like. “You must be happy.”

You tilt your head, just a bit, and observe him. “I am.”

“Would it really be so bad? If you were here, still under my claim?”

“Yes. I belong home with my family.”

He rolls his eyes. “So boring.”

“I’ll take boring any day over all of this,” you state. “This is not a life I can live. I fainted. I think that should be evidence enough that I would make a terrible pirate.”

He smirks. “You would be a terrible pirate. You’re so jumpy. Can’t fight. Incredibly stupid.”

You scowl. “I am not stupid.”

“So you admit the other things?”

“Yes. I jump at my own shadow. And I was raised to take care of a home, not fight off men who can’t take a hint.”

He chuckles. “A lot of women love my attention.”

“Well, I don’t. As obvious by the reason I’m on this ship.”

“For not being able to fight, you sure know how to use your knee.”

You grin. “I have to defend my innocence somehow.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Sanie!” A deep voice, that you vaguely recognize as the one from last night, suddenly exclaims. “Is this our captive?”

“Not captive,” you state. “I’m getting off at the next port.”

The brunet looks at you with surprise. “This is the mouse from last night?”

“You know, mice can do a lot of damage,” you say, sighing. 

“Well, yeah. But you were so jumpy last night.”

“I had just been taken against my will, of course I was jumpy.”

He still seems shocked so you just walk away.

You find a place out of the way to rest, staying there for the majority of the day. None of the pirates bother you, whether that was of their own volition or due to an order from the captain was up in the air.

You’re offered dinner by Seonghwa and, not wanting a repeat of your fainting spell, you accept, letting him lead you to a room that houses a kitchen/dining area. All of the pirates you had met were there as well as a black-haired one that you hadn’t. The captain was absent but it looked as if that was normal.

The room was quiet, a lot more quiet than you’d expected. There were whispered conversations between a few of the pirates, but most of them were silently eating. 

Seonghwa hands you a tray full of food, waving you to sit at one of the tables. There’s only one seat open next to the pirate you had yet to meet so, with a bit of hesitance, you walk over and take the seat.

Luckily, the pirate seems nice and smiles at you. San, who was across from you, scoffs at the action but says nothing.

Returning the smile with a small one of your own, you turn your attention to your food. You dig in, thankful that the food was as terrible as you heard rumors of it being. Then again, those rumors were from parents trying to dissuade children from ever becoming a pirate so you guess you should take anything they say with a grain of salt.

As you’re eating, each of the pirates from the other table, including Yunho and Seonghwa, gradually finish their food, leaving immediately after. As soon as they leave the room, you can hear conversations and chatter start up. 

It makes you frown, something noticed by the black-haired pirate next to you.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

You set down your utensils. “Why is everyone so quiet?”

The question draws the attention of San and Wooyoung, who was sitting next to San and diagonal from you.

“Ah,” the black-haired pirate nods. “We don’t want to scare you.”

You scoff. “By being loud? I have three younger siblings and I regularly have to drag my father home from the tavern. Loud does not bother me.”

“How were we supposed to know that?” San snaps.

You shrink back just an inch but then straighten once more. “You could have asked or something. I feel awkward with all the silence.”

“Then we’ll be loud,” Wooyoung says, grinning. “We’ll talk and yell and everything.”

Nodding, you return to your food. 

As Wooyoung, San, and the black-haired pirate finish eating, they chat about things that go over your head. Even after their plates are cleared, they stay seated, as if waiting until you’re done as well.

As soon as you finish, San gathers all the dishes and takes them over to a large bin of water. 

“He’s been given dish duty for a week,” Wooyoung explains, “for taking you.”

That seems like such a light punishment for kidnapping someone, but they are pirates, so you guess it should be expected.

After dinner, you return to your spot, watching the darkening sky as the sun sinks below the horizon. The arrival of night signals that you’ll be back on land and on your way home soon and you begin to get excited. 

You’re staring at the twinkling stars when a shout rings out, prompting you to look at the deck of the ship. Standing you observed the chaos of the crew.

It’s a flurry of activity as the ship prepares to moor the ship. The sails are lower to slow the ship and soon enough you feel the shop gently jerk to a stop. 

“This is our stop,” Seonghwa says as he steps up next to you. 

Both of you watch as a skiff is lowered into the water.

“San will not be going with us,” the blonde pirate, that you may or may not have grown to like in your short time on the ship, informs you. “Yunho will be going in his stead.”

You nod. 

“We will part ways on the beach. I suggest you take the main path to the port and find your way from there. Go with the crowd. Do not attract attention to yourself. Be safe.”

You look up at him in surprise. The words sounded like something your mother would say. Could it be that this pirate cared about you already?

“Let’s go,” he says, not giving you a chance to question his words.

Soon enough, the skiff is ashore with you, Seonghwa, and Yunho getting out.

Seonghwa says nothing as he makes his way into the wooded area that would lead him to the town.

Yunho hesitates. “Take care of yourself.”

You’re hardly given a chance to nod before he takes off after Seonghwa. 

Frowning, you turn to make your way to the main path of the port. This way the right decision, so why did it feel wrong to leave the pirates behind. 

As you reach the town and the townspeople, people like you mulling around, the wrong feeling goes away. This is where you belonged. You weren’t a pirate. You were a sister and a daughter. A homemaker. Possibly a seamstress.

Most definitely not a pirate in any sense of the word.

Congratulations! You have reached another ending of Destiny Awaits! You can stop here or explore the different paths. Thank you for reading!

[elfnerdherder]

Opus Dei: Chapter 1

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A special thanks to my patrons: @evertonem @sylarana @starlit-catastrophe @frostylicker, Mendacious Bean, Superlurk, Duhaunt6, and Laura G.! <3

Well guys, here’s to another Fannibal fic. :) I’m not sure if there’s a lot of call for a sequel/revenge fic, but I’m going to do my best to not make a muck of it. As always, I hope you enjoy! Happy Friday.

Summary: "Behold, I will make you fishers of men," Abigail said with a laugh.

And so Will did. Bait for Hannibal the Cannibal is tricky, though, especially when the hunter knows they're hunted. Four years in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane gave him time, and in the end time was all he'd really needed, isn't it?

Will Graham had never meant for so much death. After being released for crimes he hadn't committed, he knows the right thing to do is move on with his life and begin a new chapter as an innocent man. Go to college. Meet the girl. Fall in love. Put his past behind him.

There's just one small problem: Hannibal Lecter isn't quite ready for him to move on, and truth be told, Hannibal is a itch that Will just can't help but scratch. When The Great Red Dragon begins to stalk the halls of George Washington University, Hannibal's ready to see just how far Will is willing to go to see his reckoning through.

In the end, the fire could take them all.

Thriller, cat-and-mouse, romance, angst, murder, mayhem, gaslighting, slow(ish) burn, old(er) Hannibal, whole-heartedly grumpy college-aged Will Graham.

Act I: A Part in Which the Hero Meets His Arch-Nemesis

Chapter 1: Enter Stage Right

The Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane specialized in two things; first, they provided a safe space for the criminally insane to receive aid, and second, they took perfectly sane individuals and found delicately devious ways to make them certifiably mad. Within the dreary brick and concrete blended walls of only a lower-income-modest budget, there were certain rooms that aspired for civility with their floral wallpaper and gauche leather sofas, but even the hired help could barely boast the environment in which they toiled away at. The mental instability was an airborne virus, one that preyed on the strong of mind and completely obliterated the weak.

Will Graham was neither of these things –the criminally insane, nor the perfectly sane. Rather, he was a curious mix of both, and currently to date he would actually call it more of a curse.

He currently sat in the only room not bugged by the warden’s microphones, staring at the hands of a gristly, aged FBI agent. There was no polite ceremony to his visit. They knew each other well enough that pleasantries died when Jack Crawford first accused him of a murder that Will most certainly had not committed –several, in fact.

“Are you listening?”

“Vaguely,” said Will. A lie, but he’d become pretty good at those.

“Vaguely,” Jack repeated, awed. Before Will could tack something on, he tossed the file down for Will to see. “Read for yourself, then.”

Will glanced down nonchalantly. “I see what it says. I guess I’m just processing what it means for me exactly, is all.”

“What it means?”

“I mean, it says here the Chesapeake Ripper’s been at large for the last four years. Says here he’s actually been killing for awhile before that.” Will pushed the file folder back to Jack and crossed his arms.

"Yeah."

"Says there's evidence showing there was no copycat to Garrett Jacob Hobbs, just the Chesapeake Ripper."

Jack gestured and nodded. “So?”

“So?”

“I’m saying you’re innocent, Will.”

Will smiled. “Shit, Jack, but I already knew that."

“We made a mistake,” Jack replied, and it was obvious in the lines of his face that he’d been forced to eat crow. A whole lot of it. “One that the FBI does not take lightly. We contacted your lawyer, and a negotiation of wrongful imprisonment reimbursement was reached.” He slid a crisp, bland check over to him, scritching along the file folder. Will scratched the whiskers on his cheek thoughtfully.

His lawyer had called the night before, so he'd had time to mull it over. He lets it sit in a puddle of discontent on the table. “Two hundred thousand is pretty high dollar,” he finally said thoughtfully.

“Considering the specifics of the situation—"

“—My sickness the perfect excuse to not participate in any real detective work—"

“—it wasn’t difficult to convince us to offer the maximum amount,” Jack finished.

Will looked to his eyes, then to his mouth. “Is it that difficult for you to realize you should have listened to me?” he asked.

“Is it still that difficult for you to look people in the eye?” Jack retorted.

Will forced himself to look into his eyes. “I already know what I’ll see when I look into your eyes, Jack,” he said, “I'm sick of looking in eyes like that.”

“The evidence—"

“Was gift wrapped with a neat bow on top for you to keep as a souvenir,” Will cut him off. “So easy that you didn’t think to question whether or not it was really that simple to catch someone supposedly so smart you’d recruited an eighteen-year-old to tag along to horrific crime scenes. Easy as pie.” He folded his arms and dragged his thumb over his bottom lip, thinking. Temper, temper. Try again. Finally, “I’ll take your money. Four years in this place will ensure that I take anything I can from you.”

Jack’s lips puckered, but the papers were produced. Will took the stack and signed each specified place, gaze occasionally cutting to the check that rested at his elbow. Two-hundred thousand was indeed the highest he’d ever heard of, the closest being Inmate 2361-B who’d been imprisoned for allegedly killing his brothers. Three years got him one-hundred thousand dollars, but it also got him a bullet to the head a week after his release when he couldn’t adjust to civilian life and decided that eating a gun was better.

Paperwork done, Jack placed everything in a neat stack and seemed to hesitate. Will studied the clock overhead. 2:13 P.M.

“This killer that framed you—"

“Not interested.”

“He’s killed at least fifteen people, and we could really use your insight.”

“I don’t care,” Will snapped. “You know who I said did this to me.”

“Not that tired old drum about Hannibal-”

“Where you’re not inclined to hear me out, I’m not inclined to give a singular shit about your inability to catch a serial killer.”

“We did investigate him, Will! We found nothing!”

“Only because he’s smarter than you.”

They glared at one another from across the table, and Jack nodded reluctantly. “This killer is, yes. I need you to at least look.”

“I don’t care about your problems.” A beat. “And I don’t want to look.”

“No, but the Will Graham I know wouldn’t want to see so many people get hurt, even if it meant that you got to see me flounder in the process,” Jack said.

Will rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, and he sighed. “The Will Graham you claimed to know was, in your eyes, a psychotic killer,” he said conversationally.

“At the very least, help me because you could become a target if he wants to go after you again,” Jack prodded, not rising to the bait.

“My struggles are old and overused to him. I’ve become a boring study as of late, so it furthers him nothing to continue to try and ruin my life,” said Will with a non-committed shrug. “That’s the only thing you’ll get from me. Free advice, too: you’re no match for him, Jack. Let someone else take the case while I get back to my life.”

“Your life’s not—"

“FOUR years, Jack,” Will snarled, and something in his tone startled Jack enough that he didn’t interrupt. “Don’t you dare try to soften that.” He paused, waited long enough to get control of his voice. Temper, temper. “I don’t…I don’t want to help you.”

“It’s not about me, it’s about the innocent people,” Jack argued.

“At this point, I don’t care about them, either,” Will lied. It was a good lie, though, the kind that slid smooth off of the tongue like oil. “When can I leave?”

“Today,” Jack said, and he looked to the small window in the corner, just big enough to be legal. “They’re already processing your things for release. I took it on a hunch you'd say yes.”

Will heard the lock in the door turning, and he stood, studying Jack out of the corner of his eye. It was something he’d had to learn to do, and he’d become as good at that as he has at lying. “If you’re trying to imagine four years here, Jack, I’d not recommend it.”

“Oh?” Jack turned, likely ready for another fight.

Will stepped out when the door opened for him, and he smiled grimly. “You’re an FBI agent. They’d have slit your throat a week in.”

When Will returned to his cell, he found his things –what little he had in his cell that could be claimed as his –put neatly into a small vinyl duffle bag, the hospital’s logo emblazoned on the side. Clearly this was something that’d been in the works long before he’d ever been consulted.

He wasn’t handcuffed, and he walked down the endless grey walls without the metal biting his wrists for the first time in his entire life. The guard that walked beside him wasn’t friendly, but he made no move to stop Will when his pace quickened. He swore he heard whispers, hisses, other inmates calling out, and it nipped at his heels, threatening to trip him until at last the thick, barred doors shut with a definitive THUD.

A familiar face met him at the small space between worlds, where the check-in blocked both the entry to the institute and the exit to the real world. He’d been allowed to change out of the jumpsuit, a simple pair of sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt his only other clothing, and he was relieved when she threw her arms around him that they’d been recently laundered. He dropped his duffle bag to hug her back, only a beat too late. It’d been a long time since he’d been embraced like that.

“Look at you,” Alana breathed, letting go of him. Four years hadn’t changed her, although it could be said that was because Will had witnessed those four years. Her raven hair was still swept back in loose waves, and her blue eyes still froze whatever they set their gaze on. She smiled, and he felt his own lips twitch in response, a tingling sensation rippling over his skin.

“Look at you,” he replied. He tugged loosely on his shirt, and he grinned. “They said that I could keep one item as a souvenir.”

“A good choice, Mr. Graham,” Alana stated, studying it. “I’d have done the same.”

“Are you off so soon, Mr. Graham? I’d have thought you wanted an exit interview.”

Will couldn’t help the small, tense knot of unease. “I don’t,” he said, curt.

Frederick Chilton laughed as he reached them, although it wasn’t quite humorous enough to be real. “I found the timing of your release interesting,” he said, gesturing to Alana. “I must admit, I was a little upset that I only found out ten minutes before you did that it would be occurring.”

“I think you know me well enough to know that nothing that happens is coincidence,” Will replied. Frederick opened his mouth to reply, but at the expression on Will’s face, it snapped shut.

“Congratulations on your promotion, Frederick,” Alana said from around Will. She moved around him to shake Chilton’s hand, and her offer was returned after a beat.

“It was a surprise to me, truly,” Chilton said with faux-modesty.

“The last Head Administrator was lobotomized,” Will informed Alana. “No one wanted the job after that. He was the only one with credentials that applied.”

“Yes, well, I met all of the criteria, and they were more than happy to offer the position to me. If you’re looking, Bloom, I can set you up with a wonderful residency here,” Chilton offered coyly.

“I have a good residency, but thank you,” Alana said with an amiable laugh. “Will, should we go?”

“Oh, yes, you should,” Chilton stated, laughing at a joke only he knew. “Whoever the killer is that framed you, you must find yourself inherently indebted to him for deciding to let you go free.”

“Goodbye, Frederick,” Alana said curtly, and she led Will towards the exit before he could reply with something nasty.

It was spring in the real world, sunlight rippling through maple leaves, and when Will’s shoes touched the concrete outside, he stopped at the steps and stared, eyes hungrily consuming everything in sight. Baltimore, Maryland wasn’t exactly home, but the trees were green, the flowers bloomed, and the air positively reeked with growth and birth and all those happy, renewing things. He inhaled deeply, savoring it.

“What do you think?” Alana asked.

"I'm hungry," he said, taking a step. No guard burst through the doors to detain him. No orderly found just the right spot to sink a needle and send him into a dizzying sleep. He hurried down the steps, pace quickening.

“What are you feeling?”

“Burgers,” he replied. Then, dryly, "glad to see the car hasn't changed."

"Hey, student loans before cars," she laughed, and they climbed in.

His bank assured him that four years had grown his account by exactly a penny and a half. Not surprising. Will drummed his fingers on his leg and was quick to leave after the check cleared, mingling by the mildly spindly maples struggling to grow in the indirect sunlight. Sunlight by the trees felt nice.

“Whoa,” Alana laughed, following him out, “no need to rush. They aren’t going to take it back, Will, I promise.”

“Right,” he said, and it took him a second to really register what she was saying. He laughed, a curt sort of noise that startled a woman walking by. “…Right.”

He waited outside of the burger place, loitering beside a table with an umbrella, and when Alana walked out he sat himself down with his back to the building, watching everyone on the street. His gaze flicked from teen to child to angry, middle-aged man, fingers plucking at his steak fries. He was hungry, but there was a different sort of hunger that took precedent, the kind that made him note hand gestures and tone, smiles that were quick and lingered. The only people he’d been able to observe for the past while had been guards, orderlies, and inmates, and those were the worst sort of people to see in a miserable, dreary, everyday setting. Miss Avery would have cautioned him that those were not the people one wanted to imitate and reflect.

“How are you processing everything?” Alana asked as she added ketchup to the burger. Will grabbed a fry and stuffed the entire thing into his mouth, sitting up to get his burger unwrapped.

“It’s very real,” he said, hands grazing over a bun that didn’t feel like it’d been baked at twelve thousand degrees before being dropped on something cold and left. “But it very well could be a dream. I could still wake up on that cot tomorrow.”

“It’s not a dream,” Alana assured him. “I was there when Agent Crawford met with the lawyer, and we discussed a few things before it was approved and he went to meet with you.”

"Jack didn't know I already knew." Will grinned. He'd enjoyed watching Jack dish out what he already knew was coming.

"I told him no matter what he did he was to get you out as soon as possible," said Alana.

“That’s a relief,” Will said. “I don’t think I’d manage another round.” And that was a lie, but it was the kind she’d allow him to have. If there was one thing Will had learned about himself, it was that no matter what seemed to happen to him, he woke up the next day –not necessarily stronger, but angrier. More resilient.

He took a bite of the burger, and yes; just what he thought. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. He chewed slowly and swallowed, savoring every moment.

“Do you have plans?” she asked.

“Get my phone turned on, call my dad, get my things, get a car, get a place, get a job.” Will ticked off the items on his fingers, grabbing another fry.

“Does…Hannibal fall into your plans?”

Will made a face. “Why would he?”

“Jack tells me you’re still convinced he framed you for everything,” she said tentatively.

“Yeah, but I don’t know what Jack’s playing at either, telling you that. He says a lot,” Will replied with a shrug.

“You think Jack is...playing with you?”

“This whole thing could be Jack’s idea. He could try and use you to convince me to help him suss out his killer.” Will shrugged, taking another large bite, uncaring of the use of too much mustard and not enough tomato. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d even had a tomato, let alone a meal that hadn’t come pre-packaged.

On second thought, he could remember, and he didn’t want to.

“You think so?”

Will finally braved a glance to her face, and the tone matched the facial expression. Her displeasure and disbelief were matched only by her reluctance to intentionally hurt him.

“No. I think Hannibal finally got bored with me, and sooner or later he was going to have to take credit for his work.” A beat as Will mulled something over. “Is that what they call him since they refuse to use his real name? Chesapeake Ripper?” He glanced over to a mild argument a couple was having at the farthest table, partially to note how she flipped her hair when she was indignant, and partially to avoid Alana’s disapproving expression.

“Leave it to you to still accuse the only man that stood by your side during the trial and believed your innocence,” she replied dryly.

“I don’t think any of you understand just how much he enjoys toying around with people,” Will said with pseudo-pleasantness. He took another bite, looking away from the couple to study Alana’s hands. They’d forgone handling her food in order to maintain business.

“He was trying to help you, Will.”

“He wanted his thesis to be new, bold, and innovative, and if he got to crawl into the head of some messed up kid that was too stupid to realize he was being manipulated, then so much the better,” Will snapped. “Which, by the way, I read his thesis; Dr. Chilton ensured I had access to see just how much Hannibal profited off of everything that happened to me.”

“Then you’ll have also read that he urges others to look for the necessary signs in order to prevent what happened to you to happen to anyone else,” she retorted.

“Yes, if the great Hannibal Lecter can’t cure the encephalitis, no one else should try,” Will said sarcastically. “I got to read a lot about psychology in the hospital, since everyone at first was convinced that I was an intelligent psychopath. He uses forms of coercion and persuasion to get what he wants, all the while his hands stay clean.”

“You’re not an intelligent psychopath,” Alana said pointedly. “Your presence here should show you that none of us think that.”

“The evidence shows me the Chesapeake Ripper finally decided that he wasn’t having fun anymore, so he needed to change things up a bit. Now he gets to take credit for his work, and judging by the desperation in Jack Crawford’s tone, I can assume he can continue toying with Jack a bit more. If he’s going to Hannibal to ask for help next, the Chesapeake Ripper won’t have to go far to get his kicks –the FBI will take the fun right to him.”

“He still asks about you, Will. Even after everything you’ve said, he still worries about-”

“My well-being, and do I eat, sleep, bathe, shave, read, and just generally take care of myself because sometimes at night he wakes up with such paternal thoughts in his head he can’t help by drop by the next day to make sure everything’s alright,” Will interrupted.

“Then why-”

“Because I know him better than any of you, and I see exactly what lies behind that artfully constructed veneer of calm, collected concern,” he replied. “And let me be honest, Alana, behind that careful construction is an intelligent psychopath that took away some of the few people in my life that I care about, and when I was able to piece it all together, he framed me for it.”

“He hasn’t taken me,” Alana observed, tilting her head. In that moment, he saw her as more of his therapist than his friend. “In your skewed perception of him, why is that?”

“You’re useful,” he said, swallowing with difficulty. “And you’re better off blind to him than dead.”

She pursed her lips, and maybe it was the way that she bowed to the meal for a moment that gave it away. Halfway through her burger, she set it down. “I’m dating Hannibal, Will,” she admitted at last.

He blinked, stunned. Another bite, then a douse of soda to wash down the bitter taste of disappointment masking fear. “…I see.” He nodded, feigned contemplation. He couldn't quite look past her chin. “And when should I expect the announcement in the mail?”

“Stop,” Alana warned.

Will laughed bitterly, plucking at the bun. “No, no, congratulations,” he praised, waving a hand dismissively. “I mean, really, I’m just…happy for you.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed, and he drummed his fingers on the table, needing to expel the anger that threatened to burst from him. He focused on the feel of the plastic table against the pads of his fingers, ruminating in the silence.

“You have every right to feel upset, given what you think about him,” she offered lightly.

“You’ve put yourself in a very dangerous position,” he finally replied, when he felt that he could control the timbre of his voice, “and it’s frustrating when I’ve warned you for years, and you still somehow thought that the best place to be was right beside a man like that.”

“Hannibal is a good person, Will,” she said, exasperated.

“You know, if you say it with a little more passion, you may just convince me,” he urged. He needed his hands busy; he fiddled with more ketchup for the fries.

The couple at the farther table was beginning to lose their cool, too. The man’s voice rose and lowered in cadence, rough and stiff with something like the hard consonants of an insult. The woman’s arms were crossed, her posture stiff.

“What are your plans, Will?”

“You already asked me that,” he sighed.

“Are you going to hurt Hannibal?” she pressed, and he looked back to her as he realized what she meant.

“Oh…oh, do I have plans for him?” he asked, incredulously. “Are you serious? I want to stay as far away from that man as I possibly can!”

“It’s not an unfair question.”

“It is when you’re being protective of a man capable of cutting the lungs out of someone while they’re still using them,” he replied sweetly. The more he felt the anger bubbling from the other table, the more he felt an insistent need not to replicate it.

Alana treaded carefully. Maybe she sensed it, too. “I know that in traumatic events, especially when undeserved actions are done against you, it makes sense for people to find ways to blame mentors friends for what happened,” Alana said gently. “You went through something horrifying, and you weren’t really allowed to properly grieve for your losses because everyone turned against you when it happened. It makes sense to me that you, in a time that was plagued not only by severe and horrifying losses but also a sickness that literally set your brain on fire, would take that burden and sub-consciously place it on Hannibal since he’d been trying to help you for months and was unsuccessful.”

By choice.

The man was gesturing with his phone, jabbing for emphasis. The woman was furiously ignoring him, her own soprano cutting into his tirade every so often with something biting but indistinct.

“Is that an apology? You completely believed I killed those people--”

“I never believed you as Will Graham consciously did anything to hurt anyone,” she countered. “I have always believed in you. Did I think that it was entirely probable, given the evidence, that the person that manifested as a result of a high-stress situation coupled with a deadly disease had a capacity for violence? Yes.”

“Those two people are the same person. One just had better control over our time.”

She startled him when she reached forward to grasp his hand just as the man shouted something particuarly foul. “I’m sorry for any time that I made you feel like a criminal.”

Will swallowed with difficulty, and he looked at their hands. Unlike Jack’s, dry and calloused with a life of hard work, Alana’s were smooth and unblemished, nails filed professionally and scented with something floral--Fresias? In stark contrast, his looked much closer to Jack’s, and he saw the precise place that one of Charlie’s hooks had caught on the back and broke skin. He let go of her hand to snag another fry, nodding curtly.

“If you want to talk about Hannibal-”

“I don’t want to talk about Hannibal anymore,” Will said curtly. “When I say that I want to remove him completely from every aspect of my life, I mean that. We can talk about what you want to talk about.”

“What I want to talk about is what you don’t want to talk about,” Alana said with a small smile.

“We can talk about whatever it is that I do or don’t want to talk about, how’s that,” Will offered. He glanced at her eyes, then over her head where a man in a greasy t-shirt carried a to-go order in one meaty fist.

“I don’t want you to worry about me, Will. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long, long time.”

“People that I care about tend to die. Worry comes with the territory.”

“You still have me, your father, and despite what you think, Jack Crawford is very much invested in your well-being.”

A rum deal, no matter how you looked at it. The only one he felt especially grateful for was the one sitting just across from him, and she was currently dating the only person in the world he’d gladly murder.

“Just promise me that you’ll be careful,” he said, looking to his food. The burger had about two bites left, and he wanted to savor them. “I know…I know you believe Hannibal is great, but he’s a snake. His venom is slow acting, and…I just want you to be safe. When the time comes-” He sighed, scrambling to find the words-- “when the time comes that you…have the choice to be blind or brave, Alana, please just be blind. I think maybe he’d let you live if you just chose to be blind.”

“You weren’t blind.”

“Oh, I really was, until I wasn’t. By the time I saw, though, I wasn’t in any position to do anything about it. I think that’s one of his favorite parts.”

“I’m as safe with Hannibal as I am with you,” Alana assured, and Will peeked up at the umbrella again, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

He could say with utmost confidence he’d never had the inclination to eat someone, but maybe his definition of safety and Alana’s were completely different.

[aria-i-adagio]

Ch. 19: Some Begged, Some Borrowed, Some Stolen

Fandom: The Arcana

Chapter rating: PG-13, T

Trigger warning: self harm mentioned/discussed

Wordcount: 3500

Previous Chapter   Masterpost   Next Chapter

Nine years ago.  Asra.

Overall, the noise of the Masquerade was ambient, but everytime something crashed, or a person shouted with glee, the girl startled.  She’s crouched in front of his makeshift stall, running a finger along the edge of one of the masks he had laid out on a shawl, tracing the delicate patterns that Muriel had carved into the light wood.  Her hand shook a little as she did, and when she extended her arm, the long sleeve pulled back, exposing a bandage tied around her wrist.   

Finally she took a deep breath, looked up, and met his eyes.  “These are beautiful.  Did you make them?”

“A friend and I did.”

“You’re talented.”  She touched her pocket.  “My aunt said I should get one from you . . . for the rest of the week.”  

“Your aunt?”

She inclined her head to the shop next to them.  “Anna, she’s my father’s aunt actually, but I just moved here . . . with her.”  He looked again at her face, searching out a resemblance to the old witch who had kept him fed when he didn’t manage to sell enough trinkets and card readings, and found it in the girl’s blue eyes.  But where Anna's always twinkled with mirth, her eyes were distant with melancholy.  

“Anna’s a good person.”  

“She said the same about you.  Well, good kid was the exact phrase."  

“Do you know which one you want?”

“I don’t.”  A brass band passed by, loud and clanging.  She jumped again and looked back over her shoulder.  Asra shifted over on the blanket he was sitting on and patted the space next to him.  

“Sit with me.  Until you decide.”

She stepped carefully around the masks and sat down, pressing her back to the wood slat fence behind him and pulling her knees up to her chest.  “Thanks.  Anna told me I should get out of the house, but I’ve only been here a few days, and this -”  She runs her hands over her face and back through her hair.  “Masquerade, or whatever it is, it’s very . . . overwhelming.”

“It can be.  I don’t really like crowds either.”  

She leaned her head back against the fence and sat with her hands pressed over her eyes.  Asra watched her.  She was around his age, give or take a year from twenty.   He didn’t notice that Faust had crawled out of his shirt until she had extended her head to the girl and licked her cheek.  The girl jumped, then looked at the snake and extended her hand, smiling for the first time.  “Hi there.  Who are you?”

Faust extended her tongue, sniffing the girl’s fingertips before butting her head against her hand.

“Her name is Faust.”

“Hi, Faust.”  She stroked the snake’s head and trailed her fingers down Faust’s sinuous form.  “I’m Dema.”

Faust turned her head back to Asra.  Friend?  Asra doesn't have many friends.  Really just Muriel.  Lots of acquaintances, but letting people close - well, if he let them too close to him, one day they might not come back.  No, there would come a day when they wouldn't come back.  Like leaves blown away by the wind in autumn.  Better to keep acquaintances as acquaintances and never try to bring them closer, no matter how many times Faust whispered “friend” hopefully in his ear.  

“Maybe, Faust.”

“Oh, does she talk to you?”

“She does.”

“That must be nice.  To not be alone.”  

Asra suppressed a bitter laugh.  He'd been alone for so long, even with Faust and Muriel, that he wasn't sure how to do anything else.  She leaned back over the masks and picked one up absently.  “I should probably just choose one.  I don’t know.”

Asra shuffled through the contents of his bag and found his deck.  “Here let’s try this.”  He shuffled the cards on the shawl laid out in front of him.  “Cut the deck into three parts, then pick one.”  She arched an eyebrow at him, then divided the deck and pointed to one stack.  Asra picked that stack of cards back up, dealing them out into a circle.  “Choose three.”

Her hand hovered over the cards, then she pressed her lips together and flipped over three in quick succession: Eight of Cups reversed, Nine of Swords, and the Fool.  It was a melancholy set.  Turning away from a path - from a life that is no longer available.  Waking into nightmares.  And the Fool.  An ambiguous card.  New beginnings, but unclear ones, stepping off a cliff without knowing whether there’s water or rocks below.

“Well-”  She looked up at him, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.  “That’s not a felicitous reading.”

“You read cards?”

“Some.  I’m not very good.”

“What do they tell you?”

“Little I didn't already know.”  She looked out at the street, away from the cards, and wrung her hands together.  The motions started as nervous and rapidly become violent, right hand twisting the left fingers of her left into contortions that looked increasingly painful.

“They only tell you where you are.  What might be.  Not what must be.”  He takes one of her hands in his, trying to still the frenetic motions.  “Dema, the future is still yours to decide.”

She turned her face to him, blinking back tears furiously.  “Maybe I shouldn't be allowed to make decisions.”  Pulling her hand away from him, she scrambled to her feet and stepped over the display of masks.  “My aunt also told me to tell you to come in for dinner.”

He watched her go, the doorbell of the shop jangling behind her as she fled.  Faust curled around his neck, tongue flickering against his ear.  “Lost?”  

He reached up and ran his fingers over her smooth scales.  “Yeah.  A little.” 

“Friend.”

“You seem to think so.”  

Faust flicked his ear again, then nudged her head against against his chin.  “Hungry.  Eat.”

“You’re right.”  Asra gathered up the masks, folded them into his shawl, and got up from the street, stretching his arms over his head.  He let himself into the upstairs of the shop, warm and redolent with the scent of spices and peppers.  Anna was hovering over a bubbling pot of soup.  

“Asra.”  She smiled in greeting, her eyes almost disappearing into wrinkles.  “Come tell me what else this needs.”  She gestured to the pot handing him a spoon and then moving aside to let him adjust the seasoning.  “You met my niece?”

He nodded and crushed a pinch of cumin seeds with the blade of her well worn kitchen knife before adding to the pot along with a pinch of pepper flakes.  “She has your eyes.”

“She has my sister's eyes.  The girl's grandmother.”  The old woman sighed and leaned back against the counter, arms folded across her chest.  “Her father brought her to me.  An apprentice.  Neither my sister or her boy ever showed a lick of talent for anything magical.  This one though . . . she’ll be strong if she comes back to herself.”

“Faust likes her.”  At the mention of her name Faust slid slid out from under Asra’s clothes and flicked in tongue at Anna in a friendly greeting.  

“Ah, would Faust have a go finding the mouse that's gotten into my cabinets?”  Faust touched her tongue to Asra’s cheek and he stroked her head to signal his approval.  She slithered down his arm and leg and then into the bottom cabinets to hunt for the errant rodent.   “Are you planning to go home tonight?”

“No, I thought I'd just curl up beside the shop.  It’s warm enough.”

“Silly child.  You know I'll make you up a place in here.”

Asra smiled.  “I know, Anna.”

***

After dinner, Asra went back into the street to try to sell another few masks.  When he returned, Dema was sitting at the table.  A bowl of warm water and two piles of bandages - one dirty, one clean - were on the table in front of her.   She looked up as he closed the kitchen door then back down at her arms.  Ignoring him, she wrung water from a cloth and dabbed at her arms, hissing as she did.

“Do you want some help?”

Her eyes flashed, and she curled her upper lip.  “No.  I'll do it myself.”

Asra sat down across from her.  The water smelled of thyme and grain alcohol.  Her left arm had been slashed repeatedly.  The cuts are deeper, jagged, and crossed by a savage tear that looked like a bite mark.  Stitches held the half healed edges together.  She looked up, meeting his eyes with a challenge in her own.  He didn't look away until she did.

“I -”  She dabbed again at her left arm. A change came over her face as she looked down at the cuts and tears.  Her eyes lost the defiant look and her shoulders began to tremble.  “I don't want to hide.  To fake being whole.  I, I couldn't . . .  It's a relief in a way."  Her voice was distant, almost dreamy.  Asra stayed silent but kept his eyes on hers, much like he might for a customer during a card reading.  "I don't have the option to hide anymore.  To lie.  Whether it's to myself or to others."

“You want to be seen.”

"I want to be honest.  No more convolutions, confabulations, convulsions of speech to try to hide what people don’t want to see.  No more trying to make it look like I'm together when I'm actually coming apart."  

“You must have been desperate.”

She glanced down at the water, then her eyes darted back to Asra's, focused and clear once more.  “That's not an awful choice of words."  She paused with her right hand folded over the worst of the damage to her left arm.  "But no word really means what I need it to - to explain.”

“I don't need you to explain.”

“You might be the only one.”  She set aside the square of flannel she had been using to clean the cuts, looked over at the clean rolled bandages, and then she brought her blue eyes to his.  “It is easier to let someone help me with this part.”  She bit her bottom lip in frustration and glanced away.  “Would you?”

“Yes.”  He folded his fingers around hers and squeezed them briefly before picking up a roll of fabric.  He wound it around her arm, starting from the wrist and wrapping down to her elbow before tying it off loosely.

“This is why they sent me.  The apprentice thing is a lie.  I've studied magic formally for four years.  But they think, maybe, just maybe, the famous, infamous Aunt Anna can fix me.  Or maybe they just want me far away from them the next time I shatter into a million pieces.”  She tossed the used bandages into the bowl and held her hand over it.  A cloud of steam rose as the water evaporated and then the contents flared and the cotton flannel reduced to ash.  She picked up the bowl, walked to the sink and set it down.  “I’ll scald that in the morning.  But I’m going to bed now.  Try to sleep at least.”  She pushed back the curtain over the door leading back to the other rooms, then paused and turned back to him, finding and meeting his gaze.  “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Not looking at me with pity.”

Asra hesitated for a moment, then opened his mouth.  “Dema.”

She stopped and turned back around.  “What?”

“Come out with me?”

She paused, looked into the darkened room beyond, then back to him.  A slow smile spread across her face.  “Sure.  Why not?”  

  The Masquerade wasn’t a bad part of the year.  It was always warm, and when he was little, these were the only two weeks of the year when he had consistently gone to sleep with a full belly.  Food was usually being given away for free, and if there wasn’t enough on offer Asra could always find someone who was dressed wealthily enough that he didn’t mind picking their pockets.

It was lonely now, since Muriel refused to come into the city for any reason at all.  Asra understood why, of course, he had from the moment that the massive wolf had bounded up to him, wagging her tail in a pacifying greeting, and Faust had started translating frantically that Muriel was okay, that he had found a place in the forest where he was safe, that Asra needed to go to him.  Vesuvia had never really been safe for them, not since . . . but well, Asra could take care of himself now.  He just missed having Muriel with him.  

Dema stayed close to him as they walked through the street.  A crowd of revelers, shrieking and laughing in delight, pushed past.  She grabbed his hand and stepped back, hitting the wall behind her.  Asra squeezed her knuckles.  “We can go back.  If you want.”

“No.”  She shook her head and left her hand in his.  “I’m okay.  Hey, um, what’s the local drink here?”

“Well.”  Asra glanced up and down the street to make sure it was relatively clear then pulled her across to a small stall that was selling small flasks of liquor.  He’d never been a drinker.  Never enough money for it, and he’d never felt like he had the freedom to dull his senses much, nice as that might have been at times.  Plenty of the other kids around the docks had though.  Tended not to end well for them.  “This is popular.  And bit distinctive.  Do you like anise?”

“Try anything once.”  She pulled a handful of coins from her pocket and bought one of the mid sized bottles.  “Somewhere we can people watch without getting trampled?”

“Yeah, come with me.”  He took her hand again, maneuvering her so that she’s walking on the inside of the sidewalk, closer to the wall than the passing crowds.  Another block of so down, there’s a garden surrounded by a thick smooth topped wall.  Good for clambering over to purloin fruit - especially since the one time the owner had caught him, they had just laughed and tossed him a rough harvesting bag.  Vesuvia was not so bad, all things considered.  At least the people who had lived here for a time.  The wall was also an excellent place to sit and watch the goings on in the street below.

He climbed up a series of rough handholds in the stones and reached back down for her.  She ignored his hand and agilely pulled herself up.  “Not the first rock wall I’ve climbed.”  She settled on the wall beside him and pulled the cork from the bottle, tilting it back to take a sip.  Her eyes went wide for a moment, then she smiled.  “This is different.  Pleasant actually.  Not all at what I usually drink.”

“What’s your usual poison?”

“Mmm . . .”  She took another drink.  “Whiskey.  Rum sometimes.”

Someone set off firecrackers in the street producing a series of crackles and bangs, followed by the boom and screech of a bottle rocket.  She jumped and Asra grabbed her hand, missed and wrapped his fingers around her wrist by mistake.  She winced and snatched her hand back from him.  “Sorry, sorry.  Does it hurt much?”

“The burns do.  Didn’t really feel it until a day or two ago.  I . . . they, my father that is, had me pretty drugged up coming here.”

“That’s -”

“Anna chewed him out.  I think, I was still coming down off the drugs.”  Her grin faded, and she took another drink, longer this time.  “I don’t know if he deserved it.  Maybe he did.  Maybe he didn’t.”

Asra looked down at his hands.  If he were doing a reading, he’d dig in here.  It was what people paid him for really, for permission to talk about whatever was on their mind.  The cards were window dressing for the customers, no matter what they meant to him.  But he wasn’t sure, she’s ready.  If she even has words yet.  “Where’s your family from?”

“Far to the south and then west a bit.  Anna moved away before I was born.  Haven’t been home in about five years though.  At school.”

“But your father brought you here?”

“At least he came for me.”  She glanced away, eyes getting lost in shadow.  “Even if he doesn’t want me back.  Wouldn’t do -”  She paused and took a drink from the flask in her hand.  “Not to have a daughter who is so clearly not one of the elect.”

“Elect?”

“Religion thing.  I’m better off if I just forget it.  Been damned for awhile.  Anna too, that's why she left.  Or rather she didn't believe any of it.  And if you don’t believe it, well, can you be damned?”  She pushed her hair back and scrubbed the back of her hand over her eyes.  Had she been about to cry?  "Enough about me.  Where are your folks from?"  She extended the bottle to him.

"My folks?”  He reached out and took the bottle from her.  "Here, I guess, they disappeared when I was too little to be interested in that sort of thing."  A long drink, a burn in his throat, and a too long silence.  He remembered why he didn't care for alcohol.

"Have you been on your own since?"

"I, kind of, not really.  My friend, Muriel, he's the one who does most of the carving on the masks, we've been taking care of each other.  But -”  He took another drink.  It was no better than the first.  “I failed him.  He got caught holding a purse I had stolen.  Lucky, I suppose, they didn't take a hand.  Threw him into the gladiatorial ring instead."  If Asra had just been a little stronger, a little quicker, a little more present, Muriel never would have been caught.  Never sent into that hellhole.  Or if he was a little smarter, he'd have figured out how to get Muri out.  But he was none of those things.  He expected her to say something.  Something trite about how that must have been difficult, it to reassure him that certainly it wasn't his fault, even if she didn't know that full story.  That's what people did.  Decent people at least.  Try to make it better.  

Instead, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his hand.  Like he'd done so many other times, Asra caught himself before he let out a sob.  He hadn't cried in years, certainly not in front of anyone other than Muriel.  Cheerful, charming.  It's good for business.  If you fake it long enough it might even be the truth.  But she says nothing, and in halting words he starts to tell her.  He'd made himself watch each fight, fighting back nausea, trying to preemptively decide what he could do to heal each cut, each bruise, each broken bone.  But it wasn't enough - not when he hadn't been able to get him out.  And then, finally, Muriel had just gotten up and walked out.  And no one stopped him, because in the months he had been in the ring, no one had been able to stop him, even slow him down.  And who was foolish enough to try to stop him, not with snarling wolf by his side.

Her hand remained on his - a slight, gentle weight.  He closed his eyes, and his breath caught in his throat for a moment as he tried to hold back tears.  But, finally, he let himself cry.  She sat quietly next to him, eventually wrapping an arm around his shoulders.  And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t push someone away.

***

The bedroll by the banked fire is warm and comfortable, but Asra couldn’t sleep.  Odd, he’d been able to sleep almost anywhere for years now - warm and comfortable or very much the opposite.  He tossed and turned and eventually gave up.  Before finding his deck in his bag, he lit an oil lamp on the table with a live coal.  Faust lifted her head sleepily, and he runs a finger along her back, whispering for her to go back to sleep.

He shuffled the cards absently and dealt the top three.  The Four of Cups, the Two of Cups, and The Hermit.  The minor cards spoke together in suggestive whispers.  The first card was a gentle accusation of having closed himself off, having retreated for too long.  The second was hopeful, echoing the moment he felt earlier, sitting on the garden wall.  The Hermit repeated both the accusation and the choice, continuing to close himself off, or accepting - trusting - someone else.  He lifted the final card and looked it over closely before restacking the deck and returning it to his bag.   

Asra retrieved a mask that had snapped from the bottom of his bag.  He glued it back together, and in the dim light of a lamp, painted it in abstract swirling colors, energetic and undefined.  He covered the repaired rift with a layer of clay, then adheres a layer of gilt over that, warming and moistening the clay with his breath, and polishing the gold leaf with a smooth piece of amethyst.  

He was gone in the morning before anyone woke.  But her mask waited on the table.

Next Chapter

[orionwhispers]

Devil Like Me (Part XIII)

(A/N- Hey guys! Sorry, this took so long, been a huge storm in the UK and my laptop broke! But things are looking up, I hope you’re all well and that you enjoy this chapter! Things are starting to get exciting! Thank you for all your love and support and remember that feedback is appreciated! Talk soon) 

Then

The evening air whistled through the trees as you warmed your hands on your mug of steaming tea. You leaned back, listening as the old wicker chair groaned against the porch as it rocked with your motions.

"So you have no idea who she is then?"

He shrugged, his eyes focused elsewhere as he simply replied, "Unfortunately not. I've pissed off a lot of people love."

The pet name sent an unwelcome heat to the base of your neck and you clenched your hands, hoping to calm yourself before the tell-tale blush reached the apples of your cheeks.

It had been a few days since your encounter on the beach and well over a week since you had last seen Klaus at the lake house. You tried your best to not allow the woman's words of warning to affect you and got on with your usual routine, but it always lingered in the back of your brain.

You tried to seek out Klaus, but you knew by now that he worked similarly to Maple; he came and went as he pleased. However, he also had the irritating knack of showing up when you needed him the most, surprising you with his presence even when you denied that it helped.

You'd been wearily pacing back home from babysitting a few streets over, blinking away the headache looming from wrangling two children into bed, when you saw him sitting on the porch steps to your house. Your breath hitched in your throat and you stalled unconsciously, brushing off your momentary embarrassment with a sly grin, watching as his lips turned and mirrored your own, making your heart flutter.

"You better not have woken up my Aunt." You smirked, treading towards him and watching as he rose in greeting.  "She'd have a heart attack if she saw you outside."

He lifted his hands in mock surrender, "I was as quiet as a mouse, I swear." His glassy grey eyes meet yours and you're immediately captivated, entranced in his gaze. His voice cuts through the silence, his tone suddenly serious and sharp. "I hear you were visited by someone."

You nod, running a palm through your hair with vigour as you sigh, "I'll go make us something to drink."

You left him outside whilst you boiled the kettle, not willing to invite him in, you wanted to relinquish in what little control you had over him. Rushing upstairs to greet Aunt Jean, you kissed her sleeping form and sped to the mirror, quickly touching up your hair and makeup - something you would deny in an instant - before you joined him on the porch seats, clutching two mugs of camomile tea.

"Sorry, we either had this or an old bottle of red bull." You said as you handed him the cup, smiling inwardly as his large hands clasped the dainty crockery. "But hey, you're British, you guys love tea."

He smirked, taking a sip and you wondered how he could look so good doing something so simple. It was rather infuriating. Regardless, you pushed those thoughts aside and turned to face him, exhaling and repeating the same words the woman had told you at the beach. You watched him drink in the report, his face expressionless as he swallowed what you were telling him.

"What did she look like?"

You ran your tongue over your teeth, her face imprinted on your mind as you listed her characteristics "Old. Green eyes. Long fingernails. Black curly hair and a crooked nose..." You trailed off, smirking to yourself "It's funny, she kind of looked like a -"

"Witch." Klaus finished for you and you spluttered into your drink, the hot water sloshing onto your lap.

"Please don't tell me ..." You don't even finish your sentence, trailing off as Klaus lifted the mug to his lips, smirking with amusement. You groan and throw your head back, "Witches? Really?"

He nods, and you give him an incredulous look, "What else?" You prod, now more curious than irritated.

"Werewolves, Siphoners, Psychics, Sirens... although you don't see them as much anymore."

You can't help your mouth gaping open at the news of a whole world you didn't know existed before you reply with a snort. "What about Unicorns? Or Mermaids? I was obsessed with them as a kid."

He laughs and you swear it's the most glorious sound you've heard, making you erupt into a grin as well.

"Unfortunately not, although anything is possible I guess."

"And to think - you're just a plain old vampire." You tease, giving him a playful nudge.

"The Original Hybrid." He corrects with a smirk. Watching you carefully raise a brow, you swallow his words, running them through your brain.

"Original?"

He extends his arms, obviously proud of his heritage as he declares, "One of the first Vampires created."

"So the hybrid part?"

"Werewolf."

You splutter on your tea. Coughing awkwardly as you choke on the liquid, swallowing thickly and trying to hide your embarrassment. Klaus' eyes shine with humour as he watches you steady yourself from his news.

"Well," You smirk, returning to a calmer state, "I had no idea I was in the presence of royalty. Forgive me, I would have brought out the fancy china."

"No, this is more than fine." He says with a smile, gesturing to the mug and you grimace at the Snoopy cartoon plastered across the sides.

"One of -?"

He lifts a brow at your question, "You said, one of the Originals? How many others?"

"Five of us in total were turned. Four brothers and a sister."

You let out a whistle from the edge of your lips. "Wow, big family. Are you close?" You can't help inwardly laughing at how domestic the conversation is; like Klaus is a friendly neighbour joining you for dinner rather than here to discuss a possible enemy.

"Like all families we... fall out." His lips curl into a smirk as he smiles at his own joke, signalling he knows something you don't. "But, yes. We are close, especially when we were kids."

You smile, thinking of fond memories of a child-sized Klaus running around with his siblings, you wondered what he could have been like. His sister twining daisy chains into his golden hair? Face red from chasing his brothers around fields? The long grass tickling the back of his knees, sun beaming down onto his angelic face. The thought makes you almost fall off your chair from laughter, the fact that he was once a small boy seems incomprehensible, but adorable nonetheless.  

You hide your chuckle behind your mug, taking a sip and watching his eyes follow the leaves swaying on the trees. You can hardly believe the situation you're in, having a normal conversation with Klaus, but it feels so natural and oddly intimate.

"I've always wanted siblings." You say, surprised at how open you're being. "What are they like?"

He exhaled, thinking the question through before replying, "Complex. Very determined and all different, but I think you'd like them. They would certainly like you."

You blush at his words, and he gives you a cheeky smirk, knowing the power he holds over you. You both fall into a comfortable silence, the wind picking up slightly, rustling through the trees, the moon illuminating the decking.

"I think it's best if you leave town."

His voice cuts through the night and you turn to face him. He refuses to engage with you, his eyes cast into the shadows ahead. You don't get a chance to respond, as he continues quickly,

"It's dangerous. You should leave - at least until I figure out who this woman is. I have people out looking for her, but I can't say how long that'll take."

You snort, watching as his eyes narrow at your amusement, he was clearly expecting a different reaction.

"There's no way I'm leaving. I graduate in a week and I am not going to let a crazy lady yelling at me on the beach stop me from getting my diploma."

He quirks his brow, studying you for a moment, before faltering and allowing a smile to grace his features, "Fair enough. But if she makes an appearance again, you are to tell me right away. Understand?"

You click your tongue in humour at his blunt instructions, raising your hand to your forehead in mock salute. "Aye Aye Captain."

He rolls his eyes, and you watched as his gaze travelled away from you. You took it as an opportunity to study his traits, illuminated by the night, you wondered where he had been all day, what kind of things does a Hybrid do for entertainment? Actually, it was probably for the best you didn't know.

"What about you?" You ask slowly, voice timid against the frigid wind. His eyebrows raise in confusion and you clarify, "Are you going to be alright?"

He turns, his eyes ablaze against the dark. You watch the slight stubble on his chin twitch with the movements of his lips as they curl into a smirk. His azure eyes flicker across your features, licking his plump lips and slightly baring his teeth.

"What?" You ask, growing heated and slightly defensive under his stare. "So, the big bad Klaus has nothing to fear?"

He cuts you off, leaning in towards you, his mouth melting into yours, hot and hard. You still, taking a breath as you adjust to the unfamiliar feeling, heat sparking at the base of your neck as you respond, deepening the movements. Its different from the night at the lake house, its calmer, not as desperate, but still deeply intimate.

He pulls away slowly and you press your swollen lips together, already missing the comfort of his pressed against yours. The night air sends a welcome chill against your skin, engulfing the both of you and snapping you into reality. You shiver as his voice pierces through the bite.

"As soon as someone can get eyes on her it'll be sorted. She's most likely just a vengeful bitch from my past trying to get my attention, nothing to worry about."

His words do offer some comfort, but the way you're dopily staring into his eyes is most likely whats distracting you from the questions swirling around your head. His choice of words are candid and you can't help but agree, Klaus' past is a mystery to you and its probably an ancient bored enemy, nothing more.

If only that were true.

A few days passed and you were back with Jasmine, lounging on the sofa with her dog Rufus cradled in your arms. The smell of pepperoni pizza was wafting through the air, mixed with the overwhelming scent of perfume coming from the countless shopping bags adorning the hall.

"Ok, so..." You lift your head up to the strawberry blonde entering the room, a long satin dress draping over her petite features.

You squeal, clapping your hands together as she posed with the olive green material. "That's the one!" She lept up and down at your reaction, ruffling her hair in the mirror and twirling around like a ballerina.

She vanished back into the hall as you cradled the terrier in your arms, entangling his wispy salt and pepper hairs around your fingers. Graduation was rapidly approaching and Jasmine had dragged you to the mall to accompany her in finding the perfect outfits for the upcoming events.

Your town did things slightly different than the usual gown and diploma. The night before was a party held by the teenagers, basically an evening of just messing around and chugging cheap beer. There was also an unofficial "competition", the rowdiest of the bunch racing against each other to get the most obliterated, but still being able to make it to the main event the next day for their parents to see them walking across the stage. It was always a hilarious disaster.

Following a long and drawn out ceremony the next morning, the evening was spent in the town hall - per Cynthia's exited request. It was a ritual going back centuries in town, a dance dedicated to the teenagers and teachers who had spent four years in hell. It was cheesy and stupid, but it was tradition nonetheless.

Jasmine returned shortly, now clad in her familiar pink pyjamas and cradling a box of garlic bread. She grabbed a particularly large piece as she leapt opposite you, taking an exaggerated bite and locking your eyes.

"Can you believe we're graduating soon?"

You sigh and nod, hardly believing that in a few days your time as a high schooler will be over. "Feels so weird, I spent years wishing it would end but it feels... bittersweet."

Jasmine falls into silence, picking the label of her soda can absentmindedly as you run your hand across the little dogs coarse head, mulling over your words. Jasmine slaps her palms as if wafting away the sad change in the air, "None of that!" She squeals, twisting her curls into a makeshift bun on top of her head. "Outfits are sorted, so now..." She pauses for dramatic effect, reaching behind her and pulling out a DVD case strategically placed under a cushion. "Ta-Da!"

She flings the plastic towards you, and you catch it before it hits Rufus' head. You turn it over, letting out a laugh as you see the word "Twilight" scrawled across the cover in blood red letters. You turn back to your best friend, her eyes shining with glee as she wiggles forward.

"Remeber? Freshman year? We were so obsessed! When it first came out we watched it like 4 times in the cinema!"

"Don't remind me." You chortle, thinking back to the times you had fallen asleep in Math class because of late nights spent with Bella and Edward. "God, we were strange."

The ginger nudges you with her arm, "C'mon, let's relive those memories! You set it up and I'll get us some popcorn." She orders, rising to her feet and heading to the kitchen, her bunny slippers slapping along the floor. You snort as you study the disk, not able to contain your giggles, how ironic.

"It's a shame things didn't work out between you and Ren."

You lift your head and direct your attention to the voice drifting from the kitchen.

"Yeah," You begin, distracting yourself with the task before you rather than engaging in the discussion.

"You could have brought him to the dance! Double date with me and Greg!"

You snort, "Not likely. Hell would freeze over before I willingly spent the evening with you two lovebirds."

She flings a kernel in your direction and you scoff as it hits the floor, grabbing it before the tiny terrier scoffs it down.

"I just want you to have a good time. I worry about you-you know. Even Mother Theresa has been on more dates."

Her tone is light and teasing but you can't help but feel a pang of guilt about the secret you're keeping from your best friend. She would be overjoyed to hear about Klaus, but at the same time, indulging her with the truth could be doing more harm than good.

You watch her shyly, tendrils falling down her face as she sprinkles sugar onto the dessert, and you take a deep breath, plucking up the courage.

"Jas.."

"Yeah?" She asks, licking stray crumbs off her thumb as she closes the fridge door.

"I need to - " You halt immediately as the insistent ringing of the fire alarm jolts through the house, you groan as Jasmine squeals, leaping towards the microwave like a rabbit in a bushfire.

You sigh and face the TV, deciding to tell her after the popcorn crisis. You fiddle with her modern DVD player, confused at all the unfamiliar buttons compared to the ancient one you and Aunt Jean share. You manage to get the disc in and onto the main menu before you hear a gasp from the kitchen.

"Didn't burn yourself did you?" You ask, half laughing, fiddling with the buttons on the remote. You're greeted with silence and you hoist yourself onto your knees, peering into the kitchen.

"Jas?" You call, steadying yourself as you rise, catching a glimpse of the girl staring bewildered through the bay window, into the darkness.  "Earth to Jas?" You repeat, walking towards her dazed figure. She holds out a palm and motions for you to stop, her hands quivering slightly.

"Whats wrong?" You ask, trying to get her attention.

"Do you see that?" She says finally, her voice timid but accusing, her eyes never leaving the ebony garden in front of her.

You peer through the glass, your eyes roaming across the familiar lawn furniture and trees that are lit from the outside lanterns, but nothing looks out of place.

"It looks OK to me,"

"I swear -" She cautiously takes a step closer, cupping her hands around her eyes like makeshift binoculars. She turns to you finally, her emerald eyes slightly watery and filled with fear. "(Y/N), I swear I'm not crazy, I think I saw someone outside."

You intertwine her shaking hands with yours, as you inch towards the window pane, staring into the daunting abyss. "It was probably a cat or something." You say, convincing not only her but yourself, keeping your tone comforting, but not pitying.

"No," She says, returning to her fiery state. "There was someone there! I saw their eyes! Green eyes, staring at me like a fucking -"

"Wait -" You cut her off mid-rant, spinning around to meet her glowing gaze. "Green eyes?" You repeat, swallowing the thickness in your throat.

"Yeah," She states, gesturing to her own jade orbs, "Like mine, but not as pretty." She's joking, but it comes out meek and strangled. "Shit.. (Y/N) Do you think it's still out there?"

You peer closer, trying to strain your eyes against the dark but you can't see anything except gravel and trees. You inch forward and rest your hand on the handle, egging yourself on.

"No! Are you stupid? You can't go out there!" Jasmine squeals, gripping hold of your shoulder and hoisting you backwards, but you tighten your grip.

"Relax. I'm just going to check!"

You take a deep breath, your nose wrinkling in anger that the bitch would come to Jasmine's house. The door creaks as you slowly open it, the bitter night air smacking you in the face and sending goosebumps and shivers down your body.

"Hello..?" You call, cringing at how meek your voice sounds, you go to swing the door open further, inhaling and getting ready to take another attempt at calling out, but as your mouth opens, a deafening thud hits the glass.

You both scream, slamming the door shut and jolting back and hitting your spine against the wall. You clutch one another, tangling your bodies for support against whatever was outside.

"Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Fuck!" Jasmine yelps, her face scarlet and sweaty, her breathing rapid and her hands clammy against yours. "What the hell was that?" You shake your head, too agitated to form any words, as you crawl forward on your hands and knees, ignoring Jasmine's desperate pleas in the background. You edge towards the door, crouching as far on the floor as possible in an attempt to make your body less noticeable.

"(Y/N)!" You hear Jasmine whine, her soft hands clasping around your ankle and trying to tug you back. You shake her off, continuing your mission, twisting your head and focusing your eyes to try and see if you can spot anyone moving in the night. A soft cry distracts you from your thoughts and you snap your head towards the noise, a gasp leaving your lips as you realised where it came from.

"It's Ok! It was just a bird!" You say, laughing breathlessly as you swing open the door and lean towards the injured creature. Your heart tugs as you see it cower and shiver in pain. Jasmines at your side instantly, relief flooding her features, quickly replaced with hurt as she takes in the blood covering her patio.

"Poor thing." You murmur, reaching down to inspect its body. It's a crow. It's ebony feathers melting into the colour of the night. Its larger than average, one impressive wing spread to the side, the bone protruding from its flesh. It chirps and twitches before you, its body contorted in pain, blood staining its dark feathers.

"It probably just saw the light and tried to fly in, right?" Jasmine says, her voice is wavering and she's trying to convince herself more than you. You nod, although you can't help feeling that its part of something much bigger, something much more sinister.

The bird lets out a strangled cry and you both cringe, knowing what you have to do. you rub your eyes and exhale, stomping your feet and stepping out into the dark. Jasmine whimpers behind you as you reach for the injured bird, its feathers feel sticky and hot against your palm and you click your tongue to stop it from struggling.

"Hey, hey. It's Ok!" You whisper, feeling it relax in your grip, you turn your head as your hands clasp around its thin neck, thinking back to spending summers on a farm in Maine with Aunt Jean's friend Will. The both of you stumbling across a chicken that had escaped the coop and been attacked by a fox. Him telling you that it was humane, better than leaving it suffering, as he quickly snapped its neck, and you seeing it lay limp in his arms. You counted to three and twisted, feeling the poor thing go feeble in your grasp.

"Let me go get a bag," Jasmine states, darting back into the house. You nod, grimacing at your hands and frowning at the animal on the floor. You take a step to head back inside, determined to wash your palms free of the grime, but as you turn your eyes meet those of another. Moss green orbs piercing through the night, locking onto yours, you can't see clearly but you swear her lips coil into a smirk as she backs into the trees, disappearing into the night.

Now

Katherine eyed the sleeping vampire cautiously. His face was pale and weak, and he looked utterly pathetic. She ran a hand through her tousled ringlets, this was supposed to be the man that could take down Klaus?

His eyes had opened, glassy cores peering around the room, the saggy and wrinkled skin by his eyebrows twisting with his movement. She felt disgusted. Her attempts at getting him up had been rather futile, and he stayed placid like a decaying body.

"Any luck?" The brunette twists at the sound of Damons voice and offers the vampire a wan smile as she exhales loudly.

"No. He's an invalid."

Damon snorts as the man's eyes lock onto Katherines, but she doesn't falter under his gaze.

"No more playing around, we need him, now," Damon mutters, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a blood bag, ripping it open and leaning over the body. He lets it drip out, the thick scarlet liquid falling in droplets into his open mouth. The metallic smell is intoxicating, and Mikael gasps as it flows down his throat. Colour starts to flush into his face as Damon pours more, his cheeks growing rosy and his eyes gaining vibrancy. He coughs and splutters, lapping up the liquid with such vigour that it trickles down his chin.

Katherine and Damon lean forward, looking for any signs of life as the man hacks and groans.

"Why did you awaken me?" He asks, his voice raspy and thick. Damon goes to speak, but Katherine cuts him off, her voice harsh and direct.

"We need you to kill Klaus."

The elderly vampire's eyes flicker with hatred and recognition and he struggles under his chains. Damon gently presses him down, holding him from straining himself.

"Klaus." He tests the word on his tongue, his mouth twisting in disgust. "Where is he?"

Katherine leans down, "I'll tell you everything you need to know, as long as you promise you'll get rid of him."

"You have my word. I'll destroy him."

Katherine smiles at his words, ignoring Damon's curious gaze from the background. She reaches into her pocket and grabs a piece of paper, unfolding it to reveal a dog-eared photo. She thrusts it under Mikael's nose, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar picture.

"Getting to Klaus will be hard, but this will be the sure fire way to get his attention." Her voice is smug as she meets Damon's gaze, watching him frown as his eyes jolt with recognition.

"Get to (Y/N), get to Klaus. I can guarantee it. Seeing her get hurt will kill him more than if you went for him, and we both know he deserves to suffer."

She smirks at Mikael, his features lighting up at the thought of his son in pain. His voice is deep and determined as he simply says, "Game on."

[master-sass-blast]

Strong as Stone --Part Eighteen

*claps hands together* Four hours of sleep! Four hours of sleep! Fuck my life, it’s all goin’ to hell, because I’ve only had four hours of sleep!

And, as well all know by now, sleep deprivation spells ‘best writing mood’ for me, so... WELCOME BACK!

Last time we saw the continuation of Okoye’s struggle to track down Klaue’s associate in ‘Cat and Mouse, Part Two.’ This week is the third installment of our favorite General’s/general queen’s quest to apprehend the thief. Next week will bear a chapter about Dewani’s birthday.

Rating: T.

Warnings: Use of strong language, brief sexual themes, description of explosions.

Pairings: Okoye x M’Baku and Shuri x OC.

@the-last-hair-bender

Challenges are the most natural part of life, even more so than times of ease and peace. Life itself is the greatest challenge of all: the struggle against death.

Being a Dora Milaje is a constant state of challenge. You have to learn to overcome, how to work with tremendous odds stacked against you. You have to learn how to produce results again and again and again and again.

There are times where you will face challenges that will continually best you, no matter how well you plan or how fast you act. When that happens, step away. Refresh your mind. Come back renewed and ready to try again.

When you do, you’ll often find that the solution was right in front of you all along.

“Shuri, you said this was an emergency.”

“It is!”

Okoye smirked as T’Challa sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

The teenage princess was standing amidst a sea of clothes, frowning as she held up article after article of clothing, only to toss each one aside in turn. “I can’t decide which dress I should wear to Dewani’s birthday celebration.”

“Shuri--”

“Brother, listen to me. This is vitally important. I’m going to be meeting Dewani’s friends from the Jabari lands while we’re up there for her birthday. I need to make a good impression, and that includes not looking like a complete and total idiot at the main celebration.” She held up two dresses, both long sleeve; one was red with gold and black patterning, while the other was blue with silver and green diamonds. “I think I’ve narrowed it down to these two. Which one looks better for a birthday party?”

“You think?” T’Challa echoed, exhausted and incredulous.

Okoye simply smiled. “You could always ask Dewani for which dress would be most appropriate.”

“And take the easy way out?”

“Yes,” T’Challa muttered under his breath. “Please. Take the easy way out.”

Dewani poked her head into Shuri’s room. “What’s the easy way out?”

Shuri let out a delighted squeal and ran over to her girlfriend. “You’re here! I thought you wouldn’t arrive until dinner!”

Dewani laughed and spun Shuri in an enthusiastic hug. “I convinced M’Baku to let us leave earlier.”

“More like annoyed me until I relented,” M’Baku said as he followed Dewani into Shuri’s room. He kissed Okoye on the temple before eyeing the clothing carnage. “Tell me, are tornadoes naturally occurring catastrophes down here?”

“Only the in the form of the Princess,” Okoye replied quietly as Shuri showed off her two top dress picks.

“The red one looks nice,” Dewani said as she sat on the edge of Shuri’s bed.

“Ah,” Shuri said in a pleased tone that wasn’t the least bit subtle. “So, you like the red one better than the blue one.”

Dewani smirked. “The blue one looks pretty, too. I’m sure whichever one you pick will look great on you.” She chuckled when Shuri deflated and pointed at the red dress. “Blue is one of our holy colors, reserved for servants and students of Hanuman; you’re better off going with red.”

“A simple solution,” T’Challa said, relief evident in his voice. “Dewani, you have my thanks.”

“Hang on. I still haven’t decided one which shoes I’m wearing, to say nothing of accessories.”

“T’Challa, the leader of the River tribe would like to speak with you,” Ramonda said as she paused by Shuri’s bedroom door. “He’s waiting right now.”

“Alas, I have been summoned. I’m sure you’ll manage without me, Shuri.”

“He doesn’t look too upset,” M’Baku mumbled as T’Challa beat a hasty retreat from his sister’s room.

“This isn’t the first time Shuri’s pulled him in for a fashion consultation,” Okoye whispered. “She had him in here for three hours at one point.”

M’Baku winced and shot her a conspiratorial look. “Do you think she’s distracted enough that we could leave without them noticing?”

Okoye mulled it over.

On one hand, Shuri definitely didn’t need a babysitter. Okoye knew from personal experience that Shuri kept her room stocked with enough hidden weaponry --in case of emergencies--to equip several armies. Furthermore, Okoye wasn’t a babysitter; she still had work to do in light of her upcoming trip to celebrate Dewani’s birthday. Besides, Shuri was seventeen and Dewani a week away from being seventeen as well. The girls were almost adults --they could handle being mature and responsible.

On the other hand, it definitely wouldn’t be appropriate to leave two teenagers alone, in a bedroom, without any real supervision.

Before Okoye could decide one way or the other, Ramonda walked back into Shuri’s room. “I can keep an eye on the girls for now. I know you have more duties to attend to, General Okoye; Chief M’Baku, you’re free to use the palace amenities as you like.”

M’Baku grinned at Okoye as they walked out of the Princess’s room together. “Well, that was easier than expected.”

M’Baku followed her to her office, citing ‘wanting to speak with her in private’ as his reason. However, as soon as the door closed, he picked her up and pinned her against it, mouth zeroing in on her neck.

Okoye let out a gasp and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I thought you wanted to talk to me.”

“I do. Specifically between your legs.”

Okoye rolled her hips against his as his hands squeezed her ass. “M’Baku, I have work to do.”

“Is this you asking me to stop?”

Okoye thought it over for a moment, then pulled his head up by his short locks and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. “No.”

M’Baku chuckled and started undoing the clasps on her belt.

“So, how do the Jabari celebrate their birthdays?”

“It’s not too different from how Shuri celebrated hers. There’s a main celebration with the village or tribe members, and then a private celebration for family and friends.”

Okoye sat back in her seat, content to listen --as usual--as Ramonda and Dewani talked. She’d been invited to dinner with the family --a regular occurrence whenever M’Baku and Dewani were staying at the palace.

She’d adjusted to the idea of eating a meal with the people she worked for over the past year. It still didn’t feel as natural as eating with M’Baku during their vacations together or sharing a meal with her friends, though she doubted it ever would.

Her entire life had been shaped into serving the Udakus --not a complaint, just a fact. She wasn’t going to overcome the formalities and training that she’d breathed in during her youth in a little under a year.

“Are you looking forward to your birthday?” Ramonda asked with a warm smile.

Dewani shrugged. “Yes and no. I mean, it’s going to be all about me, which will be great--”

Okoye hid her smirk behind her wine glass when she saw T’Challa roll his eyes; the expression on his face translated roughly to ‘she’s just like M’Baku.’

“--but my uncle has to attend the family celebration, which sucks.”

Shuri frowned. “Why does he keep showing up everywhere? Can’t you issue a restraining order against him?”

“Dewani will be allowed to contest his abuse towards her once she’s eighteen,” M’Baku said, expression solemn. “Until then, he’s allowed free movement through the territory.”

“But he keeps terrorizing her. Can’t you, like, ban him from seeing her?”

“I could. Unfortunately, I’ve made some unpopular decisions with the more traditional elders --elders that my uncle has a great deal of sway over. If he can turn the tribe against me, I’ll lose my position as Chief and custody of my sister. I’m sure you can understand why I don’t want that to happen.”

Shuri scrunched up her face. “Unpopular decisions? What unpopular decisions?”

M’Baku raised an eyebrow at her. “Rejoining the rest of Wakanda, mostly.”

“A decision that allowed me to meet my soulmate, thank you very much,” Dewani interjected as she elbowed her brother in the side. “The elders can go suck--”

“Dewani.”

“--on a lemon, which will still be sweeter than they are.”

“Nice save,” Okoye murmured. She shared a grin with Dewani. “Are you going to show her a bridge building?”

Dewani’s eyes lit up and she turned to Shuri. “Yeah! There’s one scheduled for the third day of your visit.”

“I’ll admit, I’m really looking forward to seeing how you handle infrastructure challenges up there.” Shuri looked at Okoye. “Have you seen one yet?”

Okoye nodded. “Chief M’Baku took me to one the last time I was in the Jabari lands.”

“What’s it like?”

Okoye shared a smile with M’Baku before responding. “It’s not like anything you’ve ever seen --or will ever see.”

“I’m not sure this was a good idea.”

“You say that every time we reveal another side of Wakanda to the outside world.”

“That’s because it’s relevant every time we do.”

Okoye smiled slightly as a group of scientists from around the world walked towards Shuri’s lab. “It’s just for today, and then they’re gone.”

M’Baku let out a huff. “Good.”

“And then,” Okoye added, “we’ll be back in the Jabari lands to celebrate your sister’s birthday.”

That finagled a ghost of a smile out of him. “Believe me, I’m looking forward to it.”

Okoye liked to think of herself as smart --and, as far as she was concerned, she was. Her job was multi-faceted --from running missions to arranging work schedules to coordinating multi-team events--and she handled it all with ease and what effort she needed.

However, in the face of Shuri’s rapid-fire, detailed explanation about Wakanda’s latest development in cancer treatments, she found it difficult to keep her eyes from glazing over.

Oh well. You never could be good at everything.

Most of the scientists were polite enough and intensely focused on Shuri’s lecture, but Okoye couldn’t help but notice that there were a few gazes among the group --most of them white, no surprise there--that kept slipping back to M’Baku and Dewani. Her grip on her spear tightened when she caught one scientist look the Jabari siblings up and down with a sneer of disdain. We invite you in to our country, share our knowledge with you, and your first instinct is to judge members of our nation for how they dress?

She forced herself to take a deep breath and recenter herself. It’ll be over soon.

“Does anyone have any questions for myself or my co-presenters?” Shuri asked as she turned off her lecture display.

“Yes,” one of the scientists replied, turning to face M’Baku. “Do the Jabari use the vibranium technology as well? I noticed there weren’t any contributions from your tribe.”

“We do not.”

“So, what do you use?”

“Our technology.”

Okoye had to smother a laugh as the scientist floundered to respond to M’Baku’s short, vague answer. It was an asshole move, yes, but there was something deeply satisfying in seeing the Westerner get run around.

“And... what is that technology based on?”

“Our traditions.”

“The Jabari tribe follow different philosophies to those of the rest of Wakanda,” T’Challa interjected diplomatically. “That includes not using vibranium in their technological developments. I appreciate your curiosity over those differences, but we have assured them that their privacy will be respected as we connect Wakanda to the rest of the world. Thank you for understanding.”

There were a few other questions, and then the lecture closed and the scientists started filing out of the room.

“You can be such an asshole sometimes,” Okoye murmured to M’Baku, an amused smile playing at her lips.

He smirked down at her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked it.”

She opened her mouth to respond, then stumbled into M’Baku when someone bumped into her.

“Sorry! So sorry!” An Indian scientist winced as she adjusted the thick framed glasses that were perched on her nose. “Are you alright? I am so sorry, I wasn’t watching.”

“It’s fine--” Okoye paused, then peered at the scientist. “Do I know you? Have we met somewhere?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I... I do not believe so.” She extended her hand. “Dr. Chetna Khatri.”

“General Okoye.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Dr. Khatri replied in her thick accent. “Again, I am so sorry for knocking into you.” She let out a soft laugh. “I need to watch where I am going better.”

Okoye smiled politely. “It’s fine. I’ve dealt with worse.” She watched the woman walk off, eyes narrowing.

Something about the doctor seemed eerily familiar, but she couldn’t place it. I know I’ve seen that face before. I just can’t remember... where...

M’Baku clasped her shoulder. “Come on, love. We need to head back to palace.”

Okoye studied Dr. Khatri for a moment longer, then sighed and let the thought go as she followed M’Baku out of the room.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing what the Jabari lands are like.”

“You’ve been up there before.”

“Only for about forty-eight hours --and I spent most of that time inside.”

Dewani’s sunny countenance fell slightly at the mention of her grandmother’s death, but she perked back up in a few seconds. “Well, I can’t wait to see your reaction to the bridge building. I think your eyes are going to pop out of your head.”

“You know that’s scientifically and anatomically impossible, right?”

“Duh, but it’s such a poignant descriptor, no?”

Okoye smiled slightly as she trailed after Dewani and Shuri.

The sun was setting as they ambled through the palace. The scientists had long been sent on their way, and all that was left was to finish packing for their imminent trip to the Jabari lands.

Okoye reached out and nudged M’Baku’s arms. “There. Was that so bad?”

“Yes,” M’Baku said with a cheeky smile. “Absolutely horrendous. I don’t know how I’ll ever recover.” He interlocked his fingers with hers. “You’re coming with us, right?”

“Of course. And, I’m taking vacation days so that I don’t have to act as a guard while I’m staying with you.”

M’Baku beamed. “Wonderful.”

“Shuri,” Ramonda called out as she walked towards her daughter, accompanied by T’Challa and Nakia. “Are you ready for our departure?”

“Yes, mother.” Shuri looked down as her kimoyo beads pinged.

“And have you tidied your room for your packing efforts?”

Shuri frowned as she studied a read out projected by her kimoyo beads. “Uh... yeah...”

Ramonda put her hands on her hips. “Shuri, can I have your undivided attention, please?”

“...Yeah...”

“Shuri. Now, please.”

Shuri peered at the display, did a double-take, then uttered a loud and distressed, “What the fuck?!”

Ramonda inhaled sharply as T’Challa snorted. “Shuri!”

“They’re back in the system! Klaue’s associate!” Shuri scowled as she tried to manipulate the display. “How did they do that? I completely redid our security measures!”

Okoye called Ayo. “Commander, what are the latest whereabouts on Klaue’s associate?”

“We just got a location lock on one of the stolen vibranium tubes. I’m sending you the coordinates now.”

“With me, General,” T’Challa said as he ran towards the flight hangar. “This ends tonight.”

Yes, Okoye thought as she sprinted after T’Challa, spear in hand. It does.

Patagonian Desert, Argentina; 3 AM GMT.

“We’re approximately five miles out from the coordinates Ayo sent me,” Okoye said as she piloted the stealth craft through Argentinian airspace.

“There,” T’Challa said, pointing at a dark building on the horizon. “That’s it.”

Okoye sped the craft forward and landed it about thirty feet away from the building. She darted after T’Challa, spear in hand.

“I’m picking up three distinct life signs,” T’Challa whispered as he crept towards the warehouse. “But there’s something... off about them.”

“How so?” Okoye asked as she scanned the desert for enemies before approaching the door.

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” Okoye grunted as she used her spear to break the lock on the door. “We’ll figure it out once we’re inside.” She kicked the door in and peered in the warehouse.

A metal object that vaguely resembled a computer tower sat on the center of the warehouse floor. It made a screeching noise as she stepped over the threshold, then started vibrating. A panel on the front turned on, revealing a quickly counting down timer.

Okoye’s eyes widened. “Bomb! It’s a bomb!”

She and T’Challa booked it away from the warehouse, trying to gain as much distance between them and the explosive. They made it about thirty feet, and then T’Challa pulled her down, shielding her from the shockwave and shrapnel with his panther suit-clad body.

Okoye winced and stood once the worst of the explosion had finished. Her ears were ringing slightly, and her lungs were burning from the noxious plume of smoke and dust that was wafting off the ruins of the warehouse. She watched, equal parts horrified and pissed off, as a helicopter emerged from behind the smoke cloud, flying away and disappearing into the night sky.

“I think those were the life signs I picked up on,” T’Challa panted as he watched the helicopter. “Why couldn’t I tell that they were behind the building?”

“Because we’ve got a serious bug in our system.” Okoye let out a growl and smacked the end of her spear against the parched desert floor. “Bast dammit! How do we keep losing them?”

“I’m starting to think that Shuri and Dewani’s theory about Klaue’s associate having the ability to manipulate technology --or at least some seriously good hacking skills--is right. There’s no other reasonable explanation for why we can’t track them down ---or how they keep breaking into our system.”

Okoye scowled at the burning wreckage. “This has to end. We can’t afford to keep such a dangerous loose end untied.”

“I agree, General, but for now there’s nothing for it. All we can do is head back to Wakanda and track the associate to their next location.”

Okoye shot one last irritated glare at the smoldering warehouse, then followed T’Challa back to the stealth craft.

“You’re going to burn a hole through the floor if you keep glaring at it like that.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious, ‘koye. What did that floor even do to warrant your ire?”

“Ha ha.”

M’Baku frowned, then sat down and wrapped his hand around hers. “What is it, Okoye? You’ve been stormy since you came back to Wakanda --and don’t just brush it off as lack of sleep. I know you better than that.”

Okoye sighed. “We missed Klaue’s associate again. They had a trap waiting for us.”

“I know, but I don’t think that’s what’s got you so worked up right now. You’ve had difficult missions before.”

Okoye fought the urge to grind her teeth together. “I don’t like having loose ends. They make far more mess than they’re worth. And this is a loose end we can’t afford; vibranium in the wrong hands could spell the end of the world.”

“I understand your trepidation, but I don’t think the associate’s going to sell the vibranium.”

Okoye frowned up at him. “How can you be sure?”

“It’s been what, several months since we learned of the existence of the associate, right? If they were going to sell the vibranium, they would’ve done it by now.”

Okoye blinked as the revelation sank in. “You’re right... but I still wouldn’t rule out sale as an option.”

“Right. Don’t remove it from the table, but I don’t think it’s their primary motivation.”

“Then... what would they be trying to do with the stolen vibranium?”

M’Baku shrugged. “Only Hanuman knows.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled. “But enough about work. You’re technically off the clock.”

She smirked up at him. “Yes, technically I am.”

“So, that means it’s time to rest. No more work talk.”

Okoye chuckled, and settled against M’Baku as she tried to relax.

It wasn’t easy. She was still deeply enraged over letting Klaue’s associate slip through her fingers, and even more worried by the prospect that they didn’t seem to have any way of keeping the associate out of their computer system.

No leads, no witnesses, just the trail that kept being left for them --a trail that Klaue’s associate was in control of. Okoye was certain that they were being lead around on purpose, that every new hint was purposeful and placed to keep them right where Klaue’s associated wanted them.

Breathe, Okoye told herself as she closed her eyes to meditate. You need some time away from this. Rest, and come back with a fresh mind.

She exhaled slowly and let all thoughts about Klaue’s associate and failed missions go.