#there's a story about him in the heartbeat tag on ao3 that's what reminded me of this. but the first and most shocking experience

[watercolor-hearts]

I don't know if anyone can relate to this but as someone who's from a small/less well-known country, for me it's so weird to see when people from outside Hungary ship a Hungarian person with someone.

Not that it's a bad thing, it's just that for me real person shipping has always been something that focuses on famous people usually from England/US so it's really new for me to see that now there's this one Hungarian football player who's become popular enough for people to start shipping him with other football players and post about them on Tumblr and write stories about them in English.

It's really weird to think about him being a fanfic character and people shipping him with his teammates. 😃 I guess experiencing something like this puts shipping/fanfic writing into a different lighting.

[pmwritesandpoems]

A Timeless Hogwarts Legacy: Ours by Choice (5/16)

Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy Main Title: A Timeless Hogwarts Legacy Pairing: Ominis Gaunt/Original Female Character Tags: Romance; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Fluff; Friendship; Mutual Pining

Chapter: 5/16 Title: Ours by Choice Chapter word count: 12,390

Last Chapters: AO3 (All Chapters): AO3 Tumblr: Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4

Last Chapter Preview: With her breath caught, her flushing cheek, and her quickening heartbeat, Evelyn knew this was not a coincidence, as she previously believed. She didn't have to visit Madam Blainey to figure it out. Merlin , she even practically confessed it earlier. The feeling she had was real.

She’s falling for him.

So she tightened her grip on his arm. 

And welcomed the sparks that flew every time she saw him ever since.

Reminder:

I won't mention the main character house, you could choose her house yourself

You could change my original character name with yours, I’ll try my best to not mention her skin, hair, and eye colour so you could match it with your own. 

I  am no expert of the Victorian era, the use of the calendar system, etiquette, and many other things from the said era are changed as I see fit to support the story. Several insertions of modern era culture will be present as well to support the story.

You could also read this on AO3.

Enjoy!

p.s. please don't hesitate to comment if you'd like!

5. Ours by Choice

Autumn, 1891

“There you are,” Ominis said to the approaching girl. 

“There you are,” Evelyn answered in a playful tone, causing the blond boy to chuckle.

Merlin’s beard, how much she missed him. Hearing his laugh and seeing him again after being separated for the whole summer made her realise how much she missed him. She missed his laugh, his smile, his scent, his voice, anything about him. Being separated for the summer after the O.W.L. was hard for her. The letters they exchanged were clearly not enough to satisfy her longing. Especially since she only got one letter for two months of their separation. One!

“You spent too much time with Sebastian.”

Evelyn lifted an eyebrow at his comment. She did spend part of her summer with the brunette. Only because Ominis cancelled all of a sudden. They were supposed to spend the summer together, Sebastian, Ominis, and her. Staying at Evelyn's house to accompany the brunette to visit his twin sister in London. Ominis was supposed to be there, as the third party to help the brunette reconcile with his twin sister. But Evelyn stood in his place instead after he bailed on her and Sebastian on the day they were supposed to take the train to London. 

He had left suddenly without a proper goodbye. Leaving nothing to explain his sudden disappearance, making Evelyn and Sebastian worried. He eventually sent her and Sebastian a letter after a few days, saying he had to go back to his family manor in the summer for urgent matters. Urgent matters that he refused to tell neither Sebastian nor Evelyn about in the letter. And again, she only got one letter!

So it was no surprise that she answered him with resentment after he made her remember that.

“What’s wrong with that?” 

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” he answered dejectedly. “I’m the one who cancelled our plans all of a sudden. I’m sorry, Eve.”

Evelyn sighed. She couldn’t stay mad at him when he’s saying sorry like that. He had said sorry every time she became upset remembering it. Evelyn lost count of how many times he said sorry since their first meeting after summer break. Evelyn did realise that it was not his fault he had to go so suddenly in the first place, and his family affair wasn’t her business either. She’s just…disappointed with how he left. She could be upset about it, right?

“Just do as I told you before. Tell me right away as soon as you have to leave,” Evelyn stood on his left, “remember, you don’t have to tell me why. Just…don’t leave without telling me first ever again.”

Evelyn felt his left hand clasp her right one tightly.

“I will.” He said with a smile. “Thank you for still agreeing to meet with me here, Eve.”

Evelyn felt guilt creeping in after she heard his sincere gratitude. The one who should be thanked was him, after what he did throughout last winter, spring, and the past few days since the new school year started.

More than one year had passed since her first encounter with the dark side of magic, and yet, the nightmares didn’t cease. His warning at their encounter last winter on the astronomy deck was right. It didn’t go away as soon as she hoped. The frequency of her nightmares may have decreased, but the terror had not. It was still the same rotting hands and bones that pulled her. It was still the same fear. And every night she had them, she would go to the same hall where the room of requirement entrance was. But didn’t come into the room as soon as she arrived.

Sometimes, she found Ominis already waiting there, as if he knew she would have a nightmare that night.

Evelyn would find him leaning casually on the wall where the entrance to the Room of Requirement was supposed to be. He would then greet her in whispers when they were close enough to touch. And then, they would walk arm in arm to the astronomy observation deck with a bluebell flame lantern illuminating the way up. They would sit in the same place as their last encounter and talk about anything. Their separate days, academics, or even the weather. Anything except for Ominis’s past, Ominis’s family, and Evelyn’s ancient magic secret. They would talk for hours until Ominis reminded her that it was almost dawn and they still needed to rest. He would then courteously accompany her back to her dorm, where she would sleep peacefully for the rest of the night. 

The other times, she discovered that there was no one there. 

And when she did, she would wait for a few minutes, even an hour. She waited with hope that somehow, Ominis would come. And when he did, he would come with his wand in front of him, greet her in the same manner, escort her to the same place, and talk with her beneath the same stars with the same bluebell flame lantern to keep them warm.

That’s why she’s the one who should be thanking him. Thanking him for keeping his word to help her face her nightmares. Thanking him for all the nights he spent accompanying her. Thanking him for still being with her after everything.

“Thank you for inviting me, Omi,” She said as she tightened her grip on his hand before releasing it gently and moving back a few steps to give him space to mourn.

She didn’t question his decision to invite her instead of Sebastian to such an important event of his life. She just accepted it when he asked at their last night's clandestine rendezvous. The invitation to join him in commemorating the one year anniversary of his knowing of the death of his beloved aunt, Noctua Gaunt.

Evelyn and Ominis were standing on the shore of the black lake. They stood in silence, the gentle ripples of water brushing over their shoes. 

With his delicate skin caressed by the warm sun, Ominis appeared ethereal. She could practically see how beautiful the constellations of beauty marks on his left cheek were, connected by his faintly visible veins, as she stood to his left. He was both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. The classic traits of Gaunts, enchanting yet dangerous, as Sebastian had said. 

Evelyn broke the silence after she saw Ominis holding something between his right thumb and forefinger. “Such a shiny ring you got there, Ominis.” She said softly.

Ominis’s lips curled in disdain. “More like a bloody ring.”

Evelyn didn’t miss the resentment in Ominis’s voice, but she decided to continue, “Is that yours?”

Ominis sighed, his voice becoming strained in sorrow. “It’s my late aunt’s.”

“Oh…”

Silence came between them once again. Evelyn should have guessed it when she saw the size of the ring. It was too small, even for Ominis’s slender fingers. It could probably only fit on his little finger. 

Ominis probably felt how intense her gaze was since he gave her a clearer view of the ring by moving it to his open left hand. Evelyn smiled and began to try to note all the details of the ring. Silently thanking Ominis’s sensitivity. 

It was clearly made of gold and had no jewel stones. But it could still be considered a beautiful ring, even in its simplicity. It has an engraving of a crest, which is a shield of scales with two snakes facing each other in its centre and what Evelyn assumed to be thorny ivy tendrils on both its sides. With her curiosity overcoming her guilt, Evelyn finally asked.

“Is that your family crest?”

Ominis’s thumb touched the snakes on the ring, “Yes, it is.”

“Does every wizarding family have a family crest?” Evelyn asked in astonishment. In the muggle world, only noble houses wear crests. Perhaps the wizarding one was different? Perhaps everyone could have a crest.

“Most likely just the old ones,” Ominis shrugged, “old rich ones.”

“Oh…” 

Ominis chuckled at Evelyn’s disappointment. To lighten up the mood, he then jokingly said, “Archaic, pretentious, racist, stick-in-the-mud ones.”

Evelyn giggled, “and your family is one of them?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Mine is one of the oldest ones.”

Evelyn turned herself completely towards the boy. She traced the engraving of the ring on his left open palm between them. “If you don’t mind me asking, what does it mean?”

“It represents everything I despise in myself.” Ominis said bitterly. He closed his palm, blocking Evelyn’s view of the ring. “Unquenched thirst for power and blood purity maniac.”

“Ominis, I—”

“No, I’m glad that you asked.” He cut Evelyn, opened his palm again, and continued sarcastically, “You see, we Gaunts believe that power is everything. Which of course, is perfectly consistent with the concept of blood purity. We believe that being a pureblood means one has a higher position in life than others and wields more power over them. Not to forget, there’s also a special ability that only we have, courtesy of our cunning ancestor, Salazar Slytherin. The ability to speak parseltongue, which you already know, I unfortunately inherited, is like the oil for our already scorching ego.” 

Using his left thumb, he pointed to the snakes in the centre of the ring. "The snakes and scales on the shield signify it. Our noble way of life and the reminder of our great founding father,” He in disgust.

“With our vital role in wizarding society as the direct descendent of one of the most powerful wizards in the world, we have to keep the belief alive and our blood lineage clean," Ominis added. “We must preserve our ancestors' legacies while maintaining our authority over society.

“Like any other old barbaric family in the world, we do it by indoctrinating our children and practising inbreeding. We pride ourselves on how we teach our younglings about blood purity and the dark arts. We did it as soon as they got a wand from Ollivander to ensure that the propaganda was well embedded in their minds. Our method is unique, and no one else with a conscience probably agrees to it. But, it was extremely effective. We force our children to cast the curse they’ve learned on muggles. Killing two birds with one stone, I suppose. Teaching them about our rank in society and the power that comes with it.” He shrugged nonchalantly before he continued.

“The finest aspect is, the younglings didn’t have any choice in the matter. Since we also teach obedience and suppress their free will by making their own father curse them if they don't do as told. Their fathers also cursed them for showing weakness, like crying because they couldn’t bear to hear the screams of tortured souls for example. Screams that could be heard nearly every day in the Gaunt mansion. Especially from the dungeons. It made us Gaunts especially effective in producing a new batch of dark wizards in every generation—an accomplishment we Gaunts are immensely proud of.” Ominis ended with a sarcastic smile that sent shudders through Evelyn’s body. 

“I would be one of them if Aunt Noctua didn’t come to visit every summer.” He spoke again, his voice heavy with loss and despair.

Evelyn was too stunned to speak. Because of what Sebastian had told her, she already understood how horrible the Gaunt were. But listening to Ominis, the one who got through it himself? A hundred times more heartbreaking than it was before. She couldn’t stop herself from imagining how hard it could be for a child to go through what he did. A child was not supposed to get through that in the first place. She would’ve died if she had been in his place.

“Well, that's what the shield and ivy indicated,” Ominis added nonchalantly, perhaps feeling uncomfortable with the silence that had crept in. “It signifies our obligation to safeguard Slytherin's lineage and legacy.”

“I'm sorry,” Evelyn said, trying to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes.

Ominis sighed. “Don't be,” He said softly. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

"I made you recall something bad about her," Evelyn sniffed. "When today is meant to be the day you honour her memory," her voice cracked as the tears began to pour.

“Hey,” Ominis said, hastily putting the ring in his pocket as he heard Evely’s sob. He then frantically traced his way to Evelyn’s hands and held them tight. “It’s all right,” He said. With a soothing motion, his thumb began to massage her hand. “I was able to appreciate the good memories because of the terrible ones. You reminded me that she was the good in the midst of all the awful things that happened to me as a result of my family. You actually helped me honour her more.”

Evelyn couldn’t help herself. She hugged the boy with all her heart, wishing that her sympathy and condolences were conveyed through the physical touch. She buried her face in his chest, and cried.

Frozen in surprise, it took a while for Ominis to finally begin to hug her back. And when he did, waves of emotions came out of nowhere and flooded his heart. A tear fell, indicating how exhausted he felt from holding it all back. Letting himself finally feel his pain and grief, he hugged Evelyn tighter and cried as well.

“I miss her,” He stated in a trembling voice as he cried on her shoulder.

“I know,” Evelyn tenderly stroked his back while crying herself, “I know, Omi. Let it all out.”

And Ominis wept.

It's been days since the one year anniversary of Noctua Gaunt's death. 

The corridors remained unchanged. The wall between three braziers remained silent about what had happened behind it to the students, who kept strolling regularly when they crossed it. Yet, time appeared to stand still for Ominis, forcing him to endure the same sorrow he felt on the one year anniversary every time he came across the same wall.

And Sebastian was puzzled by his best friend's sorrow. That's why he was questioning Evelyn about it in the Undercroft just now, their blonde companion nowhere to be seen.

“He always has this sad face every time we come across the wall where the scriptorium entrance is.”

Evelyn couldn't help but think how tragic it was that her brunette friend hadn't actually realised it had been a year since their venture to the cursed scriptorium. Ominis was probably still feeling sorrow and grief over his aunt's demise. He did know of her death by seeing her skeletons in the scriptorium. It was understandable that he became sad every time he came across the entrance of the damned place, even after a year had passed. Especially after the memorial he had for her.

“Of course he does, Seb. It’s been a year since we last encountered his aunt’s remains in the scriptorium.”

“Has it been a year?” The brunette asked quietly, seeming to not realise that a year had passed.

“It has, Sebastian.” Evelyn answered softly, holding one of his arms, supporting him. “He asked me to accompany him the other day, to commemorate the anniversary of her death, of him knowing her death.”

“How come he didn’t ask me as well?” 

Hearing his sad and disbelieving whisper made Evelyn feel guilty.

“I’m not sure, Seb,” Evelyn said dejectedly. “I just accepted it when he asked me too,” she sighed and removed her hand from his arm, “I don’t know why he asked me instead of you, but he did. It's better for us to accept his decision, than to look for the reasons in our minds, no?” 

When she didn’t get any answer from the brunette, she continued jokingly, “Perhaps he’s just embarrassed to cry in front of you.”

“But, it’s…it’s different, Evelyn. It’s not only that.” He finally replied with a regretful tone, which caused deep concern from Evelyn. Her voice became quiet when she asked him.

“Different how?”

“He’s been in this misery for a while now.” Sebastian started explaining in a sombre tone. “He had nightmares almost every night since the first day after summer. I woke up in the middle of the night because of his screams. I had to calm him down every time, just for him to be silent about it and flee to Merlin knows where.” 

Evelyn knew exactly where he went. To the familiar hallway near the astronomy tower, where he met her own ‘derived from sleep cause of nightmare’ self. Evelyn’s eyes widened. That’s why she had seen him every time she went to the said corridor, already waiting for her. He had nightmares as well.

But…she didn’t go there every night. Her nightmares didn’t come every night. Did he go there and wait for her when she didn’t?

Evelyn felt guilt in her stomach as she heard Sebastian sighed and continued desperately.

“Every night since the summer break, he moved so frantically in his sleep that I had to wake him up. Or he would wake up all by himself, screaming. By Merlin, Evelyn, I don't mind being woken up abruptly every night. But I just need to know why. I feel terrible knowing he needed my help, but I can’t give it to him. I don’t know anything about it!”

She felt sympathy for Sebastian. It must be hard for him to see Ominis drown in his misery more and more, not knowing why or how he could help. But, she really thought Ominis was fine. He looked fine the last time she saw him at their last clandestine meeting at the observation deck, which was two days ago. 

Yes, his cheek looked more gaunt than ever before. Yes, his under-eyes are getting darker under the stars. Yes, his posture seemed more tired and weaker when he was escorting her. Yes. He looked different. But she asked him about it! For many times.

She asked if he’s getting enough sleep. She asked if he’s having a nightmare as well and what it contained. She asked if he had his meals. She asked if he had any problems. She even asked him to just tell her if he needed any help. He didn’t even have to tell her why and she would still help without any questions asked. 

But he only smiled at her questions and said, 

‘Don’t worry about me, Eve.’

And Evelyn suddenly realised how stupid she was.

She was so stupid for not realising it in the first place, for not pushing him to tell her about it, for believing him blindly, and for the most stupid thing she had done, not asking Sebastian about it.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!” Evelyn yelled at Sebastian with annoyance. Not annoyance at him, but at her stupid self as guilt came down bearing on her. They said falling for someone made a person more aware of the one they fell for. But it clearly didn’t in her case. Or she was just too blind to see the signs. Either way, she felt guilty for not knowing it sooner.

“Well, I thought it was the usual ‘I did and saw bad things that haunted me’ thing. He’s the one who is already familiar with the horrors of it before I am. I only had it after…my uncle's ordeal. After that, it’s not only him who has nightmares, I do too. Sometimes we have it at the same time, sometimes we don’t. Either way, we usually tell each other about it, since we’re the only ones who know about the horrors of doing…you know…”

Evelyn couldn't decide which was more heartbreaking. The fact that they both had suffered nightmares as a result of his trauma with the unforgivable curse, or that they had only each other to tell about it. They both didn’t tell her about the nightmares and avoided the question every time she asked.

“He used to tell me about his dreams. He'd been telling me about it every time he got it, ever since he told me about his missing aunt and his family in the second year. That’s why I always invited him to Feldcroft every summer. I thought it would help him somehow,” Sebastian sighed tiredly and continued with frustration, “but now, it’s like I’m back in first grade, with a stranger who wouldn’t tell a thing why he woke up with screams almost every night as my dorm mate.”

Evelyn considered telling him about her secret meeting with Ominis. Maybe he could deduce a new conclusion based on what Ominis and she had talked about or based on his behaviour when he was meeting her. However, what would she say? That she had nightmares and often met Ominis in the middle of the night whenever she couldn't sleep? That the reason why she also had nightmares because she too, had committed crimes before? That she had even killed more people than the fingers on her hand?

Evelyn pushed the thought away. Ominis never told her about his nightmares or problems in their meetings. Telling Sebastian about it couldn’t give him any more information than what he already knew.

“I don’t—”

“I don’t like this, Evelyn.” Sebastian cut off her answer with a stern voice. “If you do know something, please, tell me,” he pleaded.

“I don’t know, Sebastian. I really don’t.” She answered with the same sternness. “He didn’t share with me either. I just found out from you that he's been having nightmares since he returned from the summer. Since he’s back from his…”

Evelyn’s voice trailed off as the gears in her mind began to move. Ominis usually goes to the Feldcroft with Sebastian and Anne in the summer, but he didn’t on the last one. He went back to his family instead. And he had nightmares every day since he was back for the new school year. He had nightmares since he spent the last summer with his family. Nightmares which he hadn’t shared with Sebastian like he used to since the second year.

“Something must have happened in the summer, Sebastian.” Evelyn finally said her thoughts out loud. “Something terrible happened to him when he went back to his family.” 

“You’re right…” Sebastian’s voice trailed off as he delved into his own thoughts. “How could I not think about it?!” He exclaimed all of a sudden.

Evelyn shrugged and answered without any hint of condescension to the brunette, like she was just stating a fact.

“Because I’m smarter than you.”

Sebastian shook his head, “I would have had a great comeback if I wasn’t filled with worry for our Slytherin descendant right now.”

“We could do something about it.” Evelyn offered.

“How? We don’t know what happened. He won’t tell either me or you about it,” Sebastian paced back and forth in frustration, “and we’re his closest friends!”

Evelyn grabbed Sebastian's hand and stopped him in his tracks. “We don't need to know why to help him. We could just be with him and be ready whenever he needs us,” she looked straight into Sebastian's eyes, “and we definitely don't need to handle his issues for him if he doesn't ask us to.” She added firmly.

“Okay, okay, I understand what you meant,” Sebastian took a deep breath, “no drastic moves such as searching for solutions in the dark arts.” He deadpanned.

Evelyn let him go and laughed. Sebastian joined after a few seconds. How could he joke in times like this, she would never know. Once her and Sebastian's laughter stopped, Evelyn whacked him on the shoulder in playful irritation.

“I’m serious!” 

“Yes, Evelyn. I won’t.” Sebastian promised. “Well, what could we do?”

“Well, I have an idea to distract him from his problems for a while.” Evelyn said to him with a growing grin on her face, “and you’re going to help me.” 

“It’s going to be bad for me, is it?”

“Sebastian Sallow! Where are you taking me?!” An annoyed shout could be heard echoing through the stairs of the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower.

Sebastian was currently escorting grouchy Ominis up to a certain hallway as Evelyn had instructed before. She clearly knew her blond friend’s schedule since she was right at her guess where to find him. Sebastian didn't need to seek farther; he spotted him in her initial guess, sleeping at the bell tower entrance hall.

“Just trust me, Ominis." Sebastian tried to reassure the blond boy as he led him up the stairs. It was quite difficult with the blond resisting him.

“How’d that work out? Me trusting you when you promised to do nothing else with a certain path?”

Sebastian took a deep breath at his friend’s sarcastic question while the said friend continued.

“Did it turned out to—”

“It didn’t turn out well. I should have listened to you. I am sorry for what I’ve done.” Sebastian cut off Ominis seriously as he continued to lead him up the stairs. “Now, stop being upset. We’re almost there.”

“I had every right to be upset about it. For my whole life.”

Ominis’s remark made Sebastian come to a halt. He took another deep breath and tugged on Ominis’s hand to tell him to pick up the pace as he too began to climb up again. Only to be pulled back with such force that he almost fell back.

“I won’t take another step before you tell me where we are going.” Ominis stated stubbornly, causing Sebastian to groan in frustration.

“We are going to her. To Evelyn.”

“Why?” Ominis asked the brunette.

“I don’t know, I just received an urgent owl from her to bring you with me, to meet her in a certain hallway.” Sebastian answered him.

“Which one?!” Ominis questioned—demanded Sebastian. The blonde’s frantic demand seemed to confuse the brunette, who answered nervously.

“Uh…the one near the astronomy tower? Which had a tapestry on one side and a blank wall on the other?”

Ominis let go of Sebastian’s hand and quickly climbed up the stairs on his own. His wand guided him with a red glow in front of him.

“Ominis, wait!”

Sebastian's shouts didn't slow Ominis in the least. He continued to move quickly up the stairs, and went sprinting as soon as he reached the top, his wand sending out waves just as fast in front of him. His robe could be seen fluttering as he ran across the corridors. He turned briskly towards the hallway, which he knew like the back of his hand. And finally saw the familiar girl he searched for, leaning in front of the blank wall.

“Ominis! Why—”

The girl's greetings were suddenly interrupted by his rapid question as he came to a halt right in front of her and gripped her arms tightly.

“Eve! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you injured?” Ominis released her arms and put his wand between himself and Evelyn, as if he were examining her with it.

“Yes, no, and no.” Evelyn answered him while looking at his frowning face, red under his wand glow. Seeing his concern for her made Evelyn warm inside. She would be lying if she didn’t like it. But, the way his hand trembled as it moved in front of her made her feel guilty. She held his trembling wand wielding hand, hoping the gesture would somewhat calm the frantic Slytherin in front of her.

“I’m okay, Omi.”

The gesture seemed to help him calm down as the waves from his wand went back to their usual pace. He finally lowered his wand. His eyes closed as he struggled to catch his breath.

“What happened?” She asked gently, still holding his hand.

It seemed like the universe wanted to help Ominis answer Evelyn’s question, with Sebastian running towards them. Seeing the brunette, Evelyn quickly moved her hand away from Ominis’s.

“You…I never imagined you…” Sebastian said breathlessly, referring to the already halted blond boy while slowly coming into a halt beside him. “Oh, hey Evelyn!” He became aware of the perplexed girl when he came to a complete halt. Still unable to catch his breath after running, he gulped and gestured to the blond boy, “here…here he is.”

“Can someone tell me what happened?!” Evelyn asked again in frustration.

Ominis was still silent while Sebastian took his time to catch his breath. He took a few deep breaths and put his hand on Ominis’s shoulder, leaning himself towards him. Sebastian then suddenly grinned before taking the part to answer Evelyn’s answer. His grin was so proud that it made the moment more confusing than before for Evelyn.

“This guy right here, is a snitch in disguise. He ran all of a sudden when I said that you wanted to meet us here,” Sebastian chuckled, “I couldn’t even catch up with him!”

Evelyn could see the veins in Ominis’s head popping after hearing Sebastian's answer. He finally opened his eyes and spoke with a very irritated tone.

“You shouted at me when I was asleep, practically dragged me running to Merlin knows where when I hadn't even completely awakened, only to tell me that Evelyn owled for us urgently after I asked about it! Of course, I thought of the worst and ran to her! How do you think I would react?!”

“Sebastian Sallow,” Evelyn glowered at the brunette, “that is not what I asked you to!” 

“I only thought what’s best at that time! And besides, he’s here! I did exactly what you asked me to!” Sebastian defended himself frantically to Evelyn before turning to face the fuming blond Slytherin, “And I had to wake you up as soon as possible! Yelling at you was the fastest way I could think of!”

“I already have a disability,” Ominis said as he shook his head, rubbing his forehead in frustration, “please don't give me another one by yelling straight to my eardrums.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian said meekly towards Ominis, who only sighed.

Evelyn sighed disappointedly as well at the brunette and turned towards the blond Slytherin, trying her best to salvage whatever was left of her plan to cheer him up. Saving her already seemingly failing plan.

“I’m sorry, Omi. I told Sebastian to simply bring you here. I never imagined he'd give you that foolish explanation or that you'd be yelled at and hauled across the hall.”

“It’s fine, Eve. It’s not your fault.” Ominis replied gently to the girl.

Sebastian, who probably thought that all conflicts were resolved, held both of his friends’ shoulders with each of his hands, and spoke, “Well, if it’s all okay—”

“I’m still mad at you.” Ominis cut him off immediately. 

The brunette gasped in shock, “How come?!”

“You woke me up from my blissful sleep.” Ominis stated with resentment.

Sebastian gaped at his friend's complaint, his hands moved from both of his friend’s shoulders to dramatically cover his gaping mouth before exclaiming, “You slept on the floor! In the hallway! What’s so blissful about it?!”

“I could sleep wherever I want!” Ominis yelled stubbornly.

“You could have a cold!” Sebastian yelled as well.

“It’s—”

“It is not healthy to sleep on the cold floor, Omi.” Ominis retaliation was interrupted by Evelyn's soft voice. It silenced both Sebastian and Ominis, before the latter finally responded in an equally gentle voice.

“Okay, I’ll try not to in the future.”

“Oh, so you listened to her but not to me?” Sebastian asked in disbelief immediately after Ominis’s reply.

“It wasn’t you who told me what I needed to hear.” Ominis answered nonchalantly.

Sebastian's eyes widened as he exclaimed in frustration, “I practically told you the same!” 

“You did not.” Ominis stubbornly denied his best friend's claim.

“I did!” Sebastian stubbornly maintained his stance.

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“You did not.”

“I told—”

Sebastian was interrupted by the sound of the wall moving behind him. He quickly turned, just to find Evelyn smiling beside the now not-so-blank wall. His eyes widened as he saw the enormous door that suddenly appeared. He even rubbed both of his eyes just to be sure that it was there, and he had not imagined the blank wall before.

“Wow…”

“W-what in the world?” Ominis commented beside him. The blind boy’s wand pulsed in front of him as he stepped towards the door.

Evelyn giggled at both of her gaping friends. She looked at each end of the hallway, which was thankfully empty. Maybe the others simply decided not to pass through when they heard Sebastian and Ominis bickering. 

“Come!” She invited them both into the room, “before anyone sees.”

Sebastian was the first to wake up from his shock. He chuckled in disbelief before finally walking through the door and into the secret room. Ominis followed him after a while, walking slowly through the door with his wand in front of him. Evelyn went after him, and the secret door vanished from the outside.

“What is this place?” Sebastian asked in awe as they arrived at the main room of the Room of Requirement. 

“The Room of Requirement...” Ominis answered Sebastian’s question for Evelyn with the same amazement in his voice. He then smiled towards her,  “is this where you’re going every night?”

“Yes,” Evelyn answered Ominis shyly, “if I don’t see you in the hallway.”

“See him where?” Sebastian turned back towards his friend and asked out of the blue. A question that Ominis immediately answered with a straight face.

“None of your business.”

“Hey!” The brunette exclaimed in an offended tone. He was about to retaliate more but was distracted by the wall of books Evelyn had on one side of the wall. Everyone could hear him gasp in awe and practically run towards it.

“It’s…” Ominis began to say something before his voice trailed off as he walked towards where Sebastian was. His step stopped as he encountered a book in front of him, “so full?”

“Yeah, let's just say it’s under construction.” Evelyn explained sheepishly to the confused blonde. She levitated the stray book in front of Ominis and put it back where it belonged in the wall of books before continuing.

“Professor Weasley taught me the conjuration spell to decorate and fill this room with the things I needed to catch up with the other fifth-years. And I’m still deciding where to put what and which decorations I should put up. Basically all the stuff,” she paused to levitate another book from the floor and into the bookcase, “sorry for the mess.”

“It’s all right. Maybe I could help you sort it out? I may be blind, but I could still move a thing or two without causing any accidents.”

Evelyn was touched by Ominis’s kind offer. But she shook her head, “Thank you for the offer, but that’s not why I brought you or Sebastian here today.” She stepped closer to Ominis and offered her right elbow to him, “If I may?”

Ominis chuckled, “I may be blind, but I can still walk by myself, you know?”

“I don’t doubt it. But I much prefer it this way.”

Evelyn's answer brought a blush to Ominis’s cheek, who then put his left hand on her elbow sheepishly, his right one still holding his wand in front of him. She felt her own cheeks turning scarlet as well as his hand through her elbow. She didn’t know what got into her, but ever since she accepted her feelings for him, she started to be…bolder and more daring in her advances towards him. She wouldn’t lie; it was nice to see him blushing because of her. Definitely worth all the embarrassment she gave herself as well.

She escorted the blind boy up, deliberately taking slow steps. Not out of concern, but out of wanting to savour the moment as long as she could. They took the stairs to the second floor and walked arm in arm until they came to a glass building shaped like a pumpkin. It shone with a warm light that could be felt through the glass.

“Is that…sunlight?” Ominis asked in confusion beside Evelyn, who only smiled at the question.

“Yes. Can you see through?”

Ominis shook his head, “I can’t. I can see the door arch, but I can’t ‘see’ what's beyond it. It’s like…” he trailed off and frowned before continuing, “like there’s a veil covering it. Are we going outside? The light felt like sunshine.”

“Not really. You’ll see.” Evelyn answered Ominis before reluctantly letting him go. She turned herself towards the railing to the first floor, where a brunette boy could be seen focusing himself on the spines of books in front of him.

“So this is where she’s been running off too…” Sebastian murmured to himself, still browsing Evelyn’s books. He took one out from the bookcase and turned it around on his hand, trying to see the title clearly, “What is this Shakespeare? I never heard of it before.” 

“Sebastian!” Evelyn shouted for the brunette, who whirled his head immediately towards her.

“Huh?” He squinted his eyes as if trying to see Evelyn more clearly, “Oh, wow! When did you get there?”

Evelyn moved her hands, calling him to come up, “come here!”

The brunette didn’t seem to understand that what Evelyn said was an instruction, not an invitation. He just stood there, still holding the Shakespeare book, and asked with a frown, “Why?”

Evelyn leaned herself towards the railing and glared at Sebastian while tilting her head towards Ominis. A gesture she hoped would make Sebastian remember why they were here in the first place. Sadly, the brunette seemed to not understand her since the response she got from him was only a deeper frown. Evelyn mouthed to him.

'Our secret mission!'

“What?” Sebastian moved towards her from the first floor, “I can’t hear you! Speak louder!”

“Just come here!” Evelyn finally shouted in frustration and anger.

“Okay, okay. But you better tell me about the Shakespeare book later.” Sebastian muttered as he put the book back where it belonged before going to Evelyn, skipping several steps as he went up the stairs and arriving in a jump in front of her. 

“Here I—” he stopped all of a sudden and turned towards the glass pumpkin beside Evelyn, “wow, why’s that glowing?”

Evelyn noticed the sparks in Sebastian’s eyes as he saw what was behind the door. Afraid of him spoiling the surprise for Ominis, she hurriedly said, “I need you to stay calm.”

Sebastian turned towards her, “I can’t calm down.” He gestured to the glowing door on the glass pumpkin and started to speak excitedly, “How can I calm down when I see what’s behind that door?! How is it even possible?!”

“What is it? What have you and Sebastian been up to now?” Ominis intervened in panic.

“Nothing dangerous, and Sebastian had nothing to do with it,” Evelyn said quickly to the blonde before turning back to the brunette, “Calm down Sebastian. or I’ll kick you out.”

“Calming down now,” Sebastian took a deep breath to calm himself down, “I’m calm.”

Evelyn nodded to the ‘calm’ brunette, “Okay then, we—”

“Can I go first?” Sebastian cut her off with an excited voice, clearly not calm.

“We should—”

“Too late!” He cut her off again and zoomed through the door, leaving his two best friends behind in the dust.

Evelyn and Ominis went silent after seeing their friend's antics. A chuckle came from Ominis, which made Evelyn giggle as well, resulting in laughter from both of them. They laughed for a while before finally, sheepishly, calmed themselves down.

“Shall we?” Evelyn asked the blind boy with her right hand towards him.

Ominis smiled at the hand, as if he could see it and took it gently, “Yes, let’s.”

And they went through the door hand in hand.

The first thing Evelyn could hear was the crashing waves, followed immediately by the smell of the ocean. She took a few steps forward, taking the silent blind boy with her, and stopped as soon as she felt the warm sunshine on her skin. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A smile bloomed on her face. The experience of entering the vivarium was always different, but it still made her want to be in it forever.

Ominis gaped beside her, his wand-wielding hand still in front of him while the other was on Evelyn’s. It took him a while to get over his shock and finally speak with awe.

“What in Merlin’s—”

“Is that a hippogriff?!” Another masculine voice from in front of them interrupted the blonde, who then frowned as if trying to hear more clearly.

A screech immediately came from above, where a white hippogriff flew through the sky. It began to descend as soon as it saw the new visitors to the vivarium. It landed right in front of Ominis and gently nudged its beak towards his wand-wielding hand.

Evelyn reluctantly let Ominis hand go and stepped back. That gesture made him wake up from his shock and realise that the hippogriff was currently nudging his hand. He quickly bowed to the hippogriff in front of him. A smile could be seen on his face as he stood up from his bow and greeted the beast, “Hello, Highwing. It’s nice to see you again.”

“How can you know that it’s her?” Evelyn asked, surprised. 

“I recognise her voice.” Ominis said casually with a smile while petting the hippogriff, causing Evelyn to feel even more admiration for him.

“Oh, wow…” Sebastian said as he finally joined them and looked at the white feathers with astonishment as he circled around the massive hippogriff. He stood beside Ominis in shock, not believing his friend who was currently petting the beast, “How could he tame the hippogriff so quickly?!”

“He—”

“It must be that pureblood in him.” Sebastian cut off Evelyn even before she could explain.

“No,” Ominis said nonchalantly, still petting the hippogriff, “it’s my charm.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes at Ominis's silly comment and couldn't help giggling. Ominis was still petting the hippogriff while Sebastian animatedly asked him questions about the hippogriff, clearly annoying the blonde, who tried his best to answer them all, even the silliest ones.

“What’s its name?”

“Highwing.”

“How come you aren’t afraid of it?”

Ominis rolled his eyes, “I must be dumb to not be afraid of a beast like her. I am feeling afraid as we speak.”

“Then how come you are petting it now?”

“My admiration for her exceeds my fear.”

“Wait, its a she?”

“I think so? I heard Evelyn called it ‘her.’”

“When did you first meet her?”

“Last spring.”

“Where did you first meet her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not here?”

“No. This is my first time being here as well.”

“Where are we, exactly?” Sebastian asked the blonde while still looking at the hippogriff with astonishment, but never daring to come closer to it.

“I have no answer to that,” Ominis stopped petting Highwing and turned towards Evelyn, who was currently smiling at them, “Evelyn, where are we?”

“We’re at my coastal vivarium.” Evelyn answered, stepping closer to the boys and the hippogriff.

“Coastal…vivarium?” Sebastin asked in confusion.

“I have several vivariums. There’s the forest, coastal, swamp, and mountain vivariums. They’re for the beasts I saved from the poachers. I kept them until the personnel from the ministry came to release them into the wild safely.”

“Several?!” Ominis exclaimed.

“Ministry?!” Sebastian exclaimed at the same time at Ominis.

“It's a long story,” Evelyn answered shortly.

“Longer than the story of how Ominis tamed this beast?” Sebastian asked in a playful manner.

Evelyn shrugged and nonchalantly answered, “He was a natural. He quickly makes Highwing fall in love with him when I took him for a ride with her a while ago.”

The casual answer was apparently not considered casual by Sebastian, whose eyes immediately widened.

“You took him on a ride?! On a hippogriff?!”

Evelyn was perplexed by the way he answered the question; it felt as though she was betraying him by telling Professor Weasley about his latest misbehaviour with Garreth, and getting him into detention. Or like she was not choosing him as her crossed wands duel partner.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don’t mind me.” Sebastian answered casually and turned around, stepping away from both of his friends towards the beach with his back towards them. 

He gestured to the sand and continued, emphasising a few words, “I’ll just stand here, in the sand. Alone,” he kept walking, “while you both fly on a hippogriff happily together to Merlin knows where. Leaving me. Your best friend. Alone.”

Sebastian finally stopped as he stood right on the part where the waves hit the sand. He stood there so broodingly, as if he were left all alone and had no happiness in his life. Evelyn was confused by it, so she asked the blonde beside her, in a quiet voice. Afraid that the brunette would hear her.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s clearly upset. You have invited him to fly with you, haven't you?” Ominis answered in an equally quiet voice.

Evelyn blushed hearing the question and tried her best to reply as casually as possible, “No. You’re the only one I've ever invited to fly with.”

Apparently, that reply wasn’t casual for Ominis, who then asked her again in surprise, “I’m the first one?!”

Evelyn blushed even more at the innocent question. Somehow, her mind made it more intimate than it was supposed to be.

“W-well, you’re the first one I’ve ever ridden a hippogriff with.”

“Oh…” Ominis blushed, “and you never asked Sebastian before or after our flight?”

“No. It never crossed my mind.”

“Why?”

“I wanted it to be special,” Evelyn faced him, “it is your birthday present. It has to be special.”

She could see the flush on his cheeks deepening as he heard her response, causing her own cheeks to turn even redder as well. 

He stammered, “I…well-um…he’s clearly feeling upset about being left behind on such an amazing experience. Maybe you could invite him to fly with you next time?”

Evelyn sighed before she replied in a dejected whisper, “I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Only if you want to,” Ominis whispered softly.

“Okay, I’ll invite him next time,” Evelyn huffed, “but I won't be at the same hippogriff as he does.”

“Why?”

Without realising it, Evelyn blurted out the first thing she thought, “It’s only for you.”

“For me?” Ominis asked, surprised.

Evelyn flushed. Did she really say it out loud? She did, didn’t she?

In denial and embarrassment, she quickly turned her head towards the brunette; the need to whisper was forgotten as her voice came back to its normal volume.

“Oh, look! He’s sitting in the sand now,” Sebastian was, in fact, sitting and pouting on the sand when Evelyn pointed it out. “Poor him,” she continued with fake pity and a fast pace in her voice, “we should go to him. Okay? Okay. I’ll go first.”

Without giving Ominis the time to react, Evelyn quickly walked towards the sulking brunette. She preferred to be with the sulking boy rather than face whatever humiliation she got herself into with Ominis, thank you very much. 

Her hurried steps slowed down as she got near Sebastian. The sand could be heard moving under her boots as she finally stopped and sat beside him. She cleared her throat and spoke to him in a gentle voice.

“Hey, Seb.”

“Leave me alone.” Sebastian replied to her curtly, still upset and sulking about the whole ordeal. He bent his knees and put his hands on top of them, his head resting above them as he continued his sulking, “Go on, fly away. You can—“

A splash of water came out of the blue, cutting Sebastian off by soaking his face and front body, causing him to exclaim in shock.

“WHAT IN MERLIN’S—”

“Stop sulking.” A stern voice came from behind Evelyn and Sebastian. Ominis was standing there with his wand glowing brighter than it usually did, as if it did a spell that exactly made Sebastian as wet as he was.

“THE WATER’S COLD!” Sebastian complained as he gestured his wet body to Ominis, who just shrugged and sat beside Evelyn casually.

“Serve you right.”

“Oh, you’ll regret it!” Sebastian stood up abruptly and walked into the sea. He kept going, unconcerned by his wet shoes and trousers, then swiftly spun around as the water reached his calves and splashed the water towards his friends with all his might. Causing them, who previously only watched him in confusion, to be surprised and soaked just like him.

“Seb!” Evelyn screamed as she tried to shield her face from the sea water Sebastian splashed towards her with no mercy.

“Sebastian!” Ominis followed her steps and covered his own face with his robe. They tried their best to avoid all the splashes from Sebastian, which was a futile effort since they just got soaked more than they were before. 

“Ha!” Sebastian stopped his splashes for a while. A satisfied grin came to his face as he saw his soaked friends, “Serve you both right!”

That grin was the trigger for Evelyn. She sprang to her feet and followed Sebastian into the sea. She started splashing wildly towards the brunette as she approached him. The grin on Sebastian’s face quickly vanished and was replaced with a surprised face.

“Hey!” Sebastian said with a laugh as he tried to avoid the splashes, walking away from the laughing and violently splashing girl. 

“Come here you!” Evelyn exclaimed as she ran after him, splashing him with all the water she could with both of her hands. Her and Sebastian’s laughter could be heard between the splashing water and waves.

"Mercy, mercy, mercy!" Sebastian eventually gave up after being drenched to the bone. His robe was soaking wet as he raised his hand in surrender.

Evelyn stopped her splashing and grinned, pleased with her victory. But, she then realised that they were both soaked to the bone, whereas there was still one person out of the three who hadn't. She directed her eyes towards the partially dry Ominis on the beach. Sebastian seemed to understand her cue and tilted his head towards the blonde on the shore as well. They both grinned wider and began to walk towards the oblivious blonde.

“Are you guys done?” Ominis said with a smile. He seemed like he was previously laughing as well, seeing his friends' shenanigans, and apparently still felt amused by seeing them still inside the water and soaked to the bone in front of him.

“No.” Both Evelyn and Sebastian spoke and splashed the oblivious blonde at the same time with full power.

Ominis became soaked immediately. His previously neat hair became messy as it stuck to his forehead after getting wet. It was long, to Evelyn’s surprise, his hair even covered his eyes as the water dripped from its long strand. His robes got wet and stuck like a second skin, causing Evelyn to blush as she saw his broad shoulder silhouette. His wand was still glowing in his hand, with droplets of water on it.

“That’s it!” Ominis gripped his wand tightly and dashed towards his screaming and fleeing friends. Their giggling could be heard as they splashed water on each other's already-drenched bodies. And for the first time of the day, Evelyn felt pure happiness.

She’s happy being under the sun. She’s happy she felt the cold of the water. She’s even happy that she was wet. She’s happy she could just play and not think about another thing in the world. She’s happy because she spent her time with her friends. She’s happy…because she could be a child, even just for a while.

She felt ecstatic as she continued to splash her friends. They continued to splash at each other, in pairs of two versus one and, of course, in three ways one versus one. The crashing of the waves, the splashing of water, and the laughter of three different people could be heard under the sun. Until one of them suddenly slipped and fell, half of his body was submerged in water, making them all laugh even louder than before.

It was Sebastian, of course, since he was bullied by Evelyn’s wild splash and also by Ominis’s humongous waves that were created by a bit of magic with the help of his wand. Sebastian was still in his sitting position and was trying to get his own wand from his pocket when he suddenly stopped responding to Evelyn’s and Ominis’s attacks.

Evelyn stopped splashing after she saw her motionless friend, followed by Ominis. She asked the still brunette, “Finally surrender?” 

Sebastian didn’t answer the question and kept sitting still, never minding that half of his body was under the water. His gaze was focused on the shore behind Evelyn and Ominis, “Is that what I think it is?”

Ominis frowned with his wand pulsing in his hand. The frown suddenly gone in seconds as he turned around to the shore, “Evelyn, do you—“

“You never said you also have thestrals!” Sebastian interrupted Ominis before he could finish his question.

Evelyn was still looking ridiculously at the brunette and huffed, “No, I don’t.”

“Then what am I seeing?” Sebastian pointed his arms towards the shore, causing Evelyn to whirl her head around.

“Oh…” Her voice trailed off as she finally saw what her friends were seeing. A black, skeletal, bat-winged horse was standing on the shore, looking at the three soaked students curiously. Evelyn didn’t hesitate and quickly moved towards the majestic creature, asking as she approached it, “Onyx, what are you doing here?”

“You said you didn’t have one!” Sebastian’s voice came from her left. They were both now out of the water, with water dripping from their robes.

“Well, I don’t have one here!” Evelyn exclaimed frustratedly as she came closer to the curious beast in front of her, “He’s supposed to be in my swamp vivarium. I don’t know how he could get here!”

“He’s beautiful.” A voice emerged from Evelyn's right. Ominis seemed to have followed her and Sebastian out of the water as well. His hair was still damp, and the water streaming down from it highlighted his cheekbones and jaw. Right down to his broad—

Evelyn quickly cleared her throat and refocused herself.

“You can see it?” She asked the drenched boy on her right. 

Ominis nodded and slowly approached the beast. His left hand stretched towards it while his right still holding his wand. The thestral seemed not to be afraid of the gesture or the pulsing wand. Instead, it moved its fang towards Ominis’s stretched hand and gently nudged it. Ominis smiled as he felt the skin of the thestral on his. A smile that gradually evolved into a full grin as the thestral nudged its head into his palm again, clearly wanting to be petted more.

“I was right. It was the pureblood in him.”

Evelyn was astounded by the comment she heard from her brunette friend. She remarked in sarcasm, “Let me remind you that you’re also a pureblood.”

Sebastian, the said brunette friend, didn’t realise the sarcasm and exclaimed excitedly instead, “You’re right! Let’s try the theory, shall we?”

Evelyn shook her head, “You spent too much time with Garreth.”

“What? Slytherin can also be brave.” Sebastian boasted, causing both Evelyn and Ominis to shake their heads in disbelief. Ominis quickly responded to Sebastian before he could do anything worse.

"I doubt it was the ‘pureblood’ in me. The thestrals are simply gentle and kind creatures. They are widely misunderstood simply because other beings only see them based on the widespread perception of them…” Ominis voice drifted off as he petted the thestral. He eventually finished his remark in a quiet voice, “Just like me.”

“Ominis?” Evelyn asked softly in concern.

Ominis petted the thestral again before nudging it to go. It snorted and simply walked away from the three drenched students. Ominis watched it go with a melancholy gaze before eventually responding to Evelyn.

“In centuries past, the sight of them was regarded as unlucky. They have been hunted and ill treated for many years, their true nature, which is kindly and gentle, being widely misunderstood. Thestrals are not marks of ill omen and are not in any way threatening to wizards and witches, despite their spooky appearance.

I found myself similar to them, in terms of people judging me solely on the most noticeable thing about me. People tend to immediately fear or hate me when they hear my surname, since ‘Gaunt’ was closely related to the dark arts and very intimidating as it was the name of a direct descendant of the Salazar Slytherin. Everyone quickly assumed I was the same as my brother, my father, and his father before him. Even before they saw me with their own eyes or spoke to me. In their eyes, I was already a ruthless, dangerous, bloodthirsty dark wizard.”

“You are not those things.” Sebastian said sternly, which was replied to with a sigh from Ominis.

“I know I’m not. And I hope I never will be. That’s why I distanced myself from my family…” Ominis trailed off before his voice came back in scorn, “yet they still find a way to drag me back.”

Evelyn shuddered after she heard the hatred in his voice. Something must have happened during the summer that made him so angry. Something terrible must have happened and given him more nightmares than usual. Something must have happened, but Evelyn couldn’t bring herself to ask him about it, even if she was dying to know. She was reluctant to ask since it must have had something to do with his family. The one topic that even he would always avoid, even during their clandestine meetings at the astronomy observation deck.

But Sebastian seemed not to mind raising the topic as he finally asked the difficult question, “What happened during the summer, Ominis?”

“Everything.” Ominis answered in a tired voice. “I returned, thinking that they wanted me to join them in commemorating Aunt Noctua’s death, just like what they said on their sudden owl. They said they wanted me to join them since I was the one who found her remains. That’s why I left out of the blue.”

“I see,” Sebastian replied, “did they do it well?”

“They did it perfectly, just not the way I wanted, or the way my Aunt probably wanted them to. They did it perfectly in the way a true Gaunt would want to be remembered. They already had muggles lined up in the dungeons when I arrived at the manor—more than I'd ever seen.

“I saw them, on their knees, perfectly lined up, terrified and frightened. Well, I thought they were, since I could only ‘see’ their eyes widening and closing frantically, feel the palpable fear with my skin that raised goosebumps, and hear their muffled cries as I came down to the dungeon with my whole family. My brother apparently bewitched their mouths, so they couldn't even open them. He smiled very proudly at his success. Torturing them even in the absence of the unforgivable curse.”

Evelyn felt goosebumps on her skin as she heard Ominis continue. Ominis did say he had a brother, but she never thought he would be the complete opposite of him. 

“My father lifted my brother's magic from one person at the end of the line. The man immediately screamed, cried, and begged to be released. His screams and pleas were futile. My father cast the cruciatus curse instead, making him scream more. I turned my face away and stopped my wand from sending waves immediately. I even closed my eyes.” 

Ominis chuckled dryly, “not that it helped. Their agony felt even more pronounced by the full darkness I was in. I heard them all as my father, mother, and brother cursed them, one by one.”

Evelyn and Sebastian had no words after hearing the continuation of Ominis’s story. The story looks like it's straight out of a horror book.

“I remained silent in the dark until I felt my father’s hands on my shoulder. And I knew it was my turn. I remembered my wand humming in disapproval as I commanded it to send waves again, as if it knew what I was going to do. It relented, of course, giving me back my ‘sight’ again, allowing me to see her.” Ominis gulped, “She was the last on the line. I could ‘see’ her body was smaller than the others. I don't know how old she is, but she was obviously not older than myself, if not younger.” He chuckled dryly, “My family gave me the most young to torture.”

“Oh, Ominis…” Evelyn said regretfully, knowing where this story would go.

“I did it, Eve.” Ominis growled angrily to himself, “I knew it was wrong, and still did it.”

Sebastian stepped closer Ominis, “It was—”

“Don’t you dare say it was not my fault!” Ominis snapped and cut Sebastian off immediately. He took a deep breath, “I accepted that it was. I still did it, even to only one person.”

Evelyn felt tears pooling in her eyes as she heard Ominis continue.

“I didn’t want to in the first place. But I felt his wand pointing at me from the back. My own father threatened to torture me. My wand hummed immediately. I practically felt it pleading for me to cast the unforgivable curse. So, I think of my father, of the pain and suffering he caused me, of my hatred for him, and the desire to torture him myself,”  Ominis said with such hatred before continuing blatantly, “And I cursed her.”

Evelyn could only imagine what the scene would be like. How terrifying it must have been to hear the girl's screams immediately echoing throughout the dungeon as the red sparks from Ominis’s wand zapped her into pure agony. Evelyn knew how it felt. She was in pure pain when Sebastian cast it on her in the scriptorium with Anne’s curser in his mind. Evelyn could only imagine how it felt for the girl when Ominis did it with his father in mind.

Evelyn could see the desperation in Ominis’s eyes as he continued, “I could barely stop myself. Lost in my thoughts of torturing my own father. A-and she went silent after I did. She just laid there, with her eyes and mouth open. I almost thought I had killed her,” Ominis ran his hand through his wet hair, “but then, I heard her weak breath, and my hands went numb. My father squeezed one of my shoulders, said he was proud, and left me alone with the victims.”

“Ominis…” Evelyn’s voice trailed off as she stepped closer to Ominis and put her hand on his shoulder, hoping the gesture helped him somehow as well as telling him how much her heart ached for him.

“They left me alone with the victims. With the ones they tortured in memory of my aunt. My aunt, who was most likely against it in the first place,” Ominis shook his head and continued with determination in his voice, “So I did what my aunt would do. I cast the false memory charm on each one them. Erasing their memories of my family and I torturing them and framing it as just another hazy nightmare.”

“You could do that?” Sebastian asked in amazement while Evelyn frowned, thinking that there must be a catch in it.

“I could. But it was not something I would like to repeat, as I had to experience every memory I wanted to tamper with. Watching myself or any of my family members cast crucio from the victim's perspective was a nightmare on its own.”

Ominis’s answer made her heart wrench. She was right. There was a catch to it. How could Ominis do that? She could only imagine how it felt to see oneself in the light of the one you tortured. She certainly didn’t want to see herself from the perspective of the ones she killed, even just once. It would be devastating. She would lose her mind. And he had to do it repeatedly.

“I called the house elves as soon as I finished and instructed them to bring the victims back to where they were before they were abducted. I had to do it fast before my father realised what I had done,” Ominis added, sighing, “I could only hope that what I did helped them get over it and move on.”

“It must have helped them.” Evelyn said firmly, squeezing Ominis’s shoulder in support while also trying her best to contain her tears, “Your aunt must be proud of you.” 

“She’s more likely to be disappointed in me that I cast an unforgivable curse,” Ominis chuckled dryly, “but you’re also right. I think she would be proud of my progress on occlumency. I would die on the spot if my father knew what I was thinking about when I cast the curse. I guess I should thank her for teaching me that.”

“Are you a legilimens as well?” Sebastian asked out of the blue.

Ominis was quiet for a minute before declaring, "I am, unfortunately, a legilimens like my father. But I try not to use it. I don't appreciate people seeing inside my head, so I don’t do it to others either. I don’t want to become like my predecessor.”

Evelyn’s tears could not be contained after hearing that. She had never felt so helpless and so furious at the same time before. She already despised the Gaunt from what Sebastian and Ominis told her about them before. She already despised them for what they had done to Ominis. Yet, this revelation took her hatred to a new level. She couldn’t stop the tears of despair and rage because she couldn’t help Ominis at all in his family situation.

And she made him remember it rather than helping him to forget about it like she had planned before. She made him more miserable instead of cheering him up. Her plan failed, so she let herself drown in the deepest sea of despair.

“I see…” Sebastian trailed off in a broken voice.

“Well, anyway, that’s my summer. That’s why I've always had nightmares,” Ominis turned towards the other boy, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Sebastian.”

“It’s okay, Ominis. Thank you for telling me—”

Sebastian was interrupted by a poke in his ribs. It was Evelyn, who couldn't stop the tears from her eyes and was wiping them from her cheeks. He quickly corrected himself afterward.

“Us. Thank you for telling us about it.”

“Thank you for listening,” Ominis smiled, “and for staying even after you heard it.”

"Of course we would!" Evelyn blurted tearfully as soon as she heard him, her voice raspy as she attempted to fight back her tears, "why wouldn’t we?"

“Being friends with the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin must not be easy, Eve. I'll understand if you or Sebastian decide to stop being friends with me in the future.” Ominis answered her gently.

Evelyn got very irritated with how Ominis looked at the situation and how he thought of her and Sebastian's friendship with him. It wasn't his fault that he was born into a very cruel and scary family. It's not his fault that he had to do all the things he has done. Evelyn realised it, and she was sure Sebastian also realised it. They knew what they were getting into when they became friends with him. They knew it was hard. And no matter how hard it was, they would be there for him. They would not leave him behind.

“That's why I invited you here!” Evelyn exclaimed all of a sudden, shocking both Ominis and Sebastian. Sadness could be heard in her voice as she continued in a low voice, “to have fun and forget about the problems at hand, even if only for a while."  

“And I—”

Evelyn cut Ominis off, continuing her rant. “It is hard to be your friend. It is hard to accept that I can't know everything about you. But, I still want to be your friend! I still want to—am trying to help you even though I don't know why or how. I just do my best with what I know,” Evelyn looked straight into Ominis’s face, “so don’t you ever think that I, or Sebastian would leave you, just because you’re a direct descendant of the Salazar Slytherin. We know. Suck it up, Gaunt. You’re stuck with us for eternity.”

“I know that!” Ominis exclaimed in frustration, making Evelyn’s and Sebastian’s eyes widen in surprise. “I heard the whispers, you know. How they talk behind my back about me. And I’m fine with it,” Ominis stubbornly continued, his voice growing heavy, “But I find myself not feeling fine with how they talked about you and Sebastian just because you’re both my friends. I am not fine with the fact that you and Sebastian would be judged negatively for the rest of your lives just because of me.”

“I don’t—”

Ominis interrupted Evelyn’s answer, seething, “I especially hate it when they spread rumours about you, Eve. How they judge and assume the worst of you just because you’re my friend. I hate it even more when I hear them making up and guessing the reasons why you wanted to be my friend and calling you names just because of your blood. It makes me want to do the killing curse on them.”

“Wow, Ominis,” Sebastian said in surprise, “never thought you had that much resentment.”

“Oh, shut up, Sebastian.” Ominis said angrily towards the other boy, “don’t tell me you never heard the other call her that and wanted to put them under the cruciatus curse right away.”

Sebastian only nodded in understanding, “Yep. I had.”

“Well, I don’t care.” Evelyn said stubbornly and made a gesture towards the brunette, “Being friends with the most troublesome fifth year in the school was more difficult than being friends with the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin.” 

What Evelyn said abruptly changed the atmosphere of the talk. Ominis gaped and suddenly chuckled, while the said troublesome brunette responded at the same time, clearly offended by the accusation and not following the changing mood.

“Hey! Look in the mirror yourself!”

“I had been asked why I wanted to be friends with Sebastian more than why I wanted to be friends with you, Omi.” Evelyn continued with a soft voice towards the blonde, not minding her other offended friend. “I know they talk about me behind my back, because one always has others who disapprove of whatever one does. And they'll judge it like they know all about it. They’ll judge our friendship like they know about me and you. Well, me, you, and this troublesome brunette we unfortunately had as a friend.”

Ominis chuckled, followed by Sebastian, who quickly forgot about his annoyance. Hearing her friends laugh made Evelyn feel warmth in her chest as she continued.

“I don’t care about what they think of me, and I’m sure Sebastian doesn’t either,” Evelyn held both of Ominis's hands tightly, “you are our friend by choice. You are my choice, Ominis Gaunt.”

Evelyn poured all her feelings for him into that sentence. She wanted him to know that she chose to be with him. That she chose him now, even after everything she heard. And she would still choose him in the future. As a friend, or even more. Either way, Evelyn chose him. Her heart chose him.

Evelyn felt Ominis’s hand grip hers tightly as he responded, “You are my choice as well, Evelyn Rose.”

Evelyn didn’t know if those words meant as much to him as they did to her. But she still felt happiness hit her like a train on a track coming towards her in full force as she heard them, letting her know there’s no turning back in this matter of the heart.

“Well, sorry for jumping in on this heartwarming moment,” Sebastian chimed in out of the blue, “I just want to note that I didn’t have a choice in the first place. Anne practically dragged me to be friends with Ominis too after she became friends with him.”

Evelyn and Ominis laughed at Sebastian's remark. He did jump in on a heartwarming moment, just like he said, but he didn’t ruin it. He made it better than Evelyn ever thought it would be. She couldn’t stop laughing, and her friends seemed to as well as they laughed beside her. Their laughter could be heard again, side by side with the waves of water.

Ominis was the first to stop laughing. He held both of his friends’ hands. Evelyn’s on his left, and Sebastian’s on his right. His voice was solemn.

"Whatever lies ahead, we must face it together. That, I know.” 

“Well, the stakes are high and the water's rough. But this friendship is ours,” Evelyn tightened her right grip on Ominis’s hand and reached for Sebastian’s hand on her left one, her voice as solemn as Ominis’s, “I will fight for it.”

“Me too.” Sebastian said firmly, his hand gripping Evelyn's and Ominis’s hands tightly. “Besides, people throw rocks at the things that shine,” he grinned, “and we’re obviously the shiniest. You couldn’t handle the rocks all by yourselves.”

“Obviously.” Evelyn rolled her eyes at Sebastian's joke and giggled. 

Ominis chuckled and shook his head at them both, “I am glad you're both my friends, despite what happened and what everyone said.” Evelyn could see Ominis’s eyes welling with tears as his voice broke and came to a whisper, "Thank you."

Evelyn smiled and tightened her right grip on Ominis’s hands once more, while Sebastian leaned his head towards Ominis, clearly not hearing the murmured thanks.

“What did you—”

"Here comes the rough water!" Evelyn quickly let go of both boys' hands and pulled her wand from her pocket, cutting Sebastian as she splashed them with a massive wave with a flick of her wand.

Both boys could be heard yelling her name after they woke from their surprise, with Evelyn already running away in laughter.

“Evelyn!”

[middleearthpixie]

Damaged Goods ~ Chapter Thirty

Author's Note: Just a reminder that this story takes place following the events of the miniseries Stay Close and will contain spoilers.

Title: Damaged Goods

Fandom: Stay Close

Pairings: Ray Levine x OC female Theodora (Theo) Bailey

Summary: Following the events of Stay Close, Ray Levine has come to the US to begin a new life and is staying with Theo Bailey, the friend of a friend, who is quickly becoming his best friend and Ray is starting to wonder if there isn’t something more there between them.

Like Ray, Theo has her own demons and although she wonders the same thing about Ray, fear of repeating past mistakes keep her from moving forward. Or do they? Somehow, these two damaged people will come together and discover that maybe—just maybe—second chances are worth the risk.

Scott takes Ray for a ride

Warnings: Some violence, bloodshed

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,782

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here and AO3

Theo could only stare at the gun as the blood drained from her face. Maybe from her entire body. All she knew was she grew icy cold in the span of a single heartbeat. “Why—why do you want me to tell him that?”

“I want to have a chat with him, Thee. Man to man. He’ll understand.” The sofa rustled softly as he hefted himself up. “Now, call him.”

Her hands had already begun to shake, which made dialing Ray’s number fun. It took two attempts to dial it correctly.

“Hey, this is Ray. Leave your name, number, and a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

She squeezed her eyes closed as she hung up. “I’m only getting his voicemail.”

“Well, where is he?”

“I—I don’t know.” She shook her head. “He had errands to run today and then a meeting. I don’t expect him back until five or six tonight.”

“Call him again.”

“Scott, I just got his voice—”

“Don’t fucking argue with me! Just fucking call him!”

“O—okay… I’ll call him.”

“Hey, this is Ray. Leave your name, number, and a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Ray, it’s me. Um… I need you to—to come home as soon as you get this… it’s—uh—something has happened and you need to come home…” She lowered the phone. “See? That’s all I can do.”

“Keep calling him until he picks up.”

“Scott, there’s no—”

He aimed at her and for a split-second, she thought she was going to throw up. She swallowed hard again the brackish taste flooding her mouth as she tried calling Ray again.

“Hey, this is Ray. Leave your name, number, and a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

And again.

“Hey, this is Ray. Leave your name, number, and a message and I’ll get back to you as soon—”

Once more.

“Hey, this is—”

Scott came around the sofa. “I wonder if he’s got a sidepiece. I mean, he probably does right? Guy like him would have no trouble getting someone younger. Prettier. Hell, he’s probably fucking her right now.”

“Stop it.” She narrowed her eyes at him, shaking her head. “You don’t—he’s not you.”

Fury flashed in his eyes and white lights exploded before hers as the back of his hand met her cheekbone. She gasped, her phone bouncing across the floor as she went to one knee as her eye began watering and her nose ran. She sniffed, squeezing her eyes shut to stay the tears, but it was a hard battle as fear made the urge to cry that much more powerful.

Her phone rang. She lunged for it. Snatched it up. Turned it over.

“Ray?”

“Hey, is everything okay? You sound upset? What’s going on?”

Without taking her eyes off Scott, and the gun, she said, “I need you to come home, Ray. I’m okay, but I need you to come home right now.”

“Baby, what’s going on?”

“Please…” Her voice cracked, almost a breathless whisper now as she squeezed her eyes shut once more and tried again. “It’s just… you need to come home.”

“Are you all right?”

“Ray, please… just come home.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’m just on my way back so—are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am.” She looked over at Scott and her instinct was to tell Ray to not come home, to stay as far away from Polk Street as he could. But she knew nothing would bring him running faster than that as well. “Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

A brief silence. Then, “I know. It’ll be okay. I love you back.”

“Hang up,” Scott growled.

She did. “Why can’t you just go away? Just go away and leave me alone—leave us alone?”

“Why? Ray and I are gonna get on just fine. You’ll see.”

“Scott… you don’t have… you’re married.” She gingerly probed the new swelling, which was in the same spot as the fading bruise. It took all of her will to not suck in a sharp breath. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, even if her eye still watered and her nose still ran. She had no control over that. “Did you think I would never find out?”

“I don’t want to talk about her.” He leaned against the back of the sofa. “Let’s talk about Ray, shall we?”

“What about him?” She looked down at her phone to see if she’d damaged the screen when she’d dropped it. It appeared to be fine, but she kept staring at it because her stupid eye was still watering and the sight of Scott made her sick.

“Let’s talk about what he did in England. The guy he killed? I heard he really butchered him.”

“Ray didn’t kill anyone.”

“Yeah, you would be dumb enough to believe that.”

Now she looked up at him. “Why do you do that? Why do you insult me every chance you get? Why would you think I would want to stay with a guy who does that? Between that and fucking everything that couldn’t outrun you—why would I stay with you? And now, you’re here because why? Because you’ve made it pretty clear I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Shut up. I owe you nothing, Theo. Nothing!”

“Then why are you here, if not to settle some imaginary score with Ray?”

“Because I wanted you back, Theo. And he—”

“Wanted me back? What? You’ve made your feelings toward me pretty clear, you know.”

“Because I knew I just needed to talk to you. And you’d have come back, like you always do. But no… now I find some fucking British dude making himself at home with you. Tell me, were you sleeping with him when we were together?”

“No.” Her gaze went back to the gun in his hand. He was always an animated speaker, his hands always moving as he talked, and now he waved the gun about as well and she was terrified it was going to go off. “No, I wasn’t. But I might as well have been doing so. He was here, and he didn’t act like he was doing me a huge favor by listening to me or talking to me. He just listened and we just talked. And that’s why I decided you and I were done, Scott. He didn’t insult me or call me names like you do. He is not like you at all and that’s one of the best things about him.”

His eyes narrowed and his hands went still. At least, they did for a moment. Then, in two strides, he stood right before her and her heart threatened to explode as he calmly pressed the gun barrel to her forehead. “Care to repeat that, Theo?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, the prayers she’d learned as a child before she and the Catholic Church had a parting of the ways raced through her mind. The barrel was ice cold at first, but warmed quickly and all she could think was:

Please don’t let it hurt.

She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs simply seized up on her. Time screeched to a halt as she just… waited…

A car pulled into the drive and her knees simply gave way. She stumbled as Scott pulled the gun away from her head, and caught herself on the sofa before she fell.

The door opened. “Theo? What’s—” Ray froze as he saw Scott and Theo held her breath, waiting to see how Scott reacted. Her pulse roared through her ears, thundering through her temples with enough force that black dots danced before her eyes.

“Hey, Ray, it’s nice to see you again.” Scott waved the gun at him as a gesture to come further into the apartment. “Theo and I were just talking about you. Were your ears burning?”

Ray ignored him, looking at her instead. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I’m fine.”

But then he saw the bruise. And she knew he’d seen it because she didn’t miss how his jaw tightened. Scott must have seen it as well, for as Ray took a step toward her, Scott stepped in his way. “Ah, what say you and me go for a little ride, big guy?”

“Scott, no…” Theo began.

“It’s okay, Theo,” Ray broke in softly. Then, to Scott, he said, “Sure.”

“Wait… no…” Theo moved around Scott, who promptly blocked her as well.

“You stay right there. Ray and me are gonna go have a nice chat.” He looked up at Ray. “Aren’t we, big guy?”

“Sure.”

“Ray.”

“I’ll be fine, Theo.”

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat as he winked. “Ray… please…” Her voice cracked. “Don’t… Scott… you do not want to do this.”

“Of course I do.” Scott didn't turn to her, but gestured to the door with the gun. “Let’s go. We have a lot to talk about, you and me.”

If this was an action movie, she’d throw herself at Scott. Would wrestle him to the ground and get the gun and just shoot him without hesitation. She’d be fearless and would act without even thinking about it.

But, this wasn’t a movie and she was frozen, couldn’t make her feet move an inch. Her stomach knotted, bile rose in the back of her throat, and tears stung her eyes as Ray opened the door, calling, “I’ll see you later.”

“Ray…”

“Later, love,” he called as he vanished from sight, “I promise.”

Scott pulled the door shut behind him and the sudden silence dropped on her like a weight. This time, when her knees crumpled, she didn't stop them. For a long, painful moment, she was certain she was going to be sick.

But then, she swallowed hard against the brackishness in her mouth and grabbed her phone. As she saw Ray’s car pull out onto Polk Street, she dialed the police department’s main number.

“Detective Laurence, please…”

Ray tried real hard to not think about the gun in the seat behind him. “Where am I going?”

“Where I tell you to go. Now, just shut up and drive. Get on Thirty-Five North.”

At the stop sign at the end of Polk, Ray moved into the left turn only lane and hit the signal. As he waited for a break in the traffic, his time in Iraq flooded his mind. One particular incident stuck out— his time in Mosul with Ty’s unit. It was hot and dusty, and he was pretty sure he’d never be clean for more than an hour or so because between the heat, the dust, the boots, Kevlar vest, and helmet, he sweated like he was on the sun and everything stuck to him. And that didn’t even include the equipment he carried with him.

The streets were empty—no signs of life beyond faces appearing in windows from time to time. Embedded journalists were forbidden to carry weapons, and normally that didn’t bother Ray too much. Ty kept close watch over him and on more than one occasion, put his expert marksmanship to good use.

He never saw who fired the shot. All he felt was the hot sting of metal grazing his upper arm. Next thing he knew, the unit shielded him as they returned fire and a medic knelt beside him, assuring him his wound was no more than a scratch at best. Two stitches and it was closed up. Barely even left a scar.

From that moment on, he felt as if his senses sharpened. He became far more vigilant, more aware of his surroundings. He’d seen what guns could do to men. And he never wanted to find himself at the wrong end of one again.

And now? Now there was one just on the far side of his seat, as Scott hunkered down in the Compass’ back seat.

At first, Scott remained silent. But as Ray made the left, Scott are chatty. “You like living with Theo?”

“I do, yes. It was kind of her to offer to put me up.” Ray glanced in the rearview mirror. Scott met his gaze, his eyes wide and unblinking despite being almost all pupil.

“Yeah, she’s got a good heart. A real softie. You ever watch an animal movie with her? Cries like a baby whether it’s a happy ending or not. She doesn’t flinch if people get butchered on screen, but put Marley to sleep in Marley and Me? She ugly-cries.”

“I’ve never watched an animal movie with her.”

“Yeah, you’re probably too busy screwing each other’s brains out, right? Ya’ll are brand new to each other and, let’s face it, she’s hot.”

Ray knew better than to answer that. He said nothing, concentrating on the road.

“I asked you a question, James Bond.”

“I didn't know you expected an answer. Are you sure you want one?”

“Do I look stupid?”

Do you really have to ask? Ray bit back the retort and braced himself as he said, “Yeah. We’re getting to know each other fairly well.” The image of her in the garter belt, up against the wall flashed through his mind, followed by them in the basement the day he taught her how to develop film, and the night before, on the kitchen counter. Christ, if he got out of this alive, he was marrying her before anything else could happen.

“Getting to know each other.” Scott let out a snort-laugh. “Be honest with me, man, how long have you been screwing my girlfriend?”

“She wasn’t your girlfriend when we started sleeping together.” Ray glanced at him over his shoulder. “It was only last week.”

“That’s what you were doing when I showed up, weren’t you? Trying to get into her pants, weren’t you?”

Ray almost groaned at the memory. He didn't know what suddenly gave him the courage to kiss her that first time, but there was nothing that ever felt as right as that kiss. And if Scott hadn’t shown up when he did, Ray didn't doubt he and Theo would have made love on the sofa that night.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes. I was. Can you blame me? Who wouldn’t try?”

“Right? And good thing she’s easy, too, huh? Especially for you? You got that whole tall, dark, mysterious past, accent thing going for you.”

“Easy? Are you suggesting—” He never saw Scott’s hand move, but pain exploded along the right side of his jaw and blood pooled between his lip and his bottom teeth in a warm rush. He brought his free hand to his mouth, biting back am oath as he touched doughy flesh that was already swelling. Thankfully, none of his teeth were cracked. Just his bottom lip got a little shredded. Without thinking, he leaned forward and spat the blood onto the weatherized floor mat as his head began to pound.

“I’m asking the questions, not you. Up head, I want you to make a right onto Ocean Avenue.”

Ray nodded as he sat upright again and at Ocean Avenue, he swung a right. His vision swam, his will focused on not driving into anything.

The road ended at a sand dune. On either side of him were houses—or more aptly—they would be houses when they were finished. For now, one was merely a skeleton, while the other looked to be about two-thirds done. A weathered wooden staircase led up the dune and Ray assumed down to the beach. His gut kinked. The weather grew grayer and grayer as the day progressed and by late afternoon, it was already getting dark. The beach would be deserted.

“Get out.”

“Look, we can—”

Scott lunged as if to strike him with the butt of the gun and as Ray recoiled, Scott laughed. “Pussy. Get out of the car.”

His head throbbing, his lip bleeding like crazy, swollen and bruised beyond belief, Ray climbed out of the Jeep. In Iraq, every morning he’d accepted that he might not live to see the next sunrise. He never once thought his end would come at the hands of a jealous ex at the Jersey shore.

The slam of the car doors sent fresh waves of pain rumbling through him. His head hurt worse than it had the night Scott clubbed him with the small bat. His face hurt worse than it ever had before. And as he slowly turned toward Scott, he said, “Up the steps?”

“No.” Scott gestured to the house on their right, the one that was near completion. “In there.”

[jadegrey711]

Hi, I don’t know if your taking requests at the moment but I was wondering if I could get an imagine with Eric Northman where he falls in love with the reader who happens to be Tara Thornton’s sister? Please?

Love your writing❤️😃.

Unexpected

Eric Northman x Black Fem! Reader

A/N: I hope you like this! It’s definitely been a minute since I wrote for my fav vamp boy Eric! So i hope everything is consistent to the seasons. I did more of a first meeting with Eric and Reader, so I hope that’s okay. I also apologize for it being long but I’ve been in a writing slump for so long that I just kind of let it take me where it wanted to go until i ran out of juice for it lol. I hope it’s not too much of an abrupt cut off. 

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 1227

Source and Credit for this gif is located in the tags. This is not my gif

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711) 

It had been a month since you'd seen your sister, this mainly having to do with the fact that she was now Vampire. Which you knew she had a hard time adjusting to especially after everything she went through with Franklin. But you think that one of the main things that helped her with her transition was that no matter what you still remained a constant in her life.

Although this was the first time you'd be seeing your big sister in person, you'd called and texted each other constantly making sure that she still had some kind of normalcy in her new life. But from what she had been telling you after that first initial week she had adjusted well enough to be expected and even got a job at the place where her maker worked as a bartender. And that's where you were planning on meeting her tonight; Fangtasia.

You'd never been to a vampire bar. Not that you were prejudiced against them, it's just you never really had time for going out to bars and clubs with school literally keeping your social life shackled. So, you were both excited and nervous. You conveyed your feelings to Tara and she told you that there was nothing to worry about in the bar and if anyone did decide to mess with her big sister she'd take care of them personally.

You laughed her off but told her you appreciated it.

When you walked into Fangtasia it was nothing like you expected it to be. With it's red leather walls and stripper poles evenly spaced out in the place. Not to mention the massive bar that took up most of the space of the right wall and dead center was a stage with a lone chair or could you even call it a chair? It was more like a throne; that was sitting in the dead center of the stage with an obscenely handsome man sitting in it. His long legs spread out almost as if in invitation as he scanned the crowd of swaying bodies of both vampire and human. As he scanned the crowd his intense blue eyes suddenly made contact with yours. 

You felt like a mouse staring into the mesmerizing eyes of a snake as you held you captive with those eyes you felt your heartbeat quicken and saw a smirk spread on that stoic marble face. Could he actually hear your heartbeat from this far? And with all of this noise going on in the background? 

Suddenly you felt a hand around your arm and were pulled away from those transfixing eyes. 

“Y/N!” Tara smiled and instantly wrapped you in a hug. It was definitely a tighter hug than your used to from your big sister but you embraced her back, with a smile on your face. 

“Tara! I missed you so much.” you said as you continued to hug her before she pulled away. 

“I missed you too Y/N.” she said and you felt your heart expand at the sight of Tara’s genuine smile. “Come on let’s get you a drink. You’re going to need one if you’re going to deal with all these weirdos tonight.” she said as she pulled you towards the bar, without giving you a chance to sneak another peak at the mystery man on the throne. 

“Okay so we have to talk about the elephant in the room.” You stated as you watched Tara walk to the back of the bar as she started to pour the both of you drinks. 

Tara gave you a quizzical look and she almost looked wary. 

“Now does a drastic change in fashion sense come with being a vampire? Or is this just part of the job description?” You let out a chuckle and you felt your heart ache a bit as you saw Tara breathe a sigh of relief, before letting out a laugh herself. 

“It’s mainly for the job. So you don’t make the weirdos feel out of place.” She said just as two heavily pierced goths came up to order something at the bar. You quickly stifled a giggle at their pissed off expressions to which TAra just quickly shrugged them off and started making their drinks.

As you were talking with Tara the next thirty minutes you felt this ever present presence behind you like someone was boring holes into the back of your skull, demanding that you look at them. 

You swiveled in your seat, trying to find the source. You scanned the club, but felt your eyes mainly gravitate towards the center stage and the hulking presence that was seated there. 

You tried not to stare but he evidently had no problem with staring as he scanned down your body; those blue eyes seemingly taking in every minute detail of you. And in return you did the same to him. Taking in the short blonde hair, chiseled jaw and those massive hands; which sent a shiver down your spine at the thought of all of what those hands could do. 

“Oh hell no!” Tara shouted, gaining your attention again. “Don’t you dare go messing with Eric fucking Northman, Y/N. He is trouble with a capital crazy “T”.” 

“I’m not messing with anyone. But he’s gorgeous, you can’t say that he isn’t Tara.” You defended, feeling your cheeks heat. 

“Mhmm.” she said not believing a word of your crap. “I’m warning you Y/N, you're better off not even think-” Tara was cut off as you felt someone looming behind you and you suddenly realized that Tara wasn’t the only one who had gone quiet. 

“Hello there little mouse.” His voice was like sin covered silk and you felt your body instantly heat. “And who might you be?” 

You took a deep breath and turned in your seat. “I’m Tara’s sister, Y/N. '' You said softly as your eyes connected with his. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in all of him. Chiding yourself at noticing how big he actually is, so much so that you had to tilt your neck just to meet those pretty blue eyes. 

His smile reminded you of a wolf as he looked from you to Tara. “I didn’t know you had a sister Tara. And one that was this beautiful as well.” 

“She’s my kid sister.” Tara said, making you flinch at how she emphasized the kid part. 

“Does she have your mouth too?” Eric chided and you felt the slap dealt to your sister and got up from where you were sitting. 

“Yes, she does and she is also sitting right here. So if you have any questions why don’t you ask me and leave my sister alone.” You said, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He raised an eyebrow at you in return, turning his gaze back onto you, before stunning you with one of his wolfish smiles. 

“What?” You asked hesitantly.

“You are a very welcome surprise tonight, Y/N.” 

You felt a spike of bravery run through you, you’d decide later if it was a stupid streak of bravery later as you looked back up in those hungry eyes. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

You watched as his tongue darted out and wet his lips before he said “ Definitely a good thing. A very good thing.”

[half-bakedboy]

it’s okay (not to be okay)

(read on ao3) 

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: General Summary: “Great idea. Eddie really shouldn’t be exerting himself right now.”

“Seriously, Buck?” Eddie asked, standing up with a huff.

Buck didn’t have time to be frustrated, because Bobby was instructing him to assist with other patients and he had a job to do.

(Two jobs, if he counted protecting Eddie from himself.)

___________________________

[From: Ana]

Eddie had a panic attack and was taken to the hospital. He’s okay, but he’s struggling, Buck. I can’t get through to him, but I think you can. 

[From: Ana]

He doesn’t want anyone to know. Chris had to tell the doctor he was shot. I don’t know what to do.

[From: Ana]

He just dropped me off at my house. Maybe someone should check on him later?

Buck stared down at the messages on his phone, panic thrumming through his body with each passing moment. He ran his fingers through his hair and held in the breath he had sharply inhaled to hold back his own alarm. It was a feeling he was used to, one that he grew to absorb and hold back because he couldn’t let it interfere with his life, his job. He needed a clear head and when he didn’t have one, the panic would become too much to handle, a cross he couldn’t and wouldn’t let himself bear.

Eddie didn’t panic. Eddie was the one who didn’t make rash decisions, who thought through everything before he acted, who kept everyone else calm in each crisis the team had. His level head made him an amazing soldier, a phenomenal firefighter, an ideal father, and… well, everything Buck had ever wanted to be. 

So to say he was worried about Ana’s texts was an understatement. 

He held his phone up to his ear and when the sound of Eddie’s voice rung through the speaker, he deflated. The familiar sound of Eddie’s always professional voicemail pissed him off more than anything so he wasn’t about to give up. He dialed the other number saved into his favorites and after a few rings, rustling sounded through. 

“Buck?” Christopher asked, voice muffled with sleep. Buck checked the time on his watch and sighed. 

“I’m sorry, buddy, you go to sleep. I was just trying to reach—”

“Dad’s not gonna answer.” 

Christopher said the words so matter-of-factly that Buck felt his heartbeat speed up. 

“You think so? Why is that?” 

“He told me and Ana not to tell anyone,” Christopher began. 

Buck could hear his pout and he wanted to ruffle his hair and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but he had to convince himself of it first. Christopher could see right through him and he wasn’t willing to have the kid lose sleep over his own nerves. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Buck promised, “but can you let me know what your dad is doing right now?” 

“He’s in bed. He didn’t even take a shower and he loves showers,” Christopher exaggerated. Buck let out a huff of laughter. 

“You’re observant, you know that?” A few moments of silence passed and even through the phone, Buck could hear Christopher’s worry. “Hey, he’s okay, right?”

“I think so.” He didn’t sound sure. 

“Well, both Ana and I are looking after him and you know who else is?” Buck asked. 

“Who?” Christopher whispered. His breathing was starting to slow, his voice sounding even more muffled as he slowly lulled himself to sleep. 

“ You . He’s okay because he has you, just like he always has, got it?” 

“Got it,” Chris agreed quietly. “Love you, Buck,” he added. 

The line went dead before Buck could say it back, but he figured Chris knew what his response would be anyway. 

___________________________

Over the next day, Buck did what he did best. He watched. He noted Eddie’s behavior. He considered the inflections of his voice, the content of his words, the way he handled himself. To any outsider, it was like nothing ever happened. 

Buck wasn’t just anyone, especially to Eddie.

He pretended not to notice Eddie’s hesitation when he was tasked with helping Chim wire the air traffic controller. He pretended that Eddie’s hand didn’t feel too heavy on his shoulder when he stood up to quickly diagnose the other man with a potential panic attack. 

He pretended he didn’t see the way Eddie’s hands trembled a little more than they usually did after a call while they made their way to the fire truck and ambulances with the victims. He pretended not to see Eddie close his eyes for a few moments and take a deep breath, in and out, calculated like it wasn’t quite second nature anymore. 

It wasn’t until they entered the emergency department that he had ammo for confrontation. 

“Hey, what was with that doctor on the way in? Why is she asking if you’re alright?” Buck asked. He played nonchalance really well but he could be proud of himself for that later. 

“It was nothing.” Buck just stared and Eddie sighed. “I wasn’t feeling well the other day, so… she checked me out.” 

“She’s a cardiologist. At a hospital,” Buck supplied. He knew Eddie didn’t think he was that stupid—or at least, he hoped. “Are you saying you had a heart attack?” Buck asked, immediately concerned that maybe he didn’t let Ana and Christopher in on the full story. 

“No, I’m not saying I had a heart attack. I’m saying the opposite,” Eddie said smugly, “I’m saying I didn’t have a heart attack.” 

“But you did think you were having a heart attack,” Buck appended. He was leading Eddie to the point, feigning dumb for the good of the situation, but Eddie wouldn’t budge. 

“Can we just drop this?�� 

Before Buck could argue, Hen walked over and asked, “Guys, want us to tag you out?” Eddie agreed, but Buck felt his annoyance rise within him. He couldn’t stop himself from his next words. 

“Great idea. Eddie really shouldn’t be exerting himself right now.” 

“Seriously, Buck?” Eddie asked, standing up with a huff. 

Buck didn’t have time to be frustrated, because Bobby was instructing him to assist with other patients and he had a job to do. 

(Two jobs, if he counted protecting Eddie from himself.) 

___________________________

The front door to Eddie's apartment slammed and Buck could see the tension jerk at Eddie’s shoulders. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Buck questioned. 

“There wasn’t anything to tell, Buck,” Eddie said stubbornly. Buck would have smacked him if he wasn’t so worried. 

“Nothing to tell, huh?” He held up his hand and counted off his fingers as he listed off, “You had a presumed heart attack and were sent by ambulance to the hospital. Turns out it was a panic attack and when asked if there were any stressors lately, you lied to the doctor about getting shot—”

“I didn’t lie, I—”

Eddie stopped himself when Buck’s glare narrowed even further. 

“Your son had to tell the doctor that you were shot,” Buck corrected. Eddie pressed his lips together, unwilling to argue. “You almost have another panic attack on a scene and tell approximately no one only have a full-blown meltdown on a helicopter that’s hanging on by a thread in the middle of a rescue. Am I missing anything?” Buck asked, though it was clear he wasn’t looking for an answer. 

“I’m fine—” Eddie began. 

Buck waltzed up to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him as hard as he could while still being aware of the bullet hole-shaped scar left behind from those few months ago. The scar that might have physically stayed on Eddie, but lingered in the back of Buck’s mind every single day. 

“You’re not fine, Eddie! You almost died and you’re sitting here like life goes on and nothing has changed.” 

“Nothing has. It was a panic attack, not another near-death experience.” 

“You say another like it’s a normal occurrence in people’s lives,” Buck exclaimed. “It’s not! It’s not normal for people to get shot and survive—not once, but twice. It’s not normal for people to just move on with their lives like they weren’t nearly ended. It’s not normal to carry on like nothing is wrong when something is fucking wrong, Eddie!” 

“Buck, you should take a step back—” 

Buck pushed himself away before Eddie’s hands could press against his shoulders, that thumbprint on his pulse that reminded both of them that they were still there. He leaned against the wall behind him, unable to hold himself up without assistance anymore, and sighed.

“You didn’t tell me,” Buck said, a whisper of admission into the air between them like a secret Buck wasn’t ready to tell. 

“I couldn’t,” Eddie muttered. 

“You couldn’t?” Buck scoffed. “You didn’t trust me? You didn’t want me to exhaust you with my worry? Give me one good reason why you couldn’t tell me!” 

“Because then it’s real, Buck, okay?!” Eddie yelled. He ran his hands through his hair before he pounded a fist against the wall beside him. It would hurt in the morning, that much was obvious by the sound that echoed through the empty room. 

“What?” Buck asked quietly. Eddie breathed deeply like he hadn’t taken in air in months. Buck wasn’t convinced he had. 

“If you don’t know, then I can forget it’s happening. I’m not reminded of that moment where the pain was so great that I couldn’t hold myself up and only trusted myself to reach out to you to pick me back up. I’m not haunted by the fact that I almost made my son an orphan for the third time in his life. If you don’t know, then I can pretend it never happened and move forward.”

“From what, Eddie? You can’t just move forward. You know that,” Buck prodded. 

“Yeah, well, I sure as hell can try .” 

They both paused, taking the moment of silence to breathe, to think, to figure out what was next. 

Eddie made the first move, walking over to where Buck had leaned back against the wall and matched his position. He pressed their shoulders together, his eyes glued to the way Buck’s chest moved up and down slowly, imitating the movement as if he wasn’t sure he would be able to do it himself. 

Buck yearned to reach out and hold him, but instead, he asked the questions that lingered on his mind. 

“When are going to let us—any of us—in? When are you going to let me help you ? When are you going to admit that you’re not okay?” 

Eddie didn’t—couldn’t—answer, but the shake in his shoulders was unmistakable.

As he slid down the wall, Buck followed his every move, wrapping an arm around his waist to ease the fall. When they landed, Eddie pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and let out a gutwrenching sob that had tears bubbling behind Buck’s eyelids. He held them back as best he could because, at that moment, nothing else could matter but Eddie. 

Cries of pain, anguish, fear, every horrible emotion that had been welling up inside of both of them burst from Eddie’s mouth and he fell into Buck for the support he extended. He clawed at the collar of Buck’s shirt, his nails raking against the skin of Buck’s chest, but nothing was as painful as the way Eddie gasped at the breaths that didn’t seem to come as quickly as he needed them to. 

Buck held Eddie’s hand to his heart so he could feel the simple rise and fall of his chest and mimic it again. His other hand grasped at the shirt of Eddie’s back to keep his panic away, his own way of anchoring himself there so he could continue to be the solid weight Eddie needed to push through. 

Every part of them was entangled and Eddie had no choice but to press his face into Buck’s neck. Buck hoped his heartbeat stayed solid enough to remind Eddie they were both still alive, even if it felt like they weren’t. 

“I’ve got you, Eds, I’m here. I won’t let you go, never.” 

It was too much to say, too easy for Eddie to read into the double entendre of his words and Buck selfishly hoped he was too lost in his own mind to realize it. 

But the words or the touch or the steady calmness Buck forced himself into seemed to ease Eddie out of the attack of emotions that surged through him. Little by little, Eddie’s sobs turned to hiccups, his tears turned to trickles, and the white-knuckled grip he had on Buck loosened but didn’t fall. He breathed in time with Buck, his heartbeat slowing to its correct rhythm, and the tremors in his body settled to occasional chills. 

“Buck?” Eddie asked, as if he barely realized what was happening inside of him. 

“I’m here,” Buck reassured. 

Eddie shook his head and when he finally glanced up, all Buck could see was the redness around his eyes and the tear stains that looked too permanent on his skin. 

“I’m not okay,” Eddie admitted— finally —before pressing his face back into Buck’s neck with a whimper like the words were painful to acknowledge out loud.

“Yeah, Eddie, I know.” 

Buck couldn’t resist kissing the top of his head and letting his lips linger for just a second too long. 

“I need your help,” Eddie said, his voice graveled with emotion.

“You’ve got it,” he promised again.

“Yeah, Buck, I know,” Eddie teased because of course, even in his darkest moment, he had to get the last word in and it had to be something full of that sarcastic barrier he protected himself with. 

Buck let him, though, because he figured Eddie knew what his response would be anyway. 

[the-starryknight]

Let Me Carry It Instead

Rated: M | Graphic Descriptions of Violence | 1k

For the 2021 Summer Writin’ Challenge: Week 6 Prompt: The Power's Out, Trope: Hurt/Comfort, Craft: First Person POV/Story within a Story, Characters/Objects: A photograph Summary: He's going to save the Wizarding world again (again!), I know it. I'll hold him when he aches from it and wash away the blood. I'll tell him he's still a good man even if I don't believe it. many thanks to @babooshkart for the cheerleading, and to @p1013 for the beta read on this one!

CW: for Murder (of an OC), blood, corrupt Ministry (more tags on Ao3)

There’s soap in my hands, in his hair, and it’s the only defense I have against the tidal swell of heartache in my gut. I hate him in his Polyjuiced form. The Minister’s assistant’s shoulders are too thin, his hair too long. Harry’s lips are someone else’s lips, but I kiss him all the same. My hands on his skin are the only balm I’ve got to give, the only salvation I can offer the man who can’t stop saving everyone but himself.

“It was horrible,” he says. I rub the blood from his palms; my hands turn scarlet with it too.

It’s worse in the flicker of candles. When he Apparated back home, still sizzling with too much power, he took out the lights across the block. In the dim orange glow, I’m scared of the red refracted in his eyes.

“Horrible,” I echo, voiceless, useless, my heart in my mouth, as I scrape the rust-red from under his fingernails. “Let me hold it,” I beg. I don’t mean his hands. “Let me hold you.”

The water’s hot at our hips and even the steam curling off the surface of the water looks pink. There’s too much blood, and though I know it’s not his, the thunderbolt in my throat hurts like it is, like my Harry is hurt. It’s worse because the disguise is fading, and the bruise at his wrist is less stark on his deep brown skin, and his eyes are green again and carry too much for his young shoulders. I want to take it all away from him. Let him rest, let him rest.

“Does anything hurt?” I ask, sluicing fresh water over his shoulders, summoning the soap that I always use — oranges, cinnamon, bitters — to slip new suds across his chest.

“No injuries.”

I can’t help but touch him as the last of the Polyjuice fades away, fingers following rivulets of water to track familiar lines across his collarbones, to press into the divot on his chest where he died (where he died, was that not enough?), to slip over the curve of his hipbones under the water. His breath is warm against my wet shoulder, I have to pull him into my arms. The tub’s so full, water slips over the sides as we move, but I don’t care.

“I’m glad you’re home,” I say, too quietly, hoping he won’t hear.

But he does, damn him, and he says it back, “Me too,” and smiles for the first time since he landed. The smile doesn’t touch his eyes (how could it, with what he’s done tonight?) but it settles in the pink of his mouth.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I feel his swallow under my fingertips, the flannel a bare barrier between my hand and his throat. I think these are the marks of fingernails, and I want to hurt the person that dared leave them on him, though I know she’s already dead.

“Not with words,” he says, and swallows again.

I have to lean forward and kiss him against his throat so I can feel his heartbeat under my lips. He’s alive, he’s alive. Let him rest.

“Not with words,” I echo, and meet his eyes.

We’ve done it a thousand times; his wandless Legilimens links us together with a flash like a camera going off. I’m his eyes and itching under his skin, I’m in his mind, and he’s guiding me through too many colors and sounds. I don’t know how he lives like this, in this cacophony; I don’t know how he thinks in this noise. I want to take every burden from him, let him sit in quiet.

“—know what you did,” Harry’s voice echoes from a memory that veers too loud against the side of my head. Distantly, I feel my hands flash in the water, but I’m too lost in his mind to register more than the touch of his hand over mine before I’m tumbling into the memory, into his mind. I’d throw myself to his mercy again and again and again.

Marena Morganthau, the Minister for Magic, reclines in her chair, mauve fingernails tapping on the desk. She smiles at first, and realizes he’s not who he’s supposed to be. It’s too late. The memory moves like a photograph, twitching forward wrongly, ruined by the frenetic frazzle of Harry’s magic.

“Will you admit your collusion with neo-Death Eaters?” Harry asks. I can feel the rumble in his chest even in the memory. “Will you accept responsibility for the hundreds of Muggle lives already lost under your—” his mouth twists, my mouth twists, “—regime?”

Her Patronus call for help is barely corporeal before Harry snuffs it out, his magic more consumptive than a Dementor’s kiss.

“I asked you a question.”

The sound of her desk shattering into a thousand pieces at Harry’s feet splinters in my ears. I reach for him, feel his real self, wet and warm in my arms, still slick from the soap. I’ll watch this horror for him; I’ll tell him he’s not the monster he thinks he must be.

The Minister isn’t going to answer, that much is clear from the set to her jaw. She expects that the saviour will be a good man. He is a good man, but not by her standards.

She crumbles like the desk.

I watch it happen, blood on my hands, on Harry’s hands, the flicker-flash of the Legilimency burned around the edges with the force of his violent magic.

“I can hold this too,” I say out loud, half-broken, half-strong. Harry touches my shoulders to free me from the memory. “I’ll hold this for you too.”

This is my atonement too. I pick up the sponge; I’ll wash this from his skin, absolve him.

“You’ve saved us again,” I remind him (and me). I pour fresh water from my wand, fragrant with the soap, clear and bloodless. “You’re a good man. You can rest now. You can rest.”

Read it on Ao3!

[kanerallels]

My Heart Is In Your Hands

(For Kanera Week, based on the prompt "ultimate OTP moment/night out")

Read on AO3 here!

@kaneraweek

Word Count: 5,250

Tags/Warnings: rated G

Summary: The Jedi throw an engagement party that Kanan and Hera in particular find very... engaging

Hera couldn’t believe how fast the next two weeks slipped by. Maybe it was because of all the work that needed to be done in preparation-- many of the guests invited were Imperial, so they had to make sure there were no signs of Mace, Depa and Kanan’s work with the Rebellion. There was also a lot of cleaning, cooking and various preparations to be done in general. Hera and Kanan had their own way to get ready, going over their story repeatedly to make sure they didn’t forget it, memorizing key details and producing answers for any possible questions that could be asked.

Of course, there was also the fact that Hera had started working with the cell on Lothal, alongside Kanan. She was usually the getaway pilot, but she’d gone on a couple of actual ops as well. After the first mission, Kanan relaxed significantly about her being out in the field, although Hera still wasn’t sure why he’d gotten so jumpy. She didn’t have much time to think about it, though.

Most of the guests would be arriving the day of the party, but a few arrived a couple days before. Kanan and Hera went down to meet some of them at the front door, the first of which was a tall Kalleran. The moment the Kalleran spotted Kanan he all but crushed him in a hug. “Kid! Since when are you getting married?”

“Kriff, Kasmir-- can’t breathe-- Kanan gasped.

Releasing him, the Kalleran turned to Hera and gave her a gentlemanly bow. “Janus Kasmir at your service. A pleasure to meet the young woman who caught Kanan’s heart. I have to know everything. How’d you two meet?”

“Believe it or not, it was only a month or two ago,” Hera said, slipping her arm through Kanan’s. “I was having… a little trouble with a street gang, and Kanan stepped in to give me a hand. By which I mean he handled one of them, and I took out the rest.”

“Give me a little credit,” Kanan protested. “I handled at least two.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, dear,” Hera said, unable to prevent the smile crossing her face at Kanan’s fake chagrin.

Chuckling, Kasmir said, “She’s good for you, kid. I like her.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Kanan grumbled. “But I like her, too.”

“I should hope so, you are marrying her,” Kasmir said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Excuse me, I’m gonna go say hi to your Jedi mom and your kid who’s cooler than you.”

As the Kalleran strode into the house, Hera turned to Kanan, trying not to laugh. “So, he’s… interesting. I like him, I will say.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Kanan said with some drama, and Hera smirked.

“Well, I kept you around, didn’t I?”

The next guest was an older man, mostly bald with a fringe of white hair, and a white beard. Directing a warm smile at them, he said, “Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise? Two of my favorite people are getting married.”

“What-- Okadiah?” Kanan said, and Hera’s gaze snapped to him.

“Wait, you know Okadiah?”

“YOU know Okadiah?” Kanan countered.

“Indeed,” Okadiah said with a chuckle. “I met Hera when she was just starting out on her own. Gave her a place to stay for a while and helped her on her way.”

“And how did you meet Kanan?” Hera asked curiously.

“It’s a long story,” Kanan cut in hastily. “That we don’t have time for right now. Suffice to say there was a moon that was about to be blown up, actually a few crazy cyborgs, and a couple barroom brawls involved.”

“I’ll regale you with the full tale another time,” Okadiah assured Hera. “In the meantime, let me just say I couldn’t have chosen better for you two if I had chosen myself. I congratulate you both deeply.

“Thanks, Oke,” Kanan said, shooting the older man a smile as he headed inside.

Next, they found themselves facing the third group, which was an eclectic group Hera had not expected-- a Mandalorian woman in green-blue armor, a Mirialan woman with purple skin, curly hair and exceptional fashion, and a human man holding hands with her. In their free hands, both of the latter two carried hefty suitcases, and the Mandalorian was lugging two more.

Grinning, Kanan stepped forward. “Cinya! How are you?”

“Still very willing to punch you out again,” the Mandalorian said tartly.

“But you won’t because he’s only got a week until his big party,” the Mirialan reminded her. Turning to Hera, she smiled warmly. “I’m Hadassah, and this is Lanter.” She nodded at the man next to her, who shot Hera a friendly smile.

“They’re dating,” Cinya said, and Kanan’s eyes lit up.

“About time-- congratulations, you two.”

“Thanks,” Lanter said, grinning. “Congratulations to you-- I can’t believe you’re getting married! Seems like only yesterday Cinya tried to kill you in Hadassah’s juice bar.”

“Good times,” Kanan said remiscently.

“I take it there’s something of a story here,” Hera remarked, and Hadassah laughed.

“You have no idea. Luckily, we'll have plenty of time to tell you. Lanter and I are your stylists for the party.”

“Really?” Kanan said, surprised. “I didn't know Mace and Depa asked you guys to do that.”

“You bet your life, you tall string bean,” Lanter said with a grin. “Lanter and Hadassah are here to save the day.”

Kanan looked at him for a moment, then turned to Cinya. “He watched “The Princess Diaries” on the way here, didn't he?”

Cinya nodded. “Both of them, and he cried twice during the second one.”

“I won't apologize for my love for Clarisse and Joe,” Lanter said dramatically. “They're the ultimate couple goals. Hadassah is my Clarisse.”

“You are so sweet,” Hadassah said, kissing him on the cheek.

Cinya let out a dramatic sigh. "You guys are so ridiculously sappy. Let's get moving.”

The five of them headed into the house and up to a suite that had clearly been prepared for this very reason-- a table was set up with a mirror on it, a swivel chair in front of it. At one end of the room Hera spotted a folding screen set up to change behind.

Lanter and Hadassah instantly started unpacking from their suitcases-- hairbrushes, makeup containers, ear cone pendants, perfumes, and a thousand other things that could be useful. “You… really came prepared,” Hera said, staring as Lanter pulled out a curling iron. “However, I doubt I’m going to need that.”

“Oh, that’s for Dassah,” Lanter assured her. “But if Kanan could just let me do his hair--”

“Absolutely not,” Kanan said immediately. “I already told Sabine she could.”

“But Kanan, I have the perfect--”

“Under no circumstances are you giving me the moose hairdo from “The Princess Diaries”, Lanter.”

Smirking, Lanter said, “But you would be a handsome moose. Make all the girl moose go WHUA!”

Kanan groaned, but Hera couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’m going to like you,” she told Lanter, who beamed.

“Why thank you, Ms. Syndulla, I like you very much, too!”

Grinning, Hadassah said, “Alright, we have work to do, and I'm sure that you two do, as well. But before you go-- color preferences for your outfits? Keep in mind that they have to be somewhat coordinated.”

“Nah, I trust you not to put me in anything too reprehensible,” Kanan said jokingly.

Rolling her eyes, Hadassah said, “Immeasurably unhelpful. Fine-- I'm thinking of a blue and green color scheme for the two of you. Lanter, what do you think?”

“Perfect,” Lanter immediately agreed. “We'll get to work straight away.”

“And we'll leave you to it,” Hera said. Looping her arm through Kanan's, she tugged him forward, and they headed out.

As they made their way down the hall, Kanan murmured, “Nice job with Kasmir earlier. He can be a little too nosy for his own good.”

“No worries-- he seems nice,” Hera commented. “Very excited about us.”

A slight smile pulled at the corner of Kanan's mouth. “He's an old friend. I'm not surprised he's so excited, frankly. It's kind of who he is.”

Hera nodded without speaking, but felt an internal twinge. Part of her couldn't help but dislike the fact they were deceiving so many people, good people. They didn't deserve to be lied to like this.

And there was also another part of her. A part that found herself noticing Kanan's quiet determination and his kindness around Ezra and the grin he'd give her sometimes-- and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't noticed the fact that she was engaged to an extremely handsome man. There was a part of her that felt a flutter in her chest at his touch.

And that part of her wished that this whole thing wasn't based on a lie.

“Hera?” Kanan's concerned voice broke through her thoughts, and she glanced up to see him frowning at her. “You okay?”

Hera gave her head a quick shake, like the motion would send those thoughts flying. But they’d been there too long for that. “Fine, sorry-- were you saying something?”

A slight furrow in Kanan’s brow hinted that he wasn’t quite satisfied with her response, but all he said was, “I was wondering if you still think your father won’t accept his invitation.”

“Oh.” Hera shook her head. “No, he won’t come. Especially since you’re inviting Imperials to keep our cover. He doesn’t know that-- he’ll probably assume I’m all but colluding with them. So either he won’t come, or I’ll wish he hadn’t.” Releasing a sigh, she said, “I guess I always assumed he and my mother would be here for this.”

Kanan slipped his arm from around hers long enough to catch hold of her hand, and Hera felt her heartbeat stutter as his fingers laced through hers. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

“It’s okay,” Hera told him, returning the gesture. “I may not have my father and mother, but I have you, and everyone else here. And at this point, they feel like family almost more than my father does.”

The smile Kanan gave her was a soft one with that unusual warmth shining around the edges, the light that she saw in his eyes more and more these days. Hera couldn’t bring herself to look away, despite the flush she knew was growing on her cheeks. Time to get out of here, she decided. Before I do something truly stupid.

“I should probably--” she started.

“Do you ever--” Kanan began at the same time. They both stopped short, and Hera laughed, feeling a flash of self-consciousness.

“Sorry, you go ahead,” Kanan said, giving her the crooked grin, the one that was Hera’s favorite. For just a second, her gaze lingered on it, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to close the distance, to drop a kiss against the upturned corner of his mouth--

What are you THINKING, Hera? She scolded herself. You can’t just start thinking about kissing Kanan, not now. Clearing her throat, she said, “I was just going to say that I’d better get going-- plenty to do before our party.”

“Right, yeah,” Kanan said, and was Hera imagining it or was there something a little strained about his voice? “Same here. See you later?”

“Yes-- but didn’t you want to tell me something?” Hera asked.

Kanan opened his mouth to speak, and stopped for a moment. Closing it, he finally shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’d better get going.”

Releasing Hera’s hand, he headed off down the hall, leaving Hera staring after him. Well, that was… strange. But she really didn’t have time to spend thinking about why Kanan was acting so strangely.

So of course, over the next three days leading up to their engagement party, that was all she thought about. Especially since Kanan seemed to be avoiding her. He was always out on some sort of business of some kind or in a fitting with Lanter or working to help clean out the ballroom.

And Hera didn’t feel hurt by that. That would be ridiculous. They were both busy, she didn’t exactly have time to spend with him either.

Or maybe she was avoiding him, too. Either way, it didn’t matter. Much.

Alright, it definitely did matter, but some part of Hera didn’t want to bring it up. Maybe she was afraid of the answer, maybe she was afraid she’d lose what she had with Kanan, maybe she was afraid that she was falling in love with a man she wasn’t supposed to technically fall for.

So she kept pushing aside the thoughts, and threw herself into working for the engagement party. And before she knew it, it was the evening of the party, and she was heading up to Hadassah’s suite to get her dress.

The Mirialan was waiting with excitement stamped across her face, and a companion-- Depa Billaba. Throwing her a smile, Depa said, “Don’t mind me, I’m just here to see my future daughter in law get ready. It’s my prerogative.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hera said, giving Depa a smile and pretending like the “daughter in law” part didn’t throw her for a loop. “Okay-- where’s my dress?”

“Here,” Hadassah said, darting over to the changing screen and pulling a dress on a hanger from behind it. She held it up, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “What do you think?”

Hera’s eyes widened at the sight-- a sleeveless dress with a high neckline, made of fluttery fabric, the color shading from teal into a deep cobalt blue. It was stunning-- Hera knew just by looking at it that she’d never owned anything so expensive and beautiful in her life, other than the Ghost.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, brushing a hand across the smooth cloth. “I-- I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Well, Depa paid us,” Hadassah said with a shrug. “But you can repay us by going out and having a good time with your fiance tonight. Speaking of which, I’d better get going-- Lanter’s waiting for me downstairs.”

Giving them a quick wave, Hadassah slipped out of the room, leaving Hera with Depa. Glancing at the Jedi, Hera said, “Thank you. I don’t know how I can repay you--”

“No repayment necessary,” Depa said firmly. “I’m happy to do it.” As Hera admired the dress for a moment longer, she added, “However, I do have a question for you.”

Hera glanced at Depa curiously, and saw the Jedi wearing a patiently curious expression. “I’ve noticed you and Kanan have been avoiding each other lately. Did something happen?”

“No, I-- we’re not-- what makes you think--” Hera stammered, and Depa held up a hand.

“Hera. I’m not the blind one. You two used to spend every day together, but I haven’t seen you with my apprentice in days. What’s going on?”

Hera bit her lip, her eyes flicking from Depa to the floor and then back again. Part of her felt that saying how she felt out loud would make it far too real. But the sympathy and understanding in Depa’s eyes pulled the words out of her. “I don’t want to avoid him. But things are just… complicated right now.”

Narrowing her eyes, Depa said, “Did he make a move on you?”

“What? No, of course not.” Hera felt herself flush at her next words. “Do you think-- would he-- never mind.”

“Ahhh.” A knowing smile grew on Depa’s face. “I see.”

“See… what?” Frustration boiled through Hera at the almost desperate curiosity in her words. She felt so irritatingly petty about this whole thing.

“That you’re in love with my apprentice,” Depa said matter of factly.

Oh. Oh, dear. But she wasn’t wrong. “I… I didn’t expect this to happen,” Hera said softly. “I had no idea that Kanan would be…” Handsome? Charming? So incredibly caring and kind? The kind of man I could spend my life with?

“I know,” Depa said, her tone soft and sympathetic. “It can’t be easy to be in a relationship without actually being in a relationship. Hera-- if I may give you some advice?”

“Okay,” Hera said hesitantly.

“You don’t seem to be the kind of woman who would give her heart easily. But if Kanan’s the one who’s earned it, don’t give up on that. Both of you deserve better than that.”

“He does, you’re right,” Hera agreed, her voice low. “I just don’t want to ruin what Kanan and I have by--”

“Telling him that you love him?” Depa reached out and touched her hand, her eyes kind. “You don’t have to. But honesty is important in any relationship, whether it’s romantic or not. And will you regret it if you don’t? Just think about it, please.”

“I-- I will,” Hera promised, unsure whether it was fear or determination swelling in her chest. Depa smiled and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“Good. Now, get dressed. You have a party to get to.”

Half an hour later, Hera was wearing the amazing dress Hadassah had given her, along with a set of silver ear cone pendants set with teal gems and a matching bracelet. She waited by the door of the ballroom for Kanan, who still hadn’t arrived. Is he even coming? She wondered with a flash of worry-- silly worry, really. Kanan wouldn’t just stand her up, and it was his party, too.

Seconds after she thought the words, she heard footsteps behind her, and Kanna’s voice. “Sorry I’m late,” he called. “Ezra needed something before I left.”

“Don’t worry about it--”

Hera’s words stuttered to a halt in her mouth as she stared at Kanan, who gaped right back at her. She usually saw him in his casual every-day wear, or occasionally Jedi robes. What he wore now was nothing like that.

He wore a crisp white shirt with long sleeves and dark trousers. Over the shirt, he had on a navy blue jerkin with teal embroidery that brought out the vibrant color in his eyes. At his hip hung his lightsaber, which Hera had only rarely seen him with.

“Wow,” he breathed as he stared at her. “You’re… wow.”

“You… you look incredible,” Hera managed. And it was the truth. A small smile lifted the corner of Kanan’s mouth.

“Thanks,” he said, closing the distance between them and capturing her hand in his. Hera felt her heart start pounding as he gazed at her, seeming to drink in the sight of her. “But trust me,” he murmured. “No one’s going to be looking at me when you’re standing next to me.”

“I will be.” Hera felt her face warm the minute the words slipped out of her mouth, because it sounded like flirting. It was flirting, she knew. But she really couldn’t help herself, especially with him standing inches away from her, looking at her the way he was.

A crooked grin danced across Kanan’s face. “Really, Captain Syndulla? Flirting at a time like this?”

“Well, it is our engagement party,” Hera pointed out, feeling a ridiculous sense of relief. Kanan was here with her, and even his presence made this whole thing a little easier to deal with. Well, except for the fact that she was incredibly caught off guard by how handsome he looked tonight.

Offering her his arm, Kanan said, “That’s true. And we should probably head in. Are you ready?”

Looping her arm around his, Hera replied, “Not remotely. Let’s do this.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They moved into the ballroom subtly, but somehow everyone noticed them the moment they set foot inside. Hera could feel the eyes on her, and she stiffened, trying not to panic. Kanan’s thumb brushed against her bare upper arm, sending a quick shiver down her spine. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice too low for anyone else to hear. “Take a deep breath. I’m here.”

Somehow, that was more comforting than anything else he could have said. Hera took a quick deep breath as Mace and Depa headed their way. Depa was clad in a lavender dress, while Mace looked majestically elegant in formal Jedi robes, the dark scar across his eyes totally unhidden.

Giving both of them a warm smile, Depa said, “You both look wonderful, although you are a little late.”

“Sorry-- Ezra was trying to convince me to smuggle him cake in my pockets,” Kanan apologized.

“I’m sure that’s what the guests will think happened,” Mace muttered with a small smirk that looked a little too much like his grand Padawan’s.

“Manners, Mace,” Depa said. “And I can’t believe I’m saying that to you instead of the other way around. Okay, here’s what you two need to do-- mingle a little bit, say hello to the guests. Make sure to greet Governor Pryce--”

“Absolutely not,” Kanan said flatly. “She’s the reason Ezra’s parents are--”

“I know that, but we have to be careful, Kanan,” Depa said, her voice firm.

“What-- Pryce isn’t some invincible succubus,” Kanan protested. “She’s a regular succubus, who can be defeated.”

Releasing a sigh, Depa turned to Hera. “When Pryce comes over-- she’s the one with the short black hair, Imperial uniform--”

“Don’t look straight into her eyes, though,” Kanan muttered.

“Why, because she’ll turn you to stone?” Mace asked.

“No, because her eyes are ugly.”

Letting out a sigh, Depa said, “Perhaps it’s better if Hera does the talking.”

“Perhaps,” Hera agreed.

“Fine,” Kanan said, not looking upset. “Anything else?”

Nodding, Depa said, “Yes. Actually try to have a good time. And don’t forget to have at least one dance.”

“Finally, something I can get behind,” Kanan said with a grin, and Hera was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing, of his arm brushing against hers.

She saw a slight smile flicker across Depa's face, but all the Jedi said was, “Have fun, you two.”

Turning, she led Mace away as the music began and a few couples started to move out onto the dance floor. One in particular caught Hera’s eye--- a man with dark hair and a scar across one eye, dressed in all black, including a long black coat embroidered in gold. At his side was a slight woman, her long curly hair hanging loose and free. She was dressed in a floor length golden silk gown, with a decorative aqua panel along the bodice and a matching sash. Slim straps hung the gown from her shoulders, which were bare except for a gauzy aqua veil that was clasped to her wrists with cuffs made of the same golden silk.

“Is that Senator Amidala?” she asked Kanan quietly.

“Yeah-- as it turns out, giant engagement parties are a really good way to get your Rebellion contacts in close proximity so you can exchange information. There’ll probably be a meeting tonight with some of the leaders-- including them.”

Hera followed Kanan’s discreet nod to a dark haired woman wearing dark blue, dancing with a man in a matching cape who Hera suddenly recognized. “Wait-- Senator Organa’s here, too?”

Nodding, Kann said, “As is Senator Mothma, the Duchess of Mandalore, and about a dozen others. The Jedi aren’t submitting. We’re just waiting for the right moment to strike.” Flashing her a teasing grin, he added, “And to think, you thought we were just sitting around letting the Empire walk all over us.”

“Well, you were acting that way very convincingly,” Hera pointed out.

“Glad to hear it.”

Spotting a tall woman in Imperial greys making her way through the crowd towards them. Hera muttered, “I think I spotted your friend, Governor Pryce.”

“What? Kriff.” Kanan grimaced. “Time to pretend to be polite.”

“Unless you didn’t see her, and you had something else very pressing to address,” Hera pointed out. “After all, you do owe me at least one dance. Probably more.”

A grin slowly crossed Kanan’s face. “I do, don’t I?” Giving her a bow, he offered her a hand. “Will you dance, Captain Hera?”

Placing her hand in his, Hera said, “With you, I will.”

The two of them moved out onto the dance floor together. The music in the background was sweet and elegant, and she had an excellent partner. True to form, Kanan’s movements were smooth and graceful. “You dance better than I expected,” Hera observed.

“I’ve been practicing,” Kanan admitted with that crooked grin of his. “Didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my fiancee, after all. Spin.”

Hera obligingly twirled away from Kanan, her hand still locked securely in his. With a gentle tug, Kanan brought her back to him, his arm slipping back around her waist. Hera felt her breath catch as she met his eyes, and was suddenly very aware of the space between them. She was close enough she could sense the warmth of Kanan’s skin, and the look in his eyes as he gazed at her sent a flutter through her stomach.

“You’re staring, dear,” she told him in a soft undertone.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, his voice equally low.

Lifting an eyebrow, Hera said, “I mean. A little.”

A small wince crossed Kanan’s face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable isn’t the word I’d use,” Hera replied, and something flickered in Kanan’s eyes.

“Then… what would you call it?” he asked, his low baritone holding a soft question beyond his words.

“Cherished.”

The word slipped out before Hera could help it. But it was true. No one had ever looked at her the way Kanan had, the way he was looking at her now. Not like she was an object or a price on the slave market. Like she was something truly priceless.

Kanan’s eyes widened, and he started to speak. But before he could, a voice caught their attention. “Kanan! Mind if I have a word?”

Hera glanced towards the sound, catching sight of Anakin Skywalker heading towards them, a bearded man at his side who Hera realized must be Obi-Wan Kenobi. He shot Hera a look that could only be translated as “I am so sorry for this” as Anakin paused next to them.

“It’s important,” he told Kanan as he and Hera came to a halt.

“Of course,” Kanan said, releasing Hera and stepping away from her. Hera thought she saw a flash of reluctance in his eyes, but if it was there, he masked it well. Glancing at her, he said, “I’m sorry--”

“It’s fine, love,” Hera told him, forcing a smile. “I’ll leave you to it.”

She slipped away from the three of them and headed into the crowd, feeling Kanan’s eyes follow her as she walked. But it wasn’t long before she was out of their sight.

At the far end of the ballroom, there was a door that led out onto a balcony overlooking the Lothal prairie beyond the house. Hera made her way there, and slipped outside.

The cool night breeze was a relief after the nearly stifling warmth of the ballroom-- although not all of it was from the amount of people in there, Hera knew. She felt heat sweep over her again as her mind wandered back to dancing with Kanan, the warmth of his skin seeping through her dress.

Taking a quick breath, Hera pressed her hands against the cold stone of the balcony railing and stared out at Lothal’s moons shimmering amongst the stars above them. Two out of the three were full, just like the night when she’d first met Kanan. She never would have thought that evening that all of this would come about, that she would end up engaged to a man she’d just met.

That she would end up falling in love with him.

Hera pressed her eyes shut, taking a shaky breath. Force. She wasn’t even sure if he felt the same way. But that didn’t exactly stop her from thinking about Kanan, from wanting to be near him, from wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“Hera?”

Kanan’s voice came from directly behind her, low and warm. Hera took in a quick breath, then turned to face him. The light from the doorway illuminated him from behind, the shadows obscuring his expression.

“Depa said she saw you heading this way,” he said, moving up next to her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Hera said, and Kanan settled beside her, resting his forearms on the balcony railing.

“Sorry we got interrupted earlier,” he said, flicking a quick glance her way. “Apparently, Skywalker’s daughter had collected some important intel he wanted to share as soon as possible.”

“It’s fine, love,” Hera said. “I understand.”

She sensed Kanan stiffen next to her, and frowned. What did I-- oh.

“You called me love,” he said, his voice soft.

“I-- yeah, I did,” Hera said, feeling herself flushing. Of course this would be how it came out. She was trying to think of what to say next when Kanan spoke.

“Do you ever wish this was real?”

Hera froze, her brain going blank. All she could manage to say was, “What?”

“This whole thing, this engagement. Do you ever wish it was real? Because I-- I can’t lie to you, Hera.” Kanan turned towards her, and Hera felt her heart stutter against her breastbone as he met her gaze. “I do,” he said. “I’m sorry--”

“Don’t be.” The words slipped out of Hera’s mouth, but she didn’t even try to take them back. She couldn’t, not with the way Kanan was looking at her now, his eyes wide but full of something that made Hera flush.

“Hera,” he whispered. “I would never, ever do anything to push past your boundaries.”

“I know,” Hera said, her gaze locked on Kanan’s face and her heartbeat steadily rising as she watched him.

“But I really, really want to kiss you right now.” Kanan paused, his eyes lingering on her, then stepped a little closer. “Can I…?”

Hera closed the distance between them without hesitation. Her lips met his, and Hera was nearly swept off her feet by the dizzy array of emotions washing over her. A strong arm slipping around her waist steadied her as Kanan kissed her back, gently drawing her close.

They broke apart a few moments later, and Hera took a quick breath in. “Force, Kanan.”

“Can you tell I’ve been waiting a while to do that?” Kanan asked, his voice amused.

“Maybe a little,” Hera said, letting her forehead rest against his. “I-- how does this even happen? Who could have seen this coming?”

Kanan paused, then let out a soft chuckle that Hera more felt that heard. “Uh. Possibly Mace.”

“What??” Hera pulled back enough to see his face. “What are you talking about?”

“The first day you were here, he told me the Force led him to you, and it wanted you here,” Kanan said. “I didn’t know why at the time, but he seemed pretty confident.”

“And you think the Force wanted us together?” Hera said, lifting an eyebrow. “The mystical Force that binds the whole galaxy together could not possibly be invested in our relationship.”

“Well, you never know,” Kanan said, giving her a cocky smirk. “We are pretty amazing.”

“You are a pain, dear,” Hera said with a roll of her eyes.

“Lucky for you I’m your pain,” Kanan said. Pausing, he asked, “Will you call me love again?”

“Kiss me, love,” Hera said, and Kanan happily obliged.

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

YOI fanfic: Update for "Can You Hear My Heartbeat"

A while ago, I stopped posting this fic because I found it wanting. I started rewriting the eight chapters I posted so far on AO3 and because of this I had to delete almost all of them to keep everything consistent. Anyway, I just added a brand-new chapter about Viktor's arrival in Hasetsu and the reactions of Yuuri and his family. I'm going to repost the rest very soon and then continue posting weekly chapters.

I know this probably has been done a thousand times, but if you're interested in a story which fills the gaps in the anime please give it a try!

Here's a teaser for the new chapter:

He would need to come up with something before he faced Viktor again. Every conversation he had made up in his fantasies seemed hollow and unworthy of the real figure skating legend. He did neither want to come across like a freak nor like a creep.

“Yūri!” his mother’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. “Are you hiding in there again?”

Yūri jumped up. The pathways! I was supposed to clear them!

He hurried to the door and opened it a crack. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

His mother stood in the corridor, concern creasing her brow. “Have you shovelled the snow already? I don’t want our foreign guest to slip when he leaves.” Her eyes lit up as she continued, “I showed him around the baths. He’s such a handsome young man! He reminds me of …,” she peered around Yūri to the posters on the wall, “your Vicchan. He even has a poodle!”

“Mom, it’s him,” Yūri said quietly. And he’s not my Vicchan.

His mother gasped and clapped her hands together. “How exciting! What is he doing here? Did you invite him?”

In his dreams, Yūri had done this a thousand times. The sad truth, however, was that he would never dare to be so bold.

“He said he’s going to be my new coach.”

“Oh!” She exclaimed. “Yūri, this must be like a dream come true!”

“Yes, it feels like I’m dreaming.”

His mother smiled. “My dear boy, that he arrived in the season of new beginnings is a sign!”

“Mom,” Yūri said. “I … I don’t know what to do.”

“Be a good host, Yūri. Make him feel welcome.”

Can You Hear My Heartbeat (13708 words) by TheGirlWhoRidesLikeASamurai Chapters: 3/43 Fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Nishigori Family (Yuri!!! On Ice), Katsuki Yuuri's Family, Okukawa Minako, Makkachin (Yuri!!! on Ice), Yuri Plisetsky, Phichit Chulanont, Minami Kenjirou, Yakov Feltsman, Christophe Giacometti Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Humor, Romance, figure skating, Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Soulmates, Falling In Love, Romantic Fluff, Ice Skating, Bad Flirting, Awkward Conversations, Insecurity, all you ever wanted in YOI, filling the gaps, References to Depression, Anxiety, a tale of true love and fantastic figure skating, During Canon, Canon Gay Relationship, Awkward Katsuki Yuuri, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Flirty Victor Nikiforov, POV Victor Nikiforov, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Figure Skating Drama, Dorks in Love, First Kiss, Hasetsu, Dancing Lessons, Dating, Canon Victuuri, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Self-Esteem Issues, Panic Attacks, Boys Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Sharing a Bed, Getting Together, Summer of mutual pining Summary:

Yuuri wanted Viktor to know how he felt more than anything. ‘Love’ felt too small a word for how every fibre of his being had burst into ceaseless song. He had only decided to call it that because it was the best fitting concept for this emotion the human mind could grasp.

Rejection is the last thing figure skating legend Viktor Nikiforov expects when he trades fame and desolation for a chance at life and love because of a dance and a video gone viral. Having hit rock bottom, Katsuki Yuuri is offered unforeseen help in his quest for a gold medal, but the bold advances of the man he has been admiring for half his life alienate him. Only by working together, Yuuri and Viktor can find new joy in the passion they share, while slowly falling for each other—this canon fanfiction covers everything you yearned to see in the anime and that which you didn’t even think you’d need.

[sourwolphs]

Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (1/8)

Read on Ao3 (For better interface + formatting) 

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M, Kidnapping, Degrading Language (not from Bucky)  A/N: This story takes place post-Endgame, but everyone is happy and living in the compound and nobody died :-) Because I said so. Also switches POV between Reader and Bucky, with Reader in first person and Bucky in third! Follows typical A/B/O dynamics, with some random headcanons thrown in and explained.

The first thing I felt was the searing pain in my wrists.

My eyes flickered open, slowly taking in my surroundings, my heartbeat picking up as each terrifying detail came into my line of sight. My back ached terribly, cold cement beneath my skin. I was slumped in the corner of some kind of cell. It was dimly lit—just light enough to reveal the shadows of the large space, and the light of a hallway stretching to my right through the bars of the cell. I looked down at my body to find it clad in the clothes I’d been wearing the night before. My shoes were missing, plain socks dirty on my feet.Worst of all— my wrists were bound in a thick metal band, glowing with a soft blue light that ached where it touched my skin.

My memories were blurry. The last thing I remembered was approaching the front door of my 3rd floor walkup late at night, seeing a shadow slip from the dark alley to my left, before everything went black.

The red-haired agent had warned me it was only a matter of time before those with bad intentions discovered me and the things I could do. If I could, I would have kicked myself for not listening to her when I’d been warned.

I lifted my hands to test my powers, summoning the energy I felt like an icy throb in my chest. But when I tried to channel it down through my hands, urging even a snowflake to appear, all I felt was a stinging pain. Whatever the device on my wrists was, it completely neutralized my abilities. If my heart had been beating fast before, now I was approaching unprecedented levels of panic. Deep breaths, deep breaths, I told myself. Panicking won’t get you out of here. But as I took my next inhale, my other senses kicked in.

The second thing I realized? I was not alone in this cell.

I could smell my own scent, layered with sickly sweet anxiety and the sharp, metallic scent of panic. But a foreign scent, distinctly Alpha drifted towards me from the shadows of the cell. I instinctually curled closer to the wall, my Omega hindbrain working overtime to protect me. Bare your throat. Make yourself small. You are defenseless. Not like I needed the reminder with the sharp pain still throbbing at my wrists.

I curled into a small ball, taking a quiet gulp of breath to assess the situation as I peered futilely through the shadows. I didn’t smell anger, or danger—just a heady, strong Alpha scent. Cedar, a hint of campfire and the crisp, clean scent of… snow. Not typical. But… good.

But the Alpha scent also had a hint of something else. Something strong. Something like rut. I tilted my head, confused— I heard a shifting, and the glint of metal moving in the far right corner of the cell. Two pinpricks of light—his eyes— lifted up and connected with mine.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose in fear. An Alpha nearing rut. Locked in a cell. With me. I took another few deep lungfuls of air, willing my heart rate to slow down and making myself smaller. Whoever locked me in here couldn’t have had good intentions. Should I… introduce myself?

I didn’t get the chance to decide. A door at the end of the hallway opened, and a pack of men filed in to stand outside the cell doors, peering in at me. I squared my jaw, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep myself centered and tamp down on the inner voice telling me to submit.

“Not so powerful now, are you?” barked a weaselly looking Beta at the front of the group. He wore a tactical vest, buckled in an X shape in the front. His muscles, overcompensating an embarrassing amount for his designation, bulged on his compact frame.

I glared at him. “What do you want with me?”  I spit.

He laughed. “Careful with that nasty attitude, Omega.”

I suppressed the disgusted shiver that trembled down my spine at his use of my designation.

“Big Guy in there won’t like a defiant bitch,” he continued. The men at the back of his pack laughed darkly. “Better get ready to submit.”

The Alpha in the corner was still motionless— still staring. I felt dread settle in a pit in my stomach at what they implied. Show no weakness. I put on my most defiant face.

“Oh, him?” I tossed my head in the Alpha’s direction, feigning indifference. Don’t show fear. “You can’t scare me. Take these cuffs off me and let’s see who submits first.”

The Beta growled, the laughter momentarily draining from his face, hackles raised. “Shut up, whore.” Then, he seemed to remember I was in the cell and he was outside of it. He smirked, before turning around to head back down the hallway with his pack. “You’ll see.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

I let out the breath I’d been holding as quietly as I could, willing my anxiety to settle so I could think. But it was then that the Alpha decided to stand and stalk slowly towards me.

Rationally, I knew Alphas were big and scary. They always were— overly tall, overly aggressive, insufferably controlling and dominant, and so strong-scented it made me feel lightheaded and stuffy. But this Alpha, well, all of the above was an understatement. He was tall and broad-shouldered with a wide chest and legs thick with muscle. He was wearing tight-fit, black clothing that showed off the muscles of his body to an exorbitant degree, and it looked, well, tactical—buckles and straps and belts with holsters that had been disarmed by whoever threw him in here with me. His face was still mostly in shadow in the dim cell, but I could make out curtains of brown hair and a strong jawline speckled with stubble. And the closer he got to me, the stronger his unique scent grew, washing over me like a wave— along with the growing scent of his rut.

You’re staring. Be small, my Omega hindbrain reminded me. I cowered, feeling fear wash over me again. What if he was in on this with them….I didn’t let myself think that far. I turned my head to the side slightly, baring my throat in an appeasing way to the dominant force in the room.

Then the Alpha’s full form came into my line of sight, and I realized exactly who I had been trapped in a cage with. Oh, fuck.

—————

Bucky didn’t know what possessed him to step forward. Chivalry, perhaps? Though according to Steve, that whole concept had died in the 21st century. Omegas didn’t look to Alphas for protection the way they had in the 40s. Something urged him towards the defiant Omega in the corner, and he would be lying if it didn’t partially have to do with her intoxicating scent and the weird and uncharacteristic prickliness he was experiencing that he couldn’t shake off. Her scent was sweet like peppermint, laced with the crispness of a cold gust of winter wind, but her anxiety at waking up across from him had soured it slightly. He didn’t blame her—but he couldn’t resist another lungful.

Bucky stepped forward slowly, his movements measured so as not to scare her. She had pushed herself as far into the corner as possible, her throat bared and chest rising and falling quickly. But as his face—and his recognizable arm— came into view, he saw the change in her expression as realization dawned. She gasped, her scent turning dark and desperate with fear. He stopped short, swallowing. Fuck.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. Then, improvising, he lowered to his knees in a position he hoped looked as non-threatening as possible, turning his face to the side to show her his throat in return. “I’m not going to hurt you. It’s… I’m—“ He stopped, shutting his eyes in resignation. This was not going well. She was still panicked, curling in on herself.

“I’m in control,” he said, hoping that would be enough to quell her fears. These days, the public knew all about the Winter Soldier and the horrible things his hands had done. But Shuri had erased the loophole from his brain over six years ago now, if you count the blip. Which is why it made no sense that Hydra had gone to such lengths to trap him here on a mission gone awry in Northern Europe.

Now wasn’t the time to dwell, though. He estimated he’d been trapped here for no more than about 15 hours, and he didn’t doubt that Steve, Sam and the rest of the team would track this base down within 24. He’d already examined his body for injuries, tested the bars for give and scoped out any other potential entry and exit points before Hydra agents had cracked the cell door with three assault rifles trained on him and dumped the Omega inside three hours ago. The only thing that felt off was this strange, growing feeling that he needed to get out of his skin. He’d already removed his outer layer of Kevlar, feeling hotter than normal.

The woman looked normal enough, besides the panic taking over her faculties and the unknown, bulky device clasped around her wrists. She was small, but deceptively strong—he could see the lean lines of muscle on her limbs. Her long hair was loose around her pretty face, and they’d removed her shoes— if she’d even been wearing any in the first place. But god, her smell. Bucky couldn’t help taking another deep lungful, trying to be as discreet as possible. It was like his body was on autopilot, drifting closer and closer to where she was pressed against the wall.

She looked confused by his placating bared throat. Nowadays, Alphas were insufferable hotheads. She’d probably never seen one so willing to submit to an Omega. Bucky noticed that the rise and fall of her chest was slowing. “A-are you really….?” she practically whispered.

He nodded, clenching his jaw. “The Winter Soldier?”

She nodded back—so small, it was almost imperceptible.

“You can call me Bucky. I’m not— The Winter Soldier doesn’t exist anymore.” He laughed a little. “They actually call me the White Wolf now…”

Something was wrong with his body. He was feeling itchy—painfully so now. He shifted forward even closer, on his knees, and she flinched imperceptibly— turning to face the wall next to her. He took another deep lungful of her scent, and the sweetness lit every cell in his body on fire. Was he… getting hard?

Realizing her distress and how close he’d gotten to her body, Bucky stood up and put distance between them. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s going on…” He gasped. Her scent was addicting. His Alpha was screaming at him to close the distance, grab her, shove his face into her scent gland and inhale. To run his hands all over her body, to rut into her, to sink his teeth into her gland and bite, to claim her as his own and mark her body all over…. Holy shit. He was going into rut. After 75 fucking years, he was going into rut while trapped in a Hydra cell with an unmated Omega.

Against his better instincts and training, Bucky started to panic.

————

I could tell exactly the moment that the Winter Soldier—Bucky, I corrected myself— realized what was happening. He’d been drifting closer and closer to me, his ice blue eyes trained on my gland, taking deep lungfuls of my scent as if I couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing.

When he recognized my distress, he forced distance between us, wiping sweat from his forehead and inspecting his hands—one flesh, one metal— as if they’d have an answer.

“Rut,” I said quietly. Our eyes connected. His were wide, panicked. His scent was sharp with fear and anxiety, so strong with lust it was making me dizzy. I pushed my forehead against the cold cement wall to center myself. Why would they kidnap me as Omega bait for a fucking Avenger? Why me?

“I’m on suppressants—I don’t know how…” He trailed off, then abruptly ripped the leather sleeve off his shirt in one swipe to inspect his upper arm. Holy shit, he was strong. I mean, I knew he was a super soldier, but Jesus Christ. “They stuck me with something.” His jaw was set in a tight line when he turned back to look at me, pupils blown wide with lust.

I swallowed hard, squeezing my eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening.

He growled sharply in frustration, slamming his metal fist into the concrete wall of the cell so hard that cracks appeared on impact. I yelped in fear, my heart racing. Before I could open my mouth to apologize submissively, he dropped down to his knees again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I—“ He cut off, growling in frustration, fists clenched at his sides. He shook out his head, his hair falling in front of his eyes, before he looked up to meet mine again. “Please, don’t be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you,” he said through gritted teeth.

I nodded weakly, feeling the tears start to spill from my eyes. He was trembling now. Whatever they gave him was working quickly, and the strain of keeping himself contained was obvious in the restrained quiver of his limbs. Maybe I was fucking crazy, but I actually felt sorry for him. An ex-assassin Avenger twice my size, pumped full of super soldier serum and rut hormones. That couldn’t feel good— especially not with his history.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated again. This time, it seemed more like he was trying to convince himself. His hands were clenched so hard I could hear his Vibranium fist squeak with the strain. “I won’t. I won’t—“ he gasped for a centering breath.

Against all rational instinct, I started to believe him. He wouldn’t hurt me. At least— he really didn’t want to.

I knew about the Winter Soldier. Everyone did. How Hydra had kidnapped him, tortured him, and turned him into a brainwashed weapon for their murderous intent. I couldn’t imagine how horrible this would be for him— with his very public history— to have control wrested from him again. Especially like this.

Comfort Alpha, my inner Omega cooed unhelpfully. Alpha is hurting. Help him.

Fighting back my fear, I came to my hands and knees on the cell floor, shuffling a few paces forward until we were only a few feet apart. He was still shaking slightly, murmuring to himself in what sounded like Russian, breathing shallowly. I risked another lungful of his scent, and it made my Omega go wild. I felt my own body start reacting to his arousal, my scent billowing out in soothing notes, slick between my legs. It was impossible for Omegas to launch into a sympathetic heat when they were distressed or in danger, but I couldn’t ignore how intoxicating his scent was to me— or the growing need I felt to soothe and calm him as his chest heaved with the strain of restraining himself.

“Get— Get away from me. I can’t—“ he spit through gritted teeth. I paused, hesitating, my bound hands reaching towards his knee. “I don’t want to hurt you—“

“It’s okay,” I murmured soothingly, hardly recognizing the calm sound of my voice when my heart was racing a million miles an hour inside my chest. I was too cowardly to be a hero before, when the red-haired agent had found me and urged me to join her. I had always run from responsibility and hidden my abilities from the world. Maybe today, I could be courageous.

I placed my hands on his forearm, feeling the sweat-slick heat of him. His head slowly raised to look at me. Up close, I could see his plush lips, the stubble along his jaw, his pupils blown wide with lust. His scent, God.

“I know you won’t hurt me,” I said. Bucky was panting now. “I— I trust you.” He narrowed his eyes at me disbelievingly, but my words and tempting closeness seemed to tamp down his initial panic. He leaned in closer, close enough that I could see the stubble of his jaw, his adorably delicate ears tucked behind the loose strands of hair framing his face, the plush cupid’s bow of his lips.

The pictures in the news don’t do Alpha justice, my Omega murmured.

“Isn’t someone coming for you? Aren’t you, like… a superhero?” I asked.

He grimaced, breaking eye contact. “I’m not a hero. But the team should be here within a few hours. We’ve never… lost someone for longer.”

I took a shaky breath. Okay. So we’re getting out of here.

“Do you know what they want?” I murmured. I could guess. Scum like Hydra only see Omegas as good for one thing: breeding. But I didn’t want to voice the horrible thoughts out loud.

He scoffed. “Whatever it is… I won’t do it.” The resolve set in his jaw, muscles ticking as we made eye contact again, the scent of his rage and restrained instincts washing over me— bitter as gunpowder and steel. He was still trembling, fists clenched. “I won’t.”

I felt something soften inside of me at his words. I should be terrified, rolling over on my stomach to submit— throat bared —but I felt… protected.

“Do you mind— Would it be okay if I—“ He cut himself off, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and looking pained.

“If…?”

“It helps if I can… scent you,” he sighed. “I won’t—“

Before he could finish that thought, I nodded my head in assent. There’s no greater pain to an Alpha in rut than being unable to touch. I shifted off my knees, intending to curl against his side, but he shocked me by standing and scooping me up into his arms, returning to the shadowy corner of the cell he’d been in when I’d first woken up. I bristled a little at his intentions, but he quickly set me down on a soft pile of leather and thick canvas that smelled strongly of his heady cedar scent— clothes he must have shed from the heat of rut.

“Sorry,“ He murmured. “I won’t touch you if you—“

“It’s okay,” I interrupted, taking a deep breath to steady myself and leaning back to get more comfortable. He hovered over me, propping his metal arm by my head. His ice blue eyes searched mine, our breaths loud in the quiet of the cell as we settled into the comfort of each others’ scents. I tilted my head to the side a bit, feeling my mating gland peek out from behind my hair.

Bucky growled softly, leaning down to press his face into my neck and taking deep lungfuls of my scent. I squeezed my eyes shut, bringing my bound hands awkwardly to touch his side to anchor myself. Under my palms, I could feel the tension leaving his muscles as he breathed me in.

“Omega,” he groaned, his voice raspy and deep. I shivered. Arousal stirred in me again, his chest pressed tight to mine as he nose trailed up and down my neck, into my hair and onto my cheek. “You smell so good. Fuck,” he whispered.

He was starting to lose himself. His flesh hand came to my waist, strong grip catching me off guard as he settled closer to me. My heart rate picked up again, and I fought the urge to bolt. Alpha won’t hurt you, my Omega supplied. Please your Alpha. Bucky must have picked up on my fear, because he pushed himself back.

“Sorry. I’ll—“ He shifted so he was laying next to me but with his lower half intentionally tilted away, arm across my waist and face near enough to my gland that he could continue to breathe me in. “Okay?” He grunted. I nodded, shocked that he was able to control himself enough to hold himself stiffly away from me. The scent of rut was so strong that from what I knew about Alphas, he should be animalistic with lust— unable to stop himself from shredding my clothes and taking me on the cell floor. Small mercies.

“Sleep,” he said gruffly. When I didn’t move or shut my eyes, he tightened his much gentler grip on my waist. “Please. I won’t… I won’t do anything. We’ll be out of here, before…” he trailed off, again. Boy, was he a man of few words. But he didn’t need to say it out loud for me to understand his meaning: Much longer, and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

I took another soothing breath, trying to settle myself. Alpha wants you to sleep, my Omega purred. Alpha will protect you. For once in my life, I listened. I took in a lungful of his strong smell, taking comfort in the protective weight of his arm thrown over me, and let myself drift off.

[lala-ladybug]

Healing Hands: Chapter 3

Happy finals week, ugh. As always, reblogs are appreciated!!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

First | Previous | Next

Chapter 3: Well shit Babs, maybe I like ponies

Marinette sat on a rock and paddled her bare feet in the water. It was a beautiful day, the sun was warming the top of her loose, dark hair and the ocean in front of her stretched for miles and miles.

A noise disturbed her peaceful moment. A distant cry, probably a seagull.

She sighed and leaned back on her hands to breathe in the smell of--

Marinette choked. Why was there smoke in the air?

The cries grew louder as she looked back at the water before her. She started when she saw that they came from her friends, who were in the now-tumultuous water, trying to keep themselves afloat. They were only a few yards away, she could make it if she just--

A force around her waist tugged her hard as she leapt to her feet. Her face collided with the concrete beneath her-- the top of a building, she realized. If the water level was up this high, then....

From where she lay, she could see directly down into the water. It was no longer clear, but a deep crimson. There were dozens of figures scattered about, some still struggling and some motionless. She scrambled to get up as her eyes snapped to Alya’s hand disappearing below the waves.

That damn force jerked her to the other side of the building, farther from her friends.

“No!” Marinette cried out desperately. The force released her and she whirled to find her attacker.

A flash of red caught her eye, and--

Oh.

It was Ladybug.

Marinette shook her head, not understanding. If that was Ladybug, then.... No, it couldn’t be Ladybug, because she was Ladybug. She fumbled for her earrings, but felt nothing.

Ladybug stalked deliberately up to Marinette and pushed her to the ground. Marinette landed on her hands and knees, both of which were now shaking.

“Look at them,” it was her own voice that spat so harshly from Ladybug’s lips. “Look at them.” She grabbed Marinette’s hair from behind and forced her head up.

Marinette could now see Adrien, Kagami, Luka, and Chloe in the ocean in front of her. Their lifeless faces floated just below the surface, the bloodied water doing nothing to conceal their frozen expressions of terror.

Marinette sobbed and closed her eyes. Ladybug pulled sharply on her hair again, and looked into Marinette’s eyes.

“Look at them. Don’t you dare take your eyes off the mess you’ve made. You will never be able to save them all,” Ladybug’s eyes, her eyes, blazed with the vehemence of her words. She opened her mouth to speak again, but a loud beeping sound was all that came out.

Marinette gasped and sat up in her bed, the alarm sending her heartbeat into a frenzy. Tikki flew up next to her as she slumped over with a hand over her eyes.

It was just a dream.

Another Kwami must have turned off her alarm because the beeping had stopped, but Marinette could still hear the echoes of her friends’ dying breaths ringing in her ears.

“Marinette... are you okay?” Tikki placed a delicate paw on her chosen’s arm. “We heard you cry out while you were sleeping.”

The girl lifted her head and gave the little god a shaky smile. “It was just a dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tikki floated back down to where the other Kwami were piled on the side of the bed with similarly worried expressions on their faces.

Marinette exhaled a bracing sigh. “Okay.... It was Syren. Or-or Chat Blanc, I’m not really sure.” The Kwami exchanged a look at that. This was not the first time she’d had a nightmare about water. “But Ladybug was there, and she was attacking me.”

Tikki looked especially concerned about that new piece of information. She opened her mouth to say something when Marinette’s phone lit up with a call. The ringtone was Alya’s.

Marinette picked up, trying to control the shaking of her hands. “H-hey girl, what’s up?” Her tone was deceptively cheerful.

“Hey Mari! Just checking to see if you’re awake. Nino and I are ready, he even put on the goggles already!” Marinette instantly relaxed as she heard Alya’s excited voice bubbling out.

“Yeah dudette, they feel really weird. But comfy!” Nino must have leaned over to pitch in.

Marinette shook off the last vestiges of the nightmare with a giggle. “Yeah, it’s kind of tricky to get the headset to fit over your glasses, but you’ll get used to it!”

“Well if you’re not ready yet then you’d better hurry up, girl! The game launches in five minutes.”

Marinette scrambled to check the time. “Oh crap! I gotta go, see you guys soon!” She hung up and rushed to untangle herself from her blankets.

“Good thing you set three alarms, huh?” Tikki followed her down from the loft and watched her brush out her hair.

Marinette stuck her tongue out at the god of creation.

* * *

Red Hood stalked into the Batcave, nearly running Oracle over as she wheeled herself up to her station at the Batcomputer.

“Woah Jaybird, don’t let me get in your way there,” Babs glared at his retreating back. “Asshole,” she muttered to herself.

Jason hurled his helmet onto the floor of the bathroom and began shucking off his suit with far more force than necessary. He started a shower and looked over his new wounds in the mirror. He’d been stupid, so damn stupid, on patrol.

“Red Hood, report in,” Batman’s gravelly voice cut through on his comms. “Hood, you are not to engage alone. What is your location?”

But Jason couldn’t hear him. The only thing he could hear was blood rushing in his ears, but it wasn’t his blood. No, it was the blood of every monstrous, corrupt asshole in this city. And he wanted it to run on the streets.

The Joker had sent thugs out to a meet-up. Well, Red Hood could send them back in a casket. He crouched beside a gargoyle and watched for the arrival of the van he’d tailed. There were only two men. They left the vehicle and waited outside, lighting cigarettes. Too easy.

Red Hood swept down the building, guns never leaving their holsters. He wanted this to hurt. Them or him, he wasn’t sure. But he got his wish as he beat the two men to a pulp. He wasn’t sure how far he’d have gone if not for the arrival of the gang the Joker’s men were supposed to meet with.

They slashed his back with knives. Shallow wounds, easy to manage. By the time Red Hood turned to face them, the others had arrived-- Batman, Nightwing, Robin. And boy were they pissed.

Jason winced as the hot water hit the cuts on his back. He rolled his shoulders and just let the steam ground him. He didn’t kill again, even if every time that green-haired bastard got involved, he went off the rails.

He would get to choose his own path, not the one Bruce wanted for him, but damn well not the one Thalia wanted for him either. This story was his, he reminded himself while gingerly toweling off. Even if he couldn’t look his own reflection in the eye.

He gripped the countertop, staring down as he let his hair drip into the sink. No, he wasn’t feeling desperate enough to see if his eyes were green again.

Damnit, he had to apologize to Babs. He felt calmer now, but he’d been a real dick when he came in. Jason dressed quickly in sweatpants and an old shirt, then padded quietly back to where he knew his sister would be at the computers.

“Hey,” he said, knocking softly when he entered to announce his presence. Barbara didn’t respond for a moment. She was leaning forward in her chair, typing something into one monitor while listening to police chatter, then nodded to herself and sat back.

“Hey.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Robin told me what happened on patrol.”

Jason scowled. “That little tattletale.”

Barbara offered him a reassuring smile. “That little tattletale is the only reason I didn’t hack into your bank account and order a damn pony.”

“Well shit Babs, maybe I like ponies,” Jason snarked back, but his heart wasn’t into it. “Listen... I’m sorry about earlier. If replacement talked to you already, you know what kind of mood I was in, but that’s no excuse.”

Babs turned her chair to face him and held out her hand. He stepped forward and took it, and she said, “We know you’re trying, Jay. Stuff like this? This is who you are. A year ago, you wouldn’t have been caught dead apologizing to me!” She cringed. “Ah, no offense.”

He chuckled. “None taken, it’s about time you started getting in on the undead jokes.” He patted her hand before walking away back to the main space of the cave. “But thank you, it means a lot.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth!” She raised her voice and turned back to face the computer.

Dick and Tim were already waiting in the cave. Tim was fiddling with some beds and what looked like opaque ski goggles. He always fidgeted when he was nervous.

“Hey replacement,” Jason shouted across the room. He noticed Dick bristle, but cut him off before he could get the patented older brother speech. “How much time ‘til the launch?”

Tim’s eyes lit up, and damn him for caring, but Jason just didn’t want them to be afraid of him.

* * *

Connor and Zatanna were washing dishes in the Cave’s kitchen after dinner. Connor heard the distant sound of someone arriving via zeta tube. He let Zatanna know as they finished drying their plates, then followed her to go greet their visitors.

Wally and Artemis staggered into the room, both weighed down by overflowing boxes of equipment.

“Oh thank god, please help me!” Artemis said, spotting Connor. He obliged and easily took the heavy box from her. She rubbed her arms and smiled gratefully as he held it aloft in one hand.

“It must be so handy having him around,” she sighed to Zatanna.

The magician giggled. “It certainly has its perks, but....” She lifted her hands and said clearly, “Flesruoy egnarra.” The contents of the boxes, some assorted cots, VR headsets, and computers, floated up and placed themselves into a neat formation. “A girl can get by by herself.” She gave Artemis a fistbump.

The zeta tube activated and they all looked up to watch it. The AI announced Wondergirl, and Cassie Sandsmark walked out. She looked up from her phone and waved. “Oh hey guys, whatcha doing?”

Wally zoomed around the set-up Zatanna had created. “We’re just setting up to play this new virtual reality game that’s coming out at midnight! What about you?”

“Oh, what a coincidence, I was just--”

Cassie was cut off by the zeta tube activating again. This time it was Bart, carrying Jaime bridal style, and running at full speed. He skidded to a halt, put a very ill-looking Jaime down, and ran a hand through his windswept hair.

“So totally crash! What’s poppin’?” He made finger guns at Connor, Zatanna, and Artemis.

Zatanna started explaining, “Well, like were just telling Cassie, there’s this new video game coming out at midnight and we--”

She was interrupted by the screech of a green pterodactyl swooping in from the zeta tube. It circled once around the high ceilings of the hollowed-out mountain, then landed and shrank into Beast Boy.

“Just a heads up, Arsenal’s right behind me and he’s a little angry-- oh what are you guys doing?”

Connor was getting frustrated now. “We’re trying to get set up for this new video game that’s launching in five minutes, so if you guys wouldn’t mind--”

A small explosion sounded from the door to the exterior of the island. Roy burst in amidst a cloud of dust.

“Hope I’m not late, I lost my phone.” He sounded like he was in a bad mood.

Bart whispered to Connor, “He means he destroyed his phone.”

Roy dusted off his pants, then looked to Wally and Artemis and asked, “The hell are you doing here?”

“AUGH,” Artemis had had enough. “We’re here to play the video game coming out at midnight! If you want to join us, fine, but if you don’t then get out.” She pointed to the zeta tubes.

Garfield tried to placate her. “Sheesh, it’s just a game! No need to get so worked up.”

Jaime gave him an incredulous look. “Weren’t you just throwing a tantrum yesterday about Bart kicking your ass halfway to Bialya in Smash?”

“...Noted.” Garfield answered.

“Well, looks like we’ve got plenty of hands to help get everyone set up. Let’s get to it!” Cassie expertly maneuvered the two teams away from setting off their more explosive members. They distributed headsets and assigned reclining positions without further delay.

* * *

Marinette put the headset on and laid down on her bed.

“Ready to go back?” Tikki asked her.

She gave the little god a grin. “Definitely.”

In the distance, the bells in Notre Dame chimed six times, but Marinette couldn’t hear them. Her mind had gone somewhere far, far away. Somewhere new.

[rodeo-boots]

Tear me down and Take me Home

Rating: Teen and Up 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Javier Escuella

Tags: Alternate Universe - Pirates, Fantasy, Merman Javier, Hurt/Comfort 

Warnings: mentioned Character Death

[check it out on AO3]

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Arthur was long used to silence, to nights that were deeper and darker than they had any right to be. He's been sailing his whole life, had seen more than most men his age ever would. But he's only believed half the things he's laid eyes on in his time.

This night, the sky was pitch black like he's never seen it before, the moon standing high upon the firmament, hidden by thin and harmless clouds. He used the stars for orientation, alone on his ship as he's been for a long time, abandoned by the people he's once called his family. They had left him, one after the other, had succumbed to illness or madness, had been taken from this life by force or misfortune.

It might be his influence that had tainted them all this time, that had cut so many existences short, and maybe, he was better off living in damnation as he did now.

He didn't mind it. Far from it. Arthur treasured the silence, found solace in the swaying of his ship and the movement of the waves. His entire life he's known nothing else, the ocean the only thing that stuck with him without fail.

Believe it or not, sometimes he left his ship behind, went ashore to stock up on provisions he couldn't obtain in the middle of nowhere, showing his weathered face to people who'd forget it in a heartbeat. He didn't have the luxury to linger, the blood in his veins telling him he needed to go back, itching and aching for the soothing motions of a hull above the bottomless sea.

There was a time he's been terrified of it, though Arthur couldn't remember much of that period. Back when he's been picked up, merely a dirtied and starving kid from the streets. He had despised the ocean then, had asked to return to shore even though Dutch reassured him of his safety, spending the nights crying and wailing because he was scared of what lurked beneath his feet.

Arthur had gone on land not too long ago, walking up the same path he's once known by heart, entering the dingy tavern Dutch and Hosea had frequented most. It had been almost comforting, the stench of the drink and of heavy tobacco smoke, the music filtering into his ears.

He had met a man, gray and scarred and grumpy, little different from himself. The stranger had lots of stories to tell, had nursed a drink in his hand while glancing up at Arthur with his one healthy eye, the other focused on a place up on the ceiling.

"You know the most dangerous of 'em all, boy?" He had asked, well into his tales already, though Arthur hadn't paid too close attention. The man's voice was hardly audible above the overall noise. Arthur had given him a grunt, almost curiously, looking up from the rum in his own hands. "Mermaids." The way he'd voiced it sure made it seem like the man has never met anything more repulsive and despicable in his life. But Arthur knew that his story was nothing but balderdash in the first place.

For some reason, he could remember the conversation still. The words never having left his mind entirely.

Soulless, heartless monsters these are. Luring sailors to the riffs, takin' pleasure in watching 'em crash and drown.

He hadn't bought into it before, his many strange encounters never having involved mythical fairy-tale creatures. The only dangers in the world were man-made. The only monster man himself.

It had been Dutch's philosophy, but Arthur still lived by it. He had never forgotten the things the man had taught him, even if he had left him a long time ago. Even though he'd exchanged his loyalty for gold.

Arthur stepped towards the wheel, glancing up at the stars to make sure he stayed on trail, though where it led him, he wasn't too sure about. There was no place he wanted to be, nothing he really wanted to see, craving the loneliness and emptiness in the middle of the ocean more than anything.

As he slightly changed course, however, an unexpected tune made him slow in his movements. Usually, the nights at sea remained quieter than the days, both fish and seagulls disappearing the moment the sun sunk below the line of the horizon.

It was odd to hear anything other than the rushing of the waves, more so when it sounded like a person was making those mournful sounds.

His legs led him closer to the railing, Arthur squinting his eyes to see through the darkness. He was getting closer to the sound, to the singing, or wailing or crying, words shaped in a language he couldn't understand, in a voice that sounded more like a harp than anything human.

Oh, they're pretty, make no mistake. Angelic, some call 'em. But that only makes them more dangerous.

He couldn't believe his eyes. A sliver of moonlight illuminated a rock within the water, and atop that rock – sat a creature.

Arthur had never bought into the many fairy-tales, into the fiddle-faddle even Hosea had used to like so much. Stories of the many wonders in life had never interested him, the magic of it lost when it came to things he couldn't understand nor grasp. He had experienced his share of suffering, of misery and pain, unwilling to believe that it could co-exist with the likes of fairies, angels, mermaids.

Right now, he wasn't sure if he was waking or sleeping, if maybe he would awaken in a cold sweat minutes from now, staring up at the ceiling of his empty cabin. It had to be his imagination, the loneliness finally getting to him and inducing images that simply weren't there. He had always thought such tales to come of crazed men after all and maybe finally, his own mind was starting to break from the long days and nights he'd been on his own – but the singing... he was sure his brain could never think up anything like it.

The creature was nestled on top of the stone, a naked human torso with two arms, a head upon it's shoulders with long dark hair. It appeared so much like a person, though Arthur had no way to ignore the tail, the shimmering scales that reflected the moonlight in colors he couldn't describe, colors he had no name for.

Silence soon spread over the area. And all Arthur could think about were the reverberations of that ethereal voice.

Why did they stop? He thought, unable to voice his words as his eyes tried to find the creature's – the man's, he had to remind himself. This wasn't some magical being.

"Are you lost?" the stranger didn't open his mouth to speak, the sound of his voice dancing through Arthur's brain.

Is it that obvious? he thought to himself, earning himself a laugh, clear and chiming like a bell, a startled breath escaping his chest. His tongue darted out to lick his cracked lips, dry from the salt-water splashing upwards constantly, from the sun burning down on him day in and out.

"Don't be afraid," the voice was in his head again, Arthur taking a step away from the railing, moving back to the wheel to hold it, to hold something. It had began turning all on it's own before, seemingly bringing him closer to the cliffs. Though he didn't know if it might've been him who's given it that impulse.

They get into your head, and infest it like a disease. They know what you fear, what you need to hear. Believin' a single word they say would be your downfall.

But Arthur was falling already, had been for a long time, yearning for nothing else but a comfortable place to land. "You deserve a break." He heard water splashing and as soon as he turned his head, the creature was gone from it's place – the man nowhere to be seen, Arthur rushing over to the railing almost desperately.

He shook his head, trying to snap out of it, rubbing at his eyes before taking a deep breath. The water glistened innocently under the illumination of the moon.

For years, he's been alone without feeling lonely, has lived on despite the emptiness that had taken over him. He had done well in forgetting Dutch and Hosea, his family, his brothers, his own father and the woman he had once loved. Neither of them had needed him and now, he didn't need them anymore. There was a certain heaviness to his heart, either way, a weight that seemed to pull him down, melancholy overcoming him like never before.

His eyes focused, and the man was back, closer this time. Arthur caught a glimpse of his tail moving beneath the pitch black water, the scales glinting in violet and blue – in many more shades he couldn't decipher.

"What's– your name?" He asked, dumbly, seeing eye to eye with this creature that was more beautiful than any human he's laid eyes on before. His skin was dark, bronze, his eyes deep as the ocean he was living in. He had scars, pain behind the depth of his gaze. Just like Arthur did.

He didn't want to remember the old pirate's words but he couldn't help himself.

Once they got their eyes on you, you've lost. 'Cause they see inside you, and find that weak little soul you keep locked away - and they suck it outta you with one look alone.

How could that be true if the man in front of him was looking at him like this? So honestly, affectionately... like no one else ever had.

"Javier," this time he'd opened his mouth to speak, Arthur's hands clinging tighter to the railing. The man smiled at him, reaching up and out of the water. His fingers were cold where they held onto Arthur's. But they were undeniably human; freezing like the ocean, but without claws or webbing between them.

"Aren't you– afraid of me?" Was what left Arthur's mouth next, his voice in disbelief that a creature as fragile and beautiful would be willing to touch him. His hands had been drenched in too much blood already, had killed and hurt, had broken families apart for his own benefit.

Big brown and bottomless eyes focused on him, and he felt ready to drown within them. "Why would I need to be afraid?" It seemed as though the man couldn't see into his soul after all, unaware of the rottenness within. "You won't hurt me," he continued, certain of that fact, his fingers clasping Arthur's a little tighter.

No, I wouldn't do that, he thought, catching the quirk of Javier's lips at his unspoken words.

Don't think they'd show mercy. All they want is to pull you down into the depths.

But maybe, he didn't deserve mercy in the first place. Since Arthur's purpose in this world was long forgotten, what difference would it make where he was? The presence of this man made him feel safe, warm, at home. And whether he believed in him or not, he couldn't deny that he was right in front of him now. Offering him a way out.

He gazed down at him, the melody from before flooding his ears again, turning his lids heavy and tired. His limbs started to feel like they weren't one with his body, though he still couldn't let go of the railing.

"Don't leave me again," he whispered, unsure where the words had come from, the song in his head reawakening the sadness of his mind. "I want–" he wanted to stay with him, with this fairy-tale creature, wanted to fall with him and let go of the pain he's caused before.

Yet again, he didn't need to open his mouth for Javier to understand, his cold hands lifting to hold onto Arthur's face, pulling him down. "I'm not gonna leave." He brought their lips together, and Arthur could feel himself turning lighter, weightless, drifting for a moment until his body broke through the surface of the pitch black water.

Arthur didn't hear the splashing, didn't feel the cold or how his clothes grew soaked. His guns would be useless by the time he resurfaced, but it didn't matter, because he was kissing this man and they were falling together – deeper and deeper into the darkness of the sea.

Faintly, he remembered the old sailor again, though his image swam before his eyes.

And no matter what they make you believe, they aren't capable of love. They'll mourn after they've drowned you, but no grief is strong enough to keep them from doin' it again.

[mrsren]

Tom/Hermione Blackmail AU 1

Sharing the first part of this here because I don’t have self-control, but I’m holding back from posting on AO3 until I’m ready to write it steadily. Onto the info/warnings. 

I don’t have a summary, sorry to tell you. But I’ve got tags, which will probably give you a pretty good idea of what this story is about. 

Tags: blackmail, co-workers, D/s elements, dub-con leaning more toward non-con depending how you feel about blackmail, degradation, humiliation. Most of these come out later on, but there’s a blanket warning. 

Now onto the dirty stuff. Admittedly, there is no real smut in the first part, but there is so much sexual tension. It’s about 3k so it’s under the line. It hasn’t been edited, so sorry for the typos. 

I would super love to hear what you think, whether that’s on the post, in my messages, or ask box! 

At approximately ten past one o’clock, the door to her office swung open. Hermione didn’t raise her head when the handle twisted, when the door knocked against the wall a fraction too loud. Instead, she gestured to the corner of her desk, the only free space and not by much. 

“Please leave it in the basket.”

“Do you always speak to the couriers so rudely?” The shadow fell over her desk, and Hermione grimaced before looking up. Tom Riddle peered down at her in the annoyingly irritating way only he had. As though he was sizing her up while simultaneously believing there was nothing to observe. “No need to answer. I’ve sat across from you in enough board meetings to know.”

Placing her quill back into the stand beside a newly opened jar of ink, Hermione folded her arms and gave no reaction. “Ha. How can I help you? Have you gotten lost? Your office is another two floors down, although your desire to be in the DMLE must have brought you here anyway. I hear Harry will be looking for a new secretary soon. Perhaps you’d be a good fit?”

Riddle narrowed his eyes, and his fingers clenched the parcels so roughly that they crinkled in his grip. “The funniest thing happened this morning. Somehow, your mail was delivered to me by mistake. A new courier,” he lamented. “I’m sure you can understand how easy it is to get turned around.” He was enjoying himself entirely too much.

And the slow grin stretching his lips couldn’t mean anything good. Immediately, Hermione’s stomach dropped and her palms grew sweaty. She leaned back in her chair, and rubbed them against her jeans beneath the desk. As she did, she felt his eyes follow the movement.

His lip curled at the sight of her muggle clothes. Riddle had always hated the casual attire that came with Saturdays, when dress code was lax.

“And you’ve come to return it to me, how kind of you.” She reached for them, but he lifted them higher until they would be out of her grasp even if she stood. “Hand over my mail, Riddle. I have work to finish and I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“I thought you lived at work.” There was an edge to his voice then. “Haven’t you fallen asleep in your office several times now? All Hermione Granger does is eat, sleep, and breathe her work.”

If she ever got her hands on her mail, she was going to smack him with the largest parcel. “Have you been watching me? Perhaps you’re a bit jealous that you were passed over for the position.” That did it.

His eyes sparked, and he slammed a hand down at the edge of her desk. Papers scattered, but she snorted at the vicious glint that had taken over his eyes. “You are undoubtedly the rudest witch to work in the Ministry. What are you rushing to get out of here for, Granger?”

Tom Riddle has called her by her surname since they were first years, and the timeless rivalry between their houses had snapped into place, never wavering. When they were fellow Heads, he had called her by her first name one time, and one time only. There had been liquor involved, and him holding her up while helping her back to the shared common room while hissing that this didn’t make them friends.

She hadn’t needed the reminder. Thing was, this memory was years in the past now and there was no sense in it now. The look on his face reminded her of it though. Crystal clear, as though it had happened last week.

“I’m meeting Harry and Ron.” Hermione waited for him to roll his eyes, but he didn’t. The grin he gave was all the more terrifying. So much that she felt it in her bones, the sense of dread that put her upside down. “We have plans for dinner, and I’d like to get this done. So, if you could just…”

He waved his hand and the door to her office swung shut. The lock turned into place, and the sound of it rattled through the room. “I’m afraid your they’ll have to wait a little longer.” Finally, he hands over a few of the parcels, save for one. His knuckles have turned white from his grip on it. And then Hermione saw that the top of it had been ripped open.

“Did you open my mail?” She shot out of her seat, now regretting that she’d kicked her shoes off the second she got in. Now if she rounded the desk to yell at him from an even closer distance—and it was tempting—he’d only laugh at her. “Riddle, that’s—”

“There was no name on it.” Riddle said slowly, and there was no missing that slow chuckle under his breath. “I had no idea who it was meant for, so of course I opened it. How else would I figure it out?”

“Fine,” slipped through gritted teeth. “Just hand it over and get out.”

Riddle shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, I don’t think this” –he waves the heavy envelope— “was meant for you. It certainly concerns you, but it seems to me that someone is trying to ruin you.”

Her brows shot up, nearly taking a new home in her hairline. “Spare me the bloody dramatics, and give me my mail.”

He didn’t hand it over, but he pulled the contents from inside and let them fly across her desk.

A knot formed in her stomach, tying itself over and over again. They were all photos of herself in various states of undress—some of them showed her completely nude—and she recognized the hands on her in some as her Viktor’s. He must have kept them after they had broken up. “What the fuck—” Hermione began, but she struggled to take a proper breath. “You’ll hand these over immediately, Riddle.”

He clicked his tongue. “I think I’ll pass, actually.”

“Would you rather be arrested?” Hermione all but snarled it. She’d set them on fire, if it weren’t for the parchment under them. They’d catch fire just as well, but perhaps it would be worth it. A final resort, if Riddle didn’t come to his senses.

Gone was his former irritation, and all there was now was his amusement. He didn’t bother to hide it at all. “Unless you’d like for me to tell them how you blackmailed Cassius Parkinson into voting for your bill last summer…”

Her throat could have closed up with how she couldn’t breathe. I have no idea what you’re talking about. That was what she should have said, but it was nowhere near what fucking came out of her mouth. “How do you know about that?”

The photos were still staring up at her, and he was staring at them too much for her liking. She couldn’t recognize him anymore when he did, or that way his eyes darkened when they lingered. “I have quite a few acquaintances, Granger. His daughter was in our year, you must remember, and when Cassius is pissed, he likes to rant.”

“And I was his most recent topic.”

He shrugged. “A few weeks ago, you were. Now that I have not one, but two things I’m able to hold over that pretty little head of yours, I think you’ll be much more agreeable.”

Voices grew louder as footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, and Riddle came around her desk. Hermione took an involuntary step back, and hated the way he smiled when she did. “Why would you want that?”

He’d foregone his dress robes today, but she wished he hadn’t. The way his trousers fit him were even more distracting, and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms. Riddle leaned forward, placing a hand on her desk—on the photo, over her bare breasts—and smiled like he knew exactly where his palm had landed. “You’re a quick study, Granger. I think you’ll figure it out.”

She thought she already had with he way he was staring at her. “Please, just let me take the photos. I’ll give you money, or—”

“I don’t want your money.”

Hermione swallowed. “Then what do you want?”

“Right now,” He shifted his stance, and lifted his hand so he could drag his fingertip across the photo. “I want you to tell me why you took these photos and what’s happening in them. You can manage that surely, hmm?”

Her heartbeat was uneven in her chest, to the point that it hurt, and she couldn’t think of a way out of this. “Have you made copies?” The pleading in her voice was very much real, but she knew the answer before he said it.

“Of course.” He lifted his other hand, and brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Now, you know what you’re meant to do, don’t you?”

Hermione would like to snap at him, to yell for the Aurors—which there was no shortage of on this floor. But the truth of what she’s done would be enough to earn her termination, and her achievement of earning deputy department head sooner than anyone else would cease to matter. Not only that, but the legislation it had helped her pass would be called into question.

And he knew it.

“It was for my ex boyfriend’s birthday.” Hermione whispered. “I posed for him on our bed while he photographed me, and charmed the camera when we—”

His finger slid against the base of her throat, warm and coaxing. “Then this was your idea?”

She nodded, and did not lean into him.

She. Did. Not.

“Tell me about this one. And do a good job of it.” The threat was unmistakably clear, and she wished that it didn’t effect her in the way it did.

Fear swirled in the pit of her stomach, sick and vicious, but that wasn’t all. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, not willing to look at the feeling any closer. “I’m going to get you back for this.” Her voice was ragged, too breathy, and not enough anger.

It didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m sure you will. I’m rather looking forward to it, but I’ve asked you a question. You don’t want to keep me waiting, do you?”

In the photograph he’d pointed out, it was nearly only of her save for the hand on her neck, and the fingers wrapped around her throat. She looked past Viktor’s arm, swallowing, and looked at herself for a moment. “We’re having sex.”

Riddle shook his head.

“He’s fucking me.” Hermione said unevenly. “It was the second time that night.”

“He’s choking you.” Riddle’s voice was low, but not soft, and he curled a finger under her chin to lift her head. When she tried to turn away, his grip tightened and he forced her to look at him. “Was that for him, or for you?”

“For me.” Hermione swallowed tightly, and he watched her. “He never liked it.”

He let go of her jaw, and his fingers drifted lower. Riddle’s knuckles brushed against the front of her throat, and she thought he might try to recreate that photo. “I’m not going to choke you.” His voice softened when she flinched. “Why didn’t he like it?”

Why did he want to know? What difference could it make? From the way this had started and continued on, there was clearly one thing he was after. “If your plan is to blackmail me for sex, you should just get it over with.”

“I can assure you that I have no intentions of simply getting it over with, Granger.”

Of course he would want to drag this out—to savor it for as long as he could. Surely there was something she could find on him so she could turn the tables. It would mean that they would be in a hopefully constant stalemate, but there was no doubt that Tom Riddle was the sort of man that would keep going until he regained the upper hand.

Where would that leave her?

The only option for now was to play along, and to pretend there wasn’t a thrill that came with it.

“Viktor thought it felt like abusing me. He rarely ever choked me.”

“That’s a shame. And what of this one?” He pointed to another photo, but by the time she dragged her eyes back to him, she found that he’d hardly looked away from her.

She was on her back, and it’s a terribly explicit photograph. Hermione’s skin was flush, soft. Her breasts are exposed, and she can see herself in the moment reaching a hand between her thighs.

Her legs were spread, and her head was over the edge of the bed.

“I’m sucking his cock.” Her hands curled into fists.

“It’s impressive.” There were his fingers again, dropping to her shoulder where he nudged her jumper to the side. “You’ve taken him all the way down your throat.”

Under his thumb was a terrifying place to be. “He told me to play with my cunt. Viktor wanted to see me come while I sucked him off.”

He toyed with the hair at the nape of her neck. “Did you come all over your fingers?”

Hermione bit her lip, hard. “I—yes.”

“You’re holding back.” Riddle murmured, and the room grew smaller. There were footsteps on the other side of the door, and anyone could hear them if she weren’t comfortable. If anyone were to unlock the door and come in, the photos— A small sound escaped her when he shifted their stance. He pinned her against her own desk, and he grabbed her by the jaw again. “Tell me.”

“I squirted.”

His breath came out hard, uneven, and she swallowed. For a moment, she hadn’t thought that she should be afraid and yet, she couldn’t drum up an ounce of fear. “Sweet fucking Circe.” Riddle was pressed against her, and she felt him against her lower stomach. “Would you like to know which of these is my favorite?”

No. Absolutely fucking not. You’re a disgusting pervert.

Any of them would have been acceptable. By playing along with this part of his game, she was only being complacent. A dangerous thing to be when he would notice it. Thing was, she desperately wanted to know. Her stomach had turned over on itself, and she knew that she was wet. Hermione did not rub her thighs together, no matter how badly she needed the friction. He would have felt it.

It made her wonder what he would have done if she had.

“Yes.”

The grin he gave her was one she’d never seen. He leaned into her, his chest pressing against hers, and picked up a photo from her desk. “It’s this one,” As he said it, Riddle pushed it into her hands.

Out of all of them, she wasn’t sure this was the one she would have guessed to be his favorite. Perhaps the one where she’s spread out across the bed, her head on the pillows with her legs spread. “This one?” Hermione echoed. “Why?”

She was on her knees, still completely bare, and she’d pressed her chest forward. Hermione’s head was tilted up, her lips slightly parted. It’s not a tame photo—nothing she would ever want anyone else to see—but it’s nowhere near as revealing as the others.

“I want you on your knees for me.” Riddle groaned under his breath. “I want you staring up at me just like this.” He cupped her face, and ran his thumb across her lower lip, then slid it forward.

Hermione took his thumb in her mouth, and swirled her tongue around it, hating how she’d done it.

“You’re going to be a perfect little slut for me, aren’t you?”

She whimpered.

“Oh, do you like that as well? Is that another thing he wouldn’t give you?”

It was, and Hermione nodded.

“What a fucking fool.” When he pulled his finger from her mouth, his fingers came to rest against her throat. He didn’t tighten them as he watched her. “I want to see you on your knees for me, wearing a collar while you take my cock down your throat.”

Hermione caved. She rubbed her thighs together, and gripped the edge of the desk until her knuckles turned white. “Riddle—”

“You’ll call me Tom from now on.” He cut her off.

“And if I don’t?” It sounded more like her.

He flexed his fingers. “I’m dying for you to act like a brat so I can punish you, Hermione.” Her name sounded too good on his tongue. “You’re going to be late.”  

Hermione’s head spun. She’d blow off her plans with Harry and Ron. The first thing she needed to do was to get home because she was positively fucking aching.

Riddle gathered the photos, sliding them back into the parcel and left it in the middle of her desk. “I’ll see you soon, Granger.” 

[middleearthpixie]

Damaged Goods ~ Chapter Twenty-Six

Author's Note: Just a reminder that this story takes place following the events of the miniseries Stay Close and will contain spoilers.

Title: Damaged Goods

Fandom: Stay Close

Pairings: Ray Levine x OC female Theodora (Theo) Bailey

Summary: Following the events of Stay Close, Ray Levine has come to the US to begin a new life and is staying with Theo Bailey, the friend of a friend, who is quickly becoming his best friend and Ray is starting to wonder if there isn’t something more there between them.

Like Ray, Theo has her own demons and although she wonders the same thing about Ray, fear of repeating past mistakes keep her from moving forward. Or do they? Somehow, these two damaged people will come together and discover that maybe—just maybe—second chances are worth the risk.

Monday rolls around and finds Drew and Ray finally going in search of Aiden Reynolds, while Theo gets some unexpected news

Warnings: none

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,723

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here and AO3

The gym was crowded Monday morning, and Theo sat in the locker room, trying to work up the motivation to go out onto the floor and meet her newest client. McClintock canceled the remainder of his appointments with her, which came as no surprise, but it still sucked because it was a loss in income, so when Tony came up to her when she first arrived to tell her that Ellie, one of the other trainers, had called out sick and asked her to take Ellie’s clients for the day, she really had no choice but to agree.

But, that didn't meant she really wanted to do it. Her first clients were rarely scheduled before ten, which meant she usually had the time to sit and have a cup of coffee and just veg a little before she started her day.

“Thee?” Donna came into the locker room. “Tony’s looking for you. Your nine o’clock is also here.”

Theo nodded, rubbing one eye. “I’m coming.”

“You’re really dragging today.” Donna grinned. “Hot English guy keep you up all night?”

Theo couldn’t help her smile even as she said, “Not really, no. We went to bed at a reasonable hour.”

Donna nudged her with her shoulder. “Ahhh, but A—what is a reasonable hour? And B, did you go to bed or did you go to sleep?”

Theo chuckled as they came out of the locker room. “A—it was before midnight. And B—we did both.”

“Oh, we should all be so lucky. Anyway, I’ll talk you later on.”

Theo nodded and crossed over to the trainers’ desk, where Tony and a willowy brunette stood. The woman was easily five ten, and perfectly proportioned, and all leg as well. She had every guy in the place pausing his workout to stare for a minute. “Hi, you must be…” she reached for the clipboard the woman had just set on the desk, “Miss Thompson.”

“Hi, please,” the brunette smiled, “Call me Hannah.”

“Right. I’m Theo and I’m taking Ellie’s clients today, so why don’t you go and warm up on the treadmill and I’ll be there in a moment.”

Hannah nodded and as she walked off, even Tony stared. Theo waited a beat, then waved her hand before his eyes. “Try to remember, this is your business. You stare any harder at that ass, and it’ll burst into flames.”

“I’ll put that fire out in a heartbeat,” he replied without looking away.

“Tony!” She punched him in the upper arm.

He jumped. “Ouch, Theo!”

“You wanted to see me?”

He turned back to her. “Yeah. Come into my office a minute?”

Her gut twisted. Tony only ever called anyone into his office when he wanted to avoid a scene on the floor. Whatever he wanted, it couldn’t be good.

Still she followed him, her gut twisting more sharply when he closed the door and gestured to the chairs on the far side of his desk. “Sit down, Thee.”

“Tony, what’s going on?” She asked this as she moved around to sink into one of the chairs.

He moved around, lowering into his chair. “I haven’t told the others yet because you have seniority, and I want you to tell them before the end of the day.”

“Tell the others what?”

“I got the chance to move out to LA. A friend of mine wants to open a string of gyms in Southern Cali and we’re going to go in partners. I found a buyer for this place, but she’s bringing in her own people and has no plans to keep any of the current trainers on. And she takes ownership on the twenty-fifth.”

She just stared at him. Forget twisting, her gut curdled now. “Wait… you sold this place? To chase a dream to California? And we’re all getting fired in a little under two weeks?”

“I tried to get her to agree to keep you all on, but she has her own staff. And I thought she might be interested in you as the manager, but she said…” His voice trailed off and he looked distinctively uncomfortable.

Which made her back stiffen. “What did she say, Tony?”

“Just remember, this is only her opinion, not a fact.”

“Tony.”

“She didn't think you would fit in with the theme she was trying to create.”

Theo’s mouth went dry. She stared at Tony. “What?”

He drew in a slow, deep breath. “She doesn’t want any trainers over thirty. You. Donna. AJ. Riley. You’ll all be unemployed at the end of the month.”

“You’re… firing me?”

He looked pained at that. “I’m so very sorry, Thee. I mean, you don’t really work for me, but—”

“How long have you known about this? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to worry needlessly if it fell through.”

“Tony.”

“I didn’t.”

She sank back in her chair as an icy chill crept through her. Unemployed in little over two weeks. Shit. This was her one steady paycheck, more or less.

“And you want me to tell the others.”

He nodded. “I’ve got feelers out for you all and if anything turns up, you know I’ll let you know.”

She nodded as she rose. She’d deal with the reality of the situation later on. Right now, she had to concentrate on work so neither she nor one of her clients got hurt. “Okay. I really should get to work. Miss Perfect is waiting for me to make her even more perfect.” She managed to smile at him. “Good luck in Cali, Tony. I mean that.”

He didn't look any happier than she felt. “I’m sorry, Thee, but it’s too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“I know. And it’s a great opportunity. And you know what? It’s just as well, because I’m probably moving to England in the coming months anyway, so…”

“Your boyfriend asked you to go back home with him?”

“He did.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s worked out for you.”

“Yeah, but what about the others?” Theo bit back a sigh as she rose from her chair. “I’ll call a meeting for after lunch and let everyone know.”

“Thanks.”

She bobbed her head and made her way out onto the gym floor, where Hannah had drawn quite the crowd of admirers. Suddenly, all of the treadmills were occupied. Funny how that worked.

Still, as she crossed the floor, her gaze went to Donna, in the far corner where the squat racks were, working with a woman probably closer to her age. And then she saw AJ in the classroom, teaching kickboxing. Riley was by the dumbbells, spotting for a guy who looked barely old enough to drive. These were good trainers, good people, and she knew they’d land on their feet, job-wise, but she still wasn’t happy that Tony put her in the position of having to tell them.

But that wouldn’t come until later. Now, she had to deal with Miss Perfect.

Ray sat in his car, staring at the front of Drew’s office. He was on his sixth cup of coffee, and yet he couldn’t quite shake his drowsiness.

“That’s what happens when you’re up until all hours of the night,” he muttered, lifting the stainless steel travel mug in the cup holder. Not that he regretted a minute of it. The entire weekend was about as perfect as it could be. And if there was one thing he would not change no matter what, it was falling asleep with Theo wrapped around him. For so many years, he’d preferred to sleep alone. Relationships didn’t exist for him after Cassie. A night here or there was pretty much it and he never stayed with a woman overnight nor let her stay with him. He made himself perfectly clear, he looked for nothing permanent, marriage seekers need not apply.

But it was different with Theo. He couldn’t explain it. It simply was. It felt right. She belonged there. He slept better with her that close to him.

Finally, Drew’s MDX pulled into the lot and Ray, coffee cup in hand, climbed out into the brisk wind. “Did you get lost?”

“Nice to see you, too,” Drew said as he emerged from his car. “Why are you here so early?”

“I have an appointment later on that I can’t reschedule and I’m curious about what you found with Aiden Reynolds.”

“I never talked to him.”

Ray leaned back against the MDX’s fender. “What?”

“Becca broke her ankle Friday afternoon. Why do you think Angela isn’t here? She’s home taken care of her mother and I’m here. So, if your morning is free—”

“How did she do that?”

“Slipped on some ice on the back steps trying to get the damn dog to come inside. Don’t ever get a Husky. They live for this weather.” Drew set the alarm on his Acura and gestured to the building. “Let’s go inside. It’s cold as anything out here. I cannot wait for spring.”

“You and me both.” Ray followed him into the dark office.

Drew paused just inside the doorway and flipped the switch to make the overhead lights flicker to life. “Christ, this means I gotta make my own coffee.”

Ray held up his travel mug. “You should get a Keurig.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s not exactly at the top of my list of priorities. Ange makes damn good coffee and so does her mother.”

“And neither one of them is here now.”

“Don’t remind me.” Drew flipped on the lights to the hallway leading to his office. “Come on in and sit down and I’ll see if I can get ahold of Reynolds.”

Ray shivered despite his white henley, favorite red and black flannel shirt, and his leather jacket. “What do you keep the heat set at? It’s like a meat locker in here.”

“I drop it to like sixty. No one is here and my files aren’t fussy about being cold. Hold on, I’ll adjust it for you, you baby.”

“Baby, my ass. It’s cold in here.”

“Go in and sit down. I’m going to get the coffee going.”

Ray made his way to Drew’s office and sank into what he now considered to be his chair. “So, how is Rebecca feeling?”

“She’s uncomfortable, but the drugs make her bearable to be around.”

“Oh, that’s a lovely thing to say. I’m sure she’s comforted by your concern.”

“She’s in pain and there’s not much I can do. She likes Angela better than me, which is why Ange is there and I am here.” Drew came into his office, rubbing his hands. “It is cold in here. I hope the furnace didn't go.”

“With how describe her, can you fault her for liking Angela more than you? I like her more than I like you and I don’t even know her.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an asshole. Tell me something I don’t know.” With a sigh and squeak of leather, Drew dropped into his chair and looked at his watch. “Nine-fifteen. That’s a reasonable hour to call someone, isn’t it?”

“You sure you want to call him?”

“Oh, yeah… probably not. Okay, he’s over on West Point Island. On Dickman, like our Jailbait guy.”

“I know the area,” Ray told him dryly, “as my head still hurts from the last time you sent me there.”

“How was I to know you’d get clocked? All I knew was the wife was supposedly also fooling around and the husband wanted proof as well.” Drew shrugged. “Let me get at least one cup of coffee and then we can go pay Mr. Reynolds a call.”

Ray leaned back in his chair as Drew left the office once more. “What do you think this guy is going to tell you?”

“I think he’s going to tell me that his thug cousin was waiting for you on Dickman,” Drew called from down the hallway, “I don’t know what story your thug told him to get him to do any of this, but I’ll bet it has something to do with you and Theo.”

He came back into his office, coffee cup in hand. “Speaking of Theo, how is she?”

A smile accompanied this and Ray couldn’t hold back his grin as an image of her in only the garter belt, thigh highs, and suede pumps flashed thorough his mind. “She’s fine. She knows you were checking out her ass, you know. She’s not stupid.”

“She has a nice ass.”

“I’ll pretend I didn't hear that. And you are not going to look at her ass again.”

“Yeah and I’ll pretend I wasn’t dumb enough to actually say that.” Drew held up the mug. “Lack of caffeine.”

“Of course. So,” Ray stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles, “what exactly are you going to ask him?”

“I thought I’d start out by pretending someone in the area saw Ryland and if so, did he know where I could find him. I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

“See, that’s what scares me.”

“I’m good on my feet and excellent under pressure. You’ll see.”

“That also scares me.”

****

“Hey, Theo,” Heather came into the back office that also served as a lunchroom and conference room when needed, “there’s a cop here for you.”

Theo sat upright. “What?”

“Yeah. He said he needs to ask you a few questions about something that happened the other night?”

Her stomach kinked sharply as she rose from her chair. “Yeah, okay.”

Donna and Riley both stared up at her. “What did you do?” Donna asked, lifting her can of Diet Dr Pepper.

“I didn't do anything. I was home.” Theo moved to the doorway and peered out. A Point Pleasant cop stood by the front desk, all right. Her mouth went dry. Had Scott decided to try to press charges? That would be stupid, since according to Ray, Scott threw the first punch, but still.

Taking a deep breath, she left the office and followed Heather back to the front desk. “Can I help you?” she said, leaning against the counter.

“Are you—” he glanced down at his notepad—“Theodora Bailey?”

“Theo, yes.”

“I’m Detective Laurence and I’m looking into a matter involving a physical altercation between a Mr. Ray Levine and a Mr. Scott Ryland this past weekend. Would you mind answering a few questions?”

Her gut twisted slightly. “I guess not, no.”

“Good.” Laurence smiled, which did nothing to put her at ease, and then consulted his notes one more. “So, you live with Mr. Levine, is that right?”

“Technically he lives with me, but yes.”

Detective Laurence looked first at her, and then at the crowded gym floor. “Is there somewhere we can go and sit down for a few minutes? I have a few questions about a fight that happened at Yesterday’s on Friday night.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, then gestured over her shoulder with one thumb. “We can go sit in the office, if that’s okay with you?”

“That’s fine.”

He followed her back the office, where Theo said, “Don, Riley, can you give us a minute?”

They both stood and Riley said, “Sure.”

“Thanks. Oh, and guys? We’re having a staff meeting at three o’clock. It won’t take long.”

Both Donna and Riley looked a little puzzled, since staff meetings were fairly rare, but Donna nodded and smiled. “We’ll be there.”

Riley pulled the door shut and Theo gestured to the round table. “Have a seat. What’s this about?”

“Do you know a—” he dove back into his notes—“Scott Ryland?”

“I do, yes. We used to date. Why?”

“And you live at 1326 Polk Street, Apartment A, right?”

“I do, yes.”

“And you said Mr. Levine lives with you?

“He does, what is this about?”

“Now, is Mr. Levine just your roommate or are you in a relationship with him?”

“What difference does it make?”

“I went by your apartment earlier to ask him a few questions and he wasn’t there. Do you know where he might be?”

“Why? I’m not answering another question until you answer me. What do you want with Ray?”

“I want to ask him about the fight at Yesterday’s. I’ve gotten conflicting stories from several witnesses and I’d like to speak with Mr. Levine, if only I could find him. Now, do you know where he might be? Does he have a job?” He looked back at his notepad. “He’s a photographer, isn’t he?”

“He is—well, a photojournalist, actually—but right now, he’s working as a photographer.”

“Does he have a studio? Work for someone else?”

She sighed softly, raking a hand through her hair. “He works with Drew Kaparski. He’s a PI—”

“We know who he is, Miss Bailey.” Laurence looked up at her, then his dark eyes narrowed. “Where did you get that bruise?” He gestured to his own cheek.

She sat back in her chair, folding her arms, and just stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“The bruise on your cheek. Did Levine do that to you?”

“Ray?” She couldn’t hold back her snort at the very notion of Ray ever lifting a hand to her that wasn’t gentle. “No. No, Ray did not do this to me. In fact, your Mr. Ryland is the one who did this, if you really want to know. Now, if that’s all you wanted, we’re done—”

“I’m not quite finished, Miss Bailey.”

“Well, I am. I have nothing more to say to you.”

“Where is Mr. Levine now?”

“I’m his girlfriend, not his keeper,” she replied shortly, pausing in the doorway long enough to add, “If you want him, go and find him yourself.”

“Are you aware he was arrested on suspicion of murder, Miss Bailey?”

She had just begun to turn away when the cop said this, and she snapped back toward him. “I beg your pardon?”

“He was. Not quite two years ago, your boyfriend was arrested in Blackpool, England almost charged with the murder of Steward Green back in—”

“Almost is the key word there, Detective and I’m sure, then, that you also know that not only was he not charged with murder, but they found the woman who really did kill Green. Lorraine Somebody-or-Other."

“That’s true. But your boyfriend did hack the guy up and get rid of him. Tell me again how he beat charges on that?”

“Ask him yourself. We are done here.”

She stalked out of the office and didn’t so much as look at anyone as she marched into the locker room and into a bathroom stall. There she sank onto the toilet and stared down at her hands, surprised to see how badly they shook.

Footsteps sounded and she braced herself for Laurence’s rough voice. Instead, Riley asked, “Are you okay, Theo? That cop did not look happy when he left.”

“I’m fine,” she managed to push past her lips before burying her face in her hands.

“You want me to tell Tony you’re sick so you can go home?”

“No. We have that meeting.”

“Fuck the meeting. Since when does Tony give a damn about staff meetings?”

Theo drew in a deep breath and forced herself to stand. Coming out of the stall, she said, “Tony sold the gym, Rile. We’re all being let go in two weeks. That’s what the staff meeting is about.”

Riley just stared at her, her blue eyes almost perfectly round. “What?”

Theo moved to the sink to run the water cold, then splashed some on her face. Straightening up, she nodded. “He told me this morning. The new owners are bringing in their own people.”

“Fuck. Are you kidding me?”

“I wish. I wouldn’t tell you if it wasn’t true.”

“Wouldn’t tell what if it wasn’t true?” Donna said, rounding the corner where the sinks were across from the row of stalls. “And what did that cop want? He looked pissed when he left.”

Theo rubbed her forehead as a headache pricked sharply behind her eyes. “Scott came by my apartment the other night. We had words. He hit me. Ray—” she held up a hand as both Riley and Donna started to speak—“let me finish—Ray confronted him about it and provoked Scott into him. Then he beat the shit out of him, or so I like to think. I don’t really know, though, since I wasn’t there.”

“And let me guess,” Donna drawled, “Scott is telling a totally opposite story?”

“I don’t know,” Theo admitted softly, “but probably. The cop said there were conflicting accounts.”

“So, what are you telling that Riley thinks isn’t true?”

Riley turned to Donna. “We’re getting canned, Don. Tony fucking sold this stupid gym and we’re losing our jobs in two weeks.”

Donna gaped at first Riley, then Theo. “No shit?”

Theo shook her head. “No shit. That’s what the staff meeting is about. Do me a favor, don’t say anything to anyone else. They’ll all know soon enough.”

Donna whistled. “That fucker. Why? Why would he do that?”

“He got the offer to partner with some guy in Southern California on a gym franchise. Or at least, that’s what he told me. But you know, it’s for the best for me.” She looked at her coworkers who were also her friends, and said, “Ray has asked me to move to England with him. This just made my decision that much easier.”

Both Riley and Donna whooped and threw their arms about her, even as Riley said, “I have no idea who Ray is, but this is great news, right?”

“Ray is her boyfriend,” Donna said, “A gorgeous English dude with a deep voice and killer blue eyes.”

“Oh, then I am definitely happy for you!”

Theo smiled as she hugged them back. Her thoughts were troubled after dealing with Detective Laurence, but overall, she was happy for her, too. She was sorry they would be losing their jobs, of course, but they were all good at what they did and she didn't doubt for a moment one of the other gyms in the area would snap them up. So, with that, they all made their way out of the locker room and Theo tried to keep her concentration on work and not on Ray or what actually happened with Scott at Yesterday’s.

[abreathofthewild]

I Need A Hero, Chapter 1/?

Summary: After Y/N finds out that her late grandfather has willed his rural Montana ranch to her, she decides it’s time for a little change of scenery. At least until it’s in a condition to sell. Along the way, Y/N finds a renewed appreciation for hard work, new friends, and possibly even love. She has the land. Can Thor help make it a home?

Word Count: 11559 (I have no idea either, trust me)

Warnings: non-main character death, mentions of alcohol, some thematic elements, eventual smut.

A/N: I have so many people I could tag on this post, so many. For now, I'll just say thank you to @spacelabrathor​ for allowing me to use this idea and to @itssimplydior​ for going above and beyond in helping me grammar check and just being a great hype person. Thank you thank you thank you! And thank you to everyone who has waited so long for this. I have an amazing circle of friends on here. I hope this first chapter was worth the wait!

Edit: The banner is by the amazing @frankiemorales who designed this moodboard because she loves the story so much ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Links: Thor Odinson Masterlist and AO3 Version

Skyscrapers cut through the blue sky like ancient monoliths; they weren’t ancient at all but the way the sun glinted off the glass and steel of their structures made them look like modern interpretations of old gods. Car horns and shouts and ongoing conversations hummed through the air, the constant buzz of life an undercurrent that was all at once hard to ignore and easy to be lost in. There in the middle of it, beneath the heartbeat of the city, you sat in an office chair trying to clear your head around a different type of ringing in your ears.

Your grandfather had passed away. Your estranged grandfather. And yet here you were, listening to his attorney tell you that he had willed you his ranch. The ranch you had spent almost six summers at as a child. The ranch where you had learned to ride a horse. The ranch where you had learned how to skip rocks and climb trees. The ranch where you had decided that one day you’d have a big ranch of your own, “just like Grandpa”.

“Miss? Miss, are you still there?” A breath rattled from your lungs as you tried to form a coherent sentence. “I’m sorry, I can imagine this is difficult but were you able to hear me on the line? Hank has passed away and he’s left you his ranch. We’ll need you to come sign some paperwork. There are some stipulations that I’d rather discuss in person. Then you’re free to get the details settled to sell it if that’s what you want.” Another pause.

“Um, yes, I’m sorry. I heard you. Can you email the initial documents?” The barely-managed response felt odd on your tongue, stiff.

“Ah, yes, I’m sure we can manage that. I’ll have to apologize, things move a little slower around here so sometimes it slips my mind that electronic signatures are an option now. Like I said though, the final details will need to be worked out here, in Dove’s Reach.” After that, you tuned out; the man’s voice on the line seemed to drone on. Your brain honed in on “it’s not really in a state to sell” and “I’ll put you in touch with a licensed appraiser just to make sure”. Then the call ended and you realized somewhere in there you must have hung up the phone but you honestly couldn’t remember.

A ranch. A whole ranch. 500 acres of rolling hills in Montana. Your breath caught and you quickly brushed away the tears that had welled in your eyes, pursing your lips and glancing at the paperwork spread in front of you. There was so much work to do here with the Harrison case. Your eyes roved from the physical documents to the spreadsheets on your computer screen and back again. It would be foolish to take time off now when you were so close to finishing it up. You could see your father’s frown as if he was standing in front of you.

And yet… Your grandfather hadn’t been a part of your life for so long. In the beginning, when your parents had told you abruptly that Grandpa had done something bad, been mean to them, you took it hard. Seven years old is a horrible time to lose a grandfather who taught you how to milk a cow and showed you the wonder in the small things. But as you got older and your parents became more embroiled in work, more distant, you put it to the back of your mind. You were still young enough that you had no choice but to take their word for it. The thoughts tripped around your head like a broken record; you felt a little queasy. You wiped brusquely once more at a stray tear and, taking a deep breath, turned to your monitor. You minimized one tab and opened another, preparing to write an email. It was a little more difficult than you had anticipated though and ten minutes later when your assistant walked in reminding you of your 2 o’ clock, you startled from a blank daydream and an even blanker screen. Your surroundings rushed back in around you on a pinpoint vortex and all at once, you knew you had to go. Regardless of parts of the will needing to be handled in person, something split in your heart. Right now, your place was at the ranch.

“Reschedule that appointment please. Let Clark know we’ll be switching it over to a Zoom call. Actually, cancel the rest of my appointments for the next two weeks. I’ll let you know if I need you to move anything around after that.” She widened her eyes but nodded all the same, turning and exiting your corner office with purpose. You began typing out the email to your father letting him know that you’d be taking advantage of all those vacation hours you had stored away for a rainy day. You would take the Harrison case with you and could easily finish it remotely. It would be on his desk by the deadline. Your rainy day was today but despite the circumstance, you were beginning to catch the feeling that there wasn’t a cloud in sight. The ranch house flashed across your mind’s eye and you blew out a breath from your lungs you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

You clicked send and stood, throwing on your coat and gathering the necessary paperwork from your desk. You let your assistant know you were leaving and walked out the door, not bothering to pay attention to a few pairs of wandering eyes who watched as you entered the elevator and headed down to the ground floor. With each minute of descent through the high-rise building, you felt your heart beat faster. It felt like there was a balloon in your chest waiting to burst. Your heels clicked on the marble floor and as you pushed through the doors into the spring air of New York City, you felt just a little more alive than you had moments before.

The redeye flight and extra two-hour drive put you in Dove’s Reach before the sun had completely risen. Last week if someone had told you that you would be standing here right now looking at your grandfather’s ranch house with the notion that you could fix it up, you would have laughed in their face. But as the sun rose in the east, it felt as if anything was possible. To the north was a range of mountains that could have looked menacing, but from your vantage only served to leave you in awe. The immediate land was just miles and miles of green fields that met with forest. The trees were behemoths; the sun bathed everything in a rich golden light adding unbelievable depth to the scene before you. The air smelled clean and fresh and alive.

You resisted the urge to pinch yourself because if this was a dream you never wanted to wake up. There was your grandfather’s house right in the middle of all of it. It still held the country charm that you remembered but there was so much that was… off. From what you could see with the naked eye, the wooden fence was sagging and falling over in a lot of places. The barn was missing slats of wood and one door hung precariously on its hinges. The house was a relic, the paint dry and peeling. You knew your grandfather as a strong, stout man who even in his older age was capable of running a whole ranch. The state of things now left a hollow feeling in your stomach and left so many questions unanswered.

A suitcase, carry-on, and laptop bag was all you had with you as you took the key from under the mat and opened the front door. It groaned loudly as if it hadn’t been opened in a long while but it made you smile to know that your grandfather had left the key in the same place after all these years. You walked to your left into the kitchen and set your keys on the counter. The familiarity of it all suddenly made you pause with a sudden sense of Deja Vu. The magnets on the fridge, the little table with four wooden chairs, and an old fashioned clock hanging on the wall that had faded from a once dark blue. The checkered yellow and white curtains were rolled up above the farm-style sink and an old mason jar with some dried flowers sat in the sill.

You found yourself choking up as you realized your grandfather’s coffee mug, the big one with some western painting of a bucking bronco, sat ready next to the coffee pot. You walked over to it and cradled it in your hands as the feeling washed through your bones that it was your mug now. There was so much you remembered about him and yet so much you never got to know, never would know. It nagged at you as the realization began to set in that there was so much to get done to sell this place. And after it was gone, there would be nothing of your grandfather left. A shaky sigh escaped from your lips.

Sleep. Right now you just needed to sleep. You made your way upstairs, the wood groaning in protest as you went, and headed to the right where one of the two guest rooms were located. Again, it was like a museum, in a state of preservation. With a wrenching in your stomach, you wondered if he’d ever had visitors after you. The bed sat against the opposite wall under the window and the sunlight filtering in passed the tree outside left dappled patterns on the patchwork quilt. You brushed your fingertips across it and marveled at how soft it still felt.

The room smelled faintly of dust so you cracked the window. You were rewarded by the cool breeze laced with the scent of pine wafting gently into the room. It was the beginning of spring but mornings were still chilled with the end of winter. You were pretty sure that in the shade of various trees on your way in there were small drifts of unmelted snow and the dried grass in the fields outside had sparkled with frost. You flopped down on the bed, covering yourself with the knitted throw that was tossed across the bottom.

As your eyes fluttered shut, you had a distinct feeling that you had always lived here. The thought crossed your mind as you edged into sleep that maybe you should stay.

It was well past noon when you startled awake. This time, it felt like there was a weight on your chest. You cracked your eyes and let out a small ah when you were greeted by a plump silver and white cat with green eyes sitting on your stomach. It chirruped when it realized you were awake. The cat hadn’t been in the house when you arrived (that you had seen). Maybe it climbed the tree and hopped in the window. Either way, it had been a long time since you’d last had a pet (your long hours didn’t allow for it back in New York) and your heart did a light skip as you scratched behind its ears. Its purr sounded like a motorboat.

The breeze coming through the window was a little warmer now and after a while of trying to stay lost to the world outside, you knew if you didn’t get up right then, you wouldn’t feel motivated to do so for the rest of the day. And there was a lot to do. With an exaggerated grunt, you deposited the cat on the other side of the bed. It sat there licking a paw and periodically giving you an irked look. You let out a small snort and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the desk and began writing down your goals for the day.

The main one was a basic grocery list (you were pretty sure there was nothing in the fridge or cupboards), and now getting some cat food. If you remembered correctly, the actual town was about another half hour from the ranch in the opposite direction you’d come. You stood and winced as pins and needles prickled up and down your legs from sitting cross-legged on the bed. You glanced at your computer bag tucked in next to the desk on the floor. The Harrison case would have to wait.

Main Street hadn’t really changed much from what you could remember of your time here. A lot of red brick and dark wood. It was quaint and about as small-town as you could get. Something lurched in your chest when you pulled to a stop in the grocery parking lot. Everything was so foreign to how you lived in the big city but at the same time… it sang of a home you had not experienced before. Part of you thought it was a shame that you had to go back in two weeks. You brushed the thought aside as quickly as you allowed yourself to feel it. There was no use indulging that line of thinking and besides, it was the first day. You were sure you would feel differently at the end of that time after you’d put in the work that would be required.

The grocery store was bigger than you remembered; you were pretty sure it had been expanded. Maybe the town wasn’t as little as it used to be. A cartful of basics and what felt like 500 mental notes later, you brought your groceries to the front. You daydreamed for a moment as the steady beep of the register sounded in the background.

“You’re not from around these parts, are you darlin’?” You came back to yourself, shaking your head. The woman ringing you up was older, with short-cropped white hair and glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her name tag read “Rose''. “I thought so. We don’t get many people around here that buy tofu. Is it any good?” She wrinkled her nose in such a way that made you giggle. You shrugged your shoulders.

“There’re a few different ways I make it that taste pretty good. I’m not vegetarian or anything, I just like all sorts of foods.” She brightened at that; you guessed there were also not very many vegetarians in Dove’s Reach either. “I’m actually here to handle my grandpa’s estate. He just passed away…” You trailed off, surprised by the lump that was suddenly in your throat. Her eyes widened just a bit before she reached out to pat your hand.

“Do you mean Hank? Was Hank your granddaddy? Yes, he must be, I can see you have the same eyes now. Well, I’m so very sorry, hon. He was a good man. It seems like only yesterday he was here picking up groceries.” There was a tear in her eye now and it made you wonder how close the two were. “It had actually been quite some time since he was able to make it in here on his own. Months at least.” Months? So he had been sick for a while. Why hadn’t he told you? Rose saw the look flash across your face. “Oh,” she breathed out quietly, “you didn’t know, did you?” She clucked her tongue as you paid. “That Hank, always thinkin’ he didn’t need help. We were all surprised when he finally had Jonesy coming ‘round to do things in town for him. Jonesy was his attorney, you’ll probably be speaking to him soon, I’d reckon. Well, if you need anything, you just let me know, okay?”

You grabbed your bags and put them back in your cart. There would be time to ask Rose questions about your Grandpa later, you hoped. But right now, you needed to focus on getting help with the ranch.

“Well actually, Rose, I’m looking for some help to fix the ranch up. Do you know anyone off the top of your head?”

Rose had told you to go across the street to On The Wings of A Dove, the local hang out after a day’s work had been finished for a lot of folks. It was surprisingly modern with an old feel. Deep red brick, exposed black pipe, and low lighting. The smell as you walked in the doors made your mouth water. Luckily the owner, Gus, was in and was more than happy to help a young lady such as yourself.

“Thor! This lady here needs some help fixin’ up her ranch to sell. You lookin’ for work?” You glanced in the direction the portly man was facing, down the bench, and around a couple of other patrons. A man leaned out and smiled in your way; the flash of white teeth made your heartbeat stutter.

“As a matter of fact, Gus, I just finished up at the Finch’s farm helpin’ them with that young colt.” He stood and walked over to you. If he looked big from a distance, there was no denying it now as he moved into your space. You looked up at his face and the golden hair framing blue eyes was enough to make your brain go foggy. He held out a hand, the chorded muscle across his chest and in his broad shoulders evident even with such a small movement. You took it and something bloomed in your chest when his hand enveloped yours. His skin was rough with calluses. It was warm and a vision flashed across your mind unbidden: those hands grasping at your face, roving down your arms, across your chest, gripping your hips, and moving lower… You shook your head and tried to listen to the words coming out of his mouth.

“The name’s Thor. Thor Odinson. How may I be of service, pretty lady?” Normally, someone being so forward would irk you. But somehow hearing Thor say the words “pretty lady” in a slow drawl didn’t bother you in the least. You offered him a smile back, quirking your head to the side. Taking inventory. He couldn’t be much older than you if he was older at all.

“Thor Odinson? That’s an interesting name.” He nodded, ducking his head and running a hand through his hair. It looked ridiculously soft to the touch and you had to stop yourself from snorting in good-natured annoyance.

“Yes, ma’am. My family comes from the Old Country. They wanted a strong name for a strong man. Gus said you’re lookin’ for help though?” He crossed his arms and leaned in, the white t-shirt he was wearing stretching across his chest. You forced your eyes to move back to his face where you were met with a little crook of his lips. You were pretty sure he saw that but there was no embarrassment in the knowledge. “I can help you do just about anything. Pick your poison.”

It was a lot. And you were certain there was more than you even realized with your knowledge of how to run a ranch being zero. You listed off how the house needed a good cleaning but you could take care of that. It probably needed a new coat of paint inside and out. Several of the shudders on both stories needed repairing. The barn looked pretty run down but you hadn’t gotten up close to it yet. One of the doors had definitely been hanging crookedly on its hinges. Then there was the fence… You could probably use more than two people for that. You had no idea of what state the ranch hand cabin was in. You looked up at him and gave him a shrug. His eyebrows were up near his hairline as he leaned back and whistled.

“Boy, we’ve really got our work cut out for us, don’t we? Well, I think we’d better start with those things you mentioned first. Trust me, if there’re other problems we’ll find ‘em real quick. Might cost ya a pretty penny. Are we tryin’ to stay within a certain budget?” He looked you right in the eye and Lord help you, it had been a long time since someone looked you in the eye with any sort of sincerity. You were used to working with less-than-savory types in your corporate world. You cleared your throat and shrugged again.

“Not really. If we fix it up good enough, there won’t be a loss. It’s a pretty place. Just needs some TLC. And the land is worth its 500 acres in gold.” The silence was palpable but not in an uncomfortable way. Thor leaned in and you caught a slip of his scent. Sweat and leather and woodsmoke. You took a deep breath, pulling the smell with it. You realized he was listening. He wasn’t just hearing your words, he was taking them in and mulling them around in his brain. “But wait. Does that mean you’ll do it? We haven’t even talked about wages or anything like that.” He waved a hand in dismissal, rolling his eyes.

“We can talk about that later. What matters is you need help and we like to help people ‘round here. Maybe that’s not somethin’ you’re used to where you’re from? It’s all right though. I’ll introduce ya to small-town hospitality. When are you wanting to get started?” You threw him a sheepish grin before glancing down at the floor as if the pattern there was the most interesting thing in the world. If your parents could see you now, you knew they’d be appalled. Thinking of doing the work yourself, of hiring someone you literally just met and someone who was only suggested to you by a cashier at a grocery store. It was a little ridiculous you admitted but you brushed the thoughts away.

“Tomorrow? You can stay in one of the guest rooms in the house. There’s a ranch hand cabin but I have no idea what it looks like. As far as I can tell, it hasn’t been a working ranch in a while so there’s really no telling what state it will be in…” Again, he held his hand up slowly, politely putting a stop to the words pouring from your mouth.

“The cabin is just fine. I don’t need much anyway. Depending on how long I’m there, the only thing I ask is to bring my dog, Tucker, with me. He’s as good a help as any man I’ve met and twice as friendly.” You nodded enthusiastically. “Well, all right then. Sounds like everything is as settled as it gets for now. Can I get the address from ya? I’ll head over around 5 PM, get settled in if that suits your plans for the rest of the day.

“Perfect.” You smiled as he shook your hand again.

It occured to you that this is the first contract you’d ever made without a signature on paper and yet somehow, it felt like the most foolproof one as well.

It didn’t take long for Thor to settle in. He had insisted on taking the ranch hand cabin despite your protesting. When the two of you looked it over, it wasn’t as bad as you would have guessed it to be, even though there was a thin layer of dust on every surface. You searched through some of the cupboards and luckily came up with a spare sheet set. You took the old one to wash, holding your breath against all the dust motes that flew into the air as soon as you took the sheets off.

“Tucker didn’t want to come?” You asked with a teasing tone,one that Thor responded to with a laugh. He took his baseball cap off and roughed his fingers through his hair. He shook his head.

“No, ma’am. We’ll see how things go here but guessing by the fence line I saw on my way in, he’ll definitely be coming to stay here with me. Don’t worry, either way you’ll get to meet him. He’ll be tickled pink.” Again, a duck of his head that made you wonder how someone could have such good manners. You looked down, shuffling your feet. That seemed to be a regular thing for you now as well. Not being able to look someone in the eye? Not a good look on a big time lawyer. But you had an excuse, right? You glanced up through your eyelashes as he turned away and looked around.

He stood tall, straight-backed. You absently wondered if it was from riding horses. He probably looked great on a horse. He was no longer in just the white shirt from earlier but his Carhartt jacket didn’t swallow him, it just somehow emphasized how big he was. Every movement brought that into sharp focus. The floor creaked beneath his boots as he flipped switches on and off, watching with concentration as each lightbulb somehow still worked. They took a few moments to crackle on but crackle on they did. And with each one his smile somehow got bigger. After a little while of inspecting the little space he turned to you again.

“This will do just fine. No worries need be wasted on my behalf. Tomorrow I’m thinking we should head down to Redwood Hardware and see if we can get an order in for some fence posts. They might have some in stock already but the amount we’ll need is probably not gonna be in store. You might also wanna consider hiring other help besides me. I stand by my work ethic but we’ll get the job done a lot faster with more people.” You blew a breath out of your mouth and pursed your lips. He was closer in an instant, placing his hand on your shoulder. He lowered his head to make sure you would meet his gaze. It threatened to take your breath away. “I know it might not seem like it right now, but we’ll have this place up and running, sale-worthy in no time. A place your granddaddy would be proud of.”

You did meet his eyes then, glancing back and forth between them. You nodded. If anyone was going to tell you how a thing was going to go and you would believe them… It was going to be Thor.

The day came when it was time to actually set up the new fence posts instead of just staring at them with a certain bit of dread each day when you went outside. The sky was a blue that seemed to go on forever and the air itself smelled alive but still, you stood, hands on your hips, ticking off all the other things you could be doing. There were loads of things. But Thor stood next to you, a smirk on his face and you knew there was no way you could put off starting this any longer. He placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

“It’ll be alright darlin’! It’s a lot of work, hard work, but you’ll get the hang of it. I’ll be right there every step of the way to help ya out.” Again, the uncanny wave of reassurance swept over you at his words and so it was you found yourself climbing into the passenger side of his old Ford and marveling at what pristine condition it was in. The last couple of days you’d been driving your rental car; there was an old Jeep in the barn but it needed more repairs than you could focus on at the moment. You’d seen his truck the day he drove up to the house and the days after but you hadn’t seen the interior and you were impressed.

You didn’t know many hyper-specific details about any vehicle but you guessed this one was old and yet… the seats were a rich brown leather, worn in certain places from use but not split. It even had a sheen to it still, as if he wiped it down on a regular basis. There was one little piece of plastic up near the passenger air vent that was slightly cracked but the rest of it still shone as close to new as it would ever get again. A reddish brown darker than the seats but just as fine. Nothing had been replaced or updated it seemed, just kept in the same condition it always had been. But looking around, you knew it had been used. It had worked many long years. You quirked your mouth and glanced at him as he shifted the truck into gear and drove through the gate, driving along the rutted pathway that ran along the length of fencing. The field stretched out for miles and miles beyond you in gentle sloping green hills. There were some wildflowers starting to sprout up but from what you understood, it was nowhere close to peak season yet. The fence closer to the buildings was in better condition; the farther away from there you got, the more obvious it became that the ranch had been non-operational for some time. As it was apt to do regularly now, your mind wandered. You were lost in two vast landscapes, one physical, the other in your memories. It took Thor slowing and then parking at the point where the fence literally ceased to exist to bring you out of yourself.

The two of you hopped out and started grabbing supplies. After figuring out how much you wanted to get done for the day, the two of you started in on the fence posts. Or more like Thor jumped right in and you took a split second to watch him as he began working. Almost immediately he shrugged off his flannel; he was in a simple white tank top and those ridiculously well-fitted Wrangler jeans and boots. Even the gloves on his hands looked slightly tight as if his hands were too big even for the large size. His motions were smooth and concise; he turned away from you, leaving his back on full display. You leaned on your post hole digger for a minute, taking in the way all the parts of his body worked together. From the muscles in his arms, the ones chord across his shoulders and back, all the way down to how his hips swayed with the movement.

An eagle cried out overhead and you moved in about ten feet away from him. You wanted to think that you knew how to do this right away just from watching him. The soil was no problem. It was soft and dark and easy to dig. The smell curled through the air and reminded you of being a kid, when the most you had to worry about was if the dirt was the right consistency for a mud pie. But after a few tries, you realized you must be doing something wrong because your hands kept slipping and Thor had already moved past you to dig and place two more wooden posts. Still, you don’t say anything just yet. You were determined to do this.

As the day waned on, slow as molasses, you could feel him watching you. He didn’t move in to stop you, didn’t tell you you were doing it wrong. He let you struggle. There was a war inside of you at that moment, part of you wanting him to jump in and show you how and the other part being refreshed by him letting you figure it out. That inner monologue went on for a while before he nudged you and handed you a bottle of water. You stopped, relieved. The sun was somehow high overhead now. For every one post you were finishing with difficulty, Thor was getting two done. Frustration flared over your whole body. He cleared his throat and raked his hand through his hair.

“I noticed it looked like you were havin’ a bit of a hard time diggin’ the post holes. Would ya like if I gave ya some pointers?” You watched him, the earnestness in his blue eyes, and nodded. A smile lit up his face and you wondered how many people got to see it. It was bright and put the endless Montana sky to shame. “Perfect. Let’s eat lunch now and then I’ll show ya a thing or two.” You munched on the turkey sandwiches you had thrown together, sitting on the ground in front of the truck where there was still some shade. The ground was cool beneath you, the air around you smelt like something that should be written about in a book; the earthy smell of grass , the distant hints of pine, the promise of wildflowers. Thor was sprawled out next to you but not in an overbearing sort of way. He just took up a lot of space. You tried not to concentrate on the fact that your knees were touching.

“So your granddaddy left you all this? I’d be pressed to sell it. It’s too bad ya can’t keep it.” You stiffened before catching yourself quickly, though you were pretty sure he had noticed He took his last bite before standing up. “You’ve got a life back home though. It’d be hard to leave that behind.” He held out his hand and you accepted it, wanting to push that cagey feeling behind you. He looked off in the distance, hands on hips, then back to you. “Well, ya ready for those tips?”

“Yes, sir.” You brushed dirt off your backside and put your gloves back on. “It is too bad,” you mumbled. Mumbled because you were too afraid that saying it out loud would change something for you. “That I can’t keep it, I mean.” He turned to you, not the least bit of surprise on his handsome face. But there was understanding there. He got it. You grabbed your post hole digger and went ten feet from the last post readying to dig the new hole. Thor watched your position for just a moment before you heard his footsteps come up behind you. And then he was standing there, at your back. If you took one half-step back you would be met with his chest. The day was warm but heat radiated off of him like a steadily growing fire. Something pooled low in your belly and your mouth went dry as he moved into your space and then you were flush with him.

His arms came around yours, his hands engulfing your own. His breath was warm near your ear as he rumbled “No, darlin’, like this.” He shifted your hands from the middle of the handles to the top. You were hyper aware of the way his arms felt around you, acutely aware of his scent. Sweat, and musk, and dirt. “That way you have more leverage and you’re not leanin’ over when it goes in the dirt.” He stayed like that for a moment, probably only seconds, but it felt like longer. You heard his breath catch from behind you before he slowly removed his hands, backing up just a pace. You immediately tried to retain the feel of him against you, the way his voice settled into you when he spoke. The way his smell engulfed you, making you feel like the safest person in the world. When was the last time you had felt that way?

Your limbs moved slow, as if your body was now full of lead. He moved back in again, briefly, sliding his boot between your feet and nudging them just a tad bit farther apart. “That’ll help too,” he said. And this time, when you raised the digger up and heaved down, you immediately noticed a difference. While it didn’t necessarily feel easier, it definitely didn’t hurt as much and your body didn’t feel as stiff, didn’t feel like it was being pushed into an awkward angle. You took a couple more plugs from the earth, digging down far enough to keep the pole stable and when you stood straight and looked at him, there was that grin written all over his face again. This time, that smile leapt to your face.

Thor pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, red with a white paisley pattern, and raised his hand, slowly, as if he was touching a wild animal, wiping a streak of perspiration from your cheek. “That’s my girl! Keep that up, we might not need help like I said before,” he exclaimed with a wink. Time seemed to slow to a halt. That’s my girl. That’s my girl. That’s my girl. The words thundered through your brain, down out your limbs, between your legs. That’s my girl.

You looked down at your watch, surprised to see the hands tick forward without delay. As the day went on, a thought tickled at the back of your mind, like a horses’ whiskers on your palm. It’d be easy to be his girl.

The night came in cold enough that you were filled with relief when Thor stood to his full height and stretched, slotting the post hole digger in a pile of soil and suggested the two of you call it a night. Goosebumps had already peppered your skin and the breath coming from your mouth was visible in the air. You nodded and stretched a little too, trying to ignore that stiffness you knew would turn into full-blown pain by tomorrow morning. Thor watched you quietly as you slowly put your jacket on; he glanced from the ground then to the sunset when you looked his way. You let out a small barking laugh and almost immediately regretted it, wincing as the cold night air ripped its way into your lungs.

You managed an uncomfortable grunt as you stuffed your gloves in your pocket and Thor grabbed the keys to his truck. You examined your hands; your palms looked like one huge blister. The skin was bubbled and inflamed and if you were being completely honest, it was one more thing you really had no idea how to take care of on a scale like this. Thor started the truck and even though it was only a ten-minute drive back to the house, you were already thankful in anticipation of him cranking the heater just a bit. It would hopefully be a small relief for the contracting sensation in the muscles along your shoulders and arms and back.

There was not a whole lot to gather since the only portion of the fence that went up today was the posts; still, you moved in to help him by grabbing some smaller loose supplies and your post hole digger. You could feel his eyes on you, feel the way he noted you navigating around your raw hands. It took a moment but soon he was wandering over to you and taking the items from you, nodding his head kindly to the truck. You mumbled your gratitude as you got in, frustrated with yourself. It was only the first day but Thor was already picking up your slack. You watched him from the passenger side mirror as he slammed the tailgate shut. There was not a bit of annoyance in his expression. You had small inkling you were being a bit too harsh on yourself.

When he got in, the truck groaned and immediately the cab that felt huge and open before now felt full; crowded but not in an unpleasant way. You sneaked a sideways glance at him as he settled in. He didn’t shift the truck into gear right away but instead sat back, gazing out the windshield at the sunset. Even from your vantage point, it was stunning. The sky was a variation of colors from deep black-blue, to a soft blue, to pink, to orange. The sun slipped back below the mountains to the north and west and the only detail you could make out on them now was their peaks; they were in shadow and looked like a great set of black teeth.

The light coming into the truck had softened, illuminating the planes of Thor’s face. The slip of his golden brown hair, the strong cheekbones and slope of his nose, the clean jawline that now had a five o’ clock shadow. It was quiet, save for the lulling roar of the truck engine and somehow you knew in that second, you wanted more of these moments. Your brain hadn’t quite latched onto how you would get them but you were going to try. Maybe it was Thor. Maybe it was the gentle heat in the cab with the chill outside. Maybe it was the clean smell of spring scented air. Maybe it was a hard day’s work that was so different than the long hours you kept at home. Right now, it didn’t really matter. You sat back with a sigh of content, able to ignore the subtle aching in your limbs. Finally, Thor let out a gentle hum, a sound you guessed actually reverberated through his body.

“When we get back to the house, we’ll take care of those hands, all right?” You nodded and he shifted the truck into gear, turning back the way you came this morning and it was suddenly all you could do not to reach out and rest one of those hands on his arm.

The gravel crunched under the wheels of Thor’s truck as he dropped you off at the front of the house, telling you he was gonna take a shower and then he’d be back up to bandage your hands. You tried to tell him you would take care of it, really, but he insisted. Deep down, you knew you had taken care of blisters on your heels before but nothing like this so you gave in, hiding a smile as he drove the truck down to the other cabin.

When you got to the bathroom, it took every effort not to just quit and wallow right there on the old tile floor but after a few struggling moments, you peeled your clothes from your body and stepped into the warm water, ignoring the stinging of the wounds. It took a few tries with washing off the dirt of the day, with every contact with soap intensifying the hurt in your hands. As you stepped out, you knew you’d be popping some Advil tonight; it would be foolish not to, you guessed.

You threw some leftover chicken noodle soup on the stove and plopped unceremoniously into one of the kitchen chairs, leaning your head against the wall as you relaxed. The fact that you hadn’t worked on the Harrison case for two and half days now nagged like a trapped rat at the back of your mind. Your laptop was currently upstairs though and there was no way you were forcing yourself up those steps again until you absolutely had to. Instead, you checked your emails on your phone, briefly scanning over the subjects on each of them and filtering out the spam. You set it back down with satisfaction. You’d just worked one of the hardest days in your life and you guessed it was probably going to remain tough from here on out. Despite that, you felt more nervous energy bubbling in your veins.

You decided to pull out the old maps you had found at the little desk in the living area. The house was small compared to the expanse of the land itself. Your grandfather hadn’t been a person who needed extravagance, that was for sure. Maybe you’d convert one of the guest rooms into a study. It would certainly be a lot easier to spread out property maps in an office rather than a little desk in the living room. You put little x’s where you thought the boundaries were. You were somewhat familiar in your work life with reading property maps but these… the maps were old enough that you were second-guessing if the plot already marked was accurate. Another thing to put on the to-do list for a town run. Land maps would be public record, especially in a town as small as Dove’s Reach.

A knock on the front door snapped you out of your thoughts. You hollered that the door was unlocked as you rolled the maps up and put them back on the desk out of the way. You ladled soup into bowls, setting them back on the counter to cool just a bit. You heard him knock his boots on the door jam outside and then set them with a thump just inside the door as he ambled into the kitchen. You reprimanded yourself as you turned and got caught off guard again by his size. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against the wood of the kitchen entrance, completely filling it up, quietly surveying your movements. You thought he was zoning out but you were not entirely sure.

“Uh, I hope chicken soup is okay,” you let out. His eyes met yours and he nodded enthusiastically as he shot you a dazzling smile. You gave him one back. “Somewhere else just then?” He nodded and you took one bowl at a time to the table, a heavy cloth in between your skin and the bowls. You hissed as the edge of one of the bowls caught a patch of the blister, the hot ceramic making the burning more intense than it should be. Thor was behind you immediately, taking the bowl and steadying it. It was a good thing because you were certain you couldn’t have prevented a spill at this point.

“Let’s take care of those blisters first. Looks like that soup is a little too hot to eat just yet anyway.” You nodded as he placed a gentling hand on your shoulder, maneuvering you to the chair you were sitting in earlier. The pain was pretty bad at this point; you had taken Advil about fifteen minutes ago but it hadn’t taken effect yet so here you were, miserable, and trying to fight the hot tears welling up in your eyes. It was embarrassing. Thor cleared his throat. “Did your granddaddy have a medicine cabinet around here?” You took a shaky breath and pointed to the little doorway off the kitchen.

“There’s one there in the laundry room on the opposite wall from the door.” He stepped away from you and into the little room. You could hear him open the cabinet door and rummage around. You hadn’t looked in there yet to see what supplies were available but you doubted any of it was still usable. Yet here was Thor, a huge grin on his face, some bandages in one hand and a questionable-looking jar in the other.

“I knew if your granddaddy was as much of a working man as you had mentioned that he’d have some of this here with him. Best ranch and farming remedy for just about anything.” You knew the look on your face was one of clear skepticism because he laughed, a deep booming thing that made you want to listen over and over again. “I know you city folk probably like to go to the doctor’s for everything but let me tell ya, if we put this on your hands twice a day and keep them all wrapped up, those blisters’ll be gone in no time. Three days tops,” he murmured as he finally looked at the ragged state of your palms. He was moving slower again, pulling out a chair and placing it right in front of you.

He sat down and despite the pain, or maybe because of it, your breath hitched when he caged your knees with his own. “Let me see ‘em up close, darlin’” he breathed as you held out your hands for closer inspection. He let out a low whistle as he gingerly took one, then the other to examine the raw skin. He rubbed a small circle on the inside of your wrist and you were acutely aware of every little detail as his calloused thumb against the soft skin there elicited an erratic heartbeat. He sat like that for a moment before seemingly catching himself; leaning back and reaching over to open the jar of salve. It was not a bad smell but you wrinkled your nose a little at it. He glanced over at you and smiled.

“This might hurt a bit. But it’ll help.” You nodded and braced yourself just a little. The balm itself didn’t sting but the contact of fingers on the blisters definitely did. There was no use hiding your grimace so you just let yourself go, taking deep breaths and letting them slowly out through your mouth. He was so gentle. This close and with his concentration on your hands, you allowed yourself to watch him unhindered by the threat of getting caught. His fingers were steady and slow and he was so sure of himself. You found yourself leaning into his touch, holding your breath. After he was satisfied with one hand, he took the roll of bandage material and slowly wrapped it around your palm, down around your wrist, and back up again to secure it in place.

“You did real good today,” he said quietly, still looking down, almost as if he was unsure he should say it. As if he thought you may not want his opinion. A smile spread across your face as you let out an exasperated groan.

“If you say so,” you replied, willing him to look up at your face to see that you mean it. He must have felt your eyes on him because he turned to you then, looking back. Searching. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks and creep down your neck and something leaped in your belly. He was so close. You could see his eyelashes. See how his eyes weren’t just one shade of blue but several different ones. You could smell him. A similar scent to when you first met him but also mixed with a fresher element from his shower. You could smell his wet skin and how it went from a day of work to warm water to the chill outside to the warmth of your house. It made you want to lean forward and bury your face in the place where his neck meets his shoulder.

You must have been staring a hole into him because he bit his lip then leaned back, finishing up with your other hand before grabbing the supplies and heading to the laundry room. “I do say so,” he rumbled from the little room. When he came back out again he’s smiling. His hands were on his hips and for whatever reason, it was exactly the release of whatever emotion that had transpired moments ago. You laughed, grabbing some bread slices and dropping them in the toaster. They popped up and you spread on some butter, ushering him to sit back down.

The conversation was easy, more idle chatter than anything else. Questions about each other’s lives. How long had he lived here? All his life. When did you know you wanted to work in law? As long as you could remember. You wanted to help people at the heart of it. How did he learn to train horses? From his daddy and his grandaddy before him. Would you ever consider keeping the ranch? The question caught you off guard and a rush of emotions flowed just beneath the surface of your calm exterior. Your pause told Thor what he had guessed the moment he saw you go to work on the land that morning.

“Of course I would,” you murmured as you pushed your empty bowl aside. You leaned onto the tabletop, one arm across its surface and the other supporting your face as your eyes stared off into space. “I just… I just don’t think it’s in the cards for me right now. If it had fallen into my lap under different circumstances or at a different time, maybe. But now? I don’t think so.” Your words trailed off and sounded empty even to your own ears. But as you glanced back up at Thor, there was no judgment there. Looking into his eyes, you could almost imagine a future here.

A future here was a dream though. A dream you were not keen on indulging. You tossed him a smile and grabbed the bowls to put them in the sink. Dreams were good. They could keep a person going. But you were already living a dream back home so you plastered your best convincing expression on your face just as he stood and brought the toast plates to the sink. You watched as he washed both of the plates, slowly, like he was waiting for you to amend your words. But you didn’t and he thanked you for dinner and headed for the door.

You followed him to it, leaning in the doorway as he stepped outside into the cold night air. He zipped up his jacket and turned back to you, a curious expression on his face. If he had thoughts about any of the night’s conversation, he didn’t voice them. Instead he just gave you that lopsided grin and bid you goodnight. Without a second thought, you reached out and grasped his wrist. He turned to you, looking at where your hand held on and then back to your face. You let go immediately.

“Um, thanks for… for today? For your help. Thanks for your help so far. I really appreciate it.” He chuckled low and quiet, a sound that seemed to continually get under your skin, and warmed you up from the inside out. He nodded.

“The pleasure’s all mine, ma’am.” You watched from your place as he stepped off the porch; you could still see how his breath fogged up the air. “Good night,” he called over his shoulder.

You did not retreat into the warmth of the house until the darkness swallowed him up.

“This is ridiculous. What do you mean there’s a stipulation?” Another ten days had gone by and you were just now getting around to meeting with your grandfather’s attorney. Thaddeus Jones was emblazoned on the golden placard on his desk. The man before you did look like a Thaddeus but at the beginning of the meeting, he had insisted that you call him Jonesy. He sat back in his chair with a look somewhat like that of a golden retriever being scolded.

“Well, your grandfather wanted to give you time to… enjoy the little things in life again. He thought that maybe you’d need a break from all the hustle and bustle in New York. As such, in his will he specified that you could only sell the ranch if you stayed there for one year. If at the end of that year you decide that you still want to move forward with the sale, then you are more than welcome to and will receive any and all profits made from said sale. If, however, you have a change of heart, the ranch is also yours to run as you please. But if you decide to sell any time before then, all profits made from the sale will go to our local youth program.” There was no use trying to hide the stunned expression written all over your face. You had to stay here for a year? How were you even supposed to go about this without feeling torn about one thing or the other? You weren’t in it for the money. You knew that with a certainty that sat deep in your gut. And donating to a youth program was a great use of anyone’s money.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I just thought this wouldn’t be so complicated.” Jonesy nodded solemnly, his round spectacles sitting towards the tip of his nose. “I thought this would be a sign and done deal. I thought I wouldn’t feel so conflicted about leaving,” you finished quietly and suddenly it was as if the air had been punched from your lungs. There it was. There was the real reason this whole thing felt so ludicrous. It wasn’t the stipulation itself--it was the fact that you were actually considering it. You glanced out the vaulted window of Jonesy’s office. It was on the second story of his building and gave you a sweeping view of Dove’s Reach. It also gave you a focused picture of the huge storm brewing outside. Massive cumulus clouds gathered not so far away, the heart of them dark and foreboding. It mirrored the storm in your heart.

“I suppose the good news is that you have a while to make a decision. I’ll just have you sign some preliminary papers today and then you take all the time you need. It is a lot to take in but your grandfather was a good man, one of the best. I’ve known him since we were young colts ourselves. I’d like to think he knew what he was doing when he made this decision.” It was difficult to argue with any of that, considering you didn’t get the chance to know him better yourself. Maybe this was a good thing.

“Thank you, Jonesy. I really do appreciate it.” You bit your lip and glanced outside again. “That should work for today. I have a feeling I should be getting hom--getting back to the ranch before that hits.” You pointed and Jonesy watched you for a moment before nodding.

There really wasn’t much for you to sign at this point. Mainly papers about you having seen the will and that you had a knowledge of what was going to come of it. You gathered your copies and shook Jonesy’s hand before leaving; you were instantly glad that the two of you had decided to speed things up a bit because as soon as you exited the building, a cold gale hit you in the face, ripping back the hood of your jacket and nearly blowing your hair out of its braid. It would have been twice as cold had Thor not given you direction on which clothing was worth spending money on. You gave him a call, letting him know you were on the way back. It was a new routine, one that you had started. It felt good to have someone to stay in touch with. It was unlikely you’d get lost in such a small town, but still.

“Drive safe, darlin’. The closer you get out here, the harder the wind’s blowin’. I already put all the tools away and got most of the larger open spots on the barn boarded up. Also dropped some buckets on the front porch just in case. From what I could tell, the roof seemed pretty sounds but just in case.” A pause. “How did the meeting go?” You sucked in a breath.

“Different than how I thought it would go. I’d rather talk about it later though. I’m thinking I’m gonna head straight to bed when I get back. It’s just a lot. See you tomorrow morning?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The drive back was definitely worse than the drive out. Wind and rain pelted your vehicle, so much so that by the time you got home your knuckles were white and your hands were aching when you released the steering wheel. Thunder rumbled closer and closer and lightning flashed in the distance. A warm bath and warm pajamas were currently at the top of your list. Then bed. You smiled when you saw there were indeed buckets on the front porch, all mix-matched colors and various sizes but they would do if the roof started leaking. At least you wouldn’t have to be scrambling to find anything if it did. There was also a note taped to the door, scrawled in surprisingly loopy handwriting.

Grabbing some clothes and things from my place, won’t be back for a couple hours. Call if you need anything :)

You smiled and stepped inside, glad to be out of the weather. As you turned again to glance out at the land, the sky darkened visibly even as you stood there. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

Your phone screen was too bright in the dark space of the living room. 8:30 PM. The power had gone out and it had taken you a little bit of time to scrounge up some candles to keep things lit. You knew you should just go to bed but quite frankly, you knew that wasn’t a possibility. The storm raging outside was unlike any storm you’d experienced before. Sure, there were big storms back in New York but this… the wind and rain was coming down so hard, you were sure the roof was going to tear off. It was doing surprisingly well right now but with each big gust, the whole house groaned. The thunder and lightning were even worse. The sound of both was so close, so loud, so frequent that your ears were ringing. There was no way to research now with the internet out but you were pretty sure you had read something about lightning being able to strike you in a house.

You paced, already familiar with the location of the furniture, every wall, every corner. It was a comfortable dance around the couch, passed the coffee table, to the window by the fireplace and back. A flash of lightning burst in the sky, illuminating every contour of the layout of the house. Almost immediately the clap of thunder sounded like some ancient drum and despite the logical part of your brain telling you it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine, you dropped to your knees.

“Holy shit,” you breathed through clenched teeth. Your hands were shaking as you brought the phone to your ear. Thor was probably already asleep. He had gotten back about an hour ago and was a naturally early riser because he somehow was able to fall asleep early every night. He was probably asleep--

“What’s wrong?” The sleepy gravel in his voice sent shivers tripping down your spine. He had been asleep. But those two words were still calm. Concise. Protective. You were silent. Now you felt stupid.

“Uh, it’s--it’s nothing. I’m sorry I woke you. I can’t sleep. This storm is pretty wild. Um. I thought maybe you’d still be awake and wanted a drink but it’s fine. We have--” You didn’t know if it was your rambling or if he sensed the fear in your voice.

“I’m comin’ up.” That was that. A dial tone. He had already hung up. There was no chance for you to object. You waited by the front door, listening to the rain and watching for more flashes of lightning. You heard Thor’s heavy footsteps as he came up the porch steps, saw him as a flash of lightning illuminated his outline from behind. You hastily opened the door. He hesitated for a moment, only long enough to watch as you nearly leaped out of your skin when another boom of thunder cascaded about you.

He stepped into you, wrapping you up in a hug. It was unexpected but you felt yourself sag into him. His jacket was wet from running through the rain so he slipped it around you and suddenly you were enveloped in warmth. You buried your face in his chest, as he rested his chin on the crown of your head, rubbing his hand down your back. You took deep pulls of his scent as his voice rumbled above you, into you from his chest.

“Aw, it’s just a little lightnin’, darlin’. Just a little storm. You’re safe. Nothin’ to worry about, I promise. You’re safe.” He kept murmuring it as he nudged the door shut behind him with his boot. Murmured your safety into existence like a mantra. As you rested there in his arms, your hands under his jacket around his back, you tried to remember the last time you felt this way, like nothing could touch you in the world. The house could crumble around you and you would be fine. In his arms, you would be fine. You gripped a little tighter, noticing with mirth how your hands could barely touch around his abdomen.

“How about that drink?” You said it into his chest as he stilled above you, breathing in slow and steady as he nodded into the top of your head. You reluctantly backed up from him as he slipped passed you into the living room making straight for the fireplace. He had it roaring as you brought two glasses of whiskey on the rocks and set them on the coffee table. You sat, dragging the blanket around your shoulders and allowing yourself to zone out while you stared into the fireplace. The crackling of its embers still couldn’t drown out the maelstrom outside, however. Thor took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. When he sat next to you, the couch sagged under his weight. He took a sip of his drink before sitting back and opening his arms in invitation. You didn’t wait this time, instead scooting over to nestle up against him. Heat radiated off of him.

“Did you know the diameter of a lightning strike is actually only about the size of a quarter? Think about that, that big ol’ powerful force of nature the size of a coin.” No you didn’t know that. Another flash of lightning, another clap of thunder. This time you didn’t jump. “And thunder can actually be heard as far away as twelve miles from the actual strike.” Another sip of whiskey. “Lightning can also strike outside of the rain zone. Those strikes are called anvil crawlers.” A log shifted in the fire and your eyes drooped. He chuckled quietly as he intoned “In Norse mythology, the sound of thunder supposedly comes from my namesake as he rides his chariot across the sky.” You offered a lazy smile even though he couldn’t see it.

Thor continued on with more various facts about thunder and lightning and the storms that brought them. The taste of the whiskey sat light and spiced on your tongue, and your eyelids became heavier as you relaxed into him more. The fire burned steady and even though the storm continued to rage outside, at a certain point Thor’s voice faded into nothing as you fell asleep.

You woke up to the sun shining directly in your eyes. You groaned, shielding them from the crisp light and instantly regretted taking your hand out from under the blanket away from your heat source… Thor was stretched out behind you on the couch. It could barely fit the two of you but his arm was locked around your waist, caging you in. His breath came slow and steady on your neck. You could hear the rooster calling from his coop by the barn, hear his hens clucking about him. The cat you still hadn’t named was curled up on the rug by the fireplace, the embers almost completely died down. Thor took a huge breath, tickling the hairs on your neck as he rumbled something into the skin there. Your heart ballooned in your chest.

“I guess my facts weren’t that interestin’, seein’ as how we both fell asleep. Want some coffee?” You nodded as the two of you sat up. The cat chirruped from his place on the rug. He stood and arched his back in a stretch as well, coming over to the two of you for his morning pets. You both reached down to touch his hand, your hands meeting in the middle. Thor offered you a sheepish grin as he stood. “Uh, coffee is… ?”

“In the cupboard above the pot.” You smiled back, not bothering to hide any of the warmth in its shape. You stood, letting the cat out the front door. He seemed a little indignant at the fact that it was so wet outside but his ears swiveled and he was out the door and racing down the steps. You added some kindling and more logs to the fire, satisfied as flames leaped into existence. Thor handed you a mug of steaming coffee, with cream and a little bit of brown sugar. How he knew how you liked your coffee you didn’t know. But you liked that he knew.

The storm had cleared. A peek of blue sky could be seen from the window. With the clear sky came clear thoughts. It had been two weeks already since you had come to Dove’s Reach. Two weeks since you learned you had the rights to a whole ranch. A day since you had learned that you had to stay here for a whole year if you wanted to see any profits from selling. And only a night since you had realized that a year was no time at all.

[bnhayyy]

The Call (9)

Chapter Title: Betrayal

Wordcount: 5.4k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Chapter Summary: Mikasa receives an alarming phone call.

Notes: My final upload for @mikannieweek​ ! Day eight was a free prompt, and I went with... well. You'll be able to see what I went with.Thanks Celadon for the beta!

Mikasa woke up with a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. It spread out through her body and into her limbs. It did not make the world seem softer or kinder - she had seen too much for such a thing to be possible. But it did make her feel that much more capable of facing the day ahead. It made her exhaustion a little weaker and her will to fight a little stronger. Maybe, just maybe, that was because it was suddenly so much easier to remember that she had a reason to fight.

What she was feeling wasn't love. Mikasa had never experienced romantic love, but she knew enough to know that this wasn't it. It was too new. Too fresh. There was too much that she didn't know about Annie, too many feelings that came up when she thought about her that she hadn't yet identified. This was something vague and tentative and mysterious. Yet it was also undeniably nice. Refreshing. It was the knowledge that she wasn't alone anymore. That there was someone who understood her, and an attraction that drew them closer together. It was...

...If she allowed herself to hope, she would go as far as to say that it was something with potential.

Mikasa hadn't allowed herself to hope in a long time. She wasn't entirely sure if she was ready to do so now. So instead, beyond a moment of consideration early in the morning, she didn't allow herself to think too heavily on the feelings. She would simply settle for being happy that they were there.

Her day panned out to be a simple one. Annie was busy, but Mikasa didn't have any plans other than trigonometry class in the evening and patrolling after it. That was fine with her. She used the opportunity to get caught up on her admittedly daunting pile of late trigonometry work. Assignments from that class piled up quickly, and even with Annie taking some of the weight off her shoulders, she hadn't managed to get fully caught up.

It took several hours to work through her to-do pile, but she didn't mind. There was something nice about being able to block the problems of the rest of the world out and focus on numbers and equations.

Then, an hour before she had to get going to trigonometry class, her phone rang.

Mikasa ignored it at first. However, not even a minute after it stopped, it began to ring again. With a frown, Mikasa pulled it out of her pocket and checked the ID.

Unknown number.

She let the caller go to the answering machine without picking up.

They called again.

And again.

She broke down and answered on the fourth call. As a rule, she tended not to answer her phone for unknown answers. However, if something was urgent enough for someone to call her four times in a row, then she supposed she could give them the time of day, however irritating it may be.

"Hello?" Mikasa answered.

"Ackerman," replied a familiar, unwelcome voice. "It's Ymir."

Mikasa's good mood died instantaneously. She reflexively tightened her grip on her phone, the device straining beneath the pressure. "How did you get this number?" she hissed.

"Doesn't matter," Ymir said.

"Was it Krista?" Mikasa pressed.

Ymir scoffed. "You really think Krista is going around sharing her classmate's numbers?" She barreled on without giving Mikasa a chance to respond. "It really doesn't matter. I have something important to tell you."

Mikasa grit her teeth. "There's nothing I want to hear from-"

"Bertolt and Reiner are vampires."

The air around Mikasa seemed to freeze. "Excuse me?" she breathed, unable to believe what she was hearing.

"Bertolt and Reiner," Ymir repeated. "Annie's friends? They're vampires."

"No," Mikasa said, not a hint of hesitation in her tone. "That's impossible."

"Why?" Ymir questioned. "Because you've seen Reiner in the sunlight?"

Mikasa pursed her lips. "For a start."

It was impossible because Bertolt and Reiner were Annie's friends. Reiner was warm and kind. She may not have seen soft-spoken Bertolt as often, but he was supportive and treated the people around him nicely. They were her allies. At this point, she might even go as far as to say that they were her friends as well.

They weren't soulless monsters.

However, Ymir seemed set on a different story. "Ever noticed that ring Reiner wears?" she asked. "Gold with a big green stone?"

There was no reason for Mikasa to hesitate. There was absolutely no point in her entertaining a single word that this vampire had to say. Yet something in Ymir's voice, the confidence and condemnation, sent a shiver running up her skin. That made her pause for a moment.

Ymir seemed to take that pause as an invitation to continue. "It's called the Gem of Amara. You can ask your watcher about it. When a vampire wears it, it grants them complete invulnerability. Can't be staked, can't be beheaded, and holy water, crosses, and sunlight all have no effect; but they're still a vampire."

Mikasa stayed silent for another moment, trying to wrap her mind around the ridiculous story that Ymir was trying to spin. It was a mistake. Ymir paused for just a second, and when Mikasa failed to cut her off, she added in a forceful, demanding tone, "you've been all buddy-buddy with Reiner. Tell me, have you ever touched him? He's awfully cold, isn't he."

"Reiner isn't a vampire," Mikasa snapped. "He's a good person, not a murderer."

"Then how come Krista and I found him tossing a body in the river last night?" Ymir snapped right back. "He was going to kill her for walking in on him. Want proof that he isn't human? We can meet up; I have a broken leg from our little fight."

A faint, cold feeling began to sink in Mikasa's stomach. She ignored it.

"You're lying," she said.

"I'm not," Ymir replied. "But okay, you won't believe me about Reiner. What about Bertolt? Tell me, Ackerman, have you ever seen him out in the sunlight?"

This was a dangerous game. She didn't want to give Ymir any information that she could use. At the same time, she couldn't just stand there and let those accusations slide. So slowly, cautiously, but as cold as the winter's frost, she said, "it's his schedule. He works all day and takes classes online."

"Have you checked?" Ymir asked.

Mikasa faltered. "What?"

"Have you checked," Ymir repeated. "Because if you look for a roster of the college's online students, I guarantee that he won't be on it. Hell, do you have any proof that he actually has a job? Ackerman. Is there even one shred of evidence to support those claims?"

Mikasa didn't allow herself to be moved. "Annie's a slayer. That's evidence enough."

"Yes," Ymir said, her voice deepening with enough gravity to make a lump form in Mikasa's throat. "She is. And that's why you need to understand that you are in serious danger."

The coldness in Mikasa's chest began to spread. She ignored it. "Why would you care if I was in danger?" she asked.

"I don't," was Ymir's immediate response. "But I care about Krista, and Reiner was going to kill her last night."

"You're a vampire," Mikasa said, not even acknowledging the other lie.

"And that means I can't have anyone I care about?" Ymir retorted.

Mikasa took in a long breath and slowly let it out. "I don't have time for this," she said.

Ymir snorted."Good, because I didn't call you to talk about philosophy. Bertolt and Reiner are vampires, and Reiner's going to be damn hard to kill, but they're also just pawns working for something much longer. Ask your watcher about the Tybur Group."

A moment of silence. Mikasa wanted to protest, defend Annie. Find the flaws in Ymir's argument and point them out, because there had to be so, so, so many. What Ymir was saying couldn't be the truth. She shouldn't even be entertaining the thought. Yet the faintest whispers of doubt had begun to sprout on her mind, and they were enough to freeze her solid.

The moment was shattered by Ymir's low but urgent hiss. "Think about it, Ackerman. What could pose a bigger threat to a slayer than another slayer? Leonhardt and hers didn't come here to help you, they came here to get you out of the way. "

It was a lie. It had to be. Annie was all about teamwork (it got her close to her) and had found her because she didn't want to be the only slayer anymore (she'd said so little about herself). Bertolt and Reiner were kind, friendly people (element of surprise). Meeting Annie in the graveyard that night might have been the best thing that had happened to her in years (good things didn't just happen).

Mikasa should have said something.

She didn't, and so Ymir pressed on. "You care about the well-being of the world, right? Well, if they kill you, Tybur will have the one and only slayer in their pocket. And once that happens, the world will start looking a lot different."

Her words shocked Mikasa out of her stupor. "That's ridiculous," she said, because it was. It had to be. The big, devastating picture Ymir was hinting at was a betrayal of Annie's very nature as a slayer. Mikasa's stomach twisted with guilt at even entertaining the thought. (Yet the coldness of suspicion continued to spread through her veins.) Besides... "Annie saved my life when we met."

"And Reiner's been doing a good job of worming his way in with your friends, by the sound of it." Ymir paused for a heartbeat. When she resumed speaking, her voice had grown fractionally softer. Sympathetic. "It's a cruel game, Ackerman. That doesn't mean they aren't playing."

Mikasa felt sick. She reminded herself that that was probably Ymir's aim. The vampire had probably called her to knock her off balance and make her doubt her allies. Mikasa opened her mouth to say as much, but before she could get a word out, Ymir was talking again.

"Don't trust me. Then talk to Leonhardt. But not right away. Take your time, think it through, and get ready to fight for your life first, because she is not the person you want her to be." Ymir paused and Mikasa heard a faint huff and the sound of shuffling papers. "I have other idiots to warn, but. Good luck. Try not to die."

The line went dead.

Mikasa pulled the phone away from her ear, and for a moment, all she could do was stare.

Then she started to plan.

***

Erwin would want to know about the phone call. However, Mikasa dismissed the thought of going to him as soon as it had occurred to her. This was between her and Annie, and she could handle it without his interference.

So she blocked all thoughts of her watcher from her mind and focused on the facts.

Mikasa liked Annie, more than she had expected to, maybe even more than she should. She trusted her. Over the past handful of weeks, she had even come to depend on her to a degree.

She did not know her well. She did not know Reiner well. She was only somewhat familiar with Bertolt. As much as it hurt to acknowledge those facts, to let that whisper of suspicion in, she would be a fool to not acknowledge it at all.

Ymir was right about one thing. This whole thing could be settled by a conversation. Odds were, the vampire was hoping that Annie would be hurt and offended that she even considered Ymir's accusations. She wanted the weight of the accusation to tear them apart. However, Mikasa trusted that Annie was more logical than that. She had to be aware of how little she had told Mikasa about her own past. She would understand that Mikasa couldn't just brush Ymir's story off without looking into it at all. The distrust may sting a bit, but it would not tear them apart completely. They may even come out stronger for having had the conversation.

Once that was over with, Ymir would be well and truly dead. Neither of them would tolerate a vampire messing with them like that, especially one who already killed scores of innocent people. They would double down on their hunt and Ymir would be dead within the week.

It was a headache, but it was straightforward and simple.

Except it wasn't. Mikasa also had to consider the elephant in the room, the entire reason why she couldn't just ignore Ymir's call.

The possibility that she was telling the truth.

That possibility made Mikasa text Annie to tell her that she wouldn't be in trigonometry class today and request that they meet in the graveyard. It was the reason why she readied her crossbow, one of her knives, and a sword, but didn't bother with a stake.

A stake was far from the most efficient weapon when dealing with a slayer.

It probably wouldn't come to that. Mikasa knew (hoped) that it wouldn't come to that. However, there were parts of Ymir's warning that just wouldn't be shaken off. So, on the tiny, improbable, impossible chance that the vampire was telling the truth and her fellow slayer was the enemy...

She got ready to fight for her life.

***

The sun had long set by the time Annie appeared in the graveyard. It wasn't an accident. Mikasa had asked her to show up later than usual, just to be safe. If there was going to be a fight...

There wasn't going to be a fight. Ymir was messing with her, Annie and her friends were allies, and they would have all of this cleared up and sorted out before the night was over. Mikasa was taking precautions even though she knew there was no real reason for them. However, if, theoretically, two slayers were going to fight, she would want to minimize the odds of them being spotted.

Annie only had her sword with her. That was good. Mikasa glanced down at her own weapon, clasped tightly in her hand, before turning her attention back to the other slayer.

Annie wore a somewhat puzzled expression, but otherwise looked like she wasn't going to comment on her fellow slayer's odd behavior. That changed when she drew a little closer. A slight frown fell across her lips as she took in Mikasa's expression, followed by a furrowing of her brow. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Ymir got my phone number," Mikasa said.

"Ymir," Annie repeated, surprise flickering across her face.

"Yeah," Mikasa said. "She... told me a story, about you, Bertolt, and Reiner."

For a second, the surprise lingered on Annie's face. Then it began to fade away into an expression that wasn't quite stony. It should have been, but there was something under it, feverish, wild, and fighting to get out.

No.

"Oh?" Annie asked, lips quivering.

Prove her wrong, Mikasa thought.

"She said that Bertolt and Reiner are vampires, and that you're here to kill me."

Please. Prove her wrong.

Annie stared.

Then she began to laugh.

No.

Mikasa took a step back, but the laughter continued. Annie's face began to flush bright red as she tilted her head back and placed a hand over her stomach.

Moving thoughtlessly, like nothing more than a puppet powered by the knowledge of what she was supposed to do when faced with an enemy, Mikasa extended her sword.

"I told- I told Reiner this was a bad idea," Annie wheezed.

"Is that a confession?" Mikasa asked, voice colder than she'd heard in months.

Annie straightened her head to give Mikasa a wild, joyless grin. It was nothing like she had seen on her before. Or more it was more true to her than anything she'd seen yet. Looking at it, Mikasa suddenly realized that she wouldn't know the difference.

"Mikasa," Annie said. "It's been fun."

And then the other slayer drew her sword and lunged for her throat.

Mikasa ducked and raised her sword. The clash of steel against steel was as much of an anchor as it was a shock, a reminder that this really was happening, that she couldn't allow herself to think or feel yet. She pushed back against the force bearing down on her. When she felt Annie's sword begin to slip, she lunged to the side and sprang upright.

Annie swept her leg out to try to knock Mikasa's feet out from under her. Mikasa jumped and swept her sword out at Annie's still-moving leg. The side of it grazed her thigh, drawing a line of blood to the surface but earning no outward reaction from the other slayer.

A flash of Annie's free hand told Mikasa that she was going for her dagger. Mikasa lashed at her with her sword, but Annie ducked down and somersaulted forward, springing up only inches away from her face.

Annie thrust her dagger forward.

Mikasa dropped her sword and grabbed her wrist before the blade could plunge more than a  centimeter into her stomach.

Mikasa wanted to gasp. She wanted to gasp from the pain of the knife in her gut. She wanted to gasp because this was actually happening. She wanted to gasp because she had been foolish enough to end up in this situation in the first place.

Instead, she looked Annie in the face. Time seemed to freeze as their eyes met, Annie trying to force her dagger further into Mikasa’s stomach while the other slayer’s grip on her wrist held firm. 

Annie’s eyes darted down, and time resumed. Mikasa brought her leg up and kicked Annie in the stomach. The force of it made her drop her dagger and sent her flying several feet.

Mikasa turned her mind away from the pain and forced herself to move quickly. She pulled the dagger out of her stomach - painful and risky, but necessary to keep fighting - and opened her bag to drop it in. Instead of picking her sword back up, she kept the bag open long enough to grab her crossbow, already primed and ready to shoot.

When Annie got to her feet, it was to find the crossbow aimed at her face. She glanced down at the sword in her hand, then at the weapon, then at Mikasa's face.

Their eyes met, and Mikasa did the worst possible thing.

She hesitated.

And Annie turned and ran. Mikasa adjusted her aim and pulled the trigger. A bolt flew forward and embedded itself in Annie's shoulder. The rogue slayer let out a sharp cry and stumbled, but did not stop running. Mikasa took off after her, but couldn't run as fast as she needed to with the sharp, persistent pain in her stomach.

The chase couldn't have lasted for longer than a few minutes. Soon Annie was gone, and Mikasa was left alone in the graveyard. The graveyard, where she absolutely could not afford to stay right now. Because if Ymir had been right about Annie...

A massive weight came crashing down upon Mikasa's shoulders. Everything that she had been naive enough to shuck since she met Annie, plus the reality of this new situation. More than the stab wound, it made every step feel like a marathon as she limped her way back to where she had dropped her sword.

The sword that Reiner had given her.

Mikasa stared blankly at the weapon as she picked it up. It wouldn't do to leave a weapon sitting around in the graveyard, but she was suddenly very certain that she wouldn't be using it much in the future. 

***

Walking back to her apartment was grueling. The pain radiating from her stomach made her want to walk slowly, but she couldn't afford to. If someone caught her walking around with a stab wound, she'd have to make up a cover story and waste precious time with a hospital visit. If an enemy happened upon her in this state, she would be at a stark disadvantage.

And it seemed that she had more enemies than she had realized.

No. Not seemed. The blood smearing across her stomach was proof of how foolish she had been.

Mikasa closed her apartment door, then leaned heavily against it. The keys shook and slipped in her fingers as she locked it. When she finally heard that click, it didn't come with its usual sense of security. Instead, Mikasa just felt... numb. Empty. Foolish.

Alone.

She looked down at the sword still grasped in her hand - Reiner's sword - and let it go. It fell to the ground with a clatter. Next, she let her shoulders go slack and felt her weapon's bag slip off and onto the floor beside it. Her keys were pocketed, but for a moment, it felt like those would slip from her fingers as well. It was tempting to allow herself to drop to the ground as well, to slide down against the door and give in to the emptiness and despair inside her.

She didn't. Couldn't. She was the slayer, and that meant she had a duty to do. That duty wouldn't be aided by tears or emotions.

Mikasa had to take care of her wounds, get back into fighting condition, and then she would do her duty.

Blood dripped onto the carpeting as she walked into the apartment. She noticed it, distantly acknowledged that she would have to clean it up later, but it quickly disappeared into the depths of her mind. Everything did. The only thing she allowed herself to focus on was taking one step after the other.

She walked through the kitchen on her way to the bathroom. As she passed the kitchen table, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and set it down. Her fingertips left little smears of blood on the back of the casing.

Upon reaching the bathroom, she headed straight for the tub. She squatted down beside it in order to avoid jostling her stomach too much, put the stopper in, and turned the hot water on. Then she stood up and turned to the first aid kit sitting beside her sink.

A consequence of being the slayer was that a normal first aid kit wouldn't cut it. Mikasa's was larger than most people and contained, among other things, advil, rubbing alcohol, a suture needle, and sterilized suture thread. Those were the items that she fished out and carefully set on the toilet. 

First, she swallowed a couple of advil dry. Then she began the painstaking process of taking off her blood-stained clothes. It was difficult to do without jostling her stomach too much, especially her shirt, but she managed.

She didn't know if doing this in the bathtub was a good idea, but at the moment, she didn't care. It was going to be painful, unpleasant, and difficult no matter how she went about it. The warm water might make it a little more tolerable, so she was going to take advantage of that.

Mikasa got in the water before getting started. She allowed her torso to sink beneath the water and winced at the fresh sting when water seeped into the wound. Her blood rose into the water in a cloud of pinkish-red. For a moment, she stayed still. Then she began to tenderly rub at the edges of the wound, washing off the bits of blood that had dried against her skin.

Her eyes began to water. She didn't allow herself to think about the reason why.

Once her skin was clean, she used her foot to turn the tub's faucet off, then pulled herself up so that the wound was out of the water. The movement sent a fresh burst of pain through her torso, to which she grit her teeth and reminded herself that the worst was yet to come.

Mikasa reached over the edge of the tub, toward the toilet, to grab the rubbing alcohol. She opened it and dropped a splash onto her wound, then gasped at the sting it elicited. Still not the worst part.

The needle and suture thread were in individual packages. She opened both and threaded the needle, then dipped the needle in the alcohol just to be safe.

Then came the miserable part.

Mikasa had to focus on what she was doing to make sure she handled the stitching correctly, but it was also easy enough that she didn't have to put much conscious thought into it. That was how she powered through. Although a good portion of her willpower was spent on staying still, she focused the rest of her mind on everything that was worse than having to suture her own stab wound.

Mikasa had tricked herself into believing that a second slayer meant that she wasn't alone while getting cozy with an enemy. Because that was what Annie was. A threat. A rogue slayer. An evil slayer, if she was cooperating with vampires. Because that was what Bertolt and Reiner were. Vampires.

None of them had truly wanted to work with her or be her friend. They had espoused the merits of teamwork to her because she would be easier to kill if she trusted them. She could see it now, how the manipulation worked, where she had been too quick to trust.

She had decided to trust someone for the first time in years, and this was where it had gotten her.

Annie wanted to kill her. It was her mission to kill her, from what Ymir had said.

Mikasa may not have known Annie half as well as she had let herself think she did, but she knew that she would not give up on a mission easily. Not a real one, one that she had truly dedicated herself to.

If Annie wanted to kill her, then Mikasa would have to kill her first.

Just like she would have to kill Bertolt, who was rarely seen not because he was shy and had a busy schedule, but because he couldn't step into the sunlight without bursting into flames.

Just like she would have to kill Reiner, who was a soulless murderer with a ring that granted him invulnerability.

None of them were her friends. And Mikasa had been foolish and weak to let herself think that they were.

The thoughts created a miasma of anger and guilt that didn't quite dull the pain, but redirected it enough for her to power through the operation. She clung to it until she had sewn the final suture, at which point she, blinked the tears out of her eyes, tied off the sutures, and broke off the needle and remaining thread with a sharp gasp.

Mikasa allowed her muscles to go law and slumped back against the bathtub. She didn't sink low enough to submerge her stitches, but it was a close thing. The edges of her vision flickered black as pain coursed through her. It was a sharp stabbing in her stomach, as if Annie were still digging the knife in, that faded into a throbbing ache as it radiated out into her limbs. She knew that the pain would begin to fade if she just gave it time.

She didn't have time to wait for the pain to fade. The most she could justify was waiting until it had dissipated enough for her to be able to move. Regardless of her personal feelings for Erwin, she could see where it would be foolish not to inform him of all that had happened. Plus she would have to warn everyone else about Annie, Reiner, and Bertolt.

They wouldn't take it well. Annie and Bertolt had kept some distance, but most of the group had grown attached to Reiner, blissfully unaware of the false pretenses their relationship was built upon. Perhaps it was a good thing that Annie had stabbed her. Physical proof would make it easier for her to get them to believe her. After that, she would only have their actual reactions to worry about.

Mikasa was overcome by a wave of exhaustion that had nothing to do with her injury. She leaned her head back and allowed her eyes to slide shut.

When she opened them a few seconds later, Eren was standing over the bathtub and staring down at her.

His eyes were glistening.

"Mikasa," he said. "I'm so sorry."

Mikasa glanced down at her stomach. Flecks of blood welled up around the crisscrossed black of the sutures. If she squinted, it almost looked like a mouth snarling up at her.

"It's fine," she murmured, voice dull and lifeless. "It'll heal."

"That's not what I meant," Eren said. There was no denying the pain in his voice, something caught between desperation and loss. Mikasa may have tried to analyze it at another time. Right now, with all her earlier feelings flowing out of her as exhaustion and pain took over, she just couldn't bring herself to make the effort. Instead, she watched as he knelt down beside her. He started to reach out a hand, but faltered and withdrew it when his fingertips were a few inches away from her arm. Or the illusion of them, at least.

"I'm sorry that I let this happen," Eren clarified. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about them."

Oh. So this was what was happening.

Mikasa tilted her head back and closed her eyes. "I should have figured it out," she said. "I let them trick me, and I only have myself to blame. I don't need you to remind me."

"That's not what I meant," Eren insisted, the strain in his voice building until it sounded like it might break. "I hoped that you could reach them, and maybe we wouldn't-"

"-Eren," Mikasa cut in before he could get any further, or the stinging in her eyes could get much worse. She'd already cried too much today. She didn't need to add any more tears to her mess. "I can't do this right now."

A moment of silence. Then, just before Mikasa was going to open her eyes, Eren whispered, "alright. Just remember that I'm sorry. I didn't... This wasn't my intention."

"I know," Mikasa said. "But when I open my eyes, I need you to be gone."

No response. She kept her eyes shut for several more moments, just to be safe. Then, slowly, she opened her eyes.

She was alone once again.

Mikasa allowed herself to linger in the bathtub for several more minutes. It could have been more, but the water was beginning to grow cold. The whisper of a chill dancing over her skin reminded her that the world wouldn't stop and wait for her to have a breakdown.

With gritted teeth, she began the painstaking process of extracting herself from the bathtub. Standing up made flashes of black cling to the edges of her vision once again. She braced a hand against the tub's wall and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, the pain hadn't faded, but her vision had refocused, which was enough for her to work with. She grabbed the fluffy white towel hanging from the shower rod and carefully wrapped it around herself. Pinkish droplets of blood-soaked water sank into the fabric, telling her that she would need to include it in her next load of laundry.

She made her way into her bedroom and pulled on a pair of pajamas. It felt like a defeat - the admittance that she wouldn't be doing anything else that night. She dealt with it by reminding herself that she shouldn't risk anything more. Tomorrow she would be healed enough to put actual clothes on. However, if she tried for too much tonight and tore her stitches, then her healing would be set that much further behind.

Once she was dressed, a deep, guilty part of her wanted nothing more than to lay down in bed and go to sleep.

Mikasa pushed it down and forced herself to walk into the kitchen. There, she sat down at the table and picked up her phone, which was now flecked with dried blood.

Three calls were waiting on her voice mail. 

As she stared at the notification, her phone started ringing once more. She answered it immediately.

"Mikasa," came Erwin's voice, rushed and urgent. "You need to get to my house immediately."

Mikasa swallowed down the lump rising in her throat and asked, "why?"

"Marco Bodt has been murdered."

[theninjasheeep]

Blood of Love

Pairing: Pieck Finger x Porco Galliard (Modern/Fantasy AU)

This is my entry for @pleasantanathema’s Through Ink and Quill | A Classics Collab. I decided to go for a character study of Porco and Pieck's relationship following my Pokkopiku week piece Sweet Pandemonium paired with some vampire lore from Dracula and Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles.

The idea of vampire!Pokkopiku came from @sinnamon19’s over the top fan art.

You can also read it on AO3.

Summary: Since they are creatures of the night, their senses, as their feelings are heightened to lengths that can’t be explained by words. But since blood is their life sustenance, it is also their means of communication.

Warnings/tags: Pokopiku, Pokkopiku, Gallipieck, Porco Galliard/ Pieck Finger, Porco Galliard x Pieck Finger, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Character Turned Into Vampire, Vampire Bites, Vampire Turning, Blood Drinking, Mentions of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Blood Sharing.

Blood of Love

Waking up in darkness after spending most of his life shunning the sun when he wanted to sleep late was a welcome change for Porco. He could lie and pretend he was one of those humans-turned-vampires who wailed about the sun, its warmth and brightness and how much he missed it, but he didn't.

He didn't miss the impending sense of foreboding dread that clogged his senses or the tacit expectation that life should have some kind of meaning. It was a succession of routines: being born, growing up, reproducing and dying; waking up, going to work or school, coming home, going to sleep and starting again the next day. There was always an unsatisfied craving, a need to be satiated that gave rise to another....

If it weren't for that same life and the unexpected, he would still be stuck in the routine of a life that no longer felt like one. Not so long ago he was eager to die and escape the curse of boredom. However, now that he was undead, he felt more alive than ever.

He didn't miss living as a human.

He did not miss the wars that sent young men like him to fight in battles and advocate for ideals that were in no sense his own. Wars like the ones that took his brother away from him, wars that made mothers cry and lose their lives to grief, like his. He didn't miss being part of a greater good, he fancied being selfish, living only for himself and what he deemed worthy of living for, like Pieck.

Pieck who turned him, Pieck who gave him a reason to live in hope and love.

The stories that are told about vampires are rich and wide-ranging. The majority depict them as cold and devoid of emotion creatures who enjoy drinking blood and playing with their mortal victims without any consideration or pity, with no regard for their suffering.

Dracula is the one that, for Porco, is closest to the truth. Leaving out, naturally, his own inability to turn into mist, a bat or a wolf, and how terribly he has fared with the latter when he has encountered them on his nightly hunts with Pieck high in the mountains, puts him quite a distance from what is supposed to be the blueprint for all vampires.

It has been less than fifteen years since Pieck agreed to turn him and allow him to stay with her forever. Overall, he could even be considered a novice vampire, at least in comparison to the more than two hundred years his female partner has been crisscrossing the planet. However, it has been long enough to learn what is both necessary and appropriate, but what the books say is, amongst other things, preposterous and out of proportion.

Porco's hazel eyes, in the darkness of the room, shine like two torches as they scan the words in each book with unprecedented speed.

The library, nestled in Pieck's hideout in an abandoned town once called Liberio, is about the same size as the house itself. To the unsuspecting eye, the house is a dilapidated old manor from which thieves plundered the treasures long ago, leaving only the massive stone and iron columns. Underneath, however, is a hidden cellar and a sealed passageway that can only be opened with the supernatural strength of a creature like Pieck. Not even he, with his years beside her and the same superhuman strength, is able to open it without visible effort.

Once that initial obstacle is overcome, a long corridor rises up with small windows that let in just enough light to clue the nighttime inhabitants as to what time of day they are in. And behind that corridor is a scaled-down replica of the ruined house that exists above ground: three bedrooms, a kitchen - more out of habit than necessity - a living room and a huge bathroom with a bathtub built into the wall, in addition to the library, make up what could be considered Porco and Pieck's home sweet home.

Although it is ridiculous, Porco is not going to stop enjoying his reading and perusing every nook and cranny of the library while Pieck, with all her quirks, tries to do some vampire yoga in the room across on their home.

Stories about vampires always depict them as a kind of blood-drinking skeleton barely able to articulate words and unfit to walk freely in broad daylight, as the sun is their greatest enemy. The only thing they got right is that their skin burns and the acrid smell of ashes is the only thing that lingers in the air after they perish.

In other stories, they are portrayed as having no emotional capacity and could be easily mistaken for an angsty teenagers searching for their identity and place in the world, with little to no impulse control, driven by their whims, manipulating their way until they achieve their goal. In these tales, the depiction is so over-the-top ridiculous that it is almost comparable to handing a child a panic button.

What is undeniable is the enormous capacity of humans to envision and demonize what they do not know.

Superhuman strength and speed, mind reading and control, morphing into wolves, bats and mist? The books detail how versatile their powers are, how they are able to cloak themselves, thanks to their human appearance, and hide for long periods of time in large communities and lead a relatively normal life, without arousing suspicion.

Although there are also accounts that refer to them as ruthless, cruel and stone-cold beings, who toy with the humans they intend to use as food until they have had enough, and only then, kill them in the most violent and painful way possible.

At this, Porco rolls his eyes. In his experience, both he and Pieck are careful with the humans they feed on. They always look for ways not to cause them pain or fear, and above all, to avoid leaving behind scenes worthy of a gorey b-movie.

Perhaps the only time such a scene involved the two of them was when Pieck agreed to transform him into a vampire.

--

There was a moment where he couldn’t see or speak anything and everything went black for him. He started to listen to a heartbeat, two actually. One was his... the other...

“Pieck?” He asks. He can hear her voice somewhere in the distance, it sounds pained and far, far away.

Meanwhile, Pieck keeps pouring her blood on Porco’s mouth and is silently praying to whatever it is that created them and allowed them to be alive for him to survive this ordeal. She’s panicking now because he’s very pale, dead by now, but he’s not responding to her calling like he is supposed to.

“Porco, wake up!” She cries. “Open your eyes,” She pleads. “Come to me!”

Nothing happens and Pieck panics, falling in a circle of self loathing.

Giving up on him, she lets her head fall on his chest and at this point she’s just a mess of guilt and anguish. Her hair is on her face and his shirt is all bloody with his blood, her blood, her tears. She can’t move, the will to do anything has left her completely so she just lays there beside him on the floor crying.

--

He hasn’t read anything that depicts accurately how they are created. Probably humans think they just popped out of nowhere. However, vampires themselves have a myth: Ymir Fritz was the first human turned into a vampire, many call her the Founder. She was a slave but became Queen of Eldia when King Fritz was unable to defeat her in battle. He surrendered and married her and, in turn, she made him into a vampire and together they gave birth to their species.

Where are they now? No one knows, they are probably marble statues, since the longer a vampire lives, the whiter and rougher their skin becomes.

One book in particular catches his eye: its dark blue cover with gold sparkles featuring a nine-pointed star, the symbol of Ymir Fritz. However, after a brief glance, he discovers that it is a parody.

Porco snorts, he can't believe he's found a book in which vampires don't roast in the sun, but glow like a fairy in plain daylight without any repercussions for their lives. Pieck must have been really bored to get —and keep— something like that and deem it worthy of their huge underground library.

"Have you found anything interesting, Pokko?" Pieck's mellow voice reaches his ears from the bedroom. Her body doesn't make any sounds when she moves, but her soft breathing tells him that she's still trying to do vampire yoga, as if she needs to.

"Geez, Pieck!" Her taunting giggle is the only response he gets, and aware that she can also hear him from where she is, he retorts: "You scared the hell out of me." He grumbles in fake annoyance.

"Don’t worry, you won’t have a heart attack."

“Tch.”

But it is true, no matter how much she may sneak up behind him to scare him, his heart has long since stopped beating, and if he had remained a human, he would most likely have died many years ago. When Pieck came into his life one night, wounded and seeking shelter, he had lost the will to live. All that remained from the happy Porco who lived with his parents and brother was a mere shell that always reminded him of how much he resembled Marcel. And had he lived, despite his desire to die, he would have been almost forty years old by now.

Putting the books aside and getting up from the floor, Porco makes his way to the bathroom where there is a huge full-length mirror, which he and Pieck use in such creative ways when they make love at night.

A derisive smirk tugs at his lips as his reflection glances back at him through the mirror. There are stories that claim vampires don't see themselves in mirrors and that's the reason they avoid them. If only whoever wrote that knew the things the mirror in his bathroom has seen him do to Pieck.

Sometimes, when he is overcome by melancholy and Pieck's love and company fail to reach the deepest wounds in his heart, Porco wishes that particular myth were real. What would his life be if his brother were alive? What would Marcel's life be if the war hadn't extinguished the light in his eyes? The same deep green eyes that right now were scrutinizing his every feature in the mirror.

As the years have gone by, his skin has become paler and his eyes more golden. Pieck likes to say that he is slowly turning into a lion.

Speaking of Pieck...

A slender hand appears over his right shoulder in the mirror, and down his arm until it curls around his waist. Seconds later, the weight of Pieck's head resting on the space between his shoulder blades confirms that he is no longer alone in front of the mirror.

“Hey,” She greets, nuzzling against him tenderly, “what are you thinking?”

He clears his throat, embarrassed.

His left hand reaches up and intertwines his fingers with Pieck's over his chest, and looking behind him, his gaze meets hers.

“My brother.”

Pieck's embrace grows tighter and a line of kisses and scratches from her fangs on his neck make Porco forget, for a moment, how much he misses his family.

“I’m sorry.”

“You know they were long gone before I met you.”

“I know, it’s just...” She releases her hold on him, walking a few steps to stand in front of him in the mirror, her back against it. “I wish I could ease your pain, but I’d be lying if I say that I never think about my father, I miss him.”

Porco raises his hand to caress her cheeks. “You’re stuck with me forever, remember?”

She smiles softly, leaning against him and hugging him back. Porco buries his face on her neck and taking advantage of their embrace, sinks his teeth on her neck, making her moan in delight.

There’s another thing the books about them seem to ignore or purposefully miss: yes, they are creatures of the night and as their senses, their feelings are heightened to lengths that can’t be explained by words. But since blood is their life sustenance, it is also their means of communication. Drinking the blood of another vampire is a gesture so intimate and so rare, that when it’s done by partners, it’s more than just a confession of love and trust, it goes beyond lust and desire: a vampire can show what they feel through images to their partner when they share their blood, and since words are not his forte by any means, he’s always eager to show Pieck comfort and reciprocate everyday the comfort and peace she gave him.

Licking the tiny marks of his fags on her neck, he nuzzles against it, kissing her tenderly. Pieck, being smaller than him, has a harder time reciprocating his gesture, but she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him back, biting his lower lip and drinking his blood as well.

Emboldened by the gesture, he carries her and sits her in the sink, standing between her legs without breaking the kiss. At this, Pieck leverages herself on his shoulders and —finally— sinks her teeth on his neck, eliciting from him a low growl. He bites her back and through their blood they both convey to each other what their words and their hands, roaming over every inch of the other' s body, cannot: they are together until the end of time and the sadness that each one carries is shared by the other.

Together, they were safe.