#touched them why...like i saw a reel of someone reading a book at practically a forty five degree angle so as not to break the spine at all

[steelycunt]

with every little note and annotation and underlining i subject my copy of giovannis room to she becomes just a little bit more dear to me...smthn smthn if my house was burning down and i could only save five things...

[booksarelife-stuff]

Gold Rush

Jily (James Potter/Lily Evans), Minor wolfstar

Word Count: 4856

Lily didn’t expect to be having these feelings for James when 7th year starts. Featuring a jealous and pining Lily. 

Read on AO3

When James caught her eye from across the Gryffindor table, she didn’t expect a fluttering feeling in her chest to blossom. 

Summer had been kind to him in ways that almost made Lily angry. He seemed to grow into his features. His cheeks had lost all the baby fat, making sharp cheekbones appear, and he had gotten new glasses that seemed to frame his face a lot better and highlight his hazel eyes. The dimple in his left cheek still made appearances when he smirked and god, his jawline was heavenly. His voice had also deepened to a nice even baritone that when Lily first heard it, it had taken a second to realize that James had spoken. 

Alarm bells started going off as he smiled at her. She quickly smiled and turned away, hiding the blush that was starting to form on her cheeks. 

She could not be thinking about James Potter like that. 

~~~

Lily hadn’t been particularly thrilled with having to share a living space with just him. It could be worse, as she had been expecting Remus and he wasn’t the tidiest. She had been in the boys’ dorm a few times and it was never messy, but Remus told her that it was because James cleaned it. 

It hadn’t been bad, besides the fluttering in her stomach when he walked in. 

Lily was reading a book on professional level charms, her legs stretched out on the sofa by the fireplace. The head dorm was nice and Lily wondered if it changed based on who were the heads that year because it resembled the Gryffindor common room closely, with more cushy furniture than necessary. 

She was about to turn the page when the bookcase that hid the entrance swung open. 

She hated the butterflies that formed in her stomach.

James stepped in, soaking from the rain. He had had Quidditch practice. 

“It’s raining horribly,” he said as a greeting. 

Lily opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. His hair was flat for once in his life and sticking to his forehead. He had a curl plastered on his forehead. His t-shirt was clinging to him. James wasn’t buff, but he was lean and his defined muscles were nothing to laugh at. 

“I swear I almost drowned in mid-air,” he said. “Is that even a thing?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” Lily said, turning away and looking at her book. He got out his wand and started charming himself dry. 

“Practice went okay otherwise,” he said, finally getting his shoes dry. 

“How’s the new seeker?” she asked, not looking at James as he flung himself into the sofa across from her. 

“Doing good. Just need to make a few improvements on her techniques,” he said. 

Lily spared a glance and wished she didn’t. His legs were spread out and his head threw back, exposing his neck. She hoped that he didn’t see her blush.  

“Who’s the first game against?” she asked. 

“Ravenclaw,” he said. “They got a strong keeper, but I don’t think they’ll be a problem. Hufflepuff has a great line up though and it has me a bit worried.”

“It’ll be fine. Gryffindor always pulls through,” she said. James laughed a little. 

“Yeah, but doesn’t mean I can’t try to eliminate a struggle,” he said. Lily looked up and saw he was looking at her. “I like it when I can crush them with little to no problems.”

Lily rolled her eyes. 

“I think a struggle is a better show of feat,” she replied. “Shows how you work under pressure.”

“Ah, but when there’s no struggle, it shows that we don’t have any weakness,” he said. 

“Spoken like a true Gryffindor,” Lily said.  James laughed and the butterflies in Lily’s stomach started up again. 

James asked about what she was reading and she found that she forgot about the anxiety that had started to surround her when he was near. He was easy to talk to, always had been when they weren’t intent on arguing for the sake of arguing. 

~~

When Lily joined in with James at the breakfast table of trying to throw sausages into Sirius’s mouth, that’s when she knew she had a problem. 

Lily was never one for rules, especially if they were unfair. She upheld the ones she agreed to, sometimes bent them when she saw fit, but the outward display of joining in the Marauders was crossing an invisible line. 

Lily didn’t see that line until Marlene pulled her aside after History of Magic and casted a silencing charm around them. 

“So when did you realize you’re head over heels for James?” she asked. Count on Marlene to always jump straight to the point.

Lily almost dropped her books. 

“What are you talking about?” she asked. 

Marlene rolled her blue eyes at Lily.

“Come off it,” she said. “It’s obvious. The Lily that despised him fifth year would never have spent the morning trying to break his sausage-throwing record or share your notes with him.”

Lily felt angry.

“Just because I’m being friendly doesn’t mean I like him!” she hissed. Marlene was unphased by Lily’s anger. 

“Oh Lily, don’t be upset. He’s fit as fuck and a decent guy,” she said. “I would be shocked if you didn’t!”

“You know how much I hate crushes,” Lily said, fighting the urge to stomp her foot like a child. “It’s pointless!”

Marlene laughed. 

“Sometimes, you can’t fight it,” she said. She waved her wand and the silencing charm around them faded. “Let’s get to lunch.”

Lily walked beside her in silence, fuming. 

There were a few reasons why Lily hated crushes. She hated how they painted the world in rose colored glasses, obscuring truths. She thought about the crush she had had on a 7th year Ravenclaw when she was in fifth year. 

Lily didn’t remember his name, just that she had tried many times to speak to him when they were at the library at the same time. Lily felt like she was flying every time she saw him, with every word he spoke to her.

Then came the bone-crush. He kissed her one day over her charms homework and the next day she found out he had a girlfriend, a fourth year Hufflepuff. 

Lily felt disgusting and immediately told her. 

When she looked back at that experience, she felt hot anger and embarrassment. The rose colored world she had seen had blinded her from the truth. 

She should have noticed how flippant he was when she asked him questions. How once he caught on to Lily’s crush, he would find a table in the back, out of the way from passersby. Lily had thought it was because he wanted alone time, not because he was hiding from his girlfriend or anyone who might rat on her. 

She had vowed that she was never going to make an utter fool of herself again. 

Lily pushed down her anger and looked forward to have a nice peaceful lunch with her friends that she missed so dearly. Alice, Dorcas, and Mary were waiting for them at the end of the table, but as Lily’s eyes looked on, she found a sight that made her almost vomit. 

There was James, sitting across from Amelia Bones, a Hufflepuff in their year. 

He was flashing her his signature smile and laughing at something she said, running a hand through his messy hair. 

She peeled her eyes away and took her seat next to Alice, forcing herself not to stare at them. 

She picked at her food and tried hard to pay attention to her friends. 

“Hogsmeade is next week, right?” Lily asked, suddenly. 

“Sure is,” Mary said, sipping some of her juice. 

“I want to get plastered at the Three Broomsticks,” Lily said. The girls laughed. 

“It’s date,” Marlene announced. “I’ve been waiting to see you drunk since you took that shot of firewhiskey.”

Lily rolled her eyes, thinking of the time Marlene snuck a firewhiskey up to their dorm last year and Lily almost threw up after one shot. 

The girls started planning the trip. 

Despite her resolve, she shot a glance at Amelia and James, who were just getting up from the table. James met her eyes and winked at her, to which Lily rolled her eyes because it let her do something other than blush. 

~~~

Lily would be an idiot if she thought that she was the only one to notice James. That didn’t mean she had to like it though. 

James had been asked out three times in one breakfast and though she had no claim to him, it was grating on her nerves. 

“So Prongs,” Sirius started as the brave third year who just asked James this morning left. “You’re turning into quite a lady killer.”

James snorted. 

“I’m starting to think someone is cursing them,” he said. “It’s mental.”

“Face it, Prongs,” Sirius said. “You’re a hot ticket item.”

“They’re dying to have your babies,” Remus said, not looking up from his copy of the Daily Prophet. 

“They’re going to kidnap you and force you to go on a date with them,” Peter added. 

“Probably going to slip you some love potion,” Lily said. James whipped his head and looked at her. 

“I expect them to gang up on me, but you Evans? Betrayal,” he said. 

Lily smiled and bit back the green monster that was going to reel it’s head if she thought about it too hard. 

“I know what’s going on,” she said. 

“Please, be our insight into the female mind,” Sirius said, brushing a strand of dark hair behind his ear. 

Lily rolled her eyes. 

“Teenagers are horny,” she said. “James is headboy, plays Quidditch. Every fifteen year old’s dream.”

Lily kept her eyes on her tea as she took a sip. She could feel his eyes on her. What she really wanted to say is that she got it. She got why these girls were dying for James. Lily herself felt like she would die in order to have James touch or snog. 

She was trying to get that to stop. 

“And he’s fit,” Remus said. Sirius glared at his boyfriend. “Objectively speaking. Not my type, sorry James.”

“I don’t take it personally,” James grumbled, taking it personally. 

“Just be happy you can get a date,” Peter said. “I can’t get one for the life of me!”

“How about this Pete,” James said, resting his elbows on the table. “Tell me who you fancy and I’ll ask their bestfriend out and see if I can’t get a double date?”

Here was the bone-crush. Here is where the misery came and grabbed Lily. 

“You’d do that for me?” Peter asked, his eyes wide. 

“Once,” he said. “I’m going to help you woo the pants off of this girl and hope you get a second date on your own.”

If Peter said who he fancied, it was lost on Lily. She stared at the cup of tea in front of her, watching the surface of the liquid vibrate. 

She could imagine going on a date with him, so vividly it hurts. She could practically picture walking with him down the slope, hand in hand. Sitting across from him at the Three Broomsticks and stealing his chips. And that image hurt as she watched them plan their double date.

James nudged Lily, jarring herself out her thoughts. 

“Time for Transfig,” he said. “Ready?”

Lily nodded and stood up. As she grabbed her bag, she saw Remus watching her. He gave her a small smile and she tried to return it. 

James, Sirius, and Peter were already walking ahead of them when Remus came beside her. 

“So, I take it you’re against the double date?” he asked as they started up the stairs. 

“No, why would I?” she asked quickly. 

Remus sighed deeply and just shook his head. They caught up to the other boys. 

~~~

Once Lily heard James was taking Amelia Bones to Hogsmeade, she was even more determined to get wasted at the Three Broomsticks. She was a rational person. She knew that getting wasted to forget a stupid crush was immature, but she could be immature for a night. 

She put more effort into her appearance than normally for a girls night out. Normally she would be fine with jeans and a jumper, but Mary had suggested they act like they were going to the hottest nightclub in the U.K. 

Lily didn’t have a lot of clothes appropriate for that, but Mary was her size and had tons of sparkling dresses that she was willing to let Lily borrow. 

Mary had picked a gold sequined dress that was a little shorter than Lily was used to, but she knew she could make it work. It was strapless and Lily had a slightly bigger breast than Mary, so Lily placed a sticking charm on the sweetheart neckline. 

Lily also did some beauty charms. One to make her hair have more beachy waves than her own slightly sad waves. The make-up charms turned out better than she thought as her emerald eyes looked bigger with the eyeliner charm. 

She checked the time, gave herself one final look over, and then grabbed her coat, and left her room, stepping out in the common room. She heard something fall as she closed the door. 

James was standing at his door, staring at Lily like he was deer caught in the headlights. 

He was ready for his date, a nice dark green shirt and pants that had been pressed. He looked good and Lily hated it. 

“Evans, what are you wearing?” he asked. Lily looked down at her dress. 

“A dress?”

“You look…” he started, eyeing her up and down. “Stunning.”

Lily felt her cheeks heat up. 

“Thanks. It’s for the girl’s night,” she said. The air felt awkward as the silence fell. 

James looked away, clearing his throat. 

“Where are you going? For the girl’s night,” he asked, picking up his wand that he had dropped. 

“Three Broomsticks,” Lily replied. “Where’s your date?”

“Madam Padifoots,” he replied. 

“Aw, that’s romantic,” Lily said, forcing a smile. 

“Pete picked it,” he said. “I would rather be drowning in some Butterbeer.”

Silence fell again. Lily wanted to say something, but she found it hard. James hadn’t looked at her since he picked up his wand. 

“Well, have a good time,” Lily said, making her way to the bookcase. 

“Same,” James said. 

The walk down was freezing, but once Lily sat in a booth, squished between Mary and Dorcas, she realized it was worth it. 

They started out with some food, but soon enough the drinks kept coming. Lily felt wobbly as her and Mary sang a Muggle song on the top of their lungs. She was spinning when Alice admitted her and Frank had had sex in his childhood bedroom over the summer. 

She was absolutely gone with Remus and Sirius stood at the end of the booth. 

“You lot are cut off for the rest of the night,” Remus said. Lily started giggling at his stern expression. 

“Oi! Remy,” Mary said, her words slurred. “How big is Black? We have a bet.”

“I’ll have you know I’m packing,” Sirius said, not the least bit phased. 

Lily snorted.

“He’s average,” Remus replied. All the girls started laughing. Lily felt tears in her eyes as Sirius elbowed Remus. 

“He’s joking,” Sirius said. Remus shook his head, unknown to Sirius, and the laughter started again. 

“We’re escorting back to the castle,” Remus said. 

The loud “aw” that escaped their lips was enough to make the rest of the bar turn and look at them. 

Marlene almost fell when she tried to walk and Remus ran out for a second. He came back with James. 

Normal, sober Lily would be ashamed of herself in the morning. 

“James!” she yelled. James smiled and widened his eyes. “I’m drunk!”

James ran a hand through his hair and smiled, his dimple making an appearance. 

“I can see that, Lils,” he said. 

He helped her up off the bench and caught her as she stumbled. His hand was warm on her arm and goose flesh appeared. 

“Let’s try to get you back in one piece, alright?” he said. 

“Carry me,” she said, giggling. James gave her a look she was too drunk to read into. 

“I will if I have too,” he said. 

He helped her put her coat on and then placed his arm around her in order to steady her walk. 

The rest of the group was in front of them. Mary and Dorcas, stumbling, but they were fine compared to Alice, Marlene, and Lily. Alice was Sirius’s back while Marlene was basically using Remus as a cane. 

“Where’s Peter?” Lily asked. 

“He had a pretty nice date,” James replied. “I think they’re still out.”

At the mention of the date, Lily pouted. 

“So your date was nice?” she asked. She hated that tears were forming in her eyes. 

James took a moment to answer. 

“I mean, Amelia and I just talked about our Divination project. I told her it was for Pete,” he said. “We aren’t interested in each other.”

Lily’s heart soared and her eyes dried. 

“Why’d you get all dressed up if it wasn’t a real date?” she slurred. 

“Because it was real for Pete and Ingrid,” he replied. 

“It’s a shame,” Lily said, frowning. 

“What’s a shame?”

“That Amelia could pass you up looking like that!” Lily said, stumbling into him a bit. “I mean your arse looks fantastic! Almost as good as your Quidditch pants.”

James paused for a second and Lily almost tripped but James caught her and steadied her. 

“You’re more drunk than I thought,” James said. Drunk Lily didn’t notice the tightness in her voice.

“Yes,” she said. “And it’s fantastic!”

“You won’t be saying that tomorrow,” he mumbled. 

The boys brought them all back to the head dorm, which made the girls squeal and get excited about a sleepover. James deposited Lily on the couch and quickly made his way over to the potion station in the corner of the room.

“I love the dorm!” Alice chirped, looking around. 

“These couches are ten times better than the ones in the tower,” Marlene said, curling up on the couch by Dorcas. 

“I agree,” Mary said. 

Lily’s eyes wandered to James, who was at the potion station. She was staring at him, but was jared when Sirius sat next to her. 

“How many drunk head girls do you think entered this dorm?” he said, smirking at her. 

Lily threw a pillow at him. 

“Probably all of them,” she replied. “You don’t make head girl without a dash of mischief.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows at her. 

“Lily Evans and mischief? I find that unlikely,” he said. Lily felt offended. 

“Who hexed Avery to make his voice high pitched, huh?” she said, crossing her arms. 

Sirius widened his steel blue eyes. 

“That was you?” he said. 

“Of course it was bloody me! He called me a mudblood and I just snapped!” she fired back. 

“That’s not mischief then Lils, that’s justice,” he said. Lily laughed, loudly. 

“And I’d do it again,” she said. “I also stole Snape’s potion essay once.”

“Evans!” Sirius said, clutching his chest like he was scandalized. 

“He was being a prat! He kept going on and on about he was the best in potions! So I took his essay before it was due,” she said, rather proudly. “He got detention and I found a major error in his essay. I circled it and stuffed it back into his bag.”

Laughter erupted around her, making her feel warm and proud. Alice was clutching her side.

“What else have you done, Evans?” Sirius enquired, leaning back on the cushions and crossing his legs. 

Lily hummed and thought for a second. 

“I changed James’ quidditch robes to neon pink in fifth year,” she said. 

“That was you?!” James exclaimed from across the room. “I didn’t talk to Sirius for a week!”

Sirius doubled over with laughter. 

“I remember that!” Mary said, clapping her hands. “You did it because James threw a piece of parchment at you and asked you out in the middle of the hallway!”

Lily remembered it and laughed. 

“He was such an arse!” she said. 

“Was, did you say Evans?” Sirius inquired. 

“Yes, was,” she confirmed. Sirius shot her a look. 

The conversation drifted away from Lily’s mischief to how Mary engorged Marlene’s tongue when she thought she told the school one of her secrets. Lily’s eyes drifted back to James, who was bent over a steaming cauldron. Lily, ever the potions master, decided she must know what he was making. 

She wobbled across the room and stood next to James, so close their arms bumped. 

“Whatchya making?” she asked. 

“A sober-up potion for you lot,” he said. “Then I’ll make a hangover-be-gone tomorrow for you guys.”

“I don’t want to sober up,” Lily pouted. She grabbed James’s arm and leaned her head against it. James didn’t say to protest it. 

“You’ll be thanking me in the morning,” he said with a smirk. Lily rolled her eyes. 

He was finely chopping the roots and Lily watched him, her could feel the muscles on his arms move, but she didn’t want to move and James wasn’t pushing her away. 

“Shouldn’t you dice them?” she asked. James scoffed. 

“You’re drunk and you’re still critiquing my potions,” he said. 

“I wouldn’t have to critique if you did it the right way.” James erupted in laughter. 

“Trust me, Evans. I’ve made this a few times,” he said. Lily didn’t reply, she just watched the cauldron bubble from her spot on James’s arm. 

“I’m sorry about asking you out that way in fifth,” he mumbled. 

���It’s okay,” she said. “You were just an obnoxious little boy.”

“You don’t think I'm still an obnoxious little boy?”

“Nope,” she said. “You would have never made headboy if that was the case.”

“True,” he said. He turned the potion off and stirred it until it was a clear color. Lily let go of his arm once he was ready to pour it for them. 

Lily drank hers and watched as James started handing out the rest to her friends. 

As the minutes ticked by, she realized she was going to regret a lot in the morning. 

~~~

Lily remembered everything of her drunken night clearly, which is why she was determined to put as much space as possible between her and James. 

She told him he had a nice arse! That was something she could never come back from. Ever. 

He didn’t mention it and she was grateful for it. He did get her back from making his Quidditch uniform pink and during breakfast when her black robes turned a stunning shade of pink. When she made eye contact with James down the table, twirling his wand in his fingers, she just laughed. She left them that color for the rest of the day. 

The only thing is that James started walking closer to her in the corridors when they patrolled together. His arm brushing against hers constantly. She often wondered what would happen if she just grabbed this hand. Which is why she started making the distance bigger.

Lily was spending her time in their shared common room when he was gone or at practice. She knew the time that James would be in and made sure to either be at the library, her bedroom, or in the Gryffindor Tower with the girls. 

She was packing her things up, about to move to her bedroom before James came back from practice. She wasn’t expecting the bookcase to swing open ten minutes early and reveal a sweaty James Potter. 

She fought the urge to get up and run without saying anything, but she held firm and tried to put her books away without looking like she was trying to do so as fast as she could. 

“Hey Evans,” James said, smiling a little at her. 

“Hey Potter,” Lily said as evenly as she could, darting her eyes back to her textbook. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a hot minute,” James said. 

Lily glanced up to see him standing by the couch. 

“We ate breakfast together,” she pointed out. 

“You sat like, three people away from me,” he said. 

Lily took a deep breath. She was getting irate and couldn’t quite place why. 

“I talked to you in Transfiguration,” she pointed out. 

She heard James sigh. 

“I just asked to borrow a quill,” he said. 

Something in his tone made Lily look at him. He was standing at the side of the couch looking utterly frustrated, running a hand through his damp hair.  

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Lily said, looking back at her book before their eyes could meet. 

There was a heavy silence. 

“I don’t get you,” he said after a moment. 

“‘Get me’?” Lily asked, snapping her book shut. Lily looked up and saw that James looked frustrated. 

“One minute, I feel like we’re finally getting on and then next you act like I’m a second year who just wants to pull your hair,” James said. 

“We are getting on,” Lily said, crossing her arms. 

“Are we?” he questioned. 

Lily stood up, anger flaring in her stomach. 

“Well, we were,” she said, crossing her arms. 

James took a deep breath and turned away from Lily. 

“Can you just tell me what is going on?” he snapped. “I know I’ve done some pretty shitty things in the past. I’ve been trying to be better! Snape cursed me in the hallway and I didn’t curse him back because I knew you’d be upset!”

James opened his mouth like he was going to say more, but he quickly shut it. He just stared at her from across the room, his chest heaving slightly. Lily had seen an angry James quite a few times, but there was something in his eyes that showed Lily he was more hurt than anything. 

“It’s not your fault,” Lily said, holding his gaze. 

“What isn’t?” he asked. 

“Me being weird,” she said, throwing her hands up.

“Explain it to me. Because one second you’re telling me I have a nice arse and the next, you can’t even look at me,” he said. 

As Lily stood across from James, she realized that there was no way out of this mess besides the truth. Lily didn’t know if she was ready to throw her cards down, but God, she couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you!” she yelled. “Every bloody day, I see girls tripping over themselves to get a scrap of your attention and I feel like I’m a fool!”

James’s jaw dropped as Lily fell silent. She felt heat rise in her cheeks and wishes she could stuff the words back into her mouth. 

“What changed?” James asked. It was so low, Lily almost didn’t hear it. His eyes kept her captivated. 

“A lot of things,” she replied. “Like the fact that you weren’t an utter tosser last year and this year.”

“You told me I was one quite a few times if I remember correctly,” James said, a smirk on his face. 

Lily smiled a little, despite the feeling that she messed something up between them. 

“It was different,” she said. “You just… know how to make people laugh, even when teasing them.”

James smiled, wide and bright and Lily finally looked away, choosing to stare out the window and look at the bright blue sky and fluffy clouds that were outside. 

“I don’t want to get hurt James,” she said. 

Lily felt him walk over. 

“Why do you think I’d ever hurt you, Evans?” he whispered from beside her. 

“Because you’ll realize there are better options out there,” she said. James snorted. 

“I have nothing against the other girls in Hogwarts, but I doubt there is anyone that could ever compare to you, Lily,” he said. “Especially to me.”

James placed a hand on her shoulder and Lily turned to look at him. He was still sweaty from Quidditch, his glasses were crooked, but Merlin, she had never seen a better sight. 

“Fancy a dinner in Hogsmeade?” he asked. She smiled. 

“Hogsmeade is in two weeks,” she pointed out. 

“I’m not waiting two weeks,” he said. “We don’t have patrols tonight. I’ll be ready in twenty, if you want to go with me that is.”

Lily hesitated for a second, not because of James, but because sneaking out. James seemed to get this. 

“You said yourself, ‘what’s a head girl without a little mischief?’” he pointed out. Lily smiled and nodded. 

Lily didn’t think James’s smile could get wider but it did.

“Give me twenty minutes!” he said, moving to turn around and rush to his dorm. 

“Wait a second,” she said, causing James to pause. 

Lily threw all caution to the wind . Just cupped James’s face and brought it down to hers, capturing it in a kiss that made Lily wish she had done this sooner.

[tearsofgrace]

the final rose: chapter 2

i wrote the next chapter only took me a million years

word count: 5.5k, tags: bachelorette, au, deancas fluff, cowboys

read on archive

Cas didn’t want to be here.

Well, that was a lie. 

He wanted to be here… but he wasn’t an obsessed bastard like the rest of the guys here. He wasn’t gonna cheat and fake it to get ahead. He hadn’t even submitted a damn audition tape. 

But he was here now, so he was gonna try. And Lisa seemed like a nice enough girl… maybe there was something there. And the guys, regardless of their questionable motives and outlooks on life, were miles beyond easy on the eyes. They were fucking hot. 

The first rose ceremony had been a mixture of nerves and hope. He wasn’t exactly sure if he was hopeful of getting sent home or getting to stay, but either way, he was here now. And there was no going back (he could leave… but honestly the free food and nice house made it worth sticking around for just a little longer). 

After they toasted, Lisa was whisked away and the producers briefed them on how the different rooms were assigned. Apparently, they weren’t even adult enough to decide their own sleeping arrangements, but he guessed they were probably doing it for the drama anyway. 

There were five or six guys in every room. Which was just fine by him. Until it wasn’t. 

A producer he didn’t know the name of led them up the stairs into the narrow hallway that led into several other bedrooms. He stood in front of one and called out five names. 

“Benny, Harry, Cas, Nick, and, uh,” he glanced down at a clipboard before pointing behind Cas, “Dean. You guys are in this one.” 

Cas felt his stomach drop but he kept his face set, there were still cameras on them, after all. Even at night. Even while they slept. Besides, he could deal with Nick, Benny, and even Dean for the short while it would take for them to get sent home. At least Harry wasn’t so bad. 

The producer moved on and the rest of the guys followed him while Dean and Benny shuffled into the room, followed by the other three. 

Cas walked to the center of the room where their suitcases lay waiting for them and grabbed his, barely sparing a glance at the rest of the guys before climbing onto the top bunk and falling back to stare at the ceiling. 

When he forced himself to sit back up, Benny and Harry had claimed the other bunk bed and Nick had sprawled dramatically on the twin in the corner. Dean was just standing in the middle of the room glancing around dumbly. 

He glared up at Benny who just shrugged and gestured at his claimed top bunk before jumping off it and rummaging through his suitcase. 

“Looks like you’re with me, Winchester,” Cas said, keeping his voice neutral but seething underneath. When Dean looked up at him with barely concealed horror he hid a smile. Time to make the straight boys uncomfortable. “As long as I’m on top,” he added as an afterthought. 

Dean just scoffed and grabbed his suitcases before shoving one under the bed and pulling a pair of gray sweats and a loose black t-shirt out. 

The other guys moved sluggishly after him, sitting up and rubbing their eyes before getting a change of clothes out. He half expected them to sleep in their tuxes… at least they weren’t that sloppy.  

There was only one bathroom on the whole second floor, which was maybe the stupidest part of the whole thing, so Benny, Nick, and Harry all got away to brush their teeth before all the other guys got there. 

Cas climbed down from his bed and grabbed his suitcase, resisting the urge to look up at Dean. It was just them in the room now. 

He was the exact kind of guy Cas had expected to find here. Arrogant, unfeeling, fuckboy vibes practically rolling off him. He was a dick. But Cas had plenty of experience with dicks. 

He changed quickly, and he could almost feel Dean’s eyes burning into him until he looked up and Dean jerked his head away. Cas smirked and climbed back onto the bed, exhaustion seeping in. 

Cas took deep breaths as the quiet sound of Dean’s clothes rustling filled the room. Then the bed shifted slightly as Dean settled in below him. With a sigh, he rolled over and pulled the blankets up closer around his neck. It was going to be a long couple of weeks. 

He woke up late, looking around blurrily as the sun filtered in through the small window in the corner. He could see Nick, Benny, and Harry all fast asleep in the beds across from him, but when he pulled himself down the ladder (why had he chosen a top bunk again?) Dean’s bed was neatly made and empty. 

Cas shrugged and grabbed some clothes from his suitcase before heading to the bathroom. Then he checked his watch, 8:07 am. Okay, so he hadn’t woken up that late. 

By the time he was heading down the stairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee was wafting up from the kitchen. His mouth watered and he rubbed his eyes as he wandered inside, ignoring the camera crew standing to the side and going over a clipboard.  

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean said without looking up. “Chris is bringing by the first date card- God, that sounds stupid aloud,” Cas snorted in agreement, “Anyway, he’s bringing it by in an hour or so. I made some food. You hungry?” 

Cas squinted, looking at the man in front of him. This isn’t what he’d expected from Dean. Maybe from Mick or even Benny… They seemed like they had their lives together. But Dean? 

“What are you doing?” he finally asked. 

Dean frowned, looking back to the stove where he was stirring some scrambled eggs. “Making breakfast.” 

“Why are you up?” Cas asked, his head tilting further in confusion. 

He thought he saw a shadow flit briefly across Dean’s face but before he could be sure, it was gone. “Always get up early. It’s how my dad raised me. Now, c’mon. Get some food.” 

“Coffee first,” Cas said dryly, glancing back at the camera focused on them and pushing past Dean to the coffee pot. 

The other guys trickled down slowly, clapping Dean on the back and helping themselves to eggs, bacon, and fresh coffee. 

Dean took it all well, an easy smile on his face, and Cas felt a stab of jealousy. Pretty, a good cook, charismatic, must be a fun way to go through life. 

Some of the guys went out to the pool area, walking around the grounds, but most of them stayed inside, trading meaningless conversation. Before long, one of the producers who had been directing the cameras all morning got the guys from outside and gathered everyone in the living room. 

It’s all so fake, Cas thought bitterly, as the producers explained how there would be a knock on the door, Chris was coming to do the date card, blah blah blah. No one actually fell in love on this show. And if they did… then it was pure chance. 

He tried to school his face, mindful of the cameras, and looked up expectantly when Chris knocked. 

Gordon got up to get it and they watched him go, the forced conversation dying down. 

“Gentleman,” Chris said, rubbing his hands together as he walked into the room. “How’s it going? Liking the house?” 

Cas smiled and nodded with the rest of the guys, his eyes wandering around, staring pointlessly at the other contestants. 

“And what do we think of Lisa?” 

That got a bigger reaction, a murmur of conversation running through the room while a few guys got to say their piece. 

Good for them, they’ll make it into the episode, even if they don’t get chosen for the date. 

“Alright,” Chris said, after congratulating them all again, “Let’s talk about how this works. This week, there’ll be three dates. One group date, two one-on-one dates. If you get a rose on any of the dates, you’re safe. However, if you do not receive a rose on a one-on-one date, you will have to go home. Make the best of those. I have your first date card right here for the one-on-one.” 

Most of the guys had been zoning out through Chris’ whole explanation. They knew how it worked. They didn’t need to watch him say the same words he’d said over and over every year. But at the last sentence, they all leaned forward expectantly as he pulled out a white envelope.

“So,” Chris went on, twirling the envelope in his hands, “Have an awesome week. Enjoy your time with Lisa…” he glanced off at the producers for a thumbs up to keep going, “And I hope to see you all at the next rose ceremony.” 

He set the envelope on the table and they all stared, transfixed, as he left the room. 

Garth, who was sitting closest to it, glanced up at the producers, seeking direction, but got none. 

“Open it!” someone called. 

After a second, Nick shoved past Garth and grabbed the envelope with a sneer. “I’ll do it.” 

He pulled the card from the envelope slowly and Cas felt his hatred for this guy grow. He was looking around at everyone with a slight smirk touching the corners of his mouth, then he cleared his throat. 

“Benny,” he started, and everyone turned to look at the lucky winner. “Why don’t you and me have a reel good time?”

Nick snorted and handed the card to Benny, barely bothering to look at him. 

“Well, brother, you better go get ready,” Dean said, slapping him on the back. 

Benny stood up, looking dazed, and wandered up to his room. 

“Benny?” Michael said, voice dripping with scorn as soon as he left the room. “Like, seriously?”

“I know,” Nick agreed. 

Everyone else sat in silence, looking uncomfortably at the cameras. Eventually, one of the guys whose name had completely slipped Cas’ mind stood up and followed Benny upstairs. After that, everyone dispersed, looking for something to do in this beautiful mansion with no Wi-Fi, no TV, and no connections to their friends. 

Fun. 

Dean went to the producers and started making a list of different foods he wanted ordered. Garth went and sat by the pool, dipping his feet in without even rolling up his jeans. And Cas? He went upstairs to find his book, the one form of entertainment allowed in. 

He read all morning, already feeling like this was going to be the worst part. The waiting. The boredom. The constant cameras waiting for any sign of drama but mostly capturing the most mundane interactions that had ever happened on the planet. 

Benny came downstairs and everyone briefly looked up and wished him luck before he was on his way. 

And then they just waited, ate lunch--someone had ordered pizza. Ate dinner--still no sign of Benny. Of course not. These things took all day. 

Some of the guys decided to stay up and wait to see if Benny got a rose or not. If they had one more person to worry about or not. But Cas was beat. 

He moved towards the stairs and was stopped by a hand on his chest. 

“So?” 

He turned to see Anna staring at him, a clipboard in one hand and a headset dangling around her neck. 

“What?” he asked. 

“How’s it going?” a smile grew on her face. 

“Good,” he said simply.

“Come on, Castiel,” she said, looking around. “You’re doing me a big favor, at least tell me you like it.” 

“It’s going well. I’m glad I’m here,” he forced out, which seemed to satisfy her. 

“Good,” she said, moving out of the way. He started up the stairs but stopped when she called after him, “And Castiel?”

“What?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral. 

Her red hair glowed in the light of the mansion as her face softened. “Thanks for being here.” 

“Of course,” he said quietly, before turning and heading up the stairs. “Of course,” he muttered again once she was out of earshot. 

The next day came and Benny was still there, rose in hand, dazzling everyone with amazing stories of his night with Lisa. They’d gone to a real film studio and helped on set, then had a magical dinner in downtown LA. 

Cas tried to find the part of himself that was jealous, that wanted that time with Lisa, but it wasn’t there yet. It would be… he was sure. Just not yet. 

When the producers pulled him aside for an interview and asked him what getting on this groupdate would mean, he shrugged and said, “I don’t know.” 

When they pressed for more information he fought the urge to roll his eyes before saying, “Time with Lisa matters to everyone right now. But a group date isn’t a one-on-one.” 

Just then, the doorbell rang and they let him go meet the other guys in the living room, a few of them also trickling in from interviews. Garth went to get the card and stood at the front of the room, pulling everyone in with his magnetic yet ridiculous energy. Cas liked Garth. He was one of the only non-crazies in the house. 

“Alright, who’s ready?” he asked playfully, greeted by a loud cheer. Once things had quieted down, he pulled the card out and started reading. “Castiel,” Cas smiled, high-fiving the guys around him with enthusiasm he didn’t really feel. “Gabe,” this should be fun, “Asa, Cole, Garth,” he pointed to himself with a broad grin, “Aaron, Michael, Dean,” Cas zoned out after that, staring fixedly into the faces of the guys around him. 

All told, 14 guys were going on the date. 14 guys sharing time with Lisa. A recipe for the perfect night. 

Cas refocused his attention on Garth, who had finished the list of names and was now flipping the card over to read the date aloud. 

“Gentleman,” he started, and Cas wondered briefly if that was on the card or was Garth’s personal flair, “Let’s bare our souls. Love, Lisa.” 

Confusion settled over the room and everyone around him chattered excitedly about what it could mean. What secrets they would have to tell. Cas glanced up at Anna who had a smile touching the corners of her mouth. 

He’d seen enough seasons of this show to guess what it was. And he was not excited. 

They all got ready upstairs, crowding into each other’s space, barely enough room for the cameras to invade their privacy. He hadn’t seen guys like this care this much about their appearance since he was in college. And even then… well, it wasn’t exactly guys like this

It took three limos to get them all there. Which seemed like an extravagant waste of money but hey, it looked good on camera and that was what counted. 

No one really said anything on the ride. Made small talk, mostly. Not that there was much small talk left when they had no connection to the outside world. But there was something about the tiny interior of the limo, the cameras so close, that even at the producer’s leading questions the guys stayed quiet. 

When they finally stepped out into the bright sunshine, Cas let out a sigh of relief. 

Chuck was there waiting for them, and he gestured to a big building at the corner of the busy street they’d gotten off of and waved them forward, the whole time talking rapidly into the mic by his mouth. 

All the guys started making their way over and Cas followed, glancing up briefly at the sign on the building. Squinting against the sun, he could make out the word “Nightclub” in big block letters. 

Perfect. So it was what he thought. 

He looked back toward the building and saw Lisa standing in front of the big double doors, a broad grin fixed to her face. Her smile was infectious, and he couldn’t help a small smile back as all the guys gathered around. 

She exchanged a few words with a couple of them and then held her hands out to the building behind them. 

“You guys excited?”

“Yeah!” Garth shouted from the back, throwing in a wolf whistle for good measure. 

“Alright, alright,” Lisa laughed. “Anyone have a guess as to what we’re doing?” 

Yep. 

A hush fell over the group and Lisa laughed again. “Well, it’s gonna be super fun. And the best part is, it’s for charity.” 

The group cheered and Cas cast a side-eye at the rest of the group, seeing only Michael not clapping. Dick. 

“Anyway,” she said dramatically, her voice lowering as she turned toward the doors, “let’s find out what you got yourselves into.” 

The room they followed her into was dark and smokey and blue and pink strobe lights lit up the whole space. Loud music was playing through the speakers and Cas had to lean forward to hear Lisa as she led them into the room and directed them into a line. 

Then she turned toward a stage near the front and they all followed suit as the music stopped and the lights dimmed. 

A new song started and the lights started up again, this time in sync with the song. As they all watched, a line of men in cowboy hats (and heeled boots too, figures) walked out to the front of the stage, matching the steps to the beat. 

Yep, Cas thought bitterly. We’re gonna be baring it all. 

The strippers on stage started their dance as the contestants started coming to life, realizing what was happening. Cas watched the stage for a minute--cowboys weren’t really his thing--then turned curiously to see the rest of the group’s reactions. 

Most of them were looking incredulously at the stage, laughing nervously and cheering while their eyes opened to the fact that they were gonna be the ones up there soon enough. 

But something in the back caught Cas’ eye and he peered closer, letting his eyes adjust to the lights and the smoke. 

Dean was staring at the floor, color high in his cheeks, one hand raking through his hair as he shifted side-to-side. Cas glanced slowly from him up to the stage and a smirk slipped onto his face. Then Dean glanced up across the room, and for a split second, their eyes met. 

Cas cleared his throat and looked away, trying to make it seem like his eyes had been slipping over the crowd of guys. Really saved that one. 

Still. It was interesting. In an observationally interesting kind of way. 

Cas filed the interaction away for future reference and turned his attention back to the stage, where the stri- dancers had finished their show to a huge cheer from the guys and Lisa. 

Lisa walked out to the front of the group and gestured to a guy who’d come from some back room and was now standing next to her. His leather jacket was only done halfway up, showing his bare chest beneath. Cas nodded appreciatively as his eyes involuntarily moved up the guy’s body. This was more his style. 

“Boys,” Lisa started, “I’d like you to meet my friend, Scott. He’s gonna be helping us out today.” 

Scott nodded at her and turned to more fully face the guys. “Today, we’re going to be exposing you gentleman,” he paused briefly, glancing at the stage and smirking, “To the fine art of male exotic dancing.” Some of the braver guys in the group cheered again, but silence fell quickly. “Each of you will be performing on that stage later this afternoon. You’ll each have your own coach to help you, teach you the art.” 

Lisa stepped forward and smiled warmly at them. “If you guys are a little nervous, that’s okay. This is about trust. It’s about showing me why you’re here, and showing me you can have a great time. I don’t expect you guys to be great at it,” the guys all chuckled here and she joined in, “But I expect you to have fun with it.” 

“So,” Lisa’s smile widened and her eyes glinted, “Let’s get to some auditions!” 

The guys cheered as Chuck stepped forward, clipboard in hand. “Alright,” he shouted over the crowd. “Everyone up on the stage. Get loose, we wanna see some good dancing up there. You have three minutes to show Lisa what you got, and then we’ll decide which routine you’ll be doing.” 

The lights on the stage were bright, and Cas squinted up at them, resisting the urge to raise a hand. He could do this. He could do some stupid dance moves. He glanced over at Lisa, her head bent over a clipboard with Scott, a smile fixed to her face so natural she probably didn’t even know it was there. She was enjoying this. He could- he had to. 

The audition song went by excruciatingly slowly, everyone busting out their cringey dance moves and making as much eye contact as possible with Lisa. Cas felt the awkwardness seeping through him and his heart rate kicked up. This was just the goddamn beginning part. He could fucking do this. 

And then it stopped. Finally. 

Lisa and Scott made a few more notes on the clipboard they were holding, glancing up once or twice at the guys and whispering without pointing. 

Then Lisa walked forward with the clipboard in her hand. “Ready to find out how you’re stripping tonight?” she said playfully, winking at Michael who was standing in the front of the group. 

The guys all clapped, clearly feeling an energy that Cas didn’t. His world was still spinning, the lights and smoke crowding into his brain and leaving little room for thought. 

“There’ll be four different acts today,” Lisa went on. “Two groups of four--firemen and some policemen. One group of three, those guys will be robots. One duet for the cowboys. And,” she paused for effect, “One lucky gentleman will get to do a solo act all by himself as a bachelor!” 

Another round of cheering and Lisa shushed them all by holding the clipboard high. 

“Should I read the solo up to the groups of four, or the other way?” she asked seriously, looking over their heads at Chuck. 

Before he could reply, though, Michael shouted, “Tell us who the solo guy is!” 

This got a roar of approval from the guys so Lisa shrugged, glancing down at her clipboard as if to double check. 

“The solo act… drumroll, please,” the guys all started hitting their hands on their knees and Cas focused on his breathing, looking down at the floor, away from the lights, the noise… “Garth!” Lisa announced triumphantly. 

Everyone turned to look at him, slapping him on the back and grinning as he was ushered away but a coach. 

“The duet…” everyone started the drumroll again without prompting, “goes to Dean and Castiel!” 

Cas heard his name and looked up, trying to ignore the way everything was moving in slow motion around him. He nodded to the other guys mechanically and fixed a smile on his face, following the coach that took his arm and glancing back to see Dean walking behind him, his face flushed again. 

Once they were out of the room, Cas’ mind started to clear a little more, and he looked around, blinking. He could do this. He’d be fine. Just a duet… at least he hadn’t gotten the solo act. 

“Alright, my name’s Jay,” the coach said, slapping his hands together. He wasn’t bad looking, Cas mused softly, grounding himself more. “We have about an hour before you guys are supposed to get some sort of lunch, and then another two hours after that before call time. Which is plenty of time to learn about a two minute dance.” 

Cas gulped and glanced at Dean, who had lost his flustered look and was standing with a cocky grin on his face. 

“Let’s do this.” 

The guy took them through the steps, and Cas’ mind settled, falling into the routine. The first half wasn’t that bad. Simple stuff, more about owning the move than skill, according to Jay. 

But it was still fucking hard. Cas just wasn’t made to move like this. Not in front of a goddamn live audience. Even for charity. 

Dean, on the other hand, was a natural. He made all of it look easy, like he’d been doing it his whole life. And he did the whole thing with a swagger in his step that Cas knew for a fact had to be fake… but it sure didn’t look it. 

He kept turning to Cas and winking, giving him little pats on the back, hyping him up. And Cas didn’t want to admit it, but it did help… just a little bit. 

After an hour, both Dean and Cas were whisked away by crewmembers for a few interview questions. 

The questions were boring. How was he feeling? Some retroactive stuff like, what did he think when he walked in? How did Lisa look today? 

Cas answered mechanically, trying to seem excited and not terrified out of his mind. 

“And just one more,” Naomi said, tapping at her clipboard. “How’s working with Dean going?” 

“Good,” Cas said immediately, the word ripped from his mouth. “Dean’s good at this stuff.” 

Naomi just nodded distractedly and waved him away. “Right, right. Thanks, Castiel.” 

Cas stood and went into the main stage area where a buffet had been set up. He made a beeline for some honey and toast and then left the room, not bothering to chat it up and see how the other guys were doing. 

When he walked back into the rehearsal space, Dean was standing alone in the room, lifting up and examining the cowboy costumes layed out in the center. 

Cas cleared his throat and Dean started, whipping around to face him. “Hello, Dean.” The costume dropped to the floor. 

“Uh, hey, man.” 

Cas took a bite of his toast and regarded him thoughtfully. “Cowboys?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Dean shrugged and looked down at the outfit. “Wild West was fu-” he glanced at the cameraman behind Cas, “Friggin’ awesome, dude. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a Western?” he added with a lopsided grin. 

“Just Brokeback Mountain,” Cas shot back. 

Dean gulped and dropped his gaze. “I’ve never- I don’t know what that is.” 

Before Cas could answer Ajay walked back in and pointed to the outfits laid out on the floor. 

“Get changed. Bathroom’s down the hall to the right,” he sipped from the iced coffee in his hand and cocked his hip. “Then the real fun starts.” 

In the bathroom, Cas slipped the thin material over his head, his chest starting to feel tight again. He made sure all the velcro was tight (he didn’t want it to slip before it was supposed to come off) and then walked out to the mirror where Dean stood waiting. 

“Looking good, Cas,” Dean said, one eyebrow quirked up as his eyes tracked over Cas- no, over Cas’ clothes. 

“What the hell are we doing?” Cas muttered, hoping it was quiet enough that the mic pack wouldn’t pick it up. There were no cameras in here, at least, thank God. 

Dean frowned. “What?” 

“I can’t- They’re making us strip, Dean,” he said pointedly, still keeping his voice a whisper. “In front of a bunch of strangers. In goddamn cowboy outfits. What the hell are we doing?” 

Dean chuckled a little then stepped forward and reached up, straightening the bolo tie around Cas’ neck. 

“We’re just having some fun. Remember why you’re here, man,” he added, before dropping a hand on Cas’ shoulder. He stayed there for a minute, their eyes meeting, and then he turned. 

“C’mon, let’s go,” he tossed over his shoulder, pushing open the door. 

“Let’s go,” Cas repeated, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He couldn’t tell anymore if it was from nerves or-

He shook off the thought and followed Dean through the door. He was fine. They got this. 

The rest of the dance was even easier than the first half. Cas was starting to think he wasn’t going to make a total fool of himself when Jay turned off the music and spread his hands wide. 

“Right. So now, we just got to learn the stripping part of it.” 

Cas gulped, his eyes going wide. Jay pointed out the various releases on their clothing, tips for getting it off easily, and then left them to practice, his trained eyes watching them carefully. 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Dean got the hang of it in like two seconds. The shirt came off and he whipped it in the air like a lasso before looking at Cas and blushing. Cas just stared back, eyes wide. 

Dean let the shirt fall to his side, his eyes still fixed on Cas, a curious expression on his face. And Cas, he couldn’t help but stare back.

Then, from behind them, Jay cleared his throat. 

Cas let his gaze slip slowly away from Dean and looked to Jay. His eyes were drifting back and forth between Dean and Cas, but after a second, his eyes landed permanently on Cas. “We need you to learn this too, Castiel. We only have about an hour until you guys need to be in hair and makeup.” 

“Makeup?” They both turned to look at Dean.

“Yeah,” Jay continued, “Just simple stuff, makes you look better on stage. Now, c’mon. Let’s finish up here.” 

Eventually, Cas got it. It wasn’t that difficult, the rip-away pants and shirt came right off. Dean’s eyes burned into him the whole time, and he pretended he didn’t notice. Pretended he didn’t see his eyes jerking away as soon as Cas looked up at him. 

He could do this. He was never going to make hundreds in tips but maybe it was enough for an audience of Bachelor superfans.

Hair and makeup didn’t take long, the producers pulled them away for another round of interviews, and then they were standing with the other guys backstage waiting for the audience to trickle in. 

A few of them were fidgeting nervously, but most of them were peaking past the wall, looking at where Lisa sat in the front row. 

They were going second. Right after Garth, who had pulled Naomi to the side and asked to go first. Still, Cas was glad they were getting it over with. Better to go now when his heart was still beating then in about twenty minutes when it had stopped completely. 

By the time Garth was waltzing out onto the stage, a grin that could be described nicely as goofy and more accurately as idiotic plastered to his face, Cas could barely think straight. 

A song Cas didn’t know started playing and Garth opened the buttons on his bachelor costume ever so slightly as he got into his routine. Next to him, Dean chuckled appreciatively and whispered, “Werewolves in London. Good choice.” 

Cas’ could only nod, the song became foggy and distant and the lights danced around him again. He felt his breathing pick up again and he looked down, blurry eyes making out his shaking hands. 

Shit. 

He didn’t know how much time passed. Didn’t notice himself swaying. Didn’t notice the camera guy getting closer to make sure he had a good shot. 

And then he was falling. 

The jerk of arms stopping his fall brought him back to the world, everything coming back into focus. Dean gripped his shoulders tightly and stood him up, pulling him away from the cameras, hiding at the back of the group. 

“Hey, man,” Dean said urgently, his hands tightening briefly before dropping entirely. “It’s okay.”

Cas gulped and silently cursed. Great. Panic attack on national TV and in front of De- Lisa--check. His Bachelorette Bucket List was going great. 

“I’m fine, Dean.” 

“No you’re not,” Dean shot back immediately. 

“It’s-” 

One of the P.A.'s Cas didn’t know tapped the back of his shoulder and he whirled around. 

“You guys are on in about thirty you need to-” 

“Give us a damn second,” Dean cut in. “Look at me.” 

Cas turned back to face him and took a deep breath. 

“You sure you’re good? We don’t have to do this.” 

Cas inhaled deeply again before letting it out. “Yes. I’m- I’ll be okay.” 

Dean met his eyes for what felt like another ten minutes before finally nodding, the concern slipping from his face. “Then let’s fucking do it.” 

He ignored the disapproving stare on the P.A.‘s face at his word-choice and led the way through the crowd and up the stairs. 

Cas followed him, eyes on Dean’s back, too shaken to look anywhere else. 

The music started up and they took the stage, the crowd going wild, Lisa in the front with a soft smile, her hands crossed over her legs as she leaned forward. 

He glanced at Dean just one more time, and then turned to face the crowd. 

Let’s fucking do this. 

[lucywritesreid]

With Heaven Above You - Part 3

Summary: With Spencer missing, the BAU start to look for possible reasons where he might have gone. 

Tagging:   @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks  @liaabsurd @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @101donuts @rexorangecouny @awkwardnesshabitat

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None 

The words repeated over and over again in your head. Phone off. Can’t find him. Can’t locate him. Your mind was racing. It was going to all of these dark places that you didn’t want it to. Where was he? What was happening to him right now? You choked back the tears. It wasn’t the time to be upset. It was the time to be practical, composed. You straightened up your trousers and looked back at Garcia.

“What about his last location? Can we see where the phone last went off?” She nodded and set back to work. All you could hear was the tapping of the keyboard keys as Penelope frantically searched. Neither of you spoke for those next few minutes. You were really just trying to control your breathing. “The last cell tower that picked up his location was about a mile from here,” she spun round on her chair to give you a better view of the screen in front, “so it looks like he was on his way to work when it died. Or was switched off.”

For a moment or two, you relaxed. Maybe he had got to work and decided to follow a lead, or go to the library, or do something sensible. Maybe he hadn’t been taken.

“Thanks, P,” you tried to smile but the muscles in your face betrayed you. “Anytime sugar,” she replied, “I-I’ll keep an alert on my computer for any activity. If his phone comes back on I’ll ping you immediately, okay?” You nodded, knowing that was all that could be done for now.

Both you and Garcia quickly made your way to meet the rest of the team. Hotch began to speak about the case and the summary from the local police chief. The absence in Spencer’s usual seat was painful to look at. Everyone felt slightly tense but it wasn’t being brought up. “So,” he concluded, “I think we just need to keep looking out for any more signs someone’s been taken. Keep manning the phone lines, speaking to local people. Rossi, JJ, go visit the last crime scene again and see if you can get anything else.”

“Hotch,” you spoke up just as the team started to leave the room, “I think we need to concentrate our efforts on finding Spencer. I think something may have happened to him,”

“He didn’t come in this morning?” Emily asked, curious. You looked over at shook your head at her. “And sir,” you heard Garcia backing you up, “his phone is currently switched off.”

There was a moments pause while Hotch mused over this new information. “And y/n,” he looked directly at your face, “you’ve not had any communication? He hasn’t told you his whereabouts or his intentions for the day?”

“No, he’s not. When I woke up this morning he was gone, no texts, no calls. I thought he was just coming in early, but he’s not here…” You were trying really hard to keep it together. Each word got caught in your throat as you fought back the urge to cry again. This isn’t happening. This really isn’t happening.

Hotch folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, y/n, it’s probably nothing, but why don’t you both try and see what Reid was working on. Maybe he’s gone to follow up a lead. I appreciate it’s unusual for him to not check in with anyone first, especially you. If you need me I’ll be in my office.”

“Thanks, Hotch,” Emily replied on your behalf as he left the room. She was quick to be by your side, placing a comforting arm on your shoulder. Emily had been your mentor when you joined the BAU but just like the rest of the team she was much more than that. You thought of her as a sister. “There’ll be an explanation to this, y/n. We’ll figure it out. He’ll be back before you know it.”

The words echoed in your ears as you made your way over to Spencer’s desk. You decided to start with his workspace and see if he’d left any signal of where he was going. Emily got to work flicking through the copious amounts of paper stacked up in the corner. You didn’t like going through his stuff like this but if it meant you’d be able to find him, you were okay with it. After a couple of minutes scrolling through his desktop, you turned the screen off. “Of course there’s nothing on here, the luddite. Have you got anything?”

Emily sighed. “Nothing glaringly obvious. His usual ramblings. A couple of maps, a couple of copies of reports where he’s circled things. No names or addresses that are sticking out to me.” You couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything hidden away. You reached across his desk and picked up the mug full of pencils. You tipped it upside down to find what you needed. The small, silver key shone amongst the wooden pencils. You picked it up and unlocked the drawer beneath his computer. You sat and rummaged through all of the various things he had in there, some extra pencils, some glasses wipes, a book of crossword puzzles, and a reel of photobooth pictures of the two of you. It surprised you that they were in there.

You’d taken them over three years ago, on one of your first dates. Spencer was a little shy when you got into the booth but once you sat on his lap he completely relaxed. The first photograph you were both smiling. The second, he had his eyes crossed and your tongue was sticking out. The third was your favourite. It was your favourite because it captured the look on his face just before the final picture, where he kissed you. You ran your fingers across the photograph of his face and felt the sadness build inside you again.

You took out the crossword book and closed the drawer on the rest of the belongings. Neither of you had found anything worthwhile. “I just have a bad feeling, Emily. Something’s wrong. Something’s been wrong since I got up this morning.” She quizzed you on everything you had seen. The made up bed, the lack of coffee, the out of place keys. The more you spoke the more you could see the look of worry on her face. When she realised you’d sensed her concern, she quickly smiled. “Hey, I know things are a little strange right now, but I’m sure there’s a reason. We’ll sort this out.”

But as the hours passed things became less and less hopeful. Gradually the members of your team were coming to ask you about the events of the previous evening and the morning. Whenever someone had a free moment from working on the case, they were helping you try to figure out where Spencer may have went. By the evening there still hadn’t been any word from him. The thought of going home without him there in the car, sitting in your apartment without him beside you, going to bed without him cuddled up into your back… all of it made you want to be sick. You needed him back.

“Why don’t you stay at mine tonight y/n?” Emily asked. It was like she was reading your mind like a book as the thoughts ran through your head. “I don’t think I’m ready to leave yet…” you chewed on your lip.

Suddenly there was a loud noise. The clicking of heels frantically coming towards you. You turned quickly and saw Penelope running towards you with a tablet in her hand and a phone in the other. Your phone. You’d let her have it a few hours back, not really thinking anything of it. The look on her face was telling you that something was wrong. Seriously wrong. “Garcia, what is it?”

“I, um, well,” she kept looking between you and Emily, “I found something on your phone.” You tensed up and then felt that familiar touch from Emily with her hand on your shoulder. “It was in your sent folder from around five o’clock this morning. A message that you’d sent to Spencer.”

You felt very confused. “I was asleep at that time, I didn’t send him anything.”

“Well, that’s what I thought. But I think Reid may have seen the message and sent it to himself. He probably didn’t want you to see what it was…”

Emily responded for you again, “Garcia, what was it?”

“A photograph.” She took a deep breath. “From an unknown number.”

Oh no. This was him. The career killer. It had to be him. And Spencer had seen it. The killer must have known about your relationship with Spencer and wanted to taunt you for it. He was going to take Spencer and this was all your fault. He’d sent it to you because you were the one on the television. You were the one telling him he was worthless. He had your name, your number. It wouldn’t have been hard to track you down, and then track down Spencer.

“A photograph of what, Garcia?” you asked timidly. But you knew the response. It was him. It had to be him.

“It’s a picture of you, y/n.”

That changed things.

 End of part 3

[mikauzoran]

Marichat/Adrienette: The Rejects Club: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Read it on AO3: The Rejects Club: Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Duel

“Minou,” Marinette calls softly from behind him, and it makes the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end.

Adrien smirks as he stage whispers to Nino, “I know what that syrupy sweet tone means. Ten euros say she wants something.”

“No bet,” Nino scoffs, packing up his things.

Adrien turns in his seat to grin adoringly at a sheepish Marinette. “What does my princess need?”

“Bestest best friend Adrien,” she begins.

Alya rolls her eyes as she shoves her books into her satchel.

“No. I’m not revealing Chat’s secret identity,” Adrien chuckles.

Marinette grimaces. “I was only going to ask for a list of all the blonde guys on the fencing team.”

He looks back at Nino. “Do you think she’s just using me? It would be pretty stupid of me to help her get together with another guy, don’t you think?”

“Mec,” Nino sighs, one word conveying so much.

“There are a lot of blondes in fencing,” Adrien directs back to Marinette. “In fact, most of the guys on the team are blonde. Then there are the unofficial members who come weekly and the people who drop by from time to time. A lot of them are blonde too. It’s a very popular hair color. Shall I narrow the list down for you?”

Marinette raises an eyebrow in suspicion, cautiously inquiring, “You’d do that? Wouldn’t Chat be upset?”

Adrien shrugs, turning back around to scribble something quickly on a spare sheet of notebook paper. He tears it out and hands it to her, declaring, “This is all the list you need.”

Marinette looks down to see the words “Adrien Agreste” circled, underlined, starred, and with arrows pointing to the name.

With a sigh, she rolls her eyes and crumples the paper, tossing it at Nino.

“Hey,” the DJ grumbles.

The bell on the choker around Adrien’s neck gets a flick, making its owner tingle with glee.

“Gee. Thanks. It’s really helpful that you’ve narrowed down my suspect list,” Marinette remarks in a monotone.

“You’re welcome,” Adrien replies without a hint of irony. “You know, if you like, you could always come watch practice today. Maybe you’ll spot him yourself.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Marinette admits, turning to Alya and Nino. “Did you two have anything going on today, or would you like to come?”

And so they all end up in the courtyard after school. It had started raining after lunch, so the roof is up, protecting the open-air gym.

Alya, Nino, and Marinette station themselves on the benches to the side of the court while the team gets ready for practice.

“This is probably pointless,” Marinette sighs, straining her eyes at every blonde boy walking in or out of the locker room.

“Probably, but Adrien’s happy to have you watching him practice, and I’m sure Chat is too, even though you don’t recognize him,” Nino offers consolingly, getting out his physics worksheet.

Alya subverts his efforts to be productive by laying her head in his lap and smiling up facetiously. “Hey, Babe.”

“Hey, Al,” Nino sighs fondly, running a hand through her hair.

“You can’t even tell which ones are blonde once they’ve got all their gear on,” Alya helpfully points out, stealing Nino’s glasses.

“Yeah.” Marinette sinks to sit on the ground, resting her head back against the seat of the bench. “This is probably a total bust. At least I’ll see him tonight.”

“What’s all this then?” Alya chokes, shoving Nino’s glasses back at him and rolling up to sitting to gape down at Marinette.

“Al,” Nino scolds. “Careful with the eyewear.”

Alya doesn’t hear over her single-minded intensity. “You’re meeting him tonight?! In person?!”

“Oh!” Marinette gasps, blood going cold. “Oh, no. No. That’s not what I meant. We’re chatting online again tonight. Because he’s my pen pal whom I’ve never met before in real life. It’s not like he’s coming to my bedroom and we’re gonna watch movies or anything.”

Alya blinks. “Oddly specific denial.”

Marinette grins awkwardly.

Alya flops back down on Nino’s lap.

“Oof! Al!”

If Alya weren’t so used to Marinette’s weirdness, she would be suspicious. “Right. Well, at least he can’t get you pregnant from the other side of a computer screen.”

“Alya!” Marinette squeals, turning chartreuse.

“Just sayin’,” Alya scoffs. “If he can convince you to marry him in a week, how long do you think it’s going to take him to talk his way into your pants? I don’t trust him. At least Adrien was a known quantity. Can we go back to Adrien now that he’s a sloppy mess over you? I feel more comfortable with Adrien.”

“This is a wonderful conversation,” Nino remarks cheerily. “I’m so glad I’m here for this.”

“Me too,” Marinette mutters, curling up defensively. “Chat’s a good guy. He would never overstep my boundaries like that. And Adrien…I’m not touching that metaphoric can of worms.”

“There’s always the threesome option,” Alya proposes. “I’d feel better if Adrien were there to take care of you. But then again, he seems to have done a total one-eighty with his feelings for you. What’s to stop him from dropping you in four years like he dropped Ladybug? What if he decides he likes Kagami in two weeks? Maybe it would be better if I didn’t set you up with someone with a history of inconstancy.”

“Adrien is not inconstant,” Nino snorts, defending his buddy even as he wonders about the alleged “secret girlfriend” Adrien has been texting.

“Still. I’m thinking Chat may still be the better choice,” Alya decides. “Unless you can get them to commit to a threesome. Then definitely go for the threesome.”

“She has a point about the threesome,” Nino admits.

Marinette buries her face in her hands and fights down a scream. “Stop. We are not doing this right now. Come talk to me in two months when I’ve managed to figure out what I want.”

“Threesome,” Alya sings, settling back down on the bench.

With a sigh, Marinette stands up to go lean against the wall for a better view of the numerous blonde boys on the fencing team.

“Marinette!” one of the team members calls, waving as he approaches.

Marinette’s stomach explodes into butterflies. He’s wearing a mask, so she can’t see his face, but could this be Chat, finally coming out of hiding?

Marinette perks up, fixing an inviting smile to her lips as she pushes out her chest a little more and tips her head so that her neck and the lace choker there are bared.

“Hey there,” she greets, going for confidence with a pinch of mystery thrown into the bargain. She is so grateful that she looks awesome today…good hair day, cute outfit, stellar accessories… She’d bet that he’s taken notice.

The mask comes off, and it’s Étienne Saint-Cloud.

Marinette’s smile falters. “Oh, hey, Étienne. How’s it going?”

He comes up to her and rests a hand on the wall to the right of her shoulder. “It was a good day to begin with, but it got even better when I saw you here to watch practice. How are you doing today?”

“Oh. You know.” She forces a smile and plays with her loose bang. “Pretty good. Always a little crazy, but I can’t really complain.”

“Who’s this guy?” Alya sits up and whispers to Nino.

“Étienne Saint-Cloud,” Nino mumbles back. “Marinette accidentally flirted with him yesterday because she thought he might be Chat.”

Nino glances around the gym, hoping to find that Adrien is still in the locker room, but there is no such luck: Adrien is watching Étienne flirt with Marinette, watching Marinette smile awkwardly and play with her hair as Étienne leans farther into her personal space.

Adrien glares death threats backed by enough money to hire a hitman as he strides over, fists clenched.

Nino groans. “This doesn’t end well.”

Alya pulls out her phone and starts filming. “We can show this at the wedding…depending on which one she ends up with.”

Nino shakes his head. “Do you have to film everything?”

“I’m telling you,” Alya stresses, “that fight in the locker room this morning and this territorial display are going on the highlight reel for the wedding. I’m going to be the maid of honor, so I have to be prepared.”

Nino blinks. “Wouldn’t that be the ‘matron of honor’? Isn’t it ‘matron’ when you’re the maid of honor but you’re already married? Do you think they’re going to get married before we do?”

“Semantics,” Alya hedges, not wanting to start in on their number one source of conflict. She does not have commitment issues. Has she not been with the same guy for four years? So what if she’s a little squeamish about making it official and legally binding too early?

“I was wondering…” Étienne reaches out and catches Marinette’s hand as it fiddles with her hair. “Would you go on a date with me tomorrow after school?”

“She’s busy,” Adrien snaps.

Marinette stares in confusion as Étienne turns on Adrien and places his hands on his hips.

“Oh, is she?” Étienne scoffs. “Are you the keeper of her schedule?”

“No, but I happen to know she has dinner plans,” Adrien retorts, taking a step forward and sticking out his chest to make up for the difference in height. “And even if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be interested because she’s not into you, Saint-Cloud. She’s already got someone else.”

Étienne raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Who? You? You’re so conceited, Agreste. Just because you’ve got a pretty face that all the other girls drool over? You think Marinette is the same? You think everyone likes you because your daddy’s rich and you’ve got your face plastered over all the billboards. Newsflash, Agreste,” Étienne snaps. “You’re not so great. You’re shallow and pretentious. You’re a pampered brat who thinks he’s got it so tough. Really, how much effort and brain power does it take to lie around half naked while people take pictures?”

Étienne punctuates his verbal attack with a shove. “You think Marinette likes superficial airheads like you? That’s insulting. On the other hand, she seemed pretty into me yesterday morning, so why don’t we let Marinette speak for herself and tell us which one she prefers?”

Adrien answers Étienne with a shove of his own, seeing red as he remembers Nino telling Chat Noir about Marinette flirting with Étienne. “Or I could just challenge you to a duel. First to five points wins. If you win, you can take Marinette on a date, and I’ll shut up. If I win, you never bother her again.”

“I’ll enjoy wiping the floor with you in front of her,” Étienne agrees.

“I can make my own decisions, if anyone cares,” Marinette grumbles as the boys prepare to do battle for her hand. “This is stupid.”

“This is testosterone at play. It’s the result of a culture of toxic masculinity,” Nino reports in reluctant acceptance.

“AKA, the reason why women should govern the world,” Alya seconds, getting up from the bench and moving a little closer to get a better shot of the match.

“I knew this would happen,” Nino sighs, not bothering to get up. “The instant I saw that guy flirting with you yesterday, I thought, ‘Adrien is going to be a jealous mess’ and ‘This is going to cause problems in my life’. I’m really sick of being right all the time, you know?”

“I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone or Bizarro World or something,” Alya snorts. “What has gotten into our sunshine child? He’s never like this. I mean, he rarely loses his head, even over things that he should.”

“He’s kind of been out of his mind the past week,” Nino mutters.

Marinette crosses her arms over her chest. “I’d say I’m glad I’m not the only one, but…”

Alya bursts into a cackle. “Marinette, my love, you’ve been out of your mind these past four years.” She turns the camera on her friend and inquires in her best journalist voice, “So, how does it feel to have two hot guys fighting over you?”

“Not good,” Marinette sulks, skimming the crowd gathering to watch the duel, hoping to chance upon a semi-familiar face. “Not when I’m more interested in attention from someone else. It’s funny to think that two weeks ago this would have made me ecstatic, but now…”

She doesn’t see Chat in the crowd. She imagines he would be rolling his eyes at the stupidity but secretly cheering Adrien on.

“You know what this looks like?” Marinette groans as the realization hits her and her stomach fills with dread.

“A cockfight?” Alya snickers.

“The prelude to an akuma attack,” Marinette corrects, nervously fingering her lace bracelet.

“Oh,” Alya whispers somberly.

Nino hisses a sibilant curse under his breath.

The combatants take their places on the piste, pulling down their masks and giving the salute.

“…Wanna take bets?” Alya suggests.

“Adrien is going to rearrange Saint-Cloud’s face,” Nino declares.

“En garde,” the student chosen as referee intones. “Prêt…. Allez!”

Adrien and Étienne lunge into action, both figuratively going for the throat. There’s a furious exchange of thrusts, parries, ripostes, parries, and counter-ripostes ending when the fencers lunge simultaneously, both touching at the same time.

“Double,” the referee announces. “One-one.”

Adrien and Étienne nod, returning to their respective starting lines.

Kagami takes advantage of the brief pause in the action to come up beside Marinette. “I can’t believe he’s losing his head like this over you.”

Marinette shrugs. “Yeah, well, join the club because I’m just as surprised.”

Kagami lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “What exactly did you do to him?”

“The truth?” Marinette snickers as Adrien and Étienne begin a more cautious dance of advance and retreat, testing the waters and baiting each other by occasionally touching blades. “For the past week, every time he’s spoken to me, I’ve burst into tears.”

Étienne lunges, going high, but Adrien drops low, landing a touch on Étienne’s foot.

“Two-one.”

“Seriously?” Kagami demands.

“Every single time,” Marinette insists, watching intently as the back-and-forth punctuated by occasional feints and unsuccessful attempted attacks starts up once more.

“He doesn’t strike me as the type to go for weepy, depressed girls,” Kagami scoffs.

“No, I think he actually likes strong women who aren’t afraid to kick his butt,” Marinette replies, trying to remember if that was something that Chat had said or Adrien. They’re beginning to bleed together at the edges. “I think he said something like that this morning, anyway, so I’m not sure why he’s suddenly interested in me.”

“Temporary insanity,” Kagami decrees levelly.

Étienne tries for a flèche, charging at Adrien with the intent to score a point as he passes, but Adrien parries the attack and successfully ripostes.

“Three-one.”

The boys return to their lines, bending their épées back into shape.

Étienne is getting visibly agitated, swiping his blade through the air, clenching and unclenching his fist, and shifting restlessly at the starting line.

Adrien, on the other hand, outwardly appears calm as he raises his blade in en garde.

“En garde…prêt…allez!” the ref calls.

Étienne advances aggressively, pushing Adrien back to the very edge of the piste. Adrien parries but is unable to gain any ground in the face of Étienne’s relentless onslaught. With one foot over the back line, Adrien lunges just a split second behind Étienne’s balestra.

Étienne does a quick, vertical hop into a lunge, and Adrien’s thrust misses.

He doesn’t have time to recover from the lunge and retreat or parry before the point of Étienne’s épée finds his collarbone. He only barely manages to sneak in a jab to Étienne’s arm.

The execution is sloppy and not the performance he wants while Marinette is watching.

“Double. Four-Two.”

Adrien swipes with his blade in frustration, despite getting a point. He won’t let Étienne Saint-Cloud back him into a corner again.

“You know, Kagami,” Marinette remarks softly. “I’m not your enemy.”

“Aren’t you?” Kagami snorts. “We both want the same thing, and only one of us can have it. How are you not my enemy?”

“Adrien might be fighting a duel over me, and, sure, I guess you’re allowed to be jealous over that. Two weeks ago I would have if our places were switched, but now…even if Adrien wins, that’s not going to decide anything. I’m not dating anyone right now, and when I do decide that I’m ready again, there’s someone else.”

“Someone else?” Kagami wonders as Adrien and Étienne start the next bout, moving back and forth on the piste, taking calculated risks.

Marinette nods. “Someone else. I don’t think Adrien will be able to change my mind, so…I don’t know how strong his feelings for me are, but he might need a friend that’s not Nino or Alya or me when this is over. Someone uninvolved,” she clarifies. “You’re his friend, aren’t you?”

Kagami watches silently in thought as Étienne goes for another flèche.

As Étienne passes, Adrien parries, and their épées get caught up in one another. Étienne’s épée goes in front of Adrien’s chest, and Adrien manages to stab behind himself and find Étienne’s thigh before the pass is complete.

“Five-Two. Adrien wins,” the referee declares, and the announcement is met by a mix of cheers and polite applause.

“You’re going to break his heart?” Kagami finally responds.

“Most likely,” Marinette mumbles.

“Then, yes. I’m his friend. I’m able to be a friend, if that’s what he needs.”

“Good,” Marinette sighs quietly in relief. “Thanks, Kagami.”

“I don’t need your thanks,” Kagami counters, holding her head high as she walks off.

On the piste, Adrien takes off his mask and approaches Étienne for the customary handshake.

Étienne slaps Adrien’s hand away. “You’re a prick, Agreste. I’m not even going to pretend to be civil with you.”

“Fine.” Adrien shrugs, withdrawing his hand with a self-satisfied smirk. “Then don’t expect me to be civil if you ever bother my princess again. For the last time, she’s not interested in you, so bugger off, Saint-Cloud,” he spits, baring his teeth.

In response, Étienne is only able to utter a guttural curse. He points at Adrien, his entire arm shaking with rage. The gesture alone is threat enough.

Étienne throws down his mask and turns on his heel to storm off to the locker room, the gathered crowd parting for him.

Several teammates approach Adrien to clap him on the back and congratulate him, but he quickly makes his way through the receiving line and back over to Nino, Alya, and Marinette, looking for all the world like a pleased puppy who expects to be rewarded with head pats.

“Hey,” Adrien greets airily as he comes to a stop in front of Marinette, his smile a shining beacon.

“Proud of yourself?” she asks wryly.

Adrien’s grin falters. “…It is just now occurring to me that maybe I shouldn’t be?”

Marinette crosses her arms, closing herself off. “Adrien, I am not your princess. Didn’t we just talk today about how I’m not some prize to be fought over?”

Adrien visibly shrinks. “I’m guessing you didn’t find that at all romantic or sweet or impressive.”

“I found it anachronistic,” Marinette snorts. “Adrien Agreste, you’re a chauvinistic jerk. If I want to turn a guy down, I’ll do it myself. No one requires your permission to date me. I make those decisions myself. I am not your possession to get territorial over.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—” Adrien begins to splutter. “I don’t think that. I wasn’t trying to objectify you, and I know you’re more than capable of handling things yourself and that I don’t have the right to interfere if you want to date someone else, but I saw him flirting with you, and I just…” He looks down at his feet and mumbles, “I got jealous.”

“I’ve seen you wear a lot of things that would be ugly on someone else, but jealousy isn’t something you can pull off. It’s not a good look on you, Adrien,” Marinette informs softly, gradually relenting.

“I’ll take that under advisory,” Adrien sighs. “I’m sorry, Marinette.”

“Minou?”

He looks up in time to see her smile gently. He’s no longer wearing the choker with the bell because of his fencing gear, but she reaches out as if to ring it and, instead, runs a slow finger down his throat, plucking at the collar of his fencing jacket.

“I forgive you,” she assures, beginning to build him back up now that she’s gotten her point across. “And you were pretty impressive. You looked really cool, especially on that lunge where you got him in the foot.”

“Yeah?” Adrien perks up, and if he were Chat in that moment, his tail would be wagging like a dog’s.

“Yeah,” she confirms, her cheeks betraying her with a blush. “Just between you and me, if you had challenged a guy to a duel over the right to date me two weeks ago, I probably would have thought it was sweet and romantic. I still would have been upset over being treated like a trophy, but…I don’t think I would have been as mad as I am today, so I’m not really being fair to you.”

“Because of Monday?” he guesses.

She looks away. “That might have something to do with it.”

“Okay.” Adrien nods, accepting that he has to play the hand he’s been dealt. “That’s okay. After all, there’s no rule saying that you have to be fair to me, Princess,” he chuckles, scooping up her hand for a kiss.

“You have got to stop that. That’s Chat’s nickname,” she makes a show of protesting.

“Is Chat allowed to engage in territorial displays over you?” Adrien wonders, straightening back up.

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Chat is not my boyfriend either. He also does not own me, and if he starts treating me like a possession, he and I will have the same discussion that you and I had.”

“But would you secretly think it was sweet and romantic?” Adrien pushes.

“Yes,” Marinette reluctantly admits through gritted teeth. “But I wouldn’t tell him that because I don’t want to encourage this kind of chauvinistic behavior. It’s demeaning.”

“I’ll make a note to ask your permission next time before I challenge someone to a duel over you,” Adrien chuckles.

“That’s not what I meant,” Marinette groans.

“If you want, I can even make a verbal disclaimer before I fight the guy: ‘Let it be known that Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Noir is perfectly capable of beating the tar out of both this loser and myself, but I am acting here as proxy’.”

With an eye roll, Marinette flicks Adrien on the nose. “You are insufferable.”

“But you still like me,” Adrien hesitantly teases, half afraid she’ll contradict him.

Marinette shakes her head slowly. “Yeah. Heaven help me, I like you. Platonically,” she adds.

The wattage on his smile could blow fuses. He’ll take “platonically” for now.

He opens his mouth to say something charming to, hopefully, smooth over the whole ordeal when he is cut off by a deafening crash emanating from the locker room. He blinks in confusion.

Did one of the banks of lockers fall over? What could have—?

Suddenly it hits him.

“Shoot,” he hisses. “I just got Étienne Saint-Cloud akumatized, didn’t I?”

“Sounds like it,” Marinette groans as the students in the gym begin to flee in anticipation of the chaos. She scans the crowd for a lone blonde boy rolling his eyes and trotting off to transform; she sees only panicked retreat.

“and he’s probably coming straight for you or me, so it might be a good idea to get out of here,” Marinette completes, abandoning her search for Chat.

Adrien nods in resignation. “We should probably split up. Hey, Nino!”

Nino looks up from where he’s pulling on Alya’s arm, trying to get her to run.

Adrien takes Marinette by the hand and leads her over to their friends, presenting her to Nino. “Could you please get Marinette somewhere safe and then make sure she stays there?”

“Uh…” Nino looks uncertainly between Alya, Adrien, and Marinette. “Sure, Mec.”

Marinette takes a split second to be annoyed. “Seriously? After we just talked about outdated chivalry being sexist and obnoxious, you’re asking Nino to protect me?”

Adrien struggles not to laugh. “Uh, no? Sorry, Bro, but I would never ask Nino to protect you. I’m pretty sure you could break him over your knee.”

“It’s true.” Nino shrugs, pulling on Alya’s arm as she uploads her “Prelude to the Attack” footage to the Ladyblog and prepares to capture the upcoming fight.

“I’m not asking Nino to be your protector,” Adrien snickers. “I’m asking him to be your warden.”

Marinette blinks, attempting to parse Adrien’s meaning.

“You have a penchant for getting into trouble,” Adrien points out. “Nino, if she tries to do anything heroic or even vaguely altruistic, sit on her.”

Marinette pouts as Nino snorts in laughter.

“I’ll take care of her,” Nino assures. “You take care of you, Mec.”

“Thanks.” With a wink for Marinette and a two-finger salute, Adrien takes off.

Nino turns to his girlfriend. “Al—”

“—I’m filming,” she replies flatly.

Nino mutters a hushed curse. “Be safe, Al. I love you.” He presses a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Love you too, Babe,” she chuckles. “Sorry you have to put up with me.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he snorts, turning to Marinette. “Come on. Let’s get you squared away.”

They make it out of the courtyard just as the locker room door blows off its hinges. Marinette leads the way at a run, bypassing a few of her usual transforming spots for a location farther away from the action so that Nino will be safe while he waits out the attack. They duck into the men’s restroom and do a quick check for witnesses.

“Nino, I think I’m going to go do something heroic and-or vaguely altruistic,” Marinette chuckles, popping open her purse. “Do you want to try to sit on me?”

Nino laughs mirthlessly as he pulls out his phone and opens the Ladyblog. “Pass. Just make sure that Marinette is back in this room ASAP after the fight. Adrien is going to flip if he calls or finds me and I don’t have a spotless Marinette readily available for inspection.”

“Was that a pun?” Marinette wonders.

“No. Now go, and don’t get injured unless you want Adrien to wipe the floor with me.”

Marinette gives the nod and turns to Tikki. “Tikki, transform me!”

In a burst of pink light, Ladybug materializes. “Stay safe, Nino,” she mutters, yo-yoing up to the windows above the stalls and letting herself out so as to come back in from a different direction.

“Damn…that is a big sword,” Nino sighs, taking off his baseball cap and running a nervous hand through his hair as he observes the akumatized Étienne on his screen.

[eskalations]

Smoke and Gunpowder, Chapter 1

A/N: Wow, so I haven't written a fanfic since 2017? That's crazy! I watched FMA: Brotherhood a few weeks ago and couldn't get this ship out of my head. I know that my writing skills are a bit rusty, but hopefully after writing more frequently, I'll be back in the swing of things. This originally started out as a oneshot, but if people enjoy it, I am willing to make it into a series of oneshots based in this universe.

Let me know what you think!

Summary:

Even now, in the privacy of her room and away from the prying eyes of their government, he stiffened at her proximity. The careful lines drawn between the two of them seemed to blur at times like these when they were alone and out of uniform. In the dim light of her room, it was easy to imagine that they were just a quiet country boy and bold city girl again.

(ROYAI GENDERBEND AU)

AO3 | FFN

Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Patience had always been her strong suit.

There were many things she wasn't – calm, collected, stoic (ironically these were all things that were usually recommended in a soldier) – but patient she was.

Except for tonight.

Raina Mustang's dark eyes had been glued to the clock for the past two hours, willing the hands to move faster. No matter what she had done to try and distract herself – shower, cook, read – nothing could keep her mind off the eternal ticking of that damn contraption. So now here she sat in her pajamas with a wet head, eyes still burning from the smoke produced by her attempt at dinner, and book wide open to page 3 – with nothing to show for it except raw anxiety.

She worried her lip between her teeth and shut the book with a huff - there was just no use pretending anymore. She glanced at the pile of papers in front of her and set the book resolutely on top of them. The paperwork she had brought home was surely not getting done in these conditions and she couldn't take her mind off the situation long enough to even bother with it.

He should have been here by now. They agreed on 2100 hours and now it was 2130 – and if there was one thing that Ray Hawkeye was not, it was late.

It looked like neither of them were living up to their usual standards tonight.

The mission was simple enough. Take one of Madame Christmas's girls out to dinner, get the information she had to offer, escort her back to the hotel she was staying in, linger for just long enough to make it seem like their good time had extended beyond their meal, and then get out of there. There was no reason it should be taking this long.

Unless….

Before that train of thought could go any further, there was a timid set of knocks on her door. By the third rapt of knuckles on wood, she had already swung the door open wide and was pulling her visitor inside.

"Colonel!" The man nearly exclaimed, a touch of disapproval in his tone. Ever the cautious soul, her bold actions set his mind reeling. What if someone had seen his dark-haired superior dragging him desperately into her apartment? What would people think?

However, that was the last thing on the Flame Alchemist's mind.

Her eyes narrowed as she gave him a once over. In his civilian clothes, he looked just like the unassuming young man she had met all those years ago – there was just one difference now. While his hair and clothes were typically in perfect order, they were in utter disarray today.

First Lieutenant Hawkeye's usually carefully combed blonde hair was now mussed in a way that implied much less professional activities had taken place prior to their meeting. If that wasn't proof enough that he had been up to no good, the white button up badly hidden by his long brown coat certainly was. With several buttons messily inserted into the wrong holes, it wasn't hard to guess what he had been doing before visiting her apartment.

Despite the incriminating evidence on his person, Raina released a sigh of relief. His appearance was as it always was after one of his "dates" – right down to the slight smudge of lipstick left on the right side of his mouth.

"So," She started casually, a smirk appearing on her lips as she gave him another once over before continuing, "It looks like you had a good time."

A pale hand reached out to pluck at one of the buttons of his shirt – however, her wrist was caught up in the strong grip of her adjutant. His hands were warm, familiar and calloused just as she'd expect a sniper's to be.

"Colonel," His voice was near pleading, face brooking no amusement. While his grip lessened, and allowed her hand to drop – the stern expression on his face did not change. She could see the line of his jaw tighten as he remarked quietly, "You know better than anyone that I have very little fun doing your dirty work."

"That's harsh, Lieutenant," The young woman's lips dropped into a pout, wounded by his words.

Despite the sad look on her visage, the man did not recant his statement.

"It's true." He spoke resolutely, joining his hands behind his back and straightening his spine a bit. She could see in his face though that he held no actual malice for his comrade – he was just tired after working overtime to get the information they needed. The Colonel was grateful to him – however, she could not pass up the opportunity to tease the serious man just a bit. Especially after such a cruel remark.

"You know what I think?" She countered while circling around to his back, hands reaching out to divest him of his coat. If there was a slight shake in her appendages due to the history that she had with this part of his body, he was certainly too polite to point it out. "I think you're just frustrated that your superior officer is a better wingman than your fellow male office mates."

Hawkeye didn't miss a beat.

"Considering the fact that I take orders from my younger, female superior every day without complaint – I highly doubt that's the reason for my distaste of these activities," With his coat off and hung by her door, he followed the young lady into her rent home's small living area. "But while we are on the subject of things I am not happy with, let's talk about the way you just let me in the do – wait, have you been practicing?"

"Huh? Practicing what?" Raina paused on her way to the couch, looking back at him curiously. The young man was glancing up at the ceiling as if the answer was going to materialize right in front of him.

Hawkeye's eyes narrowed, his face suddenly resembling the bird that was his namesake.

"It's smoky in here," He stated flatly, his hand drifting into the air and making a slight gesture as if to point it out.

. "I didn't even notice." The Colonel raised her dark brows innocently, choosing to play dumb in an attempt to keep her pride intact. He knew she was a terrible cook and any further evidence of such was sure to just add fuel to the fire.

The young man's expression, however, let her know that he most definitely did not believe her.

Ignoring his reaction, she sunk into the cushions of her couch and allowed an exaggerated sigh to slip from her lips as Hawkeye remained standing. The movement caused the straight, black bangs on her forehead to go airborne for a moment. "I was so busy with paperwork that I lost track of time – any reason you chose today to be late for the first time ever?"

Amber eyes glanced dubiously at the alchemy book laid out on top of the "paperwork" the Colonel had claimed to be doing so diligently before his arrival. If you looked closely enough, you could even see a few lines that still needed signatures that were left empty. The young man wished he could say he was surprised, but that would be a lie.

"The eagerness you displayed at the door says differently, sir."

The Colonel feigned ignorance. "I have no idea what you're implying, Lieutenant. I was simply trying to pull you into my home before anyone saw you standing on my doorstep looking like that."

The man looked down at his clothing stoically before glancing up again and meeting her gaze. While there was a slight flush in his cheeks, his expression remained the same – as though he wasn't standing in the middle of her living in a questionable state of undress.

"If you'll excuse me, sir – I am going to go and refresh myself before we continue this conversation," Hawkeye gave her a quick salute before turning in the direction of the bathroom. However, before he could make it around the corner, he looked back at her and their gazes met once again, a slight smile making its way on to his face. "Why don't you go clean up whatever you were attempting to cook in the kitchen? It seems like the rain isn't the only thing you're useless in."

Before she could even react, he was already down the hall and slamming the bathroom door shut. The audacity.

Raina sat shocked for a moment before rolling her eyes and rising from the couch. Same old Hawkeye – observant as ever. He knew her far too well at this point in their lives to fall for any of her tricks.

Entering the kitchen, she cleaned out the now burnt pasta stuck at the bottom of the pot she had left on the counter. The young Colonel had meant to get rid of such incriminating evidence before her subordinate got there, but it must have slipped her mind once she saw the time.

'Oh well…' She thought to herself as she tossed the remnants of her burnt dinner into the trash. No use in hiding her weaknesses from a man who had been her professional shadow for years. Ever since their initial transfer to East City from Ishval, they had been a package deal. She was grateful for it – since their time in the city certainly hadn't been spent idly.

With General Grumman being a very lenient leader, a majority of his work fell on to the shoulders of those who were under him. While this meant more work for them, Colonel Mustang didn't mind since the more accolades she received, the easier it was to rise in the ranks. Knowing this, Grumman usually reserved his most high profile of cases to the Mustang unit.

Being as feminine as she was – most people did not look at Raina Mustang as a huge threat to their position. Despite her title as a State Alchemist and the youngest Colonel currently serving in the Amestrian military, most top dogs in the brass barely gave her a second glance. Sure - some of them were suspicious of her rise in the ranks – however, many just assumed she had slept her way to the top.

The amount of investigations that had been done on said accusation were numerous, but so far no evidence had come forward to warrant an official court-martial. Let them think what they wanted as long as it didn't affect her goal of being able to repent for the crimes she had committed.

Taking note of her appearance in the reflection of the pot she held, she couldn't say she was surprised by the assumptions. With long black hair and exotically dark features (she thanked whatever higher powers there were daily that her mother was Xingese and contributed to her unique look), Raina could fit right in with Christmas's unassuming gaggle of girls. Her flirty nature and feigned laziness was a façade that played into this persona that she had carefully crafted whenever she had decided what path she wished to take to the top.

She didn't necessarily like being looked down upon for such behavior – however, she was a patient woman. Colonel Mustang knew what she wanted and knew exactly what it was going to take to get it. After the actions that she had taken in Ishval, it was paramount that she become Fuhrer eventually – the sooner the better.

The return of her Lieutenant broke her from her thoughts before they could take an even darker turn.

"So," She casually remarked, dropping the pot into the sink before turning to face the young man. "What's on the menu?"

This Hawkeye was one she was more familiar with. The young man's shirt was now buttoned correctly and his light hair was styled to perfection just as it normally was. If it wasn't for the slight coral smudge that was still visible at the corner of his mouth, she wouldn't have even been able to tell he had gone out earlier.

Glancing at the pot she had in the sink, his response was dry. "Since I'm assuming that pot is the only one in your possession, I suggest a simple stir-fry."

"Fine by me."

They were quiet as they worked to get a small dinner for two prepared – Ray at the stove and Raina on ingredients duty. The smell of burnt pasta was soon replaced by a new, delicious aroma.

Once dinner was finished, they sat across from each other at her small table.

"Which of my sisters entertained you tonight?" Raina asked casually as she took a sip of water, glancing at Ray over the rim of her glass. The young man was taking his first bite and nearly dropped his fork at her choice of words.

"Could you not refer to it in that way?" The Lieutenant finally collected himself long enough to answer, his expression already back to the stoic mask he donned daily. He knew she was just fishing for information – however, he knew her well enough to know that she was also trying to get a reaction out of him. "You know better than anyone that nothing of that sort has ever happened on any of these dates."

Raina shrugged non-committedly, taking a bite of her food and waiting for him to continue.

At her silence, Ray sighed before finally taking a moment to answer her question. "It was Vanessa – you should have been able to tell from the shade of lipstick she chose to leave on my cheek."

He took another bite as Raina chuckled, "I figured she was the one that had been sent. The Madame knows that Vanessa prefers Easy City clients. Did she tell you how long she would be in town?"

Ray gave her a dry look, "We were too busy discussing the information at hand to really talk about anything personal. I will be seeing her tomorrow though."

"I'm sure we'll cross paths at some point," The Colonel commented offhandedly, grinning at the slight panic that appeared on her subordinate's face. "Don't worry, I will make sure we aren't being watched."

Ray gave her a doubtful look before returning his attention to his meal. Raina couldn't let this go without comment.

"You took her out for dinner, right?" She asked, spooning another serving into her mouth before continuing. "Did she steal the food off your plate or did you get so distracted by her womanly wiles that you forgot to eat?"

Ray remained unaffected. "We actually went to a show instead, that's the reason I was late."

The young woman was surprised by this. Her Lieutenant usually stuck to dinner with his dates as it was a more casual experience. In the civvies he sported now, she imagined he had looked quite out of place at the East City Opera.

"Vanessa must have felt quite special then," Raina remarked carefully, taking another sip from her glass. "You don't usually treat the girls to a show."

"I was being followed."

"Oh?" This had the woman pausing mid-sip.

Ray finished chewing before setting down his fork. His dark eyes met her own, the concern evident in his expression.

"This is the first time I have caught someone tracking my movements," The man shared, folding his hands under his chin. "Vanessa felt it too. They were inexperienced from what I could tell in covert operations, so we lost them pretty quickly – however, I chose to remain cautious for the rest of the night and diverted from my usual routine."

Raina sighed in relief, her own dinner forgotten as she leaned back in her chair. "Trust the Hawk's Eye to catch something like that."

"The information Vanessa had was not of an incriminating nature," Ray remarked, speaking on the subject for the first time that night. Raina leaned forward to better hear the man's soft voice. "I have no idea who would have been following me tonight – so please be on your guard when you are out of the office."

"What was the information?" Raina asked, choosing to ignore the warning. Someone following them from afar wasn't going to discover anything noteworthy – her team was much too careful to fall victim to such a ploy.

Hawkeye stood, gesturing for her to follow him down the hall to the bedroom at the back of the house. Her bedroom.

Rolling her eyes at his worry, she followed her subordinate. He often was overly cautious when sharing with her whatever secrets he had discovered, checking for bugs and speaking quietly before relaying the information, but tonight he wasn't taking any chances. The bedroom at the back of her house was the one furthest from the door with curtains that would hide them from the eyes of anyone standing outside.

After shutting the door behind him and surveying the room, Hawkeye turned to address her.

"The information she had was in regards to General Hakuro." He finally revealed, his eyes following her as she took a seat at the end of her bed. "Like I said, it's nothing incriminating – but I know it's something that will interest you."

"I'm listening," Her eyes lit up at the mention of her rival. Despite the seriousness of the conversation though, she couldn't help but add on, "– and I'm sure the bugs that the enemy has hidden are all ears too."

Hawkeye was unamused by her comment. Ignoring his put-out expression, she gestured for him to continue - and, with a sigh, he followed her orders.

"Hakuro is planning on petitioning for Colonel Becker to be moved to Central when a spot is open," The Lieutenant revealed, watching as a familiar fire became evident in the Colonel's eyes. "He heard that you were planning on applying for transfer and has chosen to counter Grumman's recommendation of you."

"Tough luck," Mustang commented, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. "I have it on good authority that Colonel Becker has been having an extra marital affair with one of the Madame's girls out in New Optain."

"It's Mollie" Hawkeye confirmed, his eyes looking quickly over to the window before meeting her gaze again. It was in these moments that his position as a sniper was most evident – always watching. "The Madame has a plan to keep this transfer from happening but she wanted to run it by you before taking action herself. That's why I'm meeting Vanessa tomorrow – to let her know your answer."

"What's the plan my foster mother has come up with?"

"Blackmail," The young man commented dryly, as if it could have been anything else where the Madame was involved. Her greatest weapon was the information she had against pretty much any high-ranking officer in the military – of course the answer was blackmail. The Colonel gave him a small smile at this solution.

"Let me guess," She stood and walked over to where he was stationed in the corner of her room, her voice low and even. "His lover will threaten to go to the press if he chooses to leave her alone in New Optain?"

"Precisely."

"He has a wife and kids too, does he not? I think Hughes shared with me once that he did…" Hawkeye nodded in confirmation, prompting a deep sigh from his companion. "So such a story would affect not only him, but other parties as well?"

"Meaning he has much more than just his career at stake." The Lieutenant finished lowly.

Raina nodded, stopping in front of him. It was so strange to see him without his gun holsters positioned over his shoulders – but she knew better than to assume that he was not armed. He never went anywhere without at least two loaded pistols on him. She knew him so well, yet any outsider would think they were strangers from the way they danced around each other.

Even now, in the privacy of her room and away from the prying eyes of their government, he stiffened at her proximity. The careful lines drawn between the two of them seemed to blur at times like these when they were alone and out of uniform. In the dim light of her room, it was easy to imagine that they were just a quiet country boy and bold city girl again.

But too much had happened since those days for them to lose themselves completely.

Glancing up at Hawkeye, Mustang chose her next words carefully. "Do you think it's fair that one day we may have to answer to our sins - yet for Becker to answer to his, we would have to destroy the lives of others in the process?"

The young man remained still, meeting her gaze steadily. Always her moral compass, he was the one she usually came to with such sensitive questions. While his voice certainly held a degree of sympathy, there was a firmness in it that spoke of a steely resolve.

"The goal is to not have to reveal this information," He reminded her gently, his chin tilted downwards to better gauge her reaction to his words. "Vanessa said they will do as they always do and hang it over his head just long enough for our transfers to be processed. After that, Mollie will conveniently disappear from his life."

Raina nodded, aware of the usual protocol the girls followed. They knew just how to play their cards right to further her career while remaining unassuming. It wasn't their fault that the men in the military seemed to have both loose lips and loose morals.

"You can tell Vanessa that I'm fine with the plan," Raina conceded, though there was one thing about the situation that bugged her. "Do you really think he'll take the bait though?"

One of Hawkeye's blonde brows rose. "In a position where bad press can possibly get someone court-martialed? I think it's more than likely that he will."

She couldn't argue with that.

"Alright," She agreed, nodding slowly as she worked through the plan in her head again. She wouldn't be applying for transfer for another month, so Mollie should be able to hold Becker off long enough to get everything processed before anyone became too suspicious.

Hawkeye gave her a stiff nod as well, acknowledging that he heard her orders. With his mission now completed - the young man began to shift, his eyes drifting to the bedroom door, signaling that his thoughts were now focused on leaving.

"Should I muse you up a bit before you go?" Raina asked, knowing this would rattle his nerves. Her hand reached out to play with a button on his shirt, the warmth of her palm seeping through the fabric and causing him to stiffen. "Do you think that would get tongues wagging again in regards to my activities outside the office?"

"It was already risky enough for me to come here in the state that I was in," Hawkeye reminded her – a clear warning evident in his tone. This was her lieutenant, always playing by the rules. "Please do not do anything else that could possibly result in an investigation. The Madame's services already could get us into serious trouble if anyone found out."

The Colonel gave him an innocent look at his words. "I don't know what you mean, Lieutenant – I was simply offering you the same services that my sister provided you with."

He raised his brows again. "I highly doubt that, sir."

The young woman shrugged, turning away from her subordinate. Opening her bedroom door, she walked back down the hall to where their dirty dinner plates still sat on the table. When Hawkeye made a move to pick them up, she batted his hand away. He had cooked for her, the least she could do was clean up the dishes.

She brought him his coat and helped him put it on. While the look he gave her was one of thanks, there was a slight warning in his eyes as well. She smoothed her hands over his arms before taking a step back, giving him the space she knew he needed.

But before he could turn the knob on the door, she stopped him with a gentle hand.

"Lieutenant?"

The young man turned towards her, wondering what else she could have to say.

With a smirk on her face, the Colonel stepped forward. Suddenly, their breaths were mingling and her usually unshakeable Lieutenant was frozen. Staring deeply into his eyes for a moment – she waited, watching for a reaction.

Before anything could be said, she reached up to the side of his mouth and swiped at the coral colored patch of skin that he had left unattended earlier. Drawing her fingers back, she gave him a wry look.

"Coral's not my color, but we wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea – would we?"

[moreaugriffins]

Let him wear what he wants

This one took longer than expected to write, but it is done! Finally. I hope it was worth it.

TW: panic attacks, maybe emotional abuse (just to be safe)

The first time he tried on a dress, he was five years old. Percival was a child driven by curiosity, always watching people around him. He noticed how some servants and his mum wore flowey cloth that looked different from the clothes he had to wear. What they wore looked light, and soft, and very comfortable, whilst the trousers he had to wear were itchy and annoying.

He wandered into his parent’s room whilst they were somewhere else, he wasn’t sure where, to grab the toys his dad took away from him, when he noticed something laying on his parent’s bed. It was the clothes.

With some struggle, he grabbed it, and tried to put it on. It clearly was too big for him, it was practically falling off his body, but he liked it. It felt as soft as it looked, and it made him feel like a pretty boy!

Percival smiled to himself, trying to take a few steps towards the mirror, but tripped on some of the cloth that touched the floor, and landed with a thud. After a few seconds of pain, he couldn’t help but laugh. It was fun! Maybe he could have one of these things, but smaller. Falling over wasn’t fun.

“Percival Milquetoast.” He heard his dad say with a booming voice. He looked towards the door to see that his dad clearly was not very happy. Had he done something wrong?

“I wasn’t taking the toys.” Percival tried to explain. Yes, he came in for the toys, but he doesn’t want them now.

His dad did not reply, but walked over to Percival, and grabbed his arm, pulling him out of clothes. Maybe it was the fact that his dad was gripping him too tightly, or the fact that his dad was angry at him, but he started to cry. He didn't understand.

“Men do not wear a dress Percival,” his dad took him out of the room, unaffected by the crying,”I expected better from you. Do not do that again.” Percival nodded, wiping away his tears. He didn't know it was a bad thing to do.

As a teenager, he made it his mission to piss off his father. Trying to grow his hair out, talking back to him, putting his feet on the table, speaking his opinions when his father’s friends are around, the list could go on.

His clothes however, he does not mess with. He would untuck his shirt, yes, and get his expensive trousers muddy, but walk around the house wearing a skirt? Or gods forbid a dress? That was not happening.

He actually liked wearing those.

He couldn’t buy any of them though, as people would talk, and his father would know. He couldn’t steal any because what if he got caught? So he learned to sew fabrics that he collected from around the house, and from his old clothes. Luckily, with the amount of times his father locked him in his bedroom, he had the time to practice, and soon enough he was able to make some decent skirts. Well skirts that did not fall apart after wearing them two times.

He hid them away at the back of his closet, out of sight. He knew that at some point, he would have to find a better spot to hide it, otherwise eventually a servant could find it.

He heard his door slam behind him, and waited until he could no longer hear the sound of footsteps, before opening his closet and taking out one of the skirts. He learned to love wearing his shirts and trousers, they were very practical, and could be comfortable to wear, but there was something about.. Wearing, not only skirts and dresses, but anything with flowy material, that was rather freeing.

Getting changed into the skirt, he played with the mismatched fabrics that made up the clothing item. Though it was not the prettiest thing he owned, he certainly liked it more than most of his clothes. Maybe it was because he made it. He heard that people tend to like what they've made themselves, more than something made by someone else.

With a small smile, he walked over to his shelf, and picked out a book on pirate history. He had been meaning to annotate the book, so he may as well start now.

He didn’t know what happened after that, other than he must have made it to his bed and fell asleep. He groaned at the sound of knocking, as he buried his head in his pillows, not wanting to deal with the servant.

The door creaked open,”Sir, your father requires your pres-” The servant fell silent.

“My father what?” Percy prompted, rolling over to face the servant, only to find them staring at him in horror. He frowned, confused. What did he do now?

It took a few seconds for the cogs in his mind to start moving. He started reading, then sat on his bed because it was more comfortable, but did he get changed before he fell asleep? One glance at his own clothes answered that question.

His heart rate skyrocketed,”get out,” He managed to say, feeling his throat close up. He had been caught, his father will know, he will know. Oh gods. He couldn’t breathe.

-

His father had not mentioned anything, and Percy dared not mention anything to him. He started to think that the servant had not told his father about the incident, if it weren’t for the fact that one evening, when Percy returned home, he found his father sitting in front of the fireplace.

That itself was not the thing that raised alarm bells, but it looked like something was burning in the fire, other than the logs.

He walked into the room, to have a closer look.

Was that..

“I must say, I was hoping that the servant was lying,” His father stated. It was clear that he was ashamed of Percy, he could tell, and disgusted. He didn’t even want to look at his child, instead, he looked at the fire,”But alas I found those hidden away.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, suck on the spot. He was too shocked to feel anything.

“I could tolerate your other… feminine behaviours, as i knew you only did them to get a reaction out of me. But this.. You wore them in private.”

“It doesn’t harm anyone.” His mouth was moving quicker than his mind, as the shock started to wear off. He burned them. He didn’t just confiscate his clothes, he was burning them to ash. To nothing. All because he wore them?

His father scoffed,”Doesn’t harm anyone? It harms our reputation,” he finally turned to face Percy, glaring at him,”If i had not paid them a considerable amount, they would have told everyone. They would have said you were not truly a man, that you are a sissy. People would lose respect for us.”

“Well, that only shows how ignorant they are. It’s just a skirt.”

“And skirts are only worn by females. You are my son. You do not wear those things!”

“You can’t fucking tell me what to do-”

“I am your father. I can do what I see as fit,” his father stood up,”It has been clear that I have been too lenient on you. From now on, a servant will keep an eye on you at all times, except when you sleep, shower, dress, so on.”

Percy’s mind was reeling from this information. It was utterly ridiculous. He wanted to scream at his father, about how unfair he was being, how he was already being too strict. He was burning his fucking clothes for crying out loud!

But he said nothing, he couldn’t.

He just watched the last pieces of fabrics disappear.

He hated himself for this. How many years has it been, since he ran away from home? He could do whatever he wanted, be with who he wanted, wear what he wanted. So why couldn’t he wear his dresses outside of his room?

He knew why. Everytime he tried to, he remembered the last time people saw him dress like this. He couldn’t risk that happening again. So it was his secret, nobody had to know.

He spun on the spot, watching the delicate fabric float and twist in the mirror. It never failed to make him smile. The clothes had become comfort items for him over the years. When everything felt like it was falling to shit, insecurities were getting the better of him, when he needed an escape, he would lock himself away, and do the things he wanted to do, without being ridiculed, or worse.

His hand ran over the neckline of the dress. He was glad that he chose a silk dress. It’s very breathable, so at least he wouldn’t sweat buckets in this dress, even if it was black. Plus it’s very smooth to touch and doesn’t irritate his skin, and it fits his shape very well.

Dare he say it, he looked fucking stunning!

“Hey Corazon, the others were wondering if-” Corazon’s head snapped towards his now opened door, which was where he saw Dob. Apparently, the half orc didn’t think that knocking was important.

Corazon’s heart started beating faster, and he slammed the door on Dob, before staggering backwards, as far away as he could. Of course this would happen. Why didn’t he lock the door? Why couldn’t his secret stay a secret, for once? His throat started to close up, as his whole body started to shake. Dob saw. He’ll tell the others. They will know. He’ll lose the people he cares most about. Oh gods, they’ll be disgusted, won’t they?

He sat himself on the ground, feeling too light headed to stay standing up. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think properly, all he knew was that he had messed up. Everything was fucked. The stupid dress didn’t even feel nice anymore. It made him feel disgusting. Why did he have to wear this shit?

“-azon? Corazon are you ok,” He heard Dob say, barely, it was hard to hear of the ringing noise. Corazon didn’t even try to respond, just trying to fucking breathe. He just needs to breathe,”Cor?”

It was only a few moments later when he heard the sound of wood snapping and the door opening. He could just feel Dob’s eyes on him, he hated it. He didn’t want him to see him like this, and give him more of a reason to ridicule him.

A few steps, and Dob crouched down in front of the pirate, looking rather worried. Well isn’t that great.

“Corazon, buddy, take some deep breaths, ok?” The half orc reached to put a hand on Corazon’s shoulder, but he pulled away immediately. He tried to take some deep breaths anyway, not to any major success, but at least he didn’t feel like he was being strangled anymore.

“Please don’t talk about this.. To the others.” Corazon mumbled, daring not to look at him.

“About.. The dress or the..”

“Both…”

“Of course.” It felt like some of the weight was lifted off of his chest. Dob has always kept his word, so he meant it, right?

They sat in silence for some amount of time, as Corazon started to calm down. He couldn’t say he was completely fine, he was still very much on edge, but he could breathe, he could think.

“So,” Dob looked for something to say,”switching up your fashion, hm?”

“I’ve always worn stuff like this.” He admitted, running his finger over the silk. He couldn’t believe he admitted that. Why would he do that?

“Oh? Why don’t you ever wear it,” Dob paused, probably realising maybe not to ask,”well.. I think it suits you!”

Corazon looked at him finally, raising an eyebrow skeptically. He tried to find any sort of sign that he was lying, because he must be. He has to be.

“..Really?”

“Yeah! You look very pretty in it.” Dob smiled softly, and Corazon couldn’t help but smile as well.

“Thank you,” he cleared his throat, feeling a little too emotional for his liking,”um, you should probably head back to the others now.”

“Oh! Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?”

‘I’m sure. Just, tell the others I won’t join tonight.”

“Ok then. Get some rest.”

Taglist

@ninjagrumpbomb

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 19--Lion’s Den

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Newly a captive, Ienzo tries to learn what Xehanort wants from him, as well as his plans.

Read in on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo woke suddenly, flailing against the blankets draped over him. His breasts ached terribly and there were wet spots on his shirt; he must’ve been under for some time. He touched one, wincing.

Xehanort’s son. Strands of nothingness around his throat. Darkness.

Where was he?

He was in a small, narrow room. It was minimally furnished--the single wrought iron bed was against one corner, by a narrow window; a small, very old oak writing desk was against the other wall; a squat, two drawer dresser was next to it. The walls were painted a faint violet, adorned with a crown moulding. A cracked door opened to a tiny bathroom with a shower. Ienzo padded across to the other door and tried it; locked, of course. He reached for his magic and found it sluggish, deadened. He darted over to the window, looked outside, and his heart nearly stopped.

Ienzo knew where he was; the castle in what was once Radiant Garden. A strange, faint mist wreathed the city, vaguely sulfuric. Massive poles in the distance held floodlights, likely to defend the remaining populace against Heartless. He opened the window and tried to reach out, but a ward blocked him.

He was a captive.

Amalia.

Panic overtook him then, and he tried the door again in vain, pounding on the thick old wood. “Let me out!” No response; he suspected a muffling charm had been placed on the door.

He hadn’t realized how dependent he was on her presence, her aura until it was gone. He had to have been drugged somehow, or enchanted, for his magic to simply be sleeping like this. But he hoped more than anything that Amalia was safe back in Demyx’s arms. He found himself mouthing a fervent prayer to whatever was listening for that to be the case. He had no idea what Xehanort or his sons would do to his newborn daughter if they had her. Kill her? Mold her into a shiny tool to use? He had no idea which was worse.

The door opened, and he struggled to conceal the wetness on his shirt with his blanket. He saw a small old woman with a tray of food, water, tea, and of all things, a lily in a thin crystal vase. “Good, you’re finally awake,” she said. She had a kind smile. “You must be starved, poor thing.”

Ienzo was reeling, wondering how to react, what angle to play. Motionless, he watched her cross the room and set the tray down on the writing desk. He could physically overtake her, he knew, and bound out the open door--unless that was warded too. But how far would he reasonably get before he ran into a guard, or worse? He couldn’t defend himself from prowling Heartless without magic.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. “I treated those scratches on your throat, the bruises. Just awful, in my opinion.”

“Who are…” he trailed off.

Another smile. She brushed off her skirt; she was wearing what had once been servants’ livery under Ansem’s reign, crisp, comfortable, and functional. “My name is Lydia,” she said. “I’m surprised you don’t remember me, your highness. I was once the castle librarian. You were always there, weren’t you?”

Ienzo blinked slowly; a veil of time and panic made it hard to remember. Lydia had looked much younger then, her hair brown instead of gray. She’d always been happy to give him the books that Even said were too mature for him. “I apologize, I--”

She smiled again. “I know, I haven’t aged well.” A wry laugh.

He swallowed. “Am I a… prisoner?” he asked cautiously.

“The word being used is “guest.”” She bit her lip. “I think that’s for you to determine, your highness.” She pulled the domed lid from the plate, revealing a breakfast--eggs, toast, hash browns. Ienzo struggled not to react; ever since he’d been breastfeeding, his appetite had been nearly insatiable. “I’ll bring you a change of clothes. Go on, eat.”

She left, and shut the door behind her; Ienzo heard the click of the tumblers as it locked. He approached the food warily, sniffed it. His magic could tell him if it was poisoned, or drugged--except it was dead.

The practical thing to do would be to wait out this sensation until he could sense if anything was in the food.

But the smell made him weak . He’d need food to be able to think clearly, to plan. He sipped the water timidly; it tasted normal, so did the tea. The flavor of the egg nearly brought tears to his eyes. Xehanort must’ve kept the castle’s chefs; it all was the same as he remembered.

Focus, Ienzo.

He was nearly finished when Lydia returned with a small cloth bundle. “Better?” she asked.

“...Quite.”

“Remy heard you were here and made it specially. He so rarely gets to cook the way he wants to anymore. Xeha--er. His Lordship prefers things sour, bitter.”

Specially. What did that mean? “Give him my regards,” Ienzo said in a neutral voice.

“...Of course.” She reached past him to take the tray. “I’m told someone will collect you in half an hour, if you’d like to shower and dress.”

Ienzo hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to appear like he was playing into Xehanort’s hands--but maybe he should? To find out what he could? Play innocent, naive, claim Even had been coddling him all this time.

Either way, he could not go wherever he was going covered in breastmilk. If they didn’t know about his daughter, he couldn’t risk letting them find out. Perhaps the rush of magic from her birth had been confused for a spell of his own creation. And if that were the case... why wait four weeks? To lull them into a false sense of security, he realized equally.

He showered--the water smelled vaguely like iron--and winced, his nipples twinging again as he touched them. Without magic, he couldn’t exactly strain it off into the sink or toilet, despite the relief it would give him. The soap smelled harsh, but at least it washed off the scent of the milk. He washed his stained shirt thoroughly and left it to dry on the towel rack.

The clothing he’d been left was simple, but rather formal--slacks, a neatly pressed button-up, a white sweater vest, a purple ascot. He combed his messy hair with his fingers.

And then Ienzo waited.

It didn’t take long before someone came for him. There was a gentle knock at the door, then the lock clicked open. Ienzo tried to keep his expression open, neutral, but it was difficult when he saw their face.

Xemnas. The man had the gall to smile. “Old friend,” he said, in a voice that had only deepened with age. “Did you enjoy your meal?”

Definitely medicated, Ienzo decided. “Quite. You’ll have to give your father my thanks.”

“You may do so yourself. Would you like to go for a walk?”

Ienzo smiled pleasantly. He followed Xemnas out of the open door. The man was dressed similarly smartly, in a well-tailored black suit with a red tie. He realized he was being kept in the old servants’ quarters, from before Ansem had given them the apartments; his suspicions were correct and a pair of armored guards were at both ends of the hall.

“Please do not take offense to this,” Xemnas began. “But when my brother brought you in… we were rather surprised. We were expecting…”

“A princess?” He made himself smile again. “I’m afraid that phase of my life was left behind long ago.”

“I’m sure it protected you quite well.”

“Quite.”

Xemnas paused. “No harm will come to you here,” he said. “Be sure of that.”

“That so?”

“My father seeks to earn your trust. I hope it will work in the other direction too.”

“All this talk… I have never actually had the pleasure of meeting your father.” He found himself infinitely glad of the etiquette lessons Even had given him when he was younger. Best be diplomatic for now, until he had more information.

“I’m afraid outside opinion may have tarnished your view of him.”

Ienzo had to bite his tongue. “...Perhaps.” They continued walking in silence for a while. Xemnas’s pace was sedate, even relaxed. The faint smell of sulfur was everywhere; Heartless dazedly wandered the halls, but did not come near them. “Our guards,” he explained calmly. “After all, they do not need breaks, nor they need to eat.”

“Practical,” Ienzo said, trying to swallow the horror.

The castle, to his surprise, was much the same, down to the decorations; the only thing that had been changed was all the crests, away from the violet he’d known under his father, replaced with a deep red with a large X. “The symbol “chi,”” Xemnas told him, “Though some pronounce it “key.””

“...I see.”

He saw a few human servants here and there; they paused to bow to Xemnas as he passed. All the while, Ienzo swallowed the bittersweet nostalgia that threatened to overtake him. Memories stabbed him behind the eyes--here, Braig teaching him to ride the stair bannister; hiding here from Even as he chased him for his lessons; riding Aeleus’s shoulders along this hallway on their way to the gardens. “...Is it good to be home?” Xemnas asked, cutting his gold eyes to Ienzo.

“It certainly is nostalgic.”

“It could be your home once more. Had I… my way, you’d have never been forced to leave.”

He struggled to come up with a response, anger scalding his veins. Had Xemnas kept him here, doubtless they would've used and abused his power. “It seems there was poor communication all around,” he said vaguely.

“Indeed.”

They reached the throne room at last. Ansem had hardly ever used it in his reign other than for public events; he was much more comfortable meeting dignitaries or the public in his labs, his studies. It makes us more approachable, less mythic, he’d told Ienzo. The last thing you want to do is foster a divide between yourself and your people. We are royal, but we are not superior.

Ienzo’s heart beat heavily in his chest. He tried to keep breathing steadily, aware Xemnas was watching every little twitch of his face.

A pair of guards opened the large, heavy double doors.

It was just as Ienzo remembered, yet it had been perverted, too. The high, Gothic ceilings with the stained glass, sunlight pouring through; the marble, carved and laid in the shapes of flowers, polished to a shine; the long marble columns, the mural painted on the back wall, of the gods’ first contact with what was considered Ienzo’s first ancestor. The three thrones were the same, too. The middle one, the most prominent and most ornate, was reserved for the ruler, the lesser two for their heir and their consort.

All three of these thrones were occupied, and the mural was partially covered with another large banner, but this one had a different symbol; a black and red heart with an X crossing through, its bottom flared into a strange parody of a fleur de lis.

And there they were. The youngest son who had kidnapped him; the eldest son, boredly reading a book. And Xehanort himself.

He was much older than Ienzo thought he would be, in his eighties most likely, his bald head wrinkled, the veins visible. When he stood and spread his arms in welcome, his back was slightly hunched, and his legs were spindly. He took slow, long steps towards Ienzo, and when he got closer, bowed deeply. “Might I say it is an honor to meet at last, your highness,” he began, in a low, scratchy voice that sounded like he’d gargled marbles his whole life.

“Please, call me Ienzo,” he said. He offered a polite smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Aren’t you a polite young man.” He stood back up. “Ienzo. Is that, perhaps, after the first archmage?”

“The very same.”

“Aren’t names so much more meaningful, when we can choose them?”

He nodded once. He noticed the youngest son was watching him with a wicked smirk; he was petting something. Ienzo thought at first that it may have been a black cat, but the thing lifted its head. A Heartless. A disconcertingly small Heartless. He wasn’t quite able to mask his fear. It wasn’t--not--

“Oh, did you see young Xehanort’s pet? Bring it here, would you, son?”

He obeyed. Ienzo tried to keep breathing. It had sharp, long antennae, but it seemed rather content in its master’s arms.

“My eldest made these,” Xehanort explained, giving the Heartless a stroke. “Pure shadow--and nothing else. We’re hoping to see if they develop sentience, the way our other Heartless have. You’re a man of science, aren’t you, Ienzo?”

“...Quite.”

“Darkness is not quite so evil as you’ve been taught your whole life. Rather… it is one side of a coin. That balance is crucial to all life; one can never hope to crush out all darkness.”

“Do you seek to crush the light, then?” he asked, without meaning to.

Xehanort chuckled. “Of course not,” he said. “Of course not.”

It was the repetition that put Ienzo ill-at-ease. Instead, he just nodded.

“Darkness gives power, stability, clarity . It’s never been fair that your kind has been able to utilize magic, whereas the common folk… cannot. Think of how many fewer people would die of sicknesses, injuries, starvation, dehydration, if they just had the means to… borrow power from the earth.”

“Can the darkness do that?”

“Quite, my dear prince. I’d be happy to show you. But alas, we are only new friends.” He smiled. “I want to make this world better . Your father… well meaning as he was, simply could not stop what has been brewing for years. People should be equal .”

“And magic is an equalizer?”

“ Power is an equalizer.” He paused, as thought to let that sink in.

“...I see.” Scarily, Xehanort had a point. But some bodies simply couldn’t handle magic--the entropy and energy alone could kill, or in Isa’s case, degrade. Was that worth it? Was there not another way?

“I hope you’ll come to understand what we’re doing here,” Xehanort said.

“Perhaps I will.”

---

For most of the rest of the first week, Ienzo was kept in that small room. He was allowed out once a day for a half-hour walk with Xemnas. Other than Lydia bringing Ienzo his meals three times a day… Ienzo was alone. He realized that even in their most desperate circumstances, with Even he’d never been alone . There was always someone to talk to, scheme with, fight with.

Ienzo kept trying to use his magic. For three days he flushed his meals down the toilet, hoping maybe it was some kind of drug that would wash out of his system, but nothing came of it and he was only making his own head cloudy.

His breasts still ached tremendously. He tried to squeeze the milk out, with his hands, but all he did was give himself bruises, his already too-pale flesh marking easily. The omni-present ache made him think of his daughter, the way she felt in his arms, the way she smelled. The way it felt when the three of them cuddled together, so perfect, like nothing was missing. Ienzo’s heart felt like it was on fire.

Demyx. Amalia. Their names echoed constantly in his head, and more than once he woke with tears in his eyes. Please let them be safe. Please. Please.

Ienzo could not fall apart. He couldn’t afford to. He had to keep his head on straight, to perform, to try to earn Xehanort and his sons’ trust so he could--

Could… what?

Ienzo sat up slowly. He hadn’t been sleeping well, hurting too much inside and out to get much rest. What did he plan on doing, exactly?

It came to him in a flash--the computer. If he could gain enough favor to get down to that lab, he could contact Tron, who could contact Cid, who could let the others know that he was alive and safe (relatively speaking), and that, more than anything, he had an in--even if it made him seem like a traitor.

Maybe it was time for the prince to come out of hiding.

---

He’d just fallen into an uncertain sleep, and dreamed about his daughter. Hefting her up in the air. Kissing the little pads of her feet. The joy, the love on Demyx’s face as he cared for her. When he woke his breasts were hurting more than ever, and again, milk had seeped through the thin pajamas he’d been given.

He heard the click of the lock at the door, and before he could adequately cover himself, Lydia came in with his next meal. “Oh,” she said softly, and for the first time she shut the door behind her. “You… poor dear. You’re nursing, aren’t you?”

Ienzo knew better than to lie. He could smell the milk, slightly sweet. He just pulled the blanket to his chest. One lie he could tell was that the baby had died, but as he tried to force the words past his lips, the tears ran over. “Don’t tell him.” Humiliation broke over Ienzo in a wave, along with more panic. “Please, don’t tell him.”

Lydia picked up the napkin from the breakfast tray and handed it to him. She locked eyes with him. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, her dark eyes sharp and serious, and while there was complete honesty in her tone--and faint memories of her helping him in the library--Ienzo could not trust her.

He could barely eat that morning, in too much of an anxious haze. Xehanort could not know he’d had a child. He was not going to let Amalia and Demyx be doomed.

Didn’t you doom them simply by carrying her to term? An insidious voice asked in the back of his head. If you’d aborted her, she wouldn’t have ever been in any danger.

But what about the Forecast?

It took a lot of strength--almost all he had left--to clean himself up and wait to see if someone would retrieve him. Lydia came back several hours later with another tray, some cloth, and a book. The cloth wasn’t out of the ordinary--she brought him his laundered clothing--but the book was new. “Something to help with the leaking,” she said, and took the tray without another word.

Ienzo unfolded the bundle. It reminded him of a binder from years past, but thin cloth pads had been slipped into small pockets. She’d even left him some extra pads as well. He exhaled slowly and put it on. At least he no longer had to worry about this.

If he didn’t get back to her soon, the milk would dry up. Losing that connection before he was ready only made his eyes tear up further. He blinked it away. He had to be strong for her, to get through. Falling apart would only be self-indulgent. This taken care of, he picked up the book.

It was a simple volume of fairy stories, one he remembered well, one that had been taken from Ansem’s study. He sniffed the pages; old paper, leather, glue. The ribbon marked one of the pages towards the back of the book, and he flipped towards it.

Ienzo did not remember this story well. Perhaps Ansem had never let him read it, or he’d already moved on from fairy tales by then. The story was about Kingdom Hearts; that it was the gods’ paradise, and that one young god, unruly and rebellious, had gone against her parents’ wishes to visit man. She fell in love with a mortal, and when they married, their child could talk with the earth, could use that magic of the gods--Ienzo’s ancestor.

But there was more to the story than this, namely that Kingdom Hearts had thereafter been sealed to prevent more gods from giving mankind what they didn’t deserve. But the god that did the sealing was clumsy… and he dropped the key.

In a neat, firm pencil in the margins was “Keyblade.”

Suddenly the eradication of the seekers made a whole lot more sense.

Xehanort wasn’t looking to craft a Keyblade. He was looking to find one. To find one… he had to engineer a seeker or magic user, perhaps with the nothing, with the darkness…

Even’s replicas…

Ienzo’s breath caught. Of course. That was why he’d wanted them. If these “fake” bodies died from incompatible magic use, it wouldn’t be noticed--it wouldn’t matter. If they could not learn to wield Keyblades as Even had originally hypothesized… perhaps they could learn to seek those who could.

He had to get this message to them somehow.

A knock at the door. Hurriedly, Ienzo shoved it under the mattress before the lock clicked open. “Ienzo,” Xemnas said pleasantly. “My father was wondering if you might like to join us for tea.”

He swallowed. “Sounds wonderful.”

[mymoodwriting]

The Choice Is Yours

F!Reader x Vampire!Yuta

Genre: Vampire Dystopia

Warning: Blood, Fingering, Non-Con, Aggression, Fangs

Words: 2.6K

Chapters:

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Epilogue

Prompt: Good behavior goes a long way when a new world order is established within hours and humans wind up at the bottom of the food chain. As luck would have it you were claimed by a vampire named Yuta, so you’re saved in a sense. Many would say you’re in a rather unique situation, and despite its perks it wasn’t really something you asked for.

    You woke up alone, which you didn’t mind at all. You were actually relieved that you didn’t have to worry about Yuta the second you opened your eyes. The room was so big and empty, the quiet actually making you a bit uncomfortable. You heard voices outside and went over to the window, looking out at the backyard, which was huge.

    You could see others, the house servants, working in the field. There was the flower garden as well as a little farm area. You really didn’t like this freeloading lifestyle you were given, but then again you’d be paying for it in blood. After a moment some servants came in with a cart, the smell of food filling the air. Then YangYang followed.

“Good morning, Yuta apologizes for not being here with you this morning, he had work to attend to.”

“Uh… that’s okay…”

“Breakfast is here for you, so please enjoy.”

“Right, thank you.”

    You ate your fill, knowing anything less would upset Yuta. Once you were done the leftovers were taken away and YangYang approached, grabbing your arm and pricking your finger. He took a drop of blood and checked it with some device.

“What’s that…”

“Just checking to make sure there aren’t any drugs in your system.”

“Right… so… now what do I do?”

“Anything you want, you have free range of the house. Although, I will be accompanying you to look after you.”

“Of course.”

    You were quite afraid to leave the room, not sure of what you would even want to do. In the end you decided you wanted to go outside, wanting to see the garden. If YangYang had any suspicions he didn’t voice them, simply helping you navigate the house and letting you out to the backyard.

    You got a few stares from the others but you did your best to ignore them. There was a nice stone road but you wanted to go beyond, curious about how far you could go before you hit the fence. There were a lot of trees surrounding the property, felt like you were near the mountains or something, which brought up a lot of questions. You didn’t live anywhere near wildlife, so you wondered how far from home you really were.

    It was impossible to miss the fence, seeing the tall black coated metal. The idea never crossed your mind but YangYang informed you that the fence was electric and touching it would set off an alarm, so trying to climb in any sense would be pointless. All the surrounding trees were also stripped of their lower branches, so climbing the trees also wasn’t an option.

    This really created an atmosphere of helplessness for you and anyone else in the house. You wondered if all vampires were like that, keeping humans in these huge cages. You hadn’t noticed your own tears, every moment that passed just made the world all the scarier.

“Excuse me.” YangYang interrupted. “There is something I must attend to and would prefer it if you spend your time inside.”

“Okay…”

    You made your way back, quickly wiping away your tears. You could always go back out but you didn’t feel like trying your luck so you assured YangYang you’d be staying in the library. It was pretty big for a house library, but there were some books you hoped to find. If you were living with a vampire it was best to educate yourself. There were some books you found further in the back, not myth, but it seemed to be history books. They were rather old and a little hard to understand but just what you had been looking for, kinda.

    From what you read, it was just going into detail about things you already knew. There was nothing about how a vampire came to be, or a halfbreed, or how to kill them. It was frustrating, those creatures couldn’t truly be immortal, there wasn’t even anything about some kinda weakness. One of those books had to have some new information, but you doubt you’d find it.

    The book you had was suddenly taken out of your hands. You looked up to see Yuta, the vamp kissing your head and examining the book you were reading. He laughed, flipping through some pages and then putting it back. You had stayed seated, starting to think maybe you should have been more secretive about what you were reading.

“Did you actually understand it?”

“Yes… a bit difficult but not too much.”

“Trying to learn our secrets? Find a weakness?”

“Maybe… but I didn’t find anything new.”

“I see.”

“Just curious about where you came from…”

“Hm, well, for starters there are seven original vampires.”

“Se… seven?”

“Yup, every other vampire and halfbreed falls into one of those bloodlines.”

“So… how did those seven come to be?”

Yuta chuckled. “Maybe some other time, come on now.”

    He took your hand and you followed him out of the library. At least you got something out of him, but that knowledge didn’t make you feel any better. It raised more questions, and scared you a bit considering their kind took over in a day.

    Yuta took you into a room that appeared to be his study. He had you sit down and then took a seat at his desk, looking over papers. You looked around, not knowing what to expect, but you couldn’t stand Yuta’s silence.

“So… why am I here?”

“Hm?”

“Is there something I’m supposed to do?”

“No, I have work and wanted you with me. You can find something to read if you want, or I’ll give you paper to draw with.”

“Oh… okay.”

    You got up and looked around. He was surrounded by books, every wall practically lined with full bookshelves, a picture frame of some foreign landscape up as well. You browsed the books, curious as to what they were about.

“Sorry about leaving you alone in the morning. I had things to take care of.”

“It’s fine… so what do you do? How does the world even work now if your kind run everything.”

“Not much has changed, you still need to eat and my boss is pretty much in charge of agriculture worldwide. Certain things are still necessary and have someone running them.”

“Let me guess, the first seven ultimately run everything.”

“Correct, and they’re all very good friends so don’t think we’ll start a war.”

“Yeah, more sophisticated than us and what not.”

“Exactly.”

    You found a book that did keep up with his story. Actually a lot of the books were about agriculture and wildlife.

“Why do you care so much? You could just feed us the bare minimum, or some weird paste that gives us all the nutrients we need.”

“If we provide you with the best then you’ll be at your best. We’re not cruel and you forget half-breeds still need normal food as part of their diet, and it’s a nice luxury for the rest of us. Besides there’s beauty in nature and we’d like to preserve that.”

“That’s good… you won’t destroy the planet.”

“We’re doing the opposite love, and looking after your species.”

“Do… are we really so childish in your eyes?”

“Very.”

“Alright then, I’ll stop talking.”

    He made no comment on your words, seeming to silently agree and focusing on whatever he did as work. You grabbed one of the books on the shelf, sitting back down to read. Given that it was about plants it was kinda boring, but you didn’t know what else to do. Yuta just wanted you around, which was creepy to say the least.

    The book was a bit interesting, every couple of pages, and since you didn’t pay attention to the time, it flew by. The knock at the door caught your attention, lunch time already. You were a bit nervous, thinking that you were on the menu, but that wasn’t the case, thankfully. You hadn’t really worked up an appetite but ate anyway. Afterwards Yuta gave you a lollipop, a sweet little treat. It was good, with an interesting taste you couldn’t quite figure out.

“You enjoying the sweets?”

“Yeah… guess it makes my blood sweeter?”

“It does, but it also has medicinal qualities.”

“What?”

“Our blood can heal minor human injuries.”

“Wait… so that taste… was your…”

    You started to feel sick. You wanted to throw up but Yuta was suddenly at your side, hand over your mouth, holding your head back.

“Ah, ah, ah, easy now, don’t want to throw up your lunch.”

    You whimpered, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. Yuta didn’t let you go until you had calmed down, bringing you over so you could sit in his lap. That was certainly weirder than the silence, making it clear he saw you as a child. You still felt sick over the candy, making a mental note not to have anymore ever again if it could be avoided.

    Yuta rested his head on your shoulder. You really didn’t want to know what he was doing, but when you saw his notes. They were written like the books you had looked at earlier, you could understand the writing, vaguely, but didn’t want to snoop. Yuta suddenly was kissing at your neck, making you squirm. His grip on you just tightened and you jumped when you felt his fangs.

“Sh, I’m not going to do anything yet, but I do want to take a break.”

    Before you could say anything he pinned you down on the desk. You hit your head a bit, reeling from the pain, but your attention was quickly on him. You whimpered, not sure of what awaited you next. He suddenly kissed you, and it was very sweet, but you couldn’t let yourself get swept up in that. You felt his hands trailing down your body, and you knew exactly where they were going.

“Wait, no, Yuta… please…”

“Hush, we’ll have a little fun.”

    You whimpered, feeling his cold hand slipping into your pants. You squirmed but knew better than to try to fight him again. Whenever his lips were near your neck you whined, scared that at any moment he’d bite you. He said it would feel good, but you didn’t know if he was being honest. Regardless you didn’t want it to happen.

“Yuta… oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Of course not.” Yuta groaned, and then whispered in your ear. “Be quiet.”

“I would come back later but-”

“Speak.”

    Yuta kissed your cheek before standing up, looking at Xiaojun who just let himself in. You didn’t know why he told you to be quiet, you had no intention to talk, but then you realized what he meant. He hadn’t moved his hand, and had no issue pushing a finger into you. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth, not wanting to go against his orders.

“Taeyong is on the phone for you. There was a report of an incident in some of the southern farms.”

“Incident? It’s only been a few days and we already have a resistance, how cute.” Yuta looked down at you. “You humans can be so troublesome.”

    You were biting your lip, holding back your moans. He hadn’t let up during his conversation, if anything getting more aggressive, now having three fingers in you. Xiaojun was obviously aware of what was happening but he made no comment, and he clearly wasn’t bothered. Even if you were distracted the conversation caught your attention a bit, the idea of a human resistance hadn’t crossed your mind.

“I’ll take it in a second.”

“Very well then.”

    Xiaojun left the room, but you kept your hand over your mouth. Yuta chuckled, having enjoyed you squirming in silence beneath him, although he was cruel. He pulled his hand out before making orgasm, moving your own hand and shoving his finger into your mouth. You did nothing at first but quickly realized what he wanted you to do. It was a strange taste, strange situation, but you had no choice. You sucked on his fingers until he pulled them away with a pop. You stared at him, not sure what he wanted from you next.

“Go clean up, and then come back.”

“Ah… okay…” 

    You slowly sat up, cautiously moving away and leaving the room. Once you were out you took a breath, glad to be out. He may have told you, but you also wanted to clean up. You didn’t know the house well but eventually found the bathroom, locking the door behind you and taking another moment for yourself. You did your best to clean up, kinda annoyed he didn’t actually get you off, but you didn’t want to finish either, he’d probably expect you to.

    He wanted you to go back to the office, but you didn’t want to. Being there was already uncomfortable and you didn’t know what he had planned next. You sat on the floor, thinking about what Xiaojun said. When you thought about it, the resistance, it made sense. People away from civilization probably weren’t found, others actually managing to hide and avoid the collecting, fighting back and winning, maybe some were even immune to whatever was released into the air. Such a thing hadn’t crossed your mind, and it kind of gave you hope.

    You were snapped out of your thoughts when the door suddenly opened. You had locked it, but that didn’t seem to be an issue for Yuta. He glared at you, making you crawl back and hug your knees to your chest. He walked in, standing over you, arms crossed. You whimpered, scared about being yelled at.

“I told you to come back.”

“I…”

“I was trying to make this a nice day, but fuck it.”

“Wa-”

    Yuta grabbed your arm and yanked you to your feet, dragging you along. You weren’t sure what was happening but you knew he was taking you to his room. He threw you on the bed, pinning you down. You were still confused but when he showed you his fangs you knew what was happening next. You started fighting then.

“No! No, wait, I’m sorry, I won’t-”

    He clearly didn’t care, digging his teeth into your neck in the blink of an eye. You screamed, eyes going wide, but the pain was quick to disappear. Somehow the bite started to feel good. His grip on you loosened and you wrapped your arms around him, letting out a little moan. He pulled you up, having you sitting in his lap. Your grip grew weak and your arms fell to your side, your vision fading. 

    Yuta pulled away, catching his breath. He smiled, looking at you, seeing a cute little smile adorning your lips. He peppered your face with bloody kisses, licking them away a moment later. Everything was a blur, your neck feeling a bit sore. You leaned heavily against Yuta, barely able to move, and very pale. He craddled you in his arms, rocking you to the sides.

“You taste wonderfully.”

“… why… why me…”

Yuta sighed. “I was told that you were a good girl, I wanted to see just how good. And you have not disappointed.”

    You gently cuddled against him, far too weak to move properly. A bit of your clothes was stained red with your blood, as well as some of the sheets. Yuta called out to YangYang, telling him to get some servants to change the sheets and bring you a change of clothes.

“I guess you’ll be going to bed early sweetheart.”

“Hm…”

“Sh, just take it easy love, I’m here, I got you. There’s nothing to worry about.”

[lilithsgayadoptednephew]

Holy Hands

Fandoms: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!   Not Rated Graphic Depictions Of Violence F/M, Other Complete Work

Chapter List

Chapter 31

Luke didn't rise again.

Michael rounded on the defenseless humans before him, diving towards them before the brothers had time to notice. MC reacted on instinct, throwing Acacia to the ground and out of harm's way before shoving the approaching angel with their palm. Hoping to draw his attention away from their sister.

As they stretched their hand towards the enraged Angel, it was not their palm that made contact, but a large golden shield.

Honestly, where would they be without Lilith's bow?

Michaels approach was stunned by the defense, but he continued undeterred. Moving past MC completely to grab their frightened sister off the ground. The boys had caught on by now that they were under attack and swarmed threateningly around Micheal.

"Put her down" MC growled. For a moment it was easy to forget they were a human with how they sounded.

"Now you stay back MC, I don't want you getting hurt." He said sweetly.

"That's new," They spat.

"Well it occurred to me…" he wrapped his hands tighter around Acacia's wrists to keep her secure as he spoke. The brothers didn't dare move while she was being threatened. "Of course you'd be predisposed to sin, you've been amongst the source of it for over a year. I just need to give you the forgiveness you've been missing." He leaned down as if talking to a child. "I can fix your wayward mind, my Lamb. I can take you away from these terrible influences and remind you of your inherent innocence."

They stared wide eyed as he finished his explanation. With his relentless pursuit of the brothers they should've figured it out sooner. Michael was obsessed.

"Let the girl go, this is between us." Lucifer called out in hopes of drawing Michaels attention away from the humans.

Acacia sensed the distraction of her captor and raised her knee up. Stomping with all her weight right on Micheal's foot.

"Aaah!" He pulled back but only held her wrists tighter. "Insolent snake! That's enough." The angry man dragged the fighting human over the railing. Gasps and cry's sounded from the surrounding people, all of which considered Acacia family.

All of which had seen the consequences of that drop.

Holding the railing with one hand he held the squirming girl over the ledge with his other. She hyperventilated at the sight of the water churning below. The melting snow was no longer contributing to the water level and it had lowered considerably. Below her was not the water Lucifer had fallen in weeks earlier, but the harsh rocks exposed by the lowered tide.

She was too scared to even scream.

Any other words Lucifer had died on his tongue. He just stared and sympathized too closely with the look of animalistic panic in Acacias eyes as she looked down.

"You will all do as I say or the human falls!" He called to the small crowd. There was deathly silence. The wind whistled as it blew quickly over the concrete of the bridge. Acacia's wrist started to ache and her shoulder felt like it was pulled taffy, but she tried her best not to move. If she fell now it would be the death of her.

MC locked eyes with their sister. They slowed their breathing and relaxed their muscles, Acacia had to see they had this under control. Even if they didn't. They gripped their shield firmly and gave their sister a small smile. She calmed a little too, assured that MC would figure something out.

Lucifer didn't care much for Acacia, that was no secret. But she was MCs sister. He saw from the corner of his eye how MC consciously tried to reassure her without words. How they were racking their brain for a way out while trying to look like they already had one. It was too familiar, and he had to respect it. Lucifer turned his attention to Michael. He had stooped to threatening a human to get his way. And he did it in such an odd way. Dangling her over the bridge, and he didn't use his wings...where were they?

Mammon was distressed . He'd only just figured it out with Acacia! And she was...was… oh God why didn't he have his wings in case he dropped her? Mammon's wings weren't large enough to support his weight in flight, what if Michael slipped? What if he broke her arm dangling her like that? What if something happened and he couldn't save her and he never saw her smile or heard her snort-laugh again and he was stuck alone in an empty world with no one to–

Acacia saw MC was calm, but Mammon was visibly losing his shit. They all were at a standstill.

"I want everyone on their knees" Michael demanded. With no other option the boys lowered themselves to the ground. Months ago there would've been a bit more protest, but being human had humbled them all. MC stayed standing, hoping Michael wouldn't notice as they inched closer.

That's right... I'm just a silly human. I can't think for myself or speak against you. I can't act. Focus your attention on the boys, Michael. They are the threat, not little old me.

Acacia let out a small whine. MC looked to her and saw tears forming in her eyes. Her skin was tearing where Michael held her wrist. Blood trickled lazily down her arm and she stared at it with pain in her eyes. Her face going white. MC broke into a sprint.

They practically flew to the railing before there was time to react. There was no choice. With one hand they shoved their shield in Micheal's face, knocking him aside. The shield flew from their grip and went with him. With the other hand they grabbed Acacia by the collar of her nice leather jacket and threw her towards safety. MC felt relief for a brief moment as their sister grabbed the railing with shaky hands.

They let out a sigh as they fell, too late noticing they had no hands left to save themself.

0Time stopped.

Lucifer was formulating a bargain with Michael in his head as he saw MC make a mad dash over the edge. He wanted to run, to fly, to save them . To protect them like he promised himself he would, but he couldn't move. He looked at the drop he'd suffered mere weeks before and he froze.

He knew he'd never get over it in time.

Now they were falling, time was practically meaningless as his senses took in every excruciating detail of what was happening. Forcing life into slow motion. MC fell, they didn't even seem to care they were going to…

Lucifer's heart beat in his ears as he turned to Micheal. The angel's eyes were almost as frightened as he felt. He'd known Micheal for a long time, and that was Michael's greatest weapon against him. Now it would be their solace. they could read each other like a simple story book. The terrified eyes turned to his and there was a wordless agreement.

0Michael watched as his human fell in their sisters stead. They fell so slowly it felt like an eternity he couldn't move. They'd never be forgiven if they perished now. They'd never realize and repent and finally be his. His stomach dropped with them as they fell, his feelings he tried to deny forcing their way past his throat and behind his teeth. He couldn't save them. He had no wings.

His eyes locked with Lucifer's and his own thoughts were mirrored. It had been millennia since they'd read each other so quickly, but the response was instantaneous. Muscle memory.

Save them

Lucifer practically begged, but Micheal shook his head almost imperceptibly. The demon instantly put it together. Micheal didn't have his wings, he didn't know why but it didn't matter. All that mattered was MC was falling. And he had to do something fast, something that he'd never live down.

"I don't–" Michael started to explain, but he didn't need to finish telling Lucifer about his wings. His response was like stone.

"Take mine"

0MC only fell for a few moments, their eyes screwed shut. They didn't want to see themself hit the rocks.

Acacia was safe

Micheal had no leverage

They were ok with this.

But it wasn't rocks that greeted them as their heartstopping fall was interrupted. It was the giving jolt of landing in someone's arms. They didn't process this at first. Then there was a single wonderful moment where they thought...they naively believed perhaps Lucifer had saved them.

Then they opened their eyes, and nearly screamed as they saw themself in the arms of the enemy.

Micheal was a little unsteady on wings that weren't his own. Lucifer's were darker, stronger, and there were 4 instead of 6. He'd lost a pair when he fell and it never occurred to Michael just what a difference it made. He couldn't imagine what a strong flyer Lucifer must've been with 6.

Landing on the bridge he didn't release MC right away. They didn't like that apparently because they pried themself out of his arms upon touching down and stood away from him. Eyes staring in abject terror and an arm in front of Acacia.

He looked at the scene before him, now that the humans were safe the Brothers circled like a pack of jackals. All except Lucifer who was content to watch his brothers as he stood almost imperceptibly between Michael and MC. His wings returned to him and made him look much larger, matching the accusing glare he leveled the angel with.

What...what had he done? He knew MC had affected him in a way that made him weaker but…

The fear for their safety. The willingness to abandon his mission to save them. Agreeing with Lucifer. He'd fallen farther that he thought.

His mind reeled and his feelings twisted in his throat like a mass of writhing snakes. He had to leave. Not only could he not face all seven of them without leverage, but he couldn't do anything with his mind and morals in such a frenzy. He cast one backward glance at MC, they looked at him like a rabbit would a wolf, and the knife in his gut twisted farther.

They were more confused than he'd realized. He had to save them from this, and he made a silent promise that he would.

With that in his mind, he fled.

[thoughtlesstales]

Talk About Stubborn

Title: Talk About Stubborn Word Count: 2599 Rating: Teen Fandom: Criminal Minds Relationship: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi Triggers: Talk of violence and serious injury

Summary: Five times Aaron asks Spencer to marry him. One time Hotch says yes!

The First Time

Aaron loved moments like this, the pair of them curled together on the couch. Something mindless playing on the TV, that neither of them were paying much attention too. Spencer was reading a book and Hotch just liked to watch him doing so. He got wrapped into his mind, he loved the younger so much and the last three years together and had been better than he could have ever believed. After Haley, the older man never thought he would find someone to love again. However, he had and it was so completely different to what he had felt for the woman.

Aaron carded his fingers though the light brown curls and smiled when Spencer hummed in contentment next to him. The man reminded him of a cat sometimes, taking simple pleasure and love from the gentlest and most domestic of touches.

“Marry me?” Aaron whispered the words and while his mouth had a mind of its own, the words felt right. He wasn’t shocked or embarrassed, he was happy and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this man. Aaron felt Spencer go tense beside him, he heard his mouth open and then close and then open and close again. Clearly he was lost for words and that amused the older man greatly.

“W-what?” Reid stumbled over the word, turning slightly to look up Aaron, his eyes wide.

“Marry me? I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I want it officially.” It was as simple as that in Hotch’s mind. As easy as 1, 2, 3. Could Reid not see that?

“Aaron -” The hesitance to Spencer’s tone, told him that this was not going to go the way that he expected it would. “I love you, you know I do and I want to spend the rest of my days with you, but marriage? I don’t -” He paused again, clearly looking for the right words for the situation. “I don’t know if that’s something I want.”

Aaron felt deflated. He couldn’t understand why Spencer didn’t want to make it official especially when he agreed that they would spend their life together from now on. Aaron had always felt content with marriage, he felt secure and right and while he had no intention of leaving Spencer just because he was saying ‘no’, didn’t mean he didn’t feel somewhat hurt that Reid didn’t want to make it official as well.

“What difference does it make though? If we’re not intending to leave or breakup, what does a piece of paper change?” Aaron asked, the simplicity to his tone, making him seem somewhat naive in the innocent moment.

“Exactly, what difference does it make? Do we need a sheet of paper to say that we’re spending our lives together, or is the trust that we have in one another enough?” Of course the genius would turn his words back around on him, and for a while Aaron was stuck. Unable to find his own answer to a very practical and logical answer to his own question. Damn you Spencer Reid.

The Second Time

This time was a little more wild. The case they had been working on literally blew up in their faces. The precinct that they were working out of, had had a bomb planted in the building and none of them knew about it. The only thing that saved all their lives was that they were bunker-like conference room and no one had suffered much more than a few scrapes and bruises.

Still, it shook Hotch and once the dust began to settle and he was up and moving, he was looking for his lover. He found Spencer coughing and spluttering against the back wall, covered in dust and looking a little dazed. He hands framed the man’s face and he gave him the once over, looking for anything more serious. One he found nothing, a sigh of relief fell from his lips and he tipped his forehead against the other man’s.

“I was worried.” He gasped, his voice rough from the brick dust. He held onto the younger man and pressed his lips gently against his. Needing the contact, needing the touch that sooth his anxiety before he could continue.

“I know, I’m fine, don’t worry.” Spencer answered his eyes soft and filled with love as he looked back at Aaron. By this point the rest of the team was coming together surrounding the two men and checking in with each to make sure they were okay. Hotch was listening and he knew his team was safe and well, all in one piece. This was turning out to be a really shitty day.

“Will you please marry me?” Aaron asked the question again, looking into Reid’s eyes, pleading with him to say yes. He could hear the shocked gasps from around them and all eyes were on them. He saw the look in Reid’s eyes that meant he would be saying no once more.

“Aaron -” That was a warning, almost final in his tone and Aaron sighed, shaking his head. “You know what I think, my answer hasn’t changed.” Spencer answered. Hotch could hear the sorrow in it, almost like he thought the other man wished he could say yes.

“Wait hold up -” Morgan’s voice broke the silence. “You’ve already asked him to marry you?” This was going to be a really shitty day.

The Third Time

After explaining Aaron’s first failed attempt at getting his lover to agree to marriage it had become somewhat of a joke between the team. Both men were constantly asked what they thought, had they changed their minds and what, what, what.

“Seriously though, what do you have against marriage?” Reid and Morgan were sitting in one of the SUV’s waiting to follow their suspect. Until, the other man had been silent and Reid was thankful for it.

“I just don’t see the point in it. Spending thousands of pounds on a venue, clothes, people, food and drink for one day? It doesn’t make any sense to me. I can sit and reel off the statistics for you if you like, I looked them all up the first time Hotch asked me to marry him.” Reid answered with a shrug. He couldn’t understand the big deal everyone was making of this.

“Yeah, but don’t you want something official?” Morgan asked, his tone of voice making it clear he didn’t understand what Reid was talking about. Out of everyone, Reid kinda thought Morgan would agree with him. Clearly not.

“No. I know I am going to spend the rest of my life with Hotch, I don’t need a piece of paper telling me so.” That was that in Reid’s mind, Morgan didn’t ask another question.

Later that evening they had caught the bad guy, had a nice meal in a nice restaurant that Rossi had paid the bill on; and they were now back in the crappy hotel, the FBI had paid the bill on. They were heading back in the early hours of the next morning and so everyone was attempting to get some sleep in before having to get back up again.

However, it seemed Reid was not in the mood for sleep. Aaron smiled sleepily as he felt the soft kisses against the back of his neck. The sharp bit of teeth and the soothing flick of his tongue. “I knew you shouldn’t have had that second glass of wine.” Aaron teased rolling onto his back, a smile playing at his lips.

“It was nice wine.” Reid hummed kissing along the other man’s jaw, until their lips met. The kiss was deep and lush, of them taking the time to taste and enjoy each other. Aaron’s heart filled with such love and joy that the words once more tumbled off his tongue.

“Marry me?” Instead of answering yes or no this time, Reid simply answered with ‘not today’. Progress? Aaron would take it, maybe he could wear the other man down into marrying him.

The Fourth Time

Aaron was stuck in the dullest of board meetings he had been subjected too so far, though it wasn’t so much a board meeting. It was a gathering of everyone in some sort of managerial role. So there were fifty of them crammed into the auditorium. With his phone on his lap and half an ear on what was being said the unit chief fired off a text.

AH - “Please tell me there is a case?”

SR - “Nope. Having fun?”

AH - “Depends if your meaning of fun means shooting myself?”

SR - “Don’t even. It’s your turn to cook dinner!”

AH - “No fun. By the way I’ve meaning to ask, are you coming to the wedding next year?”

SR - “What wedding? Who is getting married?”

AH - “This super cute couple, I’m sure you’ve met them, couldn’t forget them to be honest.”

SR - “Who are they then???”

AH - “Oh, also been meaning to ask you something else as well.”

AH - “Marry me? We’ll set the day for next year!”

SR - “You know what, I’ll survive - shoot yourself!”

Aaron laughed a little too loudly down at his phone, though to anyone looking it might seem like he was laughing at his crotch. Still, it was an amusing way to say no. What made him think though, when did it become funny Spencer saying no to marrying him? This was all getting very weird.

The Fifth Time

They were in Vegas, this time a vacation and not after a case. It was just the pair of them, Jack away with Jessica visiting her parents. They were spending the first day with Reid’s Mom and they hadn’t been sitting there for two minutes before she asked her son a question.

“Spencer, please tell me why you won’t mind this nice man right here?” Spencer looked sharply at Aaron. His eyes narrowed and Hotch at least had the decency to duck his head in response.

“Mom -” Spencer started, shaking his head and attempting to figure out an answer for her. He couldn’t believe that Hotch had told his mother, this was a new low even for him. Why did he want to get married so badly? “You know I have never believed in the whole marriage thing, people can still spend their whole lives together without the need to get married.” He explained gently, reaching out and taking her hand.

Reid through his love another glaring look and Aaron knew they would be talking later.

“Whatever you say Spencer, but I don’t think you really believe that.”

When Hotch Says Yes!

The day went in a spiral downwards. Everything was falling apart and Reid felt like he was crumbling into the ground at the news the man he loved had been taken. He did everything he could, he stared at maps for hours on end attempting to figure something out like a bright idea that would save the man. However, there was nothing new and he couldn’t see it, not anymore. He was exhausted and scared, the fear running like ice through his veins.

It took two days for them to find their Unit Chief and when they did he was in a bad way. The older man flatlined twice in the ambulance heading to the hospital, both times they had brought him back it took longer and longer each time. Reid felt like he was going to be sick, he didn’t want to watch the man he loved die right in front of him. When the monitor did the long beep, he begged him to come back to stay with him and never leave them again, he promised him everything until the steady beat of heart returned.

Two days later Aaron finally started to come around, Reid was asleep, his head resting on the hand of Aaron’s he was holding onto with dear life. “Spence?” Aaron’s voice rasped, days without water and his throat felt like he had eaten sand. Spencer woke slowly, like he couldn’t place the sound before his eyes landed on the man and he stared wide eyed. It was almost like he couldn’t believe Aaron was actually awake.

A single tear ran down the younger man’s cheek and he sprung from the chair, leaning over the dark haired man, to place soft kisses to his lips. “I thought I had lost you.” His voice was thick and his hand fluttered about trying to figure out where he could and could not touch.

“Water.” Aaron asked for, again hating the feeling that his voice had. Spencer quickly reached for the glass of water with a straw and held it to the man’s lip. Aaron drank greedily and then nodded when he was finished. “What happened?”

Spencer sat himself back down in the chair, feeling the exhaustion hit him once he knew Aaron was awake and was going to be okay. “The unsub took you, held you for just over two days, when we found you, you were in a bad state.” Spencer took a breath, steadying himself before continuing. “You flatlined twice in the ambulance, I really thought I was going to lose you.”

“I’m okay.” Aaron affirmed taking the other man’s hand in his own and squeezing as hard as he could.

“I’m going to let the nurse know you’re awake.” The younger man rasped fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill. He rose from the chair and headed to the nurses station letting them know the man was awake before pulling out his phone.

“JJ, Aaron’s awake, yeah he seems okay.” Spencer rattled off when she answered. He answered a few more questions before asking his own. “I need your help with something.”

It was nearly a week later before the doctor deemed Aaron strong enough for what Spencer had planned. He was going to be in hospital for another couple of weeks at least, but Spencer just couldn’t wait that long.

“Rossi, where are we going?” Aaron looked back at the older man who was pushing his wheelchair down the hallway. He was still attached to drops and wires so they were coming with him as well. They walked for a while until he saw the door in front of them leading into the chapel. “What’s going on?” Rossi didn’t answer this question either, just chuckled himself. When they reached the door, he rapted once and they opened revealing the small room packed with people he knew. A few of them stood at the front.

As he was wheeled inside Aaron saw more. He saw Spencer, JJ and his son stood at the front with a priest. Then it dawned on him. A wide smile spread over his cracked lips and wished he could stand from the chair, wished that he could stand at the front with the man he loved and his family.

As he was pushed down the short aisle he saw the grinning faces of his team, his sister in law and other close friends. They had all come out for this, for them.

“I always thought you’d be the one in white” Aaron teased, not trusting himself to say much more at the moment.

“You’re more pure than I am.” Spencer answered equally as teasing in tone. He bent at the waist and cupped Aaron’s face, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Before the protests rang out around them. Both men laughed and together they stood at the altar, waiting for it to become official.

They were spending the rest of their lives together.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 97:  Endless Possibilities

After Regina had left, he'd wasted little time in taking his prize up into his tower. It was there that the full brunt of the last few days came crashing down on him. It was a weight that he'd never felt before. It pushed down against him, an opposition to the buoyancy of joy he felt when he held that scroll in his hand. He'd done it! According to plan! He'd known he could, and perceived that he would, and yet he was left breathless at the realization that it had actually worked! The hat might have been out of his reach, but the Curse was in his possession! All his dreams of "someday" had become "today". He would have loved to spend the next ten years staring at it in awe, feeling it curl its power around him. But getting the Curse was not the end goal. It was only a single step in his plan. A big step, he readily admitted, but still only one of many. And so long as he was holding it in his hand, his job wasn't done yet.

He spent hours hiding it. Simply put, it was concealed behind a stone in his fireplace. Not so simple however, were the hours and hours of spells that he placed around it. Every concealment potion he'd ever crafted was used to try and hide the spell from others who could sense magic. He used blood magic to seal and lock the wall, allowing only himself, his blood, or those of his choosing into the hiding place. He placed detection enchantments over it so he'd know if someone so much as sneezed the wrong way around it. And he used Dark Magic, some of the darkest he knew to give it a protection against all forms of Light Magic and that included Fairies. If anyone who shouldn't so much as stood next to it they'd receive quite the blast of magic that would throw them across the room and paralyze them if not knock them unconscious completely. It would give him enough time to return and decide what to do to the thief who dared to take it. But he didn't stop with just the Curse, he used the blood he'd taken from the rodent-Apprentice to craft a powerful spell against him. Inspired by the same wards the man had used on his house to keep Dark Ones away, he crafted one to keep the Apprentice out; it was time to fight fire with fire.

When he was done, when he was sure all was as it should be, he allowed himself to breathe. Then, he summoned his crystal ball into his hand. In it, the Apprentice lay, an old man once more, on the bed resting soundly. There was no indication he knew something had happened to the Curse. No visit from the fairies, no stumbling about in panic, Ingrid had visited him the other day, but he didn't even appear to be bothered by that.

It was perfect. He couldn't believe he'd succeeded. He spent the day in his Tower spinning, working, and nervously watching the space he knew the Curse was. He did want to take it out, to study it, to learn from it, but it was too risky now. He needed to lay low for a few days, let it adjust to its new home. And so he sat there, spinning away in his Tower, on guard, and when night fell…it was then that he felt something inside of him go alert.

It was a feeling like he'd never experienced before. One minute he'd been fine, and the next, he felt as though part of his magic had been muted or silenced altogether. No, it wasn't just his magic. It was Dark One Magic. He glanced around his surroundings. Nothing was different. Nothing was changed. He held out his hand in the direction of the fireplace, and fire sparked to life, the appropriate place, the appropriate reaction. He put his hands over his potions, he felt their magic just as he always had. He stepped closer to the stone the Curse was hidden behind and placed his hand over it. The Blood Magic heated at his touch but cooled when it recognized him. The potion was still there, the spells and enchantments all the same. His magic was intact. Whatever he felt hadn't come from him. It was beyond these walls.

He stepped closer to the cauldron and checked on the Apprentice, a benefit of using his blood to banish him from the property meant he could finally see inside his house without the Crystal Ball, but only through reflections, like before. He was awake, but sweeping his home looking rather bored. This wasn't his doing. One by one, he examined the lives of those he meddled in, those who mattered to his future. Belle was with her father and Gaston, discussing something or other. James was in his chambers with a leggy blonde. David was bringing the sheep in for the night. Snow White he found resting her head in a hollowed log, a place she'd come to call her own not far from Red and Granny. And Regina was with her Hunter, experimenting with positions he'd rather not watch.

The cauldron cleared as he sighed. He still felt it. The odd muffle within him remained. But what was it?! When the usual suspects failed, he was forced to examine the unusual ones. Zelena? No. He saw her in Oz sitting down to eat, all was well. Jefferson? By his daughter's bedside reading a child's book as she fell asleep, not a threat. At Nimue's insistence, he cast his gaze upon the tree that held Merlin captive, but it hadn't moved. Anna?

Anna. The moment he summoned the image of the Princess of Arendelle, there was no doubt in his mind about what he was feeling. It was her. And what he saw…it wasn't pretty. To begin with, he couldn't actually see Anna. The mirror he'd tried to look in on her with…it was covered with something. Not a blanket, it wasn't blackness, and it wasn't a cloth that moved. It was stiff and hard, and it had a pattern to it. It was ice.

He turned to the Crystal Ball for answers, demanding it show him Anna of Arendelle, and he nearly did a flip of joy at what he saw. She was frozen. Head to toe. She was nothing but icy magic. An Elemental had finally unleashed her power.

"Show me her sister," he demanded with a smile, looking forward to seeing the aftermath of the one that had stolen something so precious. He could handle Elsa easily enough. All he wanted was to find the hat and take it for himself! The idea that he might get through all this with the hat in hand after all made him nearly giddy.

Until what the ball showed him wasn't Elsa, but an urn; his urn. It was the one he'd given to Anna's aunt Ingrid for emergencies, the one he'd seen discovered in the North Mountain but hadn't watched because there were more important things going on. Perhaps he should have watched. He wouldn't say he was paying for it, he'd had two choices, the first was to go after the urn and the second had been to retrieve the Curse. If given the opportunity, he'd do the same thing all over again. But perhaps he would have watched Arendelle's royal family a bit closer so that this never came as a surprise. He would have gotten the Curse and then figured out exactly how Ingrid of Arendelle had gotten out of the urn and managed to make her way to Apprentice's house instead of forgetting until this moment. Still, not an ideal situation to retrieve it and make inquiries about the hat…but what he saw next was.

How had the urn gotten from the North Mountain back to Arendelle? The Crystal Ball sensed his question before he could ask it, and what he saw was a story unraveling before him. He watched as Anna of Arendelle stood, facing off with another woman. She was blonde and pale, so pale she was nearly the color of snow. She was wearing a familiar set of gloves. Queen Elsa of Arendelle, it could be no one else. But why the two sisters were fighting, why she'd just taken off that remarkable necklace of hers and tossed it into the fire…it was beyond him. He couldn't listen into the past. And then he saw something he hadn't expected something so shocking that he hadn't thought to ever check in on her! Ingrid. Their aunt. Lurking in their castle.

And then, Anna of Arendelle, the girl who loved her sister so much, used the urn. And Elsa didn't stop her. She didn't fight back. It was as if she knew it was coming! She simply crossed her hands over her chest and continued speaking to her sister as she pulled the top off the urn, and Ingrid watched as it did its job and swallowed Elsa as it had once swallowed her. Whatever Ingrid wanted in all of this, whatever her plan was, it wasn't to take over Arendelle. It wasn't for Elsa to be gone and her to be Queen, not with a reaction like she had. She was upset with Anna, shocked. Furious.

Though Anna reeled looking suddenly confused, a look that told him without a shadow of a doubt she'd been under some kind of spell when she'd done what she'd done, Ingrid was angry. She pried the urn from Anna's hands and held it close. She guarded it as the boy he'd seen on the mountain, the one who had helped to retrieve the urn, came running into the room a weapon raised. But he'd never get to use it. In the next moment he saw what had triggered the magic he'd felt within him, Ingrid froze Anna. And the boy. And the room. And the palace. And then he watched as all of the land of Arendelle froze solid. All but her. A powerful Elemental indeed. But not more powerful than he was. The Curse was safe, and he wasn't about to leave magic that was free to be claimed or reclaimed, in his case, sitting about!

When he arrived he took stock of the situation before him, one that was not unfamiliar to what he saw in the mirror. Still, there was one difference, there was a very clear stench around the room, around all of Arendelle that even he recognized though he rarely dealt in it himself, most recently in Belle's father. Troll Magic. And the reason it smelled so badly now? Because she was doing it now. She hadn't noticed he'd come into the room because she was on the opposite side, using a round rock to pull forth memories from the urn in her hands. A powerful Elemental and witch. Shame he'd never been able to train her himself. If he had, then he knew he would never have gotten this close without her noticing.

"I see someone's been practicing their rock-troll memory magic," he announced, allowing her to turn and notice him finally in the room. "Quite impressive, dearie." With her watching, he finally turned around to examine the two statues standing in the room. The male he didn't care for but seeing Princess Anna frozen in ice and unable to move had a satisfying touch of irony to it that he appreciated. Perhaps now she'd see how fun it was not to have control over one's body. "You know, I prefer her better this way. More cooperative. Less mouthy. Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly. Ingrid's magic wasn't the only magic in the room; something called to him from the fireplace. Something with a power that he recognized but doubted Ingrid would because she'd given up her ribbon all those years ago thinking it was useless. Anna's necklace still contained its power, even after everything that had happened. An impressive bit of magic it was becoming. "But this? This was much lovelier when it was around her neck. You know...when she was breathing."

Suddenly there was an image in his head of this very necklace. It was sitting in the shop on a shelf, stood up displayed well. And then the image changed to something more. In his hands, human hands he held a white card. There was something called a photograph in the top corner. It was a picture of the necklace. And on the card there were typed words. His vision flashed. He felt his arm around someone and another arm around his waist. There was a smile. And then he was back to the card he'd held, the words suddenly clear. "Silver. Cut well. Damaged. Slightly burned. Slightly warped. Repairable. Fair condition. Current price: $200. Estimated repair costs: $150. Fully restored price: $300. Additional Notes: The repair isn't profitable but should someone buy it refer the buyer to jewelry repair so they can spend the extra fifty dollars themselves." The thought "not worth my time" entered his head and then...

"Priceless" the Seer whispered.

When he focused back on the world around him he knew only one thing. Urn or hat or nothing at all. He needed the necklace!

"What do you want, Rumplestiltskin?" Ingrid asked, still clutching that urn tight against her. Urn or hat or nothing at all he needed the necklace, but the urn and hat would be nice too.

"Just an old trinket your frozen niece stole from me...a hat," he declared fingering the necklace. Could he slip it into his pocket unnoticed? She seemed rather attached to the urn at the moment, would she notice if this went missing? Would she care if she didn't realize what she had? He could do another bit of magic if necessary, switch it out with an identical one, but that would require magic, and she might sense that.

"I haven't seen it," the Snow Queen whispered low.

He laughed. Her heart had skipped a beat when he'd mentioned it and when she answered. Lies. "Oh, lying is so un-queenly, Ingrid," he commented. He wasn't in the mood for lies and games at the moment. He wanted that hat. She knew where it was. So…it seemed a deal was in order. If he couldn't retrieve his property, then he'd take back another! He turned his back on her and used his magic to do two things at once. He made a copy Anna's necklace and pocketed the original, then seized the urn Ingrid thought she had a hold of, and sent it back to his castle, where he put it away in the room with no doors. He couldn't risk it getting open around him…and Ingrid couldn't risk losing it.

"Where is she?!" she roared, not noticing the other little bit of magic he'd done. "Give her back..."

"Careful, dearie," he warned, finally turning back to face her, the fraudulent necklace in hand. "You're not the only one who knows how to hide something of value. We wouldn't want it lost forever, now would we? Though I'm curious why you took memories from that poor girl. I mean, you would have thought being trapped inside a bread bin was punishment enough."

Her heart was racing again, not from rage now, but rather from desperation. He could smell it on her. He had her in a precarious position, the poor Would-Be Queen. She wanted her niece back. He knew where she was. Which meant that she would do and say anything just to get her.

"She learned more than she was meant to," she admitted. "I wanted us to have a fresh start."

"Don't we all, dearie? Don't we all?" Little did she know that the key to their fresh start was back in his castle safe and sound and still years away from being cast, which was why he didn't have time to be here. He wanted that hat. But not more than anything. Baelfire was his true goal. If the hat should present itself again, he'd take it, but he had to keep his eyes on the goal! And leave the door open for what might be. "You know, uh...I'm gonna make you a deal..." he explained, cutting right to the chase after glancing at Anna. He wasn't interested in anything more than he needed to be. "An urn for a hat, as simple as that. And just to make it easy for you, when you 'find' the object of my desire, just say my name three times, and I shall come to you. See you soon!" he laughed, escaping with the necklace safe in his pocket.

[kar3npage]

Sewing Scissors and Throwing Knives

What would have happened if Neil stopped playing Exy? If he kept running after his mother died? Neil Josten is working as a janitor at Palmetto State University when he gets the opportunity to work as a fashion designer for an up and coming brand. It's a dream come true, if it wasn't such a public position and if he wasn't still running from his father and the Moriyama's. Aka, the Fashion Designer AU that no one asked for but I couldn't help but write.

I will be updating this fic once a week, so keep tuned! You can read this on ao3 here

Chapter One: Alli Rey

There’s something about empty public spaces. The feeling that comes from being the only person in a building that’s meant to hold thousands is eerie and calming all at once. Neil Josten loves his job for this aspect, and this aspect alone. The less enjoyable part of the job was the more important part: cleaning after other peoples messes. Neil’s been working at Palmetto State as a janitor for 3 weeks now, and he’s become very aware of how messy people are. Despite the obvious drawbacks to his current situation, he feels at home here. This could be a dangerous feeling and no one is more aware of that than Neil himself, but he can’t help himself but cling to the small comfort that is having a key to somewhere. Having a key means he belongs, that he’s not only allowed but desired in the building. It’s been 15 years since Neil first started running, 7 since he’s been on his own without his mothers company and harsh words. He never thought that he would make it past the age of 20, but here he is. Maybe not living, but alive for the moment.

Neil is achingly grateful for the fact that he’s usually in charge of the Art wing of the university. It’s one of the least liked areas due to extreme amount of mess that appears every single day, which is why the newbie got it, but Neil was okay with cleaning literally anything as long as it kept him away from the Exy court. Exy carried far too many memories, most of them negative. Today was different though. Through a series of unfortunate events (the person who usually cleaned it was sick, their backup won’t come in, etc) the court has been given to Neil to handle. This is the other most hated area to clean, thanks to the mess that’s left after games. The past few hours have passed in a blur with Neil counting in different languages and using various other coping mechanisms to keep his head firmly in the now. His fingers itch for a pencil and paper. He doesn’t have any grand ideas, but sketching out his thoughts has always been soothing, which is why he began it in the first place. The facts are these: after the fateful night when he scrimmaged with Kevin and Riko and his mother took him away, he decided that Exy maybe wasn’t as enjoyable as he initially thought. This opinion was hammered into place 8 years later, right after his mom died. He had been grieving and stupid and passionate, and decided that attending just one year of university for Fashion Design couldn’t possibly hurt. Somehow Riko found him near the end of the year, and he was ‘invited’ to spend two weeks with the Raven’s. Neil hasn’t touched a racket since then, and at the moment he has no desire to. This particular court couldn’t be more opposite to the one in Edgar Allen, but something about the scent and the sound of his footsteps echoing in the court brought memories that he would rather forget right to the front of his mind.

He’s almost done when it gets to be too much. The lights, the empty bleachers, all of it together is just enough to push Neil over the edge. His skin feels like it’s two sizes too small, his whole body is itchy and he’s overly aware of exactly where each scar starts and ends. Not only does his skin not fit, but now his ribs seem to be shrinking, forcing much needed air out of his lungs. Neil drops the massive mop where it is and practically runs out of the stadium into the foyer, desperate for air and a break. It’s not until he makes it outside that his ribs start to go back to their normal size. He had grabbed his bag during his panicked escape (the duffle that he still brings everywhere he goes. He has a small apartment to put it in, but there’s no way he can trust anyone enough to just leave it there), and he fumbles for his sketchbook and pencil case. His hands ache from work, but the sound of pencil scratching on paper is so comforting that he can easily ignore the discomfort. He isn’t trying to do anything groundbreaking, just drawing out idea after idea for fun. He draws suits with unique pockets and prints in fun places, dresses with elegant coats and dresses made out of fabrics with stupid prints on them. He goes through five pages of tiny drawings before his heart settles down and he stops jumping every time the light from the lamppost flickers. It’s torturous to go back into the empty building to finish. Neil goes as quickly as he can and sprints home with his duffle clutched to his chest.

Morning sun makes the little apartment cozier than it is, though not by much. He’s been living here for three weeks, and he’s not expecting to be here for any longer than a month from now. Neil never buys anything more than what he deems absolutely necessary. Most of that fits into his duffle. Whatever doesn’t will be left behind, such as the duvet set that he got on sale at Target. Another perk of the janitorial job is the hours: he doesn’t start until 10 pm, so he can avoid most human life a good deal of the time. Even though he works late, Neil can’t kick the habit of waking up early. It’s only 7 am and he’s wide awake and ready for a run. He does a quick check of the apartment to make sure that everything is in its place and ready to go if he needs to leave at a moments notice. This is when he notices that one very important item is missing. The sketchbook that has been Neil’s lifeline for the past year is nowhere to be found. With a sinking feeling, he realizes that he must have left it outside after his panic attack last night.

His running routes are always random but well thought out, to avoid getting jumped. Unfortunately, today’s route has to be to the university so Neil can find his sketchbook (if he was a praying man, he would pray, that’s how desperate he is to get it back). The university is a terrible place to run, since it’s so crowded and there are so many campus security around. It takes twice the amount of time to get to the court now than it does at night. The sketchbook isn’t where he left it last night. Neil scours the outside of the building, even checking the garbage bins. With a sigh, he decides to go inside as a last ditch effort. Logically Neil knows that it isn’t a necessity, so he really shouldn’t be heading straight into a trigger for it, but this sketchbook holds more information about him than almost anything else (other than the binder that sits at the bottom of his duffle). The black book practically has his soul in it, lame as that sounds. After that year in the Design program, Neil hasn’t shown anyone any of his designs. Not that he’s had anyone to show, but still. It’s a private thing, and not knowing where it is makes him feel vulnerable. As expected, the university Exy team is practicing when Neil goes inside. He can hear shouts coming from the court where he stands in the room that holds the TV and couches. Keeping one ear in the direction of the court, Neil starts methodically going through the room. He’s checking under one of the couches when the soft sound of a footfall makes him reel around. Standing in the entrance to the room is a man around the age of his father. His wife beater shows off tattoos that cover his arms. They’re intricate and Neil would think they were beautiful if they weren’t attached to the person blocking one of his exits. The person who looks strong and a little bit pissed off, who reminds Neil of his father for no reason other than his age. “Who the hell are you and how did you get into my court?” the man says. Neil flinches when he takes a step into the room. “Janitor. Keys,” Neil says, holding up his key ring for the university. He stands up and takes a careful step back, eyes darting to the other exits in the room. The mans posture softens, though his face still looks suspicious. “As far as I know, no one called for a janitor.” Neil considers just leaving without answering. But he really wants his sketchbook back. And maybe the man knows where it is. “I left something here last night.” The mans eyes gleam and Neil has an uncomfortable feeling that today might turn out much differently than he was expecting it to go. “The something you left doesn’t happen to be a black sketchbook, does it?” Neil takes another step back and nods. The man grins and jerks a finger toward the office door, where he must have come out of. “I found it outside this morning when I got here. I was flipping through it to see if there was a name of the owner and I saw your drawings. They’re good.” Goosebumps raise on Neils arms when he hears that this man looked through his book. He knows that he had a legitimate reason to look inside, but anger still rises up. “I didn’t realize that you were an art connoisseur,” Neil snarks, trying to avoid thinking about someone looking at his art without his permission. The man snorts. “I’m really not. But my son knows a lot about those kind of things, and I’ve picked up a thing or two from him. I’m Wymack, the coach of the Foxes.” That is just really too bad, Neil thinks. He was really enjoying getting to stay here, and now he has to leave a month earlier than he was planning to. The thing is, Neil knows exactly who Wymack is. After his little scrimmage with Kevin and Riko, he kept a close eye on Kevin. He wasn’t stalking him or anything, just checking up on the poor kid who had to see his father do such terrible things. He heard about Kevin’s injured hand almost as soon as the press heard about it. Not long after that, it came to light that David Wymack, coach of the Palmetto State Foxes, was his biological father. Kevin faded from the Exy scene a few months after that when it became clear that he was giving up the sport and Neil stopped checking on him. Wymack is watching Neils internal breakdown carefully and he shifts to the side so he isn’t blocking the exit anymore. If Neil wants to leave, he can, but he’ll have to get in arms length of Wymack. They have a silent staredown while Neil decides on his course of action. Wymack speaks before a decision can be made. “I hope you don’t mind, but your work was really impressive. I’m not an expert or anything, but I would like to think that I’m pretty good at spotting talent.” “What are you hoping I don’t mind?” Wymack scratches the back of his neck, the first time that he’s looked anything but confident. “Well, as I said, my son knows quite a bit about that sort of stuff. Actually, he’s a designer. At Alli Rey, the fashion company. And I sent him a few photos of your sketches.” Neil’s stomach plummets through the floor. Unless Wymack has another mysterious son, he just sent his artwork to Kevin Day. Neil had no idea that Kevin was a designer now, he didn’t even know that Kevin was interested in that. Neil tries to school his emotions and makes a beeline to the exit, tensed just in case Wymack decides to try to stop him. “He was really impressed.” Wymack says, and Neil freezes. “You had no right to go through my things, or to send them to anyone.” Wymack doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. “He wants you to intern at Alli Rey, he thinks you have potential.” “I don’t want that.” “Why not? It’s a great opportunity, and you’re obviously passionate about it.” “I don’t need your help.” Wymack raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I wasn’t trying to help you, maybe I was trying to help Kevin. The company needs another designer, and he thinks you would be a good fit.” Neil searches for a legitimate excuse to decline an offer that in any other world would be like a fairy tale. “I’m not good enough to work with Kevin Day.” Wymack looks almost pleased with himself. “I never said his name. The fact that you know who he is is proof enough that you’re passionate. And who cares if you think your good enough or not? Kevin thinks you are. And he doesn’t say things like that lightly.” “I just came back for my sketchbook. If you could give it to me and let me leave, that would be great.” Neil can tell that Wymack is analyzing him. He has been this whole time. Finally, Wymack sighs and his shoulders slump a bit. He looks exhausted. “Is there a reason that you’re trying to push away an amazing opportunity that you want to take?” “Who says I want to take it?” “I recognize that look from my Foxes. Do you know how I chose players for the team?” Neil shakes his head no, even though he’s heard tons about the damaged players who are recruited for Palmetto’s Exy team. He wants to hear Wymacks side of it. “Everyone here has a bad past. The team isn’t about the sport as much as it is about second chances. Second, third, fiftieth. As long as it’s one more chance than the rest of the world wants to give you. Taking this offer could be your chance.” “You don’t even know my name.” “I know that you’re skilled, that you did a hell of a good job cleaning up last night, and that you have the same look in your eyes that most of my Foxes do.” Neil straightens his spine like that might prove that he isn’t broken, that he’s different than the aggressive team that’s currently arguing in the court. “Look, you don’t have to answer right away. Just think about it.” Wymack turns around to rummage around in the office for a moment. He comes back out with the sketchbook and Neil feels a spark of relief at seeing it in one piece. “I left Kevin’s number on a sticky note on the front. Take the week, he’ll give you until Friday to decide.” Neil snatches the book out of Wymacks hand and speed walks out of the building, breaking into a sprint the minute he’s out of Wymacks sight.

[i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate]

Hello! Forgive me for the angst, but how about the idea that everything - Edens Zero, time travel, Rebecca - turned out to be just a dream for Weisz?

Oof, Key, why do you hurt me so much? 

This deserves more than one part, so stay tuned... maybe at some point it’ll get a sequel. ;) 

I hope you enjoy!

Six Months Without You

          “Hey, soft-man,” Rebecca ran her fingers through his hair, humming softly. “Are you awake?”

          “I am now,” he groaned, turning to look at her in the dim light of the stars, just outside their viewer. She was beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re my wife.

          “Good.” She leaned over to press a lingering kiss to his lips, and he brushed his fingers across her cheek. “I love you, you know.”

          “I do,” he murmured.

          “Can you believe we’re married?”

          “No…” he said, “I never once imagined I’d be lucky enough to have someone like you.”

***

          When Weisz woke up everything was blurry. Somewhere something was beeping softly and regularly. The room was pale white, and beyond some sort of viewer there were lights of a city? He felt nauseous, and the moment his vision began to clear his head began to pound.

          “Wh—” His throat was so hoarse. How long had he been out? “Where am I…?” He was in some sort of bed, in an unfamiliar room. An infirmary? He lifted his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. I’m okay. It’s fine. An IV was sticking out of his arm, he traced the tube with his eyes to a bag of some sort of clear liquid hanging above him. What the hell is going on?

          The door swung open, and a young woman in a white coat slipped inside. Her eyes widened when she saw him. “You’re awake!” She set aside her clipboard and rushed over to check his vitals, listening to his chest—his heartbeat. As she checked his blood pressure she talked to him.

          “Do you remember your name?”

          “W-Weisz Steiner,” he said, clearing his throat.

          “Do you remember what happened, Professor Steiner?”

          He blinked. Everything was still hazy. Did this strange doctor woman just call him “Professor”?

          “No,” he whispered.

          “There was a terrible accident,” the doctor said, leaning over to check his IV. An accident?! Weisz searched his mind for the last thing he could remember. Rebecca.

          “Where’s my wife?!” He said, suddenly very awake. The doctor blinked, and shook her head.

          “Professor, we don’t have a wife listed in your file. In fact…” she hesitated, “You didn’t even have an emergency contact listed.”

          “Th-that can’t be right!” He whispered, “The last thing I remember… the last thing I remember… I was with my wife. Rebecca! Her name’s Rebecca, please—”

          “Professor, you need to take a deep breath,” the doctor said, raising her hands. “Maybe it was just a dream. Sometimes coma patients—”

          “A dream?!” Weisz hissed, reaching for his IV, “That’s impossible.” It was impossible! Not Rebecca. Not my wife. He had to find her, he had to—

          “I need some help in here!” The nurse shouted, reaching for a drawer. Weisz ripped out his IV, swinging his legs over his bed. I have to find her! Several other doctors rushed in—or maybe nurses. The grabbed his arms.

          “Let me go!” He shouted, knocking two of them back, and throwing another at some sort of expensive-looking machine. But two more came, and he was held down. “Let me go! I have to find her! I have to find—” The prick of a needle, and everything faded into darkness.

          He was walking home from his last class of the day. Home. To his apartment in Seattle. The sounds of car horns, and screeching tires, and it was raining—pouring. He was crossing the street, one step at a time, and there were headlights. There were headlights coming right at him. The screech of tires, and someone across the street screamed. That was the last thing he remembered.

***

          By the time the goddamned doctors at the psych ward let him out, daydreams of Edens Zero were only distant memories, mixed with memories of his real life. He was a professor at the university, and he taught astronomy (having majored in the science and minored in engineering). They said, at the psych ward, that maybe his dreams of Edens had been inspired by his career. But Weisz knew that all the planets he had dreamed up never existed. And his “wife” …he still scoffed at the idea aloud. But… sometimes he dreamed of her. He dreamed of the way she teased him, the way she kissed him, the way the stardust framed her figure. He dreamed about their first time, their first kiss, their wedding. He could still so clearly see the color of her eyes. And when he closed his eyes, sometimes he imagined he could hear her voice, humming a lullaby—lulling him off to sleep. He hated Rebecca, because… I still love her. And she wasn’t real.

          It was six months after his accident—after the drunk driver nearly killed him—that he was heading home on a warm Seattle Summer night, from his last class of the day, hefting a pile of tests he had to grade. The sun had only just set, and the sky was growing dim. The first stars were appearing… no, that was Venus, following the sun—down behind the Olympics. Weisz took the steps up to his apartment two at a time, and arrived at the door, but paused before he pulled out his keys. The door of the apartment next door was wide open, light streaming out, boxes piled up high in the hallway. The apartment had been for lease for some time now. Someone must have finally decided to move in.

          He hesitated. Should I introduce myself? Before deciding it was far too late to be meddling in neighbors’ affairs and turned back to unlock his own apartment. But just as he had opened his door a cheerful voice said:

          “Hi! You must be my new neighbor!” Weisz turned to see who it was. Keys fell with a jangling thunk to the floor and the tests that had been in his other arm scattered across the hallway. “Oh no!” His heart had practically stopped, he couldn’t breathe. He knew her. From her big blue eyes to her light hair—tied back in a ponytail. He intimately knew each of her curves, he knew there was a birthmark on her hip—just above her bikini line, he knew every expression—the way her eyes lit up, the way she bit her lip when she was focused, and he knew her smile. Oh God, he knew her smile. He could remember the feel of her hands in his, the way she whispered his name. He knew her. His wife. His Rebecca.

          And yet… she didn’t know him… She dropped down to her knees, gathering his scattered papers. Move, Weisz. But his mind was reeling. How is this possible?! Somehow he managed to shakily crouch down to help her.

          “S-sorry,” he mumbled, reaching out for his textbook. Their hands brushed. He took in a breath. Her eyes met his.

          “You’re a teacher?”

          “Yeah,” he said, “It’s been a long day.”

          “I understand,” she laughed, “I’ve been trying to move all this junk into this place. I have a lot more stuff than I realized I did!”

          “Do you…” he hesitated, as they stood. “Do you want some help?”

          Her eyes lit up, and she beamed up at him. “I’d really like that!” She held out her hand. “My name’s Becky!”

          “Rebecca,” he whispered, trying the name out on his tongue for the first time in six months. Rebecca paused, staring at him.

          “Hmm… I… I never used to like ‘Rebecca’ but… the way you say it,” she smiled. That smile. God, I missed that smile. “The way you say it is nice.”

          “I’m Weisz.” He took her hand, her touch electrified him.

          “It’s good to meet you, Weisz!” Rebecca beamed.

          “I’m just going to drop these off in my living room and then I’ll be out to help.” Weisz slipped back into his apartment, slipping his keys in his pocket and dropping the book and papers on his coffee table. He paused, taking in a deep, shuddering breath. This is happening. He clenched his fists. He could still feel the touch of her hand in his. She’s real. It didn’t make any sense, and yet it seemed so right. He smiled, trying to push away his excitement. He stepped back out after another deep breath and turned to see what he could do to help. Rebecca was lifting up a box of books.

          “You can help me with these if you’re still up to it. I’ve got a few shelves in my living room that need filling.” She turned and headed towards the doorway. Weisz leaned over and lifted a box of hardbacks, groaning under the weight.

          “Geez, these are heavy!” He huffed. Rebecca glanced back over her shoulder, undeniably familiar smile on her lips.

          “What are you? Soft?” She giggled and then turned to face him again, “Yeah. You are. Soft in a good way. Soft-man.”

          He shook his head with a laugh. It was a good beginning. And the name made his knees weak. So many memories. “Tsk,” he chuckled, following her into her apartment. “I’m not soft.”

Thanks of Reading!

Buy me a coffee? :)

[belovasangel]

Au Lait .4

Summary: Books turn into bullets, and Shawn finds himself reading more than he should be.

Pairing: Mob!Shawn x (fem)Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, blood, minimal swearing, angst!

Start from the beginning

Humans are territorial beings. We treasure the items that mean most to us, shielding them from damage and keeping the hidden memories behind them secret to just us. They become our world, and we as their protectors. From a childhood possession to a collectors item gifted by birthday, each of us has a special ‘thing’ that we would do anything for. 

That’s why finding your love, the other half, your soulmate, is such a beautifully terrifying thing. It becomes our ‘thing’, where we attempt to preserve the internal monologues we practice to keep them swooning and coming back. Love is one of those things that’s everywhere, yet it’s so difficult to find yourself. It’s why we buy wedding rings to give labels, saying that you’re reserved for one person. It’s because we’re addicted to having that one ‘thing’ to cherish and hold until death do thee part. 

What happens if that ‘thing’ gets damaged? What then?

Shawn never contemplated the likelihood of the situation he was about to find himself in. There he was, a few stores down from your bookstore, fixing his shirt in the shop window. It had just turned 6:45, and like always, Shawn was early. Maybe it was an anxious habit he did, coming moments earlier than expected. Or how he needed to be ready, and how being first to arrive gave him power. 

He was about to feel the opposite the moment you picked up the phone. As he hit your contact, and a few rings too late you answered, he sensed the issue. 

“Hey, princess, I’m-”

“Shawn, I need your help.”

Shawn turned on his heel, glaring at his reflection in the glass. Maybe he wore the wrong shirt, you always liked the maroon one instead of the green. “What? Are you okay, need a band-aid for your paper cut? What did you read today, Lord of the Rings again?”

“You need to... um, fuck, Shawn you can’t-”

He heard the phone clatter onto a surface, assumably the counter, and listened to your quick gasps and whimpers. Shawn began walking towards the store, seeing your street sign peek out. He quickly ducked to the cement sidewalk, looking inside through the glass. Shawn clenched his jaw, the screen on his phone near shattering.

“Pick up the fucking phone, Andrew, or so help me God.”

The man at the counter grabbed the phone, holding the gun firmly to your head as he spoke without wavering confidence. “What a pleasure it is to speak to you again, Shawn. Now, what did I say about messing around with my work?”

Shawn let out a growl, watching you shudder under the barrel of the pistol. He noticed how nice you looked, the soft curls of your hair framing your beautiful face. His heart ached, recalling your warning about his mafia and your bookstore. Your safe place.

“Once you get wrapped up in my business, killing my men and threating my family, it’s easy to get mixed up with the bastard that started it all. Forgive me for attempting to strike fear.”

Shawn began slowly stepping towards the door, attempting to steer clear of your vision. All he knew was that if you saw Shawn outside, his cover would be blown and someone would die. You.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t hurt your family, and all I did was put a few holes in your men. Water under the bridge, am I right? However, I never promised that I wouldn’t touch such beautiful,” Andrew paused, bringing his gun-clad hand to your hair, pulling gently on a curl with his thumb, “beautiful, woman. Say, does Shawn tell you about what he does?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling hot tears creep behind your eyes. The man, now knowing his name with a poison on your tongue, wiped a single tear with the gun. Andrew chuckled at the fear radiating from your pores, stepping away from the counter to turn towards the window. He set his gun down on a nearby bookshelf as he began to pace. “Get away from her, she has no business with me.”

Andrew clicked his tongue, stepping back to the door, and clicking the lock shut. “Aw, that’s cute. You think she’s empty-handed. Real fucking rich, Shawn. All she’s done is make you weak.” You looked over at the gun, realizing it was within reach. 

“Don’t you lay a fucking finger on her, Andrew.”

Another tear trickled down your face, as you focused on the pistol nearby. Shawn might not save you, there was virtually no way for it to happen. Andrew locked the door, and it was the only entrance Shawn knew about. Your knuckles gripped hard on the counter, slowly releasing apologies and pleas into the universe. “She’s making you cowardly, Mendes. You kill people! Sell drugs, murder families, take candy from fucking babies, yet somehow a damn nerd found a way to change your mind. You should have fucking killed me when you had the chance!”

I’m sorry mom. I’m sorry dad. You began slowly side stepping towards the edge of the counter, holding your breath after every centimeter. I’m sorry to the fish I didn’t feed when I was 5, I know you deserved the food but I was bored. Andrew didn’t turn around, eyes still trained on the window. I’m sorry to the plants I killed when I was 12, you were good cacti. You stretched your hand out to the shelf, giving an airy grunt. I’m sorry to my friends, you all gave me the courage to start this store. I will always appreciate what you did for me. A single finger reeled the handle of the pistol, relishing in the coldness of the metal.

“You don’t know shit about her, Andrew. All you know is her damn store, she was taught to read books, not loads rifles. She doesn’t know my life, she doesn’t know who the fuck you are! Do not get her involved. Get out before you’ll regret it.”

I am so, so fucking sorry Shawn. 

Your hand finally held the pistol. Letting out a deep sigh, Andrew turned around. He dropped the phone, and began striding towards your outreached arm. 

You taught me love. Patience. Dignity. The confidence that got me through my hardest days. I know you hated those bitter coffees at the cafe we met, yet you drank them every time. I learned that you loved Harry Potter, yet refused to read any other book other than sci-fi novels and Stephen King. You changed my world, turned these novels into reality. I owe you my mind, my heart, my life. 

You pulled back, holding the gun to your chest. He rounded the desk, grabbing your hands and began prying for the weapon.

I love you, Shawn Peter Raul Mendes. And you’ll never know how truly sorry I am for that.

Pop.

End

[jbuffyangel]

Isn't interesting that KC was noticeably absent during SDCC? If the upcoming redemption for BS and vengeance for Quentin aren't something talked about at sdcc, could it be that BS/LL 2.0 aren't going to be relevant storylines going forward?? Or is it just wishful thinking that KC might be leaving the show, 2 years since her character was killed off?

Anon asked: Hello Jen just saw the s7 sizzle reel and confused and a bit annoyed that the writers are dragging along another season with BS. It seems she is still pretending to be LL and in what seems to be 1summer has gotten a law degree. So how do you think this redemption arc is going to work? BS is seeking absolution as someone else? Makes no sense. The one character that connects her to the narrative is dead, now she’s seeking vengeance for QL. How they twist the plot to fit BS? What’s ur take on this?

Anon asked: Hello Jen - Big fan of your blog and all your insights. I just read that they’re bring back KC as a regular next season. Why is it harder to get rid of L*rel/not L*rel from Arrow than getting gum off one’s shoe? I still love Olicity but after the loss of Thea and Lance, I’m definitely not too excited for next season. Your thoughts?

Uhhh… when was the last time KC’s character was relevant? When she died?

I don’t know the reason for KC’s absence, something about family commitments. I don’t think it’s a tip off that she’s leaving the show like it was at SDCC 2015. The lack of discussion around her character says to me she’ll have as much relevancy as she’s ever had, which ain’t much.

If the season theme is redemption then I’m sure BS will be trying to redeem herself to honor Quentin’s sacrifice (still so much ridiculousness). Quentin died for BS because he wanted to die for his L*urel, but couldn’t. 

What the man really needed was copious amounts of therapy, but what’s done is done. Arrow killed off the one character BS shared the most screen time with so I anticipate she’ll be playing a smaller role because of it. I’ve been wrong before, but time will tell.

Do I think it makes sense for BS to stick around and pretend to be LL? No. Quentin was her last “familial” connection in Star City and it was tenuous at best. I’d prefer to see BS on Legends and watch Sara grapple with the woman who wears her sister’s face, but is nothing like her. I’m sure I’m in the minority though.

I think the BS redemption will be a cycle of ups and downs. Sometimes she’ll be the better person and sometimes she won’t. The only real interesting element to the character is that she is evil - that she’s not Laurel. 

So, I think it would be a mistake for the show to ignore that completely and I don’t believe they will. From my perspective BS is the new Malcolm Merlyn. Merlyn always promised he changed, and every so often even did the right thing, but more often the character was working an angle that benefited him. And Oliver Queen never trusted Malcolm Merlyn. 

Beth did say a little something about Bl*ck S*ren’s storyline at SDCC:

“The demise of her father’s Earth-1 counterpart is a huge story point moving forward. She will try to live up to the L*urel L*nce legacy to make him proud. But her alter ego, Bl*ck S*ren, has her craving vengeance.”

Source: @legends-of-today

The real question for me is where does BS start the season? If she’s been on the straight and narrow for the last five months, pretending to be LL, then she’s starting out high. The pendulum will swing the other way. So, her arc could be trying to be a better person, but ultimately failing by season’s end. Just because the season’s theme is redemption doesn’t mean everyone will achieve it. This would be the more interesting route to me because it keeps the evil angle in play.

Look at it this way - what happens if Arrow fully redeems Bl*ck Sir*n? Her character arc is over the same way LL’s was over once she became Bl*ck C*nary. The writers are right back where they started, which is why they killed her off in the first place. 

So, this redemptive tug of war is one of the few storylines that keeps Bl*ck Sir*n interesting. Possibly.

Quite frankly, I was woefully disappointed in her character arc in S6. We started off with a bang in Season 5, but ended in a whimper. The writers relegated a powerful meta human to a damsel in distress. Bl*ck Sir*n was a ping pong ball Lance and Diaz batted between them. It was bizarre. 

And let’s keep in mind Bl*ck Sir*n’s need for revenge is a primary reason Diaz is free. She screwed up Oliver’s plan something big, so now his family is in witness protection while he sits in prison absolutely powerless to protect them.

BS isn’t winning any popularity contests with Team Arrow, no matter how many law books she crams or nice suits she wears. She’s an uncontrollable element, an X factor. That’s the only way she adds drama to the show. Remove that and there’s not much else.

Also, if you are expecting her ability to practice law to make sense may I remind you the writers thought LL was ready to fight crime after a couple boxing lessons. After they completely erased LL’s self defense classes, of course. Don’t try to make sense of it. Logic doesn’t apply to any version of this character.

Of course, my investment in Bl*ck Sir*n is biased because I am thoroughly apathetic about the character, just like I was with LL by the end. I own that. But let’s address what the LL fans really want. They want Bl*ck S*ren to be redeemed and become LL 2.0, take back the mantle of Bl*ck C*nary, and be in a romantic relationship with Oliver. 

1) Bl*ck S*renwill never be L*urel L*nce because she is a different character. 

She comes from a different world with an entirely different life experience. I’m not just saying this because it’s a LL doppelganger. If another Roy from a different earth arrives in Star City would we say that’s our Roy? OF COURSE NOT. Our Roy is off living his happily ever after with Thea wiping out Lazarus Pits. Is Nazis Oliver the same as our Oliver? NOOOOO! 

BS is a different character because it’s a different character. Anyone who cannot accept that can’t accept logic.

2) Bl*ck S*ren will never be Bl*ck C&nary because Arrow already has a new Bl*ck C*nary (Dinah Drake). PIPE DREAM.

3) Forget all that for a second. Let’s say Bl*ck S*ren becomes this unattainable 2.0 version of LL as KC fans desire. Let’s say she takes back the Bl*ck C*nary mantle. Oliver Queen wouldn’t touch BS with a ten foot pole. He wouldn’t touch L*urel with a ten foot pole by the time she died. 

That’s just fact. If you need additional reassurance then the writers have said many times Bl*ck S*renand Oliver Queen are never going to happen. Oliver’s endgame is and will always be Felicity Smoak.

So what’s the real impact to a BS redemption story? Not much. It’s the same equivalent of giving L*urel the motorcycle or whatever other crumbs they tossed her fans. Give it to them. Or don’t. It doesn’t really matter either way. 

Arrow killing off L*urel was one of their ballsier moves, and yes it’s disappointing to see them circumvent it with this doppelganger nonsense. It lessens the impact of death which was one of the many reasons they killed LL. They needed to raise the stakes for the superheroes and show the audience they can die. 

Do I think Arrow will kill off KC’s character again? No. I don’t. The writers say they have new ways to utilize the actress with this different character. I think that’s partially true. I also think KC has nine lives and a hell of a team of lawyers.

But the truth is she will never be the female lead again. 

BS will continue to be a supporting character like the newbies. And, like the newbies, function best in a B (or C) storyline that ultimately supports the leads - Oliver, Felicity and Diggle.

I know there are many who are frustrated BS is still around. I know any version of this character drives you up the wall. If there are those who enjoy the character then great! For those who don’t, you can always fast forward. But her impact is null and void for me. Would it be better if her screen time went to other characters? Absolutely, but I’m not wasting my energy stressing about it. My apathy is a peaceful place.

The upside for me is the writers are never shy about directing snark at BS, which gives me a free pass to be equally as snarky in my reviews. And that’s nifty.