#tried too hard to make myself small and not rock the boat

[apollo-zero-one]

Someone remind me tomorrow to tell my therapist I need to work on communicating when things are bothering me instead of just hanging onto them until I can't anymore and dipping . This is a trait I hate in others when did I start doing this

[schrijverr]

I Found Myself a Cheerleader 21

Chapter 21 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

In this chapter, Steve gets dragged through the portal, the five teens end up in the Upside Down. They try to make it through together, some people growing closer in the process.

On AO3.

Ships: steddie & buckingham

Warnings: general season 4 shenanigans, injury, homophobia mention, f-slur, hate-crime mention

~~~~

Chapter 21: The Meeting with Bats

Pain is everywhere.

Steve knows what is happening, but he can’t wrap his head around where he is and what is going on, all he knows is pain. His back is getting ripped open, bits of dirt and little rocks getting lodged in the flesh.

He is about to get his bearings and fight back to whatever is dragging him suddenly throws him into the air and sends him flying.

The air is forcefully expelled from his lungs and his brain is scrambled. It again takes him a moment to climb off the vine like nest he’d been thrown on and take in where he is. The Upside Down. Like genuinely the Upside Down. Red lightning in the air and dust floating around like it was in the tunnels.

In a way, Steve can’t believe he is actually here, but a creature shrieking behind him makes him snap around as he searches for the danger. He doesn’t have time to think about whether or not he is really here. The Upside Down is practically synonymous with danger.

He only sees a smaller than the demodogs bat-like creature fly towards him, but he isn’t fooled by its size, especially when more and more come closer. Surrounding him.

Quickly he grabs an oar from one of the boats nearby him and starts swinging as the bats descend on him with sharp fangs and little claws. Plus way more force than any creature should have. How these winged beasts are so muscled, Steve doesn’t know, but within seconds he is down on the ground.

One of them wraps their tail around him and pins him down as it chokes him. He struggles against the bat as more start to eat at his sides.

A small frenzied part of his brain whispers that this is quite similar to how Jonathan was pinned down and helpless in ‘83. However, there is no Steve to come running in this time. He knows he can’t expect any of the others to follow him in here and he is glad that he won’t be saved, that those he cares about will be safe. But still…

Steve can’t help but mourn – for as far as that is possible while being eaten – that he will die alone and there will be no one to hold his hand as he does. He’ll just be by himself, struggling against these bat monsters until he can’t anymore and dies.

It hurts so so bad. His sides are burning and he feels like he can’t breathe. He is desperately clawing at the tail as he tries to eject himself out of his body.

He’s been through too much to stop fighting now, but he’s also been through so much that he doesn’t want to be here right now either. So, he fights and tries to picture Robin. Not worried Robin in the boat from earlier, but Robin laughing so hard she starts snorting at something stupid he did at work.

Then he works to put Chrissy in there next to her. She’s smiling in his imagination. She’s not that gaunt scared girl of the past few days, instead brightly looking at him. Flying. God, he wishes he could have made her fly again.

With Chrissy and Robin firmly in mind, he sets to color in the kids, ignoring the stab that goes through his gut when another bat joins the feast that is his stomach.

Little Dustin at the snowball, Max showing him a new trick on her board, Lucas practicing basketball with him, the way Will thanked him after he ensured the kid knew he wasn’t alone, Erica looking smug while eating ice cream, El so strong and happy, Mike in the back of his car, trying to look annoyed but failing.

After that, Eddie.

Eddie, who has been on his mind for longer than he cares to admit. Eddie, who is so full of life with dramatic gestures and big grins. With his deep soulful eyes and sweet dimples. Eddie, who gets him, who has been there for him. Who he will never get to tell how much he means to Steve. Who he will never get to kiss.

Frustration bubbles up at the situation, but more importantly himself. In that Russian bunker he had decided not to let the world get to him. That he didn’t want to live like that. Yet at the slightest hint, he’d gone back to his old ways of hiding, of living in fear. Of pushing people away and retreating back in safe conformity. He hates it. He hates himself. He didn’t want to die then and he doesn’t want to die now.

He starts struggling harder again, new vigor flushing in his veins at the thought. However, that just shows him how futile his situation is.

Right as he thinks he might have to give up, despite not wanting to, tears springing into his eyes. A bat flies away.

No, not fly. Gets hit away.

For a second, Steve follows it, before he realizes what has just happened, before looking back. There are the others, they have come to save him. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the sight of them. Though neither is an option with how he is choking.

At the center is Eddie. He is the one that hit the bat away, in his hands in the nail bat Steve had left in the boat. Eddie is breathing heavy, looking at the bat as if he can’t believe that just happened, despite him being the one doing it.

Steve only has half the brain cell to register how cute and fucking hot that is, before the fight starts up in full. Everyone is batting the creatures away, giving him a fighting chance against the one that is choking him.

The whole fight is like a blur. It’s as if Steve has entered some sort of raging stage wherein he is just ripping, slamming and biting anything in the vicinity just to make it out. A feral tussle for his life that he only comes out of when the danger is gone and suddenly he can taste blood in his mouth and the burning in his sides.

He makes eye contact with Eddie, who is still holding his bat, a detail he isn’t focusing on (or at least he tells himself that). Eddie is wide eyed, a little scared and a little blood splattered, as he pants, his chest distractedly moving up and down under his Hellfire shirt.

Thunder crackles in the sky above them pulling them all back to the moment. Nancy pushes through the group gathered and it hits Steve suddenly that everyone in that boat followed after him to save him.

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks, a bit closer than Steve would like her, but she is clearly worried and Steve can’t blame her since the wounds on his stomach look about as bad as they feel.

However, he doesn’t want to be vulnerable about that now, show all the emotions that strike through him. How he thought he was going to die, how badly he wanted to live, how he is so glad they came and how guilty he feels about it. So, he merely jokes: “Well, they took about a pound of flesh, but other than that, yeah, never better.”

Nancy is leaning close and Steve isn’t sure what to do with her. She has been sending weird signals all week and it’s starting to get on his nerves.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to decide what to do, because Robin is out of her stupor and scrambling to get to Steve as she freaks out: “Uh, do you think these bats have like rabies?”

“What?” Steve laughs, more because of confusion than amusement.

“It’s just that rabies are like my number one fear,” she says, poking his arm as she scrutinizes the wounds on his stomach without touching them. “And I think we should get you to a doctor soon, because once symptoms set in, it’s too late. You’re already dead.”

“Is it really that bad?” Chrissy asks, worrying her lip as she leans over Robin’s shoulder to look at Steve’s stomach.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Steve assures her. He doesn’t want to worry Chrissy, because while he doesn’t think he’s going to get rabies, they do hurt pretty bad.

Robin clearly wants to protest that, but creatures start chittering and all of them snap their heads in the direction it has come from. Eddie is the closest and cautiously raises the bat again as he peers into the distance, the action makes Steve’s heart skip a beat.

Then he spots the few bats coming their way. They settle down over the portal they came through, still making those horrid sounds, as they seem to guard it.

A smart impulsive side of his brain wants to see Eddie fight while using his bat again, better this time, since he won’t be actively getting strangled. So, in a bout absurd thinking, he says: “Alright, there’s not that many. We can take them.” All look at him like he’s hit his head too hard, which is fair. Feebly he adds: “Right?”

As if to make him look even more silly, the few bats now get company from a swarm that they definitely can’t take. Beside him, Robin sarcastically asks: “You were saying?”

Eddie swings the bat down again and turns around with a little smirk as he says: “Maybe not, big boy.”

Steve feels a swoop through his stomach that momentarily washes the pain away, before there’s a harsh pat to his arm pulling him out of it. Nancy is pointing behind them and exclaims: “The woods, come on!” as she tugs Steve with her.

Behind them the others follow suit as they dash madly towards the woods. Faintly he hears Robin complain and the familiar footfalls of Chrissy as well as the jingling of Eddie’s jewelry.

However, he can’t concentrate on any of it. Nancy’s grip on his hand keeps him moving, but that is it, he is just stumbling along. With every thud of his feet on the ground, pain shoots up in his abdomen, leaving his eyes blurring with unshed tears.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve ran. He just needs to push through and focus on making it to wherever they’re going. Steve can’t allow himself the luxury of watching his surroundings, no matter how anxious that blindness makes him.

So, when Nancy stops, he nearly bowls her over, before practically collapsing, only holding himself up with the knowledge that he can’t show weakness in this place.

“Under here,” Nancy directs, pointing to an enclave.

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice, glad to collapse and roll under it, blearily blinking as a voice with soothing timbre asks: “You good, sweetheart?”

A curly haired head swims into his line of vision and he gives a too dopey smile for the situation to Eddie as he assures him: “I’m good.”

Eddie doesn’t look like he believes Steve, but this isn’t the time to talk about it as the others press closer into the enclave to get out of sight from the bat. Chrissy bumps his shoulder, herding him back, Robin right beside her, as Eddie also pulls him along, until the five of them are huddled under – what Steve now realizes is – Skull Rock.

The second he given to breathe helps in getting his head on right. His sides still hurt like a motherfucker, but he thinks he can probably push it away, especially with the creatures still making noise above them. They don’t have time for him to be hurt. It’s just like a cheer meet, if you hurt yourself keep smiling and keep going.

This works for approximately four seconds as they wait out the bats. Robin gets out first and Chrissy follows apprehensively, Nancy right behind her. Robin says: “Oh, okay, that was close,” as she looks around, obviously scared.

“Too close,” Eddie agrees, voice cracking a bit.

Steve goes to follow them, wanting to say something encouraging to comfort them. He hates seeing Robin scared and he doesn’t like Eddie’s tone. However, he practically collapses against Eddie, who is walking next to him as he gasps: “Oh sh- shit,” the pain becoming a bit too much.

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie says as he catches him, concern taking over as he asks: “Steve?”

“Jesus,” Robin exclaims.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Steve assures everyone, knowing how much of a lie it is and how much he isn’t fooling anyone. It still feels good to try.

“No, no, no,” Nancy says coming forwards to support him on the other side. “You’re loosing blood. Come on. Sit. Alright?”

She and Eddie guide him down along the wall so he can lean against it, the wounds on his back hurting as he slides to a seated position with a heavy groan.

He places a hand against his stomach and hisses against the pain it launches through him as blood slides down his stomach. He still feels pretty horrible, but he thinks he should be good to go after a few seconds of rest.

The hurt doesn’t compare to moving through those tunnels after Billy beat his face in. His head is still on straight. And if he can drive a car after being tortured and drugged, he can walk a little with a few wounds in his sides.

Still, he latches onto Eddie’s hand, which is on his shoulder, squeezing it to offer comfort as he chews his lip. It’s easier to look at Eddie, than to focus on his stomach, or to Nancy, who is taking the zip up Chrissy offered and ripping the sleeves off to make bandages.

“Okay,” he hears Robin say and looks her way. She is crouched down next to him and trying to put on a brave face, even if Steve knows she scared. In true Robin fashion, she rambles: “So, the good news is, I’m pretty sure wooziness is not a common symptom of rabies, but if you start having hallucinations or muscle spasms or if you start feeling really aggressive, like you wanna punch me or something? You should totally let me know.”

“Robin,” he gets her attention, having to admit to himself that her voice brought him back considerably and made him feel more at ease.

“Yeah?” she asks, attentive and alert.

“I kinda wanna punch you,” he tells her, giving her a soft smile to tell her he doesn’t mean it, but that he is trying to calm her nerves. It’s no good if she’s freaking out.

At that she laughs. It’s a little desperate kind of laugh, but it is a laugh and that is enough for Steve, especially when she smiles back: “Sense of humor is still in tact. That’s a good sign.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, immediately groaning when he sides protest the action.

“Okay,” Nancy says, determination in her brow as she holds up the makeshift sleeve bandage. “You ready?”

Steve knows Robin doesn’t do too well with blood, but he still holds out his hand to her, a bit of hopefulness in his eyes. He can’t go through this without her comfort. Or Eddie’s, the man a comforting warmth behind him.

However, right now he is more focused on Robin. Her shoulders set and she takes his hand, grabbing Chrissy’s with the other for her own support. Chrissy looks at their intertwined hands, then up at Steve, then away quickly. Steve can’t follow her thoughts, but he is just glad for Robin’s fingers between his own as he turns back to Nancy. “Just do it.”

She efficiently starts wrapping him up and he tries not to think about the wet noises he hears coming from down there as he grunts. His one hand tightens his hold on Robin’s and the other flies to Eddie’s arm, clinging to it as he turns his head and bites the leather of Eddie’s jacket to keep quiet, unsure if anything can hear them.

Faintly he hears Nancy apologizing, but he doesn’t care. He just wants her to be done and never have to touch his sides ever again.

After what seems like eternity, Nancy stops moving, blessedly leaving his sides along as she asks him: “Too tight?”

“No, that’s good,” he replies with a strained voice, after having to force his teeth to let go of Eddie’s sleeve. Fuck, that might have been weird to do now that he can think clearly again.

“Alright,” Nancy says, tying the last knot in the bandages, which sends that thought flying again until she finishes with an: “Okay” and a small smile.

“Thanks,” he smiles back crookedly, still panting a bit and coming down from the whole thing as he stares at her, since he is too tired to move his head away.

He’s pulled out of his staring trance when Eddie pulls away and starts looking around for god knows what. Steve doesn’t know, but he appreciates the view of Eddie’s backside. “So, uh, this place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?” Eddie asks.

“Pretty much,” Nancy replies, before quickly exclaiming: “Wait, watch out for the vines! It’s all a hive mind.”

“It’s all a what?” Eddie asks, looking back at them.

Steve has been helped up by Chrissy and Robin, leaning against Skull Rock again. He remembers how confused he was when the kids explained, so he simplifies: “All the creepy crawlies around here? They’re like one or something. Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.”

“Shit,” Eddie replies, eyebrows high on his forehead, which highlights his pretty eyes that Steve gets lost in for a second.

Then he gets distracted by Robin, who asks: “But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people? Obviously.”

And Steve is reminded how little the others have been involved with this except for him and Nancy when she answers: “As far as I understand it, yeah.”

“So, theoretically,” Robin starts and Steve knows it’ll either be very stupid of genius by the way her voice sounds, “we could go to the police station and steal guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate.”

“I highly doubt the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robs,” Steve tells her a little bitchily perhaps, but he is hurt and tired, so he cuts himself some slack.

“But they probably do have guns,” Chrissy says, which is true and could be useful. Fuck, now Steve has been bitchy when Robin had a good idea. He’ll buy her favorite candy to make it up to her later… if they make it out of here at least. Maybe there is Upside Down candy? But that probably isn’t safe to consume.

Next to them is Nancy, who has been pulling a thoughtful face ever since Robin first spoke up. She says: “Well, we don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns. I have guns in my bedroom.”

“You,” Eddie speaks up, like he can’t believe it, probably can’t, he hasn’t been through what she has been through, though he is getting close, “Nancy Wheeler,” he chocks his hip in a sexy way, “have guns – plural – in your bedroom?”

“Full of surprises, isn’t she,” Robin blurts out in her Robin-esque way.

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver,” Nancy continues, ignoring Robin’s little outburst.

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one,” Steve bitches, finally feeling good enough to stand. He still remembers that, haunts some of his nightmares. He hopes Nancy has better gun safety protocols now.

“You almost deserved it,” Nancy counters, batting her eyes at him and he can’t believe that he recognizes her flirt face in this situation, regarding that.

There have already been a few weird moments of tension between them before and Steve has no clue why she is doing this and what is driving her. He just stares at her a little confused as Nancy stares back, smile still on her face.

They’re snapped out their half-confused, half-flirting moment when something heavy hits his face, which he instinctively catches.

He looks down and a DIO logo is staring back at him. It’s Eddie’s vest, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie without it, except that day on the roof. He even told Steve once how important it was to him when he was high. So, of course he looks up to Eddie a mixture of emotions playing over his face.

Steve doesn’t know what Eddie sees there, but he looks away after saying: “For you modesty, dude.”

A bit of awe floods through Steve at that, he can’t help it. It feels like something more. Something he can’t quite put his finger on, but something that feels good as he slips the vest on. It is practically infused with smoke as well as sweat and weed. Eddie. Steve has to fight himself not to inhale too deeply, lest he comes across as creepy.

Nancy walks past Eddie and starts to lead the way to her house, Steve following to close the rear, when the ground suddenly starts to shake.

It’s enough to knock Steve over, right into Eddie, who snatches him by the upper arm and holds him close so they won’t fall. A little ahead, Robin and Chrissy fall on top of each other and Nancy hits the deck too.

The shaking continues for a second longer and Steve tries to focus on how scary that is instead of how warm Eddie feels next to him, how comforting it is to be held by him.

When it’s finally over, they all just lay on the ground and stand for a few seconds. Loud, terrifying noises come from all around them and now Steve wishes he could focus on Eddie instead of how scary it all really is.

“Yeah, so guns seem like a really good idea to me,” Eddie breaks the silence when it seems like nothing is going to come charging out of the woods and attack them.

Robin clumsily gets up and hauls Chrissy to her feet as well as she agrees: “Yeah, me too.”

“Lets go,” Nancy says, taking the lead again. She is so headstrong and Steve mourns for what made her like that. He might not appreciate her flirting, but he can ache as he recognizes the girl she used to be, before the Upside Down turned her spine to steel and her blood cold.

He clicks on the flashlight and gestures for the others to follow. He is determined to take the rear and Robin staring him down for a second won’t change that.

She seems to get that too, because she rolls her eyes and starts walking, dragging Chrissy along since they’re still holding hands from when she helped her up. Robin notices and blushes, letting go with a little flail.

Steve shakes his head fondly at her, before Eddie is distracting him. The guy holds out the bat that he had been carrying before now, he gives Steve a crooked grin and says: “This belongs to you, I think.”

“Ah, thanks, man,” Steve replies gratefully, exchanging the flashlight for his bat that he twirls to get a feel for again. He meets Eddie’s eyes and Eddie is a little flushed, which makes Steve’s inside twist up in a good way as he cheekily grins: “Good as new.”

“I’m glad,” Eddie squeaks and Steve desperately tells himself that it is just nerves from being down here as he watches Eddie scurry after the girls, he himself following after Eddie.

Thunder continues to boom above them as they make their way through this alternate dimension. It makes the sky flash red and Steve already knows this is going to be a new backdrop for his nightmares if they manage to make it out of here.

In front of him are the others. Nancy is leading, her back straight as she walks with her head held high, fear will not get the best of her today. Robin – his lovely clumsy Robin – is carefully walking through the vines, Chrissy hovering around her to steady her if she stumbles.

A while ago Steve would have said she is totally straight, but watching her dance around Robin he isn’t so sure anymore. But Steve isn’t going to say anything until she does. He of all people knows how scary it is to have someone ask about your sexuality or make assumptions about it when you aren’t ready yourself.

So, he tears his eyes away from the pair to focus on Eddie, who has been walking in front of him in a way that is close enough to steady Steve without crowding him. Steve isn’t sure if he’s grateful or offended.

He decides to be grateful, maybe even touched that Eddie lets him have his independence yet watches out for him too. It’s sweet. Eddie is sweet. In the humdrum of it all, he hasn’t gotten much time to think about Eddie. About their talk.

They made up now. Eddie is his friend again. Eddie has always wanted to be Steve’s friend. It makes him feel all fluttery and happy. That plummets away when he remembers what he told Eddie about after, how he ran into his father, the fears he has about the kids finding out. Fears Eddie shares, fears that are real for both of them after what happened to his cabin.

Though, Eddie never told what happened there.

A need to know bubbles up and he quickens his step to catch up with the other boy as he calls out: “Eddie. Eddie. Hey, man, uhm,” he has no clue how to ask what he really wants to, so instead he says: “Listen, I just- I just want to say thanks. For saving my ass back there.”

“Shit. You saved your own ass, man,” Eddie replies and Steve tries not to miss the sweetheart. “I mean, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there.”

The name sounds familiar to Steve. Countless nights of listening to Eddie on the couch has rubbed off on him, but he can’t quite remember who Ozzy is again. “Uhm, Iron Maiden guy?”

“Close, that’s Bruce Dickinson, Ozzy is from Black Sabbeth. He bit a bat- Doesn’t matter,” Eddie cuts himself off. “It’s very metal, what you did. That’s all I’m saying.”

Steve preens a little at that, he knows what a high compliment that is from Eddie, so he smiles: “Thanks.”

“You know, Henderson told me you were a badasss. Insisted on the matter, in fact,” Eddie tells him.

Vaguely Steve wonders where this is going, though he can’t help but touched. Dustin can be an arrogant, sarcastic little shit. They all are. So it’s nice and a little wild to hear that. “Henderson said that?” he hears himself asking, sounding pathetically hopeful.

“Kid worships you, dude,” Eddie assures him, not commenting on the tone just taking his question seriously. Steve appreciates that about Eddie. How he takes everyone seriously. “Like you have no idea. It’s kind of annoying to be honest. I didn’t really believe him either, I mean, no offense, but I saw your cafeteria fights.”

At that Steve snorts. He knows he should be offended, but after all he has seen, he can’t bring himself too. So, he just nudges Eddie and says: “It’s easier to swing a bat really hard at a monster, people ask questions if you do it to a high schooler.”

Eddie laughs at that – the wonderful deep laugh Steve loves so much – and nods: “That’s fair. But I would pay to see it.”

“Me too, honestly,” Steve replies, seeing an opening. “And it might happen.”

“Yeah?” Eddie prompts.

“Yeah, man, they destroyed my home and- Hell, I don’t even know what they did to you, but I’m not just going to let that happen,” he tells Eddie and he isn’t lying either. He is fuming about his home that they wrecked, his friends that they hunt.

“Fuck, sweetheart, don’t look so intense,” Eddie jokes, though he looks a little on edge and Steve feels a bit bad about it, though thrilled at the return of sweetheart.

“Sorry, I just- Eds, I came home to find my place smashed to bits and you missing,” he says, meeting those brown eyes as he tries to convey all he felt. “Do you have any idea how terrifying that was?”

“I’m sorry too, Stevie,” Eddie replies. “I’m totally fine, I promise, but-” he hesitates, “but they said some things I didn’t wanna repeat.”

Worry creeps down Steve’s spine as he imagines what that might be and tentatively he asks: “Do- do you want to tell me?”

Eddie looks around to see if anyone can hear, the two of them stopping for a second to create some distance. Then Eddie lowers his voice and says: “I heard them talking about why they were at the cabin looking for me. They said: A fag will hide a fag. I don’t know how they got there, but they did. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The words send a chill down Steve’s spine. He has already heard from Lucas how the basketball team hasn’t let his second half of senior year go and Chrissy told him about the hatred Jason carries towards him ever since she turned him down for Steve, but this is kind of terrifying. Like, maybe avoiding the streets for a bit terrifying.

However, Eddie’s eyes are filled with guilt and Steve doesn’t like the way his mouth is pulled down instead of showing his dimples. He isn’t going to let Eddie feel guilty about something out of their control, especially when it might not even matter. They might die and never make it to their world where the basketball team might target him.

“Give yourself a break, Eddie,” he tells the other guy. “It’s not like you have any control over what they think. I’m just glad you made it out of there unscathed.”

“Tsk,” Eddie makes a disappointed noise. “Don’t be so nice, dude. I let them do that to your house. I just took the evidence I was there and ran for the hills. Outside of DnD, I am no hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run. Or at least, that’s what I’ve learned about myself this week.”

“Stop that,” Steve catechizes. “Are you for real right now?”

Eddie looks a little cowed at that, head cocking to the side in a mix of remorse and confusion. It makes him look a little like a puppy, but Steve will never tell Eddie that, especially not after their fight at the quarry.

“Eds, you jumped in after me and fought a bunch of crazy demon bats with this thing right here,” he swings the nail bat to get attention to it. “That’s really fucking brave and heroic.”

At those words Eddie bites his lip and looks away. Sullenly he says: “The only reason I came in here was because those ladies came in straight after you. Robin was jumping before I could even comprehend what had just happened, man. I wasn’t the brave one there. I was just too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind.”

Steve thinks what Eddie is saying is utter nonsense. And he lets him know. “Don’t be fucking stupid. That is very reasonable to do. You’re in the midst of all this,” he gestures to the red lighting above them and the dead trees around them, “Of course you’re not thrilled to put yourself in danger.”

“Everyone else is,” Eddie replies still a little morose.

“Everyone else is just as scared as you,” Steve corrects him. “Trust me, I did the very same thing you did.”

“What?” Eddie perks up, sounding like he can’t believe his ears.

“Yeah. ‘83,” Steve answers, hoping this will cheer Eddie up. “When the demogorgon crawled out of the Byers walls, I panicked and did jack shit. When Nancy told me to go, I fucking ran. I was nearly in my car before I got the courage to go back.”

“But you went back,” Eddie points out.

“And you came too,” Steve shoots right back at him.

Eddie is quiet for a second, just looking at Steve, who stares right back, determined to get Eddie to understand that the shit they’re in is fucking horrifying and he is allowed to be scared. Luckily, Eddie admits defeat. He throws up his hands and exclaims with a pout: “Okay. Fine! You’re right. Happy now?”

Steve grins and nods. “Very,” he tells Eddie, before he starts walking again, Eddie now next to him instead of ahead.

As they walk, Eddie’s elbows keep knocking into his and his knuckles brush along Steve’s with how close he is. Steve soaks in the attention, the closeness. He wants to take Eddie’s hand, but he doesn’t want to presume or make Eddie step away. So, he takes what he has and keeps orbiting ever closer to the sun that is Eddie Munson.

Since, Eddie is himself, Steve is waiting on the other to break the silence again. He doesn’t have to wait long, before Eddie says: “Did Nancy really nearly shoot you?”

It takes Steve a little by surprise, before he realizes that is a pretty valid thing to get hung up on, but he doesn’t want to put in a bad light. So, he shrugs: “Yeah, it was a high stress situation. No big deal. She and Jonathan were waiting on the demogorgon, I got there and wouldn’t leave, so she pointed the gun at me so I would go. It was for my own safety really.”

“That doesn’t sound very safe,” Eddie replies, looking highly skeptical of Steve’s story. Which is fair, Steve also thinks it wasn’t safe, that he nearly died there. How much guns still scare him and how desperately he tries to forget.

Involuntarily his hands tighten on his bat and he looks at the back of Nancy’s head as he replies: “It wasn’t safe. If she’d startled, I would’ve been dead. And so would she and Jonathan.”

“Fuck, man,” Eddie whistles and it doesn’t feel dismissive just like he is being seen. “And she jokes about it? Are you okay?”

Steve looks down, his hand fingering one of the buttons on the vest – Eddie’s vest, he tries not to think about it – and looks to the ground, stepping over a vine as he sighs: “Not really, but it’s not a good time to start something about it now.”

“I guess,” Eddie agrees and it feels like it pains him to do so. And he doesn’t let his agreement linger for long, because he immediately adds: “But you shouldn’t have to put up with things that make you uncomfortable, Stevie.”

There is a layer in his answer that Steve picks up on instantly. Probably, because he’s been thinking about the same thing. He glances sideways and asks: “Are you talking about the eyes Nance’s been giving me?”

Eddie cringes and looks at Steve guiltily, though he doesn’t understand why, before Eddie asks: “Is it obvious?”

“Nah,” Steve assures him, not liking Eddie’s tone. “Was thinking the same. It’s been happening all week.”

“Really?” Eddie asks, curiosity and something else coating his voice.

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s gotten into her and how to tell her to stop without seeming like a douche,” Steve admits. It feels good to admit it, to talk about it with someone who knows. Robin is there too, but they haven’t gotten a moment alone together. With Nancy at the wheel, they seemingly always end up on a different team. He supposes she doesn’t view Eddie as a threat. She should be. Not that she’s even close to being in the competition.

“Why would asking her to stop make you seem like a douche?” Eddie wonders, frown on his forehead.

It reminds Steve again of how different their lives have been as he fondly smirks: “Because I would be telling her that I think she is still into me, even if she is now with a guy that she left me for. It’s douche-y to assume a girl is into you. Especially when it’s your ex.”

“Even when the girl is flirting?” Eddie asks like he can’t really believe what he is hearing.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, then shrugs: “She’s doing it in a way she can deny and then twist to make it seem like I’m imagining things, because I’m still into her. Which, I’m obviously not. But girls can be fucking twisted when it comes to guys.”

“Really?” Eddie sounds a bit blown away, like he has discovered a new part of the world. Or more accurately the high school ecosystem.

“For sure,” Steve tells him. “Sofia gives Greg his favorite candy every time she sees him, so he’ll associate it with her and be happy when he sees her. She’s trying to make him believe that happiness is tied to seeing her, instead of the candy, so he thinks he’s into her. She told me that when she helped me study. She is terrifying.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, turning to stare at the back of Nancy’s head and shuddering, probably imagining the sort of terrifying shit she could do compared to that.

Steve feels a little guilty about implanting those ideas in Eddie’s brain, but he never said much about Nancy herself, just general observations he’s made and one example. Besides, he can bitch a little in private about his ex throwing herself at him and making him feel bad about it.

Still, he wants to play it off, making it less of a thing then it is. But before he can, they have gotten to the Wheeler house, here covered in vines, dark and uninviting, and before he can say anything more to Eddie, Nancy is already calling him over.

~~

A/N:

Idk, I love Nancy just being a little bit insane, like this girl in canon is wild with her choices and we don’t talk about that enough

[andrewwtca]

I think I'm actually starting to really like being alive (a very messy poem)

I've spent too much of my teen years in a haze of wandering around from place to place and wondering when it'd all end. everything was tiring. I remember writing once, "I don't have good days anymore / they're empty and cold / I just sit and wait /and beg for the stars to lend me some of their light / to fill in the voids the day leaves," and I remember sitting and waiting for so long. I remember staring out my window and staring at a single star, covered in layers of smoke in an aimless sky, and I wished on it.

but the stars didn't give me their light. no, the stars are miles and miles above this world, and they watch like an older sister waiting for her little brother to stumble, and she'd giggle and right him back up, but he'd have to learn how to walk. and I've spent the last seven years of my life, stumbling and stumbling, and I tried so hard to hit the ground and not get back up but the stars did not hide their fires from me. no, I was set ablaze and I kept going, carrying that endless ache.

the stars understood, but they did not ache. they understood I was hurting. I was tired. I am tired. and I still wander from place to place, and yet? it's different.

it was my teacher who'd rolled her window down and laughed for me to run as the rain poured down. it was my underclassmen who said Lady Macbeth died and the other who was shocked thinking we were going to act out a suicide. it was the students in club time screaming about how the rookie player was acting like a rookie. it was my classmate who cluelessly asked all the overachievers how our grades were and we broke into laughter. it was my friend who ranted about a kids film and we leaned in, intrigued and ready to argue. it was my best friend who talks about nothing all the time. it was everyone in between, the strangers I whispered with and the friends I screamed at, and it was no one at all.

and it was the trees outside that finally turned green, a green I don't remember seeing. and it was the birds, finally coming back, ruffled and blue and singing. and it was the books that sat on my nightstand and waited for me to unravel her, to discover what she had to say. and it was the games that I lost hours of my life playing and studying and becoming. and it was the tests that left me crying because I was so scared and it was the tests that left me laughing because I felt so stupid. and it was my clothes that started to fit and started to make my reflection look like me. and it was the daisy that sprouted between the rocks that I pass by every day, and it was nothing at all.

and it was me. it was me, all along.

I had a really, really good day today. and I'll still hurt - of course I will. I'll still scar and bruise. but for once, I think I'm going to see sunnier skies. I think the grey that followed my haze will pass. I think I'm actually going to make it. because it was everyone, everything, it was the stars washing over me and telling me to not give up, to keep pushing, but it was me.

it was me who finally figured it out; it was me who finally stopped trying to drown; it was me who finally swam to deck; it was me who finally took a fresh air and then I saw the clouds above and I heard the people singing and I felt the candles burning and it was the best and it was the worst and I took deep, greedy breathes of air, and I pulled myself up, and I laughed, I laughed so hard my sides ached, and I began to cry, and I cried so hard my eyes turned bloody, and when I finally found the energy to look up, I saw the start of my grey days and my stormy nights and my teenage angst that almost ended in the burning of a moth. I saw her:

the child who had been watching me all along. the little girl I killed and the little girl I hid, laughing and giggling, and holding a paper boat like it was her lifeline. and I didn't push her overboard. I didn't run. we set the boat to the sea, her small hands and my bloodied hands. and I took a deep breath, scared it would be my last, because I want more, I want a thousand more, because I want to keep breathing. and that little girl would turn my days grey and my nights stormy and my years angry but I'll carry her with me; and I won't carry her alone. for even if it's not me, if it's not everyone, if it's not everything, there'll always be a star a thousand miles out watching over me.

so yeah, I think I'm actually starting to really like being alive.

[dragonmasterhiccup]

She shook her head. “Hiccup, I am stupid, I can’t even read right yet… Si- someone at home that kids my age are supposed to be able to do that by now, but I can’t.” She paused. “Uh… Astrid can do it… but, why can’t I do it by myself? I, I could put it on my own back just fine..”

“How is this ‘severe’ though? ‘S just some burns.” A small frown came onto her face. “No, no I shouldn’t have, I didn’t need help at home, it wasn’t a big deal at home…” It almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “But thanks again, I guess…”

“How does that even work?” she inquired, “M’ not gonna feel better from drinking some stupid leaves.” She tilted her head slightly at Hiccup. “So… it’s not gonna hurt that much the next time? A-are you sure?”

“‘Cause no one wants to carry someone through an entire village, ‘s just another burden…” She bit the inside of her cheek, looking at the fire ahead of them. “Other people probably didn’t do that when they met Toothless, it’s probably only me, a-and you probably got scared when I fell over, so that is my fault.”

“Um…” Almost instinctively, she checked over her shoulder, making sure that no one was spying on them through either of the windows of the hut— even though that was incredibly unlikely— while her hands clenched the edge of the fur blanket. “It only happens sometimes, just when people are mad n’ stuff, not all the time though.” She looked back up at Hiccup, her expression nervous. “Why…?”

Looking away, he thought about what she'd said, before turning back to her. "Then why don't I teach you? I have plenty of books we can use, and you need to rest while you heal up. What do you say?"

"It'd be a little hard to reach, to make sure everything was applied evenly."

He sighed. "I didn't see it, but for Gothi to react the way she did, I don't have to see it with my own eyes to know."

"We use willow bark to lessen pain. Honestly, I'm not sure how it works, but it does. I crushed some up into powder, put it in that tea for you, along with some other herbs that will help."

Hiccup honestly didn't know. He didn't remember much from when he was treated for burns after the Red Death, only that it did hurt. But, he was fairly sure Gothi sent some numbing cream, too. "I...I don't think it will, no. We'll apply the numbing cream first, so it shouldn't hurt at all."

Shrugging, he said, "I didn't mind it. But...not many other people know this, but...when I first met Toothless, and set him free, he pinned me to a rock, roared in my ear and walked away. I tried to get up and leave, but...I uh, I passed out. So, no, you're not the only one who did that."

Hiccup was stunned at her answer, and he thought to himself, There's no way I'm letting her go back there... But another voice said, But you have to. This is only temporary, you can't keep her here forever.

"This," he pointed to her back, his voice shaky. "wasn't from an outward attack? It's from someone on your boat?"

What can he do? He couldn't keep her, but he could make something to protect her.

"I'm going to make you a fireproof suit. It'll fit under your regular clothes, and it will keep that from happening, ever again..." Until she grows out of it, but maybe he can retrofit it somehow, so it can unfold at her elbows and waist so it can last longer...

[bike42]

Monday July 22

Island Mine (4.3 mi on map)

Apple Watch 5.05, total time 3:10, average pace 39’48”, 731 ft elevation gain

We were in pretty thick trees and there was a layer of thin clouds, so the sun didn’t wake me up this morning … but Jeff packing up his sleeping bag did. I snuggled into my sleeping bag and wished I could sleep for another hour, but the sound of the others moving around made me get up.

Made a smaller batch of Oatmeal this morning, remembered my spices and we threw in some strawberries and blueberries that Lynn & Kent’s daughter had dehydrated. We added some olive oil (Jeff accidentally burned the top last night so we were trying to use it up) and it was quite tasty - and just the right portion size for our group! Clean up took a little longer, and we had a few laughs while we were packing up as Dan, who didn’t have a belt along, tried to make suspenders out of rope to keep his pants up!

Three guys came in last night on a boat, we didn’t chat with them then, but did a little this morning when they came up to camp in search of the privy. They’re from Duluth, up here fishing. They mentioned it might rain today, but for now it was very thin clouds. For the second day though, Lake Superior was eerily calm!

By 9:30a, we were packs on and ready to go. We had some intel from the guys we’d met yesterday, plus there was a sign by the pier describing the best route to the Island Mine trailhead. That was to walk along the beach as the trail was overgrown and you could also be thrown off by animal trails!

There were two spots we had to leave the beach - one over the Siskiwit River on a rickety bridge, and then for a short cut over the peninsula. I led that portion, getting a face full of spider webs. I must have left the mosquitoes in my wake however, because the rest of the group came out to the beach and quickly put their bug nets on! The rocks on the beach on the other side of the peninsula were prettier, and I quickly spotted an agate! Most of Lake Superior’s shores are picked clean of agates these days, but I’m guessing few people actually traverse this beach! Lots of other cool rocks with algae or something that looked like hieroglyphics!

We had 1.8 miles of beach walk, then turned inland. I braced myself for more busting through the foliage, but was so delighted to find it was mostly beautiful trail! We had a packs off break at 3 miles and I unzipped my pant legs and took off the t-shirt underneath my long sleeve hiking shirt. We’d been climbing and I was hot!! I sprayed down with bug dope and wasn’t too irritated by them today.

We continued to climb, and most of us took another “lay down on the granite slab break” after a particularly steep climb (which made me feel like lap 13 on last years 29029 challenge!). We were delighted to come upon the Island Mine campground just after the 5 mile mark on my watch - about 1 pm.

It was a fabulous group campsite with more than 4 awesome tent sites and a fire ring, but the place was swarming with mosquitoes! We pitched our tents, and started gathering firewood. Good to get some smoke going to dissipate the bugs somewhat.

Tam brought out lunch and it was different to be eating lunch with a fire going and tents already pitched.

The guys from yesterday also told us they found a small stream for water about a quarter mile up the trail. A group of us ventured out there, Dan used his pump filter, Kent filled the gravity filter, and I used the steripen on the full Nalgene bottles. We calculated how much water we’d need for dinner, breakfast and hiking tomorrow - a lot! Just as we were finishing up, it started raining lightly. Lynn headed back to have Jeff and Gary help her set up their new awning. The campsite has a pretty thick canopy of trees, so not a lot of rain was falling in most spots of our side - just sprinkles on our tent.

Good to have the time to hang around this afternoon. It’s been hard to visit on these narrow, overgrown trails! Jeff retreated to the tent for a siesta, and I went in to write and read. The others stayed outside visiting, even though it was raining harder. I love being in the tent in a rainstorm!!

Jeff and I emerged from our tent about 5:30p and found the gang had water boiling for dinner. We shared 3 packets of Ginger Chicken with Rice - yummy, with chocolate bars for desert, plus we finished off our little bit of bourbon. While we were finishing dinner, we had a visitor. A guy from Kentucky camping on the single sites with his 17 year old daughter and 12 year old son. They came from Feldtman Lake today - about 17 miles - wow! They flew into Windigo and are hiking to Rock Harbor then will take the Ranger to Copper Harbor to rendezvous with his wife and younger two kids - hard core!!

Lynn and Kent were nervous about where their tent was pitched so after dinner we moved their tent to under their awning for the evening. We stood around the fire pit for awhile, stirring the ashes and soaking up the heat, wearing our rain jackets. We’d expected rain, and thankfully, this was perfectly timed.

Early night, planning on early departure so we can relax and clean up before our plane leaves at 3p EST from Windigo. The plan is to be hiking by 7am!!

[steveskafte]

WASHED IN THE SALT It's no easy hike to reach the spot where the S.S. Princess Louise went down, all those years ago in 1883. It's a couple kilometres of raw and rugged coastline with no easy shortcut, about halfway between Point Prim and Culloden Road. It's a world that's windswept, weather-beaten, and utterly unwelcoming on an afternoon like this. Still, it seemed like an appropriate day to drag myself out here, misty rain blowing sideways and soaked to the skin. It's not half as rough as what those sailors endured, so perhaps it serves as some sort of tribute not to visit when the skies are clear and the seas are calm and still. Princess Louise was one of the early iron ships, built at the O'Brien yard in Maccan, before being sent to Scotland where her engines would be installed. She left port early on the morning of Sunday, December 2nd, being towed by the steamer Newfield. They were connected by a two-inch thick steel cable called a "hawser", which would have been more than enough in most seas. But a big storm hit around noon, when they were only halfway through the Bay of Fundy, so plans were made to go ashore. After searching and failing to find the mouth of the Annapolis Basin, they turned north for Saint John instead. Soon after this, the cable snapped, and that was the last the two boats saw of each other. With no engines on board, the Princess Louise stood no chance against the storm. They dropped anchor, but with the ship being only partially constructed, the chains were unattached, and sank straight to the seabed. The boat struck shore at 4AM. The men ran for the rigging and tried to lash themselves on, but most didn't make it. Captain Brown was later found hanging on a sharp outcropping, and the body of another officer was discovered in a crack beneath a large boulder. Others were drowned in the hold. Eight of the ten men died in those first few minutes. Richard Soy and Jim Daine managed to survive in the front ballast until the tide fell, waiting hours in the bitter late-autumn cold. Once the sun rose, they lowered themselves to the rocks, and headed up through four inches of snow into the forest. Soy pushed ahead after Daine fell, finally reaching a small farmhouse off Broad Cove Road. Christopher Stark took him in, then Stark and a neighbour went back to rescue Daine. Both men survived that night, but Jim Daine never fully recovered, and would die young a few years later. Richard Soy lived to be an old man, and in 1923 – the fortieth anniversary – went back to thank those who rescued him. He made the hike to visit this monument as well. Seventeen years later in the fall of 1900, the towing boat Newfield was lost as well. Just down the coast of Digby Neck, it ran aground through thick fog at White's Cove. No lives were lost. After efforts failed to tow it back to sea, the ship eventually broke in two and was salvaged. Those boats leave their memories and stories on this shore, like countless others lost, all the way up till today. You could hardly record every body buried at sea, every hard tale forgotten, washed in the salt. At least this one has something set in stone to recall it. Just inches from the high water line and tilting precariously – eventually, the ocean will take it too. June 6, 2023 Culloden, Nova Scotia Year 16, Day 5686 of my daily journal.

[storm-breaker7]

• Code name: TANGO •

Pairing: Rex X Reader X Fives

Summary: Being one of the best pilots you gain the attention of the republic. You become a getaway driver for the 501st battalion but when an assignment is given to Anakin, you find yourself between a rock and a hard place.

Warnings: Swearing, A creepy perverted fat dude (yea. It's a warning in itself), Fem reader, Very spicy (I may continue if I have modivation)

A/n: Sorry this took so long but holy water and grass for 50 cents 😅 (The sins I have committed in this one fanfic is scarry 💀🔥) please lemme know if you want the extended version- this has been in my drafts for way to long tho so it's outta here.

Edit: Help why are so many ppl liking this post. I really thought this would be a major flop. Why is this even past 10 likes 💀💀💀

I groaned, "This slagger won't fucking work!" Grumbling to myself how nice it would be if R2 showed up to help. This ship is as stubborn as me, and it's getting annoying. My comm buzzed and I picked it up after I had let out a string of course words. "Yea?" I asked into the comm,

"We have a new assignment, we need you for this one so be up at the bridge. Were starting in 10 minutes." General Skywalker explained over the comm.

"Be there in a shake, General" I told him and ended the call before he could argue again how I don't have to call him general. I left the tools on the floor and went to clean myself up. I could hear footsteps coming down the hall behind me but I continued on, I'm being paranoid.

"Hey Tango!" I heard Fives call,

"You do know you only have to call me that on missions?" I called over my shoulder as I continued down the hall. Fives jogged up next to me and started to walk backward so he could face me.

"Come on, You know I know you love it when I call you that" He pointed at me and himself boldly, I only hummed and gave him a side glance that, to put it simply, said 'Sureee'.

"Whatever floats your boat Fives" I say before stopping at my door and punching in the code. "Cya later" I wave at him as I closed the door, chuckling quietly when you heard his pleas for you to let him in.

I walked into my personal bathroom and washed my hands from the grease quickly. I looked into the mirror and tried scrubbing away some grease off my cheek and forehead. I sighed and gave my face a little splash.

Then I walked back out and pulled my shirt off. I pulled a half decent shirt on and walked back out again. If I'm right I have about 4 minutes to get to the bridge.

I heaved out breaths and slowed in front of the bridge doors. I took a deep breath, fixed my ruffled hair and walked in still huffing lightly. "For a second I thought you weren't coming Y/n." Ashoka joked and I only smiled at her,

"You know me," I started and she joined in saying a phrase that went back between us both, "Fashionably late is just my/your style" We both laughed before getting back on topic, General Skywalker was waiting with a small smile on his face. A hologram near where the General was standing had a human male that was the definition of fat rolls, Don't make me throw up breakfast.

"Alright. We have been given intel that this mob boss, here," Anakin gestured to the hologram, "Is selling black market goods to the separatist. We either were going to get Ashoka or Y/n to be the distraction while Me, Rex and Fives sneak into here, his storage shed at these docks. We only need enough time to slip in, get evidence and slip out" Anakin gestured to another hologram that popped up, Anakin gulped and sucked a breath in, "So... Who's the distraction?"

I cut in immediately, "I'll go, Ashoka is too young to be trying to get an ugly mug that to touch her." I stated quickly placing my hand on Ashokas shoulder.

"She has a point, General. N-not that I want her to touch... That" Fives stumbled over his words as he explained himself. Anakin shook his head,

"We can do it another way-"

"Anakin." I walked up and patted his shoulder, "Just tell me for how long and I'll do it. I don't want anyone touching her, being the age she is."

Anakin huffed, a war raging behind his eyes, "Fine. But if I say get out of there, I mean it. No risking it."

"You got it, General." I smiled at him, "I've gotta dress the part though don't I?"

"How many times must I tell you? I'm tired of telling you? Just Anakin is fine" He huffed out a sad laugh and glanced away, "But yea, I'll get Ashoka to take the dress to your room. Be ready by 1930 hours and meet at the ship you were just working on. It's going down tonight, the council wants no delay." Anakin glanced back and sighed waving me away and worked on the plan with Rex. Me and Ashoka walked out of the bridge and down the endless halls.

I noticed Fives and Rex exchange glances multiple times throughout that whole thing... Maybe they were just worried about me. I zoned out of my daze when Ashoka tapped my shoulder, "Sorry what?" I asked, glancing down at her quickly.

"Go to your room and I'll grab the dress for ya" Ashoka repeated with a smile, I nodded and returned it. Ashoka parted off down another hall and I continued on down to my quarters. It was a good few minutes before I got to my room and I took the extra time I had to take a quick shower.

I turned the water off, missing its warmth already now that the cold air replaced it. A knock at my door sounded and I raised a brow as I peeked my head threw the bathroom door into my bedroom. "The door is open Ashoka! What are you waiting for?"

"Uhm.. what?" I heard Fives say,

"Goddamn it Fives. I have to go soon and aren't you meant to be getting debriefed right now?" I called back keeping my body in the bathroom, just in case.

"It's finished, Y/n, Ashoka told us Skywalker needed her help so she got me to take your dress.... And Fives just tagged along." Rex explained and I mentally cursed, Just had to be those two-

"Hey it's alright. Uhm I'm still finishing up in my bathroom so just put it on my bed, if that's not a problem" I said closing the bathroom door and started pacing in the bathroom waiting for them to leave my dress so I can get dressed.

The door opened with a hiss and I heard their light footsteps walk in then out again and the door hissed closed. I sighed as I walked out of the bathroom, then called out, "Thanks boys! Appreciate it!" A small call back from Fives was all I could hear and It made me smile lightly.

I walked to my bed that was in the corner of the room. I smiled as I picked up the dress. The beautiful royal blue silk cascaded down like a waterfall. At least I got to stay in our colours, I thought to myself.

I pulled the towel off and dried myself before slipping it on. I grimaced, "God fucking damnit" Was all I managed. The dress I had on had large slits on the side that let everyone have a nice view of my thighs, but thankfully covered up everything else.

I sighed but continued on, grabbing black high heels and putting on a black leather bracelet, it's my comm system. I brushed my hair quickly before grabbing my heels and running out barefoot. I have to make it in time.

By now I had run past many clones that may have or almost passed out, I was concerned but I kept runnin', I can't be late again. I ran smack into the doors because I forgot to open them but I quickly recovered and opened it, walking through. I cursed to myself and made my way over to the ship I was working on not 45 minutes ago. It's fine I was only fixing some small things.

"I sure hope I'm not late guys. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Late both... Times... ...uhm.. Why are you all looking at me like that?" I slowed down to a stop and shook the heels in my hand lighty. I was getting real nervous, this silence was stretching out forever. "Does it not look good-? I don't really have time to chan-"

"No, nono no. You look great. Really great." Fives waved his hands around, "Were just.... Stunned.."

"Uh-huh.... Well come on we don't have all night. Can't be dreaming about me, we got a mission to complete" I joked and stepped into the ship and waved everyone else in, "I thought I was late, Come on"

Ashoka had a mischievous grin on her face and I could hear the General whisper yelling 'no' repeatedly. Rexs' face was red and priceless and Fives suddenly found the floor interesting. The general and commander walked in with Rex and Fives close behind. I walked into the cockpit and started the small-ish ship up.

The ear piece was uncomfortable but I dealt with it in the end. We had split off earlier, me and Ashoka were dropped near the club and the others went off to the dock. Ashoka was only meant to be in the club and somewhere close to me for back up, and when I mean back up I mean if someone pulls a blaster on me she can help.

I walked in with a sway, god I hate heels, and made my way over to the bar. "Where is he?" I asked Ashoka, but quietly because the boys and us shared this comm frequency.

"To your right. In the corner with Twi'leks all over him." Ashoka whispered back.

"Got it, Thanks" I whispered before setting off toward the Mob boss. I could hear Anakin and Ashoka lightly arguing in my ear piece but I ignored them and stalked over to the target.

He got up and practically brushed off all the Twi'leks he had gathered and started walking away, Something must be up I thought. I put my path on his and 'accidentally' ran into him. God has he ever heard of a breath mint?

He looked me up and down like a creep. "What's a pretty girl like you doing in this part of town?" He drunkenly slurred, tracing a finger down my arm.

I grimaced but continued to do my job, "You first" I purred, trying my best to think of how much I saved Ashoka from doing this.

"Well if you want to follow me, I'll show you enough" His words were still slurred as he leaned forward.

"Well I'd have to turn that offer down. I'm only here for a drink." I thanked the maker I was a good lair because it came in handy at times like these.

"Just a drink, dressed in this?" He asked, fiddling with the front part of the silky dress.

I heard Anakin and Rex bark something in my ear and it didn't sound good. The target turned away a tad and checked his comm that was buried deep in a pocket, somewhere where I wasn't going to bother looking.

I forced my best smirk on and turned and walked away from bar and his 'hideout' altogether, hoping like hell he'd follow.

"Playing hard to get, huh? Two can play at that game" He growled as he caught up, pushing past people trying to catch up to me. I gulped and kept walking.

"We've got it. Get out of there Tango. Now." Anakin whisper yelled over the ear piece.

"Alright." I responded with before I whipped around and let my fist fly to his face. "Whoops my bad, my hand slipped" I growled and stormed off leaving him a wheezing heap on the floor.

I burst out the bar and pulled my heels off. I sat down on a random bench nearby and sighed a relief. Thank the maker I'm out of that mess.

Getting back up again proved to be a hard thing to do after getting hit on by a whale, but I did and I continued on to the ship pushing past people. I didn't know nights got this busy here.

When I finally made it back to the rust bucket I was given a big hug by literally everyone. Ashoka first, then the general, and Fives jumped in then Rex after him.

"Yea guys don't worry, I don't need any air today" I joked and they all let go of me a smidge but didn't let go fully.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that" Ashoka mumbled into my dress. I hugged them back with a small smile growing on my face. "Hey it's alright-" I started,

"No, it wasn't. I could hear everything he said. That chakaaryc got a fist to the face for a reason." Fives growled.

*Translation- Rotten, Lowlife [chah- KAR-eesh]*

"Guys you can let go I'm not going to disappear. Come on we have to get back to the cruiser." I suggested, lightly tapping Anakins' shoulder and Rexs' back. They all slowly detached from me and looked around guiltily. I shook my head and smiled as I walked up the ramp and into the cockpit.

Once everyone was in, I took of back toward the republic cruiser. Tonight was not so great, let's just hope that dinner will be better.

I landed the old rust bucket in the hanger then stepped out of the cockpit. I followed the others out and saw R2 frantically coming over here. He zoomed straight past Anakin, who was going to pat him like a puppy, and continued over to me.

R2 skidded to a stop in front of me then bumped my leg. I smiled and patted him, "What's up with you?" I asked and kneeled down to be eye level with R2.

"Traitor" Anakin called jokingly but continued off to report the mission to the council. I smiled and patted R2 once again before standing to my full height. I started to walk but stopped and turned back to R2 when he beeped up a storm.

"Don't tell me you came here just to say sorry about not helping R2." I shot back, He beeped a reply and I scoffed dramatically, "R2, I swear one day you are going to get decommissioned because of how sassy you are"

He beeped then followed after me as I walked off. We chatted on my way to my quarters then went off by his lonesome once I had gone into my quarters.

I placed my shoes down and pulled my jewelry off. Just as I was about to pull my dress off a knock sounded at my door. "Yea?" I called, flattening my dress out and walking over to the door. A few more furious knocks later and I opened the door. Fives came tumbling with Rex close behind, their blacks were hugging them tight and I gulped.

I closed the door and rolled my eyes, "What have you two done now? You can't keep hiding here whenever you start something." Fives sighed and Rex huffed,

"Fives decided it would be a great idea to start a-... Why are you still in your dress?" Rex gestured at me and I only frowned.

"I was just about to take it off when you two barged in" I grumbled and stalked over to the baggy shirt and some skinny jeans.

"Wait- Hold on a damn minute" Fives held his hand up. I put the clothes back on top of the dresser and turned to the two boys. "We have managed to find something we can share."

"I'm interested... I gotta see it" I grinned and waved my hands around.

"Well... If you insist.." Rex and Fives glanced at each other before walking up to me. I raised my brow at Fives as he circled around behind me and Rex walked straight up to me.

I swallowed thickly and froze. Fives started tracing patterns on my hip and they had both pressed themselves against me. My hands stayed strictly at my side though because I had some good bad ideas.

Fives leaned in and whispered into my ear from behind me, "Found it"

I'm half mad and half thankful at myself right now... And I'm not sure which one takes the cake. I thought as my eyes carefully watched Rex and Fives. I gave a curt nod, and Fives shot up to attack my neck. Me and Rex met halfway and he eased into the kiss.

I could feel Rex and Fives' hands roam trying to carefully yank the silky blue dress off me. The dress fell with a light thud and they both pulled away.

I felt their eyes drag down my body and I shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. Rex rested his hands on my hips and Fives leaned in whispering a small few words of approval, "Hotter than I expected, Cyar'ika"

I smiled back at him as I felt his hands slither up my back toward my bra and unclasped it, slipping it off. Rex let out a strangled groan as my bra joined the dress on the floor.

I turned around to Fives and smirked, "You both better start, I'm feeling a little left out here"

They both started to yank their blacks off and I pulled my underwear off leaving it in the pile of my clothes. I leaned back against the wall and watched the show unravel.

I let out a heavy and shakey breath as they both finished and threw their blacks somewhere else in the room. "You alright with us doing this mesh'la?" Rex asked as he and Fives guided me toward my bed.

Fives sat at the edge of the bed waiting just as I replied, "Do your worst"

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Patch Me Up

Pairing - Vampire!Diluc x Fem!Reader

Warnings - 18+ NSFW, Blood kink obviously, marking kink, biting kink, sharp teeth BARK BARK, fingering, semi public sex??? I mean you guys were in a different room but it was still in a public establishment lol,

Word Count - 1.9k

Other Comments - Bro this idea was just way way way too good to pass up shout out to the anon who requested this because you know what's up; you got some good ass taste. And yes this does have Twilight vibes, what about it.

Ask - VAMPIRE DILUC SMUT I FUCKING BEG YOU

Diluc was a very secluded man, always keeping up thick walls, borderline impossible to penetrate; but there was something about you. You enraptured him, always wearing a bright kind smile when you saw him. Most people found his stand off-ish personality jarring, to which they regarded him with side eyes and cold shoulders unless asking for alcohol.

He looked forward to when you would come into his tavern, it was easy to spark up conversation. You quickly became one of his regulars when you first came into the tavern a few months ago. At first he regarded you with the same cold yet professional tone he regarded most of his customers with; but when you weren’t put off by it and asked how his day had been he was surprised to say the least. After that it was always a high point of his day asking you how your adventures were.

Today was different. You strolled into the tavern at your usual time, but when that door opened a strong delicious scent washed over Diluc. It made his mouth water and his throat burn. When he looked up to see what was going on, to see the cause of his bodily reactions, he saw you limping in; bruises and cuts covering your exhausted body. This was bad. You smelled way too good.

Diluc’s hands became clammy under his gloves, and a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead. He wanted- no, needed, to taste you. To drink you. You smelled almost candy-like, similar to when all of the sweet flowers came to bloom; but better. Diluc’s fists curled into tight balls behind the counter as you approached. He wanted to tell you to leave, to stop walking towards him, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

Were it anyone else and he would’ve quickly been able to shut down the issue by telling them to go see someone who could patch them up first, but this was you. There was something else too, something in the back of his mind. He was worried for you.

“Hey, how’s my favorite bartender doing?” Your voice was raspy, from what exactly Diluc didn’t know, but he wasn’t surprised from seeing your current state. Something in him warmed when you said that though.

“Uh, fine. More importantly, shouldn’t Barbara be patching you up? Why are you in my tavern bleeding on my floors.” Diluc tried to make his voice harsh, but it came out more sarcastic and joking. You chuckled in response to his statement.

“What, you can’t help me?” Diluc stiffened. You wanted him to help you? Why? He has shown no knowledge of medicine, let alone any real concern for you.

“I have no knowledge of medicine, why would you want me to patch you up?” Diluc was more than confused. There were so many other people you knew who were so much more capable of helping you. He was starting to get irritated, not particularly by you, but by your scent. It was driving him crazy and he was surprised he was able to keep his composure as well as he was right now.

“Listen you need to get help before you come in and drink (y/n). Not only are you obviously tired and hurt, you smell.” Shit. Shit you were gonna get suspicious of him and-

“No shit I smell! I’ve been sweating up a storm fighting things, Master Diluc.” Diluc was taken aback by your words, which seemed to be a running theme tonight. You just wouldn’t stop saying the oddest things.

“You’re not going to leave unless I help you, aren’t you?” You smiled victoriously as you shook your head ‘no’. Diluc sighed, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He just had to get through this, then everything would stop. All the saliva, the burning of his throat, the sweating, the desire for you.

It was only when Diluc retrieved a few bandages from the emergency kit he had prepared and he began bandaging up your various cuts, did he notice just how attractive you were. Diluc had removed his gloves, and your skin was so soft under his surprisingly delicate fingers. He wanted to make sure he didn’t cause any discomfort to you, so he treated you like a thin sheet of glass.

There was a softness to him that he didn’t think existed anymore. He didn’t think he was capable of being so gentle with someone. You somehow brought out the best in him, in just the short time you’ve known each other. He never thought he would be able to get so close to someone again. Fuck he really liked you.

“Diluc, you don’t have to be so gentle with me; clearly I can take a beating.” A chuckle rumbled deep in the man’s chest, his crimson eyes never leaving the injury he was dressing.

“Pardon me for wanting you to be comfortable.” You giggled, and it was the most melodic noise he’d ever heard. He wanted to hear you laugh more.

Despite the soft atmosphere, there was still something primal deep within Diluc. He could feel it grow with the more time he spent taking in your delicious scent. If Diluc could blush, he was sure his face would be deep red by now. He wanted to take you right here and now, in the cellar where he kept all his beverages that weren’t needed behind the counter. He delicately moved some of your hair out of your face so he could get to a small scrape on your left cheek. He saw a blush rise to the high points of your cheeks, which only egged on his desire for you. All he could do was stare deep into your eyes. You were breathtaking.

Within seconds both or your lips collided together in a heated kiss. It was fierce and heartfelt. His hands grabbed at your body for purchase, and vice versa. It had the both of you panting, with each intake of oxygen you sent wafted over him stronger than ever before; you were like an addictive perfume. Without thinking Diluc pulled away, staring at your flushed face.

“Let me taste you, fuck I need to mark you up. Make you mine.” You nodded your head feverishly. Diluc’s mouth attacked your neck within seconds of your response, and suddenly his teeth punctured your skin. You blood landed on his tongue and he was addicted. You were his new favourite drug. You tasted exactly like he’d imagine, sweet and light; something he’d never get enough of.

“D..Diluc what-” Before you could finish your sentence, Diluc’s mouth unlatched from your neck, some of your blood smudged at the corner of his mouth.

“Shit (y/n) I apologize, you just.. Fuck you taste so good. I mean you smell so sweet but you taste even better I couldn’t control myself.”

“Diluc, are you like a vampire or something?” You chuckled a little, voice still a little breathy. By the tone of your voice, Diluc knew you meant that as a joke but when he didn’t respond the look on your face changed. The silence weighed heavy on top of Diluc, borderline suffocating. Diluc couldn’t meet your gaze.

“Keep going.” Your voice was soft, just above a whisper, as you moved your head to expose your neck even more. Diluc’s gaze snapped back up immediately to yours, then down to your neck. Then his gaze drifted further down. He was hard.

He attacked your neck once more, getting taken away but how good you tasted. After a few moments, a small moan escaped your lips, so quiet that Diluc would’ve missed it were he not have been hyper aware of your breathing. Once again Diluc’s mouth left your neck, but this time his hands started to roam down towards your pants. He stopped just before unbuttoning them.

“Is… is this alright (y/n)?” You didn’t even respond verbally, just nodding enthusiastically before gripping onto his shoulders. Without anymore hesitation Diluc unbuttoned your pants and almost ripped them off of you. He quickly pinned up against the wall of the cellar, as he pulled your panties to the side and rubbed your clit. Your breath hitched in your throat, before a low moan escaped your lips.

Fueled on by your noise, Diluc retracted his hand from your clit and shoved two of his fingers into your already sopping cunt.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet already.” His fingers worked you open, as his dick strained against his uncomfortably tight slacks. He was becoming impatient, but he wanted to make sure you were nice and open so he didn’t hurt you. After a few more minutes of fingering, he could tell you were starting to become impatient as well.

“Diluc please, I need you. I need to feel you deep. Ah fuck Diluc please.” The strain in your voice when you said please shot straight to his dick, and who was he to refuse you? A dark smile graced his usually stoic features, and you shivered with anticipation. Diluc pulled his fingers out of you, before he licked his fingers clean. Everything about you was just so fucking delicious. Soon enough Diluc freed his hard cock from his pants. There was precum beading on the tip.

He picked you up, lifting you over his cock, before slowly lowering you down. Once you were finally sat right at the base of his dick, your back was once again pressed up against the wall, as he started to finally thrust in and out of you. It was slow for only a few moments, before he began a punishing pace. His hand had already gone to cover your mouth, muffling your loud moans. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to last long, you were so tight, but it seemed you were in a similar boat, as your walls constricted around him.

Your moans were growing in volume and pitch as you got closer and closer to the edge, and Diluc’s breathing was becoming labored, letting out low groans and growls. Before either of you knew it, both of you were cumming. Before you could finish, Diluc sunk his teeth into your neck one more time. He rocked both of you through your orgasms, before pulling away and setting you back down on the ground. He made sure to keep an arm around you though, just in case your legs decided to give out.

Slowly but surely both of you began to dress yourselves again; attempting to make yourselves presentable. After a few moments of silence, you spoke.

“So you’re a vampire. Do you have any cool powers?” You had a lopsided smile on your face, as Diluc chuckled and softly nudged your shoulder. You really were something else.

[lumosinlove]

Relic Keel

Previously on Relic Keel:

Lily and James sneak out to the Lacrosse fields together. Lily learns about the treasure hunt and Luke’s father’s connection with Pascal Dumais. Her and James decide to, if not be together, than have togetherness for as long as they can.

Finn wakes up in Grimmauld and is reunited with Logan. The crew learn that a hurricane is approaching and Dorcas tries to convince Saint and Sirius to go somewhere else other than Grimmauld, which will get dangerous in the storm. Logan is looking forward to Finn meeting Leo, although he’s confused about his feelings for the blonde boy.

Luke and Saint meet in Rowena where Saint reveals he’s been staying up reading Luke’s notes in the books he’s stolen from his room. Luke wants to know more about Pascal Dumais, and learns that he helped raise Saint and Sirius after they both ran away from their homes. They agree to meet at The Lion later to confront Pascal. Saint apparently likes Luke because he hates surprises and Luke is exactly what he expects him to be—mean. He also steals Luke’s sunglasses.

Dorcas goes to Kasey Winter’s ice cream shop—he also is a safer dealer of Crucio, and she tells him she wants out. He was hoping she would go into business with himself and his girlfriend Natalie. They want to create a medicinal, therapy program for Crucio, where people who are struggling can safely use to to deal with past traumas or grief. They want it to be used correctly, not as a quick fix. Dorcas isn’t hesitant about leaving, she wants to follow Marlene, but she likes that idea.

Remus and Sirius run into each other on their way to the meeting at The Lion, and Remus invites Sirius to stay at his house for the duration of the hurricane. Sirius gets proud and angry and declines. They argue.

Pascal reveals to Sirius, Leo, Remus, Luke, and Saint that Luke’s dad, Victor, and Leo’s dad, Wyatt, were hunting the treasure together—Dumo played a smaller role, had less of an interest other than an interesting discussion about history. They figured out that the Voldemort lay off of the Cradle, a ring of rocks and tiny islands off of Hogwarts Island. They learn that there is a current called the Horcrux that escalates during a storm, revealing the bottom of the sea—or a shipwreck. Leo’s dad was killed by the current, Luke’s father was taken away years after, and the map showed up on Pascal’s doorstep a few days after that. Pascal tries to warn them off of going, but Saint and Luke seem bent on it.

Finn and Logan go to Leo’s house, only to find him crying about the truth of his father’s death. Finn learns of the treasure.

***cw: identity issues, not sure how to tag this but wanting to be alive? briefly implied (and happily concluded) past struggles with that, almost death, past death of a father, mention of blood and wounds***

part ix

Saint felt sweat snake down his bare back as he filled sandbags and shoved them up against the far side of the house. The wind already felt bad tempered. Maybe it was just him. Just Saint, the wind, and the ocean that had gone the graying blue that meant a storm. Saint thought the world should catch up already. His storm had been brewing for a long time. The promise of rain brought goosebumps over his bare back, the sun hidden by clouds, and he shoved another sand bag up against the boards, like some sort of parapet. As if they were preparing for a war.

He looked up when the noise of Sirius hammering plywood across the windows stopped. He rolled his eyes.

“Stop staring out at the ocean like a sailor’s widow.”

“Oh, we’re speaking now?” was all Sirius said.

“No,” Saint jammed his shovel into the bag of sand again.

He faintly heard Sirius sigh. “I don’t know what I did.”

Frankly, Saint wasn’t sure what Sirius had done, either. All he knew was that there was rain thrashing inside him, and wind howling in his ears, and there was gold to be had and death to be avoided.

And Luke.

He had let Luke catch him the night of Pascal’s confessions. Or maybe Luke had just caught up. He’d found Saint at the Howler Cliffs. Saint knew he was there, but kept his eyes closed, letting the wind whistle in his ears. Still, the sound of Pascal calling him his son roared louder.

“If I had known that’s all it took to rattle you, I could have saved myself a lot of time,” Luke had said, coming to stand beside him.

Saint had smiled and it felt like it had stretched his cheeks all wrong. “I didn’t know you were trying so hard.”

“You said it yourself,” Luke had replied. “Dumo took care of you.”

“It’s one thing for me to know it,” Saint snapped. “It’s—“ another thing for him to say it.

“Dumo could know more about my father,” Luke said. “Maybe—maybe the treasure can help me find out what happened to him somehow. Why no one will tell me anything. Why I can’t see him.”

“Sure, Deveaux,” Saint had kept his eyes ahead. “Tell me all about your father.”

“I need my father.”

Saint had whipped his head towards him, only to find Luke looking right back.

Luke’s eyes had been more open than Saint had ever seen them. His pain was like the sun coming through a tiny gap in drawn curtains. He didn’t let much of it show, but the mere hint became blinding. Saint felt it push against his own chest. He kept his blinds shut tight.

Luke’s voice was fainter when he repeated his words. “I need my father.”

Saint swallowed. It was nice, somehow, that Luke was self-aware enough to admit it. “What do you expect me to do about that?”

“I can’t—maybe I can’t figure this out alone.”

“I’m sure your Godlings will help with that.”

Luke shook his head. “James doesn’t understand. He’s too…happy.” Luke winced a little, the wind ruffling his tawny hair. “He’s had it too easy.”

“Lupin?”

“Remus only thinks he’s unhappy. Maybe because I am. It’s…abstract for him.”

Saint raised an eyebrow. “That’s a little rich.”

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Luke nodded.

“So, what?” Saint sighed. “Misery helps misery?”

Luke’s smile, so rare, was sad. “If it has nothing better to do.”

“Well?” Sirius said, flipping his hammer in his hand. “Feel like telling me?”

“Is it weird?” Saint asked. “That we aren’t in love?”

Sirius tilted his head at the age old question that they asked each other. It was half a joke. It was half a plea.

“I do love you,” Sirius said. “And I’d be in love with you if I could.”

“I’d be in love with you if I could,” Saint repeated, then sighed.

“We suck,” Sirius said.

“Yeah,” Saint squinted back out at the ocean, where they could see Remus’ boat.

“I do love you, though,” Sirius said, and walked down to sit on the steps, his gray eyes looking at Saint through the splintered, wooden railing. “Don’t do something stupid. I can’t lose you to the ocean. Or to anything at all.”

“And I love you, which is why we need that gold.”

“We don’t,” Sirius shook his head. “The rest of the world isn’t Gods and Hollows. You aren’t nothing or kings.”

“I have nothing better to do. And we have plain nothing—financially speaking.” Saint gestured towards the house. “Dorcas will leave for the states, and then we’ll really have nothing. We both know she’s paying—”

“We’ll go somewhere else—”

Saint tied off a sandbag with a yank. “I’m not leaving.”

“Saint.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not.”

Sirius stood, eyes cloudy. “You’re not talking to me again.”

“Huh.”

“We don’t do that!” Sirius said, voice raising. “Stop shutting me out.”

“I’m not doors and windows.”

“Saint,” Sirius’ voice held a note of begging. “What is here for us?” He motioned towards the cross that hung around Saint’s neck. “That?”

Saint grit his teeth and began to fill another bag.

“Just,” Sirius took a breath. “Just tell me why—”

Saint hurled the small spade at the side of the house, and it made a satisfying crack. “This is the only place anyone would ever know to look for me.”

The waiting storm seemed to crackle in the air around them at Saint’s words, as though he himself had struck the match to trigger it. Thunder rolled mutedly in the distance. Sirius’ eyes matched the sky.

Sirius walked forward, and Saint let him. He let him press a hand to his face, then their cheeks together as he wrapped him up in his familiar arms.

“Stop waiting for her,” Sirius’ voice was gentle in his ear. “She doesn’t deserve you.”

“We need the gold.”

“We’ll find another way.”

“I don’t want another way. I want a hunt.”

Sirius pulled back just enough to look at him. “One that has killed a man?”

Saint pulled away to retrieve the spade. “Careful is my middle name.”

~

Leo was embarrassed, but Finn didn’t seem to know the meaning of that word.

He watched him and Logan work wires into loops to hold together shards of found lost things that his mother had scooped up from the beach, while he sat at a workbench, repairing an old ship clock that he could hopefully paint to get rid of the wooden chips and then sell. Finn, as he had regained his strength, was laughter in a bottle. He was as fiery as the color of his hair, with lean fingers that Leo found himself watching as they handled materials, or helped him in the kitchen, or turned the pages of one of Leo’s many books. He went through them like a forest on fire.

And all Leo seemed to be able to do was cry in front of him, as he had the first night, or stare at the way him and Logan were together. Logan had opened up, his eyes lighter, his grins broader. Only his laughs remained as they had been, a soft sound, almost private. They made Leo feel as though he were being let in on a secret.

Leo blinked and Finn was standing in front of him.

“We’re making you dinner tonight,” Finn said, those same nimble fingers spread out over Leo’s work space on either side of the clock.

Leo couldn’t help his laugh. “Oh?”

“What do you feel like?” Logan asked, standing a little ways back, arms crossed over his chest. He looked like some hot gardener out of Leo’s daydreams in his tight white t-shirt and his borrowed pair of work gloves.

Leo leaned back, taking a breath. “What are my options?”

Finn looked back at Logan with a grin. “Ah…peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?” He raised an eyebrow at Logan.

“Or take-out,” Logan finished with a shrug.

Finn’s smile was teasing. “Aren’t we the best house guests you could ask for?”

Most tormenting, maybe.

Leo laughed. “Better idea—I make dinner and you two stick to clean up.”

Logan put his hands up and walked closer to the work table. “Fine by me. What are you doing again?”

Leo looked back down at the clock. “Trying to fix this. I think it's missing a gear, though.”

Finn just hummed and sat half on the table, knee propped up. It made his cross swing against his neck for a moment, and Leo looked between his and Logan’s. He wondered, not for the first time, why they didn't take them off. They didn’t have a clasp or a tie that he could see, just a thicker area where the two parts of the string had been fused together with heat. They were too short to be pulled over the head.

“Do you want me to cut those for you?” Leo asked.

Finn looked up. “Cut what?”

Leo hesitantly gestured to the spot where the crosses would have rested on his own chest, and then pointed to Finn’s.

It was like cloud cover. Logan actually gripped his protectively in a fist.

“Ah, no,” Finn said slowly. He stood straight again and ran a hand through his hair. It came to rest on the back of his neck. “No, that’s okay.”

Leo watched Finn glance at the wire clippers resting near them, and reached out to put them back in the tool box. “Okay. Just thought I’d ask.”

Logan turned away and Finn watched him, too. He swallowed. “Thanks, Leo.”

Leo flushed. It didn’t feel like a thank you. More like an appeasement. “Yeah…”

“Oh,” came a voice from the shop’s open garage door. Leo jumped a little, and looked to see Saint leaning against the side, and Luke, with his arms crossed, a little behind him, looking like a very grumpy sort of bodyguard.

Saint feigned a shiver. “The room just got colder.”

“Saint,” Finn still said the name like he was tasting something knew, but Saint looked almost pleased each time he heard it. “And…”

“Tweedle, meet Finn. Finn, meet Tweedle.”

“Luke,” Luke snapped.

Finn snorted. “Okay?”

Leo was still stuck on the necklaces, eyeing Saint’s still intact one now. He figured the numbers were a way of keeping track of the kids—but burning the string seemed like a bit much.

“What do you want?” Leo sighed. Seeing Saint made him feel raw about the news of his father’s death all over again.

“Well, you ran a little quickly from Dumo’s,” Saint replied, picking up an old lobster trap that they used for spare wire now. “Should’ve stayed. Missed some good stuff.”

“Don’t act like he’s the only one who ran,” Luke mumbled. He and Logan were eyeing each other suspiciously, no doubt remembering the night in Luke’s father’s study when Logan had nearly burned his father’s letter.

“The first wave will come tonight,” Saint said, ignoring Luke. “But if we really want our shot at the Horcrux current, we’ll need the full throttle. Boom, crack, all that.”

“Full storm hits tomorrow,” Finn said from his place beside Leo. Leo looked over at him. He was still torn between embarrassment about crying and something else. Relief? Thankfulness?

Leo tapped his fingers against the clock. “We should figure out what we need for a trip like that. The shops will be boarding up by this afternoon.”

“Kris will have what we need,” Saint replied. “A boat.”

“Kris?” Luke asked.

“He runs the marina,” Leo said.

“What I was going to say,” Saint cut in. “Was that we should run a test trip. Tonight. Before the storm is at its worst.”

“See what we’re dealing with,” Logan nodded.

“I don’t see why we need this treasure, or whatever,” Finn said. He was still fingering his necklace. “I mean…if the trip is as dangerous as it sounds…why risk it?”

Saint laughed a single note, and looked at Logan. “Oh, Lolo. You haven’t told him?”

Logan stiffened, and Finn blinked. “Told me what?”

Saint made a tisking sound. “Logan. All that trouble to get him out and you’re keeping secrets.”

“Fuck off,” Logan growled.

“Oh, you sound like Luke.”

Finn took a step forward. “Lo?”

Logan sent him a pained look, but turned away. Leo glanced at where Logan’s backpack was resting in the corner of the workshop. It had been there for days, he hadn’t been dealing, but that didn’t mean any of the problems it had caused had gone away.

“I think you’re right as far as boats go,” Leo said carefully, trying to draw the attention away from Saint’s jabs. "But he doesn’t have any equipment. Visual or otherwise. If we need that.”

Saint grinned and clapped a hand on Luke’s shoulder, having to reach up a bit to do it. “That’s where this one comes in.”

Luke scoffed. “This one?”

“We’re going to visit your too-happy friend, Tweedle.”

~

James was staring at his computer, trying to will himself into college, when the sliding glass kitchen door, leading in from the pool, flew open. Saint was there, along with Luke, and three boys James didn’t recognize—or no, he knew the brunette and the blond from the restaurant in The Hollow.

“You have two hundred of my dollars,” he said, pointing his pencil at the brunette. The redhead beside him narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“That you offered,” the brown haired boy crossed his arms.

“Yeah, as part of a bargain,” James looked at Luke over his glasses. “Was the other end held up? Don’t think so.”

Luke just rolled his eyes.

“Well you’re going to have to pay up again, Potter,” Saint said, sliding onto the kitchen island stool across from James.

“Excuse me?”

“Not in money this time.”

James looked around at them all warily for a moment before sighing and knocking his computer shut. “Well, you’re already in my kitchen. And I’m already miserable.”

Luke coughed out a laugh and Saint seemed to bite back a smile, too.

“You need what exactly?” James asked.

“Lights Diving equipment. Don’t go running to Sirius, though.”

James raised an eyebrow. “I’d drive.”

“Ha, ha,” Saint rolled his eyes. “Now, can we borrow it?”

“Is this about that treasure?” James asked. “Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the ocean is fucking deep. Deeper than my summer of sophomore year scuba pastime will get you.”

“Deeper than you?” Logan mumbled, and James glared.

Luke let out a laugh and Saint paused in whatever he had been about to say and turned to look at him. It was almost—awkward.

“What?” Luke snapped, rubbing a hand over some stubble on his cheek. “That was a very Potter statement.”

James had never seen Saint stutter before, or fidget, but that’s what he did when he turned back around to face James.

“Can you get it?” Saint sighed.

James snorted and gestured to the TV mounted above the microwave playing the news. “I’m sorry, am I the only one who knows about the quickly approaching hurricane?”

“Details,” the brunette mumbled.

“It’s for later,” Saint said.

“Then I’ll give it to you later.”

Saint scowled.

James sighed and pushed himself from his stool. “You’re not actually going out into that storm with my help.”

“For Luke,” Saint said. “For his father. This might be our only lead, and our only chance. Until the next storm, at least, at which point you won’t be able to stop us because we won’t come to you for help.”

James yanked the refrigerator open. “Don’t guilt me.”

“James,” Luke said and James didn’t look at him. “Please. I—”

“And this will fix what, exactly?” James sighed. He closed the refrigerator harder than necessary, and the sound of rattling bottles from within filled the silence as he turned on Luke. Luke, who he’d known forever. Luke, who he’d tried to help. Luke, who had done everything except try recently. It frustrated James more than he knew it should.

“It could,” Luke bit out haltingly. “Fix something.”

“What?”

He could practically feel the anger in Luke’s next breath. “My dad was all but—stolen away in the night. No explanation. No goodbye. And now this? A letter, a name, a treasure hunt that turns out to be something more than the fucking bedtime story? J, come on, please.”

James cracked the seal on his drink. “Once again. Hurricane.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Luke said. “We need a storm.”

“You need to get a fucking grip,” James felt heat building behind his words. “Luke, this isn’t—you’re just trying to…distract yourself, or something, and I get it, I do, but—”

“You don’t,” Luke snapped, voice raising.” You don't know what it’s like. You’ve been wrapped in fucking silk and fleece for your entire life. Your parents love you more than anything. You don’t understand what it’s like. You don’t understand anything beyond your own fucking front porch.”

Luke’s words sapped the air from the room like lightning and a dead fuse. His brown eyes widened, just a little, the green dark today. His chest moved rapidly, his cheeks flushed. The three other boys glanced at each other from Luke’s shoulder.

James cleared his throat. He set his drink on the counter.

“How long have you been holding that in, huh?” he said.

“I…” Luke began. He pushed his hair off of his forehead, but it feathered back into place. “I haven’t, I…J, I’m—”

“And the Crucio?” James asked.

“I’m,” Luke’s eyes shifted away. “I’m not.”

“Liar.”

Saint seemed to be holding himself very still. They all were.

“J,” Luke had a pleading note to his voice now.

“They’re in the basement,” James cut him off, sliding back on his stool and opening his laptop. “My mom labels everything down there. But I don’t think it’ll help you.”

“Great,” Saint knocked his knuckles on the countertop and was off, the other three following.

James could feel Luke standing there, frozen and hesitant. He kept his eyes trained on his screen, and his blank page, the cursor blinking.

“Just go,” James mumbled, and Luke did.

James didn’t look up when they left.

He didn’t look up as evening turned into night, or when the sky opened up for the winds and rain to begin their thrashing on the island.

~

Kris Lavolie had his boats and his daughter. The marina was shut tight when they got there, Logan running behind the others as they dashed through the rain to the door. Logan expected Saint to pound on the glass, but instead they only used the slight shard of roof the ran along the edge of the building as protection, the five of them racing in a line around the property until they got to the marina. All of the boats were dry-docked and covered tightly with pinned tarps. Saint surveyed them with steely eyes for a moment. His hair looked like molten gold in its drenched state.

Logan shivered and felt Finn press him against his side. He glanced at Leo, who had his arms wrapped around himself.

“This one,” Luke said. “It’s like my dad’s. I can drive it.”

Saint gave a nod and the two of them didn’t wait to see if Logan and the others would follow before they were walking down the swaying dock. They didn’t have to worry about making noise and drawing Kris out. The storm hid them.

Logan eyed the waves as he stood between Finn and Leo. They were rolling and white-capped. He looked up at Leo to see him staring, too.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Logan asked. He tried to think of a way to tell Leo that, if he did, he was with him. He also tried to think of a kind way to tell him he thought they were insane, now that he was face-to-face with the raging winds. He needed the money, sure, but he wanted his life, too. He didn’t think the Carrows would kill him, but he didn’t know. The wind stung his eyes and whipped his hair off his forehead. He’d lost his hat somewhere, he didn’t know when. He reached up to his temple, his shirt sticking to his skin. He hadn’t even felt it blow away.

Leo shook his head as they approached the boat where Saint and Luke were efficiently untying the tarp.

“No.” Leo took a shaky breath. “He died out there. He wouldn’t want me to—”

Saint looked up, blinking hard against the lashing rain, from where he was shoving the tarp into a storage compartment. “You cannot back out now.”

Leo’s blue eyes matched the dark waves. He put a hand on Logan’s shoulder, a slight pressure to turn him around. “Yes, we can. This is insane, the winds are too strong.”

“Your dad—” Saint began, both of them yelling over the howling wind.

“Didn’t raise me to be stupid,” Leo said. “Or to get my friends killed. I’m sorry, I know you’re doing this for me.”

Saint scoffed. “For you? This isn’t for you. We all do things for ourselves. Bail-outs,” he gestured to Logan, and then to Luke. “Answers. I thought you wanted a few of those yourself.”

“And what would my mom think? Both of us, my dad and me, drowned?”

Saint’s jaw muscles jumped from where he stood beside Luke in the boat. “You wouldn’t be there to know what she thought, would you? What does it matter?”

Logan thought he saw Luke flinch a little, but he kept his head down, fishing the keys from the glovebox.

Logan followed Leo another step back, looking frantically for Finn, only to find him already at his side.

“We shouldn’t,” Finn whispered right in Logan’s ear, breath warm. “Lo…”

“Saint,” Logan yelled. “Leo’s right.”

“Come on,” Finn shook his head. “Let’s go. This is insane.”

“We’re going,” Luke said, eyes on Saint. “We got this far.”

Logan hesitated. He didn’t know Luke. He certainly didn’t like him.

“Don’t be stupid,” he still found himself saying, then swallowed beneath the weight of his next words. “You’re selfish, to risk your friend’s life.”

Logan couldn’t hear Saint’s laugh beneath the wind, but he could see the smile. “Bold words, coming form you, Logan.”

Logan felt Finn’s cold fingers slip into his own and squeeze.

“Come back with us,” Leo shouted over the storm. “Come—”

But Luke pressed the button that would lower them into the water. Logan only just could hear the hum of the machine. Logan watched as Luke jammed the keys into the ignition and lowered the motor. The second the bottom hit water the engine roared to life. Finn took a halting step forward, and Logan had the brief thought of doing the same, prying them from the boat. Leo’s father’s story flooded through him. He felt like he was watching someone die. He gripped Finn’s hand tighter, his other raising on its own to fist the back of Leo’s t-shirt. He didn’t want either of them getting stuck on that boat if they couldn’t get to the keys. The boat rocked dangerously as it tried to get a crest over the violent waves. With one last dark look from Saint, they took off over the wild water.

“They made their choice,” Logan said. “God, they’re going to get themselves killed, I…”

“We need to get the coast guard,” Leo said, and then turned down the dock and ran.

Logan looked up at Finn, whose wild expression matched his own.

“I’m glad we’re not…” Finn said. “I didn’t understand…I don’t understand this.”

Logan pressed a hand to his cheek. “I’m not risking you. Not again.”

Finn pressed his palm over Logan’s. “What aren’t you telling me, Lo?”

Logan closed his eyes. “I will. I will tell you.”

And then they turned after Leo.

It was like the wind was trying to rip the Hollow free of the island. The coast guard boats had been out, and Leo had figured they’d be by the point and so they’d ran half across the islands to The Hollow, where it would be the most dangerous. Sure enough, trees were down, and wires lay in dangerous puddles. Sandbags lay soaked and spilled across the ground.

Logan’s eye caught on the red of the police cars’ lights flashing across Finn’s face, made fragmented and liquid by the heavy rain. He couldn’t help but feel the surreality of having Finn beside him all over again. There had been a time where he had been positive that he would get caught, that he would be sent back to St. Clair in a heartbeat. He had spent so long avoiding any sight of the police. It felt strange to be seeking them now, but Leo was on a mission. His tall frame looked above heads, but the guards weren’t anywhere near their cars. Logan spied Sirius’ familiar dark hair only seconds before Leo did.

“Sirius!” Leo shouted, and Logan and Finn ran after him. Sirius was in the street with so many of the other Hollows, watching the storm try to rip at their homes.

“What are you guys doing out?” Sirius yelled, trying to see them through the rain.

“It’s Saint,” Logan said. “It’s Saint and Luke. Where are the police, where—”

But Logan didn’t think Sirius was listening anymore. Sirius’ face dropped to an expression Logan recognized, one he had felt on his own face when he realized that he had escaped St. Clair, and Finn had sacrificed himself and stayed.

Sirius pushed through them and took off towards Godric at a run.

~

Luke knew they were insane. He could barely keep his footing the closer they got to the Cradle. The wind was skewing the rain so much that it seemed like they were driving through water, too, the headlights making the steam and pellets seem like a solid wall to be breached.

“Third rock from the left point,” Saint shouted over the roar. “Closest to the Salazar coast!”

“We can’t get caught up in it,” Luke shouted back, wrists aching with the effort of keeping the boat on course.

Saint shook his head, hair plastered down and falling in his eyes. “We won’t be able to see any other way. If it can carry us, we’ll be safer from the rocks.”

They hit a particularly brutal wave and Saint was jolted forward, without the stability that the driver’s seat provided Luke, and right into Luke’s side.

Luke caught him with one arm. Saint’s hand shot out to replace Luke’s, now around his waist, on the wheel, and they steadied the craft together.

“We’re fucking insane,” Luke shouted.

“Insanity likes company.”

Luke looked at him, risking taking his eyes away from the approaching rocks for a moment. “That’s misery.”

Saint glanced up at him. “We’re that, too.” Then his eyes widened as he looked out over the dark waves.

“The Horcrux,” Saint breathed, and Luke could barely speak.

“The middle,” he managed. “Look.”

There was bare sand in the middle of the circle of rocks, the wet grains being whipped into a frenzy as if by magic, the water pulling outwards. He didn’t know how that was possible. It was bizarre. It was too strange.

“There,” Saint pointed as they inched closer. Luke’s neck hurt from the jerk of being lifted up by the waves and crashed back down again. Luke squinted, trying to see through the rain and the small sand storm alike. They were right at the rocks now. “Do you see it? Are they planks? That looks like—”

Luke jolted as he felt the steering wheel stutter and then go loose in his hands. He turned it once, twice, but it was as though the mechanism had snapped. The boat lurched forward.

“We’re being pulled!” Luke said, panic clawing up his throat. “I can’t—”

Luke slipped from the wet leather seats, landing hard on his back on the deck of the boat, Saint beside him.

The steering wheel was useless. They were being carried now. By the waves. By the current. Maybe by chance. It was almost like floating, had it not been for the wind and rain. That made it feel like a free-fall.

Luke had his arms around Saint’s waist, Saint’s around his. It felt like they were pinned to the deck.

“Either the storm will pass,” Luke breathed. He couldn’t keep his mouth from brushing Saint’s temple, with the motion and the way they clutched each other. “And the current will slow, and we’ll be dashed against the rocks from momentum.”

“Or?” Saint’s breath brushed his jaw.

Salt sprayed as the boat jostled and knocked them together. “I didn’t think that far.”

“That Greek myth,” Saint said. Luke could feel his fingers digging into his back. “The whirlpool.”

“Maybe a monster would be a quicker death.”

Saint’s laugh sounded strained. “Quicker than rocks?”

“A better story, then,” Luke replied. “No one to tell, though.” 

“We’ll know.”

Luke gripped him tighter as the wind seemed to pick up, howling. His breathing came fast. “You told Leo the dead know nothing.”

Saint picked his head up, looking at Luke through the rain. Their foreheads pressed together. Luke’s eyes burned.

“I don’t want to know nothing,” Luke choked out.

Saint didn’t say anything. Luke had never known him to be silent, but he just stared as the boat lurched beneath them. Then, Saint tilted his chin forward, only a few centimeters, but it brought their mouths together in a firm kiss. It was warm, against the chilling rage above. Luke closed his eyes, and let the feeling of lightning brush through him. Warm heat.

They didn’t pull away so much as were pulled apart then knocked back together, Luke’s lips pressing to the corner of Saint’s mouth, then his cheek. Saint brought his hand up to Luke’s jaw to steady him. For a moment, it had felt like they had stopped spinning round and round.

“Why did you do that?” Luke breathed. He didn’t know how Saint heard him over the roar, but he did.

“What do you mean?” Saint said. His eyes were molten and—afraid, Luke realized. The rain on his face looked like tears, and he traced his thumb over Luke’s lip. “I steal things from you all the time.”

There was a horrible, jagged wrenching sound, and Luke found himself plunged into the water, Saint ripped from his arms.

~

The rain lashed against the windows of Remus’ bedroom, and Remus looked out into the falling dark.

“What a dick,” he mumbled aloud to himself.

He couldn’t figure Sirius out. He didn’t seem unkind—until someone was kind to him, at least.

It made Remus want to kill him with kindness and just kill him period. He’d been so happy on the Wolfsbane. He’d been horrible at The Lion. Proud.

Remus rubbed his eyes, closing his laptop. It was the storm. That was all. He looked towards the direction of the docks. He hoped the planks survived. He’d kept his boat as safe as he could, cranked up the tracks onto the grass, sails down, tarped up.

He smirked. Luke would laugh at him if he could see him worrying like a mother. Sirius, on the other hand…Remus thought Sirius might have worried, too. Remus sighed. There Sirius was again. Popping up.

It was why he thought he must be imagining it when he looked down and saw Sirius standing at the door he had named to him, in the side of Bane Tower, soaking wet and staring behind him, out at the ocean.

“Shit,” Remus threw his computer to the side, and his bedroom door open.

The old wooden tower stairs groaned beneath his quick feet, and he winced as a splinter ripped at his palm as he threw himself around the bend at the bottom and pulled open the door.

Rain hit him immediately. Sirius jolted around. His eyes were like gray moonlight.

“I…” Sirius began, but didn’t seem able to say any more, just blinked at Remus through the heavy wind and rain. Remus didn’t hesitate, just pulled Sirius inside and slammed the door shut again.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked.

Sirius was just staring at the door. Maybe thinking of the rough ocean still.

“Sirius,” Remus pressed, taking Sirius’ broad shoulders in his hands and giving him a shake. He was hot, even feverish, despite the frigid rain. “Are you hurt?”

Sirius just looked at him with wild eyes and shook his head. His dark hair clung to his forehead, his gray eyes cat-like and afraid.

“Is anyone else at your house? In the Hollow?”

Sirius shook his head again—his entire body was shaking, Remus realized. “No, Dorcas went to Marlene’s. The—everyone’s in the street—Saint—”

“Saint?”

“Saint is out there,” Sirius’ words practically tore out of his throat. He pushed his soaked hair out of his face. “He went out there and—and—the treasure. The—”

“The current,” Remus repeated, and Sirius pressed a hand over his eyes.

“I should have know. I should have known he’d never listen. He’d never—”

Remus didn’t pause to listen to more. He swore and snatched two windbreakers from the hooks by the door, plus a fleece. He shoved the fleece and jacket into Sirius’ chest.

“Put those on.”

“We can’t,” Sirius’ words choked off to catch his breath. “How will we follow them? I didn’t think you would—”

“Why else would you be here?” Remus said. He shoved gloves over his hands. The rope would be wet, slippery, and he didn’t want to deal with blisters and ripped up palms for weeks to come. He handed Sirius a pair, too. “I don’t know why I’m doing this for you. We should call the police.”

“Leo is trying to find them.”

Remus shoved a sweatshirt over his head. “Is that how you found out?”

Sirius nodded, zipping the breaker up. “Leo, Logan, and Finn. They came running up, and said Saint and Luke—”

“Luke?” Remus froze. His stomach dropped. “Luke is out there.”

Sirius’ eyes flickered, but he nodded after a moment.

Remus didn’t have the time to try and figure him out. Not now. He reached for the door. “Come on—”

“Remus?”

Remus froze all over again, his hand on the handle. He felt Sirius shift uncomfortably beside him, and then Remus turned to see his little brother standing there on the bottom step, in his pajamas.

“Jules,” Remus breathed. “What are you doing awake?”

Julian’s eyes flicked from Sirius and back. “I heard you. There’s a storm.” He looked at their outfits. “Where are you going?”

“We have…” Remus trailed off. “We have to pick up a friend. I’ll be right back.”

Julian stepped down the last stair. “I want to come with you. Your gloves. Are you going—on the water?”

“No,” Remus said. “No, no, we’re—It’s…”

“I want to go with you. Can I?” Julian looked at the door. “I never get to. Mom says—“

“Jules,” Remus said, bending down and pressed his hand through Julian’s sleep mussed hair. “Julian. You have to stay. You have to stay here, okay? It’s really, really dangerous outside.”

“But you’re going outside.”

“I know,” Remus let his eyes fall shut for a moment. “I know I am.”

“I’ll tell mom.”

“No,” Remus pleaded. “Jules, please. We have to go and you have—you need to stay. Please. I’ll take you out on the Wolfsbane. I’ll do whatever you want, just—Please.”

Julian didn’t look convinced. 

“We have to go,” Sirius’ rough voice came. “Remus.”

Remus rose. “Julian, do not follow us. Wolfsbane, super early, mom never has to know. I’ll teach you. You know I’ve always wanted to teach you.”

Remus ruffled Julian’s hair, and then rose, turning to Sirius.

“Now,” he nodded towards the door.

It was a struggle, getting the tarp off while the wind whipped it back in their faces. Getting the sails straightened, but loose enough so that the mast wouldn’t swing right around once they cranked it back into the water. He kept them low.

Remus peered at Sirius, swiping a hand over his eyes. “We’ll have to use the motor. There’s no way I can control too much of this wind.”

Sirius nodded, but he looked panicked. “They could be—anywhere, already in the water.”

“Well, look on the bright side,” Remus snapped. Sirius was all nerves, and they couldn’t afford that. “At least they won’t freeze to death. They’re not far from the coast.”

Remus was breathing hard by the time they swung themselves into the boat and were jetting haltingly away from the dock. The nose bowed this way and that, and Remus risked raising the sails, just a little. It seemed to straighten them out enough. His fingers already ached from the tight, adrenaline-filled grip he held on the lines. He didn’t dare tie it off, the might need to drop them quickly.

“The Cradle,” Sirius shouted against the wind.

“I know,” Remus yelled back. “We can’t go in the Horcrux. We’ll just get stuck. The boat won’t survive it, we’ll tip.”

“Fine,” Sirius said. He was just sitting there, water splashing over the sides and soaking their shoes.

Remus tossed him a bucket. “Bail.”

Sirius did, and pretty quickly, too, but the waves were high.

“This was fucking stupid,” Remus muttered to himself.

The Cradle rose up as if out of mist, and Remus could see its ring of water, swirling within. It was practically a tide-pool, vicious and smooth. It almost looked inviting, like some water-park ride. Remus eyed the sands swirling in the middle with half a mind going to the bedtime stories his grandfather had told him.

“A desert storm in the sea,” he breathed.

The rocks looked like jagged death sentences, and that was when he spied the two shapes, one on the rock closest to them, and the other all the way on the other side of the ring.

“There!” he shouted, and Sirius jolted up. “On the rocks, can you see them?”

Sirius nodded and tossed the bucket down in favor of catching up a rope. He began to fashion it into a sort of hook, a circle that could be slipped around the waist.

Remus wondered where he’d learned that, and Sirius seemed to read it on his face.

“Dumo,” he said, and wiped his sleeve over his face, trying to clear the rain. “How close can we get?”

“I don’t know,” Remus shouted, turning the boat into the next wave and letting it crest more safely over the nose. “Let’s go around, the rocks could wreck us.”

They came to Luke first.

Remus shouted his name twice before Luke looked up. He was clinging to one of the rocks, soaked to the bone and bleeding from a cut to his head. Remus looked to the water. There was no sign of their boat.

“Luke!” Remus shouted.

“Remus,” Luke’s voice sounded far away, though he was just feet from them. “Saint—I—I don’t see—”

“He’s there!” Sirius shouted, eyes trained on Saint’s figure on the other side of the ring. It was perfectly still. Sirius seemed to shake himself and held the rope high, feet spread wide to keep his balance as Remus kept having to turn the boat this way and that to keep their place in the waves. “Can you grab this if I throw it?”

Luke nodded, and his eyes slipped shut. Remus felt panic seize him.

“Yes,” Luke shouted. “Yes.”

“Hurry!” Remus urged. His arms were shaking already, and he still needed to get them over to Saint.

Sirius tossed the rope out. It was a good throw, but he nearly lost his balance doing it. Remus nearly let go of the sails going to catch him, the rope slipping dangerously through his fingers as he lunged to grab the back of Sirius’ jacket.

Sirius shook him off. “The sails!”

Remus leaned back on his heels to get the rope to stop pulling, his teeth clenched. “Just saved your life, your welcome,” he mumbled.

Sirius didn’t hear him.

“Around your waist!” he was shouting, and kept the rope free of the tiller as Remus brought them about again.

Luke followed his instructions shakily, slipping into the water on the outside of the rocks, where the pull would be straight instead of sideways. Sirius hauled him through the waves, and Luke pulled himself up onto the deck coughing.

“Luke,” Remus’ voice broke. He wanted to go to him, but he couldn’t let go. “Luke, Luke—”

“I’m okay,” Luke coughed out.

“Your head,” Remus couldn’t look to long as he let the changing wind guide them out farther towards the horizon, trying to find a calmer path.

Luke touched his fingers to his temple and looked down at the red that came away with them. “Oh.”

“Saint!” Sirius was shouting, but the moonlit silhouette on the rock wasn’t so much as stirring.

Remus had to weave them out four more times before they got close enough to the rock to see Saint’s face. He had a nasty slice that ran from his forehead to his cheek, the red dripping down his jaw and mouth in jagged, rain-washed lines.

“Saint!”

It was Sirius and Luke’s voice in unison this time.

Sirius cursed and tore off his jackets and gloves, then took the looped rope from around Luke, securing it tightly around his own waist instead. He looked at Luke. “You have to—”

“Pull him in,” Luke said, eyes on Saint. “I know.”

“And me,” Sirius snapped, then shouted Saint’s name again. There was still no response.

Remus was struck with the thought that Saint looked like something out of a myth. Odysseus, washed ashore, or a deadly Siren, luring them in, the passing sailors, for his next meal.

Sirius looked back at Remus, who could only stare back, horrified, as he dove into the water.

He surfaced farther away than Remus expected, carried towards the rocks by the powerful current. Luke cursed as the rope slid quickly through his hands.

“The gloves!” Remus shouted, and Luke tied the rope off for a moment, to shove them onto his hands. He kept it hooked around one of the boat railings, letting the boat bear some of Sirius and the sea’s weight.

There was a terrifying moment where Sirius nearly slipped right past the rock, but he held on, hauling himself up beside Saint’s body.

Remus brought the boat about again and whipped his head back to see if they were in the water yet. Sirius was touching Saint’s cheek, his mouth, and then he was wrapping him up in his arms. He slipped messily back into the water and Luke pulled hard. Remus could see his muscles shaking, his wound bleeding. Remus squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of all the times they’d played pirate. This wasn’t any sort of make-believe.

It was harder, getting Saint into the boat. Sirius had to cling to the side with one hand and try to lift him from the water with the other. Luke reached down and hauled Saint up by his arms, knocking Saint’s head against the rails in the process.

“Fuck,” Luke’s wind-snatched voice came.

Sirius tumbled over a moment later, spitting salt water and crawling on his hands and knees towards Saint. Luke was already there, listening for breath. Remus had never seen him look so scared. Not even when his father was taken away.

“Get us out of here!” Sirius shouted at him, and Remus didn’t waste energy being angry at him.

The closer they got to shore, the more scared Remus felt. Without the wildness of the storm would come the stillness of land. And if Saint—if he was—

“Breathe,” Luke was shouting as he pressed in even strokes on Saint’s chest. He plugged Saint’s nose and blew air into his lungs. “Breathe you fucking thief.”

Remus couldn’t watch. His eyes stung but he looked into the full-mooned dark—and he saw a shape. There was a silhouette of a boat, a rowboat, moving back and forth dangerously with the waves. Its sides were so low that it had to be filled with inches in water. They got closer, and Remus heard someone crying.

His heart gave a painful squeeze.

He knew that cry. He knew that boat.

“Julian!” the shout all but shredded his throat.

Julian’s small figure was barely keeping the oars in their nooks. The sailboat’s weak light lit his face in red. His hair was plastered against his forehead and his face was screwed up in fear.

“Remus!” his voice barely carried. “I—”

Remus didn’t even have time to see the wave before it threw Julian dangerously to the side. He screamed, and Remus thought he heard himself scream, too.

The rope slid along his palms as the sails swung around. He ducked beneath the metal bar and drove for the rowboat.

“Julian! Don’t move! Try to stay in the center!”

Sirius was at his side, rope in his hands.

Julian had his eyes squeezed shut as he felt his way through the water, up to his knees now, in the boat.

“Julian look at me! Look at me!” Remus shouted. “You have to catch this. Sirius is going to throw this to you, and you’re going to slip it around your waist—”

Julian’s eyes were wide and golden. “The sharks—”

Remus shook his head, a sob ripping from his throat. “There aren’t sharks now. There aren’t, now listen. You’re—“ The sails swung and he felt Sirius’ palm cover his head and push him down as the boat came around again. “You’re going to put this around your waist and make sure it’s tight, okay?” Then you’re going to jump in and we’re going to pull you up.”

Remus’ throat ached from shouting, but thin tendrils of relief shot through him when Julian nodded.

Sirius’ aim was true, and Julian almost lost it over the side, but he grabbed it quickly. He put it over his head, and pulled it tight, but look over the side of the boat timidly, then up at Remus.

“I can’t see the bottom,” Julian cried. “I don’t like not being able to—”

“Julian, you jump right now,” Remus said. “Right now, come to me, Jules.”

Julian closed his eyes and leapt.

He disappeared beneath the surface for a terrifying second, and then his head broke through again, gasping and spluttering when a wave hit him right away.

Remus distinctly heard coughing from behind him—Saint—and Luke cursing him out in a broken voice.

Sirius leaned over the side and pulled Julian up and into his arms.

“The sails,” Remus shouted at him, and Sirius took the ropes from his hands wordlessly. Remus dropped to his knees and pulled Julian, larger with his life-jacket on, against his chest.

“The row—” Julian began.

“Let it go,” Remus held onto him, maybe too tightly. “Let it go.”

~

Remus shut the door to Bane Tower too hard. It was blissfully warm inside. Julian was wrapped in every blanket that Remus had been able to find and clutching a cup of hot chocolate from the electric kettle they kept down here. Sirius was crouched beside him, having been holding Remus’ place until he returned from securing the Wolfsbane. Saint and Luke were standing by the stairs, still dripping, with more blankets around their shoulders. There were clusters of bloody paper towels where Luke had been taping up Saint’s gash when Remus had left for the boat after letting them in. Luke’s own wound looked clean now, and more like a bruise.

Remus didn’t look at any of them, just stared at Julian, sitting there with a tear stained face, safe. He’d never known relief and guilt could feel so similar.

“Lupin,” Saint broke the silence softly, then cleared his throat. It was still rough from the salt water that had been in his lungs. He stepped forward “Remus—”

“I almost lost my little brother,” Remus said lowly, and then it was like he really realized it, and he crossed the room to shove Saint backwards. “And you would not have been worth it. You never would have been worth it.”

“Re—“ Luke stepped forward.

“No,” Remus shouted. “No.”

Saint’s lips pressed into a thin line. He swallowed. “I know. I’m sorry, Remus.”

Remus turned his back, trying to catch his breath. Sirius stepped out of his way as he went to Julian, clutching his shivering body close to him. He couldn’t look at them, at Luke. Not now.

“I won’t tell mom,” Julian mumbled through his chattering teeth.

“Shh,” Remus whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head. He smelled like he had always smelled, even when Remus had first held him as a baby. Even through the salt of the sea. He felt his own lip tremble. “It’s okay.”

The walls creaked dangerously in the winds. At least it was dry. They were all silent, the only sound their panting breaths, until Remus looked up when Sirius rose. He walked straight at Saint and shoved him hard in the chest, too. Saint stumbled backwards like he had expected it. His eyes looked gold in the dim light, and understanding.

“I know,” Saint said.

“What were you thinking?” Sirius’ voice was uneven. Luke looked down.

“Sometimes I don’t,” Saint replied with his familiar evenness.

Sirius just let out a shuddering sound, pushed Saint again, but caught his blanket hem at the last minute and pulled him against his chest. He cupped a hand against Saint’s cheek and kissed him with a bruising pressure. Remus let his eyes trail over the way Saint’s fingers knotted in the back of Sirius’ shirt. Luke turned away. Remus wished he could, but instead he watched Sirius pull away slowly, then brush their lips together once more, with a pain in his chest.

Remus was so angry with himself for feeling any of that at all right now that he almost didn’t stop them from leaving when it was time. But this was just the beginning, the first wave.

“There’s going to be more and it’s only going to get worse,” he sighed instead. Sirius looked up at him. He was at Saint’s shoulder like he couldn’t move away. “You can’t stay in the Hollow.”

~

Sirius couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a room with AC, and, as if reading his mind, Saint suddenly threw their covers back and cracked both of the windows open, just enough to let the humid night air in without the rain. Thunder rolled. Sirius watched his silhouette squint at the thermostat in the dark, and heard the faint beep as he turned it off. He hadn’t realized how loud the machine had been until all was quiet save for the storm, and Saint was slipping back beneath the covers.

They lay there beside each other, a feeling that was as familiar to Sirius as breathing. So, why did it feel so strange?

“You could have died,” Sirius said into the dark.

“I’m sorry.”

Sirius looked over at him. Saint didn’t often apologize. That was twice in one night.

“I don’t even know…” Sirius shook his head up at the ceiling, trying to get the image of Saint’s lifeless body out of his head. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“I kissed him,” Saint said, and Sirius turned his head. Saint was staring at him already. “I kissed him.”

“You kiss me all the time.”

“You kissed me in front of him.”

“And you wish I hadn’t?” Sirius asked.

Saint seemed to be trying to play it all out in his head, eyes far away. He looked back at the ceiling.

“No. I love being with you. Touching you. Laughing or fucking or surfing. I was just scared. You were just scared, though. Maybe I’m always just scared.”

“Being scared isn’t really a just feeling. It’s important.”

“Maybe he’ll get the wrong impression. Go all—soft on me.” Saint flicked his eyes towards Sirius. “You never do that. You just treat me like I’m me. Not a boyfriend or a girlfriend or a best friend or a lover just…two people.” Saint closed his eyes. “Just two people who are doing what makes them happy. What feels good or right.”

“This is what you’re thinking about right now?” Sirius scoffed. “You almost died.”

Saint took a slow breath in. “I didn’t want to. I wanted live so badly. But for what?” Saint looked at Sirius again, and this time, there was fear there. “I don’t even know who I am. Why should I want things if I don’t even know that?”

Sirius let that sink in. He wanted everything for Saint, but, most of all, he wanted to see that cross ripped from around his neck.

“Maybe living is about finding out who you are. You’re allowed to change, Saint. Your name…anything.” Sirius reached for Saint’s hands beneath the covers and Saint held on tight. “And I’m going to love you through it all. In whatever way, in all the ways, we do love.”

Saint stayed quiet for a moment, and then he turned onto his side and Sirius mirrored him. They rested their foreheads together. Saint’s free hand clutched his cross.

“I’m so tired of being number seven,” Saint whispered.

“You were never number seven,” Sirius whispered back, stroking a hand through Saint’s hair. “You’re you.”

~

Remus and Luke lay in Remus’ bed. Remus had Julian tucked against his outer side, sound asleep, and Luke may not have been as close, but Remus could feel his body heat as they stared up at the ceiling in silence.

“Thanks for not making me go home,” Luke broke the quiet.

Remus nodded. “Yeah.”

“Saint’s probably going to steal something from your guest bedroom,” Luke mumbled.

“Hasn’t he taken enough?” Remus replied quietly.

He could see that Luke looked at him from the corner of his eye.

“It wasn’t just his fault,” he said insistently. “I went out there, too.”

“And the others?”

“Leo wouldn’t let them go. He said it was too dangerous. Which,” Luke sighed. “Which of course only made Saint want to go more.”

“And you went with him?” Remus turned to look at him, too. They were so close that their noses nearly brushed. “Luke.”

“I need answers, Re,” Luke whispered urgently. His brown-green eyes were pleading. “I can’t stay in that house, not with the way it is. I need…”

“We need to get off of this island.”

“Leaving won’t help my dad.”

“Neither will getting yourself killed,” Remus snapped, then closed his eyes. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”

Luke shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re right.”

Remus swallowed, focusing on the green in Luke’s eye. He reached up with the hand resting between them, and brushed his finger just below it. “Captain Green-Sea.”

Luke blinked, and the faintest of smiles crossed his face. It had been his pirate name, when they were younger, named after the sliver of green that shone out of the brown in his right iris.

“Captain Wolfsbane,” Luke whispered back. “We loved that game.”

“I’m worried you thought it was a game tonight.”

Luke’s brows drew together. “No. It’s the opposite. I feel—like I’m missing something he left me, Re. Like my dad is trying to…Saint helped me.” Luke swallowed and brought his hand up to Remus’ cheek. “You helped me. Thank you.”

Remus didn’t dare move when he felt Luke’s thumb brush his lower lip.

“You know,” Luke whispered. “Sometimes I wish we…”

Remus nodded gently. “I know.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“You’re mine,” Remus replied, then smiled, just a little. “That means more to me than anything else.”

Luke smiled, too, and tapped his thumb twice on Remus’ chin before slipping their hands together and squeezing tight. Remus closed his eyes, feeling more settled than he expected to tonight.

“My head fucking hurts,” Luke said after a while.

Remus snorted and held Julian closer. “That’s your own fault.”

“I do love you, you know,” Luke added after another moment.

Remus squeezed his hand again. “I love you, too.”

“Captain Wolfsbane,” Luke’s voice sounded more asleep now.

Remus just smiled.

[failedskillcheck]

Change with the Tides (Part 1/??)

A/N: Hiya! This is a little thing that I wanted to write, where the reader is a changeling wizard/rouge working for the Gentleman and joins the Mighty Nein! This takes place around 2x14-2x16. I’ll probably write it for the whole campaign.

You grew up in the various orphanages of Wildemont, starting in Port Damali, then Alfeild, Nogvurot, Trostenwald, Rexxentrum, and Deastock, eventually ending up in Zadash.

Due to your race, people found it hard to trust you. You didn’t really blame them, you had been picking pockets since you were seven. In Alfeild, you managed to steal a few spellbooks off of a traveller and began teaching yourself magic. Mostly Illusion spells, but you got your hand on some water-based magic as well.

When you grew out of the system, you were in Zadash, so you went about looking for the Gentleman. By the time you were 23, you had a secure career with him.

That is until a group barged into the underground bar, a strange collection of individuals calling themselves the Mighty Nein… but there were only seven.

From your seat at the bar, you couldn’t see them. You subtly put up your usual disguise, a human woman with brown hair and dark eyes, except you keep the hair a platinum blonde, the closest colour to your true form.

Cree noted one of the adventurers, a purple teifling she called Lucien. The man was a literal peacock. In fact, you’re pretty sure you saw a peacock tattoo creeping up his neck. You noted the others. An aloof half-orc, an energetic blue teifling, a massive woman who could probably crush you, a human woman in Cobalt Soul blue, and a human man in dirty brown clothing, sticking close to a small goblin. The goblin surprised you. You were all too aware of what people thought of monstrous races like hers.

The group went to the Gentlemans’ table, and you snickered, sipping on your drink. Then, Clive comes over and leans over the bar, “He needs you.” You sigh, down the rest of your drink, and walk over to the table, knowing that the drink will be paid off later.

“What’s up Boss?” You say as you reach the table, grabbing the chair closest to him. You’re his best employee. He knows that, everyone here knows that. There’s very little you can’t get away with.

“Ah, Y/N. Meet the Mighty Nein. You may recognize those two,” he gestures to the purple teifling and the monk, “as the two who murdered the High-Rictor. They’ve agreed to do me a favour, in exchange for me clearing their names.”

“So you’re the sorry sods he’s making go to that blasted facility,” you turned your head to the Gentleman, “Let me guess, I’m going with them?”

“You are the one who found it.”

“So when do we leave?” You asked, looking back at the group, who all seemed to be talking to one another. All of them except for the half-orc, who was instead watching you.

“Tomorrow, we need to prepare first.”

The Gentleman waved you off, and you went to your bed in the upper part of the Evening Nip, then preparing some things for your mission tomorrow. You went down to the bar, waiting for the Mighty Nein.

They finally arrived, and they were blindfolded and escorted to a dock, where you parted ways with you’re colleagues and rowed down the river with the Mighty Nein. You led them down the river, not talking and very aware that the half-orc and the monk were watching you. The Nein then decides to pull a race, and the goblin uses her ring of water walking. Until she hits a rock.

As she’s being pulled into the boat, you see a dark mantle drop, wrapping around her head, as well as the man and the half-orc. Luckily, you’re able to defeat them with almost no injuries.

“Those weren’t there before, I swear.” You say as the monk woman accuses you of trying to kill them. As she’s yelling at you, she stops and urges everyone to go faster due to rock monsters.

You drift downward before docking and sitting on the gravel beach as the large woman and blue teifling clear the rockslide.

“Mind telling us your name?” the half-orc asks, sitting beside you,

“Y/N,” you say, looking over, “And no, no last name. What about you?”

“I’m Fjord,” he says, then points to his party, “That there’s Beauregard and Jester. Then Mollymauk and Yasha. Those two are Caleb and Nott.” He pointed to where the goblin was braiding flowers into the man’s hair.

“Right. Apologies for the cave-in, when I first discovered this place, my group got attacked, one of them decide to destroy the wall.”

“Not a problem Y/N!” says Jester, clearing away the last rocks, “See, already cleared”

Mollymauk walks over and offers you his hand to helo you get up, as he does, he pulls you close to whisper in your ear, “Do you have any clue who I was?”

Was. Interesting choice of words, Mr. Mollymauk. “No, Cree seemed to though. So whatever little gang you two were in, I certainly wasn’t a member.”

“Something tells me there’s more to you than meets the eye Y/N, and I for one, am interested to find out what.”

Mollymauk back off at my shocked expression, walking away before saying over his shoulder, “And it’s just Molly, dear.”

We go down the stairs, through many trapped rooms (which Nott kept forgetting to check, leaving you to pick up her slack), Fjord almost falls down a pit, before finally reaching a large chamber.

The first thing you notice in the room is a teleportation circle, though it’s broken. You tell this to the Nein, which makes Caleb give you a quizzical look “And how do you know what a broken teleportation circle looks like?”

“I may be nothing more than a thief, but I am somewhat educated.”

You all begin searching around, and eventually, Caleb finds a journal written in Draconic. As you discuss it, the temperature drops and a skeletal form stretches from the group, ghastly skin stretched over its face.

“My secrets are yours.”

After that, you and the Nein launch into battle, and shockingly, you all fight very well together, working in sync.

You watched Jester sink to the ground, your own head pounding from the mental attacks. Molly charged at the undead Siff Dunder, and you shouted “Finish this Mollymauk!” as you ran towards Jester, giving her a healing potion you kept in your pocket.

The temperature drops again, cold energy emerging from a bookshelf. You can physically see Caleb remembering something, his eyes lighting. He mentions a physical form, like will o’ wisps and you swear under your breath as a series of attacks knocks Yasha unconscious. Jester is by her side instantly, healing her, before she and Beauregard pull down the bookshelf.

A large urn stands amongst pots and small cases, and Molly reaches through and destroys the urn. Siff, who was just attacking you and Fjord as you tried to distract it, disintegrates, and you both breathe a sigh of relief.

You all take a bit of time to collect yourself, and Fjord once again sits beside you, “Alright, I need to know. Why no last name?”

“Never got one.” You said, drinking from your waterskin and checking for any injuries.

“Orphan?”

“Yeah”

You notice a flash of something like sympathy on his face, and but in “I don’t need your pity. I’m perfectly fine without parents.”

“I was gonna say me too.”

You look at Fjord, “Right, sorry.”

Fjord looks like he’s about to ask another question, but you’re interrupted by Nott rubbing oil on herself and squeezing through the hole. Yasha just breaks the wall.

Why was that hot? You think to yourself

You see Nott bent over a case with her thieves tools out, trying to open a lock. Two minutes pass and you hear a gas leak and repeated coughing. “Poison,” she croaks, handing out the jewelry she found, even handing you a piece.

Beauregard searches through the urns, finding a spellbook, which she gives to Caleb. He traces some pattern in the air and finishes the spell, looking around the room. Your back is turned, but he gives you a look, nodding at Beau. You’re definitely hiding abilities other than the rouge ones you’ve displayed.

He points out a sword called the Magicians Judge, which Yasha takes. Molly, Jester, Fjord, and Beau leave to investigate further down the river, while you make camp with Caleb and Nott.

“You know magic,” Caleb says after a long stretch of silence. “How?”

A simple question, but you were reluctant to answer, Fjord already knows too much about you. “I stole some books off of a travelling wizard when I was 15. I was going to sell them, but they seemed interesting, so I taught myself.”

“How old are you?” Nott asked in between sips of her flask.

“23.” You answer, resting your head on your bag.

“What spells do you know?”

“Just a few illusions. Makes thievin’ easier.”

The interrogation seemed to stop then, and a few minutes later, the others return, and you all fall asleep.

You dream of being chased through Alfeild after stealing the books. You ran and ran, jumping on carriages until you deemed yourself far enough away. Late nights of learning magic, trying to get a hold on precious components with no money. Slowly learning.

When you woke up, you realized you shouldn’t have slept around strangers, your true form peeking through. You shift slowly back, keeping your cloak wrapped around you.

“Fjord, you have a little something right here.” Jester says, pointing out the dried blood on the corner of his mouth.”

“Oh, yeah, I grind my teeth,” Fjord explains blushing slightly as he wipes it. As he does you notice his tusks are shorter than other half-orcs you’ve seen.

Jester notices it too and starts questioning him about them. Fjord gets nervous and says “When I was younger, they used to make fun of my teeth, so I got rid of the target.”

“The kids at the orphanage?” You ground out, all too familiar with asshole kids

“Yeah, it just kinda became a habit.”

“Did you ever kill them?” Yasha asked, looking very serious,

Nott quickly became concerned “Yasha. Have you ever killed a kid?”

No answer.

Immediately, the Mighty Nein promised that if he grew them out they’d support him. You had a moment then. These people hadn’t known each other long, minus a couple of obvious pairings, but you could tell they were good people. Certainly better than the Gentleman’s goons.

You all make your way up to the Gentleman’s lair, keeping quiet. You’re lost in thought, right up until you take the blindfold off of the Nein. You pull Fjord aside before he gets to the Gentleman.

“I still have to talk to the Boss about it, but would it be alright if I maybe tagged along with you guys for a bit? You seem like good people, and I think I need a change of company.”

“I’d have to talk to the other, but I don’t have a problem with it. You’re a good fighter Y/N, we could definitely use you.”

You nod and wait for the Mighty Nein to finish the meeting with the Gentleman before you sit down with him.

“Hey, Boss?” You say, waiting for permission to speak, “I was thinking, I might try travelling around a bit. I’ve never been good at staying in one place, you know my past. And those Migh-”

The Gentleman held up a hand, and you felt the entire bar fall silent. He was going to say no, you knew it.

“Y/N, you’ve been my best employee for the last several years. Your talents are unmatchable, and I don’t think I’ll ever find a replacement. But I get it. A change of pace is always needed. Go pack up your things, and don’t worry about your bar tab, I’ll pay.” He slid a pouch of gold across the table, “Here’s a little something to start you off.”

Holy shit.

“Thank you, sir.”

The Gentleman nodded, and you ran to pack your things. Fjord said something about the Leaky Tap, so you headed over. Right away, Jester threw her arms around you.

“Welcome to the Mighty Nein!”

[prof-peach]

Out of all of the pokemon you have taken care of, which one do you think it was the hardest to deal with? Be cuz they were in a pretty bad shape, or just personality wise?

We get rumbunctious and rowdy Pokemon all the time, our works nature brings them to us probably more than any other issue, outside of grass Pokemon care and management. Anger and nervousness is something we have a good hold of here, and try to help iron out of various species. I do a lot of that work, and on occasion, Grey will do the odd water type with these problems, as I tend to shy away from those. For the most part, they are short stint stays, a couple months, to a couple years helping them to rewire their anger into a more productive feeling or energy. That being said, there’s alwasy the odd Pokemon who comes our way who’s just a step above the rest. So here’s some stories of the ones who have had to stay with us, for their temperament and behaviour.

On the north side of the island, we house the biggest, meanest Pokemon, and the individuals who are very timid and nervous around people. We do this to ensure they have space to live undisturbed in peace, but also to protect guests and visitors from being eaten, crushed, blasted, or otherwise harmed. Some of the northern residents are difficult yes, but most are just stroppy or uncomfortable with the majority of humans, but there are a handful that are actively engaged in harming or hunting people.

One such Pokemon is a rather nasty tempered Drampa, he came to us about five or so years ago now, kindly donated by being abandoned on our shores, it’s original trainer leaving the ball and hopping on a boat without alerting us, or letting the individual know. We figured it would be possible to rehome it, they’re usually a rather reasonable Pokemon to handle, considering their typing. We were wrong. This Pokemon when let out of the ball, went on a monsterous rampage for four days, destroying forests, toppling buildings, blasting holes in the mountain to try to burrow away, and picking fights with anything it’s size or bigger, often causing great harm to others. The island didn’t rest for that entire time, most Pokemon cowering from it, bigger species trying to halt them, all in vain. It took an entire troop of grass Pokemon using sleep powder to knock it out, the Drampa moved about so fast, one single grass type didn’t stand a chance to produce enough spores in time. It took a lot of work but we knocked the old boy out, and got a good look at him. His body was riddled with arthritis, not medicated, he would thrash about and cause himself so much pain and discomfort. He had overgrown nails, the feet hidden in the fur they have around their torso, often overlooked, and it’s ability to fly was limited because of its general condition and state. We began helping it, medicating it’s aislments, aiding it’s inflamed joints, but it never really calmed down, so now it chills out alone on the coast of the north side, left well alone, it doesn’t even like the company of other Pokemon.

We’ve done our best to interact with it, to socialise it, to generally get it use to people enough to do medical checks, but it’s still very resistant. We have decided that after two years of hard work, and it being tolerant to me, at least to check it’s health and wellbeing, that it’s best to let it live it’s life unbothered. Many would push a Pokemon to be a perfect social being, but we don’t believe it’s necessary for happiness. Some species are happy to be away from others, I wouldn’t push a human to be social, I know how awful that can be, so we didn’t force the individual to be around others either. It’s not that it’s unhappy, we spot it from time to time sitting on the rocks by the ocean, humming to itself, and the small pidgey and tailow that come by don’t bother it, and even give mild brief conversation. He seems ok, the medicine given means he’s in less pain, despite still having stiffness, and in the winter we’ve built him a unique space, rocky cover much like a cave, just above a Macargo hide where they lay eggs. The heat from those Pokemon keep its cave very hot, and help in the cold to ease the joint aches. The two species have different entrances, making sure they never meet within the hide at any point. There’s a good slab of rock dividing them, so it’s not an issue, and saves us having to pipe hot water over that far for him. He eats well, has a few items he’s kept from the labs, a toy sentret, and a large red ball, and generally is in a good place to live out his life in peace now.

Another difficult member would be a particularly timid Slazzle, gifted to us by a police member who had confiscated it from a rather mean individual close to her home town, they had been hurting the poor Pokemon, forcing it to produce an insane amount of poison liquid, throwing water on the poor thing every time it tried to ignite to retaliate, generally abusing the poor thing for its life, apparently it had been locked away since it was a young unevolved Pokemon. They’d been harvesting the poisons from the Slazzle and dropping it into various water sources to try to control the local Pokemon population, as they blamed the wild ones for the state of their land, and diminished crops yield from their allotment. Jokes on them, that water poisoning affected them too, and their garden died very quickly, and made the man quite sick through consumption of the crops he grew there. The slazzle is still very skittish, will hide at any given moment, we’ve seen her ignite an entire building in one move, and then bolt away through the flames to lose our line of sight. She managed to stay hidden for two weeks on the island, before we caught sight of her again. Generally she’s just a case fo neglect but we have been working with her now for a long while, 3 ish years, and her temperament is at least manageable amongst our staff. We have found her others of her kind to help her settle, and she’s become good friends with a Wartortle who came from the same area, they bond over memories of the place, and seem very happy in each others company.

We’ve found ways to keep her grounded, but she never goes near people when we have open days, slinks off through the big fence to the north side, and waits out the visiting hours until night. They’re not usually nocturnal but she likes the night, and spends her time looking about, foraging and feeding in the later hours. If you’re quiet you can catch her moving around the forests and the base of the mountains here, talking with the occasional individual, she seems to enjoy Murkrow too, their company seems to keep her quite social, as they usually move in large flocks here. She may never be rehomed, but for now we try to socialise her, we don’t battle her, and she has a very calm and peaceful nook to go to when she’s having a rough time. We make sure to provide support where possible, and though she’s a little skittish she’s somewhat happy to have myself and Grey, even Pari take a look at any wounds or scrapes she may gain while living here. She’s become trusting enough to come to us if we call, and who knows, maybe someone will come our way who she takes an interest in. There’s hope for her yet, we have however become quite fond of her, and she’s part of the furniture now. It may end up that she never leaves, and lives her life in peace here, surrounded by people and Pokemon who love her. Her panic makes her very difficult to pass to another trainer, and she’s prone to spitting up huge quantities of toxic liquid when spooked, and bolts at a slight bang or rumble.

One I have kept back for a number of reasons, is a rather mean tempered Aerodactyl. Normally we get Pokemon sent to us, but this one I ended up finding myself, some circus had her chained up in a box hardly big enough to turn around in, an attraction to the masses as they travelled through the area. The leader of that troop was particularly awful, treating Pokemon as commodities, items to be bought and sold, used as toys in his big performances. Boiled my blood. We called her Zeplin, and after 12 years she has still got a nasty temper on her, when not focused on a task. Her condition when we first found her was quite something, tattered wings, unable to fly straight at all, and she was littered with cuts and bruises, not in good health. Val has melted the chains that bound her, and the lock in her cage, and she just went, like a bat out of hell, flew off, blasting the tent that hid her quarters, burning a lot of the circus as she went. Little did I know, my foot was in one of the chain links, and I got dragged off with her, the ground, Val, all my other team mates, falling from my pocket, or being left on the floor where we had once been standing. She flew, and kept going, not aware I was still attached, you could see her wings were having a hard time catching the breeze, littered with holes and tears, she went for about two hours, I nearly froze that high up, trying to get a good grip on what chain was left so I didn’t come falling from that height. We came to a very sudden crash landing, she hadn’t had much chance to practice the whole take off - land thing from the feel of it, we both ate dirt, and she became very aware that I was there all of a sudden.

I had about three seconds while she assessed my presence, to get out of the chain, and dive behind a rock that gave me cover from an almighty blast of energy, chipping away bits, catching my arm a little. Trust me when I say, it’s terrifying coming face to face with something that stands a fair few meters taller than you, with more teeth and claws than you’re comfortable with dealing with, with none of your Pokemon, no weaponry, no real plan or cover other than a rock. How she didn’t eat me, I don’t know. Perhaps she knew it was me that let her go, maybe she just ran out of energy, but for whatever reason, she made a few bits and tail lashes at me, missed the lot, and gave up, turning to stomp off into the forests around us. She was still shackled with heavy irons, one on the neck, two on the legs, and was in serious condition, so I did the stupid thing and followed her, tried to sneak my way behind, though every now and then she would look towards me, and try to focus on my form in the dark of night now. It was a few days, she had stalked some prey, fed, and was starting to ooze from some wounds. Though the circus was unkind, they were providing her with medication that stopped further infections occurring, perhaps a scarred beast of great size drew more punters, maybe they were just making sure she survived to make them money, I still don’t know.

I hunted herbs, dug out roots with rocks, used river water, and common berries and managed to fashion some kind of salve, nothing amazing, especially back at that age, but it would work, I knew it would because I used it on my own wounds first. Just had to convince her it was a good thing to let me get close. Not an easy task. We physically brawled, she was clearly spent, not able to use any attacks, just thrashing about, I managed to trip her with the chains still attached to her legs, and once downed, you can jump on the head of these Pokemon to keep the jaws shut, just long enough to lather the wounds you can reach, then bolt fast. It was a small act, but she took off running again. With some wounds sort of cared for, I followed again, fishing for dinner, forraging roots to chew on. It wasn’t much but it kept me going, then one night, where I had climbed to a crook of a large tree, using my jacket to tie myself in for a nights sleep, I was awoken by loud rustling, thudding of feet, and a mighty huff.

Below where I sat, the Pokemon had returned, being no doubt well aware of my presence, following the smell of human, she had noticed the salve do a good job on the wounds I managed to reach, but the ones I couldn’t get near had become far worse, red, inflamed and weeping terribly, no doubt hurting and itching. I’d seen her rubbing her sides in the day, itching gasinst rocks and trees, smearing blood and ooze along her path as she trudged. So here we were, alone in the woods, I veeeeery carefully climbed down, staying in cover as much as possible, and over the space of an hour or two, she let me come out into the open, teeth bared yeah, but she hadn’t attacked, and other than a very uncomfortable, low growl, she allowed me to creep closer, some more of that salve made more for my own wounds than hers, being sniffed at, she licked it too, but wasn’t happy with the taste, very bitter, and I was cautiously optimistic, allowed to help her heal the rest of the cuts she had acquired from her old home. So we began our....I want to say friendship but that wasn’t it, it was a collaboration to survive.

We had landed somewhere far from others, I missed my team, and she had never experienced anything outside of the cage, and so we banded together, tentatively. We caught dinner as a team, and climbed for fruits, foraged for berries, reapplying what loose form of medicine I managed to make, before coming to some kind of comfortable companionship together. A week passed, wandering without a clue where we were, before a path was found, she seemed to want to avoid it, and while I wasn’t keen on people much either, it was impossible not to want to find my team again. They needed me, and I needed them. If they had been found, a police officer or the likes may have sent them to my original professor, waiting to be called from the PC system again, but knowing Val, she had grabbed the balls, my things, and bolted to hide, waiting for my return. In desperation I tried to explain this to the Aerodactyl, who had not experienced a trainers care before, and seemed reluctant to return.

It was only upon mentioning revenge, to burn the circus to the ground, that I regained her attention, and we came to a slow agreement to get aid, gather items, and return to where she had been released from. She waited in the forest while I went to town, checking my PC space to see if my team had been handed in, which they had! It was lucky, I was reunited with Val (vulpix), Booker (teddiursa), and Potato (bulbasaur) who I took back, and returned to the woods with.

We had to get some revenge, and in turn we devised a plan to free the Pokemon first, sneak in and pick the locks, melt the chains and gates, and then finally, let the aerodactyl do her thing once the vulnerable individuals were loose. I did my best to hold back my own personal rage, and simply aid the demise of a group who were awful towards Pokemon through this one big flying type. I wint go into details but no one perished in the fire, they were arrested and charged for unsafe work conditions, and abuse towards Pokemon, not to mention false advertising, having no worker’s Compensation in pace for injury, which many staff complained of, and several incidents of sexual harassment in the work place that were brought to light.

Once one started to talk, the others all joined in, and the fire was put down to unsafe working conditions and a lack of health and safety. From what I heard, the whole circus worth of Pokemon were rehomed, helped and generally lived much better lives after that. However now we had one very mistrusting angry Aerodactyl on our hands, a Pokemon I had not worked with before, who had seemingly become quite tolerant of me, but would snap at just about anyone who clocked eyes with her. So I kind of just kept her, no ball, not for a fair few years, we both didn’t think it was important. She was nursed back to health, and we had to go through a lot of training together, she bit booker once quite badly, but we’ve all put that in the past, and have worked on it together.

She is still testing, she won’t be ridden by anyone else, she doesn’t care for other Pokemon much, crowds will spook her, she doesn’t like when people talk with raised voices or hostile tones, and gets real irritable if you come at her in any kind of way that isn’t open handed, calm and slowly. She’s now a very capable flier, wings healed up, spending her first half of life locked up made her long for the open sky, so now we take time together to go off and ride winds when work is slow, and she’s helped in many ways to make the island functional, by moving logs, clearing paths, helping lift building materials around, and generally being there for me when I’m full of rage, which is actually annoyingly often. We’re anger buddies hah, kind of get on the same level with it. She’s become so much part of my family, and I feel like i’m part of hers now too, so I doubt she’d be rehomed, but should she find somewhere she would rather be, we wouldn’t stop her going. She is difficult, angry, snappy, tempermental, difficult, won’t be touched by strangers, likes to fight, but I’d not change her, she’s our testing monster, who we love and adore.

Went off a bit, but I figured why not, I know her, and can write more about her life and story than the others.

[snowstark]

— you’re my world. —

for @truckloadoffrogs | LINK TO AO3

for @buckybarnesbingo | Y2 - Kink: Wall Pinning

“I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

“Stop. Flirting. With my sister.”

“Sam, she’s a grown woman!”

Sam growled. He actually growled, what the fuck. “She’s still my sister.”

Bucky snorted. “Alright, fine, Christ. Sorry.” He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “We’re cool now, right? Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Sam eyed him for a few moments, then nodded. His shoulders drooped, like they had lost all the pent-up tension, and he reached out to clap Bucky on the back, hesitating for just a second before going for it. “Yeah, we’re… yeah, we’re cool.” His jaw flexed and he looked away for a split second, like he had more to say, but he didn’t; he just walked off, giving Bucky another pat before ducking into the boat.

Bucky stared after him, sucking the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

Sam was weird.

Sam pissed him off. From the moment he’d refused to move his seat up in the car, he’d burned right through Bucky’s patience like a hot flame and gotten right on his nerves. Had toasted them to crumbs, in fact. He’d yapped on about that shit about Gandalf and the big three—as if Bucky wouldn’t have read the goddamn Hobbit! And now he was here, being all domestic about his boat, and Bucky was willingly helping him.

Sam was so fucking weird.

But… he still liked him.

He was… they were… it was complicated.

__________

“Hi, Sarah.” Bucky smiled and waved, hearing the waves slosh behind him—nice, he liked that; reminded him of when he and Stevie would go on walks by the bay—and she smiled, waving back. Bucky grinned, and she ducked into the house. She was real pretty. She was. He liked her.

Sarah was Steve’s ma’s name. That was kind of weird, he had to admit. But Bucky found that a lot of things were weird now. Like the internet. Mytube—no, youtube. Social media. Cellphones.

No wonder Steve had written things to discover in the book. It was there in his pocket now, too. It was small and old, but it felt like his whole damn world, because it had been Steve’s. All he had left of Steve were bits and pieces of objects that he could put together to find some sort of remembrance of him, so every part counted. A machine couldn’t run when it was missing a screw.

“So. Why did my sister just tell me you could stay the night again?” Sam plopped down next to him, and despite his words, Bucky could only see amusement on his face. “Oh, hold on, let me correct myself—why did my sister just say my handsome friend can stay the night?”

Bucky’s lips twitched before he could stop himself, and he had to cover his laugh with a cough at the mildly outraged look on his face. He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a charmer.”

“No.” Sam gave him a look, and Bucky tossed him an affronted one right back.

“That was rude.”

“No, I mean—” Sam huffed. “You are a charmer, okay? Whatever.”

Why did that make Bucky’s chest feel warm? Sam was so fucking weird.

“Doesn’t mean you have to be charming my sister.” Sam frowned at him.

Bucky gave him a mockingly sympathetic look. “Can’t help it. Charmers don’t choose who they charm.” He gave Sam a lopsided grin. “Just happens.”

“Okayyy. And now your ego is pissing me off.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“I don’t have an ego,” Bucky said defensively.

“Oh, baby, you do.” Sam let out a bark of laughter. “Please. Charmers always have an ego.” He gave Bucky a pat on the shoulder, a bit harder than necessary, Bucky thought, and strode off to break up the playful tussle his nephews had started with the shield.

Baby.

Sam called him baby.

Bucky let his left hand drift up to his shoulder, touching the spot Sam had clapped, just hard enough for him to really feel the ache. Shit, Sam was strong.

And weird.

Really, really fucking weird.

Baby.

Bucky shivered.

__________

See, Bucky’d thought it was a joke, had thought that Sam was joking when he’d said stop flirting with my sister. And that was why he’d kept doing it, because it was funny to rile Sam up, and that was what they did with each other, that was what Sam did to him.

So he didn’t quite understand why Sam was refusing to say a single word to him while they fiddled with the water pipes of the boat.

Or, well, he did understand, but he just— look, the situation was weird and complicated.

All he knew was that Bucky had flirted again with Sarah; she was a nice woman, her smile made him smile, and Sam was upset because he had spent the last couple of days telling Bucky not to. But the truth was, Bucky had thought it was a joke, even more so because he and Sarah had established—just by exchanging a very long look with each other, how strange was that?—that it wasn’t serious, that it was just them exchanging sweet manners, and he’d thought Sam was joking when he said stop.

Bucky had thought it was a joke, and now that he realized that it wasn’t, there was a familiar little ache in his heart, one that he didn’t like to discuss or delve into, one that he knew well because he constantly carried it around with him.

Guilt.

And the fact that Sam was giving him the cold shoulder was making it worse by the second.

“C’mon, Sam.” Bucky scowled to hide his hurt. “C’mon, jesus fuck. If I’d known you were gonna throw such a tantrum I wouldn’t have done it.”

No response, except for another flex of Sam’s jaw muscles.

“Christ,” Bucky muttered under his breath, chest tightening with frustration and anger and resentment and fear because shit, he didn’t have anyone else besides Sam now, he didn’t— he needed Sam, he wanted Sam, he— no.

No. That wasn’t the path he was going to go down. He’d done it with Stevie, he’d done it with— with a billion of others, and he didn’t need to be focusing on whatever this was right now, he needed to be making amends and saving the world—with Sam.

Sam.

It always circled back to Sam fucking Wilson, right there in the corner of his brain, never leaving him alone, always lingering, always reminding him that he was always— always— alone.

He wasn’t… Sam wasn’t his.

And he needed to stop hoping for something that he would never fucking get. Wasn’t this proof enough? Sam refusing to look at him, not speaking to him, turning his head away just when Bucky tried to make eye contact so he could show that he was sorry, because his words were never enough? Wasn’t it proof enough that he was reaching for something he would never be able to grasp in his hand?

Sam didn’t need him. Not the way Bucky needed him. Sam wouldn’t understand, so he would— he would need to leave him alone. Let him be. It’d be fine. He’d just go to his apartment again, he’d be fine on the floor, with the dog tags clinking as he woke up from yet another nightmare, the TV flashing bright enough to make him twitch in his sleep, the bare, cold room, cold like ice, cold like the soldier, cold like loneliness.

It was always cold without Sam, he realized.

That created a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow, his spit felt like acid, burning a hole into his tongue, and he couldn’t— this wasn’t—

“Okay,” he said, and his voice came out more hoarsely than he’d wanted it to. He cleared his throat, forcing the lump down, feeling it move down to his stomach, and he tried again. “Okay. I’ll just—I’ll let you be.”

Sam twitched, reaching for the wrench to fix the pipe, but… silence.

Bucky took a step back, and still… nothing. He was shocked by how hollow he felt inside.

And when Sam pulled out his phone, like he wasn’t even fucking there, the hollowness in his chest filled, filled with anger, with frustration, with— with—

“Okay,” he repeated, muscles tensing enough to hurt. “Okay, I’m gonna go to Sarah and see if she needs a hand in the kitchen.” He turned, grimacing at the jab—no, bait—he’d thrown, knowing it was fucking stupid, and jesus, Steve definitely hadn’t taken all the stupid with him because here he was, and before he knew what was happening, there was a whirl of movement in the corner of his eye as Sam shot up from his seat and slammed him into the side of the boat.

It rocked precariously; it had been strong enough to rock the whole boat, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and it went straight to Bucky’s dick, even more so when he realized that Sam hadn’t just shoved him, he was holding him there, with his arm across Bucky’s chest, hard enough to make him wheeze like the 106 year old man he was, and— and Bucky—

Bucky moaned.

Sam held him there, looking taken aback not only by the noise that had left Bucky’s mouth but by the entire situation, and his eyes dropped to the tent in Bucky’s pants. “You—” He broke off, staring.

Bucky’s face flushed hotly at the dumbfounded expression on his face. Shit. This— shit, he should’ve— he’d miscalculated, he shouldn’t have—

“You like this,” Sam breathed, and Bucky couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

“Sam—”

“No, no.” Sam pushed a finger onto his lips, making his heart skip a beat. “You like this. You like— you like me. You do. I can see it on your face, Buck.”

Bucky twitched and gritted out, “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want to,” Sam snapped, and Bucky’s mouth went dry. “Jesus fuck, Bucky. Look me in the eye and tell me you like this. You like it when I hold you down? When I make you tell me how much you like it?”

“I— no, that’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Sam’s eyes flashed, stopping Bucky right in his tracks. “Don’t lie. You’ve done enough lying.” He stared at Bucky, eyes boring into his, and Bucky wet his lips nervously with his tongue, not missing the way Sam’s eyes flickered over the movement. “I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

Bucky stared back, breath hitching in his chest.

Sam tightened his hold. “Say it.”

Bucky groaned, his cock twitching. He couldn’t. He— that wasn’t— he was— Sam didn’t—

Sam… Sam wasn’t weird. He was hot.

He liked Sam.

The full extent of that realization hit him like a truck and he choked on his next breath. “Yes,” he gasped out, trembling, and Sam released him. He fell to the floor, breath still raspy and hitched in his chest.

Sam let him catch his breath, face expressionless, and then said, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

In any other scenario, Bucky would’ve laughed at the potential that pun had, because holy fuck, his dick had never been so hard before. But right now, he was a cock-hungry tornado for one Mr. Sam Wilson, and Sam was going to fuck him into a new dimension, he already knew it.

“I—shit, Sam,” Bucky said intelligently, staring up at the man. Sam extended a hand and Bucky took it cautiously, letting him help him to his feet. “You still mad at me?”

Sam huffed and turned his head to the side, making Bucky’s heart sink a bit. There was a small pause between them, not necessarily awkward, just… there, and Bucky was ready to say something inevitably stupid when Sam beat him to it. “Nah. Nah, I’m not… I wasn’t mad.”

“Yeah, you were.” Bucky felt his lips twist into a bitter grimace, angry at himself. “Shouldn’ta done it. ‘s my fault.”

“Yeah, well.” Sam finally dragged his eyes back to him. “Not your fault you’re, well, you know.” He broke off awkwardly.

There was another silence between them and Bucky’s mind was beginning to go white with panic, because this wasn’t exactly how he’d planned this shit to go down, ever, and he stammered, “Um.”

“Um?” Sam stared back at him.

Bucky licked his lips again, and again, Sam’s gaze moved down to follow the movement. “Maybe we should—‘s too quiet. Maybe—”

“Maybe I like it quiet.”

“I—oh.” Bucky broke off, biting his lip.

Sam just stared, then broke into a wide grin that had Bucky both relaxing and tensing for whatever would come next. Then, just when Bucky was beginning to sweat through his shirt, Sam stepped closer, close enough to press him against the wall of the boat, and tilted his head when Bucky chewed at his lip nervously again. “Don’t do that,” he breathed, and Bucky obeyed instantly because Sam told him not to, “that’s mine to bite.”

That was the only warning he got before Sam pressed his lips to Bucky’s, kissing him soft and tender before Bucky let out a small moan. Almost as though the noise had jump-started something inside him, Sam growled, and the kiss quickly turned hard and wet and sloppy.

When they broke apart, Bucky’s chest was heaving, and he found himself following Sam without even realizing, only stopping when Sam laughed and pushed his hand against his chest, forcing his back to the wall again.

“You stay like that,” Sam told him, and Bucky was pleased to hear him sound a bit winded from the kiss. Good. He wasn’t the only one. “You stay where I put you.”

Bucky nodded eagerly, hard enough to give himself whiplash. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay,” he breathed.

“You stay,” Sam repeated, then pulled back from Bucky after one last lingering look to disappear, heading for the exit of the boat.

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat and for a millisecond, he wondered if Sam was leaving, if he’d seriously misread this situation, but there was no way that was the case, right? Sam had kissed him.

Bucky could still taste him.

Sam Wilson tasted like fucking candy.

He heard some rustling, and then a clink and a grunt, and he realized that Sam was locking the door down to the area of the boat they were in, and he swore under his breath.

Sam was serious, then.

Wetting his dry lips nervously, he let a hand fall down to the bulge in his pants, pressing the heel of his hand against his cock, letting out a deep, shaky breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

His eyes fluttered shut and he bit his lip before releasing it, remembering that it wasn’t his to bite, it was Sam’s, and fuck, just the thought of that was so fucking heady that it made him dizzy.

“There.” Sam appeared, making Bucky jump. There was a glint in his eyes as he drew closer, then pulled Bucky’s hand away to pin it above his head without a moment of hesitation, the sheer demonstration of his strength going straight to Bucky’s cock, and he caged Bucky in his arms by planting his hands on the wall until everything, Bucky’s entire goddamn world, was full of one Sam goddamn Wilson. “Now we can get started.”

Read Part 2 Here!

[thebookreader12345]

Sink or Swim

Pairing: Kelly Severide x reader

Summary: Y/N is the newest member of Squad 3, and when out on a dive rescue, things take a turn for the worse

Requested: No

Warnings: slight swearing and a near death experience

Word Count: 2,064 Words

“Everyone, can I have your attention please” Chief Boden announced to his firefighters, who all turned to look at him, meaning they saw me standing next to him. I had my hands tucked into the pockets of my jacket, and I was rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. “I want you all to meet Y/N L/N. She’s going to be filling the open spot on Squad 3.”

“Uh, hey,” I say and wave shyly at the group of people sitting in front of me. For a second, the room was quiet, but it wasn’t long before a blonde haired woman stood up and rushed over to me, wrapping me in a big hug.

“I can’t believe we’ve finally got another girl! You’re going to love it here. I promise. I’m Sylvie Brett” the woman stated.

“Nice to meet you. I was the only girl in my old Firehouse, so when I walked up, I was really hoping there’d be a girl here. By the way, whoever owns the mustang parked out front, nice whip” I comment.

“The Mustangs mine” a man with salt and pepper hair spoke and raised his hand. My eyes immediately gravitated over to him, and when I saw who had spoken, my cheeks flushed. The stereotype for a firefighter was a young, handsome, muscular man, and the guy in front of me fit the description perfectly.

“Oh, Y/N, this is Kelly Severide, your lieutenant,” Sylvie told me.

“Nice to meet you, Cap’n” I speak and give him a small smile.

“Where you from, L/N?” Kelly asked me after he heard me use foreign slang for the second time this morning, the first being when I said “whip.”

“The Big Apple. I just moved here a few weeks ago,” I answer.

“NYC, huh? Why’d you move?” a man, who’s jacket read Cruz, questioned.

“Family reasons” I stammer out. “But I’d prefer that we don’t talk about. Lets just say I wanted a change of scenery. Chicago is very different from New York, but good different, you know? I like it here.”

Just then, an alarm blared from everywhere in the building, and everyone shot up out of their seats, heading towards the apparatus floor. Now I knew one similarity between New York City and Chicago; there’s never a boring day at work. 

“Follow me,” Kelly ordered and took my arm, leading me out of the break room. “I’ve got a few rules. One, obey my orders. I don’t like firefighters who exhibit insubordinate behavior, and I absolutely hate doing paperwork for that. Two, if you’ve got a suggestion for how to approach a situation, speak up. I don’t come up with all of the good ideas. And three, never stand around doing nothing. There’s always people who need help, so help them.”

“All right. I think I’ve got it,” I say as we got to the apparatus floor where my gear was already laid out for me.

“Oh, and L/N, welcome to Firehouse 51,” Kelly said.

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

It had been a few weeks since I started on Squad 3, and I was loving every minute of it. Capp and Tony, the other two guys on Squad besides Kelly and I, were very funny and easy to get along with, so I had no problem fitting in. The rest of Firehouse 51 was also inviting, and I really felt at home here. However, there was definitely one thing I enjoyed the most, and that was hanging out with Kelly. Every shift, when things were slow, Kelly and I would sit on the roof together. He would smoke cigars while I chewed on my polar ice gum, and we would have conversations, whether it be about something stupid Otis had done that day, or something in our personal lives outside of work.

“Oh. Did I tell you about the prank I played on Mouch the other day?” I ask Kelly and blow a bubble, popping it with my lips.

“I don’t think so,” Kelly said and took another hit of his cigar. “What’d you do?”

“I stole his secret stash of chocolate” I admit. “And then I blamed it all on Otis.”

Kelly laughed and glanced over at me, meeting my gaze. I could feel myself getting red, so I turned away and looked at the sky. I had a huge confession to make, and it was that I had gained a crush on my lieutenant.

“Um, Kelly, there’s something I have to tell you” I confess.

Kelly put his cigar down on his tray and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, clasping his hands together in front of him. “What is it?” he asked.

Just before I could tell him that I had feelings for him, the alarm went off inside of the firehouse calling for Squad 3, dive rescue. I got out of my chair and made my way over to the ladder, sliding down it expertly like I had done many times before. Getting my gear on took seconds, and as soon as all of us were in the truck, Tony started the engine and drove out of the garage. It didn’t take long before we got to the river, where a young, red haired woman, who was drenched in water, was waiting for us.

“You have to help them. Please,” she begged.

“Ma’am, calm down. Who do we need to help?” I ask.

“Them,” the woman shouted and pointed out into the middle of the river where a boat was submerged halfway underwater. I could make out a few people on the deck, and at the moment, it looked like they were all safe.

“Can none of them swim?” Kelly questioned as we started putting on our gear, which was basically a second skin to us.

“No. I’m the only one who can” the woman responded. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. We just wanted to get one last ride in before summer ended.”

“Hey. Everything is going to be okay........” At the moment, I realized I didn’t know the woman’s name.

“Marissa. My name’s Marissa” the woman said.

“That’s a beautiful name. I’m Y/N. I promise that we’re going to get everyone to safety” I say and grab my oxygen tank from the truck, slinging it on my back.

The rescue itself did not take long. The four of us each took about two trips to the boat, easily getting the people back to land. However, as soon as I began taking off my wet suit, the panic started.

“Where’s Davie? Where’s my son?” a man called out and looked around. I glimpsed over to the boat, and that’s when my eyes caught sight of a boy struggling to stay above water.

“Kelly,” I alert him and point to the water. 

Kelly followed my finger, and when he saw where I was pointing, he cursed. “Our tanks are out of oxygen. We never refilled them after the last dive.”

“That’s cool. I’ll just go in without one” I say and step out of my suit.

“Hell no. Y/N, that water is freezing cold. You’re not going out there. I’ll call in for backup,” Kelly announced.

“What? No. By the time you do that, that kid’ll be dead. On my first day on squad, you told me to never stand around because there are always people that need help. That kid needs help, so I’m going to help with” I share before jumping into the water.

As soon as my skin touched the water, I began to shiver at how cold it was, but I pushed past that and continued swimming. Kelly was calling my name from the shore, but I ignored him and kept going. When I was a few feet from the boy, he sank beneath the waves.

“Shit” I mumble and take a deep breath. Then, I dove deeper into the water, my eyes scanning everywhere for the boy. That’s when I saw Davie struggling to swim to the surface not far from me. He was holding his breath, which was a good sign, and he was still conscious. I swam over to him and got behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I kicked my feet in an attempt to propel us up and out of the water, but the current was too strong. I was starting to loose my breath, and I could tell Davie was too, so I did what any firefighter would do; save the victim first. I pushed Davie as hard as I could to the surface, hoping that someone else could get to him, and that’s when I felt the sudden urge to breathe. I couldn’t hold my breath anymore, and when I breathed, all I took in was water. Suddenly, I got lightheaded, my eyes drifted shut, and I lost consciousness deep in the Chicago River.

Kelly’s POV

I waited a few minutes, and Y/N still hadn’t resurfaced with Davie. Where the hell was she? At that moment, Davie appeared back on the surface, but Y/N was nowhere to be found.

“Capp, go out and get the kid. Now!” I demand. “I’m going to look for Y/N.” Capp nodded and jumped into the water with me following close behind. I swam out to where Davie was, and as Capp took the boy, I dove under the water. I looked around, hoping to find Y/N, and thankfully, I did, but she was unconscious. I made my way over to her, grabbed her body, and kicked towards the surface. When I got above the water, I tugged Y/N’s body with me to shore. Tony and Capp helped me lift her out of the water, and when I got back onto land, I pressed my ear against her chest. She wasn’t breathing.

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” Tony informed me and rushed towards the truck.

I took a deep breath, pinched Y/N’s nose, tilted her head back, and then I placed my mouth to hers. I breathed into her mouth a few times, and when I pulled away, I watched to see if she began breathing again, but she wasn’t. “Come on” I cry out and breathe into her mouth some more.

“Ambulance is 5 minutes out,” Tony said to me.

“She doesn’t have 5 minutes. Come on Y/N. Breathe,” I mumble and press my mouth to hers again. No matter how many times I tried, Y/N did not seem to come back. Just as I was about to give up, Y/N turned her head to the side and coughed up water. “Y/N! Thank god you’re okay.”

Y/N’s POV

The feeling of water leaving my lungs did not feel good. As I continued retching, Kelly helped me turn my body so that I wasn’t choking on my own spit and whatever else was coming up my throat. I coughed one more time and sucked in a huge breath before laying back down on the pavement.

“Y/N,” Kelly spoke and cupped my face with his hands.

“Hey, Cap’n,” I mutter and give him a tired smile.

“What did I say about following orders? You know I hate filing insubordination charges,” Kelly said.

“Maybe you can forget about that just this one time,” I whisper as I heard ambulance sirens getting closer.

“Only if you promise to never do that again. I mean it,” Kelly told me.

“Okay. Deal. Look, there’s something I never got to tell you,” I manage to breath out.

Kelly only smiled and pressed his lips to mine, giving me a quick kiss. “I like you too,” he assured me as an ambulance parked a few feet away from us. “Just focus on getting better now, okay? I promise we can talk about all of this as soon as you’re back in business.”

“Sounds good to me. Hey, could you ride with me in the ambo?” I ask. “I may or may not be afraid of hospitals.”

Kelly laughed and kissed my forehead. “Of course. Now, lets get you treated. I want my girl back on Squad as soon as possible.”

“Your girl? I thought we were talking about that later,” I say with a grin.

“Just shut up and accept it,” Kelly said.

“All right. I can’t believe Kelly Severide, the Lieutenant of Squad 3 and the hottest firefighter in Chicago likes me. I can get used to this,” I murmur.

___________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13​ @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @anotherfan07 @giagma​

[cutesilyo]

no place in the world (like manila) — an amephil fanfic

A few months after the outbreak of the Philippine-American War, Alfred falls in love with and is betrayed by a bright-eyed teenager with the prettiest smile on this side of the Orient in a single night. 

This is not a love story.

Also available on AO3.

—

"Sir, I don't think it's safe for you to leave the camp," Major-General MacArthur warned. "I don't know how, but the revolutionaries know your face. They could attack you!"

"Pshaw," Alfred snorted. "I'm a nation. What could they do that could take me down, huh?"

MacArthur's mustache bristled in displeasure. "Be that as it may sir, might I remind you that you only arrived in Manila a week ago? Knowing you, you'd just get lost and I'd have to put together a whole squad of troops just to hunt you down. You could get captured, Alfred. I don't know how to tell you just how badly that would bring down morale."

Alfred just wagged his fingers, a bright grin on his face. "Look, if I get captured, I'd bust out of whatever crappy holding place they'd put me in without barely breaking a sweat! And knowing our soldiers, that's just the stuff that would make a great story to tell at dinnertime. How's that for morale?"

The way that MacArthur simply stared at him blankly told Alfred that this was not a convincing argument.

"I hate it when you do that," he groaned, slumping back on his seat. The leather was hot with the heat of the tropical sun and it stuck uncomfortably to his skin. Oh, how badly he wanted to just finally get up and leave. "I'm just saying, I can't stay inside here forever just waiting for you to dictate our next move."

"It's part of our strategy—"

"And it's boring. I'm bored, Major-General. I might as well look around." Alfred's eyes glinted dangerously. "Besides, you'll capture the whole nation for me soon enough, won't you? No harm in wanting to see what we're winning once this war is over."

The silence lasted for a few seconds before the major-general sighed in defeat.

—

Private Patton R. Wilkes was assigned to “accompany” Alfred while he roamed around Manila, but he knew that MacArthur just wanted someone to make sure he would actually return to camp instead of getting lost or, God forbid, taking the next ship back to America. Though the both of them were dressed in civilian clothing, the private carried himself with a strict stiffness that just screamed hardened military man. If Alfred wanted any chance of escape, it looked like the private would be hard to shake off.

Alfred tried to stay optimistic about the trip anyway. He hadn't paid much attention to the city while he was on the way to the American camp, but he certainly expected it to have an air of exoticness. He was a bit disappointed not to see anything like the palaces of Japan or the distinctly oriental architecture of China. Instead, he found street signs written in Spanish, the excited chatter of fast-talking brown-skinned people, and the cacophony of guitars, church bells, and the sound of horse-drawn carriages trotting along the stoned roads. Walking around Manila was like looking at a funhouse mirror version of Mexico: more or less the same, but with just enough differences to make his head spin.

"Uh, you alright there, sir?" Patton asked.

"Was just thinking about a bad memory, is all," Alfred grimaced. He's sure that Alejandro would have his head once he returned to the continent. He's been pissing off a lot of Spanish-speaking nations recently, that's for sure. "Come to think of it, the Philippine Islands must have its own personification too, right?"

The private's face darkened. "He's a force to reckon with, sire. Haven't seen no hide nor hair of him myself, but some guys in the other squadron barely survived after fighting with the kid."

"A kid?" Alfred furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't know there were still nations out there who were that young. Then again, he was only a teenager himself, and he was even younger when he fought against Arthur as well. "I don't know how I feel about fighting a kid. Couldn't I just give him a lollipop or something and this could all just work itself out?"

He meant it as a joke, but Patton seemed to take it seriously and started furiously shaking his head. "Don't think you could even try negotiating with him sir, the kid's a savage. Hacked and slashed his way through the guys with some kind of golden knife, they said. We're lucky our medics are so darned fast, otherwise, we would've been down almost a dozen men from him alone."

Something in Alfred's resolve hardened at the thought of losing his soldiers to someone so brutal. He clapped the other man on the shoulder and said, "Don't you worry, Pat. We'll end this soon, and when we win, we'll make sure that nobody from these islands ever lays a hand on any of our own."

That seemed to comfort Patton somewhat, though he was still shaking with anger. "I'll give them a good walloping right by your side, sire."

"Now that's the kind of patriotic determination I wanna see!" Alfred crowed. He then immediately scrambled for his wallet and hurriedly gave the private a wad of bills. Some onlookers openly gawked at seeing the number of dollar bills in his hand. "Tell you what, why don't you buy some booze, head back to camp, and inspire your fellow soldiers, eh? God knows we need some fun around here."

"Um," Patton blinked, caught off-guard. "I don't know if Major-General MacArthur—"

"Tell Major-General MacArthur that I'm just trying to boost morale," Alfred winked. "Also, tell him I'll back by next morning!"

He didn't get to hear Patton's response as he took off running wildly in the opposite direction. He barely registered running past the stores, wet market, and the cathedral; he just wanted to be alone and independent, exploring this new land to his heart's content. The buildings were shorter and the roads were narrower here than in his own country, but Alfred was just so glad to finally be in a place filled with people just like he was used to.

Alfred collapsed on his knees, winded. When he looked up, he was surprised to see that he had apparently made it to one of Manila's many ports. Past the numerous small fishing boats and trading boats, he could see that the sun was already beginning to set. The sky was painted in a pretty combination of pinks and oranges in contrast to the ocean's blue, the stars already starting to twinkle faintly into appearance one by one. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the rocks seemed louder than everything else around him — a stark reminder that no matter where he went, there was always something bigger to discover.

He stood there for a moment, mesmerized when a loud grunt startled him out of his stupor.

He turned to find some kind of bull staring at him with its beady eyes, its long horns curving towards the back instead of to the front. It was pulling a wagon full of leafy vegetables that Alfred couldn't recognize, and the old man riding it looked startled to come across a foreigner.

"Hijo, padaan naman po," he said, with a strained smile.

"Oh, sorry, I don't know what you mean," Alfred tried, but the man just continued smiling at him. He was starting to think that maybe abandoning Patton, who wasn't fluent but at the very least conversational in Tagalog, was a bad idea.

Luckily, someone came to his rescue. A teenager with bright eyes approached him, an amused twitch of the lips on his sharp face. He was dressed simply: unlike the suit and tie ensemble of the richer Filipinos he'd come across or the pale blue uniform of the Philippine Army, he wore a thin white top and trousers cut just above his ankles. The scabbard on his hip would have been concerning if Alfred didn't know just how many Filipinos carried knives in their daily lives. All in all, he looked just like any other street vendor, but the red handkerchief tied around his neck was vibrant enough to make him stand out. "You are American, yes?"

"Ah yeah," Alfred flushed, a bit flustered. The way the stranger leaned in was a little too close for comfort, but he looked harmless and at least he spoke English. "Can you help me? I think that man is talking to me, but I can't understand what he's saying."

The teenager grabbed his arm to pull him to the side. The old man tipped his straw hat in thanks, and the teenager smiled, saying: "Pasensya na po, lolo! Hindi kasi taga-rito."

The two of them watched the wagon pass them by. They stood there in silence for a moment, and then Alfred blurted out, "I didn't know I was in the way, I swear."

"You did seem quite distracted." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other boy laugh. The both of them turned to each other at the same time, a small smile on each other's faces. "Not that I blame you. I am sure you have sunsets in America, but it is different here than in other countries. I think the colors are more vibrant, do you agree?"

"Certainly takes my breath away," he admitted. "I do have to ask, how come you speak English so well? I've only been in Manila for a few days but I don't think I've met another Filipino that's as good as you are."

The teenager only laughed again and held on to Alfred's arm tighter. As he looked up at him, his eyes and grin were equally bright with mirth; and despite himself, Alfred was a bit charmed. "Us Filipinos are not as stupid as you think, señorito. Now, you say you are a stranger to Manila, yes? Come with me, and let me show you around my city."

—

They ended up hailing a tranvia, a carriage made to carry a whole group of people instead of just a pair. Alfred found it small and quaint, making an internal note to build tram lines in the city once he was able. Yet the energy that the teenager had with him was larger than life. He had apparently noticed the other passengers giving Alfred a suspicious side-eye, and immediately launched into a round of jokes to dispel the tension. Though he barely understood the jokes due to them being told in a mix of Spanish and Tagalog, the way that the whole tranvia burst into loud laughter was enough to assure him that his companion was quite the comedic performer.

When they got off, the driver even thanked them for the entertainment and told them not to pay the fare anymore. Alfred let out an excited whoo! as the teenager did an exaggerated bow.

As the carriage rode off, Alfred turned to his new friend and exclaimed, "Wow! The way you handled that was amazing! I mean, I've been through worse than an awkward train ride, but you definitely saved my ass back there."

The teenager blushed slightly. "Think nothing of it. I would rather see my companions happy and comfortable in my care than anything else."

"Still, that thing you did was certainly a swell sight." Alfred breathed in the cold evening air and let it out with a contented sigh. He looked straight into the other boy's eyes as he said, "And it's really nice that you're going through all the trouble to be with me tonight too! Like, we don't even know each other's names but you just whisked me away like some kind of fairytale hero! That was really awesome of you, I have to say."

"You are a man of sweet words," the teenager said, with a smile that looked almost bittersweet. Then, as if he had completely forgotten about his melancholy, he grabbed Alfred's arm again and dragged him towards the next street corner. "But let us not waste time talking! Most of these shops close soon, and I would hate for us to miss them!"

Helpless, Alfred let himself be strung along.

Sadly, most of the shops they went past had already closed for the day. Still, the teenager cheerily talked his ear off about what wares they sold and the local gossip about the people who ran those stores — like Pepito, owner of the clay pottery store, who had apparently given away all his lotto winnings to the next city's blacksmith. The one time that they had actually been able to buy something was when they came across a small, brightly-colored cart that apparently sold the Filipino version of ice cream. Both the vendor — Mang Tomas, as he was introduced — and the teenager had chuckled when he brought out a wallet full of dollars, so the teenager had to reach into his own pocket to pay with a few coins. As they walked past yet another cathedral, Alfred caught his friend singing the hymns under his breath. When they reached the plaza, the teenager then asked the lady standing nearby — Aling Nena, he was told — to give him a jasmine garland, the scent of the white flowers so powerful that it immediately made Alfred sneeze on his friend's face when he put them around his neck. Yet instead of getting mad like he expected, the teenager had only laughed and told him he looked handsome.

No matter where they went or who they talked to, his friend always seemed to know everyone's names. Alfred had no idea how he had the time to possibly get so familiar with all the people around him, but he certainly understood the sentiment; he loved talking with all the Americans that he came across with too. Personally getting to know the people who made his nation always made him feel more connected with them in a way that war and politics never could.

And if the Philippine Islands was truly to be his someday, Alfred knew he wanted to treat them similarly. More than anything or anyone else though, nobody in the archipelago had intrigued him most than the young man beside him whose smile was brighter than any star.

Yet all his experience in small talk failed him tonight, and not for lack of trying. Every time he asked questions about his friend, he was always diverted away from the topic.

Which part of the city are you from? was met with a vague Do you ask the flower which vine it came from? You are better off simply enjoying the whole garden.

Where is your family? had been completely ignored as his friend said You must be hungry, yes? I know a place with the best empanadas this side of Binondo.

What is your name? earned him a cheeky wink and a teasing If your mind still ventures to inane questions like that, then I am not doing very well in completely impressing you.

How old are you? made the teenager burst out into loud, hearty laughter that lasted for more than a minute. Alfred didn't even bother to try asking anything else after that, choosing to focus on his empanadas and arroz a la valenciana for the rest of the meal.

Later, when they were served a bottle of gin to share along with a bowl of peanuts, his friend had the grace to apologize for his behavior.

"I truly am sorry," he said, but the playful grin on his face made it difficult to take his apology seriously. "I simply do not think that you knowing more about me is more important than us having a good time together."

"How am I supposed to find you again if I don't know who you are, huh?" Alfred couldn't stop himself from whining. He ignored the glass in front of him, taking a swig straight from the bottle and letting the alcohol burn down his throat. His friend watched him in bemusement. "This has been the best night of my life in a long time. And if this is the last time we see each other, I don't think I'm going to forgive myself if I don't push you into giving me a hint."

This time, it was his friend's turn to take a drink: he filled his glass half-full and downed it all in one go. "You are certainly bold, señorito, I will give you that. A good friend of mine warned me about how loud and annoying Americans were, but it seems he neglected to tell me about how forward you all were as well."

Alfred resisted the urge to roll his eyes; of course, he would get deflected yet again. "Alright, I'll bite. Tell me more about your friend."

The teenager looked surprised. "You wish to know more about a man that insulted you?"

"If this is the closest I get to you telling me more about yourself, I'll take it," he shrugged. "Besides, I'd love to know how this friend of yours thinks. Americans are the greatest people in the world! He must be stupid if he doesn't know that."

The other boy laughed. "Of course you would say that, you biased brute. And I will have you know that my friend was quite smart, actually. One of the smartest men I have ever known."

Alfred felt like he wouldn't like the answer, but he asked anyway: "Was?"

All traces of laughter from his friend's face faded away into a hollow smile. "Killed by firing squad a few years ago."

Silently, Alfred poured gin into both of their glasses. They drank in solemn solidarity.

"My sincere condolences," said Alfred, and he meant it: he had lost too many friends himself over the centuries. "And I'm sorry I called him stupid."

His friend waved it off. "No worries. Pepe was incredibly intelligent, but he definitely had his fair share of stupid moments — you wouldn't believe how many times that man fell in love over the course of his short lifetime. Still, I miss him terribly and I wish he was still around. God only knows what he would have thought about everything happening at present."

"Oh, I know the feeling." Despite him dying decades prior, Alfred still longed for George Washington's steadfast guidance sometimes. He reached, a bit messily, for another drink. "It's uncanny, yeah? Some people just have this weird ability to analyze the present and predict the future. I certainly don't know how they do anything like it, really. I kind of just talk big and hope for the best."

"Funny that you talk about the future," the teenager chuckled. "Somehow, my friend even managed to predict that you would come here, Alfred. I did not believe him at the time, of course, but here you are."

"Here I am," Alfred repeated faintly. "Hold on, how did you know my—"

"Why were you all alone in my city, señorito?" His friend interrupted, looking up at him through his eyelashes. He leaned closer, close enough for the skin of their arms to touch, and Alfred suddenly forgot about all his worries. "I was very surprised to see you on your own, looking every bit like a lost little lamb. You are very lucky that I found you."

"Lucky indeed," he murmured, adjusting the collar of his shirt. It felt like the temperature in the room had risen by a dozen degrees. "Just wanted to explore, is all. MacArthur told me we had to stay low for a few more weeks, I got bored, and he let me out."

Those bright eyes were practically glittering as the teenager looked up at him, his fingers slowly tracing up his arm. "And you were alone? I always thought American soldiers traveled in pairs, but perhaps I was mistaken."

"No! No, you're right, you're definitely right," Alfred stammered out. He was sure his face was completely red by now. "I was with Private Wilkes earlier, but we, ah, got separated. He must be on the way back to Bulacan by now."

"How unfortunate," the other practically purred, clearly delighted. "Say, tell me, how did this Wilkes look like? Because I am sure that he does not look as handsome as you do."

That damned smile, now coy instead of kind and sweet, was tantalizingly close. If only he had the courage to lean down—

Alfred, trying desperately to distract himself, grabbed the bottle again and took a long swig.

There were about a million promises that threatened to spill from Alfred's lips, each one more outrageous than the other: Come with me. Stay with me. I'll keep you safe. I'll love you. Yet at the moment, he found himself tongue-tied. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or the atmosphere or the way the young boy across the table had so effortlessly allured him, but he felt like he was about to go insane. He barely registered the both of them standing up to leave, didn't question why they didn't need to pay at the restaurant, paid no heed to what his friend had whispered to the men standing guard by the door. His mind was in a muddy haze, and all he could focus on was the fact that his friend was holding his hand as he was led into the dark streets.

Dimly, Alfred thought that however striking he looked by the setting sun, he looked much more ethereal bathed in moonlight.

He must have said this aloud because the teenager laughed.

"You are a man of sweet words," he said, and there's that oddly bittersweet smile again. "And I wish we could have met in better circumstances."

"What's wrong with the way we met today? I had fun," Alfred argued. He swayed slightly on his feet, and his friend held on to him to keep him from falling. "Didn't you have fun?"

"You forget we are at war, señorito. And you forget that you are seeking to control me and my people, not find a lover." Despite the harsh words, the way his friend said this was soft and sad. Almost like he was somehow hurt. "It does not matter what we feel today if we are bound to fight each other tomorrow. Should you not know this by now?"

They walked together in silence, each supporting the other. Slowly, Alfred's alcohol-induced dizziness began to subside. It was replaced by a growing emptiness in his chest — and a heavy, heavy realization.

"You knew I was America this entire time." When his friend deigned to respond, he continued. "Then, why...?"

At this, the teenager laughed — broken and wistful and desperate, all at once. "I do not know myself. I was ready to attack you, but for some reason, the look in your eyes as you watched the sunset stopped me. I thought, if you could look at my country with such amazement, then you could see that this war is unnecessary. That if you could know my land and my people the way I knew them, full of vibrancy and color and light, then you could realize that they did not deserve to die.

"Yet as the night went on I began to realize my efforts were fruitless. It was not them you were looking at anymore, but me." Here, his friend faced him; Alfred barely catching a glimpse of his wet eyes before the teenager looked away. "Believe me, I would love to spend another night like this with you. But you have your responsibilities and so do I."

"Fruitless," Alfred repeated hollowly. The cold night wind was in stark contrast to the hot rage he felt bubbling inside him. He forcefully wrenched himself away from his friend, yelling: "You made me tell you classified information!"

In seconds, he watched the teenager's face go from shock to hurt to an angry glare.

"Do you not understand how badly I need to win this war? My people did not give their lives to free me from Spain just so you could swoop in and take over! So forgive me, señorito," his friend spat mockingly, "for trying to find whatever advantages my poor nation can get against such an imperialistic nation like you!"

"And do you not understand what we're trying to do here?" Alfred shouted. "We are fighting this war to save you! Don't you see that your country is a mess? That you're underdeveloped, uneducated, and unfit for self-rule? I was the hero who helped save your people from Spain, jackass, and—"

"—and you promised to give us independence, and yet all your countrymen seem to do is kill." The teenager finished, both his eyes and the hilt of his knife glinting golden under the moonlight. "Is that what freedom means to you, America? I beg to differ."

As Alfred stepped away from him in furious, furious betrayal, all he could think about was that the other boy looked so small.

"I thought of you as my friend," he said.

"And I thought of you as my liberator," the teenager said coolly. "I see we were both wrong."

A harsh whinny interrupted them both. Alfred turned to find Patton riding a chestnut brown horse, his face red from exhaustion but seemingly unharmed. The private stopped in front of him, dismounting without grace on the pavement. His face was red from exhaustion and his clothes looked considerably ruffled, but otherwise, he looked unharmed.

"It ain't my position to say this sire, but don't you dare ever try to run away from me like that again," Patton panted, giving a quick side-eye to the other teenager before dismissing him. "We best hurry now, because those two won't be happy about their stolen horse."

Just as he was about to ask who those two were, a pair of Filipinos with muskets turned the corner and ran towards them. He vaguely recognized them as the same two men who were standing guard at the restaurant. They shouted loudly, a mix of Tagalog and Spanish expletives that Alfred could barely recognize, and a phrase distinct enough that he felt like it was something significant: amang bayan.

Patton evidently recognized the words. He looked at him in a wide-eyed panic, saying, "Sire, we need to leave—"

And as quick as lightning, Patton fell to the ground with a sickening crack. Caught completely off-guard and his arms restrained, he was helpless against the teenager who had a knife at his throat: a knife that, as Alfred began to realize with a horrified lurch of his stomach, was engraved with golden flowers and the insignia of an eight-rayed sun.

"You must be Private Wilkes," the Philippines smiled. "I do hope you are enjoying my country."

"Get off him or else!" Alfred screamed, the combined events of the night making him feel like he was about to reach his breaking point. He reached for the pistol he kept hidden on his belt and took aim, hoping to God that the other nation wouldn't force him to shoot. Even after everything, he didn't feel like he had the nerve to hurt Philippines after the hours they spent together; maybe some other day, but not tonight.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the two men had caught up to them. They angled their muskets at him from a distance. The horse, which Alfred had been planning to use for escape, had already taken off running in the commotion.

Patton stared up at him with fear in his eyes, a bleeding gash on his forehead, and Alfred's hands began to shake.

Above all else, Philippines was still smiling: eyes bright, amused twitch of the lips on his sharp face. Slowly, he stood to approach him.

Like a switch had been flicked, his features turned soft and kind again — more like the boy that Alfred had met earlier, the boy who had dragged him around the streets of Manila with lighthearted laughter, the boy whose smile was brighter than any star. All Alfred could do was stand there, mesmerized once again, as his hand was gently pried away from the gun.

"Alfred," Philippines said this quietly, almost like he was invoking a prayer. He motioned the men to stand down. "I do not wish to fight."

"I don't want to either," Alfred admitted. Maybe there was hope... "C'mon, we can talk this through, right? Look, we haven't had a battle in months. It should be really easy to negotiate, yeah? I'll set up a meeting with your generals and mine, we'll have a civil discussion with no weapons allowed, and we'll reach a compromise."

The other nation was leaning in, and this time, Alfred took his chance. He held Philippines' cheek in his hands and they kissed, soft and quick and chaste.

"Of course," Alfred said, as he pulled away. "I would need your complete surrender—"

He was swiftly kneed in the stomach, disarmed, and shot.

"Alfred, I do not wish to fight," Philippines said, as he watched Alfred collapse to the ground. "But I have to. I hope you understand."

He vaguely registered Patton reaching out to him as his eyes closed and the blood pooled around him, but all he could focus on was watching the other nation walk away into the darkness.

—

When Alfred came to, he was already back at camp. Without thinking, he immediately trudged to the general's war office.

"Good morning, Major-General MacArthur," he smiled, bright and cheery. "Gather the troops. I want to destroy Manila immediately."

—

Notes:

This is set in October 1899, during those months when there were no battles or skirmishes between the two armies. On the first day of November, the Americans launched a major attack on the Filipinos. This attack happened in San Fabian, Pangasinan, not in Manila, but let's forget about that.

Major-General MacArthur is, of course, Arthur MacArthur Jr., who was a major military figure during the Philippine-American War. I also claim artistic license in hinting that the American camp was in Bulacan because it probably wasn't.

Alfred's comments about Manila looking like Mexico are based on a comment by former president Manuel L. Quezon when he visited Mexico back in 1937: "Everything was the same." He meant that very, very affectionately.

Here's a nifty map of modern Manila. Alfred and Patton start out in Quiapo, which is basically the heart of downtown Manila. Alfred runs all the way to Muelle del Rey, which, coincidentally, happens to be the same place where the Jones Bridge stands today. Alfred and Phili take the tranvia to Binondo, Manila's business district and home to the world's oldest Chinatown.

The names of the store owners and vendors that Phili talks about are references to assorted media in Philippine pop culture. Pepito is a reference to Pepito Manaloto, a long-time comedy show about a man who won the lotto. Mang Tomas (Mang being an informal way to refer to a male adult older than you) is the name of a popular brand of gravy. Aling Nena (Aling being an informal way to refer to a female adult older than you) is a reference to the song Tindahan ni Aling Nena, about a boy who falls in love with a storeowner's daughter.

The garland of white jasmines that Phili puts around Alfred's neck are supposed to be sampaguitas, our national flower. They're usually sold near churches and are given as a sign of respect.

I have no idea if there are actually empanadas and valenciana sold somewhere in Binondo, but let's jot that down to artistic license. But these are very much Filipino foods that were adapted from Spanish foods, which is why Phili brings it up when Alfred asks about his family.

The old friend that Phili keeps talking about is Jose Rizal, our national hero. He is primarily known for being a great writer, whose novels inspired the Philippine War for Independence, and for being killed for it. He is also known for being having a long list of lovers, many of them not even Filipino. Lesser known is the fact that he visited America, hated it, went on a train ride with an American, and hated it. He wrote a whole diary entry about how much he didn't like America and Americans. He had also predicted that out of all the world powers, it would be America who would probably take an interest in conquering the Philippines when Spain was out of the picture. Go figure. Rizal was also affectionately known by his nickname, Pepe.

I imagine Phili to be particularly proficient in arnis, which is also known as kali or eskrima. It's a kind of Filipino martial art, most easily recognizable as that one martial art where everyone is dual-wielding a pair of sticks. The sticks are actually for training. Traditionally, arnis is fought by dual-wielding knives or swords, and it's meant to be quick and efficient in defending, attacking, disarming, and killing. Phili's fictional ornately designed knife is inspired by this very real ornately designed knife. The detail of the eight-rayed sun is a reference to the eight-rayed sun in the Philippine flag.

Lastly (phew!), some Tagalog to English translations!

Hijo, padaan naman po - Young boy, kindly let me pass Pasensya na po, lolo! Hindi kasi taga-rito - Sorry, grandfather*! He's not from around here. Lolo literally means grandfather but is a general way to refer to any elderly man regardless of any actual blood relation. Amang bayan - Fatherland

[sunflowersupremes]

Entreat

You shall find little pity, though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you.

Characters: Maglor, Earendil, Elwing, Elrond, Celebrían, Erestor, Glorfindel, Egalmoth, Finrod

Tags: Fourth Age, Sailing To Valinor, Kidnapping, This time it’s Maglor getting kidnapped, Arda is an escape room and Earendil has the emergency escape button, Earendil sneaks his son’s father into Valinor, Manwë is just done with the entire line of Finwe at this point, Elwing is just along for the ride (literally)

Read on AO3

At some point, it seemed, he had lost track of the years. It was well into the Fourth Age, perhaps even the Fifth, and all seemed well in the world. Sauron was gone, a houseless spirit who would never again take shape. Morgoth, too, was gone, trapped beyond the Doors of Night.

Even Cirdan, the only elf he had had any contact with in his long years of solitude (not because he had invited him) was gone. He knew only because the aged Shipwright had suddenly stopped leaving parcels of food and then the Grey Havens had finally crumbled to dust.

The world was peaceful and quiet.

And Makalaurë was dying.

It hadn’t been an Orc - they were gone as well - or a wild beast or even a mortal with a violent streak. No, Makalaurë Feanorian had stumbled in the dark, fallen to the bottom of a cliff, and the tide was rising.

He had fallen in the night, and when the sun had come up he’d realized how helpless his situation was. The small rock he was lying on jutted at least a foot out of the water, but with the tide… soon it would be engulfed.

I shall join my Silmaril then, in the depths at long last. And my brothers too, in Mandos, and there we shall remain, I imagine, until the unbreaking of the world.

It wasn’t that he was keen to die, or that he had given up, but his leg was shattered and there was no way off the rock he had landed on. The water was too choppy to swim, even without his shattered leg, and the cliff to steep to climb for a man who only had one functioning hand.

There was a ship in the distance, but he could not raise his voice enough to call it.

He wondered what Mandos was like, and remembered the Doom that had been put upon him:

‘your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity, though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you.’

Ha! No one would entreat for him.

He would remain there, in the haunted depths of that place, until the Breaking of the World. Perhaps… perhaps they would even forget to Sing of him, in the Second Song, and let his soul simply slip away into nothingness.

That would not be so bad.

Was he hallucinating or was the little boat coming closer?

Maglor managed to raise his head, startled to see that, in the time he’d been contemplating his own death, the little boat was coming steadily closer.

Perhaps… perhaps he was not destined for Mandos just yet?

The man at the helm was young, his eyes gleaming, blonde hair blowing in the breeze. He was beautiful, but mortal.

It came to a stop beside him, but Maglor found his throat was still too dry to speak, barely able to raise one hand in greeting.

“Hail and well met!” called his rescuer. It was a mortal tongue, although the dialect had seemingly shifted since the last time Maglor had heard it. He was able to follow along well enough though.  

The boat was secured to a rock, and the man jumped out, landing lightly beside Maglor, helping him to sit up. “Steady,” he murmured.

Maglor’s head spun, the world around him growing blurry.

“I have you, brother,” the man said quietly, crouching beside Maglor, sliding his hands under his legs and shoulders, carefully lifting him up.

He moaned as his leg was jostled.

The boat was larger than he’d realized, though it was still a brave little thing, with a cabin that Maglor was carried to. It was a good thing he’d been the smallest of his brothers, otherwise a mortal would never have been able to pick him up.

“I saw your fall,” the man said, bringing him a glass of water and holding it to his lips. “I thought to go on, that there was no chance you had survived-“ he shook his head. “And then I told myself, ‘no, no you must go for him, for if not you then who?’ “

No one, thought Maglor glumly.

“No one,” agreed the man, as though he had heard his thoughts. “For no one else could have reached you before the tide.”

The tea tasted faintly of herbs and he found himself growing more relaxed, his body begging for the bliss of sleep. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but his rescuer waved his hand, as though urging him to sleep.

As he drifted into unconsciousness, he thought he heard the man say, “No one else, I think, would even have tried.”

When he awoke his leg was wrapped and propped on a pillow. The boat was swaying slightly, rocking on the waves, and he imagined he was going to be dropped off on the nearest stretch of shore.

Very well.

It was more of a chance than he deserved, and he would savor it. The cabin was sparsely decorated. Just a bed, a desk, and a chest. Nothing seemed to signify where the man was from, or what the purpose of the little boat was. It didn’t seem to be a fishing boat. For pleasure, then? He could be a lordling who simply enjoys the sea.

Maglor laid on his back, studying the ceiling until the door finally opened and his rescuer stepped inside. Beyond him, Maglor could see miles of open water.

“You’re awake!”

“Tha- thank you,” Maglor choked out. His throat was sore from Ages of abuse and a lack of decent folk to make conversation with, but he managed anyway.

“Of course,” said the man easily. He brought Maglor more tea and helped him to sit up to swallow it.

Maglor pointed to the door, uncertain how to communicate that he needed to leave before he brought any Doom upon his rescuer.

“No, no,” said the man, “Stay here and rest a while, brother. Shore is a ways off yet, I should think.” He tucked the blankets around Maglor with surprising gentleness before slipping back out of the cabin as the medication once again sent Maglor to sleep.

A storm started up that night, tossing their brave little boat in great huge waves that reminded Maglor of the sinking of Beleriand or the fall of Numenor.

His rescuer came inside the cabin to shelter with him, soaked from having struggled to get the sail down so it wouldn’t rip. “I knew it was coming,” he said ominously. “The birds scattered.”

Was that some sort of Mortal saying? Maglor frowned, then groaned and attempted to push himself upright. He had to do something, after all, the man had saved him from a long and very wet death. The least he could do was ask Ulmo to maybe have a bit of pity on this child of Eru.

He wasn’t certain the Vala would listen, but it wouldn’t hurt to try, as long as he was careful how he worded the request and made sure to exaggerate that it wasn’t for his own benefit.

“Easy there,” said the man, pushing him back into bed as he tried to sit. “Stay down.”

Weakly he pointed across the room, where he’d noticed a flute earlier in the day. The power of Elves had once been well known, hopefully those tales had remained and the man would know what he wanted to do. His harp was long gone, but he could make due…

But the man shook his head. “You cannot Sing away this storm, I am afraid.”

“I can,” he whispered, willing the man to understand that he was not just any elf. “I can calm it-“ his voice broke and he struggled to cough “-perhaps a little.”

He was given a sad smile and a squeeze on his shoulder. “Rest, brother.”

The storm was gone by morning, and Maglor was again alone in the dark little cabin. The mortal had gone outside as soon as it had calmed, only returning some time later to say, “We’ve been blown off course, but it won’t be hard to correct.”

“The seas are calm,” Maglor croaked. The boat had ceased it’s incessant rocking.

“Lord Manwë is in a merciful mood this morning, it seems.” A man of Gondor then, if he knew the old tales.

Maglor studied him, then quietly said, “Lord Manwë is seldom in such a mood.”

The man’s laugh almost seemed nervous, although who wouldn’t be frightened by the Light of the Trees that still shone from Maglor’s eyes? Even if he had met elves before, those that remained were not exiles like Maglor, but rather elves of the Greenwood.  

“Rest brother,” he said, then nodded his head and slipped back outside. He heard a key turn in the lock.

Maglor was out of bed in an instant, ignoring the pain in his leg. He didn’t like being locked up, even by foolish and well-meaning mortals. Perhaps I made him nervous when I sought to calm the storm last night. And clearly he was not pleased when I spoke of Lord Manwë. He must not have realized the full danger of what he had saved.

But he wasn’t about to stay locked up for long. He needed to know why it was taking so long to get to shore. He’d thought the man would drop him at the earliest convenience, but instead it seemed he’d decided to either take Maglor to civilization or hang onto him until he healed. Neither one would do.

The door was locked - and damn it, why? - but he was a son of Feanor, he’d learned to pick locks in infancy, and soon he had the door open.

Maglor stepped outside and froze.

They were not in the ocean at all, but rather sailing in a sea of stars. Realization dawned.

“Ah,” said the-rescuer-who-was-clearly-Earendil-son-of-Tuor nervously, stroking the head of a white-bird-that-was-probably-the-woman-Maglor-had-once-tried-to-kill that rested on the ship’s rail. “I wondered when you might try that.”

The Fic has several more chapters on AO3 than it does on here.

[bubble-booty-cuties]

Once Naoto revealed her true self to the PTs, I can only imagine what kind of outfits Ann and the others got her to try on to properly show off her assets to the boys.

Gonna hijack this ask just a little as a continuation of my last thing, so, sorry if it's not 100% what you wanted~!

____________________________________________

"Are you sure these look alright? They don't exactly feel like they.. Fit.." Was all that was heard on the other side of the curtain, two sets of feet poking out from the bottom as the shuffling and muttering finally stopped.

"What are you talking about, they fit perfectly! They really show off that amazing figure of yours Nao-chan! You've got such pretty legs~!" Came the much happier and bubblier voice of Ann, no doubt the one who convinced Naoto into the dressing room.

"Y-You think so? I dunno, it just feels like it shows off so much.. Aren't pants supposed to hide all of this?"

"You might as well just surrender! When Ann wants you to try on some clothes it's like she suddenly hits max level hard mode, and there's no escape rope!" Futaba yelled out to the bluenette, remembering the time she was forced into different outfits, and even a bikini. "You're lucky I was able to hide the little skirt she wanted you to try on!"

"A-A skirt?!"

"Come on Nao-chan, you said you wanted to get in touch with your feminine side, right~? Well here's your chance, and you look amazing~!" Suddenly the curtain was yanked away to reveal both girls, one considerably more red then the other.

"W-Wait! I'm not ready!"

"Ooh, nice, those shorts are totally skin tight!" Futaba sat on the waiting chair with her knees up to her chest, eyes going up the long legs of their detective friend. "See, told you they'd fit her better!"

"Y-You picked these out?!" Naoto didn't like the way the breeze so easily brushed against her bare thighs out in the open, or the way it brushed so easily against her mostly exposed rear.

A sleeveless white button up shirt hugged her torso in ways that not only pushed her sizable chest up and out into the opening, exposing more cleavage then she ever had before, it also hugged her thin waist neatly, riding up just enough to show off her flat midriff and belly button, her exposed shoulders didn't help her feeling any less exposed either.

All that could have been fixed with a jacket, however. What couldn't be fixed was the way her tiny blue shorts rode up between her plump globes of flesh like a second skin, revealing her jiggly, pale flesh for anyone to see if she so much as turned an inch to the side, let alone bent over. Just the thought made her head spin!

"Duh, shorts are the best!" Futaba cheered, motioning to her own booty shorts covered bubble butt, said but was sat in her seat, however. "Home is where the pants is not, and small shorts are like totally cheating to feel like you're not wearing pants at all!"

"How did I get myself into this mess?!" Was all Naoto groaned as she pulled her hat down to cover her face, even as her other was balled up into a fist behind her, trying in some way to hide her but from view from the many people passing by and admiring her figure in the store.

"Oh good, you're finally back! What do you think? Doesn't Nao-Chan look absolutely adorable~?"

"Wha-" Naoto suddenly turned on her heel to see her senpa- Uh, her number one suspect! And he had very obviously been looking lower on her body then she had hoped. "S-Senpai! I-I thought you were-"

"I figured I'd stop by and check on you guys since Ryuji took Yusuke to the arcade." Cool, calm, and collected, like he wasn't just eyeing her butt like a piece of meat! Were his glasses some kind of shield that hid his emotions?!

"Go on Nao-Chan, he never lies, why not ask him how you look~?"

"Th-That's not-!"

"You really just set her up for the trap!"

"What?!"

"Futaba-Chan is just joking around, go on, ask him~!" Ann suddenly grabbed the small girl's shoulders and pushed her towards the much taller young man, so close in fact she had to look almost straight up to see his emotionless face.

"I-I.." Naoto suddenly pulled her hat down just over one eye, her face beet red as memories flooded her mind of the things this man had done to her in private. But, she needed to know.. "H-How do I look, Senpai?"

____________________________________

The rest of the day was a blur, and all she could remember were the hungry looks as people saw her walking around with her friends dressed in such revealing clothing.. And she wasn't sure to be grateful or worried that her Senpai had chosen to walk behind her the entire time, never getting out of step..

Well, she chose worried as soon as he offered to walk her home, offering his feline companion to Futaba to bring home herself.. Then there walk towards her temporary residence began, and he was as kind as ever, as per usual he spoke clearly and the conversation was pleasant.. And just as soon as she forgot what it was she was wearing did she let out a squeak of surprise at the way his hand grabbed her almost bare cheek like a stress toy.

She wish she could say she told him to stop, or at least wait when they weren't literally in public! But she didn't, and she didn't wanna admit why..~

Of course, none of that matters now, not when she was very suddenly bent over forward against her dining room table, her face bright red, as it seems to be a lot around her suspect. Hands gripped her wide, bare hips and yanked her sizable rear back against the young man, her entire, much shorter body rocking back as she was once again introduced to the long, wide, throbbing bulge in her Senpai's pants, pressed firmly against her butt while he rocked his hips against her.

"C-Couldn't you have waited till I changed..?" Naoto just couldn't say no to him, her heart raced a mile a minute, her breath came out in gasps and chokes, and she couldn't stop the little squeal, one she definitely didn't make, that escaped her lips when gave her plump rump a nice meaty smack, echoing through her rented residence so loudly she was sure it could be heard outside.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Damnit.."

It was happening too fast, and she couldn't even convince herself she wanted it to stop, she could only tell herself she was getting closer to the truth, she was gaining his trust! Right! He'd slip up soon, she's get the proof she needed, and she would have her thief- "Aaah~!"

Once more the young man smacked the bluenette right across her massive, jiggly pair of cheeks, her twin globes wobbling for multiple seconds after he'd already made contact, so perfectly round and shapely, it was a wonder she could slide these little blue shorts up over the swell of her hips and those planetary cheeks.

Naoto could only bite her lip to try and fight back the high pitched noises he always found a way to pull out, and she knew exactly what he was looking at while he forced her little noises out.

Those blue booty shorts rode up her cheeks like a thong, so tight and form fitting you could clearly see just how fat and bouncy they were just from how she walked around, even if she tried to hide it, even if Ann didn't actually choose the sluttiest shorts on the rack, her ass was just too fat to be anything less then mesmerizing with every step she took. And now, right there between those mounds of wobbly bubble booty was the young man's throbbing cock, smushed between that warm crevice while each and every ripple of her flesh sent shivers of pleasure up his spine.

But, tonight wasn't the night. Days of heavy petting, of driving the little detective wild would be leading to her getting fucked, it was practically inevitable, even she knew that, but not tonight. No, tonight he'd had to stare at that fat ass in a pair of shorts for literal hours, and he was about to get his fill.

"W-We have class in the morning, Senpai, we can't-Gasp~!" The busty tomboy detective gasped loudly as she was very suddenly met with he sensation of her suspect's teeth sinking into her meaty backside, having quickly knelt down to face inches from her raised bubble butt, mauling, groping, gripping, and massaging her cheeks like a soft dough while he very roughly and eagerly bit her asscheek like it was a piece of cake. Though he'd argue it was the entire cake.

"Senpai, I haven't showered, y-you shouldn't..~" She hated how feminine he made her sound.. Literally, her voice rising in pitch into a soft, girly tone that made her feel even lewder then her position made her feel.

He didn't listen, he never did, and she didn't exactly kick him off of her, not as she felt her own folds grow wet from the excitement she swore didn't exist. No, not even when he pawed and massaged her pu-.. Her lower region through her shorts, roughly grabbing and rubbing his thumb against her while he continued biting and smacking her ass.

"Senpai can we please at least move to the bed?!" She felt so exposed bent over her table, where she's eaten multiple times and will no doubt remember this moment every time she does from now on. She didn't expect to be the meal spread across her own dining table, but obviously the young man behind her had other plans.

"Nope."

And just like that she felt his expert fingers undo the button and fly Ann had gifted her, said shorts slipping down the swell of her round, pale, creamy smooth cheeks faster then she could even register, and before she knew it she felt the bespectacled suspect grab both cheeks in both large hands, pull her globes wide apart, and expose her most precious regions to himself with nothing but a pair of moist panties between him and her.

"W-Wait!" He didn't.

Naoto squealed loudly and then bit her lip harshly as he abruptly shoved his face between her hot, jiggly, pillowy cheeks. Not even removing his glasses the young man began motor boating her globes while he pulled her panties to the side, pressing his mouth against her wet lower lips and beginning his quick attack on her very core.

"A-Aaah~!! Aaahhhh~!! Haa~!! S-Senpai~!!" Naoto had.. Pleasured herself before her suspect had ever began his attacks on her, she'd admit the feeling of having another person touch her was so much more intense then she could ever preform herself, but this was on a whole other level! Each and every flick of his tongue against her pussy felt like he it her nerve ending on fire, pure, pleasurable fire! She could barely keep herself standing, pressing her full weight on the table, and now the young man's head, no doubt giving him what he wanted and pressing her face deeper between her cheeks.

Her knees shook and buckled, she couldn't stop her cries and squeals, and her flushed red faced dripped with sweat as pleasure overtook her in ways she'd never felt before. And as he.. As he ate her out, loudly lapping and licking her dripping wet slit, every smack across her cheeks, and there were plenty, felt so.. Good~! She'd never though a smack across her behind could feel good! Maybe she thought it did a little when he had done it, but it was something so small, but now~? Oh god, it amplified her pleasure in such confusing ways~!

"S-Senpai~! Aaaah~!! P-Please, I-I can't~!!" Naoto's eyes rolled just a bit as she experienced pleasure like nothing she'd felt before, and that was before he suddenly pressed his tongue inside her pussy, writhing, wiggling, and licking every inch of her love tunnel he could reach. And she could barely hold on for dear life.

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh~!!" Stars exploded across her half covered vision, her hat falling askew across her head while she gripped the edge of the table, and she didn't even remember her own name. But, it was simply from lack of experience that she had cum so quickly, because Joker was just getting started.

As quickly as he started, he stopped, dragging his tongue up higher while Naoto gasped, squealed, and tried not to pass out, until his tongue met her backdoor, and then he began what he was fantasizing about all day, grabbing both hefty, meaty cheeks and beginning his meal proper.

"Hggkk~!! Wh-What are you-?!Oooohh~!! H-Haaaa~!!!" Naoto grit her teeth as pleasure once against filled her body, but not from her dripping lips, no, from her puckered pink backdoor. She wanted to tell him not to lick such a place, but how could she when she could barely remember where she was? The pleasure filling her ass was like nothing she'd ever felt before, and she didn't know whether to tell him to stop or do it harder!

And just as she felt the man press the tip of his tongue against her little ring, she too felt a pair of finger slip into her abused folds, once more filling her love tunnel, but not to overshadow his tongue piercing her asshole, filling her with such, horribly confusing pleasure and lust~! Oh god, what the hell was he doing~?!

Naoto's eyes cross as the man frantically fingered her dripping cunt while he just as eagerly began eating her ass, her cheeks wobbling around his face the entire time as she wiggled and twitched all over the place, squealing, screaming, cumming and squirting all over her thighs and dining room floor.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH~!!!!!!"

And just as suddenly as it started, it stopped, and Naoto's entire body went limp against the table, drool dripping down her chin, cum dripping down her legs, and her feminine voice horse from screaming. And she felt incredibly empty as the young man's fingers and tongue left her holes twitching and needy.

Sliding down, Naoto panted, gasped, and shivered in pleasure as she landed on her knees, her own juices making a small puddle on her hard wood floor as she heard her Senpai moving behind her.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow then, Naoto?"

Said detective looked up at the young man passed her hat, giving a shaky nod, and watching him walk out the door.

He was it, she knew it. Him and his friends were the Phantom Thieves. She couldn't prove it, but in her heart she knew. Wh-Which means she'd need to investigate him more! A-A lot more! Possibly every day until she got proof! A-And tomorrow she'd wear more clothes that Ann had bought he! Yes! It- Uh- It threw him off, yes, it threw him off! She only need to dress like this more to get him to slip up!