#until the windows fog up and room stinks

[cheollipop]

[bunheee]

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐥

𝗦𝗵𝗶𝗯𝗮𝗹

𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘢𝘭

𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙗𝙖𝙡

𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚋𝚊𝚕

ƧΉIBΛᄂ

ѕнιвαℓ

§hïßål

₴Ⱨł฿₳Ⱡ

丂卄丨乃卂ㄥ

░S░h░i░b░a░l░

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Shibal ♥

˜”*°•.˜”*°• Shibal •°*”˜.•°*”˜

[yandere-toons]

I saw one of the anon ask if your write for underverse.

Do you think you could gives a scenario with yandere nightmar sans? Anything really. Just a small drabble is all I ask:)

Warnings: Implied Depression, Blood, Fantasy Violence, Grief, Psychological/Emotional Manipulation, Toxic Mindsets.

Word Count: 3,125.

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The cloud cover had swallowed the sky in a veil of fog and torrential darkness, but on nights when the crickets sang no more and the frogs kept to the water, it parted under the patchwork of stars waiting to twinkle at the unconscious countryside.

The moon's eye skirted the ribbons of a tattered curtain and fluttered across the wooden frame set atop a bedside table, which bore the crumpled photograph of a family. Those rising curves of joy on their lips, the same assault of happiness his brother oozed like the sun bled heat, drew a low hiss from deep within Nightmare.

The thrashes of a tentacle or two whipping the air overhead punctuated the rumbling crackle rolling between his gritted teeth. Every second he brooded, the shadows of lamps, bedposts, and a chest of drawers thickened and stretched farther. The room grew dank and instinct with pressure until breathing was akin to having a pair of hands wrap around your neck and squeeze.

That facial atrocity had a name; smiles, he recalled, but even the word repulsed him like the acrid stink of vomit. It conjured up visions of two siblings reclining under the shade of a tree swaying with bountiful leaves, of promises made and then broken, of a schism between brother and brother, light and dark.

You played among the joyful souls in the photograph and shared in their touches and sandwiches, looking a far different person than the heap of sweat and nerves turning over in your bed. Nightmare allowed his gaze to linger for a bemused instant before the pull of that bitter edge lurking in his every thought called him back to the happy little fools and their sepia stares.

The willingness with which they shoved at him a sick buoyancy defied his power and mocked his work. The urge to tear that lightsomeness away from them and plunge them into misery began to burn within him, spurring his tentacles to writhe until one whacked the picture frame off the table.

It flew into a spinning collision course with the wall and caromed off it to crack the peace of a fitful sleep. The battered frame thudded against the hardwood floor, lying face down in a pool of glass shards.

You jumped into a scrambled consciousness at the clamour like a cannonade, and your eyes, encrusted with an awkward mix of bleary and vigilant, swept the room in anticipation of some calamity. Motionless and impregnable darkness, perfect camouflage for any terrors, met your search rather than the feared intruder charging through the door or the tremors of an earthquake.

Howling winds raged past your walls and produced a sustained groan approaching something human, a cruel and grotesque imitation of a lost soul calling out. Each gust tapped the windows like the fingers of someone asking to be invited in from the cold.

This shallow comfort allowed you a moment to peel back the sheets, wherein you noticed and floundered with how tangled about you they had become. With a streak of adrenaline pounding as drums in your head, you fumbled out of bed and made a beeline for the light switch protruding from the adjacent wall.

As your next step pressed down upon a sleek and scattered surface, a crunch popped the silence as a needle would a balloon. Sharp pain sliced the sole of your foot, and in the excruciating jolt up your leg, the skin seemed to catch fire.

You clamped your teeth on your lower lip and sucked in a puff of air, withholding the yelp that had leapt to the roof of your mouth. Opening your eyes from a tight squint, you peered down into the shadows and reached out to something by your foot.

The rigid ends and cool, smooth sides of a wooden rectangle slid against your fingertips. The silvery gleaming of crimson droplets on the clear sheen of fragmented glass was reflected in the coarse surface of a wrinkled photograph, its image spotty and worn away around the edges.

Those who helped form some of your happiest memories looked back at you, and this reminder took the pang from your foot and redirected it to an ache in your heart. A wave of dizzying exhaustion and the urge to slump into bed again washed over you, no matter how much you had slept the previous days away.

Time had faded many of their features into obscurity, but the twist of that old contentment they left with you was a wound forever open. You rubbed your thumb across the bumpy, sandpapery face of someone no longer around, and just for a moment, the distant peal of their laughter echoed from a room you had not touched in months.

How sweet to drink from the bottle of grief until you found it had no bottom. The tower of dirty dishes by the kitchen sink rose higher, and each time you chose a third nap over chores, Nightmare got stronger. He fed on your lethargy and silent aches like a flea on a dog's back, every bite taking a little more out of you.

Sleep, once a beloved respite from the agony of an empty house, now plagued you with hair-raising visions of inhuman faces hovering outside your windows, looking in while you had no voice to deter the eyes moving over your body. As you fought against your sheets as if they were a beast at your throat, something insidious whispered for you to fall into that comfortable trap and let the idea of escaping it, the burden of hope, slip away.

In the centre of the bedroom, a sphere of brilliant starlight glimmered in the image of the heavens. Its rays upon you were like the sun on your skin after a bleak and drizzly winter. This beacon promised a better future as it dimmed into the shape of a golden-eyed face, which chased away the darkling tendrils coiling around your bed.

The nips of biting air, once thick enough to drown in, lifted, and you grew weightless, seeming to float between silk sheets instead of your mangy bundle of loose threads, a mattress of clouds rather than your glorified boulder, and a velvet pillow instead of your flat-as-a-board, handmade one.

Dream walked among the dark and the cold and filled it with your fondest smell from childhood. He had no flesh or muscle, a being of pure bone cloaked in the greens of seafoam, the pinks of twilight, and the yellows of gold.

An eternal warmth flowed from him, calming the shakiest voice and stilling the throbs of your pulse to a steady and relaxed rhythm. He glided to your bedside in golden boots and cast one sympathetic look at the draggled sheets before pulling them back to their rightful place, careful not to disturb you as he did so.

Dream hummed a soft melody with the earnest compassion of a parent soothing their child. It was quiet to keep you asleep but distinct enough to spread the snug blanket of security over your thoughts.

The taut lines of veins bulging along your neck and forehead, the ball of pain swelling in your jaw, and the shaky curls of your fingers bunching handfuls of the sheets all started to wane. When you were sinking into your first minute of genuine rest in ages, the mood in the room dove faster than a flightless bird over the side of a cliff.

It was a plunge so steep and abyssal that you cried out at some ghastly vision while Dream staggered as if one wrong footfall away from falling. He recovered in a moment of resigned understanding of what lay behind him, but many more seconds passed before he found the strength to turn and confront the corrupted shell of his brother.

Dream saw the thrill of malice rush onto Nightmare's face as your sounds of distress rang and tilted his head down, hardening his frown. In the privacy of the gloom, Nightmare glowered at Dream with an eye that blazed against the black sludge streaming o'er him.

“Well, always here to spoil my fun, aren't you, brother?” Temptation and menace intertwined in his voice, honeyed and gravelly at once. It snaked through the crisp air and commanded awe with the booming richness of a king, and it burrowed into the back of the mind as whispers beguiling lost souls into letting loose all vices.

The visceral rage with which he spat the word “brother” so contorted his face that all sleeping mortals who looked upon it would have awoken screaming. Around his pupil expanded a vast sea of black, aglow with a fervour that dulled when Dream marched to the end of the bed and stood between him and you.

Nightmare collapsed his exaggerated snarl into a more subdued look of amusement, as though the idea that Dream could block his path was the peak of wishful thinking.

Dream, his eyes never wavering lest a moment's hesitation allowed Nightmare to slink near, swung his hand to the side and swished his lustrous cape. The threat of a golden bow sparked in his open palm, a sight that twisted the corners of Nightmare's mouth like a gulp of sour milk.

“You poisoned their grief, Nightmare. They need to heal.” Dream uttered this sentiment with unflinching certainty and gave to it a sublime voice meant to lighten the spirit of all who heard it; however, to the blackened soul residing in Nightmare, it only starved him.

He fixed a spiteful grin on Dream and widened his eye until it resembled a pit. “They don't want to heal. They're tired.” The venomous spiel rolled from him as it would a demonic salesman, and had you been awake to listen, you would have believed him. “They want to be told it's okay to give up.”

Dream glanced over his shoulder at your tussle with imaginary tormentors, his narrowed eyes pierced with a gleam of pity. He could have implored his brother to make an exception, but asking Nightmare to leave a cry for help untroubled was like the gazelle begging the lion for mercy.

Instead, he was readying another point of argument when an instinctive sweep of his arm deflected the sharp tip of a slender tentacle hurtling towards his skull.

Nightmare retracted the tentacle through a strip of moonlight, allowing it to glisten and weave before disappearing. The faraway ticktock of a clock stressed the passing of each second, baiting an attack from either brother and counting down to the moment when noise so bloodcurdling would rip the air asunder and forever banish peace from the area.

All at once, you sprung to an upright position and wailed as if you might never have the chance again. Your eyes, open wide but seeing nothing, held a glassiness that contrasted with your mindless thrashing at a hidden assailant. You began to hyperventilate between shouts for someone to get out of your house, and the guardian in Dream took hold as he hurried over to stop you from tumbling out of bed.

Before he could land one final step to reach you, a tentacle swooped down and knocked him into the chest of drawers across the room. It clattered and overturned a lamp atop it, which smacked the wood and threatened to roll off the edge. Dream cracked open one eye before the other and unhooked himself from the metallic handles.

Under the wan cover of night, Nightmare appeared to slide over the floorboards like some amorphous blob of black and blue. He eclipsed the moon on your weeping face, his tentacles bobbing on invisible waters and casting writhing shadows upon the wall behind you.

His head snapped towards Dream's weakened but defiant stance, and as flecks of silver silhouetted much of his body, his teeth were distorted into fangs that shone through the ooze cascading down him. A twinge of fear skittered the length of Dream's spine; the creature before him was his brother in name only, having become drunk on your anguish and consumed by a sort of eldritch savagery.

With each shriek rocketing out of you, Nightmare dispersed further into the darkness and outpoured his evil into every crevice. He propelled himself onto a tentacled throne and towered above Dream, who sensed the cold and aching drain of his presence in all directions and scoured for even a fleeting whiff of positive emotion.

The air stood still when Dream glimpsed the needle-like tentacles poised around him in the dark. They awaited a silent order to volley forward and gore him, an order made imminent by the resonant chime of the clock striking a new hour. Against his collarbone sat the round clasp of his cape, which he clutched with one hand overlaying the other.

Dream shut his eyes, tucked his chin into the back of his hand, and visualised a portal to the nearest spark of happiness. A blinding surge of starlight enveloped him, then vanished moments before a tentacle speared the chest of drawers in a shot that would have run through his rib cage.

Nightmare deflated a bit, disappointment gnawing at him that he did not get to see his brother's golden blood splatter the hardwood floor. He yanked his tentacle free of the unlucky drawer, paying no mind to the sizeable hole it had created, and resumed basking in your sorrow like a lizard in the sun.

* * *

A hulking weight sat on your chest, and with every swell of breath you forced down, it sucked half of it back out of your lungs. You might as well have been a pair of eyes without a body, with the absolute numbness coursing through your limbs begging the question of whether they were still attached.

The darkness crept a little closer, bottomless and braver with each sweep of your eye. Waves of black and splotches of silver melded into a gaunt face dripping wet. Malevolence seeped from the monstrous entity pouring out of the unknown depths of that corner, the kind that threw babies into crying fits and ripped frantic barks from every dog in a neighbourhood.

The snowy radiance of a moon free to dominate the sky glinted across teeth whiter than any dentist could hope. They filled out a lipless mouth as the entity, a living nightmare, engulfed the floor and ceiling in an ever-growing current of blackness. His jaw unhinged far beyond the limits of nature to yield a gaping hole lined with vertical strips of muck, each as dark and slippery as a jagged rock hanging in a damp cavern.

A dozen tentacles snaked out his back and pulsated outward, their slender lengths draped in inky slime. He loomed over your paralyzed state and dredged up all memories of fear and pain until your heart thundered with the desire to burst out of you. The sheets tucked in tighter to the point of constriction, and tears brimmed for the silent scream wrenching around your mind.

The place where his right eye should have been was overflowing with tar, and his left eye glowed like the beam of a lighthouse. Turquoise with a tinge of midnight blue watched your struggle and revelled in it with the passion of a vindictive god.

To peer into his eye was to lose yourself down a tunnel that winded through every facet of despair, hatred and horror, to behold a creature who embodied it all and realise you could do nothing but wait. Such a gaze crushed you, and it never even had to touch you.

Periodic buzzes, beginning as a foghorn but then rising to a metallic trill, came and went every few seconds. They invaded the room with an unquenchable urgency that your brain raced to identify, shrilling louder and louder until your body jolted forward in an abrupt return of control.

You inhaled as if having swum from the deep of a lake, but instead of bouncing your forehead off the warped skull, you passed through nothing but clear space. The instant before your eyes began darting, the flicker of a figure dissolved into a patch of darkness in your peripheral vision.

The first rays of dawn shimmered across the hardwood floor and dappled the shadows with all the colours of fire. A clash of pinkish and gilt swirls subsumed much of the dark, delivering you from the trenches of a receding night to the peach-tinted embrace of a day starting anew.

The jarring call of a telephone poked your ears and vibrated on a round table in the corridor.

Following you to the bedroom doorway was the impulse to ignore that plea for your attention and continue languishing beneath the same old sheets. The ease with which you could lay back down and slip away from everything tapped you on the shoulder and beckoned you to sleep.

Dust bunnies wafted after your feet, which you heaved and then slammed down again a mite closer to the ringing as if wading through the reeds of a billabong. A slew of thoughts on the taxing demands of holding a conversation, on the dreadful risk of exposing how badly you were drowning, tugged at you like an impatient child.

When you picked up the cooling metal of that telephone, the voice of a dear friend hit you as a refreshing breeze on a hot day. They talked to you and listened even if you let out a sombre remark or stumbled over familiar words, a nearly forgotten sound, like a song unheard for years.

Eventually, they said, “How about lunch at your favourite place today? My treat.”

You hugged the cord with each finger of one hand, and with the other hand, you pressed the cradle to your abdomen. A dab of moisture started to blur your vision, enabling you to take a breath without the air of heartsickness that had milled around the home for so long.

Watching you lean into the handset, into that faint voice daring to help, and allow yourself the ghost of a smile was like acid on Nightmare's eye. The frenzy of hunger stabbed him as the intoxicating taste of misery, a minute ago so bountiful, was evaporating.

What rapture it would be, twining one of his tentacles around that interloper's neck and squeezing until they never spoke another word. The vision of their bulgy eyes reddening as they clawed at the tentacle in vain, forced to look him squarely in the face and give every detail of their agony, to entreat his mercy only to be denied, flashed to him.

It kept him in the shadows and replayed before his mind's eye, each time seeming nearer to reality, to soothe the roaring emptiness in his stomach.

[earth4angels]

Jace and I will make love until the room stinks, until the bed breaks, until the window fog up, until the paint peels off the walls, until one of us passes out, etc

YYYyyYoOoOoOooooooOoooooOOOO THIS IS CRAZY SKSJSJS

[strawberrystepmom]

until the room stinks and the windows fog up and the bed breaks and the wallpaper is peeling off and the mattress needs to be wrung out like a mop and-

[ant1boy]

I want ningning to get fucked like the dirty whore she is I want her fucking sobbing and begging and bruised up 🥰

until her knees are bruised, her throat is sore, and her back is broken. until the room stinks, the windows fogged, the sheets stained, the bed broken and the walls sticky

[failedintsave]

Kloktober Day 12: favorite location/setting

I never considered this to be a favorite setting when there are so many other fun options, it feels a little bit mundane...but I've written a LOT of scenes here because I am addicted to snuggly fluff which I guess counts for something. So here's version 427950505 of skwistok lying around in bed lol 🤷‍♀️ I just like it, ok?

In Golden Halls

Despite not being a morning person, Skwisgaar's room lightened faster than any in the Haus thanks to his decorative scheme and the floor to ceiling windows that faced the east. Gauzy curtains did little to filter the early morning glow as the sun crested the mountains hedging the distant reaches of Mordland's borders, radiant light reflecting off glossy furnishings until the entire space brightened warm and white. On clear mornings it was like waking among the clouds.

A low rumble of far-off thunder was the first thing he heard, mind floating up from the pressing depths of slumber and eyes cracking open as he broke the surface into consciousness. At least he'd assumed it was thunder, until Toki snored again on the pillow next to him.

Skiwsgaar grinned at his bedmate, the expression turning into a jaw-cracking yawn as he shifted between the silky white sheets. Pins and needles shot through his arm once he moved it from where it had been wedged against his chest, the sensation of blood flow returning to his fingers like static on a dead channel. He felt grubby, a film of dried sweat and sex clinging to every inch his skin. Showering last night after the fact would have been preferable, but he'd been too tired, too comfortable in the drowsy afterglow to extricate himself from Toki's embrace and clean up.

Now, though, it was top of his priority list.

Shoving the covers aside, Skwisgaar started to roll onto his back, but a heavy arm trapped him in place. Toki dragged him close, eyes scrunching as he nestled into the crook of Skwisgaar's neck, stifling a yawn against his flesh.

"Where you goins?" He murmured sleepily, a wave of goosebumps prickling under the warm fog of his breath.

"Needs to shower." Skwisgaar tried to pry Toki's arm away. "I stinks and I would likes to not-stinks."

There were definite perks to the Norwegian's stout, muscular build, not the least of which was his penchant for seizing control whenever they were fooling around. As exciting as Skwisgaar found a little bit of manhandling, it came at a price. If Toki wanted him pinned, he was going to be pinned, and the younger man didn't exercise the ability strictly as a kink.

"Nooo, fives more minutes." Toki protested, squeezing him around the middle and flinging a leg across both of Skwisgaar's, kicking the covers back over him. He burrowed his face harder against his neck and shoulder. "I t'inks you smell good."

Skwisgaar scoffed at that. "What, you likes smelly armpits?"

"Mm-mm. But you don't smells like all you's fancy soaps and moisture-sizers. Ams just pure Skwisgaar." Toki pressed his nose to his skin and inhaled, sighing contentedly. "Why you t'inks I borrows your clothes? Aments in T'underhorse no mores."

"Yous so weird, huehuugh."

Steadily, the light transformed from the soft gray of early dawn to a dreamy golden hue as the sun cleared the last pointed peaks of the horizon.

"It's just de biologicals." Toki explained through another yawn. "We all gives off different pheromones and scents dat ams appealings to our mates."

Skwisgaar smirked and craned his neck, trying to catch Toki's eye, but the brunette was tucked against him too tightly, snuggled up to his chin in the thick fur throw blanket. "Mates?"

"Or partsners. Whatever. Point ams, I likes it a lot."

Something about that triggered a bright, fluttery feeling inside his ribs, his heart pitter-pattering, a songbird trying to escape its cage. That Toki found this ordinary part of him—something that was inscribed in his DNA and couldn't be helped—to be so attractive brought a slight flush to his cheeks. Biological or not it was...sweet.

Skwisgaar buried his nose into the crown of bronze hair sharing his pillow, paying attention to the warm, earthy scent of the natural oils. He hadn't really thought about it before but the mild odor was almost soothing; his olfactory receptors translating that smell into a signal his brain associated with safety and comfort. Different from the satisfaction he took in the aroma of freshly laundered bedding or the artificial woodsy perfumes of his preferred room spray. Within these walls, he felt secure, but in this man's arms he was home.

Rather than be caught sniffing, Skwisgaar slipped his fingers below Toki's chin, lifting his face from where he'd nuzzled in deep. Icy blue eyes were made warmer by the sheer amount of adoration shining in Toki's sleepy gaze, his eyelids sliding shut as their lips met. After several long seconds, Skwisgaar broke off, nudging the tips of their noses together.

"I t'inks maybe you ams watching too much of de Animals Planet, älskling."

The besotted look faded, Toki's pupils dilating wide until twin lunar eclipses stared up at him. His hand slithered up the sheet, fingers winding into Skwisgaar's hair and tugging his head back as he rose onto his elbow.

"Oh you wants de animals?"

"Ow, dats too hard." Skwisgaar whined, pouting out his bottom lip to fight back the smile threatening to break through.

"Shhhh." Toki admonished but loosened his hold a few degrees. He hovered close, their lips brushing as he whispered. "Five more minutes. Dens we showers."

"I knows your five minutes. Guess we ams missingk breaksfast." Skwisgaar countered, grinning as Toki growled into another kiss.

A soft breeze ruffled the drapes, the sun continuing its ascent past the windows and burning away the dewy fog hanging over the grounds below, piercing cloud with golden spear shafts of light thrown from heaven. The pale stone walls and floor shone with an elysian warmth, and though the room may not be Odin's halls, it felt like Valhalla when they were there together.

[arvandus]

Touch (Pt 5)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi  terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it  that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Special thank you to @salvator-heartbreaker​ who has helped me hash out this chapter and some future plot details; this would not be as amazing as it is without her help!

Chapter warning: This’ll get a bit heavy; just a heads up.  Please be aware of the warning tags.

Recommended Chapter Song: Put Me Under by Grandson

Part 1  Part 4

Artwork credit to @hellowon31​ on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 5 - The Beast

Dabi walked down a long hallway, dark wooden floors cast in a dim orange glow from the mounted wall sconces.  Every feature was cast in heightened detail – the color of the walls, the pictures on them, the ceiling with its wooden planks mirroring the floors like a fun house. But something was off about it.  The sound of his footsteps was strangely absent, the faces in the pictures blurred by a shadow that shouldn’t exist. 

It was familiar, this place.  It filled him with a strange longing mingled with vague trepidation.

The whisper of voices came like a mist, seeping from the walls and soaking into his skin, cold and clammy.  The voices were familiar, voices he thought he’d long since forgotten the sound of.  He couldn’t make out the words; they jumbled together, swirling into a single hum that vibrated his bones and made his pulse race.  Through the din, he thought he heard the sound of crying, a mother’s wail.

Fear seized him, a paralyzing fear he hadn’t felt in years. He had to leave this place.  He took the door closest to him, turning the handle to step into black nothingness and suddenly he was falling, falling.  He screamed, his voice the sound of a boy, his hands small like a child’s, wrapped in dirty bandages grasping at nothing.  Blue flames erupted underneath him, devouring him like an ancient beast come to take him down into hell.

Dabi sat up in his bed with a jolt, his nerves screaming and his sheets drenched in sweat as the sound of his heavy panting filled the room.  It was dark, except for the moonlight that crept through his window carried on a cold night breeze with each soft billow of the curtain.

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose in frustration as he tried to steady his pounding heart.  The nightmares were coming back.

Dabi’s head pounded.  Every muscle in his body ached, his damaged nerves on fire.  A wave of nausea overtook him, and he rushed to the bathroom, retching and gagging in the darkness.  Once he was sure there was nothing left, he flushed the toilet and sat down on the lid with his head in his hands while his dark world spun around him. He was a celestial body, knocked off its axis and careening into the burning sun of reality.  There was no soft curtain between himself and the harshness of the cold floor under his feet, the sour taste in his mouth, or the loudness of the crickets outside his window.  There was no comforting haze to cocoon himself in, his chrysalis torn from him before he could finish his transformation.  He felt incomplete, broken, hungry.

Your pills weren’t enough.  They had helped a little at first, but his body was already burning through them and adapting, wanting more.  The addiction was a raging beast that couldn’t be satiated, and right now, in the stink of his bathroom with his sweat drying on his skin, he could feel its familiar pull.  It was a siren’s song, played on the strings of his nerves in an off-tune melody that only he could hear.  It sang of old promises, a promise of freedom from pain and suffering, a promise to protect him against his nightmares like a faithful guardian, a promise of sleep… if only he could pay the price.

He needed more.  More of your pills, more of his own… just more.  Anything to make this feeling go away, to put this beast to rest.

There was no peace for him when he was like this.

He thought of you.  You had said he could come to you at any time.  Did you really mean it?  If he knocked on your door at this hour would you let him in?  Would you give him what he needed?

Would you understand?

Desperation made Dabi pull himself up from the toilet, and he stared at himself in the mirror.  Disgust filled him.  In the dark of his bathroom, the shadow of his face looked downright terrifying. Would the sight of him late at night cloaked in shadow scare you?  Would you scream?

You said it would be okay.

Another wave of nausea hit him, and he leaned over, his forehead pressed against the cold porcelain of his sink as he forced deep, long breaths into his aching lungs.  He didn’t have a choice.  He quickly rinsed his mouth with water to rid himself of the taste lingering in his mouth and made his way out of his room and down the hall.

Dabi stopped outside your door, hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on your doorknob. 

He hesitated.  A vague memory of your wounded expression drifted into his tattered mind. He had forgotten that he had hurt you, and he wondered if that would make a difference now. Were your words just words?  Empty promises to be abandoned as soon as you got stung?

The beast of addiction growled threateningly.  If you abandoned him, it would take what it needed by any means necessary.  Its survival was paramount.

Not a lot scared Dabi.  But in that moment, the thought of him hurting you to feed his addiction made him almost turn around and go back to his room.  Or leave the building all together.  Anything to get himself away from you.

But his feet wouldn’t move.  They were rooted into the ground, his body poised like a blood hound who’d caught a scent.  The beast knew where the drugs were and wouldn’t let him leave.

Maybe he’d apologize. He hated apologizing; he never apologized for anything.  But in this case, it’d be worth it, if only you’d open that little bottle to alleviate his suffering so he wouldn’t have to do it himself.  Shit, maybe he’d even mean it, if it meant seeing your smile again.

Just as Dabi was about to take his hands out of his pockets to knock on your door, a familiar grating voice cut through his mental fog like high beams on a dark road.

“You’re up late.” Shigaraki commented.

Dabi clenched his hand into a fist within the pocket of his sweatpants and turned to face the pale man staring at him in the hall with as much boredom as he could muster.  “So are you.” Dabi replied.

“I’m always up late.”  Shigaraki commented.  He cocked his head to the side curiously, a glint in his eyes. “What are you doing?”

Dabi couldn’t tell him.  Wouldn’t tell him. It was none of his business. Anger bubbled in his chest, a raging dragon threatening to spew fire. He bit his cheek hard enough to draw blood, feeling a metal ring clink between his molars. The pain cleared his head, but only slightly.

“Nothing.” Dabi replied.  “I was about to head downstairs for a drink.”

Shigaraki stared at him for a moment longer, his gaze calculated. Dabi knew he didn’t believe him, but he wouldn’t give him the luxury of confirming his suspicions.  Finally, the hint of smirk turned the corner of Shigaraki’s chapped lips, and he began to turn to leave.  “Make sure you wash your whiskey glass this time.  I hate hearing Kurogiri complain in the morning before I have my coffee.”

As Dabi watched his back disappear into his room at the end of the hall, he let out the breath he was holding.  He stood there a minute longer to make sure he was gone. It was the most he could handle before his hand, with a will of its own, knocked softly on your door – loud enough to hopefully wake you, but not loud enough that others could hear it.

No response greeted him, and Dabi stared at the door, his blue eyes burning holes into it in anger.

You had said you’d be there for him.  Why didn’t you answer?

He resisted the urge to pound on your door, waking everyone in the process.  Instead, he leaned his forehead against your door, desperation filling him like an overflowing cup.  “Open the door.” He whispered, as if his words could reach you in your sleep. The phrase repeated, over and over, like a chant.  “Open the door, open the door…”

Did you lock your door at night?  Or could he just open it and walk in?  What would he do then?  Would he wake you up, or just take what he wanted?

Just as his hand was about to reach for the doorknob, he heard shuffling on the other side, and he watched as light spilled out from under your door into the hallway where his own feet waited like tree roots.  Sweet relief filled him and he mentally thanked whatever God existed.

You opened the door a crack, eyes bleary as you rubbed the sleep out of them. Light flooded across Dabi’s features and he closed his eyes against the brightness, his arm going up defensively.

“Dabi?” you sleepily mumbled.  “What are you-?”

“Kill the light.” Dabi gruffly demanded.  His tongue felt dry and heavy.

You closed the door, so it was open just a crack, and he unshielded his bloodshot eyes in time to see the light in the room go out.  A moment later, the door opened again, and you stood before him, dimly lit by the hallway, in a tank top and pajama pants.

Your grogginess had dissipated like fog on a windy day, you senses on high alert to the man in front of you.  Dabi braced himself against your doorframe as if to keep from falling, his tall, lanky frame filling the space.  He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, which clung to him with sweat – he hadn’t even bothered to change it before seeking you out; you wondered if it even registered for him.  His breath coated you, a staleness to it that was unmistakable and made you want to hold your breath.

Your pills must have worn off already, and he was quickly descending deep into the throes of withdrawal.

Without hesitation, you grabbed him by his hand, taking note of the hot clamminess of it, and pulled him into your room.  As you closed the door behind you with a click, darkness fell like a blanket, and all you could see at first was the outline of his tall, black form as his ragged breaths rattled from his chest.

You guided him to the edge of your bed, pushing him down gently by his shoulders. “Just wait here.” You said softly, your words just above a whisper.  You retreated to your bathroom and closed the door to keep the bathroom light from blasting into your room where he sat.  Immediately, you grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the cold water of your faucet.

You weren’t in there long. You came out a moment later, leaving the light on and the door cracked to let some of the yellow glow filter into the room without being overwhelming; you needed to see what you were doing, after all.

You should have known better; as you made your way to Dabi, you realized he had your supply bag at his feet, your pill bottle in his hand. In your grogginess, you had forgotten that you kept your bag next to your bed, to keep it within reach in case of emergencies. Of course, he’d be tempted by it in his current state.

Your heart pounded in your chest.  “Dabi,” you warned.  “Don’t.”

Dabi didn’t respond to you; his eyes stared at the bottle in his hand, his eyes reading over the name on them, realization rising slowly like a hazy dawn.

“These have your name on them.”  Dabi stated.

“Dabi, give me the pills.” You ordered, your tone firm.

“Why do you have these?” Dabi asked.  You knew the question was probably rhetorical – he was in no condition to really listen to your answer.  Still, you bristled, the question too personal.

“Dabi.  Give. Me. The. Pills.”

“I need them.” He replied, his grip tightening around the bottle.

You kneeled in front of him, and you got déjà vu of your visit in his room just a day prior.  How quickly the addiction takes hold…

You placed a hand on his forearm, noting the texture of his scars under your fingers.  “I know.” You said softly.  “I’ll give you some.  Just give me the bottle.  Please.”

His grip tightened as your hand touched the lid of the bottle. “Trust me.” You whispered, trying to capture his downturned eyes with your own.  His eyes finally caught yours, and you placed your other hand over his hot fingers and gently pried them open until he relinquished the plastic container. Once it was safely in your own hands, a breath of air escaped your lungs in relief.

You opened the bottle and handed him three pills.  He stared at them.

“I need more.” He said.

Your heart throbbed painfully. “I can’t.” you replied.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” His eyes shot up to glare at you in betrayal.

“I have to make them last.” You replied.

“It’s not enough.” He said.

“I know.” You replied sympathetically.  “Take these for now, and we’ll see how you feel in a little bit.  We’ll keep a close eye on how long they last this time.”

You could tell he wasn’t satisfied with that, but he swallowed the pills anyway.

“Come on.” You said. “Let me change your bandages for you since you’re here.  It’ll give the pills time to start working.”

Dabi didn’t have the will to fight you in that moment.  His world was spinning, and his stomach was roiling against the drugs hitting his empty stomach.  As if you could read his body like a book, a bottle of water magically appeared in his field of view.

“First, drink this.” You instructed.  “And I have crackers I want you to eat.”

“I’ll drink the water, but to hell with your crackers.” Dabi grumbled.

You raised an eyebrow at him.  “Well, at least your personality is still intact…” you commented dryly.

You watched him like a hawk as he drank as much of the water as he could; about half of it remained. You wanted him to drink more, but you knew that his nausea was probably keeping him from finishing it.  You really hoped he didn’t throw up the pills he just took; you had counted your pills and set a schedule.  There was just enough to make sure you didn’t run out before your refills arrived in the next day or two.

Once you were sure he was done, you stuffed the pill bottle into the pocket of your pajamas.  Dabi’s eyes followed your every movement.  “We need to take off your shirt.” You said.

Dabi pulled the damp white tee over his head and letting it drop on the floor.  Your pulse pounded shamefully in your ears; you couldn’t help it. Even with all that was going on, it felt surreal having him here on your bed of all places.  You were still mad about what he had said earlier, but when he arrived on your doorstep looking two steps away from death, none of that mattered.  You had promised him that you’d be there for him. 

You watched him for a moment, taking in his shallow breaths and the way he gripped your comforter against the pain he was enduring.  His suffering tortured you; all you wanted to do was to put your hands on him and pour your quirk into him, to caress the rings along his chest and follow your touch with gentle kisses… or to take his head into your arms and hold him close, to whisper that he’d be all right and you’d help him through this…

You pushed the ache away as you averted your eyes.  No point in tormenting yourself over something that wasn’t even yours.  Besides, right now certainly wasn’t the time for such thoughts.  You had to let the drugs do the work… or at the very least, wait until he asked for you. He was vulnerable right now, not really in his right mind.  He would go with anything you suggested, if it promised to alleviate his withdrawal. How would he feel later on once he got back to normal, knowing that you did things for him that he might not have normally wanted?  Touching him outside of what he explicitly requested was a line you refused to cross.

“Lay down on your stomach.” You instructed.

He did as you asked without comment or complaint, his long body easily filling up the space, the bottom half of his legs hanging off the edge.

You placed the wet washcloth on the back of his neck, and a low, muffled groan fell from his parted lips into your comforter.  You applied your quirk to his back before removing the bandages.  It was supposed to still be active, lasting until late morning, but there was no way to be certain with his body reacting the way it was.  You pushed a little extra into it, to make sure it would last a bit; he was already suffering enough as it was.  You paused momentarily to see if he would ask for you to do more, but he never did; his eyes stared listlessly in the direction his head was turned, not really seeing; his body seemed to be in conservation mode.  The bandages were starting to come off, losing their stickiness from his sickly sweating.  They peeled off easily, like skin off a baked chicken.  You scrunched up your nose as you threw the soiled items in the trash.

As you worked carefully, an odd silence filled the room, the kind that only seemed to exist late at night when all of the city was asleep.  It was a time when noises were quieter, but shadows seemed louder.  A time when everyday life felt muted while the ethereal danced in the streets, the streetlamps their spotlights. 

Small sounds filled the silence. Dabi’s steady breaths, the shift of your body on your mattress as you reached for fresh bandages, the sound of paper tearing as you opened a new gauze patch. 

You and Dabi were a liminal space, where neither of you lingered.  It was a place of impermanence, a space to pass through, filled with brief visits without the intent to stay.  Despite that, even now with all that had happened in the past 24 hours, it felt private… intimate.  It filled you with an unspoken longing, a desire to capture the beauty of life’s fluidity like a painter captures a landscape.  You wanted to take the impermanent and freeze it in time so you could appreciate its nuances in the shape of dark rugged scars and piercing blue eyes framed in wild hair.  To be able to stare openly instead of stolen side glances, trying to catch a ghost in your peripheral vision.  How did you end up being so drawn to him of all people?

His harsh words from the night before echoed through your mind, a rude reminder.  You swallowed the lump in your throat.  How cruel it was to be needed by someone but not wanted.

Despite that hurt, you knew wouldn’t abandon him; not like this.  You had a responsibility.

“Dabi,” you whispered, checking the face of the man spread across your bed.  His eye shifted to look at you, but he didn’t move.  “You can get up now.”

Slowly, he sat up, and you handed him his shirt, the sweat on it cooled.  You watched as he pulled it back on over his head, his back muscles rippling.  A slight shiver passed over him as the damp shirt made contact with his sensitive skin. He paused for a moment, assessing himself.  His body aches were lessened, and the nausea was milder.  But it was still there, and his head still hurt. And the hunger… the hunger was there too.

“How are you feeling?” You asked.

“Better.” He replied. A half-truth.  Or was it a half-lie?  But weren’t all half-truths just lies in disguise?

“Good.” You breathed with relief.  “Do you want me to check on you in a few hours?  Or do you want to come to me when you’re ready?”

Dabi turned to look at you, really seeing you for the first time since he arrived.  You seemed so kind, so pure… so trusting.  A guilt nagged at him, but he couldn’t place it.

“I’ll come to you.” He replied.  “I’m gonna go lay down.” He admitted.  Why did he feel the need to tell you that?

“Of course.  Get some rest if you can.” You replied with a nod.

Dabi stared at you for a moment, taking in your patient face, trying to place the feeling within him. Or was it feelings? Some good, some bad…

His head hurt too much to sort it out.  Without a word he left your room, you following him to the door to give him a small wave and a “goodnight” framed in a gentle smile.  Something about it seemed off - were you sad?

It was his fault, but he couldn’t remember how. Memories were too heavy to hold right now. Rest. He needed rest.

As you closed the door behind him, Dabi put his hands in his pockets.  He felt something in them that wasn’t supposed to be there, and he pulled his hand out to stare at the contents.

Three pills sat in his hands, the weight of them strangely heavy.  Or was that the weight of his conscience?

How did he get these? He stared at them blankly.

He couldn’t remember.

But Dabi knew for certain you didn’t give them to him.

A voice in his head told him to turn around and give them back.  To apologize for breaking your trust, for violating the fragile agreement you had both mentally signed.

But there was another voice. One that swam in his blood like demons and controlled his muscles.

More, more, more.

He swallowed the pills.

_________________________________________________________

Part 6

_____________________________________________________

Taglist: @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart @doebopeepeebbod @ghost-of-todoroki​ @marvel-philosophy @lysawayne​ @udontneedtokno​ @citrussaurus 

[limerental]

ficletvember - day 2

yennskier/yenralt/geraskefer - prompt: amnesia

"Ah, Geralt! There you are!"

Geralt looks up from his untouched morning meal of soggy groats, peering through the haze of cigar smoke that fills the mess hall of the boarding house even so early in the day. He does not quite have the patience or time to deal with the bard's theatrics, not when last night Yennefer had not met him at their first planned rendezvous or their second. Geralt has been reluctantly forced to fall back to their third option which is, infuriatingly, wait as instructed until something happens.

Jaskier, ignorant of or used to his tense mood, flops onto the stool across from him and leans to inspect Geralt's meal for anything worth stealing.

"Morning, good morning, I've uh, well, I've acquired something of a charity case since we last parted."

"Is that some code for something I’m meant to be savvy to?"

"Yes, yes, you old man, it's code for I found a lost girl last night with not a lick of memory. Must have bumped her head or something. And very poorly dressed. Barefoot on the streets. Brought her back to my room to--"

"Jaskier."

"Oh hush, always thinking the worst of me, Geralt. It's truly offensive. I fetched her some clothing and was quite gentlemanly. She's still sleeping."

"And?"

"And we're going to help her."

"I'm busy."

"What with your erm… what were you doing with Yennefer again? Tracking that mage?"

"She didn't meet me last night."

"Oh."

"Could be trouble."

"Right, yeah, and what's the plan then?"

"Wait for her," Geralt grits out. He hates this plan. But trusts Yennefer. The mage is dangerous and potentially ornery, and this is Yennefer's business, Geralt involved only by chance meeting and because she allowed it. Nothing to be done. 

"Mmmm riveting. Sounds like you simply have too much on your plate to help one poor young maiden. Booked full."

Geralt sighs.

If this is just another of Jaskier's more elaborate methods of wooing some poor, confused, likely hungover girl, then he will have some choice words to say.

*

The girl is not hungover or otherwise impaired, the stink of enchantments hitting him before Geralt has even reached the landing on the narrow stairs that lead to the bard's rented rooms. Soot and copper and something else, something familiar.

The room is sparse but comfortable, a spare cot placed by the crackling fire and a lumpy shape on the mattress by the window. A woman, curled in a fetal position, slight and olive-skined, lies dressed in one of Jaskier's blue undershirts, her dark hair tangled across the pillows. At the sound of the door closing behind them, she startles awake and shoves herself up, the oversized shirt slumping off one shoulder and hair a mess of frizz.

Geralt knows her at once and in the same breath, she is a stranger. He grunts, his mind blurring as he resists whatever magic lies heavily on her. Simply requires some concentration.

"Here she is then, Geralt this is-- ah yes, she's forgotten her name. Poor dear. We can fix that though, yes? My friend is here to help you."

"I know her."

"Er…"

"It's a memory enchantment. I could push through it with a bit of time."

"Right, right, don't allow me to hold you back. Get right on that. Push on through."

"And quiet."

"Peace and quiet, yes, yeah. Undoubtedly. Makes a good bit of sense."

"Jaskier?" asks the woman, her voice soft and touched by uncertainty. "Is it too late to come back to bed? My head is killing me." 

She gestures with an open palm, the other resting on her folded knees, as though expecting the bard to settle down with her on the mattress. 

Jaskier reaches to take her hand.

Geralt gives him a Look.

"Thought you didn't--"

"I didn't! She had a nightmare. She--"

"I'm no maiden," says the girl. "I don't need your protection."

"Haven't you lost your memory? How could you know that?"

She goes a bit cross-eyed in consideration of this. Jaskier settles onto the bed beside her, his arm snug around her shoulders. She lets out an unsteady breath and slumps against him, turning her forehead into his side. Jaskier ignores Geralt's disapproving look to tuck a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

"Geralt can help. He'll moan about it, but he’s plenty good at helping. Except with sums, I swear, that man cannot count to ten to save his--"

"Jaskier. Concentration."

"Right. I'll just let you--"

"Jaskier!"

Geralt breathes through his nose, eyes closed, allowing the room to fall away and the enchantment to thrum around him. Wood-ash and smoke, a sharp, acrid scent, then lilacs and--

He opens his eyes to see Yennefer cradled under the bard's arm, brow relaxing its deep grooves as he hums something into her hair.

It may take only her name to dispel the fog in her mind and lift the curse.

Geralt hesitates.

"Would you sing the one you did last night?" Yen mutters, meant for only Jaskier to hear. How vulnerable she looks, voice heavy with sleep. "The one about the nightingale?"

He relents at once, whispering the lyrics against her hair, shifting subtly back and forth in time to the melody. How small Yennefer looks curled up next to Jaskier, how strangely well-suited they appear to one another. They scarcely can stand each other at the best of times, falling into nagging and bickering when forced into close proximity. 

Not so now.

Yennefer balls her hands into fists against her the bard’s chest, her lashes dark against her cheeks. Jaskier's eyes drift shut, cheek against the crown of her head, shaping the lilting tones of the lullaby with rounded mouth.

Oh, neither of them are ever going to live this down.

"I know who she is," says Geralt softly, loathe to break the moment. 

"And?"

"It will have to break naturally. Memory is fickle. Dangerous to mess with."

"And when will that be?"

"Not long. It's a strong enchantment. But not for one such as her."

"Come to bed," whispers Yennefer against Jaskier’s neck, her jaw stretching in an exaggerated yawn. "Fucking exhausted. Sing me the one about the housecat and the fiddle."

"Right away, my lady."

*

Geralt feels the curse break just past midday, Yennefer tensing suddenly in the sleeping bard's arms, her head lifting from his chest. 

"Geralt," she says stiffly, rousing him from his light meditation near the threshold of the room. "How much did I fucking drink last night? And please, if I embarrassed myself -- which I clearly did -- tell me it wasn't in public."

"You'll be the talk of this town for ages."

"Shut up, Witcher. What did I--"

"Memory curse. On you and around you."

"Amateur bastard," she cursed. "He could have at least cast something more creative."

Jostled by her shifting and griping, Jaskier awakes with a sleepy moan, soon swallowed by a shrill squeak of alarm as he recognizes his bed partner. He seems ready to attempt a dramatic escape off the other side of the bed if not for the body pinning his arm.

"Yennefer! Lovely to er… remember you!"

"Good morning, darling. Give us a kiss," drawls Yennefer.

Jaskier blanches, looking from the mage in his arms to Geralt and back again, until his floundering is finally interrupted by his brain properly kicking back on.

"You!" He points at Yennefer who blinks at him innocently. "You made me sing you lullabies."

"Mmm doesn't sound like me."

"And you!” He swings to point at Geralt. “You knew and didn't say anything! Gah!"

Yennefer shoves herself up, narrowing her eyes. Uh-oh.

"You knew? And allowed this idiot to rock me in his arms like a babe?"

"You looked peaceful," says Geralt. 

"Mmmm," hums Yennefer.

"Oh!" Jaskier exclaims, his hand curling around Yennefers hip as he snuggles down into the warmed linens. "I slept with Yennefer of Vengerberg."

Yennefer’s violet eyes gleam.

"You have permission to beat him," says Geralt.

"When did I ever need your permission to do anything?"

Alarmed shouts echo through the walls of the boarding house. 

But that night, music.

[multifandomfanficreclist]

Witcher Fic Mass Post

I have delved deep into the Witcher fandom during these quarantimes. This is a selection of the fics I’ve enjoyed.

All are Geralt/Jaskier unless stated otherwise.

***

Louder and Louder - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295869

Geralt tries to puzzle out why Jaskier keeps following him into danger after danger... completely missing the obvious. There's too great a gulf between what his witcher senses pick up, and what his damaged heart is willing to accept.

//

 "The bard’s heart always beats faster whenever the witcher draws near. That isn't unusual. So do the hearts of most humans he encounters. Not only do they blanch and recoil at the sight of his white hair and amber eyes, but they begin to sweat, the stench of their fear a sour tang at the back of his throat.

 But the bard never seems to reek of fear."

***

The Courting Jewellery A/B/O - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689562

Geralt doesn’t wear his courting jewelry—the medallion is apparently a witcher thing, not an omega one—and Jaskier supposes that makes sense. Geralt leads a very active life, and probably saves the jewelry for situations it won’t run the constant risk of getting ruined in. Certainly a nice set of earrings would be a lot more fragile than the plain studs he wears instead. A lot of omegas don’t wear their courting jewelry day to day, anyway, or at least not most of it. Geralt’s hardly unusual in that.

It’s a bit of a shame, though, because Jaskier’d like to see him in it.

***

You Follow? - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620703

I’m a Jaskier Rivia stan first and a person second @whitewolfpackleader: Did @bardofficial win a Grammy? No. But he DID put his husband in a leather tunic for the red carpet and in that sense, we’re all winners tonight

***

Front Row Praises - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326214

The girl rolls her eyes at him. “If you’re just going to stand here ogling the witcher, maybe go and do it out of the way.”

“Ogling.” Jaskier scoffs. “Who’s ogling?”

She looks unimpressed. “Have you told him you want him to fuck you?”

***

Even a Small Love - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473670

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

***

Redwood and Dandelion - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22681252

"The Witcher's bought a room for the night, and says he'll pay double for anyone who can bed him without stinking of fear the whole time."

"Oh, I've fucking got this," Jaskier promised.

Or, the one where Jaskier works in a brothel and falls head over heels for the stoic, not-actually-that-scary Witcher who comes in requesting his services.

Geralt doesn't know what he's getting himself into.

***

Petrichor - Geralt/Eskel/Jaskier - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22866559/chapters/54652891

 “Geralt…? What, by Melitele’s tits, are you doing? The door, man, normal people use a d--... Geralt?” He noticed it now. The feverish sheen on the Witcher’s skin, the alert, skittish look in his eyes and the--. He cleared the distance between them in three strides. Geralt retreated until his back hit the wall with a dull thud, but Jaskier would not be deterred. He shoved his face into the crook of Geralt’s neck and breathed in deeply, his hands gripping the edges of the damp cloak draped over broad shoulders. “You’re…”

 “I need… need to ask you… for a…” He clenched his teeth, eyes rolling to the ceiling. Two gloved hands lifted to push Jaskier away from his chest; it felt like trying to move a mountain. Not because Jaskier pushed back, but because every fibre of his being wanted to pull the other way. Ask for a what though? ‘Favour’ didn’t quite fit the bill for what he was about to request, and so he stared at Jaskier with those intense golden eyes, while mentally scrambling for a coherent explanation amidst the brain fog.

The saga of Geralt and Jaskier getting together, falling in love with Eskel, and learning that it's all right to want (and let themselves have) things.

***

Where There’s a Witcher - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604140

Jaskier is a twentysomething recently unemployed journalist and amateur musician looking for his big break. So when he’s saved from the jaws of a wyvern by the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia, he comes up with a brilliant idea: he’ll follow the Witcher around and sing about their exploits. He’ll gain fame and fortune and Geralt will get a much needed image rehab. Everyone wins. Unless Jaskier goes and falls in love like an idiot.

***

Tired Symphony Verse - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597723

Silence reigned between them. Outside there was the dull sound of training swords clashing and Jaskier turned his gaze towards the window, watching the sky outside.

“I’m-- sorry.” Geralt said. It sounded truly remorseful.

Jaskier took a deep breath and then tipped himself slightly to the side, pressing his shoulder against the witcher’s.

“I know.”

***

There Goes my Heart Beating - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22382665

“Sometimes,” Geralt says quietly, “I forget that you care.”

Jaskier looks up surprised and sees that Geralt is looking down at him with a small frown on his face. “Geralt,” Jaskier sighs, shaking his head fondly, “you foolish beef-brain. Of course I care.”

Or,

Five times Jaskier asks Geralt questions, and the one time Geralt asked Jaskier.

***

Shrug off the Shroud - https://archiveofourown.org/works/23027161

askier's student doesn’t see him when she skids into the tavern. Her friends are already present, drinking merrily, and she slaps their table so hard their tankards rattle.

“Have you heard?" She flashes a gossiper's secretive grin. "The White Wolf’s gone mad.”

After Geralt sends Jaskier away, Jaskier returns to Oxenfurt and builds a good (albeit unfulfilling) life there. He's fine—moving on, truly—until gut-wrenching rumors start to circulate that the White Wolf's lost his his mind. Jaskier's a bard. A truth-teller. He can't just let the rumors go unsubstantiated.

***

Sometimes a Hammer, Sometimes a Lockpick - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22998961

Geralt's been in a dungeon for two weeks and is understandably frustrated. Jaskier, on the other hand, is what one might call... livid.

***

New Monster Stories - https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097970/chapters/55260658

 “So do you have a name?”

 “Yeah.” The man who had saved his life less than an hour ago – the white-haired, absurdly buff, weirdly sexy man Jaskier might have called taciturn if he was feeling charitable and surly if he was feeling less so – dug into his second burger.

 Jaskier waited. “Are… you going to tell me what it is?”

 The man paused mid-bite, and looked at him reproachfully as if to say how dare you. How dare you interrupt me. Can’t you see I’m enjoying my cheeseburger. Can’t you see this cheeseburger is the most important thing in my life right at the moment. He swallowed, and said, “Geralt.”

It turns out almost getting eaten by a werewolf can make your whole life go careening off in a new, terrifying, wondrous, artistically flourishing direction. Who knew?

***

When Midnights Break their Sleep - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647292

  The first Snapchat that anyone ever sends Geralt is a picture of his own irritated face.

 shrike_princess: can u believe this dumbass finally got a snapchat bc a cute boy asked him nicely

 "It wasn't even that nicely," Geralt says flatly.

AKA: The one where Geralt is a bartender and Jaskier sings karaoke.

***

An Exaltation of Wolves - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687699

Jaskier accompanies Geralt to Kaer Morhen for the winter and finds the other Witchers just as prickly--and just as deserving of love--as the White Wolf.

***

Lilacs and Dandelions - Jaskier/Yennefer/Geralt - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22929526/chapters/54808162

“The Witcher believes you’re under a spell,” Yennefer said, conversationally, drawing a sip from her tea.

“I most certainly am,” said Jaskier to her in a warm drawl that Geralt recognized as the tone of voice he slipped into when flirting and frankly, things needed to start making more sense and fast before he gave into his impulse to do something rash and wholly unhelpful. Namely, chuck himself out the cottage window and into the sea.

Or Geralt seeks out Yennefer only to find her, of all unbelievable and ridiculous things, shacking up with his bard.

***

Woodash and Iron and Leather - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114921

Jaskier is the only person Geralt's ever been around who doesn't smell of fear

[mythicalsecretsanta]

In The Bleak Midwinter (G)

This gift is for: Grace-Anna (AKA @rhettroedits) Seaborne does not particularly enjoy Christmas and he especially doesn’t enjoy being back in his home town for it. From your Secret Santa, Mai (AKA @holdbythenotsharp)

Link to AO3, or read below:

As the insufferably cheery notes of Wonderful Christmastime invade his awareness, Charles Seaborne realizes he has been standing in front of the uninspiring wine selection of an A&C, staring at it blankly for some time. Trying to choose between a mediocre Merlot and quite possibly an even more mediocre Pinot Noir is impossible with the seasonal jingle assaulting his ears, overriding intelligent thought. 

To be honest, he’d prefer whiskey, but years spent away from his home state had made him forget grocery stores here don’t carry hard liquor. To be really honest, he could die a lucky man, if he never had to hear Wonderful Christmastime again, he thinks as he reaches for the Merlot.

Seaborne doesn’t enjoy surprises. As a rule, he doesn’t allow himself to be caught off-guard. Some might call him inflexible, even uptight, he prefers methodical and well-prepared. But as it turns out, it’s very difficult to be prepared for seeing a ghost. 

He had been on his way to the checkout, before remembering his intention to pick up a proper shampoo to replace the miserable 2 in 1 his hotel offered, so he turns around to navigate back to the personal care aisle. Halfway there he spots the figure of a tall man standing in the middle of the pet food aisle, browsing dog treats. It had been years since Seaborne last saw him. His glasses are smaller than they used to be, with subtle metal rims, and he’d grown a full beard at some point, but there was no mistaking. His best friend from childhood — who he had not heard from for almost a decade — had apparently gotten a dog. 

Apprehension and dread overwhelm Seaborne. He wants to run away, but his feet have stopped moving. It’s not like they had a falling out, really. He could probably just say hello, and Roach would probably say hi back. But then what?

Roach drops a bag of treats into his basket, jolting Seaborne back into action. He scurries behind a shelf and pretends to be engrossed in canned fruit until his heart stops racing. After a moment of contemplation, he decides he can subject his hair to the torture of 2 in 1 for a day or two more and makes his way out of the store, stealing glances over his shoulder, making sure he is not spotted. He doesn’t notice his hands trembling until he’s sitting in his El Camino in the parking lot, failing for the third time to aim the key into the ignition.

By the time he’s back at his hotel room, a spartan affair at a Holiday Inn near the interstate 40, he has almost convinced himself the man he had seen was actually a ghost, or possibly one of those kombucha drinking hipsters that had invaded the town since his last visit. What are the chances it was the man Seaborne specifically hoped to avoid this trip?

After watching two episodes of Magnum P.I. and polishing off most of the wine, he’s practically forgotten about the encounter. It’s as if it hadn’t happened at all. He plans to go on as usual, as if it’s just another job in just another town, not the prodigal son’s return to a place that had not been kind to him. That night he has an unsettling dream about being lost in a maze of dark alleyways, wandering endlessly, hunger and thirst eating away at his insides. Just when he expects to collapse next to a stack of pallets in some dead end that stinks like month old garbage, he notices a lonely turkey vulture on a nearby rooftop staring at him with piercing eyes, waiting. 

The dream refuses to leave him alone the following day, and gloomy imagery creeps back into his mind as he sits in his car, staring out of the window and across a parking lot at an office building. It’s rainy and chilly, and the windows of the El Camino keep fogging up as he shivers in his seat, fingers wrapped tightly around a takeaway cup of some sickly sweet gingerbread flavored coffee concoction. If nothing else, the sugar and the caffeine should give him energy to keep staring at the building’s only exit. The guy he was hired to follow should be out any moment now, but Seaborne is not a patient man, so he fiddles with the knobs of the car radio, taps along on the lid of his cup after finding a station that doesn’t play Christmas songs and — after realizing the tapping will not keep him entertained for long — fishes out his phone from his pocket. He’s been doing this for years, he can easily keep one eye on the door of the office building and the other on his phone, while he idly slides his thumb across the screen to reveal increasingly inane, mostly holiday-related, updates from distant friends and even more distant family members.

“Where the hell is he?” Seaborne mutters to no one but himself and leans back in his seat. Even after all the years of working in a job with a lot of downtime, he hasn’t learned to tolerate boredom. It still makes him irritable and antsy; like each minute spent with nothing to do pressurizes the anxious energy inside him until he is ready to pop.

After a while of scrolling, he is sure he doesn’t want to see another picture of someone’s child or pet in a cutesy costume or posed in front of a decorated tree in a mockery of domestic bliss. He hasn’t been paying that much attention to the motions of his thumb, so when he looks down again he’s startled to see the profile page of a Jim Roach. After some initial hesitation he browses through the pictures, just to confirm he is in fact still with Gina and they have two kids and a third on the way. There are several collections of photos, of a vacation to Hawaii, of an anniversary party, of their children’s birthdays. Seaborne scours through them frantically, like he’s trying to find something specific, but he doesn’t know what. When he looks up from the device, his is the only car in the parking lot and the office building looks dark and empty. 

That night as he sits alone in his hotel room, trying to distract himself from the strange and somewhat disconcerting damp smell lingering in the surrounding air, he googles Roach. For no real reason, just… He’s curious. He finds Roach has started a business selling commercial kitchen equipment, and all signs imply he is doing alright for himself. He lives not too far from where they both grew up and his number is listed. Seaborne saves the number on his phone. Just in case.

When he calls the number the following morning, he hasn’t planned what to say. Indeed, he hadn’t planned to call at all, but he can’t get the number out of his mind. The mere presence of the number in his phone’s memory has been burning a hole through his pocket ever since he left the hotel earlier. It’s still early, he figures. Judging by the opening hours of Roach’s store, he might still reach him by calling his home number. He hits the call icon on his screen, fully aware he has never done a single thing so spontaneously in his entire life. It rings for some time, and he contemplates hanging up.

“Hello?” Gina answers the phone.

Seaborne inhales to say… to say what exactly? His mind is blank, and his jaw is so stiff he fears he couldn’t move it even if he knew what to say. 

“Hello?” Gina’s voice is more demanding and Seaborne is sorry for bothering her like this. She’s probably trying to get the kids to school or something. He really shouldn’t have called. Hanging up on her seems more courteous than creepy, given the circumstances. He decides to drive by Roach’s house later instead to satisfy his curiosity about how the man lives these days, maybe see what kind of car he drives, or if he has a pool.

The driveway is empty when he gets there a few hours later, and he can’t see a pool, but Seaborne slows down to get a good look at the swing set in the yard. It’s a nicer model, he knows after shopping for one for his niece’s birthday last year. The house is nice too; it looks welcoming and happy nestled in between others just like it, with their well-maintained gardens marred only by the occasional scattered toy. Roach has come a long way from where he was when the arrival of his firstborn pressured him into accepting a job offer from his father-in-law instead of pursuing a career with his best friend.

The twinge of something dark he felt outside Roach’s house returns to him later at night, when he is back alone in his hotel room. The feeling is hard to name. Jealousy of the pleasant, middle class family life Seaborne never accomplished with his ex-wife, perhaps, or remorse of letting all that between him and his best friend? Sleep evades him as he tosses and turns in his overly soft bed, getting up every once in a while to adjust the temperature, have a glass of water or to urinate. No amount of focusing on his breathing or imagining himself on a tropical beach calms down the heavy pounding of his vexed heart. He doesn’t know what a panic attack feels like, but suspects it might be something like this.

Even three cups of coffee cannot revive him the next day. Exhaustion is like an itch behind his eyes and sitting still in a car with nothing to do aggravates him even more than usual. The insecurity and guilt that had cursed his existence the night before still linger in him, gnawing away at his usual indifference and cynicism. Worst of all, the day has been long but futile, Seaborne has still not got any incriminating evidence against the man he has been following for the better part of a week and he is seriously considering just packing up his things and going back home. What good will it do him, another day or two in this town that only reminds him of his loneliness? As if the holiday season wasn’t bad enough already.

The passenger side door of the El Camino opens, interrupting his thoughts. Seaborne turns to scold the intruder, but the words he had held on his tongue glide to the back of his throat and he swallows them, as the intruder settles down on the seat beside him, arranges his long legs neatly under the dashboard and leans back in the seat like it’s something natural he does every day. For a while they just sit still, air thick with anticipation. Seaborne has no idea what to expect, and the questions spinning in his mind refuse to be arranged to words.

“What’s the gig? Who are we following?” the intruder says. He’s wearing sunglasses instead of the glasses he had on in the grocery store, and he looks a bit like a rock star with his big beard and leather jacket. Or a moron, considering it’s not sunny, but Seaborne lets that slide for now.

“We are not following anyone, dude, what are you doing here?” Seaborne can’t help but feel a little self-conscious about still wearing the same gray tweed coat, now sporting holes in the elbows. It’s still a good coat, though, and he was never one to throw away perfectly usable items of clothing.

“You wouldn’t have driven by my house six times in two days if you weren’t looking for help.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so what are we doing?”

“It’s an infidelity thing… You know, I only drove by your house because the guy’s mom lives near there, at the end of the cul-de-sac. I was looking for him and thought he might be there.”

“Sure. Good to see ya, man.”

“Hmm.”

Seaborne wants to say he missed Roach, working with him, or just sitting with him like this, but it might be too much. They never said things like that before, theirs just wasn’t that kind of a relationship. He suspects Roach is not expecting it either, judging by the way he leans his cheek on the side window, staring intensely at something outside. Probably some squirrels running around in the park across the street.

“So. Still investigating privately after all these years,” Roach says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Turns out it’s what I’m good at. Or at least somewhat more successful than as a chef.” Seaborne replies. It’s not untrue, he’s made a name for himself and has a steady trickle of cases landing on his table, even if success may be a slight overstatement.

“Questioning the questionable. Missing dogs and eaten flowers, still?”

“Shut up.” A slight twitch in the corner of Seaborne’s mouth reveals he doesn’t mind the gentle jabbing. The years had softened some parts of him at least. He is no longer the tightly wound bundle of aggression and defensiveness he once was. “Still a lot of cheaters though.”

“You know I gotta ask… is the guy at least older than twelve this time?”

“Come on, man!” Seaborne can no longer contain his giggling, and the delighted grin on Roach’s face only spurs him on. “At least acknowledge my lack of mustache first!”

[shitfics]

Up in the Air; onjongtae; nc-17

Taemin’s friendship with Jinki has been strained for months. When Jinki ditches their evening plans once again without explanation, Taemin follows him to see what Jinki had abandoned him for. He finds Jinki in the arms of a charming air pirate named Jonghyun—and after a few rounds of drinks, finds their relationship even more intriguing than it had first appeared.

AO3 LINK

I started this a few months back when I started replaying Skies of Arcadia. Consider it part of my ‘revisiting the setting of old unrated JRPGs with the Digital Devil Saga inspired fic. ^^ This has always been one of my favorite RPG settings. Though it can be a bit cheesy, it’s wholesome and fun.

I want to apologize/prewarn that this may be pretty low-quality, but hopefully isn’t confusing or riddled with too many errors. I didn’t really have anyone to beta it so I did the proofreading myself, even though I’m terrible at that. Whether or not hammocks can actually be used the way they are in this fic, I have no idea, but I prioritized horniness over physics here.

There is a bit of a hanging ending because I have a semi-complete plot for this verse, though I don’t know if I’ll revisit it since I’m busy with original things. So the open/kinda sad ending here is definitely not the ‘real’ one. Since this is a oneshot, I’ve gone ahead and put the full fic below the cut.

Taemin ran a thumb along the cork of the wine bottle in his lap.

Jinki should’ve shown up by now. This afternoon, Taemin had been late for his daily briefing from the Valuan Armada because he’d slipped away to remind Jinki of their plans. There was no chance Jinki could have forgotten, and it wasn’t as if their plans required any preparations. They were going to meet for drinks and cards after dinner. That was all Taemin had asked for.

And yet, despite all Taemin’s reminders, the plan had fallen through. Taemin set the bottle down on the table hard enough to rattle the still-empty glasses. When was the last time they’d gotten to spend time alone? Months ago?

With every day his mother got older, the court circled closer to him, desperate for some sort of connection before the Empress died and  his ass was permanently cemented on the throne. Nobles that had ignored him for years, thinking their efforts at winning favor were better spent on his mother, now acted like his best friend. Taemin pretended not to notice and dismissed them as smoothly as he could. He didn’t want sycophants. If he was ever going to take advice, he wanted it to be from someone that had always been there for him.

Only he didn’t have someone like that anymore. That was becoming more and more apparent.

Tonight wasn’t the first time Jinki had snubbed him. For the past year, Jinki had withdrawn. They no longer shared tables at parties, no longer met in the Armada training yards to hone their swordplay or marksmanship, no longer sent each other suffering looks when an admiral decided to ruin an evening with inflated tales of the latest land they had conquered or air pirate they had apprehended.

Well. Taemin still sent Jinki looks—they just weren’t returned.

Taemin had tried to broach the distance between them. Surely, something had gone wrong to make their friendship to change so drastically. But every time he asked, Jinki would give him that damned glowing smile and insist things were the same—he was just tired, or busy, or distracted. Taemin would feel stupid for worrying and drop it, then feel stupid again once the evening was done and he returned to the royal wing with a knot in his chest.

He gave Jinki another quarter hour. The rapid-fire thwacks as Taemin shuffled his cards drowned out the unrelenting ticks of the grandfather clock, but his eyes never left it.

The quarter hour passed. Five more minutes, he told himself. Then one last shuffle, as if that were a unit of time.

His hands shook—with rage, hurt, or shame, he didn’t know—and when the two stacks of cards interlocked and bent, he misjudged their placement. The edges caught, sending the deck flying out the two neat stacks and across the table.

Taemin swore and stood, leaving the cards scattered.

The door of the lounge slammed behind him. He stomped towards the wing of the palace where Jinki spent most of his nights. Though his family had a mansion a short walk away in Upper City, they kept a suite at the palace, too. His mother and father were heavy enough drinkers that a closer place to crash after parties was prudent.

Taemin rapped a gloved hand against the door. The head servant of their palace staff answered, eyes widening when he recognized Taemin. The poor man wasn’t at fault for Jinki’s failure to appear, so Taemin tried to manage a smile.

“Good evening,” Taemin said. “I’m looking for Jinki. He was supposed to meet me in the Silver Moon lounge for drinks. Is he in there? Is it possible he’s gone to the wrong room for our meeting?”

“I’m sorry, your highness. I wasn’t aware he had a meeting with you. He’s left for the night.”

Taemin froze. “Left?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“And he didn’t tell you what for?”

The man shook his head. “I’m sure it must have been urgent, if he abandoned your appointment without speaking to you first.”

“I’m sure it was.” Taemin crossed his arms and scowled. If Jinki didn’t want to be friends with him any longer, the least he could do was say it. “Thanks for letting me know, at least.”

“Of course, your highness. I apologize again for his absence.”

The servant gave a hasty bow and shut the door with a too-loud click, no doubt eager to escape a pissed-off prince.

Taemin stared at the lacquered oak, then snapped out of his daze and paced the hall as he tried to decide what to do with another night alone. He stopped at one of the palace’s dozen balconies that looked over the grounds and squinted through the fog. Under the yellow moon and its constant storms, even wealth and magic weren’t enough to create the sort of lush and well-tended gardens royalty possessed in books. Instead, their status was displayed through fountains, statues, intricate marble pathways, and electric lamps to make up for the lack of natural color.

Though the rainfall was no more than a drizzle—a rarity—only a few figures strolled the grounds. Taemin propped an elbow against the window ledge and watched. The lights cast everything in a faint, murky yellow, but he could make out the black piping of a familiar coat at a distance.

His jaw flexed in anger. He’d recognize that stupid out of fashion garment anywhere.

Dashing down the stairs, he ran towards an exit that would put him closest to where he’d spotted Jinki.

He needed to see what was so damn important to make Jinki skip out on him.

The way out sent him past one of the palace’s dozen laundry rooms. He grabbed a plain outfit and rain cloak as he passed through, figuring a change of clothes would help him escape notice if he had to tail Jinki further out of the palace grounds.

Jinki’s pace was leisurely, and Taemin’s rush allowed him to catch up with Jinki just as he reached one of the lesser-used and lazily-guarded gates between the palace and the Upper City.

They both passed through without questions. When they reached a crowded strip of brightly-lit theatres, shops, and pubs, Taemin almost lost interest in his pursuit—what could be found in one opulent drinking place that wasn’t found in the palace?—but he continued to follow until Jinki ducked into an alleyway.

The alley was empty when Taemin rounded the corner. He swore, convinced that he’d lost Jinki, then spotted an open manhole cover. He approached the entrance slowly, nose wrinkling at the stink that emitted from inside. After waiting a minute to give Jinki a better lead, he climbed down the ladder.

Grabbing clothes turned out to be a brilliant idea. Taemin changed out of his dinner clothes as he walked along the dark tunnel, heart racing. Judging by its direction and slope, the tunnel led to the Lower City. The new clothes wouldn’t allow him to blend in perfectly, but at least they weren’t silk, and the cloak would cover most of it. He’d only have to worry about his boots.

Finally, he reached an end and another open manhole. Taemin climbed up, worried if he waited too long he’d lose Jinki in the unfamiliar streets above. When he emerged into another alley, all he had to do was step out onto the street to find Jinki again.

Taemin closed the distance between them. The constant rumble of thunder drowned out his heaviest footsteps, and even if Jinki turned, only half of the street lamps worked. The few that did flickered, switching the appearance of those passing beneath them from pallid to jaundiced on a whim. Only the periodic flash of lightning might give away his face, but Jinki never looked back.

They wound their way through the dirty streets of Lower City, until finally, Jinki approached one of the battered buildings that lined the stone-and-cement paths.

A pub.

Taemin let him enter alone. Why would Jinki come here? And why would he refuse to tell anyone about it? If he simply wanted to avoid Taemin or the other nobility and drink alone, it’d make sense, but the visit was hardly illicit. Plenty of nobles enjoyed visiting the Lower City for their less-than-legal affairs or an unrestrained night on the town. If Jinki enjoyed slumming it, Taemin couldn’t imagine why he’d keep it so secret.

One of the pub’s walls was half open, separated from an outside porch by a single counter. A tin veranda protected the crowd and tables that spilled outside from the steady rain. Most of the drinkers appeared to be workers, judging by the soot and ash that covered their arms and breeches. There were others—a few low-ranking soldiers and off-duty servants as well—but one table stood out amongst the rest.

The men and women seated there wore mismatched clothes, some in dresses, vests, scarves, and shirts. All were armed, visibly or otherwise. And each outfit had one thing in common: a touch of blue.

Blue Rogues. Pirates.

Taemin shifted his attention to the entry and exit of the pub and waited. If Jinki stayed inside, Taemin would have to go in to observe him and risk being noticed. Outside, he might have a chance.

After what felt like hours, Jinki reappeared under the veranda with an overflowing mug in hand. He moved through the crowd with ease and a clear destination: the table of Blue Rogues.

Taemin’s eyes widened. Surely, Jinki was meeting with someone Taemin didn’t see—someone  behind the pirates and out of view, or some friend that had somehow gotten roped into their lively game of cards—but when Jinki arrived, the entire table of Blue Rogues cheered.

Jinki returned the greetings with half-hugs and laughter as he made his way around the table. Taemin watched, lips parted in shock, when Jinki finally stopped—and climbed into the lap of the eyepatched man at the head of it.

Heat raced to Taemin’s face. Oh, moons.

The man stole a kiss, then steered Jinki around by his hips to face the table and pressed a drink into his hand. The chatter and card games at the table resumed, though a few gazes lingered on the pair.

To Jinki, the whole event was plainly routine. He sipped from his mug, unbothered as the man— pirate— beneath him ran a hand along his ribs.

Taemin weighed his next action. This certainly wasn’t what he expected to find after following Jinki. But if he went back to the palace, what was he going to do? Sleep like normal, as if Jinki hadn’t ditched him and snuck out that very night to fuck a Blue Rogue?

He’d never cared before who Jinki slept with. It wasn’t his business. But Jinki had made  this  particular man his business by abandoning their plans for this.

Taemin tightened his cloak around himself and marched into the pub.

Immediately, he felt out of place. No primly uniformed server came to greet him at the door and escort him to an exclusive table sectioned off from the others with velvet curtains. The ordering system here was cut-throat. Shouts for drinks and meals rose over the din, with the returned yell from staff shielded from the overflowing drinks and food scraps by only a dirtied apron.

Content to be ignored, Taemin wove through the crowded pub until he reached the door to the patio. He hovered at the threshold, hesitant—this might be his last chance to go unnoticed—and jumped when a man shoved past him.

“Watch it, kid,” the man grumbled. “You’re blocking the whole fucking door.”

Taemin righted himself just before he fell. His heart pounded. He was completely out of his element. But he wasn’t turning back now. Jinki would never expect him to appear here, and maybe that would be the shock the man needed to realize what an ass he’d been for the past few months.

He kept his chin high as he approached the Blue Rogues. If there was one thing he knew about that sort of pirate, it was that they respected confidence. He stopped beside Jinki and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Good evening, Jinki.”

Instantly, he regretted his choice of greeting. Half the table turned to him, some with snickers, some with only a raised brow or puckered lips in mockery of his Upper City accent.

He flushed, but refused to step back. Jinki took his time turning—the pirate under him had been lifting another drink to his lips, and he couldn’t move without spilling the ale all down his front. When Jinki finally managed to look at him, his eyes went wide, but any words remained stuck in his throat.

The eyepatched man took in Jinki’s shock and scanned Taemin, gaze lingering on Taemin’s unworn and well-made boots, before tightening a protective arm around Jinki’s waist. “A friend of yours?”

“Yes,” Jinki said, clipped. “What are you doing here?”

“I think I should be asking what  you’re  doing here. Or who.”

The pirate snorted. He set his drink aside and leaned around Jinki to extend a hand. “I’m Jonghyun. Captain. Good to meet you.”

“Jonghyun,” Taemin repeated, shocked out of his attention on Jinki. He shook Jonghyun’s hand out of instinct before thinking to refuse. “The son of Eunkyung The Legend?”

“That’s my mom.” Jonghyun gave a mocking salute. “I see you’re up to date on bounties.”

“Yes. Valua sets most of those bounties, and it’s exciting gossip for the nobility.”

“Which you’re one of, I assume—like Jinki. You have a name?”

“Taemin,” he said, and left it at that. Even if he didn’t want to hide who he was, titles felt inappropriate here.

“Taemin,” Jonghyun repeated. “As in...”

“As in  the prince,”  Jinki finished for him.

“Oh.” Jonghyun inspected Taemin for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to be bothered, before finally shrugging. “Do I still have to pay for your drinks, if you’re joining us as a guest?”

“I think there’s bigger things to worry about,” Jinki muttered, glancing back. He leaned towards Taemin, but Jonghyun’s arm snaked around his waist to stop him from leaving earshot. After a small sigh, Jinki continued anyway, voice low and pleading. “Please don’t tell anyone of this. I don’t care about my reputation, but I don’t want the armada or anyone else finding out that Jonghyun comes here. He could get hurt.”

“I won’t.” Taemin’s eyes kept flicking to where Jonghyun’s hand rested on Jinki’s thigh, keeping him balanced. “I’m not a snitch.”

Jinki’s lips remained a thin line. Jonghyun patted his leg in reassurance.

“I could handle myself even if he did tell the armada, Jinki. I’ve been doing this my whole life. Hell, half the ships we rob  are  Valuan armada airships. That’s how Blue Rogues work.”

“I know, but...”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Taemin emphasized. “I only wanted to see what you’re doing that’s so important. We had plans tonight. Or did you forget?”

Jinki flushed. “Jonghyun doesn’t get to visit often, so when I heard he was in town...”

“You ditched him?” Jonghyun interjected. “I’m flattered you wanted to see me so badly, but that’s awfully rude of you.”

Jinki buried his face in his hands. “Years of etiquette lessons, and I’m getting lectured on manners by a pirate...”

“You could have at least told me something came up, so I didn’t have to hear some vague excuse from your servant,” Taemin said.

“I was worried you’d see through any lie I came up with.”

“Well, that backfired,” Jonghyun added.

“Clearly,” Taemin said, arms crossed. “I know everything now.”

“I’m sorry,” Jinki said. “I won’t do it again.”

Taemin bit his lip. He  was  hurt that Jinki had abandoned him. But he was intrigued enough by the reason to ignore the sting. It’d be foolish to come out all this way and not see what sort of romance Jinki had with a pirate.

“It’s fine,” Taemin sighed. “Though you’re definitely going to owe me something after this. Maybe a proper fencing match. Or a dinner from your family’s chef.”

Jinki smiled. “I think I can do that.”

Jonghyun’s hand soothed over Jinki’s knee. “Glad you two were able to kiss and make up.” When Jinki frowned and turned back, Jonghyun tucked Jinki against his neck to muffle his protest. “Since you’re already here, your highness, do you want to join us tonight? I’m not sure what sort of plans you had with Jinki.”

“We were going to play cards. And drink, probably.”

“Conveniently, we can do both of those here,” Jonghyun said. “Take a seat.” He swiped an abandoned deck from a few of his crew that had decided an arm wrestling match was more enticing, then passed it to Jinki.

“Mind shuffling this for us, handsome?”

Jinki sent Taemin an apologetic look before cutting the deck in half. The flutter of cards as he shuffled kept Taemin’s attention, though he felt Jonghyun’s gaze on him. When he finally found the nerve to meet Jonghyun’s eye, the pirate gave him a toothy smile.

“Are we playing for anything? I imagine you have quite deep pockets.”

Taemin licked his lips. He usually made friendly bets with Jinki when they played, so he had brought a small coin purse—and he’d already expected it to be empty by the end of the night. Jinki trounced everyone at court in cards.

“I have some money on me, though it’s probably not as much as you’re hoping for.” Taemin watched Jonghyun warily when Jinki started to hand cards back to Jonghyun, but made no move to leave his lap. “If you can see Jinki’s cards, I’m not sure it’ll be a fair game. You two could gang up on me.”

“Not if he keeps them on his right side.” Jonghyun tapped his eye patch. “This is real. Can’t see shit through it. Or without it, really. Lost it in a ship battle a few years ago with one of your armada vessels.” He held up his drink. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”

Jinki pursed his lips. “Maybe he just wants me out of your lap, Jonghyun. People are never this flagrant about their relationships at the palace.”

“Too bad. I only get to see you twice a month at  most.  If he’s not going to complain about you being in my lap, you’re staying.”

Jinki rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his lips that stuck as he finished dealing their cards.

“I don’t mind it,” Taemin said, which was true. He’d never seen this side of Jinki before. Maybe it was strange to observe his old friend so closely, but he was fascinated.

He pulled his first hand of cards up to his nose and fought back a scowl. Already, he was off to a bad start.

Their first pot of coins went to Jonghyun. Then the next. After Taemin took a few losses to Jonghyun without complaint, the tension in Jinki’s shoulders eased—probably convinced that Taemin wasn’t about to run and turn Jonghyun over to the armada. As they drank, they talked, and Jinki and Jonghuyn relaxed back into the behavior Taemin assumed was their usual in the dingy pub.  

And Taemin watched.

Jonghyun would nose aside the longer hair against the back of Jinki’s neck, exposing his nape for a kiss that made his mouth twitch with a noiseless gasp. Jonghyun’s left hand switched between lifting a tankard to his lips, running along Jinki’s side, and roaming over his stomach. His right stayed on Jinki’s thigh, low towards the knee, but sometimes it moved up. Only then would Jinki push Jonghyun’s hand away—but it was always with a grin and a quiet glance that promised a later.

The thought made Taemin’s blood burn. Jonghyun couldn’t be that posssive. Jinki slept with people at the palace. But all of those affairs happened out of Taemin’s view—he only heard rumors or short mentions—so his image of Jinki had stayed the same through the years, even as Taemin absently noted his attractiveness. They were friends.

Now, though—he wondered at their dynamic, at what Jinki might be like. What was it like when they stole a moment alone? Was it like now, both of Jonghyun’s hands on him, gripping and guiding? Or was that just how the pirate captain acted in public to stake his claim, while in bed he’d lie back and let someone else order him around?

Taemin swallowed back every image with a mouthful of ale. Occasionally, Jonghyun would send what felt like a knowing glance from his single eye, and heat would race through him.

The dozenth time their gazes caught—while Jonghyun’s hand slipped inside Jinki’s pocket—was enough to push Taemin over the edge.

He licked his lips and leaned towards them. He needed to be close if he wanted to be heard over the din that had grown with each glass served.

“I have a question,” he said.

Jinki leaned in to hear him better. Jonghyun shifted Jinki aside until he was only inches behind him. Taemin’s attention flicked between their faces. This close, he could lean forward and kiss either of them if he wanted to.

Taemin inhaled sharply, suddenly needing air. “Do you both sleep around? You’re not exclusive to each other?”

Jinki’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You know the answer to that.”

Jonghyun’s smile widened and grew crooked. “Why, are you interested?”

“Yes,” Taemin said. There was no point in hiding it, and he was tipsy enough to be direct.

Jinki’s eyes widened. “Taemin—“

“I’ve been watching you two grab at each other for hours now,” Taemin interrupted. “Is that not supposed to stoke something in me?”

Jinki froze. Jonghyun’s hand rubbed up his side, along his ribs, before he kissed Jinki’s neck.

“If you’re jealous or uninterested, I’ll stop this now,” Jonghyun whispered to Jinki. If Taemin wasn’t staring to read his lips, he wouldn’t have caught a word. “You always come first.”

“You know I don’t get jealous.”

Jonghyun leaned back to look at him. “Then why are you pouting? Is it different, because he’s a friend?”

“It’s different because he’s the  prince ,” Jinki hissed.

Jonghyun grinned. “Is that supposed to make it less exciting?”

“I’m cutting you off,” Jinki said, sliding Jonghyun’s mug away from him. “You’re drunk.”

“As you always do, when I have my best ideas.”

Jinki sent Jonghyun a final, reproaching look before returning his attention to Taemin. “You’ve never said anything about wanting to sleep together.”

“It’s not like you’ve ever made a display of yourself at the palace,” Taemin said. “I never gave it much thought. We’ve been friends all our lives, and we only see each other at parties and ceremonies anymore.”

“I didn’t realize how much that bothered you.”

“Of course it bothered me. I  missed  you. You’re the only damn person I trust in the palace.”

Jinki’s brow furrowed, though a flush crawled across his cheeks, and his lips remained pursed. In the silence, Jonghyun’s attention bounced between them before he reached out and tugged Taemin towards them by his shirt.

“Why don’t we do something to make up for lost time? I’ll be happy to help you two bond,” Jonghyun offered.

“I don’t want things to get complicated,” Jinki said.

“It’s not complicated,” Taemin protested. “You’re my friend. Anything else, well...” he shrugged. He didn’t care what they did—cards or drinking or simply talking. But it was hard for fucking not to be the first thing on his mind when Jonghyun and Jinki were doing everything but that right in front of him. “I don’t need to spend time with you like that, but I’d enjoy it. And I’m guessing you two planned to spend your night fucking, anyway.”

Jinki licked his lips. He watched intently as Jonghyun balled more of Taemin’s shirt into his hand, forcing him closer, until Jonghyun leaned forward and kissed the corner of his mouth. Though Taemin should have seen it coming, he nearly jolted back at the contact. He’d never been kissed in front of anyone, let alone someone’s lover. His eyes flew up to Jinki, uncertain of what he’d find, then widened. There was no jealousy in his stare. Only heat.

Jonghyun tilted his head back towards Jinki. “I can see your gears turning. You’re thinking about it.”

“Maybe,” Jinki murmured.

“You need more images? Or some ideas?”

“No.” Jinki took the half-empty mug he’d stolen from Jonghyun and downed in a single, long swallow. “I’ve thought about it before, honestly.”

Taemin inhaled. “Me joining you with Jonghyun?”

“Just you. The thinking was...a while ago. Years.”

“Then you should’ve fucked him earlier, because I always love your stories,” Jonghyun said. He patted the side of Jinki’s thigh. “You want to get going? Because  I’d  like to get going.”

“Where to?” Taemin asked. The pub looked like it had rooms upstairs, but he didn’t know how either of them felt about using them.                    

“My ship’s best. You’ll get to see it, too. It’s gorgeous,” Jonghyun gloated. He snuck in a squeeze to Jinki’s ass when they stood. “Just got a new cannon.”

Taemin pulled his cloak back on and followed them towards the airship docks. By the time they reached the metal walkways that stuck out over the clouds, they were nearly on the opposite side of Valua from the palace. He’d never been this deep into the Lower City.

Most of the docked airships were decommissioned from the armada, made of steel in typical Valuan style. A few other styles, more likely belonging to traders than pirates, were interspersed throughout, but the ship Jonghyun pointed out—a large, wooden ship with three towering masts that stood proudly against the black clouds—was striking enough that Taemin couldn’t help but gape.

Despite its height, the ship was narrow, slimmer even than the smallest armada ships. They climbed up the gangplank and onto the deck. Jonghyun came up last and leapt onto the deck with his arms spread wide.

“Stylish, yeah? And faster than any hunk of metal.”

Jinki rolled his eyes as Taemin examined the ship. Any ptools for fighting or boarding ships were hidden in the crates or below deck, but rolled up against the main mast was a blue flag, barely concealed. Taemin had to wonder how  that  ever got past the massive gate and patrols that protected the Valua‘s airspace, but Jonghyun seemed capable of charming his way out of anything, and his mother specialized in robbing people right under their noses.

“It’s gorgeous,” Taemin said.

“The inside is a bit less glamorous, but you better not point that out to my face,” Jonghyun teased. He turned towards a set of stairs that appeared to lead down into the cabin and gestured for Taemin to follow. “Come on. I’ll show you to my space.”

The room Jonghyun led them to was long and wide. A dozen hammocks hung from the ceiling, likely enough for the whole crew, and the one at the back that Jonghyun showed him looked no different than any other.

Taemin blinked at it, caught off guard by its plainness. “I thought you were the captain. Don’t you have a room?”

“I am, and I do. But I prefer to sleep in a hammock sometimes. The bed folds away, and that makes room for more loot.”

Jinki raised a brow. “Uh-huh. And you refuse to have sex in the same place twice in a row.”

Jonghyun grinned. “That too. Used my bed a few days ago, so it’s time to fuck somewhere else.”

Jinki hummed, as if recalling the experience himself, and stepped closer to Jonghyun. As soon as he was within reach, Jonghyun grabbed a fistful of Jinki’s hair, tugging him down to an easier height to kiss.

Taemin froze, fists clenching in the fabric of his cloak when he caught a glimpse of Jinki’s tongue. Watching was new enough that he didn’t know what to do with himself. Jinki’s eyes fluttered open as he glanced back at Taemin. A wave of heat rolled through him when their gazes locked, then again when Jinki’s attention returned to Jonghyun, as if it was perfectly normal for them to have a witness to their kiss.  

For all Taemin knew, it could be.

The side of Jonghyun’s grin was just visible as he shifted his mouth to Jinki’s neck and nipped along the vein. With a soft swear, Jinki clutched at Jonghyun’s back, but shoved him away when Jonghyun began to unfasten his shirt.

“You aren’t getting me out of my clothes before we give Taemin some attention.”

Jonghyun tsked, but let his fingers fall from Jinki’s buttons. Taemin swallowed under the weight of their stares    . Jinki held out a hand, inviting him to where they stood, but Jonghyun closed the distance between them and kissed him—the same way he’d kissed Jinki, hands buried in his hair—before Taemin could take a single step.

He shivered and gripped back. His thumbs caught in the straps of Jonghyun’s eye patch, earning a laugh that gave him an opportunity to slip his tongue past Jonghyun’s lips. Jonghyun hummed, pleasantly surprised, and relaxed to let Taemin lead.

Taemin was too eager not to take advantage of the chance. He leaned in and kissed Jonghyun harder until he had no choice but to bend back and hold onto Taemin’s shirt for balance. The instant he eased off to breathe, Jonghuyn reached for his belt. The open air of the cabin brought goosebumps to his thighs when Jonghyun shoved down his breeches. Taemin helped him the rest of the way and stepped out of them, refusing to break the kiss a second time until Jonghyun smirked and turned his cheek.

“You think I wouldn’t be surprised by Valuan nobles being decent lovers after Jinki, and yet...”

Taemin scowled. “Why would you assume that makes me bad in bed?”

“Most of you don’t  do  much. But I suppose that leaves you plenty of time to get good at this.”

“If you thought I would be bad, why invite me?”

“Jinki likes you. You’re pretty.” Jonghyun shrugged. “And that sort of thing can always be taught.”

“I think the only thing I haven’t done is fuck two people at once,” Taemin said. When Jinki gave a skeptical snort beside them, Taemin sent a glare.

“I doubt you’re  that  worldly, your highness,” Jonghyun said. He squared his shoulders and worked Taemin’s shirt open button-by-button, as if mimicking a personal butler. “You’ve only slept with other Valuans, no? Technically your subjects?”

Taemin bit his lip. “Well...”

“I’m not judging.” Jonghyun shoved his shirt open. “Just doubt they’re willing to get too dirty with you. Rank can come with too much respect. When I was on my mother’s ship, it took ages for me to convince the crew I wasn’t too fragile to be bent over a barrel.”

Taemin’s ears burned. But the words rang true.

Every person he’d slept with had come onto him slowly, with flowery praise or teasing to test the waters, then treated him like he was breakable between the sheets once they were finally there. No matter how hard he gripped at their back in return or egged them on. They concentrated too much on pleasing him. And then after everything was done, there was the pillow talk which inevitably turned into requests for favors.

Once he realized that was how it always ended, Taemin had stopped letting anyone in his bed.

He could already tell Jonghyun would be different. Jinki would, too.

Taemin licked his lips and looked between them. “Well, what’re you planning to do to me?”

Jonghyun grinned and shoved him into the hammock. Taemin swung back. He tried to adjust to keep from barreling feet-first into Jonghyun as his weight returned him forward, but Jinki caught the fabric at the end of his arc and held him still.

Jonghyun’s fingers wrapped slowly over Jinki’s knuckles. He whispered something against Jinki’s cheek that made his eyes cloud with lust.

Their attention shifted down to where Taemin was suspended beneath them. Like this, there was no simple way for them to kiss him. Reaching his mouth or his hips with more than a hand or a cock would require kneeling, hunching over, or some other sort of contortion they had no reason to bother with.

Taemin had an idea of what they wanted.

He licked his lips and let his head hang back. The hammock swung slightly, then slowed into a smaller arc when Jinki grasped the rope tighter. Upside down like this, Taemin imagined he looked ridiculous, but there was no amusement in Jinki’s exhale—only anticipation.

Hands ran up his thighs. He lifted his head to see whose they were—Jonghyun’s—then followed with his eyes as Jinki circled around to the opposite side of the hammock, leaving only Jonghyun between his legs.

When he raised his head, he saw Jonghyun reach into his shirt and pulled free a small vial of oil. He pulled out the cork with his teeth and spat it away, then grinned down at Taemin as he coated his fingers.

“I have another if we need more. I always bring a few when we dock somewhere. You never know what might happen.”

Jonghyun’s hand returned to him, this time going straight for the innermost crease of his thighs. As Jonghyun circled towards his rim, he threw an arm over his mouth to muffle a moan. There was the simple pleasure of it, and the realization: the oil Jonghyun was using had been meant for Jinki that night, or vice versa. And now it was being used on  him .

“You can make noise, you know,” Jonghyun teased and pressed in. “That’s half the fun.”

Jinki drew Taemin’s arm away, fingers trailing along the vein of his wrist before shifting to card through his hair. Taemin leaned into the contact and reached up, pressing a palm around the outline of Jinki’s cock in his breeches just as Jonghyun added another finger. His motions were clumsy and distracted, but Jinki didn’t seem to mind—he cupped his hand over Taemin’s to guide it, before finally settling on holding it in place and thrusting against Taemin’s palm.

“You seem ready enough,” Jonghyun said. He spread his fingers, as if to prove how open Taemin was, and drew out a gasp. “Do you need more time?”

‘No,” Taemin’s eyes fluttered shut as Jonghyun brought his fingers back together and curved them. A patch of precome had leaked through Jinki’s breeches and dampened the heel of Taemin’s hand, adding to his desperation. “Please, I want this.”

Jonghyun grinned and gave him an encouraging smack to the thighs that sounded twice as loud as it stung. Taemin bit his lip, pulse pounding in his ears.

“Stay open for me.” Jonghyun slicked himself up, then hitched Taemin’s thighs up around his hips. When he shifted forward, his cock pushed between Taemin’s cheeks, missing his hole but lighting his nerves with anticipation. Jonghyun’s tongue stuck out from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, realigning them until Taemin felt pressure against his rim.

“There we go,” Jonghyun murmured and pushed forward, slow and unyielding.

Taemin’s nails scratched at the canvas of the hammock. Already, the stretch felt too good. He rocked forward, trying to bring Jonghyun deeper, but the motion hardly moved him at all—Jonghyun had bracketed his hips to keep him steady, and Jinki’s hold on the hammock’s rope was too firm. All Taemin could think of was how exposed he was and how little he could move.

By the time Jonghyun pulled back, Taemin was panting, overheated despite the lack of a body pressed against him. Without any ability to aid the motion, he felt the force of each thrust that much harder.

His cock throbbed, desperate for something,  anything,  but he held off from touching himself, too caught up in the idea of seeing how Jonghuyn and Jinki might use him to want to satisfy himself. Jinki maneuvered his own laces open with a single hand and kept the other on the knot of the hammock, steadying it as Jonghyun’s pace quickened.

Taemin turned his head and reached for the base of Jinki’s cock. At the awkward angle, the underside ran along his cheek, then bumped against his chin, leaving wetness behind until Jinki steered it directly into his mouth.

Jonghyun’s movements turned lazy, a tease that made Taemin whine even as he closed his lips around the head of Jinki’s cock and glanced back. Jonghyun’s complete attention was on them—on the stretch it took for Taemin’s mouth to fit around Jinki’s girth—distracting him more from his task.

“You sure you two can handle all this happening at once?” Jinki muttered, stroking himself to take over the motion Taemin hadn’t yet managed. “If it’s too much, we can take turns.”

Jonghyun huffed. “I’m not going to apologize for taking my time and enjoying the show.”

With an apologetic hum, Taemin tugged on Jinki’s hips to beckon him deeper. Their eyes met only briefly before Jinki ran a thumb along the edge of Taemin’s tipped-back jaw and tilted his head back further, creating an easy path for his cock to slide over Taemin’s tongue into the start of his throat.

Taemin blinked hard, eyes wet as he fought back a gag, but curled his fingers in the loosened waist of Jinki’s breeches and took him further the next time Jinki fucked into his mouth. Suspended between them as he was, it was easier to let Jinki drive the pace than try and guide it himself.

Encouraged, Jinki shifted one hand into his hair and kept another on his chin, holding Taemin steady through every thrust to better complete his own. Jonghyun’s fingernails dug into Taemin’s thighs as he lost rhythm, alternating between slow and fast before finally halting.

He pressed against Taemin with a small curse, keeping him close through every throb, before finally jerking back. Taemin whimpered as Jonghyun’s cock slipped free, then again when he heard the rustle and clink of Jonghyun tugging up his breeches and refastening his belt. He kept his legs open—he didn’t know how to close them, with such a mess of come and oil between them—and he was hopeful Jonghyun would give him something more.

Jonghyun shifted Taemin’s knees to stand beside him. Taemin watched from the corner of his eye as Jonghyun reached down and ran a single finger along the underside of Taemin’s cock. He gasped at the contact, hips jolting up as he snapped out of the daze he’d fallen into from taking both of them. All he wanted to do was give himself over until they’d had their fill of pleasure, but if Jonghyun granting him pleasure was part of that, he would take it gladly.

Jonghyun traced up his cock again, this time with two fingers. “I can’t believe you’re this hard—I don’t think we’ve even touched you here once. What if we keep you like this until you make Jinki come?”

Unable to speak with Jinki in his mouth, a moan and a full swallow around JInki’s cock was the only way to beg for his own release. Jinki cursed and tightened his fingers against Taemin’s scalp.

“He really wants to come,” Jinki said. “You’re making him work harder.”

Taemin hummed an agreement. Jonghyun took hold of his cock in response, lifting it from where it hovered hard and ignored over his stomach to stroke him smoothly. The short motion was barely anything, but it was enough to bring Taemin close. He shifted his hips, uncertain of whether to pull away before his release or simply let it happen, but Jonghyun didn’t allow either. He stopped just before Taemin’s pleasure reached its crest, producing a groan that made Jinki’s hips stutter. Jinki continued to fuck into his mouth, and again and again, Jonghyun stopped before he could come. Each time he neared his release, Jonghyun’s hand would loosen, and Taemin’s need would grow.

When Jinki finally cursed out a warning, Jonghyun’s grip on Taemin tightened and quickened. Taemin’s muscles tensed, back rising into an arch, but his mouth slackened just enough to let Jinks cock fall free. Come streaked across his lips and cheeks, then into his open mouth. Jinki stroked himself to the end, every movement loud and wet, and nudged his cockhead past Taemin’s lips to shoot the last of his release onto his tongue.

The cabin was silent, save Jinki and Taemin’s rough breathing.

He closed his eyes with a small sigh, letting his head hang upside down as the pleasant warmth of his aftermath rolled through him. When he felt the mess on his chin start to drip down his cheeks, he raised a hand and clenched his fingers in the universal gesture for something to clean with. Jinki passed him a handkerchief and helped him wipe down his face, then balled the cloth into his fist and tossed it aside.

With Jinki’s help, he sat up in the hammock. Jonghyun pulled another rag from somewhere and cleaned his stomach, grinning through the task.

“I assume this means we’re done for the night.”

Taemin nodded. He was tired, and his throat and thighs were sore to a level he was certain he’d feel in the morning.

“I was hoping Jinki wouldn’t clean you up so quickly. It would’ve been nice to take a mental image of what you look like with him on you.”

Taemin gave a breathless laugh. “I wasn’t sure how to get myself up, and I didn’t want anything to get into my eyes.”

“Fair. If you want protection, a blindfold would help next time.”

“How is it you always want to talk  more about sex right after we’re done? Haven’t you had your fill?” Jinki complained, though his expression was fond.

“If something’s fun one way, I want to do it again and find other ways of making it fun. Don’t you?”

Jinki grumbled an agreement and leaned around Taemin to kiss Jonghyun. Taemin watched them linger, then pull apart, heart tight in his chest. As brief as their kiss had been, Jinki’s eyes were warm from it, and something about the sight sobered Taemin.

Taemin wasn’t jealous. Or at least the word seemed too simple and petty to fit. He didn’t want to take Jinki’s place. He didn’t want to take Jonghyun’s place. He was happy they had each other. The ache in his chest was because he’d never had anything like they shared, and with where his life was headed, he couldn’t imagine he ever would.

He startled when Jinki dropped a blanket over him. Jinki helped fit it over his shoulders. “If you’re not going to get dressed, you should put this on. It’s colder out here on the airships.”

“Thanks.” Taemin wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. He didn’t want to get dressed yet, if only because the clothes he’d stolen would remind him of the palace.

Jonghyun looked between them with a small smile before fixing his gaze on Taemin. “You’re welcome to linger for a while. You want some more to drink?”

“Sure,” Taemin agreed. Jonghyun patted Taemin’s knee and spun on his heel, then disappeared down a set of stairs that led deeper into the airship.

Jinki and Taemin watched him go. Once his footsteps faded, Jinki crouched beside him.

“This is why I started pulling away, you know,” he whispered. “I worried what would happen if you found out about Jonghyun. You’re getting closer and closer to the throne, and I...haven’t known how to deal with that. Never letting either of you meet seemed like the best way to keep him safe.” His eyes crinkled, the old tell Taemin remembered that came with any confession that made him feel guilty. ”If it’s worth anything, I’ve missed you too.”

“It’s worth a lot,” Taemin said. He reached for Jinki’s hand and squeezed it, then looked to where Jonghyun had disappeared. “What is he to you?”

”Everything, anymore,” Jinki said without hesitation. “I’m going to leave Valua with him someday.”

Taemin’s stomach dropped. “And do what? When?”

“Pirate stuff, I suppose,” Jinki teased. “There’s so much of the sky that hasn’t been charted. He wants to discover as much as he can, once his ships outfitted for stronger currents. I want to be with him for every one.”

Taemin inhaled. “What about your family? And Valua?”

“You know how I feel about our country.”

Taemin’s stomach panted. “And you don’t think I’ll change anything when I’m in charge.”

Jinki winced. “It’s not that I think you have the wrong ideals. But I’m sure you know the problems you’ll bump up against. How much say does your mother have, compared to the armada? She gets to decide how things are run  here , but it’s not like we stay in our borders, or like they wouldn’t challenge her if she did something they were opposed to.”

“I know, but...” Taemin reached for a counterpoint, but found nothing. There was no argument to refute Jinki’s words when he’d noticed the same thing.

He hung his head. Was that why he’d been so mad at Jinki? Selfish as it was, it was easier to think of the personal problems that came with the throne—losing friendships, not knowing who to trust—than the responsibilities he’d bear just sitting on it.

“ Please tell me you’re not talking politics, Jinki,” Jonghyun whined, loud enough to be heard up the stairs. He sauntered between them and passed Jinki a handle of rum, then threw himself into the hammock beside Taemin. “I can’t imagine a poorer time for it. It was our first time with a third, too. You should be a little sentimental.”

“I was only explaining why I’m going to leave with you, since Taemin asked,” Jinki said. He took a swig, then held it out to Taemin. “It’s not as if I’m getting philosophical.”

Jonghyun quirked a brow. “I think after how I fucked him tonight, he knows why you’re leaving.”

“It’s alright, really.” Taemin managed to smile for them, but it faltered when he brought the bottle to his lips. He tipped it back, squeezing his eyes against the burn, and swallowed back as much as he could take.

His mother was alive, and Jinki was still here. As prince, he was only an ear until fate decided to shove the empire into his lap. He had time to enjoy himself before he had to worry. And damned if he wasn’t going to soak up every second of it.

When he went for a second drink, Jonghyun pried the bottle from him. “Slow down, your highness. I can’t let you stay here tonight. As nice as it’d be to beat my mother’s record for bounties, I’d rather do it the old fashion way than be accused of kidnapping the prince.”

Taemin laughed. “And you’re not worried that’ll happen when you take Jinki?”

“Not at all. We’ve had a plan for a while.”

“Oh,” Taemin said. “Well, good luck to you both.”

Jonghyun raised the bottle to him in thanks. Jinki cast his eyes down and reached to take the rum, but Jonghyun refused to hand it over until Jinki gave him a kiss. Taemin watched, stomach in knots, as the guilt that twisted Jinki’s mouth melted into an unfettered smile.

Taemin didn’t want to ask if Jinki would have left without saying anything. Judging by the distance Jinki had forced between them, he imagined that had been the plan. And judging by the warmth that seeped into Jinki’s eyes every time he looked Jonghyun’s way, nothing would come between Jinki and leaving Valua.

The knowledge made the future that much darker. But Taemin supposed he’d rather know.

[outerspaceisbetterthannothing]

Gimme [Alpha!Cal AU] - The Girl Who Cried Wolf. Part 4

The Girl Who Cried Wolf | Royal Blood | No Love Go | Gimme

Summary: When it comes to the hardest choice in your life, how do you choose right?

Warnings: well, first thing first, it’s 28+k, so you’ve been warned. second, description of violence, mental breakdown and guilty conscience. and of course smut, lol. lack of proof reading too, as usual, sorry about that

A/N: it was a long way, but it’s finally here. thank you to all and every one of you for your patience, support and love. special thanks, as usual, to my designated reader and favourite pixie @bringmethehorizonandpizza, @flannelpunkcalum for alpha!cal concept and @burncrashbromance for mindblowing lyrics edit. This part was really hard to write, but i’m kinda proud with the result and where the story brought us, so I hope you’ll enjoy it just as much as you enjoyed the previous parts. Feedback is extremely appreciated, as always

***

You were tossing and turning sleepless on your bed, the stuffy summer night not making it easier for your numb body and restless mind. You huffed, changing position for what seemed a millionth time that night and kicking the sheets off of you. You tried to relax, catching the sounds filling your room from the opened window. Crickets chirping started playing on your nerves the very next moment. You huffed again, imagining the reaction of Arthur, your hunting trainer, when you turn up to the morning run tired and beaten after a sleepless night. And the worst part was that it wasn’t even your fault. He said he’d be here by midnight and here you were, staying up and waiting for him like a total fool almost an hour later.

If you promise not to bite my head off, you can get down, you heard in your mind.

It was almost pathetic how fast you jumped off your bed and ran to the open window. A young wolf half the size of what he would be in several years was pacing in front of your house. 

You were supposed to come an hour ago! you threw at him trying to sound as angry as you were a minute before.

Had to wait till my dad passed out on his bourbon first. Don’t be petty, you did stay up, he told you and you literally could hear his smirk. You hated this boy so much, you thought, for being so right. Get down, little alpha, we don’t have all night.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname you secretly loved and stepped away from the window. You thought how odd it was, how fast things were changing. Being raised in a wolves’ pack made you so used to the nakedness, yours and of other people. And kids of your age, you were trained together for as long as you could remember yourself, you’ve been so used to seeing each other bare and it was so natural. Was. Until it suddenly changed. You stepped out of the window and to the part of your spacious bedroom where he would have no chance to seeing you before you got to think about it. He still was the wolf you knew from the earliest days of your life, yet taking clothes off in front of him wasn’t so natural for you anymore. Was it that growing up, all the kids around were so eager to experience? Was it those strange things older girls were giggling about? Whatever it was, you were pretty sure you didn’t like it. 

If you changed your mind, could have just said so, he couldn’t see you, but he still could hear you. 

You started pulling your pj off. Made me wait for you for hours and can’t wait five minutes yourself? you snapped back.

Wait for what? You were just standing there.

You frowned and kept silence, deciding he didn’t deserve an answer. Instead you shifted and easily jumped out of the window. The slate cover of the roof was slippery under your paws, but you’ve done that so many times before. You let your paws slide down to the edge and pushed the very last moment, jumping off in one confident move. You landed right in front of him, your legs springing easily. You whisked behind the nearest bush and dashed toward the woods. The faster you get away from the house, the less chances your father or brother notice any of you. 

So what was it you wanted to show me? you looked back at Matt, who was running a little behind, as usual. 

Hope we’re not late, he said instead answering you straight and came forward. He was leading your to the Lakes, you knew for sure, been spending much more time in the woods than in your own house, so you'd learnt all the paths and ways here. But for some reason he chose not the straight way, rounding one of the smaller lakes. Finally he stopped behind a bush and peeked from under it.

We’re right on time, he said, his words full of satisfaction and something else. Something deeper and darker, which made your fur bristle. 

You lowered your snout on your front paws and peeked from under the branches. Two young humans were running towards the lake, a girl a little forward and a guy behind her. They were both naked and laughing happily. 

That’s all? you grumbled, looking back at Matt. You brought me here to watch two humans skinny dipping? 

You know, as a future alpha you should have trained some patience already, Matt answered, lying down on the ground and not taking his eyes off the humans. 

I’ll never be an alpha and you know it, you huffed, settling down beside him. 

Your brother is a prick.

Prick or not, he’s a future alpha. 

You’re my future alpha, Matt retorted looking at you, and nothing will change it.

Make sure you don’t say anything like this to my brother or dad. Or your dad for that matter… Are they kissing? you huffed, looking back at humans. 

Matt chuckled, which sounded more like a high pitched roar. Here’s the best part. 

You saw humans get out of the water, the guy carrying the girl, her legs around his torso and his penis up. You’ve seen men’s genitals before and were pretty sure they weren’t supposed to look like this. The humans were kissing like crazy, not detaching their faces for a slightest moment. 

What are they doing? you mused out loud, scrunching your snout. 

And what do you think? Matt giggled inside your head, his voice is full of smugness. 

Meanwhile the guy put the girl down on the grass and pointed his swollen penis to her pelvis. A moment later his penis disappeared in the girl’s body, lascivious moan flowing over the lake.

So that’s how it’s happening, ew, you couldn’t hold back your disgust, watching humans move in a steady rhythm.

Ew? Don’t be a baby!

Says you, who’s obviously coming here not for the first time to look at that, you snapped back. Pervert!

You stood up and turned back to where you came from.

Hey, where you going?

Home, you shrugged. I’ve got an early training. And you too, if you don’t remember. 

Oh come on! Let’s stay a while!

No, thank you, you wagged your tail in front of his snout. Nothing interesting for me here.

You heard his huff, as he stood up and followed you. You were running in silence for some time. You were acting it cool, but you’d have lied if you said you weren’t bothered by the scene Matt showed you. Or that you weren’t playing it on repeat in your head.

Wanna try it some time? he asked, catching up with you.

Oh, for sure, you snorted, your words filled with sarcasm. But definitely not with you. 

Hey, I was the one who showed it to you! Matt exclaimed, your mocking getting the best of him. You’d felt for some time already there was something more in Matt’s friendship with you than you were ready to accept. And you loved picking up on him for that. You started pacing around him, thinking of how easy it was for you to make him do whatever you wanted. 

Wanna try it? Try and outrun me, you said and rushed towards your house, knowing full well that he would never had a chance to reach you. You were the fastest wolf among the pups of your age and, you were pretty sure, the whole pack. You heard him roar behind you, but there was just so much he could do.

You were running as fast as you could, not to win Matt, you just couldn’t help it. Your mentors along with your father were always joking how it was impossible to stop you once your were let to run. If there was really a thing about being a wolf you loved, it was this, the run. The wind whistling in your ears, green and brown blur the world was, the feeling of freedom only the run gave you. You felt like you had the whole world in front of you, waiting till you chose the side of it to start exploring. Even if you had no chance of such exploration. When you were running, you almost forgot about it.

Soon you weren’t able to make out Matt’s paws hitting on a soft ground behind you. The moon hid in the clouds and the forest got unusually murky. You slowed down, looking around wearily. You knew these woods as the back of your hand, yet you weren’t really sure where you were right now. Everything looking so dark and so strange. No sounds to reach your ears, not a single night bird, not even a cricket. You stopped completely, shrugging from the cold air, wandering, when did it get so cold. You looked at your paws, much bigger than they were when you were twelve, and saw them covered in fog. You smelled the rot, making your nostrils contract, and huffed at the sweetness of it. 

And then you heard him. A dry branch crackled behind you.

Matt? you called, turning back.

But it wasn’t Matt. 

Ripper stood in front of you, bloody mash where his throat was supposed to be, an awful stump on the place of his right hand. He was smiling at you with his horrible lifeless smile. 

“Look what you did to me, little alpha,” he gurgled, dark blood spilling from his mouth and down his ripped throat and chest. “Look at yourself.”

You followed his order, looking down at your paws. Only there were no paws. You were standing in front of him in your human shape, completely naked and covered in blood. It was his blood, you knew, the strains of it exactly how you remembered them. You looked at them in the mirror in Calum’s bathroom long enough that night to remember till the end of your life. The blood was all over your body and it was stinking. That sweet rotten smell you felt, you were the one spreading it around.

“Your father would be so proud of you,” Ripper said and laughed. His horrible gurgling laugh was getting louder and louder, until it filled up the forest and then the whole world and when you thought you’d never be able to hide from it again, you opened your eyes.

You were lying in the bed. Crickets’ chirping flowing inside through open windows, Calum snuffled quietly beside you. You were at his place, you were safe and it all was just a dream. Yet you couldn’t fight how your blood froze in your veins and how hard it was to steady your breath. 

You inhaled deeply and sat up in bed. You could hardly imagine going back to sleep now, but you also knew Calum was a pretty light sleeper and any movement of yours could wake him now. You sniffed the air around, concentrating on his wound on a leg. You got that habit in last couple days. Calum was healing fast as any other wolf, but the wound hadn’t closed completely yet and you were checking its smell every so often dreading to feel any trace of infection. But as many times before you didn’t smell anything strange, just healing flesh and intoxicating Calum’s smell. You huffed, slipped out of the bed and sneaked to the bedroom door. Duke, sleeping next to Calum’s legs, lifted his little snout and snorted in your direction. He looked at you for a moment and then lowered his head back on the covers and closed his eyes. You remembered with what caution and even suspicion the little dog treated you in the beginning. But not a week into your acquaintance and you weren’t any more fascinating for him than a piece of furniture. You found it amusing how instead of developing any feelings to you, Duke chose to ignore your presence, and only hoped he’d change his attitude in the future. You liked this pup and he was so in love with Calum, it made your heart melt. 

You shut the door carefully and ran downstairs. You had one perfect recipe for sleepless nights and even though you hadn’t applied it for a long time, it seemed a good idea today. You slipped out of your clothes, dropping it on the dining room floor and whisked out through the glass doors into the backyard flowed with the moonlight. You shifted instantly and ran inside the forest, which started right behind Calum’s house.

You ran fast, as fast as you only could, almost feeling the same freedom as when you were a kid. You thought how odd it was, you weren’t tied up by your family’s traditions and expectations anymore, but you couldn’t feel the freedom. You never felt it and got used to it years ago, to your own shame.

The night air was whistling in your ears, ferns caressing your paws, trees stepping away to give you space, woods welcoming you like a long lost child. You ran till you couldn’t feel your paws and lungs anymore. You ran without any destination, not bothering with remembering the way, knowing your instincts would lead you back home. By the time you came across little forest pond, you were positively out of breath. But the numbness in your mind exactly what you were seeking.

He was sitting next to the water like he was waiting for you. But somehow, you weren’t surprised. Matt stood up, as he noticed you, and shifted. 

“I thought you were hiding from me,” he said with a smirk.

You sniffed around, making sure there were no one besides the two of you, and shifted. Cool air made you shiver, you body heated after your race. 

“Been busy,” you shrugged. 

“With another wolf, as I smell,” he stated, same smirk still on his face, like it was some kind of a joke.

You only frowned, not getting why he was saying it.

“You’ve changed,” Matt said, couple of minutes of silence later. 

“You think?” 

Your words were free of sarcasm and flirt. You were really interested how much of a change he could see in you after ten years and also a little surprised he could make such a conclusion two minutes into your talk. 

“You have,” he confirmed. “Not only your body, though it changed too.”

You shivered under his look. You felt just like when you were twelve and were stepping away from the window in order for him not to see you. You knew your reaction was irrational, this man saw you naked before numerous amount of times. Hell, he went with you through your first heat. But still you felt uncomfortable and couldn’t help it. 

You stepped forward and sat on the shore, pulling your knees closer to your chest.

“You said you wanted to talk,” you reminded him. “Talk then.”

Matt sat next to you, his eyes not leaving you for a moment.

“God, I missed you like hell, little alpha,” he mused out loud. The old forgotten nickname bringing up the chill. You saw Ripper in front of you again and needed to shake your head to drive the illusion off. You didn’t answer anything to Matt. Did you miss him, you questioned yourself again. No, you didn’t. You knew it well. The memories of your family and how you departed obscuring every other moment or face you could have remembered. You wiped out your past and never regretted it a bit. 

“How have you been?” Matt asked, getting you wouldn’t say those words back.

You let a humourless laugh.

“Oh, perfect,” you assured him. “No crazy family to torture me, no pack to care for, no everyday trainings and feeling imperfect as fuck. Freedom is great, Matt. You should try it some time too.”

He chuckled and went on, “So great that you gave it up for some other alpha?”

“I didn’t give up anything,” you sighed and stood up. In all the mess you’d had in your life lately, you were positive, there was no place for a ghost’s from your past jealousy. “If that’s what you wanted to talk about, I better just go.”

“I did try freedom, you know,” he threw back. “I left the pack.”

“Good for you,” you dropped, not looking back.

“Hey, I’m sorry, okay? Can you just wait? I promise, I won’t take much of your time,” he begged.

You huffed, stopping and turning around. You were asking yourself, what you were doing here, why you were listening to him. But you knew, what was more interesting is what he was doing here. Would you lose probably the only chance to know it?

“Everything has changed back home since you left.”

You sighed again. Is that where he was going with it? “I don’t care, Matt. If you came to talk about the pack, I’m sorry, but I’m not really interested.”

“I don’t believe you,” Matt shook his head. “It’s still your pack.”

“No, it’s not. Hasn’t been for ten years now. And it can go to hell, won’t be much difference for me anyway.”

“I know where those scars on your back are from,” he stated. You knew he heard bitterness in your voice clear enough to read between lines. “But pack is not only your father and brother. It’s other wolves too.”

“Well, that’s too bad for them.”

“Those wolves are still your pack, even if you chose to think differently,” Matt said, unknown sadness in his voice. 

You shook your head, looking anywhere but at him. Whatever he said, whatever he could say more, you’ve made your choice that night ten years ago, bleeding on the driveway of your father’s house. 

“Was nice seeing you,” you said, metal now in your voice. “Though, I suggest you not overusing your welcome in this town. Local wolves don’t really like strangers.”

You saw a look of annoyance on his face, but didn’t care for it much. You shifted back into the wolf shape and ran back. You weren’t running away from him. You were pretty sure he still was unable to outrun you, but he didn’t even follow you, was still standing there looking at you. 

You let the wind and forest smells push him out of your mind, alongside with the memories of your long forgotten home. You were pacing through the woods, not hurrying much, until some rustle behind the trees made you freeze on the spot. You breathed in, trying to notice anything strange or unfamiliar in the night air. You looked around, the fur on your nape bristling. The place was so familiar.

It struck you the next moment. That was the place from your dream. Here stood Ripper, waiting for you. 

You felt all your fears jumping on you, all the ghosts chasing you through the night. You ran off like you were running for your life, no matter the sleepless night or the distance you covered on the way here. You were running blind, faster than the light. You knew nothing besides your run. You had to run, you had to run away from it. 

You let yourself relax a little only as you rushed back into Calum’s house. Familiar scents you got so used to in the last several days enveloping you, making you loosen up. You paced a little through the dining room, making circles around the pile of clothes on the floor and decided you were ready to shift. 

You looked at your paws confused. Then tried again. And again. You looked at your reflection in the glass doors, tilting your snout in silent question. You were still a wolf. You wanted to shift back. And you couldn’t.

You felt exhaustion overflowing you as you let out huge yawn. You huffed and whisked upstairs, thinking that you were too tired and that was probably the reason you couldn’t shift. You pushed the door to the bedroom and went inside, steps of your soft paws soundless. 

Duke lifted his head up, disturbed by your presence once again. He looked at you, trying to understand what a big dog like you was doing in his master’s bedroom. He came up to the bed edge and sniffed you, you only happy to provide your face for that. As he recognised your smell, he huffed scornfully and got back to his place in between Calum’s legs now, not sparing you another look. You grinned to such reaction of a little dog and settled down on a rug on the Calum’s side of a bed. At least you couldn’t see dreams in a wolf’s shape. Being calmed by that thought, you lowered your snout on your crossed paws, closed your eyes and let your tired mind drift to sleep.

***

Light sounds of harp filled you with a rare serenity. Or maybe it was Calum’s smell, you didn’t quite know. You stole another look of him over the menu, ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. 

“Are we going for meat?” Calum asked you. You looked up at him, this time openly, and let the smile grow. 

“Of course,” you confirmed. People joked sometimes how a wolf was always a wolf, even in a human shape. You did prefer meat to any other type of food, and, giving it another thought, you’ve never met a wolf who didn’t. Probably there was more truth to this stereotype after all. 

Calum nodded and, as the waiter came up to you, made an order. 

He looked up at you again, as the waiter disappeared taking your menu with him, and smirked. His eyes lingered over your body, before he said, “Well, at least we made it to the restaurant this time.” 

“Was there a chance we wouldn’t?” you asked innocently, but Calum only quirked an eyebrow at you and gave another dirty look to the neckline of your dress, which in this particular case should have been called a breastline. The waiter approached you again with a bottle of wine, stopping you from dwelling on the topic.

You knew for sure where that Calum’s remark came from. This was actually your third attempt of having a date. The first time you didn’t even have a chance to put your shoes on. 

Calum came up to your apartment that evening, cause you were late from work and didn’t  have enough time to get ready. He lost it the moment he saw you opening a door for him. He blamed your top. Light beige fabric, almost the same colour as your skin, did make you look as if you were naked, but who knew it’d bring that reaction. His lips crashed yours before you uttered a simple “Hi”. It was almost a miracle you made it to your bedroom with how desperate that kiss was. You knew the fact that you’d spent the week before that at his house  but not letting him touch you because of his healing wounds also added to the nerve of a moment. When you finally detached from each other that night, all restaurants were long closed, but neither of you was upset about it. You ordered Chinese and ate it right in the bed, naked and happy. You were pretty sure it was the tastiest Chinese takeaway in your entire life. 

The second time you settled for a blue dress with a high neckline, not to try your luck. That helped you make it to the movies, Calum planned as a beginning of your evening, having yet another restaurant reservation for later. But as closed as this dress was on the upper part of your body, it left your legs on full display to Calum’s genuine amusement. Not ten minutes into the film you felt his hand creeping up your thigh with an unmistakable intention. You were the only ones on the row and you let him have his way with you, his fingers soon dancing around your clit. In a bold attempt of paying him back, you shoved your hand down into his pants. As a result you came three times during that movie and he two. None of you could remember what the film was about. And of course, you didn’t make it to the restaurant that night either. 

So tonight was really a little victory for you. And looking at how deliciously stretched on his chest his navy button down was, you asked yourself how long would you two last. Calum smirked again at you and raised his wine glass.

“What are you thinking about there, love?” You smiled at him and sipped your wine, mirroring his action. He knew what you were thinking about, his next words only proving it. “So, will I get a prize if I hold all the date long?”

“Not sure about the prize, but they say anticipation adds to the pleasure,” you mused out loud. 

“Don’t know how it can get any better,” Calum shook his head making you chuckle. “By the way, you look absolutely terrific in that dress.”

“Thank you. It was actually a gift,” you informed Calum after an appreciating nod, telling him what he’d already knew, as it was exactly the dress he brought you on the day of the attack.

“Well, that person has good taste.”

“He does,” you agreed, “in women.”

Calum laughed and you felt your heart trembling at how carefree and happy that laugh was. 

“So,” you started with a little dramatic intonation when the food was served, “what do you do for the living,...Kevin, right?”

Calum snorted at that and shook his head. He took a sip of his wine and looked at you, devils dance in his dark eyes. “Very funny.” You shrugged innocently. He huffed and answered, “I sell food.”

“You mean, you owe a grocery shop?”

“Well,” Calum took one more bite of his meat, “we with Ash actually owe the eight biggest supermarkets in town, but we did start with a little grocery shop some years ago.”

You stared at him over the rim of you glass, comprehension taking some time. “So, the supermarket I was going to all that time…?”

“Yup, that’s ours too,” Calum nodded. 

“Wow,” you uttered.

Calum shrugged. “It’s just business. Not better and not worse than any other.”

“Yeah, no, I got it,” you waved your hand, showing it wasn’t what you were talking about. “Was actually wondering why I don’t have a discount yet,” you joked, making him smile wider, before asking the real question, “But why grocery?”

“Cause, why not?” Calum looked at you and added, “Eat, please.”

“So you’re saying, you woke up one gloomy morning and thought ‘I’m gonna sell yoghurts!’, like that?”

Your persistence in not dropping the yoghurt topic made Calum chuckle again. You still called Andy ‘the yoghurt guy’ (mostly when Andy wasn’t around) and were bringing up poor dairy product in conversations under any excuse.

“I’m not sure if the morning was gloomy, but yeah, pretty much. It didn’t require so much specific knowledge and, I mean, people will always need food, so it’s really profitable in the long term meaning.” He threw another look at your barely touched meal. “You’re not eating.”

“And you have an instinct of feeding everybody?” you asked in return, quirking an eyebrow. 

“You can draw any conclusions you want,” Calum focused on his own steak, almost successfully playing indifference.

“I do think the choice of a business says more about you as an alpha than as an entrepreneur,” you agreed, chewing on an asparagus. 

“Following your logic, financial management should also say a lot about you,” your alpha noted with a wicked smile. 

You shrugged, gave that idea another thought and said, “Financial management does require a lot of control and concentration, and those are two of quite a few things I’m really good at.”

“Quite a few things?” Calum repeated. “Sounds doubtful.”

“No, no,” you hasted to assure him, almost hitting your glass with your fork in the process, “I’ve checked and it turned out no human acceptable professions require skills of hunting prey down in a dark forest or ripping throats out.”

If you couldn’t feel the change in Calum’s mood with your spine, just looking at how tensed his neck got would be enough. He put his glass down and looked at your warily. You kept yourself from rolling your eyes, knowing exactly what was going your way, and cursed the lack of a filter on your mouth. 

“About ripping throats,” Calum started. “I know you keep saying you’re alright…”

“Cause I am,” you said. 

“You’ve been sleeping not well lately,” Calum finished with a sigh. 

“It’s just the stress,” you repeated the same lie you’d been feeding Calum with for the last week. 

“Stress doesn’t stop us from shifting.”

“I thought, we discussed it,” you huffed, not daring looking up at Calum. Not because you were afraid of what you could see in his eyes, but because you dreaded he could see the ghost of Ripper in yours. 

“We did,” Calum agreed. Cause you really discussed it, the very next morning, when Calum almost stepped on you, sleeping on the floor by his side of the bed still in your wolf shape. You discussed it and you promised you were alright and never mentioned your nightmare or the meeting with Matt. Just said you couldn’t sleep and went out for a run and was too tired to shift afterwords. But Calum felt there was something more to it than you were saying, your connection going deep enough for him to understand such things. He didn’t push, though, and let you have your way with it. But you knew he had been watching you a little more careful at nights since that morning and tried to wait till you fall asleep first. You both knew you weren’t completely honest with each other, but both kept silence, afraid of pushing too hard again. 

“Listen,” you said with a huff, stretching your arm out and taking his hand in yours, “that night wasn’t easy for any of us and it’d be stupid to say it didn’t have its effect. But it’s nothing of a great importance, I promise. You don’t have to worry about me.” 

“But that’s kinda the idea, no?” Calum smiled, squeezing your hand back. “I do wanna worry about you, omega.”

“Choose the better reason, then, alpha,” you shrugged. “And before you actually do, you can tell me how you met Ashton.”

Calum’s smile grew bigger. “Well, that’s a funny story. Cause it definitely didn’t happen when I first moved to the town and he decided I came to overthrow him.”

“Oh, gosh, no!” you snorted in your napkin. “Don’t say he attacked you!”

Calum nodded with a smirk, “That’s exactly what he did.”

You kept laughing. “And what’s so funny in this?” Calum huffed.

“I just… Come on, be honest, who won?”

Calum rolled his eyes and that was enough for you to know the answer. “If you ever tell anyone, I’m never gonna eat you out again,” he said, his eyes narrow, but smile still on his face.

You laughed even harder at his words. “That’s- that’s a serious threat,” you uttered, calming down a little. “But don’t you think never is kinda long?”

“Never ever,” Calum confirmed. 

“Sure you’ll be able to keep this promise?” you smirked at him, suddenly feeling the need of his lips between your thighs. You pressed your legs together and by the satisfactory chuckle of Calum, you understood he noticed your subtle move.

“Sure you wanna check?”

You only smiled to that, sipping on your wine. That little joking threat put you back on the track you were almost always at with Calum. The track of wanting each other a little too much, of teasing each other a little too hard, of feeling for each other a little too intensely. You could see the same flame back in his eyes and since that moment no matter what you were talking about, it all was just an act. The one you played, while waiting till you could hold each other again. 

Which happened not so long after, with Calum pressing you to the wall in the dark hall of his house. His lips torturing your lips, his hands rolling up the hem of your dress impatiently. 

“Someone’s needy,” you whispered in his ear when his lips slipped to your neck.

“Not my fault, your dress is a weapon of mass destruction,” he breathed between kisses.

You giggled, his stubble tickling you. “Well, you chose it,” you reminded him, taking his jacket off hastily. 

“Oh, yeah, how right I was,” Calum mused, pulling your hips from the wall to roll the dress up. As his hands pushed the satin fabric to your waist, Calum froze, not feeling anything else on you. You felt rather than saw his quizzical look. 

“And where’s your underwear?” he asked, his voice even heavier than before with all the lust and need. 

You shrugged, “Didn’t see the point really.” What else was there to say? You were surprised with how long your date took, being sure Calum would have you naked in less than an hour. But he did hold all the date long. 

“Dirty little omega,” he whispered, pressing his still covered hard dick to your unclothed centre. 

“But that’s how you like me,” you whisper back, attaching your lips to his neck, his lustful huff being your award. You lifted up your leg and snaked it over his hip, pressing him even more into you. 

“I’d like you any way I could get you,” Calum admitted. He picked both your legs up, you grasping his waist with them, and pinned you to the wall with his toned body. His lips found yours with another greedy kiss. His tongue kept assaulting your mouth, as you heard him unzipping his pants. “Gonna take you right here,” Calum breathed out. He wasn’t fully asking, but still you felt a ghost of hesitation in his actions. 

“Please,” you moaned into his mouth, pulling him fully into yourself, your arms around his neck. His left hand squeezed on your waist harder, probably leaving marks on your skin,while his right was hurrying to free his dick from his pants and underwear. 

“Need help?” you giggled at his struggles, but the very next moment you felt him pushing into you. You opened your mouth, air leaving your chest, your legs squeezing around Calum uncontrollably, you almost lost it, feeling the stretch. 

“Nah, I’m good,” Calum answered with a cocky smile, enjoying how worked up you got instantly. He rocked his hips once, crushing you into the wall, going on full and catching your broken breath with his lips. 

You didn’t need long, his hard pushes getting faster with every other minute, making your whines go louder. Anticipation definitely added to the pleasure, but shortened the length of it. You were biting on his shoulder through his shirt in no time, not having it in you to hold any longer, Calum roaring at the feeling of your walls squeezing his dick. He couldn’t hold either, coating your insides with his cum, his breaths short and heavy. You unclenched your teeth and threw your head back, looking at him, blue eyes glowing into yellow ones. 

“Need to do this every evening,” Calum said, satisfaction all over his face.

“Fucking against the wall?” you mused, not really getting what he was about.

Calum chuckled, “No, taking you out on dates.”

“Oh, please, dressing up each time?” you pouted jokingly. “Too much trouble.”

“But the endings are blast,” Calum hid his face in your neck, you felt his smile on your skin. 

“Let’s make it this way. Fuck me from behind on your bed and I promise to think about it.”

You felt Calum’s whole body shake with laughter as he pushed you both from the wall. You clung on his shoulders and whined again, his dick still in you and moving inside with every Calum’s step, rubbing on your sensitive walls and getting harder from the friction again. 

“You sure we’re gonna make it to the bedroom?” you giggled again. 

Calum didn’t answer, too focused on carrying you up the stairs and considering the idea of never letting go of you. Cause right now he was ready to do anything to hear these giggles till the end of his life. 

***

“What have you lost there?” Calum chuckled, looking at you searching for something in the depths of your bag. You stopped at the traffic lights on the way to your work, you’re being already used to him driving you after spending nights at his place. Looking back at the couple weeks passed after the attack, you couldn’t remember when you drove your car last time. You missed driving a little, but had no objections against spending some more time in Calum’s black suv. 

“The gum,” you huffed, going through all the stuff you had inside your bag. “I remember buying it, just can’t find it now.”

“Maybe you left it in some other bag of yours,” Calum suggested. After you spent first several days following the night of the attack, not leaving Calum’s side for long, some of your clothes and make-up and other stuff did roll over to his house. Along with you bags, to Calum’s utter amusement. First he just asked you if you really needed that many. Getting the look from you, he just laughed, but that marked the beginning of his mocking you. You couldn’t help it as you loved bags and considered them the only fashion weakness of yours and were just rolling your eyes each time Calum was making another remark. Just like he did now. 

“Not helping,” you muttered. 

“Look in the glovebox, there should be some,” he told you, still tittering.

You opened the glovebox and froze for a moment. The full pack of a mint gum was there. Alongside with some docs, a pack of cigarettes and your panties, the ones you left there yourself what seemed an eternity ago. You picked up the gum, closed the glovebox and turned to Calum. 

“Why are my panties still there?” you asked with a wicked smile. 

Calum smirked, not taking his eyes from the road. “They are my first present from you, gotta keep ‘em close.”

You chuckled. 

“The smell is worn off already, though,” he added visibly upset by that fact. 

“Well, you know where the laundry basket is, you can choose any other you like,” you laughed.

“Ah, but since you don’t wear them anymore, how long would those that are there last?”

“Please! That was one time,” you rolled your eyes again. “I am wearing my underwear now.”

“Good to know, as you’ll need them today,” Calum nodded, driving up to your office and stopping the car.

“I will need them?” you repeated as he turned to you with his whole body.

“Girls are picking you up tonight,” he said and took your hands into his. He thought and added, “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“What girls?”

“Gabbie and Lara, you know…”

“The one that’s getting married on Saturday and the one that almost bit off those fuckers’ heads when we found you,” you interrupted Calum, listing what you knew about them.

“The very same,” Calum sighed, sensing the question in your words.

“And why are two of the Ashton’s pure bloods picking me up after work?” you quirked an eyebrow. 

“To take you shopping,” Calum explained. You kept staring at him, giving nothing away. “Cause you need a dress for the wedding on Saturday,” he added.

You went back to yesterday evening in your memory, reminiscing on Calum tearing your dress apart, too eager to get your naked. You did need a dress, especially after you’d confirmed on going with Calum to that wedding. But you still had no idea why you had to shop in a company of two pure bloods. So you kept staring at Calum, which, to your surprise, was really making him nervous.

“You can question them on my behalf too, cause it was totally their idea and I have nothing to do with it, so please, stop burning a hole in my head,” he finally huffed, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“So, pack mingling time?” you sighed.

“Listen, you don’t need to worry, they’re good wolves and…” Calum had to stop under your teasing look.

“I don’t need to worry?” you asked him back, amused with how anxious for your he was.

Calum pulled you closer, “Too much sass for a little omega.”

You smiled into the kiss that followed, melting in his arms.

“Please, buy something ugly,” Calum asked couple minutes later, his eyes still closed, your forehead rested against his, “so I can actually make it through the wedding without getting you naked in the woods nearby. I do need to keep a face in front of my wolves.”

You chuckled and pulled away from him. “I’ll see what I can do,” you promised, pecked him on the lips one last time and without any other word left the car.

Your smile disappeared as soon as you entered the elevator. You couldn’t show your nerves to Calum, knowing he’d go all overprotecting alpha and probably blame himself for troubling you. But you’d also lie if you said you felt absolutely at ease about that shopping with the pure bloods arrangement. You knew as an alpha mate you had your rightful place in his pack now and no wolf could challenge it. But you also weren’t a fool to believe everyone was elated to accept you. After all, Calum was a wealthy, fair and ridiculously attractive alpha, and you could only guess how many she-wolves’ game you put a crimp in with coming into town and his life. They had all their right not to trust you. You wouldn’t trust you if you were them, you though, sitting down at your desk. 

You could successfully keep your nerves at bay with your work which, as you told Calum just yesterday, did require a lot of concentration. But as the end of the working day grew nearer, you felt all the stupid ideas creeping up on you. When finally leaving the office you were hoping them happen to be total bitches, for you at least knowing how to deal with those instead of subtle hating of smiling faces. You winded yourself up so much that when you saw them waiting for you in the parking lot, Lara sitting on her car’s hood in ripped jeans and combat boots and Gabbie giggling near in a light flowery dress, both being relaxed and looking so easy-going, you felt like the greatest fool in the world. Worrying about all the bad scenarios you hadn’t even considered the idea of everything turning up well. 

“Hey there,” Lara called on you as you came closer. 

You smiled and already opened your mouth to greet them, when found yourself being squeezed in deceptively careful embrace of Gabbie. 

“Thank you for agreeing to come to my wedding,” she whispered, her voice surprisingly trembling.

“Yeah, that’s nothing really,” you mumbled in return, taken aback by such sentiment, “thank you for inviting me.”

“It’s not nothing,” Gabbie looked at you with all seriousness she had in her, “you’ve saved the pack. It’s a great honor for me.”

You just stood there, totally at a loss for words, looking in the sincere face of that young girl. 

“Well done, Gabs,” chuckled Lara, jumping off the hood and stepping closer to the two of you. “Nothing’s more important than making everybody awkward at the first meeting.” She smiled to you and you felt the lump in your throat slowly sinking. “I’m Lara by the way, it’s nice to officially meet you. And I hope you won’t mind not hugging, stupid girly stuff is actually Gabbie’s prerogative.”

“There’s nothing girly in showing your gratitude,” Gabbie huffed taking a step back from you. 

You snorted. “I don’t mind either way,” you assured them both and then smiled to Gabbie, “and we can hug any time you want.”

Gabbie’s smile shone like a thousand suns at your words and you finally got a glimpse of understanding of all the warm feelings you sensed in Calum when he was talking about her. 

Not half an hour later you were in a changing room with half  a dozen dresses and a slightly anxious bride waiting outside. 

“Are you sure you have time for shopping?” you asked Gabbie, slipping out of your clothes.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, I thought wedding preparation takes all the time the bride have,” you explained, thinking what dress to try first.

“Everything’s been ready for some time. We actually postponed the ceremony, waiting till alpha gets better. And you’re so not wearing this to my wedding, Lara!”

You peeked out in your half zipped dress to see Ashton’s pure blood in black leather dress, wrapping her body like a tight glove. 

“You look like you’re a bdsm porn model,” hissed Gabbie, coming up to you and helping you with a zipper on a light blue satin dress.

“You know, coming from you that’s an actual complement,” Lara mocked her, spinning in front of the mirror. “Can you imagine Luke’s reaction when he sees it?”

“I actually can and that’s exactly why I’m saying no. I need my maid of honor next to me on my wedding day and not half naked in the woods having slutty wedding sex.”

“You do know who you should be worrying about for having slutty wedding sex on Saturday, honey,” Lara chuckled and winked at you. 

You looked at them both not really getting that wink or why Gabbie suddenly looked anywhere but at you. You felt your cheeks turning red. You’d thought sometimes that your with Calum sexual life was too intense even for wolves, but you were also sure that you succeeded in not letting it out of your bedrooms. Or his car for that matter. And you were more than surprised that his wolves knew at least anything. Could there be any wolves in that cinema hall, you thought. 

“Relax,” Lara giggled, stepping away from the mirror and giving you space to examine the dress. “You’ve been together for less than a month. We all know how the story goes.”

She smiled, looking at your reflection, but you’d lie if you said those words made you feel better. 

“We do?” you asked instead.

Lara looked you in the face, mild confusion in her eyes. 

“Well, going crazily physical is normal for mates. So, yeah,” she shrugged, watching your reaction carefully. You smiled and focused on the dress, trying not to let it shown how little you actually knew on the matter. 

“It does get easier after mating. So no worries here, I know how difficult it can get,” Gabbie stepped closer and lifted your hair in an improvised high hairstyle. “This one would look lovely if you open your neck,” she suggested. 

“Don’t believe a word she’s saying,” Lara smiled. “First, lusting over your mate won’t get any easier, so learn to live with it. And second, she’s too polite to tell you that light blue is her bridesmaids’ colour, so you probably better go for another one.”

“Oh my god, Lara!” Gabbie gasped, dropping your hair. “You’re awfully rude!”

“No, I’m just honest. Also, this dress makes you fat and you better leave your hair down,” she added, turning to you and looking at your neck, which, you remembered, had at least two hickeys after the previous night. 

Suddenly, you laughed loudly. You couldn’t remember when you actually had girlfriends close enough to go shopping while discussing men and relationships, and this whole scene made you stupidly happy. 

You grasped on Gabbie’s shoulders. “I promise we won’t have sex at your wedding reception,” you said, still giggling. “Any other colour arrangements I should know about?” you asked, going back to your stall.

“Just keep away from anything blue or ivory related and you should be fine,” Lara said, turning back to the mirror.  “I’m so taking this dress,” she muttered with satisfaction.

Gabbie huffed, “You already have a dress for the wedding, why buying more?”

“Kidding, right? There are never too many dresses!”

“True,” you smiled, emerging again in a pink gown.

“See, I’m right,” Lara looked back at you and frowned.

“No?” you asked, turning to the mirror. 

“Too pink for a warrior princess you are,” Lara shrugged.

“A warrior princess?” you snorted. “Since when do I owe the title?”

“Since being the most badass omega she-wolf I’ve seen during the last attack.”

“And I think pink suits everyone,” Gabbie noted, standing on the other side of you.

“You mean, you like this dress?” you asked, both you and Lara looking at Gabbie now.

She huffed, “Well, you know, I think it does make you look more tender, which is good.”

“Gabbie, I look like a cupcake in fabric,” you laughed. 

“Yes, you do, oh my god!” she rolled her eyes and laughed too. She sat back in her armchair, while you with Lara disappeared behind curtains. You had so much time to get out of the pink dress, but before you could put on anything else, you heard Lara cry out in her stall, “God fucking Jesus, aw!” 

You with Gabbie rushed to her only to find her leaning on a wall and rubbing on her right elbow. 

“Luke?” Gabbie asked. 

“Fucking wankers with their trainings,” Lara breathed out angrily, nodding. “I’m okay, Ashton threw him into a birch.”

“Trainings?” you asked. It was odd, seeing other wolf going through the same thing you went that night when you felt all the Calum’s injuries. But the pain should have been strong enough for Lara to feel it, so was the training that intense.

“Yeah, well, don’t get me wrong, I respect Calum and all the shit, but he’s been too active with training the guard lately,” Lara muttered, looking back at you. Her eyes widened up again and that moment you realised you were standing before them in only your underwear. “And not only with training, obviously,” she drawled, looking at his fingerprints and hickeys on your ribs. 

“I- I’m sorry,” you uttered, stepping back. You weren’t embarrassed about your marks or anything. But Calum was one of these girls’ alpha and you had no idea how exactly the etiquette worked in such cases.

“Please, don’t be, you’re one lucky girl,” Lara stittered. “I’m actually envious!” she declared then. “I’m off to buy some lingerie after we finish with dresses, I need some of those marks on me too.”

“You’re so straightforward, it’s embarrassing,” Gabbie shook her head. 

You smiled and disappeared in your stall again. “Don’t be a prude,” you heard Lara hiss at Gabbie, and then call up on you again. “Just make sure you choose a dress to cover all of them, princess. We want you to survive the wedding.”

“Is there a chance I won’t?” you asked, letting Gabbie to help you again with a zipper. 

“Well, all omegas are gonna hate you anyway,” Lara confirmed your previous concerns, sitting down on the armchair to tie up her boots, dressed only in her jeans and bra.

“And some more than others,” Gabbie muttered behind your. “But you shouldn’t worry about the pack. Everybody’s gonna accept you as soon as you and alpha mate.”

Instead of looking at the dress in the mirror, your eyes got stuck on a dark mark on Gabbie’s neck, right under her ear. You’d seen Lara’s mark earlier too, on her throat up under her chin, much lighter in colour, probably because of being there longer. You thought about it again, what it would be like to have one on your neck, a perfect mark from Calum’s bite. 

You didn’t like that dress either and hid behind the curtains, too deep in your thoughts again. You tried to imagine such deep connection between you and your alpha, asking yourself for a hundredth time if you could live like that. Mating was one of the most important moments in every wolf’s life, as you could have only one mate and this bound was forever. At least in theory. But it also meant no personal space. Mates shared not only pain, but all the feelings, deep thoughts, fears. You couldn’t lie to your mate, as you could never be alone anymore, even inside your own head. It scared you more than anything in the world, cause you knew you wanted to be with Calum. But after everything you’d seen in your life, you no longer believed in forever. 

“So when is your turn, Lara?” you heard from behind the curtain.

“My turn?” You could already visualise Lara’s expression, even though you knew her for a little more than an hour. 

“Yeah, your and Luke’s turn to tie the knot finally?”

“Would you look at that!” Lara stood up and came to you, looking at you in awe. “I think we have a dress!” she concluded pushing you to the mirror.

“The dress is gorgeous,” Gabbie confirmed and looked back at Lara, “but don’t change the topic.”

Lara rolled her eyes, “Why would we bother with human formality. We had our mating marks first night we were together, what else do you need?”

“First night?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, totally distracted from your dress by that time. 

Lara shrugged nonchalantly, catching your full of surprise eyes in the mirror. “We with Luke loved each other since we were kids…”

“Even though were dumb enough not to admit it for years,” Gabbie snorted. 

“Everybody has their own way, Gabs, this was ours, nothing’s wrong with it.”

“She punched Luke right in the face two weeks before he graduated from school,” Gabbie said leaning closer to your ear, “and they haven’t said each other a word for the next two years! And she calls it ‘their way’ for God's sake!” she giggled under Lara’s intense stare.

“Anyway,” said Lara, stressing the word, “when we did get together, everything was pretty clear from the start, so the mating mark came rather natural.” She pulled your hair to the back and fixed the neck line of the dress. “You’ll need big earrings and wine coloured lipstick.”

“I have several to choose from,” you smiled, trying to focus on examining the dress, which was exactly what you needed. 

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Gabbie asked out of the blue. “Mating?”

“And she nags me about being straightforward,” Lara sighed, stepping back to the armchair. 

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Finding your mate does make you think about all sorts of things,” you admitted. 

“There’s no right or wrong time to do this,” Gabbie assured you, sounding so serious and wise all of a sudden. “Lara and Luke did it the very first night, while we with Pete needed almost half a year. Well, I needed, Pete just felt I wasn’t ready,” she added. “You will know when you should do it. Not like it’s expected or anything.”

You sighed. “He’s a pack’s alpha,” you said, revealing some of your worries and at the same time wondering how easy it was to trust these two she-wolves. “People do look up at him and expect things from him.”

“Not these things,” Gabbie smiled and shook her head. “We’re simply glad he found you. Calum is a great alpha and he deserves to be happy just like every one of us. But everything else is just between the two of you. Pack knows it, we respect our alpha’s privacy.”

“Technically,” drawled Lara with a teasing smile, “Calum isn’t your alpha anymore, Gabs.”

Gabbie dramatically sighed and then giggled. “So, are you buying this dress or what?”

The three of you were walking up the street to Lara’s car an hour later, bags not only with new dresses but also lingerie and shoes in your hands. You felt so carefree you knew something was bound to happen. And then it did. He stepped out of a butcher’s and stopped, staring at you.

You huffed and asked, “You wanna maybe stop for some coffee?”

Confused looks changed into the content nods and not a minute later the pure bloods were entering the nearest coffee shop, assured you’d join them in a couple minutes. 

You crossed the road and came up to Matt, who was looking at you disapprovingly.

“I was sure you left,” you started without any greetings, displease prominent in your tone.

“I don’t give up that easily.”

“What more do you want?” 

He huffed and took half a step to you, “You promised we talk.”

“We did. Too bad you couldn’t say anything interesting.”

“You have to listen to what I have to say, little alpha!” Matt growled.

You sighed, looking back at the coffee shop. You could see Lara watching you from the other side of the window, phone in her hand. Calum would be informed in a minute, if he wasn’t already. 

“I don’t have time for it anyway,” you said and stepped back. 

“And when will you have time?” 

You looked at Matt again, seeing your past, your family, everything you’d known standing behind him. Really, when would you have time for him and all of it? Would you have any for that matter?

“And don’t give me that crap again, how you don’t care for the pack, we both know it’s bullshit,” he added, seeing doubt on your face. “The Lakes are in your blood. You can’t shake it off, little alpha.”

You frowned. No matter how much you fought it, Matt was right. You looked back again, seeing Gabbie now standing next to Lara as they both watched you. They were great, you couldn’t deny it. And you’d be elated for them to be your pack. But they weren’t. At least not yet. Your pack was far away from here, but it was still your pack. 

“Meet me here tomorrow at eight,” you dropped and turned away, not sparing him another glance and wondering if you really gonna regret it as much as you thought.

***

Setting sun was painting the valley in front of them all shades of pink and orange. Calum inhaled deeply, watching the town below them. The town they called their home and the one they sweared to protect. 

Ashton came up to him, handed him a bottle of beer and jumped on the car’s hood Calum was sitting on. 

“Fucking dope place we’ve chosen for our packs, my friend!” Ashton declared, opening his beer. Calum could only nod to that as they clinked their bottles.

“So, they took her shopping?” Ashton asked after they took their first sips. 

“I still think it was just a scheme to sneak from the training,” Calum chuckled. 

Ashton snorted too, “With how active you’ve been this week, I don’t blame them.”

Calum just shrugged to that, they both distracted by Ashton’s phone vibrating. He picked it up and read a message. Then huffed, looked at Cal and then back at the message.

“What is it?” Calum asked.

“Lara says your omega is talking to that wolf who came to town the day before the attack. Do you know him?”

Calum shook his head.

“Does she know him?”

“Obviously, as she’s talking to him right now,” Calum answered with a sigh.

“Did she tell you about him? Shall I send someone after him?”

“No need, Andy’s already on it. But thanks for the info,” Calum frowned and took another sip of his beer.

“Speaking of girls, I had an interesting talk with Gabbie couple days ago,” said Ashton couple minutes later. “The one you should know about.” 

Calum turned to his friend, quirking an eyebrow. 

“She asked for my permission to stay a pure blood for your mate.”

“Thank Gabbie on my behalf, but there’s no need. I can protect my omega,” Calum said. 

“More like she can protect herself if needed,” Ashton giggled.

“Gabbie is your pure blood now, so...”

“Yeah, but I have Lara for whenever I meet my mate,” Ashton interrupted him. “So I told Gabs I see no problem to that. You can thank her yourself, she’s officially under your command now.”

Calum snorted. “Thanks, mate.”

“Yeah, it would be easier for her like that anyway, with her siblings being technically the part of your pack,” Ashton shrugged, watching the valley. “And our packs are becoming one strange big pack with two alphas more and more with each year anyway. Not a lot of difference, who’s in command of one pure blood.”

“I’ve never asked you how you feel about that,” Calum said deep in his thoughts. “I just showed up here one day and decided to settle.”

“Well, I've kicked your ass for that already, so no need to feel guilty, wolf boy,” Ashton joked remembering the first meeting with Calum. 

“Yeah, but seriously?”

“Seriously," he paused, searching for better words, "I feel much better knowing that if anything ever happens to me, there’s a wolf I trust to take care of my pack,” Ashton’s hand landed on Calum’s shoulder. “So, please, don’t fuck everything up at least in memory of your friend,” he then added barely holding back his laughter.

“I’ll do my best,” Calum promised.

Silence fell upon them again, two wolves were watching their home from above. 

“Do you think it all goes fine on Saturday?” Calum asked not trying to hide his worry.

Ashton smiled with a huff. “After what your woman did the other week, we with you, my friend, can easily retire and live happily ever after. Cause no asshole in the area of couple hundred miles will ever risk to bother us again.”

Calum proudly smirked. “I’ll drink to that!”

They clinked the bottles again and kept watching the valley, both of their packs were calling home. Hoping this fact would never change. 

***

“Are you sure about staying at your place?” 

You smiled to the darkness of a parking lot and answered into your phone, “Of course I’m sure, Calum. I kinda still live there.”

“Well, I can come if you want,” Calum offered. He was surprised by your wish to spend the night separately as you hadn't said anything on the matter in the morning. He felt you weren’t telling everything, but knew not how to ask.

“I don’t know when I’ll be home. Still have some business to take care of,” you said. That was exactly the reason you hadn't spoken about evening plans in the morning. It was much easier to lie to him on the phone than to his face.

“Should I be worried?” Calum asked with a huff.

“What? Of course, no, just some company stuff, Cal,” you looked up the street, seeing Matt already waiting for you with two cups of coffee. “Listen, just get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Sure,” Calum agreed. “I’ll pick you up at noon.” 

You said your goodbyes and you shoved your phone in the jeans back pocket.

“Big cappuccino with foam and no sugar for you,” Matt said handing you a cup. “Just as you like.”

He smiled widely and you felt shivers creep up your spine.

“Thanks,” you said, taking a cup.

“What?” he frowned at the lack of enthusiasm. “Don’t say you stopped drinking coffee!”

“Not entirely, just switched to black and one cup a day,” you shrugged.

“Damn! You really did change,” Matt tried to joke.

“You don’t say,” you muttered and looked around the street, you back itchy from all the looks you imagined were aimed at you. But no one was looking. Everybody was rushing around busy with their own stuff and you saw no wolves anywhere. 

“I thought we could just walk around,” Matt suggested, touching your elbow. “You could show me the town.”

“Been here for two weeks and still hasn’t seen it?” you frowned, thinking how many wolves you would actually meet if you agreed on walking. 

The bang of a door on your left drew your attention. You turned that way and saw Andy leaving the coffee shop and eyeing you suspiciously. He picked up his phone almost immediately. You felt anger rise up inside. You weren’t doing anything wrong, or even objectionable, just meeting your childhood friend for coffee. You looked down on your Converse and pointed to the right. “There’s a nice park that way. Can walk there.”

Matt smiled and followed your lead. 

“So, how did you end up here?” he asked you as you two entered the park lanes.

“Got transferred at work,” you explained shortly. “Is that what you wanted to discuss? My work? Or why have I chosen this place?” you asked not really caring for your tone.

Matt huffed, you felt his displeased sight on you. 

“I actually thought you’d be happy to see me, to be honest.”

You had to use all your self-control not to laugh at this. “Matt, seriously, you come find me after I've spent 10 years running away and hiding, bring up my long buried and forgotten past and keep following me, persuading there’s something of great importance I should know. And when I finally agree to listen to you, you choose to waste time on a meaningless chit-chat. Well, my bad I’m not excited. Sorry about that.”

Matt nodded to his cup. You knew you were being a bitch, but couldn’t help it. You suddenly realised, how weak you kept feeling this last week. Was it connected to Calum stepping in into your life, or was the sudden return of Matt to your life the reason, but you suddenly felt almost as weak as the night before you ascended. You’d been in control of your life for so long, that losing it for even several days was making you nauseous. You wanted it to stop, wanted to be the one making decisions again. And getting rid of Matt was the first step towards it.

“I told you everything has changed back home since you left,” Matt said with a sigh, giving in and turning to what he really came for. “You father is still an alpha technically, but he doesn’t take almost any part in ruling the pack.”

You felt your shoulder twitch instinctively at the mentioning of your dad. You saw him in front of you, tall, severe brown eyes looking at you, waiting for you to become better, stronger, more cruel and stern. The alpha he wanted to see in you, the monster he was trying to create from you. You came to the point in your life, where you could spend years without remembering that you had a father at all. But now, seeing him in your memory you were overwhelmed with how much feelings you still had for him.

“Your brother took the power,” Matt kept talking, not really noticing your distress. “We always knew he was a damn bastard, and, trust me when I say, he lived up to all the expectations.”

You lifted up a cup and sipped on your coffee to hide your confusion. 

“He changed the hierarchy in the pack. We basically don’t have an elderly council. He makes all decisions without asking for their advice, he has his own council, made up of his closest pure bloods and ass-kissers.”

“You were a pack’s pure blood too,” you mentioned, deep in your thoughts.

Matt sighed, looking at you again. “Your brother knew I was loyal to you, he never let me close to himself,” he thought a little and added, “And was perfectly right, I wouldn’t miss on a chance to rip his heart out for what he’s done to you.”

You two were exactly between two lamps and you used the lack of light to roll your eyes. Matt had always been too much of a boaster and you weren’t so happy to see that hadn’t changed with time. 

“You have no idea what happened that night,” you reminded him. “What were you going to pay him back for?”

“I’ve seen scars on your back.”

“So what?” you smiled, feeling somehow calming down. Matt still was the same hot headed boy you remembered. “I could get them anywhere.”

“He was the reason you left,” he said stubbornly.

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” you replied and looked around in search for a trash can, but your gesture was understood differently.

“We aren’t followed,” Matt said, his tone angrier.

“What?” you looked back at him, not even getting what he was about at first. 

“You’re afraid his wolves are following us, aren’t you?” Matt explained, a strange grimace on his face. Like he was disappointed in you.

“Was looking where to put that, actually,” you explained, lifting up an empty cup, your irritation raising up again. Why were you even bothering with making excuses? “And yeah, I’m fully aware his wolves aren’t following us, cause there’s no reason for him to send anybody following me.”

Matt huffed, stopping next to you.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he muttered. “It’s just-”

“It’s just what?”

“I don’t know, okay? I guess, it’s not what I was expecting to see, when I finally found you.”

You looked at him, deep frown between your eyebrows. “Not what you were expecting to see?”

“Yeah, I mean, I knew you ran away for a reason, but I definitely didn’t expect to find you peacefully settled by some pretty faced alpha! This is not you!”

You looked away. Was that what he thought about you? That you settled down? Found the easier way to live a quiet life not bothering yourself with anything, decided to become what was the closest to a trophy wife in the wolves’ world?

“This is not you, little alpha,” Matt said, his voice quiet and sad. “This life is not for you. Don’t you miss the Lakes? Don’t you miss what you once were? It should be you leading the pack now, not your wanker of a brother.”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter, Matt. I can’t go back to the Lakes. And I’ll never be able to lead the pack. Whatever way I chose to live my life, you’re in no place to judge me. You weren’t there that night, when I left, you know nothing.”

“I know more than enough,” he said, stepping closer. Suddenly you felt with all the clearance that you two were completely alone in the park late in the evening and he was standing a little too close for your liking. “I know that people are still waiting for your return. They believe you’ll come and save the pack.”

“They don’t need to be saved,” you shook your head again.

“Don’t tell  me you don’t know what a disaster your brother is. What do you want me to tell you? How his pure bloods rape omegas of the pack, calling it showing them their place? How they set up fights for fun, almost tournaments for your brother’s amusement? Hell, they even started to steal girls your brother chooses from the neighbourhood, not only wolves, human girls too. People wanna leave the pack, but they’re scared your brother will catch them and kill. He did with one family already.”

You closed your eyes. You had no trouble believing your brother was capable of all those things, but you didn’t want to hear of them. 

“I’m an omega, Matt,” you said, not daring to meet his eyes. “You’re looking for a pack leader in the wrong place.”

He grabbed your forearm and pulled you closer, you felt his hot breath on your face. “You’re kidding, right? You’re an alpha’s daughter. You were raised for this position. You spent your whole life in front of these people, they’ll go after you in a heartbeat, no questions asked.”

“And what is it for you in that?” you asked, finally looking up at him. “You’re a pure blood, Matt, go and challenge my brother, you’ll become the rightful alpha, problem solved. Why going in all the trouble and looking for the long lost omega?”

“Don’t you know that?” Matt asked, the look in his eyes was so difficult to understand. “You left not only the pack or your family that night, little alpha. You left me too.”

You saw it coming, would lie, if you said what happened next surprised you at all. And still you let it happen, let him kiss you and let yourself answer him too. Matt wasn’t just the ghost from the past, he was also everything you remembered your home to be. He smelled of the Lakes and your childhood adventures. You felt a little scar on his upper lip with your tongue, you knew that scar so well, you still remembered leaving it. You knew the strength of his arms, surprisingly could remember it from your first heat. He was the home you’d never thought you could return to and you couldn’t help it, you dwelled into his touch, into his kiss. You’d longed for this feeling for ten long years, how could you possibly resist.

You dropped your cup. That’s how the moment ended. You dropped your cup, the knock it produced more like a thunder to your ears. You stepped away from him, breaking the kiss. You looked in his face, a little blurry under the yellow light. 

You shook your head. 

“Don’t go,” Matt asked. “You know I’ve loved you since we were kids, you’ve always known it.”

“I have,” you easily agreed. You’ve really known, probably since that night you both were twelve and he took you to peek at that human couple on the lake. But you also knew one more thing pretty clear. “But you haven’t seen me for ten years, Matt. And you said it yourself, I have changed. I’m sorry about what’s happening to the pack, but it’s not my problem anymore. I’m not coming back. I’m sorry.”

He just stood there, looking at you with all the hope he had inside of him.

“Please, go, Matt. Don’t search for me. There’s nothing for you here.”

You turned around and walked away. You felt him with your back, could hear him still standing on that spot you left him at. But for some reason you didn’t feel anything about it. 

You left the park and turned to your place, but suddenly felt that was the last place you’d wanna go. Four walls of your bedroom seemed more like a cell now. You were afraid you’d suffocate there. You crossed the road hasty and turned to living area, which stood at the border of the woods. You felt you needed space, the solitude only the forest could give your. And the moment you stepped into the shadows of the trees,you felt it all falling on your shoulders. You thought of turning into a wolf, but dismissed the idea instantly. You were too emotional, had too much of a mess inside your head, the risk you won’t be able to turn back too scary. So you just took a deep breath and set to run. 

You had no idea why you were running or what away from. You just felt you needed to run, to feel the wind in your hair and the grass under your feet. Like these were the last things on this earth you could possibly ever feel. You were running as fast as you could, your human muscles soon aching from the exercise, your lungs aching for the break. But you couldn’t stop, you just couldn’t. So you ran. For minutes and hours and days and weeks. Or at least for what felt like it. Until you fell.

You didn’t know what it was, a branch or an untied shoelace. You just tripped over and you fell. The ground was soft though, covered in ferns, warm from the day. It smelled of all the forest smells you’d known since you were little. And this moment you broke down. All that you were bottling up inside rushed to the surface and you had nor the strength, neither the wish to hide it anymore. So you just lay there and cried. 

You felt it all being so right, with it happening while you were alone in the woods. A lonely wolf, with no home and no pack. That’s how you were living your life. And you were so tired of it. Matt only reminding of all you’d lost happened to be enough for it to break you. He wasn’t wrong, you missed your home. You missed it like crazy. You missed the Lakes and the pack, the council always looking out of your, the life order being so natural and familiar. You missed it more than you were ready to admit. You were so tired of being alone, being no one’s wolf. You hated it, the feeling of not belonging, of not being a part of something bigger and more important than you. And there was nothing you could do about it. Your home was lost forever and a monster like you had no hope of finding the way back again. 

You felt his scent before you could see him, his black fur making him indiscernible in the dark woods. He came up to you slowly and lay down, his snout right in front of your face. He whined quietly, his dark eyes twinkling with sadness. His scabrous tongue licked your cheek, making you wince a little. You dipped your hand into the fur on his scruff and held while keeping crying. 

You felt a warm wave covering you, making you feel little less alone, reminding you that he was here for a reason. He didn’t try to say or ask anything, just lay there with you, occasionally licking on your face and letting off a whine. You looked in his dark eyes and kept thinking how he was ready to give you everything you longed to have, home, pack, your place in the world. And how he was willing to give you even more than that. Could you take it? Did you deserve any of it? Did you deserve him? You knew, you didn’t. But you still couldn’t let go of his fur, you couldn’t let go of him. So the two of you kept lying there, till you had no tears left.

And when they finished, you closed your eyes and gathered what strength you had left. You stood up, Calum following you suit, kissed his snout right between his eyes and whispered, “Let’s go home, yeah?”

***

Duke was eyeing you from his place near his bowl. He bent his head to the left a little and looked like he couldn't quite comprehend the heck you were doing in his master’s kitchen. 

“I wish I knew,” you answered to the little dog under your breath and switched your attention to your coffee cup. 

It was barely eight in the morning and you were alone in Calum’s kitchen. He left at the crack of dawn god knows where and still hadn’t returned. You stared at you coffee cup once again, figuring out if you wanted any food or not. Duke huffed behind you, yawned and left to the living room. You took it he decided he couldn’t do anything about you being here, so he let you be. For now. 

You smiled and looked around the spacious kitchen, all covered in chrome and stone, trying to imagine yourself cooking breakfasts and dinners here, dark haired pups running around this kitchen island. Could it all be? Could you have it one day? Could you really call this mostly empty house a home?

A garden door slid open, letting inside chilly morning air and dressed only in his pants Calum. You came up from your thoughts and looked at him, question in your eyes. 

“Morning,” Calum smiled to you and headed to the fridge.

“Been running?” you asked, noticing the layer of sweat on his skin.

Calum switched the stove on and looked back at you. “No, we had an early training with the guard.”

You looked back through the glass wall behind you at the backyard and the woods.

“Is that why you’ve bought this house?” you asked, a sudden idea popping up in your mind. “To have an access to the woods?”

Calum nodded, taking food out of the fridge and humming something under his breath. 

“I owe the woods too,” he said, closing the fridge and turning to the stove. You felt your mouth open at these words in shock. “The pack needs it and I don’t wanna some idiot to start building another block of flats or a mall here,” Calum explained.

“You’ve been training a lot this week,” you noted a little later, watching him preparing ingredients for an omelette. 

“You want some?” Calum asked, pointing at bacon. You shook your head. You felt sick just from looking at food. “The last attack just made me think,” he said, answering your earlier question. “I used to believe our fighting strategy was pretty good. But here comes couple assholes with darts and sedatives and my best pure bloods and me myself are out of the fight in a minute.” He stroke his chin. “I was trying to change something, make us more invincible for guns.”

“And how’s it going?”

Alpha let a humorless laugh, put his breakfast on a plate and settled at the kitchen island opposite you. “Not really good, to be honest.”

“Dude, you just need to break the lines,” you smiled at him.

“What do you mean?” Calum frowned with mouth full of bacon and eggs. 

Your smile grew wider at how goofily adorable he looked at that moment. You sighed and put your cup down. “When you fire a gun, the most important thing is aiming. The less predictable your trajectory is, the harder it is to aim at you. You need to teach your wolves to attack not in straight lines, but in crankles, so whoever tries to attack you wouldn’t be able to predict where you’d be next.”

Calum gaped at you. “Sounds brilliantly easy,” he concluded.

“Yeah, well, it’s not. The main problem is that during the fight it’s easy to forget about it, so you better work out the attack lines for the whole guard and train them till your muscle memory kicks in. It’s hell of a work, but it’s really worth it.”

“How do you know all of it?” Calum asked with a snort.

You huffed and looked away. “That’s how I was trained,” you admitted. 

Calum nodded and looked back at the clock on the stove. “Let’s go, you’ll show me,” he said, standing up.

“Show you what?” you asked, taken by surprise and not fully getting what he wanted from you.

“These crankle lines. Come on, we still have enough time before the wedding.”

His voice was deep and smooth, you could feel he wanted something different from you and his ask was aimed differently.

“We can’t do it now, Calum,” you shook your head, uneasy feeling settle in your guts.

“Sure we can, will only take fifteen minutes,” he kept persuading you. “Will shift fast and won’t go too far into the woods.”

And there you get it. “I don’t want to,” you let through your greeted teeth, trying to suppress your anger. 

“Don’t wanna show me, don’t wanna show me now or don’t wanna shift?” Calum asked, showing what he was really curious about. 

“It’s not about shifting.”

“When what is it about?” 

Calum’s breakfast was long forgotten, his eyes glued to your face, trying to catch every shadow of emotions you could possibly have. 

“I found you in the middle of the woods, crying in your human shape,” Calum reminded you. “What was it about?”

You snorted, “Definitely not about shifting.”

At least that was not a lie. You did have a lot you weren’t ready to share with Calum about last night, but fear of shifting wasn’t on the list. 

“Then what?”

You huffed, put down your cup, stood up from your place and headed upstairs.

“Don’t go away from me!”

“I will do whatever the fuck I choose,” you threw over your shoulder, knowing he followed you.

“How about choosing to talk to your alpha, then?” irritation clear in Calum’s voice. 

“You’re not my alpha yet, Calum,” you said as you entered the bedroom and stepped to the armchair, where your clothes were put in a neat pile. You knew your anger was mostly unreasonable. It wasn’t Calum’s fault he was worried about you. And it definitely wasn’t his fault you couldn’t tell him all of your fears. But you couldn’t help your reactions. You were so tired of feeling weak, you had to protect at least this part of your soul.

Calum leaned on the bedroom door, sighed and watched you putting on your jeans. 

“Listen,” he started, taming his own emotions and trying to speak in a calm way, “I’m just concerned about what’s going on with my mate, you can’t blame me for that. I mean, I find you in the forest in such despair, it made my wolf instincts kick in. I wanna know what’s going on with you so I can help you.”

“There’s nothing to help with,” you dropped, taking his shirt off and fixing on your bra. “Just women’s hormones. You know, pms, all that stuff.”

“So you’re saying you’re gonna have breakdowns like that every month?”

“Pretty much. So you better think one more time if you really need such a hysterical mate.”

You picked up your Converses and tried to sneak past him out of the bedroom. Like you had any chance of actually doing it. He just pulled you by the waist and embraced you. 

“Don’t wanna think about that,” he breathed in your hair. 

You huffed, but didn’t answer anything. Just lifted your free hand and let your fingers dive in his curls. 

“You know, what I also don’t wanna do?” Calum asked and after you hummed, signalling you're ready to listen, continued, “Fight with you.” 

“Don’t fight with me then.”

You stood like that for some time, just holding each other, when Calum started moving you back into the bedroom. “Cal, no,” you tried to stop him, smiling. Your shoes fell on the floor with a thud.

“Yes,” he whispered stubbornly. 

“We have no time.”

“We have plenty of time.” 

You felt your legs crash into the bed and the next moment you were lying under Calum, him starting to kiss you neck. You giggled, his light kisses tickling the sensitive skin. “Cal, stop, we can’t,” you breathed out.

“Yes, we can.” He tugged on the neckline of your shirt, burying his face on your chest, his hands working on your jeans buttons.

“The wedding is…”

“...in four hours. We have time.”

You laughed shortly and took his face in your hands, making Calum look up at you. “You have time, mister. Because you need to just what, put on a suit and you’re instantly a hot irresistible alpha. When I actually need time to get ready.”

Calum sighed, his smile as soft as ever, and put a hair strand away from your face.

“You’re always hot and irresistible,” he whispered. And bent down to your lips. 

“The answer is still no,” you said when he broke the kiss some time later. Calum pouted and dropped his head on your chest again in a defeated gesture. 

“You’re mean,” he mumbled, making you giggle. “And I need to somehow hold through the wedding after that?”

“Yeah, you’ll have to control yourself, cause I promised Gabbie we won’t have sex at her wedding,” you laughed, remembering the talk you had with her and Lara when shopping.

“You did what?” Calum gaped at you and shook his head in disbelief. “I hope the dress is ugly, at least?”

“The ugliest I could find.”

“Liar,” Calum smiled and went on kissing you again. 

“Will you drive me home?” you asked in the pause between kisses. Suddenly your question made Calum huff, his face getting more serious.

“Actually, you don’t mind if Andy drives you?” he asked. “If you’re going, then I’ll need to work a little. Still have to finish some stuff before I go tomorrow.”

You frowned. “Go?”

“Yeah, I didn’t tell you?” you shook your head, looking at him in confusion. Quarter of an hour before you wanted to free yourself from his presence for as long as possible, suffocating from his questions and care, wishing again for the freedom you had before you met him. But this news made your insides freeze. “We’ve been having negotiations about buying couple of shops in a town nearby. Need to close the deal, but for that I need to go there.”

“For long?” you hated how upset your voice sounded, but couldn’t help it. 

“Four or five days. Will be back by the weekend,” he promised. You nodded, playing with the chain on his neck and not looking him in the eye. You wanted to ask him to stay, wonder why Ashton couldn’t go instead as it was both their business, but kept successfully biting your tongue. Whatever you might have felt to Calum, you weren’t ready to become that woman. 

He pressed his nose to your cheek. “Gonna miss me?”

“Nope,” you smiled viciously. “Gonna actually enjoy the opportunity to sleep at night.” 

Calum laughed loudly at your sass and bent down to kiss you one last time before letting you go. These last kisses, long and tamed and steady, were the only kisses you hated. But that you wouldn’t tell him either. Whatever you might feel to Calum, you weren't ready to let him that close to you. At least not yet.

***

You looked above the improvised venue almost in the middle of a forest. You knew from Calum that there were tents ready in case of rain, but the sky had been clear all day and now, in the golden rays of setting sun and lights hanging over the venue the whole place illuminated with warmth and happiness. 

Gabbie’s ivory dress looked so good in surrounding warm colours of nature, and her bridesmaids only made the picture more fresh with their light blue gowns. You understood why Lara fell in love with your dress so instantly in the shop the moment you with Calum drove up to the venue. Its deep emerald colour made you look so in harmony with the surrounding, only emphasizing your deep connection to the nature. Which, probably, also added to Calum’s discomfort, as he sighed each time his eyes settled on you.

But his eyes weren’t the only ones to settle on you. Through all the ceremony you felt people watching you intently, which made you wonder if at least half as many people were looking at the bride. You kept questioning if coming to the pack for the first time was logical at such an event. But you’d already came, so those questions had close to no meaning now. As time passed, people showed less and less interest in you, most of them now looking at you with content and, dare you say, appreciation. Most, but sure as hell not all. You’ve noticed several young she-wolves as you just came, their eyes hard as knives. You were ready for it. What you weren’t ready for was one specific girl. He blond wavy hair couldn’t soften the look of pure hatred on her face. And what is more, she looked at Calum like she had some rights for him, leaving you to wonder how much of Calum’s past you actually wanted to know about. You felt there was some bad blood there between them and weren't sure you wanted to get in the middle of it. 

You tried your hardest not to pay any attention to that girl, more often watching Gabbie and her now husband dancing, chatting to people eager to congratulate them and just being disgustingly in love with each other. You took a deep breath, all of the morning questions and doubts coming back to you. You tried to picture yourself and Calum on Gabbie and Peter’s place. You’d look odd in a white dress, you thought. White colour was the symbol of purity. And you with all the blood on your hands would be just a mock if wearing white. You instantly looked away and lightly shook your head, trying to suppress pictures of Ripper’s body in your mind. Even two weeks later he kept emerging in your head each time you let your self-control weaken at least for the moment. But now was definitely not the moment. Not in the middle of fantasizing about your own happily ever after.

“Whatcha thinking ‘bout there, love?” 

You looked on the left, where Calum approached you. A glass of champagne in his hand for you and a glass of water for him. You looked at his drink, quirking an eyebrow in silent question. 

“A man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do,” Calum shrugged.

“You think we have something to worry about?” you asked, noticing all the guard with same glasses of water and juice. 

Calum chuckled and shook his head, “Definitely not in the near future. You see, there’s that rumor going around about a crazy omega bitch protecting this town borders. Guess, will win us couple easy years.”

“I’m doing all the hard work and all I get is a crazy omega bitch title?” you pouted, sipping on your champagne.

“Rumors are mean.”

“Guess I should be happy it’s bitch and not slut, at least,” you concluded, making Calum laugh. 

You stood there for some time, just enjoying the moment, when Calum asked you again, “So, what were you thinking about before?”

You took a deep breath. “What do people think about at weddings?” 

“Having it all for themselves one day,” Calum answered instantly, not even taking a moment to think. You looked at him, startled by such a straightforward response. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes following newly wed couple, soft smile lingering on his lips. Was he having similar thoughts as you? Was he wondering if you two were destined to have it all one day?

“Predictable, huh?” you tried to hide your confusion and distress in your glass. 

“I’d say natural,” Calum shrugged easily and turned to you. “So?”

“So what?” 

He waited till you finally looked at him, your attention drawn by his silence, and only then asked, “Do you see it happening in your life one day?”

You felt your heart clench with sadness and tenderness, seeing doubt and even fear in his eyes.

“What are you asking me about, Calum?” you shook your head. You didn’t want to play hints, not when the topic was that serious. 

He sighed, looked away again and then started speaking, his voice lower and somehow deeper. “I don’t wanna push you, but I do want it, love. You can’t blame a man for having certain ideas after he finds his mate. I want a family of my own, want a house which I could finally call a home. I want to have kids one day, too. Not tomorrow, of course, but one day,” he took a pause, sighing again. “And, naturally, I want it all with you.”

He met your startled look, seeing bewilderment on your face you couldn’t hide if you wished. 

“I’m not asking any questions now,” he tried to calm you, “just trying to be honest with you.”

You stepped closer to him, lifted on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek softly, caressing the other with your hand.  “I know,” you whispered, as his arm snaked around your waste. 

“This dress is the complete opposite of ugly, for your information,” Calum huffed a moment later. You felt his muscles stiffen under your touch. 

“I’m glad you like it,” you smiled, not opening your eyes.

“Just admit it, you enjoy my suffering.” His lips touched your palm. 

You kept silent, smiling subtly to his tender gesture. You rested your forehead at his chin and closed your eyes, bathing in the serenity of the moment. 

Which sadly lasted for about three seconds and a half, with a light voice sounding right next to you, “Okay, lovebirds, you’ve officially crossed the line.” 

You detached from Calum and saw Lara standing with her arms crossed, looking at the two of you mockingly. You peeked back at Calum, who was obviously amused by Lara’s emerging.

“Which line?” he asked.

“Of allowed amount of physical contact,” she informed him and pulled on your arm.

“And who, pray, set the allowed amount of physical contact?” Calum kept interrogating, hardly keeping himself from laughing out loud. 

“I did,” Lara answered, not embarrassed a bit. “You see, certain promises were made, and I’m here to guarantee a compliance of them,” she added with a snort. “Call me a moral police.”

Calum chuckled as he watched his best friend’s pure blood taking his mate from him. 

“Gotta say, with how headstrong they both are, they’ll make a terrific duo.”

Calum looked back to see Ashton standing near and looking in the same direction. 

“And Gabbie’s gonna third wheel them all the time and try to stop from all the reckless ideas they’re gonna have,” he added with another chuckle.

“Falling for those ideas in the end and being even more reckless to both their surprise.”

Two alpha laughed to the image and clinked their glasses.

“Happy to see you two together,” Ashton said. “Who knew it would take you bleed almost to death for her to fall for you.”

“I didn’t bleed to death,” Calum frowned with a snort.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy,” Ash easily agreed as they both watched Lara introducing you to Luke and Mike. 

“Can you do me a favour?” Calum asked, suddenly serious as ever. He couldn’t get his eyes off of you, knowing well Ashton got what kind of favour he was asked about. Not like Ash had to be asked about that at all. 

Older alpha just nodded and patted his friend's shoulder. It had been years since they needed some words to be spoken out loud.

***

It seemed like the darkness swallowed you two. You were sitting in Calum’s car, going down the unlit road through the forest. Dim glow of the dashboard the only source of light. You both were keeping silence, each deep in their own thoughts. 

You kept replaying everything what happened at the wedding. You felt your brain being in the overdrive but couldn’t stop. Good memories, like meeting Lara’s boyfriend, an amiable shy giant with golden curls and eyes as blue as an ocean, or talk with Gabbie full of warm hugs and tender words. And not so good memories, like stingy looks and confused feelings. Your racing mind stopped for a moment on the image of that omega, who kept looking at you all evening long. Emily, that was her name according to Lara. And her name wasn’t the only thing you found out from Ashton’s pure blood. You threw a careful look at Calum, who was driving. You still had no idea how you felt about him having an ex in his pack and didn’t know if it was worth asking him about her. 

Looking at him, even for a moment, pushed your thoughts back to his confessions. You inhaled deeply, same questions rushing through your mind again and again. Could you? Could he?

A rushed thought burnt you suddenly. At least he was honest with you. 

You turned to him. He looked rather relaxed, right hand on the steering wheel, left stroking his chin. He was doing it often when thinking.

“I lied,” you broke the silence.

Calum glanced at you, frowning at your words, but not saying anything. 

“Yesterday,” you kept explaining, not sure if he got what you were talking about. “When I said I had some company business. It wasn’t a company business.”

“I know,” Calum admitted, not looking away from the road anymore.

“I met with another wolf,” you continued, wondering if you were making it better or worse, but unable to stop now. 

“That I also know,” Calum confirmed and you remembered Andy picking up his phone when he saw you last night.

“His name is Matt, he was a pure blood in my father’s pack. I’ve known him since I can remember myself.”

Calum nodded, “And that I figured out, too.”

You huffed. His reaction, or even the lack of any, confused you more than anything else.

“He kissed me,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Calum nodded again.

“Don’t tell me you somehow knew that too,” you rolled your eyes, getting annoyed with his calmness.

“I felt his scent when I found you in the woods. Didn’t know about the kissing, but knew for sure he held you close enough for some time,” Calum explained, his voice as quiet and flat as ever.

You looked back into the darkness behind your window. The mix of emotions you felt was pretty indescribable, not even mentioning confusion. You turned back to alpha, noticing that his hold on the steering wheel got tighter. Was that really all the reaction you were to get?

“If you knew all of that, weren’t you furious?”

“Of course, I was! Still am, if you’re interested,” Calum huffed, finally showing at least some emotions you knew were boiling inside him. It just hit you, how much all of the emotions you felt were his, and not yours.

“Then why didn’t you go all thermonuclear on me?” 

Calum let a humourless laugh and shook his head. “Well, appreciate my self-control.” 

And at that moment you finally succeeded in dividing emotions inside on yours and Calum’s. You felt his anger and his resentment, his jealousy, sadness and all the passion he had been bottling up. A tender smile lit up your face at the realization of how much he was keeping back in a mere attempt not to scare you off, not to push too hard for your liking. Even if there were all the reasons for you to be pushed.

“Pull over,” you said, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“What? No!” Calum scrunched his face, not getting what you had in mind now.

“Pull over, Calum, now!”

“See that line on the right of you? It actually means it’s prohibited to pull over here,” he scoffed.

“And who’s gonna see? We’re literally in the middle of nowhere. Pull the damn car over!”

Calum huffed, but did as you told, his irritation raising up with every other minute. 

“What now?” he snapped, turning to you as the car fully stopped. 

But you had no time for his irritation, already standing on your knees on the seat and crashing his lips with yours. Calum froze for the moment, taken aback by your passion, but soon enough you felt his hands tangle in your hair, pulling you even closer. You wasted no time and unzipped his pants, your cold hand on his dick making him gasp. You used his momentary hesitation to slip lower.

“What are you doing?” Calum whispered, breathing harder, as you freed his dick completely.

“Appreciating,” you smiled, glancing at him one last time before going on with your plan.

“Hey, you don’t- Oh, shit,” Calum sucked in the air, his hand instinctively lay on your head, as you sucked his dick inside your mouth. 

You let your tongue dance a little around the head, holding his dick at the base, as it wasn’t fully up yet. You stroke your flat tongue all the way up from the base, feeling him getting harder and harder, and clasp your lips around the head again, sucking on full. 

“Yeah, baby, just like that,” you heard him whispering. 

Calum got your hair together and pulled a little, setting a pace. You hummed to his help, the vibration in your mouth making him groan. You kept bopping your head, going with your hand on the part that didn’t fit inside your mouth. You heard his breath halt, his hand holding tighter on your hair. You let his dick out of your mouth to take as much air as you could and took him back in, going as deep as possible. And then you let your throat spasm around his head. You felt his body bending down over you, his hands squeezing your head, as he moaned your name breathlessly. You waited till your lungs started burning with the need of air and lifted your head up. You breathed in and repeated. 

“Fucking God, fuck!” you heard. You lifted your head, your tongue following all the way up, and threw a glance at him. His lips were slightly open, while eyes were, on the contrary, shut tightly.

“Are you gonna kill me?” Calum ushered. 

You chuckled, “No, only make you cum.”

You let your hand slip lower on his balls and squeezed them carefully, eliciting another broken breath from Calum. You kissed the tip of his head and let your tongue play with his meatus, before taking him in your mouth again. 

You felt Calum was close, his hands shaking a little and his breath getting heavier. You tried to bop your head faster and let go of his balls, clutching on the base of the dick again. You felt pulling pain in your cheeks, but kept sucking as you felt he was really close. It wasn’t long till he cum in your mouth, gripping on your hair and groaning low. 

You sat back and took a tissue from the glovebox, giving him a moment to collect himself. 

“You are,” Calum started, his breath still heavy, “a devil.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that before,” you smiled, wiping your spit and his cum from your face. 

“Get in the back,” he ordered. You looked at him, his eyes are still closed and his chest moving fast. You looked lower and to your surprise saw his dick still up. 

“Oh, wow, I actually thought, you’d hold till we get home,” you chuckled.

Calum opened his eyes, bright yellow now, and turned to you. “Get in the back now,” he repeated, stressing each word. 

You obeyed with a laugh, the sound of his seatbelt being unbuckled following you. 

“And if you hope to wear that dress ever again, better take it off yourself.” 

***

You tried to hide your smile in the pillow, when you felt Duke crawling closer to you in the bed. You hadn’t noticed any changes in the little dog’s attitude to you, and that sudden wish to get closer caught you by surprise. 

You two were wallowing in bed, watching Calum packing his suitcase. He was in the bathroom now and missed the scene between his pup and you. 

“I want you to remember that if anything happens, Andy is one call away,” Calum informed you, coming out from the bathroom.

You huffed. “Sure, I’ll call him if I need some yoghurt.”

“I’m serious,” Calum quirked an eyebrow, looking at you. “Where’s Duke?” he asked right away, not seeing the dog on the covers anymore. 

“Hiding his wet nose between my boobs, actually,” you giggled more from the tickling feeling, than from the surprised look on the alpha’s face. 

“Tell him, it’s my place,” he smirked.

“Tell him yourself.”

Calum let out a short laugh, grabbed covers and pulled, making you squeal from the cool air.

Duke turned to his owner immediately.

“That’s my woman,” Calum said, looking Duke straight in the eyes, “You need to find another one.”

Duke growled and turned back to your boobs, closing eyes and obviously enjoying the comfort. 

“Unbelievable,” Calum laughed, throwing covers back to you. “My own dog is trying to steal my girl.”

“Well, can’t blame him for that, can you? With you leaving me all alone for a week,” you muttered.

Calum sighed, straightened up and looked at you. “Andy is one call away.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that,” you said, mirroring his expression.

“There’s one more thing,” Calum said. He moved his suitcase and sat on the bed. “Gabbie wants to be your pure blood.”

You frowned. You were pretty sure you knew all the words Calum pronounced, but the meaning of them somehow escaped you. 

“I don’t get it, Cal,” you admitted couple moments later. “How can she be my pure blood? She’s Ashton’s and I’m not an alpha.” 

“No, she wants to be your guard,” Calum explained with a smile, but you could see deep in his eyes he was as confused as you were. 

“I need a guard?”

“It’s a tradition,” the smile left alpha’s face, as he finally proceeded that you had no idea what he was talking about. “When alpha meets his mate, his strongest female pure blood becomes the personal guard for her. It’s a common thing.”

You shrugged, trying not to overthink it. “I don’t remember my mom, Cal. I had no chance to learn things like that,” you explained. “Still, Gabbie isn’t your pure blood anymore.”

“Gabby was my only female pure blood. And even though she’s a part of Ashton’s pack now, she asked him for permission to become your guard. As long as Ashton has Lara, he agreed.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard, Calum. Especially as tiny as Gabbie. I can take care of myself.”

Calum sighed again. “I know that. And trust me, everyone knows that. But it’s a tradition. And we’re following our traditions. You’ll offend her if you refuse.”

You lay back on the pillow and huffed. “I don’t wanna offend her, it’s just…” you had no idea how to put into words everything that was confusing you. Calum just sat there, looking at you and giving you time to form all your objections. But truth was you weren't sure you could form them even for yourself. 

You hid your face in your hands and groaned loudly. “Fine! She can be my personal guard.”

Calum was still looking at you, you could feel it even with your eyes closed. You put your hands away and looked back at him.

“I wanted to ask,” you started. You were thinking about it since you learned about his trip, but couldn’t find it in yourself to ask him.

“What?”

“Can I stay here? While you're away, I mean. I know it’s gonna sound stupid,” you went on, looking away from him, “but I just feel better with your smell around.”

Calum picked up your chin and made you look back at him. “You don’t need to ask that,” he said, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, no, I do,” you argued stubbornly.

“Yeah, no, you don’t,” Calum smiled and hovered over you, pushing Duke away carefully. His lips started to cover you face in little tickling kisses.

“What are you doing?” you giggled and tried to pull away from him. 

“Making sure, you’ve got enough of my smell around.”

***

Your phone started ringing. Again. 

You didn’t make an attempt to answer, didn’t even look its way. You knew for sure who was calling and had no wish to find out what for.

First messages from Matt came on Saturday morning. You read his apologies for the kiss and his pleadings for another meeting and left them without answer. You just didn’t know what more could you say. And, frankly, your mind was already too preoccupied to think about him. When lack of response from you didn’t stop Matt from texting more, you just switched your phone off and happily forgot about him. But with the beginning of the working week you had to come out of you improvised deafness. And you didn’t like the result. Now it was not only texting, Matt started calling you, practically non-stop. You haven’t answered once. You didn’t know if you should, but you were positive you didn’t want to.

Your phone stopped vibrating. You let out a breath, not aware till that moment that you were holding it and looked up from the report you were writing. 

You’d tried to put into words what you felt about Matt and all this situation all morning, but the only thing you actually realised, was anger. You were angry with him for showing up and, what was more important, showing up now. 

You huffed, thinking about last couple months. 

You had been running since your ascendance. You’d been running from your family, your past and most of the time yourself. And you’d never felt being followed. Until you thought you were ready to stop. Looking back at it all, you could even see the logic of it all happening now.

But fuck the logic, you thought, when your phone had started vibrating again. You were finally content. You found your mate. He was ready to give you home and pack. You had finally found a place for you. You were ready to finally let your past go and forget it all. Why couldn’t Matt understand it? Why should it be that way?

You remembered the way he grabbed your arm that night in the park. Cold shivers ran down your spine. You asked yourself for the thousandth time why wouldn’t Matt give up, why was he so persistent? And what he was ready to do to make you listen to him.

You waited till he stopped calling again and picked up your phone. Your call was answered on the second signal.

“Hey, Andy, it’s…” you started.

“I’ve got your number,” the omega stopped you. His voice was cold, but you heard no roughness in it. “Do you need anything?”

You coughed. “Yeah, I actually was wondering, of course if that’s not too much to ask, I mean, I get if you’re busy or something-”

You heard him laugh which surprisingly sounded relaxing, his low voice soothing your nerves. “Since when do you stutter?”

“Shut up, will you?” you snorted.

“You’re my alpha’s mate. Ask and you shall receive,” Andy stated simply.

“Could you pick me up from work?” 

You heard him hesitate for a moment. Whatever he had expected, you took it, you managed to surprise him.

“Sure,” he answered. “Did anything happen?”

“No, just tired and don’t feel like driving,” you answered what you believed was only half-lie, as you really felt more tired than usual. You tried not to go into depths of why you felt so weak this last couple days, explaining it all with the lack of sleep. Whatever you kept telling Calum, you still had Ripper sharing your dreams every night and it was just a question of time, when it start influencing your physical state. 

“Yeah, sure. Will wait for you,” Andy answered, still a little confused. “Anything else?” 

“No, that’s all. Thank you.”

You kept an awkward silence for couple more seconds and finished the call without any other word. 

You spent exactly four minutes and thirty eight seconds, wondering if Andy will call his alpha or not. Then your phone started vibrating yet again, the screen lit up with another name this time. 

“What’s wrong?” Calum asked not bothering with greetings.

You huffed, stood up from your place and headed for the fire escape, foreseeing this talk won’t be that short.

“Nothing is wrong,” you answered as you were sure, no one could hear you except Calum.

He wasn’t saying anything. You also waited.

“Is it because of that Matt guy?” he finally asked you. 

You almost laughed. How come he was reading you like an open book. You could also feel tension, which you knew, wasn’t yours. He was worried, you could feel it even being so far away from him. 

You opened your mouth to tell Calum to relax and them shut it again. It stuck you, that very moment. You could try to solve it all by yourself. God knows you were capable. But you didn’t have to anymore. The realization hit you like a trainwreck. You didn’t have to cope with everything on your own anymore. You had your mate. And you could share it all with him. And you weren’t even afraid of it.

“He just keeps calling and texting,” you started. “I’m not answering, though. And I don’t know, I’m probably overreacting, but-”

“What does he want from you anyway?” Calum interrupted you. You felt his irritation rise up, you could not only hear it in his voice. 

You inhaled, wondering where to start. “Basically, he wants me to come back to the Lakes.”

“What for?”

“Obviously, to save the pack,” you sighed again, leaning on the wall and closing your eyes. “He told some stories, you know, how my brother is the worst thing that ever happened to the pack and how everyone is waiting for me to come save them and some crap along the lines with me being an alpha’s daughter and therefore the rightful heir and how it’s my pack and my responsibility. You know, all that crap.”

“And?”

“And?” you repeated, confused.

“Do you want to come back there?” Calum asked you. 

His question made you freeze. You understood with all the worries and questions you were asking yourself, you’ve never thought about that one. Was it really that simple? Was it just up to what you wanted?

You tried to find an answer to Calum’s question. You knew he could misinterpret your silence, but he waited patiently on the line.

“I know it may sound crazy, but it’s-”

“Your home,” Calum finished for you. “Yeah. I get it.”

You tried to distinguish offence in his voice, or irritation. But he was calm, even satisfied with your answer. He just stated truth. And he did understand you.

“I do miss it, Calum,” you went on. “But I’ve suffered enough. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come back there. But i’m sure as hell not ready for it now. I just want some peace.”

“Are you sure, Andy would be enough?” Calum asked you with a sigh. You felt his longing to be there for you, but were thankful for him staying where he was.

“More than enough,” you confirmed.

“I can have my guard just beat the shit out of that Matt.”

You smiled, “It i wanted him to be beaten, I could easily do it myself.”

“Oh, I know that. But why go in all that trouble, if you could just delegate it?”

“And what about the pleasure?”

You heard him snort. “Ah, but there are so many other ways to pleasure you, love,” he said, his voice significantly lower. 

“Oookay, mister,” you drawled with a smile. “Come back and we’ll discuss this in person. And for now, I have to work.”

“Okay,” you heard a soft smile in his voice. “I’ll facetime you in the evening, yeah?”

You came back to your workplace, your mind full of thoughts and doubts. How come you’d never actually realized how much you missed your home until Calum asked you that one question. You knew there had always been a part of you desperate to come back to the Lakes, but you were astonished with how big that part was. 

You heard the familiar buzzing again. You looked at your phone. Maybe you didn’t have to deal with all you legacy now, but with that thing you definitely had to. You picked up your phone and swiped to answer a call. 

***

Duke was looking at you with a question on his furry snout. You were looking back, not answering anything. You knew you had to get up, but you were positive you’d vomit if you moved. Duke bent his head to the left. He felt something was wrong with you, but couldn’t figure what. 

“Have no idea,” you answered his silent question. Duke growled.

“Are you expecting him to answer?” you heard low voice coming from the hall.

You turned your head that way. Andy was leaning on the wall, watching you with a smirk.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, frowning at how your words sounded rougher than your intended. 

“Thought you may use another ride,” Andy shrugged. “Truth to be told, you don’t look well.”

“Thank you,” you huffed and gathered all your will to stand up.

“Are you alright?” Andy asked and to your surprise he really sounded worried. 

“Have no idea,” you repeated. “Can you wait a little? I need fifteen minutes to get ready.”

“Sure,” Any agreed easily. “Will take Duke out, okay?”

You nodded, leaving the room. You went up to the bedroom and got into shower. 

You kept wondering what was wrong with you. Your hands were shaking and you felt so weak. You head was spinning from time to time. You knew it couldn’t be the effect of your dreams, but what else? 

Hot water really helped to make you feel better. Almost to the point of you believing you’d be alright. You let Andy take you to work and told him not to pick you up in the evening as you had plans. And even managed to go through the day. You hands kept shaking and your head was odd. You even checked the calendar in case you missed your periods coming and wondered if you could catch a cold. But neither of these reasons seemed to be right. You kept feeling hot and cold at the same time. At some point you had the ghost of recognition and you almost remembered when you’d felt like that already, but the feeling slipped away. You thought several times about cancelling the meeting, but kept stubbornly persuading yourself that the sooner you get over with it, the sooner you feel better.

So at half eight you were sitting in a restaurant looking at the person you’d known as long as you could remember yourself and asking if you were making yet another mistake.

“You look pale,” Matt noted.

You shrugged, hiding your eyes in the menu. “Haven’t been feeling well lately,” you admitted still.

You were looking at all the courses on the menu and felt sickness rising inside. You put the menu away and met with Matt’s puzzled expression. “I’ll drink some water, but I’m not hungry,” you explained.

“I thought, we could spend some time here,” Matt said, visibly displeased.

“Yeah, well, I actually agreed to have dinner with you just to clarify couple things, Matt,” you said. Your tone was tough, but you made no attempt to soften it. You came to that restaurant with a certain agenda and you weren’t here to be nice to him.

“You want me to come back to the Lakes,” you started, but he didn’t let you finish.

“I don’t want you to just come back to the Lakes. I want you to take control of the pack, to take your rightful place,” he reminded you with the same passion. 

You stroke your forehead, feeling your body temperature rising again.

“Do you even hear what you’re offering me, Matt?” you asked, trying to supress the annoyance. “I can’t just come back and claim the throne. I’m not even talking about the fact that I’m an omega and have no right to rule any pack. But the only way to claim the pack is to kill both my brother and my dad. I’m not doing it.” 

He didn’t hesitate for a moment with his reply. And that said it louder than any words. He planned it all. He played it in his head thousand times before and the picture he saw satisfied him to the full.

“I can do it for you,” he said. The content with which he agreed to the deaths of what was left from your family made you shiver. 

“And you’re right,” he continued, while you were wondering how far could he go with that, “as an omega you technically have no right to rule the pack. But I have. If I kill them, I’ll become a pack’s alpha and you’ll be my omega,” he was talking faster with every word, sharing the dream he obviously cherished the most. “With you by my side no one will doubt our position and our offspring will be the rightful heirs of the alpha line. We’ll save the pack, save your bloodline. We’ll keep the Lakes alive, what more could we wish for?”

“Lots of things, actually,” you muttered, not sure if he really believed in what he was saying.

“Come on, little alpha, don’t you see, it’s our chance to come home,” he smiled and you felt sick. “This is not a place for you. You belong to the Lakes. And you belong with me.”

You shook your head and let out a humourless laugh. “We’re not even mates, Matt, what are you talking about?”

He snorted scornfully. “Fuck mates! We can be an alpha couple of the biggest and strongest pack in the country. What are mates to this, really?”

Pictures flashed through your mind. Rushing in the night to Calum surrounded by the packs’ guards, feeling their support, sharing one goal. Wedding reception with over hundred of guests, all of them wolves, living like one big family, warmth and affinity of them. Laughing with Lara and Gabbie, feeling so light and free. Ashton and Calum smiling to some jokes they shared and no one else understood. The universal content you felt next to your alpha. 

You felt a lump in your throat. “Everything, Matt,” you breathed out, your voice hardly audible, but your will strong as ever. “You don’t know what kind of bound it is. If you did, you’d never offered me that.”

“And you know?” he asked with arrogance. 

You looked him in the eye. You didn’t answer anything, let him get it himself. You saw him change in the face, realisation crawling over him slowly.

“You don’t have a mating mark,” he whispered, still trying to fight the truth.

“I don’t have it yet,” you said and that moment felt how right those words were. “And for your information, the Lakes pack isn’t the biggest and strongest pack in the country. Not anymore,” you shook your head, but made yourself continue. You had to finish with it here and now, this was what you came for. “I’m not coming back to the Lakes, and I’m not going to agree with any part of your insane plan. I’ve found my place in the world and I’m gonna stay here. Go away, leave the town and never come back.”

With that you stood up and left the restaurant. Your knees were shaking and you weren’t sure you were strong enough to even get a cab, but you had never felt that right before. 

“I thought, I said you didn’t need to pick me up,” you smiled to Andy, who was waiting for you right outside the restaurant. 

He just shrugged, soft proud smile on his face. Did he hear your conversation? Did he know what was going on all this time? “Had some business nearby. Just a happy coincidence.”

The drive to Calum’s place was silent, though you caught Andy staring at you in the rearview mirror couple of times. He kept smiling and you thought, if the pack had any doubts about you, tonight was the end of them. Andy asked you several times if you’d be alright, offering to keep you company or call Lara or Gabbie, but after you promised you’ll be fine half a dozen times, he let you be. You looked as he drove away. The night was surprisingly chilly and you could hear Duke striding inside impatiently. You walked up the stairs, opened the door, closed it and leaned back on it. You took a deep breath. 

Calum’s scent burnt your throat. You started coughing, not getting what was going on with you. Your hands were shaking again. You closed your eyes. And momentarily he rose before your eyes, dark curls and familiar smirk. You could swear you felt his hands on your body. You opened your eyes to the still empty house. Little dog was looking at you confused with your state. You looked past him. Everything around was burning red. 

You went up to the bedroom, your legs moving hard. You thought you just needed to lay down, but as you came into the room, you understood your mistake. His scent was the strongest here. You felt a knot tying up in your stomach, your insides aching. The most seductive pictures began to appear in your memory. All the things you’d done here, all the things you were yet to do. 

The sound of a phone call made you dive from under this mirage. 

“What’s going on with you?”

Hearing his voice was confusing. You felt your disorientation draw back just from knowing he felt you and cared for you. But at the same time all the pictures in your head became stronger, fueled by his low tone.

“I think I’m in a heat,” you whispered what you’d understood after entering the house.

“Are you kidding me?” Calum snorted, but you heard no fun in it.

“You called me, cause you felt it. So tell me, am I kidding?”

“I know, I know,” Calum rushed, “just surprised. We haven’t been apart for that long, why would you go in a heat?”

You sighed. His question was valid. But answering it wouldn’t help you a bit. 

“Just stay in the house, I’m on my way,” he continued before you had a chance to say anything.

“On your way where? You can’t leave your business, can you?”

“I’ll explain to them, will come back when you get better,” he dropped like it was not a big deal.

You let yourself slide down the wall, pulled the knees up and accepted what you were about to say.

“And what if I don’t get better?”

“What?” 

“Listen, I have no idea why, but our bond isn’t typical, right? We can feel each other’s emotions even though we haven’t mated yet. And now that. We’ve been together three days ago, I shouldn’t have gone in the heat. What if I’m gonna react like this each time you’re away?”

“We’ll think about it when it actually happens,” Calum answered. “Let’s stick to one problem at a time.” 

“Not a winning strategy,” you huffed, standing up. “Send me an address, I’ll come.”

“You’re not driving in such state.”

You tried to hold from rolling your eyes, you really did. But it was stronger than you. “I’ve driven in worse states, Calum.” 

“No way in hell I’m letting you drive,” he roared, “that’s an order.”

“Don’t you get it?” your passion was turning into anger way too fast. “I’ll go crazy if I just stay here waiting for you. I need to feel I’m actually doing something.”

He huffed. You heard his heavy steps. He was pacing, probably in his hotel room, trying to find the better option.

“Ashton will drive you then,” he concluded a minute after.

“Why to torture the poor man, you’re more than four hours away?”

“No torture, he already agreed. Pack your stuff. He’ll be there in ten.”

“You’re too annoying even for an alpha,” you dropped, ready to hang up.

“One more thing, love,” Calum stopped you, something new in his voice making you listen carefully. “Don’t touch yourself. No matter how strong the need is.”

And with that he finished the call. 

You shook your head. It was obvious where he came with that from. You knew if you tried to help yourself, it would make everything worse. Yet his bold words made your insides tremble more. You clenched your fists and took Calum’s sports bag, throwing in there all your stuff you could see, not thinking whether you’d need it or not. You had only so much time to do that and leave some food for Duke, when you heard a car horn. You patted little dog and left the house. 

Ashton watched you get in the car wearily. You had questions about how much Calum told his best friend. He had to explain this sudden rush somehow. No matter how close they were, you doubted Ashton was so up to fulfilling any request Calum had. But when you saw how Ashton’s face changed, as you closed the door and he had an opportunity to smell you, you thought that maybe Calum didn’t have to explain anything after all.

“Do you mind if I open windows?” Ashton asked, his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter. 

“Of course, not,” you looked down on you hands, feeling guilty. It was odd, you hadn’t felt guilty in so long. “I’m sorry, Ashton,” you mumbled.

You heard his soft chuckle. “Come on, it’s not your fault you can’t be away from him, is it?”

You let a shy smile. 

“And I’d say it’s quite natural with another wolf messing around,” he continued.

You frowned, Matt’s face emerging in your mind. Was it that simple?

“You think it’s because of him?” you asked, not even questioning how much Ashton knew. He was an alpha, after all. And you had no right to feel offended by the lack of privacy. 

Ashton shrugged. “I’m not an expert, obviously. But I’d say it’s quite logical. You two haven’t mated yet. Your wolf nature feels the danger and escalates it.” 

He shrugged again, trying to show it was nothing more than his theory.

“Why do you say you’re not an expert?” you asked suddenly, forgetting about your thirst for Calum for a moment.

“Cause I haven’t met my mate yet,” Ashton answered with a sad smile. “Everything I know, I know in theory.”

You nodded and smiled wider, leaning forward to put your hand on his shoulder. “Whenever you meet her and whoever she is, she’s going to be one lucky she-wolf.”

Ashton met your eyes in a rearview mirror and answered your smile. 

You leaned back on the seat and looked out of the window. You’d already left the town and were driving on the freeway now. Ashton was a faster driver than Cal, but just as confident.

Your eyelids grew heavy, you yawned and found it suddenly difficult to stay in consciousness. You didn’t notice the moment you fell asleep, too worn off by your nightmares, nerves and now heat. The next thing you knew was Calum’s tender touch on your shoulders. 

“Shall I carry you?” he asked in half whisper, helping you carefully from the car. 

You shook your head. You may had been sleepy and tired, but you were determined to walk. You got out of the backseat and as soon as Calum straightened up with your bag in his hand, you enveloped your arms around his torso and hid your face on his chest. You inhaled his scent as deep as you could, feeling his mere presence forcing your tensed muscles relax.

You heard a chuckle, looked back and saw Ashton looking at the two of you with the biggest grin on his face. 

“You owe me for tonight,” he told Calum as they shook hands.

“I owe you for much more than just tonight,” Calum agreed with a sigh.

“As you say, loverboy,” Ash laughed again. You felt him looking at you. “Well, I wish you two good and sleepless rest of the night. I’ll see you back home.” 

You heard him open the car door when a quiet “Thank you” left you. He looked back at you, nodded with a smile and soon drove off. 

Calum squeezed you tighter before letting go. “We should get you inside, yeah?”

You gathered all your strength to detach yourself from him to be able to walk. The way to the elevators took approximately nine hundred years. Or at least, that was how you felt it. The moment the elevator doors closed, you started kissing Calum’s chest right through his tee, not bothering with reaching out to his neck at least.

“Hey, love, just wait a moment,” he tried to stop you. You only shook your head, having no strength for a coherent answer.

“What going on with you, love?” Calum asked, cupping your cheek with his free hand and making you look at him.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I just need you, Cal.”

The doors opened behind you to a dimly-lit hall. “You’ve got me,” Calum answered, pulling you out of the elevator and to the door of his room. “You’ve got me, just let me take you inside.”

***

The sky was getting lighter. You were watching it change its color slowly, measuring time not in seconds or minutes, but in beats of Calum’s heart. It sounded strong and steady, confident with every stroke, just like Calum was himself. His breathing was slow and calm, but you knew he wasn’t sleeping. 

“Do you feel better?” he asked an eternity later.

“I do, physically,” you looked up at him, he was frowning from your answer. “I didn’t let you sleep,” you explained. 

Calum smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’m not going to complain.”

Another eternity passed. The sky added some pink to its light blue shade, when Calum spoke again.

“Do you actually know, what caused it?”

You took a deep breath. Did you know? Was Ashton right? Who could have known if not you?

“Ash thinks, because of Matt,” you admitted, seeing more and more logic in this theory.

You lifted yourself a little to change the position and see Calum while speaking. You saw the same frown again and felt his boiling anger.

“What is he to do with it?” his question sounded more like a roar. 

“We had dinner last night. But the heat started earlier,” you mused out loud. “I guess, Tuesday morning, after I agreed to see him.”

Calum didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue, letting you choose what to say to him and what to keep to yourself.

You sighed. “I had to clear everything, tell him I’m not going home. So that’s why I agreed to see him,” you explained. “But, perhaps, his proposition could have been a catalyst to the heat.”

“What proposition?” Calum finally asked.

You looked Calum in the eye, biting your lip. You knew the reaction would be big, but you didn’t want to keep him in the dark anymore.

“He wanted me to be his omega.”

“He what?” Calum asked so quietly you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.

“He said, he’ll confront both my dad and my brother and after he overthrows them, I’ll become his omega, as the bloodline heir. And our offspring will be rightful alphas in the future.”

You heard Calum’s heart rush its pace, felt his chest under you chest move harder. You could sense how much effort he actually needed to suppress his anger and not run away in search of Matt that very moment.

“Okay, first, I don’t want you see that Matt guy ever again,” he breathed out as soon as he collected himself. “Should have said it earlier, but I don’t want him around you. And that’s not a request.”

You smiled your sweetest smile, asking, “Anything else?”

“Actually, yes! You’re my omega! You’re mine and you're gonna stay mine and my offspring are the only pups you’re gonna have! No one else’s!” Calum roared at you, taking your smile for mocking him.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” you snorted, “would be awkward if you didn’t feel like that while i’m lying on you completely naked. Also, could you, please, stop breathing so hard? My boobs hurt from this.”

Calum's frown grew deeper. “I’m serious here.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes at how impossibly stupid your alpha was sometimes. “It’s like you don’t listen to me at all, Calum. I told you once already, I’m here because I choose to be here. It’s not up to you and it’s sure as hell not up to him. I chose you,” you repeated, seeing the realization in his eyes. “Now, would you be so kind to shut up and kiss me? I’m sorta in a heat and need some special kind of treatment.”

Calum didn’t say anything, just shook his head, rolling you on your back and leaning over you for a kiss. You didn’t need him to speak, though. You knew what he was thinking about. You had too much sass for an omega. But you also knew he loved that. Just like everything else.

***

Calum closed the trunk after putting there your bags and looked at you coming closer to the car. It was Friday evening. He had just finished all his work here and you two were about to set off. 

“You’re sure you’ll get through the ride?” he asked, as you came up to him. 

You smiled at his worry. You had spent last two days clenching on him all the time you could. And though you tried your hardest to conceal how difficult it was for you when he had to leave, even for couple hours, he still knew, could feel it through your bond. 

“It got better, Calum,” you reassured him. With a smile you added, “And we can always settle for the back seat, you know.”

“You think?” he smirked, pulling you closer.

“Sure. Last time there was a blast.”

He kissed your temple, you closed your eyes. 

“Seems like you can’t live without me,” Calum whispered. 

Your heart skipped a beat, as you prepared to fight back the rebellious part of you. But, you understood a moment later, there was no need. Cause even the most disobedient part of you couldn’t fight the truth. You really couldn’t live without him. You had no idea, when you had finally came to terms with it, but your independence didn’t mean much anymore. Or better say, little enough to give it up for him.

“Seems like you’re right,” you mused quietly, with your eyes still closed. 

Despite your readiness for the car’s backseat, the ride went pretty uneventful. Your heat was obviously slowing down and you felt better than ever with only Calum’s hand on your thigh. You spent about four hours on the road, most of the time keeping quiet, when Calum turned the car away from the freeway. You’d seen the signs and knew you still had about thirty miles left to the town border, it was too soon for him to turn. You turned to him, but he looked just as confident as before. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, failing to suppress your worry.

“A little detour,” Calum answered. His voice was calm and low. 

You looked around again as you entered a little village, wondering what on earth Calum could have needed here. But he drove past it. Another ten minutes passed, you drove in the countryside. The road was bad and there was nothing around, only bushes. What kind of business could he have here? Again you looked at Calum, but he was giving nothing away. 

You took another turn and came to a little field with a strange warehouse on the other side of it. It looked uninhabited, ominous even. 

“What are we doing here, Cal?” you asked, after he stopped the car. 

But he didn’t answer, just got out of car and beckoned you to follow him.

You understood everything the moment you stepped out of the car, all you needed was to feel the smell of this place. You looked at Calum. 

“What the hell?” 

Calum had already went a little forward and stopped now. He turned back to you and offered you his hand. “Let’s go.”

You crossed your arms in a feeble attempt to protect yourself. You looked at the warehouse again. There was a black hole where the entrance should have been. And you could swear you saw a silhouette of Ripper waiting for you inside. 

“I don’t wanna go there,” you admitted.

“We have to. We have something to finish there.”

“Pretty sure I’ve finished everything the last time I was there,” you scoffed. 

“Obviously, you haven't,” Calum shook his head. You saw sadness in his eyes as he said that. “Come on, love. It’s all gonna be okay, but you should trust me.” 

You shook your head, feeling a lump in your throat. You couldn’t get inside, you knew that. How could he ask anything like that from you?

“You can’t sleep,” Calum said quietly, coming up to you. “Can’t shift cause you’re afraid you won’t shift back. Which you probably won’t as only in your wolf shape you can let go of all of your fears.”

“There are no fears,” you said stubbornly, shaking your head and looking at your feet.

You heard him sigh. “You killed for the first time that night, right?” he asked you. 

You looked up at him, not answering his question. “Why are you doing this?” you asked.

“You need to accept what you did,” he said, taking your hand, before ordering in his alpha voice, “Let’s go.”

You didn’t want to, felt your feet stumbling, but you still went. He took you inside and all the way down the hall to the room where it all happened. You were positive the building was empty. You could hear water drops somewhere above you two and a lonely rat in the basement. And besides that only deafening silence. But you still saw Ripper in every shadow coming your way.

In the room it all happened the smell was the strongest. You felt sick from it, sweet scent of rotten blood from now on being the constant companion of your nightmares about Ripper. 

You hugged yourself and shrugged, looking around. It was dark inside, but darkness was never a problem for your sharp sight. You could see marks from the bullets Ripper sent your way on the concrete walls, could recollect where was Calum and how Ashton moved round the room. You saw it all so clearly, like it happened just yesterday. 

“Why do you blame yourself?” You heard behind you. 

You turned back to Calum to tell him he was wrong, you didn’t blame yourself at all. But those words stuck in your throat. Cause he was right. You did blame yourself.

You felt tears coming up to your eyes. “I’ve killed a person, Calum,” you answered him under your voice.

“He deserved it.”

“I’m not the one to decide it,” you sniffed. “I’m not a god or a judge. Yet I just jumped and did it.”

Calum sighed, his arms crossed on his chest. “You were protecting me,” he reminded you slowly. “And Ashton, and yourself, and many more. If you hadn’t killed him, he would have killed us all.”

“I could have just hurt his hand, that would be enough.”

“And then what, hurt the other one? It wouldn’t have stopped him. Ripper wanted to bring us down for years. And he finally has us with Ashton both in his power. Nothing could have stopped him. He’d just ordered his pack to kill us. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes, I did!” you shouted back, your voice echoing from the walls. “I killed, Calum! Just the way I was taught to,” you felt the first tear slide down your cheek. “Just like my father wanted me to kill my brother,” you finished. 

Calum came closer to you. “So that’s what tortures you?”

“I’m a monster, Calum,” you whispered back. “I needed too much time to realise it, but I did. All the trainings he put me through, all the lessons with the guards and the pack’s council. All the days and nights I was ready to die from the endless workouts. I’d never bothered with asking one simple question. Why would my dad go in all that trouble to train me? I was the second in line, a girl to make things worse. But that was the most important lesson I never actually learnt. Always have plan b. And I was his plan b. He was raising a monster out of me, in case his first monster won’t satisfy his requirements. And he succeeded,” you felt bitterness in your voice when you said it. But it was the truth. You were literally standing on the proof. And there was no running away from it. “I killed Ripper just like my dad wanted me to kill my brother. I completed his course.” 

You felt the concrete floor hit your knees and only then you realized that you’d fallen. Calum rushed up to you, to hold you. His face was blurry, though, and your cheeks were wet. 

“No matter how much time passes or how far away from him I run, I’m still my father’s monster. And I’ll always be.”

Calum shook his head, stroking your hair and wiping tears away from your face. “No, you’re not. And you’ve never been.”

“How can you want me?” you asked suddenly, frowning. “How can you want a monster?”

“You're not a monster,” Calum rushed back, his eyebrows furrowed. “You didn’t kill him to gain anything. Not power or respect or revenge. You did it just to protect yourself and others. You did what you had to do, not what you wanted. And now you need to forgive yourself.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down harder. You wanted to say something else, how there was no forgiveness for you now, but you couldn’t, choking on your sobbing. Calum pulled you closer. You closed your eyes and let it all out. Standing on the cold hard floor covered with the blood of a guy you killed, you were crying out all the despair you had, all the hatred to yourself and all the regret.

“Why?” you asked some time later. 

Calum shifted and pulled away from you to be able to see your face. “Why what?”

“Why do you do this for me? Why do you hold for me? Why do you want me so much, Calum?” he looked at you with his eyes wide. You shook your head, knowing full well what would be his first and most obvious answer. “I know it’s not only the mating bong.”

He sighed. You saw his sight getting softer as he spoke, “Because you’re you.”

You frowned and he went on, “You’re so strong. The strongest wolf I’ve ever seen. And you’re smart and witty and beautiful. God, you’re so damn beautiful. I see you every day and still can’t believe you’re real,” he shook his head in awe. “And you’re enormously kind.”

You couldn’t help from snorting. “We’re standing on a place where I killed a person with our knees in what’s probably been a puddle of his blood. And you’re saying I’m kind?”

“You did what you had to do. And still mourned him and blamed yourself even though he didn’t deserve it a bit,” he said with a sigh and pushed some hair from your forehead. “And you’re also the most stubborn woman I know. And I’m falling for you hard, mating bond or not.”

You closed your eyes, not able to believe he really said all this. 

“But I’m so broken, Calum,” you sobbed. 

“Everyone is, love,” he answered, squeezing your shoulders and kissing your head. “But if you’re broken doesn’t mean you can’t be mend.”

***

You were back on the motorway. The windows were open, letting the smells of the night and forest in. You were holding Calum’s hand in your hands on your lap, it was soothing your nerves and silencing your fears. 

You were tired. The realization came fast and crashed you. This week had worn you out completely with all the Matt drama, heat and now this. You were tired, but you still felt better than you had in the morning. You couldn’t even dream that visiting the warehouse would free you from the Ripper’s ghost, but you knew it was a start. 

Calum was humming some melody to himself, surprising you with his good mood. He was generally more satisfied with the life this week than before, which frankly startled you, especially after you told him what Matt wanted from you. But you took it as a good sign. He obviously trusted you enough with it. And if you were lucky, Matt would have left the town by now. 

You could already see the town entering sign, when an unusually big number of cars on the side of the road drew your attention. You felt Calum slow his car down too and looked at him in question. “Another detour?”

He pulled over and stopped the engine, squeezing your hands. “Last thing to take care of. And I promise, no business at the weekend.”

You heard car doors open and close around you and looked away from him. Wolves were getting out of the cars. You could see the guard of the both packs and some other wolves you hadn’t met personally yet. Andy was looming behind everybody else. Ashton came in front of the crowd, Gabbie and Lara following his steps. 

Calum stroke your thigh gently and sighed, “You can stay in the car if you want.”

He got out and came up to Ashton, when another black suv’s door was opened and two Calum’s pure bloods escorted Matt to him.

You took a deep breath. You could stay in the car, but you didn’t want to. You got out, saw Calum following you with his eyes and stood right behind Lara and Gabbie, taking that the safest place for you would be among the pure bloods. And Gabbie was your personal guard after all. Girls looked back at you and smiled reassuringly, but all your attention was on the two men in front of you. 

Calum stepped forward to where Matt was left by the guard. Matt smirked and straightened up. 

“So I finally get to meet the Alpha,” Matt drawled.

You saw Calum’s shoulders tense. Just a tiny bit, but it was enough for you to notice. The wave of irritation rose inside, but you knew the emotion wasn’t yours. It was getting easier to divide yours and Calum’s feelings, but you still didn’t like what you felt.

“Let’s do it in a civilized way, why don’t we,” Calum said calmly, despite the storm he had inside. “You leave the town and never bother me, my mate, my friend or our packs ever again. And we let you go unharmed.”

Matt chuckled. He observed the guard and smiled, finding you. “He thinks he’s the one to decide, doesn’t he?” he asked you over the heads of all the wolves between the two of you. “Is that what got you?”

You looked Matt in the eye, but said nothing. You knew that game, your brother played it one too many times with you. But you knew better than to answer his provocation. You took one step closer to Gabbie and looked at Calum’s back.

Suddenly you understood the lack of reaction from him. He probably arranged this all the morning after you came to him. And relaxed after this, knowing well his pure bloods will follow his command and he’ll have an opportunity to throw Matt out of the town himself. But it wasn’t a pissing contest and he wasn’t doing it to satisfy his ego. Calum was an alpha of the town. And this was his call to make. 

“What, you just gonna stand behind his back silently?” Matt threw at you, disbelief prominent in his words. “You fucking kidding me?”

This hit you hard. Your eyes darted back to him. You knew what he was talking about. You’d never been obedient to anyone, not your father, not anyone else. You were the only judge of you actions. But there was one thing Matt didn’t know. Calum had never asked you to obey. To let him into your life, yes. To let him take care of you, to become his mate, share his life with him. But he never, not even once, asked you to bow. And the decision he was making right in front of you now he was making only with your consent. 

You looked back at your alpha. He was standing there in silence, waiting for your reaction patiently, not rushing you and not trying to decide for you now. Your heart clenched with all the things you felt to him. 

I’m really tired, you told him through your bond. Can we get over with it already and go home. 

Everyone saw the change in Calum. You saw Ashton step a little closer to his friend and the whole guard leaning forward, as Calum relaxed his shoulders and lifted his head a little. He spared Matt another look and without saying anything turned around. 

“We’re going home!” he ordered. 

The guard moved just enough to free Calum and Ashton way to their cars, Gabbie taking your elbow and pulling you the same way. 

“Your father was right!” Matt screamed at you, making you turn to him again. “You’re just a fucking omega whore!”

Everyone froze, the next moment the pure bloods stepped forward, but Calum was faster. He turned back and hit Matt in the stomach so hard, you father’s ex pure blood bent down and lost his breath. He didn’t even have time to prepare for the punch, his full attention was on you. 

Calum leaned over him and whispered, “Please, make it easy for me. Just say one more thing about her and I’ll rip your head off right here.”

You saw the guard looking at Calum in awe. Everyone must have known already why Matt was in town and what he wanted from you. Threatening an alpha mate in any way usually caused wolves death. The guard knew Calum had all the right to at least beat Matt up. And they knew Calum wanted it. Yet he held back, showing mercy to ones who never deserved it. 

“No?” Calum asked, disappointed by the absence of reaction. “Alright. Consider this a final warning then.”

He stepped back from Matt, nodded to his wolves and walked up to you. He was opening the door to you, when you heard Matt again.

“You’ll fucking regret it, little alpha,” he promised under his breath, yet still loud enough for everybody to hear.

You felt guard looking at Calum again. But he just made sure you were safely in the car and then got in himself, the pack following his example. 

“You alright?” Calum asked, as your car drove past Matt, still holding his stomach and cursing out loud.

You just nodded, not able to say anything. Your mind was rushing around and you kept pulling on your fingers.

“What did he mean when he said ‘little alpha’?” Calum asked. “Is it an insult of sorts?” 

“No,” you huffed. “It’s actually my nickname. He used to call me this, when we were little.”

Calum hummed and looked at you, as you stopped at the traffic light. He covered your nervously moving hands and asked you again, “You alright?”

“Matt is a revengeful type,” you uttered.

“So?”

“What if he tells my family? What if they finally find me?” you asked, looking up at Calum, your eyes full of fear. You didn’t tell him that, but the idea of finally meeting them again obscured every other worry you could possibly have. You weren’t ready to face them, not after you finally had something to lose.

But Calum only smiled at you with the softest smile he used only for you. “Good thing you’ll never need to deal with it on your own.”

He took your hand in his and kissed you knuckles, while setting the car in motion again.

***

You were standing in the bathroom in one of Calum’s tank tops you’d stolen to sleep in. You examined your arm from all the possible angles, the scar from the bullet is hardly visible now. Couple more weeks and even you wouldn’t remember there was something there. You went on with your skin care, brushed your hair and was ready to come back into the bedroom, when your eyes suddenly stopped at your neck. You touched your collarbones and met your sight in the mirror, asking if that was really what you were about to do. 

You smirked. You’d guarded your freedom for so long, refused from giving it up for anyone, let alone Calum. Little did you know you weren’t giving up your freedom, but your loneliness. You took a deep breath and left the room.

Calum was lying on the bed in his sweats only, scrolling through his phone. You didn’t waste any time, straddled him and pulled his phone from his hand. 

“Hey, love,” he smiled at you, his hands finding their place on your waist instantly. “You look too good in my clothes,” he added, his eyes sliding down your body hungrily. 

You smiled and pulled him by his hands, making him sit up. He used it to his own advantage, his arms snaking around your back. 

“I wanted to ask you about something,” you started in half-whisper. 

“Whatever you want,” Calum agreed easily, bending down to you and kissing you cheek.

You gathered all your courage and breathed out, “Mark me.”

He froze. Then slowly straightened up and looked at you.

“What?”

“I want a mating mark,” you repeated.

The silence fell over you. Calum was looking you in the eyes, trying to find there at least a glimpse of a doubt. You were patiently waiting for him to proceed the idea.

“Are you sure?” he finally asked. 

You sighed and smiled at him, “I am.”

He pulled back a little and tried again, “Are you really sure you’re ready for this? For being with me for the rest of your life?”

Your nodded. “You are my mate, after all,” you tried to joke it off, but saw it would have no effect even before you finished saying it. He needed you to be serious about it and he needed you to be honest. You huffed and tried again, “You remember what you asked me about at Gabbie’s wedding? If I see it happening for me one day?” Calum nodded. “I do see it happening. Not tomorrow, but I do see it. And I see it with you.”

He didn’t say anything back, just kept looking at you with all his seriousness. You lifted your hands and stroke his forehead, pushing his curls back, caressing his skull. 

“You’re the man I wanna spend my life with,” you admitted. “You’re strong and kind, and fair, and modest, and caring. You’ll never make me obey you against my will. You’re unbelievably handsome, which also helps a lot,” he snorted at this. “You’re by far the most stubborn man I know. And I’m falling for you hard.”

He smiled at these words and leaned closer to kiss you. This kiss was slow and tender, but not at all less passionate. You felt his heart raising its pace, but his moves were slow and careful. 

You hugged his neck, dragging him closer, savouring the taste of his lips. Your hips clenched around him, Calum huffed in the kissed and picked you up. He swiftly rolled you on your back, hovering over you. His lips slid down on your jaw and then lower to your neck. You clenched your fists, ready to feel his teeth on your skin, but he didn’t stop and continued his way. His hands started to find their way under the tank top you were in, while his lips moved to your collarbones. Your hands tangled in his hair, pressing his face even closer to your burning skin. 

Calum pulled back and made you lift up a little, taking your top off of you. The moment you were again on your back, his lips covered your breast, making your instantly lose your breath. You were wondering every time, what it was about him that made you lose your mind. He did pretty much the same things as the men before him. But no one ever made you feel these things with just holding your nipple between their lips. 

You let go of his hair and stretched your hands down his body, tugging on his sweats. You didn’t have enough space to pull them down, Calum’s already too low, but you could show him what you really wanted. You felt him chuckle into your skin. He sat up from you and shook his head.

“Impatient, are we?” he asked, taking his sweats off. 

“For you always,”  vicious smile covered your lips as your panties followed his clothes. 

You bit your lip, viewing the man in front of you. You took his hips and dragged him closer. Calum chuckled again, but instead giving in, went back to your stomach. His lips were drawing patterns on your skin, while his hands were holding your hips down on the bed. You felt your juices leaking on the bed already and let out a whine. But Calum didn’t pay any attention, going on with his own plan, obviously. His lips went almost as low as you wanted them and started going back up. 

“Seriously?” you huffed, your hips trying to buckle up in search of at least any friction.

Calum didn’t answer anything, his mouth too busy with kissing and sucking. He went back to your breasts, eliciting a series of desperate moans from you, and finally reached your neck again.

“I want you,” you whispered, gasping for air and not controlling anymore nor your clenching hips neither your wandering hands. 

“I know, baby,” he confirmed, sucking a hickey below your ear. 

You whined again. 

“Think you’re wet enough for me?” he asked you with a devilish smile. You squeezed your legs around his hips as an answer. Calum laughed and patted your thigh, asking you to let go of him. You obeyed and pulled him in for another kiss. 

He entered you the very next second, making you shut your eyes and let go of his lips instantly, your mouth opened in a silent scream.

“Love you like this,” Calum whispered over you, his arm holding your arching back. 

He rocked his hips, his dick going a little deeper. You found it in yourself to breathe in and now you were letting the air down with a long moan. No matter how many times you’ve done it already, the stretch was still too much. He set the pace, slow and careful, getting deeper with every other move, not pausing until he could come on full in you. You were biting your lips from all the sensations in your body. He kept pushing, further and further and then he stopped, you felt him go inside as deep as it was only possible. Calum hid his face on your chest, breathing hard. You lowered your hand on his head and stroke gently. 

“You okay?” you asked, confused by his sudden hesitation. 

Calum looked up and smiled. “Fucking favourite place in the world,” he breathed out and moved again. And then again. He wasn’t slowing now, pace rising up with every move. Your whines turned into sobs as he started to literally shove you into the mattress. You saw the drops of sweat cover his forehead, his eyes were shut and his lips tremble. His beautiful plump lips all red now and wet from your kisses. You couldn’t fight it and pulled him back again, sucking on his lower lip as he kept pounding in you. 

You got close too soon, all the emotions and nerves of the day weakened you. It was like Calum felt it even before you did. Your walls only started to clench and he was already kissing your neck, just like you loved him to.

“Come on, love,” he rushed you a little, “let go for me.”

You could fight many things in the world, but not his begging together with his kissing. You felt the waves of pleasure covering you, one after another, honestly believing nothing in the world could ever compare to it, wishing you’ll have this forever. You were clenching on his shoulders, whispering god only knows what silly things, probably just repeating his name, instinctively bucking your hips up. And then you stopped. 

His teeth sank into your skin right over your left collarbone and your world exploded. White flashes in front of your eyes blinded you. You stopped breathing, but you didn’t need the air anyway. All you knew was the fire flowing into your body through the bite on your neck. But this fire wasn’t burning your down with pain, it was filling you up, just like Calum was filling you up down your body now. It felt like you’d finally found your soul and now it was filling your body back. It felt like realization of all your dreams you'd never known you had. It felt like the most right thing in the entire world.

You heard banging in your ears. It took another century for you to understand it was your heart pounding in your chest. Calum was lying on your, your chests moving in unison. He was holding you tight, his lips touching your skin exactly where the mark of his bite was burning now, imprinting your rightful place in the world and by his side as his only mate from now on and till your last breath.

***

taglist: @myloverboyash, @bringmethehorizonandpizza, @calumamongmen, @post-traumatic-mess, @empathycth, @calpops, @talkfastang, @cthoodsthetic, @ariannawoodxoxo, @dreamer-loves-lyrics, @fluffsshawn, @madformichael, @c-h-i-l, @woahitsannerieke, @rotten-kandy, @hopelessxcynic, @spankthetrashcan, @theodora-howyoudoin, @xcarondimoniox, @clummycal, @vexxybexxy-blog, @fictionalfrustrations, @notsooperfect, @rbforsmileycal, @lmao5sosimagines, @wantirwinback, @acapurso

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[vincess-princess]

ex malo bonum

Chapter 6.

Word count: 4751 Warnings: self-harm, graphic descriptions of violence

When Vince woke up, the water had already gone cold.

He jerked up, not understanding where he was, and would almost dip his head in the water if not for the small size of the bath. Blood that had settled down on the bottom stirred up, coloring the water in a sickly yellowish shade.

Vince looked around the room - he was alone in there - then climbed over the edge of the bath and hobbled to the door, leaving puddles on the floor. He turned the knob slowly, wincing at the sound it made, and opened the door just a little, just to peek outside.

No one was there.

Vince opened the door wider and examined the empty corridor. On the floor in front of the bathroom he saw his own bloody traces from last night, and they made everything that had happened to him come to mind, drowning Vince in painfully bright, detailed pictures and loud, harsh words.

He told Mick his name, he recalled. And Mick promised to “pass it to the boys”.

The mere thought of Nikki saying his name – pronouncing it with his own lips, with the same characteristic drawl he talked to him in that night - was revolting to Vince. He shouldn’t have revealed his name to Mick. He should have kept silent. It was better when they just called him “angel”, even though he wasn’t one already. It was a minor relief, but a relief nevertheless. It showed that he was different from them. That he still had some Heaven in him left.

Now he had a name, the only thing he managed to hide from them, to call it completely his; now he had a name, a simple, two-syllable, completely human name, and others were going to know him by it, like a mortal, like an earthly creature, like a de-

Vince clutched his head so hard it started to hurt. Pain was good; pain was familiar; pain was friendly.

His gaze wandered around the room and lingered on the cupboard above the sink. Vince limped towards it, tried to open it, but it turned out to be locked. Who the fuck locks their bathroom cupboards, he felt a wave of irrationally intense anger rising up in his chest, and Vince yanked the door knob in frustration.

It broke off, hit Vince on the head and fell onto the floor with a loud bang and a sound of glass shattering. Vince stumbled back, covering his head, until the back of his knees felt the cold edge of the bathtub. He fell back in the bath, splashing the water onto the floor and hitting his head on the wall.

A couple of minutes later, when sharp pain in Vince’s lower part of the body and throbbing in his head dulled down, he dragged himself out of the bath and plopped down on a toilet, estimating the damage. The floor was covered in water, but the clothes Mick had brought him remained miraculously dry. The cupboard door was lying on the floor with the mirror up. It broke into a few smaller pieces.

Vince picked up the shards so as not to accidentally step on them. He was going to settle them on the counter next to his clothes, but cast a quick glance onto them and dropped them right back on the floor, dangerously close to his bare feet.

His hair started to darken at the tips.

Vince knew for sure this wasn’t just a mortal vessel thing. A vessel’s dyed hair was supposed to start darkening at the roots, not at the tips. Vince let out a shaky sigh, only now realizing why all demons had pitch-black hair.

He was going to have it too.

Not paying attention to the shards hurting his feet, Vince limped to the cupboard, frantically searching for something that could help him. It was there. He could feel its cold steely sharpness inside. It called him.

He cut his finger on the little blade lying in the farthest corner of the cupboard. Vince pulled it out oh so carefully, balanced it on his finger. What an unfortunate coincidence, a wicked thought crossed his mind. Mick had been trying so hard to stop him from killing himself, and all his efforts were now going to waste. What a pity.

Vince glanced back at the door, making sure no one was there, and then began chopping off the darkened tips of his hair. The blade was too small for that and Vince’s fingers soon started bleeding, but he didn’t pay attention. Away with the demon in his body. He wasn’t welcome, he wasn’t going to get anything from him, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to get Vince. Vince would rather die than let him.

His hair, once so pretty, was now sticky and sloppily cut, and Vince felt a pang of regret. He let himself indulge in it it for a moment before proceeding to the next part. An image of Mick popped up in his mind, looking at Vince judgmentally with those clear blue eyes, but he pushed it out of his thoughts. To hell with Mick. Two-three quick movements – and it all would be over. Mick wouldn’t have time to stop him, hard as he tried.

Vince stretched out his left hand, examining the positions of veins under the paper-thin skin of his wrist. He held up the blade and pressed it into his skin right above one of the thickest ones. He wanted to press it deeper, but found himself hesitating for no reason and, angry at himself, slashed his arm from his wrist across to his elbow, leaving a deep cut that slowly but surely started oozing blood.

Vince looked at it as it was dripping down on the floor, mesmerized. Drops of blood were falling down and diluting in the puddles, his bleeding more and more intense. How did he still have so many of it left when most of the time he had spent in this house he had been bleeding?

But it was not enough. Too slow, too little. Vince slashed his arm one more time, drawing a cross of sorts on his skin. It swelled up immediately, one more trickle of blood painting the floor red.

He tried to put the blade in his other hand and do the same to the right, but his fingers, slippery with blood and weak from pain that slowly started to build up behind the cuts, couldn’t hold onto the thin piece of metal. Vince looked at it for a minute or two, a chaos of thoughts in his head, all swirling and darting back and forth up to the point where they made his head ache. So many of them, and he couldn’t get a single one concise or coherent.

Then he brought the blade up to his neck and pressed in lightly. A droplet of blood rolled down his neck and settled on his collarbone. Come on, the very familiar voice in his head said, the one Vince had been trying so thoroughly to mute. Come on, press harder. You wanted it so badly. Don’t miss the chance.

Vince’s hand started shaking. He grasped it with his other hand, but to no avail. The blade he clutched between his fingers vibrated slightly, warm and bloody. So attractive in its deadliness. So… frightening.

Vince raised it back to his throat again, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t position the blade against his neck. Tears prickled in his eyes, tears of fear, hate, contempt of his own cowardice. He couldn’t even kill himself to rid the Earth of one more demon, let alone others.

Vince tried to recall the feverish dedication he experienced when he tried to kill himself not once, not twice, but numerous times. Only its echoes came to the surface of his fogged memories, but it was enough. Enough, because now it seemed terrifying.

It wasn’t dedication. It was an obsession.

Vince dropped the blade and kicked it away. He hurt his foot, but didn’t even notice it. He slumped onto the toilet seat and closed his eyes. Two words were bouncing back and forth in his mind.

Weak. Weak and pathetic.

Blood still streamed down his arm, but much less of it now – the cuts began to heal, too soon, too quickly. Vince watched indifferently the edges of the cuts grow together, leaving red swollen lines on his arm. It’s going to scar horrifically, he had a detached thought.

Wait. If it was going to scar, then everyone would be able to see it. Mick, especially. Who very clearly forbade him to do exactly this thing.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Vince glanced at the door, cold fear rising in his chest. Mick was terrifying enough even in his calm state of mind. Not physically – his human form was barely taller than Vince’s and even thinner, - but even humans, who couldn’t step beyond their five senses, could feel the innate dread he gave off, let alone demons and angels. His anger would probably make Vince regret not killing himself. Not even probably. Most likely.

He looked around, panicking, trying to find the blade, to finish what he started, but it was long gone under a machine with a round window, atop of which his clothes were lying. Dropping on his knees in front of it and trying to stick a hand under it only resulted in his hand almost getting stuck and his knees getting hurt by little pieces of glass floating around. The water on the floor was slowly seeping into the corridor, and soon someone would definitely notice it and come check up on him. Which was the last thing Vince, with his hands and knees bloody and his hair cut sloppily, needed at the moment.

Wait, a thought flashed through his mind, hadn’t Mick said that he would feel it if Vince hurt himself? Why hadn’t he come already then?

Vince inhaled shakily, trying not to fall into a pit of panic and irrational decisions. Mick would have already come if he could feel Vince’s pain. Yet, he wasn’t there. Maybe he wasn’t home. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe if Vince played it cool, he wouldn’t notice at all. Maybe.

Vince fished out a suspiciously stinking mop from behind the toilet and wiped the water together with blood. He swept shards of glass and blackened hair under the strange machine, out of sight. The floor still remained stained, but it looked not worse than before – the demons seemed to not really care about tidiness. The mop was completely ruined, though, and followed glass and hair under the machine. Vince only hoped no one would try to move it in the foreseeable future.

Then Vince climbed into the bath again, shivering in cold water, and began washing.

***

Feeling clean was, unexpectedly, a very pleasant feeling. So this was what Tommy and Mick meant when they talked about providing his vessel’s well-being. Life was way easier when he hadn’t had a physical form, but also much blander. He couldn’t feel pain, but also couldn’t really appreciate the pleasure of not having it.

Mick’s pants were a little too tight for him, but not to the point of being uncomfortable. Tommy’s t-shirt, on the other hand, almost reached Vince’s knees, so he had to tuck it into the pants so as not to feel like an oversized human toddler.

He spent too much time picking tiny pieces of glass out of his feet, those that he had been too busy last night to pay attention to. Now that his emotions raged themselves out, and the empty, apathetic calmness that comes after a huge outburst replaced them, his body decided to remind him how badly he had treated it the night before.

The cuts on his arm had healed, but the scars, as he anticipated, hadn’t gone away, now like thick red threads on his skin. There was no way in hell Mick couldn’t notice them the second he saw Vince. How stupid he had been, Vince scolded himself wearily. He should have cut his thighs, the cuts would have been hidden by pants.

Vince would gladly spend the rest of his days in this bathroom if that meant not to have any contact with Nikki in any way. But that also meant no contact with Tommy, which he found slightly upsetting, and no contact with Mick, which was really intimidating. No one knew what Vince could expect from him, and the only sure-fire way to know was to ask the demon himself. More than that, it meant no freedom which could possibly lie just behind those walls, just a door away from him. So, after about half an hour of lingering and coming up with various dialogue options in his head, Vince took a deep breath and opened the door a little.

He observed the empty corridor through the gap, noticing his bloody traces remaining on the floor. No one seemed to care about cleanliness in this house.

Then Vince dared to open the door and step outside.

His every movement was accompanied by dull pain rising between his legs and shooting upwards in sharp pangs with each step. Nikki must have fucked him up down there so much that it couldn’t heal even more than a day (Vince assumed that’s how much time had passed) after that. Even his cuts took only a few hours. Interesting how he couldn’t heal a simple, not very deep cut in his shoulder for the whole night, and now-

It’s not interesting, Vince cut himself off. It’s perfectly clear why.

Vince looked around, trying to figure out where he was and where the door out could be. The corridor seemed to connect bathroom on its one side and his cell, oh, sorry, bedroom, on the other. There was another door next to his – probably a bedroom as well. He didn’t remember any stairs on his way here, so the door out should be somewhere near. Somewhere in this corridor. He just needed to look…

There was no other door. Only two bedroom doors on the other side and one to the toilet.

Maybe the door out was somewhere in that other bedroom? It had to be, right? The demons needed one to go out anyway. Or was walking through walls their another ability Vince wasn’t aware of?..

No, Vince pushed the thought away, that was probably bullshit. The door out must be behind that closed door. Vince headed towards it. His “bedroom” door was half-open, and there he saw the bloody bed he spent so much time in. Nobody bothered to change the sheets, and all the blood he lost was there, on the sheets, on the floor, even on the wall above the bed. Damn, had he been lying there for more than a day? It looked and smelled like a butchery. He shouldn’t have survived after losing so much blood. A human definitely wouldn’t.

Vince sneaked to the other door and pressed his ear to it, trying to hear anything. The voices were muffled, but the intonations were unmistakable. Tommy and Nikki.

The second Vince heard Nikki’s husky voice the pain in his lower part of the body flared up, almost making him fall onto his knees right in front of the door. Breathing heavily, Vince managed to step back and lean on the wall, waiting for the fit of pain to pass.

It never did, because the door opened and Nikki appeared in the doorway.

“Oh my, what do we have here,” Nikki smiled like a shark, his slightly pointy teeth only adding to the image. “Who let you out of your room, angel? I’ll have to take you back. You’re still not tamed enough to walk around on your own.”

Tamed rang in Vince’s ears, louder with every second. Vince looked at Nikki who kept talking, and couldn’t hear a word he was saying. You’re not tamed enough, he only heard, again and again, and the louder it was, the angrier he became. Everything in front of his eyes went blurry except Nikki’s face – it stood out, his features precise and bright.

Like an aim.

Vince’s fist landed right on Nikki’s jaw. It shut him up immediately and made him step back to stay on his feet. When he regained balance, Vince was already waiting for him with another punch, this time in the nose. It cracked audibly under Vince’s fist, to his immense pleasure. Nikki jumped back, his hand flying up to his nose. It opened his stomach for another punch, which Vince promptly delivered. Nikki tripped over and fell onto his back, and Vince was already there, quick like an arrow, pressing him to the ground with his knees and landing punch after punch, in the nose, in the eyes, everywhere he could reach, until his knuckles bled with both his own blood and Nikki’s. Nikki’s hands tried to hold his wrists weakly and failed, falling onto his face to cover his eyes.

There was a scream at the background, and someone grabbed Vince by the shoulders and yanked back, pulling him away from Nikki. Vince twisted in the grip, adrenaline still rushing in his veins, the image of Nikki’s face that “could get him all the chicks” before his eyes. Now bloody and ruined, it was pumping him up, calling him back, just one more punch-

Vince twisted again, trying to wrest out of the grip, but all in vain. He turned his head and saw Tommy behind him struggling to keep him in place, his expression frightened. Of course, who else it was gonna be, Vince thought bitterly. Who was he to Tommy, and who was Nikki.

Vince kicked Tommy in the shin. He hissed but didn’t let go, waiting for Nikki to get up. But Nikki still lay on the ground and… what, smiled?

“Look at yourself, V-i-n-n-i-e,” he spelled out every letter of his name, speaking so clearly it seemed Vince’s punches hadn’t harmed him at all. Maybe they really didn’t. “I’m serious, look at yourself in the mirror.”

Tommy released him, turned him around and went “oh my god, dude”. And also smiled.

“What the fuck did you-“ Vince looked around feverishly, searching for the mirror, located one in the corner and rushed towards it, something in his chest going cold, because he already knew what he would see, he knew and refused to believe.

His reflection looked back at him with pitch-black eyes.

Vince only caught a second, and then his eyes turned into hazel again, and his anger faded away as quickly as came. Desperation came instead. Not a sulking and miserable desperation, but a distraught, agitated kind of it.

Vince unconsciously brought his hand up to the mirror and touched his reflection, blinked a couple of times. Hazel, still hazel. Maybe he was seeing things? But Nikki and Tommy also saw it. It couldn’t be the mirror.

Vince shattered it with his bare fist. A sharp spike of pain went through his arm, and the shards cut his bare feet. He didn’t notice. He didn’t care.

“Wow, wow, man,” he heard Tommy’s voice somewhere behind him, “cool down!”

He turned around and punched Tommy too, with his knuckles full of glass. Tommy yelped and recoiled, and then Nikki appeared in front of Vince and delivered such a powerful blow to his stomach that it made Vince’s back hit the wall as he was gasping helplessly for breath. Nikki wanted to say something, he even opened his mouth already, but a sharp, loud sound, the one Vince had heard last morning, drowned out his words. Then Vince’s shoulder started to hurt. Something little and sharp pierced it.

The whole thing was probably over in a second, but for Vince it felt like a lifetime. He turned his head and saw a pothole in the wall right above his shoulder, and then he was pushed onto the floor and pinned down to it by Nikki’s body. He could hear his broken breathing and whispered curses. Tommy fell down next to them. His hair was tickling Vince’s nose.

Then the sound repeated, and that single pothole was joined by a dozen more, drawing an intricate ornament on the wall. Vince could see this from behind Nikki’s hair that was falling on his face. It smelled something flowery. Pieces of the wall fell right on Nikki’s back who cursed quietly every time.

Then the sound stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Nikki spent a whole extra minute on top of Vince (Vince counted, trying to calm his beating heart), then rolled off carefully and crawled to the window, making sure he wasn’t raising his head too high. He peeked out for a moment and the sound went off again. Vince imagined Nikki’s forehead with the same pothole as on the wall, slowly filling up with blood which then leaked down his face, his eyes now empty, like a doll’s. The image was strangely satisfying.

Unfortunately, Nikki ducked quickly, and the new pothole appeared among those on the wall.

“Did you see them?” Tommy asked anxiously, still lying on the floor with his hands covering his head.

“They shot from a white truck. Didn’t catch anything else. Have they found a sniper for their gang or what? They weren’t nearly as precise last time.”

“Probably. Or better gear.”

Nikki once again peered into the window and immediately pulled back. This time, though, there was no sound.

“They drove away,” he said finally and got up. Tommy followed suit. Vince sat up on the floor, watching them in silent shock. “Only fucking pussies shoot from the distance and don’t get into an honest fight!”

“If not for the bullets, I would fucking show them what’s what!” Tommy flared up too. “Cowards! All angels are cowards! Not you,” – he pointed at Vince, - “you’re one crazy motherfucker. But all other angels are cowards!”

Vince blinked in confusion - was that supposed to be a compliment? – but forgot about it that very moment. Something more important was going on right in front of him, and he didn’t understand a thing.

He cleared his throat and spoke.

“What the fuck?”

Nikki and Tommy turned their heads to him simultaneously, both acting like they just saw Vince over there.

“Should I?..” Nikki began gingerly. Tommy thought for a second and nodded.

“Can’t keep him in the dark for so long. Not now that he already saw it.”

“Alright.” Nikki stepped towards Vince, and the latter had to suppress his growing desire to move away from him. Nikki’s face had already started to heal, bruises left by Vince’s fists going yellow and then disappearing in the matter of minutes.

Nikki plopped down on the floor in front of him to get on Vince’s level. Vince didn’t want to look at his face, especially so close, but he didn’t move back. It was strangely alluring at the same time, as though it could replace the mask with hungry eyes from his memories; it called, remember me instead.

No, Vince cut himself off. He wasn’t going to forget what the demon did to him, even if he saved his life after that. He might have done it for whatever reason, but Vince refused to be indebted to him. He didn’t ask Nikki to do it. He wasn’t going to let him get away with what he had done to him just because of that.

“So I’ve told you about one way a fallen angel can go. Ghosts, all that stuff. I guess since you haven’t finished the job in the bathroom,” he pointed at Vince’s scars which he had forgotten to hide in the heat of the moment, “you are not interested in going that way.”

“I’m not strong enough for that,” Vince said quietly. “I wish I could.”

“Bullshit,” Nikki cut him off. “That’s the path of cowards. Not being able to face the consequences of your crime. Not finishing the transformation. There’s another path. That one – for traitors.”

“Traitors,” Tommy giggled behind his back. Vince couldn’t help but smile a little. Nikki gracefully ignored both of them.

“They think they will never become demons if they turn against them. Can’t be the bad guy when you’re killing other bad guys, huh? So they gather together, find people gullible enough to believe their stories about angels and demons, organize cults, organizations, whatever, and start hunting us. Or, rather, try to hunt us. Not a single one have succeeded yet.”

“I guess,” Vince murmured, staring intently at a point between Nikki’s eyes. He didn’t want to show his fear, but he knew if he looked into those eyes once again, he would lose it. He was hanging on a very thin thread already, his heart beating so fast it as though was trying to get out of his ribcage. The mere sight of Nikki made the most terrible memories, the ones he thought he had cut out with the blade and left in the puddle of blood on the bathroom floor, arise in his mind.

“Listen, Nik, it’s gonna be ages until you get to the point,” Tommy interrupted him. “Cut all those pompous words out. Or better, let me finish.”

He glanced quickly at Vince, and he was almost sure he saw concern in Tommy’s eyes.

Nikki looked at Tommy long and hard, then moved his gaze to Vince, and he barely managed to keep his breath even. Breathe in and out, in and out. Concentrate on the breathing, not on those strikingly green eyes right in front of him that looked at him whimpering from pain and enjoyed it. Vince could bet they would enjoy it even now.

“Alright,” he said suddenly, moving away from Vince. It felt like a breath of fresh air. “You tell him.”

“So, long story short,” Tommy started lively, “those dudes got guns with holy bullets which are not exactly deadly but a huge pain in the ass nevertheless. And they are going round the Earth trying to find freshly fallen angels and nip the new demon in the bud. Since fallen angels are at first invincible and basically all of them try some form of suicide on arrival, it’s not hard, just look over the newspapers in search of miraculous survivals. They found you too – you had left a pretty noticeable trace of failed suicides.”

“Couldn’t even kill myself properly,” Vince murmured bitterly.

“Yeah, that’s the point, you couldn’t! Otherwise there would be no demons on Earth. God gives you time to think for yourself and choose your own fate. That’s the privilege of being a demon – a right to choose.”

Vince blinked in confusion. So he would have had a choice if the demons hadn’t found him? And after that they dared to talk about ”a right to choose”?

“So yeah, we found you a little bit earlier than they did. We saved your angelic ass from being killed pretty much immediately. You didn’t understand it then, but we were trying to be gentle.”

“Gentle?” the fight in Vince’s mind was anything but gentle. “You stabbed me!” He turned to Nikki, accidentally looked him in the eyes and had to immediately move his gaze away.

“And you stabbed me.” Nikki said from behind Tommy’s back. His voice again made Vince shudder. “We’re square.”

“For us to be square I need to cut a hole in you and fuck you in it!”

The silence that followed his words was deafening.

“Hm,” Nikki finally said. “Kinky.”

“What?” Vince frowned.

“Kinky,” Nikki repeated, openly enjoying Vince’s and Tommy’s expressions. “It means sexually arousing. But for real, if you ever wanna take your revenge, I won’t fight back.”

Vince imagined it and winced. It looked bad even in his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t need revenge. I just want to- want to-“ he stopped. One more word – and he was going to let out hysteric sobs he suppressed in his chest up to this moment. He couldn’t be there anymore. He couldn’t see him anymore. He couldn’t separate that face, those eyes, from those in his memories, those that were soaking up his pain and tears and enjoying it. Nikki wanted to see him suffer that night. He wanted to hurt him again.

Vince sprang on his feet and stormed away to the bathroom, his only refuge.

[joc-cook]

❛ i know i should be brave but i’m too afraid of all this change. ❜

↪meme. “ That you in there, Cookie? “ A birdie chirped, while having a piss, from the other side of the vinyl curtain. “ Seein’ quite a lot of ya lately. “  The unmistakable heckling of a mutual mate, Carrie. After the last few days gone by, Cook’s loquaciousness eluded him. The teasing only struck more irritation in the felon, who was just trying to wind down after a headfuck of a night, right? It was late, though. A Saturday, and Carrie was tanked beyond belief. That seal broken, apparently, and the way the volume of her voice summitted without warning? Cook just kept the nape of his neck under the heat of the shower head. Unfussed, like. The runoff pooled together at his nose and lips. A repetitive d r i p  where the lad found some kind of repose, for the time. Down the drain in a sudsy swirl, continuous. Until he said so, really, or until the water heater tapped out, at least. But Carrie went on mindlessly – talking about her night in vivid detail, eventually asking about her housemate. Was forward enough to inquire on whatever it was they were up to. Cook was stoic as ever until he’d decided he’d had enough. Turned off the water just in time for the bird to be stumbling her way to the sink, gussying herself up in the otherwise fogged up mirror there.

 “ You’re kind of a prick, aren’t you? “ Some pleasant insight from his patron, smudging away at the line of her lippy as if her shit didn’t stink. All Cook had was a “ yeup “ in retort as he reached for the towel rack. Shook off that mop top like a wet hound before it found its home around his waist, then.  A tepid stare returned as Cook swung the curtain to the side. Dawdling still, that goggling, a little too long for comfort. The lad shouldered his way past, seeing as the bird wasn’t in any hurry herself.  “ Always nice chattin’ with ya, Carrie, ” he excused himself, much too soberly. It was too easy to sense her eyes as he shuffled into the cool air of the hallway. Her hair a nest of humidity in his peripheral.  “ She’s a nice girl, Cook! “

In other words.. Cook licked at his lips as he hopped up the flight of stairs, TUNNEL VISION back to the flat in question. “ Oy, it’s me, “ he issued a soft warning at the return. Rue, a play of contours in the dim light left gleaming from her only window. Sat up, on her cot, and it didn’t take long at all to see something was wrong. The whites of her eyes pleaded from across the room, until Cook had noticed a familiar little baggie caught dangling up and around the hold she’d managed on her shins, like. “ Where’d that come from? “ But wasn’t it obvious? Wardrobe abandoned, tossed about her carpet, his trousers right at the edge of the birdie’s bedframe. How had he forgotten to lock up the surplus, like some fucking novice mistake. “ Rue, c’mon. Let us ‘ave it, babes. “ A foot forward and a fluid flick of his fingers gestured his instruction, abated with a soothing tone, at the very least. STUBBORN, how she clenched at the seal. Another step forward revealed a slick well at her eyes, fixated intently on the ration of powder.

                     ❛ i know i should be brave but i’m too afraid of all this change. ❜

His stomach churned at the scene. Swore he’d only been ten minutes, but that was all it took, wasn’t it? A split second to burst apart. Really, nothing had been quite the same since the girl’s incident. Walking on eggshells, finding some kind of new normal. Staving and denying his own part in the mess. But he was present, then. And just in time, it seemed.  The lad nodded, lips pursed as he severed the stash away. “ It’s still early days, yunno. S’normal. “  Rest assured, innit? As he cleared his throat and placed himself beside her. Crinkling away in his palm, h e a v y still, in his grasp. Cook sighed – in relief, in regret, but it wasn’t the time for his self-pity indulgence. Not when Rue was struck so vulnerable, in every sense of the word, and treading -- always fucking treading.  The weariness in her trance wasn’t the least bit reassuring in response. Cook lowered his head for some eye contact, some sign of l i f e.  

“ If yer afraid.. just means yer doin’ somethin’ right. That’s wot bein’ brave is, right? Helps if ya just.. accept it. Lean into it. Cos change -- s’the only thing you can fookin’ bank on, innit? But that’s it, babes. Simple.”

Like talking to a wall, and it probably didn’t help with that little baggie being so close. With Cook, playing keep away, as it were.

“ Look, Rue, I almost lost ya. ‘N I could tell ya over ‘n over that I need ya around, but I see it go in one ear and out the other. And If there’s anythin’ I’ve learnt it’s.. that it’s not up to me. And that’s terrifyin’.. but I can’t fight this fight for ya. It’s your story, like, you’ve gotta decide wot ya wanna see of it. Wot ya make of it. “

Finally, finally, those eyes locked on. If not more desperate, more pained than before, but wasn’t that the point? Cook offered his free hand, intertwined in the shaky knot about her knees. 

“ Now I’d like to be right next to ya, if ya let me. But it’s up to you. And you? Scrappy, hardheaded l’il thing? I mean, headbuttin’ slags and footin’ the coppers? Really. Yer braver than you think. “

[stillness-in-green]

Shigaraki Birthday Week, Day 5: wounds

A continuation of Wednesday’s Childhood Friends Spinaraki AU.  Rather more violence and threats thereof in this one!  As before, vague spoilers about Shigaraki and Spinner’s respective backstories.  More cursing than previous fills.

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

Getting licensed for private detective work and getting licensed for quirk use are two different beasts, especially when the big asset your quirk brings to a P.I. job is surveillance, which is—because of course nothing in Shuuichi’s life can be easy—illegal.

It’s a few steps to the side of the hero work he used to think about when he was a kid, especially since any hero who notices him doing it can corner him as a stalker or a would-be mugger.  And they would, because it’s so much easier to notice a shifty lizard than some upstanding businessman going about his evening like he isn’t heading back from a love hotel or worse.  

But it’s work, and it’s not home, and every so often it gets him a chance to do something better in the world.  Stop an actual mugger when there aren’t any heroes around, break up fights happening behind closed doors.  Help victims who don’t look the right way for the police to care about them, stop some monsters the heroes didn’t spot because they didn’t grow to fifty feet tall and spit metal shards—sometimes outcasts have to care for their own.  If Shuuichi learned anything from his few months with Tenko, it’s that.  

Of course, for every time work gives him a chance to really help someone, it also provides a great chance to get himself into a shitload of trouble, which is looking like how tonight’s going to play out.  

His target, Noroshi Enmu, is running scared, making too much noise, and the only reason he’s keeping ahead of the freak with all the hands who’d been waiting for him in the warehouse is that Noroshi has a quirk that emits mist and in his panic, he’s filled up the whole work floor.  But he is making too much noise, tripping on things and breathing in heavy, sobbing gasps, while Hand Guy is light on his feet as a cat, only giving himself away by his periodic annoyed grumbling. 

Shuuichi started tailing Noroshi expecting some routine infidelity, not whatever kind of craziness this is.  It would not be smart to get involved, but…  Shuuichi hasn’t seen anything that suggests the guy’s a beacon of humanity or anything, but he also hasn’t seen anything to suggest the poor sad asshole deserved to land in some kind of survival horror flick.  

Sometimes you just have to pick a side and wade in.  

He’s been pacing Noroshi along the ceiling, watching the swirls in the mist raised by the cat and mouse game below, and when another clatter of falling metal sounds, Shuuichi lets go of the corrugated steel and drops down into the bank of fog, landing in a crouch with a heavy thump.  He locks a hand around Noroshi’s ankle and the man goes over like a tree, yelling.

Shuuichi’s on his back in a flash, beak in his ear as he whispers, “Grab onto me and I’ll get you out of here, but for fuck’s sake, shut up.”  

There’s a beat, and then a whimper, and then Noroshi fumbles to tap at Shuuichi’s arm, squeezing once. Shuuichi helps him up and sets the man’s hand on his shoulder.  

Ceiling definitely won’t hold both of us, but I’ll be able to get him out the window, so that’s—

He orients himself and sets off, tugging Noroshi behind him as he dodges around racks of industrial supplies and ducks them both under conveyer belt lines.  Noroshi’s still too loud, but at least they’re not tripping over every obstacle in the place anymore.  The hand weirdo has gone worryingly quiet; Shuuichi strains his ears, but if the guy’s making any noise, it’s not audible over Noroshi’s fancy work shoes clicking on the cement.  

They make it back to the wall without knocking anything else over and Shuuichi reaches back to tug Noroshi’s arm around his neck.  

“Grab on,” he says under his breath.  “Piggy-back.”

Noroshi obeys, fear-stink hanging off him, and whispers back, “There’s no door.  Where are we going?”

“Up and out,” Shuuichi answers.  “Hold tight.”

And then he starts climbing, and it’s a good thing he still makes time for daily workout routines, because holy shit, wall-climbing with someone on his back is a whole different order of pain in the ass from just doing it himself.  He heaves and stretches, taking it as fast as he can towards the high, open window he came in through.  The mist below is starting to clear out, he can see on his periphery, and they’re almost halfway up the wall—great if Hand Guy has a melee-only type quirk, but it means fuck-all if he’s a missile-user.  

Shuuichi sucks in a breath between his teeth, counting the seconds until he releases it—only a few more pulls, and—

His arm goes straight through the stone, into an oil slick of swirling black, and on the other side there’s nothing, no wall, no purchase, and all at once he’s falling.  Vertigo takes him, his stomach rolling as the warehouse flashes around him on all sides—he’s falling forward, then back, and there’s another flash of black and then the ceiling lights are way too close, how did he even get this high, but he’s in open air, nothing to grab onto, and Noroshi’s holding tight enough to choke, and gravity’s got ‘em both, and—

He hits something on the way down, some huge storage rack, wrenching his shoulder and bouncing him down, and there’s the next shelf coming up, too close, too fast, and shit—

…

The black behind his eyes recedes when he hits the ground, replaced with strobing white when someone lands on him and takes all the breath from his lungs and—  

Voices overhead, a low grumble, and the someone makes a short, sharp scream and then the weight’s gone, leaving behind a funny tickling sensation on Shuuichi’s face, and he’d thrash to get it off him, but when he tries to breathe it’s like he’s inhaling ice, a sharp stab of cold-hot pain in his lungs, and he’s pretty sure he hit his head more than once back there because the world can’t make up its mind on if it wants to blind him with glare or darkness.  There’s movement above him amid the whirling colors, red eyes and, oh, weird time for déjà vu, but—

It’s a scuffle, just a play fight, and he rolls over onto his back, planting his hand on the face of the boy above him to push him off; behind his green fingers, the boy laughs and laughs, his eyes sunset-bright, his birthmark a little black dot on his chin. He reaches down to push at Shuuichi’s face in turn, and—

“Ten—ko…?” he slurs, the world still spinning like a fairground ride, the name coming off his tongue like something that lives in the back of his throat and sticks its head out once in a while for some air, just like the memory sometimes pops up at the weirdest goddamn times.  

Hand Guy pauses, his hand—a regular one, some distant part of Shuuichi chirps helpfully—hovering so close to Shuuichi’s face he can see all the thin lines of his palm.  Those red eyes stare down at him from between stiff grey fingers, but before Shuuichi can try to read an emotion into them, Hand Guy winds fingers in his hair, grip unforgiving, and settles the whole white-black argument by jerking his head up and then cracking it down hard against the cement.

———–      

“I can’t play tomorrow,” Tenko sighs.  “My—my dad’s coming for a visit.”  He scratches at his neck absently, not meeting Shuuichi’s eyes.  

Shuuichi says something—can’t make out the words, can’t remember them, something wrong with his ears—but Tenko brightens up.  

“Yeah,” he says.  “He’ll be gone by then.  I’ll see you then!”  He turns and runs off, waving, and Shuuichi tries to wave back, but his arm won’t move, his feet won’t move, none of him can move as all at once Tenko’s house looms in front of him, all blurs and shadows where the details of it have bled together in memory.  Tenko darts up the steps, into the open doorway, and there’s a horrible sound, a shriek mixed with a groan like someone tearing the heart out of a mountain, and the first timbers start to fall just as Shuuichi jerks, eyes flying wide.  

———– 

His head hurts like hell, but, Shuuichi realizes with dull surprise, his hands are free.  

Seeing as his hands are free, he reaches up to feel at his head, and there’s no surprise at all when he feels the two huge swollen bruises that lance their protest at the touch to a point right behind his eyeballs, making his vision flicker dangerously again just as he got it back.  

“Shigaraki Tomura, your guest is awake,” says an unfamiliar voice, and Shuuichi winces at the volume, pulling his hand away from his noggin and trying to blink the stars out of his eyes. Room’s dim, but not dark; feels stuffy and close, like not enough windows, or—

“Are you sure he’s awake?  Maybe he just groans in his sleep like that all the time.”  Dripping with sarcasm, but that’s Hand Guy’s voice, no mistaking it.

Hand Guy with the red eyes. Hand Guy with the mole on his chin. Hand Guy who’d frozen and then rebooted when Shuuichi called him—

“Tenko?” he manages, throat dry, and even the possibility of a positive response has him rolling over and taking in his surroundings.

They’re in a bar, that’s the first thing, TV on one side of the room and a jukebox on the other, and a man in a trim vest and white dress shirt combination standing on the employee side of the counter, black mist rising and flickering out of his collar where a neck and head ought to be.  Long, glowing yellow eyes that taper off at the edges like candle flame look like nothing Shuuichi’s ever seen on even the weirdest heteromorph.  

Shuuichi himself lays sprawled out on an open stretch of hardwood floor while Hand Guy—Shigaraki—Tenko?—perches carelessly up in a high bar chair he’s situated between Shuuichi and the door. Bright red tennis shoes and tatty black pants and shirt contrast the aged-brick-and-polished-oak look the bar’s got going on.  He’s down to just the face hand—not that that helps much—its fingers tangled in his thick, overgrown hair—stark white, nothing like Tenko’s at all, but no, Shuuichi wasn’t just hallucinating things before—a little black dot sits innocuously on his face exactly where Tenko had his.  

There’s no sign of Noroshi anywhere, and the floor around Hand Guy’s littered with crumpled bills and receipts, stray business cards and—

—he’s going through Shuuichi’s wallet.  He paused for a second when Shuuichi addressed him, but resumes again as Shuuichi looks up at him from the floor.

“Iguchi Shuuichi,” the guy—hard to tell his age with that awful hand on his face and the scratchiness of his voice—says, sliding Shuuichi’s driver’s license out and scanning over it. “Birthday August 8th, twenty years old, licensed for cars and motorcycles.  Private investigator, office in Kiyashi Ward,” he goes on, though he’s definitely not getting that from Shuuichi’s driver’s license.  “No secretary, or if there is one she didn’t answer the phone when we called the number.”

He flicks out the card and, as it lands on the floor with the rest of the detritus, looks up to pin Shuuichi with eyes that, except for the hue, don’t look anything like those of Shuuichi’s childhood friend.  

Do I even want this to be him? Shuuichi wonders, slowly sitting up while not breaking the stare. He swallows, trying to get his brain in gear.  Unknown quirks, though the bartender’s probably the one who took him on the weird portal trip; his look matches up with the glimpses Shuuichi can remember of the vortex that swallowed his hand halfway up the wall.  Hand Guy’s almost drug addict skinny, so he’s probably not a muscle type, but past that, who knows?  

“So what brought you to the warehouse?”  He pockets Shuuichi’s wallet, and…  The way he touches things is funny, Shuuichi realizes, watching the thin fingers all sticking out at weird angles, like someone trying to pick up a mess while touching it as little as possible.  Hypochondriac, or a five-point touch quirk?  …Dumb question; with that hand stuck to his face, it’s gotta be a quirk. But Tenko didn’t—

“You gonna answer, or just gawp at me?  We can wrap this up right now if you want,” the guy says, suddenly sharp.  

“Was a case,” Shuuichi manages, eyes flicking between Hand Guy and the bartender.  “The guy you were chasing, his wife wanted to know where he was spending his evenings.”  Over Hand Guy’s snort, he presses, “Where is he?  What’d you want with him?”  

“Not his wife’s problem anymore.  Or yours.” Hand Guy kicks his feet out from the chair, heels resting on the floor, and peers down at Shuuichi from behind his weird face-hand.  “You knowing my name, that’s our problem right now.”  

Shuuichi goes cold, like that time he got his coat pulled off and shoved into a snowbank in the middle of January.  The frost feels like to goes even deeper now, though, like he really is as cold-blooded as those little assholes back in middle school thought.  

Was I right?  Is that him?  But then why doesn’t he know me?  Why’s he—?  

“Tell me the rest of it, Shuuichi.”  It’s such a cold voice, cold and empty, nothing like Tenko’s had been, but then, it’s so muffled behind that fucking creepy hand, maybe it’d sound different if…

“Take the hand off,” he hears himself saying.  The guy laughs, incredulous.  

“Rude,” he says, and his red eyes dance in a way that’s not right but not quite wrong, either, and Shuuichi honestly doesn’t know which one is worse.  Tenko, his best friend…  “Making demands like that in our place; screw you.  Tell me the rest of it.”

“Shimura,” Shuuichi bites out, eyes narrowing.  “Shimura Tenko.”  His hands clench into fists at his side, the beginnings of anger curling up his spine. “You’re a year younger than me. You like ohagi.  Your sister’s name was Hana.  Your grandma wore glasses.  Your father wasn’t around much and your favorite hero was All—”

Fast.

Shuuichi’s breath freezes in his lungs because the guy’s just on top of him, so fast he could barely follow it, practically no weight in him but with one hand tight around Shuuichi’s throat and his eyes blown suddenly, dangerously manic behind the gray fingers of his face-hand.  

“Wow, you really do know a lot,” Tenko breathes, close enough for Shuuichi to smell his breath, smell the tang of formaldehyde on the hand.  “Sounds like you know even more than me.  Hey, Shuuichi, since you know so much—you must know what my quirk is, right?”

“You—”  There’s one finger missing from the grip around Shuuichi’s throat—it really is some kind of touch quirk, and that’s when the memory of just after the fall from the ceiling comes back, Noroshi’s weight crushing the air out of him, then gone, just like that.  Shuuichi tries to swallow, doesn’t get far.  “You didn’t have one.  Not when we were friends.”

“Friends, huh?  Is that what we were?”  

Tenko takes the hand off. Shuuichi can feel his eyes bugging out, but he doesn’t care, because it is, it really is him.  It’s not just the mole; it’s the way his bangs fall together between his eyes, the softness of his jaw, the raw patches under his eyes where Tenko used to scratch when he was nervous, the way his smile (dangerous as it looks right now) takes up his whole face.  

Shuuichi hugs him.  He can’t stop himself, wouldn’t stop himself for anything in the world.  He doesn’t know what happened, doesn’t know where Tenko’s been and what turned him into this, but right now it doesn’t matter, because Tenko’s here.  He’s here, and the hole in Shuuichi’s heart, the name that’s been living in his and only his memory for almost fifteen years, there’s finally something he can do with all that grief, and the first order of business is to make sure Tenko doesn’t get away from him again.  

“What—the hell—?” Tenko says, voice muffled again except now it’s because Shuuchi’s squeezing him so tight he’s probably cutting his air off.  But the asshole’s cutting his air off, too, so fair’s fair.  

“Yeah,” Shuuichi says, as steady as he can make it with hot, insistent tears spilling over onto Tenko’s shoulder.  “Best friends.”

A laugh rolls through the air, staticky but rich as roe, and Shuuichi nearly jumps out of his skin, arms gripping Tenko tighter despite Tenko’s indignant grunt.  

“Well, Tomura, it seems you truly have made a find.  What will you do with him?” 

It’s coming from the TV in the corner, Shuuichi realizes, half-turning to face it.  The whole atmosphere’s changed—the bartender stands at attention, straight-backed, his black mitts clasped respectfully in front of him, and Tenko’s locked up, too, unmoving and quiet.  

Until he fucking bites Shuuichi in the neck, anyway.  Shuuichi yelps and pushes him away, clapping a hand over the stinging spot, feeling for displaced scales.  “What the hell was that for?!”

Tenko sits sprawled in front of him, looking completely disgruntled.  He gives Shuuichi a withering stare, then turns to face the TV, scowling.  

“I haven’t decided yet, Sensei,” he answers, and Shuuichi goes still, looking between Tenko and the screen—glowing faintly; has it been on the whole time?  And—Sensei?  

“What do you mean, do with me?” he demands, and the man on the other end of the line chuckles.

“Well, you’ve gone to so much trouble to find him, Shuuichi.  Will you really turn around and leave him now?”  

Shuuichi looks back over at Tenko, who’s still just sitting there, watching Shuuichi with narrowed eyes, scratching at his neck with ragged, worried nails.  Tenko used to scratch himself when he got nervous, running his nails over his elbows, rubbing at his eyes, but this—he’s scratching hard enough to leave marks, angry red lines against pale skin.  

Tenko’s killed someone. Probably more than one someone, if the hands are anything to go by.  He went missing as a kid, his whole family dead, and somehow it didn’t become the kind of thing you still heard about on late-night TV shows about unsolved crimes.  Someone buried the Shimura case years ago, before Shuuichi got anywhere near it.  

But Shuuichi’s in it now, whatever it is.  Leave now?

“Not a chance.”