#well. i got 4 rows of twisted rib now!

[typheus]

Idk why I even try to do normal ribbing lol I always end up ripping it out to do twisted rib instead 🤦

[sugar-quilled]

ron weasley x reader

request

a/n: i slipped from the topic a little bit, pretty sure what i wrote isn't teasing, and if you'd like me to change it just tell me :)

summary: While visiting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Ron's clothes get sucked into a machine. All of them, except for his boxers.

genre: comedy and (im not sure if this counts as fluff but) fluff

word count: 1.6k

pronouns: not used

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Diagon Alley was packed, as it always was at the start of a term. Underneath a beautifully clear sky, students were seen hurrying to purchase potion ingredients and new robes. Those that had already purchased the items on their Hogwarts list were seen crowding around a new and extremely flashy building.

The store front was painted in a shocking orange color, with a large figure standing inside a window and tipping his top hat to the surrounding crowd below. In neat, gold printing, the store was identified to be none other than Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

You entered through the door amongst other eager shoppers, and immediately heard a circus-like music, coupled with the chatter of about 50 people.

Shelves on shelves of brightly colored goods and at least 4 oddly built staircases met your eyes. Immediately to your left was a brightly colored display of candy. Your walked closer, and Fred and George Weasley popped out from a counter nearby.

"Taking a look at those nosebleed nougats are you, Y/N?"

"We've got samples over here if you like-"

"Just eat the red and you'll see the red!"

"And one bite of the other side will stop it just like that."

"And fever fudge!"

"There's only a bit of those puking pastilles left, clearly we're due for a restock, Fred."

"Well, Y/N, welcome to our shop and go enjoy yourself! Call us if you need any help and we'll be right by your side in a jiffy. Now come on, George, one kid over there looks mightily suspicious."

You smiled after the twins' backs, not even angry that they hadn't let you get a word in, when you spotted Ron Weasley taking a look at Headless Hats—now on sale for 1 galleon and 8 sickles! Your previous conversation (could you even call it a conversation?) with the twins immediately left your brain and you made your way over.

Ron had been a long time crush of yours. In fact, the two year anniversary of your feelings was yesterday, and you celebrated by having a whole-hearted sobbing fest while your friends stared awkwardly at each other and tried to console you. Not that your friendship wasn't something to be happy about, but Merlin you just wished you could hold his hand. Romantically. You didn't think Ron could ever like you, what with his being best friends with Hermione Granger who was both insanely smart and jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

"Ron! It's nice to see you!"

He immediately swung around and burst into a very toothy grin. "Y/N! It's nice to see you too! What's up?"

You smiled back. "Nothing much! Your brothers' shop is gorgeous! The, uhh, those nosebleed nougats are really fascinating. And you? How was your summer?"

Ron put a headless hat down and strode closer to you to check out a row of punching telescopes. "Quite uneventful, to be honest. But yeah this stuff they came up with? Have you seen the smart-answer quills? Blimey I'd never have to ask Hermione for help again! And those fainting fancies. Reckon Snape'll believe one of those?"

You laughed. "Are you planning to faint during a lecture? It's our N.E.W.T year, you'll need all the information you can get."

Just then, Fred and George appeared right behind you.

"Having a good conversation, Ron?" Fred said cheerfully, elbowing Ron in the ribs—"Ow, Fred leave us alone!"—"Do you two want to check out the back?"

"Just don't steal anything, Y/N," George winked.

"Unless that something is Ron's heart," Fred muttered. Or you thought he muttered. But the twins' expressions had been wiped blank so that you couldn't tell whether Fred had really said it, and Ron had busied himself in untangling two extendable ears, so whether he had blushed or hadn't, you also couldn't tell.

"Lead the way, George!" Fred chortled, and swept away.

"Alright then. Right this way, you two!"

George led you and Ron, whose mouth seemed to be clamped shut, weaving past shelves higher than you to a door at the very back of the store. A small plaque on the door said: "Weasleys Working: In Progress." He twisted open the door, and beckoned both of you in. Right in front of you was a huge lab and packaging station. You could see potions brewing to your right, and to your left, there were two witches packaging a box of puking pastilles.

"So," George started, "welcome to our work station! Y/N, you might have seen a big gray thing over there upon entrance." He pointed. You looked. "That is actually something we've just installed in and its a bit of muggle machinery. Michelle and Rosalyn over there," he nodded towards the two witches, "used to have to do all the wand work manually but this big old thing makes some parts automatic. Quite useful!"

You stared at the big metal machine. There was a sort of chute at one end, and a big pipe leading up and into the ceiling.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it, and Michelle and Rosalyn," he called, "would you mind helping me out in the main area? Fred's left to check on the upstairs, and there's too many people waiting in line for purchasing." George gave Ron a ginormous wink, and left the room. The door swung back and clicked to a close.

You walked over to the muggle machine, very aware of Ron trailing behind you.

"Blimey, that thing's big. What does it even do?"

"I don't know, it looks like something that deposits goods into this bin under it. I'm not really sure where the goods come from though."

Ron circled the massive thing twice, and the second time, he tripped over a wire. Thankfully, he managed to stand himself upright with one hand leaning on the machine.

You laughed at him, and he looked embarrassedly back with a forced chuckle.

Then there was a loud whirring noise, and as Ron turned around in fright, the thing began sucking.

You were wrong. It didn't deposit things. It took them to be deposited.

With a frantic yell and many grabs at a nearby table, Ron's clothes ripped off. The machine sent them rattling through the chute and the whirring noise came to a stop.

Well. Not all of his clothes.

Ron was left standing in a pair of heart adorned boxers. Red hearts.

He tried his best to cover himself, but seeing as he only had two hands and more than two things on display, it was quite difficult.

You realized that you were staring and quickly looked away.

Ron was carefully looking at anywhere but your face.

After quite a long time's silence, your croaked out, "nice boxers, uh... dude," while looking at the ceiling. A giggle escaped despite your attempts at keeping it in, and you were sure Ron's face now matched the color of his hair.

"If you tell this to Gred- I mean, Fred or Gor- George, I'll-" he started shakily, "I'll die."

Seeing as he wasn't threatening you and assuming this meant friendly conversation could be engaged, you stammered, "they really suit you. You know, the red and all. Although I'd suggest a green pair next time. Because of the color wheel and those two are compl-"

Ron had burst into shaky, suppressed laughter.

"Never- never mind my fashion choices, how the bloody hell am I supposed to get my clothes back?"

"Well I don't see why you want them back. I mean think of the ladies you'd get by walking down the street with this lovely attire. Maybe for accessories you can add a bit more red by eating a nosebleed nougat, I'm sure I saw a few when I entered."

Both of you were laughing now, but a yell of shock from upstairs made both of you jolt.

"Oh no, no, no," Ron muttered, darting his eyes around as if trying to find a hiding spot, "Fred's upstairs, he knows what I was wearing, oh no, no-"

The door swung open. Fred was standing in the doorway looking highly amused.

"Ron, I thought you said you'd never wear those! Aunty Muriel will be pleased her present wasn't a waste of money!" Fred exclaimed, striding into the room and circling Ron, who was shaking fiercely. "They do compliment your hair, maybe I'll have to borrow the pair one day."

You choked back a laugh, bursting a vein for sure, when Fred rounded on you.

"I didn't know you two were already on this level of your relationship. Looks like Ron here neglected to tell me some bits!" Fred said cheerfully, waving his wand so that Ron looked perfectly normal again, except that his entire face was now the same color as the hearts on the boxers underneath the normality.

"Well I daresay you two have looked around, I was up there nearly 10 minutes," Fred continued, gesturing towards the door, "and Y/N, regrettably we have no products that erase recent memories-"

"Shut up," Ron muttered, walking towards the door.

"-but the idea is certainly a brilliant one and I'll be sure to start developing it." Fred gave a hearty wink as both Ron and you had exited the room, and closed the door.

You looked at Ron. He looked back.

"Well you know I never said I wanted to erase that memory. You did look quite marvelous."

Ron laughed, though his face still looked like he supported the UK Quidditch team.

"You should really take my suggestion of that green pair, and I wouldn't mind seeing how that looks either."

Both of you doubled over in laughter.

"And," you choked, "a pair of shoes to match wouldn't hurt either, though I daresay you'd rather go barefoot? Shoes shouldn't be worn to bed, after all."

There were definitely tears coming out your eyes now, and the two of you stumbled drunkily, still shaking with laughter, out the shop and down the ever so full streets of Diagon Alley.

[offda-rails-art]

Here is part two of “Lochlans spook” 👇

Again⚠️gore warning⚠️ this is a horror story

Not long after Lochlan made his way past the herd of deer another odd occurrence happened. The first thing he saw up ahead was a lone coyote racing out of the direction Lochlan was headed. The coyote seemed to be on a mission to get somewhere. The animal’s eyes bulged from its head, his mouth gaped open trying to take in as much air as possible, and every muscle in its body showed as it sprinted in the opposite direction it came. Lochlan was about to conclude that the animal was simply on a mission for a hunt. But then, more animals sprinted forward going the same way the coyote was headed. Foxes, rabbits, more coyotes and deer, even birds flew right past Lochlan. The big engine was the last thing the animals seemed to care about, they all ran in an almost harmonious fashion. They weren��t chasing each other but they were running away from something. Lochlan felt a pang of anxiety deep in the depths of his boiler. He had never witnessed something so strange, what on earth are they running from? He thought and as he traveled closer in the direction the animals sprinted from he felt something he never felt before, fear.

In his lifetime Lochlan had truly and honestly never felt fear. He was so big and powerful that what could he fear? And as awful as it sounds Lochlan didn’t have normal “engine fears” either. He didn’t worry about collisions like many feared. Many engines that collided often had died from either injury or impact, but Lochlan was so large that any engine that collided with him would be doomed and he himself would most likely be untouched. If anything others feared him because of his size and mass.

Lochlan was so shellshocked with the new feeling that he didn’t know how to react. Something was scaring him. He blanked out for a moment and then came to a screeching halt, his cargo slammed into him, his engineers were nearly thrown from their seats, and any product that was in the rows of cargo trucks was surely tossed around and destroyed. Lochlan stared blankly ahead, his headlamp hardly illuminating anything in the pitch black. Now that he stood still he listened to all that was around him. His anxiety got worse when the only sound around him was nothing. No crickets, no birds, nothing. Pure quiet. Something was out there, hunting.

Lochlans engineers took a moment to collect themselves from the sudden unexpected halt. “What the hell was that all about?” His fireman asked and rubbed his head in thought.

“I don’t know, but I’ll go see what the issue is. Perhaps Lochlan will let us know.” His driver said and hopped down from the cab and started a long walk to face his engine. Lochlan meanwhile stared ahead of himself he listened in as best he could becuase he could swear something was calling his name. His driver interrupted him. “What’s the issue big boy? Are you hurt? Is something wrong?” He asked.

“I don’t know sir. I just can’t go any further.” Lochlan replied never taking his eyes off the track ahead. He felt the air get cooler with each second. His driver seemed to notice that too, he crossed his arms over his chest and shivered.

“Can’t see squat out here in this dark. Alright Lochlan I’ll try and find the out-

“I think you should go back in my cab now. It’s getting to cold out here and there’s no sense in trying to solve a problem in the pitch black.” Lochlan interrupted. More dread bubbled up inside of him. His driver looked at him curiously, he held his arms tighter to his chest bracing in the cold.

“I suppose your right, goddamn why is it so cold? It’s the middle of summer.” His driver groaned then turned on his heels to rush back to the warm cab. Lochlan’s fireman poked his head out of the cab window.

“Is everything alright? What’s going on?” He shouted down to his colleague. He felt the bitter cold nip at his face and noticed his breath show up in the air.

“I don’t know, but it’s to cold out here and I cannot see an inch of light anywhere.” He hurriedly climbed into the warm cab.

“I noticed that too. Should we radio for assistance?” The fireman asked.

“Go ahead and try but I guarantee you won’t get any signal out here.” He sighed and plopped himself down in his seat. The two did try to radio but had no luck. After hours of trying to think of what to do they both decided to stay in the cab and wait till early morning when at least an ounce of light would come out.

Lochlan sat on the tracks never taking his eyes away from the pitch black ahead. He listened carefully and heard an unsettling sound. A low grumble mixed with what sounded like an elk bugling echoed around him. Elk calls could be eerie sounding but this was no elk call, what made him come to that conclusion was his name being called after each grumble.

“Lochlan?” The voice asked trying to get a response. Lochlan didn’t dare answer. He narrowed his eyes trying to see what called his name. “Lochlan?!” It asked again this time sounding agitated, a louder grumble followed. Lochlan nearly jumped out of his pistons when silence followed and then a loud “LOCHLAN!!!! LOCHLAN!!! LOCHLAN!!!!!” The voice roared. He still didn’t answer. Just beyond where his headlamp could reach a figure came into view. A buck stood on the tracks ahead, its dark piercing eyes stared back at him in a way no animal would. Lochlan gritted his teeth, he watched the deer and his eyes went wide when the animal opened its mouth.

“LOCHLAN.” The deer mouthed in perfect English. The four legged animal began to twist and morphe into a horrifying creature. It’s bones broke then dislocated growing massive upright legs, front legs turned into massive human arms along with a long skinny malnutritished human torso with ribs poking out. Flesh clung to its horribly mangled body and with each body part that morphed into place it grew and grew and grew until it towered over Lochlan. The flesh disappeared from the deer’s head revealing its skull with bulging red human eyes. A long tongue rolled from its mouth dripping drool and all. A skinny boney finger cracked, twisted, then pointed to Lochlan in a sickening beckoning motion. The creature stepped forward, it’s massive body lurched with each step. The low grumble noise came again, this time it shook Lochlan to the core. The creature’s jaw opened wide in a smile. “Lochlan?” It asked again seeming to want a response. Lochlan refused half out of sheer panic and the other part not being able to form words at all. He’d never ever been this terrified. The creature wasn’t satisfied with the silence it received, its jaw formed into a frown.

Lochlan watched each step it took, and now with the horrific creature just one foot away he did the only thing his body let him do. Close his eyes. The creature bent down lowering its face to Lochlan’s. “Lochlan?” It asked in almost a whine to get a rise out of him. No response and the creature grew significantly irritated. Lochlan felt it’s hot breath assault his skin, it’s breath stunk of rot. The whole beast itself was a massive rotting corpse, maggots wriggled around what flesh stretched over its body. The creature breathed in his face, it reached a hand out and touched Lochlans cheek. A sharp claw traced over the flesh on his face, Lochlan could swear he felt whatever maggots that were imbedded in the beast’s hand crawled out for a moment and graze his own skin. He still didn’t dare open his eyes. The creature sat there for what felt like hours, each breath it took a low grumble followed. Lochlan was terrified, his eyes refusing to open. Even when he felt a sticky wet tongue roll over his face. The creature got irritated and with a loud annoyed huff it got to its feet, gave one last loud bellowing screech and just like that it disappeared. Lochlan kept his eyes clamped shut the rest of the night, he didn’t open them until he could see a very small amount of light shine through his eyelids. Birds chirped and crowed and things seemed to be a bit normal. He kept his eyes opened and looked around.

Lochlan had started up with no issues at all, the incident that happened during the night when unnoticed by his engineers who had seemed to have slept through the whole thing. The two men looked their engine over best they could and asked how he felt before starting off back down the route. Lochlan rolled down the track cautiously still shaken up from what happened earlier. He frowned when he noticed on the sides of the track further down the line dozens of cattle spread out in the field. They weren’t laying down, they were quite literally scattered about. The scene was brutal, every bovine was covered in massive claw marks, many looked disemboweled, some missing limbs, some missing heads. Lochlan felt his breath hitch as he rolled by slowly. Two very confused cowboys surveyed the field of cattle. Lochlan’s engineers looked out the window of his cab and scratched their heads at the brutal scene. They chatted about what could have possibly done that but Lochlan knew exactly what did that.

“Well?! What did you think? Pretty weird right? I’d rate that on the list of odd things I’ve seen as a.... 3? Maybe 4? Out of 10 of course.” Lochlan said as he concluded his story. The group beside him looked horrified. Donner looked as though he was about to pass out or throw up, maybe both.

“Jesus Christ Lochlan?! You drop a bomb just like that on us?!” Red asked, his mouth agape still from shock at what was said.

“You wanted a horror story, yes?” Lochlan asked innocently.

“I’d just like to know what makes you rate that a 4 out of weird things you’ve seen?” Cracker Jack asked.

Lochlan only smirked.

End.

Thanks for reading💖💖 I hope you enjoyed.

[laurenmm62017]

Lights on Yavin 4

This is for the Kalluzeb Reverse Bang! @kalluzebminibang

Art is by the talented @drunkenmantis! Go check out their piece~

Summary: Kallus and Garazeb finally spend some quality time together on Yavin 4 after the Battle of Atollon. Zeb gets called away for multiple missions in a row, and what does Kallus do about it?

Pine like a love-sick teenager, of course.

Kallus knew it wouldn’t be easy, openly joining the Rebellion. He had given more than a decade of his life to the Empire, and just because he was a spy for the Rebellion for a year doesn’t mean people have forgotten his origins.

The higher-ups of the Rebellion had interviewed him for any information they thought was valuable to the cause. Clearance codes, secret bases, anything he could remember. Oh, and did he mention the lie detector that they strapped to his chest? Because that was very efficient and smart of them, honestly. He was impressed, especially by their intelligence director, General Davits Draven. He was the one who strapped the machine to him, the one asking the most questions about his intel, the one pressing him more and more and more until he was ready to pull his hair out.

General Draven was… not cruel, really. Just extremely wary of him.

Which is wonderful for the Rebellion, but couldn’t they at least give him some bacta gel for his leg? They kept him in “debriefing” for a few more hours after that, and by the time he was released, he was utterly exhausted. All he wanted to do was get some bacta on his leg, some food in his stomach, and then pass out for an entire year.

As he walked out of the meeting room, ready to find the medical tent, or room, or whatever, he spotted the most unexpected person waiting for him.

Zeb stood against a stack of crates, obviously pretending to inspect his bo-rifle. As soon as the door opened, he looked up and his eyes immediately landed on him. His heart skipped a beat as Zeb walked over to him.

“Finally freeing you, eh? What do you say we head to medbay and then we can head back to the Ghost?”

“You must have read my mind, because that’s exactly what I was thinking. Lead the way?”

Zeb grabbed his hand gently (no, he is most definitely not blushing, thank you very much), and led him through the winding passages of the enormous temple that the Rebels had made their base. There were so many twists and turns, it was hard to keep track. Strategically sound, in his opinion. If anyone infiltrated the base, they would be hard pressed to find the most vulnerable people on base.

The medic who attended him was kind, but exhausted, since they were still looking over other victims of Atollon. He just asked for some bacta, but the medic brushed him off and began a full medical examination of him.

Zeb stood out of the way, but he was always in the corner of his eye as the medic poked and prodded and slathered in bacta and his leg set in a cast. Then he was told not to put too much pressure on it, come back in a few days to get it removed, and was sent off with Zeb to the Ghost.

He spent his recovery aboard the Ghost, while everyone recovered from the Battle of Atollon. Most of that time was spent in Zeb’s room, the galley, or the cockpit with Hera.

Kallus got to know the remaining members of the Spectres as well as he could in the week that he spent recovering, and in return, allowed the walls around his heart crack just a little bit.

He learned that Hera liked her caf with a splash of milk and a pound of sugar. She found and repaired Chopper herself during the Clone Wars. She liked to hum to herself while doing repairs on the Ghost. She’s not quite forgiven him for his time in the Empire, but he didn’t expect her to.

He learned that Rex, one of the few clones left in the fight against the Empire, was great at teaching. He had spent his time on Atollon running drills and such with new and old members. He was friends with, or at least knew of, everyone who came from Atollon. He spent his spare time talking with those two clones from Seelos on a secure channel.

And Zeb.

During his time as both an ISB agent and Fulcrum in the Empire, he had basically memorized Zeb’s file and could recite it backwards. But here on the Ghost, with Zeb taking care of him, he found he had known nothing about the Lasat.

Sabine may be the artist of the group, but Zeb could make a fair number of trinkets and other items. He had made custom chronometers for everyone. He made most of the silverware and utensils onboard. He had programmed their dejarik table.

Zeb was attentive to him, especially during the first few days of his recovery. He assisted with changing his bandages around his ribs and made sure he never had to walk too far.

Zeb didn’t linger on unimportant things. Sure, the obvious thing was Lasan, but like he had said on Bahryn, it was behind him, and he’s moved on. The next thing was Atollon. Zeb was just glad that Kallus was here now, and that the majority of Atollon’s personnel were now of Yavin 4.

Zeb worried a lot. Not about little things, about things that mattered. Do they have enough supplies, rations, ammo, and the other essentials? What was the Empire’s next move? Were Kanan, Ezra, and Sabine alright? They should have checked in by now.

Zeb was funny. They spent their final rest day in the common room, Kallus plunged himself into any intel that the Rebellion could throw at him before he was assigned an official position. He sat at the dejarik table while Zeb and Rex were neck deep in a game, throwing snippy remarks at each other. Kallus occasionally tuned in and chuckled along with them, causing the two to stare at him the first couple it happened. He stared intensely at his datapad, and tried his best to ignore the reaction of his laugh. But every time it happened after, Zeb grinned fiercely at him.

On Kallus’ last night aboard the Ghost, he and Zeb were in the common room, eating one last meal together before he was assigned to a section within Rebel Intelligence. Everyone else was off doing other things to prepare for their first mission off of Yavin 4, but Hera had given Zeb the night off, but they knew it was so that they could spend time together. Who knows when is the next time their schedules will sync up and they can sit like this again.

“Hey, up for a little hike?” Zeb asked, standing up after finishing up his portion.

Kallus blinked, before shoving the rest of his ration into his mouth and standing up from the table. “Of course, I am. Where to?”

Zeb grinned and motioned for him to follow him off the Ghost. The two of them disembark and Zeb walks straight into the jungle. Kallus hesitates at the edge. “Zeb?”

“What? Scared of the dark?”

Kallus smirked, thinking back to the ice cave. “Of course not. But we don’t know what lives in this jungle. It could be dangerous.”

“Kallus. Do you trust me?” Zeb comes back to the edge of the forest, and holds a hand out to him.

Kallus stares at the extended hand, takes a deep breath, and takes hold. “More than anyone else.”

Zeb leads Kallus into the darkness for a few minutes before they come to the base of a smaller, more hidden temple, similar to the one the Rebel base is now in. The pair follow the base a little bit before Zeb boosts himself up onto a ledge not far from the ground, helping Kallus climb up and together, they scale the side of the temple until they are above the treeline.

“Yer leg alright?” Zeb asked, steadying him on the last step, where it led to a platform covered in leaves and moss. It seemed like it’s been a while since anyone has been up here.

“Yes, it’s fine, I just need to sit for a bit.” Kallus replied, rubbing it a little, following Zeb over to a small rock, and settled there, before turning out to face the night sky.

“Oh wow…” He breathed in awe.

It was a completely clear night. Millions of stars sparkled behind the single ring of Yavin 4, framing a moon off in the distance perfectly. Down below, he could see the lights of the main temple, housing the largest Rebel cell currently active.

Emotion swelled in his chest. “How did you find this place?”

“Went to clear my head that first night we were here. The brass kept ya so long, I was getting antsy. So I just… wandered and found this place. Wanted ta show you before we left tomorrow.”

Kallus felt tears begin to build behind his eyes, but he refused to cry, to show weakness in front of his closest friend. “Thank you, Zeb. This is a gift I couldn’t have hoped for.”

“Any time, Kal. Any time.”

Read the rest on Ao3!

[artificialqueens]

Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 4/10 - Juno

Chapter summary: It’s chocolate week, and temperatures rise in the tent as the bakers are confronted with a deceptively simple signature, a technical with a twist, and a showstopper that may send the bakers into meltdown. Meanwhile, Aurora is determined to get her first Star Baker badge, Ellie has a drunk confession, and Tia comes clean. But Tayce’s plan may prove to be the most interesting thing Aurora has heard this week.

A/N: I am still blown away by the support for this so far! Thank you so much!! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

WEEK 4: CHOCOLATE WEEK

Aurora was back in line with Cherry in the tent this week, as Ginny’s departure last week had shuffled Ellie and Lawrence and herself one row further up. There were just the four of them now on this side of the room, and five on the other.

Twelve had become nine really fast. That was a quarter of them already gone, meaning her chances of winning had gone from one in twelve to one in nine. Maths wasn’t her strongest subject, but she knew that was better odds.

She looked behind Cherry to Tayce, who was looking dead ahead.

Bread week, last week, was the first time she’d seen a sliver of Tayce’s softer side, and it was a side she wanted to know more about. It was fine to be calm and collected in the tent, but on Saturday night in her room, Aurora had finally seen the mask slip a little, seen a person under it.

And if anything, she’d found she was caring for Tayce a little more.

——

Signature: 24 Chocolate brownies

Chocolate week started with chocolate brownies, which seemed simple enough, right? But as Prue and Paul stood proudly at the front as usual, Aurora could almost hear Paul’s voice echoing from a previous season, saying he’d made thirty thousand brownies in his time. Her gut started to quiver a little.

“Your brownies should have an additional flavour to give the judges an extra kick,” Matt Lucas added.

“Not a real kick. We don’t want the brownies to be trained in kickboxing.”

“No, it has to be a kick at the taste buds only.”

“They’d have to reach a long way up to kick there, Matt.”

Aurora couldn’t tell if the rest of the tent were finding Matt and Noel funny, or if the nerves were really setting in for all of them, but she found herself giggling with a mixture of the two, drumming on the table again. She took her hands away hurriedly.

“On your marks -“

“Get set -“

They all waited, while Matt Lucas stood tight-lipped.

Noel put his hands on his hips. “You don’t need to pause this long between ‘get set’ and ‘bake’, Matt, the idea is to -“

“BAKE!”

Aurora shook her head with a laugh. They’re great TV at least.

“What flavour are you putting in yours?”

Ellie had already turned around, Monster in hand as always, seeming to need as many electrolytes that would fit in her body before midday. Aurora smiled, and turned back to weighing her butter.

“Ellie, not trying to be funny, but I really want to try to focus on getting my brownies right, so if I tell you, can that be the only question for now? Please?” She added the sweetest smile she could muster and batted her eyelashes.

“Sure. Cross my heart.” Ellie crossed her chest with her pinkie finger.

“Okay, well I’m making some pistachio and mint chocolate brownies. Hopefully with some pistachio shavings on the top.”

“Pistachio shavings?” Ellie tilted her head. “Where did you get pistachio shavings from, did you go to fucking Holland and Barrett or some health food shop or something for -“

“That was one question!” Aurora put her head in her hands, chuckling.

“Ah. Right. Sorry!” Ellie grimaced and turned back to face her own workbench. Aurora, still surprised Ellie had taken this as seriously as she did, smiled to herself as she placed one of her spare alarms on the very edge of her workbench, setting the timer, to see how long Ellie would last without turning to chat again.

“Brownies in the oven already, are they?”

Tayce’s familiar accent was surprisingly close, and Aurora turned to see her right there, her presence sending the familiar tingle down her spine, making her chest fill with hot air. But the last thing Aurora wanted was distraction at this point. Even when distraction felt this good.

She waved a hand in Tayce’s direction. “I’m trying to bake! Go to your own bench!”

Tayce’s brows furrowed in mirth, turning her head to the ceiling and then back to Aurora, her smile wide but confused. “McSqueeze me?”

“I want to concentrate! I need a bloody badge, Tayce!”

Tayce raised her eyebrows, the grin slowly fading. “Okie dokie pokie, I’ll let you bake in peace then!” And she flounced away in what Aurora hoped was mock-offence, back to her own workbench, turning to her own mixture.

I just want a badge!

The chocolate-themed badge wasn’t even a cute one, not like the cupcake badge Ellie wore proudly on her chest, or the bread one that Bimini was sporting, new this week. Initially, they’d worn it over one nipple before they’d been told to remove it by a producer, claiming something about the watershed, and Bimini had cried “Free the nipple!” in response, while they and Asttina giggled to themselves.

But it didn’t even matter what shape the badge was.

I just need a badge.

“Hi, Aurora!”

Goddamnit. More interruptions. She looked up - into the pale blue eyes of Paul Hollywood.

“How’s your brownies coming on so far?”

“I - yeah, alright,” Aurora garbled. Paul had been judging them for four weeks now, but still something about his gaze on her was debilitating, although Aurora knew she wasn’t the only one in the tent with this problem.

“Tell us about your flavouring.” Aurora chose to look at Prue instead, her face kindly, gentle eyes behind the bright purple rims of her glasses. Her voice was always as warm and sweet as honey, a welcome contrast to Paul.

“I thought I’d go for something a bit different, so I’ve got mint in here, but also pistachio, and I’ll be decorating with pistachio shavings.”

“Pistachio?” That was Paul and his infamous one-word takedowns. One word from Paul could make any baker doubt themselves, especially if he hit you with an icy blue stare; but Aurora straightened up, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.

“Yeah, pistachio. My nan loves them.”

“I think that sounds very intriguing,” Prue said, but Aurora knew that was the Prue Leith kindness takedown. Intriguing wasn’t much of a better word than pistachio at this point.

“You’ll be surprised!” Aurora smiled, tilting her head.

“Well, best of luck!” Paul said, as they all left her to it.

“Jesus,” Ellie hissed, turning around to face her. “They weren’t really into that, were they!”

“They’ll get into it,” Aurora replied, “I’m counting on it. I’ll convert them!”

“Yeah!” Ellie laughed to herself and turned back round, while Aurora looked at the Ellie Timer, as she was calling it. Seven minutes and forty three seconds.

By the time all the brownies were done and coming out of the oven, Ellie must have been regretting talking so much. When five minutes were called, she was still crouching in front of the oven door, and Aurora came to sit with her, her own brownies cooling in the baking tray.

“Nothing on telly tonight, is there Els?”

But Ellie huffed, her nails in her mouth. “I don’t know if they’re gonna be ready.”

“You’re gonna have to take them out soon to cool before you can cut them! What temperature have you had your oven at?”

“One sixty.”

“One sixty?” Aurora reached for the temperature control. “Please, yank it up for the last few minutes, Ellie, please -“

It probably wouldn’t be enough still, but it may just work to keep her around. Ellie turned the dial to two hundred, then sat back, finding Aurora’s hand and intertwining their fingers.

“What’s up, you two?” Lawrence had come over, her own brownies cut and cooling on the workbench. “What are you watching here that’s so riveting? Ellie’s brownies? Are they dancing?”

“They need a bit longer -“

“They need to be cut up, Aurora,” Lawrence interrupted, looking through the panel. “They should be alright - Els, you can’t leave them any longer now hen, they need to come out so they can cool enough to cut up -“

By the time Ellie’s were out and cut - Ellie cutting and Lawrence moving them to the tray - Noel called for one minute, and Aurora’s stomach filled with lead.

Shit. I haven’t cut mine yet!

Her legs shook for a moment and her head span as she rounded her own workbench, but someone was already there.

“Chillax! It’s in hand!”

Tayce was cutting along the lines Aurora had measured, measuring out the rows in four by six; and Aurora’s stomach tingled, spreading to her chest, as her breath came in weak shudders.

She’s never done this for anyone else before. I haven’t seen her do that for anyone before. But she’s doing it for me.

“Well don’t just stand there! Grab the pistachio filings you keep going on about and sprinkle like your life depends on it, girl!”

Aurora nodded at Tayce’s words, and as Tayce loaded onto the tray, Aurora went as fast as she could, pinch and sprinkle, pinch and sprinkle, and even Tia came over to help, followed by a tentative Veronica, pinching and sprinkling … Noel looking worriedly at the group of them … Matt looking down at his watch -

As the final brownie was sprinkled, Noel finally called for time.

Aurora sighed the biggest sigh she had probably ever felt. Tia looped an arm into hers to squeeze, while Veronica patted her back, as they both went back to their benches.

Tayce’s hand lingered on her shoulder, and just that contact left a ripple effect of goosebumps down her arm, the gentle tingle in Aurora’s chest overwhelming now, as Aurora leaned against Tayce’s shoulder, surprised at how much her heartbeat sped against her ribs.

She … cares. She cares if I stay or if I go.

——

The mood at Carr Hall was sombre after the Signature challenge.

“We all went into that thinking we were gonna be amazing. I mean, it’s brownies, right? We’ve all made brownies before. I suppose … we just can never be sure what the judges want?”

Tia grimaced as she spoke; but Veronica, clutching her hand in both of hers, bumped her on the hip.

“You did great, love. You got really good feedback, and you probably needed it after last week.”

“Yeah. I feel a bit crappy though,” Tia continued, turning her eyes to the rest of the room. “Normally everyone’s so happy when we all come back from a signature, but this time everyone’s upset, because you all got negative critiques. I don’t know whether to be happy or not.”

“I’m gonna go and see if Cherry’s alright,” Veronica muttered, standing, walking over to Tayce, currently talking energetically at a slightly grey-looking Cherry by the brownies.

“She doesn’t look good,” Tia muttered; and Cherry didn’t, nodding along with Tayce with pinched lips and folded arms, but not saying a word. “What was it the judges said about her brownies? Oh yeah. Too much mint extract, tasted like toothpaste.”

“Who’s gonna give us all the gossip if Cherry goes, though? She seems to know everything about everyone.” Aurora said, and Tia shuffled in her seat, lips twitching at the corners.

“What?”

“Well,” Tia said, the smile no longer contained. “She got us right, we might as well admit it.”

“Oh, did she now?” Aurora grinned. “Was it a case of neuken in de keuken or whatever it was, that Dutch phrase you taught me last week?”

“Not quite,” Tia said, eyes widening a fraction and her cheeks flushing. But before Aurora could tease Tia further, she felt arms from behind her creeping down her chest to loop round her neck, and a soft Welsh accent at her ear.

“Is now the right time to tell you all that I don’t even like chocolate?”

Aurora gasped, slapping Tayce on the arm, draped in front of her. “And you still got a Hollywood handshake! You jammy bitch!”

Tayce responded by pulling Aurora up from the sofa by her wrist, the butterflies already present in her chest fluttering at the contact.

“I wasn’t the only one though! You being modest again, Rory! I think you know what that means, don’t you? No middle grounds, no versy Percys! Which of us will be Star Baker this week?”

Tayce was millimetres away from her, or so it seemed. Aurora could see the exact detail of the colour of her eyes, could count the lines at her cheeks as she smiled. She smelt like mint gum and chocolate and the scented shampoo that hung in an intoxicating concoction in the air.

For a moment, Aurora forgot to speak.

“Me, of course!” Tayce spoke in her place, letting her go and throwing her head back into a cackle. “Who else! Leave it to the woman who doesn’t even like chocolate to be taking this round!”

“I don’t think so,” Aurora finally found her tongue.

“Oh, no?” Tayce said silkily, her face drawing closer, and Aurora didn’t really care if she challenged her at this moment, her skin tingling and something feather-light blooming in her chest as Tayce locked eyes with her.

“Game on, Rory,” Tayce purred.

——

Technical: Six molten chocolate puddings filled with peanut butter.

“The technical will be judged on a staggered basis this week, so you’ll all be timed individually, and live, with a five minute gap between each person.”

Noel’s announcement at Technical as they stood there, waiting for it to start, was completely unexpected. Prue and Paul had already left the tent as the Technicals were always blind, so they were expecting a normal Technical challenge.

Trust them to throw a curveball.

“The first person will start their bake, then the next will have five minutes to get ready to enter the tent and set themselves up,” Matt continued.

As long as I’m not first or last, please don’t let me be first or last -

“So everyone leave the tent, apart from …”

Please don’t say Aurora, please don’t say Aurora -

“… Ellie.”

Ellie made a noise at the back of her throat, but then took a deep breath, straightening to her full height. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

“Everyone else please leave the tent, and follow the path back out -“

Before long the rest of them were in the tea tent, the small tent with the hot drinks machines, all cramped inside on stools while the producer explained a little further.

“Everyone’s name has gone into a hat, alright, and we’ve drawn them all to put you in order, so just get yourselves ready to go back in, alright?”

Aurora nodded along with everyone else, but her leg was jogging against the stool, her nails finding her mouth. Tayce, next to her still, rested a hand on her knee and curled her fingertips, in a motion that sent a ripple of goosebumps up her leg and drew her attention away from the room.

She blinked, trying to focus on the producer as she read the names down the list on the clipboard.

“Lawrence, you’re going next. Followed by … Tayce.”

Aurora glanced at Tayce, whose smile gave nothing away as usual.

The other names came in order. Veronica was fourth, then Asttina, Cherry, and finally Aurora let the air go from her lungs when her name was read seventh. Tia looked relieved at being called next, while Bimini smiled lazily at their last position.

“Save the best ‘til last,” they said with a grin.

But as the tea tent started emptying, as people started heading to start the Technical, the mood dropped, gradually at first, but by the time only Tia and Bimini were left in there with Aurora, all of them were silent, Tia pacing up and down with a hand on her hip.

“Don’t worry, babes,” Bimini reached a hand to her, and Tia let them take it and rub her knuckles. “It’s the same as any other Technical, you’ll be fine.”

When Aurora finally got in, walking through the tent, she saw lots of baking going on in various stages, but Ellie, at thirty minutes in, was furthest along and Aurora still wasn’t sure what they were.

“Hi, baker number seven,” Matt waved to Aurora. “The judges would like you to make six molten chocolate puddings, filled with peanut butter. The instructions are in the top drawer for you, and the ingredients are under the tablecloth as usual.”

Aurora tried to hold back her sigh of relief. Finally, something she was familiar with. She’d made molten chocolate puddings before, not with peanut butter, but she was sure the idea would be the same.

Molten chocolate puddings. This makes a bit more sense as to why they want us all to go on a rolling basis now. They’d need to be judged straight from the oven to be fair.

“You have one hour thirty to make your puddings, starting now.”

Aurora whipped out the instructions, running her pencil down them. There were so many obstacles this week - overworking the dough, adding too much or too little chocolate, over- or under-baking, not to mention the amount and consistency of the peanut butter. She tapped the pencil against her chin, pushing wisps of blonde hair back from her face.

Looking over, she caught Tayce’s eye, and Tayce winked, mouthing you got this. Aurora’s insides were melting like the peanut butter she’d have to perfect today.

With everyone around her at various stages, she tried not to be too distracted as Ellie and Lawrence, just in front of her, were much further along - constantly silently reminding herself that she wasn’t behind, it was just part of the challenge to keep your nerve in this psychological minefield.

God, this is so daunting! You’re made to feel like you’re doing something wrong, like you’re behind!

Finally, time was called for Ellie. Aurora still had thirty minutes remaining on her own puddings, but Ellie had the daunting task of giving the first bake to the judges.

“You’re gonna be good,” Aurora muttered to her, but Ellie just smiled, looking a little more confident than she had last week, as she straightened up to her full height, Matt approaching her to bring her puddings before the judges.

“You can go back to now, and take a break,” the producer said to her. “Nice one, love.”

Ellie had left the tent in the blink of an eye, and now that the seal had been broken on the judging, the rest of the bakes seemed to be over faster and faster. Lawrence left next in what seemed like no time at all, followed by Tayce, who gave Aurora a little kissy face as she passed, a cheeky wink, and a whispered “see you soon, bitch!”

By the time Aurora had given hers to Matt, and left the tent herself, she felt like she was floating. Her puddings had come out much better than any other time she’d made them before. And all she needed was this one batch to be good and maybe she’d be taking home a Star Baker badge.

She didn’t even take two steps into the common room when Tayce had seized her hand and pulled her back outside.

“What?”

Tayce’s eyes were as wide as her toothy grin. “You’re not gonna believe what I saw when I got back from the Technical.”

“What was it? A squirrel with huge nuts?” Aurora tilted her head to the side.

Tayce threw her head back and cackled to the sky. “Alright! Jesus! If you’re gonna be sarcastic, then maybe I’ll just keep it to myself then! Maybe you’ll have to find out on your own!”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her smile was full and luscious. Her hand in Aurora’s was warm, and Aurora was struggling to resist the temptation to keep pushing her to keep talking.

Eventually, she swallowed down the lump of pride in her throat. “Go on then, tell me!”

“Oh, you want to know now, do you?” Tayce raised one eyebrow, showing all her teeth with her smile.

“Tayce!”

Tayce threw back her head in a moment of laughter. “Let’s just say that Tia and Veronica aren’t the only ones here swapping lipstick shades!”

“That was it?” Aurora rolled her eyes. “I saw Asttina kissing Bimini too, I was there as well you know!”

“Not them either,” Tayce purred. “Come on, Rory, it’s staring you in the face!”

… staring me in the face?

For one heart-stopping moment, Aurora thought Tayce was about to confess something about the two of them, here and now. Her gaze was steady and her face was so close to Aurora’s, with her thumb on the pressure point in the palm of her hand, her mind barely able to focus on any other sensation in her body …

“Who?” She breathed, blinking herself back to the present.

But Tayce’s smile widened. “Just think about who finished before me in the Technical, who I might have walked in on, and then you’ll get it!”

And Aurora’s stomach flipped when she realised.

Ellie and Lawrence had both finished before Tayce.

Jesus. Them too?

——

“In ninth place we have this one -“

Tayce’s hand gripped her right one so tightly that Aurora knew it would be ages until she got the circulation back. On her left, Tia raised her hand to claim ninth place.

“Tia,” Paul said with a small smile. “You took it out of the oven a bit fast, and the one I tried felt under baked. It had caved in on itself, looked a bit of a disaster I’m afraid. It tasted alright, though.”

Tia nodded, her eyes downcast, a sad smile on her face. “Accurate. Harsh, but accurate. Next time.“

That was what Tia always said when given bad critiques. Veronica had her hand in both of hers, rubbing her wrist. Aurora glanced at them both, but neither of them noticed anyone around them, their own little world encasing them from the rest of the bakers.

She did a bit crap last week too. Maybe it’s Tia’s week.

But her attention was on Paul as he made his way down the rest of the line of puddings, calling out names in reverse order - Veronica, then Cherry, then Ellie, Asttina, Lawrence, and finally Bimini.

“In second place - whose is this one?”

Tayce and Aurora were the only two left.

Aurora squinted at the picture that Paul was standing behind, and … no way.

Tayce squeezed Aurora’s hand, as Tayce herself raised her free one to claim second place.

“Tayce - really good, very little to pick apart here, well done, you were just beaten by a whisker in the bake. Which means that first place goes to - “

Aurora let go of Tia’s knee to raise her hand, while the rest of them broke into polite applause.

Fuck. First place in Technical! My second top placement in Technical in four episodes! God. Why couldn’t I have done that on bread week and I’d have been basically guaranteed a final three place!

But as the applause died down, and the bakers filed out of the tent back to Carr Hall, Aurora’s head buzzed with thoughts that threatened to drag her upwards to the clouds, only Tayce’s fingers intertwined with hers keeping her on the ground.

I’ve had two Technical wins, good critiques, and a Hollywood handshake. I’ve never had a disaster and I never seem to be in line for elimination.

Maybe … maybe I am a competitor. Maybe I can do this!

——

As soon as they got into Carr Hall, Ellie poured out nine shots, one for each of them because apparently if Ellie was drinking, so was everyone.

This was the first long day - the critiques for the Signature had brought everyone’s moods down, and the stress of the staged Technicals had simply fuelled the tension, but after a couple of shots of sambuca that Ellie had poured out, Aurora started to warm up and relax a little.

I need to remember I’m not a student any more, though. I can’t just down sambuca shots and get up for a 9am lecture.

Ellie was a bit more tipsy, and tipsy Ellie fell into the oversharer category. In the last twenty minutes, as the two of them chatted away from the others, Aurora had learned her dream of putting makeup on Blu Hydrangea, how she’d come out to her family, and the story of what Ellie and her friends referred to as ‘The Edinburgh Incident’ which had made Aurora shriek with laughter but definitely wouldn’t air before the 9pm watershed.

But when Aurora mentioned Lawrence’s name, Ellie clammed up, giggling.

“No, no no no, don’t go there -“

“Tayce said she saw you two together after the Technical!”

“Tayce,” Ellie sniggered, raising her eyebrows. “What’s happening with you two as well? You’re always together now, giving each other puppy eyes, holding hands -”

“What?” Aurora put a hand to her chest. “There’s nothing there! And don’t try to change the subject, Els! Tell me what was going on with you and Lawrence earlier!”

“Nothing was happening!” Ellie protested, but her chest was bright red and she hid her face behind her can of Red Bull. “I mean … we were getting, like, close …”

Aurora gently moved her hand out of the way of her face. “Do you want something to happen?”

“I - I don’t know!” Ellie spluttered with sudden nervous giggles. “I mean, yeah - but like, I don’t know!”

Aurora cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Come on, Els, give me some gossip for once, I’m sick of hearing everything from Cherry!”

Ellie shifted her shoulders. “I mean, yeah, evidently we both want something to happen if this afternoon was anything to go by …”

“Ellie!” Aurora’s jaw dropped open. “Did you two -“

“Wait, Cherry’s going out to smoke - wait -“

Ellie turned, drew her arm away from Aurora’s grasp, and left to go outside - following Cherry, still grey after her Technical critiques, who was going to smoke.

“Rory!” Tayce greeted her as she went to the sofa, running a hand through her hair. “I’m glad you’re getting to celebrate your win in Technical today, because I’m the one who’s gonna get Star Baker tomorrow. And the person who won the whole thing last year got Star Baker in chocolate week too.”

“Lightning won’t strike twice then,” Aurora muttered.

Tayce’s eyes widened a fraction. “The cheek! The nerve! The gall the audacity and the gumption! Lightning definitely strikes twice. Didn’t you hear about that bloke who got hit twice by lightning and survived?”

“That only happens in Saturday morning cartoons. Oh, and in Fleetwood Mac songs.” They were interrupted by Lawrence, coming over to them from the other sofa.

“Hey, Lozza,” Tayce clapped her hand on Lawrence’s knee. “I thought you were over with - oh.” Her eyes drifted to the other sofa, where Lawrence had come from, where Bimini had come to join Asttina, and they had both turned to face each other, their own little bubble looking like popping it would be unwelcome.

Aurora’s stomach twisted unexpectedly, suddenly hot and uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure why this was happening, but it wasn’t pleasant.

She disentangled herself, hand on her stomach; and made her way out the common room, out to the grounds, past Cherry and Ellie passing a cigarette between them, and out to the trees, shadowy in the creeping twilight.

She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to come all the way down here, spurred by the need for fresh air and enticed by the trees, but she was stopped by the voices ahead of her.

“… not that bad.”

“You don’t get it, Tia -“

“I mean, okay, I’m not you, but they’ve loved you all the previous weeks, this is just one slip up -“

A strangled sigh. She could see Tia and Veronica through the trees, realising they’d been missing most of the last hour. Aurora wanted to turn and leave them in private, but her feet wouldn’t move, leaving her cast in shadow by a tree.

“… you can do this, alright?” That was Tia’s voice, a tenderness that was unfamiliar to Aurora’s ears running along the edges of every word. “What are you making for the signature? What kind of cake?”

Tia was leaning with a shoulder against a tree, nodding along as Veronica muttered to her what she was baking; but Aurora couldn’t hear a word of it very clearly. Veronica had her back to Aurora, but she could see her put her hand to her forehead and shake as she sighed, her voice floating louder again.

“… all go wrong and I’ll be sent home!”

“Vee, look - things go wrong! Just let it go! Have fun with it! It’s not the end of the world. At the end of the day, it’s a baking competition, and you’re here, so you’re the best!”

“I just -“ Veronica sighed again, this time a strangled sob following it.

Aurora watched as Tia gathered Veronica into her arms, planted a long kiss on her forehead, holding her tightly to herself, running a hand in slow circles at her shoulder blades.

If she hadn’t felt like she was interrupting an intimate moment before, Aurora knew she was now, even through the veil of alcohol. She stole away as quietly as she could, hoping to just give them a bit more privacy.

Why is everyone acting so loved up? They’re all at it!

Tayce met her at the doorway to Carr Hall, leaning a hand against the doorframe and nodding as she approached. They were alone now, as Cherry and Ellie had gone back inside, and the chill in the air was starting to bite.

“You left quite quickly!”

“Yeah - I was just -“ Aurora motioned, but Tayce grabbed her wrist.

“Come on, down here -“ Tayce tugged her along in the other direction, towards the woods, this time in a different direction, out the way of Tia and Veronica as they started back towards the building.

“What’s going on?”

Tayce raked her fingers through her hair, her eyes to the sky, searching for the right words, as Aurora felt Tayce’s thumb start to stroke her forearm, not letting go of her wrist.

“There’s just -“ Tayce huffed, her voice dropping lower so as not to be heard. “Just so much … lovey dovey stuff going on, I don’t get why it’s all being done in the dark! I bet the viewers would love to see it.”

Aurora opened her mouth, and then closed it again. Tayce’s eyes were bright, boring holes into her, and she momentarily lost the power of speech.

“I - yeah, sure.”

“Everyone in the country was cheering on Blu and Cheryl last year, weren’t they? Whole country loved it. And with the amount of love in the room so far this season, it could happen again, couldn’t it? It’s not crazy to think that two people on this show could fall for each other, is it?”

There it was again - that shiver down Aurora’s spine that had started to happen whenever Tayce was near her, and a bubbling in her chest as the tingling spread down her whole body.

“What if it was us? What if the whole country was cheering on us, Rory?”

For a second, the world stopped turning.

Aurora breathed in a modicum of hope. “Do you mean -“

“A little flirting, on the screen, and the audience will be convinced we’re dating, or getting together!” Tayce said, her voice low but her eyes alight. “Doesn’t have to be anything over the top, it can be subtle - what d’you think?”

Aurora’s throat had a painful lump lodged in it, one that repeated swallows would not dislodge.

I think it just confirms that Tayce doesn’t see me like that.

On the other hand, maybe it would show Tayce how she really felt. Maybe it was a chance to get close to Tayce, and to … test out dating her, to let Tayce fall for her as hard as she’d fallen for Tayce.

“I think it could work,” she murmured finally.

Tayce’s eyes flickered, but then she grinned.

“Great! Let’s talk about it some more, set some boundaries.” Tayce led the way back to Carr Hall, while Aurora forced the smile to stay in place.

——

Showstopper: A melting chocolate ball with a dessert inside, with hot accompaniment of your choice.

“How’re you doing, Rory?”

Aurora squeezed her eyes shut tightly at Tayce’s voice.

“I’m trying to focus on my Showstopper.”

“I bet you are.”

On the bench in front of her, Ellie didn’t even attempt to contain the splutter of laughter as she choked on the mouthful of Monster.

“Tayce, I mean it - I need to focus.” She allowed Tayce to come a step nearer, for Tayce to lean leisurely against the workbench and survey her. “You don’t want me going home this week, do you?”

“No chance of that happening.” Tayce lazily kicked the bottom of the workbench with one foot. “How’s it going? What are you making?”

“A mess - at least, I am right now,” Aurora replied, leaning past Tayce to get to the bowl of sugar she’d already mentioned, the scent of Tayce’s perfume causing her mind to freeze and momentarily forget about baking at all.

“Well, have a nice time making a mess, and just make sure you make it a tasty mess, bitch!”

“Is that my new term of endearment?” Aurora teased.

Tayce cocked an eyebrow, with a slow blink that melted Aurora’s insides.

“You wish.”

She strolled away, back to her own desk, leaving Aurora to float.

Sure, what they’d discussed last night was more of an on-screen arrangement. A little flirting, some gentle touches, maybe a peck or two, to keep viewers hooked. But that didn’t mean Aurora didn’t still have to quell the butterflies as they fluttered in her chest every time Tayce was near her

God. I feel like I’m in The Hunger Games.

Tia and Veronica were being secretive, and Asttina and Bimini too, but having their romance more public could give them both an edge to go to the finale.

As long as she could still focus on baking.

And trying to think about chocolate and her Showstopper was distorted by Tayce’s face close to hers. Her mind, currently filled with thoughts of Tayce, was threatening to derail her. She couldn’t let this happen.

When Aurora looked round to the front again, she saw Ellie making no effort to conceal her stare, a smug smile on her lips.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been getting up to either, Els!”

In front of them both, Lawrence dropped her baking tray with a resounding crash, while Ellie whipped back round to her own Showstopper and didn’t disturb Aurora any more that afternoon.

“Hi, Aurora!”

Aurora arranged her face into what she hoped was a confident smile as she heard Paul’s voice. “Tell us about your bake this week.”

“I’m making a dark chocolate ball, with some additional white chocolate that I’m colouring with the pink and blue here,” Aurora said, pointing to the bowls over the bain marie she’d set up. “Hopefully it will give you a galaxy effect. And the dessert it will have inside is a sticky toffee tart with like, an orange sauce to melt it.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Prue said, and Aurora hoped she didn’t notice her wince. “Is there any inspiration behind the dessert at all?”

“Mostly I just love sticky toffee!” Aurora found herself giggling. “But like … I guess, I like galaxy themed things. It’s a reminder to myself, to … I don’t know, to reach for the stars, I guess.”

She didn’t take her eyes off the judges, but she could have sworn she saw Tayce’s head turn towards her out of the corner of her eye.

“That sounds wonderful. Good luck!” Prue replied, and the judges left her to it.

Having the judges over seemed to click something into place in her mind. She couldn’t think about Tayce right now. Tayce would have to wait.

——

“Tell us about your bake, Tia.”

“I have made an adequate chocolate ball, made of chocolate that is in a spherical shape around a dessert. What’s the dessert? Well, once you melt the chocolate globe you will find out!”

None of them could contain their laughter at Tia’s commentary on her Showstopper, even the judges, as they poured the warm cream over the top and watched it melt away into nothing, the dessert inside it being revealed.

“That’s right - it’s an adequate dessert made of ingredients that I found in my cupboard at home,” Tia continued just as flatly.

Almost everyone was spluttering. Ellie reached a hand to clutch at Aurora’s, tears in her eyes; while Veronica, the only person who wasn’t laughing, looked a little tense, clicking her tongue.

Tia was the last one to be judged this week. Most of them had had reasonably good critiques, with only Cherry leaning forward anxiously to see if Tia had worse feedback than she’d had; her chocolate ball collapsing before she’d even taken it for judging.

“I love that flavour,” Prue said finally, “and the filling is just the right consistency.”

“Chocolate is good too,” Paul nodded. “You’ve really nailed the mint flavour, it doesn’t come across as toothpaste-y at all. Nice one this week, Tia.”

Everyone applauded politely but Cherry’s smile was forced, her gaze defeated.

“You’ve got a good chance this week!” Ellie whispered to Aurora once they got outside, and Aurora had to admit she was feeling it too. As much as she didn’t like the badge, a badge was still a badge!

But Ellie fell silent, looking over her head, before smiling wryly; Aurora turned to see Tayce at her side.

“Good feedback, Rory,” she murmured, her lips perking into a smile. “Think it’s between us this week. Good luck, bitch!”

——

“I have the great job this week of announcing who the Star Baker is.” Matt Lucas held the chocolate bar badge, turning it over and over as he spoke. “This person made a set of fantastic chocolate puddings, a great Signature, and their Showstopper was explosive. Star baker is …”

All around the tent, breath was being held, and Aurora felt Ellie’s elbow in her ribs -

“Tayce! Congratulations, Tayce!”

Everyone was clapping, but Aurora couldn’t; she wanted to, but Tayce’s hand gripped hers so tightly she couldn’t let go, so she clapped her free hand against her knee, waiting for Tayce to catch her eye so she could tell her well done …

Tayce waited, mouthing thank yous at everyone, waiting until the end to lock eyes with Aurora, and Aurora saw the delight in them, elation she hadn’t seen before. As Tayce leaned closer to her, to peck her on the lips, Aurora felt hope blooming in her chest, as much as she tried to reason with it.

In fact, she didn’t hear a single word more from the tent as she floated, only realising as Cherry hugged her, tears in her eyes, that Cherry was set to leave, her chocolate ball disaster sealing her fate.

Her feet were still felt two inches off the ground as Aurora waited for Tayce after her winner’s interview, after Cherry had to give her exit interview. Cherry had been tearful, sighing deeply, but her words had been lined with defeat, as if she’d known it was her time.

“You won Star Baker! Congrats!”

“Thanks, babe. This badge is just weighing me down now.” Tayce’s new shiny chocolate bar badge glinted in the lights of the tent as they dimmed, but Tayce wasn’t paying it any attention. She caught both Aurora’s hands, pressing her thumbs into the palms, a motion that never failed to draw all her thoughts away, good and bad.

Aurora’s chest filled with butterflies once again, batting their wings in elation against her ribcage, and suddenly she was looking forward to dessert week, when she could see Tayce again.

——

EIGHT BAKERS REMAIN

[tendertenebrosity]

Part 4 of my redone opening! I’m almost done with this rewritten part, looking forward to getting onto some other stuff. I’ll be more comfortable once it’s a coherent whole. New masterpost is here. 

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @doglover82; @top-hat-aye; @burtlederp; @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi    

Previous post

“Have it?” the man on the throne said. “What for?”

Helis didn’t look at him; they were too busy looking up at Illiam, their mouth working soundlessly, trying to understand. He was standing with his feet planted firmly, head up, one hand on his swordhilt casually. A man who belonged here, whose confidence in his upper hand was fully justified. They tried in vain to work their arms into an easier position, but the silver-threaded squares of the net were too constricting. He’s here. Of course he’s here, but why is he HERE?

Illiam shrugged, one hand flicking the matter away as if it was inconsequential. “Whatever I want,” he said. “You were going to kill them anyway, weren’t you?”

“I was,” the man on the throne said. “Apparently it has magic, and being from the South will make it useless anyway. Why do you want it?”

The corner of Illiam’s mouth lifted in a cold approximation of a smile. “Well. That’s just it.” 

He stooped down over Helis.

He was suddenly startlingly close to them, and Helis’ breath hitched in their chest. He didn’t meet their eyes as he tugged a fold of net aside.

He seemed to be looking for something, pushing feathers and hair aside, patting their clothing. They tried unsuccessfully to fend him off with one arm as he slid a cold, impersonal hand inside their downy jacket.

They dragged in a sobbing breath. “Illiam -  don’t! It’s me, Illiam, please - ”

“Shut up, Helis, I can see it’s you,” Illiam said, his voice like the crack of a whip. “Do you think I want every random beast that gets dragged in front of me? Ah, here.”

He stood, holding up the object he’d retrieved from the pocket inside Helis’ clothing. A disc of metal, polished and shining in the light. He held it up in one hand so that the onlookers could see it. “Academy medallion,” he said. “Only granted to those who’ve attended and graduated from the Crestmead Academy of Magic. The highest mark of magical education you can get in all the Southern continent.”

There was a hushed pause. Then it was broken by a hoarse bark of laughter from the man on the throne.

“Oh, I see!” he said. “A little friend from your Academy days, Illiam?”

“A classmate,” Illiam corrected, his lip curling. “You must admit it’s an amusing coincidence. I want them. To keep.”

Helis gaped up at him, wordless, their heart fluttering in their ribcage. Their mind was racing. To keep? What’s that supposed to mean? What is he doing here - is this his - he comes from Toralda, I knew that, but I never thought to meet him again! Their stomach churned with something like hope, or dread, or both. The man on the dais – who, they were realising, had to be Illiam’s father – had planned to kill them, with as little concern as swatting a bug or throwing a piece of rubbish into the fire. But Illiam stopped him.

“Hey,” Reed said, from beside Helis. His voice wavered and pitched with outrage. “You can’t do that! Helis is with me, they’re - we’re of equal rank, they’re not a slave, you can’t just take -”

Illiam flicked his fingers casually; Helis didn’t see what happened to Reed, but he went silent. Illiam didn’t even look at him; his gaze was fixed forward, on his father’s throne.

Helis’ mind raced. They had known that Illiam was the son of a duke. But that kind of thing had never seemed very important at the Academy; he wasn’t the only one of their class with a title or a lot of money, Toralda was a long way away, and whatever Illiam’s other faults, he had never made a big deal about it.

But over the course of the last few years Helis had paid more attention to politics - enough to realise now that Illiam’s father was very powerful indeed.

Illiam had not… parted on good terms with the rest of the group. But he and Helis had never actually argued. As such. After the scene at Helis’ birthday party, the two of them had been civil, spoken to each other occasionally in class, and otherwise avoided each other for the last few months until graduation. How much grudge could he bear them? They hadn’t done anything to him, they hadn’t even asked their friends to avoid him or spoken badly about him. They just hadn’t wanted to talk about it at all.  

He doesn’t want me to die, so maybe… maybe this is a good thing? Maybe Illiam will help us?

This was the first, sickening, tantalising morsel of hope Helis had had since they’re been taken prisoner, but Illiam’s voice echoed in their head. Shut up, Helis. You were going to kill the creature anyway. Cold, contemptuous. What for? Whatever I want.

“I suppose it is, at that,” Duke de Graer said, responding to Illiam as if Reed hadn’t spoken. When Helis twisted their neck to look at him, he was shaking his head. “I don’t see why you’re making it more than that. This isn’t some half-drowned mongrel puppy you’re proposing on ‘keeping’. It might be dangerous.”

“Oh, I know,” Illiam agreed readily. “It’s a good thing I’ve got the best magical education to be found from both sides of the continent, isn’t it?” He tipped his head up arrogantly, and spun Helis’ Academy medallion between his fingers. “I can handle it.”

The Duke looked unimpressed. “What for, though?”

Illiam tucked the medallion into one of his pockets. He tucked his hands behind his back, and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I could use them,” he said. “In my work. They’ll know how to handle my tools safely, they know the language… I’ve always resisted getting any kind of assistant, but my work on the Pass spell might change that.”

The Duke considered, for a long moment, long enough for low murmurs to begin in the crowd around them. Then he sat back in the throne and shrugged.

“Very well, I’ll indulge you,” he said, dispassionately. “You’re to keep it in silver at all times; I’m not having it about otherwise.” He tapped a finger on the arm of the throne, meaningfully, his voice hardening. “And - Illiam. If your new ‘assistant’ gets away from you, or causes you to be distracted, or is an inconvenience in any fashion… it’s coming out of your hide. Metaphorical and otherwise. Am I clear?”

The murmurs from the crowd surged. Helis saw, from their position directly below, the bunch of muscles as Illiam’s jaw tightened. He gave no other indication of his displeasure, though, giving another smooth practiced bow. “Of course, your grace. I expected nothing less.”

“Take it if you’re going to, then,” the Duke said, a casual wave of his hand. “You don’t have some convoluted reason to want the other one, do you?”

Helis’ breath caught. Reed!

They saw the angle of Illiam’s jaw change; his gaze fell towards Reed for a moment, cold, impassive.

Helis pushed themselves up and found words. “Please,” they gasped, directing their words at Illiam. Their fingers twined in the net, helplessly. “Please, could you - please - ”

“No, your grace. Thank you,” Illiam said, ignoring them. He clicked his fingers at the guard who had been standing behind Helis. “Bring them.” He turned to stride away, a swirl of black cloak, not even looking behind to see his order carried out.

Helis’ world tilted as they were picked up, again, unseen hands turning them over and hoisting them off the ground. They thrashed as they hadn’t the first time.

“Illiam! Wait!” they cried out. “Reed!”

The point of a shoulder smacked into their middle and they lost their breath. Everything was a senseless whirl, green and grey forest mixed with flashes of colour as the guard followed Illiam through the parting crowd. Helis craned their head, blinking back tears, hunting for a glimpse of Reed’s curly head behind them. They didn’t get one It suddenly seemed of huge importance that they weren’t separated - what was going to happen to him? They thought he was a spy! What was going to happen to Helis?

Which of them was worse off, now that Illiam supposedly had a ‘use’ for Helis?

“Re-eed,” they wheezed, as the sounds of the group of people they’d just left retreated. “Wait. Wait - ow - ”

They were only carried a short distance before a curt word from Illiam made the soldier stop. They were dumped on the ground, wings and ribs protesting.

“Get that off,” Illiam ordered. “I assume we brought something more permanent than a net for magic-workers?”

Helis managed to snatch a breath just before were rolled, over and over, tumbled from side to side like a bundle of clothes as the netting was unwound from them. Something caught and ripped; Helis yelped with surprise and flapped their wing, instinctively trying to shove away from the pain. A dull snap; Helis realised, too late, that that not-quite-pain breaking sensation was one of their primary feathers.

The final layer was unrolled and they tumbled free of the netting at last, a few soft grey contour feathers fluttering to the ground around them. Crunch, on their face into mud and snow.

“Careful,” Illiam’s voice admonished, above them and close. “Clumsy idiot. I’d like the creature in one piece.”

The guard pulled Helis up, and then shoved them roughly into position - on their hands and knees on the ground. Their fingers stung, and they curled them into dirty, scuffed fists in the snow. They shivered pitifully, unfolding their wings to mantle them around their shoulders. The right one ached and throbbed. When Helis twisted to look, the usual graceful row of white flight feathers was marred, full of gaps. Broken, or missing, or frayed apart.

The third and fourth primaries dangled from shreds.

“Go and fetch the silver cuffs.” There was a pause - longer than usual. Was the guard hesitating? Illiam seemed to think so. His voice rose sarcastically. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“Of course, my lord. Right away.”

“At your leisure, I’m sure! Incompetent idiot. Get out of my sight.”

Helis raised their gaze from their hands, as the soldier left.  Illiam was standing close by, amongst a line of dingy grey-brown field tents. Away from his father, and the watching gaze of the crowd, he seemed to have let the smooth courteous mask over his face drop.

He looked furious.

As Helis watched, he flicked snow off his shoulders with one hand, let out a deep huff of breath that plumed white in the cold air, and turned away, folding his arms.

Helis licked their lips, rethinking their next words. Illiam and the guard hadn’t taken them very far; if Helis looked behind them, through the loose line of tents the group they’d just left was visible. They couldn’t see Reed.

Helis’ wings were free now. They’d been too slow to take off before because they hadn’t wanted to leave Reed behind - that had been a mistake, they realised now. If Helis had been free they could have helped him. It hurt, but maybe they shouldn’t make the same mistake again.

They eased their wings open and closed, assessing the pain levels. Could they fly? Maybe. Maybe not. They’d never broken feathers like that before. In any case, they’d need space and time to take off, which they didn’t have.

Helis was not a martial mage, never had been, but could they do something to buy themselves some time now that the net was off? A flare of light, a burst of wind? They reached for power, and for the first time in hours it answered, warming the space under their breastbone and the palms of their hands. If they could only –

Illiam moved, boots crunching in the snow, to look down at Helis.

His eyes met Helis’, and they could tell that he knew what they had been thinking. They narrowed.

He lifted one hand, sparks gathering between his fingers. “Try it,” he invited. His voice was almost soft. “Go ahead. Who do you think is faster, Helis?”

Him. He’d always been faster than anyone else, except maybe Ki. Definitely faster than Helis. They let the magic fizzle out, sat back on their ankles and shoved their hands into their armpits for warmth. “Sorry,” they babbled. “Illiam, I - ”

“Shut up. Do you have any idea the amount of trouble you’re causing me, Helis?” he asked, almost conversationally. He flicked his fingers, sparks flying free. One of them hissed and sputtered in the snow near Helis’ bare, frozen foot, and they flinched. Illiam’s face had gone smooth and superior again. “Any notion at all of what you’ve stumbled into? If I were you, I’d keep myself very, very quiet, and do exactly as I say. You might yet survive this idiocy.”

“Illiam, please!” they gasped, looking up at him. “Tell me what’s going on! What about Reed? We’re not spies, tell your father Reed’s not a spy! You have to believe me, do I seem like I’d make a good spy to you?”

“Considering you’re in government colours, I would say not,” he said, voice loaded with contempt. “Terms of your scholarship, I assume. But you specialised in artificing. Why the hell did they send you to Rosdan?”

“Material gathering,” Helis said, swallowing hard. “There’ve been shortages… If you look in our pack you’ll see… nowhere else but the North produces conduit stone, not on this continent, so -  Reed and I were just here looking for some, and you’re not supposed to be here and - Illiam, don’t let them hurt him!”

His gaze slid over to the group of nobles in the centre of camp, where his father was still holding court.

“Conduit stone,” he said flatly. “Mm. Not worth it, Helis.”

“What’s not worth - what do you mean?”

He didn’t answer them. He was still looking over Helis’ shoulder, to their right, at the centre of camp. Was something happening over there?

There was a noise from that direction - a voice being raised, over the wind. Helis twisted where they sat, trying to see what Illiam could. Fear seized them, and they pushed themselves upright with one frozen hand. They stumbled as they got their numb feet underneath them, wings and arms spread for balance. Helis dragged in a breath. “Is that -”

Helis heard Illiam swear, from behind them - and then a hand, cold and pale, had latched onto their wrist.

They shrieked, unable to stop it, trying to pull away. Illiam yanked them closer.

“That’s quite enough, I think,” he said, sounding impatient. His voice was above their ear as he pulled them close, jostling their half-spread wing, his other hand clamping onto their shoulder. “Hold still.”

His left hand had dropped their wrist; Helis twisted in his grip and caught sight of it reaching for their face, fingers glowing with power.

“No!”

They wrenched themselves to the side, found themselves pinned by his grip on their shoulder. They threw their wings up, managing to bash one of them into Illiam’s face, and dropped to the ground, seeking a way out from under his hold.

They heard Illiam’s muffled snarl of surprise and pain, but he still didn’t let them go; he dropped too, almost landing on top of their legs. They rolled onto their side, kicking out wildly with heavy clawed feet. The slush on the ground was so cold, and their wings hurt, but they couldn’t spare any of those any attention.

“I said hold still, you stupid little creature!” Suddenly he was astride them, ignoring a glancing glow from their foot against his leg, pinning down one of their wings with an elbow and panting with effort. “This’ll go easier - if you just -”

“No!” Helis cried. “Illiam, please - why are you - please!”

His hands touched their hair. No! They bucked, tossed their head, but there was nothing more they could do; Illiam’s hands were on either side of their head, a bruising grip that caught in their curls and allowed his glowing fingers to make contact with their skin

Suddenly Helis’ body was leaden. They could feel Illiam’s magic, winding into their head, pushing them inexorably downwards into darkness.

“Don’t,” they moaned, trying to push him away, to hit him with one of their wings again, anything. They knew what was happening, and they couldn’t stop it; terror warred with sudden, frightening exhaustion and lost. One of their hands was caught in cold fingers and directed away, but the touch on their temple stayed. Helis twisted their head against the ground and not even the cold of the ice in their ear and down their neck could jolt them into wakefulness against Illiam’s magic. Their body slumped. “Illiam, please….”

His voice was fading, everything was fading, but they heard him start to mutter something. “I really don’t think you…”

They never heard the rest.

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (3)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

Also in AO3

Chapters: Part 1 | Previous: Part 2 | Next: Part 4 | Masterlist

3 of ?

The Second Brother’s hand barely touched you, his clawed gloves hovered mere inches away from your face, but you could feel the energy escaping your entire body and then enter his fingers in the form of white, translucent tendrils. The sensation was similar to drowning—sinking, rather—with a weight tied to your ankles, the farther you plummet the more air you are deprived of. Your throat roughed up on its own as you gagged for oxygen. When you thought you were kicking your legs to perhaps swing yourself out, your ankles were all but a pair of spastic, twitching joints—any more and you just might tear your tendons due to the desperation brought by your fight-or-flight instinct.

It’s excruciating. Extremely.

You could feel like your heart would stop any moment now, unable to withstand this overwhelming sensation.

With your guard down, he got back at you in breaking your balance—kicking you in the shin so your stance falters—and then held you by the scruff of your shirt as he continued stealing what could be your Force energy. As he stole your essence, he took satisfaction in your bodily throes that were nothing more but feeble attempts to slip away from his grasp.

“Not so slippery, aren’t you, my little thorn?”

For every inch of translucent mist that wafted out you cannot breathe, your head felt heavy for each time the veins on your temples throbbed, and your vision went dim as you avoided eye contact with the Second Brother. Whatever form of escape you attempt, everything was pointless.

You are literally in the Second Brother’s grasp.

It is mercy that he has not killed you yet.

Although he decided to make a plaything out of your agony.

“LET ME GO!!! LET… M-ME… G-G-GO!!!” you ear-shattering plea fell to deaf, sadistic ears.

As you suffer with every violent jerk of your body—so much so that it cramped your muscles—every labored, through-the-teeth breath, and the frenzied shifting of your eyes to fight off the dimming—all of these reactions to the intolerable, inhumane pain that you’re experiencing right now does not seem to sate this Inquisitor.

Through his wicked Force ability, he was able to see everything in the recesses of your mind—your memories, dreams and nightmares, and fears. He bore witness to the nightmare that has haunted two nights ago until the eve of this very day. The Second Brother wanted to make sure that you will see and realize that your motivation is also your weakness.

“Now I see whom that fire burns for,” he purred.

His cackling began with a wheeze, muffled yet still audible through his mask’s ornate face plate. As he looked into your shifty eyes, he mocks you by watching your nightmare play like a film… over and over again, to his liking.

All of a sudden, his strength appears to have double compared to hours ago. The longer he inflicts this agonizing power over you, the more you submit to your knees—with the toll of the pain becoming more and more unbearable.

This was a dark, distorted mirror image of Cal’s own ability: Psychometry. His and the Second Brother’s abilities are near-identical; the only difference is that the Inquisitor has yet to demonstrate that he can manipulate his victim’s visions to his whim—bending them, poisoning them, and ultimately changing them—to further twist what they truly convey. This is a capability that he has earned through the Dark Side of the Force.

“I can see him heading this way right now,”

“Liar! He’s out there fighting with the others,”

“Oh, I never lie. I may be bad, little thorn, but I do not lie—it’s a lesser, lamer evil, in my opinion.”

“And I am supposed to believe you—of all people? I’d rather believe a pile of Bantha shit if it talked!”

The fight dragged on, while it did, Cal tore his way through the enemy fronts, leaving lifeless Stormtroopers in his wake—but he hasn’t gotten any closer to the stronghold to get to you. From where he stood, he could see the rebels that you came with pour out of the entrance, some of them leaped from the towers, taking the enemy by surprise and flanking them.

He squinted his eyes through the battlefield, he couldn’t spot you—he knew what you wore and none of those figures in the distance matched.

“Where are you, [Y/N]?” Cal growled in frustration and growing fear.

The Inquisitor continued to siphon your Force energy out of your system, leaving barely an ounce from the vessel.

When he’s had enough of it, he releases his grip from the collar of your shirt and then you felt a row of solid, metal knuckles slammed to your cheekbone. You literally saw stars, mere white specks dancing behind your eyes as the surroundings blurred; you can barely make a proper stance, let alone stand straight. The Inquisitor laughed in mockery.

“With every step he takes, the closer that nightmare of yours becomes a reality,” he cooed.

“Just shut up!”

“Oh, and would you look at the time?” he chirped in his trademark singsong tone, only this time it was sarcastic and meant to taunt you.

Eleven minutes remain on the clock.

You spot this from the nearest time-bomb at the corner of your eye.

“Do you still think you can play around with fate, little thorn?”

There still some fight left in you, though your battle was both physical and mental, it’s difficult enough to deal with the physical—what more of the latter?

Being drained of your Force essence was relative to losing a lot of blood—you’re nauseous and groggy, your vision’s fogged and wobbly, and your grip can barely keep itself tight. You cannot even hold your defensive stance for more than a minute. You coax yourself to take long, slow, calm breaths—it was effective. Slowly, you recompose yourself.

Your objective in mind is to hold off the Second Brother while affording enough time to escape.

“There is another way of saving him, you know,”

You ultimately hate to admit it… but he’s right.

As he had siphoned the Force out of you, he has also seen through the secrets of your mind. He knew of your fear—the apparent death of Cal. You’ve already figured out that the blinding red and orange light, the ash and soot, all came from the imminent explosion caused by the bombs destroying the reactors.

Little did you know that the solution he had intentionally embedded in your mind was a distortion, a trick, and he smiled to himself sensing full well that you’re slowly biting into the bait.

“Are you really going to let his blood be on your hands? It’s going to be a lot, you might not keep all of it, little thorn,”

“Don’t call me that…” you snarled through the grit of your teeth as you sobbed.

You’re desperate. The longer the clock ticks, the more imminent Cal’s death would be.

Come on, [Y/N], think fast!

You will not allow the Second Brother to get the best of you. A mere second was afforded for you to meditate, to make peace quickly that your last-minute plan is the best and only resort to save Cal—without any other compromise.

I know he’s safe, that’s all that matters. You mouth the words to yourself like a prayer.

With one sweep of the arm, all of the bombs’ timers have been manually changed. Originally, only five minutes were remaining, but you—using the Force—overrode the configuration and set them all to ten seconds. This took the Second Brother by surprise, with the remainder of your strength, you kicked him on the chest and flung him a few inches away; while disoriented, you made a run for it—dashing through the air in the same speed as he did, scaled and skipped a few spokes of the ladder until you hauled yourself to the platform. Doing these doubled the toll your body is already taking, which is struggling to keep you from collapsing; your breath heaved and your own weight suddenly became anvils.

Now that you’ve gotten yourself to high ground, you’ve used up all of your energy and returned to your sluggish, weakened state. The exit is still far off and you can see the digits on the clock.

00:05.

“W-Where’s [Y/N]?” Cal demands an answer from the rebel who ran past him, grabbing the soldier by the sleeve.

“I-I don’t know! An Imp attacked us from nowhere… he’s already killed Yenna!”

“Imp? What Imp?”

“He had a saber like yours, except red.”

The young Jedi let the partisan go. Based on the last thing the rebel said, Cal already knew it was no ordinary Imp.

His fears have come true. Although he was aware of the risks already but he never anticipated you would face an Inquisitor alone!

00:02.

Before Cal could even get any closer to the stronghold, he—along with everyone else, friend and foe alike—stopped dead in his tracks, startled by the rumble that sourced from the building. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped—the red and orange cloud of fire filled the pair of jade eyes—and his heart drummed so loudly that it just might tear right through his ribs and out from his leather armor. Goosebumps pelted his arms, cold sweat trickled on his temples, and the hairs at the back of his neck pricked up.

“No…!” he gasped. When the reality of the explosion eventually sunk into him, despite refusing the truth right in front of him, he roared your name at the top of his lungs—so much so that he wheezed when he inhaled.

“Beeeeeeee!!!!” BD-1 let out of the shrillest, ear-shattering chirp he has ever done in his entire life.

“FALL BACK!!!”

“RETREAT!!”

The Stormtroopers cried in panic, some turned tail and fled, a brave handful kept shooting while slowly stepping back. The rebels gradually overtook the field until the numbers have thinned out in the enemy’s side. Having a complete disregard for his safety, Cal charged through the crossfire, powered yet blinded by pure adrenaline, a few of the partisans called out to him but to no avail.

“CAL, HEY COME BACK!!”

“CAL, COME BACK HERE!!!”

Cal was hindered from coming closer as another minor explosion followed up after the big one. The wind of the blast was enough to fling him away and the couple of partisans who called for him ran and caught up to him. The hooked their arms underneath Cal’s.

“NO, WAIT!!! [Y/N] IS STILL IN THERE!!!” Cal violently kicked and attempted to shake them off his arms, but they’ve held him tight enough to bruise his arms through the sleeves. “GET OFF OF ME!!!”

“Cal, come on! We gotta get out of here!” insisted the male partisan who’s the first to call Cal out when he ran off.

The two young men worked together in hauling Cal out of the fire’s radius—surprisingly, he was heavy for both of them, considering the insistent one was a bit bulkier in stature, but that’s the adrenaline doing its job in his body—the ginger kept his eyes on the blazing stronghold, his emotions have clouded the clarity of his mind as well as his good judgment.

The pair of rebels had regrouped with Cal in tow—who was still being stubborn and difficult to deal with. They reported the one known casualty—the woman who personally called you Little Spark, the woman named Yenna, murdered by the Inquisitor upon making his grand entrance earlier.

Cere personally approached him to greet him back, but when the woman saw that you’re missing, her eyes searched the entire group.

“Where’s [Y/N]?”

“She wasn’t with them when they rendezvoused,”

“Th-Then where?”

Cal’s face lit up and frantically patted his person in search of the compact radar. There was no sign of your blip. He could’ve sworn he saw it blink once before it died out.

“No! My radar’s bust, but I know she’s out there, Cere!”

Cere, unsure of what to make of Cal’s medley of emotions, sighed and spoke nothing. Cal insisted on setting up a search party for you with him personally leading it. The idea was merit, unfortunately, the young redhead isn’t the one calling the shots.

“Whoa, slow down, kid,” the captain in charge stepped into the scene between Cal and Cere. He expresses that he understands what the boy is going through, shell-shocked by the apparent fact that you might have been killed in the explosion, but he also expressed the importance of the survivors’ individual well-being.

“We have to tend the wounded first; and you’re gonna need some equipment if you want to charge through that fire out there,” added the captain.

“I won’t need a lot of men, rather I don’t any,”

The same couple of partisans who hauled Cal against his will—namely Larki and Morzen—cut in directly after Cal’s statement. They volunteered to go with him, thus it’s just the three of them as a search party. They have enough people back in the rendezvous point and the main hideout to care for the wounded and send them back for proper medical attention. The captain personally took and handed over sets of protective gears for Cal and his companions.

The three of them mounted speeder bikes—Cal rode along while Larki and Morzen shared. Cere watched the trio disappear into the horizon and then her head craned to the sky peeking over the trees.

It will be night very soon.

“Your boy sure is persistent,”

“It’s because he feels something is there, and he means what he says,” Cere argued. She nodded sideways to the captain, gesturing him to the tent until their land transport arrives.

[stillness-in-green]

The Way You Survive Is... (2/4)

Trauma manifests in all sorts of ways—even trauma that you convince yourself was noble.

All unknowing, Curious plants a seed.

Chapter Warnings: As well as the tagged warnings, be aware of on-the-job injuries, power imbalance, messy break-ups, self-triggering, and discussions of human trafficking.

The advisors try to be helpful, but you know what they say about dismantling the master's house with the master's tools.

———      ———      ———      ———

Chapter Two: Not a Narrative, But a Symptom

Rikiya got the text from Koku towards the end of the evening.  I’ll have some time after the rally tonight.  Take you to dinner?

They ate at a French restaurant on the lake, chatting about work—Detnerat had hit its first major burst of good publicity, buoyed by some personal recommendations from the governor, and was expanding its production capacities.  Koku, meanwhile, was expecting his first department position following the election next week, assuming the numbers held steady.

Talking about work was, of course, a coded way of talking about The Work.  So much of Rikiya and Koku’s daily lives was groundwork for plans to be effected in a decade, two decades, three decades.  The governor of the prefecture was the highest-ranking official in the Hearts & Minds Party, one of Old Man Hanabata’s protégés, and serving under him got Koku the experience to make him a more viable candidate for when the HMP got serious about the national general election.  Compliments from him to the right ears gave Detnerat a running start for when Rikiya needed to push the company into competition against national-level brands.  In both cases, their startling youth brought them attention from sources outside the Army, and so it went.  All to move the ideals of Liberation—freedom, deregulation, a true recognition of individuality—onto the broader stage.

It could be exhausting to think about, but Koku—Koku always made it seem invigorating instead.  That was only natural—it was his meta-ability at work—but all the same, the degree to which work was keeping them busy made it all the more electric to spend time with him.

From the way Koku’s lips quirked when Rikiya hooked an ankle around his beneath the table, it seemed he agreed, and the two of them returned to Rikiya’s apartment with an eminently respectable distance between them that dissolved as soon as the door fell shut behind them.

“I’ve missed you,” Rikiya said fervently against Koku’s hair, fingertips splaying over the column of his neck.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Koku replied, a warmth in his voice he reserved only for their private moments, which had been far too few since graduation.  He tipped his head to the side as Rikiya continued to press a line of kisses towards the shell of his ear, his hands stealing out to peel Rikiya’s jacket off his shoulders.

Both their jackets went over the back of the chair as they made their way into the living room, fingers fumbling with shoes and abandoning them in an erratic trail leading across the floor towards the couch.  Koku sat down first, hands trailing slowly down Rikiya’s arms, and smiled up at him, that sly, alluring smile of his that turned Rikiya’s stomach into a molten knot of want.  He let his knees take his weight on either side of Koku’s legs, arms catching the back of the couch as he leaned down into a deeper kiss.  Koku hummed husky satisfaction into his mouth as he kissed back, one hand working on his tie, the other cupping Rikiya’s elbow.

The edge of his cologne, peppery cedar with lingering, deep notes of lily and plum, caught Rikiya’s nose and he chased the scent of it down Koku’s neck, arms winding around his chest.  Koku’s breath hitched, a sound that went through Rikiya in a bolt of heat.  With a shuddering sigh, he squeezed the man tighter, tugging him upright—

—and the heat vanished as quickly as it had come when Koku suddenly gasped, high and pained.

Rikiya let go as if scalded and leaned back, getting his weight off Koku’s lap.  “What? What is it?”

“It’s—”  Koku pressed a hand to his side, fluttering to a rest and then away again with a hiss, the motion familiar from everyone Rikiya had ever seen—himself included—nursing a wound.

“You’re hurt,” Rikiya realized, and climbed off the couch entirely, dropping to a crouch on the floor.  “What happened?”

“It’s nothing serious.”  Koku waved his other hand in an attempt at placation.  “I was helping out with that training seminar Luminary runs and we had a bolt go astray.”

“That would have been hours ago.  How bad is it?”  Rikiya rested a hand on Koku’s knee and looked up at him.

“It’s nothing serious,” Koku repeated, but now Rikiya was noticing the faint pallor in his cheeks.  “A hairline crack in one rib, that’s all.”

Rikiya rocked back in dismay.  “A cracked rib.  And you thought we should—why didn’t you say something?”

“First of all, we aren’t so adventurous that I’m worried about straining myself.”  Rikiya felt his cheeks go hot, and he stared up in mute distress.  Koku carded a hand through his hair, a mischievous smile dampened by tension at the corners of his lips.  “And second of all, it’s my job to worry about you, not yours to worry about me.”

“What is that supposed to—”  Consternation closed his throat.  

A shadow crossed over Koku’s face and Rikiya’s heart sank even further.  He recognized the look—it was the expression Koku got when he’d made a verbal misstep, miscalculated the effect of a sentence—and it was always about a miscalculation, not an error of emotion.  He got that look when the elders reacted to his arguments in ways he hadn’t planned for; Rikiya had last seen it when the two of them were pitching Detnerat to the elders and Koku had made an appeal to Sanctum that hadn’t gone over the way he expected it to.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Koku said swiftly, soothingly, but Rikiya was barely listening, all at once trying to remember a time when Koku had ever denied him anything, large or small, had ever given more than a cursory, characterful complaint to any request Rikiya had made of him.

He couldn’t come up with anything.  Koku was his best friend, his lover, but he was a follower of Liberation, exactly like everyone else.  It was obvious what his words had meant.

I let myself forget…  The guilt drove him to his feet.  Koku looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“Rikiya,” he started, going to push himself up.

“Stop,” Rikiya cut him off, staggering backward around the coffee table.  “You—you should have said something.  I could have hurt you.”  Anger sparked in his chest, a wretchedly defensive feeling; he shoved it back down, but the enormity of it all just kept coming.  “Would you ever have told me no? To anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you no,” Koku stressed.  “It’s the first time we’ve had any privacy since—”

“Trumpet,” Rikiya snapped, and watched Koku stiffen, eyes going wide.  The words burned, caustic, on his tongue.  “Tell me the truth.  Would you ever have told me ‘No?’”

“I—”  Koku’s jaw moved for a long moment, but no words escaped as his expression went stricken.

The silence felt like the world collapsing.

“Go home,” Rikiya whispered, shaking his head and moving to keep the coffee table between them when Koku surged to his feet in protest.  “Go home. Just—just rest, please. Trumpet.”  His voice clipped higher, and he tried to swallow through the thundering of his pulse in his ears.  His next words emerged in a stutter that turned into a taut recitation, impersonal and all the uglier for it.  “I’m—I need…  I’m sorry. I need to be alone.  Please excuse me.”

“Rikiya!”

He turned on his heel and strode away towards his bedroom, ignoring the note of pleading in Koku’s voice, and closed the door behind him with a mindfulness dedicated to not slamming it that left his arm trembling with the exaggerated care.

This can’t go on, he thought, pacing around the room, clutching at his arms.  I never should have let it go this far to begin with.  What was I thinking?  Did he ever even want it from the start?  How long has it been since I asked?  Was he just—just supervising me?  I have to—if he can’t—then I can’t—I can’t be with him if—I—

I can’t be with him.

The awful fullness of the realization choked his movement to a halt.  As the refrain resounded in his head, a messy splat sound drew his eyes downward.  At his feet, a scattering of liquid shone with a dusky gleam on the clean wood panels of the floor.  Rikiya stared at it, for a moment struck to numbness as he raised a hand to his face.  His fingers came back smudged with tears and unconsciously corporealized stress.  His breath caught in his throat.  Oh, no…

He could feel his body swelling against the confines of his shirt even as he looked around the room, anguish rolling back in over him, a waterline drawn away from the shore only to return in crashing tumult. Control.  He needed to get this under—

The closet.  He was there in three strides, pulling the door open and pushing aside a row of shirts and jackets with enough force to snap several coat hangers. A small, contained space—he stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind him, swallowing heavily as the walls closed in.

In the dark, he let his weight sag against the wall, sliding down to the floor and curling in on himself.  His breath burned in his throat, growing shallower and more ragged by the second, and nausea twisted his stomach.  The smell of sweat prickled in his nose.  Familiar, the panic was, and so much kinder than shame.  Wracked with chills, he buried his head against his knees and let the conditioned training take over, timing his pulse and pursuing the sense of severed reality that was the only way he knew to draw himself towards calm.

If Koku knocked, he didn’t hear it, and in the morning, when Rikiya ventured back out into the rest of the apartment, he was long gone.  Rikiya found the note on the table just as his phone started to ring.

I’m sorry I didn’t mention it.  I’ll call you in the morning. 

Guilt chewing a fresh hole in his stomach, Rikiya let the call go to voice mail.

———— ———— ———— 

 Kesseru City was not a liberated district, nor would it likely ever be until all of Japan could say the same, but the creed of Liberation still had its warriors there, high-ranked and low.  More low than ever, really—since Rikiya had moved there five years back, the place was becoming something of a hub.  That had all sorts of implications for the great cause, but one of the less immediately obvious benefits was Miwako.

Owned by a loyal Liberation warrior, Miwako was a restaurant, no more or less, an old yakisoba house near one of the train stations. It was, however, a place where Rikiya could count on a private room for dinner and discreet service (and discreet clean-up, if necessary).

The proprietor also made excellent low-sodium substitutions on request.

“So how’s the situation with your stray cat?”  At Rikiya’s forbearing expression, Curious grinned, swirling her drink.  “Has he been back for another visit?”

“I don’t seem to be able to keep him away,” Rikiya admitted with a sigh.  Geten was terribly clever for a child of merely eight years old.  The stubbornness was possibly more age-typical.  “I’m working out visitation arrangements with the family.  Long weekends and holidays, that sort of thing.”

A regular reporter might have asked why Rikiya didn’t just adopt the boy—it certainly would have made things simpler—but Curious had, as they said, “all the facts,” and so could apply her wonderfully insightful mind to considerations like succession and media attention.  Favoritism, too, though probably they were well past that point.

“I can just imagine the two of you on a beach vacation,” she said instead.  “Make sure you send pictures.”

Rikiya chuckled at the unbelievability of it.  “He’d probably prefer skiing, all things considered.”

“We’re still in summer!” she exclaimed.  “It has to be beaches!”

He shook his head fondly, then looked up with a wider smile at the approach of the server.  A young mouse-meta, quite small compared to the large tray she was bracing with her tail, she unloaded their meal with quick professionalism.  He watched her more closely than the food, admiring the steady fluidity with which the extra limb handled small dishes for garnishes and even the bowls of miso soup.

“You’re good with your tail,” he complimented when she stood back, and she beamed at the compliment, russet-furred cheeks flushing with the glow of pride.  “How long have you been with us?”

“Since my parents’ time, sir.”  She straightened at the question, flashing a quick salute.  Her black eyes shone as she regarded him, folding her hands in front of her again, bony fingers knitting together around the rim of the tray. “Beacon helped my parents when their construction business got closed for unlicensed quirk use. Oh—meta-ability use, I mean,” she corrected herself, cheeks coloring harder.

“It’s all right,” he said, waving off the mistake.  “I know it can be tricky to balance the language.  It’s more important to keep our secrets than to use the right word every time you’re among friends of the cause.  Thank you for your efforts—your parents, also.”

Now quite red, she stammered out a thanks and retreated, looking about ready to burst. Curious huffed a laugh, pouring him another cup of sake.

“You’re very good at that,” she observed as he returned the favor, then clinked her cup against his and raised it to her lips.

“I would hope so; I’ve been learning it since I was six years old.”  He sipped at the chilled drink, and, not particularly keen to dwell on the topic, redirected to, “So how are things at your magazine these days? Anything interesting in the works?”

“Is there,” she answered fervently.  “Well, keep this under wraps, it isn’t going to be out for another few issues yet, but me and Tsugata are working on a major exposé.”

“Really? What’s the topic?”  He draped a few shreds of ginger over his ikisoba before setting in.

“Human trafficking—specifically the underground market for certain meta-abilities in the sex trade and for forced labor.”  She gestured with her chopsticks, a dismissive flick.  “Not a very pleasant dinner conversation, I know, but get this: did you know that human trafficking isn’t actually illegal?”

He raised his brows incredulously and she nodded, sharp and emphatic.  “Right?  That’s everyone’s response at first!  But it isn’t—when heroes and the police do raids, they’re based on immigration or labor statutes being violated, not because it’s a crime to engage in the slave trade of sentient human beings.”

“And Hajimete Era is hoping to address that?” he asked, focusing on Chitose’s animated expressions rather than letting his mind dwell on the mental images of locked rooms and the backs of box trucks.

“Better, actually.  We’re giving a platform to a politician who’s going to bring it up at the autumn Diet session.  Kurokou Yui.”

“Kurokou… The New Passage party’s deputy leader, isn’t she?”

Curious scooped noodles heaped with green onions into her mouth, nodding as she chewed before elaborating, “She specialized in trafficking cases back in her lawyer days, and here’s the big bombshell.”  She leaned closer over the table.  “She went into that field because she was in AV videos back when she was just a teenager.  They got her in through an idol scam.”

Rikiya sat back on the tatami.  Politics wasn’t his area of expertise, even for all the time he’d known Trumpet, but even he knew how sex scandals affected the careers of major public figures.  

“That’s…”

“Brave, right?  Taking her own trauma and turning it into a weapon for everyone else like that.  She’s really incredible.”  Approval shaded into Curious’s voice; she shook her head with a pure admiration Rikiya rarely saw on her face.  “Tsugata and I are doing our best to give her an article worthy of her.”

“It’s very noble.”  He paused to chew through another bite of his meal and mull over his thoughts.  “We must have some people who could speak to a cause like that?”

“I’m already looking into it, yes.  I’ll have them get in touch with her if I find some good candidates.”

Rikiya nodded approval at her foresight.  “A shame she’s already politically affiliated.  But having outside allies is helpful too, I suppose.”

“Here’s to that.”  She tilted her cup upward, and he clicked his together with it once more before returning to the meal.  

“Though,” Curious added in an off-handed tone that absolutely never foretold an off-handed remark, “speaking of allies, have you heard from Koku-san lately?”

An intentional bit of word choice in the name there, he didn’t doubt.  Curious was not usually the first-name-with-honorifics type.  It was truly kind of her, but where he and Trumpet were concerned, she had already done more than enough—as, indeed, he’d realized was her aim after the second time she’d manipulated them into being the last two people in a room together.  Patching things up after several years of strain had been a weight lifted that he’d been all too aware of carrying.  That was true, and would remain true, but he was not about to let it get any further than that.

He swallowed down his current bite before answering.

“Not since Obon, no.  Is there some news from Sereno City I haven’t heard about?”

She gave him a Look over the rim of her cup, but, thankfully, let it drop with grace, “Nothing much, unless you count the secretary general resigning.  He says he’s pretty sure the spot’ll be going to him once they can get all the party leaders in a room together.”

Rikiya had not heard that, though he didn’t doubt that he would before too long.  The Hearts & Minds Party was not, strictly speaking, under his supervision, but opinions he registered about its ruling members tended to be adhered to.  Koku’s presence on his council was enough that Rikiya didn’t need to pay much mind to it.

Or possibly Koku—Trumpet, Rikiya reminded himself—kept the more stressful politicking from reaching his ears.  That would certainly be like him.

“Trumpet usually prefers to bring me accomplishments rather than projections,” he said, “but I’m glad he’s able to talk to you about these things.”

Curious hummed, mouth full, and when she spoke next, it was, thankfully, to move the conversation along.

————

The next morning, Rikiya sat eating breakfast and skimming through the newspaper, when, all unsuspecting, he turned to a page two story about a hero hospitalized by malfunctioning support gear.  The man’s size-changing armor had failed to activate when he used his size-changing meta-ability, leading to both of his arms being crushed and several broken ribs.  Sympathetic stress spiked a migraine into Rikiya’s temples with the precision of a professional volleyball player and he folded the paper closed, setting it down on the table with slightly trembling hands.

He rubbed at his forehead, breathing through his nose in modulated intervals and reminding himself that the tingling in his limbs was entirely in his mind.  They’ll want to talk about this at work, he thought.  It has obvious ramifications for support goods in general.  Maybe I can put it off for a day—twenty-four hours of respect for a public servant’s misfortune?

No. That’s silly.  It’s an obvious conversation for the company to have.  A teachable moment, even.

A sense of shame bubbled through him as his mind, groping for solidity, landed on the conversation about Kurokou Yui the night before.  How admirable, to be able to turn one’s own terrors into strength. And yet, he went to such lengths to avoid this particular trigger of his: offices and living spaces with spacious open-floor plans and enormous energy-inefficient windows, leaving doors open behind him, bargaining with himself and trying to buy time instead of facing such upsetting incidents face-on.

You have to do better than this.  Your fear could make you stronger if you embraced it instead of these pitiful avoidance tactics.

He sighed, grateful no one was around to hear the helpless tremolo of his voice in the sound.

Then he picked the paper back up, opened the page back up to the story, and read through it, fingers stiff so as not to crumple the thin newsprint.

A teachable moment indeed.

[jedi-mabari]

Greene Acre Chapter 4

Word Count:1852 Warnings:Genre typical violence.  A/N: Wow, 9 months is way to long, but I finally got the 4th chapter done, and boy howdy am I excited about this one. Hope y’all like it! I’m tagging @dreaming-about-the-dead because I know your love for Black  Belle knows no bounds

Summary:After putting Ashley to bed, Black Belle returned to the saloon, and sure enough, trouble rolls in.  _________________________________________________________

“-but by the time I got there, the son of a bitch had up and died of cholera,” Belle explained, getting a sympathetic nod from Franklin. 

“That’s just piss luck,” he said, wiping out the inside of a glass. “At least he isn’t out there tryin’ to kill ya.” Belle laughed and took a drink from the whiskey in her hand. 

“I shoulda killed him back when he first turned,” she said, half a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. Belle sat in contemplative silence as Franklin did his job, but he slowly made his way back to her. 

“You got anyone left in the gang?” Bella laughed and shook her head. 

“Naw. They’re all in the wind. Ain’t seen any of my boys in near on a year now.” Franklin nodded and leaned against the bar. 

“But now you got the kid,” he said, and Belle nodded. 

“Yeah. She’s a good kid. Knows how to handle a gun, good with Ol’ Jake. Seems to have a good head on her shoulders.” Franklin nodded and smiled. He opened his mouth to speak when the swinging door burst open, and a young man with greasy brown hair stepped in, out of breath and looking panicked.

“Franklin,” he said, his eyes finding the burly bartender with ease, “it’s the law. And there’s a lot of ‘em.” Franklin grabbed the shotgun behind the bar and shared a look with Belle.

“Everybody remain calm! They ain’t got a reason to raid Clearwater, so let’s not give ‘em a reason.” Franklin stepped out from behind the bar and Belle grabbed his arm. 

“Do you want me to back you up,” she asked, her other hand hovering over her revolver. Franklin smiled and looked her up and down and shook his head. 

“No offence, Ms. Colter, but you are wanted in seven different states, so, I doubt you bein’ there would actually help me.” Belle smiled and let go of his arm. 

“If you need back up, just call out,” she said, and Franklin nodded. He walked out of the doors, shotgun ready as he prepared to greet the lawmen, and Belle slipped through the crowd, taking up position by the window to keep an eye on her long time friend. 

A large group rode up on horseback. Belle could count twenty, but there were sure to be more throughout the town. The man in front had his rifle laid across his lap, a smirk hidden underneath an overly large mustache. He leaned forward in his saddle, resting his arm on the saddle horn.

“Good evenin’, Mr. Boyd,” the lawman said loud enough that everyone inside the saloon could hear him. 

“Mr. Faulkner,” Franklin said, his voice matching volume with the lawman. “What calls you down to Clearwater this fine night?” 

“We’re lookin’ for a fugitive from the law.” Belle grabbed her revolver and pulled it from its holster. She didn’t know if they were talking about her, but she wouldn’t be going down without a fight.

“Anyone in particular, or are you just fishin’,” Franklin asked, and Mr. Faulkner chuckled.

“I have always admired your sense of humor, Franklin,” he said, removing his hat to run his hand through his thick, grey hair. “We’re looking for a young man, one Christopher Jones. He’s wanted for the murder of a young lady up in Gangridge.” He rifled around in his saddlebag and pulled out a folded scrap of paper. He extended his hand out to Franklin, he cautiously took the paper. He unfolded it and took in the drawing on the page. He shrugged and passed the page back to Mr. Faulkner. 

“I’m sorry, if he’s been through Clearwater, I haven’t seen him.” Mr. Faulkner chuckled and took the paper back, tucking it away again. 

“And of course you’re gonna see everyone that slips through your town.” Franklin glared at the lawman and shrugged. 

“Yes. I am.” Mr. Faulkner sat up again and shook his head. 

“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll have a look around myself.” Franklin cocked his shotgun and shook his head. 

“I do mind,” he said, taking a protective stance on the boardwalk in front of the saloon. “I’m going to have to ask you to take your posse and leave.” Mr. Faulkner shook his head, and Belle saw the corner of his mouth fall, and his expression darkened. 

“Are you threatening me, Mr. Boyd?” Franklin’s only answer was to raise the shotgun. Mr. Faulkner shook his head and grabbed his rifle. “I’m not leaving this town without Mr. Jones.” He glanced behind Franklin, and Belle felt their eyes meet, and his mouth twisted into a wicked smile, though his expression remained dark. “Or someone of greater value.” Franklin followed Mr. Faulkner’s gaze, and spotted Belle in the window. 

A shot rang out, and Belle dropped low to the ground. The window above her shattered, and she moved away from the glass. The saloon was chaos, people running around, flipping tables for cover. Belle snuck behind the bar, careful to keep low so as not to get hit by flying bullets. She grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar and the rag Franklin had been using the clean glasses. She ripped the cloth and shoved a strip into the bottle, tipping it upside down to soak the wick in alcohol. 

“Franklin, get your ass in here,” she shouted just as he stepped backwards through the door. He was staggering, but managed to make his way to the bar, crawling over it to take cover. 

“What do you need,” he asked as Belle shoved the makeshift explosion into his hand. She looked him over, her hands patting down his arms and chest, checking for bullet wounds. As her hand passed over his ribs, he let out a groan. 

“What the hell, Franklin,” she said, pressing her hand down to try and keep the blood inside of him. He chuckled lightly and pushed her hand away, digging into his pocket. 

“Don’t worry, Ms. Colter,” he said, “you well know that I’ve had worse.” Belle gave him a look and he shrugged. “You need to get you and that girl out of here. Faulkner’s a son of a bitch, but eventually he’ll get bored. But not so long as you’re here.” Belle nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna need a-” Before Belle could finish her thought, Franklin pulled a matchbox out of his pocket and pulled out a match. He lit the wick of the molotov cocktail Belle had placed in his hand and stood, hurling it out of the broken window. He knelt back down next to Belle, clutching his ribs where he was bleeding. 

“That’ll buy you enough time to slip out the back. The door lets out into the back alley. You get that girl, and you two get out of here as fast as you can. Hopefully, we’ll be able to keep these assholes distracted long enough for you to slip out of town.” Belle handed him another bottle and nodded. 

“Don’t get yourself killed,” Belle demanded. “Otherwise I won’t have a place to get free whiskey.” They both laughed, and Franklin took Belle’s hand in his, holding it firm. 

“Good luck, Ms. Colter,” he said, releasing her hand. She waited for him to throw the second molotov cocktail before she ran for the backdoor, keeping low to the ground. She checked the back alley before slipping out into the darkness. She waited to see if she could hear anyone in the alley over the gunfire from the street. She slipped down to the hotel, climbing the back steps to the top floor. She ran down the hall, bursting into the room where she had left Ashley to sleep off the whiskey. 

Belle stopped when she saw the empty bed and Ashley’s shoes on the floor. She looked around the room quickly, letting out a frustrated noise when she couldn’t find Ashley. Belle quickly grabbed the bags and Ashley’s shoes. She hoped the girl had enough sense in her head to go to the stables and avoid the mess in the street, but the uneasy feeling in her gut had her on edge. Belle ran back down the backstairs and hurried down the back alley. She stopped when a man stepped around the corner, his revolver drawn and aiming at Belle. 

She caught the glint off the badge on his chest from the lamp that hung off the wall of the last building of the row. She saw him smirk and, without thinking, she threw Ashley’s shoe at him, knocking him in the head. The deputy staggered back and Belle threw Ashley’s other shoe at him just as he steadied himself. With her hand free, she pulled her revolver out and shot at him. She watched him drop and ran for the stables.

The stable’s lights were on, and Belle took that as a good sign. She looked over her shoulder, and luckily, the fight was still going on, giving her the cover she would need to slip away unnoticed. As she slipped into the stables, she ducked just as a rake swung towards her head. She turned and caught the rake, ripping it out of the assailants hands, pulling it back to attack in turn. 

She stopped when the stable boy raised his hands to defend himself, but he didn’t cower or try to run. It wasn’t until Belle realized he didn’t actually pose a threat that she realized her was standing protectively in front of Ashley. Belle dropped the rake and walked over to Ol’ Jake. 

“Saddle up, Miss Gallagher,” Belle ordered, and Ashley poked her head over the young man’s shoulder. 

“What’s going on out there, Ms. Belle,” she asked, and Belle laughed as she threw their bags over the horse, tying them down. 

“I owe you $100, kid,” Belle said, stepping into her saddle. Ashley looked between Belle and the young man, but it only took her a moment to get to Chinook. She climbed on, and waved for the young man to follow. Belle held her hand up to him as he stepped towards them. 

“I’m sorry, but we have enough liabilities,” she said, and the young man swallowed hard. 

“I can pull my weight,” he promised. “I’m excellent with horses and can hold my own in a fight. I promise I won’t be a burden ma’am.” Belle looked out of the stable doors, taking a deep breath and thinking it over. Belle turned to the young man and nodded once. 

“Well come on, I don’t got all night,” she said, and the young man grabbed a small sack and quickly jumped onto Ashley’s horse. Belle and Ol’ Jake stepped out of the barn first, careful to make sure it was safe for them to leave. Chinook carefully followed Ol’ Jake and the three of them set off into the night, the glow from the fires behind them lighting the sky. The three of them headed south, with Belle throwing glances behind them to make sure they weren’t being followed.

[quirkykayleetam]

Self-Harm

This is an entry in the Broken Pieces Universe.  The piece before it is Empty Shell.  Let me know if you need the Master List.  TW for (as the title implies) in-depth description of self-harm and memories of past torture.  Please read with caution.

Jay stared at the pale face in the mirror.  It was gaunt with hooded eyes.  Freckles stood out like brands under too-long bangs.  If Jay crossed their eyes, imagined fuller cheeks and a proper haircut, maybe, just maybe they could start to see themselves appear again.  They wished they could escape the haunted look in those hooded eyes.

Sinking to the cold tile of the bathroom floor, Jay tugged at one of their charcoal gray sweater sleeves.  They barely succeeded in repressing the bile that rose in their throat.  There, just under their wrist was a thick, raised line of scar tissue topped by a lingering red circle.  Jay didn’t need to close their eyes to remember the grip of the zip ties cutting into their skin, the sharp jab and pull of the knife as the Faceless Men cut Jay out of their bonds to torture them again and again.

There were marks on their back too, deep red welts and tearing lines from the whip, scarred rips of flesh from knives plunged into their rib cage and twisted until Jay screamed.  Jay felt the wounds over and over again in their dreams every night.  But at least they didn’t have to see them.

Their wrists were a constant reminder that they were broken, marked.  The Faceless Men had taken them, unmade them, and returned a completely different body in Jay’s place, a body that would never completely heal.

Jay was sick, sick of seeing those marks each time they rolled up their sleeves to eat a real meal, or brush their teeth, or shake Daniel’s hand.

After months of darkness and helplessness, Jay wanted to do something.  They wanted to prove this wasn’t just a body; Jay lived here.  The Faceless Men could not have them inside and out.

The safety scissors felt heavy in Jay’s hand.  They barely remembered finding them, stripping them of plastic so the metal beneath shone.

Only one thought echoed in their head:  “Mine.  This is mine.  I am mine.”

Four.  They wanted four parallel lines.  Neat.  Purposeful.  Theirs.  Jay imagined cutting through their scars like they were cutting through the zip ties that made them.  Four slices, that would it.  Maybe then they would be free.

The first scrape of metal against Jay’s skin made them gasp.  They had to remember that this was them, their choice.  Blood welled up against the metal.  Jay pressed harder.  They had to get it deep enough to scar.

By the second line, Jay’s hand was shaking wildly.  It was all they could do to keep their line approximately where they wanted it.

By the third, tears filled Jay’s eyes.  They couldn’t see.  There was only shiny metal, white tile, and blood, so much blood.

Jay’s head hit the wall behind them with a thud.  Everything was moving in slow motion, through a haze.  There could hear someone calling their name, banging on the bathroom door, but Jay couldn’t move to meet them.  They couldn’t do anything.  God, they could barely breathe.

The next thing Jay knew, Beth was holding them.  She’d done something to their arm to stop the bleeding, but more importantly, she had Jay in her arms.  Jay could feel her tears falling on the back of his sweater even as Jay sobbed into her.  She rubbed their back just like she did when they woke up from nightmares thinking they were back in that cell.

When the world stopped spinning, Beth’s brown eyes met Jay’s ice blue.

“You listen to me, Jay-bird.  I love you.  And I’m here for you.  Nothing is going to change that, not anything anyone could ever do to you and not anything you could ever do to yourself.  I want you scarred and bleeding.  I want you patched up with band aids on your arm.  I want you when you feel whole again, no matter how long that takes.  I love all the pieces of you, Jay, no matter what they’re like.”

“Why?” Jay heard themselves say.

“Because there’s an unfinished crossword downstairs and I don’t know the answer to 4 Down.  Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Beth didn’t talk as she bandaged Jay’s arm.  Her movements were quick and efficient like she didn’t want to think too hard about what was going on.  When she finished, Jay’s eyes darted to the blood staining the floor.

“I’ll get to that later,” Beth said. “But you and I need to have a talk.”

Beth waited until Jay met here eyes again.  This time Beth’s gaze was hard.

“You scared me, Jay-bird.  Promise me you will not do that again.”

Jay nodded.

“New rules.”  She picked up the safety scissors.  “I don’t know how you got this, but I’m not letting you near anything sharp again.  That means if you want to shave, I’ll be in the room watching and you won’t have the razor before then, understand?  We are not, and I mean not, having a repeat of...this.”

“Rule two: No closed doors.  Ever.  I want to see a two-inch crack in any room your in at all times.  That means no locking me or anyone else out.  Sorry about your privacy.  Maybe you can earn it back, but not now.  Now it’s more important that you’re safe.”

Again, Jay nodded, their eyes falling to the floor.  Beth rubbed wearily at her eyes.

“I need a drink.  And you…”

Her voice fell miserably, helplessly.  Jay remembered that feeling and the creeping belly ache of fear that came with it.

“I need to help you with 4 Down,” they said quietly.

“Okay,” Beth said, lifting Jay gently from the bathroom floor.  “We’ll start there.  And we’ll do it together.”

Filling the Self-Harm square with Original Characters for @badthingshappenbingo​.  I’m so close to 5 in a row!

Tagging the Broken Pieces Crew: (If you want to be added or taken off this list, just let me know!):  @stoic-whumpee​​​​​, @whatwasmyprevioususername​​​​​, @whumpty-dumpty-fell-off-the-wall​​​​​, @straight-to-the-pain​​​​​, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​​​​, @0idril0​​​​​, @fallingstormphoenix​​​​​, @whump-fantasies​​​​​, @imagination1reality0​​​​​, @whumpback-wail​​​​, @whump-tr0pes​​​​, @untilthepainstarts​​​​, @captivity-whump​​​, @burtlederp​​​, @redwingedwhump​​​, @whumpiary​​​, @captivity-whump​​​, @blue-flare10​

I hope this answers my anonymous friend’s question about Jay’s scars.

[avengerscompound]

The Usual Spy Stuff - Chapter 5

The Usual Spy Stuff - A Captain America Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count:  1585

Warnings:  Fluff, twist on tropes, the smut is here.

Synopsis:   You and Steve have to pretend to be in a relationship while on a mission. You know what that means right?

Chapter 5

You woke up pressed into his chest.  He was warm and the sound of his heart beating a slow steady rhythm was comforting to you.

It was also new.  You had woken up beside him 4 days in a row but normally there was space between you.  He had his side, you had yours.  Normally when you woke you just got up and got ready.  You didn’t consider if it might be okay to kiss him although it wouldn’t have been the first time you had considered what it might be like.

This was the first time you had woken up with Steve where he was the potential to be more than just your Captain.  Where you might get the chance to be more than just his subordinate.

You took a moment to take him in, in the soft morning light as it filtered through the curtains.  The way his eyelashes fanned out over his cheek.  His clear skin, free from lines and blemishes.  His plump pink lips.  So very kissable.  You wanted to kiss them again.  You wanted to feel his bottom lip between yours.  Have them on your neck.  Your collarbone.  Your breasts.

Instead, you reached up and touched his cheek.

His eyes fluttered open and he smiled at you.  “Morning,”  He said.  God, his voice sounded so good when he first woke up.  Deep and gravelly.  The kind of voice that made your knees slightly weak.

“Morning.”  You replied.

“This isn’t happening until later is it?”  He said.

You shook your head.  “No.  We got time.  We’ll need to brief the others.  Make sure they’re all where they need to be.”

“Good.  That’s good.”  He said leaning in a little.

“Why what did you want to do?  Sleep in a little?”  You teased.

He chuckled.  “Mmm… no.  Maybe order some room service.  I could go for some black coffee and a big breakfast.”

You laughed.  “Well, do what you gotta do.”

His blue eyes twinkled and he leaned in closer to you.  You bridged the difference and kissed.  It was that slow, lazy morning kiss where your lips gently caress the other’s.  No tongue, just lips.

He pulled back and rest your forehead against his.  “Thought we weren’t going to do that yet.”

He hummed.  It was a deep contented rumble in his chest.  “I’m always making excuses for why not to follow my heart like that.  Thought I’d take a chance and just follow it.”

You kissed him again.  This time it was brief, barely a brush of your lips over his.  “The morning breath that much of a turn on, huh?”

He laughed.  “Yeah, that was it alright.”

You sighed contentedly and burrowed in under his neck.  “We’re nearly done.  Just need to get the bust.  Then, we can explore this properly.”

“Mmm, you’re right.”   He agreed and pressed his lips to the top of your head.  “Still hate the idea of that guy’s greasy mitts on you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them above the clothes.”  You joked pulling back.  “Room service does sound good though.  Think we can get that, one last, on the boss meal?”

Steve chuckled and sat up grabbing the menu and passing it to you.  “Sure.  Sounds like a plan.  But no mimosas.  We have work.”

You scanned through the menu and made your order before going and jumping in the shower.  When you came out you didn’t even think twice about dressing in front of Steve.  He blushed as soon as he saw you in the towel and disappeared into the bathroom.

By the time Steve was out of the bathroom, the food had arrived and you were sitting on the bed sipping your coffee.

“Is that what you’re wearing?”  He asked gesturing to the dress you had on.

You raised your eyebrow at him over your mug.  “Rude.”

“No.  I didn’t - that wasn’t - I just meant…”

“It’s okay.”  You laughed.  “I need to be in something sexy.  I’m supposed to be going there to have sex with him.”

“You also have to have somewhere to conceal a weapon and a wire.”

“Awww, Stevie, worried about me?”  You teased.

“Yes,”  He said, his tone deadly serious.  “Is that bad?  Should I not be worried about one of my agents?”

“You don’t need to be.  I have fought in dresses plenty of times.  My bracelets both have retractable blades and my boots have a holster build in.  The ribbing on the corset of my dress doubles as body armor and actually has canals to run wires along so they can’t be detected if he pats me down.  Or feels me up I guess.”

“Oh,”  Steve said, taking a seat beside you and pulled his plate over to himself.  “I guess you have thought of everything haven’t you?”

“It’s not my first rodeo, Cap,”  You said taking a large mouthful of toast.

He reached over and his hand slid up your side, tracing over the boning of your bodice.  You looked down, watching his large fingers caress the fabric of your dress, then back up into the blue of his eyes.  “What are you doing?”

“Just wanted to feel it,” Steve said.

“Oh, did you now?”

Your teasing words seemed to spark something in him.  He carefully moved your plates aside and then pulled you roughly into his arms, kissing you hard.  You wrapped your arms around him and moaned gently against his lips.  Not quite sure where this was going but liking it nonetheless.

He pulled back and looked at you.   “You’ll be careful.”

“Of course.  I always am.”

“I just - this… I don’t want it to end before it’s even begun.”

You smiled and kissed him gently.  “Trust me… I know what I’m doing.”

One Year Later…

“Oh my god!   The same room and everything.”  You almost fell through the door laughing and spun around wrapping your arms around Steve’s neck.  “You old romantic you.”

“It seemed apt,”  Steve said, pulling you tight against him and teasing his lips down the side of your neck.  “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

It had been a full year.   The mission had gone exactly as intended.  Arrests were made.  People were convicted and sent to prison.  You and Steve had gone home and started juggling working together and dating.  It hadn’t been nearly as bad as you’d thought.  People had teased you a lot.  Not nearly as much as they had teased Steve though.  Tony and Sam, in particular, seemed to get a special thrill about seeing if they could make him blush.   Often their taunts revolving around him giving you orders.

When it had become non-newsworthy you and Steve had just settled into it.  The Avengers had always been more like family anyway, so your part as both agent and Steve’s girlfriend fit fine.  Other people had dated and broken up and moved on.  It seemed slightly inevitable when you did the job you did.

Now it was your one year anniversary and he’d brought you back to the very place your relationship had started.  The room with only one bed.

Steve kissed your throat and ran his hands up your sides.  A soft hum escaped your lips as your skin prickled under his touch.  “Steve,”  You hummed.  “There’s only one bed.”

“Oh no, what will happen?”  He teased, picking you up and tossing you on the bed.

You laughed loudly and started stripping off your clothes.  He tore his off, tossing them to the side before almost launching himself into your waiting arms.

You wrapped yourself around him, kissing him hungrily.  All you wanted to do right now was the one thing you wouldn't let yourself do one year ago.  It was time.  The bed would win.

He rutted against you, his erection growing as your wetness grew.  Hands roamed everywhere.  Massaging, squeezing, stroking.

By the time he lined himself up at your entrance you needed him more than you had ever had.  All you wanted was to feel him penetrating you.

“Please, Steve.  Fuck me.”

He smirked down at you and thrust deep into your cunt.

The two of you moved together, as he thrust, you rolled your hips and clenched your walls.  Your nails dragged down his back and he pulled your hair and sucked on your throat hard enough to mark.

When you kissed it was hungry and passionate.  Your tongues swirling together as you nipped at each other’s lips.  Your whole body buzzed like an electric current was running through it.  When Steve’s fingers came to your clit, that was it.  You lost all control and came hard, crying out and bucking up under him.

He kept moving and all you could do was hold on.  His fingers worked your clit in a series of random patterns, both small and large and impossible to predict, as his thick cock penetrated and stretched you.  Your first orgasm passed making way for the second and then the third.  When the fourth hit, it dragged him over too and his hips snapped forward as he emptied deep inside your pussy.

He rolled off you and pulled you into his arms.  “The bed won.  I knew it would.  They always do.”

“You are so weird, you know that?”  Steve said with a laugh.

“Mmm… I know.”

“Okay, weirdo,”  He teased and kissed your cheek.  “Clean up and room service?”

“Sounds perfect.”  You hummed and stretched out in the bed.  The tropes had won in the end and you weren’t in the least bit upset about it.

[jacklynnfrost]

The Eighth Avenue Express (Part 4)

Fanfic by Jacklynnfrost for Smutember2019. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

She took off her leggings before slowly, carefully walking to the subway station so her tiny little dress doesn’t ride up and show off her round behind. If she raises her arms even an inch, the undercurve of her ass will peek out to say hello. She wore red underwear for the occasion but sadly she forgot her new favorite coat on the hook in her apartment this morning. Elizabeth has a note in her purse with her phone number and full name. ‘It’s so explosive between us as soon as we’re together everything else falls to the wayside until we are out of time.’ She thinks with a knowing, eager smirk.

There is a repeat, her body instinctively slickens as the railcar comes to a noisy stop, echoing in the underground terminal. People mill about, filing in and out and she enters the section of their subway on the Eighth Avenue Express. There are free seats but she knows where she wants to go and as she stands beside the bar, her grip on it low to accommodate her indecent dress, her eyes search the people.

A thrill shoots down her spine as she feels as if she is being watched. Her awareness heightens at the thought of him hunting her or wanting to surprise her. She wants to be his prey and she warmly remembers Meliodas' hoodie. A man is sitting a row up and she bends only slightly to not show her rear but the face under the hood is not her strangers. The subways begins to move and she rights herself with furrowed brows, moving in a slow rotation around the pole to try and find him.

It takes a few moments and thousands of her rapid heartbeats before her stomach drops. The last image of him she has is his resigned goodbye last time. He told her his name and Elizabeth fears that she ruined this somehow. She bites her lip, crossing her legs as she dislikes so much of her skin showing now that she knows he isn’t here to look and touch.

No more than five minutes pass before a hand grips the pole over hers and she spins, hopeful alarm spreads across her face. The touch is different though, the palm isn’t as rough, the grip over her own is trapping rather than embracing. “Hey.” The man’s voice is sprinkled with cockiness. He’s taller, dark brown hair and assessing eyes that matched. He smirks, very unlike Meliodas and Elizabeth tugs, having to tug a second time even harder to free herself of the place she had wanted to be so desperately moments before.

“Do I know you?” She asks, trying for politeness but her voice is high in fear and she winces at herself, eyeing a seat beside an older woman knitting out of a canvas sack bag. “Your boyfriend did not show up today.” The man’s eyebrows waggle suggestively and she’s instantly mortified. “I’d gladly stand in, you naughty voyeur.” He reaches for her dress hem, fingers stretching and Elizabeth slaps it away, glaring before she spins on her heels and takes a seat next to an older woman.

Vaguely she looks over to Elizabeth. “Wearing that, you’re basically asking for it.” The old crone coos condescendingly. 

“No, no one is entitled to my body and especially not for the fabric I chose to cover it in.” Elizabeth hisses her retort as she crosses her arms, absolutely livid and severely disappointed as this is not how she thought this day would go.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

 There are two more coffee runs left before her internship ends and Elizabeth remembers her coat this time, thinking of the dark-haired man that had obviously been watching them. She shivers, nervous about returning to the subway, but wanting another chance to give Meliodas her information.

This time, when the screeching comes her stomach drops and flops, her heart sputtering with soft hope and her eyes burn as they fill. She swallows thickly, enters the subway when it stops and nervously taps her way to the center pole. She doesn’t feel him, not even eyes on her and she leaks one, and then another tear, as she realizes he isn’t coming anymore. ‘Maybe being strangers was his kink and after I knew his name... I missed my chance with him.’

Elizabeth though, she has other things in her life and she focuses on her internship and studying for her finals. She interviews for a position and does well, in her opinion. Her life goes on but each night she thinks of her beautiful stranger, Meliodas, and wonders what might have been if she had used her words better or acted sooner.

Diane comes back from her coffee run, two tiers of cups still in her hands as she rushes to her desk. “We’re going for ice cream tonight!” She gushes. “I suggested going for coffee but, you know, since he works at the shop.” Diane devolves into giggles before beaming at Elizabeth while turning to pass out the office’s orders. Tomorrow is their last day, Elizabeth's final coffee run. There is a small little nugget of jealousy but the dominant feeling is happiness that her friend Diane got a happy ending.

The rest of her day and night goes by in a blur.

She dresses with him in mind, a skirt with a lower cut blouse but skips the coat, trying to tell herself she isn’t thinking about him. That her decisions, no matter how small, are not with him in mind. The time trickles by. The seconds like minutes and minutes like hours until it’s time for the coffee run. Elizabeth tells herself it’s the last one, that from here on out the chances of her being free to take their train, to that part of the city, at this particular time, is very slim.

Elizabeth sighs as she heads out, her heaviness not leaving as she steps down into the cool underground. She sees all the other people waiting for the subway, already pulled up and waiting and vaguely peers around. On autopilot she follows the crowd, one of the last to enter and with no hurry at all, she pushes and wiggles her way to the center pole.

The subway rocks into motion before she reaches her support bar and everyone shifts, her included. She catches her footing, solemnly looking to the pole. A hand is there and she zeros in on it. Her heart soars, her face alight in pure optimism. She nears, dipping around a stray elbow but the man isn’t Meliodas and she watches him release the pole to face the seats, switching hands for a better grip as Elizabeth’s shoulders drop. In the center of the subway car she wraps her fingers around the metal, her last hopes dashed.

Not a moment later a warm body presses to her back. She flinches, jabbing an elbow back quickly which makes solid contact with hard ribs but the soft, “Ow, fuck,” that follows her jab stops her heart and movements. She starts to turn but he presses them closer, the pole hitting her chest and she looks down and slightly back to see his dark hoodie ends dangling around her hips. “You can’t look at me.” Meliodas starts, “I mean, for my plans, if it’s okay.” His voice dips low and she can’t pin the tone but eagerly she nods, stopping herself from peeking at his face for a better clue.

She has so many questions and before she loses her senses she reaches into her bag, digging around to find her name and number pre-written down. Her fingers grip around the slip of paper but his hand gliding over her waist draws her attention. His knuckles slide over the silk of her blouse and what he has between his fingers gives her a start.

“Oh.” She breathes, looking at the square foil with wide eyes. Absently she pulls the paper from her bag as she answers his unasked question. “Yes.” She whispers, “Please.” Her eyes pinch as he leans forward, going to his tiptoes to kiss her at the back of her neck, just under her ear, in appreciation. She bends away from the caress to give him more access and he exhales hotly as she listens to the tear of the foil and feels his hand and cock pressed to her rear as he rolls it over himself.

The thought and shock of what they are about to do turns to liquid warmth as it pools in her lower tummy. She shifts her thighs in impatience and curses herself for wearing panties. He lifts the back of her skirt and feels his scoff on her nape. “Do you trust me?” He whispers and although she pauses for a moment, she tilts her head back enough to feel her cheek against the side of his face. Her nod is subtle and gentle. “Good, because I need your panties out of our way and I don’t want to scare you.” He replies and she can hear his smirk, can picture it in her mind.

All thoughts vanish as cold steel touches her rear and she clams up, knowing it’s a knife at her backside. She doesn’t have time to assess where she went wrong as it slides against her, looping into her panties before he twists it. The blade slices through her underwear and it, along with his knife, is pulled away. “Oh.” She breathes, her body now pulsing and adrenaline pools her cream along her slit as she thinks, ‘He just cut my panties off.’

It’s hot and aggressive and Elizabeth finds it thrilling that he cannot resist. She feels him adjust, snuggle up to her ass with his hoodie slipping wide, and he lines his hard dick to her bare entrance. She pushes her booty back, assisting and nonverbally giving him permission. In one solid thrust, he enters her. He’s thick, and although his length isn’t anything to sneeze at, it’s his girth that impresses.

Elizabeth arches back, her neck stretching until it rests on his shoulder behind her. In their position, clothed and hiding from the other passengers, he moves gently, rocking with the motion of the subway. His dick surges, her core gripping at him as she rotates her hips as best she can. His arms fold around her, embracing her in a protective bear hug. His lips trail up her neck as he nuzzles her, rocking into her subtly, but enough to drive her into mewling softly. She’s fuller than ever, his hardness slipping between her thighs and his rhythm has her quaking internally.

Her gasps are breathy, hot exhales and he soaks them in, his hands shaking as they roam up her belly over her shirt. Meliodas cups her breast, fondling her in the hopes that everyone is too busy to watch. She grinds back against him and his solid stance resists, pushing himself further inside her.

Meliodas groans, his teeth graze along her shoulder as his lips part in a mock bite and he rocks a bit harsher. He’s unable to resist her welcoming warmth, the embrace of her gripping pussy walls has him losing his mind. It’s taking all his concentration to keep his movements subtle as his instinct is to claim her, to mark her with sucking kisses, to ram into her until he’s the only thing on her mind. He doesn’t know she’s already taken with him, and as her soft breathing shallows and her pussy walls grip, he feels her closing in on her orgasm. His thighs tense, his balls tighten as feeling her around him is the best place he’s ever been. He is only able to hold off spilling right then with the thought that he’s never seeing her again- that he wants their only time together to be memorable to her in the best of ways. ‘She’s leaving me where she found me.’

Her lips separate, her face angles to the fluorescent lights on the ceiling and she can’t breathe as a cascade of electric pulses spread up from the spot his dick hits, just right, inside. She comes apart and at this moment he is all she can think about. The paper in her fingers slips from her slackening grip, unnoticed. She unravels, and feeling her squeezing around him, milking him, it coaxes his pleasure, demands it. His legs flex taut from calf to glute and he cums in seemingly endless spurts as he groans against her neck.

The subway car slows, people around them start to gather up their bags and shuffle around. She’s panting, regaining her bearings and Meliodas, still semi-hard, slips from her with a wide shift of his hips to tuck himself back into his slacks. He rights her skirt, sweetly attempting to unwrinkle her clothes as best he can, his hand pets over her rear when her beautiful face, flushed and satisfied, looks to him.

His eyes roam over her features but he can’t meet her eyes. The subway squeaks to a stop as her hands weave into his locks and her plump lips brush his, bittersweet, as he thinks it’s a goodbye kiss. In his mind, her kisses are just like her, perfectly soft but so fleeting as both of them leave him forever changed. She inhales him, finally at ease with him at her side once more and she smiles against his lips glad to be reunited.

She has so many questions, where he’s been these last few trips and wanting to know almost every bit of information a person should have about another before dating. They skipped quite a few steps but this works for her. Meliodas pulls away first, taking her hand and guiding her to follow the other passengers now exiting the subway. She’s still in a bit of a haze from the surprise sex and she doesn’t question it as he moves onto the platform with her, walking across the yellow caution line of the subway station floor.

“I wish we hadn’t met,” Meliodas tells her. He releases her hand as she flinches, her palm raising to cover her mouth as it slackens. “Nothing will taste as sweet, be as soft or make me feel so much, now that you’ve slipped through my fingers.” She’s lost, a vast sea opens inside her and she bobs in the center trying to make sense of how she got here and why it seems like this is a final goodbye.

Confused, she looks to her hand for the paper with her phone number and she fumbles with her bag as she hoped it is inside. But, in the moment it takes her to look away, Meliodas returns to the subway car. The doors shut as she speaks, “I don’t want this to be over-”, she starts but he’s not where she left him. Her eyes instinctively know where to look and he has no reaction as the subway starts it crawl-like pace, away.

“No.” Elizabeth starts, a bubble of panic bursting as she steps over the line, toward him. His eyes widen, fearful she’ll come closer to the moving metro, that perhaps she is still recovering from their torrid tryst. “My phone number!” She yells and his gaze grows impossibly wider, mishearing her from the motions and people around him. The rail car picks up its pace, moving along and she doesn’t stop, another step closer as she reaches forward as if to force them back together.

A man neither of them knows grabs her upper arm and hauls her back, a firm expression on his face as he does not release her until the subway has vanished down the tracks. Meliodas' words are more true to her, understood in a way that twists her heart, now that he’s slipped from her fingers as well. She wrenches her arm from the man, who holds his hands up as if she had a gun and walks away with a scowl. Elizabeth is left, lost and alone on the platform, feeling as if her heart has dropped a hundred feet and that there is no way to get it back.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Her last final exam is complete, she’s officially between jobs and it’s been a week and a half since Meliodas gently took her on their train. She looks to her phone for the time and if she’s planned it right, from this part of town she can hit their Metro car just right, although she’ll have to ride for a while. It’s worth it to her as she makes her way.

Today, she wore overalls, ones that are hard to get out of so will be extra difficult to get into. Elizabeth wants her wits about her and his skin to hers scatter her thoughts. She still isn’t sure what happened to the paper with her phone number and that bothers her, deeply, as she feels it is her fault their goodbye seemed so final.

She catches the subway. Two stops from where she normally gets on. Lately, in her limited spare time from her internship and finishing college, she’s been googling and searching for Meliodas. ‘How is it so hard to find someone with such a unique name? I must be spelling it incorrectly.’

Elizabeth keeps her eye out, each boarding passenger gets a disappointed frown and each hooded man about his size gets a double-take. While she waits she scrolls through public people on social media and when the names go too far off, she guesses another spelling. ‘Unless that isn’t his real name?’ She fears internally as that question buzzes at her insecurities like flies on rotting fruit. Elizabeth is obsessing, she knows it, but she needs closure. His final expression paired with his parting words gives her the conclusion that he thought she was ending it. She knows it falls to her to find him, that he probably isn’t even looking or trying to see her again.

Her usually boarding station comes and she rides for even longer, past her usual stop to then get off at the next one. She knows so very little about Meliodas, but she remembers him mentioning going to work so early just to see her on the train. An idea sparks and she hits businesses on her smartphone, the first thing that pops up is a Bar, the owner is named Meliodas. She selects maps and with walking directions its two blocks from the subway. Her heart jumps as it lines up, he would take this subway to work!

With eager steps, she follows her phone’s GPS. It isn’t until she is on the street she needs that it dawns on her it’s not open. She’s so close that she decides to follow the sidewalk until a wooden side hanging over the cement comes into view that reads, “Boar’s Hat.” It’s in old fashioned letters, a pig shape under the words. The front windows are clean, the wooden plank siding is dark, faded and in front is a nice porch. There is a smaller one above, but the floor upstairs has a ladder with buckets. It’s a clear sign that work is being done.

There is no closed sign but the lights are off. It doesn’t stop her though as she is curious and invested in this outcome. She climbs the steps up the porch to knock. With her first tap, the wood shifts in the frame and with a harder push the door swings wide before she yells inside, “Hello?” The bar is backlit, rows of amber liquid are showcased with the light, stools under the bartop. Elizabeth doesn’t enter, feeling as if it is wrong with the place obviously being empty.

She turns just as a man’s voice calls out. “We open in two hours!” She stops to look as the side door beside the bar opens, light spills into the room from what she sees is a kitchen and a tall man with spiking white hair wearing a rather dirty apron with the pig logo on it, assesses her. “You lost?” He asks, his eyebrow quirking as he picks up the end of his apron to wipe his hands on it.

“I was... looking for someone, maybe you know him?” Elizabeth’s voice is tentative as she is unsure if she is in the right place so she does feel lost. The man’s head tilts to the side, it’s his only indication he heard and is waiting. “Meliodas?” She asks, standing up and stepping in, her hands fold together before her in a nervous habit as her thumbs move over one another.

“Yeah, he’s the bartender.” His eyes narrow. Elizabeth nods at his words, her heart racing and eyes widening alongside her smile as she hopes she’s found him. She thanks the tall man, before releasing her hands to reach for the door handle intent to pull it closed, but stops to make sure this Meliodas is her stranger. “Messy blonde hair and green eyes?” Elizabeth bites her lip as she didn’t think adding, ‘smells like heaven and sex’ would help this man confirm any identities.

The man stares, it feels like minutes before his head tips back and he laughs, touching his belly as if to hold it in place. “Come in.” He turns, flipping some switches that light up the rest of the open area showing off wooden tables, a dartboard in the far corner and two pool tables. He moves to behind the bar, picking up a towel to loop over his shoulder. She doesn’t follow, peering around wearily before he calls out, “Is this who you are looking for?”

He’s holding up his phone, from across the room she can only make out broad details but the picture is enough to draw her in. She lets the door glide shut as she bellies up to the bar, her eyes filling as she sees Meliodas' face smiling at her with a shot glass to his lips in the image on this guy's phone. “Yeah.” She hushes, her throat thick. He taps at his phone before pausing, inquiring softly, “Just to be sure, how did you meet?”

Instantly, her face softens. “On the Eighth Avenue Express.” She answers and her new friend grins, tapping his phone with finality before putting the device to his ear. Vaguely he motions behind him, “You want something while you wait?” Elizabeth peers over his shoulder but it’s all hard liquor and she isn’t fond of it. Still, she reaches for her wallet, asking softly, “A Washington Apple, please.” The man chuckles again, refusing her outstretched ten-dollar bill and telling her, “I’m Ban.” She is about to give her own name but Ban looks away, a lower buzz coming from his receiver and she sits taller as he makes her the drink with a heavy shot of Crown Apple.

“Well fuck you too, Captain.” Ban quips into his receiver. “Just thought you’d like to know a woman is here for ya.” Ice clinks, he eyes her over before chuckling. “Is your name Elizabeth?” He leans his head in toward her and she nods. Ban cups his hand over the receiver as if to block Meliodas from hearing. “He asked me if you have ‘to die for tits’, but it’s a question I can’t really answer. Ya’know?” Her face burns as he pushes her the glass cup with her drink and his phone speaker reaches its limit as Meliodas yells but she cannot make out what he says.

Ban laughs, his tongue poking out playfully and Elizabeth looks down at her cup, wrapping her shaking hand around it. “Her cheeks flush all pretty-pretty pink, I think I embarrassed her.” Ban says before laughing again, “It’s not like I can force her to stay, so again, it’s something I can’t really guarantee.” He confusedly looks at his phone but Meliodas' name flashes before going dark. It’s obvious he hung up as Ban tucks it in his pants with a shrug.

“How’s the drink?” He asks, trying to be polite but she hasn’t taken a sip yet and she feels cornered into trying it now. It’s good and she nods, the alcohol not helping the warmth of her face calm but the nerves in her belly ease. For a while, he makes small talk and Elizabeth relaxes as he explained that Meliodas is on the way. It’s not ten minutes later that they hear tires squeal out front. “Must be him.” Ban announces, picking up his towel, tapping his knuckles on the top of the bar before walking to the kitchen door, “It was nice meeting you, Elizabeth.” He says before disappearing through the doorway.

She’s alone for all of thirty seconds before she stands, anxiously on her own. No one comes in and she steps toward the front door, bending to peer out the window where they heard the tires squeal. Elizabeth sees a few people milling around, cars on the road and she spins in a circle while wringing her hands, unsure what to do. A door slams, Ban’s voice sounds in the kitchen and she angles that way as the kitchen door opens once more and there is her stranger, standing wide and panting with clothes in disarray.

The two look the other over, eyes lingering and they both smile to the other in the same moment as they step in tandem, closer. Behind Meliodas, the door swings shut and Ban’s laugh echoes as they meet in the middle. “Hi.” She whispers and he smirks around his reply of, “Yo.” And the same desperate feelings spark, only amped up from being apart for seemingly so long. The gap between them disappears as they urgently come together and hands grip, tugging at clothes to pull the other closer. Their lips crash together, no time spared before their tongues dance, intertwining with hot breaths and throaty groans.

Her body reacts being so near Meliodas and tasting him has set her into overdrive. She slickens, her hands shaking and his are rough as they tug her shirt up. Elizabeth understands his desire, her own fingers searching over his chest to find the buttons preventing him from being revealed to her. The thought of finally seeing him, truly, it sets her movements into top speed where her roughness surprises him, but is an utter delight.

He’s hard, her creamy soft skin driving him wild and as they break to breath his face slips down her jaw to her neck. “I’ve wanted to see you, to feel you like this- without the limitations, for so long.” His voice groans against her neck as she undoes his shirt, flipping it back and down his shoulders. He growls, reluctant to pull away but disdainfully doing so to rip his arms through the sleeves, baring his contoured chest to her while abandoning his shirt on the floor of the bar.

She takes him in, looking from his strong biceps, across his hard pecs and then over his abs. All of this has been hiding from her and she reaches, eager to finally get her hands on him. “You next.” His smirk makes his eyes crinkle, wasting no time to lift her shirt to reveal her black lace bra.

Elizabeth slips her purse down to her elbow as she angles to pull her top off but the door to the kitchen shakes and Meliodas takes her wrist, spinning her toward the back where the pool tables sit. Ban’s head pokes out, leaning into the bar and he laughs, catching a flash of her bra covered tits before they can move away quick enough to escape. “They are nice,” Ban mutters as the two disappear into Meliodas' back office. Elizabeth giggles softly as Meliodas ushers her in with a grin and Ban is glad to see his friends smiling again.

Meliodas' office barely has room for the desk and two people inside makes it feel even smaller. On the desk is papers, a laptop cord and a bundled up brown accordion file on the wood top. The walls are newly painted, the shelves behind his chair are arranged with various items and Elizabeth spots a swatch of white fabric with a little bow in the center. As soon as Meliodas shuts the door behind him he fumbles for her shirt once more cooing, “This is the first time we’ve been alone together." She tosses her purse to his spinning office chair, helping by undressing as quickly as she can, nodding with his assessment.

Elizabeth kicks off her pants and tosses down her shirt with her hair cascading down around her shoulders falling from the fabric. In a blink, she’s only in her panties and bra. She dives into him, it’s more forceful than she intends. Meliodas loses his step and his back slams into the door behind him as her hot mouth searches his. Her almost bare chest presses to his and there is a jolt of adrenaline from the contact of their belly’s meeting, hips seeking and pressing. Flesh to flesh in such a way, after restrained for so long, is consuming them.

“Tell me you have a condom.” Elizabeth hushes against the side of his lips as she forces the front of Meliodas' jeans to open. Her hands push and his join her struggle before he’s bobbing free, hard as ever and she steps back to look. Meliodas groans, leaving his pants behind as he refuses to allow any gap between them.

His hard cock rubs against her thigh and he grinds in, breath faltering as it feels like he’ll break apart if he isn’t buried in her. “Yeah.” He takes her hips, guiding her to move with him while pressing every available bit of himself to her. His hand slaps at his desk drawer from the short side, fumbling as she lines up to rub her lacey core to slip over him, gliding along his shaft with shuddering pressure. Meliodas inhales her, forgetting what he is doing and going for the hook of her bra behind her. Elizabeth’s smooth, tempting skin calls to him and eagerly he frees her breasts. He’s felt them bare once in his life and he finds this a great disservice.

A long, appreciative exhale escapes Meliodas as Elizabeth’s bra slips down her arms and she tosses it away. His hands find her waist to push her back half a step. Her grip finds his shoulders while Meliodas stares. He’s naked, standing before her and her gaze flicks around him in delight. The sight of him twirls the warmth in her tummy. His head shakes from side to side as if in disbelief before he bends, moving his grip to her thighs and lifting her.

She squeaks softly, legs wrapping around his torso while her hands find his neck. His face presses to her chest, his stubble along his jawline slipping across her nipples, first one then the other as he breathes hotly, pressing open mouth kisses on her giving, soft mounds. “I live here now.” He whispers, hands gliding to cup both of her ass cheeks on either side of her hips. She giggles, the sound tickling down his spine as his lungs inhale as if trying to take as much of her into himself as possible.

He steps, spinning in place while carrying her when his mouth finds her dusky peak and he loses brain function from the feeling. He sweeps her rear across the short side of his desktop. Things scatter, papers and his thick accordion file crash to the floor but the bud tightens on his tongue causing a deep guttural groan to fill the room. He couldn’t give a flying fuck the mess they make. Her hands on his shoulders trail up his neck to fist in his hair, arching back, her legs slipping over his hips delicately.

They line up, her panties the only defense as his cock points home, pressing into the fabric on pure instinct. “Meliodas.” She breaths, quietly, toes stretching behind him as he nips at her breast, his arms embracing her to glide his palms up her back. Her skin is like an addiction, everything about her calls to him like a thousand burning suns but the sound of his name leaving her lips breeches through the intoxication.

With a vicious growl he pulls away from her, the soft needy keen that escapes her throat doesn’t help matters but he wrenches his desk drawer open all the way so as not to waste time digging. “I know there is a string of condoms in here.” He is careless as he pushes pens aside, a box of paperclips falls to the ground and burst open in a spray of glinting metal but he’s triumphant when he pulls four condoms still connected from inside the disrupted mess.

Elizabeth takes the time to wiggles out of her panties, they slip down to her knees then glide down her calves to loop around her ankles. The sight freezes Meliodas, as this is the first time she’s been bare to him. He’s jealous of the bit of fabric that gets to cup her sex all day, that gets to abosorb her sweet scent and wrap around her hips. She reaches for him and he steps wide around the open drawer, unable to deny her, especially not when it’s him she wants.

Her panties drop to the floor.

Elizabeth’s soft fingertips are delicate as they leave tingles across his cheek bones. He rips the condom packaging while her soft lips gift his with her sweet little kisses. Each one is like a new spark lighting his fire, more fuel to the burning inside him. Her touch is leisurely, as if intent to feel every dip of his flesh. She trails over his collar bone, her hands tightening his own nipples when she feels over his pecs and her legs hook over his as she shimmies her ass to the edge of his desk. “If you take me in here, you’ll think of me when you’re working.” She whispers against his mouth while feeling over his ribs before gripping her fingers into his back to pull him closer.

“I think of you always, but just to be sure lets do this in every place imaginable so I can never escape thoughts of you.” He chuckles against her when he begins rolling on the condom and her laugh is more fulfilling than any sound he’s ever heard. “Okay,” she breathes, rocking against him before he’s even finished rolling to the base of his dick.

The tip of him slips against her slickness, pressing against her core and she rocks again. Her mouth parts to exhale hotly across his face. He’s falling quickly under her spell once more and in a blink, his hands smack to the wood on either side of her thighs to surge into her with a solid thrust that forces her legs apart farther. His legs spread to find the optimal stance. His calves grow taut, and as he rams home he works a chorus of noises to slip from between her plump, parted lips, he palms her ass to pull her into his rhythm.

Her hands grab at him, digging into his flesh as she rocks, her legs pressing against the back of his thighs. She’s full of him and tears sting her eyes as her palms smooth down his tensing back to grab at the swell of his ass around his hips to return the favor of pulling him into his thrusts. He swirls, stirring inside her. Her back stretches, her head tilting up to face the ceiling as a long moan slips forth. He’s everywhere. Meliodas' chest grows slick from sweat, his hair matting partially to his forehead and she feels him slide his entire body against hers as he dips his nose to her neck.

His lips part along her tendons there, his dick surging and stirring in the best repeating motion. Her toes curl and then spread. Her breathing quickens, her noises growing louder as he sucks at her throat, hands roaming as she’s meeting his every push with her own. “Meliodas.” She moans, fingers digger faster and hips pressing firmer. He’s on the edge of his own release but he wants her to come apart for him, desires her pleasure more than his own.

“Fuck.” He hisses, holding himself back by biting his own lip, adding pain to distract from the drowning sensations of the sheer euphoria she induces. He’s trapped in her whirlwind and he has zero desire to escape. Elizabeth arches, her orgasm sparking and she leans away as her spine stretches as if to accommodate the eruption of sensations that wash over her. She loses function of her legs as they tremble, her soft inner walls pulsing with her waves and he groans, low and guttural as he cannot endure resisting his own release a moment longer.

Not with him finally seeing her expression as she climaxes. Her bottom lip trembles, her eyes are half lidded, unseeing and she flushes unlike her shy blush or her embarrassed one. This one is special. The slope of her neck stretches and he drinks her in a second before his own ejaculation. She’s squeezing him for everything he has and with her legs quaking around him his touches morph from frenzied to endearing. Spurt after spurt leaves him and as she sags back over the desk he feels as if he’s been sucked dry, his balls empty.

“You’re beautiful,” he professes, loving her hair cascading over his desk and how her breasts look while she’s laying. They are still joined and he rocks slowly into her just to feel her spasm with leftover pleasure, her tummy rippling with her muscles twitching. “I missed you.” She replies, her relaxation after such a mind blowing orgasm is nothing to how she softens now, looking at him, before her eyes widen.

Elizabeth’s thoughts snap her into focus and she bends, catching her breath while twisting enough to reach into her purse sitting on the office chair to her left. She finds what she needs among the chaos of her bag and offers him her phone. He takes it, curious. “Now you can call me,” Elizabeth whispers, “to swap numbers and ask me out. For you, I’m a sure thing on the first date,” she jokes. Meliodas swallows, chuckling lowly before dialing his own number in. When it rings from his pants pockets on the floor his breathing comes easier and his face shifts to utter adoration as he gazes at her.

This time, he gets to keep her, and neither of them are keen to let the other go ever again.

[writeanapocalae]

TCK: The Crow Knight part 10

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 

The Puffin Knight lead him through a small record shop, where the vinyls all rested in warped rows, some of them having melted out of their thin packaging to congeal in an unnatural mass between the shelves. Through a back room and another backroom and they climbed through the remains of a clothing shop, one that had been ransacked ages ago, the floor now a mess of piles and twisted racks. There was no route that made sense through the obstacles, but the windows were shattered and stained red. They climbed through it and out into another street.

The glass sparkled on the cement, both from the shops that had been looted and from the cars. It seemed, on the cars at least, that the glass had shattered from the inside outwards, and some of the seats had burst as well. The smell of magic was no longer there, but there were signs of it, both in the cars and in the way that the road had curved in places, the asphalt having cracked and splintered so that there wee ribs of dark stone curving up on the edges. Streetlights had fallen, buckled, and sprouted, branches reaching out of them.

“What now?” The Crow Knight asked.

The Puffin Knight placed their small reproduction of the map on top of one of the car hoods, whipping out a bright yellow highlighter she had stolen from one of the shops.

“We’re going to have to go down Columbia,”she stated, pointing it out to him as he looked over her shoulder, “It should be easy, last time I was here there was a bridge over the road, it should still be there.” She drew her new path. “We can go through the skate shop and the bookstore, if they’re standing. We may have to go through a little bit of the quarantine zone over here,” she drew her line through it, “but it should only take us a few minutes and hey, things move. It may not be there anymore.”

“Or it may have expanded,” The Crow Knight corrected.

“Exactly!” She capped the highlighter and slipped it into her pack, “Nothing is certain so we shouldn’t worry about it!”

That wasn’t how his mind worked but he did see the appeal of it. He was fine with just following her, for now, and to hope that they wouldn’t be stuck in the quarantine zone for long. She started walking, heading down towards the bridge, at a decent pace, not too fast to wear them out but quick enough that they should reach the Carlyle before another distress call would possibly be made. Calling out could lead to rescue, but the sound could also draw danger, the radio waves stirring up magic.

There was a sound, a long rolling clicking sound, deep and throaty.

“Shit!” The Puffin Knight turned, looking behind her. The Crow Knight did not, already knowing what that sound was, knowing not to look but to run. “There’s Hunters out here!”

Hunters were fast and observant, though they weren’t as much as Scouts were, their bodies heavier from the amount of plates that armored them. Their legs were longer, their tusks sharper and more curved, and they worked in small packs. They were clicking though, a form of communication, instead of whooping. The Scout hadn’t seen them and neither had these, not yet, and as long as they were quick and silent, they could get out of there unmolested.

The Crow Knight reached out, grabbing The Puffin Knight by her wrist, and pulled her to the side, down into an alley. It wasn’t ideal, it wasn’t part of their plan, but it got them into the darkness of a shadow, where they could breathe and wait for a moment.

taglist: @chauceryfairytales​ @detectivesebcas​ @vanity-glass​ @thelunaticghost

[janchriseurope]

Ghent through the eyes of a local.

When I told Chris Kelly that we were off to Europe, he said his exchange student daughter, Amelie came from Belgium and that he would contact her to see if she would be interested in showing us around. After some too-ing and frowing , we finally touched base with Amelie, while in Bruges, and arranged to spend today with her. A major thing, I believed, because she started her holidays today.

What a wonderful day

Amelie arrived at our hotel at the designated time. We had been passing the time chatting to the very personable hotel manager. He was checking that we had managed to see the different sites he had recommended. Amelie immediately gained Chris’s heart as she presented him with a large bottle of Belgian beer!! Omer, the same name as her grandfather, so special to her family.

Off we headed into town for breakfast at Amelie’s favourite cafe. Another great coffee in a decent sized bowl and a twist pastry.

From there we made our way to the castle chatting all the way. She was telling us how she ended up living with Chris and Claudia and we were telling tales out of school. Lol Chris Kelly.... I think Amelie understands you a bit more since meeting my Chris ... poor girl!!

We had a ball. She pointed out different buildings and explained more about Ghent than you find in tourist pamphlets. We lined up for tickets for the castle, audio and earphones. Amelie told us the narrator was a well known comedian who lives in Ghent.

The castle was built by Phillip of Alsace. I have actually taught about him when I taught the Crusades. I used to use the Terry Jones version of the Crusades which uses humour and role playing. The commentary throughout the castle exploration was of a similar vein. I was impressed with the humour as it’s similar to British Monty Python style. It’s rather funny to be walking around with earphones on and hear Chris guffaw over the narration. You couldn’t hear normal conversation.. but Chris’s laugh.....

We saw the first fireplace in Ghent and heard about some really awful forms of punishment. The battlements were amazing. I struggled with the spiral staircases ( too much vertigo sensation to enjoy the journey). I wasn’t keen to lean out over the battlement to see how high we were. Hmm maybe developing a phobia..... but I went and saw, maybe not quite conquered.

From there we wandered along the different streets, looking at the shops and archecture. Amelie bought us some very interesting gels which are a specialty of Ghent. On the outside, they are firm like a wine gum, but the centre is almost runny in consistently. Yum!

It was Amelie’s birthday yesterday, so we went to Paul’s to celebrate with her. She was telling us that she is in her last year of study for Phsychology and has 126 days practicium to start in August. I can hear people now ... saying after meeting Chris and I, she could cut down the number of hours needed!!! After some of the stories Chris related to her... I’m sure she’d agree!!

We did some sitting people watching, then more meandering. There is a modern building behind St Nicholas Church. Chris and I had looked at it last night, wondering about its purpose. Amelie told us it’s called the Sheep’s Shed. It was very controversial, causing quite a major row. However people were coming to like it as it is the centre if lots of concerts and activities.

We went and looked at the University, which doesn’t charge exhorbitant fees, less than $1000 a year and the Govt give a book allowance/ grant. Oh to have a large population base.

We told Amelie about our lovely friend Bob Smith, who fills our lives with yellow ducks,.. low and behold we found a whole flock of ducks for sale. Heehee!!

We also visited a Belgian Chocolate shop and no, we didn’t buy the suculant, luscious chocolate or bottles of very cold water to put beside them to keep them from melting. ‘Scuse me while I wipe my chin....

Somehow it was 4 pm and so we headed back to our hotel and Amelie’s mum’s car. She had a half hour trip into the countryside to get home. Normally it takes her an hour and a half to get to uni from home

We are delighted in our newly found ‘great niece’. She will definitely be most welcome ‘down under’ to continue her research into the idiosyncrates of the Webster-Kelly family ... so she can make a fortune writing the book... on second thoughts maybe we shouldn’t let her near our mates... there are too many truths .. and we would ruin her perfect English with lots of “Bloodys”!!

After a rest and sorting emails, we headed back into town to have tea at the best rib restaurant. - locals know these things... thanks Amelie for your recommendation. Heaven! It came with a huge baked potato with its own curry sauce and a salad. What we didn’t know when we ordered, was that you could have more ribs and potato when you had finished your first serving!! Groan... no room ....

While sitting finishing up dinner a group of Americans rolled up. We told them that they would enjoy the ribs. We got talking... as we do... one couple’s daughter married a Kiwi, from Auckland. We told her we were from the Mainland....

We are now tucked up, hoping to have a better night’s sleep ... the train track is bloody close and the trains go like a bullet out of a gate.

Off to Dorset tomorrow thru the Chunnel to be spoilt by Pete and Gerry.

[nohhh]

Classified Mission: Eastern Europe  Romanogers fanfic

Word Count: 2012

Genre: Fluff

Authors note: Sorry for the inactivity! 

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve struggled to keep pace with Natasha without running.

“Natasha, can you slow down?”

“No.”

“Nat, I know what happened was horrendous, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, Steve, yes it was, don’t you understand? If I hadn’t shown up she would still be alive.”

Steve thought back to the scene in the lobby less than two minutes ago. It was a mess. Maria’s body was slumped against the counter top, the gun hadn’t even been touched. There was a spray of blood against the faded yellow wallpaper. Her body, riddled with bullet holes-

“She didn’t even have time to react, but why was she the only one in the room? Why did I not see anyone enter the building? Who else was in the building at the time? Wait, Steve I have an idea. Go back to the hotel.”

Steve was trying to process all the information. It was clear to him that Maria had been one of the few that was kind to Natasha years ago. A different life. A few years ago he was still frozen, Natasha had been the most feared assassin.

Once they came back to the hotel Natasha ducked behind the counter where she had carried Maria to a back room, no one used. For what Steve had no idea. She heaved a large book with yellowing pages onto the counter. Upon closer inspection Steve realized that it was a ledger of all the guests that had stayed, for the last two years.

Natasha went to the most recent pages where the last person entered was an ‘Alex Svoboda’ Natasha and Steve racked their brains for any news story involving that name. Natasha glanced at Steve.

“This hotel is a safe house. This hotel is where I am still Natalia Alianova Romanova. Criminals come here without fake names. Police don’t sniff up this far.”

“Jesus Nat, I can’t think of any Alex-“

Natasha tackled Steve, effectively shutting him up.

“Don’t say that name.” She said quietly. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

Steve nodded.

“We’ll go to the computer café,” she decided “I think I have some catching up to do.”

The pair made their way down the alley, the man from earlier was still knocked unconscious. Nat sighed, checking his pulse she realized she’d knocked him into a coma.

“That’s him taken care of, for now.”

Steve couldn’t help the shiver that crept down his spine. This Natasha was brutal, this was her before Clint brought her to SHIELD. She hadn’t been Natasha then: Natalia, notorious, undefeated. A place where women would seem to be in danger. All women here were strong in a way. Mental or physical. A place where Bucky was in danger. This obviously wasn’t the Prague Sam and Bucky lived. A place where Sam was in danger. The hotel doors opened. A place where Steve was in danger. Natasha vaulted over the counter flinging the ledger at the largest of the three women that entered the building. She threw Steve to the counter where he promptly hid behind it. He hated himself for feeling so weak.

Peeking over the counter he saw the largest of the three clutching her head. The two others had drawn gun, which Nat promptly threw out of their hands. Natalia had two guns in her hands aimed at the women. Her finger was curled around the trigger. The large woman was on the ground clutching something else in her hand. Her own poison. If she pressed that button, they’d be dead in seconds. Natalia was aware of the bomb. The guns were shot and simultaneously her leg swiped out catching the woman off guard. The bomb fell out of her hand and Natasha shot her as well. Catching the bomb in her hand she turned to Steve and made a movement. Steve understood that. The shield. Natasha had stashed it under the countertop. Steve flung it at her. She pulled the pin and covered the bomb with the shield. Sliding it under an airtight container and closing it, green tendrils of smoke curled against the jar. Natasha turned to Steve who was staring at the three bodies slumped on the floor. He had been worrying about Nat all the plane trip, barely able to sleep. He was certain the baddies would be large males. Who knew women ruled the underground? Natasha hoisted the largest woman over her shoulders.

“Open that door, Steve and grab the two others. There’s a river throw the bodies in.”

The captain turned pale. This was Natalia. He was terrified, no, no he wasn’t, there was a reason Fury had put her into the Avengers. This was it. He respected that. Natasha was stronger mentally and physically than the other Avengers. He admired her more than ever. Outside, the putrid smell of the canal was choking, chucking the bodies in they coughed at the stench. Inside Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Are we ever going to make it to the café?”

Natasha grinned.

“Things like that tend to be put on hold when people are trying to murder you.”

“You are brilliant at protecting me.”

“Someone’s got to do it. We better get to the café.”

They went down the alley keeping a careful eye out for both each other and murderous people. Upon reaching the café, Steve realized he was the only person here that had never been to Prague previously. Twisting the door knob they were greeted with rows of computers and a loud air conditioner. Going over to a corner Natasha typed poslední zprávy into the search engine. The results reported a massive crime wave taking over the city and how the government was doing nothing to stop it. Several stories were central to the mafia. Natasha decided to dig a little deeper. Steve was impressed at how quickly she managed to hack into the Mafia’s files revealing a list of thugs.

“Keep an eye out for the name.” Natasha whispered.

“There, look.” Steve responded. Natasha clicked onto the name, revealing his file.

Several minutes later, Natasha came to the part that declared him

Zemřel

“Well, there goes that lead.” Natasha said. Two figures came up behind them. Something glinted in the light, metal.

“Find anything?” Bucky asked and Steve and Natasha brought them up to date.

“This side of the city is full of fucking Yael’s.” Bucky exclaimed.

“Shush, you idiot.” Sam hushed him.

“How did the neighbourhood scouting go?” Steve asked them.

“We are surrounded by criminals.” Sam replied.

“I could have told you that.” Natasha cut in. “Will we go back and get dinner?”

“Great idea.” Sam answered.

The four made their way to a Chinese restaurant, where Bucky and Sam’s cover became obvious. The pair who were grumbling about having to hold hands. Steve couldn’t help the laugh that escaped and for Natasha the same.

“Fury told our neighbours that a gay couple was moving into the apartment, so we had to go with that.” Steve bit his lip. Natasha let out a loud laugh in the empty street.

“Here we are anyway.” Bucky gestured to a sign saying: CHINESE OPEN ALL NIGHT.

They went inside and were greeted by a woman who led them upstairs to a cosy corner. Steve and Natasha sat on the inside while Bucky and Sam sat on the outside. They ordered their food and once they waitress went away they began to confer their next move.

“I may have killed some potential leads.” Natasha admitted.

“We may have found one.” Sam replied.

“Natasha, you’re fucking dangerous, thank God you’re on our side.” Bucky said at the same time.

Natasha and Steve laughed. “Who did you find?”

Just then the waitress came back with their food, steaming. The four thanked her. She set down the food and left. There appeared to be something on the underside of Steve’s plate: a voice recorder.

Natasha detached it and excused herself to the bathroom. Seeing a handbag on the sink she placed it inside that and made her way back to the table where the three men were wolfing down their food.

Natasha still finished before them.

“Anyway, Sam, who’s your lead.” She asked while they stared at Natasha’s empty plate.

“Am, Alzbeta Dvorbak.” He responded.

“She owns the supermarket down the block from our hotel.” Bucky added.

Steve and Natasha nodded thoughtfully for a moment.

“That’s what we’ll do tomorrow then. We’ve done enough in one night.” Natasha decided.

The others nodded.

Sam and Bucky made excuses to go to the toilet and the waitress came back to retrieve the dishes.

“Dezert?” She asked.

“Ne, díky.” Steve responded.

She nodded and left. Natasha looked at Steve.

“I didn’t know you spoke Czech.”

“I don’t. That’s all the Czech I know.” He laughed.

“Nat, how do you do it? All this, noticing things no one else would. Saving my butt.”

“I was trained to.”

“Well, thank God for that.”

“It does come in helpful, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I need to save you from some explosion or something now, can’t have you hogging the glory.” Natasha laughed. Steve loved that laugh. Natasha looked at his smile. She loved that smile. Sam and Bucky came back holding green tablets and a note.

“Cyanide tablets, for our esteemed guests, AD” Bucky read out.

“Found outside the kitchen door. The esteemed guests could have been anyone.” Sam explained.

“Well that cements tomorrow’s plans.” Steve spoke up. “We work together tomorrow, no splitting up.”

Natasha had sat back deep in thought. “I have an idea.”

The three others glanced at each other.

“Continue?” Bucky questioned.

“If I could the strawberry delight with sweet coffee I would be very happy.” She stated.

“How are you thinking about your stomach at a time like this?” Sam sighed.

Bucky elbowed him in the ribs.

“Owww, ohhhhh.” Sam exclaimed in realization. Nat shook her head.

“I think we’re done here. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll pay.”

“We’re splitting the bill.” Natasha and Bucky said simultaneously.

“But I’m broke.” Sam whined.

“I’ll pay for myself and Sam.” Steve said shaking his head.

“Yeah, here‘s my part.” Natasha handed him the money. Bucky did the same.

Once they had paid, Bucky and Sam resumed their cover and Steve and Natasha discussed what would happen the next day.

“Nat, this isn’t what I think it is.” Steve referring to Prague.

“Just because evil has a face, doesn’t mean it’s a mask.” She answered.

They walked in silence for a few minutes until they got to the alleyway. The man was still slumped.

“Is he dead?” Bucky inquired.

“NO.” Natasha declared. “Oh shit that was loud.”

Steve chuckled under his breath. Th four made it to the hotel without being ambushed. They had kept their guard up through the walk there. A new woman was behind the counter. A feral smile entered Natasha’s – Natalia’s face.

“Kellie! Мария ушла и не вернется. Будьте осторожны, или вы будете рядом.”

Kellie’s eyes widened

“Это был ты” Not a request.

“Почему, черт возьми, я убью одного человека, который проявил уважение ко мне?”

“Наталья, я многое видел, и внезапный отъезд Марии был неожиданностью.”

“Ты услышишь меня, Келли, Мария ушла, и ты можешь быть следующей. Итак, убирайся отсюда.”

“Я обидел в этой жизни Наталию, я этого не забуду.”

The women nodded at each other. \Kellie stood up and left. Through the front door. She didn’t come back.

Bucky whistled. “That was one of the most terrifying conversations I have ever heard.”

Steve and Sam couldn’t understand it obviously and had moved to the room where Maria was lying on the table. The four obviously couldn’t do anything fancy. None of them were very religious and so did what they had to and left. Maria was gone. They went up to their rooms and entered their respective ones.

Steve and Natasha sat on the bed. “Steve, I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“Natasha, you truly are the strongest person I know. I – I am extremely fond of you.”

“Fond?”

“Don’t people say that anymore?”

“When?”

“When they want to kiss someone.”

[spacegate]

TRUST CH 13

An Undertale Fanfiction

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / AO3 LINK / TV TROPES / FF.NET Characters: Sans, Grillby, Papyrus, Royal Doggies, Gaster, Asgore, OCs Setting: Baby Blaster AU Contains: SAD CHILDREN. Mentions of child abuse. SOME REALLY MESSED UP THINGS, BODY HORROR. Synopsis: The final battle is here. WARNING: DEPICTIONS OF INJURIES AND VIOLENCE. ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT :D

The ambient sound of magic hummed in the air as blue and white bones flew forward with deadly precision.

The King waved his hand and a searing wall of flames erupted from the walkways to counteract the bones. The bones hit the wall and sizzled, exploding in motes of white and blue magic. Grillby and Gnash huddled behind the wall of flames until the King parted it with a wave of his paw.

“Give up Gaster! It's not too late!” Asgore tried one last plea.

Gaster only sneered and readied another volley of attacks. Rings of hands formed, each clutching a long bone club. He would NOT go down without a fight. He has a duty to monsterkind....but these fools are in the way!

King Asgore brought his trident in front of him and turned to Grillby. “Go! Get your child!”

Gnash readied his sword. “We'll cover you!”

Grillby nodded and picked his way through the catwalks. Gaster turned his head to look at Grillby, intent on going after him, but then met a faceful of sword. He had to summon a vertical row of bones to block the sword, lest he literally loses his head. He scowled at the Fish monster before him.

[Captain Gnash blocks the way!]

“You're going to have to get through me first, you bastard!” Gnash growled and began a relentless assault, slashing and parrying with his sword. Gaster was forced to be on the defensive, twisting and ducking out of the way. One of his blasters surged forward to flank the Captain, but was blocked by a trident.

[King Asgore blocks the way!]

Asgore felt sick fighting these....blasters? They were clearly young, and alive. He used his trident to throw the blaster away from the fight with a roar. The blaster cried out as it went flying end over end in the air, drawing it's sibling's attention. It's sibling really didn't like that, opening its maw and began to gather magic within it. The King pulled Gnash away just in time, as a white hot beam of light struck the catwalk and burned a hole through the metal where they once stood. It was a reminder not to underestimate the scientist.

They had no time to rest as Gaster went on the attack again, summoning rings of bones to assault them. King and Captain fought side by side, doing their best to keep the scientist in one place. They had to keep his attention! Despite Gaster being surprisingly good at combat, it was still a two against one battle. The other blaster regained it's composure and attempted to enter the fray again, but was smacked away yet again.

{“USELESS”} Gaster thought to himself, as he watched one blaster comfort the other far away from the battle. No matter how much he tried he could not completely remove free will. Once struck, children tend not to keep fighting. Despite their master's call, they were quite content to stay far away from the fight.

Meanwhile, Grillby ducked through the stray bones flying debris as he ran to the command console. He didn't have much time before Gaster would be upon him. The fact that he could teleport added to his sense of urgency. Grillby stole a look back to see his King and the Captain harassing Gaster. It seems that Gaster has no choice but to focus on the fight, one false move and he would be dust. He turned away just as Asgore began flinging fire at the scientist, hell bent on burning him to ashes.

That didn't matter now. What mattered now was his son. He ducked under a stray bone and slid down the catwalk, slamming into the large computer console in the middle of the CORE. He grunted, doing his best to catch his breath as he spotted Sans.

Sans still remained unresponsive, just staring off into the distance with those horrible wires shoved deep into his right eye socket. He dared not burn away the metal strips bolting the tiny pup to the console, the super heated metal could hurt him. Grillby looked frantically around for tools. Bingo! Gaster it seems, is sloppy, or was interrupted too fast. The tool box was still there. Grillby quickly grabbed a pair of pliers and cut the wires snaking their way into his Son's skull. He would leave them in there for a doctor to remove, but cutting the wires will at least free him.

“Sans? Can you hear me?” Grillby took up a power drill next, adjusting it to unscrew the bolts.

Sans remained unresponsive and Grillby reined in his urge to cry at the sight. He doubled his effort in unbolting his restraints as he could. He almost dropped the drill when the whole walkway system rattled and buckled from the force of an attack, forcing him to the ground. He moved his head just in time to see a wave of white bones slam into the metal walkways heading right towards him! He rolled out of the way as the bones glanced by.

He heard Gaster's gasp and there was a smell of burning bones. Seems like the King has more than punished the doctor for that move, allowing Grillby to continue freeing his son. The sound of rattling metal and shouts of battle was more than distracting, but he did his best to ignore it.

Finally, the last bolt became undone and Sans slumped to the floor, caught in one of Grillby's hands. “Sans? Sans...I'm here. I'm here.” He scooped up the tiny pup to his chest and hugged him close. He knew that Sans was alive, but he had yet to show any sign of consciousness. It was like he was a computer without a plug. Completely shut down. He continued to whisper gently to Sans as he looked around for the fastest escape route.

{“NnnggAAH!!”} Gaster managed to knock back both Gnash and Asgore. With the precious few seconds of breathing room, he shouted towards his creation.

{“001! ATTACK!”}

Sans jerked in his father's arms stiffly, and then sank his teeth deep into the fiery forearm. Grillby hissed in pain, trying again to rein in his heat so Sans wouldn't get burned. Sans fought like an animal possessed, shrieking and kicking and biting until he managed to break free from his father's grasp. He hit the floor not too gently, but rose quickly, his eye sockets blanck.

Tear were dripping down Sans's face as he growled and assumed an attack position.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!!” Grillby roared. This was horrible....Sans was obviously in there somewhere, watching, but unable to do anything. It made his core feel like ice at the horror of it all.

{“He is MY creation, he obeys ME!”} Gaster's eye lights flashed blue as he reached a hand out.

Ping!

Asgore and Gnash groaned as suddenly immense pressure was placed on them, only to be lifted up and slammed hard into the metal catwalk, buckling it. Blue magic is quite powerful, able to lift the king and guardsman with ease. Their souls were trapped in the magic.

The metal in the facility began to groan from stress, and a few panels of the walls rattled off their hinges and fell to the lava below.

{“001, KILL THE FIRE ELEMENTAL.”}

Sans jerked, and then his bottom jaw bisected as a thrum of magic began to build in his rib-cage. The tears continued and his bones rattled from the force of the command. He couldn't break free. He could only watch from the inside as he turned his head to his adopted father.....and FIRED.

Grillby wasn't a Major General for no reason. He dodged out of the way, but already Sans was charging up another attack. He couldn't harm his child, but he also couldn't allow him to keep attacking like he was. Soon, the whole walkway system would collapse into the lava below! For now he could only duck and weave from one attack after another.

Gaster opened his mouth to issue another command, but got a fireball to the face. He shrieked as he was burned, losing his grip of blue magic on the two combatant's souls. He didn't have time to look before Gnash punched him so hard in the face, it broke his jaw. { “NNG!!”}

The scientist fell back, clutching his broken face. Pieces of chipped bone and dust fluttered to the catwalk. With the sharp sound of ripping fabric, he vanished too reappear behind Asgore and Gnash. Before they could turn around to attack him, Gaster viciously locked them in blue magic and attempted to throw them over the side of the railing. Asgore and Gnash grabbed a grip on the railing just in time to prevent being thrown to their deaths, but Gaster kept pushing with his blue magic. Every second was an intense struggle as the pressure continued to push.

{“001. LOCK TARGET, AND FIRE.”} Gaster shouted, his words slurred by his broken jaw. All his concentration went into pouring magic into his blue attack. Asgore being able to resist was no surprise, but Gnash hung on as well with fierce determination.

Sans abruptly stopped his attack just as he was about to corner Grillby. He turned around until he faced the struggle on the nearby catwalk. He was ordered to lock target and fire, but Gaster neglected to mention WHICH target to fire upon. His jaws built up with bright blue and white energy, humming and crackling until it released with an earsplitting CRACK!

Imagine Gaster's surprise when the beam of light hit him square on the chest, burning and shattering the bone beneath. The sheer momentum of the blast pushed him over the side of the railing. Stunned, he tried to reach out for anything that could save him, but there was none.

He was F A L L I N G.

D

O

W

N

With a sickening flash of multi-color fire, the scientist was consumed in the lava of his creation. Soon not even his dust was left, roasting in the intense heat.

Gaster was no more.

Sans slumped over, unconscious once more. Grillby quickly scooped him up as Asgore and Gnash pulled themselves back up to safety. The creaking and rattling of the warped and damaged metal picked up in pitch as the catwalks began to rumble. The computer began to list a repeating string of error messages, sparking and sizzling out as circuits were fried, one by one. A heavy sent of ozone began to build up in the hot air, humming and shimmering.

The blasters, sensing danger, panicked and vanished in a sharp flash of white.

“QUICK! WE MUST GET OUT OF HERE!” Asgore pointed to the exit. Grillby didn't need to be told twice, holding Sans close to his chest as he bolted just behind Gnash. All the while debris and metal began to fall from the rafters above as the facility began to shake. They all sprinted to the doorway, but suddenly there was a loud BOOM. Grillby felt something hit him from behind, and then everything went dark.

.

.

.

.

.

get | up

.

.

.

you | have | to | get | up

.

.

.

.

your| son | needs | you

.

.

.

.

.

Grillby groaned as an intense pain blossomed in his head, silencing his inner voice. He struggled to open his eyes. The room twisted and spun in his blurry vision, giving him an intense feeling of vertigo. When he realized that he wasn't dead, he knew he had made it into the outer rooms of the CORE. Through the rubble behind him, the CORE behind him crackled and burned. The sound of it stung his head and increased the pain he was feeling. What in the world hit him?

He blinked and struggled not to slip into the darkness again as he looked around. Gnash was slumped against one of the walls and The King was lying not too far away. All of them seemed to be unconscious from the force of the blast. Debris and pieces of concrete littered shrapnel all over the flooring and thick, heavy industrial dust obscured his ability to see further. His whole body stung from the backlash of magic, his flames were nearly dark red. He was burning out, being snuffed by the thick dust and smoke.

Something was missing.

Sans!

He gasped and gripped the shattered flooring around him, struggling to rise. He couldn't call out, but he wearily began to crawl, searching for his child. It was slow, and laborious, but he finally found the pup. The right side of his skull was nearly smashed in and many of his bones were broken. He laid there, limply, taking ragged breaths.

Deep anger burned within him, but was quickly dulled buy pain and exhaustion. He couldn't make it outside to get help, but he would do his best to comfort his child.

Grillby could see his vision going dark again as he used the last bit of strength to crawl to Sans. He curled around Sans as protective as he could, holding one of the paws on his unbroken forelimb. He hoped, it would provide him a little bit of comfort and warmth.

He could swear he heard voices just as his vision went black, and he slipped away into unconsciousness once again.

Grillby was at first, aware of sounds. He heard voices, foot steps, and the crackling of his own flame, but he could not see. He tried moving around until he heard a familiar voice.

“Take it easy there Grillby.”

His sluggish mind struggled to process the voice. It was...Frank's? What is FRANK doing here in the CORE? He forced his eyes open with a wince, the room spun and blurred until it finally became still and focused again. He was...in a hospital? He looked down to see that he was in something akin to a bathtub almost, a shallow charmed 'bed'. The bottom was littered with burning wood and embers, no doubt the doctors wished to keep his flame fed.

“You were hit fairly hard with parts of the CORE.” Frank causally tossed another piece of wood into the bed. Grillby's flames devoured it immediately, slowly bringing his color back to a bright orange. “King Asgore and Captain Gnash only suffered minor scrapes and bruising.”

Grillby jerked to attention. “What about Sans?” He put his hand on the rim of the bed, attempting to rise. Frank frowned in response, but made no attempt to stop him.

“He's in the bed over here.” Frank gestured to a bed pushed close enough to the metal bed to be seen, but not catch on fire.

Grillby's flame seized up when he saw Sans. He was lying in bed, one half of his head was bandaged up. One of his forelegs was sticking out of the covers, wrapped up tight in a cast. There was a thin IV line of healing magic feeling into the little pup. He was bundled in warm blankets, and a few wires ran to a machine that measured his HP and magic levels. All Sans seemed to do was breathe, but he was breathing easier at least, and didn't seem to be in any pain. Of course, Frank brought Papyrus along, who was sleeping next to his older brother.

Frank answered Grillby's unspoken question. “He will heal, no doubt about that. He may end up being blind on the right side, but they'll do everything they can to save his vision. He's going to need a while to heal.”

“He cannot stay here.” Grillby wheezed. His continued attempts to get up kept ending in failure. “You know as well as I do that he was medically abused. If he wakes up here...”

“It's why they placed him in a medical coma.” Frank held up his hands to reassure to distraught father. “He needs a few days here, as well as you, to heal. Then he will be sent home with you, with me checking up on his healing often.”

Grillby sighed in relief. That was one problem taken care of. “How is Papyrus?”

“He's fine, he got along well with my daughter. He's just been staying in bed with Sans. Bless him, he believes that hugs will heal him.”

“It's more true than you think.” Grillby at least managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. “What happened at the CORE?”

“That, I can answer.” Came a voice from the doorway.

King Asgore went to enter the room, ducking and moving sideways so he could get his horns in. He no longer wore his armor and cape, but was instead in just simple pants and a shirt. He looked to be fine, except for a few minor bandages on his arms and snout. Gnash followed, a bandage wrapped around the top of his head.

“I'll take my leave then, rest up Grillby.” Frank smiled at Grillby, and with one quick smooch with his husband, he disappeared into the bustle of the Hospital.

For a while there was an awkward silence as the king and guardsman looked over to the injured pup.

“Oh dear....will he...” Asgore was almost afraid to answer the question.

“He will heal.” Grillby answered simply. “He will be fine.”

“He's a tough one, that's for sure.” Gnash added. “I saw what he did to Gaster, that took at lot of guts.”

“Yes, but how will he feel about it when he wakes up. He killed Gaster. It was more than justifiable, but he's just a child...?” Grillby couldn't begin to imagine what mental state his son will be in when he wakes up.

“I don't know,” Asgore added in. “But he will be fine, with a father like you. In fact, I have something for you, if you feel well enough to take it.”

“Of course, your majesty.” Grillby sat up a little straighter as the King walked before him. Asgore handed him a piece of parchment, in gilded leaf and signed with the royal seal. Grillby's eyes widened when he realized what he was holding.

It was essentially a document granting Sans and Papyrus Monster-hood and all the protections thereof. It also designated Grillby as their sole parental guardian. There would be no fears of them being taken away. No fears that they would be treated badly because of the tragic circumstances of their birth. They were now, fully Monsters.

“All the paperwork has already been completed.” King Asgore spoke with a smile. “We have the finest therapists on standby, to help them once they decide to ask for it.”

“...Thank you...” Grillby whispered, setting the precious document on a side table. “This means a lot, to me and the boys...”

But then, Grillby remembered something. “What about the ones without bodies? The ones that fought in the CORE?”

“We don't know.” Gnash piped up. “They just...vanished. The guard haven't seen them return to any of the tubes at the lab, so they can be anywhere. At least....they are away from Gaster.”

There was a solemn silence. “The only thing we can do, is wait for them to show themselves.”

“I'm afraid that's all we can do, is wait.” The King sighed and trudged over to Sans's bed. Papyrus opened his eye-sockets when he heard footsteps approaching. He squinted upward, as he puzzled over the fuzzy new person.

“Abah?” Papyrus gurgled a question that only he could understand.

“I must apologize, to the both of you.” The King spoke, regret on his face. “If I had kept a closer eye on my royal scientist, none of this would have happened to the both of you, and the countless victims of the labs. I swear to you, that it will not happen again and you both shall be cared for by Monsterkind.”

Papyrus tilted his head, puzzling over the words.

“YEE.” He chirped as quiet as he could and then went back to cuddling his injured brother.

“Papyrus forgives you.” Grillby couldn't help but smile. “You should not blame yourself for the actions of others.”

“Yes, but I feel responsible.” The King sighed.

“Not to interrupt, but we have work to do. Things to clean up and announcements to be made. No doubt everyone wants to know what the hell happened to the CORE.” Gnash pointed out. “They'll need the King to settle any fears the citizens may have.”

“Duty calls then, I suppose.” Asgore looked to Grillby one last time. “Heal up, you and the boys. I will always be available should you need me.”

“Thank you.” Grillby nodded.

Both the Captain and the King exited the room, shutting the door behind them. No doubt, they had a lot of fallout and problems to deal with. Grillby was just happy that he and his kids were alive. Gaster was gone, and he would never bother anyone again. No doubt, Sans would be set back in his recovery, but Grillby is a patient person.

Perhaps, everything will be okay.