#when I first played trial 6 I had to take a pause for both of these lines because of how emotional I was when he said kaito's lines

[quazikam]

saihara might have well have just plunged a knife through my fucking heart by saying this shit

Currently sobbing I just remembered the fact that Shuichi repeats some of Kaito's lines in trial six ⭐

[deepdisireslonging]

No Cum November Part 6: Dripping

The Reader is used in a ritual to summon the ghost that’s been terrorizing campus.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Warnings/Promises: canon-level danger, ritualistic SMUT, bondage, wax play, double penetration (split-roast), bukkake (of a sort… just, the boys get messy, okay?)

Word Count: 670

Note: Really had fun with this one. Whew! Let me know how you guys are enjoying the series, I love hearing from you guys. Happy reading!

Part 5: 2 AM Quickie

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Dean paused in tying the next knot around your wrist.

“You guys are gonna be here, right?” You breathed a sigh of relief as Sam nodded.

“The whole time. You remember how to get out of the knots?” He waited for your affirmative hum. “Good girl.”

It may have been just another run as bait for you, but this ghost was going to be summoned with your actual arousal. At first, the ghost had been summoned by the group of horny freshman with a book from the archives. Having found it during your excursion with Sam in the library a few days ago, the possessions and deaths had stopped. But, through trial and error, you three found out that the spirit was tied to the campus, not the book. Nobody knew of a potential grave. The only way to end it permanently was to summon it.

The team was happy to oblige.

Which is why you were currently tied to a desk with candles fluttering all around. The boys had taken turns massaging protective oil into your skin. Dean tied the last slip knot and nodded at Sam, who picked up a candle dripping with wax. He started to chant the summons. Drip by hot drip, he guided the weeping candle over your body. You hissed and writhed under the sensation, and under the gaze of the Winchesters. They watched your chest heave. How your thighs quaked. They panted in time with your mouth falling open to moan. After a few minutes of chanting with no response, Dean took his position.

He filled you slowly, accidentally dripping wax on your lower stomach. You arched, spearing yourself on him faster than he anticipated. He fell forward, stumbling in his words. Sam took over with the chanting, leaving his brother to take care of you.

Maybe the summons was working. Or maybe the way you twisted under the candle max was doing something to Dean. Either way, he gripped your hips tighter, pulled you onto him harder, needed more than ever to hear every way you could scream. His nails scraping up your stomach worked loose some of the wax, leaving ridges in their wake. Sam’s chanting stumbled. The sight of the wax remnants of Dean’s act resembled a way to claw into your skin like never before. He touched himself while refocusing on the chanting.

This was taking too long. Not that you could complain. But the ghost wasn’t coming. When Sam said as much, Dean didn’t hesitate.

“Be a shame to let such a pretty sacrifice go to waste.”

He continued to thrust into you, letting more wax drip around your breasts. Sam’s chanting of the spell switched to chanting your name and whispering filthy things that made your skin flush. You opened your mouth wide for Sam’s cock, happy to relieve some of the pressure he���d built watching Dean ravage you. Filled from both ends and covered in wax, you were too floaty to want to cum. When they needed to spill, the Winchesters added their cum to the ritualistic drippings already covering your body.

They helped you out of the knots. And massaged your joints that had been tied down. Dean wrapped you in the fluffy robe they’d brought after Sam wiped down your sweaty brow. They would clean you the rest of the way at the hotel. While Sam gathered the candles, you removed the tablecloth you’d used to cover the desk. Not a speck of evidence of the failed ritual would remain in the room.

Still, Dean needed to adjust himself.

“Dude, we just fucked her ten ways past Sunday, and you’re still hard?”

With a shrug, Dean grabbed the books. He held them to his chest, looking very much like a guilty student. He caught your eye. “Can we- for the bunker, we can buy candles, right?

You pulled the collar of the robe over your smile. “We can definitely buy candles.”

***

Series Masterlist

Part 7: Double Possession

[strawberrymatchaidv]

EliRick Fluff

(I LOST THE REQUEST 💔💔💔 I HOPE THAT ANON WILL BE ABLE TO FIND THIS AGAIN) Hi anon! So sorry that this came back late. Thank you for your patience though!! So sorry if anything is wrong, this is my first time posting on Tumbler 💔 - Strawberry

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The atmosphere of the café is usually that of a quiet and comfortable space where people can do their work quietly without problem. Particularly on a certain day though, the small space is filled with more chatter than usual and more seats are filled. Works back and forth between the back and counter to get orders out. The day where couples would come together to appreciate the presence of the other and indulge in one another.

Unfortunately, for two certain individuals, this was one of the busier days of the month. Though the two did not seem to mind it much. They would treat it like any other day. The two work hand in hand lovingly, some teasing whispers from friends that even just working on a day like this they would consider a ‘date’. 

…

It was around 6 pm when Eli and Fredrick decided to close the café for the day so that they could have the rest of the day to themselves. As they swept the floors, a slow song came onto the speakers. Eli paused for a moment, pushing his hat up as he pondered for a second before smiling. He set his broom on the wall and walked towards Fredrick who was in the middle of wiping down tables.

“Dear, come here for a moment will you?” Eli asked as he stood in the center of the room, the smile on his face unwavering as he waited for Fredrick to come over. 

Fredrick, being in the middle of cleaning, looked up from where he was and tilted his head to the side slightly. He set down the towel he was using to clean the table and walked over to where Eli stood. “Is something the matter? Or did you perhaps need help with something?" Eli shook his head no as he held out his hand instead for Fredrick to take. 

“Would you care for a dance?” Eli said as he stared at the other. For a moment it was just quiet with the music playing in the background. A small laugh could be heard from the latter as his shoulders shook slightly as he put his hand into Eli's.

“I would be honored to," Fredrick put his hand on top of Eli's shoulder as Eli placed his hand on Fredrick’s waist. Neither knew what to do for a moment but just let the music take them along. The tables had already been pushed aside for cleaning so it was a perfect space for them to dance. 

The two stumbled here and there a bit, trying to figure out a rhythm to go on. Laughter could be heard from the two as the two continued to dance with trial and error. Eli spun Fredrick around before pulling him in towards himself. He placed a soft chaste kiss on top of Fredrick's head as the song slowly came to an end. The moment was sweet, quiet, everything around them becoming muffled as they were in their own little world. They felt as if they were the only people left in the world; just them two. 

Fredrick's head rested upon Eli's chest, just as Eli rested his chin on Fredrick's head. A silence settled over them, afraid that the moment would be broken if either of them spoke. They just stayed like that for a few more minutes before Fredrick said something. 

“You suck at dancing,” he said suddenly as he buried his face into the other's shoulder. Eli started snickering as he pinched his side. “Look at you, you kept stepping on my feet each time we turned!” Laughter erupted out of the taller man as he laughed with his chest. Fredrick listened to the other laugh as he calmed down. 

“I guess we both need classes then," Eli grinned as he looked down at him. Their eyes met and without a second thought met in the middle with their lips. Eli pulled back first and tucked a strand of Fredrick's hair behind his ear. The other's face flushing a light shade of red as he averted his gaze to the side. Eli, noticing this, just chuckled as he held his hands. “What do you want for dinner tonight? Or do you want to go out today?" 

Thinking about it for a moment, Fredrick just nodded as he let go of Eli. "Let's eat at home today, I have a surprise for you,” Eli perked up at this as he raised an eyebrow at the other. 

“A surprise? For lil ol me?” He was a bit surprised but started smiling like a fool right after. Fredrick nodded as he walked back to the table he had been cleaning and picked up the towel. 

“We should head back quickly if you want to see it,” the grey haired man said as he went into the storage closet to put the towel away. Eli did the same as him as he put the broom away. When the two had finished cleaning the café up and made sure all the lights were off, they flipped the sign in the front so it showed ‘closed’ before walking hand in hand together down the street. 

As they talked about the day, they talked about all the customers they had or the small little gossips they heard here and there. It was mostly Eli talking while Fredrick listened to him talk. It was how the two worked, one would talk and the other would occasionally add something into the conversation to keep it going. 

As they walked, two kids who looked to be around 11 ran past them with firecrackers in their hands; giggling and laughing with no care in the world as they ran down the darkened street. 

Eli watched them for a bit, his voice trailing off from what he had said before he felt a tug at his shirt. Quickly turning his attention back to his partner, the other held a look of slight confusion. “Are you ok? Why'd you stop suddenly?" 

Eli shook his head quickly, “I'm fine! Just saw something. Let's keep going," the pair continued to walk down the street until they were in front of their apartment complex. They took the elevator up to the 3rd floor and quickly made their way in so as to not stay in the cold any longer. They both hung their coats up on the coat rack and quickly made their way deeper into the living space. 

The two were met with Brooke waiting for them, perched up on the counter top as she observed the two carefully. Eli strode over to her after taking his shoes off and scratched her lightly on the side of her head. “Hey Brooke, everything alright today? I'll be making dinner right now, I'll get you your meal." 

Brooke let out a light hoot as she flapped her wings in understatement. Eli smiled as he walked into the kitchen and put an apron on. “Just sit back and relax! I'll take of it all dear," he called out to the other as he began preparing Fredrick's favorite dishes, Cream of Mushroom Soup. 

Fredrick let out a small hum in response as he neatly put their shoes away and walked towards the couch. He flopped down onto it, the work day's events suddenly catching up to him as he felt himself sink deeper into the cushion. His body felt like lead and was more than happy to just wait for his lover to finish cooking so they could hurry up and eat. 

He was a bit nervous though, suddenly remembering the gift that he had prepared for the other. What if Eli hated it? Was it too soon? His hands gripped the arm rest so he wouldn't start biting his nails. He started to bounce his leg lightly, making a soft “pap, pap!” sound on the wood floors. Before he could think anymore about it, he could smell the strong aroma of mushrooms coming from the kitchen and forced himself off of the couch. Making his way over, he wrapped himself around the other's waist as he looked over his shoulder. 

“Is that Cream of Mushroom?" Eli jumped a bit, startled at the sudden weight behind him, but he didn't mind it at all. He instead welcomed it and nodded, taking the spoon that had been set aside and scooped a bit. He put his hand under the spoon and blew lightly on it before bringing it over to Fredrick's lips to eat. 

“Yep! Here, try some. I tried a little something different today but I'm not sure if it tastes good,” Fredrick took the soup into his mouth and swirled it around to make sure he got the full taste of it. He made a satisfied hum as he looked up to Eli. 

“It's good, it's a little bit sweeter but I think it's fine,” he said as he let go of him. Eli, happy with this answer, ushered Fredrick to go and sit down at the table so he could serve them. With no complaint the male took his seat where he would usually sit. Eli followed along not too long after with two bowls and set them on the table before going back to the kitchen to grab them drinks.

What Fredrick didn't expect, though, was for Eli to come out with a bottle of wine. One of their better ones at that.

“What's this for?” Fredrick asked, raising his brow at the other with a look of confusion and curiosity. Eli just smiled as he sat across from him and popped the bottle open, slowly pouring them both a glass and sliding it over to him. 

“Today is a special day, so why not celebrate it a bit?” 

He was still a bit confused with the statement but decided to let it go as he took the cup into his hand and swirled the drink around. The two raised their cups towards each other, stopping right before they touched.

“Cheers to us, and for many more days like this to come,” Eli said before tapping the glass against Fredrick’s. The sound rang out for a moment before the two pulled their cups back and took a sip. 

“Cheers to us,” Fredrick said in agreement as they began to eat. Like before when they were walking down the street, they talked some here and there. Doing some planning for future dates or just a casual conversation in general. When the two were done they cleaned the table and washed the dishes together. Both getting ready for bed like they normally would. 

Fredrick suddenly remembered the gift he had prepared for Eli and dragged him over to the couch. He sat him down before sitting beside him. “I actually prepared something for you for today,” he said quietly, slowly reaching into his pocket. He felt the smooth velvety box that he had been hiding for over two weeks now.

Fredrick had been worrying over this moment for so long, not knowing how it would turn out. He was confident that even if Eli rejected him, they could just forget all about this. 

“Really? What is it?” Curiosity was written all over his face as he tried to peer over to what Fredrick was holding. Before he could say something, in front of him was a small red box. There inside laid a ring in the center, the small gem in the center glimmering at him as his mouth dropped slightly open. 

“Eli…" Fredrick began, “We're young, and we haven't been together for long, but I've been thinking about it for some time now. It's too early to decide on marriage but I want to show the world that you're mine, just the same as I am yours. You've shown me kindness that no other has shown me, been there for me through my lowest, and brought me to my highest. I want to continue to love you, for now and forever. I hope that this promise ring is something that you would be willing to accept for the time being…”

There was silence that dawned between the two. Seconds ticked by which felt like hours for Fredrick. Eli still hadn't said anything or moved. He was getting nervous and slowly lowered his arm down. “Forget it… It's stu-” he was cut off by the force of the other pouncing on him as he laid flat against the couch now. 

“It's beautiful Fredrick! Yes! Yes I would!" Eli exclaimed as he began peppering the other's face with kisses. "How could I ever say no?! Were you about to go on about how it was stupid?” he asked quickly with an accusing look. Fredrick just looked away slightly embarrassed and ashamed.

“Just… I don't know…” he mumbled quietly, his face turning red as his gaze averted to the side. Eli put his hands on his cheeks quickly to make Fredrick look him in the eye. 

“I love you so much, this is the best gift ever… In fact,” he reached down into his pocket, pulling out an identical box to Fredrick's, "I think we had the same idea in mind.”

Fredrick didn't know what to say. They both had planned to give each other the same exact gift, nothing less, Eli had thought the way he perhaps did too. Suddenly, without warning, some tears began to fall down his face as he tried to wipe them away quickly. Eli just smiled as he gently brushed the tears away and gave him a few more kisses. 

“Why are you crying, dear? This is something to celebrate-”

“I'm not crying," Fredrick suddenly said with a small sniffle as he smiled and kissed the other back before pulling away again. "Well, I mean I am but I'm just so happy… Oh, how did I end up with someone like you. I love you Eli, thank you for loving me…" The two smiled at each other like two fools before giving each other another kiss.

The home that was once filled with warmth and love now flourished even more in the cool night. The two thought that they could never be happier than they were in the moment. 

After that day, if they weren't already, they were now always around one another. Showing their love more publicly with no shame.

[catboyebooks]

had to pause and get my thoughts in order — i wasn’t really planning into getting more meta/analytical with this liveblog before i finish the story, since it’s not that long, but i wanna at least touch on a few things before we continue. this is sort of disorganized and not a proper analysis post so i’ll just do bullet points 

regarding the dynamic currently playing out between junko, mukuro, and naegi (kind of, he’s unconscious rn so can’t really contribute to the conversation) i think i need to just acknowledge, at this point, that it basically reads like the worst love triangle of all time. to be clear: mukuro and junko’s relationship is later (in dr3) confirmed to be incestuous, here it’s just subtext, but it’s not exactly difficult subtext to pick up on. i also want to be clear when i talk about this that i wouldn’t bring the subject up if i didn’t think it was important to understanding what’s going on with these characters — there is an unfortunate tendency in fandom to treat any [potential] incest as though it’s sexy &/or romantic &/or a funny joke, and i’m aware there are people who actually ship mukuro and junko. that’s not where i’m coming from here. i’m bringing it up because dr:if makes it clear that mukuro is being abused by her sister in a variety of ways — physically, emotionally, verbally, psychologically, etc. — and so when junko makes sexually charged comments to/about her sister, or when mukuro reacts like she’s getting broken up with when junko says goodbye to her, i think it’s reasonable to infer that there’s also sexual abuse going on. probably not all that different from how junko manipulated tsumiki (another thing we’ll talk about more when we get to dr3). again, this is just one aspect of how junko is abusing and manipulating her sister and it’s not the main thing to focus on here but i do think we have to take it into consideration, it does affect how this reads. like, in a twisted way, junko might see naegi as like a “romantic rival” here and i think that’s relevant both in terms of how she acts in this story re: mukuro’s crush and in terms of how she treats naegi in the canon timeline (she makes a lot of sex jokes at his expense, moreso than for his classmates, and it’s not just because he’s the protagonist — she isn’t like that with hinata. i think she likely started doing this back when they were actually in high school in order to bother mukuro and kept it up after killing her sister)

obviously we’ve never gotten to see this much of mukuro’s character before because she dies so early in dr1 and is putting on an act the whole time, but we also haven’t gotten to see junko like this before, either, and i think i wanna talk about that first. previously we have only really had 2 scenes with junko appearing in person (1-6 trial and 2-6 trial) and those are both scenes where she’s essentially monologuing to a group of people about her evil deeds — this is the first time we get to see her interact one-on-one with another character. we already know how capital-E Evil she is but there’s something that really hits different about seeing junko act nasty to her sister vs destroying the world or forcing people to kill each other. it’s a much more mundane, more intimate, more personal type of cruelty and i think it hits harder because of that. this is something i have more thoughts on actually but i’ve decided i want to save it for when i cover dr3 

i’ve said before i have no idea where to begin unpacking the stuff with junko and mukuro trying to cause each other despair as a display of affection but like. god. the way it plays out canonically — junko killing mukuro because such a senseless act of betrayal would cause her to experience overwhelming despair as she dies, and since junko loves despair so much she thinks this is good actually and intends this not only as a show of her love for her sister but as a way to inflict despair upon herself by killing the person she loves most — is already a fucking lot. the way it plays out in dr:if — where mukuro survives, junko in response tries to manipulate mukuro into killing the guy she has feelings for and then when that fails essentially tells her “bye, i don’t need you anymore” in order to hurt her by taking away mukuro’s purpose in life and depriving her of her most important relationship, and mukuro is indeed so deeply hurt by this that she thinks “now i finally understand despair” and, knowing that this is how junko shows affection, decides to reciprocate the gesture by destroying junko’s plans — is… like, what do i even say about that? this is beyond the paygrade of every therapist that has ever existed. combined. and like, the villain who thinks bad things are good actually is a very common trope and it’s usually played for comedy (i.e. villain who says “what a horrible day!” to mean the day was good because they’re evil and like when things are bad), and it’s certainly played for comedy a lot of the time with junko, but this kind of exploration of what that would actually mean for the villain’s interpersonal relationships is something you see far less often. genuinely really compelling stuff imo

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Moving In - Billy Hargrove X Female (Henderson) Reader

Title: Moving In

Billy Hargrove X Female (Henderson) Reader

Additional Characters: Billy's dad (Mentioned), Max (Mentioned), El (Mentioned), Reader's mom (Mentioned), Hopper (Mentioned), and Susan (Mentioned)

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

WC: 1,859

Warnings: Mention of abuse, mention of a trial, insecurities, worries, embarrassment, just too cute to handle

There had been a trial. Neil Hargrove had been put away in prison for aggravated assault of a minor, felony assault in the second degree, and battery. He’s going away for forty years. Forty. It was hard. The trial. Hopper said it would be, especially for Billy and Max. Hopper got both You, Billy, Max, and Susan prepared to go up and testify against Neil. It took the jury only an hour to find Neil guilty of all charges. 

Now, a month later, Billy lay in bed. The morning sun shining through your windows, morning birds chirping a song outside. He had his arms wrapped around his sleeping beauty, who snuggled closer into his chest. Your soft hand fumbled gently with the Mother Mary necklace around his neck. Your eyes remained closed, still trying to wake up, as Billy continued to admire you, playing with your hair.

Billy couldn’t seem to look away from you. You were mesmerizing. Billy loved every moment with you. He loved waking up beside you, having your peaceful and beautiful face be the first thing he sees in the morning. He loved hearing your laugh, seeing your smile, being the reason you smiled. He loved you. It didn’t take long for Billy to figure that out. That he did hold great feelings for you. He knew there was something about you. 

At first, he was scared. The feeling that he had for you felt so real. But, so were yours. you, too, loved Billy. You loved seeing how peaceful he looked when sleeping, as if nothing ever bad ever happened to him ever. You loved his teasing. His laugh, and genuine smile. Oh, you loved his smile. One that wasn’t a smirk and wasn’t fake. One that you caused. You loved him. 

So, he confessed first, right there in your bedroom, only three weeks ago. He was nervous and worried the entire time. Worried you wouldn’t feel the same as he did for you. As he spoke, he couldn’t look at you, instead of staring at the floor. He had this whole speech all planned out, but instead once he looked into your eyes, that all flew out the window.

You were watching Bambi in your room, you snuggled next to him, head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you. But while you were watching the movie, Billy was in his head. Thinking, and not really paying the movie any attention. Billy was nervous, and you could tell. You could feel his heart beating fast. Billy was fidgeting with his hand in his lap, while his other hand was playing with your hair. He wasn’t paying any attention, and you didn’t mind, you just were wondering what he was thinking or worrying about.

Pausing the movie, you pulled out of his arms, sitting up and looking at Billy confused and slightly concerned. Billy looked nervous. His eyes told you so. 

“What’s wrong?” Billy looked nervous before putting on his fake brave face.

“Why’d you pause it?” Billy asked, trying to get out of the conversation.

“Cause’ you weren’t paying any attention to it. You love Bambi.” You expressed, and Billy gave a nervous laugh.

“Now, don’t plan on telling anyone that or I’ll lose my reputation.” He spoke and You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

“Stop trying to change the subject, I know something is wrong. You play with your hands when you are nervous about something.” You spoke, gesturing to Billy’s hands in his lap, stopping when he too, noticed.

Billy looked away from your and towards your bedroom wall, staring hard at your Prince poster. You gave him time, you didn’t want to rush him or make him feel too uncomfortable to tell you. Billy began to play with his hands again. Taking in shallow deep breaths. They sat like that for a long while. It felt like a long time for Billy when in reality, it was only a couple of minutes.

He wanted to tell you everything. How he never thought he’d fall in love with you. How he really just wanted to go out and buy and ring and purpose now. He wanted to move out of Hawkins and live together in California. He and you have some type of job, him surfing on his day off, and teaching you. He wanted to stay by your side forever. How could he tell you that without making a total fool of himself?

Billy finally looked at you, his nervous eyes meeting your concerned but hopeful ones. He had to tell you now or it was going to hold him down forever. He didn’t want to lose you. What if you didn’t feel the same? 

“When I first met you, I didn’t know I was going to catch feelings for you…” Billy began, watching as your eyes widened at his confession.

“At first I saw you turning me down as a challenge, but after a while, it didn’t matter anymore.”

You continued to sit there, silently, listening. Billy let out a huge sigh and raked a hand through his hair. A bit frustrated with himself. He was going to mess this up.

“What I am trying to say is that I… I love you.” He spoke, slightly rushed, looking anywhere but at You.

 It was silent again, Billy looking down at his lap, hands clasped together tightly as he drew up scenarios in his head.

“Oh, Billy, I only see you as a friend!” Was playing through his head. Hands reached down and grabbed both of his gently, causing Billy to look up to see a teary-eyed, but smiley You. 

“I’m sorry, I knew it was stupid to tell you-” You surged forward, your lips crashing into his.

Billy froze, realizing what was happening. He wasn’t dreaming. Billy reacted quickly, face flushing, gently bringing You closer, his hand on the back of your neck. Billy had never felt so weak when kissing anyone, but this kiss made his head so foggy, his stomach filled with butterflies, and his heartbeat so fast. He was absolutely lost in your kiss. Pulling back, breathless, he had this dopey smile on his face. You giggled softly, face red, raking your hand through his hair, pushing curls out of his face. 

“Love you too.”  You spoke, voice soft and whispery.

Billy’s face lit up like the Fourth of July, quickly wrapping his arms around yours and bringing you into a tight hug. You laughed gently, wrapping your arms around him as well, savoring the smell of leatyour and his stupid cologne. For the rest of the night, you watched Disney movies, tangled up in each other's arms, occasionally sharing a kiss or two, just simply being happy.

Billy reminisces then to a couple of days ago when he cleaned out his old room. Technically, since Niel left, Susan and Max had the house to themselves. Billy could stay there, it was still his home, but Mrs. Henderson said Billy could stay at your home. Billy chose the Henderson household, sometimes meeting Susan and Max on Fridays for dinner each week. But, in the last couple of days, You and he had been packing up his room, Max was seemingly excited since you had plans to turn it into a ‘hangout’ room for your and El. Even though Max was excited about the extra room, you were going to miss your brother maybe just a little bit. 

Billy was filling up a cardboard box with some of his more precious items, while You was in the kitchen with Susan. Stuffing clothes into the box, you walked in, scoffing lightly.

“You’re just going to be wasting space, B.” You remarked, going over and taking out the crumpled clothes, beginning to fold them nicely. 

“Well, do you want to pack my room for me then?” Billy asked sarcastically, smirking as he sat next to the box on his bed.

You just rolled your eyes, a fond smile on your face. “No, I just want you to pack the right way.” You answered, placing the neatly folded clothes in the box methodically. 

Looking around the room, the two sat in silence. Billy thought back to his time in his room. The good times, and the bad times. There were more bad times than good times. There were so few good memories in that room that it felt like there were none at all. You also looked around the room. It was slightly more barren than usual. The shelves were cleared, blankets and pillows off the bed, desk in the corner empty of anything valuable. The walls still had many posters upon them, some of Billy’s favorite bands and women, you giggled mischievously at most of them. 

“Which posters do you want to keep? I think I have some room on my wall.” You asked and Billy looked around at the posters silently.

“Probably my Clash poster… I don’t know about the others.”

Billy spoke up and you nodded.

“Good, cause you ain’t taking that one.” You spoke up, pointing to the poster of the woman on his door, only to which Billy laughed at.

“I wouldn’t even dream of it, Beautiful. They don’t compare to you.” Before you could say anything back, your face read, Susan called for you from the kitchen.

“I’ll be back, make sure to pack your stuff in the right way.” You spoke, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before meeting Susan in the kitchen.

Billy sighed dreamingly, looking at the door from wyoure you left. 

“You’re whipped.”

Billy jumped, slightly started as he turned and saw Max pop in from around the corner.

“I am not, twirp.” Billy spoke up in defense.

Max shook her head before a smirk donned her face.

“If you asked you to do anything, you would probably do it.”

Before Billy could even say anything back, you walked back in, ruffling Max’s hair teasingly.

“Billy, I can’t reach most of the cups in the cupboard, could you help me?” You asked and Billy nodded, standing up and going to the kitchen with you in tow. 

Max smirked at the scene, her brother reaching up and helping you grab some cups. 

“Whipped.”

Billy knew he was whipped. Now, he wouldn’t tell anyone that, not even you, but he would do anything you asked him to do. 

Billy watched as you slowly opened your eyes, which twinkled in slight mischief.

“You’re staring.” You mimicked him from weeks ago, a small smirk on your face, as you rubbed your left eye. 

Billy said nothing but pulled you closer, you landing on top of him, your hair falling over your shoulder. You held yourself up, leaning over him as you giggled softly, your free hand gently playing with your hair.

“Good morning, B…” You spoke, leaning down and pressing a kiss on his nose.

Billy’s smile only grew into a playful one, before flipping you over, pinning you down to the bed. Leaning down, Billy pressed a soft but deep kiss to your lips, you kissed back, until he broke the kiss, a stupid love-grin on his face.

“Good morning, Beautiful.”

_____________________________________________________

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[igotathingforvampires]

Aro Volturi N.S.F.W Alphabet

CANON DIVERGENT.

Info on Reader: Reader is an Elemental Gift user like Benjamin

CW/TW: a SLIGHT MENTION of assault but NO DETAIL AT ALL (as a SA survivor I do not use this lightly but I do like representation and not having the survivor be that cliche broken doll we end abusers here thank you)

How you two met:

You…..oh you. You’re standing with the Cullens wondering how the FUCK you got here.

Why am I here? What’s with this tiny little kid who can touch me and tell me things. Awe but she’s cute.

You’re just a bored Vampire who knows Carlisle and is Esme’s BFF.

You’re a nomad, and a badass one, see your gift is the Elements like Benjamin, it’s why Amun has his eye on you and is freaked out.

You and Benji are buddies now. Benjamin specializes in Earth and Water. You specialize in Fire and Air.

So now, here you are watching a bunch of cloaked baddies stomping towards you. But Carlisle and you have spoken frequently, the Volturi aren’t bad.

However, they are cautious.

And caution bred by fear is something you know to be wary of.

So you keep yourself a bit behind Carly. Waiting and watching.

The leader— that must be Aro you think, flings his hood back and suddenly you feel your entire chest clench up and a yank within yourself towards him. “Oh what the fuck.” You growl. Glancing UP at the Old Gods you couldn’t help but snap at them “ARE YOU ALL KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?! HIM?!”

The platinum haired man barked angrily, “who dares?!”

Aro is too busy glancing at his brother Marcus who’s smiling. He nods at Aro and huffs a bit of a sigh.

The raven haired man turns ever so slowly, casting his red gaze over the crowd and it falls to Carlisle. “Carly.”

“Aro?”

“Who is that behind you.” Aro can feel his chest hurt like a chain is being pulled.

Carlisle looks confused and glances behind him where you are shaking your head face palming—looking embarrassed.

Edward and Bella are utterly confused, before Edward listens to Aro’s and your thoughts and gets a look of disgust, “REALLY.” He barks.

You feel the rage of a thousand suns consume you. “I CAN’T PICK IT YA KNOW AND HEY WHADDAYA MEAN REALLY —ASSHOLE DON’T TALK ABOUT MY MATE LIKE THAT!”

The entire field is utterly still as you’re heaving, standing on your tip toes in front of the bronze haired vampire pointing at Edwards cringing face, “but it’s—“ he starts, you let out a growl and sparks fly off you.

Edward shuts up.

“I will light your ass on fire.” You whisper hiss.

The Volturi are just tilting their heads like WTF.

Marcus is trying not to laugh, Caius has just become stunned glancing between his brother and the woman across the battlefield.

Aro is getting GIDDY.

“And who is the girl.” He asks.

You turn, your hips swinging with attitude and your arms crossing as you scoff. “Psh, get a load of this Mother fucker,” you whisper to yourself glaring across the expanse of space. “HEY. I have a name.”

------

-----

His First Impression:

Of course my mate swears like a sailor.

Is Aro’s first thought.

His next thought is that you’re awful adorable. Awe so lithe and cute and— Much too … hm, much too adorable to be mine I would think how In the —a violent wind kicks up and flames burst out from your body enveloping your form as you take a few steps forward.

Ah there it is.

“You wanna ask me my name— darling.” You smile wide at him.

“Of course,” his purr is laced with annoyance, but he’s far too intrigued. “Who might you be?”

“I’m y/n. No last name, my parents were assholes.” You shrug. “So, we doing this trial or we figuring the whole—“ you wave your hand between the gaping maw of land between you two, “bond thing.”

Aro pauses, a twitch on his lips, “after the proceedings cara mia.”

“Ooo… love me a man that speaks Italian—” You smirk, raising a brow and cock your head to the side.

Aro makes a stifled choked off growl as his eyes go black— thank God he lost the ability to blush as arousal slammed into him like a freight train.

You’re obviously annoyed, and have as Caius mutters ‘more balls than a Christmas tree’ and you are ready for this trial to be over.

Frankly so is Aro he wants to drag you back to Volterra and bring you to heel.

Not that he thinks that’s going to happen.

But he loves playing with fire. And you’re full of it.

He watches you glance at the Cullens and the half-breed. “Alright Nessie come on let’s show him what you can do kiddo.” You scoop the girl up and you and the Cullens walk over with Jake behind you.

-----

-----

When does he know of his feelings?

When within reaching distance you set Renessme down and pat her head, “okay tiny Loch Ness, say hello.”

Bella is panicking, but she trusts you it seems, she better, you have no qualms frying— sans mate— every vampire here. They do their little song and dance. Aro tries to talk about the danger and you feel your temper boil over.

“Darling.” You croon taking a step forward with a sharp but soft smile.

You remind him of a lioness, purring softly but ready to tear into him with one movement.

He raises a brow; you are in 6 inch heels putting you nose to nose with him. “Yes carissima?” He breathes deep and nearly groans out loud, you smell so good, like spring and a heady feminine scent like perfume edged in lilacs and lavender.

“Could you pretty pretty pretty please just keep an eye on little Nessie— I hate to tell you but she’s quite important to me and I can assure you she fits in with humans better than the Cullens do.”

“And if I don’t.”

You let flames dance in your gaze. “I’ll roast everyone here except your brothers and their mates and make you start the fuck over without me.”

Aro’s done.

Cupid has struck him in his dead heart.

He’s never been more terrified or aroused or enraged at once at your dulcet threat purred from such sweet lips.

He wants to grip you by your hair to him, pick you up and haul you to somewhere private and teach you a lesson.

He wants to fight you. And it’s quite clear you’re ready to rumble, though he’s not sure you’d let him win. Or that it wouldn’t end up tangling in a bed somewhere on fire. That’s fine too.

A manic grin spreads across his face, eyes going pitch black as he snatches you up by the waist and hauls you closer loving the startled look in your eyes settling into something dark and wanting. “And if I agree?”

The brothers roll their eyes.

Go figure you’d be as bat shit as he is.

“I’ll leave with you right now.” You give him THAT look matching his almost mad grin.

A low purr echos from him making Bella clap her hands over Nessie’s ears. “Una ragazza così meravigliosa, credo che mi piaccia come funziona la tua mente.” Such a wonderful girl, I think I like how your mind works.

But your plans to drag your mate off end as Alice shows up with her witness right when he’s about to whisk you off for some obvious adult time.

Both of you sigh put out and exasperated.

Yes you just about ended an entire potential threat with batting pretty eyes and coaxing the leader of the Volturi into some fun.

But now that’s ruined because of the psychic. Alice is looking rather embarrassed as the proceedings go. Given that she probably saw how everything was about to go down.

Aro can sense you’re as annoyed as he is, that and you’re not leaving his side. And you don’t mind touching him but you’re not because oh yeah he needs to focus. But oh he can see your hand twitching towards his own.

He can easily turn his gift off and so he does and grips your hand, quickly jerking you to his side.

Electricity lights along your skin at the contact and both of you jolt a moment and glance sideways looking amused.

This was going to be fun.

——

——

How’d you end up with the Volturi?

Alice and her witnesses ease their concerns about Nessie. Aro placates the Volturi as you linger back behind him a bit. Everyone just poof! Vanishes.

“So ah, can we get my stuff first before you whisk me off around the world?” You ask sweetly.

Aro’s a bit startled, “you wish to leave already?”

You realize he would be willing to stay for a bit and let you acclimate.

“Nah where you go I fucking go, come on baby. Let’s get the fuck outta dodge.” You give him a teasing shove as you walk by making Carlisle’s coven silently shake in mirth at his surprised expression.

Carlisle murmurs, “Good luck Aro.”

“Fuck off Carly.” The King growls back before following you.

That’s all they wrote.

You were in. And you made yourself at home quite easily.

Jane and Alec adore you— you saw them and just SQUEEd. “OMG they’re so DEADLY but so CUTE!”

Jane wasn’t quite sure what to do with you picking her UP and hugging her nuzzling your nose to her cheek, “she’s just a tiny tot of doom I adore it! We’re going to burn the SHIT outta people.”

Alec just sat starry eyed as you ruffled his hair, “I know boys don’t like being picked up.”

Jane had become a koala on you. And you didn’t mind.

Well. You’re Mama now. Aro couldn’t be more pleased as you continue to help develop their skills trying things outside of the box.

See, that’s also a sort of talent you have— you can help people learn how to use their gifts because of how you think. Not a gift per say, but certainly useful.

Jane it turns out can utilize the fire element.

Alec can utilize air.

With you knowing both you’re easily able to teach Alec how to hone his targets and even allow his gift to POP UP near someone rather than from his hands.

Jane is capable of setting shit on fire now.

Aro isn’t sure if he’s proud or worried.

Bit of both. But you are STERN with their use of powers. And when Jane set Felix’s foot on fire she was forced to shine everyone’s shoes in the Volturi in the afternoon and write 200,000 times at HUMAN PACE. “We do not light family on fire.”

She never did it again.

The inner coven loves you. Caius and you are besties Marcus is like a big brother always doting on you. Athenadora and Sulpricia are of course still together as companions, and don’t worry about his ex wife— they were on the rocks she’s ecstatic someone else can keep him in line.

The coven instantly takes to you, in fact you’re now basically Mother to everyone. Scolding, teaching, comforting, you do it all. But you’re also a leader and a ruthless one at that.

A perfect fit Aro thinks.

——

——

How’d he deal with his emotions?

You are driving Aro FUCKING CRAZY.

Literally mad.

You know how to push his buttons and you are not one to do as told. So for him, he who has anyone bending to his will to see you just cock a brow at him and laugh “awe.”

He wants to choke you half to death.

You are a Queen. He tells himself. It’s to be expected that you’d challenge him.

Sulpricia finds it HILARIOUS and you two are besties. Fuck that’s all he needs. She is ever so encouraging of your independence.

He often finds himself in Sulpricia’s study pacing rampantly, “what am I going to do with her?”

“You know you like it.” Sully says lounging back on her couch. “If you didn’t you wouldn’t be so utterly ass over tea kettle.”

Aro is not good with his emotions when it comes to jealousy. And he is JEALOUS.

You’re perfect to him, utterly beautiful, you are the sun and he Icarus stupidly flying as high as he can towards you in hopes to reach the light.

You’re also inclined to let him touch you whenever you want to express things without using words— and you’ve learned to let him speak to you telepathically as well.

So often you just sit with your pinkies touching on a couch and have back and forth silently except for the occasional twitch on your lips at a humorous comment.

You’ve managed to make him huff a laugh occasionally.

But he is utterly posessive. He does not like it when men stare too long, admiring is one thing, but nothing escapes Aro.

So when a lower guard had been in trouble for an infraction and when you had disciplined him the utter disrespect for a concubine replacement was across Aro’s mind and…welll—

Guard died.

You had just looked startled and gave a ‘oh well’ kinda shrug before touching ARo’s hand. Feel better baby?

Yes you called him baby in private, so modern, and he would NEVER admit he loved it. Baby, darling, love, honey, the list went on and each one twisted his insides into ribbons of absolute adoration.

You had actually taken to the bond so well Marcus had informed him that it was practically cemented.

His only hang up was himself.

——

——

Who does he ask for help?

Didyme is no longer there— his dear sister, a deep sorrow as he was accidentally responsible for her death.

Marcus however is always there to be the voice of reason, and he sits Aro down and listens to his brother spill his guts. Aro is terrified, he is well aware he is THE monster that makes OTHER monsters keep in line.

But for you to look at him like that? He could never bear it. His heart would break.

Marcus sighs, “Aro come here.” He drags his brother to the training grounds.

Where Aro get’s to see his mate literally tear apart the entire guard with blades…. Did his eyes deceive him— were those made from vampire ash and fangs?!

You pause your onslaught, “oh hi darling!” You prance over and smile, “like them? My witch-smith friend made them for me! Fucking bastards kept coming for me after awhile and ya know I just hate the idea of wasting shit.”

Marcus glanced at Aro and gave him a I told you so.

“Everything okay?” You ask looking concerned. You are dragging him along as he partially willingly let’s you take him to his sister’s gardens. “What’s wrong?”

And so, he exhales and does the one thing he’s never done with his gift.

He touches your hand and shows you his own thoughts.

He expects your recoil. Expects you to shun him. Expects your hatred and braces himself for it.

You gasp and when he’s about to drag his hand away and you grip him tighter. “No don’t…let me…” and so you watch— thousands of years of memories over the course of a week or two. Asking silent questions as the images play, getting silent answers in return.

And so, in return, you show him your human life— a life that had been riddled with abusers, torment and lack of love, the iron in your spine that had solidified your creation when you had dragged yourself from an open alley way at dawn into the sewer system after being left to die being drained by a nomad after a brutal assault. You shared with him that it had taken a lot for you to even move after what had happened.

Esme had found you.

And so your friends made sure you were okay even if you didn’t follow their diet.

You both spend time going over your pasts, Aro gently asking questions and you doing the same to answer as best you could.

It was why Rosalie and you got along so well, there were some experiences one could only understand by going through it. And you both had learned how to cope with the trauma you had.

Aro is patient, both of you taking time to feel through each others wounds, taking time to rework into each others personal space.

Marcus is stunned to tell Aro that the bond is nigh unbreakable after this exchange.

The Kings magically -coughs- big brother Marcus loses his shit finding out and Caius leads the search party with Demetri— cough cough— find the nomad and he’s now in a box limb free 15 feet below the dungeon with a tube connecting him to the surface, his tongue removed and he only gets blood once a year. *Jane lit them on fire multiple times to practice her accuracy and aim*

You find out of course, and smile through the dry sobs as all three embrace you like a big protective group hug. For the first time in a very long time, it’s safe.

Truly safe.

——

——

What happens when he tells you?

Aro is a man of few words, and honestly not much is needed between you two with the ability to go back and forth with his gift.

So in the middle of a walk in Didyme’s gardens he merely grabs your hand gently and kisses the top of your fingers.

And you’re flooded with his emotions.

The warmth and tenderness and absolute adoration is almost enough to restart your dead heart as venom pools in your eyes. “Aro…”

He loves you, loves you more than his own life, would give anything for you to make you smile.

This isn’t the love that is complacent, to just sit idle and rust away, he wants to chase you for eternity, whatever it takes to keep you at his side.

And you flood him right back— lowering the barriers you had and after a moment he merely leans down and presses his forehead to your own, giving the two of you time to just bask in the warmth of affection that’s swirling back and forth akin to the waves of the tide under the moon and sun at twilight.

——

——

First Kiss?

The leaders of Volterra were in the throne room, the Queens having their own thrones behind their husbands but visible carved in different woods to represent their personalities with different intricate features much like the brother’s thrones holding different crowning points but all the same color.

Your own is the same color as Aro’s throne, but mingled with mahogany accents. Ruby red stones slotted at the top with a crescent moon and sun carving emboldened with gold spiked halo.

Caius' mate's throne is a pale color, affixed with branches and beautiful earth like tones, complimenting her grounded nature.

Marcus’ Witch Mate is merely embellished in a ash throne, deep red almost black gems and the symbol for the overall witch and vampire alliance above her throne.

With all three positions of Queen in Volterra taken up by a true mate, it is the most stable the Volturi have been in several millennia.

But that day in particular was rough, there were a few traitors that had been brought forward— and one of them had managed to get loose from Felix as Aro had been gaining information lunging for the King’s throat.

You moved so fast no one even saw you as you streaked forward like a ghost and lobbed the vampire’s head off holding a blade made of vampire teeth expertly with an animalistic snarl.

You had positioned yourself in front of Aro, crouched, blade poised and your eyes wide and wild, teeth flashing with a dangerous snarl.

Marcus’ witch had already shielded Aro but paused when she saw how enraged you were. Athena and Sulpricia had faltered, Caius looked utterly proud.

You spun round, dropping your blade— knowing Felix and the others had everything in hand as Aro had reached for you, the two of you locked in an embrace, his hands holding your face still as your own hands grasped his wrists. Foreheads pressed together—

The coven was used to this, a private conversation but you could feel the utter terror that had gone through him when he saw you out of the corner of his eye. If anything had happened to you—he was almost angry at you.

But he could easily sense the rage that had consumed you at the thought of someone hurting him. Despite knowing the guard and Jane would Never allow it, your instincts had taken over.

No one would ever take from you again.

And you had been frightened.

Behind that rage when he got past it was utter fear that he’d be gone and you’d be all alone again all the tender memories would be the last you’d have of him as you gave a dry sob before the venom dropped from your eyes— a true show of vampiric emotion that was a rarity.

“Carissima, no. I’ll not leave you that easily.” He murmured and not giving a flying fuck about anyone in the room kissed you full on the mouth gathering you up in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered half broken against his mouth. “I’m sorry-“

“I know I know, shhh cara mia shhh,” gathering you up he merely flitted out of the room leaving the others to deal with the issue.

Tons of snuggles. He had bundled you up to him in his private rooms and merely kept your hands together enjoying the shared emotions knowing the other was close and safe.

Aro knew exactly how to calm you, he merely showed you all his favorite memories, of the coven, of his travels, the antics his brother’s got up to. He replayed the moment he first saw you.

That always made you laugh of course she swears like a sailor.

——

——

First Time?

It’s in an elevator.

Okay so here’s the thing. The Volturi have these massive events, and your official coronation happens at one of these.

Aro is so proud.

And so fucking jealous as you are danced across the floor with other vampires— who are oh so respectful and as they should be as Aro watches from the upper floor like an angel of death.

You look stunning, your smile lighting up the entire ballroom, friends from near and far are there— even then Cullens— God bless Carly he even had animal blood brought for him.

You’re dancing around with Nessie laughing and watching the girl child giggle like a fiend before handing her off to the Shifter Aro hated the smell but it was what it was.

Over the course of the evening he was getting awful tired of sharing you. And as the evening wound down to an end you both were just going to take the elevator back up to the private rooms as the Ballroom was on the top floor of Volterra.

The energy crackled in the small space and you both glanced at one another. It was like a short fuse had been lit on a stick of dynamite.

We’re so not doing this in an elevator are we?

You didn’t realize you had said it out loud even as you both gravitated towards one another and his hands tangled into your hair sending gold pins flying to the ground as his mouth found yours and you let out a deep moan as his tongue swiped your lips before you happily opened them.

“We’re going to be patient. Cara mia. ” He said sternly more to himself than you— then groaned when your teeth tugged gently on his bottom lip knowing it drove him crazy. “Sarai la mia morte. Sulla mia tomba scriveranno 'ha giocato con il fuoco ed è perito felicemente’” his voice became heated as his hands moved over your form, “non mi importa più, vieni da me mia fiamma, brucia con me.” You will be my death. On my grave they will write 'he played with fire and perished happily'. I don't care anymore, come to me my flame, burn with me.

His hands were gripping your backside and hauling you up, pressing himself firmly between your thighs before grinding against you. But when his teeth scraped your neck your brain shorted out—

“Oh for gods sake Aro just fuck me already—” your hands were scrabbling at his waist coat and shirt pleased how easily the buttons pinged off the walls of the elevator.

Your mate let out a pleased noise, one that was utterly inhuman when your hands tangled into his raven locks and knocked the golden V pin to the floor allowing the ocean and pomegranate scent of his to curtain you from the world as he bent his head down and kissed you as if it were the last thing he would get to do just then. Right before he smacked his hand against the emergency stop button jolting the ride to the private floor still.

If you thought his kisses were something to be swooning over— because he always knew what you needed.

Well his gift extends to much and he is in tune with it.

Your mind is his favorite place to be, and he brutally uses what he knows to his advantage as his fingers skim up your legs flinging your skirt over your thighs to teasingly grind himself against you till you’re almost clawing at him half feral.

“My pretty little mate—“ he croons at you, “you looked so beautiful cara mia,” kissing down your throat before biting marks into your flesh licking them before continuing on as his teeth jerk the fabric of your bodice and sleeves off not even bothering with his hands. “E tu sei tutto mio, cazzo.” And you’re all fucking mine.

You were busy molding your hands against his form, loving how it was just ratcheting up his half mad with desire motions, twitchy, greedy, desperate to touch, “What was it you joked about that one time?” He was referring to a memory with your best friends over drinks.

You gulped and shivered a bit. “I believe I said sometimes a girl just wants to ahem— get slammed to a wall and fucked stupid?”

He smirked as his hands tore fabric off you letting his fingers to glide along your skin, allowing your own to do the same and showing you know exactly what he liked through the bond of touch.

If you’d been human the air would have left your lungs as he pressed his body tight to your own, pinning you in place letting you feel what you did to him, the hard length of his cock pressed into your belly. “What do you say we take care of that, hm?”

You’re speaking in tongues before he even takes you fully, and roughly, there’s no slow tender love making and frankly you’re just glad for it.

His wild smile sliding into a predatory proud smirk when you’re just a mess; whining at him, begging, pleading, twitching against him and oh you’re just so pretty when at his mercy.

He literally has the tongue of the devil.

“Did I finally break you little one?” He croons despite his rough movements sending you into another shockwave of bliss as your nails make claw marks in the wall.

Fuck he had— you’ll do anything if he’ll just continue.

Your submission is like a drug, he’s mad on it, hands digging against you, making small fissures of cracks along your hips that make you groan gleeful as you push closer for more of his touches.

“That’s right bambi, give me everything.”

That’s all you hear before he’s fucking you into the wall of the elevator, sinking his teeth into your shoulder and neck just to relish in the pain and pleasure filled noises that escape from you as you beg for more, more, just please give more it’s all you want.

“My good bambi.” He growls as he begins it all over again, rumbling in your ear as your try to escape the onslaught of sensations— but happy you can’t as his grip has you immovable. “You’re not escaping me just yet.”

You’re both a mess, not that either of you care. Adjusting yourselves as best you can—

You’re lucky his private rooms are close and he simply carries you and flits you both into his rooms; you both end up continuing what was started.

——

——

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is a touch telepath, he knows exactly what you need.

But he also surprises you with what you didn’t even know you needed.

Snuggles, so many snuggles— Aro is not a tactile person— but with you?

Forget it.

He’s practically melting into your form and trying to fuse himself to you.

Massages, nuzzling your hair, biting.

Lots of biting— but not hard bites, love bites. Pressing his teeth to your skin to leave little imprints that he just can’t get over. You always poke fun at him for it.

Plus let’s face it.

Bite = Love.

He and Caius are on one mind with that.

He also took a note from Marcus and you both enjoy the heat of the baths together after a particularly long rough romp.

Which turns into a bath romp.

Because ahem *REASONS*

“I’m King I don’t need a reason to have you— now come here.” He’ll huff imperiously when you giggle at him as he drags you close into his embrace kissing you.

Okay he lies.

You looked too pretty in the bath.

Aro can’t help himself. That’s the reason.

——

——

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He is SHOOK when you tell him your favorite thing about him is his hands. You never feel misunderstood.

Even in the rare fights you simply huff and reach out to him, wiggling your fingers with a pleading glance; or if he won’t take your hand you’ll walk over sit in his lap and headbutt your forehead to his like an angry cat.

But usually Aro will take your hand and you both have a deep understanding of where you’re both coming from.

After a few moments it’s settled.

You kiss his hands, he knows you love how he plays you like a finely tuned instrument when alone.

Love when he delves his fingers into your hair and cradles you close even if you’re in the throne room— he’s the fucking king he can do what he likes damn it.

But Aro is startled by this— everyone hates touching him even though he can control his gift, they seem to think that— aside from his brothers and sister in laws— that he just loves to dive into people’s minds for funsies.

No it’s awful. Plain awful. He can barely stand his own mind why would he want to traverse someone else’s?

But that brings us to what he likes about you— he LOVES your head space. When he’s stressed it’s his favorite place to be because you have a vivid imagination, as a writer as well you show him stories you’ve thought of and worlds you’ve created with vivid detail. He finds it quite amusing to use watch your thoughts too on a daily, you like it simply because he’s close.

But aside from that it’s you.

Just You.

Just ALL of you.

He can’t pick don’t make the man pick, he would just keep you near him for eternity which you seem to have no issues with.

———

———

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically…I am a disgusting person…)

He is quite a posessive person.

Two Words:

Breeding Kink

You’re his and his alone, so the idea of ah— claiming you that way just sends him off into the ether.

The fact that you both have a breeding kink and literally can’t have kids is a GREAT thing because you’ve literally sat there a absolute mess after round five and thought out loud as he tenderly cleans you up, “shit thank god we can’t reproduce because I am 100% sure that’d have knocked my ass up—” which has had him shaking in mirth having to pause to control himself after a few moments.

Beg him for it.

Make that whining needy noise in the back of your throat at him for him to finally give you what you need.

He’ll just lose it, pin you by the throat and well— you’ve broken a few beds this way.

He has no shame.

Just glances at the bed, hits speed dial to the furniture store and orders a new one.

His only other favorite thing with C as he soon found out from O (you’ll see) was he adores when you swallow down everything he gives you. That’s got him rumbling in Italian about what a good girl you are and how much you please him.

———

———

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s a MASSIVE Pleasure Dom. And when I say Dom.

HE GOT DOM ENERGY.

With very mild Sadistic tendencies. (Thanks a lot Caius ya pervy fucker)

However he is also a very sincere soft streak when you’re a very good pet.

He picked up pet play from his sadistic brother hearing him call his amore Bunny. One day down the rabbit hole that is Google and he was hooked.

But he calls you Bambi. It’s an Italian term for baby-girl.

It also works because you become like a damn deer in the headlights when he pulls the Dominant voice on you.

It thrums with a low purr and has the capability to just make your brain go wait what?

HE’S A FUCKING SWITCH.

You had been pissed as shit at him. “I don’t know whether I want to strangle you or fuck you to death!” You paused because you had literally throat pinned him to the wall, the stone crumbling beneath him, feeling the muscles of his neck working as he swallowed nervously.

You were about to let go but saw his eyes had gone totally black and expectant and startled but excited.

He was just as fucking confused as you both calculated in a matter of seconds what had happened.

You were first to catch on. “Oh?….OH...….oooooohhhhhhh ….. you….you son of a….” You sputtered as he got a sly grin, “you can’t just look at me like— you are so ill behaved!!”

He wasn’t far behind and raised a black brow at you looking mischievous, “…..and what are you going to do about it mia regina?”

Next thing he knew he was face planted on his office floor with your boot pressed on his cheek making him groan low. “Gonna make you regret mouthing off to me is what I’m going to do my Aro.”

Edge him. Don’t let him touch you all day till he begs. He loves when you exert your authority especially on him? Oh forget it.

Queen Slay.

Literally you are his Queen and you are the only one who get’s to fucking tell him what to do.

And you ruthlessly do so when he’s in the mood. All you hear is “mia regina?” He’ll croon at you, as your hand comes up and drags him to you by his tie.

“would you like to be of service to me Aro?”

Magic words. He’s done, let him have you and he will literally just focus on your pleasure.

Worship Kink.

You had dropped to your knees at his desk and laid your head in his lap and he almost lost his god damn mind. You purred at him, “il mio maestro”.

Aro .exe has stopped fucking working.

———

———

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Thanks to the tactile telepathy as well as the fact that he and his brothers have slept their way through history, Aro is a very mixed lover.

When I say greedy as a lover, he wants your pleasure for himself. And will literally drive you to it till you’re sobbing for mercy.

He has none.

But he does take pity on you when he knows you’re truly at your limit with touch.

You weren’t inexperienced but his own experience blew yours out of the damn water. Can literally have you on the edge in mere minuets. And is SMUG about it.

Fucking smug bastard just watching you with that smirk on his face and a ‘well?’ Kinda expression.

You have to beg if you want it.

You have to plead, you have to let him hear you or he’ll just keep going and I quote ‘hmmm I can’t hear you cara mia, you’re being so quiet you know that makes me want to fuck you harder, come now, let me hear you— don’t make me have to drag it from you baby girl. You know I love to hear your sweet sounds.”

Could probably kill you if you weren’t already dead with what he can do with his hands.

His tongue is even better.

When asked which you preferred you had just panted desperately after a hard orgasm, “any. All. Both. God just…holy fuck.”

He cracked up over that. “My poor baby I broke her.”

————

————

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Loves having you in his lap.

Prefers to see your face and eyes, seems to need it.

But occasionally he just loves gripping your neck from behind and feeling you gasp against his grip as he slams into you roughly.

Adores anything that has you clinging onto him for dear life.

Likes being in a position to mark you. Favorite thing ever.

You had once tested his patience (willfully hoping for this outcome) a bit too much and he had pinned you completely immobile to the desk of his office and fucked you within an inch of your immortal life gagging you with his black tie.

“you just have to test me don’t you mia regina?” He had growled in your ear leaning over you, his hand crunching the ornate wood to splinters as you keened and whined for him to keep going. “Such a ill behaved thing you are, should just keep you here like this for when I please hm?”

He was not joking, you were kept there quite happily under his desk sitting at his feet your head on his lap waiting and absolutely willing.

He could feel your hands grip his thighs, “quit that I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work—“ his voice teetered off in a guttural growl as he looked down.

You were biting his shirt looking up at him already nudging yourself between his thighs your teeth digging into his trouser zipper and tugging down.

his hands were gripping your hair jerking you up to kiss him deep, a growl against your lips, “Fucking damn it— come here.”

When you can get him to swear which is rare— yeah…

He didn’t exactly sound angry.

But he sure fucked you like he was though.

“This is what you were after hm? You brat!” A harsh laugh as he pinned you down a bit harder, “fine then I should ensure you’re good….and….sated…shouldn’t I bambi?”

———

———

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very sincere.

Teasing but only in a very sexual way.

Borders on humiliation but he respects you too much.

Very serious though when he focuses on you.

He’s focusing on all the sensations you’re sending him, letting you know what he’s feeling as well which just sets you into the damn ether.

———

———

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It’s ARO.

The man is vain.

The man is neat.

Clean and pristine.

He’d give a regal huff of annoyance, “I am not a heathen darling.”

———

———

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ohhh you wouldn’t know it but he’s such a god damn romantic.

He is. And he MAKES time for you. The schedules are changed so you have time together more often— something that was never done before.

Operas, romantic walks out in Volterra at night.

Sightseeing.

Your favorite was your trip to Germany in the winter with a big cozy cottage and a big fire and lots of bedding to ahem— destroy.

Aro has penguin brain.

He brings you small gifts that made him think of you— you have a bracelet that has special charms he had custom made for you, a lochness monster for when you met, a castle obviously for Volterra, a doe, different tiny items that speckled through your life, each one means something— you hardly ever take it off.

You have a collection of very sparkly stones in many jars that he found on his missions.

They are actually gemstones— insert eye roll— they set off pretty prisms through your shared rooms.

“Aren’t you going to make jewelry of them?” Aro asks.

“No darling they are perfect just as they are.” You smile.

Aro actually has the literal voice of a damn angel.

He sings to you in Italian, soft dulcet sweet tones and dances you around your rooms teasing you relentlessly.

Aro writes beautiful poetry. He will at least write one every few months when inspiration comes to him.

You have your own private box at the opera house. As well as being allowed to fund artists across the world, you’ve found incredible talent on broadway and other venues.

Flowers. Aro ensures care for a private greenhouse for you on the roof, each flower has a meaning, and they all bloom year round given the proper temperatures on the greenhouse. “Why would I send you flowers when they die so easily.” He asks kissing your cheek as you smile over the new blooms. “This is everlasting, much more fitting.” He muses.

All his poetry is in a beautiful book Caius got you for your birthday.

———

———

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Why would he do that when he has you?

He is a patient man.

He can wait.

And he has pristine control over himself.

He is too old for pre-pubescent raging hormone crap.

But he will legit melt for you if you do it for him. Prefers it slow, enjoying your touch and loves to watch as you take instruction.

You’re such a good girl for him.

————

———

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Aro is a kinky bastard.

MASSIVE Pleasure Dom.

Worship Kink.

Edging.

Controlling Orgasms *you don’t get to come till he gives permission*

Collaring *your Volturi necklace is LITERALLY on a collar*

Overstimulation. *his gift allows him to know when you’re pushed to hard and when you can take a bit more. When you’re craving that over stimulus, he’ll give it happily. Knowing he can turn you into a babbling speaking in tongues, drooling, eyes rolling back mess just— just— GAH.*

Breeding Kink *Aro has a true breeding kink, ask him to fill you up beg him for it and he’s going to lose his mind.*

Gagging. *he loves to gag you, but also loves being choked by you or you grabbing onto his tie.

Wax Play *you’re a fire elemental user, bringing candles into play is just oh it’s nice. * Prefers to have it done TO him. Your air element gift also allows you to cool the wax quickly and give new sensations.

————

———

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Aro is private, he prefers somewhere comfortable to take his sweet time with you.

Rooms Private, hotel, somewhere he can just lavish you and enjoy everything you can give him.

He’d rather take the time to find a nice comfy setting.

But every blue moon— he’ll just look at you in that specific dress molding to your thighs.

He will drag you into an alley way and just rail the shit out of you keeping you quiet with a firm grip over your mouth as he hisses the dirtiest things in your ear.

You two once had a quick rendezvous in a changing room at a theatre. -shrug- it was empty oh well.

———

———

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

“Master?” You bat your eyes at him

His nostrils flare as he breathes in and just knows exactly what you want and you smell so fucking good.

The tone you use.

He knows. You want him. That’s it.

Unless it’s a trial— and DO NOT DO THIS BEFORE TRIAL.

And if you happen to when he takes your hand send him your fantasies after seeing him standing there all regal and watching his mouth form syllables so well and how much better it’ll be with his mouth— ahem— busy somewhere else.

He will be so mad at you.

He’s glaring at you behind a mask of calm and you can feel the fucking tremor in his limbs.

You just bat your eyes innocently at him and smile.

His face: you’re in SO MUCH trouble.

Brat energy??? During Trial?!??! Now is that the time to give brat energy!!???

Oh. Oh. oh you are so in trouble. When he gets done with ripping some poor idiots head off— okay not really they broke the rules— stalks over to you; grabs you by your oh so pretty collar, “come with me bambi.”

And just pulls you along to your rooms with you giggling the whole way and practically prancing behind him like a— well like a doe prancing into a lions den.

He’s tossed you over his shoulder once and just flitted out of the rooms into your private chambers, hurling you onto the bed before ripping into your clothing. “You best be ready for your punishment.”

“Oooohhhhhh absolutly master.”

“that’s my girl.”

The coven just rolls their eyes. Aro is less manic with you there and you surprisingly bring ease to the coven— so ya know what if that’s what does it whatever.

————

————

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Humiliation. No.

Impact play is one thing, but to intentionally hurt you no.

If he does impact play one hand is always touching you to ensure you’re okay.

————

———

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving? The man has a wicked tongue.

His oral game is LEGIT.

Will have you in a puddle of twitching ecstasy in mere moments of teasing because he knows where to touch and that’s not just his tongue but his hands.

Will kiss you all over before even getting to the ahem— final destination.

You’re either ready to combust or ready to strangle him when he finally just begins to devour you.

Eats pussy like a man starved but has all the time to enjoy.

Smug as Fuck.

Expect him to just watch you as you’re coming back down from the absolute height he threw you up to and glaring down at his smug grin as he waits before beginning all over again.

Will go all night if you’ve been ill behaved.

Your record is 20 before you BEGGED for a break.

He finally took pity and gave you a warm bubble bath and snuggles and praises.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like receiving, however it was more just a “hm, that’s nice—“

But with you.

Especially when you had decided to walk into his office, lay your head in his lap as you had sat yourself under his desk so he could work while he played with your hair (you have a comfy cushion there who was he to argue if that was the best way to be close and he could get work done??!!)

But his work was abruptly halted when you had nuzzled his cock through his trousers dragging your mouth wide as he became painfully hard in record time.

“what is it you think you’re doing bambi?” He purred looking oh so curious.

“Nothing.” You muffled around him as your teeth found his zipper and trouser buttons with a rather feral sound.

Upon finding out you had no gag reflex and having your nose buried in his pelvis as you moaned around him he was done for and he didn’t even care.

Work was forgotten.

Loves when you pleasure him, but of course has to be in control for the most part.

Buries his hands into your hair and loves throat fucking you, praising you the entire time. “What a good thing you don’t need to breathe dolcezza.”

You had hummed around him ecstatically.

The reward for this is always drool worthy.

Play with yourself as you do and let him see you do so keeping your clothing out of the way and you’ll have him break finally, that cool haughty composure cracking as his gaze goes just utterly uncontrollably wild, his hips moving a bit harder.

————

———

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You both fuck rough.

But you both also love the slow and sensual moments too.

Especially if you have the time to just drown in one another.

It just depends on the situation.

Rough And Fast:

Slow and Sensual is how it usually starts off, he’s so attentive, so soft and cherishes you, that is till you growl at him for more and he has of course no other option but to give you what he wants.

You’re his queen after all what kind of mate would he be if he didn’t give in?

But has today been exceedingly trying for either of you?

Or is your mate quite amped up from a particularly rough trial?

You’ve been pestering him haven’t you? Hmmm.. yeah buckle up.

You’re in trouble and therefore need to relearn where your place is— it’s in your bed, beneath him losing your mind out of pleasure.

And he is all too happy to provide that lesson if you seem to forget.

You try to forget often. You damn brat.

Slow and Sensual

However sometimes he just wants to be gentle. And frankly so do you, you want to just bask in the bond you have and slowly explore all over again despite knowing you have memorized one another to heart by now.

Doesn’t matter, you still find things that surprise you, things that make you smile.

Places that when touched cause a jolt— well that’s new.

“I could spend my entire life mapping out your body carissima.”

“that’s an awful long time in bed.”

Aro would just smirk kissing down your sternum, “oh what a pity— I suppose my brothers shall have to cover for me hm?” Bite marks being pressed into your flesh, “I plan on leaving so many of these that I forget where they are so I can find them later.”

“Such an evil overlord.” But you’re giddy, he’s going to make your entire world tilt again with those slow careful hands of his and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.

———

———

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You’d be surprised that such a patient man could be so damn impatient for you.

He’s not as impatient as Caius but not AS patient as Marcus.

So it’s a toss up when he’s twitchy during trials and catches a glimpse of you floating down the hallway in all your grandure and he mentally tosses a coin.

Nope he can’t take it that flash of leg just set him off.

“Excuse me I do belive I remembered something that needs my attention.”

The others just inwardly roll their eyes.

Next thing you know you’re gagged by his tie in his office pinned over the desk with his teeth buried in your neck and frankly you expected this you wore that damn skirt with the slit in it to tease him.

Seeing this just makes him let out a feral noise and a laugh at the end, “oh you planned that hm?” He nibbles the outer shell of your ear, “missed me did you?”

You can only nod as he continues, eyes rolling back as he knows exactly what you’re needing and it’s certainly not gentle right now.

“I have exactly fifteen minutes before my brothers come looking for me— think you can be a good girl and make me come?”

You smirk against the gag in your mouth before purring at him; and it’s off to the races.

He’s in trouble quite often for this— but who’s to argue with him.

He’s king he can do what he wants…. At times….

Okay most of the time.

Plus he’s always in a MUCH better mood.

I wonder Why.

————

———

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

While Aro does love to experiment your safety is his utmost importance.

But he’s a curious bastard and you are right behind him on that scale so sometimes your games become a bit risky.

Never life threatening but oh boy do you two get a grin and just glance at one another, “you know we haven’t done that yet.”

“No…. No we haven’t….”

And that’s how it usually starts.

The worst thing you two can realize is you both utter “I don’t know”.

Well now you have to know if either of you are able to ahem— arrive— under rather dire circumstances such as utilizing your gift (don’t worry your gift doesn’t hurt him he knows how to use fire too surprise surprise.).

You almost had a heart attack though and nearly killed him after.

He just cackled that manic laugh that had you joining in after hitting him several times.

———

———

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Need I say more than one word?

Vampire.

Aro takes his time most occasions, his slow, slow sweet time.

Now— you’d THINK that the rougher encounters would last a shorter period.

You’re wrong.

So wrong.

He lives for it you’re going to be so happy you’re a vampire and can’t really get sore except for when you both leave cracking handprints on one another.

————

———

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Sensory.

Crops, leather gloves, feathers, ben wa balls are huge and he likes that they are silent but give you that teasing sensation. Wax candle play is huge for both of you and you enjoy long luxurious heated baths and sauna sessions with one another.

Ooooo he loves it.

Leather gloves area huge thing for him but not for what you’d think— he likes to challenge himself.

Sure he can know what you’re feeling but he wants to be in tune with your physical responses as well and so occasionally he dons them just to test his knowledge.

Damn smug overlord is just as good and you hate it and now he’s smirking at you while popping his jaw with his hand on his elbow waiting for you to come back into your body.

“Shut up.” You rasp as your head spins.

“I didn’t say anything.” His raven hair slides across his face as he grins wider.

“Your SMUGNESS IS LOUD ARO.”

“Me?! Smug! Why I never…” -cue the dark chuckle before he starts it up all over again, “maybe once more to ensure you remember it’s not just the gifts edge hm?”

“Ohhhh I’m going to die.” But you reach for him biting his leather clad hands.

“No you won’t.” He hums happily, “I won’t let you. You’re not allowed to leave me bambi.”

————

————

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

HE IS SO DAMN UNFAIR.

But so are you.

He’s not as bad as Caius but he is close, and he only does it with LOOKS.

His eyes are utterly expressive, as is that mouth of his, so when he glances at you in just the right way you can feel it drop down in your gut and sizzle.

And he does it during trial. Oh but when you do it you’re in trouble. Psh.

He’ll tease you and brush your hand as he walks by just to know that you’re basically twitching from frustration at the end of the day and about to boil over as he leans down and licks your neck. “Bambi, awe, was I too mean to you? Hmm I should make it up to you shouldn’t I?”

He always makes it up to you.

The man has the best ways to use his mouth aside from running the coven and giving orders.

————

———

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Aro was quite clear studies, and private rooms were to be soundproofed.

He’s loud, swearing (which he normally does not do), praising mess of a man, it’s needed.

And you love it.

You can practically feel the vibration in his chest when he purrs at you, less growling, he’s not as violent unless you get him too worked up.

No no no, he loves making you melt, and knows exactly what to croon at you to make your mind go blank.

———

———

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’s more posessive than Marcus. And that bleeds into a protective nature.

A bit controlling, but he knows very well he can’t do that to you as he had to Sulprica. BUT it doesn’t stop him from trying as gods forbid anything happen to you.

Less Jealous than Caius.

But his ah— mood swings can cause for quite an interesting feat.

Since Marcus and Caius were always the brunt of the bashing and warfare, and he the brains behind the operation, many seem to think he has no bite marks on his body due to not being in the fray.

No.

The problem is Aro becomes too violent. Especially because of his talent when touching his victims it tends to become a frenzy. Once he had decimated an entire coven single handedly because the rage they had was swamping him.

His brothers had to pin him down and try to relay calm emotions— his sister Didyme thankfully had been the one to bring him back.

You yourself are now that calm place.

At one point, a guard had been careless enough to have thought about you in ah— that way— Aro was aware you were quite beautiful, your personality no nonsense and many of the guard and lower guard considered you a maternal figure almost otherwise a very good friend.

But this guard.

Ohhh he coveted. What was not his.

But what was worse, was that on the way to the throne room he had spoken to you rather crassly, you merely ignored him; he wasn’t even worth your time. But he had glanced you over as if you were a rather tasty morsel, the imaginings of you spread out beneath him had Aro’s hands cracking his wrists.

You saw the change slightly as you were behind him. His spine went poker straight. “You dare.” It was worse, the guard had actually tried to think of how to lure you away to him— you were a queen so surely infidelity was expected—

The rumble in his chest was a whole new sound you’d never even heard.

Both Marcus and Caius were sitting straight up and narrowing their gaze at Aro before Marcus flitted over and guided you to Aro’s throne placing you on it and standing protectively in front of you.

“Marcus?” you peered behind the eldest king and he hushed you gently.

The guard was torn apart in mere seconds.

It was utterly ruthless and with no mercy.

“People tend to forget Aro is only about a thousand years younger than I.” Marcus muttered.

You blinked. Aro was at least five thousand meaning that Marcus was Six, Caius being the youngest at three.

Aro speared the entire guard with a terrifyingly cold glare before flitting over to you, gripping your head back by your hair and sinking his teeth into your shoulder and neck with a low growl.

The sentiment was well understood as the entire guard backed the fuck away from the dais— he closed the wound before his head shot up and he snarled at the coven tucking you into his embrace your face buried into his robes. “She is mine.” It was a quiet, soft voice that spoke.

“Aro.” you muffled tugging his sleeve and looking up at him.

He showed you “what he had seen and tilted his head. Would you mind cara?”

You lit the bastard on fire with a scowl aimed at the body winding your arms about Aro’s waist and nuzzling into his solid form.

A soft kiss in your hair, his body relaxing. “That’s my bambi.”

———

———

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Aro although he is lithe and tall….he’s not exactly easy to handle.

9” decent width, knows how to use it.

Be forewarned, he knows what he’s doing.

Tactile Telepathy, good luck remember to keep your head on straight.

————

———

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s less of a wistful like of yearning.

And more a burning bonfire of desire always in the wing of his mind ready to take over the forefront.

One glance at you and he wants you— granted he thinks it might cool down over the centuries but when you look at him like that and bite your lip and grin.

Nah.

Nope. This isn’t going away. Not at all.

He of course has excellent control so he is able to push other desires to the back of his mind, but once finished you are certainly at the front of the line.

Super high.

You both are insane.

You can be sitting reading and next moment with one small brush you’re gone from the library and you’ve tackled him through the doors of your rooms and pinned him to the floor.

Insatiable.

Good luck!

————

———

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Aro LOVES resting with you.

He likes to just lay with his hands on your body and watching your thoughts, you’re his favorite mind to go through and he just adores it.

You both can spend hours like this if you were allowed—

He likes when you drag your fingers through his hair.

Makes him melt.

Kiss across his eyes and kiss his hands as he brushes your mouth with his fingers trying to learn you all over again.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.” He murmurs to you lazily. He has you nestled in his arms your head tucked under his jaw.

“That’s fucking fine by me.” You giggle.

He rolls his eyes and huffs a soft laugh kissing the top of your head. “Of course she swears like a sailor…”

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 11

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: Here we are, a breath away from the end. This features not one, but FOUR songs written by myself. If you only choose to listen to one of them, listen to the final one (Cradle of Heaven), as it is a duet I wrote specifically for this fanfiction, as something that the reader wrote to play together with Daniela. The links to these songs will be within the fanfiction itself, at relevant times. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB

Chapter 11: Cadence

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

The stage is set, the lights are dimmed, your heart pounds within your chest, and the world is yours. Soon, it will be Daniela’s. She is right by your side, as ever, hand gently taking hold of your own. There’s a silent reassurance in her grip, a reminder that the two of you have overcome a plethora of challenges. A promise that this will be no different. Both of you take a deep breath, in sync, before exchanging a quick kiss. All of your hard work has been leading up to the coming moments. Although you are beyond confident in your lover’s abilities, there is a shadow of doubt in the back of your mind. Not for her sake, but surrounding the expectations held by her mother, the standard against which you would be measured.

“Come hell or high water, Songbird, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” Daniela whispers, squeezing your hand again, eyes unblinking as they stare into yours. “You’ve made every right choice, worked harder than anyone I know, and there is nothing more I can ask of you… except another kiss to celebrate afterwards, that is.” Giggling in response gives you the moment you need to relax, nerves fading into the background of your mind. “Now let’s put on a show the likes of which my mother has never seen, mhmm?”

THREE HOURS EARLIER:

“Here, you can borrow my brooch. It’s been in the family for generations, since before we even came to the village, passed down starting with an ancestor who crafted it himself, from materials he scavenged while fleeing his home country,” Daphne rambles, helping you attach the jewelry to your shirt. Thankfully, her hands do not tremble nearly as much as yours have been for the past hour. “I’m more than sure that Lady Daniela will tell you this much, but I feel the need to repeat just how good you look right now. I don’t know where the hell they’ve been hiding this version of our uniform, but damn do I wish I could get one for my next date with Ygritte. Seriously, if you can get one in my size, please do me that favor.”

“Anything for my best friend. Especially after all the times you’ve saved my ass these past few months,” you reply, pausing to give her shoulder an affectionate pat. If not for her constant interference running, someone would have certainly found out about your relationship with Daniela. “Speaking of that… of my life being on the line, I mean… no matter what happens today, no matter what Lady Dimitrescu decides, take care of yourself. You’ve gambled with your own blood to keep me safe, but what I’ve done, what I’ve risked, those were my choices. My consequences. The last thing I’d ever want is for you to pay for them, somehow.”

Rolling her eyes, Daphne gives you a playful shove to the chest, before smoothing out the fabric of your dress uniform. Now she refuses to meet your gaze, a familiar mistiness taking over her brown eyes.

“Nobody around here is stupid enough to think you’ll die today. You managed to get Lady Daniela, of all people, to stay focused long enough to learn some absolutely beautiful pieces of music. You have proved, time and time again, that you are a talented musician, teacher, and ‘servant’. So get out there and kick some metaphorical ass, my friend, because you are ready,” she finally says, offering you what seems to be a handshake. But as soon as your hand meets hers, she’s pulling you in for a hug, holding you tight for a solid minute. When at last you part, you give her what may very well be the last smile she’d ever see gracing your lips.

---------------------------

A hand’s edge against xer forehead, parallel to the ground, kept perfectly flat. From anyone else, it would be mockery. From xer? Honest salute, solidarity in a traditional form, accompanied by a sharp-toothed grin. Mimicking the expression, you wave at Ava, glad to see that xe would be awake for your concert. After your first night with your girlfriend, Daphne had helped arrange for someone to be your “cover story” for sleeping outside of your usual quarters. With Daniela’s input (and jealousy), only one candidate had revealed themselves, in the form of a (conveniently) mute butler with an inconsistent schedule, love of mischief, and somehow the respect of the Dimitrescu family. Now, xe appeared ready to escort you to the location of your trial by fire.

“Are you sure our mutual friend won’t be upset to see the two of us together?” You teased, knowing full well that Ava was one of the only people that Daniela trusted 100% around you. In response, xe gives an exaggerated shrug, then quickly links xer arm with your own. Together you march onwards to your destiny, amused by the way xe practically skipped down the hallway. Maybe there was a certain wisdom to xer shenanigans, a carefree philosophy that encouraged laughter in the face of death, and you embraced the thought with a smile.

Before long, however, the two of you encounter another unlikely pair headed towards the same destination: Lady Cassandra, looking somewhat embarrassed, with an unfamiliar maiden at her side. Their hands are clutching each other desperately, although neither of them dares to look at the other. Instead they both watch you closely from where they’ve paused in the corridor. Oddly unfazed, Ava gives them a short bow of acknowledgement, earning xer a brief nod from Cassandra. Seeming eager to move on, she addresses you quickly before gesturing for you to keep walking.

“Good luck. Don’t fuck this up for Daniela, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” she growls, doing her best to downplay her obvious concern. Wanting to let her keep up with her facade, you merely give a nod as you resume walking towards the concert stage. Soft footsteps behind you let you know that the strange pair are accompanying you. Still walking alongside you, Ava repeatedly glances behind you, putting out xer hands in the shape of a heart, giggling all the while. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume that xe wanted to get hit by Cassandra.

“Ava, please calm down. If you’re not careful, she’ll throw something at you. If she does that, you’ll probably dodge, and then I’ll probably end up getting hit, and then I’ll miss the concert, Lady Dimitrescu will kill me as punishment, Daniela will be sad and whiny about it, and none of you will have any peace for, like, a month. Three weeks, bare mims,” you tease, nudging xer in the ribs. Emphasizing a pout, xe sends one last look at Cassandra and her ‘friend’ (whose hand she was still holding onto like a lifeline), mouthing words you couldn’t parse. Based on the way Cassandra groans, it was something ridiculously cheesy. Regardless, xe behaves the rest of the way there…

ONE MINUTE TO SHOWTIME:

“I love you, Firefly, and I know that you’re going to do absolutely amazing out there. I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, pressing a feather-light kiss to Daniela’s cheek. As dearly as you wish to stay behind the curtain, in her arms, you know that the show was inevitable. With one last nod to your beloved, you part the fabric shielding you, stepping into the spotlight. Imaginary crowds grow hushed at your appearance, a sea of faces greeting you warmly. In truth, there are but five members in this audience, each gazing upon you with veiled interest. Donning you best presentation persona, you set this final act in motion. “Lady Dimitrescu, Lady Cassandra, Lady Bela, and Mx. Caldwell, it brings me great pleasure to present to you, on this day, a concert performed by your own Lady Daniela. For three months now I have acted as her instructor, and these three months have been, perhaps, the most rewarding of my entire life. I could not possibly be any more proud of her than I already am. Now, without further ado… let us begin!”

Stepping to the side, a tug of a rope has the curtains parting entirely, revealing your beloved, waiting ready at the piano. All at once your audience (including Cassandra’s partner, acting as a mere servant in the background) sits up with wide smiles. They look Daniela over, taking in the sight of her fanciest dress, and the way her eyes light up with joy. By the time her fingers begin dancing away at the keys, there is not a single ounce of anxiety in your entire soul. This first song is a relic from your past, a representation of an abandoned idea, yet she plays it like a celebration. It’s fast, hits hard, a bold take right out of the gate. Admittedly, it is also somewhat short. Nonetheless, it serves its purpose, igniting a spark of excitement in those present. Once the song ends, Daniela is surprised by the intensity of her family’s applause. In the back of her mind, she trembles with excitement, knowing that the best was yet to come.

Riding this wave of pride, she immediately settles into the next song, something slower but far grander. Affection thrums inside your chest as you watch your pupil perfectly execute another piece. You can only imagine what her mother must be feeling, to see just how far her daughter has come in such a short amount of time. A quick glance in Alcina’s direction reveals the barest hints towards her being impressed. For now that was enough to satisfy you. Soon enough her face would twist in surprise, as the second song ended, and a new face steps up onto the stage: Lady Bela. Wordlessly she retrieves her violin from the back of the stage, then turns to the front with a mischievous smile.

“Now, a duet! Presenting the ever-talented Lady Bela, to join Lady Daniela for a rendition of an original song, dubbed ‘Northern Lights’. Enjoy!” You call out, before once more taking your place at the side. While Daniela did not need you to count her in for her solo performances, this feels ever so slightly more important, and as such you do your best to conduct for the duration of the song. If either of the performers need it, they hide it well. Honestly, you weren’t sure if your girlfriend had looked your way even a single time so far. ‘Twas incredible to witness her. Akin to a siren, near glowing, taking to the stage as if born to grace its center. Even with Bela working her own magic, Daniela is ever the star. Together they weave a lovely song, notes rising high into the air, swirling around an enchanted audience.

When it ends, both performers give a bow, as if the entire affair had come to a close. Without hinting at what was to come, you switch places with the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. A deep breath rattles your ribcage as you find your center, reaching out to take Daniela’s hand, the two of you raising your arms upward in a display of union. For the first time this evening, Lady Alcina narrows her eyes in what feels like disapproval. But you pay her no mind. Instead you sit alongside your beloved, quietly settling into your practiced position.

There is no introduction for this song. No announcement, no showmanship, nor even a countdown into the symphony. Simply, like exhaling a breath, the two of you start to play. Your phrases echo hers, and vice versa, calling and answering, accompanying all the while, natural as anything holy in the wild. ‘Tis the second shortest song of the night, only long enough to showcase the degree of your partnership with Daniela. As the song crescendos into an ending, you manage to meet the gaze of your employer. Perhaps it is merely an illusion of hope, or a reflection of lights above, but you swear you see tears in her eyes.

“Outstanding, incredible,” she praises, rising to her feet alongside her other daughters, clapping all the while. Once again you rise to your feet, hand clasped with Daniela’s, bowing as deeply as you can manage. Before you can even process what’s happening, your girlfriend is being pulled away from you, swept up into the arms of her mother. Desperation digs like a knife into your heart, as you ache to celebrate with her, but you remain ever in the guise of a professional. “You did amazing, my dear. I cannot begin to describe how proud I am.” The family gathers around each other, buzzing with affection fit to make the hardest of hearts melt. You are left on the outside, awkwardly waiting, without a hint of acknowledgment.

Even if this concert was a measure of your skill as a teacher, Lady Dimitrescu had never bothered to consider you more than another servant. This night was about Daniela. About your secret girlfriend, the brightest star in all the skies. That is not something that bothers you, nor does it surprise you. All that makes you wish to weep is the desire to kiss her. To sweep her into your arms, with celebratory kisses, singing her name as a praise to higher powers. In the end, it takes several minutes for Daniela to pull away enough to move back to you, and even then she cannot give you the reaction she yearns for.

“I’ll come by to talk to you tonight, I promise,” she whispers, as she gives you the weakest hug you have ever felt. Then she is returning to her family, clinging to her mother with a massive grin. Soon enough you are left alone on stage, quiet surrounding you, mixed feelings gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Something feels… wrong. You cannot put a name to it. No one has hinted to you what your beloved has planned, for none but her even have a clue. As soon as she is alone with her mother, as soon as she has the smallest sliver of an opportunity, she knows what she must do. “Mother… we need to talk. I... I have a confession to make.”

[maatryoshkaa]

young god | chapter 15

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 12.0k

warnings: descriptions of violence, sexual assault, mental illness. dark themes and foul language. all information regarding psychiatric conditions or courtroom procedures are to be taken with a fat grain of salt.

description: As Han Jisung’s trial steadily approaches, Hwang Hyunjin struggles to decide where his loyalties lie. Prosecutor Kang is as ruthless as he is greedy, and a startling confession from Yang Jeongin reveals that the ugliest pasts often lie behind the brightest of smiles. Old scars run deep, and all wounds are finally reopened on the day of the trial.

watch the trailer here!

ryu says: “holy h*cking shit.”

15| the devil’s advocate.

“Is Miroh Heights rallying for the death of a 20-year-old orphan? Is justice always this heartless?

“The only existing psychological analysis of alleged serial killer Han Jisung has now been revealed to the public eye, painting a stark contrast with the image of the stone-cold murderer we were all introduced to before. What else is the prosecution hiding? Is Han Jisung at the mercy of a system that has failed him once — and will it fail him again? More on this complex case, next week.” 

You set the school paper down on the diner table. Across from you, Bang Chan gave a low whistle. “Lee Felix, is it? You really outdid yourself, kid.”

Felix grinned. He was glowing, not just from the detective’s praise, but with a light sheen of sweat — you two had woken up at the crack of dawn to deliver the newspapers around town, Felix on Jeongin’s bike, and you and Chan in Woojin’s police cruiser. The delivery boy had even drawn out a map of all the shortcuts he knew, and so you had all made it back to Glow Cafe — where Hyunjin was waiting with fresh mugs of coffee — before noon.

Jeongin scanned the front-page article again, nodding excitedly. “I read the local press’ papers every day while I was in the hospital — this basically goes directly against everything they’ve been saying.” He still had weeks before he was allowed to be discharged from the hospital, but had managed to bribe a nurse into letting him take ‘short walks for fresh air’ during the day. 

“Why’re we fighting against the local media, though?” Hyunjin asked. The barista looked much better now that Jeongin was awake — the colour had returned to his once-pale cheeks, and he had opened the cafe back up for business again. “I mean, what does the news have to do with the trial? Knowing the prosecutor, he probably doesn’t even care.”

Chan shook his head. “The media plays a huge role in cases like these — mass murder allegations, things that’ll implicate the entire town. In smaller cases, yeah, no one would look twice at the news. But for cases like Jisung’s, they’re going to bring in a jury for the trial — and most times, what the jury agrees on ends up being the final verdict.”

“But the jury isn’t supposed to have heard of the case beforehand.”

Woojin grimaced. “In theory. Miroh Heights is a big town, but it’s old — not to mention it’s a campus area.” When Hyunjin still looked confused, Woojin continued, “That all makes it a close-knit community. There’s only so many people who qualify for jury duty — and I’m willing to bet that there’s not a single person in Miroh Heights who isn’t keeping up with Jisung’s case by now.”

“Kang’s a top-tier scumbag, but he’s far from stupid,” Chan mused, reaching for his mug and frowning when there was no more coffee left. “It definitely wouldn’t be beyond him to pull some strings to make sure he gets to choose the people on the jury: the ones exposed to the case — the news — the most—”

You finished his thought for him. “Students. Professors. Citizens.”

“Exactly.”

There was a brief silence. Chan began a side conversation with Felix, and you snuck a look at Hyunjin. He had disappeared behind the counter, and was fiddling with the cash register with his head down.

You glanced back at the table. Woojin and Jeongin were sitting in a strangely awkward silence — the delivery boy’s expression was oddly closed off, you thought to yourself. It was almost...cold, a side of Jeongin you had never seen before. Shrugging, you excused yourself from your seat and retreated behind the bar to where Hyunjin was standing quietly. The barista was idly unrolling packets of coins to refill the cash register, and didn’t look up at you. 

You nudged him gently. “Hey, ‘jinnie.” Nothing. “Hwang Hyunjin, talk to me.”

The long silence was broken only by the clinking of coins, until Hyunjin finally mumbled, “What d’you mean?” 

You sighed, fiddling with an empty coin tube and trying to find the right words. “It’s— it’s a lot to ask for, I know.” You didn’t have to mention Jisung’s name for him to know what you were referring to — your boyfriend’s case hung over all of your heads like a guillotine every second of the day.

Still, your mind flashed back to his sudden outburst months ago, when he had first met Jisung face-to-face in the cafe. His cold, guarded wariness towards the other boy, and how he’d spent the next two months practically soulless by Jeongin’s bedside. You tried to meet his eyes. “You’ve been through a lot.”

The coins were trembling in Hyunjin’s long fingers. “You’ve been through more,” he muttered back. You didn’t have to follow his gaze to know he was looking at the site of your stab wound, hidden under the layers of your sweater. “How’d they let you out so early, anyways?”

“Hey, I was in there for nearly a month — they said I slept for three weeks straight, you know?” You laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension, but Hyunjin didn’t return the smile. “I’m okay, ‘jin.”

Your eyes searched his face for a response. Despite everything, Hyunjin still looked weary — like he had gotten older, more tired. He had seen things in the past few months that could never be erased — you all had. And you knew Hyunjin like the back of your hand — he had been one of the first faces you’d met when you’d moved to Miroh Heights, the unlikely first close friend you’d made. With absent parents who ran businesses abroad, Hyunjin had been on his own for most of his life. You knew how he always kept his worries and doubts to himself, how his polite, casual demeanor hid a heart full of emotions he didn’t know how to deal with or express. 

“Are you okay, though?” Hyunjin asked, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours, and you felt your heart pang at how helpless he looked. “Every time you see something wrong — someone in trouble, you stop at nothing until you can help them. And I love that about you, y/n. I really do—but—” Hyunjin gestured his hands wildly, voice wavering as if he was struggling to get the words out, “You can’t save everyone, y/n.” The familiar words made you shrink back as Hyunjin kept talking. “The last time you tried, you nearly ended up— d-dead. I’m worried like hell, okay?. Worried that if you keep trying to save others, you’ll just be the one hurt in the end.”

“Hyunjin—” You reached out to grab his shaking hands, to calm him down, but your elbow knocked over a roll of coins. They spilled across the floor, making everyone jump and look up.

“Everything okay back there?” Chan called, and you nodded, waving him away distractedly as Hyunjin dropped down to pick the change up. As you knelt down to help him, you heard footsteps approach the counter, and looked up to see Jeongin behind you. Back at the table, Chan and Felix were still talking like newfound frat brothers, but Woojin was fiddling with his mug silently.

“Can I talk to him for a moment?” Jeongin asked you quietly, and you glanced back down at Hyunjin. Jeongin had been sitting the closest to the bar counter, you realised — he had probably heard a good chunk of your conversation. You nodded, placing the change on the countertop, and headed back to the table.

Hyunjin watched Jeongin dive for a quarter that was rolling away. Underneath Jeongin’s sleeves, Hyunjin could see fading scratches peeking out — where the skin had scraped away when he’d fallen to the ground, bloody and unconscious, the night of the attacks. They were nearly healed, but the memory alone still made Hyunjin’s gut twist, and he tore his gaze away.

“Do you still think about that night?”

Both Jeongin’s quiet voice and his question took Hyunjin by surprise, and he couldn’t help but look up. The younger boy’s eyes were soft, gentle — a contradiction to his naturally fox-like features — and it was as if he’d spoken Hyunjin’s thoughts out loud. You never had to explain anything to Jeongin, Hyunjin thought. Growing up with no one but his sickly grandmother, Hyunjin had never truly opened up to anyone before — but Jeongin always seemed to understand exactly how Hyunjin was feeling, and there was something about the younger boy that could always calm Hyunjin down. 

He’d always looked at Jeongin like a younger brother, a bright presence Hyunjin wanted to protect and take care of at all costs. 

Now, Hyunjin found himself wondering if Jeongin had been the one taking care of him, all along.

“I see it every time I close my eyes,” Jeongin finally continued, and the question repeated itself in Hyunjin’s head — that night. The night Han Jisung had killed another student, and sent Jeongin into a two-month coma. The night Hyunjin had woken up to find his closest friend bleeding out on his storefront. No matter how many times the memory crept up on Hyunjin, it still made his blood run cold.

Hyunjin could only nod, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

“Sometimes...I think about how things might’ve been different. If I hadn’t stopped — no, if I hadn’t even taken that shortcut through the Yellow Wood. Or...if I didn’t have to work the night shift in the first place.” Jeongin huffed a soft laugh, then drew quiet. “But we don’t really get to decide what happens to us, huh? One thing leads to another, and the next thing you know, the world’s turned upside down.” He paused. Something in the younger boy’s voice made Hyunjin think he wasn’t just talking about the Yellow Wood anymore.

“I wonder if he...if Jisung thinks about that, too.” Jeongin continued. “How things would have changed if he hadn’t taken that path that night. Or, if he never had to do the things he did...” Jeongin trailed off, and a question was left hanging in the air.

Where did it all go wrong?

It wasn’t like Hyunjin had never seen Jisung in passing — the kid whose bright smile and boisterous laugh masked his strangely wide, dark eyes. Who seemed to linger alone on the streets and in the shadows of murky alleyways after curfew, just wandering. As if the boy was constantly looking for something he’d lost — but had long since forgotten what it was.

“I just...” Hyunjin’s own voice surprised him, but as soon as he got the words out, he could no longer stop them. “I just want everything to go back to normal. The way things used to be. I—” Hyunjin looked around the cafe, letting out a shaky sigh. “I’ve grown up in this town all my life. Maybe I’ve grown scared of change — scared of how it could make me lose everything. Scared of how it could make me lose you guys.” He put his throbbing head in his hands. “Maybe that’s what makes me a coward. I don’t know Jisung. But I’ve seen the things he’s done, and I can’t — I can’t watch it happen again. I don’t think I could take it.” He looked at Jeongin helplessly. “How do you...forgive someone who could have killed you?”

Jeongin was silent, pensive. He picked up the last coin and slid it into the cash register before saying quietly, “Did I ever tell you about my dad?”

Hyunjin frowned in confusion. “You don’t...talk about your family often.”

“Most of the time, I’d rather not.” Jeongin gave a small smile. “But these days, I keep thinking about them. I know people talk about them behind my back — why a freshman has to work delivery jobs all day, and study all night. Why no one came to visit me in the hospital, except for you.” The younger boy shifted his feet, gaze dropping to his hands. “My dad’s in prison. Third-degree murder.”

Hyunjin’s hands stilled, and Jeongin continued talking. “My mum was your typical office worker — real big company, too. We were never that well off to begin with — maybe that’s why she stayed silent about the...the abuse for so long. About the stuff her higher-ups would do to her behind locked doors, when they’d make her stay overtime in their offices.” Jeongin’s voice wavered, and he cleared his throat shakily. 

“I don’t know how my dad finally found out, I...I could never bring myself to ask.” Jeongin was gripping the count[er, knuckles white and voice barely audible. “I’ve never seen my dad angry before. He doesn’t get angry. He’d always take the short end of the stick with a smile, you know? This was the first time he’d ever...picked a fight with anyone.” Jeongin paused, eyes glazed over in memory. “That night, Mum was staying late again. But this time...my dad showed up at her workplace. Burst in after-hours, like a madman. And that night, neither of them came home.

“The police came knocking on our door the next morning. And they told me my father killed three men in a fight. A fight.” Jeongin looked up at Hyunjin now, smiling, but his crescent eyes were filled with tears. “No one cares about an office woman’s sexual abuse story. Not when you have the families of three rich businessmen bribing law enforcement any way they can to keep their reputations clean. You can guess who the lead prosecutor of the trial was.”

“Prosecutor Kang,” Hyunjin breathed, not daring to believe it, but Jeongin nodded.

“The trial was easy. My dad would spend the rest of his life in prison.”

“That’s not fair,” Hyunjin blurted, voice barely a whisper. “They can’t—it’s not—”

“The system isn’t fair,” Jeongin replied. It sounded like he was quoting someone. “It’s been a long time since the system’s chosen morals over money.”

Hyunjin’s gaze wandered back towards the table, where Woojin was sitting, and thought back to the tense atmosphere between Jeongin and the young police captain earlier. “Is that why you and Captain Kim…”

“His parents put mine in prison. It’s more than a little awkward, really.” Jeongin laughed, but the sound didn’t quite reach his eyes. The younger boy always tried to put on a bright face, Hyunjin realised with a pang, no matter the pain he might be hiding underneath.

“I’m not trying to compare my dad to Jisung. Jisung, everything he’s done…” Jeongin shook his head. “He has too much to make up for, I wouldn’t even know where to start. We all knew that going into this.” He glanced over his shoulder at the table where his friends were seated. “y/n more than anyone. If we make Han Jisung out to be innocent, if we try to get him pardoned...that makes us just as bad as Kang.” Jeongin sighed. “But I can’t just watch them treat him like they did my dad. Make him out to be a psychopath, until even he starts to believe it.

“My mum can’t find work anywhere. She doesn’t sleep, barely eats, never leaves the bed because she’s so sick. The doctors all say she has lifelong trama. I don’t want to watch the system...end another life that doesn’t deserve it.” Jeongin glanced behind him. Hyunjin followed his line of sight towards the table, where everyone was chatting. Jisung’s friends — Felix, Chan, maybe even Woojin; and his girlfriend, you. “I don’t want to see what it does to the people that love him.”

Hyunjin was silent for a long moment. The chatter at the table and the clinking of the coffee mugs seemed like background noise as Jeongin watched the older boy take in everything he had said. Outside, students and citizens were beginning to fill the streets as rush hour approached — it was the end of the school term, and the bustle of summer life was humming beyond the glass windows of Glow Cafe.

Before Hyunjin could respond, though, the cafe doors swung open, the CLOSED sign clattering against the glass in protest and making everyone look up at the sudden commotion. A middle-aged woman in a tweed blazer and pencil skirt was marching straight towards the table you were seated at, a younger woman with a notebook stumbling after her.

Hyunjin straightened up, tone professional despite the weary look on his face. “I’m sorry, but we’re closed today under special circumstances—” 

She cut him off impatiently. “Where is Felix Lee?” 

Bewildered, Felix stood, holding out his hand to attempt a handshake. Instead, the woman reached into her bag and slammed down a newspaper identical to the one you already had on the table — the school paper.

“What is the meaning of this?” Her voice was high and reedy as she jabbed a red-nailed finger onto the front page, where Jisung’s article had been printed. “Who do you think you are to publish these—these baseless stories?”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” you responded tensely, “I think you’ll find that this article contains more truth in it than all the articles the local press has published, combined.” 

She turned on you, sneering in disbelief. “Do you know who I am?” You glanced outside uneasily, where a sleek black car was parked.

“Why do rich people always assume we know who they are? Listen, lady, we don’t care—” Chan began, but was interrupted by a sputtering sound Felix made.

“I think we should care,” your best friend choked out. In his hands was a business card that the woman’s assistant had handed him, and the blood had drained from his freckled face. “She’s the head of the local press.”

Everyone fell silent, and the woman smiled slyly. “Precisely. Publishing articles like these…” she glanced down at the school newspapers on the table, clicking her tongue. “Your school should be ashamed of you. An amateur school newsletter, overstepping their boundaries.” 

You saw Felix’s expression darken at her words, ears red. “A good newspaper reports on all sides of the story. We publish the truth here, and nothing but the truth—”

“Why? So you can all bail your psychopath friend out of prison? Do you even care about the implications? Your truth is hindering the investigation of a convicted murderer. People like him should not get their story told. Your truth will put this town in danger if he walks free, you understand? It will get more people killed.” She fixed Felix with a withering look of contempt. “Let me give you a word of advice, young man, if you even think of surviving in this industry—sometimes, you need to know when to keep your mouth shut.”

Your mouth was burning with countless words to bite back with but your tongue stayed stubbornly tied, mind racing. The woman had spoken out loud what you had all thought of at one point, what you had been most afraid of the public believing. You stole a look at Hyunjin behind the counter. The barista was avoiding eye contact, but you knew he had been thinking the same thing. His stormy, unreadable expression made your stomach churn — you knew he had been the most hesitant and unsure of Jisung’s case out of everyone, but seeing it written on his face now made you feel even worse.

Sensing that things were beginning to get out of control, Woojin cleared his throat. “Ma’am, if you’re finished, I would kindly ask you to leave—”

“I have every right to stay here,” the woman interrupted viciously, snatching up the campus newspaper again, “until your journalist friend revokes these articles—and promises not to interfere with the investigation until the trial has concluded.”

You started in protest. “You—”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Hyunjin’s calm voice cutting through the growing chaos made everyone freeze and turn towards the barista. He pushed the cash register shut with a bit too much force, and leaned down to rest his forearms on the bar counter. “I told you we were closed, yes? You have no more business here. If you choose to continue infringing on my property, we can bring this to the police.” His eyes were still stormy as he stared the stunned woman down — but the words coming from his mouth were the complete opposite from what you had been expecting. “Now get out of my cafe.”

“I—why, you—” The woman could only sputter for several seconds as you all stared at Hyunjin in awe, the most self-assured expression you had seen on the barista in ages — as if he had finally made up his mind about something. Behind him, Jeongin had a small smile on his face.

“Preposterous,” the head of the press stammered, taken aback by Hyunjin’s bluntness. Her mouth opened and closed like a puppet’s, but no words came out. Finally, glaring daggers at all of you, she snatched her bag and stormed out in a whirlwind of nauseating perfume, her poor assistant barely keeping up behind her.

The silence lasted for several more moments. Hyunjin was still staring after her with a reserved expression, his shaking hazel pupils the only indication of how nervous he was.

Felix was the one who finally spoke first, the wide grin in his voice breaking the tension. “Hwang Hyunjin. You are the man.”

━━━━━━━━

Opening the door to Bang Chan’s office sent clouds of dust into the stale air, and the detective into a coughing fit. Chan moved to snap the blinds open, letting evening sunlight warm the musty room.

“Bloody hell, Chan,” Woojin groaned as he patted the dust from the coffee table in the corner. “I was joking about your office being a coffin before, but—how did you let it get this bad?”

You, Hyunjin, and Jeongin followed the police captain into the room, taking tentative seats around the coffee table as the detective tried in vain to open a window and clear the stuffy air.

“I haven’t had any new clients since this case was taken from me by that damn prosecutor,” Chan protested indignantly, grabbing a notebook and pen. “I’m taking a well-deserved hiatus. B’sides,” he added, sighing, “I don’t exactly have the heart to focus on anything else right now.”

Woojin grimaced, and looked around the room. “We’re waiting on Felix?”

You nodded. It had been nearly a month since the first article had been released — a whole month since the head of the press herself had come storming into Glow Cafe, demanding for the publication to be stopped. You weren’t sure if it had been the woman’s biting remarks or the newfound support from Hyunjin, but Felix seemed to have hit the ground running, publishing story after story and going head-to-head with every article the local press put out. 

The articles were beginning to pick up steam, too — as soon as the school year had ended, the entire town had begun buzzing with talk about the contradicting stories. You should have felt relieved that your last-resort plan had even stood a chance — but the longer the fight and investigation went on, the more you could feel the stress weighing down on your shoulders. Though removed from the investigation, Chan and Woojin came to you with more and more bad news they were able to overhear with each passing day. The trial was scheduled for next week, and you hadn’t heard from Jisung since...well, since you had found him, bloody and broken, in the back lot of Mia’s Diner.

“Things aren’t looking too good,” Woojin began, expression grim. “The prosecution’s claimed custody of the camcorder footage and Jeongin’s Walkman tapes. Seungmin’s legally not allowed to touch them anymore—not without Kang’s permission.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach at the police captain’s words. You, Chan, and Seungmin had all been warned separately to stay out of the investigation by legal officials, but that hadn’t stopped you from gathering what information you could. You should have known Kang would find a way to get ahold of all the evidence, but nothing could have prepared you for the sick feeling the confirmation stirred in your gut. 

Chan sighed, tapping his pen on his cheek. “Far as I know, Jisung still isn’t taking a lawyer. The kid won’t even talk to me now.”

“How’s the trial going to work, then?” Hyunjin asked. “If the kid doesn’t take an attorney…”

“It’ll be his word against Kang’s,” Chan nodded glumly. “It’s a trial held under special circumstances. The prosecution will present all the evidence they choose, the judge and jury’ll listen to all the witnesses who decide to come forward, and then they’ll use that to form the final verdict.” He paused, then added, “And if Jisung chooses to defend himself, he has the right to speak, too.”

“Except he won’t,” you interjected, heart heavy, remembering Jisung’s face when he had told you about his parents’ deaths. Jisung had spent his entire life living in the shadow of guilt his childhood cast over him, a self-induced hell he forced himself to relive every day.

“Kang has the jury, the witnesses, and the evidence,” Jeongin thought aloud, the sentence alone making the air feel heavy. 

“We’ve all been called to attend the trial, yeah?” Chan nodded at you, Woojin, and Hyunjin. “Us, Felix, and Seungmin can only come as spectators. Jeongin’s been called in as an eyewitness.” He frowned, counting off his fingers. “The only other type of witness Kang can bring in would be an expert witness. Medics, psychologists, that sort of thing.”

“Kang’s clever — he’ll probably bring in child psychologists or medical specialists,” Woojin noted, frowning. “It’d be easy for them to cherry-pick the evidence to use it against Jisung — especially since he refuses to speak to anyone right now.”

“Haven’t they found anyone for Jisung?” You asked desperately. “His old social workers, foster families —”

“He was abandoned over a decade ago. None of his social workers have come forward.” Woojin sighed. “But you’re right — they have found a forensics specialist to come testify.”

Jeongin perked up. “Who?”

Chan looked grim. “Head coroner Lee Minho.”

Your heart sank. Lee Minho. No one was willing to address the elephant in the room: that Minho admitting to his own crimes would be one of the easiest ways to avoid a death penalty. Except…

“No one on the prosecution knows what Minho’s done, and we don’t have any incriminating evidence against him, either. They won’t believe us, and there’s no way he would confess,” you muttered, remembering the uneasy conversation you had had with the coroner on the rooftop. Minho had been hiding in the shadows of Jisung’s self-destructive crossfire his entire life. From the coroner’s unreadable eyes to his strange, reserved attitude, you had no idea how to guess his next move.

There was a knock on the door, and everyone looked up as Felix walked into the office, backpack sliding off one shoulder. “I have good news and bad news,” your best friend announced, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa.

“Bad news first,” you answered immediately, groaning. Good news was rare these days. “I want to get it over with.” Hyunjin nodded in agreement, looking at Felix expectantly.

“The head of the press is still up our asses, believe it or not. She’s changed her strategy —  they’re making bribes now.” Felix fished a slip of paper from his bag. “Someone came in today — dressed real proper and business-like — and told me that if I halted publications, they’d be willing to pay a pretty hefty sum.” He flipped the slip over onto the coffee table.

It was a cheque, you realised. Chan whistled as he read out the amount. You looked back up at Felix, holding your breath.

“I took the bribe,” Felix admitted, tone apologetic, and your shoulders slumped. Your last connection to the investigation, gone — but Felix kept talking, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I took the bribe, and we used the money to buy everyone in our department the most expensive coffee on campus. Actually, thanks to them, we pulled an all-nighter and published the last part of your case study this morni—oof!”

Your best friend was cut off when you tackled him into a hug, nearly tumbling backwards as Felix laughed and patted your back. “Felix,” you declared, voice still shaking from how scared you had been, “You are ruthless.”

“One of my many charms,” he grinned, Hyunjin clapping him on the shoulder. Felix pulled away from you, and his hazel eyes suddenly grew serious as he scanned your face. 

Out of everyone at Miroh Heights, Felix had known you the longest — if anything was wrong with the other person, you were always able to pick up on it. Despite your relieved smile, Felix could see how overworked you were — you had been reading up on past cases nonstop, making phone calls, and making notes on the camcorder footage, no matter how much rewatching it traumatised you to the core. From your bloodshot eyes to your pale lips, anyone could see that the upcoming trial had taken the worst toll on you. “y/n,” he said worriedly, “you need to take it easy.”

You sighed, scrabbling a hand through your dishevelled hair. “How can I? I need to keep working on this — I need to be strong.” 

“You’ve always been strong.” Surprisingly, it was Hyunjin who spoke up this time. For the first time in weeks, there was no more anger or bitterness in his voice — only sincerity. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You tried to give him a small, grateful smile, but even that couldn’t staunch the bubbling anxiety in your gut. “The trial’s in a week. We can’t let up now.”

You could sense the boys looking at you anxiously until Chan finally clapped his hands, breaking the grim silence. “Well, you heard the boss lady.” The detective winked at you. “Let’s get back to work, boys.”

━━━━━━━━

The courthouse lobby was already overflowing with chaos and reporters by the time Prosecutor Kim Seungmin arrived at its doors.

This wasn’t his first time attending a trial, of course, but the scale of it all was what made him uneasy. Citizens of Miroh Heights were huddled outside the gates, catching whatever glimpses of the trial and snippets of information they could. When Seungmin had elbowed his way into the building, he spotted security guards flanking all the entrances.

There was a sign for the bathroom on his left hand side. Seungmin made a beeline for it, pushing open the doors and allowing himself to escape the pandemonium for a couple of moments. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he saw a familiar figure standing by the sink. 

Prosecutor Kang’s eyes met Seungmin’s through the mirror and the older man straightened up, snakelike mouth curving into a smile. “Ah, Prosecutor Kim. Good to see you.”

Seungmin nodded stiffly as he tried to muster up the courage to walk past his colleague. He could feel Kang’s beady eyes watching him contemplatively.

“Are you still beat-up about the case? You must be,” Kang mused, turning back towards the sink and flicking on the tap. “Don’t get yourself too down about losing it. It was only a matter of time.” If Seungmin didn’t look at him, Kang’s tone sounded almost kind.

Almost.

Kang was here on behalf of the prosecution, with his team of carefully selected witnesses and—Seungmin was willing to bet—jurors. Seungmin had barely landed a spot as a spectator in the trial, alongside Felix, the school journalist. If things went Kang’s way, anything and everything that happened in today’s trial would be completely out of Seungmin’s control. 

“Rookie mistakes,” Kang continued, wiping his spectacles. “It’s to be expected at your age, really—”

Seungmin ignored his passive insult and turned back towards Kang, tone pleading as he tried one last time. “Mr. Kang, you don’t have to do this. Han Jisung—”

Kang barked a laugh, cutting him off. Behind his spectacles, his eyes were filled with equal parts amusement and resentment. “I’m not sure why you young people always have such blinded judgement,” he seethed. “He’s a monster.”

“He’s just a boy,” Seungmin shot back, heart pounding at the way surprise flashed on Kang’s face. He had never dared to challenge his colleagues before — especially not Prosecutor Kang — but he forced himself to stand his ground as Kang finally turned around to face Seungmin. He was silent for several tense moments, slowly drying his hands before picking up his briefcase. Then, Kang’s expression smoothed over as he raised an eyebrow at the younger prosecutor. 

“Not in my court of law, he isn’t.”

He had walked briskly out the door before Seungmin could muster a reply. The commotion outside grew louder before it was muffled again by the closing doors, and the younger male was left in the dark, empty washroom, filled with an increasing feeling of dread.

━━━━━━━━

Jisung jerked forward when the prison bus came to an abrupt halt, nearly slamming his head against the front seat. He tried to shake himself out of his daze and turned towards the window, tired eyes adjusting to the morning sunlight. Outside was the town he had grown up in, and yet everything felt so...different. 

As soon as the bus doors swung open, swarms of reporters surrounded its sides. Two policemen roughly escorted him through the crowd, and he could vaguely register the questions being screamed at him from every angle.

“Han Jisung, is it true?”

“Did you kill all those people? Did you set fire to your own home?”

“Will you plead guilty? Will you plead insanity?”

Insanity? Jisung’s mind flashed to the memory lapses every time he...killed, the gaping black spots in his thoughts, the endless throbbing in his temples that never quite went away. His head was swimming, but his body felt numb. Have I gone insane?

Once they were inside, he was ushered further down the hallway into a side room. A stone-faced clerk in a grey suit nodded at the policemen, then fixed his hawk-like eyes on Jisung’s unfocused face.

“This is him?” He asked dubiously, then cleared his throat. He didn’t move to shake Jisung’s hand. “Well, then. You refused to take an attorney or public defender, so, uh...your trial will be held under special circumstances. The judge will hear the witnesses, the evidence, and anything you have to say. Got it, kid?” 

Jisung couldn’t will himself to form any words. Everything sounded as if he were underwater.

The man coughed nervously. “As long as you cooperate, things shouldn’t be too bad, eh? Although from what I’ve heard about you, I wouldn’t keep my hopes up.”

Jisung could sense the official’s eyes raking him up and down in slight distaste at his silence. As Jisung quietly took a seat in the corner, he could hear the man muttering irritatedly to the guard by the door and chuckling.

“It’s always the messed-up kids, huh?”  

━━━━━━━━

You watched as the courtroom slowly filled with people — reporters and spectators huddling around you, clerks and attorneys taking their places in their respective boxes. You were sitting with Bang Chan, Felix, Woojin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin near the bar, watching the members of the jury shuffle in. They were all somewhat familiar faces — students, professors, and citizens, as Bang Chan had guessed — and you felt a small glimmer of hope every time you recognised someone.

The prosecution’s witnesses were beginning to file in on the opposite side of the room, as well: A stocky boy with a swollen, bandaged nose, and a scrawnier one, also heavily bandaged — the only survivors, you realised, shuddering — from that terrible night at Mia’s Diner. Then there was Jeongin, whose face made you relax slightly. Next to him, though, there was a nervous old woman who you didn’t recognise, and an unfamiliar middle-aged man. And of course, pacing back and forth behind them, like a panther on the prowl, was Prosecutor Kang. 

Every time the doors swung open you couldn’t help but look up, heart hammering in your chest. 

You were really only looking for one person, after all.

Sure enough, the heavy oak door in the corner creaked open, and a familiar flash of golden hair made your breath catch in your throat. Flanked by two stone-faced officers, Jisung entered the courtroom. 

You immediately leapt to your feet, and heard Chan whisper in warning. “y/n.”. The detective’s tone was gentle, but you didn’t have to turn back around to imagine the alarmed look on his face. Your eyes were glued on Jisung, and it took every fibre of your being not to sprint up to him, push past the guards, and pull him into your arms. You were shaking with equal parts relief and horror as you took in the sight of him. 

He’d lost weight, his skin was pale and bruised, but his eyes — you felt your mouth go dry. The eyes you had seen fill with both laughter and sadness, light and darkness, were now completely lifeless. As if he wasn’t really seeing anything at all. You felt hot tears prick at the back of your throat and you clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from calling out his name. You had thought you were prepared, that you would force yourself to stay calm at all costs — but now, as the weight of the situation was finally beginning to sink down on your shoulders, you weren’t so sure you would be able to.

You felt Felix’s hand gently tug at yours, the only thing anchoring you to reality, and slowly sat back down, your hands grabbing fistfuls of your cardigan to keep from shaking.

Jisung found you in the crowded courtroom before you did, and the split second he caught your face soothed an ache in his chest he’d been trying to ignore, like a long-neglected wound. Seeing you alive and breathing — when the last memory he had of you had been one where you were bleeding out in his own hands — sent a bittersweet pang through him, the sheer relief overwhelming him to the point that he felt his own knees buckle. To anyone else, you looked almost normal, he thought — but he would have been a fool not to catch the dark circles under your eyes, your shaking hands, the raw worry that had etched itself into your weary features.

As soon as your eyes flickered up to him, Jisung immediately looked away, a voice in the back of his head seething. Coward. 

His gaze wandered around the room and he was instantly met with a mix of hostile glares and fascinated stares — like an animal that had been chained down. Wherever he looked, dozens of eyes were on him, dozens of blazing lights searing through him and pinning him to the spot. It was almost as if he could hear the spectators’ thoughts, the countless names that the local press had called him ringing through his head. The youngest mass murderer of Miroh Heights. A walking psychopath. The soon-to-be-convicted serial killer.

“Order in the court,” you heard a man next to the judge call out, and a hush swept across the room. The judge — a middle-aged woman in sombre black robes —  nodded. “The trial is now in session. The case of Han Jisung, and the Miroh Heights Murders, Your Honour.”

Kang moved forward and cleared his throat.

“Your Honour, today I intend to prove the defendant guilty of nineteen counts of first degree murder, as well as a history of crimes spanning over a period of thirteen years. This includes eight counts of arson, including the defendant’s own home, and five counts of aggravated assault, including the attack of Yang Jeongin three months prior. The numbers are based on the images of the victims we showed him that he recognised.” Kang gave a deliberate pause, flashing a look of disdain over where Jisung was seated. “He has violated Sections 235 and 435 of the Criminal Code, and the prosecution intends to prove him fit to receive capital punishment.”

Capital punishment — the death penalty. Kang was doing exactly what you all had feared, and his words and self-assured attitude made you feel sick. 

“Does the defendant have any opening statements?”

Your eyes flickered to Jisung’s face — had his expression darkened? His features had stiffened into a cold mask — lifeless eyes, sickly pallor, clenched jaw. It was almost as if he was trying to fit into Kang’s description of him, you realised with a sinking feeling. To your dismay, Jisung stayed silent, and the judge cleared her throat.

“Please call upon your first witness.”

You watched the nervous old woman from earlier wobble forward and introduce herself.

Kang had pulled out images of a familiar crime scene — the burnt-down flat on the outskirts of town, where the remains of a woman identified as a local sex worker had been found. The night of your first date, you thought, grimacing.  “Where were you, the night of this fire?”

“I was making my rounds through this neighbourhood,” the old woman began, fingers trembling as she pointed at the images. “I happen to live ‘round there, and I own some of these flats myself. This woman is—was—a tenant of mine.”

“Did you see anything suspicious prior to the fire?”

The old lady paused. “I thought I saw a boy lingering ‘round the alleyways. Holding his head and stumbling around real bad, pacing back ‘n forth like he couldn’t see clearly. ‘twas near the red-light district, so I thought he was just another drunkard.”

“Could you point to the boy you saw, stumbling through the alleyways?”

The old woman slowly pointed at Jisung.

“And what did you see, at around 10 o’clock, sundown?”

“I-I saw the roofs in my neighbourhood go up in flames. Ran as quick as I could, but the blaze was already too big to stop —” She shuddered. “But through the smoke, I could see the figure of a boy in the fire, escapin’ from the house.”

“Could you point to the boy you saw escaping the burning building?”

You watched in muted dread as she lifted another quivering finger in Jisung’s direction.

“There’s no way she could have seen clearly through all that smoke and fire,” you heard Woojin mutter behind you.

“Your tenant had no prior connection to him — no negative relations beforehand, correct?” 

The old woman nodded. “Not that I know of.”

Prosecutor Kang hummed. “We have no reasons to believe this murder was provoked by the victim. And yet, that night, Han Jisung set fire to an innocent woman’s home — in cold blood. She was an outcast, no family or friends — he likely chose a victim that wouldn’t be missed.” He smiled, turning towards the judge. “That is all for the eyewitness, Your Honour.”

You grit your teeth as the old woman sat back down. Kang had called on his next witness — a chubby, red-nosed man who introduced himself as a child psychiatrist.

“The defendant refused to answer questions during the psychological evaluation,” Kang informed the judge smoothly. “We researched his past thoroughly—”

“Bullshit,” Felix muttered.

“—and reached our conclusions by analyzing the nature of his criminal history during his adolescence. We will also be consulting—” Kang motioned for the two boys to step forward, “His former classmates, who will testify on Mr. Han’s character.”

“He’s insane,” Chan whispered in horror, “He’s letting the kids from the diner attack testify on Jisung’s mental condition?”

“Please state your affiliation with the defendant.”

“We grew up in the same orphanage,” the boy in the buzzcut answered, his voice thick from his swollen nose. “Kid always stuck out like a sore thumb.”

“Did the defendant ever exhibit any strange behaviours during his adolescence?” Kang asked.

“He’d be missing from classes for days,” the scrawny boy piped up. “Always hoverin’ in the corner like a little creep. Sometimes even lightin’ things on fire. Never got in trouble though — always real charming towards the teachers.” 

“Changed his expressions like masks,” the boy in the buzzcut added quickly.

Kang turned towards the child psychiatrist. “How would you describe the mental condition of a patient like Mr. Han, taking these testimonies and the defendant’s criminal history into account?”

“W-well,” the red-faced man began, sweaty brow furrowing. “Starting with his unexplained history of pyromanic tendencies — this destructive behaviour indicates the patient harboured violent habits from a young age. That’s often a strong indicator of various conduct disorders in young children.”

“But isn’t it normal for children to be curious, to cause a little trouble?” Kang smiled — he was playing the devil’s advocate, you realised uneasily. “You surely can’t sum up his fascination with fire as a dangerous condition.”

The psychiatrist nodded. “Of course not. But the patient was able to shift between personas from a very young age — like his classmates have said, he could be cold and reserved to them, but charming and cunning towards authority figures. This constant deception in young children, along with the destructive tendencies, is what often leads to sociopathic behaviour.”

“Sociopathy,” Kang repeated, and turned towards the judge. “Oh, dear.”

You looked on in dismay as Kang kept twisting the case like the strings of an ugly puppet, clearly aware of the way the jury and spectators were beginning to lean towards the prosecution’s arguments. With Kang’s carefully crafted questions directed at nervous, unsuspecting witnesses, everything seemed to point to one obvious answer. Han Jisung was a guilty serial murderer, there could be no question of it. Even the testimonies were beginning to blur together:

He went all psycho on us. 

Laughing like some maniac, like he enjoyed it. 

Murdered my friends for no reason. 

At this rate, you didn’t stand a chance.

Kang needed one more witness — one more witness was all it would take for the trial to shift completely in his favour, and for you to finally lose hope. You looked around the room in desperation and spotted Minho seated on the prosecution’s side, the coroner’s smooth and mask-like expression doing nothing to calm your frazzled nerves. His words from the rooftop rang in your head, sending chills down your spine.

There is little you can do with people who don’t want to be helped, y/n. You’re just like how I was. 

Was that why Minho had cooperated with the prosecution? Because he thought that Jisung was already beyond saving? As if he could feel your gaze burning into him, Minho’s eyes darted upwards to meet yours. You were startled to find that there was something unfamiliar in his expression; something that hadn’t been there the last time you’d met him — like a crack in a mask, a ripple in smooth water. Before you could decipher what it was, you heard Kang’s haughty voice calling Minho up to the stand, and the coroner turned away.

“Please state your name and status.”

“Lee Minho, forensic pathologist and head coroner of the Miroh Heights murder cases.”

“Could you describe the autopsy results of the confirmed victims?” Kang held up a remote and projected images of various crime scenes onto a screen. An uneasy murmur rippled through the jury and spectators at the graphic images — some, like the burned body of the woman, and caved-in skull of the man at the Yellow Wood, you recognized, but there were several more you never had the courage to look at before.

Minho glanced at the photos Kang had projected onto the screen, expression unchanging. You remembered his oddly empty smile when you had first met him, when you had asked him if the endless rows of corpses ever made him uncomfortable.

“I’m sure it did, at some point. Sooner or later, they all start to look the same.”

“Yes. Well, as you can see, the victims’ bodies almost always showed signs of excessive force and trauma. Victim #1, Na Jangmin, was pronounced dead on scene from smoke inhalation and respiratory burns from the combustion of various chemicals found in the science laboratory.” Minho pointed to a gruesome image of a peeling, shrivelled corpse that made your skin crawl.

“Victim #2, Park Beomsoo. Died from asphyxiation. The victim had a high dosage of flunitrazepam — Rohypnol — in his system prior to his death.”

“And what is Rohypnol, Mr. Lee?” Kang interjected.

“It’s a powerful tranquilizer drug. Small amounts are sold as sleeping pills, but high concentrations can cause paralysis, or even loss of consciousness. It’s a common date rape drug.”

“Did the victim consume the drug of their own accord?”

“The concentration is too high to have been used as a sleeping pill dosage. The victim’s time of death was around noon, on campus, so there would have been no reason to for him to consume the drug. We detected traces of food in Park’s body along with the drug, but we don’t know where the drug came from.”

Kang turned towards the judge triumphantly. “Shortly after the drug took effect, the victim was pronounced dead. This was a premeditated crime. The defendant drugged the victim’s food, and slowly suffocated Park Beomsoo to death. Taking the defendant’s mental condition into consideration, Your Honour—” Kang gave a meaningful nod, a dark glint in his hawklike eyes, “I would argue that the defendant may have enjoyed the process of committing the murder.”

It took the last ounce of your self-control not to leap up from your chair at his words. Seemingly unfazed, Minho kept talking. “You can also find strange correlations between the victims. We always deduce signs of brute force exerted, and a pattern of victims: people with a history of abuse, adultery, and harassment. You could say that this killer...hunted killers.”

“The defendant’s M.O., Your Honour,” Kang added, nodding. “The constant pattern of victims and killing styles confirm that these were premeditated murders, habitual murders.”

You felt your heart sink, feeling sick. Beside you, Woojin had his head in his hands. Your last hope had gone down the drain. You should have known the coroner would play along, that he would never give himself in; that Lee Minho was the type to always save his own skin before saving others’— 

“However,” Minho spoke up again, “I’d like to add that all the crime scenes are also always impeccably clean. We observed minimal blood spattering, DNA evidence, and even fingerprints. Some wounds on the victims’ corpses didn’t match the hypothesised murder weapons, and were ready to become cold cases.” 

“Evidence that the perpetrator of these murders was also able to plan their clean-up afterwards,” Kang flashed the coroner a strange look. “Ladies and gentlemen, this only shows that the killer is meticulous and calculated in his attacks. As I’ve said, this is an insidious, long-seasoned killer we have on our hands—”

“You might be wondering why the evidence for this case is so scattered,” Minho’s mild voice cut him off, and Kang looked irritated at the sudden interruption but let the coroner continue. “Why the killings are so sporadic, always occurring at irregular intervals.” He paused, thinking. “Why nothing seems to fit together.”

It took several moments for his words to hit you, and you lifted your head in disbelief.

What? You turned to your friends, who all looked equally confused. 

What is he trying to say?

“I remember recording that the deduced weapon at the Yellow Wood attacks was a hammer, or crowbar.” Minho nodded at the papers in the Judge’s hands. “That’s not true.”

All the heads in the room seemed to snap up in shock at the coroner’s blunt words. You felt your breath stop, and looked over at Chan, whose expression was just as stunned.

“The weapon of choice was actually a stone from the Yellow Wood,” Minho shrugged. The coroner set down the papers Prosecutor Kang had handed him, turning to face the jury. “If you dig around in the lake outside Miroh Heights Hospital, you might be able to find it. Then there’s the vodka from the fire, the knocked-over chemicals in the science laboratory, a janitor’s rope from the rooftop. They were all impulsive weapon choices,” Minho nodded at the judge, “all from the scene of the crime. As if the perpetrator had chosen it on the spot, in a fleeting moment of impulsive judgment.”

You saw Kang sputtering behind him, mouth opening and closing uselessly. The Judge was evidently taken aback, too, peering at Minho from over her half-moon glasses. “What are you trying to say, Mr. Lee?”

“That it should be obvious that these crimes were almost never premeditated.” Minho glanced at the pictures of the crime scene. His voice was quiet — nearly inaudible — but exasperated, as if he were surprised at the words coming out of his own mouth. The entire room seemed to be leaning forward, listening to his words with bated breath. “They were done in the heat of the moment, and someone else had to tamper with the evidence afterwards.”

“How could you possibly know—”

“Because I’m the one who’s been cleaning up after Han Jisung for the past thirteen years.” 

Your mouth dropped open in shock as a hush fell over the room, reporters gasping and scribbling in their notepads. Minho had a small smile on his face as he took in the entire room’s response — how everyone had fallen quiet, speechless at the sudden turn the trial had taken. The smile wasn’t gloating or cruel, you realised slowly. It was filled with a simple curiosity and wonder, like a child who had finally tried something new for the first time. 

Even Jisung had looked up, his eyes widened in surprise. “Minho—” His voice was raw from disuse as he called out to his first friend, his oldest friend —  but Minho only smiled at him and shook his head slightly.

The room was shifting uneasily around him. He should have been scared, Minho thought. He could already feel lies instinctively forming on his tongue, a thousand ways he could backpedal and take back what he had just said. It had become second nature to him, he realised — covering up murders first, and his own emotions second; the two things he had always feared the most. He could hear Kang angrily stammering and calling his name behind him, but Minho ignored him.

The judge cleared her throat unsteadily, fixing her piercing gaze on him. “Why are you doing this? You are aware that a confession like this will lose you much more than your job? That it may very well condemn you to a lifetime in prison?”

“I’m aware,” Minho replied softly, eyes wandering across the room and landing on Jisung’s distraught face. The boy he had clung onto as his only family, the boy who he had both loved and feared for thirteen years. There was nothing left for him to lose. “I thought for the longest time that covering the murders were my own twisted way of...saving the boy. I don’t think I had the courage in me to do much else.” He looked around the courtroom, and his eyes finally landed on you. The girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, but was strong enough to challenge him with a steady voice and blazing eyes. The girl who was an unapologetic contradiction, he remembered, almost fondly. The girl who had reminded him what it was like to be brave, to finally start living for himself.

Yes, he thought. This was the least he could do.

“Han Jisung had nothing to do with the cover-ups of the crime scenes,” Minho raised his voice, surprised at the strength in it. Behind him, he could hear the prosecution stirring, and felt two security guards seize his arms to remove him from the podium. “He is not the depraved killer the prosecution wants you to think—”

“Your Honour, this must be a set-up between the coroner and the defendant,” Kang cut him off furiously, shooting Minho a death glare behind his spectacles. The murmuring of the jury and reporters drowned out the coroner’s last words as he was dragged from the room. “Your Honour, do not be deceived—”

“Order in the court!” The judge banged the gavel repeatedly, holding her head in her hand as if she had a migraine. “The—the coroner’s statements will be deemed faulty, and Lee Minho will be dealt with separately. The trial will continue.”

The silence that settled over the room after the coroner’s outburst was eerie. You could feel your heart still pounding, mind racing over the words Minho had shouted over Kang’s, the almost wistful smile on his face as he let the guards drag him from the room. The coroner had been a wildcard, you thought uneasily, your gut churning with a cocktail of anticipation and anxiety. There was no telling which way the trial would go from here.

“Does the prosecution have any other witnesses?” The judge called out, and you saw Jeongin finally stand up. Words and whispers began flying as he made his way forward to the witness box, the citizens recognising the delivery boy immediately. You glanced over at Kang, who looked more relaxed than ever — and you knew why. Everything from Jisung’s camcorder footage to Jeongin’s salvaged Walkman tapes had either been confiscated by the prosecution, or were in Seungmin’s hands. Kang had been meticulous making sure that the younger prosecutor had no power over the case, banning him from interfering with the investigation for good. 

Which meant that all Jeongin had to sway the jury was his own verbal testimony. One young boy’s word against Prosecutor Kang’s. 

“State your name and status.”

“Yang Jeongin. Um, student at Miroh Heights University.”

Kang looked down at his papers, then back up at the judge. “On the night of the Yellow Wood attacks, Yang Jeongin was biking home after closing shift before he was brutally attacked by the defendant with a blow to the skull. He is the only living witness that has come forward to testify, and the only person who witnessed the defendant’s attack firsthand. Luckily, he was able to regain consciousness after the horrific attack.” He turned towards Jeongin, smiling triumphantly. “What he has to say may well turn the entire case upside down.”

He was clearly expecting Jeongin to give away evidence against Jisung, you realised. After they had told Jeongin that his tapes had been withdrawn from the investigation, the delivery boy had hit a dead end in his testimony. No matter what he said, Kang would be able to find a way to use it against Jisung. Sure enough, he was watching the young boy now like a vulture, ready to pick him apart.

But Jeongin only smiled back at Kang. “Actually, it’s not what I have to say, sir.” When the prosecutor’s face contorted in confusion, Jeongin continued, “It’s the things that you’ve said.”

Before Kang could reply, Jeongin reached into his pocket and pulled out something silver. The guards instantly moved forward, but Jeongin set it onto the clerk’s table, motioning for him to take it. After several moments, the low crackle of speakers connecting began filling the tense silence, and you realised what it was that Jeongin had brought with him. 

A voice recorder.

“He didn’t tell anyone to make sure it wouldn’t get confiscated, too,” Chan realised, eyes widening. “Smart kid. But what could he have possibly recor—”

The detective’s awed voice was drowned out by a recording of another very familiar voice.

“Kim Seungmin. As you may have heard, the serial killer — ah, the Han Jisung case, I could say — has been transferred to me.”

Prosecutor Kang.

The room froze. When you looked at Kang, you saw that all the blood had drained from his face.

“Now, now — don’t feel too ashamed, Kim. Everyone makes rookie mistakes. They may have assigned the wrong case to you, but rest assured — it’s in proper hands now.”

“Is it?”

You winced, peeking at Seungmin beside you when you heard his voice on the recording as well. Seungmin had never mentioned the way Kang treated him to anyone, and the younger prosecutor’s jaw was clenched, but his eyes were blazing. 

Still, you weren’t exactly sure why Jeongin was playing a recording of Kang and Seungmin’s conversation. What could he have possibly overheard, that made him look so confident now?

“Have something to say to me, Kim?”

“I’ve just — never understood the way you handled cases, sir.”

“Seungmin.” You could almost see the condescending look on Kang’s face. “Allow me to share a word of advice. They won’t teach you this in law school.”

Seungmin watched realisation flash across Kang’s face like he had been struck by lightning, but it was too late.

“Your job as a prosecutor is not to judge the defendant fairly.”

“Wh—”

“If you want a smooth career...all you need to do is make sure you’re appealing to the right people. In other words, listen to what the public wants. Please the public; don’t waste a single damn about the defendant. You spent all your precious time worrying your little head over the killer’s motives, and now that we finally have him, you’re still worrying over the severity of his sentence? Murder is murder, Kim Seungmin, and actions speak louder than motives. You can show lenience towards a mass-murderer, or you can sweep his sorry past under the rug and bring closure to dozens of families. Which would make you a richer, more popular man?”

“Your Honour,” Kang stammered, face white, “This is—improper use of evidence, this shouldn’t—” The recording cut him off again, the judge’s face stony as she motioned for the clerk to keep going.

“Is that how you got to where you are?”

“Think, boy. As far as anyone needs to be concerned, the cold-blooded killer is caught, peace is re-established, families are soothed, justice is served once again — and I come out the hero. You saw that boy’s wretched past. Even he can’t handle it. So why poke at wounds that aren’t meant to be re-opened?”

You didn’t realise how hard you were clenching your fists until you felt your palms sting from your nails. The entire room seemed to be holding its breath. Kang looked stricken, pale mouth opening and closing frantically like a fish out of water, but no words were coming out.

“You think you’re being kind? Justice isn’t meant to be kind, Kim. Make up the easiest case to solve, and do everyone a favour.”

The judge stopped the tape, her face livid. The room had gone deadly silent, your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. ““Your job as a prosector is not to judge the defendant fairly?”” 

Kang could only shake his head wildly as she continued, raising her voice, ““Make up the easiest case to solve, and do everyone a favour?” From a faulty forensics expert to this — Prosecutor Kang, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Your Honour, I—” Kang sputtered out, beady eyes darting around furiously — at Jisung, and at Jeongin. “L-lies! It’s all lies, this is absurd!” He laughed, trying to make himself sound nonchalant, but his voice was weak. “This must be a—a fabrication perpetrated by the defendant—” The room was erupting in chaos now, the jury and reporters bickering amongst themselves. 

You had never seen the prosecutor so worked up before as he continued to protest frantically, “Your Honour, the defendant must have coerced the victim to do this, to—to frame me. Please listen to me, we must conduct another investigation—”

There was a deafening bang as the Judge slammed the gavel down, making the room jump. “There will be no investigation,” she thundered. “Prosecutor Kang, you are hereby removed from the Han Jisung case.” 

Kang leapt up from his seat as officers appeared on either side of the prosecutor, seizing his thrashing arms. “Let go of me! Your Honour! Your Honour, you cannot do this. Han Jisung must be condemned — you cannot let this murderer walk free—”

“Silence!” The judge bellowed, and the last of Kang’s words were drowned out, the heavy oak doors banging shut as he was thrown from the room. Jeongin looked evidently shaken. He had been right. His last existing recording — the unlikely trump card — had flipped the case on its head. You heard frenzied whispers all around you as your heartbeat pounded erratically in your chest. 

“Does this mean the prosecutor’s been fabricating all the evidence? Who can we trust now?”

“I’ve never seen a case like this before.”

“What’s going to happen to the trial now that the lead prosecutor’s been detained?”

The banging of the gavel eventually brought the restless audience to a strained silence. The Judge looked weary. “We need to take an emergency intermission. The trial...will recommence shortly.”

━━━━━━━━

You let the sea of people push you through the courtroom’s double doors, your legs threatening to collapse at any moment. Outside was hardly a breath of fresh air — all around you, cameras were flashing, reporters were gossiping, and officials were arguing. You tried to focus — to process what had happened, but the incessant buzzing of people chattering around you made your head pound so hard you swore your skull was splitting.

A firm hand on your shoulder yanked you out of your migraine, and you whipped around to see Hyunjin. You let out a small sigh of relief. 

“Hey, it might be good to get out of this crowd for a bit,” Hyunjin said, taking in your exhausted expression worriedly. “I, uh, lost everyone, but if we step outside—”

Before he could finish, you both caught sight a blond head bobbing towards you in the sea of people. Felix pushed through, cradling his camera for dear life. His freckled face was sweaty and breathless. 

“Kang—Kang’s lost all power,” he gasped out when he reached you. “Detective Bang’s managed to convince the guards to let him talk to Jisung for a few minutes—”

You had already seized your best friend by the shoulders and spun him around. He instantly got the message and the three of you began elbowing through the hordes of people, Felix leading the way.

The clamour died down to a quiet hum as you reached the hallways, Felix ushering you past an OFF-LIMITS sign. The corridors were nearly empty now, and the three of you sprinted to the end until you reached a heavy oak door. It was slightly ajar. You caught a glimpse of Jisung’s expressionless face through the dim crack, and your hand hesitated on the door handle. 

“I told you and Woojin I wouldn’t give you any counter evidence.” Jisung’s voice was cold and lifeless. 

“And you didn’t.” You could hear the growing agitation in Chan’s voice as the detective pleaded. “But you’ve got to listen to me. More people want you — need you — to keep living, more than you give yourself credit for.”

“Stop, Chan. You don’t have to do this anymore—”

“Han Jisung.” You couldn’t help his name falling from your lips, voice louder than you’d intended as you threw open the heavy door. The guards rushed to block you before you could get any closer, but you pushed back, forcing Jisung to meet your eyes. His were flat, dark, horribly cold.

“y/n,” he replied softly, and you felt your heart break.

“Why are you doing this?” You fought to keep your voice steady. “You have the right to speak for yourself. Defend yourself. You know what they’re saying isn’t true. So why are you letting them keep accusing you?”

“How do you know it isn’t true?” Jisung laughed humourlessly, shaking his head. “Don’t lie to yourself. I did kill all those people, and you know that.”

“I do. But you’re not the psychopath Kang is making you out to be,” you protested. “I know you.” 

“You don’t.” Jisung’s voice was bitter. “You don’t, actually. I’ve always — always hidden parts of myself from you. What you’re hearing from Kang is the closest you’ll ever get. He — he knows me better than I know myself.” He smiled weakly, but it fell flat. “I’ve always been like this, drawn to murder and blood and fire. It can’t be fixed.”

Each one of his words pierced through you like bullets, and you searched his face frantically for a sign, anything left of the rain-drenched, smiling boy from the diner; the wounded, soft-hearted boy you had fallen in love with. Your heart was hammering in your throat as a horrible question echoed through your head. 

Did he mean it?

It was as if Jisung had pulled on a mask, you thought. His face was absolutely still — but for a fleeting moment, you could swear you saw a flash of pain

No.

You had grown to know him, grown to know that he was the kind of boy who was willing to play the part of a depraved monster, just so you would push him away first. 

Jisung stared back at you, and for once, the darkness in his wide eyes no longer scared you. Instead, endless memories were flashing through your mind.

Jisung making you laugh until you choked on Chinese food, and apologising profusely for hours afterwards.

Jisung spilling pancake batter all over your kitchen counter, and feeding you blueberries to make sure you didn’t notice.  

Jisung, holding you in his arms until you fell asleep, hands as gentle as if he thought you were made of glass. 

“You need to go,” Jisung broke your long silence. “Stop hurting yourself. You need to let me go.”

You looked up, taking in his slumped shoulders, the note of defeat in his voice, the facade he had pulled on during the trial, and everything hit you all at once. Maybe it was the stress of the weeks leading up to trial or your hatred towards Kang had finally reached its breaking point. Either way, an overwhelming feeling of sheer frustration was washing away the anxiety that had been thrumming in your veins for weeks, and it left in its place an unbearable, burning anger.

You felt yourself push past the guards as if in slow motion, a voice in your head telling you that maybe this wasn’t the best idea — and slapped your boyfriend across the face.

The slap wasn’t hard, but the sound that rang through the room felt deafening.

“Han Jisung, you are such an idiot,” you yelled. Guards immediately surrounded you, dragging you backwards, but you didn’t take your eyes off Jisung. He was staring at you, stunned,  the stone-cold facade he had put on earlier now cracked wide open. “What do you think you’re solving this way? Do you know how many people have been working nonstop to make sure you don’t get yourself killed?” You could feel hot tears of frustration spilling onto your cheeks. “Your friends want you to stay alive. Your mother wanted you to stay alive. I need you to stay alive.” Your voice was hoarse as you screamed over the guards pushing you out of the room, and the heavy door swung shut with a deafening bang. 

The silence in the hallway seemed to swallow you up, the weight of what you had just said and done crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. You felt your knees finally buckle as you sank to the ground, burying your face in your arms and finally letting all your pent-up tears fall freely. 

Hyunjin and Felix were by your side, exchanging worried looks as they patted your back gingerly. You weren’t sure exactly how long the three of you stayed like that, your exhausted body racking with frustrated, mortified sobs, until you heard footsteps running down the corridor towards you.

“There you are— I’ve been looking for you guys for—” Kim Woojin’s breathless voice made you look up, and the captain did a double take. “Bloody hell, what happened?”

You wiped your reddened eyes furiously as Felix shook his head at the police captain, who was kind enough to take the hint.

“The thing is —” Woojin began again, tripping over his words. It was the first time you had seen the police captain so frantic. “It’s — it’s an emergency situation right now. A mistrial. The head prosecutor’s been thrown off the case, people are rioting—”

“This is a fucking mess,” Hyunjin muttered, but Woojin shook his head.

“No, it’s not,” the police captain exclaimed excitedly, “Not for us. They’re calling for a prosecutor who’s familiar with Jisung’s case to step up, asap. If there’s any prosecutor who was also working on the case—”

As if on cue, the intercom buzzed above you, making you jolt. “The court hearing for Han Jisung and Miroh Heights Murders will be resuming in five minutes. All attorneys, jurors, and participants of the trial, please report to the courtroom immediately—”

“Seungmin,” you, Felix, and Hyunjin all said simultaneously, and Woojin nodded. Felix was already pulling you to your feet, and the four of you broke into a run towards the courtroom.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Nowhere to Run by  GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s

The song referenced in this chapter is “We are Glass” by Thompson Square. You can hear the song here:

It’s a beautiful song and I felt it really summed up the characters in this story.

Chapter 10: We are Glass

Killian spent the next couple of weeks recovering in the hospital. He asked Robin to stay at his place to keep an eye on Emma and Henry, yet Emma spent most of her time next to his bed side when she wasn’t sitting in the corner of the room with Henry on her lap, teaching him his school lessons.

She told him how she had been teaching Henry everything she could while they were on the run. He could read and write, knew his arithmetic, and was an excellent artist. He found that even when he was tired, he would spend his time watching the two with reverence. Emma was a patient mother, but Henry was also an exceptional child.

“Did it hurt when you got shot?” The boy mused as he sat on the end of his bed, peeking up from between the cards in his hands.

“Aye. I would say it was pretty painful. Go fish, by the way.” He paused. “But the pain was replaced quickly by a sense of numbness, I guess, so I didn’t feel it long.” He stretched restlessly, looking down at his cards. “Have any 3’s?”

The boy narrowed his eyes, looking through his cards. “Go fish.” He smirked. “Do you think my dad is going to get out of prison and come after us again?”

Killian placed his cards against his chest. “I don’t think so lad. He’s going to have a trial. He has that right. The state will present its evidence, and he’ll face any consequences that he’s found guilty of. But you don’t have to worry, Henry. Even if he does get out, he’ll never get near you or your mom again.”

“But what about you? Who’s going to protect you?”

“Well, I’ve got Captain Nolan, and my partner Robin. Will and Belle…”

“And mom and me.” He said proudly.

Killian’s heart swelled. “You’d protect me? I’m honored.”

“Is Rogers ok?” His nose scrunched in worry.

“He’s staying with Will. He’s not a young pup anymore, so the old boy needed a lot of help getting better. But when they finally let me out of here, he’s gonna come back and live with me.”

“Will me and mom live with you?”

Killian swallowed nervously. He and Emma hadn’t talked about the future yet. There was still so much for them to resolve. Ten years was a long time to be apart, especially when the last time they had seen each other they were not in a good place.

“Your mom and I have a lot to talk about still.”

“Are you really married to my mom?” Continuing his barrage of questions.

He sighed. “Aye.”

“That must have been weird having her gone for ten years then. I bet you missed her.”

“More than all the stars in the world.”

“She used to tell me stories about you.” The boy said, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Did she now?” He mused.

“Sometimes you were a cop fighting bad guys, other times you were a swashbuckling pirate searching for treasure, and sometimes you were a Lieutenant in the Royal Navy sailing off on a ship to save the princess. Mom tells the best stories, but they were always about you.”

Killian’s eyes glassed over, bending his head to reach up and swipe at his face. “Your mother has quite the imagination, but I’m happy to be able to oblige for your entertainment.”

“Who’s hungry?” Emma’s voice filled the room as she came carrying a tray of food and drinks. “The doc says you are off your diet.”

Killian groaned happily as she sat the hamburger down on the tray in front of him. The first real food he would get to eat in weeks. He bit into the burger immediately, moaning loudly as soon as he tasted the meat on his tongue. Emma was staring at him, her mouth slightly agape. “Wut?” He said between chews.

“Nothing.” She said with an embarrassing glance away from him, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red. At least he still had some sort of effect on her, he thought.

“How did the call with Liam go?” She sat down in the chair next to him, pulling a grilled cheese sandwich into her hands.

“He was happy to hear that Neal is behind bars. He’s going to come visit soon when the girls are on holiday. He wanted me to tell you how gutted he was knowing everything you’ve been through.”

She shrugged, something she did often when he mentioned her past with Neal. “It will be nice to see him again. The girls must be so big now.”

“Aye. Twelve and sixteen now. He has his hands full for sure.”

She took a bite of her sandwich, watching Henry coloring at the end of Killian’s bed. “He’s not bothering you is he?”

“We were just playing a game of Go Fish. I think he cheats.” He whispered loudly, earning a complaint from Henry. Emma let out a pleasant laugh, something he was happy to earn from her.

“Doctor says you might get out of here tomorrow.”

“That’s my hope as well. I can’t wait to see Rogers.”

“I’m glad he’s alright. The old boy’s a survivor.” Emma mused.

“Aye, that he is.”

“I made an appointment for Henry and I to go see Dr. Hopper next week.” She said with a sad smile. “Figured I might need to talk through some things before we have to face Neal again at trial.”

“Hop’s a good man.”

“You know him?”

“Aye.” He nodded, not wanting to get into the fact that he knew him because he had been his patient, after Emma had left, when the world crumbled at his feet.

“I’ve been looking for a place to stay once you get released from the hospital. I know you’re going to need your bed to recover.”

Killian bit his lip. He knew they needed to discuss this. He didn’t want her to leave, but he also knew that they had a lot to work through if they were going to ever find their way back to each other. If she still wanted that.

“I can talk to Will. He had a vacancy across the hall from him a couple of weeks ago.”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

“Emma…”

“Hey there.” Killian stared at Emma’s face as David entered the room. “How ya feeling?” He turned, facing his boss.

“Doing great, going home tomorrow, I’ll be back on the streets before you know it.” He grinned cheekily.

“Yeah you’re taking some time off, buddy.”

“What?” He complained.

“Take a vacation, Killian. You’ve earned some time off. Robins got your cases locked down right now.”

“Cap, I’m fine.”

“It’s an order, Detective.” He walked over to Emma and smiled, she suddenly reached up and wrapped him into a hug.

“You look better.” He said softly.

“I feel better, I feel like I’ve gained ten pounds just eating three meals a day.” She chuckled, but both David and Killian glanced uncomfortably at each other.

“Hey, don’t do that. I’m fine.” She glared. “I don’t want you treating me any differently than you did when we were at the academy.” She winked up at David, “Still top of my class, sir.”

“It’s good to have you back Emma.” David smiled with a genuine air of happiness.

Three months later

Emma picked the shirt off the floor in Henry’s room, tossing it into the hamper. “Did you remember to pack a toothbrush?” The boy appeared from behind the doorway, poking his head into the room.

“Yup. It’s in the front pocket of my duffle.” He disappeared again and then reappeared. “Are you gonna be ok with this?”

Emma smiled at him. “Of course, I am, why would you ask that?”

“Cuz this is my first sleepover away from you that isn’t over at Killian’s.”

“I’ll be fine, Henry. I actually have plans tonight.”

He moved quickly into the room. “What kind of plans?”

She sat down on the bed. “I kinda have a date tonight.”

“Does Killian know?” He asked with a shocked look of disgust on his face.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about before you left.” He sat down next to her. “My date is with Killian.”

He jumped up from the bed and pumped his arms in the air. “Yes.”

Emma laughed. “Does that mean you’re ok with this?”

“Of course, I am. Killian’s the best. He even lets me stay up until 11pm when I stay over at his place.”

“Well, I’ll have to talk to him about that, but I’m glad you like him.” She wrapped her arms around Henry’s waist and hugged him tightly. “I love you, buddy. I hope you have fun tonight. And if you need me at all, you know you can call me.” She tousled his hair and kissed his cheek.

There was a knock on the door and Henry pushed away from her. “Gotta go, love you mom.”

Emma looked around Henry’s room, pictures he had drawn hanging on the wall. Her favorite one was hanging above the bed. It was of her, Henry, Killian, and Rogers playing at the park.

As difficult as returning home had been, they had settled into a pretty simple life. Emma and Henry had moved into their own apartment in Will’s complex. It was nice to have a friendly face around now and then when she found herself getting anxious on nights when Henry was sleeping over at Killian’s or when she would wake from a terrifying dream.

Will was always gracious no matter the time she found herself standing in front of his door with a bottle of rum in her hands. He would always sit up with her and listen to her talk about the first thing that came to her mind, something Dr. Hopper had suggested she try to take her mind off her nightmares. She didn’t know when it happened but before she knew it, he had become one of her closest friends.

And then there was Killian.

She wasn’t surprised that Henry had latched onto him so quickly. Killian was great with him, always patient, always offering to assist him with whatever the boy required. Which was often a lot as he was a growing boy who was adjusting to the freedom of being able to go outside and roam. Killian made sure he found new foods for him to try, adventures to experience, even new clothes to wear on his first day at a real school. Watching him with her son, the joy on his face, had her falling in love with him all over again. Of course, she hadn’t told him that. She was nervous about moving too quickly with him. Dr. Hopper told her that was normal. She had experienced a trauma and loss that not many people would cope with.

In her last session, she told her therapist that she wanted to try again with Killian. She had spent the last three months trying to figure out what her life would become now that she was home. She needed to learn who Emma was before she could deal with being Mrs. Jones again.

Killian had presented her with their divorce papers, gave her the choice to sign them and start her life fresh. She put it off, telling him that she needed some time to think before she made any big decisions in her life. He was patient and told her he understood but Emma knew that if he had his way, he would rip them to shreds.

Emma was volunteering at a small clinic that Mary Margaret worked at on the weekends, talking to victims of domestic abuse and rape. Currently she was taking it slow, still not understanding her own trauma that she had endured enough to feel like she had all the answers, but just being there with them to let them know they weren’t alone, and that someone understood what they had gone through. It was freeing to Emma to be able to own her story, to not feel ashamed anymore.

Dr. Hopper told her that was a form of acceptance. Owning what happened to you, claiming it as your story. She would never be over what Neal had done to her, stealing her dignity, laying waste to her self-esteem. But she refused to be defined by it. She didn’t want to be Emma Swan, rape victim. She was Emma Jones, survivor.

Today was going to be another step in her journey. Killian was taking her on a date. She remembered his face as they were eating lunch, a short break during his shift.

“We should go out.” She said nonchalantly between bites.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Maybe, but I have to ask you a few questions first.” He raised his eyebrow, leaning forward for her to continue.

“Ask away.”

“I need to know if you ok going on a date with someone who is probably always going to be a little bit damaged.”

He shrugged, “Aren’t we all? I like to think I can absorb a little damage.”

“Ok then, last thing…” She grinned. “You gotta like kids or it’s a deal breaker.”

He laughed loudly, “Aye, I adore Henry.” He shrugged, “So, do I win a date with the beautiful woman who currently has a mayonnaise mustache?” He reached out, wiping the offending condiment from her lip, eliciting shockwaves through her body.

That was the moment she knew she was ready. She had felt excitement from his touch instead of withdrawing the moment he made contact.

He had insisted on being the one to plan the date, as much as she was sure she could still plan a night out, she had to admit that it took some of the pressure off. He wouldn’t tell her where they were going, only that it was somewhere she had been asking to go for a while and he felt she had earned it. Whatever that meant.

She slipped into the pink dress, pulling the straps over her shoulders. Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. She looked feminine, happy, with a glint of hope in her eyes. The tears slipped onto her cheek; Neal had not stolen everything from her.

There was a knock on her door, a smile crept on her face. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and centering her mind. She was taking control of her life tonight.

Opening the door, she couldn’t control the shiver she felt when she saw him come into view. The man she fell in love with so many years ago was standing in front of her. Sure, he was older, the hint of grey kissing his hair, fine lines around his eyes, but he was even more gorgeous today than she remembered him all those years ago. This was the man who was willing to give up his life for her, loved her enough to save her, even if it meant he couldn’t have her.

“You look…”

“I know.” She giggled, accepting the rose he passed toward her. Her nose inhaled the fragrance of the flower, eyes glancing down his frame, the anticipation of the rest of their evening taking her to new heights.

“Shall we?”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Patience is a virtue, love.” He winked.

She rolled her eyes but followed him out to his car. They drove in silence, her hands folded in her lap. The soft sounds of the radio playing through the car.

Trying to live and love,

With a heart that can't be broken,

Is like trying to see the light with eyes that can't be opened.

Yeah, we both carry baggage,

We picked up on our way, so if you love me do it gently,

And I will do the same.

Emma felt the tears sting her eyes. The lyrics breaking into her heart as she chanced a glance at the man sitting beside her, his eyes focused on the road, his jaw tensed, that familiar vein popping from the side of his neck. He never forgot her in all the time she had been gone. She knew how he felt about her. The way he loved her. He’d been so patient with her these last few months. Not pushing her either out the door or into his heart.

We may shine, we may shatter,

We may be picking up the pieces here on after,

We are fragile, we are human,

We are shaped by the light we let through us,

We break fast, cause we are glass.

'Cause we are glass.

He turned toward her, a smile ghosting on his lips that held onto hope. When she walked out the door ten years ago, she knew she still loved him, that she would always love the man who had risked everything for her. Now she knew that back then, before everything went to hell, she was being stubborn walking away, letting her fear of the unknown hold her captive.

I'll let you look inside me, through the stains and through the cracks,

And in the darkness of this moment,

You see the good and bad.

But try not to judge me, 'cause we've walked down different paths,

But it brought us here together, so I won't take that back.

She exhaled, a stray tear slipping against her cheek. She let it fall, not afraid of her emotions anymore. She had been stubborn; she should have known that they would have made anything work. Instead, she walked away and ended up in a hell she couldn’t control.

We might be oil and water, this could be a big mistake,

We might burn like gasoline and fire,

It's a chance we'll have to take.

Emma was ready to let go of all of that. To let go of the ten years she had been robbed of, to forget all the stubborn and foolish decisions that had gotten them to this moment. She wanted to reclaim her life. She wanted to take back what was owed to her.

We are glass.

The song referenced in this chapter is “We are Glass” by Thompson Square. You can hear the song here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPd1GIwjRFMIt’s a beautiful song and I felt it really summed up the characters in this story.

[ckneal]

I don't know when it happened, but at some point I started thinking of the Fate characters on Supernatural as essentially being in charge of doing Chuck's grunt work behind the scenes. Just like some overworked lackeys sitting behind a bunch of computer screens. Unlike Michael and the other angels (but, apparently, JUST like the Men of Letters, as per season 15), they were perfectly aware that there were multiple universes in existence, along with multiple versions of all of Chuck’s favorite characters (or plot devices, in Michael’s case), because it was their job to keep records of all the different universes that Chuck created. And every time that Chuck wanted to start playing with a new universe that was almost the same as one he’d already tinkered with in the past, it was their job to get the universe set up by playing it through--making sure that all of history hit the same stale, tired beats that they’d seen it hit countless times before, except with the very specific, tiny changes that Chuck asked them to make. Essentially like running through a game of Dream Daddy or the Sims on fast forward until hitting the point where Chuck wanted to jump in and take over the narrative.

And wouldn’t it be funny if Adam only existed in one universe because one day, one of these Fates (we are only introduced to Atropos on the show, named after a Greek goddess of fate, but her dialogue implies that the corresponding goddesses, Clotho and Lachesis, exist as well) snapped from the monotony of it all? 

Obviously, the fate in question wouldn’t be Atropos, as her one appearance made it perfectly clear that she was happy with her job. But what about the other two? Maybe Lachesis was sitting there at one point, so bored she wanted to cry, running through the motions of making John act like the shit dad that he needed to be, so Sam and Dean would grow up with the issues they need to have in draft # 1552362 of Chuck's story--and out of nowhere, she hit the button to turn off the fast forward feature. Just to play in real time for a bit--just for a little bit, while she gave herself a break. John was in the ER, getting patched up at the tail end of an ugly hunt. As per the the instructions she'd followed in thousands upon thousands of different setup assignments, he was suppose to be curt and vague with his nurse while she asked the kind of standard, friendly questions that medical professionals often did to establish rapport with their patients. But this time, Lachesis decided to do things a little differently. 

No one was watching. This was a small little moment in John Winchester's life, it wouldn't impact Chuck's story. . .So she clicked the buttons necessary to make John Winchester tell a few jokes. And it was fun watching John Winchester be that nice at that age, with the little bar in the corner of her screen that indicated affability going up and up. And she didn't really mean to hit "Flirtatious Joke” after the two had gone back and forth for a bit, but her finger slipped, and then there was a little progress made in a pink bar that indicated romantic attraction. 

And it was at that point that she looked up and saw Clotho hovering over her shoulder, watching what she was doing, and Lachesis started to ramble off a disjointed explanation that she was NOT doing anything out of turn--but then Clotho, still squinting at Lachesis’s screen, said, "Try a Bold Pick Up Line." 

One thing led to another, and they were both more than a little drunk on the sweet, sweet nectar of misbehaving when Lachesis eventually clicked "Try for a Baby." And thus Adam Milligan was born. 

Lachesis and Clotho waited for some sort of punishment to come through. A penance, a memo, something, but Adam slipped into existence as just another mundane human in the background of Chuck's world, and the two rebellious Fates were thrilled. As happens with many first time Sims players, they approached Adam wanting him to excel with everything. They maxed out his education and his relationship with his mom, and even got him a wholesome little relationship going with another townie human--all while working around the other tasks Chuck sent them, and keeping Atropos--who had a huge stick in her ass--out of the loop. 

Then they got greedy, because Adam's loneliness bar was so high. They thought they were being so slick, having John come to visit around hunting trips, but that was what finally made Chuck aware of this random human smack dab in the middle of his special family tree. And thus the Fates got a note instructing them to quietly kill him off, just as Chuck was doing with all of the Campbell family members. Maybe a brain aneurysm, or a car crash if they wanted something dramatic. He highly recommends telling Adam to start a fire. 

The two Fates were scandalized (and the third confused). They wrote back to Chuck, "No, he's our baby."

And so the battle of wills was on. 

Chuck turned around and decided that if they were going to be like that, he'd make them sorry--by writing Adam into his story, and using him as a foil to Sam, and killing him off horrifically. 

Outraged, Clotho and Lachesis hacked into Castiel in retaliation--causing that infamous "crack in his chassis" by overriding his original function with instructions to help Dean escape that beautiful room. 

Chuck nearly bit through his divine lip at that, but then he got the idea to bring Adam back from the dead. For one second, the Fates thought this was Chuck giving in, granting them their one tiny little human to play with, but then PSYCH! Chuck had Michael possess Adam and wrote the two of them into Lucifer's cage, to spend the rest of eternity rotting in Hell, beyond help from anyone in a grand finale he came up with just for spite.

But the Fates weren't done yet. As Chuck kept trying to reclaim control of his narrative, they kept trying to find ways to hack into the storyline and save their boy.

Sadly, Chuck was not done yet either. 

"And so Dean asked Death to save his brothers. AND DEATH SAID PICK ONE AND DEAN PICKED SAM AND EVERYONE WAS COOL WITH THAT." 

"And then to complete the trials, it was said that the Winchesters must save an innocent soul from Hell, and thus they went back for [BOBBY]."

"And so the Winchesters opened the cage wide enough to make contact, and they conversed with [LUCIFER AND NO ONE ELSE]."

As time went on, Chuck became more and more certain that eventually the Fates would give up. It was just one human they hadn’t interacted with in years. How attached could they still be after so long? But little does he suspect that midway through season 6, Clotho smacked Lachesis on the shoulder and said, "Hey, I hacked the cage."

"WHAT?" Lachesis practically climbed over Clotho to get a better look, and sure enough, Adam was on Clotho's screen, hiding behind Michael, looking on in horror as Sam was being tortured.

"Our poor baby! There has to be something we can do!"

"Right, okay." And so Clotho took control of Adam, clicked on Michael, and selected "Flirty Greeting." 

"That's. . .kind of disturbing, don't you think?"

There was a pause as Clotho stared at the screen, pensively. Then, "Right, okay."

A moment later in the cage, the scenery abruptly changed. Sam was suddenly in a booth, Lucifer and Michael behind a glass counter. Adam’s standing in the middle of a tile floor, confused.

"Are we. . .in a coffee shop?"

[girlblunders]

bruh... imagine kenma carrying your team in genshin impact. he requests to join your world and u co op pretty smoothly and fall in love w him (u don’t even know at first if he is a him—his avatar has not changed from male traveller lmao) bc he has helped u w some bosses and even with finding difficult chests & time challenges 🥺

&&& then you end up friend requesting him and ask beforehand if you’re a bother but he’s like ar56 and bored waiting for his resin so he wants to help out. but also because u seem so cute & endearing when you send way too many !!!! exclamation!!! marks!!! while thanking him for his help and he’s made a habit of sending u the dps barbara sticker in response, and it makes u snort loudly every time

eventually you have to do an event that requires u both to use a mic bc it’s much easier to communicate that way and the more he hears your voice, the more he swears he feels like he’s known u forever—like you’re the sweet friend from elementary school he never had (though, yes, kuroo was quiet and warm) or the nice kindergarten teacher who didn’t force him to befriend every single person in the room

your impression of him is less dramatic. u find out then that kenma is a he, and you can’t help but fluster a bit. you’re not good with boys, you never have been. but what shocks u the most is that u realise a bit too late (in a group chat amongst your other friends who play genshin impact) that he’s that famous kodzuken guy, the pro gamer who sometimes streams his playthroughs

oh god, you think. what if he streamed you dying 6 times within this event or how u failed to estimate how much stamina climbing a particularly high rock would take?? u didn’t think he would, but u didn’t really know him at all,

finally, as the event closes, u just straight up ask him if he streamed any of your co op sessions. kenma’s voice is calm and soothing when he responds. he replies with a no and u apologise immediately, though he reassures u that it was a valid question to ask a stranger. he also says he wouldn’t have done it without your permission anyway and adds that he doesn’t think that he’ll stream your little sessions together in the future either.

(he wants to indulge a bit ok? the sessions he has with you sparks joy in his heart! let him have this to himself at least!)

kenma clears his throat and says to you, “you’re getting way better, u know?”

“pshh” you dismiss him, the tiny compliment going over your head.

“you’ve seriously improved so much from only just a week ago and i think your play style has become very distinctive now.”

“distinctive?” you scoff, “come on, kenma. just tell me i suck and i’ll get over it!”

kenma tries again. “i’m telling the truth, you adapted really well...”

“kenma,” you laugh, “i know you’re probably trying to be nice, but it took me a couple of times to clear that last time trial. i still can’t do those well.”

kenma frowns from his end of the computer. he’s never really been in the position to comfort another person’s insecurity, let alone that of a sort-of-stranger before. so he settles with a bit of sentiment that hes professed before and carefully gets your attention by calling your first name in a serious tone.

“even if a game doesn't seem clearable at first, after playing it over and over again, you can conquer it,” kenma declares in an echo of his past self.

you pause and reflect on the words he has taken the time to say to you out of what you assumed was worry and not pity. u did not pin this dude as one for dramatic punchlines, but boy did this one hit u hard.

“wow, thanks, Godzuken,” you deadpan and you have to laugh again because you can’t take yourself seriously while you’re playing as a pyro, bomb-wielding kid in this goddamn game. “now let’s set this camp on fire”.

kenma can practically hear the grin in your voice and smirks at your change in demeanour.

“ready when you are, partner”.

[bebepac]

A Quarter For Your Thoughts

This is chapter 6 of Just The Way You are.  To catch up on what you’ve been reading click:  Just the Way You Are Masterlist

The Book:  CROSSOVER: Perfect Match x TRR

Pairing:  Hayden x Kai  /  TRR MC is single (past pairing includes Nico Karahalios) 

Word Count: 2489

Summary:  Liam walks Riley home after some strange things happens.  Even more strange events continue as Liam goes inside Riley’s apartment for the first time.  Hayden and Kai have a date night out with Dipper.  

Riley, Liam, Hayden, Kai, Chance and Dipper, all belong to Pixelberry, all others are my own characters to help tell our story. 

Warnings: Mention of character death, Profanity.

This is my submission for @choicesfebchallenge​ day #9  Chance.  Which I took completely literal. 

A/N:  DW is at it again.  We have two special guest stars in this episode  Pops and Mia visit Just The Way You Are, from my series: Pops Place. The dynamic is slightly different as they have crossed into this AU.  You’ll see. 

Song Inspiration:  “If I Could Turn Back The Hands Of Time” R Kelly 

I don’t own rights to the Music.

She walked in silence with Liam, holding the quarter tight in her hand. Could Liam have given it to her? It didn't make sense, why or how she got the coin, unless Nico really came to her. But Riley didn't believe in the supernatural, Riley barely believed in God in recent years, her faith completely shaken, and honestly nonexistent after Nico's untimely passing.

The idea of peace of having religion in her life Riley found comforting. However, she hated the idea of the same entity that placed Nico in her life for her to love, had not even two years later ripped him away from her so suddenly, it was cruel.  How could something supposedly so good,  be so cruel?

He murdered Nico. That's what Donovan Jacobs did when he decided to get behind the wheel of his SUV knowing he should not be driving and him striking Nico's SUV, essentially taking the greatly loved father, son, soon to be fiancé (we know Riley would have accepted his proposal), and best friend. There was hurt and anger in Riley's heart now for it and he was going to feel every bit of it when she gazed upon his face at the trial.

Riley had only seen Donovan's picture in the paper. But trust and believe she hated the man.

"Are you going home Riley? Maybe you should lay down for a bit once you get there."

"That might be a good idea."

"Do you mind if I walk  with you? I just don't want you to get dizzy again and be alone."

Riley nodded.

He helped her gather her blanket and guitar. He glanced down seeing a little cop car on his headstone.

"That's cute."

"Nico was a criminal profiler for the NYPD. His son left it."

"You have a son?"

"He's not my blood, but I feel like he's mine. He just turned 10 two months ago.  He’s still a very large part of my life. I see him at least several times a week."

"That's good you’ve stayed consistent for him. Often times... when relationships.....end... the kids are left missing the person they got to know."

"He has a lot of father figures in his life now to try to help him cope, my brother and my friends, we make sure he's loved."

"That's noble of your friends."

When they arrived at the apartment she noticed Liam was sweating a little.

"Do you want to come up and cool off for a bit? Maybe have a drink?"

"I don't drink."

"It's barely past noon. I'm not an alcoholic. I meant like lemonade or something."

Liam laughed,  "My bad. Sure."

Liam followed Riley to her apartment. Her door was painted a bright pink.

"That's unique."

She glanced at him.

"That means you hate it."

"No it's unique. I like pink.  Men can like pink."

He winked at Riley.

Riley opened the door to her apartment.

Putting her keys in the dish beside the door. Riley's apartment was spacious, decorated, nice and neat.

"Here Chance!"  She called out to a small Corgi that came running around the corner.

Riley was a few paces in front of Liam.  Chance ran right around Riley and barked happily at Liam.

Riley turned around and looked at Liam.

Liam picked up Chance and laughed as he licked his  face.

"Hey Buddy."

"He normally doesn't like strangers."

"Yeah I can tell he's absolutely ruthless. You've got quite the attack dog here Riley."

Riley laughed out loud.

He put Chance down.

Chance started rolling over on the floor, in front of Liam, and he had crouched down, giving Chance tummy scratches.

"My attack dog is absolutely worthless! See why I have a conceal and carry? He'd lick our intruder to death."

Liam smiled.

"Well at least he killed them. Kindness might not be the most effective route  though."

Riley burst out laughing.

He loved her laugh, and she seemed to like his corny jokes.

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Sure it's…." Riley's phone rang. She paused to answer.

Liam knew walked down the hallway. He knew exactly where it was.

When he was done he could hear Riley still on the phone.  She was speaking in Greek again.  He walked into her room glancing around it.  It caught the light of the sun. He walked to her night table and on it there was a man's watch.

He picked it up. Maybe she was seeing someone. He turned the watch over finding, it was broken and the time on the watch was 6:32. He knew immediately what he was looking at. Nico's watch, and time the accident happened.  He put the watch down and picked up the picture frame.  It was Riley, with who he was guessing was Nico, in a cute candid photo. Riley was wearing a blue dress her head tilted back laughing while Nico held her tight in his arms. When his fingers grazed the face of the watch he felt a jolt of electricity go through him causing the watch to drop back on the night table.

Laughter. Riley's laughter was soft in his ear. He wrapped his arms around her while he was wearing the watch.

What the?.... he thought. But it was still working. He noticed the second hand still moving. What is this? Liam thought.

"No, stay in bed with me. Both of us are off today."

That wasn't his voice he thought.

"I'm hungry, I'm going to make us some breakfast. You relax. You work so hard."

He hugged her tightly.  "You feed those curves Girl."

Riley got out of bed exposing her naked body to him.

Liam gasped. Holy hell!!! God she was perfect in every way.

Then he heard his voice, but not his voice say..

"I love every inch of your sexy body Riley. You're so beautiful, you're my goddess."

She slipped her robe on. "Well your Goddess says go back to sleep." She kissed his lips softly.

"What are you doing?"

Liam jumped, and could still taste Riley on his lips when he opened his eyes.

He didn't know what happened, following her eyes to the floor. He had dropped her picture frame.

"I'm so….so  sorry Riley."

"It's okay, just let me clean it up. You go back to the living room."

Riley was carefully picking up the pieces of glass.

She glanced back at Liam as he walked out the door. Chance followed behind him, like he was his shadow.

When she came back in the room both Liam and Chance looked sad. Chance was sitting on Liam's lap.

"I'm sooo sorry Riley." Liam's voice was so apologetic.

"It's okay Liam. It was an accident."  She carried two glasses of lemonade and handed him one.

"Thank you."

"I've never seen Chance so taken with someone."

In minutes, Chance had already fallen asleep in Liam's lap.

"He must recognize dog people. They always had therapy dogs visit  when I was in the hospital. Dogs are so good at sensing when you are alone, scared or sad."

"What were you in the hospital for?"

"Not winning the genetic lottery." Liam smiled weakly.

"Are you okay now?"

"Yes, Things are great!"

"My friend Drake says that all the time."

There was something about his life that he wasn't ready to share either. She could relate to that.

Riley changed the subject and they continued to talk. Time flew by.  Chance finally woke up.

"Oh thank God," Liam said standing up. "My legs are asleep."

"He does that to me too. Looks like you're his favorite person now."

"Then maybe we should see more of each other at places he might frequent.  I guess he can bring you along too, Riley. You know to the dog walking park, the fire hydrant right out front, the vet?”

Riley smiled again.  

“Chance you call me when you want to hang out brotha.”  

Riley bit her lip.  “Maybe Chance would like to have breakfast tomorrow.”  

“It is the most important meal of the day I hear.  We should start our day off right.  Good thinking Chance. I’d like that.”  

“Take care of yourself Riley.  See you tomorrow Chance.”  

Chance barked excitedly.  

Riley hurried and changed clothes to get ready to head over to Nico’s mother’s house for dinner.  

“I want to get out of the house tonight Hayden.  Let’s do something out tonight.”

“There’s a movie on the lawn at the park.”  

“What’s playing?”

“Since it's almost Halloween they are doing a Fright Night Series. Stir of Echoes.”  

“Oooooh. Spooky I love that one!!!!!  What food truck do they have tonight?  Please say it’s Pop’s On The Go. I really need you to say it’s Pop’s on the Go.”  

“Well Kai I hate to disappoint you, but the food truck they’re having is…. Pop’s On The Go.”  

Kai was ready to be disappointed until she had realized fully what he said.

“Pops and Mia are so cute,  they banter back and forth together they are adorable.  I really wish they had an actual restaurant.  I definitely would eat there all the time.   His chilli cheese fries are life.”  

“So do we want blankets or folding chairs?”

“We want blankets,” they both said in unison smiling at each other.  

They got their blankets  and headed to the park with Dipper in tow.  

“Dipper be a good girl and mommy will give you some chilli cheese fries.”  

Dipper barked happily.

“You will not give our baby chilli cheese fries.  Has she had chilli cheese fries before?”

Kai shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe?"

“Kai, seriously?”

“She’s got a stomach of rocks like her Momma.”  

“Kai…..”  

“You love me.”  

“Let’s get us our chilli cheese fries.  None for Dipper.”  

“Hey Pops!”  

“Kai! I knew I’d be seeing you tonight! You always seem to make it out this way when our truck is out here.”

“You have the best snacks around Pops.  Can we get two orders of chilli cheese fries, with two colas?”

“And I got something for you Dipper.”  

Pops took out a box of dog treats.  

“Got to make all my customers happy.”  

He handed Hayden dog treats for Dipper.

“Thank you Pops.”  

“Mia, did you make those shirts?”

Mia nodded.  

Pops and Mia were wearing matching shirts.  There were also a few hanging on the side of the van.  

“You should be in design school, you’d do really well there.”  

“It’s just a hobby.”

“Looks like an untapped revenue stream to me.”  Hayden responded.

“We’ll also be taking two of your shirts too.”  

Mia perked up.  “Really?”

“See, I told you people would like them Pops.”

“Yep Pops, you’re looking stylish.”

Pop's stuck his chest out proudly. "She makes me a stylish and proud pops every day!"

Pops gave Mia a smile as she pulled down the shorts they wanted, and bagged them up.

They paid for their food and their shirts and picked a comfy spot on the lawn.

Hayden placed their blankets on the ground while Kai held the food.  He set up their large blanket first,  and even Dipper got her own Dipper sized blanket to curl up on and in.   Dipper quickly curled up on her own little blanket, while Hayden and Kai got settled under the tree.  

He loved watching Kai watch movies. She had so many. Hayden had to build another book shelf for Kai's DVD collection.  And this movie he had seen with her several times.  Kai was engrossed in the movie as if it was her first time watching it.

“And all this happened because he was hypnotized to be more open minded.  It’s crazy and I love it!!!”

Kai begrudgingly went to the bathroom seeing Mia walking out.

"Mia! Your shirts you made are truly awesome.”

“Thanks Kai, that means a lot.”  

“And I was serious about design school, how old are you now Mia?”

“I’m nineteen.”  

“You should be in college sweetheart.”

“Pops needs me. Things have been really hard for us.  I used to think about things like college before Mom got sick.  She had cancer.”

“She’s in remission?”  

“No… she died.”  

“I’m so sorry Mia.”  

Mia’s eyes filled with tears.  

“So my last two years of high school my grades weren’t good.  I helped take care of my mom and worked with Pops.  I probably couldn’t get into a design school anyway.”  

That sweet young girl, that always had a smile on her face every time she saw her, was carrying the weight of the world in her heart.  

She hugged Mia.  

“You’re going to get the chance to chase your dream Mia.  Please don’t give up on it.”  

“Thank you Kai, I’ve got to get back.”

Kai headed back over to Hayden embracing him.  

“What’s wrong?”  

Kai told him about her exchange with Mia.

"I'm gonna call Hana and see if she has some contacts out this way that can see Mia's work.

"That's nice of you Kai."

"Mia's a good kid, she shouldn't have to give up on her dream because her family has had a rough time."

Liam got a text early that next morning.  "Chance couldn't make it, and he was wondering if it was okay for Riley to meet him instead?"

"Sure, I guess Riley is an okay substitute,  though I was kind of looking forward to hanging out with my main man Chance."

Riley smiled down at the text.  What was that feeling she was feeling in her heart. She took a deep breath. She went over to her dresser expecting it to be gone. She imagined it all. But the coin was still there.  She put it in her pocket. And headed to the restaurant.  

Riley was already there when he got there.

He walked up to her pulling out the chair and sitting across from her.

Her glance shot up at him.

"Um….."

"Hey, how are you doing?"

"Fine… Can I help you?"

"I know I wasn't who you were expecting as a breakfast buddy today."

Liam smiled at his joke. Riley did not.

"I actually wasn't expecting anyone."

"Okay…." He wasn't quite sure what game Riley was playing.

"So are you going to order the same thing or get something different?"

"We don't know each other."

"Riley, you're acting really strange."

"That's your problem right there, I'm not Riley, I'm her sister."

He wondered if this had anything to do with her fainting yesterday.

"Riley, this is weird and teetering on the edge of certifiable. You invited me to breakfast and if you didn't want to meet up, you could have said and pretended to be, oh I don't know your twin sister? Thanks but no thanks."

"Not Riley, corny jokes dude! You seem like just the type she would like."

Liam jumped up from the table heading towards the door. When he saw her. Riley was walking through the door.  She smiled at him.

Liam halted in his tracks.

"Hi Liam, I hope I'm not too late. Chance was upset he couldn't make it and I had to cheer him up."

She smiled. Liam looked incredibly confused.

Liam glanced back at the woman sitting at the table. She smirked at him.

"Told you, I'm not Riley." She waved at him.

He turned around to face Riley again.

"So…. I guess you met my twin sister Taylor."

Tagging: @dcbbw @queenjilian @jessiembruno @bbrandy2002 @khoicesbyk @janezillow @sillypapermango @gkittylove99 @gabesmommie1130 @mom2000aggie @jared2612 @shewillreadyou @zoehanji @queenwalton @kingliam2019 @mrsdrakewalkerblog @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @lovablegranny @batgirlassociationofgothamcity @iaminlovewithtrr @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful  @ladyangel70 @twinkleallnight @kat-tia801 @caseyvalentineramsey @thequeenchoices @yourmajesty09 @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @neotericthemis @royalromancer​ @sweatyrysconnoisseur​

[be11atrixthestrange]

Step 6: Physical Affection

From 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Hermione Granger

Physical Affection

As your romantic relationship strengthens, so will your physical connection. Keep in mind that there is no specific destination to work toward, and any expectations should only come about through careful and clear communication. If your goal is truly to charm her, assume you have your entire lives to explore your physical relationship. Do not rush it, so that you can enjoy the journey fully.

******

When Crookshanks was fed up with Ron's attention, he abruptly stood, stretched, and trotted across the bed toward Hermione. He curled up contentedly behind Hermione's knees before yawning wildly and drifting off to sleep. With his hand now free, Ron brought 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Witches back to his lap, and shuffled the next chapter, Physical Affection.

At the very beginning, the thought of advancing their physical relationship caused Ron significant anxiety. Having been friends for seven years before becoming romantically involved, he couldn't imagine going back to a normal friendship after seeing each other naked. Although Lavender had never seen him completely starkers, the progressions in that relationship never made him nervous, because there was no pre-existing friendship to risk. With Hermione, he found that the stakes were much higher- if he screwed up, there was a lot more to lose.

Nowadays, the nervousness of their first few experiences together seemed so far away.. Ron didn't think twice about stripping down for a shower, or simply to change clothes, and seeing her eyes linger on him no longer made him feel self-conscious. He knew she felt the same way when she thoughtlessly tugged her own clothes off after a long day at work, her bra usually being the first thing she ditched as she transitioned to more comfortable attire.

He no longer worried about pressuring her. At this point they had explored so much new territory together, that they learned how to clearly and confidently tell each other no. All it took was a playful swat to his hand and he would retreat instantly. He knew she'd never take offense if he groaned and pushed her gently away when she kissed him more fervently than was typical for an innocent greeting. Maybe he was already late for work, or he was too tired after Quidditch practice, or he didn't even have a reason, and that was ok too.

In other instances, all it took was a sultry look and raise of her eyebrow, and he would waste no time undoing the buttons of her blouse right there on the living room sofa. There was no time to be bashful when they hastily undressed each other in the powder room at a work party. Time was limited to a quick reprieve from the awkward small talk and polite compliments on food that couldn't quite satisfy his appetite like Hermione. Sometimes there'd be no reason to remove any clothing in her office between meetings, leaving little opportunity for self-consciousness. On those occasions, he'd lock her door, cast a muffliato charm, and hoist her up to her desk, before dipping his head underneath her skirt, running his tongue along her thigh, and tugging at her knickers with his teeth.

Their physical relationship had become so intuitive, and it was difficult to remember the awkwardness of their teenage selves. He had to remind himself that they didn't always know each other's bodies so well. There was a lot of trial and error at the beginning, and understanding what to do with his hands, how to move his fingers, and where to put his mouth required her guidance and feedback. He had to teach her just as much about his own preferences, and it took time, effort, and observation to master their crafts.

******

They remained in Australia for a few more weeks, spending their days together while the Grangers were at work. During that time, they continued to explore the city, eating at new restaurants, visiting new museums, and even riding that wooden roller coaster at Luna Park. There was a particularly memorable day at the beach, when they spent hours attempting to surf, before they had to cut the day short because their sun potion wasn't quite strong enough to protect Ron from the strong Australian rays.

With the stress of reversing the memory charm off their shoulders, their time in Australia started to feel more like a holiday, and not just in the city, but in their hotel room as well. Ron was pleased to discover how quickly things progressed between them when Hermione had nothing but time and her characteristic curiosity, but no looming exams or tasks ahead to occupy herself. The irony of the most unremarkable place housing some of his most memorable experiences was not lost on Ron, but he couldn't help but appreciate that the drab window-coverings and the peeling wallpaper only accentuated her uniqueness.

That hotel room was where she removed his shirt for the first time since he was splinched. Unlike during their second kiss, she didn't ignore his state of undress, but relished in it, landing a trail of kisses down his neck and chest. That hotel room was where he nervously slipped his hand under her shirt for the first time, inching against her bra in question until she nodded her permission. Even though it broke their kiss, he couldn't help but beam when he slid it further, because her breast fit so perfectly into the palm of his hand, and he'd never known the luxury of custom-made before. It was also where they finally had that very awkward, but very necessary conversation about what they had and hadn't done with other people. They spent some time on opposite ends of the bed, arms crossed stiffy, as Ron underwent an interrogation involving what Lavender had seen, touched, and experienced with him, but they spent even more time wrapped up in eachothers arms, wearing only half of their clothing, because it turned out there were still many more firsts to be had.

Not all of their free time was spent alone together. They committed their evenings to the Grangers so Hermione could reconnect fully with her family before the pair went back to England. Hermione was at first upset to learn that her parents had no intentions of coming back with them. They really loved their new home in Melbourne, things were going very well at their new dental practice, and transporting Herman overseas would be a nightmare.

They were outside in their yard when the conversation first came up. Hugo had assigned Ron to 'Burger Duty' while he mixed up cocktails for everyone, leaving Ron to pretend he knew how a grill worked. With his wand stashed inconspicuously up his sleeve, he made a point to thank his mother for the cooking spells she forced on him growing up. He was also thankful for the cooler weather that allowed him to comfortably wear long, wand-obscuring sleeves.

"It's quite cold," he said. "I always thought Australia would be warmer."

"Well," said Jean, who was busy playing fetch with Herman. "Since we're in the southern hemisphere, it's winter now. That's why it would probably make more sense for you both to visit us over the Christmas holidays, and we can come see you in the summer."

Ron was thrilled by the implication of her use of "we", but Hermione was caught up in another detail of her answer.

"Wait…," she started, sounding hurt. "You're not coming back to England?"

As the pair began to argue, Ron was quickly redirected by Hugo, who handed him a drink. "Burgers are looking great Ron!" he said brightly. "Let's leave them for a bit and head inside, I have something I want to show you."

"Er, sounds good," said Ron as he closed the lid to the grill and followed Mr. Granger into the house.

"Do you like the drink?" Hugo asked casually.

Ron hastily took a sip of the creamy drink before answering. "Yeah, it's good. What is it?"

Hugo laughed. "Well right now it's an Alexander without the gin." They were in the kitchen now, and Hugo reached into one of the cabinets to pull out a mid sized green-tinted bottle. "Archie Rose. A truly superb Australian Gin." He motioned for Ron to hand over his glass, so he could complete his cocktail.

"Thank you, sir," said Ron, as he took another sip, which was decidedly stronger than his first.

"Hugo's fine," said Mr. Granger. "Sir's my dad."

Ron nodded. "Thank you, Hugo. It's a good drink." Ron followed Hugo's lead, and sat down at the barstool at the kitchen counter.

"I just wanted to give them some more space to hash it out," Hugo explained. "I figured that she wouldn't react well to the news that we're staying here."

"Yeah," said Ron. "I think she assumed you'd come back. Can't blame you, though. It's beautiful here."

"Well then, I hope you visit often," said Hugo, grinning at Ron.

Ron nodded again. "I'm sure we will."

It was then that Hugo's eyes narrowed slightly, but that could have been Ron's imagination. "So, you two are pretty serious then?"

Ron had been expecting this to come up, but the abruptness took him by surprise. "Well, um," he started, taking a sip of his cocktail to buy some time, but Hugo's eyes were still on him, expecting an answer. "We technically just got together at the beginning of the summer."

"Hmm," said Hugo. "And you're already serious enough to travel across the world with her?"

"Erm.. well, we've been friends for ages," Ron started, but paused when he saw that Hugo was smiling at him.

"I don't mean to make you sweat," he said. "I'm glad you've been there for her."

Ron felt relieved at Hugo's geniality, but wondered if it might be misguided. "Oh, well, of course. I care a lot about her."

"I can tell," he said with another sip. "I could tell a while ago, actually. Fourth year. Yule Ball, was it?"

Ron laughed. "She told you about that?"

"Well, she tells Jean everything. And Jean tells me."

"Gotcha," said Ron.

"And then there was sixth year," said Hugo. "I guess I should be thanking you for that one, since it meant she spent Christmas with us."

Ron felt a pang of guilt, and knew his face was turning beet-red. "I was kind of an arse that year," he said. He winced upon hearing his language, and hoped Hugo Granger didn't hate swearing as much as his daughter did.

Fortunately, he laughed. "I was an arse when I was sixteen too." He shrugged. "Seems like both of you have grown up since then."

Ron nodded. "We have."

Hugo took a deep breath, exhaled audibly, and paused before his next question. "Are you being safe?"

"Excuse me?" said Ron. His face was definitely ripening like a tomato now.

Hugo chuckled. "Are you using protection?"

"Um, well, no, we aren't-"

"Well, that concerns me," interrupted Hugo.

"We aren't having sex." Ron interjected a little more firmly.

"Ahh. You aren't having sex," said Hugo, with another casual sip of his drink. "Yet."

"Sorry?" Ron felt as though his stomach had tied itself up in knots, not unlike the sensation he became so accustomed to before a Quidditch game.

"Look, Ron. I like you. And I'm not stupid," he set down his glass and turned to look at Ron. "I'm not going to pretend that you're not thinking about having sex with my daughter. And I'm definitely not going to sit here and tell you not to, because I know that would be pointless."

Ron's gaze fell uncontrollably down to his near-empty glass, suddenly wishing that there was more alcohol in it. This unexpected conversation with Hermione's dad was starting to feel like an exam he hadn't prepared for.

"I just need to make sure two things happen when you do." He paused, and Ron realized he was waiting until he had his eye contact again. So reluctantly, Ron sat up straight, and turned to face him. Hugo nodded approvingly before continuing. "Promise me two things. One, you'll undoubtedly get consent. And two, you'll use protection. Both of those things, every single time."

Ron nodded. "Of course."

"I'm assuming you have sufficient knowledge regarding contraception? With five older brothers and all."

Ron nodded again, now faced with the unfortunate memory of his dad walking him through the use of contraceptive spells.

"Are there magical methods?"

"Er, yeah." Ron looked up at Hugo, who simply motioned for him to continue. "Um, there's a potion, and two types of spells. Female and male. They work alone but are more effective when done together."

"How long do they last?"

"Twenty-four hours," answered Ron, thankful that he had enough knowledge to answer confidently, as it seemed to reassure Hermione's dad.

"And you're confident you can perform them correctly?"

"Yeah,' said Ron. "I mean, I've never had an opportunity to test them, if that's what you're getting at. But they're not difficult, and you can perform another spell to check that it worked."

Hugo laughed. "I wasn't getting at that, but I appreciate your honesty. I trust you, Ron."

Ron exhaled the remaining air that he didn't realize he was holding, and Hugo poured a shot of gin into both of their empty glasses.

"That's right, take a breath. You did good," said Hugo, and Ron was encouraged to see the more relaxed Hugo reanimate. "I'll never forget when Jean's dad questioned me like that. I hate to say it, but you handled it much better than I did. How about a shot?"

"Please," said Ron, as Hugo laughed. Together, they tipped back their drinks.

When they recovered, Hugo playfully clapped Ron on the back. "I like you. Wouldn't have given you my most expensive gin if I didn't," he said, before standing up and turning toward the back door. "I think they're done with their tough conversation too. Let's have those burgers."

Ron sighed in relief, before he stood up and followed Hugo out the door.

The rest of the evening progressed with no mention of Ron and Hugo's conversation. Hermione seemed to accept that her parents were staying in Australia. They discussed travel plans, the state of their old dental practice, and what to do with their former house. They also engaged in lighter conversation concerning Herman's obedience classes, Jean's new book club, and Hugo's disastrous first attempt at parasailing.

After dinner with the Grangers, Hermione and Ron disapparated back to their hotel. Once in their bedroom, he didn't waste any time before he grabbed her hand and circled her around to face him. He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her. Thankful to be alone again, he let his hands wander further down her back, until they reached her bum.

She broke the grin with a smile. "At least buy me dinner first," she said playfully.

"Don't have to, your parents already did," he said before guiding her back to the bed, until they collapsed into a tangle of limbs on the mattress. They kept their lips together, letting their hands wander, until Ron slipped his hands up her shirt to unclasp her bra. It took him a few tries, a few weeks ago he might have been embarrassed by her chuckle, but this time he was reassured because it meant that she was comfortable with him. She sat up to help him slide the straps off her arms before pulling her bra out from underneath her shirt.

Ron smiled. "Thank you," he muttered before his hands found her body again like a magnet. It wasn't long before he willingly let her pull off his shirt, and she tossed it on the floor to accompany her bra. He smiled at her before tugging at the hem of her top. "Can I?" he asked.

"Yes of course," she whispered between kisses, and he slowly pulled her shirt up and over her head.

They'd been here before, just a few times, but Ron felt his breath catch in his throat like it was the first. "Come here," he told her as she pressed her lips back to his and he rolled onto his back so that she was on top of him. He let his hands slide to her breasts and her mouth opened to allow him entry. A moan had barely escaped him when she slid off of him to lay at his side, and pulled back.

"What if we showered together?" she asked unexpectedly.

Ron paused, surprised by her offer. It made him slightly anxious, as she'd never seen him without his trousers before. But he knew by the rosy tint of her cheeks that she must have felt the same way. "I'd like that," he said as his voice cracked nervously.

"Ok." She smiled and kissed him deeply, before slipping off of the bed, and making her way toward the bathroom.

Fuck, thought Ron. His heart was pounding as he laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wondered if she was as nervous as he was. When he heard the shower faucet running, he thought it best not to leave her waiting, just in case she was.

She was already in the shower when he entered the bathroom, her clothing in a pile on the floor. He took a deep breath, as he undid the buttons of his trousers, letting them fall to his ankles. Then he slid out of his pants, before catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He was still scrawny and lanky, now sporting a few extra freckles and a peeling sunburn. But she'd seen all that before, and it wasn't what he was nervous about. He turned away from the mirror, so he wouldn't risk talking himself out of what he did next.

It wasn't the most effective shower that Ron had ever taken, nor was it very relaxing or calming. It was, however, one of the most nerve wracking showers of his life, and not because he thought there was a death eater on the other end of the shower curtain waiting to strike. It was because his breath caught in his throat when he stepped in beside her, and he saw all of her for the first time. He had been expecting the rush of self-consciousness he felt when her eyes moved slowly down his body, studying the parts of him that she had only imagined, but it still made his heart rate spike. He didn't think about what it would be like to kiss her when he didn't have any pants on to keep himself contained, and he definitely wasn't prepared for the first time she touched him without trousers to be accidental, brought on by the confined space they were in.

He hadn't thought this far ahead, and was paralyzed by the fact that he didn't know what to do. He had assumed that instinct would take over, but it didn't, so he simply pulled her close and kissed her, doing his best to pretend they weren't naked, and ignore that he was pressing against her in a way that begged for her attention. Then he reminded himself that it was Hermione here and he'd always been able to ask her anything, so that shouldn't be different just because they were starkers in a shower.

"Can I touch you?" he asked her nervously, while holding her to his chest, staring intently at the shower wall behind her.

He felt her nod against his shoulder.

He couldn't blame the color that crept up his neck and to his ears on the heat of the shower. He had her permission, but there was still one problem. "Can you… show me how?" he nearly whispered.

After a brief moment of hesitation, he felt her nod against him again.

He held his breath as she took his hand and guided it down her body, toward the opening of her legs, and he swore internally when he felt her for the first time. He observed her movements and studied the rhythm of his hand, trying to memorize any patterns because he could be a good student when he wanted to be.

Eventually, she removed her hand from his so she could grip the shower head instead, and he continued to mimic her patterns. He discovered that he could rely on the rise and fall of her chest, the erratic pattern of her breath, and the deepening rose color of her cheeks for feedback. So he kept observing her signals as he touched her, greatly enjoying this new, nonverbal form of communication.

He figured he was doing something right when she gripped the shower head more tightly, bit her lip, and threaded her free hand's fingers into his hair. He watched her chest rise and fall under the steady stream of water, her breath increasing in both pace and volume, building tension until she had to release. Her legs buckled underneath her and he held her against him as she audibly came undone, and the sound of shower head could no longer drown her out. New favorite subject, he thought. She'd always been a fantastic teacher after all.

She recovered and regained the support of her legs, and he reluctantly removed his arm from around her back. Her vulnerability in the moment had all but dissipated his own nervousness, so when she asked him what he wanted, he didn't at all feel weird about taking her hand, and showing her how he liked to be touched. It might have been the extra steam of the shower obscuring her view, or the fact that she had already unraveled in front of him, but he was no longer self conscious when he let go of her hand and got lost in the moment. It wasn't long until he was relying on his own hand to support him against the shower wall and he buried his head into her neck to muffle a string of profanity he would have filtered had he been able to elicit any control over his words.

Fantastic teacher she might be, it turns out she had always been an even better student.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE

It’s never difficult to be around Hoseok or Jimin. Hobi is the actual human form of sunshine 98% of the time, and Jimin is so lovely and sweet and perfect that you wonder on a daily basis if he’s not actually an angel. You’re lucky-you always realize that-but on days like today, when you’re tired and stressed and more than a little crampy-it hits you all over again-just how lucky you actually are. Because with these two men, nothing goes unnoticed, and you never go unloved. 

Or rather, Jess writes a fluffy, purely self indulgent, domestic relationship AU featuring JiHope in honor of Hobi’s birthday week. Happy Hobiuary! 💜

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, Jung Hoseok, J-Hope, Hobi, Hoseok, Park Jimin, Jimin, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Poly!BTS, Hoseok x you, Hoseok x reader, Jimin x you, Jimin x reader, Hoseok x Jimin, JiHope, Fluff

Genre: Tooth Rotting Fluff

Title: Champagne Bubbles

It had been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. 

As soon as you had gotten into work that morning, the vet on duty had instantly started yelling-overwhelmed and swamped by cases already-and scared of angering her any further, you hadn’t stopped running since 6 AM. 

Cut to the last hour of your shift, and you had somehow managed to get every animal substance known to man on your scrubs-you were fairly certain that last rowdy patient had peed on you more than once-and you looked, and smelled, like someone who was at the end of their metaphorical rope. 

However, you still had to take an exam at the nearby university before heading home, and so, throwing your coat on over your soiled clothes, you headed for the library, the world-dark when you left the apartment that morning-dark once more as the moon crested over the nearby buildings. 

You failed the exam. 

It was hard to drive home-what with the darkened streets and the exhausted tears starting to brim and overflow-but you managed to make it, and pulling into your spot, you allowed yourself to just sit for a moment, forehead resting forlornly on the cold steering wheel. 

This day could not get worse. 

Famous last words. 

Cut to now, as you’re walking up the last flight of stairs to your apartment, and you start to feel the telltale cramping low in your abdomen, the kind that makes you wanna crawl in bed, throw a blanket over your head, and curl up-fetal position-around a hot bean bag. 

“Dammit, why.” You groan out, reaching the landing, as you blindly dig your hand into your purse to search for your keys, a simple task, that feels like an impossible trial in your tired state. 

Good thing you had been prepared and put in a tampon that morning when you had woken with the impending signs of doom and a headache. 

Finally locating your keys, you unlock the door to the darkened apartment and let out a sigh of tired relief as you let your bag slide to the floor right in front of the entrance, kicking off your worn and smelly sneakers without a thought. 

Well, without a thought other than getting into a hot shower and falling into your bed with a heating pad and a blanket over your head. 

It’s quiet in the apartment, and you wonder briefly, if Jimin and Hobi are already asleep as you creep quietly toward the hallway. You are home a lot later than normal. 

You all rise early together every day and split ways in the parking garage-you headed for the emergency vet clinic, Jimin waving cheerfully as he leaves in his old beater for his job as manager at the local coffee shop, and Hobi driving off far too fast on his scooter toward the local arts college, where he teaches dance classes. 

You all usually go to bed early too, at the same time, together, but tonight, you’re far later than usual and the apartment is lacking the sunshine of Hobi’s bright smile and Jimin’s soft welcome home embrace. 

Your footsteps falter at the kitchen, and suddenly, you let out an audible groan, as your eyes are drawn to the kitchen sink sitting dark in one corner. 

Dammit. You still needed to do the breakfast dishes. 

Shuffling across the tile of the kitchen, you turn on the hot water and let it wash over your cold, chapped hands for a moment, before your reach into the sink blindly, searching for the first dirty dish. 

You glance down in surprise when-after moments of fruitless searching-you find nothing in the sink, and note, suddenly, that it is empty and spotless, the dishes already done and put away in the cabinets. 

Interesting. 

You don’t allow yourself to dwell on this for long however, before your tired, aching feet are leading you down the dim hallway once more, toward the safety and warmth of the bathroom and the delicious idea of hot, steaming shower for your tired and dirty body. 

Pushing open the door, careful to be quiet, in case your boyfriends are truly sleeping like you think, your eyes widen once more in surprise for the second time in as many minutes. 

The bathroom is softly aglow with the light of candles, the atmosphere warm and scented like roses and champagne, and in the flickering light, you note that the small bathtub in the corner has been filled to the brim with steaming, lapping water, perfumed with the oily slick of some sort of bath salt. 

“What the hell-” You breathe out beneath your breath, and suddenly, you don’t feel so tired anymore, and the corners of your mouth are tilting upward in the start of a fond smile, as you observe the carefully presented scene before you. 

First the dishes, and now a bath? 

The boys are definitely up to something. 

Shucking your heavy coat off onto the bathroom floor, you trek back the way you have just come, and without knocking, push open the door to the bedroom. 

The room is dimly lit by the string of clear lights that adorn the wall above the bed-giving it a cozy and soft glow-and by the flickering of a movie playing quietly on the TV. 

You lean against the door frame and take in the scene for a moment, the smile on your lips growing unwittingly bigger as you observe your boyfriends, curled up in the middle of the queen bed, piled under several blankets, looking soft and ethereal and altogether incredibly comfortable. 

Jimin looks up first, large dark eyes reflecting the light from the tv screen, blonde hair ruffled in an adorable way, as if he has just taken a shower, and smiles when he sees you, eyes creasing into half moons. “Baby girl! you’re back!” 

Hobi glances over at Jimin’s words, chin resting on the shorter man’s head where it lays on his chest, and offers you one his breathtaking smiles, and the room becomes a million times lighter, as if the sun has just peeked through the curtains. “Hey beautiful! Long day?” 

“Incredibly.” You nod, glancing over to the movie they’re watching. Some action flick you’ve never seen. “What’d you guys do, by the way?” You ask nonchalantly, slightly teasing, as you draw your attention back to them once more. 

“What do you mean?” Jimin asks, sitting up now, full lips drawn into an incredibly cute pout that you struggle to resist. 

“You know.” You motion vaguely over your shoulder. “First the dishes, now a bath?” You grin teasingly, shrugging, suddenly all too aware that you’re still in your stinky scrubs. “You guys must have done something really bad to suck up like this.” 

“You’d think, right?” Hobi jokes back, laughing loudly, as he slides away from Jimin and stands, and you note, as he comes toward you, that he’s wearing the plaid pajama bottoms you had tried so hard to throw away last year. 

He pauses in front of you, quirking his head in an endearing way, and reaches out to tuck back a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Actually though,” He offers you the hint of a soft, heart shaped smile. “We just wanted to spoil you after a long day. Is that so hard to believe?” 

“Give us some credit, baby.” Jimin has joined you both at the doorway now, and he yawns, reaching up to ruffle his already disheveled hair, before he shoots you a mischievous smile that makes his eyes light up. “We’re not completely dense.” 

“I know.” You laugh now, and the tiredness is showing through again, straining your mirth. “Thank you.” You give them both a fond, affectionate half smile, the best you can do for now. 

You have to admit, the bath is calling your name. 

“Your bath is gonna get cold.” Jimin states, as if he has read your thoughts, and he leans forward, whether to push you toward the bathroom, or hug you, you don’t know, but you avoid his hold by stepping backward. 

“Ew. Don’t touch me, Chim.” You wrinkle your nose as you glance down at your soiled work clothes. “I seriously think I was peed on like fifteen times today.” 

Jimin’s brow crinkles, and he shoots you a teasing look of disgust. “Okay. You don’t have to twist my arm. I’ll wait till you’re clean.” 

Hobi laughs, and the sound gives you the motivation you need to give them each a little grin and wave, before heading toward the bathroom and the much awaited bath. 

******

The bath rejuvenates you, and by the time you return to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel and skin red and raw from soaking, you feel like a completely new person. 

Though you can still feel the exhaustion creeping up your bones. 

The boys are back in the bed, cuddled up like before, but there is another movie going on the TV now-a chick flick-and the bedside lamp is on. 

“You started another movie without me?” You ask playfully, digging through the dresser to find your pajama shorts and tank top, one hand holding the towel securely at your chest. 

“You took too long.” Hobi complains around a mouthful of popcorn, his free arm looped loosely around Jimin’s shoulders. “We thought you drowned.” 

“And you didn’t check to see?” You jab back, glancing over your shoulder, as you finally locate your clothes, and shoot Hobi a playful glare, eyebrow raised in the man’s direction. 

He shrugs. “Didn’t want to miss the movie.” 

You roll your eyes, and start to slip your now clean legs into the pajama shorts, beginning to shiver now in the cool air of the room. 

“You know, baby girl.” Jimin speaks up now, and his normally lilting tones are darker, sultry, suggestively playful. You glance at him, and he raises a brow at you, teeth sunken slightly into his plush, bottom lip, as his eyes scan the naked expanse of your legs. “You could cut down on time. Just not wear anything. Merely a suggestion.” 

You roll your eyes once more, and stick your tongue out at him, before pointedly holding his gaze as you finish putting on the rest of your pajama outfit. 

Sliding hurriedly into the warmth of the bed next to Jimin, you are caught off guard to feel the heat of an already hot heating pad beneath the covers, and you glance over questioningly at the two men beside you. 

Jimin grins in a way that makes your stomach warm with love and fondness. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think we knew.” He cocks his head at you, blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Come on, baby. You’re as easy to read as a book. And you know we keep track.” 

You consider making a teasing remark in return-about them keeping a calendar or something in their phones about the dates of your period-but instead, you decide to simply utter a soft “thank you” as you situate the heating pad, and snuggle down beneath the blankets next to Jimin. 

He slides his arm beneath your body and pulls you against him, and his body heat is instantly making your eyes droop slightly and a heavy feeling of comfort wash over your tired muscles as you allow your head to rest heavily on his chest, heartbeat steady beneath your ear. 

You glance at the TV and recognize the movie scene that is being played. 

You groan. “You guys know I hate this movie.” 

“Which is why we’re watching it.” Hobi teases, letting the hand that is resting on Jimin’s shoulder flick so that his long fingers tickle your hair and the top of your head. “It’s time for you to realize what good media is, beautiful.” 

“Whatever.” You grumble out, burying your face into Jimin’s side, your eyes already closing, as you breathe in the smell of him-sandalwood and vanilla and something soft that feels like home. “I’m not gonna watch it anyway.” 

You feel Jimin press a kiss to the top of your head, and Hobi rest his hand on the crown of your hair, and the affectionate gestures-just to let you know they’re there, that they’ll always be there-make you feel as if you’re home. 

You are home. 

Because you’re so lucky. Lucky to have them both in your life. Lucky to have two people who make you feel as if home is not a place, but a feeling. 

You are the luckiest. 

And you realize that every single day. 

But days like today-that are terrible and horrible and no good-yet still end here, curled up next to your two favorite people in the whole world, make you realize that the most.  

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Scared - Drabble

Andy Barber x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Murder Mentions

Summary: Andy has twins, the youngest suffers from nerve damage in their hearing. His oldest is suspected for murder and trial was just a few weeks away. His daughter who lost her hearing. Confesses it all.

I’m sorry it’s so short, it would’ve been better if I’ve thought about it more

Love you all!

~~~

10 months earlier.

Andy walks into one of the rooms, hearing the alarm go off. “Hey. Come on. Time to get up,” Andy stops the alarm and walks out, stopping just at the door, staring at the boy in bed. 

“Jake?” He says, “Gotta see those eyes.” The boy doesn’t move and Andy shook his head. “All right. You leave me no choice.” Walking over, the man sits on the boys bed, causing him to groan.

Scrolling through his phone, he looks over, “Last chance.” Andy sighed and raised the phone above his son’s head, pressing the play button to play, Back in Black.

Jacob groans when the music blasts in his ears making Andy grin softly. The boy throws the comfort off him, “I’m up...”

“There he is! Morning, buddy. Gotta wake up your 2 minute sister, now.” Andy stands up and walks over to the next room, stepping in to see her dimly lit room. He gently sits on the edge of her bed and glanced over to her nightstand.

Spotting the two hearing aids on the surface. He gently placed his hand on her back and rubbed it slowly.

The girl slowly shuffles and rolls onto her back. Andy grins, “Morning, sweetheart.” Though she couldn’t hear, she knew what he said by the movement of his lips as she reached over for her earpieces and slipped them on.

“Morning...” She signs, Andy pats her side. “Time to get up, Y/N.” Andy stood up and walked out, heading over to get himself ready for work as the two kids get their outfits on for school.

Y/N jumps down the stairs and spotted her mom, pouring herself some coffee. “Morning, mom,” Y/N signs, Laurie looks over, “Morning, sweetheart. Where’s your brother?” She asks.

Jacob jumps down the stairs and walks over as well, “Can you quiz me on the vocab?” He asked, “I have a test today.”

Laurie hums, “Oh. Good morning to you too.” Y/N grins as Jacob does as well, “Morning, Mom.”

Laurie looks over the paper, “You guys need a ride today, or are you both walking?” Jacob digs into the fridge while Y/N began to go through the cabinets. “Uh, no, we’ll walk. Did you get new waffles?”

Laurie looks over, “I did if you put them on my list. Y/N, honey, also remind me to make you an appointment, you said your hearing aids were slightly ringing, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not bad,” Y/N signed.

Laurie drinks her coffee, “Maybe turn them off for now.” Y/N nods and pulls them out. Andy comes in, placing a kiss on Laurie’s shoulder. Andy leans on the counter, taking a sip of his coffee, “Oh, Claudia Hoffman e-mailed me again,” Laurie says.

“Who?” Andy asked.

“Lizzy’s sister. The travel agent,” Laurie says, Andy nods, “Oh, right, right. Mexico.”

“Yeah,” Laurie says, Y/N looks over and reads the vocabs on Jacob’s paper. She looks up to see Jacob grin at her. He turns, “What about Mexico?” He asked. Andy never removed his eyes from Laurie, “We’re thinking about going there for Christmas. Four of us. What do you guys think?” Andy asked, looking over.

Y/N looks over to Jacob who signs at her, silently before Y/N looks at Andy and grinned. “Sounds cool,” Y/N signs, Jacob nods. Y/N slips on her hearing aids for a second, “You two might be a little more excited.”

“We are,”Jacob says.

“Well, tell your face,” Laurie grins. Jacob looks back to his paper, “You love that line.”

“You do. But I say, yes, yes to Mexico.” Laurie nods, “Great. I’ll call her. I’ve got an early meeting and I’ll go to Y/N’s doctor to repair her hearing aids so I’m jumping in the shower. Will you finish quizzing the two? Or if Y/N had figured out all the words?”

Y/N grins. “Yeah,” Andy responds, Laurie kisses his cheek and walks away. “Bye, guys!” Laurie calls. Jacob says bye back as Andy walks over. Jacob hands him the paper and Andy reads the next word, exhaling.

“Phlegmatic,” He says.

Jacob pauses, “Um...” Y/N walked back into the kitchen and looks over Andy’s shoulder to see the word.

She signs up at Andy, “Having an unemotional and stolidly calm disposition.”  Andy grins, lifting up a brow, “Looks like your sister knows what’s happening. She might score a 100.”

Jacob looks over and grins at his sister.

.

You sat on your bed, holding your head in your hands. Nails digging into your scalp, you heard the yells. Andy and Laurie were in your brother’s room. Andy screaming at him for what he posted on a social media account he made. Posting a photo you saw. 

Jacob was suspected for murder.

Ben Rifkin was found dead in the park you and Jacob would walk down. You shook under your hands as the yelling ended. You knew something they didn’t and you were too scared to say it.

Do you know what they want to do to you?

You heard your father’s voice on the other side of the wall repeat in your head. You look looked up to see Andy walk in, trying to look soft as possible but he saw how much you were shaking.

You saw his lips move with a soft ‘hey’. You reached for your hearing aids and slipped them on, he sat on the edge of your bed and sighed softly. “I’m sorry you heard that. Did you?” He asks, you lifted your head up and softly nodded. “A little,” You signed.

You lost your hearing when you were born and at the time you never really spoke. You grew up signing towards your parents and twin brother. Andy was the first to learn. At the time, Andy and Laurie hadn’t bought you your hearing aids till you were 8.

6 years later, you grown used to them.

“Hey,” Andy says, “You okay?” He asks. You lowered your head and felt the tears come down. Andy’s face softens, “Sweetheart, if I upset you with Jacob in the other room you can tell me.”

You looked up to him with red cheeks and tears as you lifted your hands up, “Jacob didn’t do it...” Andy turns and furrows his brows, “Do you know who?” He asks.

You felt embarrassed. Humiliated in the family. You were shaking under Andy’s hand. “Ben did something to me...” You signed, you lowered your head and shook it, raising your hands again, “He touched me... and I told him to stop.” Andy held in his breath for what he was about to hear.

How could you?

You raised your head up again, your bottom lip quivering, “I did it...”  You spoke. Andy’s mouth was gaped at you. Shocked. Scared. Andy lets out a huff of disbelief as he leaned over. Elbows on his knees as he shuts his eyes closed. 

“I’m sorry, dad...” Your voice was hoarse, the words barely came out from the crying and years of not speaking. You grabbed your father’s shoulder and tugged him up to look at you.

Your hands waved at him furiously, “Jacob was trying to protect me... He was scared, too. I’m scared... And I messed this up. Just let them take me.” Andy grabs your shoulders, tears in his eyes.

His stern look stared at you, “No, you aren’t turning yourself in. We’re gonna figure this out, sweetheart. I promise...” He says. You shook under his hands as he puffs out a sigh and pulls you into his chest. Your arms instantly go around him, feeling the warm pull you in.

“I’m scared...” You whispered.

Andy’s hand reached up to the back of your head. “I know. We’re gonna figure this out... it’s not your fault. Neither of you. I love you no matter what you two do. This is all fucked up and we’re gonna get through this.”

He promised that.

~~~

I’m sorry, it was the best I could do, I kind of just went with the flow

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[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance Part 19/? - Nome Part 20/? - The Future Part 21/? - A Hero’s Welcome Part 22/? - Up to Speed Part 23/? - Expect Further Delays Part 24/? - The Welcome Wagon Part 25/? - Fugitives Part 26/? - A Reluctant Accomplice Part 27/? - Deja Vu Part 28/? - Interview with a Madwoman Part 29/? - Violence

Holy shit, another chapter!  This is the one where Dottie kills a buncha mobsters.

-

They did not fly to Nevada.  Kay had already been recognized on a plane once, and with all three of them together and all three of them fugitives, there was a greater chance that at least one of them would be spotted.  They got Dottie some clothes that were not a prison uniform, stole another car, and started driving.

“You know, I just realized,” said Peggy, who was at the wheel for the first part of the journey.  “We never did find the bomb on Howard’s plane.  Was there one?”

“Of course not,” said Kay.  “Why would I bother building a bomb when the threat of one would do the trick?”

“Because you’re a coward,” said Dottie.

“I’m efficient,” Kay told her.

“What if she’d called your bluff?” Dottie asked.

“She didn’t.  And even if she had, I wasn’t actually going to blow up the plane.  I needed it.  And the people on board it.  I would have thought of something.  You don’t have to kill every single person who inconveniences you,” she added, sounding exasperated.  It made Peggy wonder if that were something many of the Russian girls tended to do.

“Spoilsport,” said Dottie.

The journey had to be done in stages.  Peggy and Kay could take turns driving, but neither trusted Dottie to take the wheel, and they had to take turns sitting up and watching her during the night so she couldn’t run off.  Dottie seemed to enjoy the attention.  As far as Peggy could tell, she slept quite peacefully during the nights, and during the daytime she let her scarf flutter in the breeze with a smile on her face, and delightedly pointed out roadside attractions that Peggy and Kay refused to stop for.

While they drove, they listened to the radio.  The news talked about things like Burma joining the United Nations, and how the latter organization had established a special body dedicated to public health.  But of course, what Peggy was really listening for was Steve.  His tour of New England continued with cheering crowds all the way.  The announcers described him visiting soldiers whose lives he’d saved, and the widows of those he couldn’t.

There was even, at one point, an interview with him.  Peggy perked up at the announcement and Kay immediately turned the radio up.

Captain Rogers, the interviewer said.  Now that you’re back, what are your plans for the future?

I’m not sure, Steve’s voice replied, and Peggy’s insides twisted. He’d had plans… he’d been going to get married and buy a farm.  She was the one who’d told him he couldn’t do that.  I’m still in the army for the time being.  My discharge was issued on the assumption I was dead, and since I’m not, my service isn’t finished.

“Damn Masters,” Peggy murmured.

Kay thought for a moment.  “What if he got his tie caught in a piece of machinery and it strangled him?”

“Hush,” Peggy told her.

Have you heard the rumors that other countries have begun research on human enhancement? asked the interviewer.

I have, said Steve.  It was my understanding that everyone signed a treaty that they wouldn’t do human experimentation like that.

They did, the interviewer said, but there have been suggestions that America’s enemies think they need to find a way to counter you.

I’m not a weapon, and we’re not at war, said Steve.  When you’re not at war, you don’t need super-soldiers.

So you would be opposed to any such work in the United States?  Or only abroad?

I think, said Steve, that anybody who wants to volunteer for such a program needs to think very hard about what they want to get out of it. Even the people who worked on the serum didn’t know what its long-term effects on my body would be.  I think they’d have been shocked to learn I survived three years frozen in ice.

Peggy certainly had been, and Howard… but now she found her own thought. He’d crashed the Valkyrie fully intending to die.  He’d said he’d realized at the last moment that he didn’t want that after all, but that was before he’d found his plans in tatters.  Had he changed his mind again since?  Was he contemplating suicide, only to realize he didn’t know if there were anything that would kill him?

No, that couldn’t be.  Steve wouldn’t, not when his previous attempt was so fresh in his mind.  Not when he knew that the friend he’d intended to die for was alive and in need of help.

Even so, the idea stuck in Peggy’s mind, and made her feel a little ill. She couldn’t stop picturing him contemplating it.  She imagined him playing with a knife, examining a bottle of rat poison, spinning the chamber in a revolver, and wondering if any of them could do him irreparable damage.  A treacherous lump rose in her throat at the thought.

She wondered, too, if Steve were thinking about her while all this went on.  What with all the autographs and photo opportunities and such things, he probably had very little time to.  If he did, though, what was he thinking about?  He’d told Russel to trust her, so he clearly didn’t believe in the charges against her.  What did he think she was up to?  What had Masters told him?

For that matter, what was Daniel thinking about while he sat in jail?  He doubtless thought Peggy was working on clearing both their names.  Technically she was.  Freeing Dottie would doubles have delayed the trial at the very least.  But she was also thinking about Steve’s desire to free his friend.  He’d been so broken the day after Sergeant Barnes fell into the ravine… at the time, all Peggy had been able to offer was advice.  Now that she could give him an opportunity to fix that awful thing, she couldn’t just let it lie.

Neither Steve nor Daniel had heard from her since her arrest.  Did one or both think she’d simply run off with the other?

Well, to close this on a less serious note, the reporter said.  Captain, I’m sure what the women of America are dying to know is: are you looking for love?

There was a brief pause.  I’m not sure, said Steve.  I had a girl during the war, but three years is a long time.

You heard it here first, ladies, the reporter said.  Captain America may soon be back on the market!  Thank you so much for your time, Cap.  Pleasure having you on the show.

You’re welcome, was all Steve said.

Kay changed the station, and then quickly turned the volume back down again as the Floyd Hunt Quartet’s Fool that I Am came out just a little too loud.

“Aw, don’t love make fools of us all,” Dottie teased.

Peggy didn’t answer.  She had no intention of encouraging her.

- 

Upon arriving in Carson City, they had some lunch and freshened up, and then parked across the street from Governor Strieber’s mansion.  It was a very modest place compared to some of the buildings Howard Stark lived, but still represented hundreds of possible hiding places for a large amount of money.  Especially for a man who knew that no less a mobster than John ‘Moxie’ Blumberg would come down on him if it were found.

“How are we going to find it?” Peggy asked.

“Joseph will show me where it is,” Dottie replied calmly.  “He knows I’m coming back for it eventually.”

“Will he be surprised it’s so soon?”  A smart man would have set it aside to make sure it was there for her, but Peggy’s experience was that most politicians were not very smart where money was concerned.  If he thought it might be a while before Dottie came back, he may well have spent it… especially when Dottie and her ilk were so easy to underestimate.

“Joseph is easy to surprise,” said Dottie.  “It’s one of his more charming traits.”

It was very late, almost one in the morning, when Strieber’s shiny silver Packard pulled into the driveway, and Strieber got out.  He was a very tall man but also quite overweight, with a drinker’s belly that hung over the top of his trousers.  He was dressed up as if he’d been out for a night on the town, no doubt gambling in the new casino he pretended to disapprove of.  A woman climbed out after him and took his arm. She was a brunette, dressed in a pink and black evening gown with an enormous fur stole around her shoulders. The two of them headed inside.

“Forgot me already, Joseph?” Dottie clucked her tongue.  “You’ll break my heart.”

Once the door was closed, Dottie climbed out of the car and headed towards the house.  Peggy and Kay climbed out and went after her.

Dottie took them around the back and knocked on the kitchen door.  A woman in a maid’s uniform answered it, and looked startled.

“Miss Abagnale?” she asked.

Dottie punched her in the face.

They tied up the maid with an electrical cord, and found the short flight of stairs that led up into the living area.  Light was coming around the door at the top.  Peggy opened it a crack and looked out into a sitting area… lamps were lit, but she couldn’t see anybody.

The door suddenly jerked open, and Peggy found the barrel of a revolver in her face.

It took a moment for her eyes to re-focus from the dark ring of potential death to the man wielding it.  He was a skinny guy with dark hair, wearing a gray suit and hat and a green tie.

“Come on out, sweetheart,” he told Peggy.  His two front teeth were missing.

Peggy thought fast… no idea who this man was, but she couldn’t let him reveal that they were here.  She dropped to her knees to grab him around the legs and knock him over.  At the same time, both Dottie and Kay leaped on him from behind her.  He squawked in surprise, but it was too late for him to fight back.  Moments later they had him flat on the floor.  Dottie’s foot was in the middle of his chest, and the gun was in her hand, pointed at his head.

“Carbone?” somebody asked.  “What’s going on?”

Peggy swore under her breath – she should have known Dottie would lead them into trouble!  “Let’s go, quick,” she said.

It was too late for that, though.  Another man appeared in the doorway to the siting room.  Dottie shot him, and the second one who turned out to be behind him.  She kicked Carbone in the chin, and strode down the hall like a queen.

Peggy and Kay had no choice but to follow her.

In the sitting room, Strieber and his girlfriend were on a sofa, clinging to each other in terror.  Four more mobsters were standing around them, and Moxie Blumberg himself was halfway through lighting a cigar out of a box he’d taken from the cabinet.  All of them were clearly shocked by what had just occurred, and more so to see Dottie walk in with Carbone’s gun in her hand.

The one nearest Dottie raised his own weapon.  She kicked it out of his hand and shot him.  There was absolutely nothing for it now.  One of the others pulled out a knife and went for Peggy – she grabbed a crystal decanter of alcohol off a table and smashed it over his head.  Kay kicked another one’s legs out from under him and slammed his face into the floor, then snatched the revolver off his belt and shot a third mobster in the knee. He dropped, and Dottie shot him in the head to finish him off.  The last one lost his nerve and turned to run – Dottie shot him, too, and then she was out of bullets.  She threw the gun aside and snatched up the knife the other man had dropped.  By this time, Blumberg was pulling out his own gun, but Dottie threw the knife and it embedded itself in his gut.  He fell.

That left the three women, and Strieber and his mistress.

“Mary-Ann?” asked Strieber in a tremulous voice.

Dottie smiled.  “Where’s my money, Joseph?”

Strieber ran to the bookshelf, stepped over Blumberg’s fallen body, and pulled out a few volumes.  Behind them was a wall safe.  He dialed the combination in with shaking hands, needing several tries to get it right. With each failure, Dottie came closer and closer behind him, and Peggy could see the sweat beading on the back of his neck.  Finally he got it open, and stepped aside.

“T-t-there it is!” he said.  “Take it!”

Dottie pulled out several packets of bills and tossed them to Peggy and Kay. Then she shut the safe and turned to smile at Strieber.

“Thank you, Joseph,” she said.  “I knew I could count on you.”

In a swift motion, she’d gotten a toe under Blumberg’s fallen pistol.  She kicked it into the air, caught it, and shot Strieber in the neck.  His girlfriend screamed.  Dottie turned around, and killed her, too.

“Don’t!” Kay shouted, but it was already too late.