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ladynestaarcheron · 4 years ago

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Invisible String - Chapter Two

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @iammissstark @sayosdreams @ncssian @westrangecollectionkoalaposts @queenestarcheron @nessiantrashh)

thank y’all so much for your kind words!! so happy to hear people are enjoying this. here’s chapter two!!

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Her predicament is not new, but it's still a surprise for Nesta when she realizes if she wants to leave, she can simply go. She defers to no one, and hasn't for a while, but her lack of communication with Elain means something else: no one is going to miss her while she is gone.

She'll have to be quick. Feyre will notice, eventually, but there isn't anything odd about the pair of them not seeing each other for a week or so. And since there isn't anyone randomly, infuriatingly checking up on her anymore...

It stings more than she admits to herself.

But no matter. It's almost all behind her now.

With clothes packed enough for fortnight (she's certain she won't be gone that long, but it never hurts to be prepared), Nesta boards her carriage and waits.

A quiet, busy sort of air about her when she walks the streets of Velaris is enough to ensure no one try and talk to her, but evidently, the same is not promised for carriage rides. She supposes the only task she has to pretend to focus on is reading a book, and that's not enough to deter the passengers from incessant conversation.

"Are you traveling, Lady?" one asks her.

Obviously. "Yes," she answers.

"Will the High Lady be joining you?"

Ah, that didn't take long. She supposes she should be pleased--she can answer honestly, the faeries will all be disappointed and bored, and they'll leave her alone.

Alas.

"So are you in need of an escort, Lady?" a pretty female asks eagerly.

"No," she says, sharply. "Thank you," she adds.

"Are you traveling about the Court, Lady?"

"No," she says, hoping she sounds cryptic enough that they think they are not allowed to question further, "I have business elsewhere."

Delighted looks are exchanged amongst the young faeries, excited to have caught real Night Court fieldwork in the act.

Something moves inside of her, but Nesta's not sure what. She's not jealous, of course. She's never desired a career in politics in her life, she definitely doesn't want to start one now under Rhysand, and she certainly doesn't care enough for the well being of the people of this land to do so.

She's angry, she decides. Angry that these people are so taken with the Inner Circle.

Yes, that must be it.

There are magical checkpoints she passes, once she shows her papers and proves she's allowed to travel through five other Courts to get to Spring--most people on the journey seem to depart into Dawn and Summer, and by the time Nesta reaches the southernmost part of Prythian, she is alone.

"Good afternoon, Lady," the footmale says, bidding her goodbye. He and the carriage are gone before she can answer.

There's no point in dallying any longer, so she sets off on her way.

Spring is not as constructed as Night. There are no roads here--at least, not in this part of the Court--and Nesta can't see any buildings at all. Just a dirt path she walks along, with endless, lush green hills, rolling on either side of it. Thick-stemmed flowers of all kinds dot the grass, with fat bees fluttering from one to the next. Songbirds whistle to each other in the fruit trees. The air is almost dizzyingly sweet.

Nesta likes it, she decides. The quiet, the warmth. But probably not too many libraries.

She's not wearing a watch, but she guesses a half an hour of her walk has passed when the first sight of civilization comes into view. A metal gate in the middle of a dying hedge, encircling a mansion--an estate. White marble, with any number of ornate windows and patios and balconies.

Beautiful, but eerie, for every step she draws closer, the quieter it grows. There's not the barest trace of people inside, and even the birds can't be heard up the steps at the gash-ridden oak door.

She knocks, more out of habit than anything else. Of course, no one opens it, so she pushes it on her own.

Black and white checked flooring spills out to several doors and a vast staircase. Sunlight falls limply onto nothing, for any decor has been shoved away.

A door opens on her right. Nesta turns.

They only stare at each other for a minute, not speaking.

Tamlin looks worse than she remembers. Same golden hair, same gem-green eyes, but...thinner, perhaps, in his cheeks. Paler. Hollow.

Quite the same image she imagines others see when she looks at her, she realizes with a start.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, voice...devastated? But why?

Oh, she says to herself, the thought hitting her, he thought I was Feyre.

"You owe me a favor," she says.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Because this is your fault," she explains. "My...Hybern. So you owe me."

"Do I?"

She doesn't back down from his stare, only nods once.

"And who else do you blame? Or am I the only one?" His words are careful but she doesn't understand what he wants.

"You're all to blame," she says. "You're all murderers. None of you did a good enough job keeping humans safe. It's not my place to judge which of you is the most monstrous. I'm content to hate all of you quietly."

Tamlin chuckles--low, dark. "Not your place to judge?"

"Do you deny your role in my murder?" she snaps.

The shadow-grin on his face fades. "No," he says.

"Then help me."

His shoulders tense. "What do you want?"

Nesta inhales deeply. "You struck a deal with him...to undo the mating bond. Between my sister and Rhysand."

Tamlin stops breathing.

"I want to know how to do that."

He doesn't answer her. Stays silent for a full minute, before she presses on.

"Tell me how to do that."

"You're trying to--destroy--whose?" He is desperate, searching.

Her jaw clenches tightly. "That doesn't concern you."

"You can't."

"You thought it could be done, obviously. That's why you were willing to give us to Hybern--"

"I didn't--"

"--so just tell me."

He glares at her, and Nesta wonders, briefly, if she should be concerned. But she's too angry to be nervous. Her world has been thrown off its axis too many times now and this is something she knows she can fix. She has to.

"Don't you think," he says, through gritted teeth, "if I knew of any way to undo a mating bond, I would have done it myself?"

Nesta doesn't bother stifling her eye roll. "But how did you think he was going to do it?"

"I don't know." He looks to the side, to the nothing that lays beyond the manor. "I don't know what I thought."

Nesta does not have time for his introspection nor does she care. She puts her hands on her hips. "Well, who can I go to, then?"

Tamlin looks at her, surprised, as if he'd forgotten she's still here. "I suppose...you can catch a Suriel."

A Suriel. Nesta remembers talk of one, during the war. Feyre had gone to find one. But that one is dead now, she knows.

"How do I do that?"

Tamlin loosens a frustrated sigh. "If I catch one for you, are we even? You'll consider our score settled?"

Nesta scoffs. "I will never consider our score settled. But rest assured, if you catch me this Suriel and it tells me how to undo a mating bond, I will never have any reason to come to Spring again."

His head tilts as he considers her words. "Fine," he says, grudgingly. He stalks past her, out the door and down the steps. "Follow me."

She does, off the path and into a deceptively quiet grove that leads into an even more forbidding forest, and she doesn't know for how long--she really should get a watch--until he finally holds out his arm and says, without turning around, "Wait here."

He disappears into a thatch of shrubbery. Again, she wonders if she should be nervous. Tamlin's a High Lord--this land's High Lord. Surely, if she's here with him, nothing will attack her.

And there is also the matter of...herself.

A sharp hiss escapes the spot where Tamlin crossed into, and then he barks out, "Come here!"

Moving a fair bit of bush aside, Nesta steps into a small clearing. There's a quiet stream. Tamlin, beyond it, with his arms wrapped around...a Suriel.

Hunched over, beneath a robe that might have once been very finely embroidered, the creature looks up at her with eyes filled only with whites.

"For this you have caught me, High Lord?" it--he? She?--says, its cold voice making her flinch.

Tamlin rises, letting go of the Suriel. "She has something to ask you," he says flatly.

The Suriel doesn't run once he lets it go--scared of him or her? It only straightens out the collar of its robe with long gray fingers that appear as though they have been broken more than once. "What is it, Eve-daughter?"

It knows she was human. Once, at least.

No matter. That's not what she has come for.

"I want to know how to undo a mating bond," she says, keeping her voice even. "Please," she adds.

The Suriel clicks its tongue. "Most would consider such a bond a dearly loved gift."

Nesta bites her tongue. It won't do her any good to snap at this creature. "Can you tell me?" she asks.

"But you don't like anything gifted from the Cauldron, do you? No...you prefer your gifts stolen..."

Nesta's heart stutters. Tamlin looks on, curious, but she forces herself to keep eye contact with the Suriel. "Will you tell me?" she says, trying again.

Another hiss. "I can't tell you."

"But you know who can?" she presses, guessing at its linguistic trickery.

The Suriel bites its yellowed teeth together twice. "An old friend of yours, I would say."

An old friend...Amren? But Amren is only High Fae now, surely she doesn't have any powers like this anymore...and Amren's not an old friend. Only a former one.

"Call upon the one your sister bargained with," it says.

"Which one?" There are a great many, she suspects. Each deal more foolish than the last, she's certain. If she's come all the way to Spring just for a Suriel to tell her to go ask Rhysand--

"Bryaxis."

Oh.

Well.

"Where is Bryaxis now?" It had not returned to that library after the war.

"It'll come to you," the Suriel replies. "Call upon it."

Call upon...the only thing that Cassian fears.

Fine.

"What's that in your bag, Eve-daughter?"

Nesta looks down. "Clothes."

"Could you spare any?" it asks, clicking its fingers together.

She blinks. But she remembers all too well what it was like to be freezing, and is still at the mercy of stronger Fae, and she meant what she told Tamlin: they are all monsters here and she's not any authority on who amongst them is the worst.

"Sure," she says, and takes out the cloak she had brought. Simple. Charcoal gray, with purple hem so deep it's nearly black. She steels her arms as she extends it, willing herself not to show emotion when her fingers brush its.

The Suriel rises to its full height--taller than Nesta, obviously, but taller even than Tamlin. It slips off the tattered robe and lets it fall at its feet. Nesta's cloak hits its knees.

"Well," she says. "Goodbye, then." She turns on her heel and heads back through the bushes.

This time, Tamlin follows her. "Where are you going?" he asks.

"Back to Night." Where else can she go?

"You missed the last cross-Court carriage of the day. I'm not winnowing you there."

Her steps only falter slightly. "Well. I packed for this. Where's an inn?"

"You can stay at my estate."

This causes Nesta to stop and turn to him. "What do you think this is about?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You are not coming with me to see Bryaxis. This is not about my sister."

He flinches. "I know that," he says, voice low, rough. "I...I let her go. Weren't you there?"

When Rhysand died, he means. "I don't care," she says honestly.

"You can stay at my home for tonight," he says again. "See Bryaxis in the morning."

Nesta thinks about it. Is staying in Tamlin's home worse than staying in Rhysand's?

No.

But she still doesn't want to.

"No," she says to him. "I won't come ask you for anything again. You can consider us square, if you like."

So for the second time, she turns and leaves him. This time, he does not follow.

When the sun sets, Nesta stops walking. This was a good idea, she thinks, even as her heart beats in her throat. It's good precisely because of her fear. Her fear of being alone in a strange land, at night, with no sense of direction, and no way to get back until tomorrow.

Because now, what choice does she have but to go to Bryaxis.

Hoping her walk has helped to summon some nerve, Nesta lays her bag down neatly at her feet and smooths her hair. She clears her throat.

"Bryaxis," she says, the stupidity she feels stronger than any scariness, "I call upon you."

She stands there, looking out onto flowing hills and nothing else, feeling foolish, at best.

Perhaps Tamlin had offered her a kindness. A safe place for the night. Then she could have taken a carriage back in the morning and swallowed her pride and asked Amren for help finding Bryaxis.

Her spine straightens suddenly--only then does she hear. Her body recognizes it before her mind.

"Nesta Archeron," it says, from behind her.

She does not turn to look, keeps herself focused on a spot on a distant hill. "Hello," she says.

"You have grown thinner," it notes.

"I can't be sure, but I imagine you look much the same." The words are out before she can stop them.

But--Bryaxis laughs. Dark, shivering, under her bones. But a laugh, all the same.

Not so terrifying, she thinks. Just...stare ahead. Don't turn around. She can do that.

"To what do I owe the pleasure? So far from...your home."

"The Night Court is not my home."

"Oh?" it asks, mildly interested. "So where would it be?"

She hesitates. "I...am from the south of the island."

"Is that your home?"

Nesta exhales slowly. The Suriel had called her Eve-daughter, had it not? Why shouldn't she be allowed to claim human lands as hers?

"But I believe you have a question for me, Nesta Archeron."

"I do." Nesta takes another deep breath. "I want to undo my mating bond."

"That's not a question."

"...can you undo my mating bond?"

"I can."

She almost wishes she could turn around. Almost.

"Will you?" she asks, and pinches her fingers.

"Neither you nor I come from the Night Court," Bryaxis says, "but we have both found ourselves residing there, have we not?"

"I...yes." Small talk with this demon...is that the price to say? To ensure her sister's happiness, get her to speak to her again?

"A special history of bargains in the Night Court. Your sister broke ours, you know."

Nesta stiffens. "You left. How could she fulfill it?"

That laugh again. "Perhaps you can fulfill it for her."

She hesitates, bringing her hand up to touch her hair. "What...would you like me to do?"

"Tell me why you want your bond broken."

Sucking in her bottom lip, Nesta tugs a lock of her hair out of its coronet. "It was only given to me to hurt me. Because my sister cares for him."

"Tell me why, Nesta Archeron."

She closes her eyes. Do it, she commands herself. Just--say it, just this once, and then it'll be over.

Eyes still shut tight, she nods slowly. "The bond...hurts me because it hurts Elain because she cares for Azriel. And it hurts me..." Just say it, you stupid girl. "...because I...care for his brother." Her voice cracks, barely a whisper on the last word.

Her cheeks heat up. There--she's admitted it. She's said it.

Oh, she--she hates this. Hates it so much. She hates him. For everything he's done to her. How he treats her, even though he makes her feel--how he makes her feel! Far too many ways!

Everything about him. His hair and his eyes and his skin and his arms and his stupid smirk and his vile tongue and every single one of his fingertips and his scent and his thighs and his shoulders and--

"There, Nesta Archeron," Bryaxis says softly. "That's it."

Nesta fists her hands together. "Will you just end it now?"

"Certainly," it says. Something cool reaches out and caresses her cheek. "Face me."

The touch is gentle, almost loving. Not scary. Not threatening. So she does.

The gentleness ends there--it all goes dark.

When she opens her eyes, the sun is rising...in the Night Court.

"Good morning, Nesta Archeron," Bryaxis says from behind her.

Nesta pushes up off the ground. She's dressed in one of the night-things she brought in her bag.

"I brought you to this place neither of us call home," it says. "Our bargain is done."

She reaches down to pick a cardigan out of her bag, but her arms are shaking. That same touch from before--gentle, sweet--picks it and helps her put it on.

"Thank you," she says, her voice coming out in a whisper. She tries to swallow, but it burns.

"You should go to the High Lord's house. They're all waiting for you." Bryaxis pushes her a bit forward. Not roughly, just enough to get her legs moving on their own again. "Call upon me again, Nesta Archeron...when you'd like."

Bryaxis' essence disappears. Without looking behind her, she knows it is gone.

Strange looks punctuate her on her walk to Feyre's home. The High Lady's sister, dressed in a nightdress, clutching a travel bag. All she wants to is get back to her apartment and shower off the past day, but if they're all waiting for her...she supposes it can wait.

She wants to see Elain, anyway. Wants to show her...how much she loves her. What she did for her.

Bryaxis had been kind, though. Had hidden most of the pain from her. Only the aftermath remains, like the hollowness she always feels after her cycle, or shaking after being sick.

She stops dead in her tracks and gasps violently. The hollowness...it's not hollowness at all. It's...wholeness. Because she's whole. She's alone.

The mating bond is gone.

A laugh--a real laugh, carefree and joyous--escapes her. For the first time in...she can't remember how long. Every step after is easier, lighter. And she is more eager to take it. Elain awaits. Elain and...

She practically skips up to the riverfront manor, not able to fully suppress the small smile on her face as she throws the door open. She starts to call her sister's name, but the sight in the front room cuts her off.

Elain is there, with Feyre. Elain lies in the latter's lap, shaking slightly. Rhysand sits behind Feyre, on the floor, his hand on her back. Her tear-stained face is still. Azriel sits on a chair, arms propped up on his lap and head buried in his palms. Morrigan sits on a couch by Amren, who stares blankly at the wall.

It is Amren who first looks up and sees her. She inhales sharply, which makes them all, one by one, look to her...and then to what she is staring at. Nesta.

Elain notices last, her face still at Feyre's legs. With their younger sister's soft cry, Elain picks up her head and turns.

She bolts upright. Nesta jerks back for her suddenness. She is wrecked.

"Nesta?" she breathes.

Nesta looks around. "What?" she says, uncomfortable and bewildered.

"You..." Elain reaches out a hand. She stumbles a few feet forward, and touches Nesta's cheek. Clammier than Bryaxis, and not nearly as gentle. "You're alive."

Morrigan rises next. "I'm going to find Cassian," she says, to no one in particular. "Tell him..." She gives Nesta a look of--fright?--and scurries out of the house.

Quite suddenly, Nesta comes back to herself. "What is going on?" she demands.

Elain draws her hands back towards herself, looking at her fingers, as if she thinks they are not real, either.

"Feyre, it's okay," Rhys says to her sister, who has gone very white.

"What is going on?" she says again.

It's Azriel who answers, standing up fast. Far too fast. "You...were...dead."

"I...what?" Nesta asks. "What are you--oh."

The bond...when it had...because she had not told them.

Oh.

Perhaps...this has not been her best thought out plan, she thinks.

"Well," she says. "I'm...I'm not dead." She looks to Azriel. "I...undid the bond."

Every one of them-like they're all puppets on a string controlled by one person-tenses at the same time. In any other situation, it would be funny.

But it's this situation. So all that happens is Elain, bursting into hysterical tears, and running away.

No, Nesta decides. Not her best thought out plan.

#nesta archeron #nessian #azriel #good news for all you bryaxis fans out there! lol #hope bryaxis is okay and we get to see them in acosf actually

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poppy-pelican · 5 years ago

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Holding Out (Makes It Better) - fic

Rating: Explicit (because of course it is)

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

Summary: “Why don’t we make a…competition of it?” Roy said, standing up like he was going to give orders. “A…team building exercise, if you will.” His eyes drifted to Hawkeye, giving her a meaningful look that he hoped conveyed: back me up on this or else.

Mustang's team bonds over who can keep from touching themselves the longest.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26021110

“While I trust my team, I have been noticing…” Roy hesitated, adjusting the phone against his ear.

“A lack of cohesion?” Hughes offered.

Much more diplomatic than sibling rivalry. Roy had recently been granted permission to choose officers for his own team—a sure sign a promotion was on the way this year. But the last time they had to work together as a unit, Hawkeye and Havoc disagreed on tactics, Falman kept piping in with more information than necessary, Breda was too easy going and let the others walk all over him, and Fuery hunkered down like a child whose parents were fighting.

It felt wrong to go to Hughes for help, but Hughes had a way of forming tight-knit groups with ease. While Roy could say his team members trusted him, they certainly did not trust each other.

“Yes, exactly,” Roy said.

“It can take time,” Hughes said. “But you could try some team building exercises?”

“Is that what you do?”

Hughes was muffled for a minute. It sounded like he was kissing Gracia. Again. Roy sighed. The man was impossibly shameless.

“Ah, yes, that’s what I do. Something that loosens them up—you have to get them comfortable with one another.”

“Can you be more specific?”

More suspicious giggling and kissing noises again. “I dunno, play a game. Have a friendly competition?”

A team building exercise. Roy was going to have to sit on that one.

Another giggle. “And that’s my cue, you crazy exhibitionist! Goodnight!” Roy yelled, hanging up the phone forcefully.

A couple weeks later, Roy had almost forgotten about Hughes’s idea. The office was silent except for the quiet hum of his officers at work. Then Hawkeye excused herself, and suddenly the men were talking and joking. Oh. His intimidating lieutenant. The men were afraid of her.

He couldn’t blame them. Hadn’t she terrified him a little even as a young girl? She’d always been a little too serious, watchful and quiet. But of everyone in his team, he trusted her the most. Maybe he should consider Hughes’s idea again. He wanted them all to trust her as much as he did, and see the fun side of her that made him like her so much.

Then he tuned into what his men were actually saying.

“And you’d just had sex the night before? What’s wrong with you?” Falman said, laughing.

“It’s relaxing!” Havoc insisted. “It’s a daily ritual kind of thing. Takes the edge off.”

“Daily? I can manage once a week, easy, especially with a woman in my life,” Falman insisted.

Breda chuckled. “I’m not like Havoc, but I prefer more often, even with a girlfriend helping me out.”

“See, Breda supports me!”

“I still wouldn’t be doing it the morning after a night with my girlfriend!” Breda said, slapping the desk and laughing boisterously.

Roy’s brow furrowed. Were they talking about what he thought?

“I don’t think I’ve been able to go more than a week since I hit puberty,” Havoc said. “I’m a healthy young man.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Roy finally interrupted.

“Havoc’s girlfriend—now ex-girlfriend—walked in on him…you know,” Fuery offered, his face bright red.

Roy snorted, happy to ignore his paperwork to tease Havoc. “What? You forget how to lock a door?”

Havoc turned red. “It was early in the morning! I thought she was asleep.”

“Clearly, she awoke frustrated. Did you even take care of her needs, Havoc?” Roy couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“I always leave my woman satisfied,” Havoc growled.

“Maybe if you weren’t molesting yourself every day, you’d have more passion for your girlfriend,” Breda pointed out. “Pace yourself, man.”

“I could go without it if I needed to. You all would crack long before me if it were a contest.” Havoc crossed his arms, the picture of perfect confidence.

“You think so?” a feminine voice challenged.

Hawkeye stood in the doorway, her face expressionless.

“How long have you been standing there, lieutenant?” Roy asked, noting he wasn’t the only man in the office vainly attempting to play it cool. While Hawkeye was as good a soldier as anyone, probably better, this kind of crude conversation always starkly reminded everyone she was a woman as much as a soldier.

Hawkeye strolled over to her desk. “Long enough to know I shouldn’t set Havoc up with any of my friends.”

The men guffawed and cheered, except for Havoc who collapsed on his desk. And that’s when Roy realized he had an opportunity.

“Why don’t we make a…competition of it?” Roy said, standing up like he was going to give orders. “A…team building exercise, if you will.” His eyes drifted to Hawkeye, giving her a meaningful look that he hoped conveyed: back me up on this or else.

“What do you mean, sir?” Hawkeye asked, everything from her eyebrow to her stiff shoulders giving away her heavy skepticism.

“Who can hold out the longest?” Roy said, tapping his chin. “Havoc has made quite the challenge to the rest of us.”

Havoc sat up straight. “I could definitely outlast all of you. I am a disciplined sniper.”

“So is Hawkeye,” Falman said.

“Is Hawkeye participating?” Fuery asked, his cheeks now the color of a strawberry.

This was just more evidence Hughes was right. The team needed to get more comfortable with one another—particularly with their lone female officer. They needed to fear who Hawkeye was as a soldier, not as a woman.

Roy turned to his lieutenant, gesturing for her to answer. All eyes were on her. She gave Roy a steely look before rolling her eyes. “Sure, I’m in.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Is that fair?” Havoc asked. “Women can naturally hold out longer than men.”

Roy told himself not to think about how often Hawkeye was pleasuring herself as he answered.

“All right, not holding out the longest, but who can hold out until a certain date,” he amended.

“How long?” Breda asked. “And does sex count?”

Roy began to pace the floor, his mind flowing with ideas. He was going to have to make up a chart. And they needed strict rules. It could be very unofficially official. Hughes would be proud.

“Sex will count. What seems a reasonable goal?” he asked, tossing the problem out for his team to solve. He could admit he was more like Breda and indulged himself several times a week. The idea of holding out for more than a week sounded like a small torture, but just a week wouldn’t be challenging enough.

“Two weeks,” Havoc proposed.

“Two weeks? What a flimsy challenge,” Falman said. “I’ll crush you.”

“Three?” Fuery suggested, though he made a face as he said it.

Breda looked around, studying his teammates and superior officer with a critical gaze. Roy wondered if he was sizing up the competition. Roy was already sweating at the idea of two weeks. Three would be unbearable.

“Three sounds reasonable,” Falman agreed.

“But perhaps a tad too easy,” Breda said, rubbing his hand over his short hair. “A month would be a challenge for everyone, wouldn’t it?” Gazes flickered to Hawkeye, who sat primly with her hands folded on her desk, like this was any old team meeting. She would destroy them all.

“A month it is,” Roy said.

“What do we get if we win?” Hawkeye asked, still diplomatic. Her lips pulled into a tiny smile. “It needs to be worth the trouble, right? But not so much that anyone would be tempted to cheat.”

“So money’s out,” Breda said decisively, and the others agreed with surprising speed. A soldier’s pension was laughably meager, especially for anyone lower on the totem pole. Roy knew he was fortunate to have a state alchemist’s funding, but it had come with strings attached.

“I’ve got it!” Roy said, grinning. “We have two teams. And we do it for the honor of winning.”

“That could work,” Hawkeye said thoughtfully.

Then began a debate that lasted twenty minutes on who would be on which team. Everyone wanted to be on Hawkeye’s team, but the competition needed to be as strong as possible. Based purely on personality, rather than any real data, it was finally decided that Mustang’s team would have Falman and Breda, while Hawkeye’s opposing team included Fuery and Havoc. If she thought it was unfair, she didn’t say so.

Riza thought the entire competition was unfair. She knew what her ridiculous superior was thinking. The men were uncomfortable with her, and her participating in their stupid contest would help. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn’t, but she was annoyed.

Perhaps she was different from other women because she touched herself every night to help her fall asleep. It started a few months after returning from Ishval when she discovered her nightmares improved if she relaxed with happy—dirty—thoughts before bed.

But she was a disciplined sniper, she could hold off for a month. She just didn’t want to.

She slipped into the t-shirt she wore to bed and then did a few stretches she’d read would help her maintain her mobility despite the extensive scarring on her back. The tightness of her skin across those two patches had become as normal as the tug of her hair clips, but she needed to have full motion whenever she acted as Mustang’s bodyguard.

She finished with a few last neck stretches before she rolled into bed, turning off the lamp before she snuggled under the covers. Realizing this would be the last time to touch herself until the competition ended, she decided to take more time with it than she usually would. Tugging her underwear down, she slipped one hand between her thighs, the other hand crept underneath her shirt.

If she were honest with herself, she wanted to replay Mustang’s passionate, definitely inappropriate, brainstorming session. How he could sound so calm and professional while discussing masturbation in front of his team, she didn’t know, but even with the almost clinical nature of it, she’d felt warm and achy listening to him speak.

She wondered if he was a dirty talker in the bedroom, and she found herself falling over the edge much too quickly, thinking of what he might whisper against her ear while he thrusted in and out of her.

With a pleased sigh, she wriggled her underwear back into place and fell immediately into a deep sleep.

The next morning at the office, Riza was horrified to find a chalkboard had been rolled into the room. Mustang’s sharp handwriting had filled in a surprisingly vague chart with two columns for each team. Beside each team member’s name was a place to mark them out. At the bottom of the chart he’d written out the end date in bold lettering. She pressed her lips together. Thirty days had never seemed so long.

But as the men started arriving, she put on her poker face. She had to pretend this wasn’t a hardship whatsoever.

There was very little discussion about the competition. The first day should be a breeze, so no one expected anyone to crack so soon. They had a meeting about a possible money laundering case coming from Grumman, which would be a great opportunity to prove themselves as an efficient new team. Then Riza left for a committee on recruitment she attended as Mustang’s representative. It was such a humdrum, typical day that by the time work was over, she almost forgot about the competition entirely. She went to the library, cooked dinner, called Rebecca to chat, began reading one of the books she borrowed…

It wasn’t until she was dressing for bed that she remembered. She groaned, flopping onto the bed in frustration. The fact she shouldn’t touch herself just made her want to even more. Cursing Mustang under her breath, she turned off the lamp and lay stiffly in the dark, failing to relax.

It was hours later before she finally fell asleep.

The second day of the competition and Roy already had regrets. He woke up with an erection, as often happened in the mornings, but this time he had to wait for the damn thing to go away on its own.

His regrets grew when Falman came into the office, red-faced and staring at the ground. He strode straight to the chalkboard and drew an X beside his name.

“What! You’re already out?” Havoc crowed.

“Really, Falman, I’m disappointed in you,” Roy said, shaking his head. Now it was just him and Breda. “Do you at least have a good excuse?”

Falman saluted. “The new neighbor next to my apartment must have had her boyfriend over, sir. She was…very loud and enthusiastic.”

Roy grimaced. “Dismissed.” He could understand why a man would be tempted, but with his discipline as a soldier being tested…it was disappointing. He glanced over at Hawkeye and Havoc who were sharing a laugh—probably at Falman’s expense.

Falman was at his desk, determinedly reading a report. Roy look over at Breda who raised a fist in solidarity. Just the two of them against Hawkeye, Havoc, and Fuery. It was going to be a long month.

By day seven, Roy spent every morning talking down his erection, and giving himself quick, cold showers. The temptation was growing intolerable. What kind of stupid team building exercise was this! Certainly the dumbest idea he’d ever had. Rather than fostering teamwork, everyone, except Falman, was snappy and irritable. Even Hawkeye, which Roy found wonderfully intriguing. No, he definitely couldn’t spend time dwelling on that can of worms.

“I’m going to the shooting range if anyone wants to join me,” Hawkeye announced suddenly. “Havoc, Fuery,” her lips curved upward, “A gun is a good way to…release some tension.”

Chairs squeaked and knocked around as the men dropped everything to join her, everyone laughing as Falman waved them off good-naturedly. The smug bastard.

Hawkeye was fierce on the shooting range, only Havoc coming close to her level—and still well below it. Roy took a turn, but found himself stepping back to watch as the men cheered and clapped whenever she hit another seemingly impossible target. Roy knew Hawkeye took little pride in her skill after the war, but it was good for the men to respect her ability. Judging by the way young Fuery gaped in amazement, maybe the team building exercise wasn’t a total bust.

Roy stayed quiet on their walk back to the office, listening to the men pepper her with questions. Hawkeye answered them succinctly, without boasting, about her skills and how she had honed them growing up shooting cans and one time, a rather rotten pumpkin.

Roy remembered the pumpkin story as her father had told it, and he noted that Hawkeye didn’t mention him—or Roy for that matter. It gave him pause. Did she not want the men knowing of their history? He supposed as his subordinate, she probably preferred to put forward her merits rather than her connections. Funny, because Roy would never have become a state alchemist without her, and he likewise kept that a secret—for different reasons.

Riza was exhausted, which she would’ve thought would help her fall asleep. Instead, she tossed and turned, body restless. As soon as she found the edge of sleep, she jerked awake.

“Mustang, you idiot,” she groaned, punching her pillow. She couldn’t lose this competition, even if it meant a month of sleep deprivation. Twisted in her sheets, she was oh-so-tempted to give in, especially as she remembered the way Mustang had removed his jacket at the shooting range, only his white button-up shirt on. Thank goodness she was already at the range, she had had a lot of tension to release.

Punching her pillow again, she gave up an turned on the light, pulling out a book. She read until she passed out.

Riza wasn’t the only one on edge that night, and in the morning Havoc did the walk of shame to the chalkboard, scribbling an angry X beside his name.

Mustang hadn’t arrived yet, it was just Hawkeye and Fuery.

“What happened?” Fuery asked. Hawkeye noticed he was gnawing his fingernails raw.

Havoc covered his eyes dramatically. “My girlfriend wanted me back. How could I say no after—after—”

“Oh we all know after what,” Hawkeye said darkly. “I’m sure you lasted two seconds.”

“Hawkeye!” Havoc gasped, appalled.

Fuery collapsed on his desk, giggling helplessly.

“You deserve it,” she said. “Some of us are still suffering.”

“Come on, are you really suffering?” Havoc asked sarcastically.

Riza crossed her arms, giving him a hard look. This could really backfire on her.

She sighed, giving an embarrassed shrug as she focused on the notes in front of her. “I…use it to relax and fall asleep.” A timely yawn escaped her.

Havoc and Fuery each looked equally incredulous.

“Hawkeye! You were supposed to be a sure thing!” Havoc moaned. “We can’t lose to the boss!”

“You’re the one who claimed to have so much restraint and brought this whole thing down on us,” she reminded him.

“That is true,” Fuery agreed.

“Well, you could’ve worked your Hawkeye magic and talked him out of it,” Havoc muttered.

“I don’t have magic. If I did, the lieutenant colonel would get his work done more efficiently,” she said, feeling flattered despite herself. “And don’t worry. I have no intention of losing.”

Suddenly Havoc gawked at her. “Damn, you do look really tired. How—how often do you use it to sleep?”

Hawkeye realized she wouldn’t get any work done until she answered.

“Every night!” Havoc’s outburst was the first thing Roy heard as he walked in the door. He almost dropped the files he’d been carrying.

“Shh!” Hawkeye and Fuery frantically shushed, and Roy was immediately suspicious.

“What’s every night?” he asked. He was already on edge. It felt like once an hour his cock was at half mast, but hell if he was going to lose so quickly.

“Just talking about Havoc and his failure as a disciplined soldier,” Hawkeye said smoothly. Her eyes were playful, but Havoc looked betrayed—no, overwhelmed. Hawkeye was a good liar. Havoc was not.

Deciding to pursue it later, he set to work. The money laundering case was their first big assignment, and they needed it to go smoothly. Grumman had given him an early morning briefing, plus a stack of files, with instruction to investigate as Roy saw fit. Any other time, he would’ve been positively gleeful—except for the fact his mood was apparently controlled by his dick.

After teasing Havoc mercilessly, Roy settled down at his desk, plotting how to end this competition. None of them would have to go for the full month if one team gave up first. But of course, Mustang had too much pride. He didn’t want to purposefully lose.

He’d just have to figure out how to crack his adjutant, whose mood had been notably altered by the competition, too. Maybe she wasn’t an insurmountable challenge after all.

Fuery would be easy.

“This is for you,” Fuery said, dropping a packet of papers on Riza’s desk. His cheeks were red, and he spoke very tersely.

Riza looked at the packet closer and saw there was a note scribbled on top: THESE ARE SAFER WITH YOU. FOUND THEM IN MY DESK AFTER LUNCH. I THINK WE ARE BEING SABOTAGED.

Riza picked up the packet and realized it was actually a selection of raunchy photographs of mostly nude female models. She narrowed her eyes, her gaze drifting over the men of the office. It was rather obvious what was happening. Mustang and Breda were struggling, and they wanted Hawkeye and Fuery to go out first. And young Fuery was hanging on by a hair. She couldn’t guess what they thought would work on her. She did a quick search of her desk, not finding any naked pictures of men.

Well, she could play that game, too.

She wrote a quick note to Fuery, telling him to make an excuse and step out for a break. It was time to retaliate.

As soon as Fuery was gone, Riza shuffled the photos, clicking her tongue. She walked over to Mustang’s desk and fanned the photographs across his desk.

“This contraband has turned up in the office, sir,” she said. “Should I write up an official report and turn it in?”

Mustang’s dark eyes grew piercing. Ah, he hadn’t expected this. Good.

“I’m sure something as small as this isn’t worth your time to make a report about,” he said smoothly.

Riza nodded, watching from the corner of her eye as Falman paled. Yes, as she thought. Breda and Mustang wouldn’t go near any kind of temptation. They sent the man who was already out.

“It would be a long report,” she said agreeably. “I’d have to catalogue each photograph, describing each one. What if any of these women are soldiers? This could be blackmail.” She made a show of appearing conflicted. “I don’t think we should skip reporting this, sir.”

Mustang glowered. He knew she knew. He just didn’t want to back down.

“See this one?” she asked, pointing to one she’d left displayed most prominently. “Doesn’t she look a little like Private Jennison?” A young soldier whose breasts were so large, Riza pitied her a little. Jennison had to have all her uniforms specially tailored. But Riza also knew every man in East City’s military knew the woman by name.

“Who looks like Private Jennison?” Havoc asked eagerly.

Mustang tried to hide the photos too late as Havoc rushed over.

“Holy shit, these are amazing.” Havoc roared, grabbing the pictures. “These must be killing you, boss.”

Mustang tilted his face to the ceiling. “I am being punished for trying to strategize.”

“What?” Havoc looked between Riza and Mustang.

“Fuery found these in his desk after lunch.” Riza turned on her heel, smiling deviously at Falman and Breda.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Havoc said, studying the photos like they were critical pieces of evidence.

“The sooner it’s over for one team, the sooner it’s over for everyone,” Breda pointed out.

“Well, good luck getting me to crack,” she said, turning on her heel. “I doubt you two will even be able to hold out another week.”

Hawkeye was right. Roy and Breda were both reaching their limits. It was all well and good at work, but the minute he was alone…

Roy nodded at Breda as the other man walked out the door. Maybe he was taking this too seriously, but there was something tantalizing about getting Hawkeye to give in first.

A few minutes later Roy packed up, said goodnight to his adjutant who was furiously assembling some kind of information packet some higher ups had requested, and then he met up with Breda outside the building.

“What’d you find out?” Roy asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Hawkeye’s more vulnerable than we thought,” Breda said, chuckling. “Havoc could not resist telling me that she—she does it every night. To go to sleep, apparently.” Breda covered another laugh, slightly awkward and uncomfortable. “I can hardly believe it.”

Roy understood the feeling. Every night? He wanted to shout, just like Havoc. While he knew women could be very sexual—he’d grown up in a bar where pretty women entertained men for a living—he hadn’t seen Hawkeye that way. He’d always seen her as a woman he would need to coax an orgasm from, kiss her blush away as he slowly undressed her…

He’d thought about it so many times, and now…the reality was threatening to overcome his self-control. He wanted nothing more than to take this information home and stroke himself until he came, thinking of his gorgeous lieutenant touching herself.

“Maybe we should strategize over a drink?” Roy offered.

Because he really needed a damn drink.

The next Monday, Roy arrived an hour late to the office. He’d stayed awake pouring over the money laundering case—he suspected a local paint supplier had something to do with it. They might need to do an overnight search of their warehouse, which was much larger than a business of their size required.

All thoughts of the case evaporated as he saw two more had been knocked out of the competition. Hawkeye’s name was still blank.

“Still holding out, sir?” she asked.

“Yes, I didn’t get this promotion without a good dose of discipline, you know.”

Fuery and Havoc groaned as Breda and Falman cheered.

“You got this, boss!” Breda said.

“You think you can last the whole month?” Hawkeye challenged.

Roy grinned. “What about you, lieutenant? You look…tired.”

Her eyes widened before she quickly recovered. “Nothing a little coffee won’t fix,” she said, holding up a cup. “But you don’t have anything keeping you…up at night, sir?”

She was a little bit evil, he decided.

“So insubordinate,” he said lightly, returning to his desk. “Breda, what the hell happened, man? You’re leaving me against the lieutenant by myself?”

Breda saluted, then hung his head, even as he laughed at himself. “I got a little too drunk and forgot about the competition. I will do everything I can to support you, sir. Our honor as men is at stake.”

Mustang covered his face with his hands.

“And you, Fuery?”

“Do I have to say?” he moaned, slumping pathetically against his desk.

“Of course not,” Roy said amiably. “We are all entitled to our privacy. Uh, or as much as a game like this allows.”

“I bet he was done in by Private Jennison. Damn, she was about to bust out of her—” Havoc cut himself off, giving a sheepish look to Hawkeye.

“Probably best not to bring it up—even though she totally was, poor girl,” Hawkeye said, shaking her head. “She’s actually a very good soldier, and she struggles for anyone to see beyond her—endowments.”

Roy shared a look with his adjutant. Hawkeye’s skills as a soldier were unmissable, but she had to rise better than the best of the men to earn the respect of their superiors. It was harder being a woman in the military, and in ways Roy often didn’t notice.

“I guess it’s like how no one can see past my handsome face,” Havoc said, fluttering his eyelashes. Hawkeye aimed a rubber band at his back. “Ow!”

“If you had real discipline, you could’ve dodged it,” she said, swiftly blocking his retaliation with a folder.

Roy would’ve thought that Hawkeye was truly unbothered by the competition, that he had no hope of winning, until he saw her leave for the shooting range again. While she kept her skills sharp, it was unheard of for her to go on Mondays when they were usually busiest.

He rested his chin on his hand, he was going to need to have another meeting with Breda and Falman.

“Uh, so why are we meeting here?” Fuery asked, peering around the smoky, crowded bar with suspicion.

Havoc released a puff of his own smoke, eyeing some of the beautiful waitresses bringing drinks. “Isn’t this the place Mustang likes?”

Riza smiled. “Oh, the same one. I’m sure he’s brought you all here before, right?” She knew her superior well. He trusted these men, and if he had their trust, they must have been vetted by Madame Christmas’s girls. While Chris operated out of central, she had girls posted at bars around the country. With Roy in East City, she had sent one of his favorite “sisters” to watch out for him.

“He brought you here, Hawkeye?” Fuery choked out. “If my mother knew I was here, she’d skin me alive!”

“I’ve been here a time or two,” Riza said casually, waving Vanessa over.

“Elizabeth!” Vanessa squealed, and she dropped practically into Riza’s lap to hug her. “What are you doing here?” She looked to Fuery and Havoc. “Are you two-timing my brother?”

Riza laughed, fighting a blush. She hoped they didn’t know Vanessa meant Mustang. Vanessa and all the other girls had been teasing them since the first time Mustang brought her to Madame Christmas’s bar in Central—not long after he’d burned the array off her back. The girls kept up the teasing probably because Mustang had squawked at them not to scare her off.

“These are some of Mustang’s other men—Jean Havoc and Kain Fuery.” Riza put her hand to Vanessa’s ear. “We need some dirt on the Flame Alchemist.” She pulled back, forcing a giggle the way Vanessa and the other girls had taught her.

“Oh, you are bad,” Vanessa said. “Want some drinks before we chat?”

Riza nodded. “Put it on you-know-who’s tab.”

“You have gotten positively cheeky,” Vanessa said, slipping off behind the bar.

Havoc and Fuery turned to Riza, both patiently awaiting an explanation.

“Vanessa and the girls have mentored me in the art of…persuasion.” Riza couldn’t think of a better word for it. “I go by Elizabeth here.”

“Is that your full name?” Fuery asked.

“No.” It was her middle name. “But Vanessa might have some ideas on how to get one over on our boss. He’s probably plotting something—and we need to try and get a step ahead of him if we can.”

Havoc stubbed out his cigarette. “Yeah, he didn’t seem bothered by those photos at all. Is he even human?”

“It’s been almost three weeks. I was dying at one,” Fuery confessed.

Vanessa returned to the table with drinks, and she genuinely laughed as the three of them explained their predicament.

“So this is for the pride of women everywhere, is it?” Vanessa concluded.

“And these two,” Riza added, sipping her cocktail.

“Hmm, Roy is a tricky one,” Vanessa said. “He’s been taught to ignore the usual ploys girls use.”

“So you’re saying he’s immune to the obvious feminine charms?” Havoc said glumly.

Vanessa nodded. “I truly believe a woman could strip naked in front of him and he wouldn’t bat an eye.”

“Even after weeks of…abstaining?” Riza asked, feeling a little desperate. She was wound up with tension, and so, so tired. Another nine days of sleeplessness—no. She had to crack him.

“I couldn’t say,” Vanessa said. “But when he sets his mind to do something, he does it.”

“Well, I suppose a stalemate is almost as good as winning, right?” Fuery offered weakly.

Vanessa shook her head. “Winning is always better. I do adore Roy, but—” She hugged Riza tightly. “We have a sisterhood. Now come with me, I’m going to tell you something the boys can’t overhear.”

Vanessa played up the girly act, giggling and holding Riza’s hand as they darted through the dimly lit bar.

Vanessa led them to a private room in the back, finally dropping the giggling act, though even without it Vanessa was a very cheery person. She flopped on a loveseat, tossing her hair back.

“You and my brother are almost painful to watch. He came by earlier. Said he needed to know how to drive a woman mad with lust without doing it himself.”

Riza blanched. “He what?”

“That tells me he’s very close to his own limits. He wouldn’t come begging for advice from me otherwise.” She smirked. “It also makes sense why he wouldn’t tell me any more detail than that. I wouldn’t have helped him!”

Feeling encouraged that Mustang was reaching the end of his rope, Riza was back to business. “So what did you tell him? I need to prepare for whatever he’s going to try to do.”

Vanessa—carefree, shameless Vanessa—blushed. “I had no idea he meant you, okay? Remember that.” She sucked in a breath. “I told him to…take you for a bumpy drive. Or anything else that might…stimulate things.” She erupted in giggles.

“He’s a terrible driver!”

“A perfect excuse, I told him,” Vanessa said, snorting into her hands.

“I’m only doing this stupid competition because he wants me to get along better with the men on the team,” Riza said, feeling cross. “I haven’t slept properly since it began, and now it’s just that idiot between me and a good night’s sleep. I need to crack him.”

“Maybe that’s all you need to do,” Vanessa said thoughtfully. “Tell him just how much you are dying for it. His noble self won’t be able to resist. Especially if you play it up like Elizabeth would,” she finished, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I could never do that.”

“Why not? It could work!”

“Because—he’s my superior.” It sounded flimsy when she put it that way.

“Your superior who started a very questionable competition that could get you all a court martial.”

She had a point. “Well…I’ll sleep on it.” Or not sleep, as usual.

The next morning, armed with extra strong coffee, Riza confronted her superior. She wanted him to squirm. She leaned on his desk, taking a small sip of the terrible coffee from the break room. Conveniently, the other men had left to finish preparations for the money laundering case.

“I can’t believe you went to Vanessa for advice,” she said, hoping she sounded like the scolding adjutant she aimed to be.

Mustang threw his pen down. “What? She told you?”

Riza let him stew for a few moments longer than she should have. “Yes. Because I also went to her for advice.”

His eyes narrowed. “What did she tell you?”

“She told me to prey on your more noble nature,” she said, adding the lilting tones of Elizabeth. “Please, sir, I need to sleep. I’m tossing and turning all night, so tense—”

His hands slammed down on the desk.

“Lieutenant, that won’t work,” he said. Riza’s heart pounded in her chest. She was very sure it was working. His breathing had subtly picked up—and he had shifted forward in his chair very deliberately.

She couldn’t call him out on it though. It seemed…unsporting. “Well then, don’t even think of offering me a ride anywhere, sir.”

He spluttered, avoiding her gaze. “I wasn’t going to!”

She threw her head back and laughed before returning to her desk, waiting for the others to arrive before she deployed her next tactic.

Roy was in trouble. If Hawkeye had gone to Vanessa for advice, Hawkeye would know a little too accurately how to take him down. Hawkeye was the only girl he’d ever brought to the bar, and during some of the “lessons” the girls did with her had been far too effective on him—and Vanessa knew it, even if Hawkeye hadn’t picked up on it at the time. And Vanessa knew they were only so effective because it was Riza Hawkeye teasing and flirting with him.

He avoided looking at her as he discreetly adjusted himself beneath his desk. Under normal circumstances when he wasn’t a few strokes away from losing his pride as an officer, ignoring her was easy. It was a protective habit to see her as a soldier and friend, nothing more.

Now he saw her as he once did when she was nothing more than his teacher’s daughter: a forbidden fantasy.

His life would be simpler if he just gave in, bowed to his lieutenant’s stronger discipline. But some embarrassing part of him wanted to go longer—show her that he was more than capable of holding off. As long as he needed to.

Roy reined himself in, forcing himself to do another once over of his formal request to search the warehouse of the paint supplier. He was quite pleased with the details Hawkeye had added. Grumman would surely approve. Deciding it was good enough, Roy passed the form off to Hawkeye who promptly left to deliver it to Grumman’s office without even a teasing word. Suspicious.

The other men trickled in, and Havoc walked in especially smug. Roy’s suspicions grew.

“Boss, I had a question for you. I was chatting with my girlfriend about our competition,” Havoc began. Roy put on a purposefully disinterested look. “She’s rooting for Hawkeye, obviously, but she wondered if under the conditions set, if they weren’t a bit sexist.”

“Oh?” Roy asked.

“Well, a woman can have sex without orgasming—it’s just a matter of biology, isn’t it? So if Hawkeye wanted to have some fun without the satisfaction, so to speak, couldn’t she do that?”

He heard Fuery strangle a laugh.

“Just as much as any of us could, I guess,” Roy said flatly.

“I’ll be sure to pass that on to Hawkeye, sir,” Havoc said.

Roy sighed. “Don’t blame me if she shoots you.”

He wanted to shoot Havoc himself. Roy knew what the bastard was doing—and Hawkeye probably had something to do with it. Because what Elizabeth had been taught was to seduce with suggestion. Now Roy was thinking about her, wanting to feel wrapped around her while she came apart. It felt like a whole other challenge, making her come in the middle of sex. He wondered if any of her lovers had managed it before. He suspected not. They didn’t have the restraint Roy did.

Roy dropped his head to his desk, indifferent to how it looked. He was ready to walk to the bathroom and have one off like a horny teenager.

“Boss, no!” Breda said. “Be strong! This is about our honor as men—as soldiers!”

“Havoc, that was cold,” Falman said.

Havoc shook his head. “The sooner this is over, the sooner Hawkeye stops breathing down my neck about my overdue work. She’s much more vicious lately.” He shuddered.

“Forget this, I need—I need to step out,” Roy said, gathering what was left of his dignity and standing to leave. He didn’t care. It had been almost three weeks. He hadn’t gone this long since the war.

“Falman! Plan B!” Breda yelled.

Falman jumped from his desk, a bucket materializing from behind it.

Abruptly, Roy was drenched in cold water.

“What the hell?” he snarled, turning to Falman who was still holding the empty bucket.

“Sir!” And of course Hawkeye would appear, and while her face gave away nothing, her eyes were definitely laughing at him. “What happened?”

The men couldn’t explain over their laughter. Roy slicked his hair back with a wet palm. “Plan B, that’s all, lieutenant.”

“Well, you are useless when wet,” Hawkeye said, dropping her eyes respectfully to the floor.

“Insubordinate, disloyal monsters,” Roy grumbled under his breath, taking his soaked jacket off and tossing it at Falman. The jacket had taken the brunt of the attack and droplets sprayed across the room. “Find me a dry shirt, Falman!” Typically he would ask Hawkeye, but he was trying not to look at her at the moment. His erection had finally retreated, but he wasn’t risking anything yet.

Falman went digging in the closet where they kept odds and ends—such as extra shirts—and appeared with a clean, dry shirt. Without thinking, Roy began to unbutton his current one to change.

“Avert your eyes, Hawkeye!” Havoc hollered, and Roy looked up to see the man diving in front of Hawkeye who had been waiting in front of Roy’s desk expectantly. Holding the search warrant, he realized. It had been approved!

“What are you doing?” Hawkeye yelped, as Havoc covered her eyes with his hands.

“I think their Plan B is to seduce you with the lieutenant colonel’s abs. What’s he doing just stripping in front of a female officer so boldly!”

Roy felt a flush creep up his neck. He’d thought nothing of changing in front of her.

“Havoc, what do you know about my abs?” he asked, diverting attention from himself.

“Don’t change the subject,” Havoc said, still trying to cover Hawkeye’s eyes as she struggled to bat him away without dropping the paperwork in her arms.

“Stop being stupid!” she said, elbowing him hard enough to release her. “I have the approval from General Grumman, but he insisted we go tonight. We have arrangements to make, so stop clowning around!” Thoroughly scolded, Havoc hurried to his desk, while Roy changed in record time.

As the team went to work, Roy noticed something—they were arguing less. Breda was consulting with Havoc while Fuery and Falman bounced ideas off Hawkeye. Maybe the team building had done more than frustrate the hell out of them. There was a comfort between them that had been absent before. And at the end of the day when Hawkeye fell asleep sitting straight in her chair, Havoc picked up her work and continued where she left off.

Like clockwork, the team’s search of the warehouse began. Havoc covered Breda while he searched the office, and Falman watched over the entrance. Fuery was stationed with the communication system up the hill from the warehouse, connected to Falman so they could be forewarned of any activity outside the building. Roy and Hawkeye would search the rest of the warehouse. If anything looked hidden or questionable, Roy wanted to be able to use his alchemy to flush it out.

The warehouse was an out of the way building with little security. If they were hiding something here, they weren’t concerned it would be found. The rows of shelving before Roy and Hawkeye looked perfectly ordinary in the small amount of light illuminating the room.

“There’s a strong…chemical smell,” Hawkeye said. He didn’t need to see her to know she was wrinkling her nose.

“Yes, I think it’s paint thinner.” No flames then. He tucked his gloves away. “Let’s split up. You go left, I go right. Meet in the middle?”

“Got it, sir.”

Gradually, Roy wound his way through the aisles, occasionally inspecting things physically. Across the silent room it was easy to hear Hawkeye doing the same. He was beginning to think the area was a dead end when he noticed some unusual etchings on the ground at the bottom of a shelf. Instincts coming alive, he started emptying the shelf of heavy buckets. And there it was, a secret entrance. The grip to pull the floorboards up was nothing more than a divot in the concrete floor.

“Oy! Hawkeye, come here!”

She was at his side in moments. “That looks promising,” she said mildly. “You want to do the honors?”

Roy nodded, squatting and heaving the slab up on its side. “Shit, that was heavy,” he grunted. He turned on his flashlight and was rewarded with the sight of a few dozen bars of gold, stacked in neat little rows inside the hidden pocket beneath the floor. Gold he was certain the company had not claimed as income that year.

“Perfect,” he said, dropping onto his stomach to see if anything else had been hidden with the gold.

“Careful, sir,” Hawkeye said. “Maybe let me look. I’m smaller.”

“You’re right,” he said, shuffling backward. The way the shelves were, he couldn’t even stand on his knees without hitting his head.

Once he was out of the way, Hawkeye wriggled under the shelf, and Roy couldn’t stop himself from watching her behind. He loved when she dressed down for assignments like these. The uniform was so boxy, it was difficult to make out her curves. Not that he should be wanting to check out his subordinate, but it was inevitable.

“Huh, there might be a stack of papers stuck under one of these stacks, but it’s too heavy for me to move like this.” She dropped to her stomach. “Can you come hold the flashlight?”

Roy squeezed in beside her—and promptly kicked over a tin can.

“Shit! What is that!” he hissed as something cold and wet soaked through his shirt. “Not again!” And it smelled very potent.

“What did you knock over?” Hawkeye asked, turning on her side. “It reeks!”

“I think some paint thinner,” he admitted, scrambling to turn the can upright. Stupid thing definitely hadn’t been secured properly.

Then suddenly it was like Hawkeye couldn’t escape fast enough.

“Oh no. Uhh, sir! It’s burning!” she gasped, almost a whimper.

Roy took action. He grabbed her arm and hauled her out. “There was a washing area this way,” he said, practically dragging her to where’d he’d seen it.

The corner he’d seen had a drain and a basic hose for washing up paint spills, he suspected. There were buckets and mops littering the area, but he haphazardly kicked them out of the way.

“How much did you get on you?” he asked her. The smell was thick in his nose, but that was probably his own clothes stinking up the place. And shit, it was really starting to burn. What kind of chemicals did they use?

“All down my side,” she said tightly.

“Here, you rinse first,” he said, turning on the hose. He turned to pass it to her and almost dropped it. He was the luckiest man alive, covered in paint thinner, but still the luckiest man alive, because there was Riza Hawkeye stripping in front of him. He only got a quick glimpse before he averted his eyes, but he’d seen toned muscles and curves—and a plain black bra that was unduly sexy.

He didn’t have long to savor the sight before the skin irritation began to override everything else. He searched around for soap, trying not to look at the lieutenant. He swallowed. She had stripped down to her bra and underwear and she was dripping with cold water…

Burning skin brought him back to reality again. He found some soap and offered it to her blindly while looking off in the other direction.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Roy busied himself taking off his shirt—the same one he’d changed into earlier in the office, so at least it wasn’t one of his good shirts.

“Sir, you can share the water with me,” she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s best to wash it off as quickly as you can. I’ll lather myself up while you rinse off.”

“I—uh—should probably—"

“Do what you have to do,” she said, answering his question before he could fumble for the words.

He willed his erection to behave as he took a deep breath and undid the button on his pants.

Riza wished the water was a bit colder—something to remind her that she was in the middle of a stealth assignment with her superior officer, not half naked with a very attractive man. Why was he so muscular anyway?”

She felt him step closer, the heat of him radiating against her side. She let herself look at him briefly as she passed him the hose. His face was dark and tense, but he gave nothing else away, concentrating on washing himself.

Her eyes dropped lower, skimming down the lean muscles of his chest, darting quickly to the very prominent tent in his boxers. They were already wet from the cold water, and the cloth clung suggestively to his erection.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and returned to cleaning the chemicals off. Her side was pink where the chemicals had soaked through her clothes—her hip and thigh had taken the worst of it. There was no room for lustful thoughts when they’d made a mess of an otherwise very simple investigation. Already she wasn’t sure how they were going to explain this to the others.

After she had passed the soap to him while she rinsed hers off, he finally said something.

“The scarring doesn’t look as bad as I expected,” he whispered. “It’s healed well.”

Self-consciously, instinctively, she twirled to hide her back from him. It was a mistake. Now she was a few inches from him, looking up into his regretful dark eyes. All she wanted to do was close the gap and kiss him. Her hand clenched tightly on the hose as she talked herself down from doing anything foolish. He was her superior officer, and they both had goals more important than whatever feelings simmered between them.

“Don’t forget what relief those scars bring me,” she said. “I can see you torturing yourself about it again.”

He sighed. “That’s not the only thing torturing me.” He grabbed the hose from her, letting the water wash away the cheap soap he’d found. Her eyes were drawn below his waist again, this time unable to stop herself from inspecting the impressive bulge. She shivered, goosebumps dancing across her skin.

“You’re staring, lieutenant,” he said, his voice husky.

She had no excuse. “I was just wondering how much longer you’ll be able to last,” she said, summoning her courage. She thought about what Vanessa had told her. “The sooner you give in…the sooner I can, too. And I am so tired, sir. It really is the only thing that helps me sleep.”

“So you’re saying, as your superior, it’s my duty to lose this competition so you can sleep? Because…” He paused to look her over, and boldly, she let him. She was proud of her body—it was strong and capable. “You’ll get more work done if I do, right?”

“I’m really at my best when I’m well rested,” she agreed, the words coming out breathless as she watched his hand dip down into his underwear, somehow managing to grab his cock without pushing the wet fabric out of the way. She wished fervently for a better view.

The moment he gave in to the first stroke, he let out a desperate, quiet moan. The relief of finally giving into it seemed to hit every part of him—his head fell back as the tension left his shoulders. And it was that word—relief—that brought to mind what she wanted to do for him.

“Sir,” she said, retreating to familiar patterns as she braved the unknown. “Permission to help give you some relief?” She dropped to her knees so there would be no mistaking her meaning.

In the dim light, there was nothing to see in his eyes but burning lust. “Please. Fuck. But I’m not going to last—” the rest was cut off in a gasp as she gently tugged his boxers out of the way, their hands lacing together across his cock as she held it steady and let her lips stretch across the head ever-so-slowly before she sucked him against her tongue, fighting not to gag as his hips thrust involuntarily forward. The taste of precum was salty and bitter on her tongue and told her this would be over too quickly. Strange, she’d never really wanted to spend much time like this with others, but with him…she wanted to worship him.

Shaky fingers traced across her hair and she allowed herself to look up at him. It humbled her, the look of trust and bliss across his face as he watched her movements intently. She wanted to smile. Instead, she swirled her tongue around his tip playfully, and listened to him groan as she focused on getting him to come.

She learned that when Roy Mustang came it was with the same quiet intensity he used while drawing arrays.

There was no time for awkward conversation because barely a moment after finishing washing up, Havoc and Breda came looking for them. Mustang immediately threw a tarp over Riza while he hurried off to explain the situation. Their laughter was short-lived, as Riza heard the muffled sound of Mustang barking orders at them.

He returned with Breda and Havoc—both of them shirtless, but Mustang was slipping on Breda’s shirt which was at least long enough to give him a bit more modesty. Riza dressed beneath the tarp, grateful that Havoc was tall enough that his shirt fell to a very modest length.

Even accounting for the paint thinner incident, the team managed to pull together all the evidence needed for a solid case to present to General Grumman.

Finished, they all packed into one car for the sake of being inconspicuous. As they all crowded in, there was a quiet moment where nothing was said.

“Maybe Fuery and Falman should take off an item of clothing each too. Just to be fair,” Havoc joked.

“And roll down the windows. That paint thinner smells poisonous!” Breda added.

The laughter from the team eased Riza’s nerves. No one had said an unprofessional word about her or her body, or the fact she and Mustang had been alone in their underwear.

Her thighs pressed together remembering the feel of him in her mouth, even as embarrassment flooded her. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking. Weeks of poor sleep caught up to her. And Mustang had undoubtedly been on his last ounce of willpower.

It could never happen again.

She drove them back to their meetup point, anxious to get home and sleep. It was now past three in the morning. It wasn’t until she was trudging up the stairs to her apartment that a painful realization struck: she still couldn’t fall asleep her usual way. Her crutch was still out of reach. At work the next day, Mustang would have to mark himself out. It would raise the men’s suspicions too much if she marked herself out the same night. Especially after they’d spent the whole evening working late. She would have to wait until tomorrow night.

She cursed under her breath, deciding to take a long shower to wash the remaining smell of paint thinner away. It would be a cold, lonely shower.

Despite his exhaustion, Roy lay awake, torn between elation and guilt. Finally, finally he’d had a sample of what it would be like to be Riza Hawkeye’s lover. Of course, it happened in less than ideal conditions. He was so disoriented from his orgasm, he’d forgotten to so much as kiss her. He was a cad.

But he was dying to return the favor.

He toyed with the idea of leaving her alone, writing off the incident at the warehouse as the result of fumes and hormones. From what he knew of Hawkeye, she’d accept this without question. It would be the wisest choice. The idea also sent a wave of regret through him. He couldn’t stop this thing between them before it was even fully off the ground. Before he kissed her properly.

He decided to leave it in Hawkeye’s hands. She knew how to keep him on the right path better than himself. Though he might nudge her in the direction he desired.

The team assembled in the office slowly, all armed with coffee. Roy was the last to arrive, and upon seeing Hawkeye his mind immediately reminded him of how she had looked half naked and wet. Something about her proper, professional demeanor at the office made it so much hotter that he knew what amazing things she could do with her mouth. It was a dirty secret between them—and he loved it.

“Does anyone else still smell paint thinner?” Breda asked, stifling a yawn.

Roy strolled over to the chalkboard slowly, delaying the inevitable ribbing. “I’m pretty sure I’ve become desensitized to it,” he said.

“Me too,” Hawkeye said. “I think something was off about it, too. I looked at my shirt from last night and it seemed to be eating a hole through the fabric.”

Roy made a note to take a look at his own clothes when he went home.

He studied the chalkboard, brow creasing as he saw there was no mark beside Hawkeye’s name. Even after she knew he’d lost…

He drew the “X” with pride, knowing that he had lost this challenge the best possible way.

It took only a second for the team to notice. There was an immediate uproar.

“Our fallen leader,” Breda said, wiping a fake tear away.

“So what brought you down, boss?” Havoc asked slyly. His eyes flickered to Hawkeye. Havoc wasn’t stupid enough to say it out loud, but he knew Roy and Hawkeye had both been in their underwear—sharing a single hose with only moderate water pressure.

Roy had prepared an answer. “I just needed some…relief.”

The men all laughed, but Hawkeye crossed her arms and wore the smallest of smiles, ever the humble champion.

An idea came to Roy then.

“Now, by the rules of the competition, Hawkeye is the last one standing. But to truly win…maybe she should try to last the rest of the month.”

Her expression turned horrified for a fraction of a second before she smothered it.

“Really?” she asked flatly.

Havoc and Fuery each gave her nervous looks. Everyone was especially tired today, and Hawkeye was already tired.

“What, not sure you can hold off another week?” Roy asked lightly.

She clenched her jaw. “I can make it.”

Checkmate, Hawkeye.

Roy finally got a moment alone with Hawkeye on the way to a meeting together.

“So you really didn’t…indulge at all?” Roy asked lowly, trying to ignore the wilting of his pride. He reminded himself that women had moods, and just because a mood arrived, didn’t mean it lingered. While she’d definitely looked willing and debauched on her knees in the warehouse, she’d been all business the moment Breda and Havoc arrived.

And though he was awake for an hour replaying the vision of her mostly naked, it didn’t mean she was compelled to do the same.

“No. I didn’t want them to suspect something happened between us,” she said matter-of-factly.

Right. She was too honest to lie, even for a ridiculous team building exercise.

“I see,” he said.

“I would have indulged tonight, but someone suggested I see this competition through to the end,” she said coldly.

He glanced back as he heard her yawn. Her eyes were puffy, her skin a little paler than normal. Maybe he shouldn’t have goaded her into holding off another week.

Riza attempted going to bed early that night. She took a warm, relaxing bath with a few scented candles burning. She did her stretches for her back slowly, willing her body to relax, turned the light off, and crawled into bed, aching for sleep. And something else, if she was honest with herself.

Her mind refused to shut off.

How bad would it be to give in? She was so tired. Any teasing would be worth the rest. And she was thinking about her superior again, the quiet intensity as he lost himself to pleasure, the soft touch of his hand across her face…

She rubbed her thighs together, biting her lip. What good would she be at work tomorrow if she was half asleep? Her fingers edged toward the waistband of her underwear, craving that rush of heat that would spread through her body, leaving her blissfully relaxed.

The phone rang.

Cursing powerfully, she jumped out of bed to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hawkeye!” a drunken voice yelled into her ear. There was a lot of laughter and voices in the background.

She covered her face, twitching in annoyance. “Havoc! What do you want? I’m trying to get to sleep!”

“Exactly! I made a bet with Breda that you would make it through the rest of the month! Don’t be—don’t be doing anything you shouldn’t, young lady!”

“Excuse me?” she growled into the phone.

“You heard me!”

There was the sound of a scuffle, and a loud clanking as the phone was probably dropped.

“Hawkeye! Don’t listen to him! You do what you need to fall asleep. You deserve it!” Breda’s voice said, equally drunk.

“I’m hanging up.”

“Be strong, lieutenant!” Havoc bellowed, loud enough she heard it even holding the phone away from her ear.

It was another very long, restless night of little sleep.

Riza made sure to drop the stack of books onto Havoc’s desk as loudly as she could. She gave him a vengeful smile as he winced and massaged his temples. He didn’t show up at the office until after lunch.

“So, you and Breda went drinking last night?” she asked conversationally.

“Sorry, Hawkeye. I have fifty cenz riding on this!”

“I’m going to the range,” she said. “You are going to take care of all of my duties while I’m gone, or I will make sure you lose that bet.”

“Fine,” he agreed, sullen.

She stalked out of the room, arguing with herself about the immorality in their team. Masturbation competitions. Gambling. Fraternization. She flushed with guilt. How could she keep Mustang on the right path if she wavered at temptation?

Roy followed Hawkeye, telling the team he was going to make sure she didn’t fall asleep at the range and shoot someone on accident. And she really was dangerously tired—she didn’t notice he was following her until he called to her.

“Hawkeye, you’re dead on your feet, come with me,” he said, nudging her away from the gun range.

“Sir, I’m not going home—”

“I’m not sending you home. Come on, I know a place,” he said, bestowing her with his most dazzling grin.

She looked at him, and he knew her temper was boiling beneath the surface. “What kind of place?”

He lowered his voice. “A very quiet and private place.” He had taken countless naps there himself.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Is this where you disappear to some afternoons?”

“I admit nothing,” he said. And he had more than one napping place, but this one he was willing to share with Hawkeye.

“And you’re showing it to me…why?”

He thought about how worn down she was, looking as if she’d fall asleep in her chair. He hadn’t been thinking when he’d challenged her to continue holding off. He only hoped a nap could see her through the day.

“I owe you one,” he said.

She jutted out her chin for a moment longer as he waited for her temper to either burst or simmer down. His eyes landed on her lips, thinking of what they might be able to do in such a quiet place together…

Her expression softened as she smiled at him.

“All right. Just this once,” she said, falling into step behind him.

He led them toward the accounting department’s storage room. Unlike other departments, they had to store files for ten years before they could be destroyed. Roy had come poking around for a corrupt official’s spending records when he discovered the accountants maintained a room with a cot for their annual audit. It was apparently an arduous event, and many of them pulled all-nighters. But the rest of the year, the room was unused—except by him.

Around a row of cabinets, out of view from the door, was a simple cot. No blankets or anything, but comfortable enough for some sleep.

“It’s not much, but it’s very private,” Roy said. A strange thrill ran through him, the same kind he got whenever he cornered a criminal, or was about to put his opponent in check. He turned to Hawkeye, and his mouth fell open. She was stripping in front of him for the second time in less than a week. She hung her jacket carefully across a cabinet, then began unbuttoning her pants.

He stared.

“You better look while you can,” she teased, revealing her long, bare legs. “Just this once, remember?”

Roy struggled to breathe, replaying the conversation they’d had in the hallway. He’d said—and she thought he meant—

Well, he always was quick on his feet.

“Right. Just this once,” he said. He’d set himself on fire before correcting her mistake. “Do you want me to—?” He gestured to his own jacket. He wasn’t sure, but if this was a quid pro quo thing, he didn’t need to undress, although they had both been mostly naked back at the warehouse...

“Maybe just your jacket,” she said, confirming his assumption.

He slipped his off quickly, throwing it haphazardly to the ground while Hawkeye folded her pants carefully.

“Sir, it will wrinkle,” she scolded him with a flirty smirk, moving toward the jacket.

“Sorry,” he said distractedly, taking in the exposed skin of her thighs. He couldn’t look away as she bent down to retrieve the jacket, laying it neatly atop the cabinet beside hers.

If this was his only opportunity…

He strode forward, his hands palming her hips and pulling her flush against him. She peered up at him, her breath as shallow as his.

“Is this okay?” he found himself asking, aware that his cock was misbehaving, but he would control himself. It was her turn now. He owed her so much—more than a hurried tryst in a storage room. He would do whatever she wanted.

“Yes,” she murmured, melting against him. It felt so good, so right, to have her in his arms.

“Last time, I didn’t even get to kiss you and—and—that’s just unfair,” he said, eyeing her parted lips with desperation.

She took mercy on him and stood on her toes, pulling him down by the nape of his neck to crush their lips together. She kissed with the same thoroughness she approached her job, and he responded with everything he had—a vain need to show her what a good, considerate lover he would be. He was overly eager to impress her.

He let his hands wander across her ass, giving a quick squeeze that made her gasp deliciously into his mouth. Then he worked his thumbs into the soft fabric of her underwear, tugging them off until there was nothing but skin below her waist. Tracing his hands lower, he squeezed again at the top of her thighs and was rewarded with her moan.

He nudged her back until she reclined on the cot, her legs trembling. Her eyes watched him carefully, half open but full of lust.

“Open your legs for me,” he said, the words more a command then a request.

She let her legs fall apart, gifting him with a surprisingly dainty whimper. One hand covered herself shyly, and it about broke him. His lovely, confident lieutenant afraid for him to see her—when she had to know what he planned to do.

Resting a hand on her thin ankle, he waited as she took a few gasps. He leaned down to kiss her knee, dragging his lips toward her inner thigh where he felt the heat radiating from her center. Her breaths grew ragged with anticipation.

“Roy—no one has ever—” she whispered, panting, still blocking his view with her hand.

“I don’t have to,” he said, choosing his words deliberately. It made sense now why she was being uncharacteristically shy. “But I am fucking dying to taste you and feel you come on my tongue.”

She made an unintelligible noise. “Okay,” she choked out. She moved her hand, and he let his fingers explore her first, caressing them over her folds.

“Let me know if I do something you don’t like,” he said, before slipping two fingers straight inside her. She was already so wet, he imagined if it was his cock, she would’ve taken it beautifully. She moaned as he pumped his fingers in and out of her, but her eyes remained watchful, expectant.

He understood. She wanted to know when he would use his mouth.

He took a moment to consider what she might like best, then he lowered his head slowly, keeping his gaze locked on hers. His tongue found her clit immediately, and he pressed hard against it.

She cried out, quickly muffling it with her hand. He grinned against her, then began licking and sucking interchangeably. Her legs shook violently around him, her encouraging, high pitched gasps seemed connected by a string to his erection, making him painfully hard. He began thrusting his fingers into her rhythmically, the same pace he would fuck her if he could. If he wasn’t her superior. If he had nothing to atone for.

He matched his tongue’s pace to his fingers, and she clenched down around him.

“Oh god. Just like that—don’t stop,” she sobbed. He was shocked at how close she was already. Then she was pulsing around him with a final blissful moan. She grasped the collar of his shirt and pulled until they were close enough to share a sloppy, passionate kiss.

He watched her eyelids flutter shut with sleep, so he surreptitiously adjusted his erection so that it was more comfortable before cramming in beside her in the cot meant for one. She snuggled into him like it was something they had always done, her head tucked under his chin. His heart twisted realizing how fleeting the moment would be.

Even after she fell asleep, he could still taste her on his tongue.

Riza woke up in a haze of perfect contentment until she realized her head was resting on Mustang’s chest. Oh no. How could they have been so reckless? And on military property. The sleep deprivation was affecting her reasoning.

Still, she didn’t move. Mustang had fallen asleep as well, and his arm was across her back. She peeked down and saw his jacket draped across her naked lower half. Her body throbbed with the memory of what his tongue had done. Oh my—if she had known what it would be like…

No. She couldn’t go down that path. The only reason she had stayed in the military was to support his goals and work toward whatever atonement she could grasp. She couldn’t help him as a regular citizen, and as long as she was in the military, a relationship was impossible.

She chided herself for such a leap—Mustang hadn’t mentioned a relationship. It was just raging sexual tension burning out of control once they had no other outlets thanks to that stupid competition.

Or so she wanted to convince herself.

“Lieutenant, I’m surprised you haven’t marched me at gunpoint back to the office,” he said, startling her.

She pushed up on her elbow. “At this rate, I think it’s best we lie low. We’ve been gone too long.”

“I’ll think of some excuse,” he assured her. “I also…wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed you to go the rest of the month. You won fair and square.”

Riza smiled. “I appreciate that—but why the hell did you do it in the first place?”

He gave her a sheepish look. “Mostly to watch you squirm.”

She reached out and pinched his arm.

“Ow! You are becoming very insubordinate, you know that?”

She shrugged. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

“Better a pinch than a bullet, I guess,” he grumbled, exaggeratedly nursing his arm.

“Want me to kiss it better?” she found herself asking—quite without her more sensible side’s permission.

Immediately, the atmosphere changed. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears, and she was aware of every point their bodies were touching. She was completely naked below the waist, and now that she knew how good he was with his mouth…

“Riza,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. “Do you want this as much as I do?”

“Probably more,” she said. No matter how much she tried, she never stopped wanting Roy Mustang.

“But we shouldn’t,” he said sharply. Reprimanding himself or her, it didn’t matter. He was right.

“No. We can’t risk it.” She inhaled, relishing his scent. He always smelled so good, even back during his apprentice days in her father’s house. “Maybe…one day,” she said, her voice thin with the barest of hope for that future.

“Holding out makes it so much better, doesn’t it? The longer we have to wait to be together…” he trailed off.

“We’ll still be together,” she reminded him. “Not like this,” wrapped together like happy lovers, “but together.”

She shifted, preparing to stand and dress, when she felt something irresistible pressing into her abdomen. He had taken care of her needs, ignoring his own. Like always.

Suddenly she didn’t want to wait around for the timing to be right. Holding out was overrated.

Under normal circumstances, Roy thought of himself as a logical man. He wanted to be a man of honor, a man who could walk the straight and narrow no matter the obstacles. A man who would never seduce his female subordinate.

He had never considered his subordinate would seduce him.

“Sir, you really can’t go back to the office like this,” Hawkeye said softly as her hand wriggled between them to cup his erection.

“Ah, yes, a consequence of being pressed against you—” he couldn’t finish his thought. She twisted herself until she hovered over him, straddling his hips.

Dimly, he saw her kick his uniform jacket onto the floor. “Won’t it wrinkle?” he asked, voice strained.

“Do you care?” She pulled her shirt over her head. Her glorious breasts momentarily distracted him as her bra went next.

“No. But I’m confused. We just said—”

“You really think we can ignore this for however many years it takes to reach your goals?” She countered, working on the buttons of his shirt.

His hands, moving with a mind of their own, glided up and down her thighs. “I thought you’d keep me in line.”

“If your insane brainchild has taught us anything, our team works best when we are satisfied and well rested. And you and I both know we already get distracted by one another.” She leaned down to kiss him, and her naked breasts, soft against his chest, sent him a bit farther into madness. She sucked on his tongue, doing such obscene things with it that he nearly forgot to keep up his feeble argument.

“You’re all about efficiency, is that it?” he asked. “Fraternization be damned?”

“I’m not saying we do this all the time. Just whenever the tension gets to be too much, and we need…relief.”

He swallowed thickly. “I really like this idea.”

“Me too.” She ground down on his erection, her lips near his ear. “If I had known how good it was to have your mouth between my thighs, I would never have lasted this long.”

His mind toyed with a devious idea. His sweet, delicious lieutenant was asking for him to make her come with his mouth again. And if she had never experienced that, surely she had never…

“You up for a little…adventure?”

“What did you have in mind?” She nibbled at his neck, each touch zinging to his cock. He knew she would probably need some enticement, so he slipped his hand between her legs, her core already slick. He sank two fingers into her, grinning like an idiot when she thrust her body down onto them. His thumb rubbed circles on her clit as she squirmed on him.

Her breaths accelerated in time with his own. Willing himself to slow down, he changed the pace to lazy circles.

“Turn around,” he whispered. “I want to be inside your mouth while I taste you at the same time.”

He waited, gauging her reaction. He felt his heart constrict at the foreign shy expression on her face.

“That seems…tricky,” she said after a beat.

“You’ll be on top, so you can stop anytime.”

“Oh. If you were on top—” She squeezed down on his fingers, her eyes a dark amber. So she liked that idea? Maybe another time. He wouldn’t last long with her eager mouth beneath him. He wasn’t going to last long as it was. And the thought of having her another time was too much to think about.

“You seemed to really like my mouth on you earlier,” he reminded her, hoping to provoke her into bravery.

With a determined huff, she pulled away, his wet fingers sliding across her legs as he helped her flip around, one knee landing gracefully by his shoulder. He was dying to taste her, dying to have her helplessly moaning around a mouthful of his cock. She made short work of his pants, and he grunted as she wrapped her hand around him. He grabbed her hips, positioning her a bit roughly into place so he could tug her down and clamp down on her clit.

Her thighs quaked around him and just as he hoped, she moaned wantonly as she sucked his erection as deep as she could, her tongue teasing him.

But he didn’t want her focused on him. Sure, she was a goddess with that sharp tongue of hers, but he wanted her mindless with desire. He needed to see her fall apart before he finally claimed her body.

Roy couldn’t deny her trust in him was half the turn on, her beautiful folds spread out for him to see. He spread her legs apart farther, enjoying her gasp as he angled her just a bit differently and plunged his fingers into her again. He knew she liked that extra stimulation, and with this new angle he could do a lot.

In retaliation, she added more suction and his answering moan, vibrating against her, made her grind gently against his mouth. Her inhibitions were gone, her groans gaining almost too much volume, and her focus on him faltered to sporadic licks as she distractedly worked him up and down.

He filled with pride as she finally had to release him, her breaths high and labored.

“Oh god. Roy. Please—”

He almost shushed her she grew so loud, but he would risk the end of his career to hear her cry his name while she tipped over the edge.

“Roy,” she whimpered, her head falling onto his thigh as she went limp, perfectly relaxed.

He eased her onto her side, trying to give her a moment to catch her breath even as his cock begged for attention.

Then Hawkeye looked at him, and he realized he was now the focus of all her discipline and strength as a soldier. She twirled around, licking her swollen lips as she climbed over him, a lithe and seductive predator. She dragged her wet folds along his stiff hardness, and he reflexively bucked his hips, needing more.

She kept teasing him.

“Lieutenant,” he groaned. “Are you trying to torture me for information?”

She laughed softly before kissing him deeply. “What information would I be looking for?” she asked, finally—finally—inching her way down his erection.

Busy exploring her body, paying particular attention to her breasts, he forgot to answer. Then he could think of nothing else as she slid down his cock, wrapping him tightly in wet heat. He loved how confident she was, more in her element as she took control of his pleasure, finding a rhythm that made him tense from his stomach to his toes.

“I always thought you’d be a dirty talker,” she said, brushing the tips of her breasts against his chest as she spoke into his ear.

He was intrigued. “Oh? You think about this a lot?”

“Most nights,” she said, letting her hands roam. He sighed when they combed through his messy hair.

“I thought you’d be more shy,” he panted. “And here you are—fuck—yeah, I can’t talk much when you do that.” He groaned, rock hard inside her, as she began to thrust faster.

“Whatever fantasies I’ve had of you…this is so much better,” she said, drawing him into another kiss.

And that’s when he knew he was in trouble. She was right. This was better. Better than anything else in his life. Because he was in love with her. There was no doubt she loved him too.

He shuddered under her attentions, knowing that he was undeserving of her loving touches, but not caring. Whatever she would give him, he would take.

A grunt escaped him as she quickened the pace, his own thrusts jostling her.

“I’m—I’m close,” he warned her, his balls tightening in that pleasant way it always did right before he came.

“Go ahead—if you want,” she moaned, sinking all the way down, unmistakably giving her permission.

“Almost,” he said, sneaking a hand to her clit and circling it until she came around him with a cry of elation that he stifled with his lips.

And oh hell, it was euphoric, fusing their mouths together and holding her waist in place as he came deep inside her, pulsing over and over. She held still as he softened inside her, and he treasured the sticky mess connecting them.

They broke apart and he kissed her shoulder, damp with sweat, as they rearranged themselves into a more comfortable position on the cot.

“Well, if anyone heard us, they are too afraid to interrupt,” he said at last. He was going to have to find an excuse to top all excuses to give the rest of the team.

“I tried to be quiet,” she said, a hint of petulance in her voice.

“And I tried to make you scream,” he countered, grinning ear to ear. It earned him a shove that almost knocked him out of the cot.

Later, they dressed in companionable silence

“Maybe…we can do this again when you get your next promotion?” she offered with a smirk. “Would that motivate you?”

It really would. “Unless you ask for it sooner,” he challenged, buttoning his shirt.

“I’ll hold out as long as I can, sir,” she said, her dutiful adjutant persona reappearing. “You get that promotion as soon as you can.” She sidled up to him, making his heart race. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Riza arrived early to work, marking herself out on the chalkboard with a barely suppressed smile. Then she waited for the others arrive. Havoc shuffled in first.

“What! Hawkeye!” Havoc yelled in disbelief, dropping his bag to the floor. “You couldn’t hold out a little bit longer?”

Riza paused her reading. “No.”

“Damn it, I never should’ve bet against Breda.”

“If it’s any consolation, I already finished the report you left half done. Thanks for covering for me yesterday.” She looked back down at the document, aiming for casual. But she could practically hear Havoc making the connection.

“Right. Where did you and Mustang disappear to all afternoon?” Havoc scratched at his chin.

“The accounting department,” she said crisply, following Mustang’s carefully crafted excuse.

“You were there for ages. Did it not go well?”

She couldn’t resist. “No, it went very well. Mustang was just very thorough.”

“I did hear a rumor yesterday—I can’t wait to tell the boss.”

“A rumor?” Mustang asked, as if he could appear whenever anyone mentioned him. He swept over to his desk, plunking a briefcase on top.

Riza tensed, afraid there were rumors of a certain lieutenant colonel and his adjutant brazenly breaking fraternization laws.

“Some of the secretaries were talking—including Grumman’s. Rumor has it a certain Flame Alchemist is being put up for a promotion to colonel.”

Riza felt her body flush pleasantly as Mustang’s eyes darted to her. He looked incredibly smug.

“I wonder when it will be official,” Mustang said. “I should drop by Grumman’s for one of our chess games—see if he talks.”

“Until it’s official, it doesn’t count,” Riza said, although she was already anticipating celebrating his promotion in a proper bed…

“I’ll be sure to ask Grumman for it to be expedited,” he said, staring at her a little too intently. Havoc watched with amusement.

“Good idea,” she said. She returned to her work.

“Boss, have you noticed Hawkeye seems well rested today?” Havoc asked, still watching them closely.

Mustang’s grin could not have been more arrogant, but he played it off like it was because she gave in before the month was out.

“You know, she does. Release a little tension, lieutenant?”

Riza didn’t look up, acting absorbed in her work. “Yes, sir. Four times, in fact.” Three with Mustang, and once before bed.

It was worth confessing just to watch him and Havoc practically swallow their tongues.

“Being a woman means not only can I hold out longer when I choose to, I can also…” she searched for the word, “produce more. It’s a pity the military doesn’t utilize women more. We are very efficient.”

“Is that a challenge?” Mustang asked, popping his knuckles.

“No, no, no, you get your evil ideas under control!” Havoc said. “No more!”

And while Mustang assured Havoc he was joking, Riza heard the promise in his voice. Round two between them was going to be unforgettable.

#royai #lieutenant colonel mustang #FMA #fanfic #Fullmetal Alchemist #riza hawkeye

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percabethfeelsfandom · 5 years ago

Text

Last Olympian rewrite from Annabeth’s perspective (part 3)

Part 1

Part 2

(Burning Percy’s shroud)

“It is said that Zeus built mortals with 4 arms and legs, and one head with two faces, but only one heart. These mortals were too powerful for Zeus’ liking so he tore them all apart and scattered the mortals around the world, leaving them with 2 arms and 2 legs, and only half a heart.

For the rest of their lives, mortals tried to find their other half to not only be complete but to ease the pain of only having half their heart. But because the world is so vast and mortals do not have forever. They don’t always find them. But. Those that do. Those people who find their other half are called soulmates, they are your equal in every way.

Percy was- is my soulmate. He was the bravest person I knew. And, and I think maybe with time, I would’ve been his soulmate too.” I took a deep breath and laid a hand down over his shroud, a beautiful blue-green his mother and I had chosen.

“I want to thank the Fates for bringing you into my life even if they’re also the ones who took you away from me.

Percy Jackson, I want to say thank you, for reminding me what a hero is, and the importance of mercy. But most of all I want to thank you for showing me what friendship was, true friendship...and love.” I closed my hands into fists to keep them from shaking but all it did was send pain up my arms, which I welcomed.

“Percy may have been the son of Poseidon but I don’t know how to breathe in a world without him.”

“I’m so sorry Seaweed Brain,” I choked on a sob and took another breath, wiping my tears away, “I will honour you. I remember our promise. And I will fulfil it. I swear on the river Styx.”

I turned to Chiron who stood by me solemnly and nodded.

I finally looked up from the shimmering embroidered trident and into the faces of the campers Percy and I had grown up with.

I had buried so many this past couple of days and hours. But we had saved Percy for last. His body was preserved by Hades.

Chiron handed me a torch and patted me on the shoulder as he did so.

Ash fell onto the ground as it shook in my hand.

“Hades watch over you on your journey to the underworld,” I whispered and I laid the torch on him. I held it for a moment before dropping it and fell to my knees sobbing.

Instantly arms were around me, Thalia’s spiky hair tickled my neck as she held me close.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” I shook my head and cried harder.

The flames began to pick up, heat pricking my skin, but I noticed something odd.

“The ocean,” I breathed.

“What?” Thalia asked, pulling away from me.

“He smells like the ocean.” We stared at the flames, the orange-red turning into a bright blue.

Thalia smiled sadly at me and tucked my hair back.

“That means he’s going back home.”

“His home is with me, here at camp,” I insisted. Thalia pulled me back to her and I tucked myself into her shoulder. Her own body shook as we held each other and I remembered her reaction when we’d gotten back from the bridge.

“Where’s Kelp for Brains?” Thalia asked, a playful smile on her lips.

“Thalia-” Malcolm cut in, putting an arm around me protectively. Thalia frowned and stared at me.

“Annabeth?”

“I couldn’t-”

“Annabeth where’s Percy?” I finally looked up at her tears streaming down my face.

“He’s dead.” Her entire body froze, and then all the lights in the room blew up.

“I thought I might find you here.”

I looked up and tried to smile as Grover came and sat by me, overlooking the lake.

“Thalia’s left,” I said.

“I know, I said bye to her already.”

I reached into my pocket and clasped my hand around the ballpoint pen that sat inside. It had appeared in my pocket minutes after my fight with Kronos, and I’d risked dropping it a couple of times to see what would happen. Each time it came back. I didn’t know what that meant for me.

“Hey, you don’t have to ever think or wonder what if Annabeth.”

“What do you mean?”

“You speech, about soulmates. It was always you. He loved you. He just didn’t know it yet,” Grover took a deep breath and smiled shaking his head as if remembering a memory, “I felt it, constantly, through the empathy link, that type of bond can’t be broken- even in death.”

I looked at him and felt a real smile on my face.

“Thanks, Grover,”

He nodded and wrapped an arm around me, and I leaned on his shoulder as we watched the sunset over the lake.

“It’s interesting I think, how at home you think in this cabin.”

I shot to my feet and looked to the sound of the voice.

Poseidon stood by the entrance, trident in hand and smiled at me as he stepped in.

“I mean no disrespect, I just-”

“It’s okay,” he said, waving me off.

I sat back down on Percy’s bed and stuffed Riptide back in my pocket.

“The sword is yours now, should you want it,” Poseidon said casually as he walked around the cabin, inspecting it like it was his first time seeing it.

“But it’s Percy’s,” I started.

“He gave it to you with his last breath. It returns back to your pocket. It is yours, Annabeth Chase.”

I uncapped the pen and Riptide sprung to life, the bronze glow illuminating the low light of the cabin.

“May I?” Poseidon asked, holding out his hand. His trident disappeared as I handed Riptide over. It seemed to glow brighter.

“When- When he died. And I was fighting Kronos’ army. I realised I was glowing,” I said as I watched him examine the blade and twirl it the way Percy did, “I was glowing blue.”

Poseidon handed me the blade again and I capped it, putting it back into my pocket.

“A blessing of sorts you could say. I couldn’t give you the power over water that Percy has, but I could give you a push for what you did have. And then some. Water is a mouldable element, and you could’ve taken my blessing and done whatever with it. The moment you realised what it was, you chose what you knew you needed,” Poseidon smiled again and placed a hand on the wall that held photos of Percy, Annabeth and Grover through the years.

“You chose Percy’s swordsmanship and skill. Not to say you aren’t talented with a sword, Miss Chase but-”

“No it’s okay, none taken...You’re right. I didn’t realise it at the time, but just- all I could focus on was the way he’d given it to me. I don’t think I deserve to wield his weapon.”

“He would be honoured knowing you have ownership.”

Poseidon came to Percy’s bed and opened a drawer and began shuffling things inside.

“Wait- what are you doing?” I asked, panicking. I hadn’t let anyone touch anything in his room yet, only Sally had been allowed to come in. I wanted to pretend just a bit longer that he was coming back.

“For you,” Poseidon said and dropped something red in my hand.

I frowned down at it and spun it in my hands.

“It’s a piece of coral from my palace, I haven’t the slightest idea when he found it, but I know it was for you, perhaps a gift for after the war. He used to stare at it before he slept every night.”

I looked up to him still confused.

“But how do you know?”

“I may not always be seen but I watched over Percy. My guilty indulgence, he is still my pride. And I will regret it for many years to come that he never knew just how much I did care for him.”

Poseidon held an old framed photo of younger me crossing my arms with beautiful architecture in the background. I smiled at the photo, remembering how Percy had put it on show purely to smite me.

“I think he knew,” I said and unclipped my camp necklace, stringing the coral onto it.

“I wish you well Annabeth Chase. Under different circumstances in another world, I would’ve been proud to call you my daughter.”

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spectraspecs-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Leviathan - Chapter 106 (Rena)

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 105. Chapter 107.

A/N - Since there's been some confusion about it in the past, thought I'd make it clear here. Carth's narration is in orange text, if the orange doesn't show up please let me know but with tumblr's new post editor it should work. Bastila's narration is pink - my original idea was yellow but not only would that be illegible it's not an option. Same deal, if it doesn't show up let me know. Plus, I don't know if anyone watches the videos when I add them to chapters, but this one, you gotta watch this one.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

——–

When the elevator opens, I get… a horrible feeling. Like someone’s walking on my grave. And no one mourns me. Everything feels cold. Like that dream on Dantooine. I think Bastila shivers a bit but I don’t think Carth feels it. But how could I know, he’s blocked himself off from me. As we fight our way through to hangar control the feeling just gets worse and worse. Seeing the Hawk makes me feel a little better, but not for long.

I don’t want to be here. This is the only way to get to the hangar, but I don’t want to be here at all. I’m not ready. I don’t want to be here. I can’t calm down. It’s dark. And cold. I don’t want to be here.

The blast door opens. We didn’t move fast enough. It’s him. It’s Malak.

Carth starts to step forward with his blasters but I reach out my hand to stop him. My dream will not happen. I won’t let it. Malak laughs, and it sends a chill through me. And also a strong feeling of hatred. But it’s not a general hatred, like I would have if it was like “knowing the things you’ve done and what you stand for, I hate you.” This is a personal hatred. “I hope you weren't thinking of leaving so soon, Bastila,” Malak says. His voice is channeled through an apparatus on his chin. He has no jaw. “I've spent far too much energy hunting down you and your companions to let you get away from me now. Besides,” he says, looking at me, “I had to see for myself if it was true. Even now I can hardly believe my eyes… tell me, why did the Jedi spare you? Is it vengeance you seek at this reunion?”

I try not to be nervous, but I can’t help it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, “I’ve never met you, this isn’t a reunion.”

He laughs again. Over and over again. What in the goddamn hell is so funny? “What?” he laughs, “You mean you don't know? All this time, and you still haven't figured it out? I wonder how long you would have stayed blind to the truth? Surely some of what you once were must have surfaced by now.” “Once were”? I’m a scout, I’ve always been a scout. What the hell is going on? “Even the combined power of the Jedi Council couldn't keep your true identity buried forever, could it?”

youtube

… no. What? No. No that can’t be right. That’s not me. That can’t be me, I can’t be… Revan. No, I’m not. I wasn’t. That can’t be right. But it was my face! No. No that can’t be right. It’s not right. No. I look back at Carth. He can’t look at me. But this isn’t right! I’m not Revan! I can’t be. I remember being a scout!

Is that why all this felt so familiar? The Sith on the bridge - I knew them? Maybe? Is that why Jedi training went so fast? Muscle memory? I already learned how to use the Force and fight with a lightsaber. And why Master Zhar said I was a special case. Why the Star Map on Kashyyyk knew me. But…

… it isn’t right! No!

“You cannot hide from what you once were, Revan!” Malak says. Shut the hell up! “Recognize that you were once the Dark Lord - and know that I have taken your place!”

“No,” I say, “No, this isn’t right. Revan is dead.”

“You do not yet remember, Revan?” Stop calling me that! “The Jedi set a trap. They lured us into battle against a small Republic fleet. During the attack a team of Jedi knights boarded your ship. The Jedi strike team captured you and the Council used the Force to reprogram your mind; they wiped away your identity and turned you against your own followers!”

No. No it’s not true. It can’t be true. No. No. “No. No, it’s not true.”

“You must have seen flashes of your old life in your dreams, Revan; memories bubbling up to the surface? Surely you must remember the battle in which you were captured?” On Taris… but she said it was just a dream. A memory. Her memory. My memory… “How you survived the final battle is a mystery to me,” Malak says, “Perhaps you should ask Bastila; after all, she was part of the Jedi strike team that captured you!”

Yes. She was. She was there. I look at her. I hate her. “Bastila?”

“It’s true,” she says. I hate her. “I was part of the team sent to capture Revan… to capture you.” I hate her! “When Malak fired on the ship you were badly injured. We thought you were dead.” They should have left me. But if they left me, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t know Carth, or Jolee, or Canderous, or Mission, or T3, or anybody. But is that worth leaving a mass murderer alive? Is the fact that I’ve lived a better life away from the Dark Side worth all the lives Revan took? Am I worth it? “Your mind was destroyed, but I used the Force to preserve the flicker of life in your body. I brought you to the Jedi Council. They were the ones who healed your damaged mind.”

No. No. “But I have memories. I don’t remember Revan, but I remember a whole life. Planets I explored, species I discovered, stories to tell. I’m a scout!”

“The Jedi Council didn't restore your wounded mind, Revan!” Malak says, “They merely programmed it with a new identity - one loyal to the Republic! They tried to make you their slave!”

So… Bastila… I thought she was my friend! Or at least someone I could count on, someone I could trust! “You’ve been lying to me this whole time!”

“I wanted to tell you but the Council forbid it!”

“So once again you put an idea before a person!” I shout at her. I can’t help it - I hate her! “How could you justify that? How could you? How in your twisted mind could an idea be more important than a living breathing person?”

“They were afraid you might return to the dark side if you discovered your real identity!” she says, “You could have hurt more living breathing people!”

“But now you know the truth, Revan!”

I turn to Malak, and scream at him, “Shut the FUCK up! I’m not talking to you!”

He laughs. What part of “shut the fuck up” did he not understand? “And there is the Revan I remember! No longer holding back your rage!”

“What part of ‘shut up’ did you not understand?” I say. Even without a jaw, I can see his smug grin, but he leans back and crosses his arms. I turn my attention back to Bastila. “Why didn’t you just let me die?”

“For the same reason you are always concerned for the lives of others,” Bastila says, “The Jedi hold all life sacred, even that of a Sith Lord. I could not just let you die. Not if it was possible to save you.”

Malak laughs again. “Hiding the truth behind noble words,” he says, “The Jedi needed the memories buried deep in your wounded mind, Revan; there was no other way to bring them out. They had to keep you alive!”

I’m not listening to him. “And the new identity - why?”

“We couldn’t simply restore your true identity…”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

“Revan was too dangerous - we couldn’t.” Sounds like “wouldn’t” to me. “But locked inside your mind was information the Republic needed: the secrets of the Star Forge. The Council created an identity for you: a scout transferred under my command. Your subconscious memories were supposed to lead me to the Star Forge; there was no other way to get the information.”

“They made you their puppet, Revan,” Malak says, “and Bastila was the handler pulling your strings!”

“Why you? Why are you here? Why did they choose you? You were my friend - why would you do this to me?”

“I used my Force powers to keep you alive on that bridge - it created our bond,” she says. That goddamned bond! “I convinced the Council that I could use that bond to draw out your memories and lead us to the Star Forge.”

“Tell the truth, Bastila,” Malak says, “you wanted to taste the Dark Side for yourself! You knew the only way the Council would permit you to explore the Sith's power was through Revan's lost memories!”

“No!” she says, “I wanted to help you, Revan.”

I scoff. “But you wouldn't mind helping yourself along the way, I bet.” After all, she thought this was an audition for masterdom - she’s looked for power before.

“Revan, I thought this mission would redeem you; that it would atone for your past crimes. How else could you be saved?”

No. No. “You used me! You and the whole Council! I trusted you! And you used me and lied to me the whole time!”

“Rena, Malak nearly killed you, but the Jedi Council gave you another chance to live! They gave you a chance to redeem yourself by defeating the Sith!”

“A rash and futile hope,” Malak says, “The Dark Side is too strong, my power is too great! Even my old master is no longer a match for me!” He turns to me. What was before anxiety and fear is now firmly rage and anger. At Bastila, at the Council, at Malak, at me. “A small part of me has always regretted betraying you from afar,” Malak says, “I always knew there were some who would think I acted out of fear, that I did not want to face you. But now fate has given me a second chance to prove myself. Once I defeat you in combat no one will question my claim to the Sith throne; my triumph will be complete!” He reaches out a hand, and Bastila and Carth are both immobilized. “The Jedi Council were foolish to let you live. I won't make the same mistake. We shall finish this alone in the ancient Sith tradition: master versus apprentice, as it was meant to be!”

I am. Absolutely. Done. Today has gone on long enough. I have had it. “You wanna know something?” I say, “This is, categorically, the worst day of my life.”

---

Damn it, Rena! If she hadn’t stopped me before, maybe I could have shot Malak and we wouldn’t be in this situation! And now she’s fighting Malak alone. She doesn’t stand a chance against him.

But why should I care? She’s a Sith Lord! She’s been a Sith Lord the whole time! Oh, she can claim she doesn’t remember all she wants, but how can I know she’s telling the truth? How can I trust her? She deserves everything she gets!

But… it’s Rena. My friend. I saved her life on Taris, she’s saved my life more than once, she’s always been there for me. She found Dustil. Turned him away from the Sith. I love her. She feels right. And I promised to protect her. And then…

No. I promised to protect Rena. This is Revan. Revan, who led us during the Mandalorian Wars, rallied Jedi to our side. Revan, who won the war for the Republic. Revan, who betrayed us all.

I can’t forgive Revan. But I can’t forgive Malak, either. Malak gave the order to attack Telos. And I- I don’t know if Revan had anything to do with it, but Malak definitely did. He deserves to die. And the war has been a lot worse since Revan was killed. Wiped. Whatever. And if that has anything to do with the two of them, Malak is clearly the worse of the two. He deserves to die. And I want to take revenge on Revan myself. For lying to me. For using me.

Was any of it real? Was she ever on the side of the Republic, the whole time? Did she even love me like she said? Or was it all a lie? Hell, for all I know, she wanted us to be here. Maybe she sent a transmission to Saul when I wasn’t looking. Maybe she really did join the Sith on Korriban.

But I saw into her head. That first night on Korriban, whatever she did, I saw into her head. It was strange, the whole experience, but it was like I saw her whole life. She told me - well, sort of told me - that she could never fall if I was there. That she wouldn’t. She couldn’t hurt me. She couldn’t do that to me. And that’s how she told me she loved me. I don’t think she meant to. It just sort of came out. And it showed me that I loved her. Something I didn’t want to think about, I guess. Especially not then - I was so focused on Dustil. And Morgana. She died five years ago and I was never able to get her off my mind. Before Rena. And when she showed me inside her head… it all made sense.

But what if all that was a lie? How can I believe anything she’s ever - Rena, look out! In a fraction of a second, she dodges Malak’s lightsaber. And I feel her in my head, like I did before - “Thanks, I got it.” It doesn’t feel like her, not like it felt before, on Korriban. On Korriban, it felt… I don’t know how to describe it. It was like… coming home after a long time. It was a warm full feeling. A good feeling. But this, now, feels completely different. She feels almost… cold. Dark. Rushed.

Maybe that’s just because she’s fighting, she’s focused. But I saw how she yelled at Bastila. And Malak. She’s not the same at all, is she? She’s not the same Rena. And she never will be again, will she? The woman I… the woman I thought I knew - she’s gone. It’s just Revan now.

---

This was not the way I hoped she would find out. I wanted her to find out in a safe place, surrounded by friends, no more battles to be fought. Perhaps after we’d found the last Star Map or before we went to the Star Forge. Of course I knew she would have to find out eventually. I knew that a fight with Malak was inevitable, and that he would reveal her true identity. I just did not want that to be the first time she heard it. I wanted her to hear it from me. I wanted to be able to answer all of her questions in a calm, safe environment, a place where she could express all of her feelings safely, and understand why the Council did this.

Being captured by the Leviathan was the last thing I expected. Everything was going relatively smoothly. I was concerned about Korriban, but Jolee told me she acted exemplary, a fine model of Jedi teachings. As much as usual, anyway. As I’ve told her before, her methods are unorthodox, and she has a tendency to act emotionally, but she is dedicated to the wellbeing of others. I’ve regularly seen her put the lives of others before her own, as have the others. I never knew Revan personally - when she and Malak left for the Mandalorian Wars, I sided with the Council - but from what I’ve gathered, “selfless” was not a word others would use to describe her. Revan and Rena have many things in common, but I don’t believe they are the same at heart. Rena certainly has her faults and her shortcomings as a Jedi, but I could never see her falling to the Dark Side.

I’m ashamed to admit I wasn’t always so certain. Her feelings for Carth were concerning at first. As I said, I never knew Revan, but she had a reputation for hedonism, and Rena seemed quite the same at first. And not only that - her dueling on Taris concerned me, as well. She seemed very aggressive. But I came to learn I was mistaken in that assessment. She used dueling more to blow off steam than as an outlet for aggression.

Her identity was a mystery to me at first. I knew that the Council put her under my command, but beyond that they seem to have taken quite a few liberties in explaining her knowledge. She has a number of specifics when it comes to being a scout or ecology. And I don’t know where her crusade against Czerka came from. Perhaps these details came from Revan’s memory, and the Council just changed the explanation. Perhaps the identity was someone else, someone who died in the war, or someone from the archive memory. I had only met her briefly before the attack on the Endar Spire, and I doubt it was an encounter she’d remember. She was up late, fixing a droid. If I hadn’t known her voice I wouldn’t have recognized her. Most of what I knew about her came from a datapad, at first.

It took a long time before I stopped calling her Revan. I of course never said it out loud, but there were many times when I thought to myself, “Why is Revan doing that?” or “That is not something I expected from Revan,” or “Revan is getting on my nerves.” It wasn’t until Dantooine, during her month of retraining, that I began to think of her as Rena and not Revan. I never knew Revan, but Rena is my friend. And I don’t have many of those. It’s a complicated friendship, certainly, and we have our fair share of disagreements. But part of friendship is how you deal with those disagreements.

Although, I wonder if that friendship is over now. Not because of how her true identity was revealed, although that certainly doesn’t help. I know she disagrees with me, but the Jedi are more than simply an idea. The Jedi are the only thing holding the Dark Side at bay. Without the Jedi, the galaxy would descend into darkness, beyond hope, possible beyond salvation. Certainly that is more important than any individual. If saving Revan will defeat Malak, I have no regrets. If Carth suffering Admiral Karath’s torture would have aided the Republic, then I would consider that an acceptable loss. I wouldn't enjoy it, of course, but if it was necessary I would find a way to live with the consequences. And I gather Revan would have felt the same. But Rena doesn’t. Perhaps they are more dissimilar than I thought.

Rena reaches out to kick Malak, but before she makes contact, Malak whisks her into a Force whirlwind and runs. A coward, as he has always been.

---

Asshole! I could see it in his eyes, I was making progress, I was making a dent, and he runs!

I could just let him go. This is not going to be the last time we meet. It can’t be. The Star Forge is still out there. And Malak would like nothing more than to get rid of me now. I’m a problem, and the only way to stop me from being a problem is to kill me. I have no intention of dying today, if only because I need to give the Jedi Council hell. I don’t want to think about that now, though, if I think about that now I’m going to have a fucking panic attack. So that’s that. I’m going to wait for Carth and Bastila to unfreeze, and then we get to the Hawk and go. Easy.

But it could never be that simple, could it? Malak would not leave any avenue for me to just go. And even if he did, that wouldn’t be the end of the fight. Maybe there’s a tracker on the Hawk. Maybe he’ll follow us to Manaan. I have no idea how this will end, but it won’t end well.

I don’t want to be here. I don’t know what this feeling is in the pit of my stomach, but I hate it. Oh. Wait. That’s what it is. Nope, I don’t want to think about that now. I need a hug. But Carth is still frozen, assuming he could even trust me again. Nope, not thinking about that. I touch Carth’s hand, at least, looking for a little comfort. And he lets me read him. He hates it. God, that’s a horrible feeling. Nope, don’t want to think about that. Focus on the Sith Lord.

I think I saw Malak go through the door in front of me, rather than left or right. But it’s locked. Why? Why is he making this difficult? Let’s try finding another way into that corridor. Door on the right. There’s another door on my left that should lead to where Malak is, but it’s locked, too. Jesus, dude, really? Okay, keep moving forward. Another door. Left turn. One more door that should lead to Malak, but it is also locked. Why, dude? Why? All this effort to prove you’re not a coward, but you’re acting pretty cowardly. I keep moving forward to the next door. Through that and after another turn there’s one more door that should lead to Malak. If this one is locked, too, I swear to fucking God…

It opens. There he is. Bastard.

---

I can feel Malak’s stasis hold slowly wearing off. It starts small at first. I can move my foot, just a little. Then it fades even more, and I can curl my fingers. Then it fades completely, and I can let my muscles relax for a moment. But only a brief moment. Rena is still fighting Malak. I can sense it. But his is not the only anger I feel. Carth is clearly not having the best day, to put it mildly. And as much as he’s trying to focus solely on Malak and getting to the Ebon Hawk, his thoughts are obviously clouded by Rena. Anger at her, and me, at the Jedi Council, but also confusion. And mistrust. Perhaps even some depression. Clearly there is sadness there. But how deep it goes is unclear.

“Damn it, Rena!” he swears at her, “She’s going to get herself killed, fighting Malak alone.”

“You still care about her, then,” I say. I did not expect his feelings for her to go away so quickly, but I did expect them to be mixed.

“Care, hell, I don’t think we’ll be able to find the last Star Map without her,” he says. No, that’s not quite right. But no matter. We have more important things to worry about. “I saw her go right, but the door closed and I have no idea where she went from there.” I saw that, too. “Can you sense where they are?”

“I can try.” I reach out with the Force. She’s close. And despite Carth’s concern, for lack of a better word, she would seem to be doing very well on her own. She’s certainly thinking about her identity, but she’s doing her best to focus on Malak. This fight isn’t going to end today. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but this fight is not going to end today.

A choice needs to be made. One of us isn’t going to make it out of here. And Carth’s right, the others need Rena to find the last Star Map. Revan found it on Manaan once before, and even if she doesn’t know it, Rena has the memory. A sacrifice needs to be made. My sacrifice. “We need to hurry,” I say, and we run through the center door. I only hope we’re not too late.

---

Malak moves fast. Almost too fast. I let myself react on instinct rather than using any particular form or thinking about my responses. I just let my mind go blank. Muscle memory. Memory. Memory. Nope, don’t want to think about that. Focus on this.

I’m not going to win this fight.

Malak reaches out a hand and suddenly I can’t move. God. No. No this can’t happen. Carth, if anything happens, I just want you to know I love --

“This isn’t over, Malak!” Bastila? They’re unfrozen. I’m not going to die today. But something’s not…

“Your friends do not give up easily, Revan,” Malak says, “You always could inspire loyalty. But even the three of you together cannot stand against my power!”

“For the Jedi!” Bastila shouts, and she throws her lightsaber at him. Malak starts to move towards her. I still can’t move, not yet. Focus, Rena, focus! Undo it! Do something! “I’ll hold Malak off!” she says, “You two get out of here! Find the Star Forge!”

“No, Bastila, he’s too strong!” Carth says, but she doesn’t change. “No!” She reaches out a hand and closes the door behind Malak, sealing them in. And suddenly I can move again, I don’t know how, but I can move. I’ve got to help her, I’ve got to get in there! I head for the lock, there’s got to be something I can do! Come on. Come on! “The door’s sealed, we can’t get past!” Carth says, trying to stop me, “Come on, we have to get to the Ebon Hawk!”

“No, we can’t, I have to help her!” I have to help her!

“Bastila doesn’t stand a chance against Malak, but we can’t help her. Not here.”

“I can’t let another person die!” I shout. I can’t. How many deaths did Revan cause? How many did Revan kill? I can’t do that again, I won’t have her death on my ledger, too!

“We have to get off this ship and find the Star Forge,” he insists, “That’s the key to beating Malak!”

“No, the key to defeating him is right behind this fucking door - are you going to help me or not?”

“No, I’m not!” he says, “Look, Bastila sacrificed herself so we could get away, and I won’t let that sacrifice be in vain. If you won’t come with me, then I'll shoot you and carry you out, but I’d rather not do that. Don’t force my hand.”

I can’t leave her. But I can’t leave him. I can’t -- I don’t know! I - wait, what the fuck, put me down! “I’m not waiting for you to figure it out.” This is completely degrading.

Thankfully he puts me down when we get to the ship. “Get the hyperdrive up and running, they will have deactivated it on Saul’s orders. Let me know once it’s ready,” he says, “I don’t want to be here a minute longer than we have to be.” I nod and run for the hyperdrive engine. T3 whirs along behind me.

It’s something to focus on, at least. This wasn’t a single “flick a switch” deactivation, this was by the book. Power couplings disconnected, safety caps on the ends, this is going to take a bit. I pull my communicator out of my pocket and buzz Carth. “This is going to take a couple minutes, don’t do any fancy flying.” He acknowledges me but that’s it. I don’t have time to think about that right now. He gets us out of the hangar and the battle begins. Shield grid’s in good shape. Caps off the couplings, this may sting a bit. I don’t know as much about engines as I do about droids, but the caps seem to be the same, just scaled up. If a droid’s going to be powered down for a while or could get wet - like torrential downpour wet - you’re supposed to disconnect the power couplings and put rubber caps on the end, for safety. So no one gets electrocuted or so the power flow doesn’t get corrupted, because that’s a bear to fix. And if this were a droid, I’d want to start at the bottom coupling and work my way up. The process here should be the same, too - turn the power off or reroute it, pull the caps off, reconnect, reroute it back. So I start on the lowest of the four. Reroute, caps, reconne - Carth, I said no fancy flying! Stop with the loop de loops! Reconnect, reroute. Second. Try not to lose my lunch. As if I’ve eaten much today. Third. God, Mission, hit them before they hit us! Fourth. Come on, come on… Done! “Carth, punch it!”

Hyperspace. Finally. The worst is over.

Or… maybe it’s just getting started.

#star wars #knights of the old republic #star wars kotor #fiction #autistic artist #specs writes stuff #kotor fic #rena visz #oc #fem!revan #ls!revan #the first time that tag isn't a spoiler lol #carth onasi #bastila shan #darth malak #leviathan #swearing tw #does rena say fuck here? i forget and im not going to check

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dessarious · 6 years ago

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Broken Harmony Pt13

Okay here it is as promised!

Master List 1 Master List 2 Prologue Beginning Previous Next

Damian felt more at peace than he could ever remember. Physically he wasn’t comfortable at all; sitting against the wall on Marinette's chaise lounge while she used him for a pillow. But a little discomfort was a small price to pay for his Angel’s song to be happy again. They still had a long way to go but he’d take any progress toward healing that he could. Despite the position he was in Damian began to fall asleep until he heard a loud thud from above him. He tensed and the worry in his song cause Marinette to stir.

“Angel, there’s something on the roof.” He kept his volume as low as he could manage but she seemed to hear him. She lifted her head and stared at him in confusion. “Listen.” He pointed up. Just then they heard footsteps.

He expected worry or fear to come through the bond. Instead all that showed up was annoyance. She groaned and buried her head in his shoulder. Damian had no idea how to react to that so he didn’t move.

There was a tap at the skylight and Marinette’s annoyance increased but she didn’t move. A pause, then more tapping, louder this time. His Angel turned to glare at the skylight.

“Go away Chat.” Her voice was rough from sleep. Damian’s confusion must have finally registered with her because she shot him an apologetic look.

“Is that anyway to greet your knight in shining leather?” The voice sounded slightly putout but mostly smug. He hated it instantly.

“You’re not my anything Chat. Go away, I’m trying to go back to sleep.” Damian was about to add his own two cents when Marinette covered his mouth with her hand and mouthed, “I’ll explain once he’s gone.” There was nothing in her song to indicate deceit or anything else he should be concerned about so he nodded.

“No can do Princess, we need to talk.” Damian felt her annoyance spike at the nickname and frustration was building as well.

“No we don’t. I need to sleep. Whatever lecture you have prepared or fit you want to throw about Ladybug can wait.” They heard him tug on the skylight but it was locked. Damian felt his temper rising. How dare he try to enter his Angel’s room after she repeatedly told him to leave. Who the hell was this ‘Chat’?

“Either let me in or I’ll let myself in. I’m not going to let you get away with this.” Damian’s anger was overridden by Marinette’s confusion. She didn’t reply, not that he gave her time to. “Cataclysm.” Her eyes widened and she jumped off the chaise.

“Chat don’t you dare!” But it was too late. Her skylight disintegrated as they watched and a boy clad in a black leather jumpsuit dropped into the room. There was still no fear as she faced him with her arms crossed over her chest. “Have you lost your mind? Even with the way you’ve been acting lately I never thought you’d stoop to this.”

“Come on Princess, just because you’re pouting and feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t mean you need to take it out on me. Besides, as soon as Ladybug casts her next Miraculous Cure the skylight will be back good as new.”

“Great. In the meantime if it rains my room will flood. I’ve always wanted a swimming pool.” Sarcasm was not something Damian expected but it suited her somehow.

“Stop making a big deal over nothing. I know you have a way to contact Ladybug so I’m sure you can get her to fix it right away.”

“So that’s supposed to make things okay? Chat, you used your powers to break into my room. Do you really not see the problem in this?” Wait… this idiot was one of the heroes she’d told him about?

“Then you should have let me in. Or better yet not pulled this stupid power-play for attention.” Damian wanted so badly to throttle this entitled Catwoman wanna be, but Marinette made a hand gesture behind her back telling him to calm down. The moron in leather hadn’t even noticed he was there yet. Some hero.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about but let me make something very clear to you. A person has the right to privacy and to decide who they let in their homes. You have no right to break into my home for any reason so get out.” Both her tone and song were like steel. It made him sit up straighter and it wasn’t even aimed at him.

“I’m not leaving until you agree to enroll back in school.”

“How do you even know about that? You know what I don’t care. You have no say in my life or decisions. My parents and I are making decisions that are best for me and if you have a problem with that, too bad.”

“You can’t just abandon your friends Princess. If you would just stop antagonizing Lila everyone would like you again. Having your parents pull you out of school to get attention is just immature.”

“Don’t call her that! And those friends put her in the hospital today you arrogant piece of trash!” Damian had jumped up and would have introduced Chat to the floor but Marinette got between them too quickly.

“Who the hell is he?” Chat’s ears actually lay back on his head and his tail lashed behind him. Damian wasn’t sure what to make of it but almost laughed when Chat actually hissed at him.

“He was invited and that’s all you need to know. And you’re daring to call me immature? After all the crap you pull. After sitting out on Akuma attacks because you can’t take no for an answer and throw a fit like a toddler? After you broke into my house because I did something you didn’t like?” Damian felt rage building with every word and it took him a minute to realize it wasn’t his. He honestly almost felt sorry for the Furry.

“I’ve explained why I’ve been staying away from Akuma fights.” He actually rolled his eyes.

“Then what is the point of you even having a Miraculous if you’re just going to cower in the shadows while your partner does all the work?” Chat let out an angry hiss. Marinette just scoffed at him. “Don’t try that nonsense with me. I’m over your entitled tantrums and self involved idiocy. Now get out of my house!”

Chat started to reach for her and Damian finally lost his temper. Bad enough that he did it at all but given her injuries he could hurt her even worse. He stepped between them and shoved Chat away from his Angel.

“Touch her and you’ll learn what real pain is.” His voice was low and dangerous. Anyone with half a brain would take that warning seriously. So, obviously, Chat didn’t. Instead he puffed out his chest and tried to move around him.

“You can’t tell me not to touch my Princess. You just met her today but I’ve known her for years.” He felt his hackles rise. There was no way he should know that. He could feel Marinette’s wariness through the bond as well but all she showed was anger.

“Are you stalking me now Chat Noir? You seem to have a lot of information about me that you shouldn’t.” Chat kept trying to move around Damian but both her and Marinette just kept shifting away from him. Damian could almost feel his frustration building. “Keep this up and I will call Ladybug and ask her to drag you out of here.”

“As if she could. I’m more than a match for M’Lady.” Damian felt Marinette’s anger spike and put up an arm fearing she might actually try to go after him in her condition.

“I guess we’re about to find out if that’s true.” Damian’s confusion was mirrored on Chat’s face a moment before Marinette pulled open the trapdoor and practically dove through it. Chat tried to follow but Damian went for his legs and tackled him. There wasn’t much space but he managed to kick the door shut before wrestling Chat to the floor. Damian almost had him pinned when he was distracted by the bond. He suddenly felt Marinette above rather than below them. Chat pushed him off and jumped to his feet.

“Cataclysm!” Damian tried to back up, knowing what had happened to the skylight, but he wasn’t fast enough. He was surprised when Chat just scratched him instead. Apparently Chat was too judging by the look on his face. Then he heard a noise that reminded him of his grappling hook and chat was yanked away from him.

“Forgot you used your power already did you?” The cold fury in the voice coming through the skylight matched the song in his head. He watched as another hero dropped in holding the end of what looked like a yo-yo and just stared. When she met his gaze her look and the song softened. If that wasn’t enough for him to figure out she was his Angel, her blood filled iris and split lip would be. She looked at the cuts on his arm and her expression hardened once again. “Have you completely lost your mind Chat? There is absolutely no excuse for this!”

“Look I don’t know what Marinette cried to you about but I didn’t do anything wrong.” Seriously? How could this idiot not tell they were the same person when they had the exact same injuries? Before he could get further into that thought fury exploded in his head.

“So you didn’t use your powers to break in here after she denied you entry?” He tried to sputter out a defense but she just steamrolled over him. “And it wasn’t you I just stopped from attacking a civilian who was doing nothing but trying to protect his soulmate?”

“That’s ridiculous. Mari doesn’t have a soulmate, she just made that up for attention.” Before Ladybug could form a retort they all heard a beeping sound. Damian realized he’d heard it a few times since Chat had entered the room. “Well, I hate to cut this short but it looks like you have to let me go unless you want to compromise my identity.” He sounded smug and it took everything Damian had not to punch him in the face.

“It doesn’t matter if I know who you are Chat.” He looked happy at that statement though Damian couldn’t figure out why. Her next word erased it though. “You have proven over and over again that you are not worth of a Miraculous. As of now I’m stripping you of your ring. You will no longer be Chat Noir, and will no longer be able to abuse your powers for selfish endeavors.” The longer she talked the more Chat struggled against the string holding him. Damian could feel Marinette’s pain through the bond as his pulling put pressure on her injuries. His soulmate was being hurt so he felt completely justified when he punched Chat in the nose, tripped him and held him down on the floor so he couldn’t struggle.

“You can’t do this! I was chosen, we belong together!” Damian felt more than heard Ladybug sigh. She put her hand on Damian’s shoulder as he raised his hand to hit him again. Shaking her head she moved to where Chat could see her.

“I am the Guardian of the Miraculous.” Damian felt power in her words and even Chat flinched. “And I have judged you unworthy. Your opinions on our partnership are irrelevant. I’ve told you over and over again that I have a soulmate and even if I didn’t I wouldn’t want to be involved with you. Your failure to accept that or take my feelings into account in anyway are just one more reason you don’t deserve the power you were given.”

At that moment his transformation dropped. Damian cursed and he felt Marinette's song go from shock to resignation. Adrien Agrest was pinned below him and his need to beat the crap out of him only increased.

“I should have known.” Ladybug stood and took a deep breath. “Adrien Agrest, you’ve ceased to be a hero with or without the mask a long time ago. Honestly, this decision is long overdue.” She reached for his hand and he started struggling harder. Damian easily subdued him and pinned his arm for Ladybug. She gave him a grateful smile before taking a ring from the boys finger.

“Plagg.” Damian’s year of dealing with villains and other heroes was the only thing that kept him mouth from dropping open as a tiny black creature came out of the ring and flew in front of her face. “Do you agree with my decision?”

“Absolutely bug. He’s had more than enough chances from all of us.” The voice was cold showing no mercy. “He knows enough to be a problem in the future, do you want me to use Cataclysm on him?” Ladybug looked completely shocked at the idea, but Damian honestly was all for it.

“No.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I will not resort to murder and given the fact that he’s only ever been interested in himself and we’ve been careful to keep information from him I don’t think he’ll be too big of a problem without a Miraculous.” Plagg looked disappointed.

“Fine but this is necessary.” Before she could get a word out the being flew into Adrien’s head. The boy immediately passed out and Plagg resurfaced a minute later.

“What did you do?”

“I wiped some of his memory. You may not think he knows enough to cause damage but we both know that he will be Akumatized over this. There are enough clues from today for Hawkmoth to figure out who you are.” She nodded slowly but frowned.

“How much did you erase?”

“Anywhere from five days to five weeks.”

“Plagg!”

“What?” He sounded offended. “It’s not an exact science and I needed to make sure all of today was gone. It’s bad enough that he’ll see that video again eventually.” She let out a sigh and ran her uninjured hand over her face. Damian suddenly saw how exhausted she looked.

“Damian, you can get off him now.” He started as he realized he was still pinning the unconscious former hero. He rose to stand in front of her.

“Angel…” She shook her head and put a hand on his chest.

“I don’t know how long he’s going to be out for and I need to get him home before he wakes. It won’t take more than twenty minutes and we’ll talk when I get back.”

“What about your injuries? Are you sure you can lift him by yourself?” She nodded and he just scowled at her. “Fine, but we’re not talking when you get back. You need sleep we can talk tomorrow.” Tears filled her eyes and he started to panic before she leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you for caring about me. I promise everything will be alright.” As she bent to retrieve the boy on the floor, Damian noticed the little black creature staring at him with a considering look before he spoke to Ladybug.

“I’ll go with you and show you how to avoid the cameras.”

“Thanks Plagg.” She looked down at Damian’s arm and cursed. He had completely forgotten about the scratches. “Miraculous Ladybug.” He looked at her in confusion that turn to awe as everything in the room was fixed, including the skylight and his arm. “We’ll be right back.” She smiled at him as she jumped up through the skylight.

Damian was left alone in the room and now that he had time to process his brain basically stopped working. What the hell had just happened?

Master List 1 Master List 2 Prologue Beginning Previous Next

Tag list for Broken Harmony

Thanks for all the positive responses! Here’s the tag list I’ve go so far. If I missed anyone let me know.

@crazylittlemunchkin @iggy-of-fans @captainmac6 @shizukiryuu @origami-dreams @yamadochie @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @mjisntme @zebrabaker @driftingmoonlitpetals @slytherinhquinn @politelyvicious @mystery-5-5 @constancetruggle @synnesstra @im-here-for-the-content @slytherinsheashire @myriad-of-passionate-pettiness @cyborgcandy @rhub4rb @satans-favorite-homo @beautym3 @ayuchan07 @zalladane @moonlitarchangels @mooshoon @mindfulmagics @saphiraazure2708 @chrismarium @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @tog84 @littleredrobinhoodlum @cupcakeandkisses @kiara-rose-blackthorn @moonlitarchangels @graduatedmelon @lunar-wolf-warrior @tbehartoo @zoerayne2426 @ellerahs @heaven428 @my-name-is-michell @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @myownworldstayout @alexzandria-747 @k-rena-k @vivilakitty @redscarlet95 @un1cornf1ghter @bookreader20003 @nataladriana9 @resignedcatservant @blue-peach14 @royalchaoticfangirl @melicmusicmagic @dani-ari @captain-rice @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @fiendsangelical @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay @ladylb @vixen-uchiha @spicybelladonna @asteriodd @thatrandomfandomsgirl @laurakinneylance @casual-darkness @sam-spectra @romanoff-queen

#maribat #maridami #damimari #marinette dupen chang #damian wayne

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demonwifey · 5 years ago

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Lost Time

Hey guys, so this is my first story being put up on my Beetlejuice blog. It’s waaayyy longer than what I expected to write but I hope you guys enjoy it either way! I actually got this prompt from @scrawl-your-heart-out

Prompt: “Have you ever kissed anyone?” “No” They kissed them. “Well,” they said smiling, “Now you have”

word count: 3,335

Warnings: Cursing

Hope you guys enjoy!

It was another Saturday night at Y/N’s apartment. Her friends made plans to go out earlier in the week but everything inevitably got cancelled after her best friend came down with a bad case of the stomach flu. Y/N called her friend and asked if she needed her to come over.

“No, just stay home. The last thing I want is to give it to you guys and then we all are sick.” Which was immediately followed by the sound of her vomiting harshly through the phone speaker. With that, Y/N cringed at the noise but knew there was no point in trying to argue.

Despite the turn of events, Y/N wouldn’t be alone. For the past few months she found her apartment to be accompanied by the striped-suit-wearing demon named Beetlejuice. Even though she hoped for her friend’s better health, a small part of her was happy that she was free for the night. And she knew the dead man would be excited as well. Especially when they used to hang out almost on a regular basis. The self-proclaimed “Ghost with the Most” came into her life after she met Delia and Charles Deetz at her college’s job fair.

***

Charles was there working at a booth with the business department and giving info to students about his real estate work. It didn’t really interest Y/N too much as she was studying graphic design but she couldn’t help but notice the crystal shaped necklace hanging around Delia’s neck while she stood next to Charles while passing out pamphlets. Y/N of course walked up to the booth to compliment the red-haired woman and ask where she got it from. To which she later found herself stuck in an almost 30 minute conversation with Delia about charms, crystals, random positivity quotes, and something about her guru named Otho.

While Delia was talking Y/N happened to glance down at the pamphlet she didn’t even realize she had been handed. She looked at the picture of the house on the front and spoke.

“Wait, this is your house? Isn’t this the house everyone swears up and down is haunted?” To which both Delia and Charles stiffened in their places.

After exchanging information with Delia, she basically convinced Y/N to buy more and more crystals like her, she found herself hanging out at the Deetz's more than she would’ve thought. Especially after being introduced to Charles’ daughter Lydia. At age 23, Y/N would’ve never thought she had so much in common with a 15 year old. They both enjoyed the same music and shared an interest in photography.

Of course when Charles and Delia caught on to their bonding, they eventually asked Y/N to ‘babysit’ Lydia here and there. Lydia definitely would have protested had she not had so much in common with the other girl. So the two of them didn’t really count it as babysitting, and more of just hanging out.

Of course when the pair started hanging out an introduction to the green haired dead man wasn’t far behind. One night while Lydia and Y/N were sharing photos and designs with each other, the next thing to be heard was a loud “WHAT THE FUUUUCK” coming from the kitchen. All she wanted was a simple snack and now she was standing in front of a random man as he was swallowing a whole box of cereal. The man dropped the box at her screaming and stared at her in shock. Before Y/N could say anything else, Lydia ran in right behind her trying to babble up any explanation she could. For a moment everything grew silent and the green haired stranger stared into Y/N’s eyes and a dopey lovesick grin grew onto his face as he spoke.

“Hi.”

After that night Y/N and Beetlejuice started to hang out on the regular. Once Lydia explained the demon’s presence and how to summon him, the college girl would often summon him without thinking about it. Mr. Ghost with the Most was an odd but fun presence to be around. Whether it was him telling her stories about the Netherworld or showing her the different things he could do with his powers, Y/N found herself all too intrigued.

Thankfully at this point it was summer break so the two of them had time to hang out without any of Y/N’s school distractions. Y/N would call and Beetlejuice was there before she could even blink. Of course with all the time they were spending together, feelings began to arise of both parts.

Of course Y/N tried to not let it get the best of her. Especially when Beetlejuice seemed like the biggest flirt of the universe. He’s been alive for how many centuries? Why wouldn’t he be the one to fool around with anything dead or alive? And why would a man that’s been alive for so long want to deal with someone so inexperienced, like herself? These were all questions Y/N would ask herself whenever she thought heavily into her feelings about Beetlejuice. And all of those questions were about to be answered.

***

While they had so much time to spend over summer break, unfortunately it had ended before they knew it. With the fall semester here, Y/N was back busy with classes and didn’t have much time for Beetlejuice. It had been a while since the pair hung out for a full day. Beetlejuice’s time with her only seemed to be shrunk down to weekends, if even that at times. Having to hear him go on and on about how much he missed her company or seeing the extremely ecstatic face he made when she walked in the door pulled at her heart strings.

Y/N was currently getting the living room ready for her and Beej to hang out. She lined up all of his favorite scary movies from her Netflix account. She of course had to make around 4 bags of popcorn because Beej tended to eat more than she did. He would always scarfing down a whole bowl before she could even get one kettle. She moved her coffee table aside and set up multiple blankets and pillows on the floor.

Everything was perfect. Now all Y/N needed to do was call the dead man. She sat down on the couch to stay out of the way, whenever she called he always seemed to pop up in any location. And she learned her lesson after one incident where she called and the demon pop-up right next to her and tripped on top of her. Of course Beetlejuice wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t make a crude sexual joke with a smirk on his face. To which Y/N’s whole face turned red and she shoved him away.

“Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice.” Y/N said loud enough through the whole apartment. The air shifted and a puff of green smoke surrounded her. The young woman coughed and swatted her hands around to clear the smoke away. Y/N looked up with a smile on her face but it quickly changed to a confused frown. She didn’t even see Beetlejuice. She looked around for a second only to see him lying on the blankets she’d just placed out. He propped himself up on one arm, legs crossed, and... was that a dead rose in between his teeth? That’s when Beetlejuice spoke.

“‘Sup, dollface? Finally ditched the losers to get some sweet lovin’ from the B-man I see.” He mumbled through the rose before spitting it out. Y/N rolled her eyes before laughing at the man.

“Oh my god. Okay first, my friends aren’t losers. Second, no I didn’t call you to get ‘some sweet lovin’.” Y/N said in between giggles to which Beej’s eyebrows furrowed together. He sat himself up.

“You’ve got to be kidding, babes. No one sets up the floor like this unless they’re about to have a good ol’ all night fu-”

“Shut up, Beej. Jesus.” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose trying to hide the faint blush. “I called you here because Gabby got sick and we all had to cancel our plans. So I figured the two of us could have a movie night.” She fiddled with her fingers. Beetlejuice’s already golden eyes light up even more. He quickly crawled towards her and grabbed the sides of her thighs. The young woman jumped at the sudden contact.

“You mean it, babes? We get to hang out all night?”

Y/N tried her best to respond but was still taken aback by his gesture. Sure, she was already used to his cold hands; Beej was always affectionate with her. He would always grab her into a giant bear hug or lay his arms around her while they watched TV on the couch. And don’t even mention the times he would lift her chin with his finger like he was going to kiss her while they talked. But the fact that he was gripping her bare thighs so tightly was sending her embarrassment into overdrive. Y/N shook her head slightly to try and push away the lewd thoughts she was having.

“Y-yeah, Beej. I-I mean we never hang out anymore. We should take the opportunity while we can.” Y/N moved her hands over his to move them away as she stood up. She ignored the look of disappointment on his face. “What do ya’ say?”

The dead man smirked “I say, FUCK YEAH!”

***

The rest of the night consisted of laughs, mostly Beej’s, through Y/N’s apartment. Even though the movies picked were some of the world’s top classic horror films, Beetlejuicce saw them as comedies. The pair sat on the blanket nest with Beej’s head resting on Y/N’s lap and his striped jacket around her shoulders.

“Why does he keep trying to help her? If she keeps falling just leave her dumbass there!” Beej screamed at the TV with clear frustration in his voice. His anger only made Y/N laugh.

“Jeez Beej, harsh much? Maybe she’s the love of his life.” The young woman spoke while grabbing some popcorn. The both made a conscious decision to use his stomach as a table to hold the bowl. Beetlejuice scoffed.

“Give me a break, babes. Someone that stupid couldn’t possibly be the love of someone’s life.” He followed her action and grabbed some popcorn as well; crunching the popcorn loudly as to show more of his anger.

“Oh come on, there’s someone out there for everyone. Even if they do fall at the worst times.” Y/N laughed as he girl on screen screeched in horror as the murderer ran towards her.

“Yeah whatever. Thankfully no one’s found you yet and I get to keep you to myself, sweets.” Beetlejuice spoke as he cuddled himself up more against her. She only rolled her eyes.

“Plan on it staying that way too.” Beetlejuice looked up from his spot.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N stopped chewing her popcorn for a second.

“Uh...nothing Beej. It was just a joke. Look, the girl fell again!” She tried to cover up by fake laughing and pointing at the TV. Beej wouldn’t budge though. He sat up next to her and looked with a small amount of seriousness.

“No, what’s supposed to mean, babes? You don’t think there’s some other breather out there for you?” Beetlejuice made sure she knew he wasn’t planning to drop the subject. Y/N began playing with the hem of her pajama shorts.

“I-I. I mean kinda. At least not right now.” She mumbled not looking at him. The demon scrunched his face in confusion.

“Why not? Look at you, Y/N! Not only are you a total babe, you’re super smart. You’re funny. You make the best waffles ever. You’re crazy creative-”.

“And I’ve never been in a relationship.” Y/N said harshly. She flinched at her own tone once she saw the look on Beetlejuice’s face. There was a beat of silence before Beej spoke again.

“...What?” He asked silently. Y/N stood up off the floor, letting his jacket floor behind her. The demon watched it plop to the floor and then looked back up at her as she walked around the couch. “Come on, babes. You’re just kidding.”

“No, I’m not. I’ve never been in a relationship, Beej. I’m 23 going on 24 and I still have yet to date anybody.” She looked down at him and all he did was cock his head to the side and listen.

“I mean I’ve gone on dates but they never led anywhere. They’re usually just some guys my friends set me up with that aren’t that interested anyway. They always expect me to be like a clone of my friends. All giggly, and cutesy, and sexy, and flirty and...-and just not me! Ever since high school no guy has ever looked my way unless they were looking at the person standing next to me. I don’t turn heads. I don’t get people looking at me wherever I go. And it’s not even their fault, it’s also mine. I don’t go anywhere unless my friends drag me out. I stay home and do my own thing by myself. It just is what it is, Beej. Sometimes some people are just meant to stay alone.” As Y/N ended her rant she felt a small amount of tears build up in her eyes.

Y/N had always felt lonely until Beej came along. Even with her friends and family she always felt alone. Of course she felt bad about it. She wanted companionship, someone to talk to. Someone who was a friend and a lover. Someone she could talk to about anything and everything. And she thought she would never find that. So when Y/N came to that conclusion, she left it alone. Until a certain dead man came into her life.

The young woman didn’t realize she had been pacing back and forth behind the couch until Beetlejuice walked in front of her. She was determined not to let him see her tears but when she looked into his golden eyes she saw a mix of concern, sternness, sympathy, and worry. After that, her tears made small streaks down her cheeks.

“Just forget it, Beej. It wasn’t even that serious. Look, we've missed the ending.” She slightly whimpered, looking at the TV to see the credits rolling. While wiping the tears on her hoodie sleeve she went to move around him but he stood in front of her. Beetlejuice still didn’t speak and that only made her worry more. What was he going to say? What was he thinking? Y/N froze when the demon grabbed her face and wiped the remaining tears with the pads of his thumbs. His eyes softened as he looked into hers.

“Just one question, babes.” He spoke softly, almost like a whisper. At this point, Y/N was sure blush was covering her entire face. “If you’ve never been in a relationship, have you ever kissed anyone?”

The question caught her off guard. Of course she never kissed anyone though. She got close around 3rd grade during recess when a boy pulled her towards the swing and tried to kiss her. Only to be stopped when all of his friends caught them and started making fun of them.

“No. Never.” Y/N answered quietly while looking down to the floor. She wasn’t sure what embarrassed her more, the question or the answer. Surely Beej was going to make another joke causing her to be even more embarrassed. Before she could say anything else, the man moved her face towards her and placed his lips on top of hers.

Y/N hated the cliches of sappy romance movies and novels. Despite all of the same tropes she’d see, she finally agreed on one thing. Her first kiss was like fireworks. She felt like she was on cloud nine. While she didn’t necessarily know what to do, she was determined to figure it out. Y/N leaned into Beej’s lips with a relieved sigh, and much to her embarrassment, a light moan. She prayed to every and God there was that Beej didn’t notice it. But oh, he noticed.

The sound encouraged him to move one hand from her cheek to around her waist. Y/N nuzzled her cheek more into his hand and moved her own hands to his chest. All Y/N could do was let Beetlejuice take control. He deepened the kiss by pulling her closer and pushing his lips more onto hers. She had to push herself up on her toes to reach him even more.

But before Y/N could move her hands up further to his neck, he pulled his head back, ending the kiss abruptly. All Y/N could do was let out a slight whine while Beetlejuice chuckled in response.

“Well, now you have.” Beetlejuice said while smiling down at her. It took Y/N a second but she then realized what he meant. All she could do was giggle and hide her face in his chest. Beetlejuice laughed with her and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“Let me tell you, babes. I’ve been waiting for so long to do that.” The demon spoke softly as he placed his chin on top of her head. There was a beat of silence before Y/N moved her head back and looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” Beej looked down at her sweetly before it turned to slight fear. Y/N moved out of his arms and inched forward causing him to back up. You mean to tell me, you liked me this entire time and never said anything?” Her voice rising. He threw his hands up.

“I-I figured you needed time. I know it can be overwhelming having this much man cake to yourself, doll.” He backed himself around the couch and plopped down back to the floor. Y/N stood over him with her hands on her hips.

“Beetlejuice, I’m over here hiding my feelings and thinking there could be nothing between us...ugh! Do you realize how much sooner we could’ve done that?” She said in mock with a little bit real anger in their voice. Beej sat up, crossed his legs, and smirked at her.

“Hiding your feelings, you say?” Beej inched forward and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Ugh, yes. I-I’ve liked you for the longest, Beej. I just never said anything. But you felt the same so I’m not the only one at fault!” She yelled and turned her head to the side to look away from him. She could feel Beetlejuie staring at her.

“Y/N.” He spoke softly from the floor. She still didn’t move or look back. She heard him moving towards her and she finally looked down. He sat on his knees in front of her and moved his hands slowly up her thighs. This time she didn’t move. She only stared into his eyes like he had her in a trance. The demon man gazed at her with a more mischievous grin on his face.

“Let’s make up for lost time.”

Hope you guys enjoyed!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice fanfiction

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dumbsnakefan · 5 years ago

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Thou Shalt Love

Chapter 2: In You I Take Refuge

A/N: This took longer than expected but here it is! Also, if you want me to tag you in the next chapter please let me know!

Hidden away in a small Inn in a town surrounded by only nature, Nea watched over Allen’s prone figure. A thin layer of sweat covered his nephew’s body from exertion. His mind still tried to fight the inevitable of his awakening. Well, Nea supposed that Allen was too stubborn to ever give in so easily. Not that it wouldn’t make a difference in the end. The Noah memories were like an unrestrained storm as they tore into the brain.

Letting out an aggravated sigh Nea said to himself, “Why did that bastard Cross have to die on me like that? He always manages to piss me off.” His eye twitched as he remembered the debts the man had hoisted upon his former host. Despite all his hatred for the General there were too many questions left unanswered. From what Timcanpy had shown him Allen had forgotten everything. What’s more, he had gotten younger. It was like trying to put together a puzzle without most of the pieces.

Had Cross not had answers for that at least Nea could have used his magical skills. That four eyed idiot had done something strange and outside his own abilities. As best he could figure, however, their “separation” hadn’t accounted for the Noah gene. He could laugh if not for the absolute mess of it all.

There was something strange about this memory as well. It was like none of the others as far as he could tell. Allen’s inner Noah was swaddling him in a thorny embrace, like a babe in need of protection. Compared to his own, a destructive thing that had him clawing at his skin in agony, it was soft. Nea felt an urge to pull his nephew close and never let go again. The strangeness of Allen’s memory was oddly fitting.

Lacking any new information to dissect Nea could only move on to other things. Specifically how the Noah family would react to this. Like Nea they had to have felt the surge of a new memory breaking into the world. They would want to pull him away from the dreaded 14th as soon as they could, lest he “corrupt” their new brother. A smile stretched across Nea’s lips as he swore to keep his dearest friend by his side.

What a family reunion they’d be having. If Mana had any real sanity left Nea would have liked to share one last tender moment before the end. Fate and that detestable God were not so kind as to give any Noah such a merciful gift though. They would forever seek to destroy them for being in the way. Should Nea succeed he would put an end to their farce. His brother would be freed at long last.

Keeping Allen far away from this whole affair was very important. The attachment he’d formed with Mana could turn into a crushing weight when the truth was revealed. Those bonds of father and son were already so entangled with tragedy; Nea wouldn’t let another disaster play out. Mana’s insanity could drag them all down if left unchecked.

From what Timcanpy had shown of Allen’s time as Red, his brother had been attached at the hip with him. Nea knew that he’d forgotten it all just by the way he treated his nephew. That didn’t mean that Mana wasn’t drawn to him, oh no. Even when not a wisp of Nea’s presence had been visible the Earl had targeted Allen. Drawn like a moth to a flame, they circled each other. Now under the calming lull of the Noah memory inside Allen Mana would chase him wholeheartedly.

Then there was the other Noah to consider. Road and Joyd seemed to have the strongest bond with Allen of the family. While the others weren’t as close, they all appeared interested when interacting with him. Being a true part of the family could only grow their connection. It made Nea sick just thinking about it. The need to keep Allen close and out of their grubby hands echoed from his own Noah.

Wasn’t keeping Allen by his side the best way to make sure he was safe? Those disgusting roaches that scuttled about the Order were still searching for Allen. Nea had seen how easily they had hurt their beloved comrade. All throughout the past Timcanpy had shown Nea there had been pain. His nephew’s past was a constant spiral of suffering. Taking him away from the world that was so ready to tear him apart could only be a kindness.

Tension had built to a boiling point in Nea’s body and he forced himself to release it. In an attempt to calm down he scouted closer to the bed. A new bead of blood pooled along Allen’s stigmata that Nea wiped away. Unconsciously he pushed into the contact. Warmth bloomed in Nea’s chest. Seeing his dearest friend like this, utterly peaceful, was something he’d truly missed.

His senses registered the Noah memory shift from it’s dormant state and Nea braced for another wave of pain. More blood flowed down from Allen’s forehead as he became restless. The once lax expression of sleep twisted in pain. That’s when the screaming started, scratching Allen’s throat raw. It was hard not to wince at the sheer volume of his screams.

As the screams faded out Nea felt a new presence join them. Annoyed and reluctant to leave Allen’s side Nea turns to face the intruder. Standing before him is the Demon Eye, expression a mask of indifference. Rage so obviously simmers behind the facade but Nea finds it as threatening as a wet kitten.

His smile is packed full of malice as he says, “Didn’t know they’d let you come alone to see me kid.” The twitch of annoyance from Wisely’s reincarnation is so sweet. “You’d think with how easily I killed you last time you would all be a bit more careful.” Bloodlust oozes off Nea in waves, making the air thick with it.

Only when Allen’s scream rise back up does he stop. Nea is so tempted to return to his side to comfort him. The possibility of an attack is what holds him back. Wisely would be more than happy to slit his throat and take Allen away for good; or at least attempt to. There was no way Nea would give him that kind of opening.

“Would it kill you to be nicer, dearest 14th? I’m here to give you some friendly advice after all.” The moniker has Nea gnashing his teeth. He knows that smug bastard is enjoying himself. What an asshole.

Tilting his head Wisely says, “Like you’re one to talk. You really hold the title of world's biggest asshole.” Of course the little creep was reading his mind. Even in his new life Wisely refused to learn what privacy means.

Moving closer to the other Noah, Nea glares down with cold eyes. “Cut this bullshit and tell me why you’re really here.”

“We won’t let you keep him from us.” The brat dares to step closer to Allen and Nea watches him like a hawk for a single misstep. “You can’t hide no matter how hard you try. Someday soon we’ll bring our brother home, where he belongs.”

Something in Nea snaps. Anger grips his heart like a vice. Unwilling and unable to hold back, he shoots towards Wisely. His hand wraps around the bastard's neck. Blood drips from where his fingernails bite into WIsely’s skin as Nea squeezes his windpipe. The choked panic gives him no satisfaction. Painting the walls red with his blood is what he needs now.

His grip tightens, drawing a wheeze from the pathetic Noah. “He’s mine. Allen is mine.” Nea says with unhinged glee. “You can never take him from me. I’ll kill every single one of you if you try.”

It’s only when a burst of stabbing pain sweeps over Nea’s mind that he returns to reality. He let’s go reluctantly, Wisely falling at his feet. Such a shame he couldn’t kill him, but Nea is patient. Now is not the right time to crush Wisely beneath his foot. Later he’ll make sure to make his end painful.

Between satisfying coughing fits Wisely manages to bite out, “Ru-Road said to, guh, give you a warning for old t-times sake.” The venom behind the glare he gives Nea is almost impressive. “Shouldn’t have listened to her. You deserve to watch as your world crumbles around you and you fail.” It makes him laugh, the thought that Nea would lose to the likes of him.

Wisely’s face twists up in amusement. Nea keeps himself in check as he moves towards Allen. Fighting this close to Allen could only end in disaster. Even as the rat bastard patted his nephew’s head he held back. Truly, his restraint was worthy of the highest praise.

“I can’t wait to see what our new brother is capable of. He was already such an interesting human...” The little shit was lost in his own mind as he brushed hair off Allen’s forehead. It’s a herculean effort on Nea’s behalf to stay his hand. Perhaps killing him was worth the risk after all?

However, what Wisley said next stopped him dead in his tracks. “I do wonder why the Earl is already so attached to Allen?” What? No, this can’t possibly be happening; it’s too early. “I knew that you’d have answers. There’s something slipping just outside my reach, no matter how hard I search.”

Desperately Nea snaps his mind shut to leave only unrelated drivel in its wake. He needs to throw the Demon Eye Noah off his scent. Now. “Why don’t you ask Mana yourself?” The wince he gets is a good sign. Raising his voice and stepping into Wisley’s space Nea tells him, “Now get out of my sight.”

Gold meets gold as they assess each other for weakness. Finding nothing, Wisley moves to finally leave them be. With every step Nea feels better. On the threshold of the door, however, he turns back. Body going tense Nea prepares for whatever the creep plans to throw his way next.

“Before I go, you might want to find a new hiding place. There are some Akuma out there who aren’t very good a t playing nice.” An Explosion rocks the building, punctuating his statement. The string of curses that Nea lets out would have a sailor blushing. “Hope you enjoy yourself 14th!” His smug face watches on as Nea fumbles for their things. The Ark gate behind him swallows Wisely up but Nea pays it no mind.

Screams fill the air in a terrible crescendo of horror. With Allen out of commision Nea can only run. Scooping up his struggling nephew Nea makes sure Tim grabs their luggage. Ignoring the town below he calls up his own gate and the three disappear from sight. The humans left behind in that remote town are mowed down with mercy. Chaos creeps around every corner and the scent of blood blankets the air in a red mist. No one will discover the scene of pure carnage until weeks later.

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shroudedson · 4 years ago

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⚔ II Closed for @katrinkc II Two Wolves and a Dagger

———— The morning lent itself to thought, snow dusting the ground, the land wearing a mask of purity. Yet, his mind was plagued with cynicism, taking over every fiber of his earthy being, as though it was the only thing of note he had learned in his youth. Enjoyment should have been found in the cracks of the summit, yet the picturesque confines of his dwellings brought nothing besides conflicting notions that tore at already tattered seams of composure. He was not built nor accustomed to the life by which he was meant to lead in the coming months. Though successful at most diplomatic things he was assigned, there remained a difficulty in such tasks that often seemed insurmountable. More worthy to sit among fellow men of war, the pursuits of those closer to his stature seemed so far-fetched, they did not contain his full comprehension. He was understanding of their quest for power only if it aligned with his own - for the betterment of their society and not in spite of it. Could these things exist within these men who seemed so audacious and wily compared to those he normally shared his time with? These musings shoved him in the direction of company that would quell his persistent anxieties: his sister, Katrinka.

Compelled to be in her presence, which possessed the fiery spirit of Russia paired with all the refined nature of a true princess, he had invited her to the training yard. She was what he needed to mirror if he were to make significant strides in his current pursuits. He dare not divulge such things to her, however, as she was still likely aligned strongly with their elder brother and would not shift her support to him so easily. This was his feeling towards the bulk of his siblings, their loyalties to him only extending so far. He attributed such wavering ideals to his lack of presence within their lives as they grew. He had been walking his destined path since a very young age, one bred of solitude and conformity, which did not lend itself to forming notable bonds with his family. A traveler without a real home, destined to capture souls of those deemed disposable to accomplish the whims of leaders, he had no claim to their devotion. Thus, his siblings and newfound family rarely acquired the luxury of his time, finding Ivan's far more easily accessible. It was only natural that they should support Ivan's claim over his because he was little more than a stranger who donned the Rurik crest.

Even if he understood that his deeply-rooted affections for them were unrequited, he maintained them. He was concerned about the state of affairs Katrinka had been wed to, the tumultuous opinions the English held of the Russians a dangerous arena for a woman without real power. Out of all of his sisters, she provided the most perturbation to his frame. His other sisters were more weathered by time, having dealt with more intense pain than she. But she was beginning her journey as the heir to the English throne with a partner Rudolf did not see as her equal. The man seemed weak, a mere boy who did not wish to support his wife but rather control her - and who would not defend the Rurik name with proper vigor. Rudolf had seen the hatred of Russia in many a face, brought them to their demise, and no matter how many he killed, they continued to sprout like lilies in the spring.

So, he wished to ensure the safety of his sister if her husband was unwilling to do so, providing her with knowledge of things only the men in their time were made aware of. He had taught her from a young age to be the wolf that she was and to be unrelenting in her strength, despite the world demanding her fire be stomped out. Her ability to protect herself would placate his uneasiness and allow him a good night's rest. His large frame towers over the weapons rack provided by the French king, eyes dashing over the craftsmanship with scrutiny only he could muster. They seemed well made, yet the elaborate designs distracted from the true purpose of it all; to kill. Perhaps it was reflective of French society in general, that they cover their poison in lovely designs so that they seemed less threatening overall. Just as such notions crossed his mind, the crunching of snow beneath delicate feet catches his attention. He turns and is greeted with the image of the little wolf.

Katrinka had grown into someone he barely recognized, her stature filled with such poise it seemed she was merely a woman who resembled the girl he had known. Her raven hair was of longer length than the last time they had met, her brown eyes piercing as though the pain had shifted her. It was astounding to see her a woman grown, but the strings of his heart tugged with embedded disappointment. Not in his sister, but in the system that had clearly provided her with such agony that the light had drained from her soul. He crosses the courtyard towards her, opening his arms in an offer of affection. It is not often he would reach out to her, but he had yearned for her company far more during this past battle than before, so he is acting a bit out of turn. "I have been thinking of you recently, I hope your difficulty in getting leave was naught." He reaches towards her, pulling her into his chest and releasing her a few moments after.

"Come, let us spar." He offers, extending his hand which wrapped around a dagger he had acquired during his travels. "I am sure you have some frustrations that demand to be absconded, let me assist you and then we may talk of your life in England." Rudolf always attempted light conversation around his sisters, unwilling to trouble them with the tribulations of the life he led. Why should women fill their heads with thoughts of war when he was unsure these things were even fit for men? He wished only for them to have lives filled with happiness and freedom from the restraints that bound him - thus, he often avoided speaking about the issues in his own life in exchange for issues in theirs. He only hoped he could provide her with the same peace that she did him.

#; the dearest sister with the heart of a wolf #closed starter ; would you die at the sword for a chance at me #// uwu dont feel the need to match the length asdhsdj sorry this is sdjfhsdj so weird #// still getting used to writing him!

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for-ests · 6 years ago

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To Make You Come Home- Colin Ritman x Reader

Part 1

Word count: 3,802

Sorry for the long wait and the spacing. I didn’t plan on part 2 being this long :’)) I hope you enjoy!!

________________________

He didn’t care. He never did.

That’s all you could think about as you sprinted down the road. It was so late in the night that not a single soul was out. All you could hear was the sound of your sneakers scuffing against the pavement.

If he really cared about me he would be here right now. If he loved me, he would have put forth the effort I have.

The streetlights were a haze in your vision as you ran until the weight of your bag felt like a hundred pounds.

Why does Colin make himself so hard to love?

Just the thought of cutting him completely out of your life was enough to cause your tears to overflow. Your sniffles turned into sobs within seconds, overtaking your senses so quickly that you had to stop running.

Colin… Colin, why? Why do you have to make me feel like this?

You wanted to scream as loud as you could. There was so much anger building up inside of you and you didn't know how to let out. You just needed to get away. You needed to breathe. Yet being alone felt odd. Wanting a break from Colin was something you had never craved before.

Why do I let him treat me like this?

Why did love have to be so complicated? You wanted to be alone yet you could barely stand the idea of not laying in bed next to him. If only he had decided to go to sleep with you that night. If only he had listened to your advice. If only he didn’t rely on drugs for release. If only.

You came to a stop at the realization. This entire time you had been trying to change him. For the better, yes indeed. But he wasn’t ready for change. He wasn’t ready to grow up and cherish the love you were willing to give him.

And if he wasn’t ready, 3 years was already too long to wait. You always had time, but it was never going to go to waste.

"I'll be okay." You promised to yourself, lip quivering with each prayer that you uttered. No matter what was going to happen, you would get through it. With or without Colin by your side. The relationship was in his hands now. One more tear slipped from your eye when you realized you had done all you could.

Your heart seemed to shatter at that realization. All you could do was sit and wait for him to make up his mind. It felt like you had broken up, but you couldn’t help and hold on tightly to that last string of hope.

You had wanted to feel something real; you wanted something more. You wanted someone to depend on you, to crave and cherish you. But you always seemed to let the wrong man do so. Someone who didn't even deserve an ounce of the love you had to give.

You thought that man could have been Colin. There were so many great qualities about him, yet his deep rooted issues always stood in the way. You noticed his problems when you were friends, yet had to deal with them as a couple.

In your eyes, the man you wanted to be with was never supposed to be perfect. You just needed to see him strive to change. The fights you always had with him were easily preventable yet it never changed. He could fix his problems if he wanted to. He could get some sleep. He could stop drinking in excess. He could stop lying. He could treat you better.

And now you had finally had enough. You would not let Colin bring you down with him, as selfish as that sounded. But you had already been trying for 3 years. If the sign that he wouldn’t run after you wasn’t enough, you didn’t know what was. You could not fix him.

And that was the biggest, most important lesson you learned from this.

Some people aren't meant to be fixed.

Tears started to well in the corners of your eyes. Sometimes the truth really was harder to face. It hurt to know your efforts to form an unbreakable bond with him crumbled right in front of you. But you couldn’t go on like this any longer. You could not watch Colin destroy himself. The promises he whispered in your ear had become devoid of all meaning. They were almost as empty as you.

Despite his faults, you loved him. You loved him more than anything- yet you had to be strong for yourself. Everything you thought was contradicting.

Though you tried desperately to deny it, you could not continue on like this. "I need to move on.” Your brain tried to reason with your heart.

Yet uttering those words did not change a thing. You were still confused, still hurt beyond explanation. You were so angry and tired, in dire need of someone who was willing to calm you down. The last thing you could do was walk back into the apartment you and Colin shared. You were so frustrated that you would rather sleep outside.

And with that, you reached your childhood best friend Stefan’s door with a heavy heart.

Coming around the street corner so early in the morning was strange. There wasn’t another sound to be heard. The silence was eerie, as if it was trying to remind you that you were alone.

Somewhat ashamed, you walked up the concrete steps to Stefan’s front door. You were surprised you had even made it there, with how dazed and confused you had become. Your mind was racing a hundred miles a minute. Would he even take you in? Was he even home?

Your finger hovered over the doorbell. You paused, half of you wishing Colin had followed you. You absolutely hated bothering people like this. Stefan probably wouldn’t mind, but your worry stemmed from your own anxiety of becoming a burden.

Ding.

You waited anxiously. It was not too late to turn back.

Yet before you could think about another alternative, Stefan appeared behind the glass. A surprised look was on his face.

“Y/N?” He rubbed his eyes, voice muffled behind the door until he unlocked it and ushered you inside.

“I'm sorry Stefan...” You half smiled, swaying the duffel bag around your torso. “Is there anyway I can crash on your couch for tonight?” You tried to ask without showing any indications of how heartbroken you were.

But he could see right through you, aside from the fact that you had shown up at 3am.

“Colin let you walk away huh?”

“I think we are done this time...” You bit your lip to hold back the tears. “I can’t watch him spiral like this. He won’t take my advice. And as far as I’m concerned, I have been enabling him to take the drugs. He can’t function without them anymore. We don’t talk.. Haven't done anything special in two weeks...” You looked up to meet Stefan’s eyes, and was surprised to find them filled with sadness and compassion.

“You don’t need to say anything more, Y/N.” Stefan took your bag from you and gestured for you to follow him to his bedroom. His hair was disheveled from what was once a deep sleep. For the most part he was awake, giving you his full attention.

“The couch is fine.” You smiled weakly, not wanting to ruin his entire night. Stefan was far too kind.

“You already know what I'm going to say.” He rolled his eyes, moving aside papers and books to set your bag on his desk chair. You hadn’t been over for a couple weeks and a lot had changed since then. Stefan was also working on a similar project, and he was still sane. At least you thought… At least Stefan talked to you about his problems. That topic had remained constant in your friendship.

“Thanks,” You laughed through your nose. “for real.”

“Colin may be a coworker and friend, but I’ve known you since we were children.” He crossed his arms and looked around. “I’m sorry for the mess though… Is there anything else I can get you before I go back asleep?”

“No,” You smiled genuinely. You wondered if Stefan could see the obvious indications of crying that littered your face. If he did, he remained quiet. He had known you long enough to wait until you were ready. The pain was still fresh. “Not till the morning.” You finished.

“I'll be here when you wake. We can talk then.”

He closed the door. You listened to his bare feet creak against the hardwood until you were sure he was out of hearing range. You felt like crying, but part of you was too angry to produce any tears. You tried to avoid the resentment creeping into your mind. Relationships were never a waste of time until the end, when you realize everything you had put into it was unappreciated. Years of your life gone. If you somehow couldn’t work it through with Colin, your happiness would become a painful memory. All the traits you had learned about him would eventually fade. Everything you had been through would never be spoken about again.

You weren’t ready for that.

Sighing to avoid more tears, you took off your shoes and set them quietly under Stefan’s bed. You knew a couple hours of sleep would relieve some of the stress.

Stefan’s home was a great place to take your mind off Colin. He was a part of your life that was filled with continuous joy. He even had a few pictures of you from your earlier years taped on his wall. Glancing at them caused a smile to spread across your face. The two of you were so young then, and now you were reaching adulthood.

Stefan’s room was so plain back then. Now, the walls were decorated with projects, diagrams and posters. Piles of books and software littered every possible open surface in the cramped room.

Looking at them put you at peace. And eventually, you wrapped yourself in a blanket and drifted into a relaxed, stress free slumber.

___

The morning came sooner than you wanted. The room was still pitch black because of the blinds, which made it ten times harder to wake up fully. Groaning, you stretched and climbed out of bed. The clock read 10:30am.

You emerged from the bedroom and found Stefan up in the kitchen. He smiled at you, gesturing to the eggs and toast he was preparing.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You chuckled.

The lanky boy shrugged nonchalantly. “I know, but you would do the same for me.”

You pulled out a chair at the breakfast bar and laid your head in your hands, rubbing your eyes from discomfort. Your mind was still racing, trying to piece together some sort of plan on how you were going to figure your life out. You couldn’t just bail on Colin, You shared an apartment. You shared everything...What were you going to do? You would have to find your own place closer to the university. You could possibly find one of your girlfriends to live with for a couple week. Yet your pride wouldn't have it. You hated relying on other people so heavily like that. Colin had been the only person to see that side of you for quite some time.

“Y/N?” Stefan’s voice finally hit you like a slap in the face. You hadn’t noticed he had been calling your name.

“What? Sorry.” You mumbled.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” A sigh escaped your lips. You wished more than anything for something else to fill your mind. “I’d rather talk about you. How’s the game going?”

“Don’t give me that.” He laughed while shaking his head. “You need to go back to Colin’s and figure your shit out.”

You were silent. You knew Stefan was right but you craved recognition from Colin. You wanted him to come to you. You were sick of being the one who initiated to sort through your problems. You wanted Colin to be a man and ask you to stay. Immature and irrational, yes, but still. You could not help the way you felt. Why were you the one obligated to figure things out?

You lowered your gaze, ashamed. “It’s always me.”

It took Stefan a moment to process what you meant. When it hit him, he raised his eyebrows. “You want him to come to you?”

You slowly nodded, your answer as faint as it could be. “I’m sorry Stefan. I’m being an idiot. I’m just so… angry.”

Stefan pulled out the chair next to you and took a seat. “You don’t need to be sorry about anything.”

You felt tears prickling at your eyelids. You loathed being this vulnerable.

“Why don’t I drive you back over there so you can pick up your things. You can try to talk to him.” Stefan lowered his head into your view until you were forced to look at him. “See what he has to say. But after that, I can always take you back.”

You sniffled. “I-I can do that.”

Not another moment passed before you gathered your composure. You reached over and grabbed the telephone from off the wall and dialed your phone number. Your hands were on the verge of shaking from how terrified you had become. What the hell were you going to say? The phone rang three times before Colin’s raspy voice echoed on the other side.

“Hello?”

“Are you at the flat?” You asked, keeping your voice as steady as possible.

“Yeah.” He replied softly, recognizing your voice in an instant.

“I'll be over soon.” You clutched the phone so hard your fingers turned white. You heard him taking a breath but were too nervous to hear what he had to say. You slammed the phone against the receiver before you heard another word.

___

Arriving at your apartment should not have been this difficult. You swallowed hard as you unbuckled your seat belt. Maybe it was too soon to come back, but you were an impatient person. You would have to come back regardless.

“I’ll be here.” Stefan gave you an encouraging smile.

You reciprocated his actions, even as your heart began to beat so fast you could barely hear what he said. You closed the car door with a click and clutched the keys in your hand. Here went nothing.

Entering the lobby and riding the elevator seemed like a fever dream. This building had been your home for over a year, yet you felt like an alien in it. No matter how long you had been with Colin, it was his. This was his home first. And depending on what happens when you enter the room, it will be his home last.

Even staring at the front door, decorated with pictures and signs you had placed there, wasn’t enough to make you feel welcome. You were most likely scaring yourself, but it was you form of preparation. You couldn't face another disappointment. You did not want to expect a smile on his face and be greeted with a frown.

Shaking your head to disperse the thoughts, you took a deep breath and knocked. At the sound, you heard shuffling from inside. As if he had been intentionally waiting beside it, Colin pulled the door open.

Your mouth parted in surprise.

The bags under his eyes had worsened. It seemed like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

“Y/N-” He started, too choked up to say anything coherent. You had the feeling he wanted to reach out for you by the way he stumbled. You watched that thought leave his eyes at the sight of you standing as still as a statue.

“Where’s your mind at?” You shifted awkwardly on your feet. Normally, you would be all too willing to fall back into his arms. But if that were to happen, the cycle would go on repeating itself. That's not the life you wanted for yourself, and it was certainly not the life you wanted for Colin. If you couldn’t be the one by his side, hopefully someone else could.

“What do you mean where’s my mind at?” He blinked in confusion, one hand gripping the door and the other gripping the wooden frame. You watched his muscles tense.

You met his eyes. “Did you think I was going to come back and pretend everything was okay?”

“I hoped.”

“Because you're ashamed?” The accusation left your lips out of anger and frustration. “And you’re not big enough of a man to admit it?”

“I have nothing to be ashamed about.” He swallowed, now unable to meet your eyes.

“You're addicted, Colin.” You bit your lip. “I can’t be with someone like this.”

“I’m not-”

“-You are. And I’ve let it slide for too long. You can’t function sober.”

Colin was silent. He knew he had a problem. The hurt in your tone was evident enough. He had neglected you long enough.

“All you had to do was ask for help. Before any of this spiraled. I was there for you.”

You saw panic flash across his face even though he was trying to hide it. “Was?”

“I can’t.” You gestured frantically between the two of you. There was barely a gap, but it felt like miles. “I can’t keep going on like this.”

“Like what?” He whispered.

“Being ignored. Watching you fall apart. You pushing me away. You never wanting to do anything. You smoke every night, and you push your work off until you have to cram it all into one night. And then you can't even do it! You need to take a tab. I’m sick of it. Your sleep schedule is so fucked up I can't remember the last time you held me in that bed.”

He knew he had no justifiable excuse. He had fucked up.

“I love you, Y/N.” His shoulders relaxed. “I don’t understand why that isn’t enough.”

“How am I supposed to know you love me when you never show it?” You raised your voice, surprised at the weakness of his rational. “I should be able to feel your love.”

Your words were a challenge. After the years you had spent together, Colin was able to decipher your language.

You were growing distraught. Was he even listening to you? You wanted to kiss him so badly, to run your fingers along his face in a caressing touch. You wanted to move on like nothing ever happened but your heart couldn’t go through it again. There needed to be a change. And he had to make his decision now.

“You’re right.” He breathed, tension pulling harder and harder at the both of you. “I feel like you despise me. I don’t know how to make it right.”

His confession took you by surprise. Colin was never not confident, he never shied away from taking control of every situation. When he walked into the room, all eyes were always on him. You knew he was under an immense amount of stress and pressure because of it. But now it had taken a toll on your relationship.

“I’m not used to this… not knowing what to do.”

“You should be able to take comfort in the fact that I'm here for you. I should know things about you that no one else does.” You met his eyes again. “I thought you would have learned this of being together for 3 years.”

“Take comfort in the fact that no one has heard me say that before.” He opened the door wider, as an invitation. “You’re the only woman I need.”

Still upset, that comment made the corners of your lips curve slightly.

He was vulnerable for what seemed like the first time. That was a step in the right direction, a promising one. Now he knew you were serious. You wouldn’t tolerate his childish behavior any longer. You wanted something more with him, and he was going to have to work for it.

Even though Colin was sure you still wanted to scream at him, you held yourself with so much composure. It made his heart race. You looked beautiful just as you were, even when your eyes were red and your nose stuffy. He only wished he hadn’t caused it.

“I love you.” Colin repeated with glossy eyes.

And with that, you fell against him with a sob. His warmth enveloped you and you gripped onto him tight. The man you loved more than anything ushered you inside, hugging you just as tight in return.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” He whispered into your hair. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”

“I believe you.” You tilted your head up, staring deeply into his eyes. “My love for you is still strong. I love you, Colin. No matter what happens that will never change.”

You shared a long kiss, one that was filled with passion and desperation. The butterflies you had felt so many times before erupted back into a fury. He gripped your waist, begging for more.

You pulled back, hands caressing his jawline. “Later.”

“I need you, babe.”

You chuckled softly, burying your face into his chest. Colin knew what names to call you when he wanted something. Every time he did, he was able to see that familiar blush light up your cheeks.

“Let me go tell poor Stefan that everything is okay.”

“Is that where you stayed?”

“Where else would I have gone?”

He smiled. “You’re right. Let me come with you. I need to thank him.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew you didn’t have the courage to come back by yourself. He had some say in your decision, yeah?” His question was cheeky, followed by a nudge.

You rolled your eyes. “I would have come back eventually.”

“I know. I was just about to go find you when you called.” His joke turned into something more serious. “I was worried sick about you.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“No.”

“Well I promise not to do that again. If you promise me that you’ll work at your habits. I’m only saying this because I care about you Colin.”

He took your small hands and kissed them softly. “I promise.”

#colin ritman x reader #colin ritman #bandersnatch #will poulter x reader #will poulter

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