#yes this is a showtime fic trust

[iamespecter]

I was possessed by the demons in episode 3 last night while writing this (not sure if I'm going to finish this)

spoiler alert she chews him up and spits him back out right after

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 20. showtime

chapter tags/warnings: dad! toji. toji also calls himself daddy. vouyerism. angsty! megumi. infidelity/adultery. pet names (mainly "princess" and "sweetheart"). mentions of violence. mentions of betrayal. so much family drama. strong language. classism. manipulative undertones.

word count: 2.6k

notes: this was originally going to be one long ass chapter but I had to break this into two. you will see why. enjoy! comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Obviously, you wanted to learn everything about Toji Fushiguro.  

He didn’t have to hear you say it. 

Already, Toji could tell from the inquisitive glisten in your round eyes, that all he saw in you was curiosity with the need—not the want—for him to share himself with you. Naturally, you would like him to retell his story from chapter one. 

Similarly, he longed to share his tales, revealing the burdens that had been gnawing at him since his childhood. That Toji had known Naoya for years, that he used to be a Zenin himself, that he knew your husband was fucking his ex-wife. How messed up was that? 

Very much so.

The main problem was, though, that Toji was selfish. 

While he would love to be honest, he did not want to shatter your trust in him. He knew how much you lived under Naobito and Naoya’s control since your father worked under the Zenin Corporation, so the last thing he desired was for you to associate him with them. 

Toji didn’t want you to be scared around him, too.

The idea of losing you was something that Toji did not want to think about. Yes, this was going to sound possessive but...Toji liked having you around. Not in a sexual way, but in a companionship manner.

Or maybe both, but still.  

Regardless, your presence comforted him.  

Of course, Megumi was another factor in the equation. Given that the teenager hated his Uncle Naoya, he understandably could not stand to see his pampered in-law (you) either. Toji knew Megumi’s frustration was a projection of his mental turmoil and that much of the ordeal was due to Toji’s previous poor decisions regarding women. 

But you were different.  

For the first time in a very long while, Toji believed he had gotten something right. 

All these thoughts brewed in his mind as he outstretched his arm to brush over the smudged mascara by your cheek. In vain, he attempted to rub away the signs from your earlier sadness. 

“Want to wash your face in the bathroom first?” 

The question came out more like a command, and defeat sank into your features as you ultimately respected his decision. 

“Okay,” you acquiesced.

Even if you wanted to, there was no chance for you to protest when Toji stepped past you and toward the spiral staircase. You followed him without another choice, trailing behind him like a lost duckling.  

Although you seemingly settled down from the whole Naoya situation, Toji had yet to. As he ascended the steps to the apartment’s upper level, he placed up a front in which he was all calm and levelheaded when—in reality—he could still feel the burning, white-hot anger rolling off his body. 

Toji badly—so, so badly—wanted to hightail it to wherever the fuck Naoya was in this world and beat the living shit out of him. He always knew that his kid cousin couldn’t be trusted with a wife because he wrecked so many people already. 

Nonetheless, Toji had kept these thoughts to himself ever since he first heard about Naoya’s marriage from business and celebrity newspapers. After all, Toji didn’t know you earlier this year and wasn't in the appropriate position to intervene, therapist or not. His relationships were his relationships, and your relationships were yours. 

Now, with that misogynistic jackoff proving him right, Toji had some regrets.  

He should have done more.  

Toji abhorred knowing that Naoya was emotionally abusing you, disrespecting you, and treating you like you were just another dumb slut.

Put simply, he absolutely could not stand to see you so upset and fucked over by somebody who didn’t deserve you in the first place—by Naoya fucking Zenin of all people in this world. 

While Toji would admit that he had his reservations about you upon the first encounter, he rapidly realized that you were nothing more than an innocent lamb caught in an ugly crossfire. 

Could Naoya not see how lucky he was with you? A whole package was what you were: your allure unparalleled, your energy contagious, and your elegance remarkable. No wonder Naobito had taken every measure to secure you as his son’s wife.

On the other hand, Toji sincerely wished that you would no longer be miserable because a person like you deserved to enjoy all the rhapsodies of life. 

Sometimes, Toji wished that you stood up for yourself more. He wished that you had been more selfish over some things that were rightfully yours. Your marriage, your family, your happiness一these belonged to you , yet some other woman (the real ‘dumb slut’) was robbing you of these entitlements.

Had you been single, had you waited a little, Toji knew for sure that countless suitors would have lined up vying to court you, willing to throw themselves on the line because you would be their queen. 

“Are you alright?”  

Given that he had been lost in thought, Toji jolted at your voice. He had stopped completely at the upstairs landing, brain still reeling from thoughts of leaving Naoya busted and bloodied, hanging on to life from a thin little thread. 

Vigorously, he shook his head from side to side to clear his mind. 

Regardless of how badly he wanted to and how easy the task would be for him, Toji would not stoop that low to exert physical violence on someone else. Even though the fool deserved to be punished twenty times over, Toji wouldn’t hurt your husband because you would also not want him to. 

But damn, holding himself back was hard. 

For Toji, who had seen how Naoya’s impulsivity and greed had hurt his step-daughter Tsumiki and his son Megumi as well, restraint was especially difficult.   

"Ah, my bad,” Toji finally said after composing himself many moments later. He then realized that he had yet to introduce the apartment’s layout. “So the lower level includes the guest areas: the parlor, kitchen, bar, dining space, home theater. Upstairs, though, are where the living spaces reside.” He gestured toward the far rear of the corridor. “Bedrooms are over there with a study room at the end, but the washroom,” he went several steps ahead, pushing open the first door to the left, “is right here."  

In slow and inquisitive steps, you followed as Toji started rummaging in a linen closet by the entrance. He grabbed at the white cotton towels in the lower compartment.

"For you," he explained, placing a neatly folded set into your delicate hands. “Here. Splash some cold water on your face. Let me find you in a couple of minutes. I will check on Megumi in the meantime.” 

“Alright,” you hummed while Toji retreated back into the halls. 

“Talk to you later, then.”

Next mission was Megumi Fushiguro, a troubled boy who could easily be misunderstood. 

Oftentimes, Toji saw his own reflection within his son. He recognized himself the most in Megumi’s cheerless gaze, where beyond the initial glimpse lay a barren tundra bleakened by pain, by incidents that have hurt him before. 

In that dark void existed a part that cried for help, but this place remained faded over so that others could not pry into the true emotions within.  

Megumi was terrified. 

Heck, even Toji was, too. 

Because, in their experiences, those who had betrayed the most were those who had been the closest to them. Therefore, all that was left was caution, wariness, and distrust, such that now—between father and son—there was no one to turn against but one another.  

“Megumi!” Toji shouted when arriving at the said boy’s door. (Unlike a certain colleague, he at least had the decency to announce his arrival.) 

As expected, however, there came no response. 

He then knocked loudly so that Megumi would hear the sound even with his headphones blasting.

Nothing again.

Exasperated, Toji wiggled the knob. Noticing that the handle was unlocked, he opened the door and into a darkened room. Megumi had switched everything off save for his glaring computer monitor, but the boy wasn’t in his chair either. 

“I don’t really want to talk right now.” 

Instead, Megumi’s grumble came from his bed, to where Toji looked and saw a large blanketed heap. The teenager was cocooned in his sheets, not leaving a single black strand in sight. 

From the small gap amid the lump came another glow.  

He’s on his phone , Toji figured, which he knew among kids these days was the ultimate sign that they wanted to be left alone. 

Except the therapist side in him was not going to give up that easily. 

Idly, Toji flicked at a nearby houseplant. 

“Not talking right now is okay but,” his green gaze shifted from the succulent to the enveloped lump, “trust me on her. She’s on our side.” 

Rather than another outburst, Megumi didn’t reply immediately. “Sure,” he mumbled eventually but hardly convinced, using whatever TikToks he was scrolling through to fill the silence for him. 

“If Tsumiki had been home from university,” Toji continued, this time bringing up the step-sister that the boy adored, “would she want to hear her little brother talk to others like that?”

Another long pause. “Whatever.” 

“I know I had made bad judgments about people before, but—for this one instance—think about what you’ve said tonight,” was what Toji left his son with as he wished Megumi a good night and closed the door behind him with one very extended sigh. 

Being a therapist was tough, but being a single father was a thousand times more wearisome.

Toji would consider calling an end to the evening, to sit in his study as he evaluated his own emotions, but was reminded that he had a guest by shuffling sounds from down the hall.

Knowing that he still owed a small explanation, he paced back to the bathroom, barging into the vicinity to suggest, “Whenever you’re ready, let’s go talk again...down...stairs....” 

His voice trailed off before disappearing completely when he could not locate you.

Rather than finding you by the sink washing your face like he advised and expected, Toji spotted your tossed clothes on the floor. Confused, his gaze darted around until he glanced toward the bathtub where he found your muted form hovering over, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“I, um,” you blinked rapidly, as though you had been caught doing something bad. “I showered, too.” 

You got flustered too easily, which was adorable. 

The only thing that covered your naked and glistening form was the towel that had been wrapped around your figure, but even that hung low from your chest before stopping abruptly past your hips, leaving little to the imagination. 

In the lamplight, you glowed golden while clinging droplets made your skin shine. Your cheeks and arms were flushed, your body heaving from heavy panting.

You clutched the fabric tighter so that the towel would not merely slip away, but if Toji had to be honest, you would have to hold on to that for dear life so that he didn’t yank the whole damn cover away entirely. 

A shaky breath later, his gaze wandered up your body until his malachite eyes flicked up to collide with yours, his tongue—piercing and all—caught between his teeth. Meanwhile, your mouth was plush and sweetly pursed, softened by a doe-like innocence, and he saw how you trembled slightly from the sudden vulnerability. 

Toji should be able to handle himself better. After watching you break down and then dealing with his personal stressors, the last thing he should feel was the boiling need that burned through his skin, the air in his lungs weighty as if flames from his stomach drifted thick smoke into them. 

Just…leave him alone okay? 

Fuck.  

"Not inviting your host to the party is bad manners,” was what he found himself saying, but the light grin on his face did not match the lust and pink flush that swept across his face.

You cleared your throat as water dripped from your elbows. With every effort, you tried to stay casual. “Sorry.” 

Toji chuckled at how seriously you took the accusation. “Relax, princess. I’m just messing with you.”

All pouty, you looked at him with those huge, round eyes.

“Then, can I ask something while you’re here?”

Intrigued, he lifted a brow. “Depends.”

“Why are you scared to open up to me, Toji?” you pressed on.

The said man didn’t immediately answer, placing his hands inside his pockets instead. He rolled his shoulders back, all without his gaze leaving your intentful one. Sure, you both stared at each other wordlessly—but somehow, in the absence of conversation, the more you two began to understand one another. 

“Simple. I don’t bring up my past to just anybody, darling. Apologies for the disappointment.” 

“But I’m not ‘just anybody,’” you fought back, half-offended. “We’re friends , remember? Just like you had said.” Then, you directed an accusatory finger to his stoic face. “So, I’m somebody special .”

Well, you stumped him now. 

Contemplating an answer, Toji walked around your clothes and met you at the other section in the bathroom, cornering you against the nearby countertop as his brawny body leered over your smaller one. 

When you glanced upward, your warm breaths fanned across his scar. But the heat that whirled between your bodies was far more excruciating, stifling even. 

“What if my reason is to protect you?” He stopped, half-expecting you to cower but all that shone was determination. So, he resumed, “My history is fucked up. I was born into an unlucky situation surrounded by manipulative people, and I was another stupid person making stupid choices. Here I am, still dealing with the blow many years later. I don’t think you’ll want to talk to me again once you learn about the people I share the same blood with."

“But that is them. That is not you . Why would I want to forget you after everything you have done for me?” you vented in disbelief. “Toji, all I want is to help you!”

“Better not to drag yourself into this. You’re already much deeper in the waters than you think,” he admitted with a heavy sigh and ran his hand through his inky hair. “I couldn’t shield my son, and I couldn’t shield my stepdaughter. Therefore, I cannot promise that I would not hurt you, either.”

You fell quiet for a brief moment.

“That’s okay,” you resolved. “Because you…would be worth the pain.”

Toji felt...his heart leap? He had not been this exposed in many, many years, and he reached for your hands so that he could lace your fingers together. His emotions were so fragile and raw , his face only inches away from yours at this point.

"Really now?"

"Yes." A pause. “Then, what…does this mean for us?” 

Toji shrugged, eyeing that stupid fucking wedding band on your fourth digit. “I’m not the married one here, sweetheart. The decision is yours,” he offered up, although he could feel himself grow dizzy. “What do you want?”

In anticipation, your tongue ran across your lower lip. You crept forward and moved closer until your thighs were pressed flush against his.

“ You .”

And boy, did Toji love that answer.

He leaned forward again, this time scooping up your behind and propping you onto the countertop, yanking the pointless towel that had been shielding your goddess-like figure. He gave your hips a good squeeze before tearing your knees in opposite directions. 

You yelped and winced from the discomfort, but Toji knew you loved being maneuvered. Between your legs was a glistening mess, almost as if your pussy had been weeping for him, begging and crying and sobbing for your therapist’s touch. Did you actually think you were going to hide this from him?

When Toji looked up and met your line of sight, he cherished how you peered at him from under your fluttering lashes.

What a beautiful scene. 

So, he smiled. 

“Then why don’t you give daddy a show?”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: 1) I know you hate me for the cliffhanger, but I had to! 2) For a while, I had been debating whether to write this chapter and the upcoming one in Y/N's or Toji's POV. In the end, I chose Toji's perspective to shine some light into his thoughts when he's with us. See you all again soon! Get ready to get real dirty next chapter. ♡

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @hinativity @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @piqer @nobody289x @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @blackdragoncigarette @puffaloxx @shoisae @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[fanartandfanfiction]

HUMBLE

Charlastor fic, charliexalastor

Alastor greatly underestimates Charlie and he’s gonna get HUMBLED.

A bit more of a realistic take on the characters, with Charlie dealing with more issues than she lets on. A slow burn, with Alastor absolutely not handling and comprehending his feelings. AND I KNOW canonically Al is aroace but it’s fanfiction so he’s charliesexual. Also in this universe, Charlie and vaggie haven’t dated, and Charlie doesn’t know vaggie’s true feelings for her.

Chapter one: Picture Show Fiasco (basically the pilot from Al’s perspective, you can skip if you want)

Alastor was walking down the street and humming to himself when he noticed a crowd gathered in front of a window. As he got closer, he saw it was TELEVISION they were ogling at. He was about to keep walking when he saw what was happening. Princess Charlotte Morningstar was on the news and making an absolute fool of herself. This he had to see.

The bubbly blonde was dancing and singing about demons and rainbows, and it was absolutely hysterical! She finished her performance and was met with resounding laughter. The crowd in front of him was laughing too hard for him to properly hear, but the princess looked downhearted as that vicious harpie Katie Killjoy spoke. The crowd settled down enough just in time for him to see the princess glare and stand up in front of Katie.

“I have your PEN, BITCH!”

Alastor couldn’t contain his laughter. His menacing cackle sent the crowd scrambling. It was absolutely hysterical seeing the sweet little princess try to stand up to the news woman. Then the fight started.

He was puzzled as he watched it. She was Lucifer’s daughter, this shouldn’t be much of a fight at all! But she hardly used any of the power she possessed. Untapped potential…

As he continued his stroll, he overheard people talking about the news. “Can you believe it? That stupid bitch thinks we can actually be redeemed! At some stupid place called the happy hotel.”

“She’s so desperate to redeem people that she’s letting that porn star live there. Angel Dust ain’t ever gonna change. But she’s gullible.”

Alastor was struck with an idea. Yes, an EXCELLENT idea. He’d show up, offer his assistance, and gain her trust. Then he’d have a very powerful pawn.

As he approached the hotel, he saw the girl sitting outside with a mobile phone. He stayed hidden and listened in.

“Hey, mom. I know I keep calling and you must be busy... Really busy... But, um, the interview didn't go well, and... I don't know if I'm ever going to make a difference. I don't know what I'm doing. I could really use some advice, mom. I... I think dad was right about me... Ahah, oof. Eh, anyway... I'll stop talking before this gets long. Love you, bye…” She wiped tears from her face and went inside.

Daddy issues AND an absent mother? Why, the girl would be desperate for anyone to lean on! Might as well strike while the iron’s hot. He put on his most charming smile and knocked on the door.

The door opened slowly and he saw her eyes widen as she saw him. “Hel-“ SLAM! He blinked in confusion. The door opened again. “Lo-“ SLAM. That was rather rude. He could hear voices arguing inside, then the door opened slowly again. The poor girl was terrified. Clearly his reputation preceded him. “May I speak now?”

“Um…you may.” She squeaked out. Showtime!

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart! Quite a pleasure! He shook her hand and pulled her close, then let himself in.

“Excuse my sudden visit, but I saw your fiasco on the picture show, and I just couldn't resist! What a performance! Why, I haven't been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929! Sooo many orphans…” he chuckled to himself.

Some freaky looking one-eyed girl shoved a spear towards him. “Stop right there, cabrón hijo de perra! I know your game and I'm not gonna let you hurt anyone here, you pompous cheesy talk show shitlord!”

How hilarious! She thought she could threaten him. He smirked and pushed her spear away. “My dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here, I already would have.” He revealed more of his demonic form, intending to intimidate her. Unfortunately this was also scaring the girl he needed to win over. He returned to his regular form and smiled. “No, I’m here because I want to help!”

“Uuuh…what?” Charlie asked.

“Hello? Testing! Is this thing on?” He tapped his microphone.

“You want to help with what?”

“This ridiculous thing you’re trying to do! This hotel! I’d like to help you run it!”

“But…why?”

“Why does anyone do anything, dear? Boredom!”

Charlie looked at him suspiciously. “So does this mean you think demons can be redeemed?”

“Of course not! That's wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! No, no, no, no. I don't think there's anything left that could save such loathsome sinners. The chance given was the life they lived before, the punishment is this! There is no undoing what is done!”

“So then why do you want to help me if you don’t believe in my cause?” She asked with wide eyes.

Time to crank up the charm. “Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!” He grabbed her arm and pulled her close, twirling her around. “I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure!”

“Riiiiiight…” clearly she needed more convincing.

“Yes indeedy! I see big things coming your way, sweetheart! And who better to help you than I?” He put an arm around her waist and led her away from the angry looking moth girl. She seemed to be the rational one, and he couldn’t have that.

“Think of what I’m offering here, sweetheart. I’ve got connections, I’ve got cash, and I’ve got powerful magic! You and me, working together? Why, we could FILL this place with sinners!”

She still looked unsure. Unfortunately the moth girl realized he’d gotten her alone and dragged her away. “Charlie, we need to talk.”

The pair was having a heated discussion. He heard the grating sound of a straw sucking loudly. He looked for the source and found a lanky spider demon lounging on the couch. “So what’s your deal?”

“I’m sorry?” He asked.

“The reason you’re here. It sure as hell ain’t boredom. What are you gettin’ out of this? And don’t worry, I don’t actually give a shit about this place. I just live here for free.”

“Entertainment, pure and simple! I’m between projects and terribly bored.”

There was another loud slurping noise. “Why are you dressed like a strawberry pimp?”

Before he could answer, the little blonde stomped up to him with a determined look. “Ok, so Al. You’re sketchy as fuck and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here as a joke. But, I don't. I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I'm taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no...tricks or voodoo strings attached.”

Excellent. “Do we have a deal?” He grinned and twirled his microphone, and a green glow surrounded them.

“Nope! No shaking! No deals! I... hmm... As princess of Hell and heir to the throne, I, uh, hereby order that you help with this hotel. For as long as you desire. Um, does that sound fair?”

This was absolutely pathetic. He’d be able to play her like a piano. “Fair enough! So, where’s your staff?”

“Uuuuh…it’s just me and Vaggie…”

“Ohohoho, you’re gonna need more than that!” He walked over to the demon lounging on the couch. “And what can you do, my effeminate fellow?”

“I can suck your dick.” He smirked.

Alastor abhorred crass talk like that. “Ha! No. This won’t do. I suppose I can cash in on a couple of favors, liven this place up a little bit…”

He pulled Nifty, his chaotic little maid out of the fireplace. Sure, she was odd, but she was excellent at her job. Time to wrangle up a bartender! Husk was angry and aggressive, as per usual, but all it took was a bottle of cheap booze to turn his head.

“Uh-uh! No bars! No alcohol!” The moth girl shouted.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” The spider demon ran to the bar. “We are KEEPING THIS!”

Charlie still looked unconvinced. Time to bring it home! Luckily, he also had a flare for theatrics. He distracted her long enough to shove the moth girl out of the way. He began singing.

“ You have a dream! You wish to tell!” He dressed her up in 1920s fashion and twirled her around. “ And it's just laughable! But, hey, kid, what the hell?” He tossed her into the air and caught her with ease, taking her hand. He was going to use his magic to make her dance, but it was unnecessary as she quickly caught up with him.

“ 'Cause you're one-of-a-kind! A charming demon belle! Now, let's give these burning fools a place to dwell! Take it, boys! ”

Shadow demons appeared from the floorboards and begin playing their instruments. The moth girl was trying in vain to get Charlie’s attention, but he had the girl wrapped around his finger with his song and dance. Truth be told, it was a nice change of pace to have a competent dance partner.

“Haha! Inside of every demon is a lost cause! But we'll dress 'em up for now, with just a smile! And we'll chlorinate this cesspool with some old redemption flair! And show these simpletons some proper class and style!”

He twirled Charlie in until they were nearly chest to chest and pinched her cheek. “Oh! Here below the ground, I'm sure your plan is sound! They'll spend a little time, down at this Hazbin Ho-“”

A loud crash shattered one of the walls of the hotel. There was a large warship floating outside with a snake demon at the helm. “Hah! Well, well, well. Look who it is harboring the striped freak! We meet yet again, Alastor!”

Who the hell was this? “Do I know you?”

“Yes! You do! And this time I have the element of SURPRISE!”

He didn’t have time to deal with incompetent wannabe overlords. He quickly summoned his tentacles and attacked the ship, destroying it and returning to normal in 15 seconds. He was quite proud of himself, but a quick glance to the side showed that the others were staring at him with shock and horror. “Well, I’m starved! Who wants some jambalaya? My mother taught me a WONDERFUL recipe!” He ushered the group back inside. He glanced up at the hideous sign for the happy hotel. No, that wouldn’t do. With a point of his microphone, the sign changed to Hazbin Hotel. Perfect!

[aly-corner]

100th POST!!

Sick Fic

Chapter 1 : Malfunction

It was a beautiful saturday afternoon at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Children were playing among themselves, adults were chatting, their drinks in hand. Our friends, the famous bear animatronic and his crew were preparing themselves for the birthday party of the day.

«Freddy, are you feeling alright ? » asked the chicken and head chef of the pizzeria.

«For the third time of the hour, yes Chica. I am alright. You should probably prepare yourself. It is almost showtime and the kids are already waiting for us all. » answered Freddy Fazbear while he was checking his mic. We woudn’t want any technical difficulties during the spectacle now, would we ?

«Freddy, i know damnn well you are lying. Everyone knows that you are …..» Chica cut herself, her friend wasn’t there anymore…..Oh…...it was on. If she catch this bear, she will give him a hearfull about self-care and taking some rest. She was annoyed but also very concerned for her leader. Freddy had been stressed and anxious these past weeks which is understandable. Little Charlotte Emily just turned 6 years old so everyone but mostly Freddy has helped to prepare the best birthday party ever, which had been a success. After that, there was numerous new rules given by Henry. It was also Spring break so there was a lot of costumers and children who wanted to meet the animatronics. Cherry on top, Golden Freddy had been restless these past days. His shenaningans were getting out of hands, even her patience is wearing thin. It is a miracle that Freddy hadn’t shut down from overheat or some other things.

«Chica, chica, lass ? Do you hear me ? Hello, Foxy to Chica ?!!! » screamed the pirate fox to the yellow chicken.

«Wha !!!!……..Foxy ? What are you doing here ? Shoudn’t you be in Pirate cove ? You know that a lot of kids are propably waiting for you ??? stuttered Chica.

« Yes, i know matey but i wanted to speak to you about the captain…...Did you notice that he seem- »

« OVERWORKED ??!! Stressed ??! Tired ?? or even sick ? Yes, yes i did ! But this stupid bear does not want to listen to me. I swear, sometimes he is worse than Goldie when it comes to listen to others or accepting help. » cut an angry Chica. Who didn’t noticed that her trusted compagnon, the pink cupcake was at her feet.

« First off, calm down. Two, take your creepy cupacake of the ground, i don’t want this thing to take my legs after my feet. And third, i was going to say that the captain seems off for some reason but what you said is also right. enduced Foxy. Did you also see the red marks on the captain’s body too or am i mistaken ? Anyways, look out for him on stage, he just saw him in the corridors leading to stage and he didn’t seem well, i don’t like this. I can’t go on stage and hadn’t saw Bonnie so i am trusting you. See you now, you should go before you become late » ushed the fox before running and dessapearing in the shadows. Most likely to Pirate cove to have a full view of the show.

With her friend’s words in her mind, the chicken promised herself to be careful and began her walk to the stage where her other two friends should be waiting for her.

- 10 minutes later -

Chica POV

I need to do something. Freddy is not good at all. I can see him sweat from my side of the stage. I can also see the marks that Foxy saw and by Pizza supreme, there were a lot of them. What hat Freddy been doing ? It looks like he has been trying to pull or scratch his fur off !! I need to do something, anything to make him quit the stage ! He is not going to hold for long, i am pretty sure he is going to pass out anytime from now on !

What can i do ? Foxy is in pirate cove, so he is to far away to help. I am sure he can’t even see properly the state that Freddy is in. Bonnie is not even looking at Freddy ! He is focusing on the kids which is probably for the best. The toys are out of the question, they are in another room. Maybe Mangle ? No. They are discomissioned, if they were to be found, they would be scrapped for parts by the humans. How i wished that Goldie would be active and not sleeping ! With his powers he could do something.

What can i do ??!!! What can i do ? Urgently thought Chica before stealing another glance to Freddy which she regrets. The bear is pale and on the verge of passing out or malfunctionning.

Malfunctionning…..it would be bad for the pizzeria, even more for Freddy. He woudn’t be scrapped but he would feel ashamed of himself. Wait ! This is it ! Malfunctionning, Malfunction !!! Better me than him, that for sure.

Foxy POV

The show had been going on for 10 minutes, 15 more to go. I can see the stage and the others but i can’t really see their expressions. Everything seems to be going well for the moment.

Nevermind, i talked to fast. What is Chica doing ? She seems to be looking everywhere for something ? Doesn’t she know that the kiddos love when we give them our attention ?? Why is she glancing so much at Freddy ? Is there a problem with him ? I hope n-

Before the Fox could finish his tought, a loud Thud was heard all across the room. 5 secondes ago, his three friends were singing together, the next one, chaos filled the party room. Kids were crying, their parents were rushing them ouut of the room. On stage, Bonnie was on his knees, on the other side of the stage, next to Chica, his guitar forgotten on the floor.

Chica was expanded on the floor, not moving, by the rabbit’s expression, she seems to be fine now. What Happened ? And where is Freddy ? Shoudn’t he be by their friends side ?

From the corner of his eyes, Foxy saw the brown bear pulling out the stage’s curtains, going backstage. Which was odd for Freddy who pride himself of caring for everyone in the pizzeria. With this in mind, the redhead ran towards backstage.

- Backstage -

« Captain ? Captain ??…...Godamit ! Freddy where are you !!! yelled Foxy while searching for his friend.

Before passing a corner, Foxy stumbled upon the one person he was searching for.

« Fox-y ? What are you do-ing he- nervously began to ask the animatronic leader before losing counsciousness and falling to the ground.

Here is the Sickfic, @project-isles and i have been working on. Hope you like it and stay tuned for chapter 2!

[islaytonlost]

What Have I Done? LB;MR Fic

First Part, Previous Part

This is the final part. I'm sorry.

Disclaimer: Alfend is no representation of DID. Sometimes fictional shooting also upsets me.

------

Alfendi noticed the gun was missing a few minutes after they noticed Ercule’s car leaving, with Flora in it. They had to follow her and of course they remembered St Mystere. It’d only been the best story he’d heard. Parents who cared enough about their children to make them a whole village. It sounded amazing! He’d always wished for it.

He’d even been there before. After Flora left when he turned sixteen, he’d found her village. They all seemed so friendly, and he’d known it was the right place because how many villages had a destroyed tower. It was the closest he’d felt to her on the time she was away. They should have gone together.

Al manages to push himself onto command as they all got into the taxi. Katrielle offering a generous tip if he took them all the way to St Mystere and even more if he got there fast. She wasn’t kidding about the detective agency doing well. The driver was all too willing to accept. They got there in record time.

They agreed to split up, Katrielle wanting to interrogate the village people and Alfendi wanting to avoid being bombarded by puzzles headed straight for the mansion. All around him people were eating normally. You could never tell they were clockwork. Not even the puzzles truly gave it away, not when Hershel managed to act almost exactly the same and there was no way he was clockwork.

Alfendi crossed the river making his way over to the house, Matthew meets him outside, “it’s been too long Alfendi! I think you need to come in and see this!” he brings Alfendi to the portrait, he frowned. It moved? Clearly, he had not done his father justice last time he’d come here not realising this simple secret door. He headed through, finding himself in a room full of gold, spying the note left by the Baron he pauses. Unwilling to disturb anything. Destroying this village would destroy Flora’s trust in him.

Speaking of, where was Flora. Matthew climbs in, shutting the portrait behind him, locking the door, “I’m sorry Alfendi, she has Flora. I can’t let any harm come to her. You understand.”

“No! I need to find her. You don’t understand there are other people here, if they find her their lives are in danger! Please! This is my mess, don’t let anyone else pay for it.”

“Alfendi,” he interjects, “please, maybe we can keep them in here but I can’t stand to see the mistress hurt.”

“Fine!”

He sits on the ground until a knocking on the entrance reveals Lucy, “showtime!” She grins at Alfendi, “You better do what I say,” she grins.

Lucy looked so vibrant, so light on her feet. The idea of finally getting her revenge was a weight off her shoulders. It drained him further, like she was sucking his soul out of him. Even Fendi couldn’t seem to summon his usual rage around her. This was the end.

“Run through here and shoot Flora,” she hands him a gun, grinning.

“No,” What the hell was she thinking? He could never do that.

“Yes! You don’t have to do anything else, just run through and shoot her. I’ll forgive you if you do!”

“I- I…” he stares at the gun in her hand before taking a breath. He wouldn’t hurt anyone, but he wouldn’t have to. She would.

His sister was going to die. He’d be framed for something he’d never do. She puts the gun in his hands, “think about it. Either you kill her or I do. I’ll make it so much harder for her! She’ll still die. I’ll just make it worse and then, I’ll destroy this village too.”

“No!”

“Yes!” It was twisted, how it was Lucy’s voice telling him to do these things. She presses the gun into his hand, running off, “and, action!” Alfendi runs into the next room, spying Katrielle out the window and Flora standing in front.

Understanding shone in her eyes, “do it,” she smiles at him, “don’t worry about me, just keep Katrielle safe, and yourself. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you too.”

“She’ll think I did it,” he shakes his head, tears leaking out his eyes.

“Tell them what happened,” she drops her voice, “there are witnesses remember?” Al’s hands tremble, “Please.”

She was begging to die. No.

Yes.

Fendi pulls the trigger. Blood blossoms from Flora’s chest. Flowing out across the chest of her dress. She was already dead. He had ensured that much. “no!” He heard himself call as she collapsed backwards, glass shattering behind her as she fell to the ground. Katrielle rushes to her sister Ercule looks through the window, eyes meeting Alfendi’s.

“We have the place surrounded,” someone calls, “come out with your hands up!”

Backup. Of course he’d thought to call for backup, if Al had fought for just a bit longer maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

He couldn’t seem to get his legs to move, instead they gave out from under him and he collapsed to the ground. Staring at the bloodstained carpet, nauseated.

He’d done this.

In this reality, he really was the murderer.

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART TWELVE

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+! Explicit sexual content Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: ahh, sweet resolution. Writing this chapter made me euphorically happy. Thank you for reading! Extra thank you for liking, reblogging, or replying to this fic. I’m so happy people like it as much as I do. 

taglist: @valleyd0ll​ @satingrass-maidensfair​ @guitarfingers​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @peaceisouranthem​ @oblvions​ @hansonobsessed​ @myownparadise96​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​ @bigblack-catattack​

MASTERPOST

The final week before the play was an oddly enjoyable hell. Every second felt like it flew by and dragged on for eternity simultaneously. 

You had skipped class on Thursday, just to make sure you had every costume just the way you wanted it. Your very favorite one to work on had been Alice’s dress - you put more work into it than most of your classes for the past couple of weeks, but by the time it was done, it could have been in a storybook. 

As it hung from your closet door, you took a moment to be proud of yourself, admiring the lace and the neat trimmings. 

Kate showed up around 5, and somehow you knew she would, even though she never mentioned a thing when you told her you were staying home. 

“Hi, you,” she greeted, letting herself in as she slipped past you. “Did you get it all done?”

“Well, if I had another week, I’m sure I could find more that I could work on with them, but they’re pretty great,” you agreed. “You want a glass of wine?” 

She shook her head at you. “Actually, I’m taking you shopping tonight.”

“Shopping?” 

“Yeah, have you thought about what you’re going to wear to the play?” she inquired, sounding smug like she knew you really hadn’t.

You frowned at her, unsure. “I was thinking probably something simple.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, it should be something classy, pretty,” she said. 

“And warm,” you reminded, thinking of the snow outside. 

“Sure, sure, yeah. So, are you coming?”

You gave her a sweet smile. “Let me get my coat.”

+++

“I don’t think I can wear this,” you said through a grimace as you turned this way and then that in the mirror. Kate had let herself right into the dressing room with you, her long legs taking up more space than you could afford in such a small room. “My whole vagina would freeze.”

“It’s not that short,” she giggled.

“Yeah, but it’s just an open dress. My legs are exposed!” 

“True, maybe you could wear leggings under it,” she suggested. 

“If I were going to wear leggings, I’d want a longer dress I think. Maybe something mid-calf. Then I could wear booties.”

She looked like she was considering it for a moment before nodding. “Yes, that seems like it would be super cute. What about your hair?”

“How about we find the dress first and go from there,” you teased. 

Once you were dressed again and had everything hung back on the “reject” rack, you ventured out into the store again, weaving through mannequins and lines of garments. You went to grab a hanger when you snapped your hand back in pain. 

“Damn,” you hissed. She turned to give you a concerned look. “My fingers are so sore from sewing. I’m kind of thinking they might never recover.”

You were joking, but she gave you a sympathetic look anyway. “You know this play is just as much yours as it is his, right?” 

You huffed a laugh. “Oh my god, that’s so dramatic.”

“Well, pretty damn close,” she objected, pulling a dress from the rack in front of her and laying it over her forearm. “His ass would have been grass without you.”

“We can thank Rachel for that,” you quipped, chronically annoyed by the thought of her. 

She paused what she was doing and met your eyes. “Did you figure out why she quit?”

You gave her a confused frown. Now that you were thinking about it, Josh never did tell you why. You shook your head. “Why?”

“Well, it sounds like she kinda had a thing for Josh. Like a big thing. And that’s why she signed up to work with him in the first place.”

You nodded for her to continue, your stomach feeling tight. 

“And I guess it went okay for a little while - he seemed receptive to it apparently, but she found out he had a female roommate and saw you guys eating lunch together all of the time, you know?” Kate continued carefully. 

You hummed, trying to seem casual, but you felt a little like you’d just been sucker-punched. 

“How did you hear about this?” 

“Grapevine,” she replied with a smile. “What do you think of this one?” 

She was stroking her fingers down a long dress, black with flowers in muted colors. “That would go really well with my coat actually. We have to accept the reality that I’m going to have to wear a coat the whole time.”

She smiled at you in an oddly genuine way for her. “I know you didn’t ask for my advice, but you should go for it.”

You gave her a confused look. “I have to try it on first.”

She put a hand flat on your chest. “Not the dress, you goober. Josh.”

You stared blankly at the ground until you were sure of what you wanted to say. “I don’t want to fuck this up. I can’t lose him as a friend - I’d be devastated.” 

“Why would you think you’d fuck it up? I don’t know that you could, to be honest.” You watched as she grabbed a pair of earrings, dangling off of their cardboard hanger. She started back off toward the dressing room, and you followed close behind.  

“We’ll have to wait and see what happens.”

+++

You helped Josh get all of the costumes to the school on Friday, hanging them up on racks backstage. You took the time to make them all tags, writing the kid’s names in fancy, flowing script. 

Josh was working on getting the first set perfectly into place, so everything was ready to go for showtime the next day. Despite how clearly nervous he was, you could hear him handing out compliments and words of encouragement to the stagehands - even his constructive advice was said in a way that felt like every person in that room was his best friend. 

He had left you mostly alone to get the wardrobe ready, but when he popped back into your area, he crouched down next to where you were sat on the floor. 

“I probably won’t be home until late again tonight,” he informed with a half-frown. “There’s a lot I still have to get into place.”

You gave him an understanding smile. “Don’t worry about me, worry about you. You need a good night’s sleep for tomorrow.”

“I know,” he replied, looking thankful. “Show me some of these costumes.”

You had been oddly flattered that he had trusted you enough to have them done - and done well - by the time of the play; he hadn’t asked to see them even once until right then. 

“You can look through them, but they won’t look right until they’re on a child.”

His face lit up like that was the best news of the day. “That’s perfect because the kids should be here for dress rehearsal in about ten minutes.”

You smiled at him as he stood and helped you up with two outstretched hands. 

He ran his hands over the rack, pausing on the one you knew he would. With a perplexed look, he pulled the door mouse costume and held it up. 

“This is-” he started, but you cut him off. 

“I know, I really hope it’s okay, but I found a sheet in your room with some rough designs on it, and I really liked a lot of them,” you admitted sheepishly. 

“You were going through my stuff?” he asked with a grin.

You shook your head. “Just that. And it was when I went in to get Penny.”

His fingers slid down the tail of the costume, made from a string of peach-hued rope - just like his draft had called for. His brown eyes flicked up at you, looking like melted chocolate under the warm-colored lights. “I literally don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you for this.”

You could feel a blush rising on your cheeks, the sensation of flower petals brushing your stomach lining. “Let’s make it through the show without them falling to pieces first.” Your tone had been a teasing one, but he looked completely unaffected. 

The intensity of the moment was slowly creeping up on you - you weren’t sure if he was going to kiss you or cry. In the end, he did neither. 

“Do you want to stick around to see the kids in their outfits?” he offered, but you shook your head. 

“I’m actually really excited to see it all for the first time tomorrow,” you replied with a smile that was immediately matched by his. 

“Alright, I like that idea.” He paused a moment before speaking again. “Don’t wait up for me, okay?”

You chuckled at him, pulling your jacket on to leave. “No promises.”

+++

That evening you spent a long time in the bathtub with a bottle of wine. You had homework to do - and you tried for a couple of hours, but you just couldn’t be fucked with it, so you turned the water up as hot as it would go and rested your head on a rolled-up towel.

You felt silly about it now, but you were scared that once this was over, you would feel lost without the costumes to worry about. That moment never came for you - at least not with the costumes. 

You definitely couldn’t stop thinking about Josh.

There was this terrible feeling in the pit of your gut - a guilt, heavy like you swallowed a pile of gravel.

When you got out, you haphazardly dried off and left the wet towel on the bathroom floor. You got changed into a long-sleeved shirt and your pajama shorts and then grabbed what was left of your wine and made your way to Josh’s room. After you laid out on his bed, you rolled over onto your side and stared into the fish tank, pressing your fingers against the glass. 

Penny had been snoozing in her log decoration, but when she spotted you, she hurried out to greet your hand.

“I fucked up, Penny,” you whispered. You imagined she was making an angry face at you, but in reality, she was just floating there, probably wondering where her dinner was.

You glanced at the time on your phone. 

8:32 pm

You grabbed the little jar of flakes off of his bedside table and strained to drop a couple into the water. She gobbled them up excitedly, her safety-orange colored fins waving in the water. 

You had no idea when it happened, but you woke up to the dresser drawer by your head opening. You sat up, irregular heartbeat making you feel jittery.  

Josh turned to look at you, a warm smile on his lips, the sun illuminating his tan face. “Hey,” he greeted. 

“Oh my god, it’s light outside. What time is it?” you asked groggily.

“About 8:30. I got home at midnight and you were passed out in here, so I covered you up,” he informed, making your face run warm.

You pushed your messy hair away from your face. “I’m sorry, I was laying in here with Penny and I must have fallen asleep.” You glanced around in confusion. “I didn’t even feel you get out of bed.”

“Oh, I slept on the couch,” he replied, picking a pair of pants from his top drawer. 

You frowned, casting your eyes down to the bedsheets. He thought you didn’t want to sleep next to him, and instead of waking you up to move you, he slept out on the couch. The idea made you want to cry.

“Will you sit with me a moment?” you asked, patting the spot next to you. 

He gave you an apologetic smile. “I really want to, but I need to be over to the school in twenty minutes. I am planning on being back here around 4 to eat something quick and then get ready.”

“Okay.” You clambered out of bed as he pulled his shirt off and changed into a new one. “I think I’ll probably already be at Kate’s, but if you want to take my car you can.”

He shot you a smirk. “Really? You’re going to let me drive?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, putting on your best mom voice. “Yes, but only if you promise to be very safe.”

He put his hand over his heart. “I promise.”

“I’ll see you after the show,” you said, maybe a little too sweetly, and brushed a curl out of his eyes. It was well worth it to see the tops of his cheeks turn pink. 

+++

As Kate took you both to the theater, you couldn’t kick the nervous butterflies. She looked beautiful - you’d never seen her in anything but mom jeans, but she was dressed in a plaid skirt, tights, and a black turtleneck sweater. She had insisted on doing your makeup - sitting you down at her vanity and pulling a barstool close enough she could reach you. You had known better than to complain about the amount of time she took - besides, you had gotten over to her house so early, you had nothing but time. When she was done, you barely recognized yourself. Somehow she had made your eyes look bigger, your lashes longer and darker, and your face sharper. You were used to wearing foundation and concealer, but your face felt almost a little heavy under all she’d put on you. 

She had laid out a few extra things for you - a pair of boots and a set of green gem earrings and you gave her a thankful smile as you donned them. The truly hard part was resisting hugging her very affectionate polar bear - which was actually a dog, she informed you. You had tried once, but she scolded you, reminding you that white fur didn’t look good on black fabric.

You had whispered a promise to him that you would be back soon to give him all the love he could handle.

When she pulled up to the school, she had you get out at the doors and grab the tickets while she went to park, and to your pleasant surprise, Jake was waiting for you. He helped you out of the car with an outstretched hand. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to wear, but it definitely wasn’t a button-up shirt with the top few buttons undone and nothing underneath. 

“You’re literally making me cold just looking at you,” you teased, wrapping your arms comfortingly around your frame. You had earned a grin from him.

“I’m wearing a coat,” he reasoned, holding up the hem of a light peacoat to prove his point.

You rolled your eyes at him. “C’mon, let’s get our tickets.”

He pulled two tickets out of said coat’s pocket and handed them to you. “You mean these?”

“Did you buy these?” you asked through a frown.

“One of them. I bought mine and Kate’s, and I think you can guess who got yours,” he responded with a genuine smile. 

You took one of the tickets wordlessly, but you couldn’t suppress a smile. 

As soon as Kate had joined you in the foyer, you took your seats. Despite it being only a college production, you were shocked at how many people had come to the opening night. There were only a handful of open spots left when they flashed the lights, and you could just imagine Josh giving the kids a pep talk backstage. 

The show started with a fun, bouncy opening music number and you leaned against Kate as you looked on at all the set pieces you’d both worked so hard on. You had thought your job was hard, but Kate had to round up a bunch of art students to help her work on the hundreds of different props.

Leave it to Josh to treat a children’s musical like a broadway show. 

The first half of the show went pretty much perfectly - everyone seemed to remember their lines, and if they didn’t, you didn’t notice. You couldn’t help but smile in pride as you watched all of your costumes appear on stage, one by one. 

During intermission, your head snapped over when you heard a soda tab opening and you shot Kate a disapproving look - you’re pretty sure you’d read a “no outside food and drink” sign at the front entrance. She gave you an unapologetic smile as she took a long sip and then handed the can over to Jake. He laughed under his breath.

The time went by too fast, and the closer it got to the closing act, the more anxious you got. The final scene was a triumphant number, exciting and big. You could tell that a lot of the audience was family members because when the curtain fell, they all began to stand. Hooting and hollering filled the huge room, and you almost cried when the curtain rose again to reveal some of the kids wearing smiles that spread all the way to their ears. It started with the minor characters - the cards, the flowers, and then the Cheshire Cat, the Hatter, the Caterpillar, the White Rabbit. Then finally, The Queen of Hearts, followed by a grinning Alice. 

They waved excitedly at the crowd, eating up the standing ovation like it was candy. You saw Kate with her hand pressed over her mouth and the biggest eyes you’d ever seen her wear - she was absolutely in love with them, as was the entire rest of the room. 

A moment or two later, Josh stepped out onto the stage. You recalled back when you had first met him and had told him you couldn’t imagine him in business casual because he was wearing a dark blue suit, a pair of black dress shoes, and a proud grin. As the kids made a spot for him in the line, he crouched down in between them and gave a couple of them a pat on the back. You saw him speak something at the girl playing Alice, and it must have been praise because she gave him a toothy smile in return. 

When the cast members had returned backstage, you had told Kate and Jake to leave when they were ready - you were going to wait for Josh. Both of them had given you knowing smiles that you brushed off easily enough, but they left all the same with a parting word of “text me” from Kate. 

You gave it enough time that most of the audience had left - all the kids joining their parents with promises of ice cream and treats - before you made your way backstage. 

After looking for him for a moment, you spotted Josh chatting with an older man excitedly by the back exit. When the older man (his professor, you assumed) laid eyes on you, he gestured toward you with a, “Please head home, we’ll see you tomorrow. You’ve done a great job.”

Josh turned to look at you and the smile melted from his lips as he nodded a haphazard acknowledgment to his professor. 

“Hey,” you greeted, only needing to speak above a whisper in the quiet area. Viewing him on stage was fine - it felt impersonal, but up close it felt like looking into the sun. “You look so handsome.”

His cheeks turned red under the tan skin as he rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said through a weak laugh, and a moment later said, “The costumes were incredible.”

“Not bad for someone who didn’t know how to sew a month ago, right?” you teased. You stared into his eyes for a long moment before crossing the room and taking his hand. “Are you ready to go?” you asked, then teasingly added, “Provided my car is still intact.”

He chuckled at you before taking a long breath. “Yeah, let’s go home.” 

The car ride home was tense, but not uncomfortable. You could sense the electricity running through him as you chatted about the production - the pride radiating from him was palpable. 

When you pulled into the apartment parking lot, it had just begun snowing, and neither of you made any moves to exit the car once it was turned off. 

After a long moment of silence, you spoke again. “We have a lot to talk about.”

He gave you a nervous look, one eyebrow quirked. “We do?”

You breathed a laugh, half-turning towards him in your seat. After a moment of collecting your thoughts, you said, “I want you to lay it all out for me. I know we haven’t been talking about it because it’s scary but I need to know exactly how you feel about me.”

He stared into your eyes for a long time, seemingly trying to predict whether this was a good idea or not. Just for assurance, you laid your hand on top of his where it rested on his knee - his fidgeting fingers pausing under your touch. 

“You know, I think I felt it for you the moment I first met you,” he admitted, casting his eyes anywhere but on yours. “I was nervous up until semi-recently that I just felt that way because I was lonely, you know? When my ex and I parted ways last spring and my roommate dropped out and moved away, I felt like I lost everyone all at once.

“I stopped going to parties and seeing my friends until I had none left. And I didn’t want to see my family - I think I had become accustomed to being alone, but you moved in and you were so kind. I’m not sure exactly when it happened - probably kind of a little bit at a time - with every interaction, you know? But I feel it for you. For real.”

He met your eyes again with a surprised frown. You watched his other hand come up, his thumb swiping under your eye, leaving a cool spot behind. “I’m sorry, don’t cry.”

You laughed weakly. “I didn’t know I was. I’m going to ruin all the makeup Kate spent an hour working on.” Before he could speak again, you took the moment. You leaned in and tugged him closer to you by the lapels of his suit jacket, pressing your lips to his. He melted into it for only a moment before pulling away with a sad smile. 

“I don’t want you to do this just because you feel bad for me,” he explained, voice uncharacteristically flat. 

You gave him a frown, taking his chin between your fingers and forcing him to look at you. “I’m not,” you promised, but he looked unconvinced. So you tried again.

“Josh, I’m so sorry about the way I’ve treated you. I fucked up. You have got to be the absolute sweetest person I’ve ever met - definitely the sweetest man - and it was fucked of me to sleep with you and then make you feel like you were wrong for wanting affection.”

He gave you a questioning look.

“It’s never going to happen again. Because - if you’ll have me - I want to give you all the affection you can handle. No weed-induced hook up’s this time.”

He was silent for a long moment, and you huffed a laugh as you visualized his brain working. 

“Oh,” he breathed as a smile started to tilt his lips up at the corners. “Well. That’s not how I expected this to go. Are we gonna fuck here - in the car?”

An abrupt laugh ripped through your chest. “I would prefer if we didn’t, this is cloth upholstery. But we could go inside?”

He nodded at you, and opening the door and stepping out, he came around to your side and gave you his hand to make sure you didn’t fall in the new snowfall. 

Inside, he toed off his dress shoes, and you bent to undo the buckles on your boots, your fingers shaking slightly in anticipation. The second you were stood again, he had you pressed back against the door with just enough force to knock the breath from your lungs. 

When he leaned in and connected your mouths, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers lacing into his hair. 

He kissed a trail down your jaw and to the base of your throat, the feeling of teeth dragging across your skin giving you goosebumps. He hummed into your neck as his hands snaked around your body, his fingers tugging up the hem of your dress.

You slipped your coat off with his help once he realized what you were trying to do. As soon as it fell to the floor, you were walking him back blindly through the apartment, neither of you caring when you bumped into this or that. He turned you around when you reached his bedroom, laying you out over the covers. 

You watched as he unbuttoned his suit jacket, then the cuffs of his dress shirt. 

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he mumbled, making you blush lightly as he gestured to your form. “Did you do this for me?”

Through a smile, you replied, “Of course.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he stated confidently as he worked to open his button-down shirt. You decided that you weren’t going to let him do that alone, so you sat up, replacing his fingers with yours. 

You huffed. “Don’t say that.” The second the fabric was undone, you pressed your lips to his warm stomach, feeling the skin twitch under the touch. “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met - candy sweet.” It was his turn to flush pink across his face, but you weren’t done yet. “I find myself thinking about you constantly.” You nipped into the trail of hair below his navel as you tugged his shirt from his dress pants. He hummed low at the slight pain. “I actually got some condoms in case you wanted to use them. Probably not all of them tonight - it’s a big pack, but you know. Over the next couple of weeks.” Your tone was teasing, forcing a breathy laugh from him. 

“Where are they?” he asked, voice a little gravelly. 

“My bedside stand.” 

As he exited the room to retrieve them, you pushed yourself up onto the bed until your head hit his pillows. You could hear him rummaging in the next room until the noise stalled for a beat as you worked off your leggings. You listened to him pad back across the hall, wearing just a smile and his dress pants when he returned. 

He crawled up the bed over you, pressing his face into your cheek as his hand lifted the hem of your dress. 

“What’s this?” he asked into your ear, pressing something cold against your thigh. You knew what it was instantly, making you suck in a surprised breath. 

You laughed, but even to your ears, it sounded nervous. He held it up so you could see.

“That would be a vibrator.”

It wasn’t anything special - just a slim, blue plastic piece, but it was the only one you’d ever had, and it had been a very good friend to you. He hovered his lips over yours as he ran the toy up your leg until the tip of it brushed your panties. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, but he sounded smug like he already knew the answer. You squirmed in anticipation and nodded. 

When he brushed it across your mound, you jolted, your fingers pressing tightly into his shoulder. He applied a little pressure to it, pressing it into the folds over the fabric. The feeling made you whine in the back of your throat.

He sat up, slipping his legs under yours, pulling your ass into his lap. Your face felt hot, so you covered your eyes with your fingers, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. This was a lot different than hooking up with him while high. 

He played the toy over your panties until you were wet enough to have left a damp spot in the fabric. Then he hooked his fingers under them and tugged them down enough to give him full access, though the position restricted him from removing them completely. 

When the plastic pressed against your bare skin, you had to suppress a moan. You couldn’t see, so you didn’t expect it when the toy flicked to life against you, and he ran it across you lightly, just teasing. 

You stared up at the ceiling through your fingers, your mouth agape as he brushed it over your clit in circles, making your hips buck into the touch.

“Fuck,” you breathed, taking one of your hands from your eyes and running your fingers through your hair. If you tugged on the locks lightly, no one had to know but you. 

A little rougher, he deliberately pressed just the tip of it into your clit, forcing a shocked whine from the back of your throat. You made the mistake of sitting up on your elbows to watch, but instead, all you could look at was the form of his hard cock straining against his tight pants. 

You couldn’t have stopped yourself if you tried - you reached out and ran your fingers down the length of it. It twitched under your touch, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. You made a mental note to congratulate him on his dedication. Instead, he grabbed your wrist with a firm grip and laid you back down, all without taking his eyes off of his task. 

You could feel it starting to build in you as you rocked your hips into the feeling of the toy against your most sensitive part. You were positive that you looked absolutely pathetic, but when you met his eyes, he looked so entranced that it made you blush deeper - if that was even possible. 

Your fingers were flexing into his sheets as you came, a high whine ripping through your chest. When he pulled the toy away, a thread of your come was still connected to it, shimmering in the dim light of his lamp. He brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss against it, leaving his lips shiny. 

It took you a moment to collect yourself - your breathing was ragged and not at all appealing, if you had to guess. 

He gently placed your vibrator on his side table, and you watched as his fingers worked open the button on his pants, and then the zipper. When he pulled down the elastic band of his underwear, his cock popped out - rock hard. He pushed all the fabric down to his thighs and then tugged you further into his lap until your parts were flush together. 

“Did you want the condom?” you asked with a fucked-out smile. 

“Fuck it,” he replied with a grin as he rubbed his cock through your slit, making your over-sensitive skin pulse.  

You breathed a little “ah” sound as your whole lower half felt like it was hooked up to a live wire. “Are you telling me that you went all the way over there and forgot the condom?”

“First of all,” he started with a sinister laugh. “It’s just across the hall. Second of all, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

You had opened your mouth to respond but before you could, he pushed into you, his thumb holding his cock into place. 

“Fuck,” you rasped, throwing your head back into the pillow. You could feel how wet you were just by his movements. Your hands reached out until you could dig your fingernails into his forearms, his hands tight on your hips as he bottomed out in you. 

You looked up just in time to catch his tongue swipe out over his lips, his eyes half-lidded. 

He started rocking in and out of you like a tide drawn to the beach, sending little shockwaves through your core and up into your tight stomach.

To give your fingers something to do, they worked at the buttons on your dress. They only went down to the bottom of your ribcage, but it was far enough to expose your chest. He didn’t waste even a second before he moved one of his hands to your tit, squeezing it until it spilled out through his fingers. 

You were focused on that until he brushed something inside of you that made your jaw drop open. You went to moan but no sound would come out, so you sat up on your hands and pushed back against him, forcing him in deeper. His teeth were clenched as his hands found your hips again, holding you in the position you needed to be in to work yourself on him. He hummed, eyes fluttering as he met you halfway, thumbs pushed into the thin skin across your hip bones. You briefly wondered if he’d leave you little oval-shaped bruises.

He was staring into your eyes as best he could while his eyelids fluttered, so you knew when he was getting close to the edge. He pulled you up to him so you were riding his lap, his forehead against yours, the new angle putting his cock perfectly against your sweet spot as the length of him slid into you. 

You kissed him deeply as you worked yourself onto him, his breath hitching and his fingers lacing into your hair as he came. You were shockingly close behind, so when he drove you down on him harder to ride out his orgasm, you lost it too. 

You gasped into his mouth as it washed over you, leaving your senses as if you were swallowed by a wave. 

Neither of you moved for a few moments until you pulled back just far enough to look into his eyes. 

“You’re going to have come on your dress pants,” you whispered teasingly. He smirked back at you as he laid you out onto the bed. 

“Yeah, I’ll have to wash them before tomorrow night’s show,” he agreed, and the idea made your cheeks go pink. 

You were both silent as you cleaned up, and when you returned to him from the bathroom, he was already tucked under the covers in his bed. He smiled at you and held the comforter up for you as you crawled in next to him. You knew you were going to fall asleep almost instantly once you got completely situated, so it was lucky that he spoke before that happened. 

“I want you to come home with me for Christmas,” he stated, voice just above a whisper. 

You blinked over at him, a little stunned. 

“I don’t want you to be here alone - you deserve to be with a loving family,” he explained further when he saw the look on your face. 

You gave him a smile, feeling oddly sentimental post-orgasm. You could feel tears pricking at your eyes, so you buried your face in his neck. 

“I’d like that.”

[dollslayer]

Pull

Sam Wilson x f!Reader

Summary: A brief interaction in the hallway with Sam leads to a mischievous moment between friends with benefits.

W/C: 1,693

Warnings: Smut, deepthroating, face fucking, hair pulling

A/N: In honor of Sam's birthday and @whisperlullaby 's 700 challenge (Congratulations!! I'm so soft for you Sam fics so I thought I'd roll with it!) I present you this!! This is my first Sam fic so I hope you guys like it! I know that descriptors of hair can make fics not always the most inclusive but I tried really hard to make this so that anyone could read it. If you feel like there's anything I can do better to make my fics more inclusive please please just message me and tell me! I want my fics to feel like they're made for everyone! p.s. - If you haven't already feel free to check out my other fics! If you liked this fic let me know! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

____

You’d always kept your hair short, it was just easier. When you were young you didn’t want to deal with the trouble of caring for it and now it would just get in the way when you’re out in the field. The last thing you need is hair in your eyes messing up your shot or it getting caught in the various straps on your uniform.

You’d missed two hair appointments before leaving on a month-long mission and came back to a mountain of paperwork. Before you knew it another month had passed and then you spent another two just catching up on the rest of your life. Getting another appointment crossed your mind but you kept pushing it off and you didn’t trust yourself enough to take clippers to your own hair. I’ll call tomorrow became a regular note to yourself, just not one that ever got addressed.

It wasn’t until you were getting ready to head to the gym that you looked at yourself in the mirror and realized how much your hair had grown even in just that short time. Sighing, you searched for something to hold it back with so it’d stay out of your face. After wrestling with it for a minute, you had enough to make a small ponytail. Okay, for real I’ll call tomorrow. You set off towards the gym.

Making your way down the hallway with your headphones on you hadn’t heard Sam calling your name. He jogged to catch up to you and pulled you back by the ponytail to get you to stop walking. You felt your stomach drop a little bit as a jolt of surprise went straight to your core. Your hair had always been too short to put up, let alone to grab.

The look of surprise must have made it to your face because Sam immediately let go. He took a step back and moved to apologize after he let out a nervous laugh.

“I-I uh, sorry I don’t know why I grabbed your hair. It looks good though!” Sam said reassuringly, “Have you been growing it out? Um, sorry, anyways, I just wanted to make sure you were still down for later.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Yeah, yeah I’m game for that. Just text me the details.” You replied slowly.

With a lop-sided grin and a nod Sam turned on his heel and walked the other way. As you pulled open the door to the gym you replayed the moment when he grabbed your ponytail in your head. Images of him holding your hair tightly in his hand while you went down on him flashed through your mind. What if he just pulled a little harder? Quit it, just get through the workout. You needed a cold shower.

___________

You did end up taking a cold shower after your workout, unable to stop thinking of the feeling of Sam’s hands in your hair. You two had been maintaining a friends with benefits relationship for a few months and tonight you were going to hang out.

You really enjoyed Sam in bed and as a friend, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to blur the lines. He was on the month long mission with you and you had gotten to know him so much better. You’d found that underneath his cocky and joking attitude was a good man that cared deeply for the people in his life. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want what you and Sam had to be more.

As you got ready for the night in you tried to decide what to do with your hair. Even though you hated it getting in your eyes you couldn’t deny it looked kinda cute when it was down. You set your hair free from the ponytail and let it fall around your face. You admired it in the mirror and set to work on your makeup.

__________

It had apparently been a rough day of training recruits for Sam, which meant it was likely going to be a rough night in store for you too. Not that you minded, Sam always pushed your boundaries but he also respected them so you never worried when he was a little bit more rowdy with you.

Much to your surprise and slight annoyance Sam was soft tonight. Normally this would make you swoon but if you were being real, you just wanted him to rail you and grab your hair again. Before you realized your feelings for him you were able to be a little more demanding in bed. Now that you were aware you were slowly falling for him you had become suddenly shy when it came to vocalizing your wants, almost afraid that you might let it slip that you wanted him in total.

As he kissed your collar bone you thought of ways to get him to do what you wanted without coming out and saying it. You suddenly pushed on his shoulders and flipped him so you were the one on top. You made your way down his body leaving trails of bites and kisses that had soft gasps escaping him. You took off his boxers slowly and maintained eye contact.

Finally his cock was free from its confines and it was hard as a rock. You smirked and took it in your hands, feeling the veins throb under your touch. You started pumping your hand up and down his length and let out a moan that gave you all the encouragement you needed.

You looked up at him and smirked. Showtime. You stuck your tongue out to taste the dab of precum that gathered at his tip while you dipped your tongue into his slit. He jolted upwards in momentary shock and gasped again. You could see he was trying to hold his hands at his sides, let you take your time. You could also see he was hanging by a thread already.

You took the tip of his cock into your mouth and let your tongue set his nerves ablaze. Slowly inching more of him into your mouth and using your hand on what you didn’t take. Until you didn’t. You took a breath and removed your hand, swallowing his length in one go. Sam let out the low groan that had you moaning in return. The vibrations of your voice caused him to involuntarily buck his hips upwards.

“Baby… oh my god, what on Earth are you doing to me?”

You just smiled to yourself and kept going. Sam gave into his instincts and brought one of his hands to your head, fingers tugging on what he could gather of your hair. He didn’t grab it like you’d hoped he would, just rooted himself in it and guided you gently. You looked up to find his other hand grasping desperately at the sheets with his spare hand. Okay, now do that to me You thought desperately.

You decided to double your efforts to see where it got you. You gagged as you tried to breathe through your nose while you bobbed up and down on his cock. His hips were bucking even more and you could tell he was getting close.

With no warning both his hands latched onto your hair to hold your head in place while he started to fuck your face. You were taken by surprise, even when Sam was at his roughest he’d never done this. You had to admit it was hot to see him lose control like this. You shuddered as he gripped your hair even tighter, reliving that feeling from earlier in the day. You clenched your thighs together and felt wetness stick to them as you kept your focus on breathing and getting him to cum.

Your plans were interrupted abruptly when his hands pulled you up by the hair off of his cock. You tensed in pleasure at the feeling, the tension pulling at your roots and the intense eye contact you made when he brought your head up to meet his eye. His chest was heaving, his cock pulsing and tensing from the near-orgasm.

“That was, Oh my god. I don’t even know what that was” He said as he exhaled. “Sorry I’m pullin’ on your hair again”

He untangled himself from your locks and pulled them just a little bit more in the process. You clenched your thighs again at the feeling and bit your lip to keep from moaning. Sam noticed this and his signature smirk graced his face.

“Unless… you like that?” He questioned knowingly “Does that turn you on? When I pull your hair?”

You felt heat come to your cheeks and you held back a coy smile as you looked away. You were almost too dazed and cock-drunk to feel humiliation but it still crept its way into your brain. Why am I embarrassed? He already knows. What the hell is this man doing to me?

Apparently you took too long to answer because one of his hands caught the hair at the back of your neck and forced you to look at him.

“Answer me, baby. Does it make you wet when I pull your hair?” His hand crept down your body and he swiped your folds. Bringing his hand up in front of his face so you both could see the way your slick dripped down his fingers. He smacked his lips and then sucked his fingers clean.

You could only whimper and nod when his grip tightened. His grin only grew wider watching you squirm.

“Is that why you took me so well just now? You wanted me to grab you? Wanted me to fuck your face?”

Good lord, the mouth on this man. He moved around you so that he was on top of you, lips almost brushing with yours.

“Bad girl, keeping things from me. Think you need to be punished?” he teased. His cock was still hard and you could feel it between your thighs rubbing between the mess you’d made.

“Yes, please”, You moaned a little at the feeling and nodded. This is going to be a long night.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Saving Grace (SpicyHoneyMustard, lemon)

Summary:  The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Tags: SpicyHoneyMustard, Fontcest, Fellcest, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Established Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LEMONY GOODNESS!

Sequel to:

Showtime

Secret Garden

A Judicious Amount of Effort

Musically Inclined

Lest You Be Judged

Solo Act

Appealing To Better Judgment

Safety In Numbers

Endurance Trial

~~*~~

Read Saving Grace on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was the bed rocking that woke him, the subtlest of movements mirroring the ocean that Edge had yet to see. Not the wild thrashing of earlier, a storm on the sea as Rus flopped and screamed on the mattress like a fish out of water while caught in the net of a nightmare that may or may not have been his own.

Waking him from the terrible grasp of those dreams was both a mercy and a necessity. Once, he’d thrashed hard enough to crack his ulna against the headboard and Edge still wondered that the pain of it still hadn’t woken him. Wondered at what horrors he saw inside his own skull that only accepted the agony of a broken bone as part of it.

Over time, he and Red learned the best way to wake him was to first pin Rus with blue magic and then sandwich him between their bodies. Wrapping him in the cage of their arms and legs as they spoke to him, loud, soothing reassurances until whatever terrors haunted him slowly released their grip, leaving him panting and sobbing, dripping with sweat and snot and tears that ended up on all three of them as he clung to them both, not that Edge or Red cared. They only held him until the trembling eased and then left the bed one at a time for washcloths, fresh pajamas, a cup of tea; whatever Rus needed, they always gave it, but with particularly special care on those nights.

Those nightmares did not in any way invite sex; any magic buildup Rus had was spent in a rush of sobbing and soul-wrenching fear. The night before it had taken an hour of gentle soothing and comfort for Rus to fall asleep again, the occasional tremor still rattling through him even as Edge crooned wordless reassurances and Red gently pet his freshly washed skull. It had taken another hour for Edge to allow himself to sink back into sleep again, still holding Rus close and gripping Red’s wrist in a loose hold over Rus’s sleeping form. Red wasn’t likely to go anywhere, but Edge hadn’t survived all these years by trusting anything to chance.

But the slow, rhythmic rocking of the mattress beneath him now was rousingly familiar and did not take any more than a sleepy guess to figure out that Rus must be feeling much better. That was followed by a touch of pique that neither of them woke him, but it hardly rose past a fleeting mild irritation. They were still in the bed next to him, at least. He could work with this.

Edge opened his sockets slowly to keep his eye lights from revealing him. It turned out to be a pointless gesture since all he could see was the back of Rus’s skull, faintly gleaming with sweat even in their darkened bedroom. The blankets were pushed to one side, carelessly heaped over Edge which certainly explained the sweat was starting to rise on his own bones from the extra coverings. He endured it for the moment, choosing instead to focus on the lovely, bare bones lying next to him.

He kept his sockets hooded, allowing his gaze to skim down the length of Rus’s body. Below the waist was a tangle of limbs, his and Red’s, the glow of ectoflesh revealing. Red was fucking him excruciatingly slow, his cock moving visibly within the soft golden magic formed in Rus’s pelvis. His hips were barely moving, but he must have done something particularly skillful; as Edge watched, Rus twitched, a tiny sound escaping him as he curled down to where Red’s skull likely was. Their disparate heights meant Red wouldn’t be able to see past Rus’s ribcage, his skull scraping lightly against the long, flat bones.

Red had questioned Rus hopefully about forming breasts only once, a suggestion that was soundly rejected, and if he were disappointed by the lack of a pillowy place to rest his skull, his brother never said it.

They certainly weren’t missed by Edge. The rounded cushion of Rus’s ass was a much better pleasure, particularly now with the way it was brushing against Edge’s crotch with every slow thrust. He wasn’t hard yet, but with every light grind, he was certainly getting there.

Rus didn’t often form an entire body and even when he did, the flesh was scant; his femurs encased to the knees in only a thin layer of golden ectoflesh and his pelvis offering little cushion. Until it came down to the curve of his backside, generous curves to cup in both of Edge’s not inconsiderable hands, an ass that begged for a touch or perhaps a teasing spank.

A breathily soft sound came from Rus, struggling to be stifled. Likely he thought Edge was still asleep and was trying fruitlessly not to wake him. Cupping the pert globes of his ass and squeezing them was enough to dispel that notion and Rus startled, his squeak of surprise cut off on a cry as Edge slipped a finger into his cleft.

Rus’s top leg was draped over Red’s hip, leaving him open for his brother to fuck into him and for Edge to slide his fingers lower to his cunt, feeling for where they were joined. His fingers were instantly slippery, Rus’s pussy was drenched, silken wet heat against probing touch. He grazed the thick length of his brother’s shaft, still moving almost achingly slow, forming his long fingers into a V on either side of it.

He couldn’t see his brother’s face and it was just as well, because hearing him was often irritating enough.

“someone’s finally awake,” Red panted out. He thrust suddenly hard, a lewd, squelching sound coupling with Rus’s startled gasp as his shaft surged past Edge’s fingers. “you been havin' a problem waking up lately, bro?”

“Perhaps I’ve been picking up bad habits from you,” Edge said tartly. His long fingers slipped back to fondle between the soft cheeks of Rus’s formed ass again, finding the small, furled hole there and using the slick already on his fingers to carefully press one inside. So tight around his finger, barely able to accept even that single digit, but from Rus’s reaction, it was not painful, or if it was, it was a pain he was craving. That tight passage went even tighter, clenching around his finger as he suddenly convulsed.

“hnn!” Rus choked out and he was never as beautiful as when he was coming, even if Edge couldn’t see his pretty face. His entire body trembled as if electrocuted, every joint locking as he quivered. Surely Red would normally agree if he weren’t so distracted by a similar clenching of Rus’s pussy.

His brother’s groan as he came was nearly as satisfying as Rus’s, a low growl wrenched from deep inside him. Edge could feel the sudden bloom of heat inside, his brother’s come filling Rus and it must have felt incredible from the way Rus quivered, already teetering on the brink of another orgasm as he was caught between the softening cock inside his pussy and the finger breaching him from the other side.

Edge slipped another finger in, both up to the second knuckle, pausing only when Rus whimpered softly. He pressed a light kiss against the side of Rus’s skull, murmuring, “Am I hurting you?”

“no!” Rus gasped. He shook his head desperately, flinging a mist of sweat from his skull, “no, doesn’t hurt, just—" His hips hitched back pleadingly, and another soft cry escaped him as Edge found the facsimile of his prostate, pressing lightly.

Beautiful, so beautiful for them, always. Edge wanted to inhale the smell of their sex, taste the heady spice of it, but he also wanted inside that tight little hole, wanted to feel Rus’s ass clench around him as he came again, hm, so many choices. He was still contemplating the options when a short, sharp chime sounded. Red’s phone and he groaned even as he finally withdrew, ignoring Rus’s unhappy whine as he rolled off the bed with his cock bobbing soft and wet between his short legs.

The light of his phone screen was stark in the darkened room and he huffed out, annoyed, “sorry, honey, gotta take this one. take over, bro.”

“Gladly,” Edge murmured. He crowded in behind Rus, adjusting the angle of his hips and tugging at the drawstrings of his pants to let his cock free.

Sweat slick bones glided against the silk of Edge's pajamas, Rus choking out a cry as Edge pressed directly into the slippery, stinging heat of his pussy, sliding through the thickness of his brothers come. They’d been at it for longer than he thought, perhaps his brother was right about him needing more sleep.

Rus whimpered, one hand flailing back as he tried and failed to get a grip on Edge’s pajamas. He was squirming and writhing as he begged, making it difficult to find a decent rhythm and with a growl of frustration, Edge rolled them over, pinning Rus down against the mattress with his own weight and his hands on slender wrists. The shift in position forced Rus’s backside into the air and Edge gladly took the offered angle, thrusting in hard enough that his hips slapped loudly against Rus’s ass cheeks.

“ah!...you fucker!” Rus choked out. His struggles were little more than a tease, his pussy was already clenching tightly around Edge’s cock as if trying to hold on to him that way. It felt glorious, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. He had a plan and it did not include letting Rus win.

He thrust once more, then withdrew, ignoring Rus’s loud protest and moving those slender wrists to one hand as he reached down to line up the head of his cock between those soft cheeks. The slickness of his brother’s come and Rus’s own wetness made everything slippery as he snubbed up against the furled entrance and began to push.

“oh,” Rus whimpered, as he slowly pressed in. “oh, yes, please, please!” His ass was tighter even than his pussy, that little hole giving in reluctant increments, slowly letting him in. So tight and by the time he was fully inside, his pelvis pressed tight against Rus’s, Edge was the one struggling for control. He let his skull drop down between Rus’s shoulder blades, smearing sweat between them as he gasped in short, sharp breaths, each one smoggy with the rich smell of their sex.

Rus was not helping in the slightest, still writhing and begging, his wrists straining in Edge’s grip and he’d managed to get his knees under him, using the leverage to grind his hips furiously up against Edge’s.

Well, if that was what he wanted, that was what he could get. Edge pressed a single, gentle kiss between Rus’s scapulas, and it was the last gentle thing he did.

Rus’s strangled scream echoed in the small room, filled with agonized delight as Edge fucked roughly into him, shoving inside with near savage rhythm, the slap of their summoned flesh coming together a drumbeat amplified by their shared gasps and ragged breathing. There was no consideration, no kindness, only the wildness of their need and Edge followed it, shifting his grip from wrists to hips, holding Rus still for every jolting thrust.

He felt it the moment Rus came, the hard, spiraling clench of his ass around Edge’s cock as he went rigid, clawing at the sheets and pillows as he let out another choked scream. His knees gave out, spilling them both down to the mattress and Edge followed him, still chasing his own pleasure, thrusting into Rus’s suddenly pliant body until the crest overtook him.

At the last possible second, he pulled out, groaning raggedly at the suddenly cool air on his wet cock as he took himself in hand and stroked urgently, coming in thick, crimson lines, glossy slick over golden ectoflesh and pale bones. So much of it, more than usual, and he nearly growled in satisfaction at the sight of it marking Rus. He reached out to smear those perfect lines, painting him in his magic and his scent.

Rus barely stirred, mumbling out, “not good enough to mess me up, you gotta rub it all in?”

“Yes,” Edge agreed, hoarsely. It wouldn’t last, no mark that Edge left on Rus did. Not his scent, his come, the lovely circles of bruises that were rising up on his wrists. All of it faded eventually, given time, and the pain of that was a minor one. They were all marked by something deeper, bound by the Divine, and that was a link that nothing could take away.

The bedroom door slamming opening startled them both, his brother’s booted footsteps heavy and quick. He started snatching clothes haphazardly from drawers, tossing them in Rus and Edge’s direction.

“get up,” Red said tersely. “there’s been another attack. we need to get out of here.”

Edge was on his feet before his brother finished speaking, dressing swiftly. Rus moved slower, clutching one of the shirts Red tossed at him to his still-dripping ribcage. His bright eye lights dimmed, shrinking into pale, frightened spots of light.

“what?” Rus asked, his voice small and scared, “another…but where are we going? i thought we’d be safer here?”

“not this time, we’re gettin' gone, honey, now move!” Red snapped. He snatched Rus’s robes from the back of the chair where Edge laid them out the night before, tossing them towards him.

The bedroom was supposed to be a saferoom, carefully designed with the walls reinforced and spells woven into the very fabric of it, carved into the concrete and joists. It should have protected them against almost anything, but Edge trusted his brother’s judgement. If ‘almost’ was headed their way, then they needed to get Rus away from it immediately.

He let his training take over, moving briskly as they made ready for flight. In the far back of their closet was a heavy black duffle bag and the moment Edge’s boots were tied, he went to grab it, carrying it to the door. A ‘get the fuck out of dodge bag’, Red always called it; he’d been packing them since they were still in stripes and barely off the streets, distrustful of their caretakers and ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

“ETA?” Edge asked tersely.

“too fuckin' soon.” Rus was still struggling into his clothes and Red stalked over to him, yanking the tangle of cloth roughly down over Rus’s head, “sweetheart, i know you’re scared but we ain’t got time.”

“i’m with you,” Rus said, shakily, but he stood and shoved his feet into his shoes. Soft-soled, useless shoes, Edge couldn’t even say when the last time was he’d even worn so much as sneakers, but there wasn’t time to worry about that now.

“c’mon, both of ya.” Red led the way out into the living room, towards the single window in the back of it. Edge was forced to nearly drag Rus along with him, he was still moving with almost dreamy slowness, not disbelieving but as if unable to comprehend that this was truly happening.

Red skirted the windowpane, peering out carefully at the street below. Edge did the same, holding Rus back when he nearly stepped right in front of it. Nothing seemed out of place, there were no mobs surrounding the building, no screams or gunfire. Outside the fence surround the Embassy, the city of Ebott was going on as normal, people on the sidewalks walking their dogs or heading to work, a coffee in one hand and a cell phone in another.

Normal or suspiciously normal, Edge did not know, and he looked at his brother, asking silent questions with his eye lights.

Red took no time to offer answers, he only turned back to Rus urgently, “can you teleport the three of us outside the gates? don’t bullshit me, rus, now ain’t the time.”

Judges were all able to teleport as a hasty exit from an ugly situation for their host, but the price was a hefty magic drain that left them vulnerable. The only time Rus ever did it was in a fit a pique when his Chosen were aggravating him in some way, and only ever directly into the safety of their quarters.

“i don’t know,” Rus stammered. Tall as he was, he seemed so small then, his slenderness no waifish enticement but only a further sign of his fragility. He faltered, sockets fearfully wide, “i’ve never…i think…maybe?”

“and fuck me if it ain’t my fault for not thinkin’ ahead and testin’ it out.” Red slammed a fist against his forehead, “stupid! okay, okay.” He took a deep, slow breath and let it out, his eye lights cold, burning coals as he said, “this is what we’re gonna do. you take edge with you and head down to that coffee shop right there.” He tapped the glass, indicating a prim little sign shaped like a steaming cup on the other side of the fence. “there’s gonna be a car waiting for you—"

“what?” Rus interrupted, horror-stricken, “no! i’m not leaving you here!”

“this ain’t up for discussion!” Red snapped. “you two get down to that shop, i got someone meetin’ you.” He gave them both a humorous slash of a grin, tongue flicking out over his jagged teeth. “prolly we can trust ‘em. if we can’t, bro, that’s on you.”

Edge hardly began asking who they’d be meeting when Rus shoved in front of him, too close to the window and shaking his head frantically. “no. no, i won’t, i won’t…!”

“would you shut the fuck up and listen to me!” Red snarled at him, cold and hard. There was no room for tenderness here or goodbyes, only necessity. Edge did not intervene, his own soul sitting heavy as lead in his chest as Red went on, “there ain’t time! get down there, i’ll hold ‘em back.”

Rus only stood there, tears starting to stream down his cheekbones as he shouted, “i said i won’t leave you!”

“honey,” Red took hold of the front of Rus’s robe and jerked him down to his level, their faces inches apart as he said in a low voice. “you need to start listenin’ to me.”

The sudden, sharp scene of ozone crackled in the air. Red let go of Rus’s robe with a hiss, shaking his hand even as those pale eye lights went golden, the aura of his power flaring around him like the birth of a sun from the darkness. His feet left the floor as he rose, surrounded in ethereal glory as the Judge stared down at them both.

“I Do Listen,” The Judge said coolly, “I Simply Don’t Obey.”

Later, Edge couldn’t describe exactly what happened. One moment they were standing by the window and then…the entire world sank into that vast golden light. He was caught up in brief moment of endless agony down to the cellular level, his own magic a mere droplet in a ceaseless ocean as he was torn apart and reborn. Then his feet were back on solid ground and Edge was blinking in the blinding sunlight, his skull aching so fiercely that he wondered with dazed concern if he’d gotten another crack.

When Edge could see again, he found that Rus’s aim was a little off. They’d landed in the middle of the shop’s outdoor patio and all around them were toppled over tables, shards of coffee cups and saucers littering the ground and Humans running away, leaving behind their cappuccino and espressos as their reasonable fear of the unknown made them flee.

Next to him, Rus was swaying on his feet, already sinking towards the ground. Edge caught him before he fainted, holding him up. Normally, swinging his light weight up into his arms would be easy but his own disorientation coupled with the heavy bag still over his shoulder left him off-balance, only barely catching himself before they both fell.

Red was picking himself up from the ground, twin lines of crimson running from his nasal aperture and Edge realized the front of his own shirt was splattered with marrow. Teleporting was not the easiest mode of travel for passengers, it seemed.

More marrow flew from his nasal passage as Red staggered over to the sidewalk where the road sat empty. “c’mon, c’mon, where the fuck are you.”

At that moment, as if summoned by his brother’s chant, a car came squealing around the corner, pulling up next to them. It was distinctly plain, almost ridiculously so, a simple four-door sedan in an unobtrusive shade a muted blue.

Then a familiar head poked out of the window, the bright red fronds glistening in the sunlight tearing away any illusion of subtlety. “What the fuck are you waiting for, a corsage? Get the fuck in the back!”

“Undyne?” Edge said, disbelieving, but when his brother opened the door, he didn’t hesitate, scrambling clumsily into the back and pulling Rus along with him. The tires squealed and smoked as Undyne laid on the gas almost before the door was closed behind them and they tore off down the road.

“slow the fuck down!” Red snarled. He crawled over the middle console into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt with incongruous grace. “you tryin’ to get us pulled over? the last fuckin’ thing we want is to get the humie cops into all this!”

“Yeah, yeah, cool your ass,” Undyne sniped, even as she slowed to a reasonable speed. “Where we headed?”

“just drive, i’ll tell ya where to turn,” Red sank back in the seat, sockets sinking wearily closed, “we gotta ditch this car, asap, and get another ‘fore we head to any safe house.”

“It’s your world, chief. Heya, asshole,” Undyne met Edge’s gaze in the review mirror, her needle-sharp grin twisted. “You get promoted and never stop by for a beer anymore. Good to see you, you shit. Didn’t expect it to be like this.”

“Neither did I,” Edge managed. Now that they were out of immediate danger, exhaustion was starting to tug at him. He swiped at his nasal aperture with his sleeve, grimacing at the bright smear of marrow it left behind. Speckles were falling down on Rus as well, gruesomely freckling his pale robes. “I would have preferred simply getting coffee instead of insurrection.”

“You said it.” Undyne agreed, “There’s clothes for you and his majesty in the back. Might wanna get your boy into something less conspicuous, those robes stick out like a sore fin. Dunno how well they’ll fit, the queen tossed me the bag as she was shoving me out the door.”

In Edge’s arms, Rus mumbled out, “not a majesty.” He still sounded muzzy and confused, and Edge reluctantly let him go as he pushed himself upright and reached for Undyne’s little black bag. Between the two of them, they got Rus out of his stained robes and into a pair of sweatpants and an oversized bright orange sweatshirt that hung on his slim frame. There was something almost familiar about those clothes, something that Edge couldn’t place, and he mulled it over as he helped Rus tie the laces on his newly acquired Converse.

Red craned his head to look at them, his gaze flicking over Rus approvingly. “different look for you, honey.”

“you really think so?” Rus plucked idly at the front of his sweatshirt, “‘cause these were actually my clothes. from before. where did you say you got these?”

Undyne didn’t look away from the road. “From the queen's ‘oh shit, run’ stash.”

“yeah, that makes sense.” Rus drew up the hood and suddenly a nagging sense of familiarity clicked as Edge stared at him in shock.

“I know you.”

Rus gave him a strange look, his brow bone furrowing. “uh, yeah you’ve been knowing me pretty intimately for a while now.”

“No, I saw you before,” Edge said slowly, still staring, lost in memory. “When I was training. You used to come to the barracks occasionally with Papyrus.”

Rus blinked, startled. “you remember that? yeah, we hung out sometimes, me and paps. with sans as judge and my brother as his chosen, we kinda had something in common.” Rus sighed and sank back against the seat as Edge shook himself from his stupor and started changing his own clothes. “i haven’t seen him since i was chosen myself. i wonder what he’s doing these days.”

“From what I heard, living it up with your brother,” Undyne said absently.

“What?” Rus said, sockets widening. “i…i guess that makes sense, sans talked to papyrus about blue once…” His voice went vague, trailing away, and Red turned around in the seat to look at him, his sockets narrowed suspiciously.

“when the fuck was that? sans shouldn’t’ve seen papyrus after he was chosen and he didn’t add blue to his collection until his third or fourth round.”

“i…i’m not sure.” Rus pressed a hand to his skull as if it ached. The moment Edge finished dressing, he crawled back into his arms, resting his skull in Edge’s lap as he curled up on the narrow seat.

“This is fascinating and all,” Undyne broke in. She slowed for a yellow light, waiting at the intersection as a Humans scurried in front of them over the crosswalk without a single glance into the car. “but I could really use some directions.”

Red pointed to an upcoming street, “hang a left here.”

Undyne turned where he indicated and Edge smoothed a hand down Rus’s back, silently urging him to close his sockets and rest. He wouldn’t lie to him that everything would be all right, instead funneling that urge into the determination to make it a truth.

His own eye lights were on the roads, watching where they were going and taking in their surroundings. Watching for anything that might be coming. Whatever happened at the Embassy would not remain there and their only saving grace from the Blessed Angel was a head start.

tbc

[idontblushsrry]

Do You Know That I Do Love You

Chapter 1: Do You Still Think Of Me Fondly?

Next>

Word Count:

Warnings: Some swearing, smut in later chapters

A/N: This is purely self indulgent at this point. I will get my black nobility/courtly romance fic and it just so happens to be with Han Ju-Do from Yona of the Dawn (great show if you ask me I think everyone should watch it and that it deserves more but, whateverrr) I don’t know how many chapters this is going to have, I thought 2 but maybe I’ll do 3 or 4 it all depends on what I feel like is gonna complete the story the best. Reader is black, she has a Korean last name to match with the rest of the show characters. Spoilers ahead for parts of Yona Of The Dawn anime/manga

A/N Pt.2: This is based off of the concept of courtly love  but w tweaks bcus I have like no ability to stick with angst permanently, like if asked nicely, I’ll do a happy ending (Also Reader and Ju-do are both single so). This fic is also based of this song if you want to get into the vibe.

You’d been told tales of the Crimson Dragon Castle just nothing could’ve compared to the majesty of seeing it in person. The gates opened and guards announced your arrival as your carriage pulled inside. You stared in awe at the sheer size of it while your attendants whispered something to each other that you didn’t quite pick up on.

“What was that?” 

You turned and your attendants immediately went silent, squirming and failing to meet your gaze each time you tried to capture them in it.

“Nothing milady just the talk of lowly servants that you shouldn’t concern yourself with.”

You could tell though from the guilt in her tone and the way the other attendant looked as though you’d have her thrown out if you heard what she said that you knew they were discussing the reason you’d even come to the palace. You were much too old to be an unmarried woman and the constant rumours of your status ranged in believability, the most outrageous being that you were a succubus and having a husband would get in the way of your appetites.

When you’d heard it, that made you cackle because you were the furthest thing from a succubus.

 It’s not like you felt ashamed of being a virgin, you were a grown woman after all, and it’s not as though you were the sole heir to your family’s name. You had plenty of siblings to carry on the family name. The issue lied in the fact that you were the oldest, your family tradition dictated that none shall marry before the oldest and as such you’d been on the receiving end of anger from your siblings, parents, potential suitors, and all in between. 

When your father first proposed the idea of marriage to you, many of your siblings were still too young to care or remember. You could feel the concern coming from both of your parents as they urged you to meet with suitors from other clans and families. And you could feel their growing rage as you rejected one after another. 

Now nearing two decades later, your siblings, the ones who were unconcerned with your marital status so long ago were now resentful of you. Many of them had approached you individually and together with their grievances, claiming you were holding the family back and restraining them from true love, all the things you’d heard before.

They’d brought those same complaints to father and he brought up the idea of a palace visit to you. No not in so few words nor with such direct intent but the message was there. He’d brought the idea up while you fed the fish in your private reserve.

‘I think that this place is too stifling of your abilities my dear. I’d like for you to go to the Crimson Dragon Palace in my stead, I’m getting rather old and the whole thing is nothing but a diplomatic affair anyways, I’m sure you can handle it.’ You were going to turn down his offer. Not consciously out of spite but because you knew what he wanted you to do. His words seemed like the ones of a trusting father but the undertone of ‘return with a fiancé or I’ll disown you’ rang clear as a bell through your head. You may have been stubborn but you weren’t a fool, your family had grown impatient with your antics and if this behavior continued, they’d send you packing without so much as a goodbye.

You’d contemplated that idea and thought up the pros and cons to being disowned. It wasn’t until you heard two maids whispering outside your room that night that you made your decision.

‘Poor Master Seong I heard that Lady (Y/N) is preventing him from meeting his heirs.’

‘Eh? What do you mean, how could she do that?’

‘She refuses to let any of her siblings get married and as the next clan head, any marriages from her siblings that occur before her own are forbidden.’

‘Wow! Really, then why won’t she just get married already?’

‘Who knows.’

By the following night you were in a carriage on your way to the castle. Coincidentally with the two maids that spoke ill of you that night. It seems that they still haven’t gained the ability to shut up even when it’s in their best interest.

The carriage pulled up to the guest exit and you didn’t have to wait long before the carriage was opened by one of the palace servants.

“Welcome Lady Seong”

You were rushed to yet another carriage that would take you to your quarters while your attendants followed someone else to the servants’ quarters. For the first time in the weeks it’d taken you to travel here, you could feel yourself begin to truly relax. The servant next to you was stiff with rigid and tense shoulders especially compared to your unladylike and unrefined composure. But, they were quiet. You weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and you didn’t particularly feel like talking to ease the tension in the carriage, so, you ignored it. Most of it was coming from the servant not knowing how to react to you anyways.

You closed your eyes to think of the last time you felt truly happy and all your defeated mind could conjure was an image of a chubby outstretched hand handing you a six-petaled flower.

“Milady? We’ve arrived at your quarters.”

You stepped out of the dark carriage into the courtyard of the place you’d be staying. Only to find that this courtyard was slightly nicer than you’d expected a standard nobles courtyard to be. There was an abundance of flowers, rocks lining the foliage. A bridge that spanned a small river that begun with a waterfall. Birds, a gazebo lined with jewels in the far corner, and the fragrant scent of jasmine flowers.

The servant, seemingly unfazed by the extravagance, urged you to follow her with a motion of her head. Her feet leading you through the courtyard with practiced expertise, you managed to keep up with her strides by clutching your dress up some and resisting the urge to gawk at every element passing you by. 

She brought you to a spacious room similarly sized as the room you slept in back home. The room was relatively bare save for a large bed pressed against the wall in the center of the room, a wardrobe, vanity and an incense holder among other things.

She turned to you and bowed before turning to leave. “Before you leave, what’s your name?”, she froze as though she wasn’t expecting you to actually speak to her. She turned back to you with a close eyed smile.

“My name? It’s Ha-Neul”

You’d received the first and arguably the most difficult of your diplomatic duties when within 3 days of your stay, you were being summoned by King Suwon. While the letter came as a shock to you, you nearly had a heart attack when you learned you’d be meeting in the King’s personal tea gardens. You’d take it as a compliment, however, you were 1) essentially all alone with no one to back you up should you fail to be adept at conversation and 2) you’d only met the new king as a boy and in passing, you were somewhat underprepared and knew nothing more of him than what you’d heard in passing.

‘No. Don’t think like that (Y/N)’, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, your braids hung down, the tight coils of your hair wrapped up inside of them as they hung down from your scalp to frame your face. ‘You are more than capable, if it weren’t for your intelligence, you wouldn’t have made it this far. You can do this.’ You took a look at your outfit. It was unfit to meet the king. But before you could begin working yourself up into another nervous tizzy, Ha-neul knocked on your door, her consistent rapping against it breaking you out of your anxious reverie.

Ha-Neul was truly a miracle worker. She’d managed to make your previously tense body appear completely calm and put together with a few twists of her wrists and some careful thought into what she’d have you wear to meet with the king.

By the time the carriage had stopped, the anxiety in your gut had settled to a deep thrum that would remind you of its presence at the very center of your being but wouldn’t seize control of your body. This mercy provided by your anxiety allowed you to put one foot in front of the other like you’d done since you were a child, albeit with a more conscious effort.

You’re led by a flurry of servants and guards to where Suwon was sitting so tranquilly in his tea gardens. It was amazing how much he’d grown since you’d last seen him but those same features he had as a child seemed to have aged with his spirit. You didn’t know why but you got this deep guttural feeling that he’d done something akin to a betrayal of himself. It showed oh so subtly in the way he drank his tea with an air of  practiced indifference that he tried to cover with a layer of oversaturated artificial happiness.

“Lady Seong, it’s good to see you. I hope your quarters are to your liking.”

Showtime.

You bowed respectfully to him before replying, “Yes, the room is lovely and even more so the courtyard. I’d love to speak with the person who designed it. How have you been your majesty?”

You’d hoped flattery would work with him, all your cues were being taken from him but it was near impossible to get a read on him. You kept your tone and demeanor light and cheery but eve still that was all he was giving you. It was like he was trying to gauge you at the same time.

Oh, you realized embarrassingly belatedly, this is a test.

The new king couldn’t afford any threats to his power and securing allyship while weeding out untrustworthy people was the most effective way for him to achieve that in lieu of starting a full-scale war. 

But Kouka didn’t need that. 

Since you were attending in your father’s stead, he’s likely assumed that you’re the new head of your clan, ‘If only he knew’.

Well, if it’s a test he wants then a test he’ll get. Two could play that game and you always were very good at mind games.

It feels as though it’s been about 30 minutes of you and King Suwon exchanging formalities, trying to see who’d crack. But finally, the tea and snack get delivered and you realize that for now, you’d reached a stalemate with the King. You could count it as a win but judging from the fact you still couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you mentally conceded to the standstill with him,  and from the sigh he let out it seems he’s resigned himself to the same fate.

“Let’s eat then shall we.” he says good-naturedly, like the careful tension of your previous exchange never happened, so you nod in agreement. Waiting for him to take the first bite and sip before following suit. You close your eyes and simply enjoy the gentle floral taste and aroma of the tea. You take a moment of respite in the tea and neglect your surroundings for a moment.

You hear big clunky footsteps hurry their way down the hallway you and Suwon are staying in before, “My King, I apologize for my lateness, and while inexcusable, I hope that you can forgive me.”

You recognize that voice, you move to open your eyes at the same time the man stands up and before King Suwon can get his answer out, you interrupt him with “Ju...do?”

He looks down at you with a sneer looking ready to give you a tongue- lashing for interrupting the King and calling him out of his station. Before a look of recognition flashes in his eyes and he looks away hurriedly, calling your name with a formal “Lady Seong, I didn’t know you were at the castle."

Ok, ouch. Few things hurt worse than the person you’d spent an embarrassing amount of time fawning over as a teenager (and young adult) dismissing you with such a dismissive and cold formality. 

You’d already fucked up by interrupting the King and you weren’t about to fuck up again by not responding to a General when directly addressed by one. “I didn’t know you were at the castle either, General.” If you were nothing more than a formality to him, then he’d be nothing more than a formality to you.

Yes you were aware of how petty and flimsy that logic was. He hadn’t seen you in years, of course he was going to be cordial with you. But the other part of you, the person who was heartbroken by the same man who stood in front of you right now, someone that you thought you buried long ago, hoped that calling him General hurt just as much as hearing him call you anything but (Y/N).

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Foolish

Characters: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A date with Sebastian Stan brings your friendship with Tom Hiddleston into a whole new light.

Warnings: None

A/N: This is a fic based on this (paraphrased) request from an anonymous user: I thought maybe a jealous Tom who is in love with his best friend and he helps her go on a date with some other famous Marvel boy (maybe Seb Stan) would be nice! But in the end of course they stay together.

I hope that you enjoy this, Nonny!

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“What about this one?”

You walked out of your bathroom, holding your arms out from your sides and giving a spin to show off a casual but cute outfit of a blue fit and flare dress that went down to your mid-thighs.

“It’s alright, I suppose,” Tom replied from where he was sitting on your bed, propped up against the headboard with his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle in front of him.

You huffed and stormed back into the bathroom, loudly calling your response through the closed door, “‘Alright, I suppose’ isn’t good enough! You said that he was really into me, and I haven’t been on a date in ages!”

Throwing on your last outfit choice - your go-to when you didn’t have a clue on what to wear - you stomped out of the bathroom, a little less excitement in your spin before you turned back to your best friend with your arms crossed over your chest. “Well?”

With a heavy sigh, Tom rose and walked over to you, turning you around to face the full-length mirror leaning against your wall. His hands settled on your shoulders, warm and comforting, and the fondness that lied beneath his azure eyes set off a flight of butterflies in your stomach. His chin came to rest on top of your head so that his soft words vibrated through you, “You are breathtaking in whatever you wear, darling. You know my thoughts on the matter.”

And you did. Throughout your friendship, he had been nothing but amazing, layering the sincerest of compliments about anything and everything on thick. But there was never more to them. The man could compare you to all things beautiful under the sun in his velvet baritone timbre, but it didn’t mean much when paired with nothing but a platonic hug where his hands remained firmly where they were supposed to.

You had given him every opportunity to further your relationship, cuddling up to him during your movie nights, hugging him for much longer than was appropriate, even holding hands when you were pulling him around town in his ridiculous disguise of a baseball cap and sunglasses - that fooled no one, by the way.

But either the vastly intelligent man was too dense to realize the hearts in your eyes, or he didn’t feel the same way and was saving your dignity by ignoring them.

Which meant it was time to try to move on from your unrequited pining. Waiting for him was like waiting for a god to take notice of you. Why would he deem to love a mortal when he gallivanted around the world with beautiful women who looked to be created by the most discerning eye.

So when he had introduced you to Sebastian Stan at a party, you put the yearning you held for your British best friend in the back of your mind. Soon enough, you were cracking jokes one right after the other, laughing and talking quietly in a corner of the room.

And when he asked if he could take you on a date - nothing too serious - you had agreed.

The doorbell to your apartment rang, and you reached up to pat Tom’s hand gently on your shoulder. “Showtime. I need to throw on my shoes; can you grab the door?”

Tom pressed a light kiss to your temple before exiting your bedroom, leaving you to scramble to throw on a pair of comfortable shoes for the evening. You didn’t have any idea what Sebastian had planned, and it was better to be prepared for any scenario than have aching feet the whole night.

Finally dressed, you snagged your bag before leaving the bedroom, coming into the living room to see Tom and Sebastian talking quietly. You cleared your throat, quirking your brow at the slightly guilty uptick to Tom’s brows when they both turned to you.

“Hey there, sweetheart. You look great.” Sebastian smiled at you, open and kind, holding his arm out to you.

The tension between the two could be cut with a knife as you took your place under his arm, glancing at Tom. You could just ask him about whatever that was later. “You gonna hang out here to mooch off of my cable?”

He shrugged his shoulders and dropped his chin, looking up at you through light lashes with a sheepish grin. “If that’s alright. The hotel doesn’t have all the channels, and Bake Off is tonight.”

You hugged him quickly, squeezing his bicep when you pulled away. “There should be all of the episodes of that and Countdown recorded for you. I’ll see you later, then. Don’t eat all the cookies while I’m gone, ya hear me?”

Sebastian guided you out your front door with his hand on your lower back, giving you just enough time to hear Tom’s answering shout of “I make no promises!” before the door closed and he was leading you to his car.

~~~

Everything was just slightly off.

The touch of his hand on your hip when he walked past you to retrieve his ball on the miniature golf course was a bit too timid.

Your hands didn’t fit properly when your fingers were laced together, his squeeze too tight and his knuckles pinching yours.

The sound of your name on his lips was too harsh without a lilting accent to draw out the vowels and soften the consonants, more like a handshake and less like a caress.

His eyes were just a shade too dark when he gazed down at you, reading the hesitation in the worry of your bottom lip in between your teeth and the lines between your brows.

And when he pulled you in for a hug, your bodies didn’t align comfortably, your arms not knowing whether to go around his neck or his waist, your hands just awkwardly patting his cool leather jacket until he released you. He smelled pleasant, like woodsmoke and light musk, but it wasn’t right.

“This isn’t working, is it?” he asked quietly, letting his hand capture yours as you pulled away from him, twining your fingers together.

You squeezed his hand softly, and took a chance, standing on your tiptoes to press a light kiss to his lips. He reciprocated, just barely moving against you, allowing you to set the pace. When you pulled away you sighed, shaking your head. “It was a nice kiss, but there’s no…”

“Spark,” he supplied for you with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s okay, though. Wanna know why?”

You followed him as he led you to his car by the hand. The touch was friendly now that any expectations of romantic activities had been squashed. It didn’t stir any feelings deep in your belly, or make heat spread throughout your limbs, or cause your heart to race in your chest. No, it was just nice. “What’s that, Seb?”

He opened the door for you, that easy smile back on his handsome face once again. “I think I do know someone who could spark your interest.”

~~~

“Honey, I’m home!” you called out into your dimly lit home, dumping your keys and bag on a table in the entryway.

When you received no response, you rounded the corner into the living room, following the soft music coming from your ancient record player Tom must have unearthed from the cobwebs it had been buried beneath. He was sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his hands.

“Tom?” you asked quietly, concern lacing your voice as you came around the couch to sit down at his side.

He heaved a heavy sigh when your hand stroked down his spine comfortingly. The muscles in his back were tense, hard as marble, unyielding beneath you. “How was your date?” he asked, the last word poison dripping from his tongue.

“Definitely no love connection there. I think we’ll make great friends, though, in time,” you replied, arching your brow as you tugged on his arm to try to see his face. “What’s gotten into you? Are you okay?”

He let you pull his arm away, following the motion by turning his whole body to face you. The expression on his face was unreadable, his brow furrowed as his eyes flitted over your face. When they came to rest on yours, it felt like he was staring into your very soul, piercing you with the intensity of his ocean-eyed stare.

Whatever he found from his inspection, it wasn’t what he had been looking for, and he stood up, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m fine.”

You stood as well, walking around your coffee table so that you were facing him once again. When he tried to turn away you caught his hand with yours, twining your fingers together. A comfortable, natural fit. He squeezed your hand gently. Your heart beat that much faster for the contact, but you ignored it. There would be time for your overeager emotions later when Tom wasn’t clearly upset about something.

“I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been in a mood all day, Hiddleston. Spill it,” you implored him, not unkindly, but leaving no doubts in your tone that you were going to let up.

“I just-”

“No, no excuses or half-truths,” you insisted, cutting him off before he could wiggle his way out of the situation with a distracting smile and a well-crafted argument. “Please?”

That seemed to do the trick, his shoulders slumping in resignation and his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. He released it to place both of his hands on his hips. “You know that you are, without a doubt, my dearest and closest friend, yes?”

Not knowing where this was going, but trusting him to lead you there, you nodded slowly. “Of course.”

Open vulnerability lifted the inside of his brows and reflected in his bottomless blue eyes as he finally looked at you, so startling that it made your heart skip a beat in its sprint against your ribcage. “I am not content with the current state of our friendship.”

Your heart, which had been threatening to burst from your chest, now stopped beating and lodged itself firmly in your throat. Fear dug its icy claws in your lungs, and you clenched your jaw to stop your lower lip from quivering. You knew this day was coming. One day he would get too famous, too popular, wanting more out of life and his friendships than you and your mundane existence could offer him.

“Oh, okay. Sure, I get it…” you murmured, afraid if you spoke any louder that you would lose the tenuous grip you had on the burning on the inside corners of your eyes.

“No, darling, that isn’t what I meant,” he assured you, placing his hands on your upper arms, rubbing the tense muscles there soothingly. Each stroke tore at the barrier of strength you had quickly constructed around your barely-contained emotions. “It pained me to know that you were on a date with Sebastian tonight.”

A hot tear rolled down your cheek unbidden. “You introduced us, Tom.”

“I didn’t intend for you to hit it off.” His hand burned a trail up over your shoulder until it settled against your neck, thumb catching the edge of your jaw.

You pulled away from him, swiping the back of your hand over your cheek angrily to wipe away the evidence of your failing control. “Yeah, well, that didn’t happen. So, if you don’t want to be friends anymore, I’d appreciate it if you left, now,” you said thickly, words distorted around the sob that you held back in your throat. You thrust your hand out toward the front door.

The floorboards shifted, groaning beneath his steps, but they weren’t toward where you had indicated. Instead, his hand curled around yours, and a flutter of warmth trickled out from your hand from where his lips ghosted across the smooth skin. “That is not what I meant, and I beg your pardon for leading you to believe otherwise.”

Hope soared inside your chest, stilling your tears and lifting your eyes from where they had landed on the floor. He set your hand upon his chest, over his rapid heartbeat, covering it with both of his own. The vulnerability you had seen before was tinged with sadness pulling down at the corners of his mouth. “My stomach has been tied in knots since you walked out the door with him. I didn’t pay an ounce of attention to anything on the blasted telly all evening because the thought of you in his arms drove me to madness.”

“Tom…”

He shifted so that his face was just inches from yours, eyes shining as he gazed down at you. “I’ve spent the entirety of our friendship hoping that you would one day open your eyes and see that I have always been here, by your side, loving you. I was driven to distraction tonight at the thought of you with him. I cannot continue this way, so I’m asking you, with my heart in your hands, if you have any similar feelings toward me.”

It took several beats of his heart for his proclamation to sink in, for you to fully grasp what he was saying. Could your Tom, the man who visited you in his every free moment, who ate all of your sweet treats when you weren’t looking, who pulled you into impromptu dances in the middle of your living room, feel the same way?

Laughter bubbled up from your throat, and your head fell forward to rest in the crook of his neck. The scent of leather and soap and warm spice washed over you. Home.

“Is my affection for you that hilarious?” he asked, clearly offended.

You let your free hand come up to snag your fingers into the loops of his dark jeans, tugging so that the lines of your bodies matched up. Perfect. You tilted your chin to kiss his neck gently. His breath hitched, and you hadn’t thought it possible, but his heart beat even faster beneath your joined hands.

“Darling?” His voice was low, intimate, hesitantly lined with hope.

You angled your head back to smile up at him. “We’re both idiots,” you explained. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and his eyes darkened in response. “Idiots who need to shut up and kiss before we both explode fro-”

Your statement was cut off by his mouth crashing down onto yours. Years of mutual love and frustration were poured into your lips working against the other, rushed and less than graceful in your eagerness. Your fingers dug into the soft material of his shirt, and one of his hands came around to flatten over your lower back to hold you to him.

It was everything you had hoped for, everything that your date earlier hadn’t been. Passion and strength and fragility and love and fire that scorched through you, burning you up from the inside out. It was all you’d ever wanted. It was Tom.

You were both breathless when you broke the kiss, searching for air desperately in the small space between you. His nose rasped along the length of yours. “We are fools.”

You stood on your tiptoes so your rebuttal was delivered against his lips. “No, we were fools.”

And then there wasn’t another moment wasted to talking, as you had to make up for so much lost time.

[renxamamiya]

Theatre of Mirrors - The Empress Theatre Part 2

This took me a month plus and 20k+ words LMAOOOOOOO. I’m trying a lot of things in this chapters, including writing a fight scene and taking feedback into account.

Special shout out to @rui-the-galax-angel and @digifangirl97 for helping me with this!!!!

Also please check out the fic on AO3 here!

I’ve also added notes on certain things at the bottom of the chapter, so please read them!

“Is that Goro-?”

“He’s alive!?”

Ren and Joker gasped as they both stared at the same monitor, stunned that the brown-haired detective was alive, disbelief in their expression as they mirrored each other: wide eyes, mouth hung agape, exhaling gentle yet purposed breaths. Both Ren and Joker blinked, Ren shifted in his seat to get a better look, Joker leaned on the console table as he looked closer at the projected image in front of them, seeing their Phantom Thieves going through their shared bewilderment. Neither of them made a sound.

“Is he a...?” Ren trailed off after a long silence, turning to ask his shadow who was observing the detective with careful eyes. Joker gently shook his head in response, an amused half-smile slowly appearing on his lips, barely making eye contact with Ren as he continued to stare at the screen in awe. Goro was here. The invitation he sent, the one he thought would be the only one which would fall on deaf ears, instead called his Crow back to him once more. Though he did not dare show it to Ren, he felt elated at the sight of his rival, alive, well, and scowling at his friends.

Yet this small joyous moment of his did not last. He felt himself suddenly getting tired as he spotted Ren’s eyes gleaming with newfound hope at the sight of Goro. Joker hid his sneer as he got up from his leaned position, standing up, gloved hands tucked back into his pockets. He hated that look of optimism in his other’s eyes, wanting to snuff it out right there and then, but he stopped himself. No; his plan would suffice enough to allow him to slowly crush that hope Ren held; and more, he reminded himself. He turned on his heel, walking out of the room. Ren noticed him leave; before he could utter a word his shadow had slammed the door shut to his prison, not bothering to lock the door as darkness all but swallowed him, the sounds of chorused chatter of the cognitive guests the only thing keeping him company.

Joker snapped his fingers as he continued his stride, an audible click echoed the room. Two shadows belonging to his twisted theatre erupted from the floor to join him as he reached for the door leading to the rest of the building pausing only for a moment to converse with the shadows followed obediently.

“Now, remember the script,” he ordered the both, impatience in his tone as he pulled the door open, wind rushing towards him, gently ruffling his messy hair and flapping his tailed coat. He turned to look over his shoulder, a golden eye glinting murderously at them as he wore a serious expression, “This needs to go perfectly. If you fail, I’ll make sure to kill you as painfully as possible, you understand?”

“Yes, boss.” they both replied in unison. Joker’s stern expression melted at their reply, now grinning wildly with anticipation, his heart starting to beat rapidly with a newfound thrill, blossoming into a crescendo, feeling the tips of his fingers beating with anticipation as he found himself drowning from the thumping of his own excitement. He turned to look down the bland hallway before him, eyes narrowing, vision sharp as he inhaled a deep, deep breath. On exhale he promptly stepped forwards, another he broke into a run, focusing only towards him, his vision tunnelling as he heard his lackey’s footsteps behind him.

“It’s showtime!” he thought to himself, laughing out loud with thrill as his performance commenced.

---

"Akechi-senpai, you're alive!"

Goro heard Sumire before he saw her, the redheaded gymnast wrapping her arms around him, pulling him into a sudden, affectionate hug. He squirmed instinctively in her embrace, not used to displays of affection, and not used to ones that involve touch.

“Yoshizawa.” he growled, hoping that his unamused tone would give her the hint he needed to attain freedom from her grip, yet she did not loosen her grip around him, “Get. Off.”

“Oh, sorry,” Sumire mutters as she lets Goro go, hiding her hands behind her back as she looks away from him. Her face flushed slightly red, obviously embarrassed by the impulsive hug she had given him.

“I’m so sorry, Akechi-senpai.” she apologizes, moving her hands to her side as she gave him a formal bow, “I’m so sorry. I was just happy to see you.”

“Yo Akechi, is that really you?” Ryuji inquired, looking at him sceptically as he places his hands casually on his hips, “Or are you just a cognition?”

“I can assure you that I’m no such thing.” Akechi said, closing his eyes as his face contorted to an expression of great offense, “To think of me being here as nothing more than a figment of Amamiya’s cognition...”

“If you’re not cognition, then why are you here?” Ann said, her and Futaba now with the rest of the group, staring at him suspiciously, “Are you trying to kill Ren again?”

“More importantly, if you are indeed alive, then what have you been doing all this time?” Yusuke inquires, stepping towards the former detective, Goro looking at them, unamused.

“I do not have to answer the latter question, nor do I want to.” Goro said, clearly annoyed by Yusuke’s prying question, “As for answering Takamaki’s question: I’m simply here for curiosity’s sake.”

“You mean you have the app as well?” Makoto asks. Goro’s head snaps towards her, his eyes widening in astonishment, “With the strange notification, correct?”

“So, you’ve gotten it too?” Goro queried rhetorically, yet all of them answered with a single nod. He pursed his lips, furrowing his brows in thought as he looked down at the carpeted floor, “It makes sense for you all to be here. But why-”

“Hey, where’s Mona?” Futaba whispered, poking her head from behind the rest of the group as Goro continued to mutter to himself, “I don’t see him anywhere.”

“Mona?” Haru said, perplexed by Futaba’s question, yet a second later she realised that the feline was nowhere within the group, “Wait, has anyone seen Morgana? I thought he was with us?”

“I dunno, I was with Futaba the whole time.” Ann said, looking at both the faux blonde and the fluffy-haired girl, “I mean, I thought he was with you guys. You did go up before us after all.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t see him, he must have run off somewhere.” Ryuji sighed, reflexively kicking the floor in frustration and disappointment, “That cat’s always runnin’ off somewhere. I guess we should find him before he runs into trouble again.”

"I think I saw Morgana-senpai run that way." Sumire said, pointing to where the cognitions were congregating, no doubt to head to the numerous auditoriums that were located within the Palace, "I didn’t see clearly though, he ran by me so fast."

"It's as good of a lead as any," Makoto said, ignoring Ryuji's string of curses towards their missing teammate. She walked a couple of steps, all the other thieves following her casually, but noticed Goro still in contemplative thought, one his hands cupped his chin while another held his phone.

"Akechi, aren't you coming with us?"

Goro looked up, red eyes gazing into her own.

"Me?"

"Yeah, him?" Ryuji asked in earnest, which resulted in him getting elbowed sharply in the chest by Ann, "Hey, what was that for!?"

“You can’t say stuff like that in front of people!” Ann exclaimed, annoyed by Ryuji’s boldness towards Goro, eyebrows crossed in an angry expression, “Besides, we have no idea what’s in this place. I don’t like the idea too, but we have strength in numbers, and we can keep an eye on him if he tries to do something to Ren.”

“Thank you, Takamaki, but I’ll be fine on my own.” Goro said, resisting the urge to grimace at Ryuji and Ann’s words (though he was not surprised in the slightest in the fact that they did not trust him), “I’ve had more than enough experience in combat to take care of myself. That, and we’re obviously not considered as threats. I doubt that whatever’s happening to your leader, will in turn put any of us in immediate danger.”

“Still, it’s still an awful thought for you to get left behind.” Haru said, although she did not sound too eager with the prospect of Goro coming along to find their furry friend, “Even if it’s you...”

“As I said-”

“Please, Goro-senpai?” Sumire pleads, giving Goro the biggest puppy-eyes she could muster as he turned to look at her, her bottom lip quivering, trying to evoke sympathy from within the detective, “Please? We haven’t seen you for a long time, and I know you really want to come with us...”

Goro looks at Sumire, his expression firm and unreadable, his gaze piercing, yet the girl continues to pout. The rest of the group looked at each other, not knowing how to break the tension between the two of them, waiting for either Sumire to succeed in her attempt to convince Goro, or for Goro to win in his efforts to further distance himself from the group.

The victor was decided when Goro broke his gaze, sighing deeply in defeat while Sumire smiled and cheered in triumph.

“Thank you, senpai!” Sumire grins, going in for another hug, only to be stopped by Goro’s hesitant scowl.

“I’m doing this only for you, Yoshizawa.” Goro muttered under his breath, though he can’t help but smile a bit when he saw her growth in confidence over the last year and a half. He turned to look at Makoto, “Lead the way, Queen.”

“With pleasure.” Makoto huffed, trying not to get worked up by his use of her codename, seemingly brushing it off as she resumed her pace towards the inner area of the foyer.

It did not take the group long for them to spot Morgana. He stood still as cognitions passed by, some of them muttering happily as they noticed the feline gazing upon something. A few steps more passed the crowd of cognitive people did they find what he was looking at.

“Is that?” Ann gasps, looking upon the fountain statue of Joker. The glint of the gold that accented its mask and buttons and eyes sent a shiver down her spine, its grin, smug and sinister, unsettled her, and she dare not make eye contact with the gaudy decoration. The others shared her uncomfortable reaction, a loss for words as to why such a decoration would be displayed all to see. They knew Ren, knew how he acted, knew the confidence he held in himself, yet did not associate him with the apparent narcissism they were currently gazing upon.

Morgana’s ears twitched, sensing the others as they approached behind him, turning to greet them with a sombre expression as he stood in front of the fountain.

“I think this was where Ren was caught.” Morgana informed the group, yet no one in the group found any comfort with this information, “I saw some commotion around here until I got thrown out by those shadows.”

“Where could they have taken him?” Haru asks, yet she knew Morgana’s answer, “Could he possibly be somewhere deeper in the Palace?”

“He has to be.” Morgana said, turning to look up towards the top of the twin stairwells, “I don’t know how to explain it, but I can feel him somewhere up there, calling for us.”

“Futaba, can you check if that’s the case?” Makoto asks the girl. Futaba snaps back into attention, the fountain statue previously lulling her into a trance. She looks at Makoto with a dazed expression, blinking several times as she tries to grasp what she had said to her.

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that, Queen.” she confesses, Makoto sighs.

“Can you confirm that Ren’s somewhere in his Palace?” Makoto again asks her, though she could not help but send a sympathetic expression towards the girl. The man that had helped her free herself from the shackles of her distortions was now trapped from his own, and admittedly, none of the thieves have yet fully come to terms with the formation of Ren’s Palace.

“Oh yeah, why didn’t I think about that,” Futaba said, abruptly squatting down as she puts her laptop on the carpeted floor. She opened it, her device flicking to life, and started to type rapidly on it, focused on her task, “It’s gonna take a while for me to find him.” she informed the rest of the group, raising her voice slightly to be heard above the chatter of the cognitions around her, “Though I can tap into the Palace to get a look at the place, I can’t exactly pinpoint him with ease without my Persona.”

“That’s alright.” Makoto said, “We can work on finding him once we get a rough idea as to where he’s located.”

“Hey Yusuke, you’ve been really quiet since we’ve entered the Palace.” Haru said, looking at the blue-haired artist with concern "Are you okay?"

"Hm? Oh. I am, thank you for your concern, Haru." Yusuke smiles, "I'm sorry if I caused any worry, I was simply marvelling the architecture of the Palace. It's simply beautiful"

"But isn't that weird? I mean this is Ren's Palace after all." she said with concern, a hand pulling back a strand of her hair as she continued, "I mean, it's nice here but, I don't really see how it could be considered 'beautiful'."

"That's okay, I understand completely that finding an aspect of Ren's distortions 'beautiful' is less than savoury; however, I do marvel at the detailing of the architecture especially. It certainly has a lot of Western influences. Definitely matches his more Western interpretation of a rebel."

"Like the 'Gentlemen Thief' persona huh?" Haru mutters, "That makes sense. After all, Arsene does wear a top hat."

"Precisely." Yusuke said, "Details like that do put a smile on my face."

"Well, I guess you can say-"

The screams of cognitions from the floor above interrupts their conversation, all the thieves snapping their heads to see the guests fleeing from above, down the twin stairs in a desperate panic in order to run from an unseen danger. Blue flames suddenly erupted from each of the members, exposed skin and fabric alike replaced with their iconic thief outfits, another flash across their eyes placed their masks as their forgotten powers and Personas electrified their veins.

“Shit!” Ryuji exclaimed in surprise at the sudden eruption, tightly gripping his mallet, already anticipating a fight. The rest of the thieves sans Goro immediately sprung into a fighting stance, readying their weapons as they grouped together, prepared for whatever was causing the commotion upstairs. The only not in the front lines was Futaba, who was hoisted to safety by her Persona Al Azif, hovering above the group as she prepared to support them.

“It seems we were finally acknowledged,” Goro grumbles, yet he could not help but smirk at the idea of taking down the enemy approaching them. He unsheathed the serrated sword he used while in the Metaverse from his side, feeling the familiar echo of Hereward in his mind as the mask he adorned gleamed slickly in the light, “Finally. I was getting on edge with how   the atmosphere was.”

“Oracle, what are you seeing?” Makoto asked the girl, already springing quite comfortably into the lead role as Futaba typed rapidly across the different screens surrounding her from within her Persona, “Are there any dangerous shadows heading in our way?”

“Two of them. They’re pretty strong, but nothing we can’t handle.” Futaba informs Makoto, still tying away across her screens, her eyes flickering rapidly from one window to another, “They seem to be chasing something. Another shadow. A powerful one at that!”

“Why would they be chasing one of their own?” Yusuke muses as he readies his katana, his gloved hand resting delicately on the decorative hilt, “Unless-”

Two gunshots rang in the air, followed by the screams of the shadows, a blur of black and red suddenly appearing, sliding down rapidly from the polished stair rails while being pursued by two shadow guards, their head turned back as to keep an eye on their pursuers, yet they could see a smirk on their lips. Before the Phantom Thieves could realise who, the shadows were chasing, the figure turned towards them.

The gold and black mask. The red waistcoat. It was Ren’s shadow. He looked just like the fountain statue nestled between the twin stairs of the foyer. He landed in front of them with practised, familiar poise, turning around towards the shadows, gritting his teeth as he readied a knife the thieves found familiar.

“There’s the fugitive!” one of the shadow’s yelled, pointing to the golden-eyed thief as another indistinguishable shadow joined its side, “Help me snag him! The boss’ll have our heads if we keep lettin’ him run free around this place.”

“Ren-”

“Call me Joker, Queen.” he interrupts Makoto, turning back his head to give her a signature wink before turning back towards his assailants, the two shedding their suits to reveal a Dionysus, Titania and Oberon, all ready to attack, “I know you all have questions right now. I’ll explain later, but first you have to help me with taking these guys out.”

Makoto nods at Joker, agreeing with his commands as she readies her mask. The shadows jumped towards Joker, the Dionysus charging with electricity, static climbing across his multicoloured arm.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Morgana shouts, lunging forward towards the shadow as he summons his Persona, “It’s payback time! Diego, Miracle Rush!”

The Persona erupts from behind the cat, a strong, dashing, masked man with a comically tall moustache and long black cape appeared surrounded by blue flames. A single swish of his sword was enough to summon multiple golden boxing gloves supported by springs that aimed at the shadows. They reeled in back, and then suddenly sprang into action, punching the Dionysus square in the jaw and knocking it off its feet, but unfortunately missing the other two shadows in its company.

“Nice shot, Mona.” Ryuji compliments the cat as he rushes forward, assisting the feline with his enemy, readying the large mallet on his side, “But you missed the other two, might want to work on your aim.”

“I’m rusty-!” Morgana squeaks, looking at his friend with an offended expression as Ryuji brought the mallet down on the shadow, sending it straight down onto the floor, “What about you huh, you’re gonna just let the shadow get up?”

“Huh, you got a point.” Ryuji said, and went on to summon his Persona, dramatically gripping his hand onto his metallic mask, “Alright, William! Give this guy a hand. A God’s Hand to be exact!”

As soon as he did so the mask burst dramatically into the same blue flames, licking harmlessly on Ryuji’s face, rising to conjure a figure beside him. His Persona, dressed in a black and white hood, a skeletal face with its eyes behind red goggles rode atop a yacht triumphantly, conjured a fist out of nowhere, propelled by what looked like a rocket, dancing circles above its target’s head before slamming right down on top of it, injuring the shadow further.

“Skull, that was terrible.” Morgana sighs, frowning at his friend’s pun as he readies his cutlass to strike the incapacitated shadow

“Aww don’t be such a moaner, Mona.” Ryuji chuckles, Morgana ignoring the blonde as he strikes the shadow, “I’m just havin’ fun!”

“Skull, I know these shadows are nothing but total squishies, but you still gotta be careful.” Futaba buzzes through their ears, Al Azif hovering away a safe distance from the battlefield, “We can make terrible puns AFTER we’ve dealt with these shadows.”

“Hey, my puns are not-”

He did not see Morgana dodge Dionysus's attack, only hearing the electricity from its Ziodyne attack before it was too late. His head turned at the sound of the wild crackle of electricity heading towards him. His eyes widened as the bolt connected, a section of the bolt diverged and struck the carpeted floor, causing him to be engulfed into a cloud of dust and smoke.

“Skull!” both Futaba and Morgana exclaimed, calling out for their friend in a panic. Morgana summons his Persona, commanding Diego to blow away the cloud of smoke that obstructed their view of Ryuji with a quick Garudyne, only to find him completely unharmed.

“I’m okay!” Ryuji yells out, waving out to them to attract their attention, “Barely even touched me, you on the other hand.” he said as he almost sneered towards Morgana.

“Hey guys, you can fight all you want later, right now you’ve got a shadow to toast.” Futaba hisses at the two, reminding them of their situation as Dionysus charges for another attack, “Another Ziodyne coming towards your six!”

Both Ryuji and Morgana exchange brief sour expressions towards one another, before shifting their focus towards the enemy before them. --- The Oberon thrusts its sword forward towards Joker, the boy sidestepping each time it swipes towards him, golden eyes carefully observing his opponent as another swipe of the shadow’s sword barely misses him. Makoto readies into position, resting her hand on her mask as she instinctively climbs on the Persona that appeared beneath her.

“Agnes, hit it with an Atomic Flare!” she said to her Persona, and Agnes complied, a ball of blue aura appeared in front of the attacking shadow, growing before independently detonating in the shadow’s face. However, the Oberon dodged it with ease, escaping the otherwise effective attack.

“Dammit!” she whispered harshly under her breath as Ann went in to strike the Oberon, uncoiling her whip as she swung it, a sharp ‘thwack’ echoed as she struck the Oberon on the face.

“How dare you strike me!” the shadow hissed, swinging its sword towards her only to be stopped by Joker’s dagger. The weapons clashed. And they clashed again, Joker slowly driving the attacking shadow back as Makoto readies another attack.

“Agnes, Atomic Flare!” Makoto commanded her Persona again, the same blue orb appearing to engulf the Oberon, but the attack yet again missed as the Oberon evaded it.

“Queen, got any ideas to stop this shadow from moving so much?” Ann hisses as she ducks a swipe from Oberon’s sword, “We could really use some help right now!”

“Maybe slowing it down would help?” Joker said out loud before parrying multiple slashes of the shadow’s sword with his gun and knife, “I don’t have any ice skills on me. Maybe we should call over-”

“We don’t need Fox. I have an idea, just follow what I say!” Makoto instructed her teammates, Joker and Ann both nodded at her with acknowledgement as they continued to dodge the wild attacks of the shadow.

“Joker, aim your shots at its wings!” Makoto instructed Joker. He raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

“Panther, get ready to cast Agidyne on the Oberon!” Makoto yells towards Ann, who nodded in acknowledgement, her gloved hand resting on her mask as she readies herself.

A shot from Joker’s gun rang out, and another, and another. two of the three bullets managing to tear through the thin membrane of the shadow’s left wing, the shadow howling in pain. Joker aimed carefully; a single bullet left in the magazine of his gun. He looked down at the sight of his pistol. He aimed at the Oberon, who was hovering in the air, wobbling back and forth in pain from its injury. He squeezed the trigger.

Bang!

The last bullet tore through the shadow’s wing. The Oberon cried in pain as it floated down, its injuries too great to keep itself airborne.

“Now Panther!” Makoto shouted. With a quick shout of her Persona’s name, Ann summons Célestine behind her, the avatar of her heart standing tall, nonchalantly blowing a piece of gum as the overhead light reflects from her glasses.

“Agidyne!” Ann ordered her Persona, and Célestine lifted her hand towards the crippled shadow. Heat gathered beneath it, and before it could react, a tower of fire erupted from the fire, consuming the shadow, leaving it with embers still singeing its skin.

---

“Ella, use Kougaon!” Sumire said to the bride like Persona behind her, Ella responded by summoning a pillar of white light to strike Titania, the shadow grunting in pain as she took the attack. Yusuke followed up with a swipe from his sword, yet the fairy-like shadow managed to dodge him with ease.

“Psiodyne!” Haru shouted, her Persona, Lucy, towered behind her, one hand holding an elegant looking briefcase while another one held its masquerade like glasses in front of where its face would be, summoned forward pink swirling circles with colours accenting them towards the shadow. Titania managed to evade her attack, retaliating with its own spell as it casts Freidyne.

“Noir, watch out!”  Sumire shouted after her, Haru trying her best to escape from the Nuclear-based elemental attack, yet the blue ball persistently followed wherever she went. It was Yusuke who had saved her, pushing her out of the way just as the nuclear ball exploded, taking the brunt of the attack. He grunted audibly, Haru’s eyes widening in alarm.

“Yusuke are you okay?” she asked the artist. Yusuke responded with a smile, standing from his previously hunched position.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, “the damage I received was less than anticipated.”

“But you still took damage, are you sure you’re-”

“We haven’t the time to worry about injuries!” Goro hissed at the both as he spots the hands of the Titania glow green. He sprints forward, his sword held by his left hand as his right clasps his mask. He cries out wildly for Hereward, and the black, bow-wielding Persona erupted behind him, an arrow pulled back as it readies for Goro’s command.

“Hereward, Laevateinn!” he commanded his Persona, Hereward complying as it lets go of the strung arrow. A sword descended onto the Titania, a lucky strike by Goro as it tumbled down onto the ground, its healing spell interrupted.

“Regroup, everyone!” Futaba instructed the Phantom Thieves, all of them listening to their navigator as they jumped back into a defensive position, their various ranged weapons all pointed towards the downed shadows.

“W-wait!” The Oberon shrieks as the embers on its body continue to injure it, “Please, don’t kill us!”

“Yes, please, we were just following orders!” Titania said, whimpering on the floor, her hands curled on the carpeted floor.

“Yeah right!” Ryuji said, cocking the barrel of his shotgun, aiming his sights towards the wounded fairy, “Orders from who? Certainly not our friend Joker here, you practically attacked him!”

“Well… He-”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of them.” Morgana said, clearly annoyed by the situation as he held his slingshot ready, “Everyone, it’s All-Out Attack time!”

Before the shadows could utter another word all the thieves pounced towards them, weapons out and ready. Each thief took turns slashing at the enemies, a flurry of attacks as the sound of weapons echoed throughout the hall. Joker dealt the last swipe, a clean cut through the three of the shadows, before he flipped backwards, away from them.

A second passed, and soon a black ooze erupted from each of the three shadows before their bodies evaporated into thin air.

Joker scanned the rest of the foyer, readying his weapon as the others put away theirs, his back towards them, senses still alert as adrenaline still flowed through his veins. Al Azif descends slightly down towards the floor before allowing Futaba to gracefully float down to join the rest of her friends before dissipating, blue flames gently caressed her face as her Persona became her mask. They stared at Joker, watching him anticipate yet another attack. No additional shadows came, and he stood up, his shoulders relaxing, and he tucked away his weapons before he turned to face them, golden eyes staring at them. He smiles gently at them.

“Hello, everyone.” he greets.

“Ren… is that-”

“Ren!” Morgana cried out, interrupting Ann as he rushed towards him, arms wide to embrace him with open arms. Before the masked thief could properly react to Morgana, the bipedal feline jumped, and Joker caught him instinctively.

“Ren! Ren, I was soooooo worried!” Morgana said as he hugged Joker, burying his face affectionately in his chest. Joker returned Morgana’s hug, petting the feline with his free hand as Morgana purred audibly, “I’m sorry for interrupting you Lady Ann!” he continued to shout, trying to sound apologetic despite his joyful tone conveying otherwise, “But I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“But isn’t that senpai’s shadow?” Sumire points out, her expression guilty as she feels as though her observation had spoiled the moment between the two, “I’m sorry for being so rude, but we shouldn’t trust him-”

“Yoshizawa’s right.” Goro agrees with her, eyeing Joker carefully beneath the red filters of his mask, “Like it or not this is not the Amamiya you know and love, but an ugly, distorted version of him.”

“Am I really that-” Joker started, reflexively responding to the comment with an air of jest, yet when his shining, golden eyes met Goro’s hauntingly red ones he stopped himself, mouth still open, hanging agape. Silence fell between the two, Goro looking at Joker closely, his face expressionless, eyes narrowed in contemplation and suspicion as Joker looked at him with stunned disbelief.

“Crow, you’re-”

“Alive? Yes, I am.” Goro said, not taking his eyes off the shadow, “And you’re a shadow. Now, tell us where Ren is so we can get on our way, thank you.”

“He’s still Ren, even if he’s his shadow.” Ann huffs, her tone of voice clearly irritated by Goro’s total rejection of Joker, walking up to the shadow’s side, “Besides. Him helping us still means that Ren’s not only here, but his shadow can help us rescue him, right?”

“Yes, you’re right, Panther,” Joker nods, “I’ll be more than happy to help, and please, call me Joker.”

“Why? Do you prefer to be called that? I’m so sorry if I-”

“It’s okay, Panther.” he smiles reassuringly, touched by Ann’s kindness in accommodating his request so readily, “And yes. Though I am his shadow and should share his name, I am more comfortable with using Joker.”

“Note taken, now come here, Joker!” she exclaimed, running to join in with Morgana’s hug, wrapping her arms around his neck in affection, “Even if you’re Ren’s shadow, we’re still so glad to see you!”

“Yeah, we were so worried when we saw you had a Palace,” Ryuji said, walking to rest a comforting hand on Joker’s shoulder, “So it’s good to see you here and well buddy, and we’ll deffo help in stealing your treasure and easing your distorted heart.”

“And I’m glad to see you, Skull.” Joker smiles at his long-time friend, “If there’s anyone who can help me get rid of the distortions of my heart, it’ll be you.”

“I am happy to be here.” Yusuke smiles, walking up to stand next to Joker, the close proximity he stood next to his friend’s shadow enough to ease his heart, “Though it is unfortunate that you… our friend… have a Palace, we are honoured to be here if only to untangle the distortions that have brought this theatre in the first place.”

“And it’s nice to see you too, Fox.” Joker laughed, clearly amused by how flowery Yusuke’s language was.

“Joker!” Futaba yells, running towards him and wrapping her arms around his torso from his side, “Joker you’re okay! You’re really okay!”

“Well, ‘okay’ is putting Joker’s situation quite mildly,” Haru laughs as she joins the thieves in greeting their leader’s doppelganger, “But I have to agree with everyone, seeing you here with us, even if this is your Palace. ”

“Does the idea of me having a Palace really make you uncomfortable, Haru?” Joker asks her, eyebrows knitted as he looks at her with concern, “You can always leave if you’d like, Noir. I won’t judge you; it must be hard considering...”

“Yes, it does.” Haru answers for him, yet the spark of resolve she had in her eyes did not flicker as she looked in his golden ones, “But I promised only the others, but also myself, to be strong for you, and to help you in any way I can in getting rid of your distortions.”

Joker smiled at her, touched by her kind words.

“Thank you, Noir, I’ll be counting on you then.”

“She’s not the only one you can count on.” Makoto said, as she walked towards him, “I don’t think it’s far-fetched to assume that all of us here are more than willing to lend you their assistance should you need it, Joker. We are here to help heal your distorted heart, after all.”

“But what if I just want a kiss from my advisor.” Joker cooed at her. A blush slightly reddened Makoto’s face as she coughed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear as she cleared her throat.

“I’m sure, I can accommodate that request of yours,” she said confidently, yet the blush on her cheeks grew a deeper red. She leaned in, gently caressing his free shoulder, and gave him a peck on the cheek, Joker grinning delightfully as his golden eyes twinkled brightly with joy.

“A peck on the cheek is all I get?” he said, mockingly pouting at her, “But I thought you were here to ease my distorted heart.”

“We can kiss more when we steal your treasure; besides, the others are...” Makoto trails off, the mention of the other thieves reddens her face more in embarrassment, Joker giving her a toothy smile, only deepening the flush on her face.

“Okay, if you insist, my Queen. I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Someone audibly clears their throat. Joker looks past the group of friends that surrounded him to see Sumire standing in the middle of the foyer, her body tense, her legs straight, the girl grabbing her arms as she looks down on the floor with a saddened expression. He lightly shook his shoulders, his friends stepped away from him, Joker put down Morgana, and he walked towards her.

He stopped in front of her, not speaking a word, looking at her sympathetically yet allowed Sumire to converse with him when she was willing to.

“I’m sorry, for doubting you, Senpai.” she apologised, stepping back from her previous spot as she gave him a formal bow.

“Violet, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Joker smiles at her, slightly amused by her formality towards him, “In all honesty, you all have the excuse of being wary of me. Most of the shadows we’ve encountered were pretty hostile after all.”

“Like mine.” Futaba mutters to herself.

“But there are kind shadows, right? Shadows who just want help from us to steal their treasure, to return to normal. They exist, do they?”

“Yes.” Joker laughs, and Sumire couldn’t help but smile herself.

“Then…” she trails off, before throwing herself towards Joker, arms wide, Joker catching her with ease as she hugged him with all her strength.

“Violet, you’re hurting me.” Joker wheezed as Sumire squeezed her arms around him, and Sumire freed him from her embrace, apologising profusely.

“Oh, by the way,” Futaba said to the group, “While you guys were fighting, I picked up a signal that’s unusual to what you normally find in the Metaverse. I think it’s Ren.”

“You found where Ren’s being held?” Haru inquired the navigator, Futaba, shaking her head.

“Probably.” Futaba said, a frown on her face, pulling out a general map of the Palace to the rest of the group, a green blip pulsating on what looked to be the top of the cognitive building, “This is the signal that I found. It’s unusual for sure, the signal unlike any shadow or cognition we’ve ever encountered, and certainly not the treasure-”

“Oh right, the treasure!” Ryuji exclaims, interrupting Futaba, who reacted with an annoyed expression. “You got anything about the treasure, Futaba?”

“Remember, codenames, Skull.”  Futaba warned her teammate, “And as for the treasure....”

She trails off. The others stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Oracle?” Makoto said, walking slowly towards her, “Oracle, you okay?”

“...Um…”

“There’s no treasure, is there?” Goro interrupted. All the thieves snap their heads to look at him, shock and disbelief on their faces except for Futaba, Joker and Goro, “At least, the treasure has yet not materialised.”

“Wait, no treasure, are you crazy!?” Ann stammered, clearly uncomfortable and confused by this revelation.

“Yeah, every Palace we’ve encountered has a treasure!” Ryuji said hysterically, “What do you mean this Palace ‘doesn’t have a treasure’!?”

“I……. I…...I….”

“...I think we should discuss this somewhere else.” Joker informed the others, stepping in to protect Futaba from the bewildered Phantom Thieves, “I know a safe place. Follow me.”

---

The shadow led his friends up to the above floor via one of the twin stairs, cognitive guests staring at them as they followed Joker up, whispering amongst each other with excitement and curiosity, yet Joker paid them no mind as the rest of the thieves could only try to ignore their presence.

They arrived on the first floor, the foyer one decorated differently compared to the entrance below. Soft lilac replaced the colour red on the carpets and curtains, pristine, white marble replaced where gold would be, shapes of different flora carved in the stone, accented by gold paint which glittered under the bright light from the chandeliers above. There stood four doors around the foyer that lead to what the thieves assumed to be separate auditoriums: two of them closed with golden number plaques next to them; the third one, sealed behind two tall doors, had the words ‘The Empress Theatre’ titled atop of them.

Joker gestured to a large booth, one of many that occupied the room along the walls, a white curtain made of linen used to give the privacy the thieves needed to discuss their plans, hiding them from curious eyes.

“After you.” he said, smiling as he held the curtain open. Futaba was the first one to go in, diving onto the seat before sliding inwards to allow Haru to follow her in. One by one they went into the booth, Morgana having to be picked up by Ann, not tall enough to reach for the seat, and sat on her lap as his head rested just above the small table in front of them.

“I’d rather not.” Goro said, the only still standing other than Joker, crossing his arms as he looked towards the booth with scorn.

“Why not?” Joker asks, tilting his head as he looks at the reluctant detective, “Don’t you trust me, Goro?”

“Do not call me that.” Goro snapped, and Joker flinched visibly, “And to answer your question: I don’t. I don’t trust you at all.”

“Akechi-senpai, it’s okay.” Sumire said, immediately going into Joker’s defence as she pokes her head out from where she was sitting, “He helped us, remember? I’m sure Joker-senpai would never hurt us. I mean… I trust him, and I think everyone does as well, and they have way more experience than I do.”

“Yeah, Akechi,” Ryuji said, also coming to Joker’s defence, “And this is Ren we’re talking about. I mean, sure it’s his shadow but isn’t like the shadow the something true self or something?”

The others nodded in agreement, Goro looking away, a cross expression on his face. There was a small amount of movement that caught the corner of his eye, and he looked up to see Joker himself sliding into the booth to join his friends.

“You can have the end spot if it makes you comfortable.” Joker smiled at Goro, and while he did not want to admit it, he was feeling slightly fatigued from the earlier fight. He took a moment of hesitation, staring at the spot next to Joker, and sighed before he complied with the shadow’s request.

“Now that we’re all here,” Makoto said, her eyes scanning the group as she spoke, “We need to discuss-”

“Can someone please pull the curtain,” Morgana said, an expression of disappointment on his face, “We’re not exactly in a safe room you know, have you guys forgotten everything I’ve taught you!?”

“I can do it if only I wasn’t stuck here.” Yusuke offered, gesturing to both Haru and Ryuji of either side of him. The thieves lightly bickered amongst each other; one person would offer to close the curtain if the other person moved, which would cause the other person to gesture to the person next to them. This cycle, absurd and tedious as it was, repeated until all eyes landed on Goro.

“Hm, you’re asking me to close the curtain?” Goro said, not bothering to hide his unamused expression towards the Phantom Thieves.

“Well Crow, you’re the only one who can actually get out of here.” Futaba points out, gesturing to the column piece that obstructed her path to freedom, “And everyone can’t exactly move out easily as well. You gotta do it bird brain.”

“Bird brain?!” Goro scoffs in both surprise and offence. He growled in anger, trying very hard not to retaliate at the girl sitting across him. He sighed, muttering ‘fine’ as he slid out of his seat, reaching for the curtain and gently pulling it across until it hid the group from view before sitting back down again.

“Okay… so now that’s out of the way, we need to discuss several things that are imperative to ensure this infiltration is successful,” Makoto said, addressing the group around her, “First of, we need to discuss who will lead the infiltration, seeing as Ren isn’t here.”

She turns to look at Joker.

“Can you lead us?” Makoto asks, Joker replies by shaking his head.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” he admits, Makoto giving him a confused look, “I’m a shadow. The shadow of Ren. While I do know the ins and outs of the Palace, I fear that if I were to lead you it’ll compromise the mission in some way. In addition, I think it’s best for you guys if you could plan strategies somewhere out of the Metaverse.” “That is true.” Makoto nods, “But if you’re not going to lead us then, who will?”

Joker simply smiles at Makoto. Her eyes widened, the deep blush on her cheeks from earlier flushed her cheeks.

“Y-you want me to lead?!” she stammers, Joker nodding in response, and Makoto swore she would have fainted right there and then.

“Of course.” Joker said, “Everyone trusts you, and you yourself have the necessary leadership skills. There’s no one who I trust more.”

Makoto laughs, Morgana exclaims with a ‘hey!’ at Joker as Ryuji rolls his eyes at what he’s witnessing before him.

“Geeze get a room you guys.” he groaned, yet there was no malice in his tone as Ann and Sumire snicker at his comment.

“If Makoto’s our leader, then it would be appropriate to elect ourselves someone to replace her in the advisory role.” Haru said, “I was thinking about Mona being our advisor since he’s more experienced than all of us when it comes to Metaverse stuff.”

“Well, I am knowledgeable with the Metaverse itself.” Morgana said smugly, crossing his arms as he holds his head out proudly, “And I did teach you all how to be the best thieves possible. Sure, I’ll gladly take on the advisory role.”

Goro rolled his eyes in annoyance, Joker noticed him do so, and he smiled in amusement.

“Great, now that’s out of the way, we need to now discuss our course of action in regard to our infiltration: how we will conduct it, where Ren is, why there is no treasure being detected, and if it does apply, when we need to invoke a change of heart.”

She turned to look at Joker, the shadow nodded in acknowledgement.

“As you all know, Ren’s been kidnapped by the shadows of this place.” Joker said, his gaze cast to everyone except Goro who sat right next to him, “He’s being held in the uppermost auditorium of the Palace: The Fool’s Theatre.”

“The Fool’s Theatre? I don’t like the sound of that.” Ann mumbled under her breath, a look of concern on her face.

“Why is it called the Fool’s Theatre?” Sumire queried Joker, her eyes glittering in perplexity. Joker shrugged; his expression confessed uncertainty.

“I don’t know.” he said, “But what I do know he’s kept there. I honestly think they caught him, thinking they were me. Apparently, I’m a nuisance in my own Palace, which is quite absurd if you think about it.”

“Then we should go there now.” Ryuji said, “You know, bust him out and stuff if it’s just at the top floor, no problem!”

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy.” Joker frowned at the blonde, wincing as he saw Ryuji’s enthusiasm falter a bit, “The doors to the auditorium itself are locked by special keys which are held by what they called the ‘Lead Actors’ that reside in special auditoriums. I would have entered the Fool’s Theatre myself, but it’s the only room which I can't even access.”

“And who are these, ‘Lead Actors’?” Goro asked the shadow, “What do they look like? And where are they located?”

“I… haven’t seen any of them, so I don’t even know what they look like.” Joker confessed to the group hesitantly, “But I’ve heard they reside in the auditoriums like that one-”

He gestures to the Empress Theatre on the floor.

“-and they seem to only open their doors to patrons who meet two special conditions.”

“How do you know this?”

Joker turns to Goro and smiles at him.

“Goro, I’m a thief, sneaking about and eavesdropping is what I do best!” he said. Goro only narrows his eyes slightly in response.

“And what are the two conditions, exactly?” Makoto inquired.

“The first condition-” he started as he turned to Makoto, “-is to watch the performances on each of the floors. For example, I heard that in order to gain permission to even get within the Empress Theatre, you must present a ticket with punch holes showing you’ve watched the two performances located within numbered halls.”

“Well, that’s easy enough,” Ryuji said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs, Makoto ignoring them as Joker continued his explanation.

“The second condition is to enter the auditorium with the person who matches the Lead Actor.”

“Matches the lead actor?” Ann said, looking at Joker with confusion, “What does that even mean? And how are we gonna get in if we’ve never seen the actor before?”

“I suggest we concentrate on the theatre watching first,” Morgana said, crossing his arms, easily slipping into the advisory role he’s been assigned. He turned to Joker, “Joker, do you have any idea how to get these tickets to access the halls?”

“Actually, I have them here already,” Joker said, pulling several golden tickets from his sleeve, the slips of admission shimmering beautifully form the light above. He put them down, pushing them towards the middle of the table in order to allow everyone to take their own slip of the key they need to help them unlock their friend’s heart, “I… stole them from the counter, just in case you guys would ever come to...”

His face flinches for a moment, an expression of pain flashed before the rest of the group. He smiled at all of them, yet sadness was still reflected in his golden eyes.

“Never mind, all that matters is that you’re all here.” he smiles, “Oh, and I almost forgot-”

He took a booklet out of his coat.

“-A program that contains the map to the Palace.” he elaborates, “It should tell you everything about the building, and should give you a clue on how to navigate it.”

He placed the program alongside the tickets, Yusuke snatching it up before anyone who could look despite the protest of an annoyed Futaba who hissed him with insults as well as calling him ‘Inari’. Makoto shakes her head, yet the rest of the girls couldn’t help but giggle at Yusuke’s eagerness to examine the peculiar booklet, the boys of the group rolling their eyes at the artist’s eccentricity.

“Well, while Fox has the chance to thoroughly inspect the program you gave us,” Goro sighed as he turned his head to the shadow next to him, “Might as well explain as to why there’s no sign of a treasure.”

“Do you think I’m the reason why there’s no treasure?” Joker asks, and Goro pursed his lips in response.

“Well, it is weird that neither I nor Futaba could detect it.” Morgana piques up, jumping up from Ann's lap and onto the table, “Even when Futaba’s treasure turned out to be her, I could sniff it out easily...”

He trails off his gaze drifting onto the ground, before his head snapped up, his eyes filled with resolve.

“But that doesn’t matter right now!” Morgana said, “Our first goal here is to rescue Ren, treasure or no treasure!”

"Well, if our primary goal is to rescue Ren from the Fool's Theatre, we must do it by the 11th of April," Yusuke said suddenly, closing the program before gently returning it to the centre of the table and grabbed one of the golden tickets for himself.

"The 11th of April, where did you get that date from?" Sumire puzzled, Yusuke turned to look at her.

"It said so in the program." he replied as Futaba took the booklet for herself, "'Join us at the Fool's Theatre for the World Premiere of a performance of a lifetime' it said, and it referred to a special guest appearance; no doubt referring to-"

“Ren-senpai.” Sumire finished his train of thought.

“Well, judging from the map here, it’s gonna be pretty easy.” Futaba said as she flicked through the booklet herself, “There are only nine floors we need to go through, ten if we’re including the Fool’s Theatre.”

“And all we have to do is to just watch some plays, right?” Ryuji said, crossing his legs casually in his seat, “Man, this is gonna be a piece of cake for us. I mean, even if there are shadows who are gonna jump us like with those shadows earlier, taking them out would be easy.”

“Still, I think it would be best to exercise caution.” Haru said, “Speaking of which…”

She turned to Yusuke. He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Noir?”

“I think you need some healing. I can still see the impact of the previous fight on you.”

“I’m fine, Noir. Really, it is no trouble-”

“No, please, Fox. At least take some-”

“I would rather not-”

“Fox-!”

While the group was too occupied with the bickering members, Joker turned to look at Goro. His eyes gazed soft and longingly at the black figure who looked away from the commotion, instead more content in observing the wandering cognitions as they talked amongst each other.

“Akechi.” Joker said, his voice a whisper, “How did you-”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Goro grumbled back, his back still turned towards the shadow, “I don’t have to explain anything to you. Just know that I am alive.”

“Oh, okay,” Joker mumbled, taken aback by Goro’s dismissive tone, sinking back into silence.

“-There we go, Fox. Are you feeling any better?” Haru said, her words caught the attention of Joker as he turned to look to see a smiling Yusuke.

“Why yes, Noir.” Yusuke smiles, “I feel much better actually, thank you for healing me, although you did not have to.”

“Well, you were stubborn about it, but I’m just glad that your injuries are-”

“If you’re all done fooling around, then I suggest we get this infiltration started.” Goro snapped and interrupted Haru, everyone flinching at Goro’s outburst as he got up from the booth seat, “We haven’t got time to waste. We have a deadline to keep to, remember?”

“Dude we’ve got more than a month.” Ryuji said, “And besides, why are you so eager to get started?”

Goro’s only response was a cold look towards Joker, the shadow stone-faced as red gazed into gold. Without another word, Goro turned on his heel and walked away.

Joker slipped out of his seat to address his friends after Goro’s leaving.

“He’s right.” Joker admits, “You all need to get going. Every second you waste here is a second that Ren… my other… stays trapped in this place with the puppet master that’s holding him in there.”

“Does that mean you’re going to watch the performances as well?” Makoto asked the shadow; Joker shook his head in response.

“Forgot to grab a ticket for myself.” he said, “That, and I was thinking of making myself useful to the team. I can get into places that I doubt you guys even can, so while you see whatever’s going on in those halls, I’ll see whatever I can uncover regarding my other’s psyche.”

“But you’re already useful,” Sumire said.

“Yeah.” Ann agreed, “You already told us how to get into those auditoriums and got the ticket and the map to the Palace for us. You’ve done so much already for us, Joker. Don’t worry about it.”

“...Thanks.” Joker smiled as he watched his friends slowly exit from the booth, “It’s just. You’re doing so much for me already, it’s the least I can do to help you guys.”

“Nah man, you’ve already done so much for us before this.” Ryuji laughed, pulling the shadow into a quick hug, “If anything, this is us repaying you for all you’ve done.”

“I agree with Skull,” Morgana said as he hopped from the table, his own ticket glittering in his paws, “This is our way of returning the favour.”

The other thieves nodded in agreement to Ryuji and Morgana’s words, and Joker’s smile grew larger. He felt loved, their resolve glittered in their eyes.

“Thank you, everyone,” he said, before turning to Makoto.

“Well, I suggest you all go into the Devil Theatre first, the one numbered fifteen.” he informed the temporary leader, his gaze looking sternly at her as he nodded towards the general direction of their goal, “It’s the only one currently available for showing. I’m sure the other hall, numbered seventeen, will open once the performance is done.”

“Thank you, Joker,” Makoto said as she nodded at him.

“You’re welcome, my Queen.”

He watched the rest of the thieves wander towards the auditorium, sans Makoto, who briskly walked towards Goro. He watched as they spoke with each other, Goro standing from the wall he was leaning on, hush words exchanged between the two thieves. Their conversation stops, and both Makoto and Goro wandered towards the entrance where the others stood.

Joker waited, watching silently as his friends all went through the door, he watched as the door closed fully, watched he was alone with the cognitions of his palace. No sign of the door opening again, he waited for a bit, until he assumed, they'd taken their seats. Good.

He looked behind him. At a small black, glistening speck nestled within the dark where even the sharpest eyes could barely detect it. He looked directly at the hidden camera.

And smiled deviously.

  ---

  Makoto was the last one to seat herself within the last row of the small auditorium room, the thieves sitting in the row behind the rest of the cognitive audience, allowing themselves to be hidden among the shadows. The lights that illuminated the sides of the room dimmed into darkness, signalling the audience that the play before them was about to begin. A second passed. Then two, then three. Slight creaks echoed amongst the audience within the room as cognitions shifted impatiently in their seats, the Phantom Thieves on edge as they anxiously waited for the performance to start.

“Is something supposed to-”

A stark shutter interrupted Ryuji’s inquiry, the stage lit with a single spotlight, the cognitions muttering ceasing as their heads snapped to watch the stage.

Stillness sunk within the small space. Then the sounds of steps, before a figure emerged into the light. Black curls of hair characterised the actor before them, his face down, shrouded and obscured to the rest of the audience. Yet the Phantom Thieves knew who it was. It was…

“Ren?” Ann whispered as she turned to Futaba who was sitting next to her, “Is that him?”

“Hmm, doesn’t look to be him,” Futaba said, adjusting her goggles as she took a closer look at the actor on the stage, “Readings seem to be giving off that this Ren is merely a cognition of sorts. A fake.”

“Why would Ren have cognitions of himself?” Yusuke queried Morgana who was seated next to him.

“It may have to do with something related to the particular formation of his Palace,” Morgana explained as he observed the cognitive Ren closely.

The cognitive Ren looked at the audience, his eyes unfocused.

“February was where my end, began.” The cognition started; his tone flat as he began his monologue. He talked about saving a woman from a drunken man while he was walking home, how his parents found out he was sued, how he was shipped off into the city, and how he had to stay in an attic within a coffee shop. The thieves quickly understood that the cognitive version of their leader was recounting his time in Tokyo.

“April the 11th,” the cognitive Ren continued, “I met someone who would become my best friend, I discovered a World where the deepest, darkest desires of men manifest, and it was the day that I finally felt… free.”

“That’s when he awoke to Arsene, right?” Ann whispered to Ryuji, who gave a nod as the cognitive Ren continued his monologue.

“I mean, it makes sense.” Morgana said, “When you guys first tore off your masks you are tearing off the mask you wear around society and the outside world.”

“-And so, every time we summon our Persona’s, we are revealing our inner selves towards the rest of the world?” Haru said, clasping her hands, “That’s really poetic.”

“I suggest you all shut your mouths if you don’t want to get caught.” Goro snaps at them, his voice controlled yet a hint of annoyance towards the conversing thieves. Ryuji looked at him as he was about to snap back towards the traitor, but decided against it, while the other thieves shifted uncomfortably in their seats before turning back their attention to the play before then.

Madarame’s Museum, Makoto’s blackmail, Kaneshiro’s Bank. Futaba’s cry for help in exchange for helping take down Medjed. Meeting Haru. Taking down Okumura. Changing Sae’s heart. The interrogation and Goro’s betrayal. The cognition continued to recount the events of Ren’s year in Tokyo with a monotone voice to his crowd, yet the thieves noticed that memories he even considered ‘positive’ during his time there were few and far in between.

“If these were his memories, then why are there barely any happy ones?” Sumire puzzled out loud towards Makoto, who crossed her arms in thought.

“He might be minimising his happier memories and magnifying his traumatic memories,” she said, watching the cognitive Ren as he continued to monologue to his audience, his voice dull, his expression downcast with shadow.

“Why?”

“I… I don’t know Sumire,” Makoto admitted, turning to her with sorrowful eyes.

“Is it just me, or has the spotlight dimmed a bit?” Haru said, Yusuke giving her a nod of agreement.

“I’ve noticed it too,” he confirmed, his voice solemn, “Is it perhaps something to do with the play itself? The subject matter?”

“Yeah, it makes more sense if that were the case,” Morgana said, “After all, this reflects a part of Ren's psyche. If the stage is dimming, it will be related to whatever this play is about.”

“Another thing, Morgana. If we are required to watch these plays in order to access the main theatres to get the keys to unlock the Fool’s Theatre, is it Ren’s way of communicating his troubled mind to us?”

Before Morgana could answer Yusuke, stunned gasps erupted from the audience. The cat turned his attention towards the stage, only to find the cognitive Ren sinking into darkness, still monologuing, unaware of his current predicament.

Morgana caught the words that came out of the cognitive Ren’s mouth, and he felt unease slowly churn his stomach. The cognitive Ren was talking about his life back in Inaba: the shame his mother and father bore with his false arrest, the shunning and isolation he faced from his classmates, the rumours that seemed to follow him from Shujin. Though the cognition kept the same, blank expression towards the audience, each word he seemed to utter sank him deeper and deeper in his own shadow, swallowing him whole as the audience did nothing but watch the spectacle in bewildered silence.

“What the eff...” Ryuji said, trailing off in horror, turning to Ann with pleading eyes. Yet Ann shook her head in response, knowing that the impulsive member of the group wanted to save the sinking mockery of their friend - something she wanted as well.

“Ann...”

“Skull,” Ann said, careful to use his codename as she spoke, her voice soft and pleading as she gently pulled him down back onto his seat, him following almost instinctively as he sat back down. He too saw her desire to spring into action, to save the cognition as he drowned in his own shadow, dragged into sentient darkness while staring at them with blank eyes; but she knew she could do nothing, as so did the other thieves, and Ryuji tried to swallow the rage he felt as the audience clapped with disappointment at the cognition’s performance.

---

“Are you enjoying the performance so far, my guest?” Joker asked Ren, him smiling gleefully as Ren looked at him with hatred, bound hands curled into fists as his shadow, Joker’s eyes illuminating with pleasure.

“Performance? You call that a performance?” Ren spat, concealing his confusion of his shadow’s plans, and plotted to use Joker’s smugness in order to get even a sliver as to what his shadow had in store, “I’ve seen better performances at kindergarten productions. Even low budget soap operas have more effort than that story excuse for drama.”

“I know what you’re doing, Ren,” Joker said, his expression unchanging, amused to see Ren trying his best to outsmart his own shadow, “It’s cute but, don’t think for a second that it’ll work on me. I know you, and I know you’re trying to slyly trick me into giving away my plans.”

Joker chuckled as Ren’s expression, his other wearing one of annoyance, licking his lips before he continued to taunt him, “I can’t give you a hint. Not yet. It'll ruin the surprise.”

“Surprise?” Ren pondered, raising an eyebrow, and Joker mockingly covered his mouth and gasped.

“Oh, there I go again, running my mouth,” he gasped, before laughing hysterically, clearly amused with himself as he stepped forward towards his bound other, “I must really be careful with what I say. I really mustn't spoil the plot for our grand performance.”

“‘Grand performance’. you mean whatever’s going to happen on the 11th next month, right?”

“You’ve been paying attention.” Joker said, and Ren frowned in response, “But yes. I have a great production for you…for the whole world to witness. It will be the culmination of our desires and dreams, and-”

Joker stopped himself mid-sentence, realising he had gotten ahead of himself, almost making an amateur blunder, and withdrew his hands back into his pockets. Ren could only hiss in disappointment as he anticipated his shadow causing his mistake, playing on Joker’s smug demeanour and using it against him. Instead, the shadow continued to observe him, intense gold shining coldly behind his mask, leaning lazily on the doorframe where he stood.

Something on one of the monitor screens caught Joker’s attention, his eyes focused intensely behind him, as if hypnotised by whatever’s currently playing. Using his strength, Ren swivelled around in his chair to see what Joker was staring at, following his shadow’s gaze to see…

Himself. Crying. Cupping his hands, ash in them, kneeling on the hardwood stage as multiple shadows around him laughed mockingly at him. Two Kodama’s circled his crying copy, giggling as they floated, swirling freely in the air, drowning his sobs as they laughed over him. Ren could see two other shadows that stood behind the curtains, Sraosha looking quietly with its gigantic eye as a Fuu-Ki summoned a gale of wind, his clone trying to shield the ash from the gust, clutching the ash closely to him, yet Ren could see the spotlight illuminating clearly that his treasure was falling swiftly through his fingertips.

“Joker.” Ren said, his voice demanding, angry as he did not understand what the both were watching, “You mentioned scripts, right? What is this supposed to mean? Why are you making me watch… whatever this is!?”

Joker snapped from his trance, blinking his eyes slowly before looking at Ren in acknowledgement. He answered Ren’s question by giving him a grin that made Ren’s blood boil, his knuckles white, rage bubbling in his throat, and Joker couldn’t help but laugh at Ren with utter glee.

“Ren, don’t be upset,” Joker said, walking towards Ren until he loomed over him, the shadow’s shadow cast upon him. He craned down his neck, face inches from Ren’s, his smile full of teeth as his eyes gleamed with such intensity that Ren could not help but wince in intimidation, “After all, we haven’t reached the climax of today’s show, Don’t you want to know what happens? Don’t you?”

“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter.” Ren said, grimacing as Joker’s smile stretched even wider.

“That’s the spirit!” he exclaimed with joy, patting Ren on the head in a congratulatory gesture towards his guest, “After all, I did prepare all of this for you and your friends to enjoy. And enjoy you all shall, ‘ll make sure of that.”

“I still don’t underst-”

“Nononono.” Joker murmured, putting a finger onto Ren’s lips to silence him, shushing each time Ren dared parted his lips, “No more questions. I have to go see the others soon, I can’t miss my cue, you’ll sit tight and watch my performance, won’t you, Ren?”

Ren did not reply. He couldn’t, the steady, defiant look he gave to Joker was the only thing he could do in that situation, and Joker enjoyed how much power he exerted over him.

“Good, good, Ren. I appreciate it,” he said, taking his finger from Ren’s lips, his other keeping silent, maintaining his rebellious expression, up until Joker again closed the door to his prison did Ren allow himself to finally shed a tear.

  ---

  “Damn, that was another bummer, huh.” Ryuji sighed as they exited the other auditorium, his expression dejected as he watched the other thieves emerge from the room alongside him. Each thief wore a similar expression of sadness, coming to terms with what they have witnessed, and the only two who did not seem perturbed as they made their way towards their booth were Morgana and Goro.

“Yeah, both of them sucked,” Ann agreed as she hesitated in following Yusuke within the seat, instead content to just stand over the table as Futaba took her place within the booth, “The audience weren’t all that great either, ‘he’s just being a cry-baby’?! Why would they think that?”

“Same,” Haru sighed, rhythmically tapping her fingers on the polished table in front of her, “It didn’t help that the audience were so rude about it.”

“How can anyone even be ‘bored’ by someone’s misery like that,” Futaba seethed, ignoring her laptop in front of her, her voice cracking as she threatened to cry at any moment, “I know they’re just cognitions, but the idea of even them complaining about Ren’s suffering...”

“...It truly is sadistic, isn’t it?” Yusuke mumbled, hand resting on his chin.

“Remember, whatever is shown in the Palace is a reflection of their ruler’s heart,” Morgana stated, hopping on the table as he addressed the group, “There must be a reason, something in Ren’s psyche that states we have to bear witness to… whatever these plays represent. If we do, it may hold a clue for us to bypass the other plays within this Palace, making our infiltration faster.”

“Mona’s right,” Makoto said, nodding with agreement at the cat’s words, yet the others looked at the both of them with doubt, “Maybe if we ask Joker, he can give us a clue-”

“A clue about what?” a familiar voice purred, and she turned to see Joker standing in front of her, expression neutral, hands in his pockets as he tilted his head in curiosity, “Is it something you need my help with, my Queen?”

“Your entrance was certainly timely,” Goro said, narrowing his eyes as Joker removed his hands from his pockets, allowing them to hang beside him, “Where were you while we were watching those plays? We didn’t see you when the first once ended.”

“I was looking into some things,” Joker answered nonchalantly, absentmindedly waving his hand in the air as he spoke, “Mostly to do with the theatre at the top,”

“Did you find a way to get in?” Makoto asks, in which Joker responded with a frown and the shake of his head.

“No… I’m sorry, Queen,”

“That’s okay,” she reassured him, giving him a reassured smile, “You tried your best, it’s all we can ask for at the moment,”

“Still, how were the plays?” Joker asked, his gaze looking towards the rest of the thieves, “Judging by your expressions, I take it that they weren’t great?”

“No...” Sumire trailed off, expression sullen behind her mask, “They were really depressing, Senpai, it was really hard to watch at times,”

“Oh,” was all Joker had to say to her.

“Yeah,” Haru said, agreeing with Sumire as she adjusted a loose strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face, “It was certainly hard to watch without feeling sad, certainly. Joker, do you know if all the plays are as depressing?”

“I don’t know, they might be, they might not,” Joker admits, “If the plays are too hard to bear, I suggest you come tomorrow and-”

“Nu uh, we’ve come this far already,” Ryuji huffs, uncrossing his legs, “And we aren’t bailing on you, Joker, not until we get… whatever is in there.” he said as he points towards the Empress Theatre.

“Ah, yes,” Joker said, “The Empress Theatre… to get the key right?”

“Speaking of the Empress Theatre,” Makoto remembered, “We still have no clue as to what the second condition is in order to enter it. Will you mind filling us in, Joker?”

“That I can do,” Joker said casually, “But be warned… I don’t exactly understand it myself.”

“Meaning?” Goro challenged, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Joker.

“Well,” Joker started, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to collect his words, “I’ve mentioned earlier that the person going in has to match the Lead Actor, correct?”

“Correct,” Makoto said as she nodded to Joker, “But, what does that actually mean?”

“Well, I suppose it has to do with it resonating within one of you,” he said, “Ren wears many masks, each one representing an aspect in his daily life, a person who he faces every day. If these auditoriums are so important that the Lead Actors reside in them, that much mean that each hall might represent-”

“One of us,” Morgana finishes, and Joker nods.

“He cares a lot about you all.”

“So, those messages we got, and the Metaverse app installing itself back on our phone… are you suggesting the reason why is because of these Lead Actors?” Goro theorized.

“It might be, Goro,” Joker shrugged, “However, when it comes to each of you belonging to which hall, I don’t really know. What I do know is that I can go into any of them besides the Fool’s Theatre; I suggest whoever goes first that I’ll accompany them as well. There’s no telling what can happen in there once the Lead Actor appears, if they’ll appear, of course.”

“If I may ask, Joker, how do we know if we're the appropriate thief to enter them in the first place?"

“That I… I don’t know.”

The thieves pondered for a moment, each of them looking around at themselves and back at the double doors that lead to the Empress Theatre. Silence fell upon them, the chatter of the cognitions echoing in the background.

Then Ryuji stood up from his seat.

“Well, if you guys are okay with it, I’m going first,” he stated, shocking everyone as they all looked at him with baffled expressions.

“Ryuji, how do you know it is you who fits the conditions of the Empress Theatre?” Yusuke queried his teammate and friend, looking at him with questioning eyes.

“Honestly, I don’t,” Ryuji confesses, “But like, I don’t like the idea of us just sittin’ around here while Ren is above our heads enduring god knows what-”

“But it says Empress, Ryuji,” Futaba interjects as she slumps in her seat, “Meaning it’s gotta be one us girls, not you, who goes in there,”

“Hey, Empress’ can be boys, too!” Ryuji exclaims.

“Nu uh,”

“Can too, probably,”

“I’m sure that’s not how it works,”

“Well, I’m sure if Naoto Shirogane is still called the Detective Prince despite being a woman, Ryuji could very well be an Empress of some kind,” Goro remarked, grinning mischievously, amused somewhat by his own joke.

“See, Futaba? Goro’s got a point!” Ryuji smiled, crossing his arms, and Goro dropped his jaw in astonishment.

“Ryuji, you are aware that I’m making fun of you, right?” Goro huffs, and Ryuji looks at him with an expression of shocked betrayal.

“Wait-what?! I thought you were helping me?!” he stammered as some of the thieves could not contain their giggles, and even Joker couldn’t help but smile at Ryuji’s reaction, “Well, I’m gonna take that as a compliment, anyway,” he said, crossing his arms, “At least I’m trying to think of something to help Ren, why you gotta be an ass about it?”

Goro responded by rolling his eyes before he returned to staring at the double doors.

“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I volunteer myself to enter it with Joker” Haru piped up, raising her hand quite timidly, trying to get the attention of the rest of the thieves.

“Sure, Haru, but is there something wrong? I hope I’m not being too forward with this, but I didn’t expect you to volunteer so readily,” Makoto said.

“It’s okay, Makoto,” Haru smiled, “And as for me volunteering… I don’t really know how to explain it, but...”

She looks directly towards the Empress Theatre’s doors.

“I feel… strangely drawn to it,” Haru confesses, her eyes steadily fixated on the doors, “It’s like… It’s calling me, I think? I’m sorry if it sounds absurd, but-”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Noir”, Ann said, smiling at her friend as she puts a reassuring hand on Haru’s shoulder, “I mean, we’re in the Metaverse, and there’s bound to be some crazy things that occur here.”

“That said, Panther,” Morgana said as he approaches Haru, “It might be because Noir is the only one that’s able to go into the theatre,”

“How can you be so sure, Mona?” Yusuke inquired, resting his hand on his chin in thought.

“I mean, it is calling for her, right?” Morgana explains to Yusuke, “And given what we know of the Lead Actors, there must be a reason why the theatre itself is calling to Noir specifically. Plus, if we were wrong and Noir is not who the Lead Actor is calling to, Joker would be there to safely get her out, right Joker?”

“Yes,” Joker nods, “I’ll be sure to safely escort Noir out if anything happens. You have my word.”

“Oh okay then,” Haru said cheerfully as she got in her seat, the others doing their best to shift around their legs as she clambered out of the booth before giving Morgana a pat on head, “Thank you so much for the speech of confidence, Mona-chan, I appreciate it greatly!”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Morgana purred as Haru’s hand left his head. He turned to Joker, “Just make sure that whatever happens, both of you get out safe, okay?”

“We will, Mona,” Joker said, nodding as Haru approached his side, “You can count on me, I’m Joker after all,”

The both said their goodbyes to the others, Haru barely eye Goro as she did so, before they both turned towards their destination, Joker jumping ahead to grab one of the doors for Haru, opening it for her.

“After you, Miss Noir,” Joker said, bowing gracefully at her, hand tucked politely in front of him, earning a giggle from his teammate, a sound he was happy to hear from her, grinning playfully himself.

“Thank you, Joker,” she bows back playfully before entering the room, Joker standing up from his bow and following Haru inside, allowing the door to gently close itself, gently thudding shut behind them.

---

The interior of the auditorium was unlike Haru had ever seen, lilac carpeting over white marble trailed on the floor that led to the polished stage before her. Beautiful plush seats, all adorned with small white pillows sat in rows facing forward, all the same matching lilac as the carpet, while flowers of various colours decorated the column that supported the balcony seats above, vines supporting vibrate green leaves snaking neatly around railings, the pleasant floral aroma wafting down alongside small petals that landed beside her feet. She looked up, slow, hazy movement having caught her eye, to see a giant, crystalline chandelier hanging below a moving landscape of soft, painted clouds floating by an idyllic sky.

“It’s… beautiful...” Haru marvelled, her eyes wide with complete awe, the hall completely resonating with her aesthetics as she slowly stumbled forward. Joker watched her take in the sight of the decorations that adorned the room, smiling at how happy she looked as he walked ahead, patiently waiting down in front of the steps that lead up to the stage as she slowly clambered down among the row of seats, “Joker, this place is… it’s amazing!” she gasped giggly, and Joker could not help but chuckle at her excitement.

“Is it?” he asked rhetorically, raising an eyebrow in mock curiosity, yet Haru paid no mind to his playfully sarcastic response as she approached him, giddy with excitement.

“Yes...” she sighed as she looked at him, and Joker could see her flinch as soon as she remembered the task she was here for, “I mean… I…. I-” she stammered, a light shade of blush forming on her cheeks, “I’m sorry, I got carried away there, haha,”

“It’s okay, Noir,” he chuckled, before gesturing her to go up the stairs first, a curt bow as he raised his hand towards them, “After you,”

“Thank you, Joker,” she giggled, climbing up the stairs on the stage, her pumps clicking as she walked on the polished floor. She wandered on it, Joker following behind her with a casual stride, “I suppose we need to find the Lead Actor now, right?”

“I guess-”

The lights shuttered shut, both Haru and Joker jumped in place, both grabbing and readying their weapons as they stood side by side. Nothing happened. There was no movement, only the sound of silence echoed the walls, their own breathing almost deathly silent as the two of them prepared for an enemy to pounce.

Another shutter echoed the still theatre. A single spotlight shined suddenly in the dark. Haru narrowed her eyes in confusion and worry, her grip on her axe tightening, feeling Lucy stir under her mask as she took small, slow steps towards the solitary spotlight. Her ears strained in the silence as she slowly approached the outer rim, yet she saw no shadow slithering in sight.

“Joker?” Haru whispered, turning her head to find the shadow of her friend missing, sweat now gathering under her gloves, gaze flicking anxiously as he tried to spot him. Another sound. Haru turned to see nothing lurking in the audience area.

She felt rough hands grab her shoulders, and she was promptly shoved into the light. She tumbled into the spotlight, shrieking as light consumed her vision, before shifting to dark, and Haru could feel herself falling.

She fell, wind whipping her hair, weapon slipped from her grip as she flailed in nothing, she screamed, pleading for help, yet the shadows responded with nothing.

A sudden “oomph” fell between her lips as she sunk into the shrubbery, the plant miraculously cushioning her from what felt like to be a very steep fall. She groaned, the wind knocked out of her lungs as she impacted the bush, allowing her a moment to gather her strength before pushing herself up.

“W... where am I?” Haru thought out loud as her eyes scanned her surroundings. She found herself to be in some sort of garden, the plants looking sullen and sickly, wilting, starving for sunlight and warmth as they sunk into the stone that decorated the area, the sky black and empty, lacking any features. She got up to her feet, dusting her legs and trousers of dirt as best she could as she continued to look around, marvelling grimly at the state of the garden, yet found it odd that she could see without an obvious light source.

“Hello?” she shouted, her voice echoing, yet she heard no response. She quieted her breaths, listening intently for any sound in the stillness.

A sob. Haru rushed quietly towards it, softly stepping on the dead flowers and leaves as best she could, following a weathered stone path into an alcove next to a dried waterfall, only to see Ren sitting on a dead lotus, surrounded by a ring of anemone, naked and crying. Petals of marigold drifted gently down the golden shaft of light that illuminated him from above, some sticking on his skin, seemingly clinging it to him as the thorns of white roses dug into him, Ren covered in bruises and scabs as they seemed to suck sickly on his blood while narcissus flowers were stuck, rotten in his hair.

“Ren,” she said, reaching out to him in hopes of soothing her crying friend, only to be stung by the thorns that clung to him, and she could see them tightening around his body, pricking fresh new blood as he continued to wail. She panicked, his whines tugging at her heart, Haru desperately trying to reach out for him, calling his name over and over, yet for every word she uttered, his wail of pain and anguish drowned her out.

“Ren, please!” Haru begged, yet Ren barely acknowledged her, still sobbing as the vines strangled him more and more. She panicked, trying to desperately calm Ren while trying not to touch the vines, yet each patch of skin she reached for earned herself another lash from the roses as they rushed to cover Ren, causing him to howl and bleed.

“Ren, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to do,” she apologised, watching solemnly as Ren continued to cry, barely acknowledging her presence, too absorbed within his despair as marigolds continue to flutter down towards him, earning another gasp as they landed snugly on his flesh. It seemed to her that the only thing that remotely stirred Ren were the flowers that surrounded him.

An idea sprung to mind. Hushing a goodbye, Haru retreated from the alcove back into the wider garden, a goal that kept her steadfast as she trudged among the floral graveyard. Her eyes swept across sickly green and brown until-

She spotted a single, small daffodil sprouting amongst dead branches, yellow barely shining amongst brown, its petals poking out just enough for Haru to see. She approached the flower, gently pushing the branches away before she carefully reached for the flower and plucked it from the ground.

“Hello, little friend,” she said as she gently held the daffodil in her hand, its petals shining in the omnipresent light. She stood up from her crouching position, the flower in her hand, and continued to patrol the garden, looking for any more flowers she could salvage from the decrepit garden.

In what seemed like hours (though she couldn’t tell, as time felt like it had no governance in that realm) she had collected four additional flowers for her small, makeshift bouquet: twin red Carnations sat next to the Daffodil in her hand, a purple Iris and a pink Hibiscus intertwined together wrapped up with the other flowers, and a Sunflower stood tall amongst them. By coincidence, she happened to find a pink ribbon amongst the mess of twig and stone that defined the garden, its origin unknown, but in which Haru used to tie the stems tightly together.

A last patrol around the garden and Haru made her way back to the alcove where Ren sat, the bouquet in her hands. She felt sickly as she saw the number of marigold petals that covered him, touching any inch of skin not already occupied by the snaking thorns around his hunched body. “Ren?” she whispered, in which he did not reply, but when she held up her gift did Ren stir from his position. He blinked; black, shimmering eyes stained with red looked at the flowers with curiosity. Haru choked back a fearful sob as Ren weakly reached for the flowers she held in her hands.

“Here, Ren. These are for you,” she said, yet she did not know if her words reached his ears, or whether he could even comprehend them while in his current state. He grabbed weakly at them, thin fingertips brushing against the petals of the flowers, grasping at them with great difficulty, and Haru helped him seize his gift by grabbing his hand before clasping his fingers for him.

“There you go, Ren. Just hold them tight,” she cooed, wrapping the flowers to his hand with the bouquet’s ribbon, making sure the knot she tied around them secure. She gave him a smile, and although Ren’s gaze was wholly fixated on the flowers he held, he smiled in return.

The white roses and their thorns rapidly snaked up his arms as Haru’s flowers erupted spontaneously into cyclamen and sweet pea, the anemone hissed at her feet as she stumbled back in fear. The petals of marigold once fluttered down sparsely from above now rained on Ren in a torrent as they drowned the boy, his hand holding what was once his gift still exposed, left untouched.

Haru tried to save him, she tried to approach her friend, yet something snaked between her ankles and held her in place, Haru looking down to see stalks of spider lilies squeezing her stationary, more and more joining as the stone path fell before her, Haru’s frame supported by the spider lilies that continued to assault her, Haru screaming as she desperately fought off the flora binding her in place. One latched onto her right wrist before pulling back, another one doing the same to her left, and Haru thrashed, squealing in utter fear as the flowers restrained her, and she looked to still see Ren’s exposed hand, still clutching onto the flowers, the ribbon gleaming vibrantly against pale skin.

“Get-” Haru tried to shriek, fighting instincts flaring in her muscles as terror pooled in her stomach. Yet she was silenced when the lilies snaked up her neck and around her mouth, and she muffled as they continued to climb up her body. She jerked wildly, her body flailing, her vision blackening, the last thing she saw being Ren’s still outstretched hand and the marigolds that continued to pour violently onto him before the lilies snaked around her eyes, and soon suffocated her other senses entirely.

  ---

There was nothing. Black.

Her head was full of fog.

Haru felt her mouth dry. She smacked her lips, the skin chapped, her throat hoarse. Dizzy. She felt dizzy.

The sound of chirped chatter, the patter of a carpeted floor and the clatter of cutlery. Bright light in her eyes mixed with darkness. She could smell something savoury.

Haru opened her eyes, her eyelashes fluttering against her face, the sound of the diners eating and chatting around her, the smell of the buffet reaching her nostrils caused her to salivate, the intensity of the yellow lighting above her made her wince as her eyes adjusted from the brightness from above. She raised her head from the cool dining table she was currently slumped over, waiting for her tired brain to register where she even was.

Blinking a few times, she finally knew where she was: at the famous Wilton hotel buffet in Tokyo. Memories of the spider lily assault sprung back to mind, and Haru panicked as she rushed as she felt her face and looked at her hands. Her mask was on, and she saw her purple gloves and her pink blouse. She was still in her Phantom Thief attire. She was still in the Palace; Ren’s Palace.

A pang of emptiness echoed in her heart as familiar giggles caught her attention, Haru turning her head left to see a copy of herself and a smiling, casually dressed Ren laughing over their cakes. She narrowed her eyes in confusion. She recognised this as one of the numerous meetings she had with him during Ren’s stay in Tokyo; a recent memory to be exact, celebrating her finishing her exams with some of the best confectionery and coffee the hotel could supply. She watched as they conversed, yet barely acknowledged the heavy feeling that weighted her breaths.

“This is good.” Ren complimented, gesturing to the piping, white mug he was holding, “Good coffee, certainly not close to Sojiro’s though,”

“I don’t think there’s coffee that comes close to how Sojiro makes it.” other Haru complimented, taking a sip from her own cup, a satisfied sigh passing through her lips.

“I mean, the guy had help from a certified genius in the form of Futaba’s mom, after all,” Ren pointed out as he gently put down the mug of coffee in front of him, “Wakaba helped a lot with perfecting the stuff Sojiro currently makes… although, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d discover some special coffee tricks himself.”

“Yes well, I’ve actually arranged with him some hours in Leblanc, where he’d promise to teach me some of his coffee making skills,” other Haru said, and Haru could have sworn the sinking feeling came back with more intensity.

“Oh, stealing my job now, aren’t we?” Ren jokes, and other Haru laughs, waving her hand sheepishly. Haru’s own breaths grew heavier.

“Of course not, Ren,” other Haru giggles, “But it’s certainly a good experience to gain for running my cafe. Sojiro-san is kind, patient, and has good experience with running Leblanc, so I personally think it’s appropriate to be guided by him.”

“Well, good luck.” Ren said, taking another sip from his coffee mug, “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thank you!” the other Haru smiled as she took another sip from her cup, “I know I’ll sound quite absurd, but I’m so thankful that you’re so supportive of me opening my cafe. It brings me with joy knowing that I have a friend like you.”

“It’s really no problem, Haru,” Ren said, yet Haru felt otherwise with another pang of dread and stress  echoed in her chest, “I want to see all my friends succeed, and last time I checked you’re one of my friends, unless of course there’s a fight or betrayal of trust I missed the memo of participating in,”

“Ren!” other Haru gasps and Ren casually laughs at her shocked reaction.

“I’m just kidding of course,” he winks, taking a sip of coffee, earning a giggle and a hushed, playful scold from the other Haru, yet Haru could feel inside her heart that it was anything but.

The two continued to talk amongst another, Haru quietly both Ren and her past self as they chatted about all sorts of things, absentmindedly consuming the various delectable treats as they did so. It was when the other Haru gasped did they both realise that they'd run out of sweets to eat. The other Haru stood up from her seat, Ren looking at her with a perplexed expression.

"I'm thinking of grabbing more treats for myself," she said, "The Wilton hotel does have the nicest desserts don't you think? I'm thinking of getting some more of their crumpets, they go well with the jam they provide. What about you, Ren? Would you like anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Ren said, smiling at the other Haru. With a nod of understanding and a hushed 'I'll be back' the other Haru quietly wandered away from the table, and it was the first time Haru herself could see Ren noticeably relax in his seat, the smile he wore flattening into a tired frown.

She grimaces, the suffocating feeling coming back now full force within Haru as Ren stared off into the distance, his fingers rhythmically tapping the gleaming surface of the dining table he was sat at. It was a feeling of aimless dread, the feeling that Haru was acquainted with, welling up inside of her from nights staring up at her ceiling, miserable as she had no tangible control of her life as she was used as a people by her father, then again as she was suddenly thrust upon with the responsibilities of managing an entire corporation without so much of an ounce of experience or help. She remembers the dizzying feeling of being so lost with what to do, aimless and stressed and drowning in her emotions, and she remembers Ren being the one who helped her overcome the thoughts of doubts and self-loathing that came with such a huge responsibility of planning her future.

So why was she feeling this all over again? Unless…

"I'm back, sorry I took so long." other Haru apologises as she puts down her plate of treats, Ren sitting back up in his seat and smiling at her, yet Haru could now see his expression was less vibrant than before, "Some vanilla sponge cake caught my eye while I was helping myself with the crumpets, and I was deciding whether to further indulge myself or to take what I wanted, which I ended up doing of course,"

"Shame to that sponge cake," Ren said jokingly, "Left alone in the cruel world, never to be eaten by someone as sweet as it, oh the tragedy!"

"Haha, I'm sure someone will save it from this cruel world," other Haru played along, gently cutting one of the crumpets on her plate into two, "Unrelated to our conversation on sweets, but how have you been doing recently?"

Haru felt herself choke at the question, yet Ren still wore his cheery expression.

"Other than applying for universities, nothing really major," Ren said casually, and Haru felt another well of stress rising from her chest, "I really want to go to a good culinary school, but I'm also looking at drama schools as well, not that they'd accept me, but I'm hoping at least,"

"Drama? I didn't know you were interested in drama. When did this happen, Ren?" other Haru said, and Ren smiled at her.

"When I was applying, I remembered my time as Joker," he explained, his voice now hushed, yet Haru could hear him just as clearly as if the surrounding noise quieted in volume around her, "I… I really enjoyed how free I felt, and though I love cooking more than anything, I… I really want to relive that feeling, I want to be Joker again, I guess is what I'm saying, even joined the drama club as soon as I got back to Yasogami High. A lot of my friends there were shocked by the sudden change of interests almost, but I guess I never knew I had that side within me until then, haha,"

"Well, I'm sure you'll do great," other Haru said reassuringly, and all of a sudden Haru felt… doubt creep out her throat, "You're a strong and determined person Ren, I'm sure whatever you put your mind to, you'll do great!"

Though Haru knew her words of encouragement to her friend were genuine, hearing them again while alien feelings churned around her heart felt disingenuous, fake, lacking any warmth as her past self took a bite out of the crumbling pastry, "And if you need any help, I'll be here for you okay?"

Ren could not help but force a smile, and Haru felt so alone as Ren replied a small, forceful, polite "okay" to the other Haru.

---

Light consumed her vision once more, and Haru found herself back in the Empress Theatre atop the polished, wooden stage, the bright spotlight shining down upon her as she rose from her knees. She looked around the stage, seeing only herself, not even Joker who had mysteriously disappeared, likely wandering within the depths of the backstage to investigate while she was trapped in her trial.

Grabbing her axe that lay beside her, Haru noticed a peculiar object that she had not seen before. It lay in front of her, edges gleaming beautifully in the light, and she recognised it as her mask.

“Is that…” she exclaimed in bewilderment, quickly touching her face to see that yes, she did still have her mask on. She pushed herself off the floor, picking up the handle of her axe before approaching the object, grabbing it off the floor.

It was a perfect replica of her mask, down to the soft bend where it settled on the ridge of her nose. It felt light, yet fragile, Haru marvelling at the craftsmanship down to the stitching on the edges, the material shone slickly as she tilted it around, taking a closer look.

She heard familiar heels clicking gently on the polished floor, turning around to see Joker, his golden eyes looking quizzically at hers as he walked towards the thief, hands in his pockets, his coat flapping lazily in time with the sway of his steps.

“So, you’ve gotten a key,” he informed her, looking at the black mask in her hands.

“To the Fool’s Theatre, right?” she asked him, and Joker nods, smiling proudly at her achievement.

“You did great, Noir!” he smiled at her, and Haru smiled in return. She pocketed the mask before she turned to leave the stage, yet when she made her way towards the stairs Joker gently grabbed her arm.

“Joker, what’s the matter?” she asked, slightly startled by his abrupt action. Joker pulled his hand away from her, a look of intensity in his eyes before they wandered from her own down towards her hand that clutched the mask.

“Why don’t you put it on?” he said, before meeting her gaze again, his tone assertive, not really asking her but rather demanding her to put on the strange object. Haru’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, puzzled by Joker’s peculiar suggestion, tilting her head slightly, “Is it something I have to do in addition to-”

“No, that’s not it.” Joker admitted. He looked hesitant, constantly shifting from one leg to another, looking down at the floor as he tried to find the right words to convey his thoughts.

“It’s just...” he began, his voice trailed off along with his gaze. They both snapped suddenly back towards her, “Aren’t you tired of being Haru?”

“I… I don’t understand,” Haru replied, taken aback by his strange question, “What do you mean, tired of being me’? I don’t think I can ever be tired of being ‘me’ if I’m always ‘me’ so to say,”

“I meant, are you tired of being Haru?” he clarified, “tired of the responsibilities, tired of having to hide your true self, tired of having to suppress your feelings, tired of having to force yourself to smile, to pretend, to please everyone? Don’t you want to be free of it all?”

He pointed at the mask she held beside her, “All you have to do is wear that mask, Haru. If you do, you’ll be able to finally be free.”

Haru felt uncomfortable. She couldn’t fathom why Joker would suggest such a thing to her, stepping back in almost fear, his words settling a feeling of unease in her stomach.

“I’ll be free?” she asked, yet she feared she knew what he was suggesting. Joker stepped towards her, his eyes transfixed onto hers, his expression unreadable, and Haru could feel her heart thump loudly, ringing in her ears.

“Put on the mask, Haru,” Joker insisted, his tone demanding, expecting her to do what she was told to, “Put it on. Become Noir,” he said, “Leave Haru behind,”

“Joker, you’re scaring me,” Haru squeaked, again backing away from the shadow, her grip on her axe tightening, ready to defend herself if she absolutely had to. Yet Joker did not deter from his goal. He still pursued her, his pace quickened to match the fleeing girl, and Haru felt herself on the precipice of hysterics.

“Put. On. The. Mask. Haru.” Joker demanded, his calm, polite facade dissipated, the shadow from under his mask overcasting his eyes, taking one large stride across the gap between to loom over her, “Do it, Haru. Do it!”

“No,” she mumbled, and Joker looked at her, confused.

“What?”

“I said,” she began, her voice rising, her fear evaporating, the anger in which she wielded against shadows in the Metaverse coming to her aid once more. She eyed Joker, the same defiant look he had taught her to embrace when she rebelled against her father and her unwanted fiancé, the same call to action she had felt when she had first fully awoken to her Persona now buzzed within her fingertips, “I said, no! You might be Ren’s shadow, but you are not Ren! You’re an ugly part of him, one that could grow, and fester unchecked! I don’t care if you call yourself, Joker. You are not him! You will never be him! And I will never take orders from you!”

“But, Noir!” Joker pleaded, shifting once more into his polite facade, “I’m trying to free you! To give you a better existence! To exist unchained by society! Why are you throwing this opportunity to truly live as you are!? If you join me, you and I and the others would enjoy a perfect world where we rule it. Don't you want that?!”

" I don't want to, because,” she now shouted, politeness and kindness towards the shadow replaced with scorn and fury, regaining her footing against Joker as she stood up tall, axe now at the ready, feeling Lucy pulsating within her as her Persona itched for a fight, “I’m already living as my true self, as me! You should know, Joker. It was you - no - Ren, who showed me that, showed me that I can live and exist as myself, both around my friends and in society! I don’t need to exist as Noir, because Noir is me and I am her! And your "perfect world" idea? It goes against everything we, as Noir and Haru, and as the Phantom Thieves, stand for, and you know it yourself!”

The mask in her hand suddenly began to shake violently in her grip, Haru gasped as it fell out of her grasp and onto the floor, shattering into pieces.

“No!” both shrieked as the mask shattered, shards of black spilling across the stage. Before either of them could utter a word, the pieces began to vibrate erratically on their own before erupting into dark tendrils that rose into the air. They congregate together, swirling into a ball of black before morphing into a silhouette. Suddenly, as quick as it appeared the silhouette shed the shadow that formed it to reveal a Kali.

“Haru!” Joker gasped, yet Haru ignored him completely, running towards the shadow with a battle cry, both of her hands gripping tightly on her axe as she swung it with her entire strength. Kali blocked Haru’s attack with ease with the use of its swords, pushing Haru away, the girl stumbling back on the wooden floor, yet she managed to regain her footing, taking a fighting stance once more.

“Haru, stop!” Joker begged as Haru continued to fight the shadow, yet she did not heed his words, instead continuing her assault towards the shadow. Joker attempted to step between the shadow and the girl yet stopped when Haru reached for her mask.

“Lucy!” she shouted, ripping her mask off her face, summoning her Persona in an eruption of blue flame, casting Life Wall on herself as the Kali charged towards her, Joker desperately trying to find an opening to intervene, yet the gap between them closed too quickly. The Kali took a swing, the strength of its strike immediately bouncing off the magical wall that Haru put over herself and striking the shadow instead, and the girl used the opportunity provided to take out her grenade launcher before blasting the shadow back completely.

“Noir, what are you doing!?” Joker growled at her, yet Haru paid little attention as she raised her axe, and before the shadow could react, let alone flee, she brought her blade down upon it, killing it.

“No!” Joker shrieked as the Kali dissipated from the stage, leaving a crystalline version of the mask behind, clutching his hair as he stared at the object, eyes wide and panicked, “No no no no no!”

“W... what?” Haru mumbled, blinking rapidly as she calmed down, withdrawing her axe to her side as she saw the crystal mask on the wooden floor. It had the same shape, but it now appeared crystalline, its colour purple like the gloves she currently wore. She approached the masked and crouched down looking at it curiously, yet she dared not touch it.

“Joker, w-”

“You ruined everything!” Joker screamed as he stomped on the floor, tears forming around the corners of his eyes, enraged as he looked at Haru with hatred, “My prop… my precious prop… I spent so long preparing it, making sure it would do what I wanted; I even had to ruin my statue, only for you to destroy it!”

Haru flinched each time Joker raised his voice, her sudden burst of adrenaline from the Kali fight, the drain from her trial and the uncharacteristic tantrum Joker was throwing left her kneeling on the floor, too stunned and exhausted from her trial and fight to do anything but watch as he complained incessantly about his plans. He reached into his hair, intertwining his fingers around his curly locks, mumbling frantically, and Haru could just hear him talk to himself.

“Ruined… ruined… the key… the script… fuck...” he muttered, Haru straining to hear him through her frantic heartbeat. She reached slowly for the crystal mask that lay beside her, gently brushing the smooth surface with her fingertips before she grabbed it. As she did so, Joker snapped to attention and saw the mask in her hands.

“Haru,” Joker warned, hands dropping to his sides, staring at her with a blank expression, yet his eyes followed the mask obsessively, “What are you doing?”

“I’m… I’m taking the mask,” Haru said, her voice hesitant as she stood up from the floor, Joker’s gaze still following the object.

“Hah, you are, aren’t you?” he snarled, scowling with hatred as he looked at her, golden eyes radiating hatred towards Haru, “Ruining my plans, my production, just like that? Hah, I expected nothing less...”

“Joker, please stop this-”

“No!” he screamed, and Haru jumped, her breath lurching as he laughed maniacally in restrained gasps, holding his head in his hands as he closed his eyes, “Why, why would I stop? I want to achieve my goal, Haru, something you can relate to correct? After all, I was the one who helped you gather the courage to attend that stupid Okumura Foods meeting to launch your dream in opening your little cafe,”

He raised his head to look at her, “So why did you ruin mine?”

“Joker-”

“I know why,” he started, again walking towards her, his chin held high, his grin bearing teeth as he looked down at her, “It’s because you like to ruin things, don’t you, Haru?”

“I-”

“Taking Morgana away from us, always whining about the father who treated you to an end. By the way,” he pondered for a moment, tapping his chin with a finger in mock thought, “that guy you were supposed to get married with, Sugimura. Whatever happened to him?”

“I managed-”

“-to call off the marriage, I figured as much.” Joker smiled, causing Haru further unease, “To think you’d be able to do something on your own. Never thought you’d be even capable of something like that-”

“Joker,” Haru interrupted, and Joker stopped his rant as she slowly got up to her feet, “Ren… why are you saying all of this!? What are you talking about!? What’s gotten into you?”

Joker flinched visibly at her calling his real name, as if remembering that it was indeed his own name, and he wore a sour expression.

“Why do you want to know?” he spat at her, eyes narrowing in contempt as he addressed her.

“Because, this is unlike you,” Haru said, walking slowly towards him, expression sincere and kind as she spoke, “This is not the kind, understanding, supportive leader that I got to know. Ren...”

“Then you really don’t know me at all, do you?” he chuckled dryly, shaking his head in almost disbelief, “Haru; there’s so much you don’t know about me, yet you trust me? Why?”

“Well… why wouldn’t I?” Haru asked, genuinely confused as he continued to chuckle to himself.

“I know why,” he said, “Because you are an idiot. An airheaded, spoiled idiot that wormed her way into our friend group. If it weren’t for your father, we wouldn’t have to deal with Sae, I wouldn’t have to play bait just to get back at Akechi, and we wouldn’t have to deal with the scathing backlash, only to be forgotten like just some…. Some cultural FAD!”

Each word Joker said raised his voice until he was screaming at her, and each word caused Haru to become more and more upset as Joker assaulted her with his voice, echoing across the walls of the empty hall, until Joker was huffing, a hand over his forehead, almost heaving with exhaustion, and Haru attempted to reach out for him, only for Joker to swat her hand.

“Don’t” Joker managed to gasp as he suddenly felt dizzy, the same surge of power and energy he felt when first confronting his other that boggled his mind even further. ‘Why was this happening now?’ he asked himself as he eyed Haru with malice, while the curly-haired girl looked at him with horror; worry even.

“Just go,” he growled, his words only bringing more power to his veins, Joker trying to restrain the groans that bubbled up his throat, opting instead to huddle further towards the stage floor. Haru did not know what to do. She wanted to help, eyes widened with panic as to her, Joker’s condition continued to worsen, yet a small part of her feared retribution from the shadow if she tried to help him once again.

“Joker, are you-”

“LEAVE ME.” Joker screeched; his voice boomed in unnatural volume as the walls shook violently. Haru yelped as the power surges continued in Joker’s veins, him now unable to contain himself, uttering a groan of pleasure. He looked up from his curled position to still see Haru looking at him with worry, and with another boom, he shouted, “LEAVE”.

And Haru did. There was first hesitation in her steps, but she obeyed his request, turning and running from the stage and out of the auditorium as the petals from the flowers around her shed their petals at horrifyingly unnatural speeds, leaves shrivelling up and dying, falling towards the now running, scared girl as she swore her surroundings were collapsing around her, and Joker could not help but cackle behind her at the sight of her fleeing before he hastily retreated behind the back of the stage.

---

 “What do you think they’re doing in there anyway?” Ryuji sighed, leaning back at his seat as he bounced his leg impatiently.

The rest of the Phantom Thieves sat in the booth, waiting for Haru and Joker to emerge with the mask, eager to continue with their pursuit deeper into the Palace. Some occupied themselves, Futaba typing away on her laptop, trying to ignore the detective clad in black in front of her, while Yusuke lightly sketched the Palace interior in a little notebook. However, most of them did not have such objects to distract themselves as they waited, Ryuji finding it increasingly annoying that he couldn’t connect to the Internet while in the Metaverse, Ann absentmindedly flicked through the little program Joker provided them over and over again, while Makoto and Morgana discussed their next plan of action.

“I dunno, when they’re done, I guess,” Futaba answered “I’m trying to see if I can hack into anything that’ll give us a view as to what is happening inside. Hopefully, there are cameras and a network feed of some kind that I can easily hack into,”

“And what about Senpai?” Sumire asked Futaba, who looked up from her laptop to address her.

“He’s okay,” Futaba answered, “I’ve set up some signals to track his vitals and location. Though nothing’s major’s happening now, I’ve set up alerts if there is a change in either his location or condition,”

“I doubt that any real harm would come to him,” Goro informs, and Futaba scows.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, bird brain,” she seethed in a hushed tone, Goro acting like he hadn’t heard or cared for what she said as Goro continued, “Whoever or whatever has Ren needs him alive to continue to exist of course; their existence is too intertwined with his wellbeing, and any disruption to that can cause serious harm to either the Palace or it,”

“And what do you suppose this ‘thing’ that has Ren, is? A rogue cognition?” Yusuke said, entering the conversation as he put his small sketchbook down onto the table. Goro hesitates, his tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth.

“I-”

“It’s probably some rogue shadow or whatever, maybe a cog’ of his parents since they’re really strict towards Ren,” Ryuji interrupts Goro, “Nothing to worry about, we can probably take them on easy, especially with Joker on our side,”

“I wasn’t going to say-”

“Guys cut it out and stop bullying Crow,” Ann scolded both Futaba and Ryuji, “I know we have our differences and stuff, but we need all the help we can get if we’re gonna save Ren. That also means no interrupting and name-calling, okay?”

“I didn’t call him names,”

“And I didn’t interrupt him!” Both Ryuji and Futaba defended themselves, Goro sighing at the bickering thieves, barely expecting them to allow him to speak at all, retreating away from them to see Yusuke and Sumire still intently holding their attention towards him.

“So, what do you think it is, Crow?” Yusuke inquires politely, Sumire looking as though she has the same question in mind. Goro looks away from the both for a moment, trying to word his thoughts.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll like it either way,” he began, his gaze still distant and thoughtful, red eyes looking at the double doors as he allows himself to ponder for a moment, “I still don’t have any evidence myself, but. I distrust the shadow that roams here,”

“You mean Joker?” Sumire asked, and Goro nodded in response, “But why, Crow-senpai?”

“I’m not one to question gut feelings, but why do you suspect his shadow?” Yusuke queried Goro, “He’s been doing nothing but helping us so far. The shadow is the true self is it not? If Joker is acting kind, can’t we suspect that he is kind in turn?”

“I don’t want to appear as being crass but: I have a feeling that Joker’s hiding things from you all,”

Everyone within earshot stopped abruptly with their prior conversations, Makoto and Morgana pausing from their discussion, Ann interrupted from her scolding of Ryuji and Futaba, all of them turning to face Goro in stunned silence, some with their mouths agape.

“Joker’s… lying to us?” Ann questioned Goro carefully, eyes unnaturally wide under her mask, “A-are you sure!?”

“Are you sure about that?” Ryuji interrogated Goro, leaning forward, looking at him with suspicion, “I mean, we are his friends, and we’ve known him way longer than you,”

“Yes, I know,” Goro gasped quickly, “But I have an uneasy feeling that he’s lying to you a-”

“Joker would never lie to us,” Futaba snapped at him angrily, the thieves flinching as she hissed at Goro with such uncharacteristic anger and boldness, “He would never! You’re just, just trying to get us to not trust him, aren’t you?!”

“Oracle, I-”

“No, you shut up, this is Ren we’re talking about,” Futaba hissed, her hands curling into fists as she glared at Goro under her goggles, “He would never lie to us! He would never! You don’t know him! You tried to kill him!”

“Futaba-”

“Shu-”

The Palace abruptly trembled, the chandeliers above rattled violently, vases shattering, cognitive patrons screaming as the Phantom Thieves sprang from their seats, with a quick order from Makoto, they all dived under the small table as their surroundings shook.

“What’s going on?!” Ann cried out as she tried her best to retreat underneath the table, pulling Ryuji in as he clumsily fell forward, “Why is the Palace shaking?!”

“I don’t know, but I do know that something’s happening to Ren,” Futaba informs them, voice barely audible shaking from the tremors and her fear as her laptop beeps noisily in her lap.

“Oracle, what’s wrong!?” Sumire screamed as the tremors worsened, Futaba scrambling to look at her laptop, typing away at the keyboard as her eyes darted around the screen.

“It’s Ren!” she replied, “I don’t know what’s happening to him, but-”

Haru stumbles out from the double doors, her expression one of haste and panic, and fast as the tremors came the Palace suddenly stood still. The cowering Phantom Thieves paused as Haru fell onto the carpeted floor in a daze, lying on her side and breathing heavily, clutching her axe alongside an object in her hands. One they suspected that the reason why the quake that had hit the Palace had passed, they each emerged from under the table, excluding Futaba, who was still working away on her laptop.

“Noir! Haru, are you okay?!” Morgana exclaims as he rushes towards the fallen girl, paws glittering with green healing magic, ready to aid her, “What happened in there?! Where’s Joker?!”

“Joker...” Haru mumbles, her expression downcast at the mention of their missing friend, her eyes fixated on the carpet floor, her fingers curling with reflex. She closed her eyes temporarily, feeling suddenly, very, very tired, and she could physically feel bags forming under her eyes.

“Haru, what’s wrong?” Ann asked the girl, too occupied with worrying about her friend’s help to use their allocated codenames, swooping down to her level, kneeling alongside Morgana on the carpeted floor, “You look tired, take it easy okay?”

Haru slowly nods, as if the gesture was a Herculean task on its own, acknowledging Ann’s words as she allowed herself to be assisted by the red-wearing girl. Ann approached Haru, sliding an arm around her back, slinging Haru’s arm around her neck before lifting her up by the shoulders.

“Haru, I’m sorry if I agitate you further, but may I inquire about the glittering object you’re holding in your grasp?” Yusuke asked, pointing at the shiny purple object in the hand that slung around Ann’s shoulders.

“Just… take it,” Haru slurred, her eyes fluttering as she struggled to stay awake, her energy quickly draining as she stood there, “Please, I feel...”

Yusuke nodded, catching the crystalline object as Haru dropped it, Ryuji running by her side, helping Ann up as Haru looked as though she was about to lose consciousness, her skin flushing white.

“Is that?” Sumire gasps as Yusuke observes what he assumed to be a key Joker mentioned earlier, “Is that Noir’s mask?”

“Whatever it is, it’s definitely a key,” Futaba said, having already scanned the object in their hands with Al Azif, “It’s resonating with the door on the topmost floor, no doubt the same one that leads to the Fool’s Theatre,”

“While I do want to discuss additional things, I suggest we first get Noir out of here,” Makoto commands the others, “She is in no fighting condition, and if we were faced with another ambush like we did earlier, with Joker missing, we would be in an especially vulnerable position,”

“But, Ren-”

“We can’t go on, Skull,” Makoto shakes her head, “As much as I want to rush ahead in order to save Ren, we need to let Noir rest and regather her strength. We have plenty of time, Ren is a strong person, and we can strategize what to do next back in the real world, but for now, we need to retreat, okay?”

Ryuji opens his mouth to argue, a force look burned in his eyes, yet when he looked at Makoto’s stern, uncompromising expression he closed his mouth. He visibly winced, attempting to argue with their leader, but when he looked upon Haru’s pale, sickly face he realised that Makoto had a point.

“Okay, Queen,” he sighed defeatedly, before gesturing to Ann to follow him out of the Palace. She nodded, and while carefully supporting Haru they made their way down the stairs towards the grand foyer.

“As for the mask,” she turns to the rest of the thieves that remained in the Metaverse, “Oracle and Mona, you should hold onto the mask for the time being since you’re close to the meetup spot. I’m sure Skull and Panther would escort Noir back home just fine. As for the rest of you, we’ll discuss our next meeting session when Noir feels better and regains her strength, and Oracle and Crow; please stay behind for a bit, I need to discuss possible methods of communication between us all, if that’s okay,”

Futaba and Morgana nod in agreement, Yusuke handing the object to the girl as he leaves, Sumire giving the remaining thieves a tiny wave as they both exit the Palace.

“You aren’t leaving, Mona?” Futaba questions the cat, noticing him standing vigilantly between her and Goro.

He gives a nod and a smile. “I made a promise to Ren that if anything were to happen to him, I would be there to protect you,” he explained, Futaba giving him a puzzled look, “I mean, he didn’t, but he implied it, and that’s good enough for me,”

“Anyway,” Makoto coughed, grabbing the attention of all three of them, “Oracle, how easy is it for you to make sure our chats and calls are secure?”

  --

  The foyer of the top floor was empty compared to the rest of the building, no cognitions of people or ushers holding shadows alike wandered along the red-carpeted floor of the foyer in front of the most important auditorium in the Palace: the Fool’s Theatre.

Two red doors stood vigilant, surrounded by smooth black walls of marble, veins of gold running through the stone as red curtains hung along it, potted plants sprouting tall, green shrubs sparsely decorated the room, a golden chandelier hung in the middle, glittering beautifully in the surrounding light.

Joker emerged from the elevators that hugged the wall next to the stairs, hands casually in his pockets, having escaped the Empress Theatre he made his way back into his own. He strides across the room with long steps towards the doors, grabbing its golden handle, yet paused to inspect the velvet that decorated them. Cavities that held the keys to the theatre, won by the trials all the thieves had to face stayed empty, Joker brushing a gloved hand to where Haru’s mask would have been slotted in, before pulling the door open, it obeying its rightful master and allowed him entry, the lights of the auditorium shuttering dramatically to life.

Bathed in golden luminosity, the interior of his beloved hall glittered wonderfully in his eyes. Black, pristine leather seats lined each row along with red carpet decorated in a faint checkered pattern, golden walls and columns accenting the room and balconies, leading up to the beautiful mural that reminisced Yusuke's interpretation of Desire and Hope, brought to life as colours swirled and shifted and radiated above the grand, obsidian chandelier that dangled below it. He made his way down among the row of seats, his footsteps padded on the carpet, and with one quick motion he shot out his grappling hook, zipping across the air, before landing perfectly onto the wooden performance space.

Retracting the grappling hook and tucking his hands casually in his pockets, Joker retreated under the towering, black and gold curtains of the stage as he headed towards his dressing room.

The door to his sanctuary was located at the end of the otherwise bleak hallway, the red velvet shining against blank white doors, his name on a star-shaped door plate made of gold. He reached for the doorknob, twisting it, a soft ‘click’ echoing in the hallway as he pushed it open.

His dressing room was as luxurious as the theatre it was housed in, red and blacks decorated each crevice, white and gold accenting countertops and tables and door edges, expensive platters of food, bottles of drink, and electronics scattered across the room, all with a marble floor, gold veins accenting cracks between the rock. In the middle room, a black leather seat faced a large screen TV that was nestled comfortably within the wall, two beautifully velvet lined doors stood next to each other, leading to his bedroom and ‘office’ respectively. Closing the door behind him, Joker ignored all the temptations surrounding him completely, instead wandering towards the back of the room, where a single door lay forgotten, untouched by the same opulence which adorned its surroundings. A gloved hand on the doorknob, he twisted, flinging it open with gusto, flooding the dark monitor room with light.

“Bonjour mon invité, je suis de retour!” he called, laughing as he reached for Ren’s chair, grabbing it before he spun around to his other’s scow, Ren’s face illuminated by artificial, flickering lights. Ren did not reply, he did not want to give the satisfaction that he knew his shadow craved, yet Joker noticed his glistening wet cheeks, taking upon himself to inspect Ren’s face by suddenly grabbing his chin, his other’s eyes astonished as Joker inspected him.

“Ren, what happened to you?” Joker cooed, yet his tone lacked any real concern or warmth as he tilted Ren’s head, inspecting the glistening streaks of tears on his face, “Why did you cry? Do my plays not bring you joy?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ren hissed as he jerked his head away from Joker’s grasp, feeling more disgusted and sicker the closer his shadow got to him, “Don’t touch me, don’t you dare touch me,”

Joker withdrew his hand back at Ren’s sudden outburst, feigning surprise at Ren’s rebellious attitude towards him, “I’m safe to assume that your tears are the result of the performances I put on for you, or perhaps from me interacting with your friends?”

“Whatever your plan is, leave them out of it,” Ren fumed, pulling on the restraints that bounded his hands, “They’ve got nothing to do with this place. I’m clearly the one you want, and I suspect you’d want to keep it that way,”

“I do,” Joker muses, “But I also want them. You see, Ren, I’ve clearly invited them here, not to steal your heart, but to save them from themselves, from this Hellish society that we all live in-”

“And you’re doing that by insulting them and brainwashing them?”

“I… didn’t mean to say those things to Haru,” Joker confessed, “But she left me no choice. If she wasn’t going to join us, I had to drive her out, I had to push her away, so she wouldn’t interfere with us, you understand right? I know you do, because you’re me,”

“I’m not you,” Ren spat, though he knew deep down his shadow was right, the words he uttered to Haru were his, thoughts he kept deep within his heart, yet he tried anyway to deny the manifestation of his darkest thoughts and feelings around him, “I’m not you,” he cried, “I’m not you,”

“But I am you,” Joker said plainly, raising his neck above to look down on Ren, both to dominate and to allow him to accommodate the intoxicating surge of power that again surged his veins, “I am thou, and I will see my - our - plan to its conclusion. Because you know why,”

“Because-”

“Because I get things done.” Joker stated, interrupting Ren as he snarled with superiority, “I always get things done. You. You get nothing done. I always do, I will succeed in our plan, I will see my play come to its intended conclusion, and I WILL get our friends to our side, so we can finally get what we deserve,”

“You won’t, because the others will stop you,” Ren said, though he quickly knew he was losing his argument the further Joker’s amused grin twitched wider, “They’ll save me, they’ll change my heart, they’ll-”

Ren choked a sob, Joker’s eyes widened abruptly, and the shadow stumbled back, clutching the red fabric of his waistcoat tightly, crashing into the wall behind him as he gasped.

It was another surge, more powerful than before, Joker groaned as his head spun, dizzying sensations clutched his consciousness as his eyesight blurred, tears welling up the corners of his eyes, and he could feel his heart twist in his chest. It was the same feeling he’d experience with Haru, the same sensations he felt taunting his other, yet as he looked at the horrified expression Ren had on his face with forgotten tears freshly streaking his face did he finally realise where these sensations came from.

Joker laughed as the surge fizzled away as fast as it had arrived as he sat on the floor, lying against the wall as he looked at Ren who was dumbfounded by what he just had witnessed. Joker allowed himself to relax before he clambered back onto his feet, the surge leaving him a shaky mess as he supported himself with a hand on the wall. He took a minute for himself gathering his breaths as he slumped against the wall, all the while Ren observed him with perplexed, fearful eyes.

“Hah, what a revelation,” Joker exclaimed breathlessly, straightening his posture and turning to Ren, “To think we learned something about the Metaverse during our chats, and I thought Mona had told us everything,”

“You’re insane, you really are,”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t describe myself as such,” Joker shrugged, “Then again, I’m-”

“Don’t say it,”

“Then don’t make me,” Joker laughs before turning towards the exit, a hand resting on the doorknob, “Anyway, I’ll make sure to get you some water so you don’t dehydrate yourself, and in something that you can’t easily smash or use to spill onto the controls,” he added, “I’m not an idiot.”

With his last remark, Joker closed the door behind him, leaving Ren alone with the numerous screens, some of them empty, some of them with plays that played repeatedly, and some of them looping footage of Haru’s saddened expression, of his friends, fighting and bickering. He closed his eyes, trying to drown the incessant chatter that surrounded him.

But he had hope. Hope for his friends in reaching him, hope that he was able to hold his sanity together, hope that they’d change his heart, that they’ll persevere, that they’ll be able to fight through whatever his twisted Palace had in store for them, and whatever Joker had prepared for them.

Because, he knew he had to, or allow his twisted heart to consume him entirely.

FLOWER MEANINGS Sunflower - Respect, Passionate Love, Radiance. Iris - Good News,Glad Tidings, Loyalty Gentle - Gentle. Daffodil - Respect. Carnation - Fascination, Distinction, and Love Anemone - Protection from evil, Forsaken, Expectations. White Rose - Innocence, Silence, Devotion. Narcissus - Self-Esteem Cyclamen and Sweet Pea - Resignation, Good-bye. Lotus -  Purity, Chastity. Marigold - Grief, Despair, Jealousy / God’s Perfect Light. Red Spider Lily - Never to meet again, Lost memory, Abandonment TRANSLATE Bonjour mon invité, je suis de retour - Hello my guest, I have returned.

[twilightknight17]

Last thoughts on the conclusion of Scramble. Overall, I really liked it!

I clocked about 48 hours when I saved the clear data, but I’ve still got requests to do and trophies to get, and apparently you can’t even start NG+ until you beat the Reaper. And you can’t fight the Reaper until you finish all the other requests. And Merciless is only available for NG+, and I kinda wanna try Merciless, just for giggles.

I really liked Zenkichi and Sophia. They were great characters, and the integrated with the existing group really well. Sophia was a wonderful little sister, and it was pretty obvious from Zenkichi’s introduction that he was going to be an excellent addition. And Sophia’s persona, Pandora, is more appropriate the longer I think about it. Sophia is the Hope Arcana, yes, and Hope was the last thing left in Pandora’s box. But Pandora was also the very first Persona final boss, and it was all the dark parts of its master, all the hurt and rage and pain. All of those bad things, already gone, and all that was left for Sophia was hope.

Full circle.

Ichinose was a good antagonist, but I do think it was pretty obvious that something was up with her from the start. From the very first meeting, there was no way she wasn’t involved. “I guess I should be more worried that my baby is being used for evil.” Uh-huh. Yeah. Something was up with you. I kind of hated how quick the kids were to trust her. X’‘‘D

The Jails were fun levels. I liked that they didn’t all follow the same patterns; only four of eight went through the whole ‘find the three towers’ thing. We got to experience what a Jail was like when it had been abandoned, and when it was first formed, which is a distinction we’ve never really had with dungeons or Palaces.

The bosses were interesting, but some of them just had… so much health. You’d hammer away at them and it would be doing basically no damage outside of hitting a weakness. Sometimes it seemed like you were just waiting for the chance to use a showtime or an all-out attack. Conversely, I… actually wish the final boss had been harder. The parts with the spheres were hard, because of the sheer amount of stuff happening at once, and your party being limited. But the main boss being confined to just in front of the platform, plus all of its attacks being so telegraphed, just made it… moderate? Konoe’s swordfight and Shadow Joker were a lot harder.

Overall, I don’t necessarily agree with all the details (especially the hot springs), and I’m not sure that Gluttony was the right sin for Hyodo, but I think it worked really well as a sequel. And I think it still works as a Royal sequel, too. I do wish that they’d actually… full-tilt gone for it as a sequel, instead of a “spin-off”, because they could have drawn so many more connections than they did. Commenting about “last year” and joking about upsetting the gods again was good, but… I dunno, it just felt like they could have done more.

But that’s my job, I suppose. ^_^ Time to plan some more fic~

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Fandom: Coco

Rating: K+

Genre: Drama, Angst

Characters: Héctor, Ernesto

Warnings: [Spoilers??? But nothing we don’t see in the movie...]

Description: Twenty one years after his death, Héctor finds that his photo has finally been placed on an ofrenda. Ecstatic, he hurries across the marigold bridge... and finds himself in a hauntingly familiar city that is not Santa Cecilia, in a place that is not a home.

Something strange is going on.

Beta Readers: @jaywings, @tomato-bitch, and @uncuentofriki

Notes: Here’s a fic I started like... two years ago, and finally brushed the dust off of and finished. Hope you guys enjoy!

—

It was going to work this time. It hadn’t worked last year, when he’d worn a skirt, or the year before, when he’d worn a blouse, but it would work this year—he was certain. This year, he wore a wig, and a dress, and had Tía Yolanda help him out with some makeup.

He had to look like somebody.

Surely.

But as Héctor got closer and closer to the check-in gate, he felt a nervous fluttering where his stomach used to be. He’d waited all year for this. What if it didn’t work, again? What if he had to go another year without seeing his Imelda? His Coco? She was an adult now, older than he’d been when he’d married Imelda. Was she married now? Engaged? He didn’t know—he had no way of knowing.

It had been twenty-one years since he’d died.

Twenty-one years since he’d last seen his family.

He couldn’t bear going another year without catching so much as a glimpse of them.

“Next!”

Héctor gave a start, then shook himself bodily. Basta, that was enough of that. As Ernesto would say, it was showtime.

Putting on a calm expression, Héctor strode up to the counter and smoothed out his dress. “¡Hola, señor!” he said, using the same falsetto voice he’d learned to fake in previous years. “You don’t have to worry about my photo. My family always—”

“Er, wait—Héctor? Héctor Rivera?”

Immediately his non-existent stomach gave a jolt. The border agent, who had been shuffling through a massive stack of files containing names, copies of photos, and who-knows-what-else, was now adjusting his glasses as he stared at him.

“You are Señor Rivera, sí?” the agent repeated.

Quickly feigning outrage, Héctor put a hand to his chest and reared back. “Ex-cuse-me, señor! I am the very honorable Señorita—ah—” And immediately he faltered, blanking on the false name he’d chosen earlier.

But the agent only waved him off. “You can drop the act now, Señor Rivera. Listen—”

“No, you are mistaken!” Héctor cried, hoping the way his voice shook passed for outrage rather than desperation. “My name is not—”

“Señor, please, we have people waiting—”

No, no, he’d waited too long for this, he wasn’t going to back down now! “So why won’t you let me—”

“SEÑOR! You have a photo at another gate!”

Héctor opened his mouth to reply, only to freeze as the words sank in. “...¿Qué?” he managed to squeak.

The agent, while clearly relieved he’d gotten through to Héctor, still looked annoyed. “You’re lucky I’m used to dealing with you, or you may have been thrown out of line.” He shook his head, rubbing his face. “But I’ve been informed that you have a photo on an ofrenda in another city. So, por favor, take that disguise off and get to the gate!”

Héctor could barely hear him. “Another… city? My photo?” he murmured, dropping the fake voice. “I-I had wondered if they’d moved, or lost my photo, but I’d never thought—!”

“There will be more information when you get there. We have an alebrije ready to take you to the proper destination. Now por favor, Héctor, get going!”

While Héctor was still in a dazed fog, something blunt struck him from behind, and he found himself falling onto the back of a bat-winged, purple-and-red goat alebrije. It bleated as it carried him away from the gate, and flew him off the nearby ledge.

“Feliz Dia de los Muertos, Héctor!” the agent called after him, and it finally sunk in.

Whipping off his dress and swapping his wigs in record speed, Héctor sat up as straight as he could, throwing his arms out and belting out the loudest, most triumphant grito he’d called out in years.

The alebrije, to Héctor’s delight, took him to the very front of the line at an enormous gate with an equally enormous bridge—even bigger than the one to Santa Cecilia. At first the people in line were quite angry to see him cutting in front of them, but the crossing agent was quick to let them know that this was supposed to happen.

Wiping away the remains of his makeup, Héctor stepped off the alebrije, which trotted up to a blanket off to the side of the counter and curled up. “Gracias,” he said to it, adjusting his goatee and faded neckcloth as he stepped up to the counter. “I-I believe you were expecting me?”

For the briefest of moments his breath caught in his chest—what if this had just been a fluke? What if this was just a big mistake, and Imelda or Coco hadn’t really found his photo? What if this was just another rotten twist of fate, like that rotten chorizo—

“Héctor Rivera, yes?” the agent said, glancing quickly between him and the folder in front of her. She then did a double-take, her tired eyes widening in shock as she stared at something in the file that Héctor could not see. Terror rattled in his ribs before the agent breathed out, “Oh, wow.”

“Is—is there a problem?” he asked, tugging at the tattered pink sleeve of his charro suit.

“No, señor, I just had no idea you had a connection with—” She shook her head, clearing her throat. “Well, you’re clear to go. Your photo is on your… friend’s ofrenda.”

Héctor’s stomach dropped. Not “your wife’s ofrenda” or “your daughter’s ofrenda.”

“Wait, wait, wait, my friend’s—?”

“Sí,” the agent affirmed, stacking the papers together and setting the folder onto a teetering stack to her right. “The ofrenda of Señor Ernesto de la Cruz.”

Immediately the people behind him began to murmur: “Ernesto?” “That singer?” “The famous songwriter? But how?” “This guy’s clothes are so ragged, it can’t be—”

Before Héctor could respond, the agent ushered him forward, and he stumbled out to the platform before the bridge.

This was a lot to take in.

Not Imelda, not Coco. Ernesto had put him on his ofrenda. Why now, though? Why in a totally different place from Santa Cecilia? Was he traveling still? Did he move? Why was Ernesto putting his photo on an ofrenda before his family did?

Another skeleton nearly bumped into him, and he placed a hand to his head, idly letting his legs carry himself forward as he tried to piece this together.

Had something… happened to Imelda and Coco? No—no, that couldn't be right. He would know if that was the case—he’d be alerted right away. Had they moved? He supposed that was possible—it was strange to imagine Imelda going anywhere else, but perhaps she had moved the zapateria she’d mentioned in her letters to another town. A larger city, with better business. She did have to take care of the family on her own, so… yes, that made sense.

But still, why was Ernesto the one putting up the photo? Sure, he was his friend—his hermano, even—but…

Wait, what if Imelda and Coco had moved in with Ernesto? Wait, wait, no, that was ridiculous. While Imelda never hated Ernesto, the two hadn’t exactly gotten along perfectly. So perhaps Ernesto was visiting Imelda and Coco? Maybe he’d somehow found the photo he’d thought he’d lost, and brought it over to their house, and set up an ofrenda?

Héctor’s non-existent heart leapt at the thought. Yes, yes! That had to be it! He’d find his way to Imelda’s house, and finally get to see her, and Coco, and Ernesto!

But then the murmurs he’d heard behind him came back to him.

Ernesto… he’d been singing Héctor’s songs for all these years—become a household name by this point. All the newly-dead were talking about him, and his music had spread like wildfire across the Land of the Dead. It hurt to hear those songs played everywhere, especially that one, but… Imelda had to know, didn’t she? Ernesto had to have told her that he’d died—she’d let him play his songs, for some reason…

Ay, it was too much to take in. He’d have to sort through it when he got there.

Speaking of—where was he now?

Shaking his head to bring himself back to the present, Héctor glanced around, and gave a start at seeing himself standing atop a floor of cempasúchil petals, with an enormous drop off to his right side. With a yelp he jumped to his left, bumping into a young woman. “¡Lo siento!” he cried, holding up his hands defensively and glancing warily back at the edge of the bridge. Right, watch where you’re going.

As he continued to move forward, he looked down at his bare feet (he’d lost his left shoe back in February, and there was no point in wearing just one), amazed to see the petals easily supporting them. He looked up at the people around him, and back down at the bridge, and at the border in the distance behind him, and—

Dios, he was crossing the bridge!

The joy of it hit him even harder than the initial excitement had, and he didn’t realize until his vision began to swim that he was crying. Frantically he wiped at his eye sockets, scrubbing at them with a frayed sleeve, trying in vain to steady his breathing. He was aware that people were probably staring at him, but he still gave a stuttering gasp when someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay, amigo?” one man asked, looking at him in concern.

For a moment Héctor couldn’t quite remember how to talk, but even if he could, the joy seemed to be drowning him. After taking a few deep breaths, he finally managed to gasp out: “I—I’m going to see my wife.”

Immediately the man smiled in understanding. “Aaaah. First time crossing, eh?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak again.

“It’s always a hard wait, but you’ll get to see her now, and every year from now on.” Giving his shoulder a friendly shake, the man stepped away. “Have a good time!”

Swallowing, he nodded again and scrubbed at his eye sockets. Briefly he thought that he should be careful to look nice for Imelda and Coco, but they probably wouldn’t be able to see him, would they? No, of course not, idiota. You didn’t see the dead come to life every Dia de Muertos, did you?

The thought made him laugh, which made him nearly start crying again. Ay, he was a mess. A very, very happy mess.

As he reached the highest point of the bridge, he could see an enormous graveyard stretched out before him, and a huge city beyond that. It seemed vaguely familiar, but then, he’d traveled so much before he died, every place felt familiar to him. Every place felt the same.

He felt a pang in his chest as he realized he wouldn’t get to see Santa Cecilia, but then, that was a small sacrifice to make to get to see his family again.

Looking out over the graveyard, which was bathed in a welcoming orange light, he had to wonder what city he’d been led to. The crossing agent had neglected to say—he probably should have, but maybe Héctor had thrown him off with his antics. (He supposed he probably deserved that one.) Regardless, he was going to have a time finding Imelda, Coco, and Ernesto in a place like this.

...How was he supposed to find them?

It struck him with a burst of anxiety and fear. How on earth was he supposed to find his family in a city this huge?

All around him, people were confidently walking one way or another as they reached the end of the bridge—had they lived here? Was he going to have to ask around?

Looking around him frantically, he scrubbed his face of the remaining tears and tried to focus. “D-disculpe, anyone, I—h-how do I—how am I supposed to—”

A man turned back toward him, and he recognized him as the man who had been friendly to him a few minutes ago. “How are you supposed to find your family?” he asked, and Héctor responded with a nod and a hopeful smile. “Easy, amigo, just follow the petals.”

“Petals?” Héctor looked down at the petals beneath his feet, but the man shook his head.

“No, no, at the end of the bridge.” He pointed to where the bridge met the ground. “Do you see a trail of petals?”

Sure enough, there was a narrow trail of petals starting at the foot of the bridge and leading through the graveyard. “Sí, I do, but—”

“You can only see the petals that lead you home. Follow them, and you’ll be fine.”

Héctor heaved a sigh of relief. “Gracias. I was worried for a moment there.”

“It’s all right, amigo. Everyone’s new to death at some point.” With that, the man hurried ahead before Héctor could correct him.

It bothered him for a moment, but he shook himself. What did it matter if he’d been dead for twenty years or a hundred? He was going home!

As he approached the foot of the bridge, he stopped when he saw what appeared to be a barrier of some sort. Yet other skeletons were walking right on through as though it hadn’t been there at all. Watching in curiosity, he found that as people stepped off the bridge, they became vaguely translucent and tinted an orange shade—the same shade as the cempasúchil petals he’d been walking on.

Héctor looked back at the barrier, feeling a familiar twist in his gut. Even though he’d passed the border, even though he’d crossed the bridge, a part of him still wondered if there had still been some mistake—if he wouldn’t be able to pass through this barrier. But, taking a deep and completely unnecessary breath, he stepped through it, blinking as an orange glow enveloped him.

He’d… he’d made it!

Letting out a wild cheer that startled several people around him, he bolted down the narrow marigold path as fast as his feet would allow. Unfortunately the graveyard was exceedingly crowded, and he had to force himself to slow down before he bumped into anyone or anything.

All around him were families, both living and dead, gathering around graves, talking, laughing, and carrying offerings. Not long ago, Héctor would listen to the Remembered with barely-concealed envy as they talked about how wonderful it was to catch up with their families. But now things were different—tomorrow, he’d be right there with them, sharing new stories about his daughter and his wife, for once.

But he had to focus on the petals. Keeping his eyes to the ground, he continued following the narrow trail as it finally took him out of the cramped graveyard and into the city.

The city was big. He’d seen it from a distance, but now that he was actually walking down its streets, it felt even more enormous.

And familiar.

He'd traveled to many cities during his last fateful tour with Ernesto, though. Perhaps this was just one of them, and he couldn’t fully recognize it because it had been two decades. A lot could change in that amount of time. But not too much. He knew this place. He knew it—!

As he continued following the petals down the street, he barely noticed the sound of something loud and rumbling until some massive vehicle was barreling toward him. With a frantic yell, Héctor dove out of the street, breathing heavily as he watched the thing swerve down the road and turn a corner. Right, cars. Hadn’t seen one of those in a while.

If he’d still had a heart, it would have been hammering in his chest, but any residual fear was quickly washed out by annoyance at the sound of laughter. A few skeletons stood nearby, giggling at him, and he gave them a frown as he stood up and brushed himself off. “I’m fine, I know what I’m doing,” he muttered, and looked back for the petal trail, which was, fortunately, unaffected by the passing vehicle.

“Newly dead?” one woman said with a laugh, and he looked away from her. “You know those things can’t hurt you, right?”

“They go right through you!” the other woman called out.

Well… that would’ve been good to know before. Héctor gave a tight nod. “Gracias,” he said, only to pause, turning to face them fully. They were both dressed in fancy clothing, carrying baskets full of bottles and pan dulce. “Perdoname, señoras—could you tell me what city this is?”

That only caused them to break out into another fit of giggles, and briefly he wondered how much of the contents of those bottles they’d already consumed. “This is Mexico City!”

The name hit him like a bolt of lightning.

But the women took no notice, stumbling down the street in the opposite direction, and leaving Héctor standing there in horror.

It took him a moment to realize he was reaching for something in an inner coat pocket—one of the two things he’d had on him when he died, and that he fought to protect from the elements at all times. One was his photo.

The other was a train ticket out of Mexico City.

Forcing himself to draw his hand back to his side, he shook himself bodily. No, he didn’t need to look at that again. He knew where he was. He knew the ticket was still in his pocket. He knew the train station was somewhere in this hellishly massive city with too many people and fondas that sold rotten food—

Basta—STOP IT!

Héctor ignored the phantom pains that were building in his nonexistent abdomen, swallowing as he forced his legs to move forward, continuing to follow the petals.

Of course, Ernesto would wind up moving here. He’d always talked about how much he loved this city. Héctor just… wished it hadn’t been the city that he’d wound up… where he…

Drawing in as deep a breath as he could, he held it until his ribs hurt, then breathed out slowly. You’ll have to get used to it, then, amigo, he thought, focusing on the petals again. If you want to see Imelda and Coco and Ernesto again, you’ll have to get used to coming here.

Or hope they move elsewhere.

It didn’t matter, anyway—he was already dead. Wishing he’d died elsewhere, or that his familia had moved elsewhere, wouldn’t change anything. What mattered was that he’d be seeing them again. That was all that mattered.

Even so, he wished these awful petals would lead him out of these terrible streets soon.

—-~~~—-

“There, Héctor, do you see it?!”

“No, Ernesto, I can’t see the building we’re standing directly in front of.” The comment earned him a playful shove, and he grinned. “Is that where we’ll be performing?”

“Of course! ...Eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“Sí. Tonight we’re performing at the cantina next to our hotel on the other side of town.”

Héctor sputtered, resting his guitar and suitcase on the street. “Wh—?! Then—then what was the point of dragging our stuff out here?!”

Ernesto smiled, wrapping an arm around Héctor’s shoulders. “Because one day, hermanito—one day we’ll be so famous this theater will be begging—begging!—for us to play there! Can’t you see it? Ernesto y Héctor, performing for one night only—”

“Okay, okay, hermano.” Héctor returned the gesture, wrapping his arm around Ernesto’s shoulders with a half-smile. “But let’s save the daydreaming for after we’ve dropped our luggage off at the hotel.”

“These are not daydreams, Héctor.” And Ernesto gave him a look—one Héctor could never forget. It was a look of such determination, it was vaguely frightening. “Soon, very soon now, they will be reality.”

“...Sí, Ernesto. I’m sure they will be.”

Héctor absently rubbed his shoulder as he stared up at the theater, then down at the thin trail of cempasúchil leading up to its doors.

“You were right, hermano,” he breathed. “It wasn’t all daydreams… You did it.”

With my music, a bitter part of him added, but he swallowed it down.

It really shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, given how he’d heard of Ernesto’s success even in the Land of the Dead. But standing where he’d stood all those years ago and looking up at the theater they’d only dreamed of performing in—that Ernesto was now actually performing in—was something else entirely. It left him with a pang of nostalgia in his chest, not to mention no small amount of confusion.

The petals were supposed to lead him home. These led to the theater.

A strange place for an ofrenda.

Perhaps Ernesto was celebrating the holiday in private here with Imelda and Coco, in some back room. Knowing Ernesto, his schedule was probably packed, and he’d be performing even on the holiday, so this was probably the only place where he was able to celebrate without being late for a performance.

So long as Imelda and Coco were there as well, Héctor didn’t care.

Ignoring the oddity of the situation, ignoring the increasingly likely idea that his family may not actually be here, ignoring the feeling in his gut that told him that something was very strange about setting up an ofrenda in a theater, he stepped through the doors.

Quite literally—his translucent body phased through them as though they weren’t there at all, leaving him with an oddly cold feeling in his bones.

The theater was massive, luxurious, and already crowded; there were people everywhere in the foyer, excitedly chattering about Ernesto de la Cruz and his special Dia de los Muertos concert. So that much was true—he had a performance today, and was probably having a quiet celebration to himself in a private room in the back beforehand.

Part of him wanted to stay in the foyer for a moment, to look to see if Imelda and Coco were there (what did Coco look like? How tall had she gotten? Would there be a man by her side, now?), but something within him told him that he needed to follow the petal trail, and quickly.

The petals led around the foyer and through a door marked no entry. On the other side of the door was a long, curved hallway, built to wrap around the main part of the theater. The trail led him further and further down, past frantic stagehands that were shouting to each other about last minute adjustments to the set. Héctor paid them no mind, barely noticing when he phased through a performer that suddenly stepped out of a nearby door. His eyes were on the trail of petals, his mind already at the end of it and trying to picture what he would find.

Just as he was starting to wonder if the hallway was endless, the trail of petals curved to the left, and under a door emblazoned with a star, and a sign reading “de la Cruz.”

Well, this was it.

Drawing in a deep breath, Héctor stepped through the door.

To his confusion, there was no ofrenda immediately in sight. Instead, he was greeted with a large vanity, a mirror that did not show his reflection, a rack of flashy, beautiful outfits that would have probably cost him several months’ wages each, a table covered in letters and gifts, a guitar case, and, finally, a curtain that blocked off a corner of the room.

Had there been a mistake? Could this really have been some cruel joke the universe was playing on him, letting him through security, across the bridge, back into the Land of the Living, and all across a far-too-large city, only to lead him to an empty dressing room?

Looking back toward the door, he gave a start—no, the petals were still leading further inside… and behind the curtain.

Héctor crept forward, holding in his breath as he stepped through the curtain to find…

...a pitifully small table, upon which sat a bottle of tequila, two shot glasses, a single candle, half a dozen orange petals, and, in the center, a simple photo lying flat on the table.

The breath held in his chest cavity burst out of him in the form of unexpected laughter. All of that agony waiting in line, fearing he’d have to go another year without seeing his family, worrying that the fact that he’d gotten through was a mistake, following an endless petal trail halfway across an enormous city, and this was what he got?

Ernesto was famous—the most famous singer in all of Mexico, and had more wealth than Héctor had ever known in his life and death—and all he had to give Héctor was this pitiful excuse of an ofrenda, set up two decades after his death? To top it off, Ernesto wasn’t even here.

And neither were Imelda and Coco.

It wasn’t until the makeshift ofrenda in front of him began to blur that he realized his laughter had turned to tears.

Dios, what kind of cruel joke was this? Was this his punishment for not trying to return home sooner—for leaving home at all? For dying away from his family? For trying to run off on Ernesto? To finally give him a scrap of hope that maybe something—something would go right for once in his miserable, lonely afterlife, and then—?!

Basta, ungrateful cabrón, he thought, scrubbing his face with his sleeve. This is better than what you’ve gotten every other year. Your tíos and primos don’t even get to have this. At least you can bring something to share with them.

But… ay, he would trade the finest wine, the sweetest pan dulce, the most extravagant offering just for a glimpse of his family again. Or even if Ernesto would just—

The door swung open.

Abruptly Héctor stopped crying, spinning around as a familiar voice snarled at someone in the hallway: “I don’t care! I don’t care, señor, so long as it’s set up before I walk out on stage! And don’t you dare step foot into this room again unless it’s a real emergency!”

SLAM.

“...Neto?” Héctor breathed, shakily stepping past the curtain.

The charro suit was such a clean, bright, glittery blue it nearly blinded him. Ernesto’s head dipped as he ran his hand over his hair and heaved a sigh. “Sorry, old friend,” he said, and turned around to face him. “I hope you’ll forgive that rude interruption.”

Héctor staggered backward, clutching at his chest in shock. Could Ernesto actually—?!

And Ernesto immediately stepped through Héctor and up to his vanity.

Héctor shuddered at the feeling of wrongness that rushed through his bones at the—well, not touch, but the sensation of being passed through. Well, that answered that question.

Given he was intangible, he had to wonder what it was, then, that made Ernesto pause and look over his shoulder. Whatever it was seemed to pass, however, and Ernesto plucked up a comb.

Taking a few steps closer to Ernesto, Héctor watched as he fixed himself up. He’d lost the more youthful look Héctor had known when they were still alive, but was still very much in his prime. If his face bore any wrinkles or blemishes, they were likely covered with some of the makeup that was scattered about the vanity. He did, however, have gray hairs gracing his sideburns.

Héctor ran a skeletal hand through his own youthful wig.

“Now that that’s taken care of…”

Ernesto stepped behind the curtain, stood before the little ofrenda, and stared at the photo.

Curious and mildly numb, Héctor watched as Ernesto then picked up the bottle of tequila, stared at it for a long moment, then filled the two shot glasses sitting on the table. When Ernesto picked up one glass, Héctor reached out to pick up the other, finding it solid beneath his phalanges. When he lifted it off the table, the original glass did not move, but a spirit copy of it appeared in his hand, and he stared at it, turning it this way and that. Huh. He'd always wondered how that worked.

It was a moment before he realized Ernesto was completely silent, staring down at Héctor's photo on the table. He took the time to examine it: a faded photograph of... himself, of course, as well as Ernesto, the two of them side-by-side and posing with their guitars. In a flash the memory returned of when they'd had the photo taken—it had been done so they could use it for promotional posters in the future, for when they became famous.

Heh. When they became famous.

"We... would have made such a team, hermanito," Ernesto said, and Héctor gave a start, facing him again. Ernesto reached down to pick up the photo, and only now did it strike Héctor that he was being mourned, even as he stood beside his friend.

It was a bizarre disconnect, unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

"You could have been here beside me, you know, on that stage."

The pang of nostalgia hit his chest, and he swallowed. While he missed his Imelda and Coco most of all, a smaller part of him did miss performing alongside his best friend... albeit, more in the days when they still played in Santa Cecilia, not the tour. Compared to everything else, the tour felt like a long, repetitive haze.

"If you only hadn't..." Ernesto trailed off, his voice choked.

"...hadn't eaten that rotten chorizo," Héctor finished, and barely resisted the urge to knock back his shot. He would wait, though; he may as well, until Ernesto offered the toast.

As he watched Ernesto, waiting for him to continue, he couldn't help but wonder what was going through his friend's mind. He was standing rigidly still, and if Héctor hadn't known better, he would have thought he was just nervous about the upcoming performance. But Ernesto had never feared those... no, he was still staring into that photo, and... his face was growing pale, his hands shaking.

Taking a step back, Héctor glanced around the room again—they were standing in a corner, blocked off from the rest of the room by a curtain. He could understand the need for a private moment, but...

The thick curtain, the hastily-assembled ofrenda, the look on Ernesto's face...

Something was wrong.

Ernesto wasn't choked up out of grief, Héctor realized, a strange emotion welling up within his chest.

He was working up the will to confess something.

Knock knock knock.

Both Héctor and Ernesto jumped, nearly dropping their respective glasses as the door creaked open. "Señor?" a voice called urgently. "You have five minutes until showtime." The speaker then ducked back out of the room, and the door closed again.

All at once Ernesto seemed to regain his composure, even as Héctor felt his phantom heart still pounding, and for a moment he worried that Ernesto would step out without saying... whatever he'd meant to say. The man set the photo down and sighed, smoothing a hand through his hair, banishing all traces of his anxiety from before.

"Well, you heard the man," he said, holding up the glass. "I suppose I'll make it quick."

Ernesto faced to the side, and it almost seemed as though he could see Héctor standing before him. Yet Héctor could see that his friend's gaze was unfocused—he was clearly imagining Héctor being there, not truly aware of his presence.

Sighing, Héctor copied Ernesto and held out his glass. No harm in pretending as well, though he couldn't hide his disappointment that this meeting with his friend was already being cut short.

"To our friendship," Ernesto murmured. "I truly would have moved heaven and earth for you, mi amigo. Salud."

They moved their glasses forward in time, though there was no satisfying clink. Instead, the spirit copy briefly clipped through the physical glass before they both knocked back their shots.

Héctor was taken aback by the strength of the flavor, like nothing the Land of the Dead had to offer him. His eyes watered, and he coughed, choking down the tequila and striking his sternum. The last time he'd tasted something this strong was when he'd been alive, and he'd had that final toast with that awful, bitter tequila Ernesto had offered him. He was so distracted by the taste and burn of the alcohol that he nearly missed what Ernesto said next.

"Heh. Not to worry, there's... no poison this time, my friend."

Rolling his eyes, Héctor wiped at his mouth. It may as well have been poison, for how...

He ran through the words in his mind again, suddenly feeling strangely hollow.

What did he mean, this time?

Héctor looked up, hoping to see a familiar smile creasing Ernesto's face—the same he would get whenever he told a really terrible or offensive joke—but instead he was staring down at the glass seriously, intensely, his chest heaving, hands trembling.

The shot glass slipped out of Héctor's hand, shattering against the floor, but all he could hear was the argument they'd had that night—one of many, when the homesickness gripped him so strongly that he couldn't stand it, but Ernesto's grip on "their" dream had been stronger. Except that night, Héctor's will had finally won over, and Ernesto had been so angry... until he wasn't.

He'd been angry before. Even violent, once. Yet it had never struck Héctor as strange that suddenly Ernesto was neither—suddenly perfectly happy to let him leave, to end with a toast (with terrible, bitter tequila, so much more bitter than normal), to walk him to the train station. He'd been too happy that their friendship had not ended to notice.

Too happy, until his stomach wrenched in agony, the blood filled his throat, the darkness engulfed him.

A sharp shatter of glass cut through his numb shock, and he was back in the dressing room, Ernesto glaring down at the glass he'd smashed against the floor, his teeth bared, eyes wide.

"You brought it on yourself," he snarled, and stepped through the curtain. There he drew in a deep breath, let it out, lifted up the guitar case, and walked calmly out the door as though nothing had happened.

As though he hadn't just admitted to...

Héctor's mind spun, trying to reconcile it, but suddenly it made sense, it all made sense, why Ernesto had sung his songs, why he'd never given him credit, why Imelda and Coco never put up his photo, why he'd never gotten to see his wife or his daughter because of course Ernesto would never tell them that he'd... that he'd...!

He found a glowing bottle of tequila in his hand, and smashed it against the table with a wild yell.

Yet even the sight of the shattered glass, the dripping alcohol drenching the spirit copy of the photo, couldn't calm the agonized rage that engulfed his soul, that filled him from the inside out, overflowing in the form of a blazing heat and agonized tears.

Before he realized it he was charging through the curtain, the door, and down the curved hallway that Ernesto was calmly walking down, not a trace of shame in his posture. Without another thought, Héctor let loose a wild snarl and lunged at him, his hands aiming for his throat and grasping nothing, phasing through Ernesto's pristine collar as Héctor crashed to the ground. Every vile curse he could think of came spilling out of his mouth, his voice both shrill and hoarse with anger as he tried desperately to grasp at some part of him, only clawing at the carpet and punching the floor.

"YOU POISONED ME!" he shrieked, praying with all he had that his voice would carry through to the living world. "I TRUSTED YOU! YOU WERE MY FRIEND!"

While his hands never reached Ernesto, while the living could not hear the dead... Ernesto stopped in the hallway, suddenly looking back, his eyes wide. Yet his fearful gaze never met Héctor's narrowed, reddened one, and he resumed walking ahead, toward the backstage. But the confidence had gone from his posture, instead replaced with a prickling paranoia.

If that's how it would be, Héctor would take what he could get.

Scrambling back up to his feet, he bolted in front of Ernesto, walking backwards to keep ahead of him, reaching out as though to clutch his friend's collar. "How could you do this to me?! I just wanted to go home! I just wanted to see my family! I would have written you all the songs in the world! All of them, Ernesto, hermano—" His voice cracked, and Ernesto pushed ahead, ducking through the doors as he was surrounded by people, one man handing him a hat, one woman making a last-minute adjustment to his outfit, another asking him if he was feeling well.

Héctor could have charged after him, continued to haunt him throughout that wretched performance as he sang that warped version of Coco's song, but instead the weight of it all finally dragged him down to his knees. He tugged at his hair, as though he could tear it out. He felt like he could scream, but he didn't, for fear he would never stop. Some distant part of him recalled how he felt when he'd walked down that marigold bridge, which couldn't have been more than an hour earlier, but it felt like a lifetime ago. His world had seemed so much happier, so much brighter then, and now...

He wished he'd never crossed the bridge. He should have kept trying to cross over into Santa Cecilia, never gotten on that alebrije, should have turned right around the second he realized he was in this wretched city, he should have never gone on the tour—

Thunderous applause erupted from the theater, music blared, and Héctor clamped his hands over his head.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't stay here. But he couldn't cross the bridge—he couldn't face anyone else, not yet. He was afraid of what he would do if he did. The thought of seeing other souls milling about the graveyard, laughing, collecting gifts, watching their families, while he had been saddled with the revelation that his best friend, his brother, had become the reason he hadn't seen his family in twenty years—

It crashed over him all over again, and he couldn't hold back the scream this time, only covering his mouth to muffle it. If there was another soul in the theater, they never heard him over the music and applause.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but it was long enough for his voice to give out, for any spirit left in him to evaporate. The emptiness in him was neither gnawing nor numbing—it was simply nothing, like he truly was a ghost drifting aimlessly in the mortal plane.

Not knowing what else he could possibly do at this point and not finding it in him to care either way, he rose to his feet, and phased through the wall, stepping into the theater. Whether he did it for a last glance at his friend, or a last chance at haunting him, he didn't know. He never got the chance to find it out.

Before he could take in the spectacle of the theater, before he could register just how truly grand the stage was, or just what song Ernesto was singing (mangling, bastardizing), there were two sounds in short succession:

Snap.

CRASH.

The theater, so thunderously loud moments before, was utterly silent save for the faint ringing from the giant bell that had crashed on the top of the stage. This silence lasted until the curtain fell, and the theater exploded into chaos.

In the cacophony of screams, shouts, and hurried conversations that followed, Héctor found himself breathing, his legs moving, carrying him up to the stage and past the dense curtain. Women in elaborate dresses were hurrying away from the wreckage while the stage crew were trying to lift the bell. Several were screaming out a name.

"Ernesto?" Héctor breathed, scrambling up the stage as the efforts of the stage crew grew more frantic. On the opposite side of the bell, some of them managed to pry part of it upward, while another man peered underneath and shone a light. Only seconds later, he cried out, his face growing pale, the flashlight clattering to the ground.

Héctor bolted up towards the bell, tempted to phase through it to see for himself, but stopped himself; if the stagehand's reaction was anything to go by, he probably shouldn't take a glance. But then... was it really...?

"Señor!" someone cried in despair. "Señor de la Cruz...!"

"He's dead, isn't he," another murmured, voice wavering. "El Señor de la Cruz is dead."

"N-no, he can't... we have to get him out—!"

Unlike the others who were losing themselves from the shocking turn of events, Héctor found himself regaining his senses. Distantly, his heart ached at the thought of what had happened—at the thought that something this horrific could happen to Ernesto—but before the grief could fully register, another thought struck him.

If Ernesto had been killed... if he was truly dead... then...

Héctor looked back toward the closed stage curtain, out in the direction of the graveyard he'd come from, then looked back to look at the bell.

Ernesto was no longer there, but Héctor knew exactly where he would be.

Before he had time to question himself, he was already bolting past the curtain, off the stage, and out of the theater, charging back down the path of petals from whence he'd come. He was no longer sure what emotion he was feeling, but one thing he knew for certain:

Ernesto had some answers to give him.

[19mrs-barnes17]

Partners in Life

[credit : @19mrs-rogers18​]

Summary: You are the daughter of Jody Mills and marrying Dean Winchester

Part: 1/1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Mills!reader

Warnings: fluff? 

Word count: 1,887

A/N: Just one of my many daydreams put into a fic. Enjoy!

~

Dean Winchester. Your partner in crime, almost quite literally, and your favorite human being on the planet. He was the person who kept you going, who motivated you to be a better person and help people. Though he wasn’t the reason you found hunting, he was the reason you had a safe place and arms to hold you when the job got rough. He was your shoulder to cry on and your closest confidant, and you were his. There was no doubt in your mind that you love him with all that you are, and would gladly follow him into the flames. You knew he would follow you to hell and back, though that seemed to be more of a supply run type of typical at this point. He trusted you with his whole being and you trusted him. So when he got down on one knee and produced a ring from his pocket you instantly knew your answer. He was the only person for you and you couldn’t believe you had found him. The life you led didn’t really leave room for dating anyone who wasn’t a hunter. Your options were slim but you never imagined he would be amongst them. 

“Hey love, so our mothers are sort of throwing a hunter wedding for us and apparently we have no say in whether it happens.” The words flew from your lips at a rather frightening speed and left Dean speechless. “Something about being outvoted.”

“There’s two of them and two of us. How are we…”

“I asked the same thing. No comment.” You raised your brow and sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “It seems we have a traitor in our midst.”

Two sets of eyes scanned the room where Cas and Sam sat absentmindedly flipping through books and scrolling through news feed. Jack was likely in his room playing some sort of new video game he had discovered. But which one was the vote? Or were they all votes?

“I’ll take Sam you take Cas?” Dean nodded and you set off to interrogate his brother, who sat in a world of his own with his eyes glued to a screen. You closed his laptop and hoisted yourself onto the table before him, brows raised expectantly. “What have you done Samuel?”

“I don’t know, what?” Sam’s expression was a mix somewhere between confused and amused, brow furrowed as he stared into your eyes. 

“Don’t play games with me Winchester. I know you sided with your mother.” You jokingly pointed accusingly at him, a smirk forming on his lips. “What?”

“I didn’t do it. But I'm glad someone did, you two deserve some sense of normalcy.” Determining Sam was not the vote you pushed off the table and made your way to Dean who had just finished talking to Cas. One shake of his head and you were left with only one option.

Jack sat on his bed, headphones on and deeply invested into whatever game he was trying to beat. When you knocked he pulled down his headset to rest around his neck, a beaming smile on his face.

“This game is excellent! Thank you for the recommendation. This Witcher is most grumpy, kind of like Dean.” You chuckle softly before sitting yourself on the end of his bed.

“I’m glad. Now, I need to know if you were the one who voted for the wedding.” You were surprised when he shook his head, and stared at Dean with confusion in his eyes.

“Do you know who did?” He nodded, smile growing even wider before pointing at Dean and placing his headphones back over his ears. “Et tu brute?”

You followed Dean into the hall, perplexed at his sudden interest in a wedding. When you had discussed the possibility before you had expressed your lack of desire for a big wedding. Dean had shared the desire to keep everything small and even lightly suggested elopement. Now, now you were having a wedding filled with hunters, in the woods, a wedding dress and all. It certainly wasn’t what you had expected from life, not considering the job description.

“You could’ve just told me you wanted one, I’m okay with that you dummy.” He chuckles softly at you wrapping his arms around your waist, muttering how it was a surprise. “So if you weren’t interrogating Cas what did you talk about?”

“I told him that if not for Sam he’d be my best man, but since the position is filled he can be a groomsman.” You faked a flinch, earning an eye roll and a smirk from Dean in the process. “He’s honored, his words not mine.”

“Well crap that means I need a Maid of Honor for Sam and a bridesmaid for Cas. Making me socialize, the audacity.” A kiss and he’s down the hall on his way to the kitchen to whip up a few hamburgers. 

A few calls later and you are completely ready to not socialize for weeks, but you still haven’t found anyone to fill your slots. Sam makes a suggestion that has you both teasing him and cursing at yourself for not thinking of it first. Eileen. She was the perfect Maid of Honor, the two of you got a lot quite well and had hunted together on several occasions. It also didn’t hurt that she and Sam were head over heels for one another. One call later and she’s on board, absolutely embarrassed by the pairing.

“Any luck beautiful?” Dean set a plate before you, sitting in the adjacent chair with his own burger.

“Sam is walking down the aisle with Eileen. Not in the way we would hope, but close enough.” Dean chuckled softly, shaking his head at the image. “Still stuck on someone to walk with Cas.”

“What about that friend of yours? The one who specializes in werewolves.” Tara! You had nearly forgotten about her, you hadn’t had contact in ages. She wasn’t exactly your bestie but you trusted her to be on your side in a fight. 

“Hey Tara I have an unbelievable favor to ask” Her brows raise and she stares expectantly into the camera. “It’s not about hunting. I need a bridesmaid for my wedding.”

“Your what?” Stares at her screen flabbergasted, unable to form any words for several minutes. “Who’s the lucky bastard?” You turned the screen to reveal a hungry Dean shoving the remainder of his burger into his mouth. “Dean Winchester? You’re marrying Dean Winchester?”

“I know, it’s crazy. I can’t believe it myself sometimes.” She smiles softly watching your face light up as you recount what she missed. “So, can I count on you?”

“Oh most definitely chica. I have never heard of a hunter wedding ever happening, especially not between two of the top hunters in the country. This is like our royal wedding, plus I’d never miss seeing you actually put on a dress.” You roll your eyes and laugh, it was true you were usually not the type for dresses or makeup. 

A few minutes more and you’ve achieved your goal, you are finally able to eat your meal before Dean has the chance to sneak some of it. He smiles softly at you as he opens up his laptop and you once again are lost in the dream of the moment. You were marrying Dean Winchester, very soon.

***

A fluttering in your chested amped the excitement and nerves that you were feeling as you prepared yourself to walk down the aisle with your mother. Seeing her in her violet dress was a stark contrast from the sheriff uniform you had grown up with in Sioux Falls. She was beaming at you with complete and utter pride, eyes already tearing up just looking at you in white. 

“You look beautiful, sweetheart. I wish your dad could see how far you’ve come and all the good you’ve done.” She wipes a stray tear from her cheek before linking arms with you. “He’d be so proud of his little girl.”

“Oh, mom.” Now you were tearing up, thinking of your father and little brother for the first time in months.

“C’mon, we Mills girls gotta get our crap together. It’s showtime.” She smiled softly at you before turning to watch the path before you.

“Yes ma’am, you got it Sheriff Mills.” Your mom nudges you with her shoulder and chuckles, leading you down the marked aisle.

When you raise your eyes from the grass and land them on what seemed like the only other person in the room you nearly broke down right then and there. The tightness is your chest loosened and you felt like you were walking on air. It was silly but staring into his teary green eyes made you dead certain he was the only person you ever wanted to share your life with. No other would suffice. The way he looked at you was like being told you were the only thing in the world worth a damn to him. It felt like a comforting embrace that you never wanted to leave.

He held your hands and whispered that you looked like, and pardon his cheesiness, an angel. To which Castiel concurred, though he believed you were what angels should strive to be and not the other way around. Your heart was swelling with love and happiness as you stood before your fellow hunters, your friends, and your family with the man you were hopelessly in love with. When he kissed you everything else blurred and silenced, the beating of your heart and the taste of his lips were all you knew. Nothing else mattered 

When you cut the cake you knew he’d try to smear it on your face so you beat him to the punch, taking a frosting covered finger to his nose. You giggled mischievously, eyes twinkling as you stared into his forest green eyes. He was so quick to coat your nose as well, you nearly didn’t catch his arm. You pushed his frosting covered fingers onto his face and saw the camera flash out of the corner of your eye. 

“Cheat.” The smile on his face was the brightest you had ever seen, it warms your heart and distracts you from his sneak attack. A small glob of frosting resting on your nose in a mere instant. You gasped dramatically before swiping it off and eating it, too much frosting was being wasted for your liking.

“Now we eat this sucker.” You lead your husband to the head table and begin to dig into the delicious marble cake. “Oh by the way, my aunt made her famous chocolate pie for just us.” 

“Oh hell yes. Best day ever.” He practically moans as he scarfs down his slice of cake. 

“Wow, I’m on the same level of awesome as pie? I’m flattered.” Dean cups your cheek and kisses you tenderly.

“Oh you’re a tier above pie.” You playfully shove his shoulder before resting your forehead against his and sigh. “I love you Y/N Winchester.”

The sound of your new last name brings a smile to your face, it was one of many in a new series of firsts. He was your husband now, but he was already your partner in life.

“I love you Dean Winchester.”

~

Tags: @qtmeryr​ @broken-hearted-barnes​

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[calpalirwin]

B.U.B

Summary: What’s better than your best girl and best mate getting along? Well, nothing really. If you knew the rumors were false, that is. 

A/N: They’re back! And they’re setting the record straight once and for all!

Content: Typical shenanigans

Word Count: 1.7k

Disclaimer: Not a poly!cashton fic

Need to catch up? Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

And away, and away we go!

__

Part 4

“Hi, I’m Calum Hood and I play bass!” Sam announced, her hands going to her hips as she struck a pose.

Ashton frowned. “You didn’t want to go as me?”

“Partner called dibs,” she answered. “Again,” she added with an eye roll at Luke on the couch dressed up once again as her boyfriend.

“Should’ve been faster, sweetheart,” Luke said.

Sam shook her head before turning her gaze back on Ashton. “What are you going as, Mr. No Fun?”

Ashton shrugged, tapping his fingers against his jeans. “This?”

“You didn’t wanna go as me?” she taunted, her blue eyes shining mischievously.

Ashton chuckled and pulled her close to him. “If it wasn’t a show night, I probably would dress up.”

“So what was your excuse last year?” she asked, referring to when Ashton had bailed on being a Three Musketeer with her and Calum so they dressed up Duke.

Ashton shrugged again.

“Well, enjoy staying backstage,” she said, patting his chest affectionately. Since he had refused to take part in the group costume, Sam and her bubs had decided that she would go on stage. 

“What?!” Ashton screeched. 

“If you refuse to take part in the band costume, you’re out of the band. Them’s the rules,” Sam stated, patting his chest again. 

“Them’s the rules,” the bubs agreed. 

“But you don’t even know how to play bass!”

“That’s what you think,” both Calum and Sam told him, high-fiving each other. Calum had been teaching Sam bass for months for this specific reason. 

“What?!” Ashton screeched again, realizing that his band mates and girlfriend were serious. There was going to be a 5SOS show, but Ashton Irwin had been regulated to Sam Hudson status. Which meant that Luke was going to… “No!” Ashton shouted, his arms crossing. “No. Luke is not. No!”

“Showtime, guys,” a stagehand announced. 

“Bye, Fletch, have fun!” Sam waggled her fingers at him as she followed Calum, Luke, and Mike out of the dressing room.

“Fuck off, this isn’t happening,” Ashton said, following after them, grabbing a spare set of drumsticks off the table when Luke grabbed the pair from the confused stagehand. “Luke, you touch my drum kit and it’ll be the last thing you do,” Ashton threatened, gripping Luke’s shoulder.

“Aw, c’mon!” Luke laughed. “Just one song?”

Ashton’s eyes narrowed as he took in his bandmates and girlfriend who all pouted back at him. “Fine!” he relented, throwing his hands up in the air. “One song! One! And if you break my drums, Luke, so help me God I will end you.”

The crowd lost their shit when they realized what was happening. And they chanted so loudly after each band member took their rightful place after the first song that Sam made an encore appearance.

~~~

“So let’s switch gears for a minute,” the interviewer said. “Sam Hudson.”

Ashton rolled his eyes while the guys laughed. This had to be the tenth interview of this press tour where he’d been asked about his girlfriend. Everyone wanted the exclusive scoop it seemed. Only there was no exclusive scoop. “What about Sam?” Ashton asked.

“Who’s she with?”

The guys shared a collective smirk. They had prepared almost too perfectly for this particular question. “Your mum!” they all laughed.

The interviewer laughed with them. “A while ago you guys were having a lot of fun with the paps, running them ragged as they tried to keep up with the lot of you. Is that still happening?”

“Yes and no,” Ashton admitted.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, we still take the girls out. Like there’s a rotation schedule we follow,” Ashton explained.

“Yeah,” Mike jumped in. “Like when we have our guys night, the girls have their night. Then there’s date night. Then there’s group night where we’re all together.”

“We just stopped knocking out paps,” Luke jumped in.

“Probably for the best. How did you manage to get out of that mess?”

“We all threatened to sue them,” Calum answered. “We haven’t had as many problems since then. Like they take their pictures and print their stories, but they don’t really say much to us anymore.”

“Well that’s good, isn’t it?”

They all nodded. “Yeah. Like we understand people are going to be in our business. It’s what comes with living the life we live. But that’s not a free pass to be rude. Like people are allowed to be close to each other without romance being involved.”

“And you guys seem to be on the cutting edge of that trend. Always seem to cozy up to one another.”

They all nodded again. “Yeah, we’re secure enough in ourselves to be affectionate with those we love. And we’re secure enough in our relationships for it to be a non-issue. Like there’s no jealousy or hostility. We all know where our hearts lie. And we doubt that what we do is uncommon especially in this day and age, but if people want to use us as the example of what healthy and mature relationships look like, then we’re happy to be that example.”

~~~

“Where are you going all dressed up?” Amanda asked, kissing Calum’s cheek as she looked at him in their bathroom mirror.

“It’s my day to take out Sam. We’re going to see Footloose.”

“Sam,” Amanda clicked her tongue. “As in Ash’s girlfriend?”

“As in my friend?” Calum asked back.

“And you’re taking her out?”

“Yeah,” Calum nodded. “Look, it’s a little hard to explain, but all of us guys take turns taking out each other’s girlfriends. It’s nothing serious. It just gives us all time to develop our own friendships naturally.”

“Oh, so you do this with Crystal and Sierra too?” she asked, crossing her arms and glaring at him through the mirror.

Calum nodded slowly.

“And what am I supposed to do? Just wait around for you to get back from your dates with other women?”

Calum rubbed at his face in slight agitation. “I’m not going on dates with other women. I’m going out with my friend to see a show. I’ve been doing this for three years now. It’s public knowledge this is what we do. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is I’m your girlfriend, Cal!”

“So I’m just supposed to stop hanging out with my friends?”

“No, I didn’t say that.”

“Really?” he asked, skeptically. This is why he didn’t do the dating thing. And it honestly made him feel like a royal prick for the way he had treated Sam the first few months she had dated Ashton. It wasn’t easy feeling like an outsider to the group of close-knit friends. And while he really liked Amanda and wanted to be respectful of her feelings, it was hard when he felt like he was being pushed into a corner.

“Yes. What I’m saying is I’m not comfortable with the idea of you going out alone with another woman.”

“Even if she’s my friend and dating someone else?”

“Especially if she’s dating someone else!” Amanda blew up.

“So you’d much prefer I go out with single women then, is that it?”

“I’d rather you didn’t go out with any women at all!”

He rubbed at his face again, trying to control his temper. “Honestly, I don’t have time for this argument right now. I want to respect your feelings. I really do. But this isn’t going to work if you can’t trust me.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” she pouted, pulling on his arm, her eyes pleading.

His brown eyes went hard. “No.” He shook his head. “Would you be upset if I was going out with one of the guys?”

“No.”

“Then why does it matter that Sam’s a girl?”

“It’s just different, okay?!”

“How?! How is it different?”

“It just is!”

Calum shook his head again. “Nope. That’s not a good enough reason. She’s still a friend. If it’s not weird that I would go out with Ash alone, then it shouldn’t be weird that I would go out with Sam alone. And if it is weird, then I’m sorry but that’s a double-standard and…”

“And what?”

“And we probably won’t work out.”

“So that’s it? You’re gonna go on your date with Sam and we’re done?”

“I’m saying I’m walking out that door to go hang out with my friend. And if you wanna stay and work this out when I get back, I’m happy to do that. And if you don’t want to, then I understand and I wish you the best.” And with that, he was walking out of the bathroom past her and out of his front door, headed for the car.

He was pulling out of the driveway when he saw Amanda slam his front door shut and stomp off to her own car. Something told him she had made her choice. Two months down the drain. He rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to justify his actions to anyone. If a girl wanted to be part of his life, she needed to be able to understand the people in it.

“Hey, bu- whoa, you okay?” Sam asked as she pulled open the door for him before he could open it himself.

He shrugged. “Pretty sure Amanda and I just broke up.”

Sam frowned and wrapped him in a hug. “Oh, bub, I’m sorry.”

“S’alright,” he said, hugging her back. “She wasn’t happy when I said I was leaving for the day to take you out.”

Sam’s frown deepened. “Bub… I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, princess.”

“It kinda is…” She bit her lip.

Calum shook his head. “No it’s not. I told her I was willing to talk through her concerns with her when I got back. She decided to leave. All there is to it.”

“I’m still sorry, bub. I know you want a queen.”

“I don’t want a queen if she can handle the rest of my court. Now, c’mon,” he smiled down at her, “we got a show to catch.”

“Sorry about Amanda, mate,” Ashton called out to Calum as he came down the stairs, having finished getting spiffed up for his own “date.” He turned his attention to Sam. “Have fun with Cal, baby.”

“Have fun with Crystal, Fletch,” Sam said, reaching up to kiss him goodbye.

Ashton turned his attention one last time to Calum. “You’ll find a girl who understands one of these days,” Ashton said, resting a hand on Calum’s shoulder.

Calum returned the gesture. “I know mate.”

Calum found his queen a week later when Sam’s childhood friend, Emily, came over on the group’s weekly get-together. By the end of the afternoon Emily found herself not only accepted into the group of seven, but the missing 8th piece to the puzzle. By the end of the month, Emily’s name was added to the BUB Accords.

__

Tag List

@goeatsomelife​ @flameraine​ @cashtonasff5sos​ @here-for-the-uproars​ @cxddlyash​ @1-irwin-94​ @baldcalum​ @sparkling-calm​ @tea4sykes​ @youngblood199456​ @5-seconds-of-obsession​ @gosh-im-short​ @aquarius-hood1996​ @talkfastromance4​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @philthepegacorn​ @kikixfandoms​

[bisexualstevierogers]

You’ll Be In My Heart (Hargreeves Siblings X Teen!Hargreeves!Reader)

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Pairing: Hargreeves Siblings X Teen!Sibling!Reader (familial only) Word Count: 2,230 For: @ineedmorefanfics who gave me the amazing prompt: “The Hargreeves X Teen Sibling Reader. You passed away when you were 14 or something like that and when Klaus throws the bowling ball for Ben it goes through him but Y/N catches it and you're like "Klaus look! I did it!" And and Klaus is like "Yes you did. I'm so proud of you Y/N." And all the siblings can see you and they start crying and maybe when they go stop Vanya when Klaus conjures Ben he also conjures Y/N. You go and run up to Vanya and beg her to stop and you stop her and it's a fluff ending?” Author's Note: Unless I missed anything, the reader's gender is never mentioned! I tried to keep it as gender-neutral as possible, although it is heavily implied that __y/n__ is closer to Vanya and Allison than the others 💕 This was SO much fun to write and I really hope you all enjoy it! Disclaimer: I did use some dialogue from the show in this fic, and I do not claim to own it! It was just easier to use actual dialogue for some of it than to make it all up (:

You sighed as your brothers argued, flicking your gaze between them as they took turns speaking.

“I can't talk to the person I love, people still don't take me seriously. I want to be numb again.” Klaus said, exasperated.

You agreed that Klaus should stay sober, he had been doing so well up until now, but you also couldn't blame him. Your other siblings had always and would always continue to treat him like he was a child.

“You're a colossal wimp.” Ben said, deadpan, and you smacked him.

“Hey, knock it off.” You said sharply, and Klaus blew you a kiss.

“Thanks, __y/n__, I knew I could count on you.”

You shook your head quickly. “Oh no, I'm on Ben's side.” Klaus frowned at your words. “I just don't think it's fair to call you a wimp. You're not. You've been through so much, and I know it's hard, but you need to stay sober.”

Klaus sighed thoughtfully, and you thought you had gotten through to him before he resumed his frantic search.

“Hey,” Ben said, snapping his fingers to get Klaus’ attention. “Life isn't supposed to be easy. Life is hard. Bad things happen. Good people die.”

Klaus glanced between you and Ben before rolling his eyes. “Wow, playing the dead card again, huh? You need new material, bro.”

“He was talking about Dave.” You chimed in softly and watched as Klaus’ eyes softened.

“You know, we're tired of seeing you wallow in self-defeat.” Ben explained.

“Well, then avert your gaze.” Klaus said harshly.

“You're better than that.” Ben said, and you nodded in agreement. “And Dave? He knew it too.”

Klaus sighed. “Yeah, you're right. You're right. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” Klaus’ voice was small, and his shoulders hunched in defeat.

“Thank God.” Ben said in relief.

“I'm so proud of you.” You said warmly, and you watched in confusion as Klaus’ face fell.

“Psych!” Klaus shouted, surprising you and Ben as he threw the pills in his mouth. He cackled in triumph.

Ben growled and swung his fist at Klaus instinctively. You gasped in shock as Ben's fist connected with Klaus’ cheek with a loud smack. The pills clattered to the floor.

“Owww,” Klaus whined, bringing his hand up to his face before he realized what exactly had just happened. You and Klaus looked at Ben in amazement, while he studied his fists. “You just Patrick Swayzeed me.” Klaus said in disbelief.

“How did you do that?” You asked, reaching out to Klaus’ bruising cheek and blinking tears away when you actually felt Klaus’ warm skin underneath your palm.

“Uh, I didn't. Klaus did. I think.” Ben murmured, and you all shared a look. This changed...everything. Klaus being able to communicate with the dead was one thing, but being able to make the dead tangible again?

Klaus was absolutely more powerful than any of you had ever thought.

-----

“Hey, you know guys, uh, maybe I could help.” Klaus suggested, after much encouragement from you and Ben.

“Now is not the time.” Luther said dismissively, and you narrowed your eyes at your brother.

“Was he always this big of an asshole?” You asked Ben, and Ben chuckled.

“Yes.”

“No, let him finish.” Diego disagreed. “He saved my life today.”

“Really?” Ben said, rolling his eyes, and Klaus glanced at him apologetically.

“Is that true?” Luther asked, and you and Ben both nodded insistently even though you knew your siblings couldn't see you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did...take credit for it. In fact, the real hero was Ben.”

You felt your heart sinking as your siblings looked at Klaus with varying degrees of unamusement.

Klaus hurried to continue. “Today...listen. Today, he punched me in the face.” Klaus gestured to the bruise on his cheek. “And earlier at the house, he was the one who saved Diego's life, not me.”

“You are unbelievable, Klaus.” Luther said, and you felt your blood boiling.

“You want proof, is that it?” Klaus asked, motioning for Ben to stand up. You moved to stand behind him, just in case. “All right. I'll give you proof. All right, it's showtime, baby.” Klaus picked up a bowling ball, hefting it in his hands with a pleading look in his eye.

Ben crouched slightly and prepared to catch it. You watched as Klaus chucked the ball at Ben, frowning when it went through him.

You blinked in surprise as you felt it land in your hands. The gasps from your other siblings let you know that you were visible to them.

You looked down at the pink ball curiously before grinning from ear to ear. “Klaus, look! I did it!”

Klaus’ mouth was open in awe. “Yes you did.” He moved over to you, took the ball from your hands, deposited it back on a ball rack, and drew you into a tight hug. “I'm so proud of you, __y/n__.”

“I thought you said Ben punched you.” Luther said, his face pale as he took in the sight of you. You looked the same as you did on the day you died, down to the bullet wound on your stomach.

“He did.” Klaus agreed. “ __y/n__’s been around too.”

“How is this possible?” Diego asked as you made your way over to Allison.

“Dad said I had only begun scratching the surface of my powers. I think there's a lot that I haven't figured out how to do yet.”

You smiled at her and wiped the tears from her eyes, watching as her lips spelled out the shape of your name over and over again.

“Hi, Alli. I missed you so much.” You murmured before pulling her into a hug. She clung to you tightly, and you could feel her tears dripping onto your uniform.

After a few moments you pulled away so you could greet your other siblings. Ben pouted that you were getting all the attention, so Klaus piped up as you made your way over to Five.

“Ben really did save Diego, though.”

“Ben's here too?” Diego asked curiously.

“Ben is always here.” Klaus answered and pointed to the seat beside him. Diego, Luther, Allison, and Five waved at him. Ben beamed. “He's waving back.”

“At least I'm still older than someone.” You said, nudging Five with your shoulder and grinning at him.

Five scowled fondly. “I'm 58. I just look 13.”

“Oh, I know. I heard the story. But I look older so I don't care.” You wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug, which he begrudgingly returned, before walking over to Diego.

You were surprised when he pulled you into a hug, lifting your feet off the ground. “It's so good to see you again.”

You smiled as you felt tears pricking at your eyes. “It's good to see you too. I missed you all so much. It's so hard being able to see you and not talk to you.”

Diego set you down, and you strode over to Luther. He still looked shocked that you were visible to him.

“__y/n__, I mi-”

“I don't want to hear it until you listen to me.” Luther's mouth snapped shut at the authoritative tone in your voice. “This goes for all of you, but especially Luther. Stop doubting Klaus. Stop belittling him. Listen to him. And start respecting him. He's done more than enough to deserve it.”

Klaus let out an “Aw!” and blew a kiss in your direction.

“You're right.” Luther agreed. “Klaus, I'm sorry for doubting you.”

“Me too.” Five chimed in.

“Me three.” Diego said, nodding.

Allison raised her hand in agreement.

You grinned. “All right, now that that's out of the way…” You wrapped your arms around Luther's midsection. “I missed you too.”

You disappeared from his embrace suddenly, and your siblings looked around worriedly before they realized that Klaus had passed out in his chair.

“It must use a lot of energy.” Diego murmured, walking over to him and checking his pulse just to make sure. “We'll let him rest for a bit, then get him some nachos or something. Should bounce back pretty quick.”

“Did someone say nachos?” Klaus asked groggily, his head pounding.

Diego grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Coming right up.”

-----

You heard your siblings all gasp as Klaus conjured Ben, and Ben's tentacles emerged and began beating the shit out of the masked men.

Trusting that Ben had that covered, you prayed Vanya would be able to see you as you made your way down the center aisle. Judging by Diego's curious “__y/n__?” as you walked by him, you were currently visible.

You had always been closer to Vanya than you were the others, and you hoped that would help you in convincing her to stop.

You didn't want anything happening to her or your other siblings. Being dead, quite frankly, sucked, and they all deserved to live long, happy lives.

“Hi, V.” You said softly, and Vanya's eyes were filled with confusion as they met yours.

“__y/n__? How are you here?” Her fingers never stopped moving on her violin, but they did slow down.

“Klaus learned a new trick. Cool, right?”

“Yeah.” She agreed, and you could see the tears glistening in her eyes. You had missed your best friend more than anything, and you knew she felt the same way. Vanya seemed to come back to herself more as she glanced behind you. “Is that Ben?”

“It is indeed.” You confirmed, chuckling. You gently placed a hand on her arm. “V, you need to stop playing.”

Some of the steel returned to her gaze. “This was supposed to be my moment. I just wanted one good thing for myself. I wanted one thing I could be proud of.”

“Hey, hey, I know. You should be proud of yourself. You sounded amazing. You-” You paused, sensing Luther walking down the aisle behind you. “Sit down, now.” You said sharply, using your powers to get him to turn around and take a seat. “You've caused enough trouble already.”

You scowled as you saw Diego and Five moving towards you and Vanya next. “I'm handling this.” You insisted and made them both sit down next to Luther. Luckily, Klaus, Allison, and Ben knew that you had everything under control, and took a seat next to their siblings of their own accord.

“I hate having to mind control them.” You said, frowning, before turning back to Vanya. “I know that this must be scary and confusing for you, but if you stop playing and put your violin down, we can help you. We'll help you learn to understand and control your powers.”

“What if they can't be controlled?” Vanya asked, and she was sobbing openly now, tears streaming down her face. “What if I'm just a monster?”

You cupped both of her cheeks in your palms and forced her to look at you. “Vanya, you are the kindest one out of all of us. You always have been. You are my sister and my best friend, and I know without a doubt that you could never be a monster. There’s too much goodness in you for that to happen.”

Vanya's shoulders dropped suddenly as all the fight drained out of her, and her violin clattered to the floor. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” She murmured, tucking her face into your shoulder like she used to do when you were younger and she was upset.

“Hey, it's gonna be okay.” You soothed, wrapping your arms around her and hugging her tightly. She trembled against you, and you felt your heart break. Vanya had never deserved any of this. All Vanya had ever wanted was to be included, and even after finding out she had powers, she had still been pushed away.

“Get over here,” You said, waving your siblings over. “And tell our sister that you love her and that we're gonna figure this out.”

“I, for the record, never wanted to lock you up.” Klaus said, always using humor to make others feel better, and wrapped his arms around you and Vanya. “And I love you so much.”

Vanya chuckled through her tears. “I know and I appreciate that. I love you too.”

“I didn't either!” Diego said as he and Allison joined the group hug. “I love you too, V. So does Alli.”

“I didn't even know that was going on, but I wouldn't have wanted to either.” Five said and stepped into the large embrace with Ben. “I love you.”

“I also love you!” Ben said cheerfully, and Vanya smiled.

“It is so good to see you, Ben. I love you.”

You all looked over at Luther, who was shifting uncomfortably. “I messed up, Vanya. I wasn't thinking straight and I should have tried to help you understand what was going on instead of locking you up. I'm sorry.”

Vanya gave him a soft smile. “I'll forgive you as long as you forgive me.”

Luther smiled and wrapped you all up in his big arms. “Deal. I love you.”

“I know.” Vanya said, positively flourishing with all the kindness she was receiving from her siblings. At last, Vanya felt accepted and included and loved.

You knew helping Vanya understand and control her powers wouldn't be easy, but with the family finally reunited and working together, you were sure you would figure it out.

End. <3