used the medicine background in my second pentiment playthrough and got to insult werner <3

“We’re Not Promised Tomorrow.” Chapter 3 “Who is He?”

Masterlist         Chapter 2 

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Fem OC

Word Count: 4.5 K

Warnings: I love Emily. Xira is Emily’s Ahsoka. Sorv....oh Sorv thats all we have to say about you. Obi, you’re adorable and fun to work with when your nervous and sassy. Lots of foreshaodwing going on in these early chapters. Prob. typos somewhere.

A/N: Surpise bouns update! I couldn’t restrain myself in waiting for Tuesday, so heres an update for ya’ll. I love this story and I’m so glad that I can share it with everyone. It was a labor of love to write and this is truly only the beginning. Who knows, you might end up with another bounus update before Tuesday, otherwise all chapter updates happen on Tuesdays for this story. I hope you are all enjoying, thank you for the continued support and let me know via the comments if you’d like be added to taglist let me know via the comments. 

Also anything in italics is in internal thoughts. I apoligze if I missed any, there are a lot internal thoughts in the chapter and the italics don’t always carry over when I set up the chapter.

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“Obi-Wan?” The Jedi on Master Marblu’s arm hissed in confusion as he looked between the two individuals.

“OH MY GOODNESS, OBI-WAN, HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?!?” Jedi Master Emily Marblu exclaimed as she walked towards him and enthusiastically embraced him.

Normally Jedi weren’t huggers but her excitement at seeing this man always made her act in ways she would rather not, despite the control she attempted to display.

The other Jedi who had been Emily’s sparring part was not enjoying the way this interaction had been unfolding. He was becoming more visibly annoyed at not only being forgotten and ignored by Emily but with just the way she was acting towards Obi-Wan in general.

“Ahem,” he sarcastically fake coughed, trying to get the attention of the women who had just disarmed him in a sparring match. Narrowing his eyes on the two Jedi, he gave them an oily expression. In his most fake but polite voice, he finally reminded the two that he was still there. “Excuse me, I hate to be rude but…..Obi-Wan? Who is he?” he said as he shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand in Obi-Wan’s direction.

Obi-Wan’s head titled as he regarded the other Jedi. His eyes darted between him and Emily as he gave her a confused look. He could tell that this man had a strong presence in the Force….but there was also something about him that Obi-Wan didn’t like as well. There was too much going on in the room to fully rely on the force to help him decide just what it was that he didn’t like. Whatever it was, at the very least, he could tell that the other Jedi felt threatened by his presence; that much was clear. Obi-Wan forced down the sense of pride that the thought had caused him, clearly, Emily meant a lot to this man as well that he was jealous of the strong display of affection and positivity that she showed Obi-Wan..

“Oh right, I am so sorry,” Emily said looking between the two men. “Obi-Wan, this is Jedi Master Sorv Derprov. He and I were Padawans during the same time frame, we also had the same knighting ceremony. We’ve practically grown up together….. Although, you and I grew up together too. However, you were a bit older than me, I think you two just missed each other.” Her eyes were rapidly darting between the two men like there was an invisible string between them, connecting them.

Emily was smiling but underneath her smile, she was trying to read the room in multiple ways at once. Two of her oldest friends were just meeting each other for the first time, and from the peacock fight that was happening in front of her, she could tell that this was not going well.

Blushing slightly, she remembered how she had more of a history with Obi-Wan, but Sorv didn’t know that. At times she had to remind herself that she couldn’t allow herself to see Obi-Wan as more than a friend, despite what she actually felt.

Silently chuckling to herself, she felt as if she was having an out-of-body experience, that she was watching the conversation of the three of them from a different point of view. All three of them had lived in the temple their whole lives, and yet,  just now this was happening, that two of the people she was closest to were meeting now. It just went to show how much the war had changed things from when they were younger.  

“Well being three years ahead of you put me in a different training group, I was first assigned to Master Qui-Gon at 15 when you were still considered an older youngling at that time.” He said, smiling at Emily. As he was speaking, Sorv’s expression also caught Obi-Wan’s eye. This man was getting very annoyed that nobody was paying attention to him. Feeling satisfied, Obi-Wan felt he had made his point that he was still relevant in her life and chose to back off before he made an unnecessary enemy.

“Where are my manners, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, it is a pleasure to meet you Master Derprov.” Obi-Wan said as he extended his hand in a handshake gesture.

The other man's facial expression softened a bit. “The Obi-Wan Kenobi? The Negotiator? Emily, you did not tell me you had friends in such high places here at the temple. And please Master Kenobi, call me Sorv.” The two men exchanged a pleasant but firm handshake.

Something lingered in Sorv’s eyes that Obi-Wan couldn’t place.

“Only if you agree to call me Obi-Wan,” the two men laughed good-naturedly as they broke off the handshake. Obi-Wan was trying to read the body language between the two “friends.” He had not forgotten the hug that Sorv had given Emily and how they were walking away from the sparring match arm and arm.  Nothing overly romantic or sinister screamed out to him from what he could see between to two and how they interacted with each other…except the shade of green that Sorv’s eyes were becoming. They looked like there was electricity flowing through them.      

Obi-Wan stroked his beard as he continued to study the two in front of him.   “Yes, he is absolutely threatened by me. Either she’s said something about me before and he didn't like it, or, it could be that she has never said something about me and he didn’t like being kept in the dark and he is taken aback by her reaction towards me. He obviously considers himself close to her. But what is his definition of close? Does he see her as just a friend or more?”

Emily’s voice and bright smile regained his attention and brought him back to the conversation.

“Sorv and I are always together lately. Our assignments seem to mirror each other and we keep getting partnered on the same assignments. We thought we would come down here today for some sparring, keep ourselves sharp considering it's proving to be a slow day and we have yet to receive an assignment..” Emily was speaking faster than she could think and for some odd reason, she was talking with her hands. She never did that, she usually had more poise.

Fidgeting, she squirmed uncomfortably. “Why am I rambling? Get it together before you look like an idiot in front of both of these men Em!”

In all the time that he had known her, Sorv had never seen Emily like this. His expression became almost contemptful as he eyed her, fidgeting and squirming. She was usually fearless, graceful, and strong.  - “And yet the minute this…..Obi-Wan Kenobi, '' -  he eyed the Jedi  with bile rising in his mouth, -  “ walked into the room, she’s acting like a love-struck porg. All wide-eyed and smiley over….him.” He thought to himself as he looked Obi-Wan up and down.“What made Kenobi so special?”

It was undeniably true, Sorv had feelings for Emily, it was no secret that he kept with himself, unlike most Jedi who tried to squash feelings that went against the code. He always thought Emily felt something for him too. That is until he saw the way she stared at Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He watched the two chatting and lively engaging one another. Anger swelled inside of him when Emily touched Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Around him, Emily was always someone who was physically reserved and calm. - “Now I can see where I stand with her….odd. Emily is too good of a person to be subdued by this conceited blowhard…who is self-centered that he calls himself “The Negotiator''? If I mistook her friendship as more than that, then she treats her friends too well.”

Jedi Master Emily Marblu was truly a unique being and had always shown great potential, even as a youngling. Graduating and passing The Trials with one of the highest scores of her class, she had grown and evolved into a gifted Jedi. Notably strong with the force for a human, she had many different talents and was easily able to control and use the force. As a child, she showed interest and adaptability in Force Healing, so much so that she could have been a Jedi Healer as opposed to a Jedi Knight.

Jedi Healers had to have extensive knowledge and use of the force and be able to command it in ways that most Jedi could not do and they needed to do it for long periods of time.

In addition, she had a very specific way about her. She was soft, compassionate, and easily able to center herself and become one with the force. But, there was this extreme fierceness in her softness. As if she needed not prove anything to anyone, she was completely secure in who and what she was; a fearless, capable, and intelligent Jedi with the softness of a flower.

She was kind, helpful, and practically glowed with the light side of the force. There wasn’t a person with whom she met that she wasn’t able to win over or enchant. It made her enemies in battle underestimate her and her communication intense situations skills legendary.

Obi-Wan had always known and seen all these things about her as he had watched her grow. “And yet….on top of all that, as if the universe couldn’t have put together a more wonderful creature, she is beautiful.” He had often mused.

For all that her force signature communicated, physically, it would be easy for Emily to go unnoticed. She was painfully average-looking. She was about as tall as Obi-Wan, her forehead just in line with his mouth. Her long, brown hair tumbled down in soft layered waves and slight curls that came to rest at the mid-back of her black robes. She was slender but muscular with pale skin. Her physique wasn’t unusual for a Jedi, there wasn’t one who wasn’t in good shape these days as the war kept all the Jedi pushed to the extent of their physical limits.

And yet, as he took in the sight of her, Obi-Wan hated to admit how he burned for her. Sweating, he got lost in his thoughts again. Maybe coming down here to see her was a mistake.

Her hand tapping his shoulder felt like it could have seared his skin through his clothing. “How’s Anakin? I heard that he had been assigned a Padawan, Ashoka Tano, right? They say she’s got some real potential.” Emily asked, trying to break whatever tension was happening here between her and the two men. She couldn’t tell if it was something that she was imagining or if the force was trying to show her something. Either way, she knew she needed to keep talking so that the other two couldn’t talk to each other.

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered as he tried to ignore the feeling of her hand on him. Coughing nervously, he shifted on his feet. “Yes, Ashoka is brilliant. She is a good fit for Anakin, she is as strong, stubborn, and as good-natured as he is. Though she, unlike him, still respects the rules. It almost makes me wonder sometimes who teaches who when they are together…” Obi-Wan chuckled as he started to stroke his beard in thought. “Being a teacher is doing wonders for Anakin as well. I have seen him come a long way and mature, embracing the ways of the Jedi more.”

Emily smiled brightly. “Well, there wasn’t much of a way to go, not when he had a master like you.” Emily nudged his upper arm playfully.

Sorv caught the physical gesture immediately. He was getting more irritated. She always kept to herself, even with him, despite his multiple advances. She wasn’t what he would have considered a toucher and yet she had already hugged Kenobi once and now she had touched him several times. Yes, the longer this conversation went on he was sure he didn’t like Obi-Wan Kenobi at all. More specifically, he did not like the way that Emily interacted with him.

“Are you still in charge of the 102nd? Commander Red’s unit, right? Cody and Rex speak very highly of him and are good friends with him from my understanding.” Obi-Wan asked Emily.

She sighed as she considered his question. He remembered. Of course, he remembered her commander’s name and who he was, he always remembered everything. That thought made her heart flutter a little faster. Some Jedi refused to acknowledge the name’s their clones picked, let alone respect them. But she had never done that and she was glad that Obi-Wan and Anakin didn’t either. There was just so much wrong with that line of thinking, to dehumanize them, and it greatly irritated her when it was done.  

Before she could answer the question, Sorv interjected and steered the conversation in his direction, again tired of just sitting there and being ignored. “Yes, he is a tactical soldier and a great asset on the field. He works well with Captain Jamie, my unit’s leader. The two of them have helped Emily and I ensure many victories for Emily and I.” Sorv was always the alpha male type and he felt the need to establish dominance in the situation and make this conversation go from a two-way one to a three-way one.

Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest as he arched an eyebrow. This man certainly held his own opinion in high regard he thought to himself. Was anyone even speaking to him?

“I’m sorry Emily,” Obi-Wan said with his arms still folded against his chest and looking out of the corner of his eye at Sorv, then at Emily “What were you saying?”

Sorv’s eyes almost came bulging out of his head. Indignant rage flowed through him. “He just ignored me. How dare he?” - Sorv thought to himself. - “Who does this man think he is? I thought arrogance was not a trait of the Jedi. Arrogant or not, this Obi-Wan Kenobi acts like he is in control of the room.” …… Maybe he was in control of the room, Sorv wondered. His force signature was similar to Emily’s. Soft but fierce, seeming as if there was no need to boast about himself. “Still,” Sorv thought, “he’s certainly full of himself and is sassy.”

Emily could see the intense stares that the male Jedi were trading. Her heartbeat picked up slightly. - “Oh, this is not good. I need to do something before these two end up with lightsabers drawn and sparring all over this arena in a peacock fight.”-  Emily rationalized.

Looking at them, she rationalized that It wasn’t Obi-Wan she was afraid of, it was Sorv. Sorv was always territorial and hot-headed as a person and seemed to struggle as a Jedi lately, kind of like Obi-Wan’s partner, Anakin. Sorv wasn’t a bad person, or at least she didn’t think he was, he just lacked some of the finer points that the Jedi Order held themselves to. She knew that he tried, he really did. But he still needed a lot of work to master his skills. She was hoping that when he was granted the rank of Master that it would have inspired him to be better and work harder; but that hadn’t been the case.

Then there was Obi-Wan. In her eyes, Obi-Wan was an exemplary Jedi. She knew he was in control of himself and his emotions, always. However, if challenged, she also knew enough about him to know that he would not shy away from a fight. Especially one that potentially challenged his or her honor.

Plus Obi-Wan was the superior swordsman, which would only prove embarrassing for Sorv. He not only continually struggled with the Order, but he also overestimated his abilities as both a swordsman and a force user.

Thinking fast, she changed the subject. “What brings you down here Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan sat there staring blankly at a curious Emily and a sneering Sorv.

Now, what did he do? He started spiraling in his head. - “Well Emily, you see, I saw you from above the arena. I got overly excited and ran down here like you were going to combust if I didn't run and come see you right away” - he rolled eyes at his pathetic self. -  “…...yeah, sure... go ahead say that…..it should go over well.”  

What would Anakin do in a situation like this he wondered? Wasn’t he always doing stupid stuff like this with Senator Amidala? - “Think fast Obi-Wan.”  Honesty, he finally thought. No sense in lying.

“I was on my way to the mess hall. I had just left a briefing with the council and I have no assignments so I was on my way to the lower levels, so I stopped into the Arena to see if I could find Anakin but instead, I found you........”            

He was sweating and desperately trying to not give himself away in the force. “Okay…...maybe a small lie is okay….right?” He chastised himself internally. He knew he had to say something about food, he was starting to remember that he was still hungry and would have to depart soon.

Emily tilted her head sympathetically. “Oh I’m sorry, I don’t think he’s here, I haven’t seen him, but I hope you find him soon. Sorv and I had just finished a sparring match and I was on my way back to my quarters personally.”

If only she knew he had watched her brilliant match. She smiled as she looked between the two men, trying to keep things smooth. She felt like the lynchpin that kept these two strong and intense personalities from exploding.  “Are you going to be at the temple long? Maybe I'll run into you sometime again soon, it would be nice to catch up.” She said to Obi-Wan.

Sorv���s jealous, green eyes snapped to meet Emily’s warm brown ones. They bounced back and forth between her and Kenobi’s cool, blue ones. She wants to see him again? All of a sudden, she wants to spend time with him? In all the time that he had spent with her, she had never even so much as brought him up. Maybe if she saw an image of him on the hollownet or at a council meeting, then maybe she said a comment in passing….maybe. Sorv would have remembered if she had ever paid this much attention to him before. And now she was all of a sudden extending an invitation to spend more time with him again. -  “It’s usually myself or Xira that she spends her free time with.”

Sorv re-inserted himself in the conversation again. “Yes, I myself would like to get to know the famous Negotiator.” Sorv taunted, adding a smile to disguise his growing dislike of Kenobi.

Yet, Obi-Wan wasn’t buying it. He could read the man like a book, force or no force. He knew this man was only tolerating his presence on behalf of Emily. Well, two could play that game.

“Yes, it would be very nice to see you both again. However, I do apologize, I’ve kept you both long enough for today.” - He bowed to both of them, ever the diplomat. - “Please enjoy the rest of your evenings. I am on frolo all week, so I’m sure I will be seeing you.” He said this only to Emily.

Emily’s heart rate picked up. Her stomach dropped. He would be at the temple for an extended period of time. “Yes, I’m sure I will be seeing you.” She said with a bow, using the gesture to hide her emotions that were clearly displayed on her face. Rising, she took a deep breath and took hold of herself. Giving him a smile, she wished him well. “Have a restful evening”.

As much Sorv hated to, he remembered his manners. “It has been a pleasure.” He lied as he bowed.

Obi-Wan bowed one more time and without skipping a beat, he turned and walked off to the mess hall, breathing for what felt like the first time in a long time. He hadn't bothered to wish Sorv well, in his mind he had told enough lies this evening.

Watching Kenobi leave, Emily felt like she breathed for the first time since she heard his voice. “That could have gone much worse if I had let it. At least I can always count on Obi-Wan to be himself.” Emily thought about him with a smile spreading on her face.

Before Sorv could say anything to Emily, they were joined by another presence. Sorv saw her coming before Emily did. From somewhere in the arena, this other Jedi came bounding over to them.

“Well, nice to see you and “The Negotiator” catching up? How long has it been again” Xira asked/teased Emily.

Jedi Knight Xira Zerga was Emily’s best friend and former Padawan. What had Obi shared with Anakin could be seen as an equivalent to what Emily and Xira, the Rodian Jedi shared. During her mentorship, Emily had groomed Xira to be a strong and smart Jedi, and Xira was no light-weight in the Force. Her midi-chlorian count was extremely high. Not as high as Anakin’s but, but high enough.

Emily rolled her eyes at her former Padawan’s question. Why was everyone so interested in her relationship with Obi-Wan all of a sudden? Did she really keep it hidden that well that she indeed did know him? She certainly made it a point to not think about him as often as she would have liked, trying to bury her emotions and continually convince herself that she didn’t have feelings for him.

Crossing her arms she looked at Xira. “Sorv said the same thing. Come on you guys, he’s not that big of a deal. He was a class ahead of me, we kind of grew up together. That’s all and you know that Xira.” Emily said, shrugging her hands and shoulders in self-defense.

Sorv’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “No, we grew up together. And I’ve never seen you with him before.” Sorv said with a hand gesture that indicated an invisible connection between Emily and him.

“You wouldn't have.” Emily thought to herself. “I haven’t seen him in almost a year or at least that is what it feels like.” She never understood why Sorv acted like he was the supreme authority on her. They were friends and they did spend time together but sometimes he acted like he owned her or that he needed to know every detail of her life and irritated her.  

Sensing her fromer Master’s frustration, Xira butt in. “Emily...he's a big deal, what do you mean “what's the big deal?” He’s the former master of “The Chosen One”, “The Great Negotiator”…..He’s kind of more like a huge deal…..a living legend really…..AND I know you two are friends, I was your Padawan, remember?” Xira said as she looked in the direction that Obi-Wan had departed to, hoping he was not still in earshot.

Sorv rolled his eyes at the word legend. Xira looked star-struck at the thought of Kenobi and it made him sick.

Emily huffed frustratedly. “Okay, okay….he's an old friend is all, okay, everyone good? Good. Now, this conversation is over….. Yes Sorv, I know Obi-Wan Kenobi…..all good? And yes Xira, its been a while since I’ve seen him.” Emily said, hoping to put an end to this conversation. She really wanted to use the refresher and clean herself off after the sparring match. The workout had left her feeling sweaty and grungy and seeing Obi-Wan didn’t help to stop the sweating either.

“No, not good.” thought Sorv. But he knew here and now was not the place to push this topic. He needed to collect himself before his emotions clouded his judgment further. Additionally, he could see that her relationship with Kenobi was something she didn’t want to make a big deal out of, and staying on Emily’s good side was his priority.

“Yes. I am going to go back to my quarters as well, as I need to freshen up. I shall see you later.” Sorv said as he clapped his hand on her shoulder. She may not have been touchy with him but that didn't stop him from constantly putting the hint out there, especially now that he saw the way she dealt with Kenobi.

Xira rolled her eyes and tried not to gag at the physical gesture. She was not Sorv’s biggest fan and she had no idea what her former master saw in him or why she continued to tolerate him.

As Sorv walked away from the two female Jedi. Xira looked at Emily, her large greenish-blue eyes were almost glowing, a hint of mischief in them. Emily had thought Rodian’s always had the prettiest eyes.

Teasingly she addressed her former Master. “Don't think this conversation is over. I was watching that whole thing and I know you. There is way more to this story and I will be by your apartment later to hear it…...you're not getting out of this one Em.” Xira winked at her as she ran back to her sparring group.

Emily rolled her eyes and smiled. Her former Padawan and best friend was nothing if not relentless. She sighed. If, and that could prove to be a big if, if she could control her thoughts, “a little girl talk might be kind of fun” she thought to herself, a rare public indulgence in her emotions.

As Emily walked out of the Arena, she was somewhere else. Physically she was on her way back to her quarters, but mentally she was lost in her mind. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since she had seen him, and how good he looked. Minus some small cuts and slight bruising that he was sporting. There was a war going on. Sadly, all Jedi seemed to be sporting minor and major wounds these days. She herself had a scar on her shoulder from a battle droid that managed to catch her off guard once in a fight.

He looked more muscular than he had previously. His hair and bread were well-groomed and had grown in. Wasn’t his hair longer the last time she had seen it?  

She didn't know how she felt about the beard but she had to admit that it certainly didn’t hurt his looks. If anything it made him look more…..distinguished. Before she came up with another word that she might regret allowing herself to use, she stopped her thoughts there. Maybe that bath should be an ice-cold one she mused.

Still…...she had to admit to herself, and she disliked it, “It was good to see him, to feel his Force presence again.” She found that his Force signature wrapped around her like a warm and safe blanket, unlike anything else she had ever felt. It made her brain fog up and her arms turn to mush. Sometimes being so gifted with the Force in the ways of healing, feeling people's emotions and needs could be overwhelming, but not him. His presence always felt soothing and centering, it made her never want to leave his side. Would the man ever cease to make her feel that way?

@mrskenobi19​ @transcending-time​ @sillynilly27​ @janebby​ @kirstenvldfan21​ @thewhitedannimal​

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader

Chapter 5- Valhalla

Summary: The gala was fun and all, a mild exception being when you almost got choked out by one of the Swedes. For the time being, you and Diego get a surprise visit by the rest of the Hargreeves.

If you want tagged just hit me up. Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @fandomoverlord221 @la-vie-en-amour1 @2cuteforyourlies @thatfandombitcch

“You know, I’m starting to get the feeling Dads avoiding us.” Five says frustrated, looking on as the cars continue to hastily leave the ruined party.

“Yeah, no shit.” You mumble back at him, fixing your dress, as you happen to notice how it now has a nice clean rip where the shoulder seam should be together. In the face of danger all accessories are temporarily forgotten, oh well, you didn’t even like the dress anyways, to constricting.

“Hate to be the boring one, guys, but, uh, it’s time to get the hell out of here.” Says Lila as she walks into view from behind some bushes and a brick wall, continuing to walk past all of you until she reaches the pavement, stopping to turn around and usher you three to follow.

“When you say “we,” who exactly are you referring to?” Challenges Five.

“Not a lot of ambiguity in that sentence.” Replies Lila, shrugging him off.

“Listen, I don’t know who you are or where you came from, but whatever it is, I’d advise you return posthaste.” Five says, using that pushy tone of his again, done with Lila’s falsities.

“She’s right Five we gotta get outta here.” Mutters Diego, looking around slightly nervously.

“I just saved your life, you kinder-shit. If I hadn’t stepped in, all that would be left of you is a blazer and some bloody socks.” She snaps back.

“That’s the problem. You’re too good. You ask too many questions. You know too much. And you fight like you know what you’re doing.” Five says making a compelling point. You eye her up suspiciously.

“He’s not wrong.” You tell her, equally as conflicted as to who or what she truly is.

“So I know how to handle myself. And that makes me the bad guy?” She questions calmly like what we’re saying is absolutely ridiculous.

“Whoever you are, you’re in my way. If I see you again, I will kill you.” States Five seriously, with restrained anger flashing in his eyes as he gives her a last dirty look before walking away back to Elliot’s house.

Looking to you and Diego in disbelief, she turns to go walking a couple of feet before turning back to the both of you. “Guys come on we have to go.” She urges.

“I was getting my ass handed to me back there. You helped Five, not me.” He questions walking in closer to here accusingly.

“Because he’s a kid and you’re a man. Bloody act like one for god sakes, Y/N didn’t appear to need any help. If I remember correctly.” She says in defense, trying to get her point across without giving herself away.

Nodding Diego walks past her. You look up at her pleading eyes and look down for a second thinking of what to do. Making up your mind, you purse your lips together, walking past her as well.

“Y/N, really?” She pleads, knowing she’s losing the battle. You turn to her.

“I liked you Lila, you were fun to hang around with for awhile, I’ll admit. But we know nothing about you, and shits gotten weirder then ever. And right now I can sense that your lying to us, I wouldn’t even have to look at you to know that, I can practically smell it.” You explain to her without much remorse, you knew something was up after all, and nothing is getting in the way of your family’s safety. If she happens to be with the wrong people, that is.

You stare at her for a second more before turning around and following Diego. Tired of all the crazy shit you’d endured at the party.

“Oh, come on. Y/N? Diego? Really? You’re just gonna walk away?” She yells, as Diego starts to make a beeline for the woods. You ignore her calls as you jump over the thigh high stone wall and into the woods you go.

——

The next morning you and Diego get a surprise visit from Luther, someone whom you haven’t seen in a year and a half. After greetings are said, he walks in hungry as ever. So now here you are in Elliot’s kitchen as Luther makes himself a ridiculously large amount of scrambled eggs. You, Diego, Five, and Luther in the midst of a discussion on everything that’s happened up until now.

Smelling the delicious scent of scrambled eggs you sit on the kitchen table with your boots on the chair, looking between Diego and Luther who’s currently cooking said eggs at the moment. Watching as Diego paces back and forth heated about the ass kicking you, Five, and himself received last night.

“No, no, no, I don’t understand. They keep following me and Y/N. Those Dutch fuckers.” Diego points out, attempting to explain his thoughts to Five.

Wait, who?” Wonders Luther, trying to keep up with what’s going on.

“Some Swedish sociopaths.” You answer bluntly.

“Precisely Y/N, atleast one of you is paying attention.” Turning to Diego he continues, “They’re hired guns paid to eradicate us before we do anymore damage to the timeline.”

“Yeah, but why now? I mean I’m fine for three months until you showed up.” Diego growls, snapping his fingers angrily at Five’s unflinching form.

“Yeah, I was here for a year and no one messed with me.” Luther adds, focusing on the eggs he’s still cooking.

Pointing to Five you reply, “Luther’s got a point. I was here for almost two years and I haven’t been randomly hunted down by anyone. Then you show up and I get put in a choke-hold.” You say raising an eyebrow at him.

“Even if it was my fault, which it isn’t, we only have six days before the end of the world, and the closest anyone’s gotten to Dad was that driveway at the consulate.” Comments Five, glancing between the three of you.

Quietly Luther speaks up, “Well that’s not exactly true.” He says with a sigh, looking at the wall before turning to your guys’ confused faces.

“What do you mean?” Asks Five, stepping in closer.

“You didn’t?” He looks away from your prying gaze, he did.

“I saw him.” Luther says, looking nervously at you three, like a child getting caught with a frog in his pocket. He then proceeded to go on a long and boring story about how he traveled back to the Umbrella Academy, talked with Sir Reginald Hargreeves himself, only to get shot down and sternly told to leave. Of course that’s what was going to happen, idiot, he doesn’t even know who you are.

Sitting to Luther’s right and Diego to his left with Five in a chair to your back left. You slouch leaning your arms against the table, propping your head up with your right arm, as you lean against the wall. Listening to the two converse about his misfortunes.

“That’s pathetic.” Diego tells Luther bluntly.

“Yeah, well at least he didn’t shank my ass.” He mumbles, mouth full of scrambled eggs.

“No, bro, he shanked your heart.” Diego says in the most sincere voice you’ve heard in awhile.

Snorting with amusement from your side of the table, you add bluntly, “Well it wouldn’t be the first time.” Gaining a chuckle from Diego and an eye roll from Five.

“Mhm, hilarious.” Luther replies sarcastically, continuing to scarf down more eggs.

Walking into the doorway to the kitchen, Elliot stops, looking confused at Luther. “Is that my bathrobe?” Staring up at him like a deer in the headlights he says innocently, “No”

“Look, who cares what he shanked? He knows something about time travel.” Interrupts Five, talking to the three of you.

“Uh, wait, why don’t we just do your thing and, uh, time travel us out?” Wonders Elliot.

Standing up visibly frustrated, not really caring enough to explain himself anymore, Five asks the three of you sitting down. “Anyone care to explain?”

Luther looks up at Elliot ready to clarify why, “First time he tried, he got lost in the apocalypse.” Diego adding, “Second time, he ended up without hair on his balls.”

“Last time I tried it, I scattered my family across three years in Dallas, Texas, possibly triggering a doomsday.” Five says, while making himself a cup of coffee. “Anymore questions, Elliot?”

“Uh, no.” Studders Elliot, finally getting the point.

“You’re all missing the big picture. Dad is the ringleader of a sinister cabal that’s planning to kill the president.” Diego says sternly.

“A cabal?” Luther asks, confused again.

“Ignore him” You tell Luther, earning a glare from Diego, you smile at him innocently.

“Look, the way I see it, we only have one option.” States Five.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Questions Luther, half sarcastically.

“It’s time to get the Umbrella Academy back together.” Five says in all seriousness.

“Hell yeah, family meeting.” Diego grins, looking at you, you lift an arm up in reply.

“Why not?”

——

Sitting in the upstairs area near the balcony are Diego, Luther, Vanya, and Elliot, who’s trying to explain the workings and history of jello to everyone. No one really caring enough to listen to his rambling about how it’s made. Meanwhile, you stand looking down at the doors in excited anticipation for your long lost friends.

You listen as they bicker from behind you, Diego still salty about getting the life sucked out of him by Vanya’s energy tentacles, finally they make their peace and you smile to yourself. Proud that he’s matured a bit since then, knowing old Diego probably wouldn’t even be talking to her right now. Hearing the sound of a bell ring, you look up to the doors and spot Five, Allison, and Klaus making their way inside. Shouting their own greetings not catching sight of the rest of you just yet. Now finally looking up, they spot the four of you and shock instantly arrives on their faces, everyone looking at each other with dumbfounded smiles.

“Oh, wow. I know this is impossible, but, did we all get sexier?” Klaus wonders his eyes landing on each of you. You smile at him, missing his stupid humor.

The four of you walk quickly down the steps, grateful to have the whole family back together again. You rush up to Klaus, engulfing him a bear huge. “I missed my partner in crime.” You tell him smiling like an idiot. Breaking away, still holding onto your arms he adds, “Ah my dear, how I’ve missed our Friday night margarita parties.” Smiling at you, Diego then comes in for a brotherly greeting himself. “Oh, you are drunk.”

“Yeah. No, just a little...just a few.” He says glancing at you for a second. You grin shaking your head at him, typical Klaus. He then turns to participate in a group hug with Vanya and Allison. You speed walk over, stretching your arms along with him, engaging in the friendly hug as well. Collecting yourselves together again, you stand back grateful for everyone still being alive and well.

“Klaus. Is Ben here?” Five questions, gathering the attention of everyone.

Putting a hand on his hip he casually says, “Oh, uh...no. No, unfortunately, ghosts can’t time travel.” He says, as he looks around to all of you, avoiding your gaze. You then hear an oddly aggravated whisper as the air pricks with static. Only you notice it, turning to the empty chairs you smirk. You know Ben’s here. Even though you can’t see the dead like Klaus can, whenever he’s around you and as long as he’s not to intoxicated, are you able feel the presence of the ghosts that follow him.

“Y/N is this true?” Five asks you, not completely believing him.

Winking at the chair you turn back to Five, glancing at Klaus for a second. As he rolls his eyes at you. “Everyone’s accounted for. Alive. And dead.” You state.

“All right, then. Let’s get down to business.” Five ends with, starting to walk up the stairs. Never one to mess around for too long, huh.

——

Everyone stares at Five as he begins to apologize for stranding us all here in the 60′s. Then he goes on to confirm about this new apocalypse and whatnot. Surprising Klaus, evidently leading to the discovery of his cult that he apparently somehow started, not that you’re that stunned, if we’re being honest.

Five then shows the picture of Sir Reginald standing on the grassy knoll, Diego fully believing him to be the cause of Kennedy’s death, and Five saying it could be something else entirely. You agreeing with the the more probable explanation of Fives. He does express the fact that no one really knows shit about anything quit yet either, so how could we know it’s actually Reginald on the grassy knoll.

Diego then starts rambling about how the assassination and the apocalypse have to do with their dad, yet again. Five cutting in with his own calculated approach.

“But we know something changes the timeline, we have to make this right.”

“Yeah, but how, if we don’t know what’s broken?” Adds Allison, who’s sitting next to Vanya on the couches large plushy armrest. Klaus sipping a glass of beer or something of the like behind them.

“Come on, do the math. We know Dad’s having shady-ass meetings with some shady-ass people. We know he’s on the grassy knoll in three days to kill the president.” He says looking at everyone, trying to convince them. “So I think we know what we have to do.” He says, walking over to Five after delivering that dramatic line.

Both of them speak at the same time.

“Find Dad.” Says Five.

“Kill Dad.” Says Diego, with slight aggression, your eyebrows raise in surprise.

Everyone looks up at him, confusion clearly written on every single one of your faces. You honestly weren’t expecting Diego to throw the whole ship out to sea. He wants to kill the old fart huh, yeah that’s not gonna fuck up the timeline or anything.

“None of us are supposed to be here, right? I mean, what if it’s us? Has anyone here done anything to screw up the timeline?” Questions Vanya who gets nothing but  nervous glances from mostly everyone. You included.

“Diego and Y/N, have been stalking Lee Harvey Oswald.” Blurts out Luther.

“I was an unwilling accomplice.” You retort, sneering at him.

“And you’re working for Jack Ruby.” Diego cuts in defensively.

Klaus speaks up adding, “Allison has been very involved in local politics.” He says, while laying comfortably on the couch.

“Okay, you started a cult.” She snaps back.

“And I’m a nanny on a farm. I don’t have anything to do with all of that.” Vanya says calmly.

“Well, maybe you do, we just don’t know yet.” Allison adds.

Diego whistles bringing the attention of everyone back to him. “Listen to yourselves. Everything in our new lives is connected to Kennedy. That can’t be a coincidence. Luther works for Ruby, Allison is protesting the government, Dad is on the grassy knoll, Klaus is...” he pauses for a second. “Doing something weird and pervy but probably related. See, clearly we were all sent back here for one special reason: saving John Fitzgerald Kennedy.” Diego rambles completely serious about his mindset on Kennedy and the real reason why you are all here. I’m in love with an idiot, you think. Opening your mouth to state your opinion, the rest of them doing the same. Five sits back in thought, sick of all his siblings and yours nonsense.

Sitting up quickly, Five interrupts sadly, “Guys, you all die. Even Y/N. I was there. I saw it. And I wanna forget it, but I can’t.” Everyone shuts up listening to him talk about the end of the world. “I saw Russian nukes vaporize the world with all of you in it...in a war that never happened until we brought it here. And Hazel gave his life to save us, so you may need to shut up and just listen to me.” Everyone looks on concerned and nervous, letting the hard truth about the future set in. “I don’t know if things we’ve experienced here are all connected. I don’t know if there’s a reason for everything. But Dad will. We need to talk to him before everyone and everything we know is dead.”

Pondering the words Five just said to everyone, Luther suddenly gets up. “Okay, I’m out.”

Frustrated Five raises his voice, “Did you even hear me, Luther?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did. I heard a 58-year-old man who still wants his daddy to come and fix everything. Well you can count me out. It’s time we all grew the hell up.” Grumbles Luther, frustrated with everyone and the idiotic idea of going to Sir Reginald for help.

Standing behind the opposite couch of Allison and Vanya, you turn to Five vexed by what he just told you, raising your voice slightly. “Did you get knocked on your head as a child, I mean all of you, seriously? When has Sir Reginald-stick-up-his-ass-Hargreeves ever legitimately helped us do anything?” You pushed, trying to make a point. “Even though I thought I’d never say this actual sentence in my entire life, I’m with Luther. Fuck that old monocle wearing dipshit. I’m out.” You huff pissed off. How could they all actually agree to meeting up with him, like he’s gonna talk it out and everyone’s gonna be A-Okay again, no way. You lived in the Umbrella Academy for seven years. It wasn’t what one would call, a walk in the park.

Everyone’s eyes are on you by the time you’ve finished your passionate rant, all looking very perplexed by your outburst. Your opinionated eruptions aren’t anything new, as you’ve always stood up for yourself and what you believe in, but. You sadly understood that even as grown up as they all are, they still seek guidance in the old man. Luther’s right, it’s time they’ve all gotten their shit together.

“Alright then.” Luther adds turning to walk towards the stairs, you hot on his tail. Hearing the calls from everyone else for you two to come back, you ignore them. Even when Diego gets up, questioning the both of you.

“Don’t.” You glare at him darkly, not wanting to hear any more bullshit about JFK or Reginald.

In a flash, Five teleports directly in front of Luther, blocking your exit down the steps.

“No one leaves until we figure this out.” Five says, a stern expression on his determined face.

Sighing, Luther grabs his uniform, picking him up and throwing him off the staircase. Where Five teleports somewhere before he can hit the hard, tiled floor below.

——

Walking down the side street, next to Luther you keep your eyes forward not wanting to hear anything Diego tries to tell you. Taking the hint, Diego decides to talk to Luther instead. “What’s going on with you, big boy?”

“Ugh, leave me alone, Diego.” Grunts Luther, keeping his eyes forward and locked onto the street ahead of him.

“Huh? So, what, you’re just gonna sucker punch Five and haul ass, huh.” Looking to you, he continues not being able to stop himself. “And don’t even get me started on you, I mean really, you follow me around and then decide to throw in the towel.” He questions dangerously, honestly a bit annoyed that this whole time you were never really on board for saving the president.

You roll your eyes, about to let him have it. “I’m not stepping anywhere near that old fuck. We could handle ourselves, if the rest of you weren’t complete fucking idiots.” You snap.

Grumbling something incomprehensible, he turns to Luther. “You got a legitimate reason for walking out on us?”

“Look, maybe trying to stop doomsday is exactly what starts it. Did you ever think of that?” 

“Oh, so we do nothing? Since when are you a quitter?” Challenges Diego.

“Since the last time I destroyed the world by overestimating my own importance.” Luther exclaims, defensively.

“So this is about you never living up to the old man’s expectations bullshit, huh?” Says Diego, trying to keep up with the two of you who are walking quit briskly down the side street.

Luther scoffs, “Maybe. I don’t know, I mean we’re all crazy where Dad’s concerned.”

“Oh, I’m not.” Adds Diego smiling. Yeah okay hot stuff keep telling yourself that, you think, forcing yourself to hold it in. “He’s an asshole. I’m awesome, and Y/N would agree with me too, if she wasn’t so moody. It’s all very simple. You have to understand that, okay?” Diego says smartly, so damn sure of himself.

Stopping at the sidewalk you cross your arms turning to Diego. “So why can’t you leave JFK alone then, hmm?” You look up expectantly, raising an eyebrow as wait for the truth.

He pauses for a moment, “I’m a hero. Heroes stop crime.” He tells you earnestly, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Shaking your head at him you take a deep breath, Luther coming to your aid. “No, no, no. No, Dad told you you’re a hero. Right? He told all of us. But what if he lied? What if we’re just a bunch of freaks who have no business changing the world.” Shouts Luther.

“No, everyone changes the world, Luther. Everyone. And it’s scary, but that’s kinda the deal. You know, your so goddamn big, sometimes I forget what a sensitive bastard you are.” Making eye contact with you he continues, “It’s all gonna work out. We’re on the right path.”

“You sound like a religious cat poster.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know?” Asks Luther confused and frustrated.

Deciding to draw their attentions to something more important, you state an unseen but obvious fact, one that you’ve been silently tracking since the three of you left Elliot’s place. “Hey dipshit’s, there’s a long black car that’s been following us since we left Elliot’s.” They look at you confused for a second. “Six o’clock.”

Luther turns around as a mysterious black vehicle rolls up to you three. The driver getting out and pulling a piece of paper from his inner suite pocket. Handing it to Diego, who takes it cautiously.

Cutting it open with one of his knifes, he begins to read it aloud, “To my pursuers: I, Reginald Hargreeves...request the pleasure of your company for a light supper on the 20th of November, 1963, half past seven o’clock, 1624 Magnolia Street.” He finishes, looking up at the two of you.

“A light supper?” Luther wonders.

Luther and Diego then turn to you, Diego with a dumb smirk plastered across his face, you roll your eyes and hang your head back in defeat. “Goddammit.” You deadpan.

“Anyone hungry?” Luther randomly asks, you guessing it’s his attempt at lighting up the mood.

Piercings and Polaroids

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Word Count: 4,984

Warnings: Piercings, blood, needles, swearing, sexuality (eluded to)

Tag List: @moonstruckhargrove @thechickvic @carolimedanvers @hotstuffhargrove @alex--awesome--22 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @agentsinstorybrooke @sunflowercandie @kaliforniacoastalteens @songforhema @mickmoon @buckybarneshairpullingkink @marvelismylifffe @spidey-pal

Starcourt got boring after awhile. Once the lustre of new stores and fast food restaurants died off, people stopped shopping and starting soaking up the A/C like snakes under heat lamps. You didn’t mind, it just meant that you could spend your afternoons flipping through magazines and listening to the ad-free mall radio.

“Hey bitch!” someone slapped the counter loudly and you looked up boredly from your copy of Cosmo. Heather was standing in front of you with a devilish grin, her hair damp from the pool and her signature red Ray-Bands jammed on the top of her thick brown curls, most of which were piled high on the top of her head in a messy attempt at a ponytail, half tied and falling apart.

“Hi Heather...” you signed, laying the magazine open on the counter. Heather was your best friend, although it had begun to feel more and more strained as you both got older. Heather and you were very different people. You were a band geek, a tutor, and a slave to the mall. Heather was a cheerleader, the head of the yearbook committee, and one of the infamous ‘lifeguard hotties’ of the Hawkins Community Pool. She was a popular princess; a daddy’s girl with his platinum card wrapped around her little finger. You were from a broken home with an exhausting home life, and someone who should’ve been an ignored loser. Without Heather defending you, you would be bullied to bits by girls like Carol and Tina. But with her, you felt like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

She leaned her elbows on the counter, smiling giddily “So, how’s your summer of piercing baby ears going?” she asked with a devious giggle, her sunglasses falling onto her nose and her mouth curling into a devilish grin.

You rolled your eyes “I’ve only seen one baby get pierced, I mostly pierce like middle schoolers. Today, I gave Mrs. Blythe her second hole. She bought three packs of neon studs and said they were for her daughter. Trying to look younger or some shit.” You replied, popping a strip of bright pink bubblegum into your sticky pink mouth, your cheap drugstore lipstick gunking in the corners of your lips. It was obvious that Heather had stopped listening after the first sentence, her mouth open in a yawn.

“Boring! You haven’t done anything cool all day? You know what me and Jeff did?” she asked, bouncing on her heels. She leaned over the counter, cupping a hand over her mouth as she leant in to your ear “We did it in the locker room showers. And Jessica Abrams totally walked in on us and freaked out! She totally got all red and teary it was totally embarrassing!” she whispered.

You pulled away, your face turned up in disgust. “That’s disgusting!” you gagged, squeezing your eyes shut as the image of Jeff’s douchey smirk came into view, turning into an ‘O’ face that made you want to hurl.

Heather cackled “He wasn’t even that good! I have no idea why Jessica’s been going on about it!” she cried, slapping the counter with her bare hand.

“Maybe because they were like two seconds away from being a couple and you got in the way.” You replied, deadpan. Sometimes Heather was a real bitch. This was one of those times. Poor Jessica had been following around that jerk since April and just when she’s about to get over him, he decides to pay her the time of day. And just when he seemed to genuinely like, Heather had to get bored and took Jeff away. Poor Jessica didn’t even know what hit her.

Heather scoffed, rolling her eyes at your comment. “That’s not the most interesting part of my shift though! I brought you a live one!” she giggled. You felt your blood run cold. Heather had no concept of what was appropriate ever. She had almost gotten you fired twice. This was not a good thing.

Heather waved someone over as you stared on wide eyed. Before you could even tell Heather to stop whatever she was trying to do, Billy Hargrove was standing in front of you, visibly put off by the children running around the shop and the bright, colourful decor. His eyes scanned yours boredly, his eyes narrowing judgementally.

“Alright, it’s piercing time!” Heather cried, clapping excitedly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes “Alright, the piercing package costs thirty bucks. You pick your piercing from the case.” You pointed down into the glass case below you, lit up and filled with silver butterflies, flowers, stars, and other girly designs. “You just want the other ear, right?”

Billy’s eyes scanned the case, his eyes narrowing further, his upper lip curling up in disgust. “Nah, my nose.” He replied, his voice monotone.

“Yeah, you can’t do that here.” You said, matching his tone. Billy looked quickly, his eyes blowing out in annoyance, looking between you and Heather.

Heather’s expression shifted and she laughed awkwardly “Of course you can!” she leaned over to you once Billy’s was sated enough to return to the difficult choice between the only ball studs in the case, one silver and one gold. “Don’t be fucking lame, Y/N…” she whispered harshly.

“I’m not being lame, it’s literally not something I can do.” You pulled the heavy, clunky piercing gun out from its drawer “This thing is literally only meant for ear lobes. It’s all I can pierce. Anything else I try will get super fucked up.” You explained, flashing the grey and white gun to the pair. It looked like a glorified hot glue gun, except splattered with a bit of dried blood.

Billy turned his attention to Heather, obviously annoyed “You said she could do it. I bought a nose ring in Carmel cause she could do it.” He grunted, obviously annoyed.

Heather looked over at you with her giant, pleading eyes, and for a brief moment you felt bad. Heather was just trying to look cool to this cooler, more popular guy and it had fallen flat so fast. You owed her something, for all the things she’d done for you over the years. With the barest of restrained sigh, you spoke up “Look, I can’t pierce your nose here, but I can do it at my place.” You said.

Billy scowled “Yeah? You got any proof?” he asked. He was getting more annoyed by the second; his expression growing harder and angrier if that was even possible.

You raised an eyebrow, tapping the small silver ring in your left nostril “Did this myself. Did all my piercings myself. How do think I got this job?” you countered. In truth, you’d done a mail in course and passed a piercing test on a rubber practise head. You were licensed in a week by Claire’s. You couldn’t even transfer the license to any other brand; they made it very clear in the paperwork you filled out.

Billy nodded, looking over your work. You guessed that it was satisfactory enough to him because a small smirk pulled at his lips. “What time you finished up here?” he asked. Heather cheered loudly, grabbing Billy’s bicep excitedly.

“I got like fifteen minutes left. Heather knows my address if you just wanna leave with her. I’ll meet you there.” You replied, looking over to your manager, who nodded for you to start your closing out.

“No way! You took the bus here, we’ll wait.” Heather said quickly “We’ll meet you in the food court.” She pulled Billy out of the shop with a wide grin, waving to you and mouthing ‘so hot!’ when he wasn’t looking. You chuckled, shaking your head. Heather thought every guy was hot, it didn’t mean much. But you wouldn’t deny that Billy was hot. Even with his cocky attitude and that ugly tattoo on his bicep that he insisted on showing off. You swore he’d cut all the sleeves off his tee shirts just to show off that stupid skull smoking a cigarette. Who the hell wanted that on their body forever?!? You weren’t too attracted to that level of ego, but Billy held a bit of interest around himself. There was some mystery, an aura of intrigue he seemed to hold around himself effortlessly, and that kept you interested enough to pay attention when you heard his name. He was just closed off enough to keep everyone guessing about him.

You took your time with your duties, making sure to snatch up the small silver ‘H’ earrings Heather had been eyeing for weeks now. They were in the case, so you were only supposed to be able to get them if you were getting a piercing in house. You’d convinced your boss to sell them to you, since you were an employee and wouldn’t tell anyone about it, and she agreed. You had intended to give them to Heather on her birthday, but there was no time like the present.

You half hoped that Heather and Billy would forget about you. You had this sickening feeling that it would be a tiresome ride. But to your chagrin they were waiting for you in the food court. Heather had gotten herself an Orange Julius and seemed to have put all her attention into the straw in her mouth, you assumed she was trying to put on a bit of a show for Billy, but he wasn’t paying much attention to her. You joined the group and endured quite possibly the longest and worst car ride of your life. Heather took over the front seat; it seemed that Billy had driven her to the mall, seeing as how her stinky work stuff was shoved in the back seat with Billy’s and, unfortunately, you. The entire back seat stunk like chlorine and mould, you guessed that one of them had forgotten a towel or swimsuit in their bag or under the seat for long enough to let it stink up the car. But that wasn’t the worst part, Billy didn’t seem to have A/C so all the windows were popped open and fresh air was blasting in your face and killing the smell, the worst part was that Heather seemed to think that this car ride was the perfect time to shamelessly flirt with Billy. She tried to pull her feet on the seat, but Billy didn’t want shoes on the leather, so she took off her flip flops but that was worse apparently. So she spent the whole time cooing about how hot he was and touching his arms and neck and hair. Touching his hair almost got her hand bit off. You wanted desperately for her to stop, you tried to tell her to cool it, but she told you to shut up. You didn’t bother after that.

But Billy seemed to notice that. He kept looking at you through the rear view, at first you thought he was just checking behind himself as he drove, but he was doing it too often for it to make sense. Then you finally let him catch your eye and he smiled. Well, it was more of a lopsided smirk, but you took it as a compliment. He hadn’t even attempted to smile the whole time he was around you, but now, with Motley Crüe blasting through the speakers and the wind whipping up everyone’s hair, he was apparently happy to have you around. You took it as a sign of gratitude for at least trying to get Heather to calm her hormones and just smiled back.

You directed Billy to your place, well at least you attempted to. Heather took over easily, drowning you out. “Y/N’s place is right over there-oh! Is your mom home? She’s gonna get pissed if you have a boy in your room; remember what happened when she caught Carl Simpson in your room? God, I can’t believe you lived through that!” she cackled loudly, her intent most definitely to make you blush. You simply rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, no she’s working late. She’s always working late.” You said, trying to hide the annoyed bite to your voice, masking it with a laugh. Heather just continued to cackle loudly, which hid your defeated sigh. Billy parked on the street without you having to ask and he climbed out angrily. You rushed to get ahead of the group, keys jingling in your hand, and unlocked the door.

“If you don’t mind, can you take your shoes off?” you asked as a wave of A/C smacked you in the face. You kicked off your sneakers as Heather and Billy stared at you, dumbfounded.

“Ugh, come on Y/N! That’s weird!” Heather moaned, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Heather. You know if I get shoe prints all over the tile, my mom will get pissed. You never have a problem with it when we’re hanging out, so don’t be a weirdo now.” You replied. Billy simply kicked off his own shoes, leaving Heather to groan loudly but to follow suit. Then and only then did you let them trek through your house and into your bedroom. You lived in a bungalow, so your room was at the back of the house, facing your backyard.

“Alright, you want your nose, yeah?” you asked, popping open your front door and heading to your bookshelf. You dug through your worn paperbacks until your fingers hit the firm spine of Catch 22. You pulled it off the shelf, popping open the cover and revealing the carved out middle. Your mother was the type to rifle through your stuff to try to catch you doing something wrong. You made the hiding spot solely to keep things that she’d take away. Inside, you had some spare cash, for emergencies, your hollow needle, and the silver barbells you’d bought to use when you pierced your nipples, which you’d been meaning to get around to. You’d promised your mother that you’d stop piercing people. She’d found the bloody needle and freaked out. Usually, it wasn’t that much of a blood bath, but you’d pierced Samantha Burke’s upper cartilage that day and underestimated both how much it would hurt her and how much of a mess it would make. You swore up and down that you’d stop, but your wannabe cool classmates paid big bucks for you to pierce their ears. There’d been an insane influx of boys wanting their ears pierced after seeing how popular Billy was. You didn’t correct them when they wanted the left ear, especially if they were dicks, and you took the cash happily. What your mother didn’t know didn’t hurt her.

“Yeah.” Billy said stiffly. He stood in the middle of your room, unsure what to do with yourself. You only lived a street down from him, too close to his father for comfort. His father already didn’t like the earring, doing his nose could get him in even deeper shit. He was willing to risk it though, purely to look cool.

“Which nostril, left or right?” you asked, bending down to reach into the lowest drawer of your desk, pulling out a lighter and, flicking open the flame, running it over the needle to sanitize it.

Billy chucked “Neither, I want the bull ring.” He said proudly, puffing out his chest. You looked up from the flame, looking him over for any signs of bluff. He looked too serious about this.

You nodded “Alright, I’ve never done a septum ring, but I’ve done the cartilage before, shouldn’t be any different.” You replied with a shrug “You got a big enough nose ring on you? Or am I cleaning and selling you one of mine?”

Billy reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a silver ring. It looked like it was actually made for a nose, which was a good sign. You’d pierced enough idiots to know that people think that any old earring would work in their nose or eyebrow or lip.

Heather was completely agog “No way, Bill! You can’t do your nose like that! I hate that!” she cried. Both you and Billy looked over at him, bouncing on your twin bed angrily. You raised an eyebrow at Billy, who seemed to understand the look immediately: ‘are you two dating?’ He shook his head.

You closed your eyes, trying not to strangle your friend. She always seemed to think that the world and people’s choices revolved around her. Instead of freaking out, you simply nodded “Heather, you want your second hole today? We can do it really fast before Billy’s nose.” You said.

“Oh duh! But I didn’t bring my earrings and I’m not paying for a set of yours, so unless you’re coughing up a pair for free, I’ll wait.” She replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

You flicked the lighter closed, placing the needle on your desk and pushing yourself onto your feet, reaching into your purse. You pulled out the earrings, tossing them to your friend. “Here, happy birthday.” You smirked. Heather caught them and squealed loudly, clutching them to her chest and kicking out her legs.

“Thank you!” she cried, reaching out to grab your neck and hug you tight. You chuckled, patting her back awkwardly.

“Okay! We’ll do yours first, go grab like a full tray of ice from downstairs, okay? And a roll of paper towel.” You instructed. Heather jumped to her feet, rushing downstairs as fast as she could. You resumed what you were doing, grabbing your lighter to disinfect the needle one more time.

“You wanna see what those things look like when they get ripped out?” you asked, turning your attention to Billy, who had taken to looking through your shelves boredly.

“What things?” he asked, his tone annoyed and deeply tired.

“The bull rings.” You replied. Billy hummed and you took that as the go ahead to grab the picture from your copy of Catch 22, pulling the Polaroid from underneath the cash. You handed it to Billy wordlessly.

The image was gruesome. It was of a guy, a few years older than Billy and you, with a bright red mohawk and dressed in a suit. He stood next to who Billy could only assume was the dude’s bride in an ugly reception hall. But that wasn’t the gruesome part; the part that made Billy’s stomach turn was the guy’s nose. It was mangled beyond belief, shrunken and crumpled. The guy only had one full nostril, the left one turned into a short of half open hole, a bunch of cartilage gone and gaping. It was quite honestly gross.

Billy cringed as he examined the guy. You took the moment to explain. “That’s cousin and her husband, Ben. Total punk rockers. Like three months before the wedding, I went with them to a Pixies concert and we all went to the mosh pit together. I guess I looked at this girl’s boyfriend or maybe I looked at her wrong because she tried to pick a fight with me. Ben stepped in, and before he could even say anything to her, she reached up and yanked out his nose ring. It tore the cartilage and he had to have his whole nose reconstructed. He couldn’t afford to have the nostril reconstructive surgery on top of the general nose reconstruction to save his one solid nostril and the bridge from collapsing.” You said.

Billy looked up, trying to bring his expression back to a neutral one “Why are you telling me this?” he asked, handing you back the picture.

You sighed “Look, everyone in the town knows that you get into fights. Having a big ole ring in the middle of your nose is just a really good place to grab for someone who wants an easy win on a fight.”

Billy scoffed “Only girls grab at shit to make a fight easier.”

You shrugged “Maybe, but I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t try to not get their ass beat by a guy twice their size.” You replied, popping the picture back into your kit.

Billy sighed “Would you do the left or right side then?” he asked.

You smirked slightly, looking him over. You bought your hands to his hands, which made Billy gasp slightly with his mouth shut. You ignore it, turning his face to the left and right, examining each side. The right side was better.

“Honestly? I wouldn’t do either. It’s not your look.” You said, letting his face go. He was very pretty up close, which gave you all the more reason to pull away before you did something stupid.

“Well I want something!” he cried and you laughed. Billy smirked as your face broke into a grin. It was the first genuine smile you’d had all day and it was quite pretty. He thought you were prettier than Heather, although he wouldn’t admit that if he still wanted the blow job Heather had been eluding to wanting to give all day.

“I can pierce your other ear, or give you a second hole on your right ear.” You said. Billy cringed and shook his head at both options. You thought for a second before a daring idea came into your head. You hesitated to give it, purely because you’d spent money on it for yourself, but you felt bad for making him give up on the idea.

“How about your nipples?” you said. Billy’s mouth fell open slightly, but he swallowed slightly, closing it. He’d never thought about piercing his nipples, but he immediately liked the idea.

“You ever pierce a nipple?” he asked, leaning closer to you. He was really hoping you’d say yes. He could feel himself warming up just at the thought of a great pair of tits with silver barbells glinting in the sunlight.

“No, but I had planned to-if you’re worried about me fucking up, I can do one of mine first.” You said, pulling the silver barbells of his dreams out of the book and flashing them to him with a smile.

“Oh no sweetheart...I trust you. But you gotta let me do yours if you want them done.” He replied.

“You do piercings?” you asked sceptically, placing the barbells on your desk.

“Doesn’t seem too hard.” He replied, inching closer to you. You back into your desk, exactly where he wanted you.

You chuckled, pressing a hand into his chest, and pushing him off you. “Yeah, the only amateur I get pierced by is myself, that way if I fuck up I have no one to blame but myself.” You explained. Heather burst in right on cue, ice melting down her hand and a damp paper towel roll in hand.

“Sorry! Took awhile to find the paper towel.” She announced, plopping the roll on your desk and tray next to it.

“It’s cool, you ready to do this?” you asked her. She furrowed her brow nervously, but you gestured to your desk chair. She sat down and gripped the arms to ease her shaking hands. You grabbed a cube from the tray and pressed it to her left lobe. “Alright, hold that there for a second sweetheart, I gotta unpack your earrings.” You reached for the package and pulled off the tape that secured the backings to the earrings. You pulled the cheap backing off the spoke and released the ‘H’ from the teal plastic hanger and placed it flat on the desktop.

“Nice and numb?” you asked. Heather bit down hard on her lip and nodded. You grabbed a black sharpie and marked her lobe. “Alright we’re going to count to three, take a deep breath with me, okay?” you took in a deep breath and Heather followed, shutting her eyes. You grabbed the needle and placed it against the marking.

“Let the breath go.” You huffed the breath out and when Heather did the same you plunged the needle into her lobe. She squealed but you counted loudly over it “One, two,” you grabbed the earring, placing it into the hole in the needle and pulling it through “Three. There, you’re halfway done.” You said, capped the earring and wiping down the needle with a bit of paper towel. Earlobes don’t generally bleed much and your needle came through practically clean, but you wiped it down anyway, if only to calm her nerves.

“Are you okay for me to do one more?” you asked. Heather nodded and you grabbed another cube from the tray, pressing it to the right lobe. The process repeated again and Billy watched on baited breath. At first, he was only interested in staring at your ass and imagining filthy things at the idea of you hovering over Heather and making her bite her lips for other reasons. But Heather wasn’t the interesting part of this image; it was you with your kind words and gentle but firm touches. Even when he got bored of the fantasy, he still watched you, utterly transfixed by you. Heather’s squeal pulled him out of his fantasy and back into the warm light of your bedroom. You capped the back of the second earring, stepping back to admire your work.

“Do they look alright?” Heather reached up to touch the new pierces, as if they weren’t real. As if she didn’t feel them stab through her head.

“They’re completely crooked.” You said, deadpan. Heather gasped loudly and you backtracked quickly “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! They look great!” Heather smacked you hard in the stomach, forcing herself out of the chair and over to your bed.

“We doing this, Hargrove?” you turned to him, looking him over confidently. He nodded, licking his lips. “Alright, lay down, Heather I’m gonna need you to move.” Billy tore off his shirt and Heather’s mouth dropped open as you ran the flame over the needle again.

“Oh my god what is going on?” Heather asked, practically drooling.

You rolled your ice “Heather, move your ass and grab me some ice. Billy, which side we doing here?” you asked, grabbing the package of silver barbells and ripping it open, pulling out one and bringing it over to the bed.

“Right.” He said confidently and you took the ice from Heather, straddling Billy and pressing the ice to his nipple. Billy shivered under you and you smirked.

“Heather, pass me the sharpie.” You said, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“This is insane...” Heather breathed, passing you the black marker. “Where’s your camera?”

“Nightstand drawer.” You replied, uncapping the marker with your teeth. Billy turned sharply to look for Heather, his face turning into a snarl. You leaned down, grabbing his chin and turning him back to you. His mouth fell open slightly as you leaned into his ear, whispering “Relax, you look hot...” you breathed hot air onto his neck as you spoke and his skin broke into goose bumps.

“You numb?” you asked. Billy nodded, even though he didn’t think his senses could be less numb if he tried, all of his nerves were alert and on edge. “Good...” you muttered, marking the spot for your needle and unscrewed one end of the barbell. You heard a click and saw the flash go off in the corner of your eye, but you ignored it, focusing on the warm skin under your hands.

You looked him over with a smirk “You need a countdown or are you gonna be a big man for me?” you asked, another flash trying to spot your vision. Billy swallowed hard and let out a small yelp, nodding confidently despite the sound coming out of his throat. “Good boy...” you whispered, shoving the needle through the hardened pink flesh. You felt every inch of him tense up as the pain shot through the bundle of nerves you’d just stabbed through. You mistook the final flash of the camera for stars as you felt him stiffen under your ass. You slid the barbell into the hollow end and slid the needle through, screwing the ball back on.

You smiled, admiring your work for climbing off him and dropping the needle on the mattress. “Alright, use rubbing alcohol to clean those at least once a day. I am not responsible for any infections you get because you can’t take care of yourself.” You explained, pulling your white tee shirt back over your hips. Billy sat up slowly, drinking you in like a cool glass of water, his mouth turning up as you turned around, packing up your kit and returning it to your hiding places.

“My mom’s gonna be home soon and I really wanna change. You good to take Heather home?” you turned your attention to Billy and he nodded slowly.

Heather got up, pulling you into a tight hug and sliding something into your back pocket. “Call me later?” she asked. You nodded, shoving your hands into your back pockets once she let go. Thick and glossy, they had to be the photos. You smirked; you’d look those over once she was gone. Heather headed out of the room as Billy examined himself in your full length mirror before tossing his shirt over his shoulder.

“You alright?” you asked, coming up behind him in the mirror.

“Just admiring your handiwork,” he replied, cocking his head to look at you “You think I can come back and get the other one done?” he asked.

“Sure...” you replied, looking him over slowly “Maybe you leave Heather behind next time.” Billy chuckled darkly, nodding slowly as his tongue slipped out of his mouth again.

“Alright then...I’ll see you around.” You said. You wanted to look over your pictures before you made any plans. You had to know if it looked as hot as it felt. But you had a feeling that it was more than you could ever imagine, no matter how hard you had tried in the past.

Red Queen Pride and Prejudice AU (part 3)

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist

@lilyharvord sorry for the long waiting but life got in the way, as always. I hope you like this chapter and stay tuned for the fourth (which, I swear, won’t take that long)

Words: 2335

Wren wasn’t feeling any better. On hearing this, Miss Samos and Lady Haven repeated three or four times how terrible it was to have a bad cold, and how much they themselves hated being sick, but after that, they thought of it no more, and their indifference toward their guest when they weren’t directly around her confirmed to Mare all her previous feelings toward the party, including the satisfaction with Mr. Samos’ ways, since his anxiety for Wren was evident. On her side, Mare received very little attention from everyone: the ladies were attracted to the General like flies with honey, and Lucas Samos, beside whom Mare sat for lunch, wasn’t much of a conversationalist, and when he discovered that Mare preferred simple dishes to elaborate ones, he had nothing more to add until the end of the meal, when Mare apologized and immediately returned to Wren. As soon as the door closed behind her back, Miss Samos began to speak ill of her manners, which were declared very bad, a mixture of pride and impertinence.

“She has neither style, nor taste or beauty,” added Lady Haven. “In short, she has nothing that does her honour but to be an excellent walker. I’ll never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked like a savage.”

“I just managed to contain myself!” exclaimed the other. “What nonsense to go all that way through the mud for a simple cold. Besides, I would never have shown myself around with such sloppy, dishevelled hair.”

“Miss Barrow may not be a great conversationalist, and I guess your description may be correct,” replied the cousin, “but not only did I miss the muddy slip and the simple hairstyle, I can also say that I justify her little desire to chat, when her friend, for whom she feels a palpable affection, is in those conditions.”

“I am afraid, General, “observed Miss Samos, almost whispering, "that this adventure has somewhat shaken your admiration for her beautiful eyes.”

“Not at all,” he replied, “they were enlightened by the exercise.”

A short pause followed, and it was Lady Haven who began again: “I have a lot of respect for Miss Wren, she really is one of the sweetest girls I had the pleasure to know, and with all my heart I would like for her to settle down well, but with such parents and modest kinship, I fear there’s no chance of that happening.”

"I seem to have heard you say her uncle is a scholar,” said Mr. Samos, who didn’t seem to have any objection to the words his sister and friend had addressed to Mare, but didn’t like those harsh comments towards of the other guest and wanted to end the topic quickly.

“Yes, and they have another one, who lives somewhere close to Cheapside,” replied his sister, unleashing her friend’s laughter.

“If she had enough uncles to fill all Cheapside”, exclaimed Ptolemus, who was starting to get really irritated, “that wouldn’t make her less nice.”

“But that actually diminishes her chance of marrying a man of some importance in society,” Cal replied quietly, hoping to be able to be a peacemaker now as he always did when they were children. Obviously Ptolemus didn’t like his words, and left the room in great strides, slamming the door behind him. Everything would be back to normal by tea time, he was sure, and in this way he had also managed to dispel, at least for a moment, from Evangeline’s mind the thought that he was in turn interested in one of their guests. After lingering for a while to amuse themselves at the expense of their dear friend’s vulgar kinship, with a surge of tenderness, they went to her room, and stayed with her until they were called for tea. Wren was still very unwell, and Mare absolutely didn’t want to leave her until late evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her asleep, and judged it correct, more than pleasant, to go downstairs.  Entering the living room, she found them all playing cards and she was immediately invited to join, but suspecting they were playing hard she refused but decided to watch and listen to their conversation about Whitefire, General Calore’s estate, and his grandmother, a woman whose manners was widely praised by Miss Samos.

“It’s surprising to me,” said Mr. Samos, “ how many women have the patience to get to be so well educated as they all are; they can paint, play the piano, dance, sing and even embroider. I don’t know any who can’t do all this things, and I’m sure I’ve never heard of a woman before without being made aware of how well educated she was.”

"Your list of things commonly defined as education is all too true,” said the General. “The world is applied to many women who doesn’t deserve it and I can say it with certainty, after getting to know them better. I have to admit that, sadly, in my entire range of acquaintances, there are no more than half a dozen of really educated women.”

"Neither am I, I’m sure,” said Miss Samos. The more she knew her, the more it was evident that she was trying in every way to create bridges between her meagre personal ideas and those of the General, and Mare was ready to bet, even if she hated it, that she would be willing to trample any friendship or ideal in order to achieve her goal to marry him. If only their descriptions of what was a truly educated woman had been more alike, Mare would’ve said they were meant for each other, but their words were so diametrically opposed that she almost had to restrain herself from laughing, a task in which she was aided by the fact that General Calore described someone who was also very distant from both her, her family and her friends,  a mixture of talent, good taste, elegance and commitment that didn’t even reflect the other two young ladies in the room, who began to protest so much that Lucas Samos had to impose some order on them so they could finish the game. Since the conversation had ended so bitterly, Mare left the room shortly after.

“Miss Barrow,” said Miss Samos, once the door closed, “is one of those young ladies who try to make a good impression with the opposite sex by underestimating their own, and I am convinced that with many men the thing is successful but, in my opinion, it’s a petty system, a squalid artifice.”

“No doubt,” replied Cal, who was the main recipient of this remark, “there is some meanness in all the tricks that ladies sometimes deign to use to seduce. Anything that has an affinity for cunning is despicable.”

Not completely satisfied with that answer, Evangeline dropped the subject. How dare he throw digs at her when he knew perfectly well what had pushed her this far? Not even Ptolemus intervened, and Elane gave her a sideways glance, to make sure she wasn’t making one of her scenes. It was probably the possibility that Miss Barrow or Miss Skonos might hear it that stopped her, but that didn’t prevented her, that very evening, from consoling herself in the privacy of her room with the one that everyone would forever call her dear friend. As always after Elane’s loving care, all tension was smoothed out, and the following morning, when Mare had the pleasure of being able to give a fairly positive response to the request for information she had received very early in the morning from Mr. Samos through a waitress, it was proposed that a note could be sent to Mrs Skonos to ask her to visit her daughter and see for herself the situation, inviting her to take Mrs Barrow and the younger Miss Barrow with her too. If she had found Wren visibly in danger, Mrs. Skonos would certainly have despaired, but felt satisfied to see that the disease didn’t cause any alarm, she didn’t wish she would recover immediately, given that a healing would probably have taken her out of the Hall of the Sun. Therefore, she didn’t want to listen to her daughter, whom proposed to be brought home, and also the pharmacist, who had almost reached the house at the same time, thought it was definitely inadvisable. After spending some time with Wren, the four women were invited by Miss Samos to join her and her brother in the breakfast room, where he welcomed them hoping that Mrs. Skonos hadn’t found her daughter worse than what she had expected, but his hopes were partly dashed, although the woman later took care to compliment them profusely both on their kindness and on the wonderful estate they had rented.

“I hope you’re not going to leave us too quickly, even if the lease is short,” said Mrs. Barrow, who hadn’t yet uttered a word except for the customary greetings.

“Whatever I do, I do it quickly,” he replied, “and so if I had to decide to leave the Hall, I would probably leave in five minutes. For the moment, however, I consider it a stable accommodation.”

"That’s exactly what I would’ve imagined from you,” Mare said.

“I didn’t know,” Miss Samos interjected, “you were a student of characters. ”

“It must be a fun study,” noted her cousin, who had recently joined them along with General Calore.

“Yes, but the intricate characters are the funniest. At least they have that advantage,” she replied, casting a quick glance at Tiberias, who, feeling drawn into question, reminded her that the countryside wasn’t exactly the best testing ground for studies like that.

“In a countryside area one moves within a restricted and uniform social environment.”

“But people change so much that there is always something new to observe,” replied Mare, always ready to change his mind about his prejudices on simple people. If she had addressed any other gentleman like that, her mother would’ve reminded her of her place in the world but since it was General Calore, she was happy to take her daughter’s side, although not in the best of ways, to the point that her interlocutor, after giving her a long puzzled look, walked away in silence and even Lucas Samos found himself embarrassed.

“You have completely misunderstood my friend: he only meant that in the countryside there certainly can’t be the same amount of people you can find in town.”

“Nobody says otherwise, but as for not frequenting so many people in these parts, I think there are few places richer in neighbours. All I know is that we know twenty-four families.”

Nothing but the regard towards Mare allowed Lucas to keep himself serious. The cousin was less delicate, and gave her brother a very expressive smile. Mare, in order to divert her mother’s thoughts, asked her if Diana Farley had been visiting them since she was at the Hall.

“Yes, she came yesterday with her father, but she didn’t stop for lunch because her mother was waiting for her at home to make apple pie for her little sister’s birthday. The Farleys are really good girls, I assure you, and they are also very nice, but if they are with Wren or my daughters… they inevitably end up taking a back seat. That’s what everyone says, I don’t just trust my partiality.”

“When Wren was only fifteen,” Lady Skonos added, “there was a gentleman at my sister’s so in love with her that my brother-in-law was sure he would’ve declared himself before we could leave. Instead nothing came of it. Maybe he thought that she was too young. However, he wrote some verses about her, and they were very pretty.”

“And so his love ended,” Mare said impatiently. “There were more than one, I guess, that ended up like this. I often ask myself who was the first to discover the effectiveness of poem in chasing love away!”

Obviously the General didn’t share her idea, and was more than happy to point this out, interrupting his conversation with Miss Samos. Mare too had the answer ready, and their quarrel was followed by a long silence, which forced Mrs Skonos to thank the homeowner again for the kindness showed to her daughter, and Mrs Barrow to apologize for the inconvenience caused by Mare, who still didn’t have the slightest intention of leaving. Mr. Samos gave a spontaneous and courteous reply, and also forced his sister to behave in the same way, although she didn’t play her part gracefully enough not to allow Mare to notice that hers was all fiction. The two older women, however, seemed to be content and when Mrs Skonos ordered the carriage, Gisa stepped forward as if on command and asked Mr. Samos when he intended to give the ball his cousin had promised he would tell him about when they arrived in the countryside. Gisa was a strong and well-developed girl of fifteen, with a beautiful complexion and a cheerful expression; it was her mother’s favourite, whose affection had led her to make her entry into society at a very early age. She had a bursting vitality, a kind of innate self-confidence, that the officers’ attentions had turned into cheekiness, making her the perfect candidate to address Mr. Samos about a ball which, if not given, would’ve been the worst of shame on his honour, at least in her words.

"I’m perfectly ready,” he reassured her, “and when your friend has recovered, you will set the date of the party, if you please.”

Gisa looked satisfied, and began to fantasize about what other events she would be able to organize and continued to do so even when they were gone and Mare returned to Wren, leaving her and her relatives behaviour at the mercy of the two ladies and the General, who nevertheless didn’t allow himself to be persuaded to join in the criticism despite all the jokes Evangeline made about beautiful eyes.

What Makes a Hero Pt 5

So this took me way longer than I thought it would for me to get around to posting and I’m so sorry. I’m gonna try to be more consistent. I had to rewrite a lot of what I had to keep the story moving since I didn’t know exactly where it was going. Hope you all enjoy. Leave a comment for more content you want to be posted!

She woke up blinking into light. NO! No she had escaped. She couldn't be back. She had finally gotten away. She bolted upright panicked. “No. No. How did I get back here?!” she shrieked hysterically.

“Hey. you’re ok. You’re safe here.” a soft voice spoke.

No one was ever soft to her. Was she actually back at the hideout? Taking in her surroundings she saw she was in a hospital bed and surrounded by the pro heroes snipe, midnight, and cementoss and… a rodent?

“My name is Nezu. I’m the principle at UA. Can you please tell us who you are and how you got to be in the USJ?” the rodent asked politely.

She flinched and put her arms in front of her forming two knives of darkness… except nothing formed. She looked down at her hands in disbelief.

“We had to restrain your quirk so we could assess the situation.” Cementoss explained

“Can you answer Principle Nezu’s question?” Snipe asked.

“What happened? Where am I? How did I get here? Why am I here?” (y/n) asked.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. But let’s start with finding out your name.”

“My name is (y/n).”

“What’s your association with the League of Villains?

She looked around and finally realized the situation she was in. She was a criminal. Sure, no one knew of her crimes, but they would soon enough. She was a part of the League of Villains that had attacked UA. Their school. The best plan for her would be to work with the heroes in hopes that they’ll help her out somehow. She was also too injured to think about fighting any of them off and with her quirk suppressed...

Sighing she leaned back into the bed. “I’ve been in the League of Villains for 10 years now. I was arranged to be in a quirk marriage with their leader Shigaraki.” At that, the heroes looked at each other and Cementoss left the room. (y/n) continued on, “Yesterday I escaped and wound up wherever that was. I’m guessing the USJ?” she asked receiving a nod from Nezu.

The door opened again and Cementoss entered with All Might behind him.

“Shit” (y/n) breathed. The man she had been trained to destroy was now standing in front of her.

At that Midnight laughed but All Might looked confused. “You’re not used to that reaction, are you All Might?” Looking back at (y/n) she asked, “you escaped? Were you a prisoner? We noticed you had multiple injuries. How did you get those?”

“They recruited me when I was just 6 years old. Sensei demanded they train me and later revealed that I was to be with Shigaraki to combine our quirks. I tried to escape once before. Clearly, it didn’t work. Since then I’ve been going along with what they had me do for training.” She shuddered, letting out a shaky breath before continuing. “I went along with what they wanted me to do. I hurt people. I killed people.” Tears had started to flow down her cheeks as she realized how compliant she had been. She had stopped fighting and let them do this to her. “The turned me into the perfect weapon. You’re right to have erased my quirk. It’s too dangerous.”

“How did you get your injuries?” Midnight asked softly.

“Some of them were from my escape. I had that knife thrown into my shoulder and damaged my ankle even further yesterday, but most of these injuries came from the day before. They wanted to test out their Nomu against me before--”

“They put you against that Nomu?” All Might yelled

(Y/n) shrank further into herself at his outburst before Midnight reached out to her and grabbed her hand reassuring her.

“Yes” she mumbled out

“What’s your quirk?” Principle Nomu asked.

“I have the ability to control and manipulate all darkness. I can turn myself into darkness as well, but if I use my quirk too much, the darkness...it takes control. I lose myself and it can be rather disastrous.” she explained.

“Your quirk is rather impressive but how can they expect a child to take on the Nomu?” asked All Might

“They didn’t expect me to win. But they wanted to see how long I lasted against him. Sensei trained me to be the perfect weapon. His personal assassin to help tear down Hero society.” she sheepishly looked at the room. 

“How did they get you back in control when the darkness took over?” Asked Snipe

She visibly shuddered remembering the pain. “They had a special room built. It stripped my quirk away. Since my quirk is apart of me when it was being stripped away it would hurt me as well. I would be locked in the room for hours or days. I would completely submit to what they wanted if it meant getting out of that room.”

When she finished, the room was completely silent.

“Are those cuffs hurting you?” asked Nezu

“There’s a slight sting, but the nature of these quirk suppresents is different. The room was made to keep out all darkness. These just don’t allow my quirk to be used.” she said raising her cuffed hands.

Nezu asked the teachers to join him to talk some things over. As they were leaving Midnight turned back. “Thank you for helping us. You don’t have to worry. They will never get to you again.” She promised before sliding the door closed.

(Y/N) just looked at the ceiling with a blank stare.

As the teacher’s met Midnight was getting more and more frustrated.

“She’s just a kid!” cried Midnight. “You heard her, she was taken in by them at 6! This is all she’s ever known.”

“She murdered people Midnight. She admitted to it.” Snipe replied

“You saw her reaction. That was remorse. She knew what she did was wrong. She’s the same age as our students. She was tortured for gods sake!”

“Well what are we supposed to do then, Midnight?” asked Cementoss

“We could teach her what it means to be a hero” All Might put in. Everyone turned their attention to him. “She doesn’t know how to use her quirk for good. We’re teaching our students how to become heroes. All she’s known is how to be a villain. What if we were to show her how to use her quirk for good? Quirks aren’t good or bad, it just depends on how they’re used.”

Midnight blinked for a moment before a smile grew on her face. “That’s perfect!”

“Are we really supposed to let a villain so close to our students?” asked Cementoss

“How will we be able to trust her?” added Snipe.

“All Might does have a point.” interrupted Principle Nezu. “It’s our job to teach the next generation of heroes. Who’s to say (y/n) isn’t a part of that? She’s clearly strong enough that the villains want her. But how will we make sure the villains don’t get to her again?”

“She’ll live with me” stated Midnight.

“Midnight? Are you sure?” asked Cementoss

“She’s been through more than enough already. If I can help to protect her and to teach her how to be a hero then isn’t it my responsibility as a teacher and a pro-hero to do that?”

“And what if she doesn’t want to be a hero?” questioned Snipe

“Well she definitely doesn’t want to be a villain,” muttered All Might. “Her injuries were substantial and she didn’t get in a fight with any of our students. Though Bakugou wanted to… “

“It’s decided then! (y/n) will live with Midnight and be enrolled in the hero course at UA.” announced Principle Nezu.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea.” muttered Snipe.

Midnight entered (y/n)’s room alone this time.

“I guess this is when I go to jail huh?” asked (y/n)

“Well if you want to, but I think you’ll want to hear me out before deciding that.” Midnight paused waiting to see her reaction. When (y/n) just looked at her waiting she continued, “We’ve decided to add you to the hero course at UA. This way we can ensure that the League of Villains can’t get a hold of you.”

“You’re kidding right? You can’t actually want someone like me at your school.” (y/n) said in utter disbelief. “I’ve killed people!” she said becoming a bit hysterical.

“It was against your will.” explained Midnight.

“No i--”

“Yes it was, while they might not have actually forced you to, it was against your will. You were their prisoner. You were even handcuffed when you escaped.”

“I...Are you sure you want me?” (y/n) asked quietly. “My quirk is dangerous. It’s in my nature to be a villain.”

“Well I wouldn’t have offered for you to live with me if I didn’t think this was a good idea. And your quirk is only dangerous if you let it be. No one is born evil or good but its the choices they make that make them.”

“Wait! You offered for me to live with you?!”

“I didn’t just offer, I’m expecting that you’ll be living with me. You’ll start school on Monday. We’ll figure out the details over the weekend and you can move in with me in the meantime.”

“Why?” (Y/n) asked.

“Because nobody deserves to go through what you’ve been through. I also see great potential in you. I’m putting my reputation on the line because I believe in you. So, do you want this or would you prefer to go to jail?”

With a determined look (y/n) met Midnight’s blue eyes. 

“I’ll work to become a person worthy of this and then I will destroy the Leauge for everything they’ve done.

Second City, chp. 12

Summary: Sometimes she worries she’s settling — for a smaller job, a smaller city, a smaller life than she’d promised herself — but that was before she found out Jughead Jones lives in Chicago. That was before she found out the final secret of Jason Blossom’s murder.

A/N: Alright, so. It's been seventeen months since I updated and my life has been turned upside down several times since then. I never intended to abandon this fic, or writing in general, and I still don't intend to but it's probably best to consider it on hiatus until further notice, as I can't promise it won't be another seventeen months before I update again. I actually had this chapter mostly written and was just sitting on it, but all further chapters are in much rougher shape so who knows. Same goes for NNK - nothing is anywhere near publishable for that one, sorry. 

I do want to say how much I appreciate all of you who kept reading and commenting and checking in with me here. It does mean so much to me and I think about you a lot, even if I don't show up and do anything about it.

Also, hopefully it goes without saying but, this fic is canon compliant through season 1 only, so Hal is not the Black Hood--none of that happened.

ao3–>https://archiveofourown.org/works/11409360/chapters/40956119

All previous chapters of Second City and Nobodies Nobody Knows under the tag #second+city and on the Who Sings Heartache to Sleep series page on Ao3

12. In which Nancy Drew discovers modern technology

Jughead doesn’t approve of her plan, but he doesn’t have any better ideas to offer her so they go with it. Neither of them really has any experience investigating cold cases, and it’s not like she has the kind of technology available to her that she had at her old job — or that any evidence exists that such technology would catch.

After he’d surprised her last night, they’d gone to Pop’s. Of course. He’d come straight to her mom’s house from the airport, barely stopping at his own to drop off his bag, so by the time he got her out her front door, he was practically foaming at the mouth.

“Jug, why didn’t you eat before your flight?”

The look he gives her is so incredulous she barely restrains her smile.

“Betty, why on earth would I eat the soggy grey hockey pucks that try to pass for burgers elsewhere when I know I’m within, like, five hours of Riverdale.”

She realizes that his detour to her basement likely added an extra hour or so onto that ETA, that Jughead Jones willingly remained hungry longer than necessary to find her, but she pushes that thought firmly out of her mind.

Now, she’s in the Blue and Gold office of both past and present, pulling old editions of the paper they wrote out of an ancient filing cabinet — thankful at the miracle that they’re still there in the time warp that continues to be Riverdale. A freckle-faced kid who insisted he was a junior but looked alarmingly young had logged into the computer for them, so Jughead is behind her, looking for digitized copies. The kid didn’t know where the records from 2017 were, so they are left attempting to cover all bases.

The office hasn’t seen many updates since she’d last been here. They’ve replaced the computers, but even these models are several years out of date. They did get rid of the microfiche reader, though. So that’s something.

Betty Cooper, who spent her freshman year pining after the wrong boy, her sophomore year solving a murder, her junior year in a fog of depression, and her senior year learning how to be a person again, never intended to come back here. But somehow, here she is. Wherever you go, there you are. Like all adages, that one is also annoyingly true.

After an hour or so of fruitless searching, Jughead sighs and comes to stand behind her.

“What are we looking for, Betts?”

“The articles we wrote.”

“I know that, but why? What will they tell us that we don’t already know?”

“Something we don’t remember. I don’t know. It was a decade ago — there could be some detail that seemed insignificant at the time but now might help point us at my father, at what he might have been up to.”

She doesn’t know what kind of records there’d be anyway, but she’s determined to look.

“Betty, we know what we wrote. And even if there’s something that was insignificant then, I’ve read reread these editions until my eyes crossed in the course of book research. I’m pretty sure I have them all memorized at this point. Hell, there’s copies back in Chicago. I could have Mike or Mary overnight them to us if you wanted.”

“I just want to be able to check the facts. I want to make sure we have all the information we possibly can.” She tries to keep the petulance out of her voice. Her success is questionable at best.

Because, truthfully, she knows Jughead’s right. There’s nothing to find here. If anywhere, whatever there is to be found must be in the remains of her father’s office, in the crypt that is her childhood home, the crypt where he mother continues to cling to the memory of the Coopers pre-Jason Blossom, pre-Jughead Jones, and pre-Betty’s “rebellious streak rearing its ugly head.” Alice would never admit to it, fond as she is of her grandchildren, but Betty would bet that that last summer before the first time their lives all turned upside down was the last summer in which her mother was truly happy and her life was something under her control.

It’s becoming increasingly clear to Betty that this can only end in a showdown between her and her mother. That Alice Cooper may be the gatekeeper of the truth — a potentiality she both dreads and wishes for as, if not, she’ll have to confront that thought that maybe there is no truth to be had.

Hal Cooper is dead. All of this might turn out to be in vain. And she can’t — she won’t — accept that.

Jughead sighs again behind her, pulling her back out of her head.

“Okay, then let’s take a break before we go see Keller. Your brilliant mind won’t do us any good if you’re totally burned out when we get there.”

Last night, with the shock beginning to wear off and the pungent grease that seems to float in the air around the diner receding behind them, Betty tried not to watch Jughead walking beside her out of the corner of her eye. At least, she tried not to whenever his head was turned toward her. The sound of cicadas slowly overcame the buzz of neon as the trees lining Elm St. enfolded them in a hazy almost-darkness. Just as she was about to give up scanning his face for signs she’d told herself she’d forgotten how to interpret, as dusk stole the details of the moles on his cheek and threads of his expressions, she heard a rustle of foil down near his hands and he popped a square of gum in his mouth.

She narrowed her eyes at him and extended her hand. “What, you don’t think I should get to escape the fate of onion breath?”

He raised one eyebrow as held the package up for her to see — “Nicorette” just visible in the fading light.

Oh.

Huh.

“I…didn’t realize you’d quit.”

“Yeah, a few weeks ago.” He scraped his hand over the back of his neck and then forward to ruffle the waves of his dark hair. “So you’re welcome to a piece if you want, but you might not like how it makes you feel.”

She shook her head and they kept walking a block or two. Then her mouth opened of its own accord, “Freshman year of college, after some insipid party at which I stayed sober — I don’t remember why. Antibiotics, maybe? — the guy walking me home persuaded me to try one of his cigarettes when I told him I’d never smoked. After nearly hacking a lung out, I got the hang of it well enough to not totally embarrass myself. But when I got home, I puked for an hour. Ugh. It was worse than the 2023 Spring Break tequila incident.”

For a moment it was silent beside her and she felt herself begin to blush — what had motivated her to share that utterly useless memory? — Then Jughead burst out laughing, doubling up and gripping his stomach and guffawing so hard she thought he’d choke on the stupid gum.

But it was catching, because soon she was laughing too, careening into the hiccups that had always signalled the fraying of the tether of her sanity.

“He — he must have thought..” Jughead dissolved into giggles again. Jughead Jones. Giggles.

“Oh Betty.” She managed to swallow a hiccup and looked up to find soft eyes on her and all of her mirth suddenly evaporated. It was a look she just wanted to sink into and wrap herself up in, to push away the reality of what they were doing here.

She shoved his shoulder then, telling herself it was because he’d laughed at her. But the flat of her palm against the soft, gray jersey of his t-shirt ignited another sizzle in her abdomen she resolved to ignore.

They try not to talk about it, this giant thing sitting in between them, preventing them from reaching each other. Or, at least, Betty does. She’s not sure if it’s a conscious effort on Jughead’s part or if they’re just totally out of sync again.

But, still, it slipped in. At dinner, he’d made an offhand about Southside High and she said, “I get it, Jug, I do. You didn’t have any chips to play. And while I wish you would have told me, so we could have figured out something together, even if that something was our breaking up, my dad held all the power. The threat to FP— to your family — was bigger than our high school relationship.” She realized she meant it. Maybe she could forgive him after all. Maybe she already had. Maybe their friendship is still intact.

He kept glancing at her and then away again while they searched, as if he expected her to break down, but by that point in the night, she had no room for anything else but undirected anger. She’d let it carry her back to the basement after dinner, where she resumed digging through boxes and poking through excel files looking for passwords or safe combinations or financial records or something.

Anything.

Many hours later, when Betty went upstairs for a glass of water and was surprised to see the house cloaked in darkness, her eyes drifted to a handful of photos stuck in cork board illuminated by the under cabinet lights. A photo of the twins in the Blossom maple grove last winter shot an arrow straight through Betty’s brain.

Glass of water forgotten, she raced back down the stairs and barely caught herself from having to hurdle over Jughead’s head.

She did it. Jughead heard the click and looked up.

“It was—it was the date that Grandpappy Blossom killed Grandpappy Cooper.” He nodded but didn’t say anything as he pushed himself up and crossed behind the desk, to join her in her corner of the floor.

Beneath passports and birth certificates, manila folders containing the deeds to the house and the Register office and bills of sale for the Whyte Wyrm and other properties her parents had acquired and discarded over the years, Betty found a handful of newspaper issues her parents had saved. She handed them, one by one, to Jughead, who scanned headlines before stacking them neatly in piles beside his left hip.

When she picked up the next issue from the stack she’d pulled into her lap, her breath caught and she felt Jughead’s eyes land on her. The cover story was a copy of her Jubilee speech from that year. She remembered her parents justifying their decision to print it in the Register, not buying her arguments about special treatment because she’s their daughter — her dad had insisted.

Rereading it, she finally felt the anger and her energy begin to ebb away, leaving behind hurt and confusion and love for her father. She couldn’t help wondering what he saved this paper for — it it was a message and if so, for whom?

Eventually, she was forced to admit that the safe, too, seemed like a dead end. She sighed and set the newspaper and manila folder for the Whyte Wyrm transactions aside before locking the safe back up. Jughead returned to his side of the office, across the DMZ of the desk and beyond any arm-span that would have allowed her to reach him.

Sheriff Keller’s secretary had headed her off earlier in the week, but today she and Jughead get in to see him, down the long hallway lined in dark wood and seafoam green tile she’s seen so often, in real life and in the dreams that still sometimes creep in. Jughead remains in the doorway, but Betty hovers while Keller makes himself a cup of coffee. When he finally sits down, sighing as his bones settle, and she takes the rickety folding chair across from him, Jughead comes to sit beside her, folding his own long legs around the legs of his chair.

“I don’t have any new information, Betty. This case has been closed for years. We examined all the footage, from both cameras. Your dad never left the bar. Clifford entered and exited through the back door. There’s no evidence your dad even knew he was there.” It’s not unexpected, but still it sets her teeth on edge.

“But why would he just go into the Whyte Wyrm for fifteen minutes at 2:30 in the morning on a night it was closed. He wasn’t doing business stuff, he never even went into the office. And how could he not have heard the shot?”

“He said he didn’t. We had no reason to doubt him. Betty, your father was a good man.” It’s obfuscation wrapped up in a pretty bow of trying to make her feel better. What Sheriff Keller is saying is that Hal was one of the right kind of people. He owned his own home and his own business, had a picture-perfect family. What Keller is saying is that he didn’t do his job.

Betty feels herself begin to vibrate with anger again and a dozen years of repressed emotions and she can feel Jughead’s eyes on her, wondering if she’s alright. “And you just bought that? That he was in the bar but couldn’t hear the shot? You didn’t ever think to test it?”

The set of his jaw tells her Keller is getting annoyed with her now. That answering questions on done-and-dusted murder investigations was not how he’d planned to spend his Wednesday afternoon. “We have Clifford Blossom on tape, we didn’t need your father for the case against him.”

As usual, Sheriff Keller totally misses her point.

Jughead speaks before she can. “But you never thought that that might be too much of a coincidence? That a man who never frequented the Whyte Wyrm, except to check up on the accounts and always during the daytime, just so happened to be in the bar at the exact moment a kid was shot. A kid he was so upset about dating his teenage daughter that he literally sent her away. You never thought they could have been together before entering the bar and then split up so you couldn’t prove it?”

Keller stares at him, bushy eyebrows drawn down over his eyes. “Then why would he let himself be caught on camera at all?”

“I don’t know, maybe he was drunk and forgot all about the cameras. Hell, maybe, in the best case scenario, he and Clifford were together when Clifford got the call from Mustang and Hal didn’t know Clifford planned to kill his own son. Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But you truly believe he didn’t know that gun went off? He didn’t spend months trying to hush it up only to swoop in as the white knight for my dad as soon as I found the proof he was there?”

The sheriff’s chair squeaks as he leans to one side and then the other, scans his eyes up to the ceiling and back down to a spot on the table where the decades have left a rusty mug-shaped ring.

“Jones, what’s the point of all this? Your dad’s out and Hal Cooper’s been dead for years — sorry, Betty.”

She doesn’t understand, has never understood, how her sweet and morally uncompromising best friend can have such a troglodyte for a father.

“The point is apparently Riverdale is just as corrupt and morally bankrupt as it always was. My God, how the hell do you keep getting elected? Let’s go, Betty.”

She lets him lead her out of the police station. Her mind still whirring with the sheriff’s incompetence as yet another roadblock, yet another of the same roadblocks as they’d encountered so many years before. So she gives Jughead the keys and lets him drive her back to her house.

It’s almost alarming how quickly they slip back into old habits, old ways of being comfortable with each other she thought they’d long since forgotten. They’re in the basement again, Betty going through more boxes and Jughead trying to crack the encryption on her father’s old external hard drive when it comes to her. “Juggie, we can test it!”

“What?”

“We need to know if my father heard the gunshot. We may not be able to prove whether he knew what Clifford was up to or if they were together beforehand, but we can prove he knew the gun went off and didn’t do anything about it. We can test it.”

“You want to set off a gun in the basement of the Whyte Wyrm?”

“Why not? Your dad runs it now, right? We can do it before they open for the night so no one will freak out. I know my mom still has as gun around the house somewhere. It might not be the same caliber though. Do different gun sizes discharge at different volumes?” Betty is absorbed in her own monologue, mind jumping ahead to all the variabilities of ballistics she can remember from a lifetime of watching too many crime procedurals.

“Betty, stop. We can’t just shoot a gun in the middle of a building. What would we even shoot it at? That’s gotta be against the law and after today, I don’t think Keller’s gonna be too willing to give us the benefit of the doubt. And he definitely won’t give FP the benefit of the doubt.”

She’d begun quickly re-boxing all the papers from her parents’ refinancing in 2011 but at Jughead’s words she freezes and feels herself deflate. “I guess you’re right. Never mind. I just — I thought it might be something after all of this nothing.”

“Wait. I have an idea. You’re a genius.” He kisses her forehead and runs out before she can ask him what he means.

In a Name: Ch 4

The people: @hannah-caitlynn @graysonmalfoy @falltoashes @solsticestorm @bingewatchingmylifegoby @elenoranave @incadinkadoo @melanin—senpai @juuliiaa05

You flinched at the words but didn’t try to resist. Even when he waved his hand and a pair of green glowing cuffs wrapped around your wrists, you stood tall.

Loki nodded, almost in satisfaction, when he noticed this. Seemingly from nowhere, Loki produced a cloak and threw it over you, pulling the hood up so you were shrouded from view. He looked around the room, silently daring someone to challenge him. Seeing no one, Loki pulled up his own hood, gripped you by the good arm, and marched you out of the jail and into the evening air. He led you in silence, not looking at you. Each step sent a jolt of pain up your dislocated shoulder but you knew better than to comment on it. After a time, you realized that Loki was marching you into the forest near your home, not towards the palace. You started to shift uneasily, attempting to move him back to the main road, uncertain of his intention. After all, he was still completely armed, while you had been searched at the jail, and also magically restrained. “Trust me.” Loki muttered as he continued leading you to the forest. There was a split second where you could decide to make a break for it, or trust that he was actually helping you. Your body decided for you, allowing him to continue leading you to the forest. More time passed and eventually you found yourselves in the same place that Sif had attempted to apologize to you. “What are you doing?” You finally broke the heavy silence. Loki shot an annoyed look at you. “My prince.” You added hastily. Loki chuckled finally and rolled his eyes. All traces of that prior coldness was gone. “Here, kneel down.” You looked up at him uncertainly. “Please.” He added. You finally did as he asked, eyeing him warily. Loki removed the cowl of your borrowed cloak, unclasped it and magicked it into oblivion. He had already pulled back the cowl of his own cloak and crouched down beside you. “This will hurt.” He muttered. His hands wrapped around your injured shoulder and, before you realized what he was doing, he had popped it back into place. At the same time, the magical cuffs vanished. You let out a startled scream, quickly snapping your mouth shut as you tried to muffle the noise. “Better?” Loki asked pulling away and standing up. He offered his hand out to you once again. Your eyes stung from the pain and you slowly looked up at him. “Yes, I think? Thank you, your grace.” You mumbled. Loki chuckled again, “I’m trying to help you, honestly.” You looked up at him and saw that he was smiling again. Hesitantly, you reached out and accepted his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. “That was foolish.” Loki muttered, shaking his head. “Foolish? My prince?” You asked, absolutely bewildered. “Yes. Taking on three louts like that, especially when two were so armed and very willing to use them. Surely you noticed?” He added. Your mouth opened and closed for a moment as you searched for a response. Finally, feeling defensive, you replied, “Well someone had to help that poor girl!” Loki nodded, “Yes. I figured most would have gone to a guard for that.” “Nox is a guard and he couldn’t do anything!” Loki sighed, “Multiple guards. I forgot how cowardly guards can be in smaller towns.” “Nox isn’t cowardly,” you shot back, angry on behalf of your friend, “he’s young and still in training.” Loki raised an eyebrow. “My prince.” You added through grit teeth. Again Loki chuckled. Then he sighed, “You’re right. Apologies.” You pulled your head back, surprised by the humble gesture. Not sure how to react, you decided instead to change the subject, “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the palace?” Loki raised his eyebrow again. “My prince.” You added sharply, growing annoyed. Loki smirked. “I enjoy visiting the kingdom’s various towns. It’s good to know one’s domain.” Loki’s confidence wavered for a moment as you looked away thoughtfully. “That makes sense.” You hesitated and looked back, “But in some random tavern, my lord?” Loki shrugged, “I’ve heard rumors of that lout’s misdoings, I figured I should look into it personally.” “In disguise?” “I didn’t want to make a fuss if I was wrong. And who would truly be idiotic enough to act out in front of a prince?” You chuckled, “That’s true.” Loki studied you for a moment, eyeing you for any other signs of injuries. “But truly, you could have been hurt, that was incredibly foolish of you.” You frowned ruefully, “I can take care of myself, your grace.” Loki sighed, “Yes, you were doing quite well.” He pulled a face at you, a mixture of impressed, amused, and mildly annoyed. For a second, you wanted to elbow him playfully, like you might have done to Nox as your best friend; you even started to move. At the last second, you remembered that he was a prince and you were simply a peasant, and stopped. Loki didn’t seem to notice the movement. You glanced around the forest, finally remembering the reason Loki had brought you here. He seemed to remember at the same time. “I’m not going to deny my actions. I was defending the barmaid. If I’m to be punished for it, so be it.” Loki shook his head, “You hardly deserve punishment for acting in such a just manner. Legally speaking, though, you did attack someone, which is breaking a law. And I told the jailer I would deal with you personally.” Loki trailed off as he continued to stare at you. The intensity of his gaze forced you to look away. “So, my prince?” You prompted uncertainly, finally looking back at him. Loki’s eyes lit up and he smiled, “I have reason to believe that you are in possession of a certain book that I would much like to read.” “Reason to believe? Didn’t you give it to me?” Loki’s eyes sparkled mischievously, “Whatever are you talking about? I went to the store recently to obtain ‘The Dragon’s Throne’, seeing as you were so intent on reading it, I’m sure it must be a good book. But lo is my surprise that it’s already gone. I asked the shopkeeper and he explained that it had been purchased for you.” Your mouth dropped open, then closed as you frowned at him. You were certain he was lying, but still… “I… I do have the book.” “Fantastic! You’ll have to lend it to me.” “My prince, I thought you said I was to be punished?” “Your punishment will be an in-depth analysis of the story with me.” Loki beamed at you. “I haven’t finished it yet, your grace.” You mumbled and Loki frowned. “I’ve been so busy with work, reading that potion book.” You added. “Oh right. Then you will also read it with me, or at least until I can catch up.” You looked at him dumbfounded. “My prince, that hardly constitutes as a punishment befitting fighting someone-” Loki raised his hand, cutting you off, “When Prince Thor misbehaved in classes, our mother, the queen, always made sure he had to stay and help me with the books I was reading. She figured it would help him learn some.” And give him a chance to play with me where I excelled, where Father was less likely to note my shortcomings. For a brief moment, you noticed a touch of sadness in Loki’s eyes, but it quickly vanished. Then he added, eyes sparkling with mischief again, “Or, I suppose we’ll have to lock you away in Asgard’s deepest dungeons to wither away for your crimes.” “Well, my prince,” you began slowly and with a small smile, “I will accept your gracious offer.” “Fantastic. Now where is the book?” “It’s at my home.” “Go get it, we can read here. I’d say to read at the palace and make your punishment seem more official but I’m aware you still have work to attend to.” You couldn’t help but stare at Loki, feeling slightly dazed. Here you had gone from fighting with one of the worst kinds of criminal, to thinking you would be severely punished by the Dark Prince of Asgard, to having a plan to read an excellent book with him? Not only that, but he wanted to discuss it in-depth with you. You could barely get Nox to do that with books that were about being a warrior and filled with pictures. “Of course, my lord, I will definitely. Would you like to come with me, or would you prefer to wait here?” You stammered out, nervous and excited by the foreignness of this interaction. Loki glanced up at the sky, hardly visible through the trees. It was late at night, you suddenly realized as you stifled a yawn. The full moon was so bright against the cloudless sky that you had barely realized it was nighttime. Almost as if the weather knew what you were thinking, it sent a sudden gust of chilly wind through you. Loki frowned as you shivered. “Perhaps, not tonight.” He offered slowly. You frowned and looked back at him, “I want to finish it, and discuss it, desperately, I do, your grace, but I…” Loki nodded, trying to hide the feeling of dejection that gripped his heart. He resembled a kicked puppy, you thought, he had clearly gotten his hopes up about this and they were just dashed. “Perhaps,” you hesitated, looking around as you thought. Loki looked up, his whole demeanor perking up. “What if you come back with me and we can read for a bit while I prepare for sleep?” Loki beamed at you, “I’ll say I just fined you, it’s a reasonable punishment.” You grinned back. “C’mon then!” Instinctively, and without even realizing it, you grabbed his hand and started dragging him towards your home. Loki stiffened at the initial contact but you didn’t notice. After a moment, he found himself running after you, the pair of you trying to suppress your giggles. Nox’s house was dark; you weren’t certain where he was, perhaps with Ava, so you had no difficulties sneaking Loki into your own home. You lived in a humble two room cottage. There was the main room with a kitchen and dining area, a fireplace, a set of chairs, and a small bookshelf. In your bedroom, there was a large double bed, a wardrobe for your clothes and another bookshelf. Overall, it was small and homely. Once inside, Loki sank into the chair by the fireplace. The seat was large enough for two if the occupants sat close together. He gazed around your small abode as you ran into your room to get the book. “Here, you can start reading.” You said to Loki once you returned from your bedroom, book in hand. You pointed to the bookmark, indicating the page you had stopped at, before handing it to Loki. He grinned up at you before quickly opening the book and beginning to read. While he read, you ran around your house, making sure as many things were set in place for tomorrow as possible. When there was nothing else you could do, you walked back over to him. Loki looked up, tearing his gaze from the book, and pulling himself back to reality. “It’s amazing!” He exclaimed. “Isn’t it though?” Loki hesitated, then moved over on the seat. Suddenly he looked shy, quietly asking, “I haven’t caught up to you, but would you like to sit beside me while I try to? Perhaps we could read out loud?” The thought of hearing the prince’s silvery voice speak such wonderful words made your heart skip a beat. “That sounds excellent, your grace!” You walked over to the seat and sat down. Loki had moved over, and the two of you huddled on each side of the seat, trying to remain as small as possible. When you were both seated, each doing their best not to touch the other, you were both incredibly uncomfortable and having difficulties looking at the book. Loki hesitated for a moment then slowly stretched out, allowing your legs and shoulders to touch. You forced your attention to the book in his slender hands, so you missed the faint pink blush on his face and neck. “Alright.” You said, once the two of you were leaning close together, both able to see the book. Loki nodded, trying to slow his racing heart. There was an intimacy in sharing your favorite activities with someone that he had never truly felt before; it was exhilarating and exciting, and a small bit frightening – if he were honest with himself. However, the god of mischief and lies was never honest, least of all with himself. “Are you comfortable?” Loki finally asked warily. Your shoulders were pressed together, “Yes, thank you, your grace, what about you?” You glanced up at him. Loki nodded quickly, “Let’s begin then!” Then he started to read. It was magical, like no reading experience before. You had always been able to lose yourself in a book, but his voice was simply mesmerizing. Briefly, you wondered if he was using actual magic to make the words seem real, but you quickly stopped caring, too enthralled by the story. - Late morning, you opened your eyes and looked around. You were sitting on the chair in front of the fireplace, leaning against something warm. On the floor lay ‘A Dragon’s Throne’. You blinked in confusion as the something, or someone, shifted beside you. Letting out a startled gasp, you realized you had fallen asleep beside Loki. He was still deep asleep, his breaths slow and even. As you shifted, trying to move away from Loki, he whined softly, clearly not wanting to get up. You held your breath, unsure of how to properly wake a sleeping prince. Loki shifted again, leaning closer into you. “Err, my prince.” You spoke quietly, looking around terrified. Outside the window, you could see it was late morning. Your heart leapt to your throat as you realized how late for work you were. “My prince!” You hissed louder, still not sure if you should shake him awake. By this point, with Nox, you would have simply slapped his face; the thought of attempting that with Prince Loki terrified you. You searched the room wildly, desperate to move away but Loki remained firmly in place, apparently comfortable with his makeshift pillow. Another thought struck you: Nox was bound to check the shop soon, to see if you had returned late in the night. When he realized that you weren’t there, he would check your home. As if on cue, there was a loud pounding at your door. Nox’s voice yelling your name echoed through the sturdy wood. “(Y/n), please be in here. I don’t know what I’m going to do if you’re not.” He seemed to be talking to himself. “Brom, the jailer, you probably don’t remember his name, maybe you do, he said Prince Loki took you away personally.” There was a heavy thud as he leaned his head against the door. “Oh please be alright.” He moaned, “I don’t know what I’m going to do if you’re not.” He called your name again. You cringed, “I’m here!” Glancing down, you saw that Loki was still apparently asleep. How could he sleep through the racket Nox was making? “Oh thank the Norns!” Nox yelled. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you at work?” “Err…” You glanced down and saw Loki was looking at you with a cheeky grin, one bright green eye poking open. He was clearly enjoying the dilemma you were in. “You what?” Nox yelled again. “Just open the door, I can’t hear you.” “Your grace,” you muttered quietly, “please. My friend is going to wonder what’s going on.” Suddenly, Loki seemed to register the situation: he was a prince who just spent the night at a commoner’s house. A commoner who had just committed a crime. This was the sort of talk that set the court abuzz with gossip. “Damn.” The prince cursed quietly. He quickly pulled away from you. Your face burned bright red, mirroring Loki’s as you thought about the implications. “I’ll just pay a fine, please.” You whispered. A thousand expenses went through your head as you considered how badly it would put you behind on payments for various work supplies. Loki looked away sadly. There was no way this plan would have worked. Frigga was wrong. Trying to make a friend over a book would be fine, but with a commoner? It could never work. ‘A Dragon’s Throne’ was still lying on the floor. “Could I have the book? I’ll say the price of your fine went towards me buying it.” You nodded, “Of course, my prince, I’d be happy to give it to you.” No you wouldn’t. You wanted nothing more than to know how it ended, to read it a thousand times, and to hear Prince Loki speak every word of it. But that was the nature of things, you couldn’t even call him by his name without risking some social infraction. “(Y/n)? What’s taking so long?” Nox’s voice came from the door. You’d almost forgotten about him. “I can’t lace my damned boots.” You yelled back, impressed that you managed to hide your emotions even now. Loki smiled half-heartedly at you. You lowered your voice again, “If it would be easier, your grace, you can hide in my room. I have to get to work, I’ll take Nox with me. It was quite the pleasure reading with you.” Loki nodded again before silently standing, then moving just as quietly to your room. You ran to the door, “Hey Nox.” You greeted him weakly. “What took you so long? And do you have any idea what time it is?” You rubbed your face with the hand that wasn’t holding the door open. “It’s late.” You mumbled tiredly. “What’s wrong, what happened, tell me everything. Brom said the prince took you away in magical shackles and a cloak, what happened? He said the shackles glowed like hellfire.” Nox eyed you warily, apparently looking for signs of magical injury. “And how’s your shoulder, did someone help you with it?” “C’mon, let’s go.” You pushed past Nox and began walking towards your shop, appearances be damned today. “Well?” Nox pestered you as you walked. “Prince Loki fined me. I didn’t get back ‘til late so I overslept. I’m perfectly well.” “I don’t trust that prince. You know they call him the dark prince. Him and his creepy seidr, it’s weird. And I heard he’s not like the rest of the royal family, like he has a strange condition or something. Maybe he was cursed by a demon or something. Maybe that’s why his magic is so strong.” You rolled your eyes, “You’re entirely too superstitious. Normally I’d say you read too much, but I know that’s not true. You and your ghosty imagination.” Nox glared at you seriously, “He found you in the forest right around the time Sif showed up. I didn’t say anything at all to him. I didn’t even see him pass my house. Hardly anyone knows how much time you spend in the forest. And have you seen his eyes? He doesn’t look anything like the other royals. And then the magic shackles? We should check with Syltha, I bet she knows about potential curses, she could check you over.” “The healer? Nox, honestly, everything is fine. I got in a tavern brawl, the prince was there, everyone involved was justly punished.” “And that!” Nox nearly yelled, “What was he doing all disguised like there? Spying on villagers, it’s right creepy if you ask me.” “One, no one asked you. And two, you can’t blame a prince for wanting to monitor his subjects without them noticing him, especially if he’s trying to stop a crime from happening; no one would dare do it while he’s around. It was a good thing he was there, too. You saw those two lugs, they might have drawn their weapons, then things would have gotten really serious.” Nox frowned then stared at you uncertainly, “Why are you defending him? I bet he did put you under a spell. No, you’re not going to the shop today. We’re going straight to the healer. She’ll check you over.” “I’m completely unharmed, seriously. I just have a bruise from where that cur punched me. And a fine for fighting. I can’t afford a day off.” You replied angrily, shaking your head. “No, we’re going.” Nox insisted. “I’ll spot you whatever you need, this is your health we’re talking about.” “I’m not going to take your charity!” You snapped. “It’s not charity!” Nox shot back, “It’s your friend helping you. Now please, you’re acting weird and I’m scared.” Nox slowly trailed off, suddenly sorrowful having admitted such a shameful thing. You stopped and your whole demeanor softened. “Nox…” You began slowly, resting your hand on his shoulder. Then you sighed and closed your eyes, “If it means that much to you, fine. We’ll go.” Nox looked up, “Really?” “Yes. I’m fine, truly, but if it really means that much to you, I value our friendship.” “Thanks (y/n).” Nox smiled. Then he became serious again, “Then yes, let’s go. Don’t want that evil prince hurting my best friend.” Nox grabbed your arm and dragged you toward the healer’s hut. Unbeknownst to you or Nox, Loki stood invisible a short distance away. “I’m not evil.” The prince mumbled quietly. He looked down at his hand, allowing the magic to shimmer and fade until the pale skin was replaced by deeply ridged blue skin. “Broken maybe…” Loki’s eyes burned and he shut them tightly. On the light breeze, he heard your whispered reply to Nox: “He’s not evil.” Loki’s eyes shot open and he looked up as you disappeared around a corner. Nox hadn’t heard you, but Loki had. A faint smile appeared at the corner of Loki’s mouth and a small flame of hope flickered near his heart.