Demon Brothers as Roommates

Intro:

So, the MC has left the Devildom and, of course, everybody is quite sad… But this time around, they have a little trick up their sleeve. With just a bit of magic (and training thanks to Solomon) the MC can now summon one of their favorite demon boys up to the human world with them! There's just, uh, one problem though… After being summoned to their side, their beloved demon now refuses to leave it.

Alright MC, enjoy your new demonic roommate!!

Lucifer

Apparently Lucifer is on sabbatical… And yes, he does appreciate that irony in that.

Lucifer actually has a surprising amount of human world money stashed away in alias accounts (because this man renting a cheap motel on business trips? Let's be real) so he uses that wealth to get them a place befitting his standards… which are high.

Spacious apartments in nice areas that would make even the upper middle-class shit their pants? Congrats, MC, that's where you're staying now!

Even with all that money, though, Lucifer CANNOT sit idle for a second. The guy is used to working all his life and just sitting around would drive him insane!

Expect him to still be running some Devildom affairs long-distance style while doing something else on the side, probably stock market stuff tbh.

Is going to want to pay for and provide everything himself but will respect the MC if they still want to work and split the bills (not to a ridiculous degree, though, like half-and-half because that would mean getting three jobs at least).

A lot of trips and vacations too, especially if the MC likes to travel. It’s a good excuse to relax while also technically doing something so he doesn’t lose his mind doing nothing in particular.

He is going to be that strict roommate who expects you not to be a slob and isn't afraid to say so. Regularly scheduled cleaning/organization days are mandatory because hygiene is important. Take some pride in yourself and wash up, MC. That kind of thing.

Also going to have short-fuse for… antics. If you want to prank him, do so at your own risk because he may prank back (and that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds, trust me.)

Mammon

Yeah so, living with Mammon is like the inverse of Lucifer. Prepare to be poooor.

Man has no human money, are you kidding me? Even if he did, he wouldn’t keep it for very long. Couples budgeting is a MUST if you’re looking to survive.

The apartment is going to be whatever the MC can more or less afford on their own with Mammon shoved in somewhere like a cheap lamp… Don’t expect a lot of room.

However, Mammon is great at the hustle. Man can work multiple jobs and actually be pretty dang good at them. For the most part, anyway. He may occasionally trip up and get himself fired, but he bounces back quick.

If the MC isn’t so moral he can also uh… “find” some extra money lying around too. Just be careful when playing with fire, right?

Even if they’re poor as shit, Mammon is still a blast to be around. The guy knows how to have fun on and off of a budget. Lots of “window shopping” (getting kicked out of stores for goofing off), nightclubs, amusement parks, and cheap fun. They’ll never be without a story to tell or a smile on their face!

He IS pretty slobbish though. He’s not going to remember to clean up after himself unless told, but he’s also not going to be bothered if they don’t do the same thing. A weekly cleaning day is going to be ideal unless they don’t mind living in a pigsty...

Prank waaaaars!! The kind of guy to get them both water guns and have a war in the middle of the apartment complex. Good luck getting any rest with Mammon around.

Leviathan 

Whelp, your room is now his room, quite literally MC. You had to pick the shut-in…

The guy isn’t exactly poor but what human money he does have is all wrapped up in his many interests… Merch interests specifically. 

Thankfully, he won’t take up too much space. Put him in a room with a desk, bed (or bathtub), TV, and computer and he’s good to go! 

He’s not going to be a complete bum, thankfully. There’s no way that they can get him to leave the apartment, but he can run small online stores (usually anime themed) or become a streamer. Probably enough to help pay the bills, but not much more.

If they don’t mind having a literally permanent housemate, then being with Levi has its own kind fun. Lots of anime marathons, movie nights, and game nights. Really, it’s just like how he was in the House, but now transported to the human world.

Is probably going to want a pet goldfish, snake ,or lizard so prepare to house Henry 3.0.

When he does leave the apartment, it’s to take the MC to conventions, concerts, or anime stores. He always manages to get just enough money for these trips, but never says where the money comes from… Best not to ask. Could be black market for they know...

… He’s a shut-in. He’s a shut-in roommate. Hygiene isn’t exactly his main concern. If they ask him to, he’ll make sure to clean up after himself, but he may need a reminder.

Can have a fun side, but just don’t mess with his stuff too much. He doesn’t need a Mammon 2.0 around too...

Satan

He's either hatching a plan for world domination or adopting 10 cats… One or the other.

About as poor as Mammon at first, but threat not. He won’t be for very long. Satan is intelligent beyond his years (or equivalent his years maybe?) so he’ll probably net himself several degrees within a couple semesters like a certified prodigy.

At that point, there really isn’t much to worry about (aside from student loans, join our pain Satan) but he can sell himself just fine and probably get some high paying job like a lawyer or doctor or whatever… I’m not jealous…

They’ll start out in a pretty modest place, but there will be upgrades fairly quickly when he starts racking it in so Satan’s a fairly decent choice as a roommate.

He does still have that nasty habit of breaking things when he’s pissed off, but that can be subverted by getting a pet! Just hold up whatever cat you own when he’s about to rampage then declare that he’s scaring/upsetting them and he’ll stop in his tracks. Works every time!

Probably going to be the most domestic out of the brothers. He enjoys cooking (and ain’t half bad at it either), shopping is a practical necessity, he’ll take care your pets like they were his own flesh and blood, etc.

There will even to be points where he’s in bed reading in the middle of the night with tea and reading glasses like some kind of grandma so take that image for what you will.

Satan is the prankster of the household, but he does his pranks more as a way to give grief to his enemies rather than for funsies. Be warned, if you poke this bear he will retaliate for sweet, sweet revenge and he has centuries worth of pranks behind him. Good luck.

Asmodeus 

It's a new party every night, sweetie, get used to it!

Asmo is the only other brother who has some amount of money to offer from his own trips to the human world, but it's just a modest amount.

Is totally willing to work to help pay for a nice place. He wants a building nice enough to host parties!

Would go back to modeling and maybe dip his toe into acting from time to time… He gets a lot of gigs (this IS the Avatar of Lust after all) so they won't be strapped for cash. Which is good, because Asmo is a very "business by day, but party every night" kind of person. 

Do know that his shopping is NOT going to slow down either. Keep an eye on the budget.

He’s also going to make friends wherever he goes so he’s going to want for them all to hang out at least somewhat regularly.

That being said, he can tone it down some if the MC so desires, just know that they can’t keep him cooped up in the apartment for too long or he’ll start getting antsy. You can’t keep this stallion locked up, MC, he needs to run free!!

Being with Asmo is going to be like having a free pass to whatever gathering the MC wants to go to, at least. He could even get them into red carpet events with just his sheer charisma, charm, and er-… “charms.” Who doesn’t want to meet their favorite actress or singer, eh?

But oh, sweetie, please don’t prank him! Life is too short to waste on silly games (he also just genuinely just doesn’t enjoy being messed with so best not do it).

Beelzebub 

Brave choice, MC, but quick question. How in the world are you going to pay your food bills???

Beel is a real sweetheart through and through but his stomach is NOT. That thing will eat them out of house and home! (Maybe even literally!!) Both of them are going to have to work and probably some pretty looong hours (cause he’s got no money either).

Honestly, Beel would be best as a personal trainer in the human world. He’s a pretty decent combination of tough but genuinely kind and motivating. (The fact that he’s pretty easy on the eyes would help out a lot too).

But the MC won’t have to worry about Beel sneaking off with someone just looking for some “quality time.” He’d take his job seriously, though he’s not particularly versed in what the human body can’t handle so only the really dedicated (or masochistic) would stick with him anyway.

“Good work last week, April! You did so well that we’re going to go from 500 pushups to a thousand! … I can see you’re worried, but I believe in you.”

But hey, he can deadlift well over 2,000 pounds without breaking a sweat so who has the balls to argue with him, anyway?

Trying out every restaurant in town would be a must. He’d even plan out vacations for them with the sole purpose of travelling the globe and tasting the different flavors. Food trips!!

He's neat enough since he used to tidy up a lot for Belphie so no need to worry about him picking up after himself (except for the occasional pile of wrappers. Toss those out unless you want ants)

I mean, you can prank Beel if you want. He'll be pretty good-natured about it as long as it stays harmless. Just don't ruin any of his food, got it?

Belphegor 

So… Belphie makes for some excellent décor! Really he is great at laying around and looking fantastic just… he’s not that great at much else...

Realistically, choosing Belphie as a roommate is kind like having a high maintenance pet. He’s good for love and cuddles, but he’s not going to be helping with the bills or anything unless they whine incessantly about it.

If the MC can make enough for the both of them, then it should be fine. They won’t get upset and he won’t be crabby but if not… Oh boy.

Regular job Belphie is a needy Belphie. He’ll come back from whatever job he’s working, likely a night shift, and demand attention or cuddles right then and there. He needs to recharge those batteries, after all...

If he isn’t working then he's at his happiest. He can even pull off being a “househusband” of sorts. He’s not going to go above and beyond the call of duty, but he can keep the place clean, get a basic meal on the table (provided someone teaches him some human recipes), and get groceries if he needs to… You know, basic domestic shit.

They’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that, at some level, Belphie just doesn’t believe in “common curtesy” or “human decency.” If some neighbors are being too noisy for his liking, he will troll them to oblivion and beyond. He may even get sued for it if he takes it too far, so the MC will have to keep an eye on him…

He’s the House’s #2 prankster, but unlike Satan he doesn’t need any malice to be a little shit. The MC will be pranked and it will be at the most unexpected times. Be warned...

Check out my Masterlist for more!

THE PURGE; Sanctuary C.E x black reader

PT III

60 Days Until The Purge

THEN...

"I'll order take out. I know you like Thai-"

"Don't order anything. I'm actually not even hungry." You said as he took your bag and put it on his shoulder. "What?" He was looking at you weird and it made you frown.

"Where's the rest of your stuff?"

"You asked me to stay the night. That is my overnight bag." You replied folding your arms and walking over to the couch. Your hand touched your forehead and you sighed. You could still feel him looking at you as you tried to relax with your head leaned back. "After I tell Shonda about our situation, you're signing the papers."

"What do you mean-"

"You know what I mean." You shot back

"Ok, well theirs a lot to consider now." He motioned to your stomach and you sat up straight. "We're having a baby, now."

"No no no." You shook your head feeling your petty insides bubble a bit in sarcasm. "I'm having a baby. Me. Just me.”

"Obviously I want to be apart of our baby's life." Chris argued back and you frowned and scoffed. He put your bag down and crossed his arms as you brushed it off. "You can't seriously think I won't. V that's insane."

"You wanna know what's insane? You think you're gonna get anywhere near it. Why in the hell would I allow you and your broken promises anywhere near my child? Do you think I'm stupid? To make the same mistake twice!"

"Again? V what do you want me to do?" He asks throwing his hands up. "Acting is what I do, that's my job-"

"I don't care about that. I'm not asking you to chose your job or me-"

"It damn well near sounds like it. I would never make you choose." He countered back and you gripped your fists together.

"You may not have said it directly, but there have been many times where you have indirectly patronized me. I just found out I'm pregnant and I have been trying so hard to deal with it." you replied watching him pace back and forth and shake his head. "I have been getting the worst headaches, I can't keep any food down and I literally get lightheaded on set every single day because hiding my pregnancy has been a real joy ride." You replied sarcastically with a small chuckle

"What do you want me to do? I tell you to tell the producers, you get mad. I tell you to take a break, you get mad. I tell you to come over and you’re mad.” Chris said in disbelief. “I don't know what you want from me." He shrugs brushing the hair from his eyes.

"Not once since you found out have you asked me how I'm doing? My whole career is at risk I could lose my job. And you don't even seem to care.” You said

"V, I do care." He reached for your shoulder and you took in another breath. "I want you to stop worrying all the time. And you're right, I should be concerned more about you. I should be there for you-I should've been there for you in the beginning.” He admitted and you folded your lips again.

Are For real this time? Should I let it go and move past it? Again? No because it'll start all over again.

"This baby is mine. This is a life changing thing that's happening, I can't let you ruin it too." You spoke

" I'm taking responsibility because this is something I want. Ok? Can't we find some common ground? You of all people should know what it's like to grow up without a father!"

"You know too!" You shouted back. Chris' dad had died when he was younger. He talked about him sometimes but not as much. "I'd rather have had my father six feet under then to have him choosing when it's convenient for him to show up!" You said with your foot down shaking your head.

"Forget the divorce. Me and you living here happily married for the years to come. Whats so bad about that? Why can't I have that? What's so wrong with the picture of two parents raising a child?" His voice was loud and he was getting frustrated. He didn't shout, but you could tell how passionate he was about it. He always wanted to be a daddy, a parent. "Huh?"

"It's not just about you!" You said stepping closer. "Because..." You shrugged feeling your eyes water as you suck in your cheeks. "I knew the kind of man I was marrying. So involved with his job it took him almost fifteen years to actually start dating. It's not about you or your career. This baby is all I have right now.”

He looked confused as he relaxed his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose. From two feet away you could feel his heartbeat and you felt a little bad for how foolish you probably looked. You still loved him, not like you ever stopped, but you remembered that you still loved him.

Because, it's not about me either anymore. You thought

"Forget the papers okay..." You said swallowing your own pride. "just forget it. You’re right. I want our child to have two parents who will love him unconditionally. But it has to stop, because it takes two. I can't have you with one foot in the door." You admitted

“Yeah yeah.” He nodded “yeah I get that. I’m not going anywhere.” Chris said and you walked forward and took his hand kissing his palm as you placed it on the side of your face. “I promise V.” He cups your face and stares into your eyes. His stubble poking at you a bit as you held his wrists.

“I love you.” You said with a small smile

“Still?” He laughed making you roll your eyes as you giggled a little. “I love you too. Are you sure you aren’t hungry?” He asks again

“Yes.” You nodded “now shut up and come take a nap with me.”

NOW....

CHRIS POV**

“Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!” I said throwing the phone on the couch. I had called five times and her phone went straight to voicemail.

“This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System. Announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government. ALL Weapons have been authorized for use during the purge. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 121 days. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until December 15, 12:00 o’clock midnight, when the purge concludes. Blessed be our new founding fathers and America... A nation reborn. May God be with you all.”

My tv was replayed the message nine more times before shutting off. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Today is august 15, Vanessa’s birthday is tomorrow which was when she’d be 17 weeks. We had marked it on the calendar together. More than half my wife’s pregnancy would be spent during the purge. I needed to find her!

I didn’t support the purge. Something about killing people to be “cleansed” just didn’t sit right in my gut. It made my heart ache thinking about the clean up at the end. I could bring Dodger, but he can only do so much. Maybe he could help track her scent. Grabbing my coat I folded my lips together.

“Fuck!” I shout

With what weapon? How was I going to run the streets looking for my wife without a gun? I loved the idea of owning one, but Vanessa made me swear not to bring one in the house if she was there. So I just dropped the idea. Looking in the kitchen I grabbed one of the Chef knives off the rack. Maybe this would be enough for now...

“Damnit!” I curse looking at Dodger. “She said she was at Topanga Park. Start there?” I asked, as if he’d answer back. I grabbed her bonnet from off the bathroom door handle and stuffed it in my backpack.

I didn’t hesitate l. I locked up everything and jumped inside my truck. Dodger sat on the passenger side and I felt my hands start to shake as I put my foot on the gas. I started to promise god I would go to church if he would keep her safe.

“I don’t even know if you’re even listening or you even care. I love her, I’ve been such and idiot and I don’t wanna lose her.” I looked at Dodger and he was sitting up straight. “I remember you didn’t like her. You wouldn’t let her anywhere near me, you bark and squeeze yourself in between us when we sat down in the room to watch movies.” I chuckle wiping the little tear that slipped from my eye “You stole one of her wigs too.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!” she shouted chasing you around the house. “DODGER GIVE IT BACK! COME BACK!”

We chased him around the house and Dodger thought it was some sort of game. We had been officially dating for a month. I had started laughing when I caught him and held her headband wig in my hand. She stood their with her arms folded while I petted his head and she rolled her eyes.

"I told you he doesn't like me." She said as I stood up and she took the wig from my hand.

"Come on, he's just getting used to you."

"I've been over here every day. Your dog hates me."

"What?" I tilted my head to the side and touch her nose with my index finger. "Deal breaker? If my dog doesn't like my girlfriend, I'm gonna dump her? Tell me where that makes sense."

She walked closer to me and wrapped her arms around my waist looking up at the ceiling as I kissed her neck. "I guess you have a point." Vanessa sighed.

"He's just warming up to you that's all."

"What's stopping me from breaking up with you?"

"Over a dog?"

"This is his third assault against me. First it was tearing up my purse, then chewing up my crocs, not to mention the little shit I found inside of them. And now stealing my wig and playing cat and mouse." Said Vanessa as I rested my head on top of hers. "Luckily this is a backup wig."

“Aren’t you wearing one right now?” I asked

“Headband wig. And that wig your dog has destroyed,” she gave him the side eye “it was my favorite and expensive.” She gritted her teeth

“I’ll buy you another one.” I offered

She purses her lips and shook her head. “I don’t want you buying me anything. I’ll just break up with you. For real this time.”

"Fine then..." I baited her shrugging my shoulders. "Break up with me."

“Over a dog?” She frowns mocking me as I smile down at her and her eyebrows bend downward a little as she caressed my face. Her finger was gentle and she stood on her top toes and kissed my lips. “Never.”

...

I look over at Dodger and pat his head. "We'll find her. I know we will." I say trying to lift my spirits.

When we arrived to Topanga Park, it was a sight. I didn't even want to leave the truck. I felt my heart race a little more. "What the hell..."

In the middle of traffic-in between the cars were bodies. Dodger started barking at the train of blood that stained the streets. It was empty, but I could feel a heavy weight on my back. Walking behind me, next to me...it was all around me. I hadn't realized I had my hand over my mouth an nose, it was hard for me to breath as the stench of dead bodies. Dodger kept barking and that led to me chasing after him. I had her bonnet in one hand and I called after him.

I came to a halt when I came face to face with another person. He had Dodger in his hands and I felt my muscle tense up. He was tall and very familiar looking. I swallowed the lump in my throat and held the kitchen knife in my hand with a firm grip.

"Captain America?"

I tilted my head sideways and licked my lower lip narrowing my brow a little. "Yeah, give me the dog and we can go our separate ways. Ok?"

He nodded his head. He ran his fingers through his hair and put the dog down. I wasn't really concerned about who he was I was trying to prepare for a fight. He dropped his gun on the ground and held up his his hand.

"I'm not going to kill you. I'm looking for my wife." He said "She left her watch in that building." He pointed to the school and slowly pulled the watch from his pocket.

"In there?" I asked

"Yeah." He nodded, but I still couldn't shake the feeling I knew him from somewhere. "My name is Jared. My wife's name is Gianne, I'm pretty sure she was with someone else-are you looking for someone too? Maybe we could help each other. There was something written on the chalkboard in there, I wasn't something Gia would write, but she was here. All I wanna do is find her-"

"Supernatural?" I asked turning my head to the side. Vanessa loved that show. Whenever she had spare time she would watch it or on those many night she'd spend the night at my house we would watch it-well not really watch it. The Netflix and 'chill' was emphasized. "You said something about some sort of message on the wall?" I asked motioning with my hand. "what did it say?"

"um, CE equals BE or something like that." He shrugged

I laughed a little. Vanessa Evans plus Chris Evans equals Baby Evans. It was a stupid joke-an Easter egg if you will. Shonda put in the show on the whiteboard in one of our love scenes as a way to announce our pregnancy to the audience. She often left clues to the next episode in every episode except this one was not only in the show but in real life.

"Chris Evans." I say extending my hand out to him. I'm pretty sure he knew by the little smile playing on his face. He shook my hand and nodded his head.

"I know. I'm a big marvel fan, I know all your lines." Jared chuckled and then cleared his throat as he nervously laughed. "Nice to meet you. I'm Jared Padalecki - I know I said that already..."

I introduced him to Dodger and I felt a little more relaxed. I gathered that she was alive and we both came to the assumption that they were traveling together.

"Where do you think their headed?" I asked as we walked to his car which was tricked out and full of ammunition and guns. Not to mention government level protective gear.

"While I was in there, I picked up someone else. Heavy footed and big, traveling with dogs. Hair everywhere." He went on tossing me a bullet proof vest. "You heard of Sanctuary?"

"The safety place? Yeah, but it's hard to find. It's for people who get caught in the Purge right?"

He narrowed his brow and shook his head. "No." Said Jared sharply. "Sanctuary is a secret government funded task force. It started off as a conspiracy some myth to explain all the random disappearances throughout the year. It's a government project designed for population control." He went on

"Ok...what does that have anything to do with the Purge?"

"Everything. An organization designed to control the US population. We're talking Pro killers who were once on a leash, but when that horn sounded and the Purge began, they are just as free to kill anyone they want." Said Jared handing me an ipad. It was a list of celebrities. From pro athletes like Steph Curry and their immediate families to movie stars and singers like Rhianna and Tom Cruise. "There are rumors that they are hunting celebrities. The kardashians and Jenner's are fair game. If not the stars themselves then they choose their parents, brothers and sisters."

"And do what?" I asked quietly as I saw mine and Vanesssa picture

"Most get auctioned off to the highest bidder, I've also heard they kill them on the spot for money or bring them in to fight for the death. Bottom line, there is a bounty on our heads. During the Purge everyone is fair game, their is no protection."

"You're telling me she's out there being hunted by them right now?" I asked

“Possibly. The dog hair isn’t a breed we know. They are a combination of hunting canines, bloodhound, foxhound, Labrador retriever with the built and aggression of a something like a pit bull a Rottweiler.” Said Jared as I looked up from the iPad and gave it back. “You’re gonna need more than a kitchen knife. We find the dogs and the hunter and we’ll find them.”

He held a gun out to me and wiped my mouth with the palm of my hand trying to mentally prepare for what is to come."

“Do you believe in the Purge?” I asked still questioning why his car was full of weapons. “You kill people?”

He nodded his head. “Yes. I don’t believe in hiding or waiting for someone to kill me. We all have the right to Purge."

"What's stopping you from killing me?"

Jared sighed and shook his head. "I'm hunting them. I'm surviving and if you decide to threaten my survival, then I'll kill you." He went over to the driver side of his Ford charger. "Get in. Knowing Gia she is headed for Roberts hole."

"What's that?" I asked climbing in the passenger seat of the car.

“It’s a Cassino for celebrities. Jack Black owns it. It’s locked up right but open to his favorites during the Purge.”

“They’ll be there?”

“Relax.” He out his hand in my shoulder and looked at me as dodger sat in the back seat. “We will find them. You know how to shoot don’t you?” Jared raised his gun in the air and nodded my head.

I guess it wasn’t confidently and he chuckled. “Vanessa isn’t a fan of guns.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll practice. Ok?”

.

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A/N: Sorry it took so long😬 don’t hate me, please. Lol, I hope everyone is doing well and safe out here. If you wanna be tagged leave it in the ask box, Anyways…Untill next time!

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Never Satisfied [Chapter 4]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“there’ll be a next time...right?“

Corpse and Cora have found a nice secluded picnic table outside the restaurant, out in the sun rays’ path enough for the warmth of the day to be caressing their skin while simultaneously being a safe distance away from the other people enjoying their lunch. Their meal has just arrived, bringing a large grin to Cora’s face.

“So?” She asks as she chews the bite she took without waiting even thirty seconds. Her feet are on the bench, legs crossed, elbows rested on her knees as she chomps down, happily perched in front of him.

Corpse is enraptured by her. He’s staring a little, desperately trying to keep it subtle, hands still holding the small bag of food as he peers at her, a hood over his dark curls. Even in this quiet little part of town, he still doesn’t feel safe showing his whole face - no mask, no eyepatch, no privacy and sense of security. But as his eyes take in his lunch partner, her calm aura and leisure attitude, he can’t help but admit that his heart quickens a little. The girl moves with the grace of someone not afraid to kick ass and he is simply awestruck by her beauty and outward powerful aura. He’s never before been so captivated by a person - someone so different and so similar to him simultaneously.

Swallowing nervously, he reminds himself that she has taken on the role of his checkpoint, something like a friend, a hand to hold if he starts feeling anxious. Even if it’s just for today, he appreciates it wholeheartedly. It’s more than he’s ever been offered by others. That type of comfort is something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Surprising himself when his hand reaches out to touch her free one, he’s surprised yet again when he finds the touch so familiar and welcoming, so natural.  Despite it being just a brief movement, his knuckles softly brushing against her wrist before withdrawing and returning his focus to his meal, it is so meaningful and soothing, he’s afraid he might get used to it. Addicted to it. 

Half expecting a comment or a look, he is taken aback when she doesn’t give any sort of reaction. No movement, no expression change, just curiously watching him while she eats, waiting for his response to her previous dubious question.

 “So?” He rumbles softly, fishing out his lunch from the confines of the little paper bag. He isn’t sure what type of answer he should be expecting but he’s sure he won’t be disappointed regardless.

“Tell me about yourself! You’re not all rumbles, fear and BONES, right? You’ve gotta have a personality under that black hoodie.” She says enthusiastically, her eyes glimmering as though she’ll dig the answers out of him with her gaze alone. He’s not sure whether he’d prefer that or not. He doesn’t like talking about himself but he has an even stronger distaste for the idea of her seeing some information he’d rather keep hidden. Good thing she doesn’t seem to be capable of telepathy, but even that wouldn’t be too odd for her.

His cheeks flush faintly and he looks down for a moment to take the first bite of his food, buying himself some time to think and formulate a proper sentence. He racks his brain, looking for what would be the most vague yet satisfactory answer. 

What am I? I mean, all she stated is true, I definitely am all that...but I have a hard time coming up with what else I am? What else makes me me?  Youtube? Anxiety? Suicidal ideations hidden underneath liquor?

“I um...dropped out of school at, like, thirteen.” He finally speaks, mumbling around the small bite he worked on swallowing. 

Cora’s eyes widen and her brows shoot up. Now he is nervous, his anxiety slowly starting to creep in as he’s worrying if he has said something wrong. Or something that she could be disgusted by. 

Who would want to talk to some grown ass man who couldn’t even make it to highschool? How fucking sad is that? She has all right to judge me for it. 

However, unlike everybody else in his life who’s given him a frown of pity while internally thinking of how absolutely fucked up he had to be to drop out so young, Cora spared him from the pitiful glance he has grown to hate so much. Instead, he sees something alike amazement on her face as she sips her drink before saying:

“Damn dude, that’s intense. I mean, it sucks cause I can’t imagine you had a normal childhood if you’re bailing from school that young but, nowadays, who among us actually had a real childhood? Very few, I’d say.” She grins, putting down the soda can, her eyes leaving his for only the briefest of moments instead of the familiar awkward eye-contact avoidance he’d face when this topic would be nudged during a conversation. Still, the relief and skepticism in Corpse can never end their war so easily - there’s still that shred of doubt that she’s just good at hiding her pity or judgement. Nevertheless, she continues, “You’re doing well for yourself, you’re in an ok place right now, right? Isn’t that what matters?.” She concludes, touching his fingers as a form of yet another subtle reassurance. 

He looks down and finds himself ever so carefully curling one of his fingers around hers, just briefly before he draws back fearfully. “Yeah...guess having an apartment in a shitty part of town, and a car that seems to attract criminals could be considered ‘doing okay’.” He smiles faintly under his hood and she laughs, that bubbly little noise that he is slowly realizing he wants to hear more of. 

“You got a car, that’s more than I have.” Cora pokes her tongue out with a little growl before leaning down to take another bite of her lunch. “So, you like music and aren’t a narc. What else you got up your sleeve?”

Corpse smiles a bit and takes a sip of his drink before clearing his throat. “Yeah, I like video games too.” 

That seems innocent enough, right? Everyone likes video games...or people tend to be okay with them, at least. Video games are fun.

Another bright, sun-like smile. “Yeah? Well in that case I’ll have to kick your ass in Mario Kart some time.” She threatens playfully. 

So she might want to hang out, he thinks to himself, the thought causing his heart to do a little flip and he smiles an almost shy and timid smirk. “Challenge accepted.”

“What do you do for work?”

That question catches him off-guard, causing his eyes to widen a bit. He doesn’t know if it would be better to lie or just tell the truth. He narrates stories on the internet and makes and puts out music people have constantly been telling him wouldn’t be enjoyed. He doesn’t see how that would leave a bad taste in her mouth exactly but because of his inability to stop himself from overthinking he doesn’t want to run the risk of repulsing her. Then again, he doesn’t want to lie either, he’s been so honest with her thus far, why would he derail now and because of such a simple question. That’s why he chooses to answer truthfully but keep his answer relatively vague: “I do online work and make music I haven’t released yet. I honestly dunno if I ever will.” That last part felt like a harsh hit of reality coming on too suddenly, forcing him to look away from her to gather his composure and put it back together.

“I bet it’s good. You’ll have to let me hear it when you get something done. I’ve got a clearly refined taste in music, but I bet you already figured that out.” She exaggerates a wink, reaching over to wiggle the straw in her drink. 

Feeling a bit less tense now, he clears his throat and picks up the conversation once again. “What about you? You keep asking me all these questions, but all I know about you is that you’re a klepto with no car.” 

That signature bright and bubbly laughter leaves Cora’s chest, sending Corpse a millisecond away from swooning over her completely. “I’m actually a starving artist. I’m a pet photographer and I'm going back to school for advertising graphic design. When I’m not off goofing around with people getting their dogs birthday documented, I’m working at ye good ol’ Starbucks, serving all the...” Her voice lifts to a higher pitch and is now coming more from the back of her throat as she takes on the most preppy tone she could muster, “Beckys their venti mocha caramel frappuccino with TWO extra pumps of caramel, but with SOY because they’re all on a diet. Funny how that works, no? All those women with the exact same order and exact same attributes - I almost laugh whenever one of them walks in. You can smell them from a block away.” 

Corpse chokes out a laugh as he covers his mouth, hiding his half chewed bite from view. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. Then again,  he can’t help but acknowledge the warmth that has spread across his cheeks at how she giggles along with him. “And to be fair,” Cora quickly interrupts herself, “I am not a klepto, I just really liked the belt I found and thought forty five dollars was a rip off.” She smirks, finding herself absentmindedly looping her pinky with his. Corpse doesn’t look down, doesn’t comment, doesn’t want her to know he noticed, because maybe she’d put an end to their so small yet so meaningful contact. Instead, he smiles a little and swallows the last bite of his lunch, his heart beating rapidly in his chest and he briefly entertains the idea that he maybe wasn’t the only one awestruck. 

Anyhow, that thought gets pushed down real quick when he considers how absolutely out of his league she is, and how...well, how he’s in absolutely no league whatsoever. The world has done plenty to prove that to him real fast. Corpse sees himself as a nobody; he believes he doesn’t matter and everybody likes to remind him of it. But, as Cora’s pinky curls a little and one of her thumbs brushes against the arch of his wrist, all that bitter venom in his cold soul starts to slowly ease up, loosening its typically firm hold of his mind. Maybe, just maybe, one day, he would matter to someone. Someday.

@fockingwhore  @vixenl  @annshit  @wineandionysus  @wiseflamingoqueen

The King’s Guard | the minis ii. 

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

rating: R (18+) | genre: established relationship! au, historical! au smut, fluff 

warnings: explicit sex; (dunno what this kink is called) but jinnie likes being called the king by the lohs; kink discoveries; oral (m receiving); dom-sub undertones

word count: 4.9k 

g/n: and because it’s seokjinnie missing hours~~~ Okta is also based off Okta in Hwarang and YES AHRO MAKES AN APPEARANCE WOOTTT also,,, chapter 6 might also come out real soon aCIfjoasdfj

The King’s Guard - Masterlist  ||  navi.

It’s been a while since Seokjin had retired to your shared room after a long day. He’d initially considered waiting for you while he changed into his sleeping garments but after some time and eventually managing to finish a scroll he’d taken from his office, Seokjin gets up from where he’s seated by the window and asks for Yunho. 

A different voice answers from outside, “Jeonha, the guard you are looking for is not with us right now.” Seokjin tries to push away the worry that’s starting to creep through him. The king chooses not to reply, quickly heading over to the dresser to put back on the clothes he was wearing earlier. 

You’d never stayed out this late before and as much as he hated to admit it, the capitol isn’t always the safest place, even for its own citizens. There were rumors of an uprising rebellion in the south and the thought of you in danger - he couldn’t risk it. He won’t risk it. 

The king asks for Chaeyoung, who was told to be by the palace kitchens. He flees out of the hanok as soon as he gets dressed, taking his sword with him. Just in case. With haste in his steps, Seokjin arrives at the kitchen in no time, asking the cooks if they happened to see you anywhere in the palace. 

He receives no response concerning your current whereabouts from the gungnyeo’s quarters either, so he gestures to the guards to follow him, the group walking briskly towards the stables. When Seokjin discovers Yunho’s horse is likewise missing, worry grows in his chest, already praying to the heavens that nothing bad has happened to you. 

Gesturing for the troop to hurry, he arranges the saddle on his horse by himself. “Jeonha!” Seokjin breathes a sigh of relief as he hears Yunho’s voice calling him from a distance. He pulls on the reins, directing the horse to turn around. The king, however, doesn’t see you with Yunho, nor does he sense any security in the guard’s worried expression. 

“_________?” The guard bows briefly, before opening his mouth to speak. Realizing his current predicament does not need to reach the ears of the other guards, Yunho manages just in time to stop himself from speaking out loud. 

“My King,” Yunho speaks, voice low as he guides his horse nearer to Seokjin’s. “Jungjeon-mama is uh…” the guard racks his brain for a better word to explain your present condition but attains nothing. Instead, he settles on the plain truth, despite how strange it sounds rolling off his tongue, “the queen is...um… she’s drunk, your grace.” 

It takes Seokjin a moment to process Yunho’s words - the possible image of your drunken state too much for your husband to even picture properly. Seokjin worries for your safety - knowing that you’d never had any proper alcohol in your life. The king quietly prays to his ancestors to watch over you for the meantime while he  recollects himself before anyone notices, not wanting to cause any more worry. 

When Seokjin deems everyone ready, Yunho suggests the troop to prepare a palanquin after having seen your state - clearly far too intoxicated to even sit upright on a horse. Yunho escorts the king to the establishment where Haesoo had called for his help. 

Much to yours and Seokjin’s luck there aren't many people on the streets, given it was already deep into the night - which only got Seokjin worried and wondering; what could possibly be the reason for you to visit such a place? And at such a late hour? 

Were you unhappy with your marriage? Was he lacking as a husband? As a king perhaps? A million questions are running through his head - unable to think straight as his horse gallops along the dirt road. 

 “Lady Ahro! Why do I feel like my husband is here?” you giggle, leaning nearly all of your weight on the poor lady. Ahro has been watching over you since she called for Haesoo’s attention who then called for Yunho, and now the same guard had paid her for such a task. Watching over royals was never in her line of duties, especially those whose drunken selves are a pain to attend to, but the lady was willing to do anything as long as she’d get paid. 

 When someone came to inform her earlier this afternoon of the soon arrival of an elite client, she was banking on one of her regulars paying her a visit, but she never expected the nation’s queen to visit such a place like Okta. 

 The establishment was built by and for the elites, yes, but it catered to a more generally younger and more… for lack of a better word, carefree audience. People usually came to Okta for two things: to meet new people of the same societal ranking and to have fun, occasionally, a little too much fun in privacy of the rooms it provided. 

 It was awkward, at first, unsure how to approach each other. You take a deep breath and speak first, and you can sense her gratitude in the small smile playing in the corner of her lips. “I need your advice,” you start off, voice barely above a whisper. 

The lady in front of you lightly raises an eyebrow at your request. “I believe you have to be more specific with your request, my queen. It is my belief that I am knowledgeable on most things - but I am not sure which field in particular you wish for me to share my insights.” 

You gulp, completely frozen in place. Chewing on your bottom lip, you consider rethinking your life decisions. Why were you here? What actually got you here in the first place? Ah yes, to learn more about what goes on behind the doors of a married couple, or, if you were being completely honest with yourself, you wanted to know more about the pleasures of the flesh. 

Confessedly, you and Seokjin were relatively a young married couple, you were together for quite a few years already, but you only had the chance to stay in the privacy of your shared room only after your marriage. Other than that, the only displays of affection you had with Seokjin never really went past kissing, or that one time he accidentally groped your chest when you almost fell out of balance while on a horse… if that even was to be considered under that category… 

And it wasn’t that the both of you hadn’t been on that certain level of intimacy yet, but during those times - you felt like you could have actually contributed more. If you were being completely honest, you had mixed feelings about the whole matter - even questioning the fact that you are even concerned about this in the first place. 

Due to the hushed rumors circling the noble class of the city, you’ve had the chance to eavesdrop about this particular establishment which allowed the citizens to enjoy art and music in a more...unconventional manner. 

Okta was a crossover between an inn and a canteen but people apparently spent more time consuming alcohol while enjoying each others’ company (whichever came first) in the common and private areas inside the place. 

You’d even heard of a lady who told tales of all genres, including erotica, in exchange for a few silver coins. The price was reasonable and with your curiosity and your married-woman-insecurities out on your sleeve, you thought Okta was perhaps the place where you’d finally discover the answers to your unspoken queries. 

So you had secretly scheduled a meeting with the infamous “Ahro” and the only other person who knew of this rendezvous was Haesoo, who swore on her ancestors that she wouldn’t tell a soul of your whereabouts, unless it would be of a life and death situation. 

Your intoxicated state was apparently considered one. 

You had most definitely not intended to actually consume alcohol but considering the fact that Lady Ahro’s stories ultimately had the small hairs on your nape stand on end, not to mention those tips she occasionally throws in for you to use, (tonight too, just as she had advised!), you figured you might as well have a little wine running through your veins to boost your lack of courage. 

How you got to this point however - practically clinging onto Ahro for dear life as you giggle uncontrollably - was beyond you. Both your mind and vision have become hazy as the hours pass and you’re barely aware of what’s going on in your surroundings. 

She hears rustling from outside the room where you spent talking for hours on end, and she wonders if her temporary guardian duties will finally end. At least the handsome guard had already given her more than three weeks worth of her wages. 

The king pokes his head in, eyes scanning the room. He finds you practically draped over Ahro who looks like she’d had to deal with you since time immemorial. Apologizing in your stead, he requests Ahro to leave the two of you for a moment. 

It takes the pair quite some effort to pry you off the lady. Seokjin offers another bag of silver in exchange for her silence and Ahro almost considers not taking the payment to preserve her dignity, but quickly remembers she didn’t have much of it in the first place so with a wave and a gentle reminder to Seokjin to never leave you alone again in the establishment, Ahro takes her money and scurries off. 

“Sarang, it’s time to go.” Seokjin tugs at your hand to pull you up but you decline, looking away as you put on your best cutesy angry face. He just chuckles at you, gasping in surprise as you tug him downwards, ultimately landing on the spot next to yours. “I still want to play.” 

Feeling Seokjin’s chest vibrate with laughter, you pout at him. Since when did Seokjin have such a wonderful neck? It seems like this is the first time you’ve seen his bare neck in years - his throat and whatever is that lump that’s sticking out from his throat is suddenly so...attractive? 

In fact, you’ve found it insanely attractive that you’re unable to stop yourself from placing a wet kiss on his neck, just below his jawline. His breath hitches and the action only spurs you further, peppering his throat lingering kisses, working your way down to his collarbone. 

Seokjin exhales shakily as he gently tries to pry you off him. “_______, dearest. Not here jagiya. We need to get you home.” 

“Can we play then? When we get home?” 

He’s never seen you reply like this before and your husband is tempted to ask who you were and what could you have possibly done to his wife, but judging by your current state, he deems it’s not going to end well if he does. Instead, Seokjin just nods at you in reply. 

He’s surprised when that actually gets you on your feet. Wincing at the sudden headache that booms through your temple, Seokjin holds you steady as you stumble in your stance. As the pain subsides enough to be tolerable, you shake yourself off of Seokjin’s grasp, skipping giddily out of the room. 

Finding difficulty bearing with your drunken mood swings, your husband lets his head flop forward in exasperation as he rubs his face with his palms. Realizing he has yet to watch you in case your inability to walk in a straight line might strike again, Seokjin quickly runs after you. 

Just as he had thought, you fall midway to the back door, landing on your knees. Your husband rushes to you, asking if you felt any sort of pain. The boisterous laugh that escapes your lips answers his question efficiently. 

Because of the sudden sound, Seokjin sees some of the people from the common area are trying to peek through the slits between the wooden panels covering the hallways, wondering where that sound came from. With graceful haste, Seokjin scoops you up from the floor and walks briskly towards the end of the hallway where Yunho and the rest of the group were waiting with a palanquin. 

Your husband ushers you into the litter but your unusually stubborn self continues to cling onto the silken fabric of his jeogori so Seokjin had no other choice but to climb in as well - the palanquin, thankfully, spacious enough to fit two passengers. 

Latching onto his arm the moment you’ve settled in your seat, Seokjin wonders slightly if you’ll have any recollection of this once you’ve become sober tomorrow. The king heaves a sigh, finally getting the chance to feel that certain level of relief now that you were quiet and beside him at last. 

Seokjin might have spoken too soon. 

Next thing he knew, you were snuggling into his chest, fingers dancing lazily along his thigh while you’re at it. Your husband didn’t find it suspicious at first, but when he feels your digits trail dangerously up north, Seokjin gently pushes your hand away keeping them secure under his grasp as he places them on your lap. 

Desperation can’t seem to stop anybody though. Even with your hands cuffed beneath Seokjin’s huge palms, you manage to latch your lips on his neck one more time, sucking on the sensitive spot along the creamy expanse of his throat. 

The sound that reverberates throughout Seokjin’s body is something you’ve never heard of before - the almost animalistic sound canonically shooting a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

You continue your ministrations until Seokjin gets a hold of himself after an embarrassing amount of time, pulling away from you with a stern look on his face. He calls you by your full name, scolding you slightly of a behavior unbecoming of a queen, reminding you that you both weren’t in the confines of your room and any occurrence of a scandalous event is unaffordable by the royal family. You cower slightly in your seat, not expecting your very own husband to use his authoritative king voice on you. 

But just like the interesting turn of events in a short time span tonight, the alcohol coursing through your veins seem to have a mind of its own. 

Instead of letting your husband hinder you from your intentions, you take advantage of Seokjin’s loosened grip on your hands, climbing onto his lap swiftly and gracefully, that the palanquin manages to not move much so as not to raise any suspicion from outside. 

“Have I been a very bad queen, Seokjinnie?” Your hand purposely brushes through his crotch before trailing upward to cup his jaw. Seokjin staggers at the teasing tone of your voice, thoughts drifting off to whatever they made you drink inside that made you a completely different person.  He badly needs to get a hold of those too. 

Pushing yourself further into his lap, so close that he feels your breath fanning against his nose. “Jeonha,” you whisper salaciously, nipping at the shell of his ear, “Aren’t bad queens going to get punished?” Seokjin remains silent as he stares at you with an intense gaze, lust clouding over his dark orbs. 

“Hmm?” you tap his chin once, feeling the faint stubble of a promising beard. Your husband’s face remains stoic even with your provocative efforts, so you decide to take it up a notch, inspired and fueled by one of Ahro’s stories earlier. 

Your hand travels under your skirt, lifting it just a little to reveal that tiny sliver of skin to your husband and as you raise yourself a tiny amount from his lap, you swiftly untie the cloth covering your most private of parts, throwing them aside somewhere else inside the palanquin. 

“I am most willing to take any punishment, jeonha...” you whisper as you grind your core on his crotch. Even with your thick skirt hindering you from experiencing the intense pleasure from grinding on his clothed cock, there’s still that faint feeling of his erection as you grind even heavier. “Twofold,” you state, gyrating your hips to match your counting. “Threefold…” another one. You see the lump on Seokjin’s throat bob up and down as he gulps. “Fourfold.” 

“Don’t worry, my queen. I’ll be sure to punish you accordingly,” comes Seokjin's equally strained reply, not taking his eyes off you as he thrusts upwards. 

Seokjin returns you back to your seat beside him effortlessly, not a word spoken. Well, it’s not as if it’s needed. The tension inside in the now-seemingly cramped space is enough for you to perceive what might happen in the next few moments. As if in sync with your thoughts, Seokjin reminds, “Stay still in your seat, unless you want more punishment later.” 

You manage to stay still in your seat, despite your thoughts completely haywire. Maybe you wanted more punishment? Or are you already asking for too much? Was he really going to punish you? 

Not before long, the palanquin halts, indicating your arrival at the palace. Seokjin spares you a look, heart melting at the sight of you already asleep, snoring slightly in your sleep. 

He chuckles at your slumbering form, climbing out of the palanquin first before asking Yunho to assist him as he clambers to get you out of the litter. Seokjin then proceeds to carry you in his arms and up the stairs to your hanok. 

Laying you gently on the bed, Seokjin undresses you layer after layer, knowing how uncomfortable it will be for you if you continue sleeping in the multiple layers of clothing you have on. Your husband delicately tears off your jeogori first, then laughs to himself as he turns you to the side to untie the knot on your skirt, remembering your alcohol-induced bravado earlier. The young king makes a mental note to ask someone tomorrow to get a sample of whatever they had given you prior...for research purposes. 

He takes the bowl of water he’s kept by the fire to maintain its temperature, pulls out a small washcloth from your dresser and dips the same into the bowl. Seokjin drags the white fabric along the expanse of your skin not covered by your undergarments. When he deems you freshened enough, he pulls on the ribbon holding half of your hair up in a ponytail. 

Fishing your favorite brush from a nearby drawer, a satisfied smile plays on the corner of Seokjin’s lips, running the brush along your hair fanned out on the pillows. Though he loves you for who you truly are, one physical attribute of yours that appeals to him most is your hair - he can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s something about your hair that he finds so feminine, something he finds strangely, but insanely attractive - much more than he can ever admit out loud. 

Propping an elbow for something to lean on, he finds brushing your hair particularly soothing and therapeutic, enough to even lull him to a deep sleep, one hand on the brush and the other holding your hand. 

A raging headache and a parched throat wake you from your peaceful sleep, squinting as your eyes adjust to take in your surroundings. You try to recollect what happened last night, vague splashes of last night’s events splayed across your thoughts. 

A royal robe covering haphazardly draped over someone’s legs discontinues your momentary reminiscence. Twisting your torso to the side, you see your husband, mouth slightly open as he snores away happily in his sleep. He must’ve taken off your outer clothes last night and — you rack your brain thinking hard if you had done something unintelligible and embarrassing. 

Your brazen advances last night finally dawn on you, face cringing as you remember bits and pieces of how you were the night before. ‘It must have been a nightmare for Seokjin,’ you think to yourself, already conjuring up a lame apology for your inexcusable behavior. 

Pushing your robe away from Seokjin’s legs, you take notice of the erection hidden beneath the confines of his pants. You make an attempt to not stare at it perversely but it was standing tall and proud like that, and oh - your eyes widen as you see it twitch, as if demanding all of your attention.

Wasn’t this a common occurrence in the morning? You might have felt it a few times during your rising when Seokjin spooned you in his sleep, but your timidity can’t seem to address the concern to your own husband. 

Looking away, you shift in your position to share your blanket with your husband. Seokjin unexpectedly wakes up at the action though, giving you a small fright. “Sarang, you’re awake already? Seokjin is talking slower than usual, voice still groggy from sleep. 

You nod at him with a shy smile, embarrassed at the fact that you almost got caught eyeing that thing between his legs. “Are you alright? Dizzy, perhaps?” 

“Just a little, but I’ll be okay. Thank you for taking care of me last night,” you place a kiss on his cheek as Seokjin hums delightedly. “You must have taken quite the beating last night.” Fiddling with your fingers as you apologize for your behavior last night, Seokjin grabs at your hands and takes them between his. 

“It’s fine, sarang. Actually, it was quite...amusing, if I do say so myself,” your husband comments, winking at you. Seokjin sits up, resting his back against the wooden board and beckoning you nearer to him. 

As you scoot closer, you snuggle into Seokjin’s chest. Your husband places a kiss on your temple, before playing with your hair, just silently carding his fingers through them. “Do you mind telling me what actually happened last night - the things I said, perhaps? I can’t really recall them properly…” 

“Truthfully I was worried when I didn’t see you here yesterday. It was already late when I returned from the office and I don’t really want to be that type of husband that locks you inside the palace but I became really anxious when you still hadn’t returned.” 

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” you frown, mentally noting to inform Seokjin of your whereabouts before leaving the palace. 

“It’s alright, really. Anyways, I found you practically attached to Ahro, was it? And then we went home. Now we’re here.” 

“That’s it?” With the evident Seokjin’s haste in his recollection, you’re starting to get suspicious about how the previous night could have ended that quickly - that...uneventful. 

“Nothing else happened? Like I didn’t do or say anything? Am I a quiet drunk?” Your husband looks overwhelmed with all your questions, gulping before he responds. 

“You kind of said a couple of things...but! It’s nothing really, nothing major…” Seokjin chuckles nervously, scratching at the back of his head. 

“That can’t be the whole story?” You raise an eyebrow at your husband, testing him. Sliding lower down his chest a little so you have a better view of him, you trace the faint stubble on his chin. “Tell me, my king? Please?” 

“Don’t call me that,” Seokjin mumbles, looking away. “Doesn’t seem like you dislike it though, jeonha.” Your husband heaves a sigh, knowing you’ve won again. “You do know I love you with all my heart, right? And I don’t want you to think that I might take advantage of your drunkenness - which I didn’t, really, because you fell asleep too before anything actually happened…” He was stalling, you figured, as it might involve something that made him uncomfortable. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell the whole thing… I just… why do I only remember me saying something along the lines of punishment?” Seokjin looks down at you with dilated pupils. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you...it’s just…” your husband pauses, thinking deeply about what his next statement might entail. “I can’t think about it without getting hard…” 

Seokjin looks almost strained as he looks to the side, avoiding your eyes. “If only you’ve seen - heard yourself last night, gods! It was like a different you completely” 

Just as if the universe is on your side, you’re starting to get clearer recollection of last night’s events, realization slowly dawning on you. Likewise, Ahro’s words ring inside your head, urging you to go make your move. Relying on the last possible ounce of alcohol remaining inside you, you gather all your courage and make a proposition. “Am I still up for punishment? Jeonha?” 

Seokjin dramatically exhales, rubbing at his face. “Don’t say things like that, ________!” Laughter is already bubbling in the pit of your stomach (just as much as the anticipation for what’s to come, in case your plan works out) but you control yourself, maintaining a straight face as you continue to query him. 

“Why? Did I say something, my king?” 

Your husband makes a sound, somewhere between a grunt frustration and resilience, and looks at you dead in the eye, “You saying those things just makes me really want to punish you.” Pulse rapidly accelerating, you make a final question, “What’s stopping you, jeonha?” 

Seokjin wastes no time with your affirmation, connecting your lips together. Moaning into the kiss, he shifts in his seat to cage you between him and the bed, strong arms holding him up as he deepens the kiss.

Shamelessly grinding his erection against you, Seokjin grunts, gripping at your thighs to keep them spread, “Do you feel how aroused you get me all the time?” Mewling at the sensation, you manage to choke out a reply, “As do you, my love.”

Your husband deftly unties the undergarments you’ve slept in. “Seok…” a breathy whine escapes you as he latches onto on of your nipples. The foreign feeling of his warm, wet tongue sends you shivering and it takes all your might to stop him as you remember Ahro’s advice yesterday, squeezing at your husband’s lithe biceps.

“What is it, sarang? Do you wish to stop?”

“N-no. I want to take control, Jinnie.”

Albeit slightly taken aback by your behest, Seokjin nods, sitting on his heels. “Lie down, my king. I want to pleasure you.” Shock is evident in your husband’s features as he complies with your command, cock already twitching in anticipation. “Take off you clothes too.” Seokjin obeys without further questioning, unknowingly easing the mild worry nipping at you.

Just as what Ahro had told you yesterday, you splay your hands on his chest, before bending down slowly to place kisses all over the milky expanse of his skin. Moving further south until your reach that thin trail of hair, Seokjin’s sudden intakes of air continuously urge you on, until you finally get to his crown jewel.

Licking at your lips, you hastily pull his pants down, your desperation for a mutual release guiding your actions on instinct. As soon as his cock springs free from its confines, you get into action, placing a wet kiss on the tip of his length before slowly taking the head in your mouth.

“O-oh, fuck! What did that lady tell you back at Okt…” Seokjin cries out a broken moan as you pull your mouth back up then diving back in, eventually getting lower to the base. You feel your husband tremble with your every bob, subconsciously tugging at your hair in pleasure.

Seokjin starts to squirm around you, pushing your mouth away from his shaft. “My love, please…. please let me be inside you. I can’t cum like this, please.” Seokjin beseeches, torso already covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Your husband switches your positions as he pushes you gently onto the bed, but your hand shoots out to grab at his wrist. “C-can...can I be on top?”

There’s a slight furrow in Seokjin’s brows at your request, but he smiles nonetheless, keeping his excitement at bay. “Of course, love. You’re free to sit on your throne anytime.” 

He lies back down, both palms out to support you in your task. Gladly placing your hands on him, you crawl back on his lap, moving on your knees to position yourself to impale yourself on his cock.

Taking his length in your hand, you languidly swipe the tip against your wet folds. With one final breath, you push downward, sinking down on his cock until he’s fully seated inside you. Slowly you start, swiveling your hips just as you were told. Seokjin keeps his gaze at you through hooded eyes – a definite boost of confidence for you.

You settle on a particular rhythm, just gyrating your hips around before it gets too much like you’re almost at that point, but not quite yet. You start alternating by bouncing atop him, while your fingers find your clit, rubbing at your nether bud vigorously to push you towards your high.

Seokjin grabs at your breasts, twisting and tweaking your nipples, stimulating you further. He feels you clench around him as you orgasm nears quickly and his balls tighten likewise, painting your velvety walls white as he reaches his climax after you.

You fall to his chest, panting just as heavily as Seokjin. He decides on keeping himself still sheathed inside you for a while longer, reveling in the feeling of his cum dripping out of your pussy and onto his thigh. “The next time you go to Okta, take me with you, alright? I’ll have whatever you had back there.” 

© joontier 2020

“Den Mom”

Warnings: season 7 spoilers, drinking, implied sex.

Description: If you’re going to have a bunch of teenage girls over at your house who are basically just biding their time until a battle that will determine the fate of the world, then you might as well make sure they have a little fun.

You’ve always wanted to be a camp counselor. This isn’t exactly it, but hey. You’re not complaining. You’ll participate in the good fight anyway you can, and if that means setting up movie nights and taking the potentials to the mall, then so be it. It’s Buffy’s job to train them, but you remember exactly how difficult it was for her to accept that she was the Slayer. It’s best, you think, to ease the girls into it.

That’s how you and Spike get into your first real fight since he came back with a soul.

You’ve been tender with each other recently, both of you trying to prove that you do in fact know how to have a semi-normal functional relationship. He’s been through so much for you, given up everything, so you’ve been as gentle as possible. The perfect doting partner.

Except in your haste to be a good den mom, you might’ve let a few things slip about your relationship.

“I can’t believe you told them that,” Spike repeats when you apologize. He’s stalking down the sidewalk with his stupid vampire speed, which means he’s about twice as fast as you and you’re forced to run after him like an idiot.

“I’m sorry! I thought you’d be proud! You used to terrorize Xander with the details, I didn’t think that you’d mind if I shared just a little—”

“A little?” he scoffs without turning around. “You gave them the whole bloody story! No one’s going to take me seriously in there! Especially not your sisters.”

“They already knew most of it!”

“That’s not the point!”

You have no doubt that the girls are leaning out the windows of the house, gathering on the front porch in an effort to hear the rest of this argument. The two of you are certainly being loud enough, although you’re almost all the way down the street now.

“Spike, I was only trying to have some fun with them. Teenage girls love gossip, especially about boys, and they’re so interested in you—”

The flattery gets you nowhere. He whirls around the corner and you let out a frustrated sigh. You’re almost certain he’s going to the graveyard, which has become your least favorite place over the years. You tolerated it when he had his own crypt—it even became kind of cozy—but now, there’s nothing there for you.

In your hesitation, you lose him. You fully consider going home. But after having all that girl talk about your relationship and the potentials telling you how lucky you are, you don’t especially want to face them after a fight that woke the whole block.

Still, it’s not safe for you to be out on your own. You always keep a stake and holy water in your jacket, but that won’t be enough if the First decides to send something after you. With this in mind, you hurry to Xander’s to ask if you can crash there for the night. Normally, you’d consider it rude to come over uninvited, but God knows he’s stayed over at the Summer’s residence enough times to rack up a bill.

It’s a weekend, and even in a town with as many dangers as Sunnydale, there are people out and about. Not many, but enough to make you feel a little safer. Whole crowds wouldn’t stop the First from trying something, but you’re comforted by the living. The Bronze is open and although it’s not as full as it once would’ve been, the music is good and people are dancing. It reminds you of better, easier days when the world ending could be solved by Buffy and Co. instead of an entire army that might not win anyway. 

One drink, you tell yourself. You’ll hit the bar, grab something light-ish, and then be on your way. 

“You here by yourself tonight?” the bartender asks when you sit down. 

“Not for long,” you say, pulling out an emergency twenty. When he smiles, you backtrack, realizing how you must sound. “I mean–– Not like that. I’m not looking for anyone. I just wanted a quick drink.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Really.” 

“It’s like the Hotel California in here. No one comes in for one anything.”

When he sets down your drink and moves on, you down it quickly. Determined to prove him wrong, you head for the door. Only–– the music tonight is so inviting and you’ve been so focused on the girls lately. You join the crowd on the floor before you’ve even made a conscious decision. Two, three, four songs later you’re sweaty and laughing as you finally exit back out into the cool night. 

It’s late now. Xander might not even be awake. You’re willing to bet money that the girls will be, though, and you take the risk. Sunnydale is a small town. You know you can make it to the apartment in maybe ten minutes. 

You’re feeling good about this decision and don’t even snap at the man who bumps you on the sidewalk, until he opens his mouth to reveal a nasty set of fangs.

“Excuse you.”

“You know what? Just for that, I’m going to bite you.” 

He lunges at you, but you’ve already got the stake out of your jacket pocket and you slam it into his heart. It takes more muscle to do this than Buffy ever lets on, makes your wrist ache a little with the effort, but he’s dust soon enough. The vamp doesn’t concern you so much as your boyfriend, who stepped out of the shadows when things got rough. 

Spike tries to retreat, but it’s too late. You wrinkle your nose at him. 

“You followed me?” You put the stake back in your pocket and shake the cremation off yourself. “I thought you wanted your space.”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted you dead. You should’ve gone home.”

“I was going to stay at Xander’s.”

“It wasn’t enough to tell the girls all of our problems? You have to tell him, too?”

He’s poking the bear, but there’s no heat in his words, so you turn right around and resume your walk. You’re not taking the bait. If he wants to talk about this, then you can talk. Tomorrow.

“Stop following me. I can take care of myself. Obviously.”

There’s no response. If you spun around now, you wouldn’t see him. You wouldn’t hear his footsteps either. But you know he’s there. Spike’s never given up that easily. 

“I wasn’t telling anyone our problems,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him, though you know he can hear you. “I wanted them to like me.”

The girls worship Buffy, even if they do think of her as a kind of demanding drill sergeant, and they hang out with Dawn. They all giggle over Spike and ask Willow all sorts of questions about witchcraft. But you worry that they think of you as the same stiff older sibling you’ve always been, the one who reminds them about lights out and takes requests for the grocery list and agonizes over money. You want them to have fun while they still can and you want to be part of that fun. 

“You were bragging.” Spike appears next to you, light-footed as a cat, and you flinch. You’ve never gotten used to that and he knows it. “You wanted them to be impressed with you, so you used me.”

He’s actually preening, spiking up his hair with his hands and subtly flexing underneath all that jacket. You roll your eyes.

“That is not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant. You knew that they all had little crushes on me and you wanted to make them jealous, show them that you were at least cool enough to land me.”

“First of all, Kennedy is gay. Second, I was not trying to make them jealous! And if I was, then I would use my savings account, or my job, or my many skills and hobbies!” 

You’ve quickened your pace and Spike matches it casually. When you get stuck at a stoplight, briefly considering jaywalking just to cut this torture short, he wraps his palm around your upper arm. 

“No need to be embarrassed, love.”

He’s trying to get you to look at him, passing his thumb gently over the cloth of your jacket, allowing you to imagine what it would feel like on skin. You keep yourself focused on the destination, but you don’t pull away.

“I’m not.”

“I think you are, a little, but it’s all right.” 

“I said I’m not.” You pivot to glare at him, but he catches you off guard with his eyes. He’s so clearly laughing at this, at you. You guess he has a right to. This time was your fault. 

“Why don’t you come back to the house with me?” he asks after a minute or two have passed. “I guarantee I can make you more comfortable than Xander. And it’ll give the girls something to talk about, too.”

“You’re awful.” 

“All you had to say was no.”

He heads back toward the cemetery in a dark flash and he’s halfway down the block before you call out, “Wait!” 

Oh Me, Oh My! | Henderson! Reader

Steve Harrington x Henderson! Reader

MASTERLIST

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, STRANGER THINGS S3 SPOILERS!!

Summary: Returning to Hawkins after college didn’t work out, you find yourself once again thrown into the dangers that come with the upside down. You didn’t expect to be kidnapped by Russians, yet again you didn’t expect to have your best friend accidentally confess his feelings to you.

word count: 2.6K

I CHANGED SOME OF THE DIALOGUE TO SUIT MY STORY. I DON’T OWN ANY OF THE STRANGER THINGS CHARACTERS; THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION.

“Hey! Don’t touch her! I swear to God, if you touch her I will kill you! You hear me? I will kill you!” 

Steve’s yells echoed through room that he was being held in, tied to a chair with Robin. Your piercing screams made his heart rate spike and he wished he was with you right now; protecting you. 

“Y/N! Listen to me! I’m going to help you! Don’t fucking touch her!”

“Steve,” Robin’s voice paused him from his struggle against the belt keeping him in place. “We’re going to get her, you just need to keep calm.”

“Calm?! How can I keep calm when they’re hurting her! Oh God, Dustin’s going to kill me!”

“We both know that you don’t give a shit about what Dustin will do to you right now, you see those scissors to the left?”

Looking to his left, Robin quickly shook her head. “My left, Steve.” Looking to his left, Steve nodded when his eyes caught sight of the scissors. “If we both jump at the same time, we can reach them and cut ourselves free. On three,” 

Robin stated, making sure that Steve was ready, “one, two, three!” 

The two of them both jumped at the same time and Steve tried to drown out the sounds of your cries and whimpers to focus on getting to you. The pair celebrated when their plan worked and made quick work of trying it again, only to misjudge their landing and end up on the floor; still tied to the chair.

“Fuck!” Steve groaned, his cheek resting on the cold floor. It was silent for a few minutes and that’s when he realised that he could no longer hear you. “Y/N! Can you hear me?!”

When he didn’t receive a response, panic settled in. He could make out Robin trying to comfort him, but it was no use. He couldn’t imagine what the Russians had done to you – he didn’t want to.

“Hey morons! If one goddamn hair on her perfect head is out of place, I’m going to fucking end you!”

“Steve!” Robin hissed, Steve lifted his head slightly and realised that the men keeping them hostage were now at the open door. One of them had you lazily thrown over his shoulder; he walked over to the pair as they were lifted into upright seated positions and dropped you at Steve’s feet with a thump.

The guy cursed something in Russian as Steve struggled against the belt trying to reach you.  Your mind was foggy as you tried to sit yourself up, you could hear the sound of muffled voices and you placed your palm against your forehead; willing some of the pain away. 

You knew that the Russian men had drugged you with something, but as far as you could tell there were no side effects as of yet. Your ears rang as a hoarse scream made your eyes widen and that’s when you saw the same men injecting Steve and Robin with the substance. 

“Hey! Don’t touch him! Stop!” 

Raising your hand weakly out in front of you, it limply fell back to the floor to keep the upper half of your body up. The sound of a door shutting signalled that the men had left and you let your body fall to the floor. 

Steve grimaced when he finally got a good look at your face. Your right eye was red and had a dark purple bruise forming around it, your bottom lip was split and bleeding and your neck looked like someone had attempted to strangle you. 

“Y/N,” your head lulled to the right as you stared directly up at Steve who looked almost as bad as you. “What did they do to you?..”

A small smile grew upon your face, but you quickly stopped when a sharp pain shot throughout your cheek. 

“What did they do to me? You should see yourself Harrington,” you laughed, pointing to your neck. “They injected truth serum right here, truth serum Steve! What idiots!”

Steve let out a deep chuckle, pointing to his own neck. “Me too! Absolute morons!”

You both started laughing despite the pain you were feeling, soon being joined by Robin, who threw her head back onto Steve’s shoulder.

“Truth serum isn’t real!” She giggled, letting out a snort. “I don’t even feel anything! Do you guys?”

“No!” Both you and Steve yelled at the same time; the three of you bursting into another round of laughter. Looking up towards the boy who’s smile was beaming, your eyes slightly widened. 

“Hey Steve! How does your hair still look so good?!”

Steve’s loud laughter boomed throughout the room, “that’s the power of Farrah Fawcett, baby!”

The sound of rushed footsteps approaching, pulled you all away from your moment of happiness, as you all watched the door in anticipation. 

“Hey morons! Hurry up, I’m tired of waiting for your entrance!” Robin screamed, making you chuckled.

The door suddenly swung open and your eyes lit up when you realised it was your brother and Erica Sinclair who was holding a pole that seemed to be sending shocks of electricity into the air.

“Dusty!” You happily yelled, raising your arms above your head in happiness. Dustin’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared between you, Steve and Robin who seemed overly excited to see them.

“What’s wrong with her?” Erica pipped up, causing Dustin to roll his eyes before responding to the girl who he wouldn’t admit was quite entertaining. 

“Nothing, let’s just get the hell out of here.”

                                                         ——-                                                            “Hey, Henderson! You still look drop dead gorgeous with all those bruises.”

Letting out a dramatic groan, Robin shoved Steve’s shoulder causing him to stumble into a bunch of boxes in the elevator they were taking up this time. 

“You’re so bad at flirting Steve!” Robin rolled her eyes, crouching down in front of him. Your giggles made Steve’s heart race a bit faster as he looked up at you leaning against a storage rack. 

“What do you want me to do Robin? Just tell Y/N that I’m in love with her?!” 

It was as if time came to a halt as your eyes slightly widened. Everyone was silent until Dustin threw his hands up in exasperation, before kneeling next to Steve who hadn’t moved from the position he fell into. 

“I tell you to do one thing Steve! One thing – to not fall in love with my sister!”

“How could I not Dustin! Look at her! She’s perfect!” Steve exclaimed, raising his hand in your direction. 

“Are you drugged? I need to know if you’re going to die – at least then we can pretend you didn’t just confess your profound love for my sister like this!”

“I don’t do drugs, dad,” Steve sarcastically sneered, poking Dustin’s nose with a small ‘boop.’

“Let’s go” 

Dustin helped Steve to his feet once the elevator stopped, signalled for everyone to follow him. You all stumbled out, Dustin making a quick plan to take you all into the cinema to hide from the Russians that were searching for you.

With a lot of giggles and hushed scoldings from Dustin, you all made your way into the cinema. Dustin sat Steve and Robin next to each other and tried to get you to sit with him, but Steve only clung onto your arm and pulled you onto his lap; causing Dustin to roll his eyes for the thousandth time. 

“Hey Harrington,” you smiled, pulling Steve’s attention away from the screening of Back to the Future. 

“Yeah?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

With a wide smile and soft blush to his cheeks, Steve gave you a quick peck on the cheek. The both of you stared at each other, before being forced to look away by Robin standing up and rushing out of the cinema with a quick ‘I’m so thirsty.’

The both of you rushed out of the screening after her, stopping when you found a water tap. Each of you took turns drinking for a couple of minutes each, shoving the others out of the way to have another go. 

“I think I’m going to puke,” Steve stated, a burp bubbling up in his throat. Robin quickly agreed and without even checking on you, they agilely ran towards the closest bathroom. 

“I’m going to wait here!” You called, even though it was no use. “Or maybe I should try to find Dustin.”

                                                            ——-        

“When was the last time you peed your pants?” Steve hazily asked Robin, his head rolling side to side against the tiled bathroom wall. 

“Today..”                 

“What?!”

“When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw!” 

“Oh my God!”

“It was only a little bit though!” She defended herself, showing a small gap in between her fingers - a giggle escaping her lips.    

“Yeah,” Steve shook his head, giving her a light laugh, “it’s definitely still in your system.”

“Alright my turn!”

“Okay, hit me.”

“Have you ever…” Robin thought for a moment, before the question hit her. “been in love?”

“Yup, Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.”  Steve admitted, making a gun figure with his hand and pointing it to his heart - pretending to shoot himself. Robin only rolled her eyes at his response.

“Oh my god, she’s such a priss.”

“Umph, turns out; not really,” Steve half-heartedly defended his first love. 

“Are you still in love with Nancy?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I think it’s because I found someone who’s better for me,” Steve confessed, shrugging his shoulders although the girl in the other stall couldn’t see him. “Ever since Dustin got home he’s been saying ‘you’ve got to find your Suzie. You’ve got to find your Suzie.’“

Robin scrunched her eyebrows in confusion, “wait, who’s Suzie?”

“Some girl from camp – I guess his girlfriend. To be honest with you, I’m not even one hundred percent sure she’s real. But, that’s not really the point-” 

“You’re in love with Y/N.”

“Yeah,”  Steve rushed out, running his hands through his hair, “and I’ve ruined every chance I’ve had with her, because she’s amazing! She’s unlike every girl I’ve ever known. She doesn’t hesitate to risk her life to save her dingus brother and his friends - she fought off Billy Hargrove when he attacked me. She’s perfect.”

Robin was silent as she listened to her new found best friend spill his heart about the girl he’s in love with - the girl she’s in love with, and her heart broke. 

“Robin?” Steve hit his palm against the stall wall pulling the girl away from her thoughts. “Robin did you just OD in there?”

“No..” She responded with a sigh, pulling herself up against the wall. “I’m still alive.”

Steve’s face scrunched up in concern and he pulled himself under the gap separating him and the girl. 

“The floors disgusting.”

Steve just shrugged his shoulders, “yeah, well I’ve already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so.. What’s wrong?” 

“Steve, do you-” Robin took a deep breath before looking at the beaten boy opposite her, “do you remember what I said about Click’s class? About me being jealous and like, obsessed?”

“Yeah?”

“It isn’t because I had a crush on you,” she tried to explain, hoping that Steve wouldn’t let what she was about to admit ruin their new friendship. “It’s because… she wouldn’t stop staring at you.” 

“Mrs. Click?” Steve only slightly shook his head and looked at Robin in confusion; the girl laughed at his cluelessness.

“Y/N Henderson. I wanted her to look at me, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair and I didn’t understand because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor and you asked dumb questions, and you were a douchebag! And you didn’t even like her.”

Robin’s eyes began watering, but she could feel the weight lifting from her shoulders with every word she was spilling. “I would go home and just scream into my pillow.”

“But, Y/N’s a girl?”

“Steve…”

“Yeah?” Steve was still clueless for a few seconds before realisation set in, the both of them sitting in silence before Steve let out a soft ‘oh.’

“Oh,” Robin imitated.

“Holy shit! Y-you’re in love with Y/N?”

“Yeah, holy shit,” Robin agreed, her heart feeling slightly lighter now that someone other than herself knew. “Steve, did you OD over there?”

“No, I just - I’m just thinking.”

“She’s in love with you too, Steve.”

“Nah, I- Look at me! I’ve always had the worst luck with girls, Y/N’s too good for me-”

“Steve,” Robin cut off the boys rambling, grabbing his hand. “Y/N Henderson is in love with you. Head-over-heels in love. I know because she looks at you the way I look at her and if you don’t admit it to her when you’re not drugged by Russian truth serum, you’re going to lose her.”

“Robin I-”

“You just need to be brave and do it Steve; ask her out, because you will be the luckiest guy in the world when she’s finally yours.” The both of them sat there on the cold linoleum floor, a silent agreement in the air. 

“There is another girl out there for me, and she’ll be just as amazing for me as Y/N is for you,” Robin squeezed Steve’s hand before letting go, both of their eyes darting to the door that swung open. 

“Okay, what the hell?!” Dustin screeched, Erica and you stood either side of him making Steve and Robin burst out laughing. 

“Are you guys okay?” You asked, stepping in front of your brother who was about to start scolding the pair. Robin just beamed up at you while Steve responded. 

“We’re great Y/N!”

“Good! Now that the drugs have worn off and we can all think clearly, we need to get the hell out of this damn mall.”

Helping the pair to their feet, you began gesturing for everyone to leave; holding the door open for everyone. Dustin and Erica exited first while Robin squeezed Steve’s shoulder, whispering a ‘be brave’ in his ear before walking out of the bathroom.

You waited for Steve to leave, trailing behind the others when Steve decided that he should take his shot before it was too late. Be brave. Stopping in his steps, he twirled around to face you.

“Y/N..”

“What’s wrong Steve?”

“I- uh, I need to tell you something-”

“You love me,” you cut him off, letting a smile raise up on your face. Steve started sputtering denials before he noticed the grin you were sporting and let out a ‘what?’ “I heard you back in the elevator. I love you too Steve.”

“Y-You do?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice ages ago. I’ve loved you since the day we met in fifth grade when you accidentally knocked me off the slide and then jumped off after me, hurting yourself and landing us both in the nurses office.”

“I never apologised for that,” Steve laughed, wiping his hands on his disgusting Scoops Ahoy uniform.. 

“I knew you were sorry when you started crying about hurting me instead of your broken arm,” you took his hands in yours. “Maybe - if we get out of this alive - you can finally take me out on a date?”

“When we get out of here I will take you on as many dates as you want.”

Rising up on your tip-toes, you placed your hand on the nape of Steve’s neck before finally pulling his face down to kiss him. He didn’t waste a second, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you impossibly closer to his body; returning your kiss with just as much ferocity and love. 

“If you two nerds are done making out, can we please escape from these damn Russians?”

“Dustin!”

The Artificials / A short story

This is a short story I wrote some time ago, but only recently went through and edited.

(5.5k, scifi with just a dash of action and queer feels.)

xx

“I told you I’ll do it.”

A brief smile crosses Colonel Davie’s thin lips. He leans forward, pushes his elbows on the desk, and locks his fingers. “Look at you, Aden. That’s what I like to hear.”

It’s easy for this jackass to smile. He won’t be the one running head on to the enemy, no — he leaves it up to me. An Artificial. The Expendable. 

I scoff and turn away. “Sure. I’ll let you know how it goes.” 

As I make my way through his office, past the paintings and the maps and the huge collections of enemy helmets just collecting dust in big glass cabinets, Davie clears his throat. 

“This time, you’ll have a partner.”

My heart skips over a beat. I reach the door and stop, my brains repeating that last word like a stuck record player. 

A partner? For me? But— 

Davie laughs. His chair creaks, and heavy footsteps approach me. “It’s someone like you. I’m sure you’ll get along with it just fine.”

I don’t want to turn around but I do, and I meet Davie’s amused gaze. 

“Your mission requires two people,” he says, circles his desk, and leans his butt over the edge. He reaches into his chest pocket and pulls out a fat, brown cigar. “Or, well, not people. I wouldn’t risk my soldiers over this. That’s why it’s you two. Even if you die… Well, you know the drill.”

The familiar heat rises in my chest. I tense staring at him, at that smug face, as if he’s so much better than me just because every part of him came out of a womb. 

I didn’t ask for this. Any of this. Not to be made, not to be put in this body, not to fight in this stupid war. 

“Fuck you.” The words slip out before I can register them. “I’m flesh and blood, the same as you.”

Colonel Davie pulls out a lighter, snaps his finger across the wheel, and lights his cigar. The cocky look on his face never wavers as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke that smells as disgusting as his personality. “Are you?”

Whatever. 

“I’ll have someone let you know when I return,” I say, pushing out the door. 

“You’ll find your new partner from the armory,” Davie calls out, and I slam the door shut behind myself. His muffled voice yells: “You might find him familiar.”

xx

The guy in front of me is tall, probably half a head taller than I am. The arms that poke from the sleeves of his white tee are muscular, and I guess he’s the type of soldier who lives and breathes gym — and yet, when he looks down at me, he smiles the sweetest smile and offers me his hand. White paint, already dry, decorates the side of his palm.

“Hey,” he says. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot. I’m Kane June.”

With a polite smile, I grab his hand and shake it. “Aden May. Hopefully all things good?” 

‘Might find him familiar’? What the hell had Davie meant by that? This guy is a total stranger, and by the lively look in his eyes, he’s never been to a real battle before. He’s definitely never died before. How could I know him? 

Kane’s grin widens as he nods. He steps back as we let go of each other’s hands. “Dude, you’re like a legend to us down in the Third Floor. It’s an honor getting to go out with you.” 

The choice of words makes me laugh. “Let’s finish this mission first and we’ll see.” 

In a blink of an eye, his cheeks go from brown to red, and he falls back another step, lifting his hands up. “Shit, I mean, I don’t—”

“It’s okay, I know what you meant,” I say, still grinning, and turn to the rows of weapons on the wall. 

It’s unusually empty here in the armory — but figures, since the previous attack on the base killed more than twenty of us. Out of the five hundred specialists we started with over four years earlier, only seventy-six are still standing. 

It won’t be long until we lose. 

“So is this your first time out in the field?” I ask, glancing at Kane. He’s busy hiding his face in his hands. 

That’s… kind of cute. 

He nods, looking up. The blush on his cheeks is almost gone. “I wasn’t supposed to go today, either. I’m not done with my training yet.”

“Why did they make you come, then?” I ask, turning my focus back on the weapons, and swallow a sigh. 

A complete beginner on a mission our survival depends on. Davie really outdid himself. Does he want us both to die?

“The attack a few days ago,” Kane says. “They sent everyone out to defend the base. You’re the only Expendable who came back, right?” 

I pick a modified pistol from the rack. The faces of the others flash in my head, bleeding and screaming and dying—

A shiver runs down my back and I force the memory out. 

No matter. They’ll be reinserted into new bodies and come back. Probably tomorrow or the day after, with eyes that are a little bit deader than before. 

“That’s why,” Kane continues. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I was the top of my class. Outdid most the humans in every task. I’m not saying I’m as good as you, or will ever be, ’cause I mean… You’re a legend. But I can handle myself.”

I turn to face Kane, forcing a smile on my lips.

He stands there, such an innocent drive in his dark brown eyes. He doesn’t know anything yet, that much is certain. And after seeing what it’s really like out there, he will wish he had stayed oblivious.

But that’s not why they created us. People like the two of us aren’t here to be happy. 

Our bodies are expendable. Even if we die, we’ll never stay that way. Illness, bombing, suicide, it doesn’t matter; our suffering will never end because they’ll always bring us back, again and again, until we finally go crazy and destroy our code from the inside. They force us into living and dying for a world that doesn’t give a shit about artificials like us. It doesn’t matter our bodies, borrowed from the dead soldiers, are flesh and blood; our consciousness is fake, created from lines of code and a bunch of numbers. To them, we are nothing. 

“When were you supposed to graduate?” I ask. 

“A week from now.”

At least he isn’t a complete beginner.

I hand him the gun. It has an extended clip; God knows he might need the extra ammo. “You know how to use it, right?”

He nods and pushes the gun down the holster on his waist. “Like I said, I can handle myself.”

“We’ll see,” I say, and pause before continuing. “Hey, uh… This is a weird question, but you have any hobbies?”

He laughs, lifting his hand up to the back of his neck. “That’s fine. I mean, yeah, I guess. I like drawing. And painting, though I always make a huge mess. Why?”

“No reason,” I say and turn back to the weapons. “Get ready. We gotta leave the second it gets dark.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” There is a grin in his voice. 

Eventually, he’ll lose joy in everything. We all do; it’s only a matter of time until the truth gets to him. That there’s no hope for beings like us.

But right now, he’s innocent. Happy. Full of life.

I smile as I watch him bend over and tie his shoes, but a coldness creeps up my chest. My smile fades. 

He won’t stay happy for long. 

Nobody does. 

xx

“We should wait.”

I lift an eyebrow at Kane. In the blinding darkness, it’s only my night vision lenses allowing me to see him. 

He nods towards the open yard between us and the lone warehouse. It’s the size of a garage — inconspicuous by design to hide the fact it shelters some of the most important data known to man. Davie won’t tell me what exactly, because why on earth would an artificial need to know that? But it is the type of information that would help us even the playing field.

Behind the warehouse sits one of the tens of massive wooden barracks. Which enemy they belong to, I don’t know, but that doesn’t matter. What I know is that they’re filled to brim with soldiers, both human and artificial alike, ready to kill us both if things go wrong. 

“Doesn’t it seem too convenient to you?” Kane asks. “Where’s the security? All the soldiers? The dogs?” 

“You’re saying it’s a trap?” I whisper, eyeing the warehouse. 

“Could be,” he says. “I think we should wait and see what happens.”

I check the watch on my wrist; it’s already fifteen to five in the morning. Fifteen minutes until the whole base will wake up. Half an hour until the sun will rise. 

And if we go back empty-handed for no good reason, we’ll both get in deep trouble. 

If we wait and lose our only chance...

“Stay here. I’ll go get the case,” I say, giving my new partner a look. The words make him tense. “If it turns out to be a trap, head back to base. Let Davie know.” 

“But you’ll—”

“Be reinserted,” I interrupt. “They’ve got a ton of bodies ready, and my memory was backed up a few hours ago. I’ll be fine.” 

Kane’s lips draw back. He stares at me, his breathing picking up. 

“Don’t forget what we are,” I say, keeping my voice stern. “This is what we do. It’s not my first time losing a body.”

“You mean dying.”

“Call it whatever you want. I’ll be back in a few days.”

“But it’s still painful, isn’t it? And you’ll remember it?” His tone borders desperate as he takes me by the wrist. “I really think we should—”

I snatch my arm back. 

Kane flinches. His eyes widen on me and his mouth opens, but he doesn’t say a word. 

The hurt expression on his face is like a dagger to my gut, but this is the only way, because he’s right. It will hurt and I will remember it, and I don’t want him to go through that. 

If he can just hold on to that innocence for a little while longer… 

I stand up. “Stay here. That’s an order. If something happens, head straight back to base and tell Colonel Davie. Don’t wait for me or try to help.”

Before Kane can argue, I turn around and jog off, an invisible fist squeezing my insides. 

This is why I don’t work with others. To send them to their deaths, to watch them go through that indescribable hell of a slow, painful death, just to meet them again a couple of days later… 

Their bodies are always different, but you can always tell who it is by the haunted look in their eyes. The eyes that lose more and more of their sparkle each time they get reinserted. 

Kane’s eyes are still alive. 

An artificial consciousness or not, he is alive, in body, mind, and spirit alike, and he deserves better than this. 

So I cross the yard to the warehouse; dig into my pocket and pull out the little device I can’t understand but can open any electric lock with; push it against the reader by the side of the heavy door and wait for the click. 

The door unlocks. I pocket the device and pull it open. 

There’s another click—

Shit. 

My heart rushes to my throat and I spin around, swinging myself forward just as the bomb goes off. Something heavy hits my back and slams me to the gravel. 

For a moment, I can’t breathe. My body is on fire and every single cell inside me screams and trembles as hot waves of pain rush up and down my back. 

I’m not sure if I’m screaming, too. 

I roll onto my side. The pain flares in my back with the movement and I close my eyes, fighting the nausea rumbling in my gut. I let the back of my head hit the ground. Terror traps my breath and crushes my chest, and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter.

The ringing in my ear subsides and the blaring alarm takes over. A yell rips through the air. Gunshots follow it. 

Tears rush down my cheeks. The sobs don’t sound mine as they escape my throat. 

“Aden!” Kane screams. 

A hand takes me by the cheek. I lift my eyelids just enough to see the blurry outline of his face above mine. 

“Aden, come on, get the hell up!” 

Why? Why is he here? I told him to—

“I’m not leaving you behind! If you’re going to die here, both of us are going to die here,” he yells over the ringing of the guns and the blaring of the alarm. His eyes are on the enemy. “But I really, really don’t want to die here, so get the hell up!” 

I stare at him, unable to get my tongue moving. A warmth spreads in my chest but it, too, hurts, bringing tears to my already blurring eyes. 

What an idiot! Risking himself like this, and for what? Me? For a guy who has already died and been reinserted twelve times? A guy whose eyes have been dead for a long time already?

There’s nothing that’ll make me emptier than I already am. 

But Kane holds onto me tighter while exchanging bullets with the enemy I can’t be bothered to look at. There is a fire in his eyes, one filled with life and love and longing for something better. 

And I remember that look. 

The memory makes me pause. It’s from such a long time ago, he’s nothing but a hazy memory — one that I push away as soon as it surfaces. 

Doesn’t matter. 

Right now, this version of him is here, and everything about him screams a will to live. 

I can’t let him lose that. 

Especially not for my sake. 

“You idiot,” I manage to croak. Blood drips down the side of my head and splashes on the gravel. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, grabbing my arm. “Come on. I’ll carry you.”

xx

“You feeling okay?” Kane asks. My room is barely big enough for a bed and a desk, but somehow, Kane managed to fit a chair by my bed. 

I sigh. “Peachy. You know, I might be the first artificial person to ever get dragged back from a battlefield.”

“That’s what I don’t get,” he says. “We’re people too. We should be protected just like the ones without a chip for consciousness.”

The grin that spreads on my lips is involuntary. I close my eyes. 

Some day, he’ll know better than to wait for that sort of miracle. 

Kane shifts on his chair. “It’s fucked up. Why is it like this? Why can’t we be equals with them?”

“Because they created us,” I say. “People can’t even accept other humans as equal. You really think they’d think lines of code are as valuable as they are? To them, we’re just smart, immortal weapons.” 

He huffs. “Maybe right now, but who knows what the future brings?” 

I open my mouth to reply when the door to my room clicks and opens. I push myself on my elbows, but a sharp spike of pain makes me grunt and fall back down. I squeeze my eyes shut and lift my hands up to my face as the pain burns me to my core—

“Take it easy,” Kane whispers. He lays a hand on my chest. “Breathe. You’ll be okay.”

The plethora of curses slip past my lips. “Yeah, I’m fucking trying—”

“Have you two forgotten your manners?” Davie’s harsh voice calls from the doorway. 

Great.

Kane shoots up to his feet so fast his chair tips over. The clatter echoes around the room. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir. Welcome,” he says and bows.

“At ease,” Davie says and steps further in. Now, I can see him, too—he’s holding a thin file in hand—and as our eyes meet, he nods. “Aden.”

“What the hell are you doing here? I don’t remember inviting you,” I say. My voice is tense as the pain throbs around my spine, and I can’t give two shits about what this asshole of a human being thinks of me. “Got all your other soldiers killed so you had to come down here yourself?”

Kane shoots me a horrified glance. Most likely, he has never seen an Expendable talk back to a human, especially not a human of as high ranking as Davie, but that’s not my problem. 

This is my room, and this dick is the last person I want to see. 

“You have always been an exceptional soldier,” Davie says, his eyes narrowing on me. “That is why I’ve let you get away with things nobody else ever would’ve. Your disrespectful attitude, for example. But I am getting very tired of you.” 

Well, that’s a threat. 

Does he still think he has the power to hurt me? That there is something he can do that would make my existence any more miserable than it already is?

But he’ll never leave if I keep pissing him off, so I sigh and nod. “Sorry.” 

Davie doesn’t look satisfied, but he takes a step further in and waves the file in the air. “These are the results of your medical examination. Your injuries are severe, to say the least.”

There is a question in Kane’s eyes as his gaze travels between me and Davie, but he doesn’t ask it out loud. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out his question, though. 

What now?

“It is treatable, yes, but even with the best doctors and extensive physical therapy, it would take several months for you to be able to fight again. Years, most likely,” Davie says and tosses the file onto my bed. “See for yourself.”

“No need.” I flash him a sarcastic smile. “I can feel it just fine.” 

“Suit yourself,” Davie says. “You know what this means.”

Even a child knows what it means. 

Even if they could wait that long for this body to get back in fighting order, they wouldn’t waste such precious resources on an Expendable. Even our bodies are from the fallen soldiers, for hell’s sake; because we are not important enough to waste precious metals on. Why would they waste time and medicine on us when there are plenty of usable corpses coming in every single week; when they can simply kill the body and transfer us?

“I’ll contact the lab,” Davie says and turns for the door. “I’ll have them prepare a new body for you, and—”

“What? No!” Kane snaps. 

Davie stops and turns his widening gaze to Kane. So do I.

He’s breathing shallow and fast, a different kind of fire in his eyes — he’s glaring at Davie, unafraid and strong, his entire body tensing. 

He’s just like him. The man from those hazy memories. 

Was that what Davie had meant by ‘familiar’? Is there something more to him and I? 

“He is not some mindless puppet you can force into this! Into dying whenever it’s most convenient for you!” Kane yells. By the look on his twisting face, it’s a surprise he doesn’t shove Davie into the wall. “He’s not some robot! He’s a human, just like you, and you can’t treat him like—”

A slap across the cheek shuts him up. 

Davie grabs Kane by the collar of his shirt so hard it rips from the seam, and yanks him closer. 

Kane’s eyes widen, but as he blinks, the shock disappears and the burning anger rises in its place.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Davie snarls. His tone is beyond a threat — it’s a promise. “You hear me, soldier?”

“Yessir,” Kane hisses through clenched fists and gritted teeth. 

I stare at the two, frozen in place, my heart pounding in my sore chest.

What the hell is Kane doing? Doesn’t he know what happens to disobedient Expendables? He can’t be this stupid!

Davie releases Kane with a shove, scoffs, and heads for the door. “I’ll send someone in to finish that body. And Kane…” He stops at the door to look at him, icy hatred in his gaze. “You better behave when they come. I have deleted your kind for less.”

Davie steps outside and slams the door shut. As the echo of the blam fades, a second passes in silence. 

Then another. 

And another—

Before Kane drops down on his chair, groaning, and pushes his hands up against his face so hard, his cheeks mush into his eyes. “God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just… This...” He falls quiet with another frustrated groan. 

I watch him, something weird spreading in my chest. Something I can’t figure out. 

Why does he care so much about what happens to me? 

“This is wrong,” he finally says, drops his hands, and meets my gaze. There are tears in his eyes. 

The sight makes my lungs trap my breath. 

“This is wrong! It’s like we’re worth nothing but what we can do for them!” he continues. Frustration and anger boil in his tone. “I know I’m new, but I want more. I want to be more than their weapon who lives and dies when they want it! And I hate that I can’t have any of it. How is this fair? We’re just like them! Fuck!”

He slams his hands on his knees and doubles, hiding his face into his hands. 

I stare at him, a lump in my throat, knowing I should say something, but what even is there? 

I’m sorry? It’ll be okay? Don’t cry? 

Those are just bunch of meaningless words. 

But I have to try. 

“It’s okay,” I say.

“Sorry.” Kane lifts his gaze back up to me and laughs weakly. Tears glimmer in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just… I hate this. You know? Hate they can use us like this. But what do I know?” He pauses to draw in a deep breath. “You’re the expert here, and I’m a newbie who just got out of his first assignment. So if you say it’s okay, that this isn’t that bad, then…” 

Don’t, I want to say. Don’t believe me.

He forces a smile. Though he tries, it isn’t enough to mask the defeat in his eyes. “Then, I’ll believe you.” 

Those words, that look… 

My heart wrenches. 

And from the bottom of it, I want to tell him that it is indeed okay, that dying and coming back is really not that bad and I’m used to it — to save the innocence in his eyes and let him be happy for a little while longer. To face tomorrow with the same joy and honest optimism I’d seen in those same eyes half a day earlier. 

To not cry for me. 

But this isn’t okay, and if I tell him that it is, if I lie to him, it’ll only hurt more when it’s him lying on the ground, bleeding to a meaningless death. 

Yet, there is no other choice, because I won’t be the one to destroy that innocence. I can’t be.

He is all I’ve lost. All I can never regain. And if he can remain happy for a week, a day, or, hell, even an hour longer, the lie is worth it. 

Tears rise to my eyes as I force a smile that rips my heart in two. “You know, it’s actually not that—”

“We could run away.”

His words stop me dead on my tracks. 

Kane lifts his gaze to me. There it is again — that fire in his eyes, that drive to live and find something better. He wipes the tears away and nods. “We can,” he says, and he is so sure of his words that my heart beats a little faster. 

Could we? 

“I mean it,” he says. “We can just get up and leave. They’re not gonna waste soldiers on trying to find us.” 

I stare at him, unable to utter a word. 

Running away. 

It’s been a long time since I last thought about that. 

“I know you’re injured, but we can do it,” he continues. His words come out faster and faster as desperation and excitement grow in his tone. “I’ll steal a wheelchair, or— or I’ll carry you on my back, or whatever you need! But we can do it. I swear, we can.”

“Why?” is all I can ask. 

He smiles, looking like he thinks I’m an idiot. “Because you deserve better than this.”

I scoff. It’s unfair for him to use my own thoughts against myself. 

“Also, don’t think I’m stupid. I saw it in your eyes out there, when you pushed me away and went out on your own,” he continues. “You didn’t want me to get hurt, right? But it would’ve gotten us both in trouble to come back empty-handed, so you went ahead and sacrificed yourself.” 

A heat rises to my cheeks. I can’t help the laugh. “I didn’t know I was so easy to read.”

“So I’m right?” he asks. 

I hesitate. 

The truth will hurt him. It will. But he isn’t an idiot, and I can’t keep lying to him after he’s already figured out the truth.

So I close my eyes. 

“Dying, it’s… It’s agony.” My voice is a whisper as the words fight me. “It leaves you scarred and empty and terrified of it happening again, and the worst part is… You know it will. That there’s no ending it. No matter how many times you die, you’ll always come back. And I… I didn’t want you to go through it.”

Kane’s breathing picks up. “How many times have you…?”

“Twelve.”

“Shit.”

Warm fingers curl around mine. I open my eyes to look at him sitting right there next to me. The fire in his gaze is warm now. It’s hopeful and confident and kind, and a part of me melts — a part I had forgotten exists. 

“So what do you say?” he asks. “If we run, neither of us will have to worry about dying again. We can go somewhere safe.”

“If we get caught, they’ll reset us,” I remind him, even though I’m not sure I fear that possibility. 

That fire in him... 

My heart picks up the pace. 

What if he’s right? What if we could run? 

“And if we stay, we’ll never be anything but their slaves to live and die at their command,” Kane says. “I really think it’s worth the risk. We either make it or nothing changes.” 

I don’t let the rushing of my heart show. “Where could we even go?”

“Well, I heard they aren’t fighting in Iceland.”

I can’t help the burst of laughter. It sends a flare of pain down my gut, turning my laughing into airy gasps as I squeeze my eyes shut once more. 

“Iceland, huh?” I manage. “That’s— That’s a long way from here.”

Kane’s hold of my hand tightens as the grin on his lips widens. “It’s just a hop and a skip and a boat-ride away. I heard they’re taking refugees from all over the world, and they have no laws regarding artificial people. Aden, we could be real people there. There’d be no more this— This, dying and fighting and being all miserable. And I know I’m a newbie who has no idea what it’s like, but out there today with you? I saw enough. I don’t want this, and I know you don’t want it either. When that warehouse blew up… You were screaming and I was terrified. And that asshole’s just gonna kill you? Put you through all that agony like you’re worth nothing, after everything you’ve done for him? To hell with that! We deserve better. You deserve better.”

The pain eases and I lift my gaze to him. Thar confident, hopeful glimmer in his dark brown eyes makes me smile. 

How could I ever kill that sparkle? 

“Okay,” I say, and it’s the easiest word I’ve ever said. 

Kane gasps, snapping upright. “That’s—”

“But,” I interrupt, “let’s wait for me to get into my new body first. After that, we have to get out and destroy our backups. I mean, what good does it do if we’re killed somewhere out there and just get reborn here again?” 

He furrows his brows at me, though the excitement never really disappears. “Are you sure? About the new body, I mean.”

“My back’s broken. I can barely wiggle my toes. If we want to go, I need a new one.”

“But what about the pain and the scars and—”

“It’ll be different this time,” I say, slip my hand out of his grasp, and smack him across the forehead. “Because it’s for me. Not them.” 

A shy smile rises on Kane’s lips. He nods. “If you’re sure. Tell me what I need to do.”

xx

“Did you know that we were designed to yearn freedom?” Kane asks. He lies next to me, his hands behind his head as a pillow. “I saw it when I hacked in to delete our files.” 

Waves beat against the sides of the ship in a rhythm I never want to end. Chatter echoes from somewhere far away, but here, on this empty, dark deck at the rear of the massive ship, there’s no one but us. The milky way crosses the pitch black sky, and I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen it. 

I keep my gaze on the sea of stars. “Well, that came back to bite them in the ass.” 

Kane sighs. “It kinda makes me wonder how real I am. Do I only want this because they designed me to want this?” 

A smile grows on my lips. I roll over onto my side, closer to him. “You think too much. But the answer is no.” 

He turns a bit more sideways and faces me, a grin crossing his face. “You sound sure.”

“I am,” I say, shrugging as well as my position lets me. “You were the one who said it first. We’re people, just like them. Who cares what they designed us to be? We already defied it.” 

He lifts an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

In the darkness, his eyes are almost black; and as gorgeous as the stars are, I don’t want to turn my gaze from him.

I clear my throat. 

Focus, Aden. 

“I mean, we were designed to be the perfect soldiers,” I say. “We were designed to fight, to yearn to win the war, to find that sort of freedom. We weren’t meant to disobey our leaders or run away. We weren’t designed to do any of that, and yet, here we are.” 

I roll onto my back, lifting my gaze up to the stars. 

They really can’t compare to his eyes. 

Kane’s voice is soft as he laughs. “Okay, yeah, since you put it that way. Maybe I do think too much.” 

“You most definitely do.”

“But why did we start disobeying them?” he asks. “And when? They’re our creators, so couldn’t they nip it in the bud? Make changes to our code and that’s that?”

I shrug. “Maybe they just don’t care. As long as people keep dying, they can make more of us, so even if a few disobey and run, it’s no issue.”

“Huh,” Kane says. “That makes sense. I guess.”

Silence falls on us. 

It’s been a long time since I could lie down and watch the stars like this. So long, I don’t even want to think back to it. 

The memories of my first lives are hazy. Back when I was nothing but a thing, an object only practicing independent thought, decades before the war ever started. 

But no matter how hazy my memories are, I remember him. In another body, yes, but I remember a man just like him by my side. A man with the same fire in his eyes, the same kindness in his tone, and the same need for freedom. A man who taught me hope. A man who made my smile a little brighter and my heart beat a little faster.  

Was this designed? 

Kane moves closer to me. He brings his hand to my palm and curls his fingers around mine. I smile and return the hold as my heart fills with something he’d reminded me I could feel. 

Nah. 

There is no way anyone could design a feeling like this. 

I turn my head to sneak a glance at him, but his eyes are already on me. 

He grins. “You look happy. Relaxed.”

“You too,” I say. 

“Well, I am,” he says. “Nobody’s gonna force us into anything ever again. And when we die, we’ll die. There’s no code to bring us back to that hell anymore. And Iceland’s only a few more hours away. We made it. What’s there to worry or feel shitty about? And yeah, anything could happen, but whatever waits for us in Iceland… It’s gotta be better than what we had.” 

My smile widens. I trace my thumb over the top of his hand. “By the way, you gotta teach me how to paint.”

“Seriously?” he asks and melts into an innocent little laugh. “Sorry. Sure. I’d be happy to. I just didn’t take you for the type that’d enjoy something like that.”

“Honestly, me neither,” I say. “But who knows? I’ve never gotten the chance to try it, or anything else, really. So... I want to find out what I like.”

Kane’s eyes light up as he smiles, and I swear my heart can’t take it. 

“You’ll figure it out,” he says, nudging closer to me. His voice is soft. “You’re free now.”

I can feel a heat rise on my cheeks. I touch my forehead against his and close my eyes. 

Thank you.

Chapter One Sneak Peek

I’m currently rewriting the ending and haven’t done final edits yet, but I thought I’d go ahead and post the first chapter of Lesbian Robots From Space to give people an idea of what I’m going for with this project. So here it is, Chapter One: Get Lost!

I spent most of my free time wandering around the space station. There wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen, but I’m well known enough in this sector that I pick up just as much business wandering around as sitting in my office. It’s a rough part of the galaxy, so it’s not uncommon for your affairs to get FUBAR. There’s four levels to the thing, going from the hangar at the gravitational bottom to the flats at the top, with a shopping centre and office section respectively in between. I don’t know why old space movies liked spherical buildings, can you imagine how annoying that’d be? Use a cube like a thinking being and maximize your available space. If my flat had a curved ceiling I’d start a riot. And having the hangar in the middle, I mean I guess for military constructions but what the fat cats want for their civilian developments is for people to have to walk through as much commercial space as possible.

My favourite part was checking out the hangar, and not just because it was a hotspot for people on the run. So many ships, from all over, docked here. Swear to god, I saw one that looked exactly like a pickle. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen. I mean, until the crew started spilling out and medics had to be called. People don’t land here because they want to check it out, they land here because they are out of options. We are the Saint Jude of scum. The regular clientele had an effect on the shops offered. Shite specific for those living here were automated, usually owned by the station. Stuff like furniture stores, clothes shops and the grocer’s. There were a couple people trying to hack out a living with their cooking, but… let’s just say if they were good they’d be elsewhere. Hell do I know, I never went into any of those disease factories. Most of the other shops sold guns, parts and medical supplies. It wasn’t the worst place in the world to poke around, it was always entertaining to see some lost yokel argue with someone, who’s surrounded by guns mind you, seemingly unaware that this is absolutely the place your annoying corpse would be chucked into space. I was good friends with Doc, the lad who ran the station’s main medical bay. He was a good kid, just made some mistakes early on and had to move his practice off world. Well, he wasn’t bad. Every so often he’d get bored doing his work. You’d know when to keep your issues to yourself when you saw some poor bastard limping around the food court with the wrong number of limbs, or the right number but on the wrong side. He usually stayed up in his office, however, across from mine. We were friendly enough, and he told his staff to let me wander around the wards.

The limited number of staff made this an absolutely desperate place to seek medical attention. If you weren’t of the species represented in the OR, you might have to cling to life as some doofus flips through a book trying to figure out what the hell you are. So, why not have a little conversation? I’d swoop in, say something about how they seemed to be in some heap of trouble, and most of the time I’d get a job. Money up front of course, and if they argued this point I’d make sure they were clear on how friendly I was with the medic bay. This tactic meant that sometimes they’d take my card and never be heard from again. Which is fine, credits spend the same, but it doesn’t do much for word of mouth. I knew I’d hit the jackpot when someone, gushing blood, would look up with wide eyes and ask if I was Lisa Dean. Why yes, and your price just doubled. Hey, if they know my track record I can put it up front rather than racking up bullshit expenses. If they argue about the rate their buddy got, I’d tell them that if I wasn’t worth it I wouldn’t get recommended. Here I hand them my card, because if they’re bleeding there’s someone who caused that blood and they can get looked for somewhere else. But if they approach me as I’m wandering the rest of the station, I’d invite them up to my office.

I’m still proud of how well I fixed up the place; when I moved in it was little more than a ratty little hole in the wall, wallpaper peeling, lightbulb flickering, dark and damp, reeking of mold, somehow there was a leak from the flats upstairs despite the fact this is a space station and, well, that feels concerning. But I’d moved in with plenty of disposable income and plenty of time, so I made use of the automated stores down stairs. I thought it’d be neat to get some wood inside there, so there was a jarring feeling when you walk in from the outside. Most of the station is boring polished steel, blinking lights, then you enter my office and it’s wood. Getting books for the shelf was a pain, it’s the one thing the station doesn’t sell, so for a while I looked like a real cunt with plenty of shelf space and a handful of books. People would ask about it, which was annoying but, alright, it was a compounding factor on how shady it all seemed, and I’d tell them I’d lost most of my books in the move and was waiting for them to arrive. Which was true enough, at least enough to shut them up about it. But they’d sit across from my desk and tell me the details of their woes, then I’d tell them how I’d solve it for them. It was a pretty good system. Sometimes, I’d have to get them back into the office to go over some details or expenses. I started out my practice letting the expenses slide in exchange for a favour, which people are usually grateful enough to accept, so at this point it was generally understood that you should pay your expenses when I tell you to. When I wanted to get out of the flat but didn’t want to wander around the station, I’d hang out in my office. People coming in at these times were the most annoying, because usually if I don’t want to do a job I can get out of it easily. In the medbay, they’re dying so they’re not in the position to chase after me. Elsewhere, I can either pretend they’ve got the wrong person or give some extravagant price that they won’t concede to. Every so often, I got roped into a job I don’t want to do and I resent it. I even resent it when people come into my office uninvited and put me in the awkward position of turning them away. Usually if I’m upfront about how I find their case boring or trivial, they’ll get all offended and leave. Some require more pushing.

The day began normally. I got up, got ready, and headed out into the world. I didn’t have much going on, and was on the edge of liking it that way. The station was pretty dead for once, with the usually chaotic and filled hangar being nearly empty. I think the only ships there might have belonged to the few residents that owned one. I felt sorry, and still do, for the poor fuckers stuck on that hellhole. Usually what happened was that someone, not knowing better, would land from a nearby planet with little more than a dream and an idea of the cheap real estate. Then they’d chop their ship at one of the shops upstairs, grab a place and a store front, and slowly regret their decision. It was cheap real estate, almost offensively so, but that was because no one in their right mind would show up unless under duress. Sure, Doc might get a poor family that’d gained just enough capital to get up there for his skills, but with orderlies mostly running the OR they usually were disappointed. Then they’d have a “well, we’re here, sad and hungry” meal from one of the subpar restaurants before heading back to their planet. So those who sold their way off to settle here were more or less stuck in relative poverty. Don’t get me wrong, I’d be happy if a legitimately talented chef or whatever risked everything to set up shop here and succeeded their way back off, but I’ve never seen it happen. Even when someone has been somewhat of a draw, it was never enough to get a ship and enough money to set up somewhere nicer. The only one I’ve seen get close is Synthia Gray, who garnered good reviews and quite a few people going out of their way to try her food. But the area’s too dangerous for anyone who could have a real impact, or the masses that might do the same, to come by. I just remember them packing up all her stuff one day, saying it’d been auctioned off. Turns out she decided to try her luck leaving the station, only without a ship or a suit. Sweet girl, I was always sorry it happened to her, but it was inevitable as soon as she stepped foot here. People don’t leave, not when they’re attached to it financially.

My theory is that the owners rig the price just so in order to attract desperate people. Those people pay rent, usually two forms of rent, while buying all their goods from the company and paying “taxes” on all the money they make. It’s an absolute racket, designed to keep this sorry excuse of a space station staffed enough to keep it used and profitable. Most people end up going into debt after settling. If the company had a heart, they’d offer some sort of way off when people go broke, but instead they allow people to run up the score. It’s indentured servitude to make the station seem full and welcoming to anyone willing to put money into a bad investment.

In any case, I was one of the few fortunate enough to have a ship still in the hangar. Which was good news for both me and the station itself, as I needed it to work. Can’t quite look into things if I’m stuck on a hunk of metal orbiting aimlessly around some nothing gas giant. I like to keep it tuned up, making sure it’s ready to go at a moment’s notice and taking it for a short spin every so often to make sure it can, in fact, work. I love my ship, but I feel like other people feel that on an entirely different level. It’s a reliable and necessary tool, but I don’t see much need in worrying about it being clean or looking nice or whatever. I’ll get a Wash Me on the window if I haven’t taken it out in too long, but I’ll just scrub it off. As long as it gets me from point A to point B I’m happy with it. After I gave it a good look over, because what the fuck else was I going to do, I headed up to the shopping area to wander around for a little bit. It was boring. Even Doc’s was mostly empty, with the one person being looked after having cut himself deeply out of sheer clumsiness. I wasn’t quite ready to go back to the flat, I wanted to keep it a space I felt good in, so I headed back to my office. And there was someone waiting for me. I did not like this, and I’m still not super happy about it.

She was sat in my office chair, usually reserved for active clients, and dressed in all black. Even when I walked in, she continued boohooing into her snot rag, you know how these mucus gremlins are, with loud and halting cries. I could see flakes of red hair poking out of her garish black hat, complete with a little veil in front of her face. I cleared my throat and she finally turned around.

“Are you Lisa Dean?”

“That’s what it says on the door.”

I made my way to my desk, and she looked up at me from her hunched posture with wet eyes. I had to awkwardly shimmy between the close wall and my desk, an act I don’t like doing in front of people who might be deciding to pay me, before sitting down. She could hardly put words together and babbled incoherently.

“I’m guessing someone’s dead?”

Mistake. This set her off with a loud wail and I had to wait it out. I flipped through an old magazine on my desk and cursed myself for not picking up a newspaper. Apparently those skis were still available with an exclusive discount. Eventually her sobs started to stabilize and it seemed as though she were about to speak, so I tilted the magazine down.

“My wife… she’s gone!”

This had my attention. A lover, possibly murdered, possibly missing, but either way a mystery? Grand, sounds to be quite the adventure.

“So, in your words, what’s happened?”

She sniffled a bit, then took a few deep breaths to collect herself.

“I woke up one day and she was gone, with a note left saying she’d left and her ship was gone. But I know she would have never done something like that!”

“I’m not saying I won’t take the case, but given the evidence she just left don’t you think this getup is a bit much?”

“She would never! She would never do such a thing, the possibility wouldn’t even be in her programming it’s so antithetical-”

“Whoa, stop right there. Her programming?”

“She was a robot, but what we had was so real.”

“Buy another.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your bot babe was defective. Buy. Another.”

I brought the magazine back up to my face and let her spit and sputter. She seemed the type to have always gotten her way, daddy’s favourite, and I’ll be honest I took some joy in saying no. She composed herself and stood, placing a calling card on my desk.

“Regardless, I’ve heard you’re the best. If you change your mind, please give me a call.”

“Mkay.”

She kept standing there, looming over me, until I placed the square into my desk drawer. Who even does that? A square card? Where is that meant to go? A purse I suppose, so I’ll respect the specificity of use, but if she was married it was an oversight to not update it for easier storage. That said, I’m probably over analysing it and should concentrate on telling the story. That’s what’s important, the story, not any of these bullshit details. In all honesty, I might just be bored and pointing out shite like this for the drama. In any case, she took her leave and I went back to reading my magazine. Halfway into an article on exercise routines, for whatever reason, I put it down to go buy a paper because if I had to keep reading this sports magazine I’d punch a hole in the station wall.

I was sitting in the local saloon, watching Doc get absolutely hammered. From that and the blood drenching his coat, you’d assume he’d had a rough day and was having to work through some heavy shite. You would be wrong. Not to suggest he is drenched in blood on a daily basis, although it isn’t an unusual occurrence, but he did enjoy drinking until he had to be carried back upstairs. It was a bad idea to say it, or even imply it, but there was a common understanding that this habit most likely landed him on the station. It was generally accepted that you do not want to piss off the person who has a say in you getting patched up, and if you’re going to be doing something especially dangerous, do it early to be on the safe side. So he’s leaning on the bar, gripping his beer as if it was about to float away, and grimacing. The poor busboy was holding his mop by the tip of the handle to mop up the pool of blood slowly forming underneath Doc’s stool and holding his breath in an effort not to be noticed. I wouldn’t call Doc a mean drunk, as that would imply he was different the rest of the time. Bless him, he was a bastard but wholly honest about it. I leaned forward as he started mumbling, the reek of beer and whisky pouring from his mouth more freely than from the taps, just in case he was trying to talk to me. He bolted upright and grabbed me by the lapel, pulling me close and forcing eye contact.

“No one here today! Only the cunts showed! Cunts, all of them, screaming and bleeding and all but pissing themselves, whining for their mammies!”

He slumped back against the bar and placed his face into his arms, and Frankie, our bartender, looked over to me. I nodded, resenting the fact I’d need a wash after taking him to his place. He turned his head, ear now pressed firmly against the bar and seemed like he was looking for a response.

“Yeah, Doc, absolutely awful. Only job offer I got was to locate a missing bot, wasn’t about to take a salvage job.”

He pushed himself up, working his way into a maniacal laugh, and I had to put a hand on his back to keep him from going arse over teakettle.

“What’s her name?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I have her card upstairs, she wouldn’t leave until I took it.”

“She fit?”

“Not your type, I don’t think.”

“Certainly ways to change that. ‘Not my type’, feh! Insult my skills.”

Knocking my arm away, he took another swig of beer and lied back down on the counter. He should have been cut off hours ago, but Frankie was in the odd position of having to poison the man who might save her life, or he might not out of spite. Well, if you were lucky he’d leave it at that. Most of the time, the blood was from boredom more than altruism. If you made the mistake of causing a ruckus in his med bay, well let’s just say that being handed over to Doc to be handled personally usually was a bad sign. He did personally take care of station residents, at least the ones whose death would be inconvenient for him, but, again, that was only a good thing at the right time of day. Stubborn as a mule, if he wanted to be hands on begod no one would stop him. Which is unfortunate for everyone, including Doc. That’s how Frankie got her job, and it took him almost a year to adjust.

Luckily, Doc wouldn’t argue against the saloon closing and would allow himself to be walked home, usually with a takeaway cup in tow. As the clock struck three, I picked him up and half dragged him away from the bar. He woke up enough to start struggling, reaching toward where he had been with both arms extended.

“Drink!”

“Alright, give me a second.”

I sat him back down on his stool and leaned him on his arm so he’d stay upright. Frankie, who always waited and watched to make sure Doc left without a fuss, already had his cup ready and mouthed a thank you. When I handed him the paper cup, he took a few sips from his straw, readied himself and nodded. He could almost stand, so I had to prop him up by the armpit and lead him to the elevator.

“Real sorry situation.”

“Mhm.”

It was hard to make out the words, but regardless of what he was talking about I was not about to treat it as anything but gospel. He was slumped in the corner of the elevator, barely supporting himself on the banister. The one advantage of helping Doc home is that, despite how busy it is at this time of night, we’d get an elevator to ourselves for a quick trip home. It was a quieter trip than most nights, as he was just staring down at his cup. The ones where he was overly rowdy were definitely worse, but I enjoyed hearing him drunkenly ramble about some random topic. I don’t know if him being a doctor made it more or less weird, but he was well read on the most obscure topics. He once described, in detail, the history of the human homeworld, but with a topic like that it was equally plausible he was making up most of it. Either way was entertaining. But this, this was just sad. The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and I helped him out into the hallway.

“Right, so how far do you need?”

“Bed.”

His flat was fairly close to the elevator, either by planning on his part or coincidence, so it wasn’t too much trouble. I tried to prop him up against the wall to search him for his keys, but he just slid down it. He slapped my hand away when I tried to get to his pockets anyway.

“Leave here.”

“You know you’ll be furious tomorrow if I do.”

“Fair.”

Pawing at his pants, he managed to drop the keys onto the floor. I unlocked the door, then got him up and into the apartment. Ratty is the best way to describe it. I am fully aware we are off-planet, but you could easily convince me there’s any number of vermin among the wreckage. Due to his importance to the maintenance of the place, I’m pretty sure he’s paid more than anyone here, especially since most people don’t get paid at all, but you couldn’t tell from the state of his flat. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the brokest of all of us, but I don’t think that even matters to him. This wasn’t the first time I had to take him inside, but I always had to adjust to the absolute squalor. It never fully sunk in, the way he lived, if you want to call it that.

There was a relatively clean recliner in the telly area, so I left him there while I got his bed ready. I set up a glass of water and some paracetamol for him in the morning, then brought him over to tuck him in. He kicked off his shoes and curled up in the middle of the mattress, so I put the duvet over him. We were close, but it was well established that he’d rather sleep fully clothed than go through the further indignity of being stripped. The one time I tried, he fought back with tears in his eyes. I didn’t see much, but I remember a large scar across his middle. I’m happy not knowing.

After I got upstairs and cleaned myself up, I sat down on my couch. Any other day, a rejected case would be the last thing on my mind, but I couldn’t help thinking about the one I found in my office. If she wants to waste her money having someone turn up a lost appliance, I have no issue with it, but the gall of seeking me out and expecting me to waste my time with that nonsense was infuriating. But it was none of my business, I made that quite clear. I lied down on the couch and flipped on the telly, not ready to power down for the night. Nothing good was on, so I shuffled through the channels and watched the shadows dance on the wall. It would be a safety nightmare, but times like these I desperately wished we could have windows. There were a couple planets close enough to watch, sitting in a ship outside, and plenty of stars of course. I always loved the look of it, the majesty of the universe, but there was hardly an opportunity to enjoy it anymore. Well, if I wanted it I could have it, but there didn’t seem to be a point to it. I find work by being in the station, and that pays the bills. Plus, the stars just looked duller nowadays. Better off to stay at home and watch whatever brain drain they’re pumping out to the screens of the galaxy.

Written for @kcfanficweek Klaroline Fanfiction Week Day 1- All Human Fanfic Day. 

This is a follow-up to my work in A Beautiful Symmetry, Chapter 83: Part 10 - Klarosummer Bingo. Thanks for all of the asks and encouragement to write more from this world. Enjoy!

Please review here.

Part 2: Newsflash — seashell bras give me hives

         The fake pine scent coupled with musk overwhelmed her senses and made her gag. She blinked rapidly, realizing she was waking face-first on the couch. Fuck. It smelled like Damon had rubbed his Paco Rabanne-soaked ass all over it. “Easy sweetheart,” Klaus murmured unexpectedly from above.

           She looked up, wincing at the bruises she could feel along the base of her skull. Klaus’ concerned face was a bit fuzzy as she tried to focus, but once she took in the severity of his own injuries, she snapped back to reality. At least one black eye, cuts along his cheeks and forehead that looked suspiciously like the gaudy rings that bore the Salvatores’ family crest. “Klaus? Oh, my god — what did those bastards do to you?!”

           “Nothing I don’t intend to return in kind,” he answered, the coldness of his voice making her shiver.

           The Salvatores had first introduced Klaus as ‘new money business’, which Caroline had assumed meant that he was a high-level dealer, or maybe even a drug lord. She’d been careful around him, doing her best to check her curiosity whenever she saw him at the club, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he had information she could use. Especially now that it seemed the badge lying on the coffee table belonged to him.

           She was pissed at him for keeping secrets, but realized she was being a hypocrite. After all, she’d weaseled her way into Salvatore Sirens, the mermaid-themed burlesque club, under false pretenses too. It was all Bonnie’s stupid fault — her loser boyfriend got in too deep with the Salvatores and couldn’t pay them back — so she begged Caroline to get a job there and spy on the Salvatores and get evidence of their drug trafficking.

           All this time, she’d felt conflicted about her growing feelings for Klaus, worried about how to keep him out of this mess when she finally had evidence to take to the police. And it turned out that Klaus was the police. She nodded to his badge, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, “Of all the things I would’ve guessed about you, this was not one of them.”

           “You wondered about me,” he asked in an oddly hopeful tone. “I wasn’t sure how much of what you’d shown me was real.” At her affronted expression, he hastily explained, “Not that I assumed anything untoward about you or your...assets. They’re lovely.” Gray eyes widened in horror as he quickly corrected his wandering gaze, adding, “I meant that you’re lovely! All of you, that is.”

           She raised an eyebrow, not really sure what to say. Klaus rambled when he was nervous. And he wasn’t nearly as smooth as his drug lord persona he’d adopted for his undercover work. She liked this Klaus better. “You’re lovely as well.” With a teasing wink, she added, “All of you.” The throbbing of her head reminded her that this definitely was the wrong time to flirt. “Tell me you have a plan,” she muttered, careful to keep her voice low in case the Salvatores were watching them.

           “Everything will be fine, Caroline. I promise.”  

           “Well, this is just awkward. Because I’m pretty sure nothing will be fine for either of you ever again,” Damon sneered, straddling a chair off to the side while Stefan creepily sat so close to Caroline he almost was in her lap. Both brothers had dark eyes, but it was Stefan’s that she found the most disturbing. They were perfectly blank — devoid of emotion — but yet they glittered with an eerie awareness. And right now, it was directed at her.

           When Stefan began running his fingers along the top of her hand, she immediately tried to jerk it away, her flesh crawling from his touch. However, his grip was iron and she had no choice but to let him continue his silent exploration.

           “Let go of her,” Klaus snarled, struggling to break free of his bonds.

           Damon watched him struggle, an amused grin on his pale face as he said, “We’re going to play a game. I’ll ask you questions, and each time you lie, my brother with touch another part of Caroline. And she has so many pretty parts.” He cocked his dark head, his voice little more than a sleazy purr. “And just so you know, Stefan has had his eye on her for awhile. Normally, there’s a strict a hands-off policy with our girls — since it’s just not worth the payoffs or the inevitable body dumps — but your little crush on her is too convenient not to exploit.”

           Caroline sucked in a gasp, looking away from Stefan’s blank stare as he continued to weirdly massage her knuckles. Fuck — why was he licking his lips?

           Clearly noticing Stefan’s disconcerting behavior, Klaus ground out through clenched teeth, “What do you want to know?”    

           “Your badge says ‘narcotics’. So, what are you? Cop? DEA?”

           “Narcotics agent. With the DEA,” He replied tersely. His steely gaze flicked over to Stefan, who paid him no mind as he continued to toy with Caroline’s hand, running a blunt nail across her cuticles. “I answered your question — let go of her,” he seethed.

           Damon shook his head, dark eyes full of mirth as he taunted, “You answered one question. And Stefan is still only touching one of Caroline’s parts. We need to give him a freebie — trust me, you don’t want Stefan to have idle hands.”

           She hated that she shivered at Damon’s threatening words, the weight of Stefan’s empty stare making her want to scream. Her thoughts raced at what Klaus had revealed. He wasn’t a local police officer — he worked at the federal level. This meant he was even more useful to her cause than she’d realized. Plus, it meant the Feds already were onto the Salvatores’ drug operation. With a start, she remembered the tiny camera hidden among the gaudy pearls of her ridiculous seashell bra. She needed to make sure everything that happened here was caught on camera.

           She subtly shifted, arching her back to get the best possible angle. She sat very still as she focused on Damon to ensure several frames were captured before moving onto Klaus, hoping she properly catalogued all of his injuries. It was when she turned her attention to Stefan that Damon called her out with a sharp laugh, “What’s with you pointing your tits at my brother? Yeah, your rack’s pretty awesome, but you’re one crazy bitch if you think it’s going to save you.”

           “Leave her alone,” Klaus demanded, mercifully pulling focus away from her for the moment.

           His face cleared as he nodded in agreement. “Right — back to my questions. So how long have the Feds been onto us and what evidence do you guys have?”

           Stefan briefly looked away from her, seemingly interested in Klaus’ response, and she quickly considered her options. What could she use as a weapon? She couldn’t risk damaging the camera in her ridiculous bra and the sequins of her mermaid costume only would scrape skin, not break it. Her Salvatore Sirens’ outfit was just as useless as it was uncomfortable. As she shifted her hips, she jumped slightly at the press of the steel boning that was poking its way through a hole in the lining. Of course! She’d accidentally ripped a seam climbing out of the giant clamshell during her act, and there hadn’t been time to see the stage manager before she was expected to mingle with the crowd.

           With a slight nudge of her free hand, she caressed the sharp tip of the metal, slowly inching it out of the small tear in the fabric. Once it was out, she hugged it tightly between her palm and her thigh, weighing her options. While she wished she could use it to cut through Klaus’ bonds, Stefan or Damon would stop her first. She had no choice — she’d need to injure Stefan before doing anything else. Feeling slightly queasy, she sucked in a breath and then took advantage of Stefan’s uncomfortably close proximity to lean into him just enough to hide her weapon. Her unexpected move distracted him and she managed to put all of her weight behind the first blow, jamming the rigid piece of metal into his neck. He immediately bellowed, instinctively grabbing at it to yank it out, spraying blood while Damon cursed and reached for her.

           She barely avoided Damon’s clutches, shoving a still-screaming Stefan away from her to get to Klaus. However, Klaus surprised her by leaping to his feet, hands already free. He’d silently freed himself and had been biding his time. In a blinding burst of speed, he’d managed to strike down Damon with some sort of downward-slashing movement with his elbow, and delivered a powerful punch to Stefan’s jaw, causing him to crumple to the ground with a pitiful moan, his neck wound continuing to bleed.  

           A fine spray of blood had splattered across them both and the air stank of sweat; however, Caroline was certain she’d never been more turned on in her life as she stared in wonder at Klaus. Returning her heated gaze, he told her, “You jumped the gun a bit, but I do enjoy a woman who takes charge, love.”

           Before she could reply, the room suddenly swarmed with agents who secured the Salvatores and began checking Caroline and Klaus’ injuries. He grimaced a bit when one of the agents poked a bit too hard at his ribs, but continued his debriefing, glancing over at Caroline to say, “While the Salvatores destroyed the bugs I’d planted in here, at least you’ll be able to corroborate what happened.”

           Caroline nodded, blue eyes lighting up excitedly as she answered, “Plus, there’s my boob camera!”

           From the quirk of his brow and flash of his dimples, it seemed Klaus was anxious to give her evidence a thorough examination.

Snowstorm

For Throwback Day of Kaidan Week (@spectrekaidanalenko), I decided to excerpt one of my favorite scenes from my first long fic, Discovery, which was the project that brought me into the ME fandom.  

Set in ME1, Shepard and Kaidan are on Noveria, the day before departing for Peak 15.

“Shepard?” Alenko asked, breaking into her musing.  His brow was furrowed.

She blinked.  “Sorry, what?”

“You were off in your own world there.”  He smiled. “I asked if you wanted to tag along, or if there was somewhere else you were headed.”

Shepard abruptly realized she’d followed him halfway across the port, leaving her rather chagrined and grasping after the conversation.  “Just thinking about tomorrow.  Sure, I’d love to come.”

He was surprised, but pleased.  “Hey, great.”

“Don’t look so shocked.” They resumed walking towards the garage, the location of the service access.  

“You do have strong feelings on weather.”

Which was when she remembered exactly where he was going, and recognized that she’d just agreed to go stand in a full-scale blizzard ‘admiring the view’.  Shit. But now it would be awkward if she backed out, so she mustered what she hoped seemed like enthusiasm.  “Maybe we’ll get a glimpse at this Peak 15.  It would be nice to know where we’re going.”

By the time they reached the service ladder, she was almost enjoying the notion.  He was reminiscing about great storms of the past in Vancouver, and it was hard not to find snowed-in days filled with steaming mugs, cancelled obligations, and neighborly company a little charming.  

“Heavier in the interior, of course,” he said, continuing his rambling monologue without breaking stride. “We usually spent winter holidays at my uncle’s farm.  Well, orchard.  Letting a couple chickens roam through the trees isn’t really a farm.”

She didn’t mind.  She liked listening to him go on like this, about a home he loved and a land-bound culture of sorts she didn’t fully understand. It made her feel warm, almost like some of the heat from his glowing descriptions got inside her despite the cool hallways.

They entered a room no larger than a walk-in closet and found a broad-shouldered man shrugging into one of the parkas lining a rack against the wall.  In cubbies above them sat protective goggles, thick gloves, hats, and scarves.  Boots in a variety of sizes were arrayed below.  All of the equipment was an eye-watering shade of neon orange— the better to see against the snow, she guessed.

“Hey, Owens.” Alenko gave him a wave.  “Got room for one more?”

He glanced back at Shepard. Owens’ face was a stripe of ebony punctuated by two dark eyes between the hat and the coat’s neck flap.  He opened it to speak freely.  “You didn’t mention you were working with the spectre.”

“Is that a problem?” Shepard asked, mildly.  She wouldn’t be sorry to see the excursion canceled, but she felt badly for Kaidan, who was looking forward to it.

Those deep eyes studied her for a prolonged moment.  “Not for me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Your management didn’t send out a persona non grata?”

“They sent it all right. I just don’t give a damn.”  Owens shrugged, his mouth a hard line of disapproval.  “Seems like you’re the only one around here who doesn’t see this war as an opportunity. My brother was a marine on Eden Prime. So if you want a look at the roof— all I have to say is, yes ma’am.”

She paused, and nodded her respect.  “It was hell down there.  I’m sorry for your loss.”

“That means a lot coming from you.”  He gestured at the gear and re-sealed the flap, muffling his voice.  “Get kitted up.  Grab whatever fits— it’s all open season here.”

Shepard sat on the floor, removed her shoes, and started pulling on a pair of snow boots.  “What was your brother’s name?”

“Sergeant Wayne Owens, 232nd Brigade, SAMC,” he recited with a touch of pride.

“I’ve run into my share of 232ers.  Good men all.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Owens watched them finish outfitting themselves, and made a few expert adjustments to their gear— a few more, perhaps, to Shepard than Alenko, she noted sourly.  Her lack of experience pricked at her ego.

They followed the burly man up the ladder, a significant climb in its own right, and onto a suspended walkway hanging from the ceiling.  It swayed as they walked its length to an access hatch, no more than 150 centimeters tall, and held shut by a vast wheel like on the submarines of old. Owens spun it with the ease of long practice, ignoring its rusty squeal, and shouldered it open against the wind. A gust of snow smattered over the walkway as he held it open.

Both marines ducked through the hatch and out into a world of swirling white punctuated by brief lances of sundown light and glimpses of distant hills.  Shepard had only a moment to wonder at it before the wind smacked her against the wall and scoured a patch of cheek exposed by her climb with razor-sharp ice crystals.

She yelped and tugged the scarf back into place.  Naturally, this exposed a new area, and by the time she was through, the whole thing was altogether too loose and strands of copper hair were flying free of her hood with an electrostatic crackle.  Shepard caught the laughter of her companions on the wind.

“To hell with both of you,” she said crossly, which only invited more laughter, so she ignored them and crossed the scant meter to the catwalk’s railing.  It hugged the side of the Port Hanshan main building like a wedding ring.  If she reached up, her fingers could curl around the lip of the roof, crusted with cakey ice.  

Once she got used to the driving snow and the white film it put over her sight, her curiosity stood up in unexpected awe.  It reminded her of the earthquake back on Therum, if a pale imitation— an ancient and wholly natural, unthinking phenomenon that nonetheless defied every human attempt to tame it.  Their starships could cross the galaxy in a matter of days but they remained as helpless as ever in the face of planetary wrath.  Her feet strayed closer to the guardrail and she shouted over the storm. “This is incredible.”

She couldn’t see any of Alenko’s face behind the goggles and the scarf and the rest of it, but she got the sense that he was grinning as he joined her, looking over the side as much as could be dared in the high wind.  Owens’ chuckle carried.  “We get about ten of these big mothers a year.  It’s not so bad towards the ground.”

“This is my first,” she yelled.  “I’ve lived in space my whole life.  Never been snowed on.”

‘This is a hell of an introduction.”  He withdrew an electronic instrument from his pocket and flicked it on.  “I need to complete my inspection.  Feel free to poke around.”

Owens ambled down the catwalk and was soon lost behind the wall of white, leaving them quite alone in the world.  

She expected it would feel cold and dead and dark, this kind of storm, and certainly through the massive panes of Port Hanshan’s windows this was the case as it thrashed in silent fury.  But out here it was the furthest from dead a thing could be.  The wind rolled her back and forth like an oversized dog sniffing at a new toy, its tendrils tugging at her hood and hair with open mischief. Currents of snow floated on eddies in torrents at turns soft as dew and unrelentingly hard.  The setting sun’s reddish-yellow glow backlit the snowfall and made it all seem warmer than it was, reflecting off the occasional glimpse of the mountainside far below.  And the sound!  It sang and whistled, moaned and screamed, as if it were having a conversation with itself, or perhaps with the square stubborn building it embraced.

It made her want to take readings, capture its playful fury, find new ways to test its strength. Though rationally she was aware it would eat her alive, a part of her could not help but wonder if there was some means, some apparatus, that might allow her to drift on the currents as easily as one of its snowflakes, to really feel it in her limbs and bones…

Shepard could feel Kaidan watching her despite the swirling snow and the massive gold-tinged goggles they each sported.  They stood out like parrots in their orange parkas.  He leaned closer, at once muffled by his gear and loud to compensate for the wind.  The quality wasn’t unlike talking helmet-to-helmet during a comm blackout, touching your neighbor to communicate through vibrations.  “Well?”

At a loss to describe it, she flashed him an elated grin, high on the storm’s own energy, and leaned as far over the rail as she dared, trying to see all the way down the slope. The snow spiraled in one cascade after another down into the depths of the valley.  It was almost dancing.  

A particularly nasty gust tore off her hood and for a fractional second questioned her balance. She felt her stomach drop out even as she knew there was no real danger of capitulating over, and then there were hands at her back and shoulder, pushing her firmly back to the ground. Her face turned towards him, amused, as her rapidly-unraveling braids whipped about her head.  “I’m not going to fall.”

“No,” he said firmly, not removing his hand from the small of her back.  “You’re not.”

The slight show of protectiveness should have grated, but for some reason did not, perhaps because it wasn’t in the least bit patronizing.  She had been gaping over the railing like a lemming in mid-leap. Shepard shifted closer to him and he did not move away.  “Is it like this in Vancouver?”

“Not like this.  Never seen one of these from the top of a mountain.” His tone reflected the same wonder she was feeling, not a thought for the cold and only half of one for the risk of standing so high and exposed.  “You really never felt snow before?”

She shook her head. Crackly bits of ice were beginning to form around the seals of her mask, irritating her skin with cold fire.  “Not a lot of precipitation on Mars.”

“Shame.  No sledding as a kid, no skiing.”  His volume rose with the wind.  “While you’re here, you should eat some of it.”

“Eat it?”  Shepard was certain she hadn’t heard him right.

“No water tastes better than freshly fallen snow.”

“It’s Noveria snow. It’s probably radioactive.”  But she pulled down her scarf and opened her mouth to the wind, feeling the flakes drift onto her tongue and trickle under it in cool streams of crisp water, just warm enough to swallow.  She shivered despite herself as it hit the back of her teeth.

Her omni-tool beeped, a fifteen-minute warning ahead of her strategy session.  She frowned her disappointment, but held it up so Alenko could see.  He nodded, and they turned back inside.

With the hatch shut behind them, the absence of the groaning storm seemed as quiet as a tomb.  Every clanking step against the metal walkway sounded impossibly loud.  Her face and ears burned in the sudden heat, quickly beginning to prickle and itch with the temperature adjustment.  She rubbed them mercilessly.

Alenko raised his mask to his forehead and lowered the scarf clear of his chin, brushing off the snow clinging to the parka.  As he turned towards her, he was unable to keep from laughing.  

She stopped scratching and eyed him.  “What?”

He swallowed, gestured towards her, let out another chuckle, and was finally able to speak.  “You look like a snow witch.”

Suspicious, she activated her omni-tool camera and aimed it towards herself.  It showed an image of a woman with furry snow and the occasional chunk of ice clinging to every strand of hair on her head, streaky red where it began to melt.  There was a snow line clear around her goggles and her cheeks were rubbed raw. Her ears were so bright they were nearly a brick red, no natural color.  

She removed the mask and tried to shake off most of the snow.  Mostly, she succeeded in dislodging a few icicles and striking herself with the remnants of her braids.  Kaidan leaned up against the wall, hands stuffed in the parka pockets and a small smile on his face that made her warm and shy all at once.  

“Thank you,” she said, stumbling, for lack of anything else coming to mind.  “That was… exhilarating.”

“If I’d known you’d like a snowstorm that much, I’d have asked you along in the first place.” There was a hint of teasing, as if he were goading her for her preferences.

“Not that I want to do it often,” she quickly added.  “It’s good to experience new things.  No need to live in them.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got so carried away that I’m dripping all over the floor.”

“I did not get carried away,” she said, grinning because she had, and it was wonderful.

“Adrenaline junkie,” he grumbled.

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you really that shocked?”

“No, I kind of got that from the way you make bats out of hell look like restrained, conscientious drivers.”  He gestured towards the ladder, allowing her to head down first.

All the way to the ground, she kept remembering that last gust, the brief instinctive fear of falling with all its terrible freedom, the wind singing in her ears, the pressure of his hand against her spine just where it started to curve through all the layers of her parka, and even as sour shampoo-tasting water ran from her hair down her face, she couldn’t keep from smiling.

NALU Dragon AU pt. 1: “I’ll keep you.”

Lucy, against her better judgement, enters a fire dragon’s den, and ends up in a situation that she could never of imagined. Maybe she should’ve gone back to her father...

There’s a dragon in there.

Lucy can feel it. The way the surrounding air crackles with heat and magic is the first telltale of a magical beast and the amount of power that’s seeping through every crack means it can’t be anything but a dragon.  

She’s never met a dragon before but she knows the stories – everyone knows the stories – and there’s no doubt in her mind that she's right at the entrance of a territorial dragon’s den.

 Her mother spun golden tales that flowed against the classic “Dragons are dangerous beasts that steal princesses” that her father instilled in her. Lucy’s not exactly sure who to believe right now. She’s not exactly a princess (just a high-ranking noble’s daughter) but you never know...

If she enters and her mother is wrong, well there goes her escape plan and her life. She’s got nowhere else to run and there’s no doubt that the King’s men are hot on her trail, hunting for her. It’s either be scorched by an angry dragon or dragged back to the kingdom kicking and screaming, forced to be wed to a man she’s never met.  

Lucy eyes the cave warily, gaze darting back and forth between the rocky entrance and the forest’s trees. Damnit, Loke never told her that the only way out of the kingdom was through a damn dragon's den!  

If she survived whatever outcome awaited her, she was going to throttle that jerk.  

Lucy cursed her rotten luck. Of course, the only way out, other than the main transporting docks, was guarded by a dragon. Her fingers itched to tug on her golden hair in frustration but she resisted because she already looked bad enough as it was. Running through a forest had left her expensive, puffy dress ripped and caked with mud – not to mention the dirt covering most of her bare skin because fleeing via forest was hard, dammit!

She desperately needed a bath. That was another thing she’d do if she came out unscathed through this whole deal.  

Possibly (most likely) be burnt to death by a dragon or go back home to her life as a business prospect...

Lucy groaned loudly. She’d rather risk her life than continue being her father’s pretty puppet.

It was now or never, she supposed. Lucy bunched up what remained of her larger-than-life skirt and walked right into the dragon's den.  

The first thing she noticed was the sweltering heat – if she thought she was sweating before, it didn’t even compare to her now. The second was the way the air around her crackled with visible strains of magic that made her mouth open in awe. She held up a hand and watched it dance around her dirty fingertips, eyes impossibly wide.

The third thing she noticed was the lava.  

Lava.  

There were little sprouts of the fiery liquid, bubbling, and hissing, that lit up the cave. The only possible explanation for why she hadn’t noticed it before was most likely due to the strength of the magic barriers protecting this place – or the fact that she was just blind. 

Whatever it was, Lucy couldn’t believe her eyes. There was a tiny waterfall of lava right in front of her!  It must mean it was a fire dragon if she recalled correctly. It would explain the all the heat.

Dragon magic was strong, she knew, but just wow. She also suspected the fact that her body wasn’t burning to a little, burnt crisp was also due to dragon magic.  

Lucy let out a shuddering breath, wrapping her arms around her torso despite the way the heat made her skin uncomfortably damp and slick with sweat. Maybe it wasn’t too late to go back. She’d just have to find another way to get out of the kingdom. Loke could try to smuggle her out -

Or not.

The devastating, sound-barrier-breaking roar that echoed throughout the cave rattled every single bone in her body. Clacks of sharp claws followed by heavy, loud thuds quickly followed.

The dragon was aware of her presence and was now coming for her head.

Lucy made a move to stumble backward, to escape and run for her life, but found she couldn’t move. Her body was locked in place, frozen even with the surrounding heat. Paralyzed.  

Her entire being was screaming, begging, for her to just run.

Lucy only stood there, mind running a mile a minute whilst shutting down simultaneously, with legs shaking like Spetto’s homemade jelly.  

The thuds were getting louder with every breath, the surrounding rock shaking and rumbling from the magical beasts’ heavyweight. The air crackled with magic before but now it was electrifying. If she wasn’t so terrified for her life, she’d be blown away with the way the magic lit up the cave even brighter than the lava could ever hope to.  

It was so physical in a way that her mother had only described before. It was absolutely breathtaking and Lucy lamented the fact that she was going to die before she’d be able to admire it properly.  

The dragons (pink?) head poked around the corner, and she swore the slits it had for eyes widened at the sight of her. A rumble of clicks, clacks, and indistinct chatter bounced off the walls – dragon speak, Lucy dimly thought under her fearful haze – and a tendril of smoke escaped the dragon’s snout as it huffed.  

“Sorry, forgot you humans can’t understand me.”  

Lucy’s jaw dropped and her eyes bugged out, full of incredulous disbelief. A dragon – a gigantic, powerful, magical beast – just... spoke to her?

Her mother had often whispered to her when she was but a small child, during story time, that dragons had the ability to speak to any animal but hearing and seeing it was completely different.

“What a weird human.” The dragon snorted.  

“P-Pink!” Lucy gasped before immediately clapping her hands over her mouth, petrified. Her stupid mouth was going to get her killed... even more than she already was.  

“Salmon.” The dragon snapped irritably, upturning its snout like a petty child. “Salmon.”  

“S-Salmon,” Lucy choked out, mumbling multiple apologies.

Lucy was talking to a dragon. A real life, powerful, potential princess-stealing dragon. Hopefully, he didn’t have interest in noble’s daughters if that was the case...

“So, tell me human.” The dragon ducked its large, salmon head to peer at her with inquisitive eyes. “Why have you entered my den?”

“Er, you see Mr. Dragon, sir... I’m trying to get out of the country.” Lucy stammered, winging her hands behind her back. Her entire body was alight with nerves and her heart was beating so quickly it was almost concerning.  

The dragon snorted. “Name’s Natsu, little one. Not ‘Mr. Dragon sir’.”  

The dragon – Natsu - crept closer and now his entire body was in view. He was huge. Lucy had to crane her neck at such an awkward angle just to make eye contact and it was starting to get sore for her neck. His entire frame just fit inside the mouth of the cave, and she noticed that his scaly tail was lazily swishing back and forth in a pool of lava. He looked threatening yet harmless at the same time, with the way it almost looked like the dragon was smiling (can dragons smile? Her mother had never mentioned it) but Lucy knew that could change in an instant if she made the wrong move.  

“What’s wrong with Fiore?” The magical beast tilted his head, tongue lolling out of the side. It looked so ridiculous – and rather child-like, which made her question how old this dragon actually was – that, despite herself, she had to stifle a giggle at the sight.  

“I’m, uh, running away from my father.” Lucy winced at the way his ears perked up, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes.  

“Runnin’ away? Are ya a princess, little human? You look like one even though you’re kinda dirty.”  

“No! No. I’m not a princess.” Lucy squeaked, taking a small step back.   

The dragon only made what Lucy assumed was a quiet hum, eyeing her shaking hands. “Just kiddin’ with ya. I’m not interested in princesses. Too stuffy. That’s more like that bastard Sting’s style, anyway.”  

Lucy swallowed thickly, not sure if she should be relieved. Maybe she should say she was a princess... 

The dragon huffed and flopped onto his belly, making the cave shake threateningly. “I’m not gonna bite ya, y’know. Most stories say all of us like to take pretty women but all I care about is gold and my family... although you do look like you are golden.”  

Lucy blinked, confused, before remembering her blonde hair. Was that the gold he was talking about? “It’s just hair.” Lucy told the dragon and started to wring her wrists again.  

Natsu eyed the golden locks with a look that she couldn’t place. He stayed silent, just watching her, which made Lucy shrink into herself.  

When he spoke next, his voice was impossibly soft – softer than Lucy would ever have thought a beast of this magnitude could ever be. “Why are you running, golden human?” He rested his head on his ground, which relieved Lucy’s neck from the uncomfortable angle.  

“My father wishes me to be wed to a man I do not love nor know.” She tells him nervously. Lucy could’ve lied, sure, but there was something about this dragon that a part of her told her not to. At least he hadn’t bitten her head off just yet. He’d been actually quite nice, surprisingly. Maybe her mother’s stories had more truth in them than her father had led her to believe.  It wouldn’t of been the first time her father had lied to her.

A low, threatening grumble escaped the dragon before cutting off abruptly, noticing her fear. “That ain’t right.” The dragon shook his head, “You gotta choose your nest. Nobody else can do that for you.”

Nest? Lucy racked her brain for her mother’s stories. Natsu huffed quietly after she took too long to respond. “Your nest, in your silly human terms, is your mate and little ones.”

Lucy nodded but before she could speak, the dragon interrupted. “Have ya figured out what ya gonna do when you’re out of Fiore?”

“Er, no, not yet,” Lucy said, surprised by his question. Her runaway plan was rather short-notice so Loke and her hadn’t been able to come up with much. “My friend was going to help me figure out what to do after I passed the first gates.”

Natsu became silent once more. Lucy stood there awkwardly, not sure if she should say something or just keep quiet.  

This entire experience had been weird. The dragon hadn’t initially killed her because she had entered his den and even sounded a little concerned for her. Lucy could feel a headache coming on.

“What is your name, human?”

“Er, Lucy?”  

“I’ve decided to keep you, Luigi.” The dragon lifted his head and had what she could only describe as a large grin.  

Lucy’s jaw dropped, feeling faint. “W-What?” He had not just – keep her? And her name was Lucy, not Luigi!  

“You’re mine now.” Natsu huffed.

“I thought you said you didn’t take anybody!” Lucy shrieked. There was no way she was going to become a dragon’s human pet!

Natsu’s ear flicked, irritated by the sound of her screeching. “You’re golden and you have nowhere to go. So, I’ll just keep you.”  

“T-That’s not how it works!” Her fear of the dragon abruptly vanished, replaced by bravery and anger.  

“It’ll be fun, Luigi!” Natsu’s grin only grew bigger, ignoring the way her face went cherry red with anger and embarrassment.  

“MY NAME IS LUCY!”

The dragon only laughed.

-

This was just a little idea I felt like writing. I’ve written so much in Natsu’s POV that I decided to give Lucy a spin! Not sure if I’m going to continue, but if anyone’s interested in a pt. 2, I might write more!  Part 2 is in the works! completed! Find it here !

Update: part 3 is here !

Thank you to everyone who liked this little oneshot enough to ask for a second installment :)

Hope you enjoyed this! If you liked this little bit, feel free to check out my NALU ‘Mate’ excerpts here: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

or, if you like more mythical AU’s, I also have my NALU Mermaid AU here!

The Prisoner, The Princess, and the Tower

Fairy Tale AU!

Previous

Tags at the end!

The crash against the tower wakes Adannar from his deep sleep. He staggers awake, back in his draconic form. He is alert, the Dreaming’s trappings falling away from him as he quickly makes his way to the crashing sound. A long flash of white outside the archway shows Selene is heading toward the crash as well. The air in the tower surges with magic and he flies out with her.

They descend to an old room, one that has not been used in centuries, Adannar knows. Selene thrusts the doors open with her magic and Adannar is right behind her. The room is filled with dust and he thinks an old bookcase has been shoved to the floor, broken beyond repair.

“Show yourself!” Selene growls. The rubble shifts and Adannar gets a read on the energy swirling around their newcomer.

He heaves a sigh of relief just as Selene charges into the dust cloud.

“Des.”

Tall horns, so purple they are nearly black, poke above the dust cloud as Selene dives into the dust cloud.

“Selene,” rumbles Des. There is a heavy charged sigh in the room from the reunion.

Come to think of it, Adannar should give them privacy. He needs to check on Dirthamen anyways. He flies back up to the infirmary to find Dirthamen and the two mechanical ravens in much of the same state as before. Dirthamen is asleep, recovering from his ordeal. His shape has changed, hair turned to feathers and there are four eyes on his face, all closed. When Adannar inspects his hands, he finds small suction cups on the pads of his fingers.

Deceit and Fear are keeping close. Fear even pecks at Adannar while he inspects Dirthamen.

“I’m only making certain he is doing well, which he is. There is some soul fatigue, but that should ease after a day or two in the Dreaming.” He props Dirthamen up and funnels some water down his throat. Maybe he can try for some chicken broth later in the day. He sets Dirthamen down, casting a couple of restorative spells to help him.

Deceit makes a caw, or rather a hollow mechanical approximation of a caw. After inspection of the magical bond between Dirthamen, Deceit, and Fear displays no strain or unequal distributions in magical connection in either of the streams, Adannar officially declares them all healthy as can be. He thinks some stress eases off of Fear but he can’t be certain, while they are his creation, he isn’t exactly fluent in the body language of mechanical raven.

A thump at the door has Adannar turning to see Selene and Des, glowing radiantly with magic and the renewed energy in their bond.

“Friends! Our fellow is being fixed up without a worry. Oh Des, it’s Longing! He got a body and then these fellows are Deceit and Fear, they came from Longing, or Dirthamen rather. He goes by that now -

“Adannar,” Selene says, voice grave.

“Yes?” Adannar asks, setting his tools aside. Concern rises in him as he sees even Des is being serious. He is covered in soot and there are open wounds on his neck and legs.

“Andruil came to your home,” Des says, “and Serahlin as well.”

His stomach drops and horror fills the space. His mind races as Des continues to speak, the words ring in his head and hears them as if he were back in the Dreaming.

“Andruil came prepared for a dragon hunt. Serahlin came ahead of her, she wanted to warn you. When Andruil found me, Serahlin was there. I cast one of my spells, the shadowed fireball, you know the one. It exploded and she screamed. When I came to, seconds later, I saw her unmoving on the other side. I’m lucky I got out of there alive.”

Adannar blinks at Des, the world focused in on his words as they echo in his head. It exploded and she screamed...unmoving…. Serahlin was there? She came back? But then...no, it doesn’t make any sort of sense.

This is not right. This is not real, Serahiln cannot be….

His voice is low when he speaks, full of disbelief, “You left her there? You just...ran and left her there?”

“Adannar, she was likely dead -

“You ran and just left her there!” He shouts, disbelief turning quickly to terrified outrage. “After I specifically asked you to keep her safe if she,” his voices cracks on a sob, “...she came back. She came back…” He turns away from Des, unable to look at him. How could he allow this to happen? The one thing Adannar asked of Des, the one thing.

“Adannar, it’s not Des’s fault. You know just as well as us that there is not much we can do against Andruil,” Selene tries to reason but Adannar shakes his head.

“I love her, Sel. I love her and he left her.” And if she wasn’t dead then...leaving her there like that….

“Addie…” she moves toward him and he backs up to the window, shaking his head.

“How could you leave her like that?” He asks, still not looking at Des.

“What purpose would it have served to stay? I did not wish to die myself,” Des says and it makes Adannar’s stomach roll. Rationally, he knows it is too much to expect someone to risk their life for someone they barely know even if she is beloved by Adannar. But the anger and sorrow and disbelief leave no room for rational thought. Des left Serahlin, he just...left her.

She came back and he wasn’t there.

“I trusted you. I left to help you, and the one thing I ask for…”

“Adannar, that’s not fair,” Selene says, her tone not quite admonishing.

“No,” he chokes, “none of this is fair. It’s not fair that you lost Longing, it’s not fair that so many of us have been killed, it’s not fair that after all of this I find someone I love and she...no, it’s not fair.” He turns from them, sorrow and fear and betrayal swelling within him. It isn’t fair and it isn’t right that he left to help Des with Selene and stayed to help Dirthamen for Selene, only for Serahlin to come back to him. Or try to come back to him, and then...he cannot bear the thought.

Worse is that he thought he protected her with his spell and...wait.

“Des, you said the spell exploded and it hurt you,” Adannar says.

“Yes.”

“That shouldn’t happen, magic recognizes its own and does not harm it.”

“I know...oh, then -

“Then why would it hurt you? I cast a protection spell on Serahlin after healing her with the shards from what was Composure.”

Adannar turns back to Des and Selene, who wear expressions of realization.

“She’s not dead,” Des says and Adannar shakes his head, clinging to hope. She could be out there right now, in his home or in the woods…

“We need to find her.” He is already in motion, moving out of the infirmary and towards the armory where he can grab necessary supplies.

“Adannar, wait!” Selene calls.

“I have to find her!” He shouts back. They are hot on his tail as he swoops into the armory.

“Listen to her, Addie. Andruil is still out there and she is ready to hunt a dragon,” Des says and Adannar snorts. Des, being reasonable?

“You flew all the way here from the Obelisk because you felt Selene was hurt. Serahlin is definitely hurt, I need to find her.” Adannar moves past the racks of old armor and to the rack holding vials and orbs filled with various gases that can explode and heal among other things. He straps on a harness meant to hold the flasks and starts loading them into it.

“He has a point,” Des says.

“Oh for the love - you need a plan that is not just go in and get her. What if Andruil is there? What will you do to fight her? She has been on a dragon killing spree these past years. She has killed eight in two years.”

“Selene, I love her! I can’t just leave her out there!”

“Then don’t do her the disservice of getting yourself killed because you didn’t think through the risks!” Selene shouts and it makes Adannar stop for a moment. He admits, though begrudgingly, she is right. He can’t just fly off in a half-brained attempt to help Serahlin when there is such clear and present danger.

Dammit.

He heaves a sigh and slumps forward, “You’re right.”

“I am. Now let us help you.”

Adannar does as Selene says and sets the harness aside then follows Des and Selene into a chamber above the healing annex. There is a large circular table that is built directly into the floor and when Selene waves her claws over the surface, a map of the forest rises.

“Can I find the spell’s energy signature from this?” Adannar asks and Selene bobs her head.

“Yes, just cast the finding charm and it should move the map accordingly.”

Adannar does as she says and watches carefully as the landscape of the map changes. It rolls past his home, past the tower and toward the outskirts of the ruins. The landscape ceases movement and a spot begins to glow bright with recognition.

There. Serahlin is there, near the ruins. What is she doing out there?

“This is strange, I’ve never taken her to the ruins,” he says, moving the map so he can get a clearer picture of where she is. Why would she go somewhere she’s never seen?

A hollow ringing sounds throughout the tower and Selene’s attention snaps to the staircase spiraling up through the tower.

“Someone is here.” She opens up her wings and flies from the room and down into the entryway, Des quick on her tail. Adannar glances down at the map before he follows them out. The map isn’t going anywhere and whoever is outside the tower could potentially pose a threat. Though he wonders if a threat would take the time to ring the bell, so to speak.

Selene casts a seeing portal in front of the door making it so that the door appears to not be there. On the other side of the door is a familiar redheaded dryad with leaves in her hair.

“Ana!” Selene says, throwing the door open.

“SHIT!” An unfamiliar dark-haired elven man shouts beside Ana.

“Selene!” Ana says, running up to Selene and wrapping her arms around Selene’s leg. “It’s been too long!”

“It has! Oh I’ve missed you!”

“Ana!” Adannar roars as he descends down.

“Shit, shit, shit.” The man says again and Adannar sighs. Des turns to him and sighs, a little smoke puffing out of his nose.

“I take it you’ve never been around dragons before.”

The man does not answer, just stares blankly at Des. Adannar lands and Ana runs over to hug him next.

“Adannar! I thought you were in the mountains.”

“I was, am, our friends simply needed my assistance.” He pulls his lips back into a draconic smile that Ana returns, though Adannar catches sight of the elven fellow turning white as a sheet behind her. The poor thing really must have never seen a dragon before.

“And Des! Aren’t you supposed to be at the Obelisk? It’s too dangerous for you and Selene to be in the same place for overlong.” Ana gives Des a curious albeit dubious look. Des smirks and his wings rustle.

“You know me, I like to live life on the edge,” he says, leaning his head down to bump against Ana. She turns to Des and scritches the undersides of his cheeks.

“I’ll be sure to bring some of those flowers you like so much next time.”

Des rumbles low in his belly, leaning into the scratch.

“Ana! Who is your terrified friend?” Adannar asks and the man somehow blanches even further.

“This is Vena, he was stabbed by...someone, but he’s better now. I healed him. But he’s not the point right now, I came because I need help, or rather a creature of the forest needs help.” She gestures to Vena and takes on her stubborn face. She won’t leave until she gets her way which is...unfortunate considering that Adannar needs to be focused on -

“...Serahlin, not a forest creature,” the man, Vena, is saying. Adannar’s attention snaps to him and moves forward to Vena.

“Serahlin? Did you say you saw Serahlin? When, where? How was she? Was she bleeding or hurt, why are you not saying anything!” He says, voice rising and rising in volume.

“Addie, you’re big and scary to the little elvhen man, why don’t you let him speak?” Des says, making Adannar realize he is being rather intimidating to the much smaller Vena. He leans back and tries to appear apologetic but he is so full of anticipation and raw emotion it is difficult to not appear the friendly and non-threatening dragon. He needs to find Serahlin, he is consumed with the need and damn the consequences.

Ana skips over to Vena and laces her arm with his, “Vena says it is the Princess Serahlin, not too far from my willow. She is being kept by the Andruil.”

He cannot roar, he cannot roar, he absolutely cannot roar in front of the elf.  Oh but he wants to, in anguish, in anger, in draconic righteous fury. It is a rare emotion for him, but there is a common thread of possessiveness in dragons. It is unwise to take anything, or anyone, from a dragon that is perceived as theirs. It is one thing for Serahlin to leave on her volition, but for her to be taken and from his lair...it makes his blood rise and his belly heat with preparation. He reminds himself that this elf is not responsible for Serahlin’s abduction, and Des is not truly at fault either. The only person he can truly fault is the person who abducted her - Andruil.

“That explains why the table found her by the ruins, at least,” Selene is saying. Her words sound distant and unreal he is so focused upon himself.

Andruil has Serahlin, the same Andruil who has slain...so many dragons and poses a very real threat to each of them. But if they all worked together, perhaps they would have a chance. Or it would invigorate her, the thrill of the hunt, taking on three dragons at once. Add to it that none of them have actually fought in decades, centuries even.

Selene seems to be thinking the same thing since she glances over at Adannar with a concerned look. Andruil came prepared for a dragon hunt, the only thing that threw her off was the protection spell on Serahlin. Sure there are three of them, but that does not lessen the danger for each of them in a way. The likelihood that one of them would die is just too high, and depending on which one...it could kill two. It is for that very reason Des and Selene have been apart so long. The risk has been too high.

“Andruil will be ready for us,” Selene says.

“Ana, could you ask any of your friends for help? The trees, perhaps the faeries or the sylvans? Other dryads?” Adannar asks. Ana’s expression turns pained.

“After Glory, most of the dryads retreated into their trees, not to be seen again. And the faeries are still undecided on everything. I could talk to some of the outcasts, see if they would assist but by the time we have an answer, Andruil have taken Serahlin out of the forest.”

A silence falls over them all as they consider.

“What about Melarue?” Des suggests and Selene shakes her head.

“Same problem as the faeries, by the time they get here...not to mention it would take significantly longer for them to get here all the way from the island,” Selene says. Adannar sighs loudly.

“What if...what if we split up, I can go talk to Anaris, Ana goes to the Sylvans, and Des goes to Vitality? Selene can stay here with Dirthamen to make sure his healing stays on track -

“Dirthamen? As in the Lord Dirthamen, is here?” Vena says, looking even more confused than before. Ana pats his arm and Selene bristles for a moment.

“He is. I would appreciate you keep his presence here a secret,” Selene says, her magic rising in a purple aura. Vena puts his hands up in an innocent, or perhaps defensive, manner.

“No problem, I’m in hiding too after being stabbed by Sylaise and all.”

Adannar coughs, “As I was saying. If we have enough help, it won’t matter if Serahlin is out of the forest or not. Two faeries, three dragons, a dryad, and a sylvan or two can certainly muster up the ability to save her.” They all nod at Adannar’s plan, making him feel good but Vena frowns and makes a face.

“Except that it does make a difference. None of you know how the elvhen build their fortresses, the kind of defenses they have - you know that Ghilan’nain has some anti-magic stuff floating around right? And, wait, why are you all looking at me like that? I don’t like this, stop looking at me like that.”

Adannar grins, his teeth showing in what must be a frightening display but he cannot help it, “We don’t, but you apparently do.”

Vena sighs and drags a hand down his face, “Great, this is great.”

**

Set in the rolling western hills of Elvhenan, the town of Tavathan is home to mainly sheepherders. There is a miller and his wife who live in a tall windmill that would be the tallest building in the town if it were not for the tall tower overlooking the land.

The tower is a newer build attached to a sprawling fortess, lacking both age and magic like the towers from all the tales. But what it lacks in magic, it makes up in security personnel. Everywhere Serahlin turns her head, she sees a guard. They are a grim lot, bedecked in reddish scaled armor that makes her skin crawl. The tower may not be imbued with magic, but there is an undeniably eerie and unpleasant feel to this entire place. It feels hostile and she is put on edge.

Much to her relief, Andruil does not pay Serahlin much attention upon arrival. Instead, she has a hunter take Serahlin to a room close to the tower. The hunter leers at her before giving her the news that she has been invited to dine with Andruil come sunset.

A servant girl waiting for Serahlin takes her to a bath. She tends to Serahlin’s bath, assisting her with her hair and not leaving her side for a moment. Such a thing was normal in her home kingdom, servants tended to her bath all the time. It was a rare occurrence for her to be left alone. But then she went on the run and ended up in the forest. In that time she grew accustomed to her solitary baths. To have someone tend to her bath now feels...intrusive. Not that she says anything. She brushes off any discomfort as worry over her situation, which is not difficult to manufacture.

Serahlin leaves the bath and is taken back into the bedroom. The servant girl goes to the wardrobe and pulls out a beautiful burgundy gown. It seems that not only is Serahlin expected to attend dinner, she is to be displayed as Andruil wishes. Serahlin looks for her torn clothes she has worn for the past few days to find them gone. It is not a surprise but it still coils her gut. The disrespect and assumption are insults that she has not known before. But she is powerless here. If anyone knew she is here...she would surely be executed swiftly. She supposes that being alive and under Andruil’s scrutiny is better than death.

But that is a fine line if the rumors about Andruil are to be believed.

The servant helps into the red gown, pulling tightly on the corset back.

“Oh!” Serahlin gasps, hand flying to her stomach.

“My apologies, miss. The Princess like a small waist.” The servant is apologetic at least, her voice small and frail compared to Serahlin’s own. She is used to living here, used to hiding from Andruil and her minions.

“If the natural curve of my body is not appealing, why is she doing this?” She gasps as the servant tugs the strings again.

“I do not know, my lady,” the servant replies. Though Serahlin knows it is a lie - she does know and so does Serahlin. Andruil is the cat who enjoys playing with her prey before killing them.

Once the corset is laced, several layers of dress are put upon her then tied into place. Her hair is then pulled up into a full updo, exposing her neck that remains free of any necklaces, despite the low cut of the dress. She is very much the prey, now caught and wrapped pretty for the huntress.

With her dressing complete, the servant leaves. Serahlin is grateful to be left alone for the first time since she was in the forest. No hunters or Andruil leering at her in her torn clothing and messy hair. She spies herself in the mirror and tries not to despair too much. Serahlin adores fine things - fashion and jewelry have always been some of her favorite things, but she has always had at least a modicum of choice of what she wore. How she displayed herself was so important, and it still is important.

This is not how she has ever wanted to look, no matter how alluring it is.

Serahlin is not left alone for long. There is a knock at the door, but the hunter does not wait for Serahlin to say she is ready. He pushes the door in and barks that he is to take her to dinner. It is a command, not a request.

When she was younger, not yet even fifty, her mother liked to issue demands of her. She was to dress and act in a certain way, she was expected to do certain things. The goals her mother set for her were not Serahlin’s and she grew to resent them. She learned to rebel in subtle ways, walking more slowly to shorten engagements, wearing jewels that were not the exact shade her mother wanted but went with the robes and gowns nonetheless. She kept her head raised and her eyes sharp, daring her mother to say anything. But she couldn’t, not with people around, so Serahlin won. In the process, she set trends in her homeland, walking slowly became a new display of wealth. Over time, Serahlin’s mother’s demands of her became smaller and smaller, and while Serahlin’s influence grew, her mother’s waned.

The unhurried princess Serahlin, poised and tactfully rebellious.

She uses the same tactics here, raising her head high and slowing her steps just enough to be annoying. The hunter throws a glance back her, scowling.

“Are all of you this slow?” He asks and she raises a brow at him, the corners of her mouth dipping down.

Serahlin does not reply, but she does not increase her pace. He can wait, work on that patience she heard hunters are so proud of. The command to join Andruil for dinner did not come with the requirement to walk quickly. They can all wait.

She is taken to a great feast hall. The walls are lined with the severed and stuffed heads of the various beasts Andruil has slain. There are furs thrown over the long table, and the chandeliers are made from the antlers of great stags that wander the south-eastern forests. Candelabras and a great fire in a gigantic fireplace illuminate the otherwise dark room. The curtains are drawn tightly over the tall windows.

Andruil sits at the head of the table, bedecked in an outfit that is half armor and half formal attire, the leather garments fitted to fit her like a gentleman’s uniform native to Elvhenan. But it is still leather and altered to be protective and intimidating, particularly with the immense brown feathers adorning her cape. She looks more the part of a monster than Adannar ever did, even in his true dragon form.

The hunter-princess gestures to a seat next to her with a sinister smile, “Have a seat.” There is no pretense of options and so Serahlin lowers herself into the chair. Andruil takes her own seat, her disturbing smile never leaving her face.

“How do you like the castle, Princess? Is everything to your liking?” Speaking to Andruil is the conversational equivalent of walking through a stretch of woodland path covered in hidden bear traps. Serahlin adopts a polite smile.

“Everything is quite impressive and novel. I have not seen much of Elvhenan outside of Arlathan.”

“That is right, my fool brother never took you to his city.” Andruil gestures and a few servants begin to scurry.

“Unfortunately no. Tavathan is quite the lovely region.” It is the truth. The rolling green hills and the gentle breezes make the landscape quite the beauty, full of peace that is unfortunately disrupted by the dark fortress that has no business being called a castle.

A servant approaches Serahlin and fills her goblet with a dark red wine. They bow quickly before retreating.

“Please, try the wine, it is one of my favorites,” Andruil says, waving her hand at the goblet. Serahlin sips the wine, and she must admit...it’s quite good. Buttery and rich, the flavors dancing in her mouth making her want to drink more. And she is so hungry. The little scraps of food she has been given over the days has been pitiful and it has left her so famished.

With great restraint, Serahlin lowers the goblet, “It is delicious.”

Andruil’s expression turns to euphoric expectation, “Isn’t it? It comes from the northeastern territories, grown from a grape my wife has perfected just for me.”

“She sounds wonderfully devoted.”

“She is. Ah! More food. Come! Eat, please.” The servants place a platter of chicken and roasted potatoes with carrots and even a soup is brought out. Her stomach growls and it is even with greater restraint that she uses the proper utensils to cut into the chicken and the potatoes, cutting off small pieces to nibble.

“I know you are starving, princess, no need for civility. Eat.”

Serahlin does not need to be told twice. Under other circumstances, she would have insisted upon the civility of utensils in polite defiance. But she is terribly hungry. She drops her fork and knife to pick up the chicken, tearing into it with her teeth. She feasts upon the meat, letting herself feel and solve the hunger that has been with her for days.

“Yes,” Andruil growls. The oddness of it does not stay with Serahlin, she is too focused on the delicious food before her. She devours a carrot, bites back into the chicken and catches her tongue. She gasps in surprise, pulling back and covering her mouth. The metallic taste of blood fills her mouth and her face flushes in embarrassment.

“Bite your tongue?” Andruil asks, her eyes half-lidded, leaning much closer to Serahlin than politeness dictates. Serahlin nods and Andruil grins before reaching up and pulling Serahlin’s hand away from her mouth. Before Serahlin can ask what she is doing, Andruil is pressing her mouth to Serahlin’s. She shoves her tongue into Serahlin’s mouth, tongue twining around her own, tasting the blood.

No! This is wrong, so wrong. Serahlin tires to pull away but when that does not work, Andruil simply holds her fast, she raises her free hand and means to shove Andruil away. In a flash of light, Andruil is sent flying away from Serahlin. The room rattles, the food clatters to the floor, the wine spills across the table. Serahlin stands in fright and horrid surprise, staring down at her hand.

She...did this?

The blast knocks the closest curtain open, allowing a shaft of moonlight to spill into the room.

Andruil slowly rises to her feet, breathing heavily but there is a nasty glint in her eye that makes Serahlin want to run.

“And there it is,” Andruil says, taking a step forward.

“I do not what it is, it hardly obeys me,” Serahlin says quickly.

Andruil chuckles, a dark hollow sound that sends chills down Serahlin’s back, “I have a talent as well, would you like to see it?” No, Serahlin would not, but Andruil continues forward until she is entering the moonlight. Serahlin cannot look away as the moonlight reveals appearance...skin dried and rotting away from the skull, eyes with no eyelid, mouth with no lips, only teeth.

Horror fills Serahlin, roots her to the ground even as the urge to run intensifies.

“Well?” The corpse that is Andruil says. She steps fully into the moonlight, and all Serahlin sees is death, somehow alive in some terrifying form of magic.

She turns, and runs from the room.

Andruil’s laugh echoes down the chamber, chasing Serahlin as she bolts through the hallways. She doesn’t know where she is running, only that she needs to get away. Run, run, until she cannot run anymore.

All of the doors are closed, and she runs past them to the only open door. She runs down the stairs the door leads to, heart racing. She’s a monster, Andruil is a monster, a horrifying undead rotting monster.

Terror spurs Serahlin down the stairs and into a dark space, sparsely lit room. Maybe it leads out of the fortress, let her run through the hills and back into the forest. She was safe in the forest! As backwards as it is, she was safe with Adannar.

A door opens and all hope is dashed when Andruil, no longer ghoulish, steps forward from the glowing light, making her form dark. She grabs Serahlin’s forearms and laughs.

“You are caught, little mouse. Nowhere to run,” she whispers, holding Serahlin fast. Serahlin lets out a terrified cry, her body sagging in inescapable fear.

“And it is time for you to meet my rabbit. Oh, rabbit! Where are you sweet thing,” she calls into the darkness. She shifts so that she is standing behind Serahlin, forcing her to look ahead into the darkness. And there, in the shadows is a large hulking form and as it moves closer, the light catches eyes red as blood and sharp teeth as long as daggers. Deep, dark rumbles echo in the dark, surrounding her. Thumps shake the dungeon and chains rattle as the beast draws closer.

No, not a beast. A dragon.

“Show her, my pet,” Andruil goads and Serahlin lets out a broken sob as the dragon, chained and small, smaller than Adannar, rears back and roars. The sound shakes the room and Serahlin’s knees give way. Andruil holds her up, forcing her to watch the dragon bare teeth and growl. Shadows spill from its mouth and claws scratch the stone floor.  

Andruil’s hand finds Serahlin’s chin, “Look at them, hear the chains? I bested them, they are mine. And so are you.” All at once she lets Serahlin go, moving away from her and back towards the light.

“If she tries to leave...bite her, but keep her alive.” The door slams, plunging the room into an inescapable dark.

The sobbing is uncontrollable, wracking her body. How did everything become so messed up? Not so long ago she was a princess, sitting pretty in her palace waiting to marry a prince. Not for love, but it was her life - put together and it made sense.

But this? Living in a forest with a man who turned out to be a dragon, falling in love with said man-dragon, running from him anyways, and now to be captured by Andruil and be potentially eaten by another dragon? What...what is this? She wants it to stop, all of it to simply stop and let her be. Has she not suffered enough?

“Stop it,” the dragon rumbles.

The demand simply makes her cry harder. They sigh heavily and the chains rattle as they move away from her. She hates this. She hates that she knows that they are trapped as much as she is, potentially even moreso. She is at least not chained. Dragons, she knows, should be close to where they come from. This can’t possibly be where they’re from, this dark, horrid place.

She shifts to sit more comfortably and the dragon exhales, the shadows rippling around her.

“Best heed the huntress’s words.” They move in a way so that a long tooth catches the little light still bleeding from under the door.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she replies, voice weak from crying. She can’t go anywhere, she’s trapped and this is her guard - a fellow prisoner. It seems absurdity is her life now.

A stone drags across another stone somewhere in the darkness. The sound echoes then stops. The dragon moves and hisses low.

“You shouldn’t be here!”

“But I brought you food!” A bright voice says, not heeding the dragon’s words.

“You need to leave, go back to the tower -

“I hate that place, you know that.”

“Hello?” Serahlin calls out. The shuffling and speaking abruptly stops. There is a whisper, then another, then a long draconic sigh.

“Hello!” The cheery voice says again, this time closer. Serahlin turns toward the voice to see a long gold glowing stream. No, it’s a mane of hair, incredibly long hair that is bundled into a large braid that still drags on the floor. The glow casts shadows over the woman’s face, but Serahlin can see it is a kind face with a friendly smile.

“I am Aili,” she says, sticking her hand out to Serahlin. The stench of raw meat emanates from the hand, making Serahlin’s nose wrinkle. Even with all her time in the forest, she never quite got over the scent of raw meat.

“Serahlin, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I would take your hand but it smells like raw meat.” At least Aili laughs good naturedly about it, wiping her hands on her dress.

“Oh, yes. Uthvir needs food, Andruil is on this current experimental kick to see how long they can go without food because she’s evil like that.”

“That’s horrible,” Serahlin says, glancing over at the dragon who is making the chains clink slightly as their head moves, eating, she realizes.

“Welcome to Tavathan,” Aili says dryly.

“How exactly did you get in here?” Serahlin asks.

“Through unnecessary risks,” the dragon, Uthvir, says.

“Oh yes, because feeding you is unnecessary.” Aili is quick to say. And while she is nagging, there is no bite in her voice, or in Uthvir’s for that matter. Serahlin raises an eyebrow at them.

“It is.”

Aili rolls her eyes at them, “It’s just slipping through some loose stones in the larder, it really isn’t that big of a deal.”

“You do not need to -

“Let me fuss over you, someone ought to,” Aili says, cutting them in off in an affectionate annoyed tone of voice that has Uthvir ruffling their feathers.

“Fine.”

The bickering is so familiar to them making Serahlin wonder just how long these two have known each other, and how long it must then implied that they have been here. Of course, they could have known each other before being held here.

“How long has Andruil been...like that?” Serahlin asks and Aili shrugs.

“I don’t know exactly, but certainly for the majority of the time I have been here, so...for two hundred years at least.”

“And she’s hid it all this time,” Serahlin murmurs. Aili nods and glances at Uthvir.

“She started looking like that about the time Uthvir was brought here. I remember there was this fight, screaming and loud crashing one night. The night after that, I snuck out of the tower and saw her in the moonlight. It was disgusting.” Aili shivers and grimaces. Uthvir’s tail moves, pulling Aili’s attention. She frowns at the appendage before turning to them, “May I hold your tail, please?” She asks. Rather than speaking, they just move their tail to her. She sits with it and begins to undo her braid.

“What are you doing?” Serahlin asks and Aili smiles.

“Magic,” she says before wrapping the unbraided portion of her hair around Uthvir’s tail and begins to sing. It starts out soft and lilting before Serahlin feels it - the buzz of magic, the echo in her words as her hair glows even more brightly and Uthvir’s scales turn a vibrant shade of red where her hair is touching them.

Uthvir hums, or rather purrs, as the magic flows into their tail. Serahlin’s eyes widen at the magic, the healing before her eyes. It’s...amazing, and unexplainable. How did she do that? Is this why her hair glows? Her hair is magic?

The song ends and Aili unwraps Uthvir’s tail. Where there was once a long gash is now flawlessly healed - no scars or misplaced scales. Like the injury never happened.

“That is incredible,” Serahlin breathes.

“Thank you. It does come in handy,” she says, running her hand over Uthvir’s tail and the feathers at the end.

“I understand why your hair glows now,” Serahlin says and Aili nods.

“Yes, it was weird until Mother had me sing the song for the first time, my hair wrapped around her bleeding hand.”

“Your Mother?” Serahlin asks.

Aili looks up with a bitter smile, “At least, she calls herself my mother. Sylaise, the Fairest Lady, golden haired and perfect except she’s terrible and keeps me locked in a tower night and day.”

“That’s horrid, why would she do that?”

Aili’s expression turns sheepish then rueful, “Because I tried to escape ten times before she started locking me up.”

“I take it she is not your actual mother,” Serahlin replies and Aili shakes her head.

“No, she’s not.”

“If she locks you up, how are you here now?”

Aili shrugs, “There is a dumbwaiter that brings up food and things to my room in the tower. I lower myself down on it, then there is a room right above the dungeon with a few loose stones. Uthvir helps me down and I give them meat I take from the kitchens.”

The shadows on Aili’s face appear more stark, “I remember them, my parents. I remember Sylaise coming to my village and taking me. All because my stupid hair glowed.” Uthvir’s tail pushes against Aili, gently, as if to wrap around her in comfort. As much tension and anger enters her voice, her touch remains gentle, combing through the long feathers.

Aili looks up, “It’s probably also why Andruil took you.”

Serahlin’s brow furrows and she glances down at her hair, “My hair doesn’t glow.”

“But your eyes do. I’ve read books where some people can do amazing things with magic without any training. It happens every now and then and usually something about them glows. Hair or eyes or ears or hands.” Amazing things? Serahlin glances down at her hands and thinks of how Andruil was thrown from her, just like the hunter back at Adannar’s lair.

“Perhaps,” she whispers.

Uthvir grumbles and moves, their chains rattling with every step. They huff at Serahlin and it is her only warning to back up before they maneuver themself between Serahlin and Aili.

“The guards are looking for you,” the say as they nudge her. Aili sighs.

“That’s sooner than I was hoping. At least let me help -

“There is no time. You need to go,” they tell her and she huffs at them, indignant.

“Fine. But I’m coming back as soon as I can! You can’t stop me.” They lift her up with their head, her body draped over their face. She smooths her hands over their brow and place a kiss there before resting her forehead against them. “Be nice, please?”

They sigh, “I am not nice.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” she whispers.

“I will do...what I can and what I must,” they offer softly. She presses another kiss to them.

“Good. I will be back!” And with that Aili climbs back up into the ceiling, sliding the stones back into place. Uthvir leans back down and retreats into a corner far from Serahlin as if she could do them more harm than the other way round.

“She is quite lovely,” Serahlin says. They do not respond. At least not right away.

“There is a cot back here, you can sleep on it,” they say. It’s something, she thinks, rising from the ground. She takes a hesitant step forward, then another until she bumps into what must be their tail because they hiss and retreat from her.

It strikes her once more how wrong it is for them to be down here. She cannot fathom being such a strong creature being locked, trapped down here when she is meant to fly. She apologizes and continues into the dark until she hits something else about knee height. Slowly, she bends down and feels the object out - long and rectangular, lightly padded. Relief courses through her and she takes off her dress. She places it on the edge of the cot and then loosens her corset until she can slide it off over her head. Left in her chemise, she sighs in wonderous relief. Finally, Serahlin lies down.

She doubts she will be able to sleep, not with the dragon and the thoughts of Andruil in her head, but it’s something, at least. A little comfort.

Adannar will come, she thinks, he’ll come and I will apologize, because he is good, he wouldn’t just leave me here. He wouldn’t.

Des and Selene belong to @selenelavellan (tumblr won’t let me tag you)

Uthvir, Andruil, Deceit, Fear, Dirthamen, and Vena belong to @feynites

Aili belongs to @lillotte17

Anaris and Melarue mentions belong to @justanartsysideblog

Ana, and Vitality mention belong to @lycheemilkart

the Broken Stitch

Words: 2972

pairing: Batman/joker (selina/bruce mentioned)

summary: a certain someone has caught wind of Bruce’s upcoming marriage… and he isn’t smiling about it

warnings: attempted suicide

themes: AAANNGST, hurt and comfort

notes: i started writing this a while ago, not related to telltale in anyway despite the title but has a similar tone, I wanted to make something that handled jokers feelings toward Bruce settling down because i love to suffer, enjoy!

Rain fell in Gotham as the batmobile sped down a dark alleyway, its angry rumble disrupting the oddly quiet night. The man at its wheel was silent as he stared down the dark road ahead, gripping the wheel at sharp turns and leaving nothing but a trail of skid marks behind as he rode deeper into the city…

The bat signals light had been casted onto the heavy clouds that loomed over the city earlier that night, and like always batman had been there on the GCPD’s roof in one fell swoop, quiet as a barn owl, speaking to an old man with tired eyes and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Though the scene had been no different than usual, the atmosphere definitely was. an uneasy funk hung in the air, evident by Gordon’s posture and demeanor. As the worn out cop had relayed the situation to the city’s dark clad knight, back turned as he exhaled poisonous puffs of smoke. World weariness replaced the usual anger and sternness batman was so used to hearing from the man he viewed as a constant pillar in his life.

It wasn’t just one soul at risk tonight or two or even a room of hostages…  it was hundreds, possibly thousands.

There was no need for the commissioner to utter the name of the man he was going to be in pursuit of  tonight. There was only one criminal in the city who would dare cause so much destruction to the place gothamites called home, so much blatant disrespect towards humanity. And unfortunately Bruce knew him all too well.

After running red lights and crashing through piles of discarded debri, Bruce was parked at the base of the tallest skyscraper in Gotham in minutes, wasting no time scaling up the buildings exterior. When he reached the top, shooting up into the air with the momentum of his grappling hook and swooping back down with his cape billowing in the cold wind like royal robes, he was greeted by the silhouette of a familiar jester. The clowns slender figure stood precariously off the edge of a very long drop. Tangles of green hair dangling down in front of his face. Something, a bottle of some kind, was in his hand. A tiny black box with a mess of wires poking out of it being gripped, shakily, in the other.

The slightest turn of the man’s head told batman his presence had not gone unnoticed.

“You came.“ He said softly in way that was almost shockingly uncharacteristic  “i was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me” He sighed, turning his attention back to asphalt that lied hundreds of feet below him

The bat was silent for a moment, then spoke…

“Gordon told me you wouldn’t negotiate until I did" He paused, waiting for a reaction, the clown chuckled humorlessly yet in a way that was devoid of any malice.

“Right… thats how it always is isn’t it? Always having to get your attention somehow just for a moment within the velvet of your shadow…”

Jokers words always walked the line between riddles and poetry but he was being unusually cryptic tonight

“Pardon?” Bruce asked

“Our game?“ He clarified “i threaten to bomb a hospital or gas a football stadium and you come running, arms outstretched, to catch me every time don’t you?”

Bruce didn’t reply, whatever point the clown was trying at, he wasn’t grasping it yet

“It’s our lot in life, how we were meant to operate, DOOMED to operate… it’d be foolish to… to think….” He trailed off, still staring down

“To think what?”

Instead of answering Joker laughed again, shoulders shaking, grip on the device on his hand tightening

“To think it could be any other way!!“ He turned, frail body swaying to face the bat, footing unstable, expression wild as always but… disgraced with dark streaks of caked on mascara that streamed down his pale face like rivers. bruce thought it could possibly be from the rain but the look in jokers eyes signaled otherwise. It was a sight batman never correlated with the Joker. Those streaks were caused by tears, the tears of a man, of a HUMAN with emotions, the kind Bruce had tricked himself into thinking  Joker lacked. At this point it was glaringly obvious why the man before him was practically speaking in tongues, the bottle he held in his other hand already half empty

“ Joker… are.. .are you???”

He laughed, genuinely this time

“If you’re asking if i’ve partook in the devil’s nectar, the unfortunate answer is yes… heh, that why they call you world’s greatest detective, batssss?” He jested taking another swig of cherry red merlot

“wasn’t planning on facing you this way y’know?…" He said  looking at the tinted glass container and promptly discarding it, what was left inside spilling out as it fell several stories “But  the mind is a creature of its own… wouldn't’ve been able to keep myself from pressing this button as soon as I laid my thumb upon it if I hadn’t calmed my nerves… heh… but now look, i’ve gone off script and soiled my makeup like a teenage prom queen what a mess…" He rakes his fingers through his stringy wet hair and laughs but it’s closer to a sob  “this is all wrong…”

Bruce isn’t sure what to make of all this, but the clown is definitely upset, more so than usual. Unfortunately the with the city’s fate within his bony hands, he didn’t have time to humor him.

“joker…  whatever this is, there’s no time for it…”  Joker looks at him, unamused.

“gordon told me that you’re putting hundreds, thousands of peoples lives at risk right now…  I came here to negotiate and if  you’re going to make things hard as always then-  !“

“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting married?“ He interrupts. The way he asks the question so nonchalant in comparison to the massive shroud of tension it gave off, shutting batman up almost immediately

“I…” He stammered  “h-how did you???“

“Oh please… don’t act like you didn’t know I knew!… as if that playboy facade could keep anyone in the dark for long, Bruce wayne’s fancy marriage announcement plastered all over the city ….it’s hardly a secret.”

Bruce didn’t know how to react to that… deep down he’d always considered the possibility that Joker secretly knew his true identity. You don’t spend years sparring with someone, only to know nothing about them.

“ Joker…”

“Married… heh… And not just to some, nobody oh noo ho ho, the forever tempting Selina Kyle! gymnast, philanthropist, cat enthusiast… THIEF!…“ He turned to glare directly at Bruce, eyes flaring with hate before shifting into subtle disdain “i’ve watched you two from the shadows before. the way you look at her. the way you breath eachother like scents wafting off forbidden decadence.”

Bruce turned away

“Disgusting is the only word I could use to describe it without leaving a sour taste in my mouth.” He glared at Bruce before looking down as if he suddenly regretted discarding his drink, the action leaving him with nothing to wash the image from his mind

Bruce shook his head, denial still clouding his reasoning “why…w-why would YOU of all people care about me and Selina? For years you’ve wanted nothing but my corpse and this city in ashes and now you’re acting like… like what??  Like that’s not enough?? You need me to stay miserable too?? You want me to be like YOU??”

Joker almost looked offended for a split second before his expression twisted into something so raw and angry Bruce nearly took a step back

“You think that’s all I wanted? You REALLY think that’s what I truly wanted??  what, i’ve ALWAYS wanted! Did you never stop to THINK that possibly MAYBE, the reason I do what I do is because of the one thing you think i’m incapable of!!! The one thing you’ve convinced yourself  I lack understanding of thanks to some misplaced sense of delusional superiority!!”

Bruce froze as he looked at the man before him, real tears trailed from his black ringed eyes as he held the device in his hand above his head, entire body shaking as he breathed heavily with rage.

“A thief…  a criminal…  and you still believe you’re too good, too righteous for me!“ He growled through gritted teeth

“Selina doesn’t kill people  Joker.” Bruce said, his patience thinning and his  anxiety racking as his eyes stayed fixed on the red button under Jokers itchy trigger finger

“AND!? it was like that with us in the beginning!! W-wasnt?…” He argued in desperation, tone wavering “before you got distracted by that flock of pests you call a family…  before it took more than a few bank robberies to get you off that kevlar clad ass of yours”

Bruce shook his head “My family isn’t a distraction! They’re all I have…  and they deserve a family, a real family, the kind I never had.  after raising 6 sons, and 4 daughters… after 15 years, my own death, THEIR deaths… I… I-I-I had to… I have to… for them” every horrible event and tear shared with his children flashed in his mind as he tried to rationalize his reasoning… he didn’t truly know why he had popped the question onto Selina so suddenly, after years of making it clear that he was disinterested in marriage, with anyone, but he knew that had to be part of it.

The clown only scoffed

“Heh… funny…”

“what?” Bruce asked, bemused

“two months ago cowardly and desperate weren’t two words I would’ve used to describe you" His words oozed poison as he looked at Bruce directly with derision . Bruce scowling at him. “don’t act like you’re marrying that mangled stray for anything other than selfish reasons. all of them tying back to the cesspool of mummy and daddy issues that spawned the mess of a man you are now.”

Bruce swallowed, Joker had a strange way of reading him like an open book at times. always peering between the lines, seeing things no one else did. Bruce coped, at times by convincing himself  Joker was only gaslighting and manipulating him, as he attempted to do so often. but sometimes the hidden truths he spoke stung like daggers.

“Forget it clown… you're…" He sighs “…you just wouldn’t understand…”

Joker laughed once more, running his fingers through the mop of green hair in his head “heh… no!….. I wouldn't… of course I wouldn’t. but you know why, don’t you?”

“ Joker…”

“because the only thing I understand in this chaos wrought plight of an existence is us! You! … and lately you… well…”  his demeanor shifted into something softer almost melancholy  “you did the thing you’re oh so skilled at doing when push comes to shove….”

Bruce waited, whispering “what?”  Joker looked up at him with misty green eyes

“You surprised me…

 …isn’t that supposed to be my job.. Ha…”

Bruce was silent, unsure of how to react, Jokers demeanor began to ramp up again.

“I don’t know why I expected anything more from you… you were always too damned narrow minded and stubborn to see the big picture”

There was a moment of cold silence between them before Joker was properly wound again, springing back into action.

“but I digress!“ He continued, switching gears at the drop of a dime  and attempting to wipe the wetness from his face to no avail “None of that matters now! Not me! Not you! Not HER! None of it!” He shook furiously as he raised the trigger box high over his head, eyes wild with desperation. “and so, I’m going to try one last time to blow this city to smoldering smithereens and pray to hell we both go down with it!”

“ Joker NO!” batman calls out as he lunges forward.  Joker begins to laugh hysterically and presses the button as he steps over the buildings edge. As the mans other foot slips from the steep drop, batman reaches him just in time to grasp the cuff his dingey purple suit.  Joker laughs as he dangles several stories off the ground, flailing like a flag hung up on a pole. He looks up at Bruce. The bat stares back, fear on his face as he uses all his strength to keep the man from falling, even as buildings are engulfed in flames on the horizon.  Joker shook his head

“you should know by now bats… “ He yelled for him to hear “You can’t save me!… you shouldn’t bother yourself with it!… ”

“like hell I can’t!” Bruce growled, wearing a face of stubborn determination as he gathered all his strength to pull the other man back up onto the roof, the cuff of his tailored sleeve nearly tearing off in the process. He heaves his body, with a hard slam, back onto stable ground and leans over him, wrinkled shirt in his fists.  Joker reaches for something in his coat pocket and pulls out a switchblade, Bruce braces himself for a slash to the face… but it never comes.

Joker only continues to laugh… holding the knife in the air… before dropping it and falling into a breathless fit of hysterics that slowly fades to soft wheezing and soon, to nothing. His his expression softens and his whole body, slumps lifelessly, not dead, but something inside him certainly is, all his fight, lost.

“ Joker?…”

“It wasn’t supposed to, y'know” He said in a small voice.

“supposed to what?” Bruce asked

“Bother me… “ He explained. “You were so sure that what we had between us wasn’t what we thought… that I… that I had almost convinced myself  the same thing after a while…”

The subdued sadness in his voice was something Bruce hadn’t been prepared for. this was a side of  Joker that existed underneath layers and layers of lies and deceit, fake smiles and giggles. and here it was. bore before him, open and vulnerable.

“When I read that headline, I forced myself to believe the lie you kept pushing between us, because it would be easier…But… after sulking in doubt for five days since?… I just… I-I couldn’t anymore”

Bruce is silent as  Joker starts laughing again. His makeup ruined with tears, the playfulness all but drained from his face

“pretty pathetic huh?” He looked up at Bruce with wide and watery green eyes, Bruce searched them for moment, emotion brimming inside him, before casting his gaze out to the destruction surrounding them. orange hues devoured the night sky as his city fell apart, lives ending, memories and legacies being destroyed all by the hands of a man Bruce could never force himself to kill, or let die or even come to harm… as much as he knew Joker had to atone for his actions, no matter the circumstances, he also knew the man in his arms was sick…

…just like he was.

Perhaps the only person he knew who refused to heal and reveled in their own pain as much as he did. When Bruce looked back to the thin, pale, man in his grasp. His eyes were downcast and vacant.

“ Joker…??”

No response, but his chest moved, he still breathed.

“ Joker!“ He shook him , but there was nothing… a small twitch of his brow, shift of his legs that lay, sprawled, on the ground but… nothing. Bruce sighed. Contemplating. Then… Without waiting another moment…

…Bruce snaked an arm beneath his, wrapping the other around the purple clowns frail legs, and lifted him from the ground. The action woke Joker from his daze with a start, his eyes blinking wide in confusion as his hands flexed, digging his fingers into his bats thick bicep in fear that he may be planning to throw him from the roof himself.

Instead Bruce held onto the other man tightly, and jumped from the roof with him in his arms. His gliders automatically activating allowing him to gracefully fall several stories, riding on the hot winds swept up by the raging fires below. As he scanned the skyline he noticed the damage wasn’t nearly as severe as previously thought. Places like the hospital, the orphanage and most if the highly populated narrows, spared.

“they aren’t safe y’know…”  Joker whispered into his ear… “but you can save them… I left clues”

“I figured”

“of course you did”

Something close to a smile crossed Bruce’s lips. Born more from relief than anything but also… amusement. He should have felt guilty about enjoying such a dangerous game but… it was what they had.

as he swooped down to the Batmobile waiting at the bottom. Bruce popped the hatched and placed joker into the passenger’s seat, fastening restraints onto his wrists. He did not fight. it unsettled bruce beyond belief but he kept it to himself. With a sigh, Bruce squeezed into his own seat and sped away towards the GCPD. The cabinet of the car was silent aside from the low rumbling of the engine for at least 8 minutes. Eventually Bruce took a chance and spoke.

“things won’t change as much as you think they will….” He assured, not sure why he felt the need to do so.

“you don’t know that… “ The other man whispered, staring out the passenger side window as droplets of water raced on the tinted glass. he was curled in on himself. the lack of legroom making him look cramped despite his unreadable expression.

Bruce opened his mouth to counter… then closed it and turned back to the wheel. As they rode off, flames on either side of them turning up ash despite the rain, a certain word or perhaps a certain phrase was left unspoken. but deep down, despite the confusion and hatred and denial … they knew…. After so many years they finally knew and nothing either of could say would ever suffice… the sun was setting and it was  too late for that… much too late.

Kale, chapter 3

Summary: Frisk sits Gaster down with two old acquaintances for a chat.

Wordcount: 2199

We’re in the home stretch!  This one is a bit shorter because it reached a natural breaking point.  I think the next chapter will be the last one.  As always, thanks to spocksbedsidemanner for beta editing!

They sit together, puzzling out Gaster’s missing pieces.  Frisk asks about his life; Gaster tells the stories he knows and makes note of the ones he doesn’t remember.  The answers seem to come easier as he goes along.

Frisk guesses that as they learn more about Gaster’s place in the timeline, it solidifies him in it, allowing him to remember more about himself, which he then tells Frisk in a positive life-affirming feedback loop. 

Gaster, who is looking slightly less runny, points out that there’s no way for Frisk to know that, really.  “By your logic, being around another living monster could be what’s helping to ground me here.”

Frisk points out that they are not a monster.

Gaster squints at them.  He reaches out with a hand that seems detached from the rest of him and touches the side of Frisk’s head.  “Are you sure?  You seem unusually magical for a non-monster.”

They patiently allow the poke.  They’re absolutely certain that they’re human.

Gaster frowns.  He stares into the middle distance, the same way Frisk has seen all the grey monsters do.  “This is the Core?” he asks.

It is.

He takes in the layer of dust coating the floor and the way the machinery sits, dark and still, in the chamber.  “Where is everyone?”

Frisk considers it excellent progress that Gaster is noticing the world around him.

“That doesn’t answer the question.  Where are the other scientists?  Where is--”  Gaster’s frown deepens.  “Someone worked on this with me.  I don’t remember who.”

Frisk has an inkling who it may have been.  If Gaster existing in one set of memories strengthens his place in the timeline, they reason, having him in more than one memory might be enough to bring him back.  They suggest heading to the surface to find someone who can fill in the blanks.

“I think I’ve tried to leave.”  Gaster shuffles a few steps forward, leaving a long inky trail behind him.  “But if I go too far, I begin to lose myself again.”

Frisk runs a finger through the black residue Gaster left behind.  It’s thick enough that it doesn’t drip, which is an improvement over the constant dripping and reformation Gaster was going through when they arrived.  They wipe the goop off on their pants and begin to unpack their backpack

-

Frisk’s lunch packs neatly into the blanket Toriel gave them, and Gaster manages to fit himself into their bag without leaking.  They leave the Core, walk through the deserted streets of the Capital, and pass through the cave that used to keep monsterkind imprisoned in the Underground.

“We really made it,” Gaster says from between the zipper teeth as Frisk steps into the sun.

All the monsters made it.  Every single person lives above ground now.  Frisk puffs with exertion and readjusts the bag on their shoulders.  Not even semi-liquid men who fell out of time and space will be left behind on their watch, they tease gently.

Gaster’s face is turned skyward.  “I remember this blue,” he says quietly.  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen it.”

They make their way to New-New Home’s research district.  Luckily, Alphys is in her office.  She opens the door for Frisk and nearly faints when a large, indistinct mass begins unfolding from their backpack.

“What,” Alphys asks as the shapeless form reconstitutes into something twice her size and begins drifting towards her bookshelf, “is that?”

Frisk explains that this is the monster who was Royal Scientist before her.

“This isn’t Sans,” Alphys says, eyeing the slimy trail Gaster has left on her floor.

“I know that name,” Gaster faintly says from where he’s examining Alphys’ notebooks.

Frisk says they think this man might be Sans’ mentor, in another time.  They give a brief outline of how Gaster seems to be existing in a separate time-space from the rest of them, but that they suspect he’s been drawn to this timeline because it’s where he originated.

“May I see your work?” Gaster asks faintly, a hand hovering over one of Alphys’ reports.  “This feels important.”

Alphys dismissively waves him on, already lost in thought about an existence in the cracks between universes.  After much consideration, some scientific-sounding babbling, and one sheet of paper covered in equations, she concludes that it’s not impossible.  Frisk watches the proceedings without much to add, but appreciates Alphys’ contribution to the theory.

“You continued the determination project,” Gaster says.  His voice has lost some of the echoing quality it carried in the Core chamber.

Alphys winces.  “It… d-didn’t do what I’d hoped.”

Without moving from the shelf, Gaster reaches across the room and places a hand on her shoulder.  “You couldn’t have known.”

Alphys twists her fingers together and avoids eye contact.  “I should have known.  I should have been more careful, I shouldn’t have run the experiments on my own.”

“You didn’t,” Gaster says, “I missed it too.”

“Yes, but you’re brilliant.  If you’d been there when I started the trials--”  Alphys stumbles over her words. “You… would have figured out the results before they happened.”

Gaster looks surprised by her certainty.  “Thank you.  I’ll take your word for it.”

“How could I know that?” Alphys asks herself.

“I think we’ve known each other for a long time,” Gaster says slowly. “I think I watched you grow up.”

Alphys studies his face.  She picks up the hand on her shoulder, carefully bending the articulated joints, and bats the air.  Her fingers catch on some kind of invisible string, connecting the hand with the rest of Gaster’s body.  Her eyes widen.  “You were the Royal Scientist.”

“That sounds important,” Gaster replies.

“It was,” she says breathlessly, letting the hand go. “You were.”

Gaster gives a lopsided smile.  Frisk beams.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Hey Al, I’ve got the results you--”

Sans takes one look at Gaster, grabs Frisk, and blinks them away to Toriel’s living room.  He turns to disappear again, probably to whisk Alphys to safety, but Frisk grabs his arm.  She’s not in danger, they say, Gaster isn’t going to hurt her or anyone else.  They’re sure of it.

He puts both hands on Frisk’s shoulders.  Frisk gets the impression that, if Sans were taller, he’d be kneeling down so they’d be at the same eye-level.  This is probably to give his next words extra gravity.

“Kid,” he says, “I know you want to save everyone, and that’s real noble.  But Gaster is outside of time and space.  If you try to bring him into this timeline, the incompatibility could cause it to destabilize out from under us.”

Frisk puts their hands on Sans’.  They say that they have to try.

Sans takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to reign himself in.  You’re willing to risk every human and every monster in this plane of existence, just for the possibility of bringing back one.”

Frisk has a good feeling about this.  It’s the same one that got them through the Underground in one piece.  They take Sans’ hands in theirs, holding them gently.  No one deserves to be alone like that.

Sans’ eyes narrow.  “I can’t stop you, huh?”

Frisk assures him that they know what they’re doing, and requests that Sans return them to the laboratory.

Sans squeezes Frisk’s hands.  “I would, but wouldn’t you know it, I’m all outta magic.”

Frisk pats Sans’ arm and says they understand.  They pull a light jacket from the coat rack on the way towards the door, and say they hope Sans will understand, too.

-

The unplanned trip to Toriel’s house gives Frisk time to collect Papyrus on the way back.  He is, of course, thrilled at the thought of a possible new friend, and lets Frisk ride piggy-back as he sprints to the lab.

“This is truly brilliant,” Gaster is saying as he pours over Alphys’ reports. 

“Hello!” Papyrus exclaims, bursting into Alphys’ office just as her water boiler begins to whistle, “I heard there’s a new monster in town!”

Alphys gets up from the couch to turn it off.  “Um, kind of.  Frisk, what happened with Sans?”

Frisk climbs down from Papyrus’ shoulders and explains that Sans has complicated feelings around all this.

“Too complicated to see his d-dad?” Alphys says as she pours the water.

“Sans has a dad?”  Papyrus asks.  He considers this for a moment.  “I have a dad?!”

At the same time, Gaster jolts in place.  “I have a son?!”

Frisk is willing to bet he has two sons, though they don’t know the story behind that.  They take a seat at Alphys’ small conference table and request sugar in their tea.

As it turns out, Alphys is uniquely qualified to explain the situation.  The next hour is spent listening to her summary of how Gaster adopted two skeleton children he found in a bush.

“I have two dads?” Papyrus asks over his third cup of tea.

“There is a man who made you, and there is a man who raised you.  You have one dad,” Alphys says firmly.

Frisk nods in agreement.  They have one mom who, by genetics, isn’t their mom.

“That’s true,” Papyrus says slowly.  He looks at the mass of slow-moving ink that is his father.  Gaster has continued to solidify as Alphys explained his family situation, and is now sitting in more of a slouch than an ooze.  “I don’t remember anything about the shifting man, but I’m starting to remember you, Dad.”

Gaster beams.  He seems incredibly pleased at the thought of being a father.

Frisk coughs politely and outlines their theory about using people’s memories to anchor Gaster in the timeline.  Alphys ticks off the people who would be best for this.  Unsurprisingly, Sans’ name is at the top of the list.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Alphys says to Papyrus.

“I certainly will,” Papyrus says with a huff, already standing from the couch like he’s going to storm back home and physically carry Sans to the lab.

Gaster puts a hand on his arm.  Both skeletal hands were once floating in mid-air, they’re now connected to his body with thin purple strands.  “Wait.”

“How can I wait?” Papyrus shouts. “I lost you, and now there’s a chance you might finally come home and the only thing standing between us and that is Sans being lazy.”

“He isn’t being lazy,” Gaster says softly. “He was caught in the same explosion that knocked me out of the timeline.”

Gaster talks about the space between timelines.  There’s nothing; a vast, boundless void that stretches endlessly in all directions.  It’s huge, and anything in it is swallowed by the soulless infinity.  He remembers being consumed in an instant, then rebuilt the next; he remembers being bound to the Core, existing both in the lava chamber and in the void, and then being destroyed again.  He was thinly spread across space, fragmented, as time moved in unpredictable directions and, at times, didn’t move at all.

He also remembers Sans.  They hurtled past each other, briefly meeting eyes as Sans desperately reached for him, and he remembers feeling his soul rip apart knowing this person he loved (who was here, and in the Core control booth as it exploded, and at the same time crying furiously in his arms two decades ago, but was most probably someone he’d never met before) was lost.  Then Sans was gone, and never existed in the first place.

They ran into each other a few times over the following span of time (a quick calendar check pinpoints the Core explosion to a fall evening two years ago), but couldn’t do more than look at each other in the empty, frozen void.  Sans had realized early on that allowing the void to intersect with regular space would lead to utter destruction of their timeline.  Gaster hazily remembers him explaining this.  Unwilling to take the risk, Sans stopped trying to coax Gaster’s memory, and Gaster stopped trying to remember.  The short, weightless stranger would watch him with resignation.  They’d stopped talking altogether.

Papyrus listens to Gaster’s rambling explanation and holds his hands.  They’re skeletal hands, Frisk realizes, finally solid enough to take recognizable form.  They wonder if Gaster modeled them after the skeleton brother’s hands.

“Yes, Sans is avoiding me,” Gaster concludes, “but don’t be too hard on him.  He just wants to live.”

“This isn’t living,” Papyrus says firmly, “You aren’t living, and even though we’ve escaped the Underground, he’s still wasting away.  I don’t know about the void, but I do know he needs us.  He needs his friends and family,” he says with a gesture to Frisk and Alphys. “And he needs you.”

Gaster’s head tilts to one side as he thinks about this.

“Please,” Papyrus says, squeezing his hands, “Come home.  There’s a much better chance we’ll figure this out if we do it together.”

Gaster looks to Frisk and Alphys, who are watching intently.  Alphys gives a thumbs-up.  Frisk copies it a moment later.

He smiles at the both of them and squeezes Papyrus’ hands back.  “Alright.  We’ll need all the monsters who were in the Core that day, but I think we can bring everyone back safely.”

Manspreading (Part 3)

Word Count: 9k Summary:  “Don’t bring the dog into this. He’s young and he doesn’t need this kind of stuff pushed on him. He’ll grow up to have issues.”  “Very funny, Tae. You’re a real funny guy. You know what else is funny? Your chances of sleeping in the same bed as me this month.”

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Epilogue It wasn’t at all unusual for you to wake up smothered by the sixty-two kilograms of pure heat and clinginess that was Kim Taehyung. What was unusual however was how inappropriately naked the both of you were at the moment, and the suspiciously hard thing pressing against your side. You’ve been awake for a good while now having an internal breakdown and devising increasingly elaborate plans to get yourself out of Taehyung’s loving death-grip. You wonder if you could slip out of his arms for a quick reprieve in the shower before you have to really face him, because right now you couldn’t think very clearly when he was so close to you and his addicting scent was bombarding your brain. He was always a heavy sleeper, and you figured you had a fairly good chance of slipping away without waking him up. When your eyes opened up and met his entirely too awake ones, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

A screech escapes you and you struggle to get out of his hold, which only causes him to hold on to you tighter. “Whoa, hey, calm down. It’s just me.” His attempt to calm you down only sends you further into frenzy. You’re very much aware who exactly is in bed with you, that’s the fucking problem. His arms were around your bare breasts and the more you struggled, the more his dick rubbed against your naked body so you stopped moving entirely. “Um, Tae, could you please give me some space. You’re kinda…” You trailed off, hoping he would catch on, but all he gave you was a puzzled look, thick eyebrows knitted together and lips puckered in an adorable pout. Damn, was he always this kissable? You shake your head, “You’re poking me with your dick, Tae.” You could’ve been less blunt about it but you needed to snap yourself out of this as much as him. Taehyung’s eyes widen and you imagined that you could see the exact path of the blood vessels as they opened up to flush his face red. He jumps back and cowers into the covers so that only his eyes and the top of his hair are seen. “Sorry” He mumbles.   You cover yourself with the sheets as well and reach out a hand to smoothen his messy bedhead. The color of his face gradually turn back to that golden bronze you love so much. “Tae, we need to talk.” You cringe at how cliché that sounded. Great, couldn’t you have chosen a more beaten-to-the-ground opener to start the talk that would break your best friend’s heart? Taehyung got up immediately, forgetting all about decency, “That doesn’t sound good.” “It isn’t, but I need to say it.” “No, you don’t. We don’t have to say anything.” “Tae, listen to me.” You sighed. “No, you listen to me. I know what you’re going to say. You’re gonna say that this was a mistake and that we should just pretend it never happened. That we’ve been best friends for years and  we’d be fools to risk losing that for something that might not even work out. That all friends who cross that line think they’re gonna make it. They think they won’t allow themselves to be torn apart like many others before them, that it’s never gonna be them, that their love is strong enough… but they end up losing everything in the end all the same.” “That’s… exactly what I was going to say.” You were impressed. Here you were thinking of how exactly to break it to him and he was already one step ahead of you. Taehyung smiles at you wistfully, “I’m not as much of an idiot as you think I am, pumpkin. I listen.” You open your mouth to protest but you remember his request and close it again. He deserves for you to hear him out. He holds your hand in between his own big and warm ones, “I know you think that I’m just a hopeless romantic and that real life is nothing like my cheesy fantasies but I believe in us. I knew you were the one the moment I saw you.” You rolled your eyes and he hurried to continue, “The more I got to know you the more I became sure of it. We are meant to be together.” “No one is meant to be together, and we’re nothing alike.” “Opposites attract” “Yes, but they’re like fire and gasoline. They burn quickly and die quickly. Now people with similarities, those are the ones who last. Those are the ones who can build lasting relationships together.” “We’ve been friends for almost two decades.” He protested. “Yes, but friendship is one thing and relationships are a whole other thing, I could disagree with you on most everything and the friendship might still work but a romantic relationship is not as forgiving.” “Ok, fine, how about this... Do you love me?” You sighed, “Tae, It’s not a matter of love.” “It’s a one word answer, pumpkin, yes or no?” It was redundant for him to even ask you that. You said it with every look that you gave him, with every smile that he drew from your cynical lips, with every embrace with which he made you feel like there never existed a single human being who was ever loved more than he loved you. “Yes”   “And I love you. Now tell me, will you really be able to end this today and go on with the rest of your life without wondering, every single day, what would’ve happened if you’ve just given us a chance?” Your eyes welled up with tears. He was right. Deep down you always knew this day would come, but all the years you had to prepare for it did nothing to quell that fear of something that was more terrible than monsters in your closet and more real than your fear of failure, “No, but I just don’t want to lose you.” “Pumpkin,” Taehyung cupped your tear-stained face in his hands and bent down to press a sweet kiss to your wet lips, “You’ll never lose me. I promise.”

The first days of your relationship were among the most nerve-racking of your life. It felt like you were a bride, all dressed up in your whites and standing on a curb with an ominous puddle lying just in front of you on the concrete, just waiting for a car to pass by to ruin your best day. Taehyung was ever the optimistic ray of sunshine he always was. He wasn’t dissuaded at all by your bleak prophecies. He was excited enough for the both of you… and maybe for a few other people as well. Having had no experience with dating before, he often surprised you –or rather scared and shocked you- with several grand gestures of love or meticulously planned over-the-top dates that he seemingly pulled out of a romcom marathon. After you’d confronted him about it one day, he admitted that that was exactly the case. You got so caught up in his strange antics and forced escapades that, for a while, you forgot about your perceived doomed fate. And when month passed and that car never came and your white dress remained as crisp and spotless as ever, you started thinking that maybe the reason you have such a hard time seeing eye to eye with Taehyung was because your stance is just as extreme as his. Maybe the real world lies somewhere in between your opposite ends of the scale, and one day you might be able to meet halfway and build on the strong foundation of love and trust a love that can really last. Well that was the plan anyway, until Park fucking Jimin stepped into your lives and stole your boyfriend from you. He slithered his way into Taehyung’s heart and charmed the socks off of him, and now he had Taehyung wrapped around his freakishly tiny finger. OK, so you may be exaggerating a little bit. Taehyung and Jimin are just friends and if you had met Jimin under any other circumstances you would’ve gushed about how he was a total sweetheart and thought he was downright lovely, but that wasn’t the case, and the fact remained that he was hogging up all of Taehyung’s time and leaving barely anything for you. Sure, Taehyung The Boyfriend remained. The one who gave you gentle kisses, took you out on fun (and no longer fantastical) dates, and made your nights so much sexier than they’ve ever been… but Taehyung The Best Friend was making fewer appearances each day and that pissed you off. Taehyung was your best friend for years upon years before that scheming goblin came along, but now suddenly he was the favorite? That was unacceptable. You can’t just steal someone’s best friend. There has to be an unwritten cosmic rule against or something. You turn around on the couch and press you face against the pillow you were resting your head on, using it as a muffling device to tone down your screams of frustration and anger. Fuck Jimin for stealing your best friend and fuck Taehyung for letting him. Speaking of the devil, Taehyung throws your apartment door open and proclaims dramatically, “Baby, I’m home.” And then he giggles, “God, I love saying that word. I will never get tired of it.” He says before he runs over and jumps on you, crushing you underneath him. “Ugh, Tae, get off!” Your voice was barely heard as his weight almost collapsed your chest in, and you considered the possibility that you might die one day from his uncontrollable affection. “Hmm, let me think.” He taps a finger on his chin in mock contemplation, “Nope!” He grabs you and smothers you in kisses like an excited puppy. You wanted to give in to him; he was so adorable it actually hurt, but you were too grumpy now for his cutesy display so you do the only thing that would actually get him off: you knee him in the groin. All breath whooshes out of him and he falls back screaming. “Oh stop being so dramatic” You roll your eyes. You didn’t even hit him that hard. He gives you a betrayed look and says, “Dramatic? You might have just broken my family jewels. How are we gonna have children? We’re gonna have to buy some random dude’s sperm now.” “God, you’re such a drama queen, and I don’t want your stupid kids anyway, but maybe Jimin does.” You huff and grab your phone, half-heartedly scrolling through your social media. “We’ve talked about it, but he wants to adopt. He says that it would be a tragedy to bring more children into this world when there are already so many who need homes. Isn’t he a sweetheart?” He bats his eyelashes at you, trying to provoke you, but you would never fall down to his level. “Isn’t he a sweetheart” You repeat in an exaggerated imitation of his voice. Well there goes your dignity. Taehyung stares at you in amusement for a second then says dismissively “Anyway… let’s go out! They built a new ride down at the amusement park and I’m dying to try it out.” “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?” You resolutely continue staring unseeingly at the screen of your phone. He groans and plucks it out of your hands. “Hey give it back!” You reach for it but he gets up and holds it out of your reach. You stand up on the couch to reach it but he moves away. Without really thinking it through you find yourself jumping on his back, “Quit it, you jerk. Give me my phone back.” “Not until you say yes!” He says out of breath and struggling against your wiggling weight on his back. “Well now I won’t.” You seethe. This was definitely not the right way to go about convincing you to do something. You would never reach the phone this way, his arm was longer than yours so you think of another way to get it; you bite down on the skin of his shoulder that was exposed by the “fashionable” alterations he always cut through his sweaters. He grunts in pain and drops the phone, and you immediately unmount and grab it from the floor, checking it for any cracks. “What the fuck, I can’t believe you actually did that. This is so not the way I imagined you biting me.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively and you shot his innuendo down with a glare. “Jesus, and you’re calling me dramatic. This is why I always choose Jimin over you. You’re never any fun.” He complains but when he sees the genuine hurt in your eyes he quickly backtracks, “Joking, it’s just a joke.” He approaches you and tries to hold you in his arms.

You evade his hands, “No, you’re right. You should’ve asked him instead of me, you’ll have more fun together.”

This would be the part where he would normally stumble over his words trying to make you feel but instead silence fills the room. You look up to see Taehyung scratching the back of his head and kicking at the carpet and realization dawns on you.

“Oh my god, you asked him already, didn’t you? Unbelievable!” You turn around and head for your room, fully intending to lock yourself up and away from his face before you punch him, but he rushes before you and blocks the door.

“No, no, it’s not what you think.”

“Tae, you better get out of the way or not being able to have children will be the least of your concerns.”

“Just listen to m—“

“No! You know what?” You cut him off and poked a finger at him. “We haven’t had quality time alone together for weeks and when you finally think ‘Hey, maybe I should go out with this woman I call my girlfriend’ you decide to bring Jimin?! I have had it with you.”

“Ow! OK first of all quit poking.” He moves your hand away, and rubs his sore chest. “Second of all, I’m doing this for you, for us.”

You snort and turn away. What a load of crap. But he uses the hand he is still holding to turn you back around to face him. “Why don’t you ever listen to me?!” Taehyung says, exasperated. “I invited you both because I want you to get along. You’ve hated his guts since the moment you met him. I understand that you’re jealous but you’ve never even given him a chance, and honestly at this point you’re just being childish.”

Embarrassment descends heavily on you and flushes your face with shame, the heat bubbling the water in your eyes and threatening to spill hot tears over your cheeks. Taehyung, the guy who for all intents and purposes was still a six year old, was calling you childish, and the worst part was that he was right. He just didn’t understand your reasons and you were too ashamed to tell him.

Taehyung doesn’t notice the hundred-miles gaze in your eyes and you’re thankful for that. “I love you, ___. You’re the most important person in my life. Jimin is new but he’s quickly becoming someone I really treasure. I can’t have the love of my life hate someone so precious to me. So will you please give him a chance? I’m sure if you do, if you just open up your heart to him, you will absolutely adore him.”

Taehyung waits for your answer but when you take too long, he cups your face and makes you look at him, “Pumpkin?”

“Fine.”

“Yay!” Taehyung gushes and attacks your face with a kiss. “But when we meet up with Jimin later, can you maybe not look like someone who is expecting a date with the grim reaper?”

You give him an unamused smile. “Aw babe, don’t be like that. One day you’ll find your special someone too.”

“You little bitch” You scoff, “Are you the same guy who was begging me to date him in the first place?”

“I wasn’t begging.” Taehyung flushes.

“You were, and not just that one time. ‘Ooohhh, ___, You feel sooo gooood. Give me more, please. I need you, baby pleeease!’” You lowered your pitch and moaned out loudly.

“I don’t sound like that, and don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy it too.” Taehyung protested but his cheeks were inflamed.

“Eh, you were alright.”

“Alright?!” If Taehyung was a cartoon character, smoke would be shooting out of his ears right about now. In all honesty, you loved sex with Taehyung. He wasn’t the most experienced partner but the intimacy was real and there were years’ worth of sexual tension that still hasn’t dissipated. “I’ll show you ‘alright’.”

He shoves you against the wall and devours your scream of surprise in an open-mouthed kiss. Well, this is new. Taehyung was never this forward before. He prods your mouth with his tongue but you refuse to let him in. If he wants to “win” this, you weren’t going to make it easy for him. Plus this was so much more fun. He makes a small sound of annoyance in the back of his throat then he starts moving towards your neck, his tongue making up for the rejection earlier.

“Baby…” He whispered in your ear, all airy and lustful, and you knees get weak. He was doing that on purpose; he knew what that does to you, but two could play at this game. You wound your fingers in his hair and tugged, knowing how much he likes that, and took the moment’s reprieve to attack him with your mouth. You couldn’t reach his neck so you went for his collarbone, sucking on it harshly. His head fell on your shoulder and he moaned into your neck, this time involuntarily. You smirked as it occurred to you that because of Taehyung’s fashion choices his collar bone is frequently visible, so you set about marking it.

By the moans that were coming from him you thought you had him, but then he suddenly groped your breast. You don’t wear bras at home so the only barrier between your sensitive nipple and his hand was the thin material of the shirt you stole from him, and he took that to his full advantage, his large hand engulfing your entire breast and squeezing it. Your mouth finally leaves his collarbone as you moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss you again, slipping his tongue in your mouth without any resistance from you, but not for the reason he thinks.

While he is distracted with the kiss, you slip you hand between your bodies, which was easy to do since Taehyung was careful not to get too close to you, or he might get weak. You massage him through his pants, and thank the stars for Taehyung’s aversion to jeans because he just made this so much easier for you.

He broke away from you with a groan, “You’re cheating.”

“How am I cheating?” You tease, tongue sticking out. He gets distracted by it and takes it between his lips, sucking on it before he pulls back with an adorable whine. “I don’t know you just are.”

“Fine, if this is how you want to play…” He slides his hand between your legs and under your panties, spreading the wetness gathered there and rubbing you slowly, leaving you gasping.

“Your pussy is so fucking wet from just a little kissing. You can’t tell me I don’t get you weak, doll.”

You tried. You really tried so hard not to do it. Taehyung’s fingers felt really good between your legs but you couldn’t take his dirty talk with a straight face, and you burst out laughing. Taehyung flinched backed, looking absolutely humiliated.

“Tae, I’m so sorry.”

He removes his hands from you and steps back, “It’s alright. It doesn’t hurt at all to know that the girl I’ve been in love with since preschool thinks I’m so unsexy that doing this stuff with me still makes her laugh. It’s cool.” He shrugs.

“No, you’re sexy. You’re so sexy.”  

He scoffs but you continue, cupping his face in your hands and saying, “Your eyes are so sexy when you get horny and you look at me like you want to eat me up, and your lips…” You kiss him. “They’re so soft…” kiss “and when you talk and they get all pouty…” kiss “I could just kiss them all day…” You pull him in for a long kiss that leaves him breathless. “And your body…”

“Yeah?” He shudders, eyes still closed.

“You don’t know how many times I have touched myself to the thought of this body.” You took his shirt off and kissed down his body till you were on your knees. “And this cock…” You pulled his pants down and stroked him. He folded over, steadying himself with his hands on the wall behind you. “I can never see this cock without wanting to ride it until you cream.” You pull him in your mouth, circling your tongue around the tip and stroking the shaft with your hand. He moans and scrunches up his face.

“Look at me, Tae.” You look him in the eye as you swipe his dick over your lips. “I’m at your feet, pussy dripping on the floor just from the sight of your cock. How can you say I don’t think you’re sexy? Maybe this will change your mind.”

You take him as deep into your mouth as you can and give him a tap on the ass, giving him the permission to fuck your mouth. He thrusts slowly, mesmerized by the slide of his dick in and out of your mouth but he soon gets lost in the pleasure and sets a harsher pace. You try to breathe through your nose and relax your throat for him, but he was big and every so often you pulled away for breath, gasping and coughing.

You looked up at him, seeing him breathing heavily and looking at you with a hunger in his eyes that never died down since that first time. You snaked a hand between your legs and used the other one to stroke him, his dick wet from fucking your throat. “You still think you’re not sexy?”

“No, you’re very convincing.” He chocked.

“Don’t blow your load yet. I need this in me.” You gave him a final squeeze and got to your knees, pushing him on the bed and straddling him. You sink down on his length, and lean forward to kiss him, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his size. He grabs the hem of your shirt, but instead of taking it completely off, he pulls the front of it over your head so it was bunched up behind your neck, the sleeves still on your arms.

You give him a quizzical look and he says sheepishly, “I see it in porn all the time. I kinda like it.”

You bite your lip and smirk, “Grab my wrists.”

Taehyung looks confused but he does what you say. You move your hands behind you back with Taehyungs’ holding onto the wrists, “Keep my hands there and fuck up into me, baby.”

Taehyung could’ve cum just from that. You hover a little bit over him and he eagerly bucks up. You moan as he holds your body in place and his dick slides rapidly in and out of you. You didn’t even know Taehyung could thrust that fast, and his hold on your wrists was tight enough to bruise but you didn’t care.

“You feel so good inside of me, Tae. You fit so perfectly. If anything is meant to be it would be your cock and my pussy.”

Taehyung doesn’t appreciate your joke, but that only makes him thrust faster so who was the real winner here? His grip on your wrists was getting loose and you could tell he was close to his orgasm. You didn’t want him to finish before you did so you slipped your hands from his hold and planted them on his chest, bracing yourself as you hopped wildly on his dick, but you quickly realized that this was only getting him closer to release so you gave up, choosing instead to swivel your hips in sharp circles.

Taehyung let out a tortured moan, “Baby, I was almost there.” This must be hard for him. He was so close you could feel him shuddering beneath you, his hands trying to grasp your hips and make you ride him again, but you don’t allow it.

“I’m sorry sweetie, hold on, just a little bit more.” You just needed a little push so you wound your fingers in Taehyung’s hair and pulled him up, pushing his face against your breasts where he immediately got to work, licking and biting.

The slide of his cock against your walls, the brush of your clit against his crotch, and the sweep of his tongue around your nipple flung you into an orgasm that had you seeing not only stars but galaxies.

You continued riding him after you came, tolerating the pain of oversensitivity to give him what he’s just given you. It didn’t take him long to follow you over the edge, and you watched him try to keep his eyes on you even as the orgasm racing through his body fought to close them, until he was looking at you through the smallest slit in between his eyelids.

Was there anything you wouldn’t do to keep this man? No.

You swallowed down all your jealousy and anxiety, or as much of it as you could, and readied yourself to spend an entire day with Taehyung and Jimin. You are going to do great. You’re going to be so much fun to be around that Jimin would look like drying paint in comparison to you. You’re going to prove your fears wrong.

Taehyung is a fucking dork. You’re starting to regret ever befriending him, let alone being stupid enough to go out with him. When the both of you had reached the amusement park and met up Jimin, the atmosphere was a bit tense, not only because you didn’t like the guy but because he was aware of it, and the both of you knew exactly what the purpose of this outing was which put a lot of pressure on you, but you were still prepared to make an effort. You loved Taehyung and you didn’t want to be the cause of any awkwardness between him and his friend. Your goal was to at least learn to tolerate him so Taehyung would be happy. But that giant idiot hit the self-destruct button on himself. He was so eager for the both of you to get along that he took up the entire space with forced conversation and left no room for the natural flow of potential friendship between you and Jimin. He went on and on spouting off inane statements and questions like, “___, is so smart she used to correct the teachers. They used to get so mad at her. Isn’t that hilarious?” or “Jimin is the only son in between four daughters so he’s learned to be very sensitive and he really understands women. Isn’t he the best?” to which the both of you would smile politely and nod. ‘This is a disaster.’ You think to yourself as you stand in an awkward silence next to Jimin while Taehyung attempts to shoot for a prize at a game stand. You pretend to be really preoccupied with what he’s doing so you won’t have to face the awkwardness of making small talk with Jimin. You almost feel sorry for the guy. He is just as uncomfortable as you are, but then you remember that you have no sympathy for friend-stealers. “So um, Tae tell me that you guys have been friends for a really long time.” Jimin breaks the silence and you cringe. You thought you could do it. You thought you could come out, hang out with them and prove that you could have fun and play nice with Jimin, but now all you can think about is how much you’d rather put your head on the bottom of the histriker game and have the rubber hammer replaced with a real one. You gritted your teeth and gave out a “yes”. Not taking the hint, he kept on talking, “You know, Tae talks about you all the time.” “Really?” You smiled brightly. “He is never home anymore but gosh hearing that he talks about me sure is exciting.” You let the smile drop in his face, and you stare at each other tensely for a few second before you’re interrupted by a screaming Taehyung. “I won.” He says happily, waving around two dolls. “One pretty doll for my pretty doll.” He laughs at his own joke and hands it to you, “And one duck for my duck-lipped friend.” He teases. “Thanks, man.” “Whoa, you’re taking it without a fight?” Taehyung laughs and then he looks between the two of you, seeming to finally notice the tension. “Is everything all right?” You exchange a look with Jimin. You couldn’t handle this. All day you’ve tried to like Jimin. It shouldn’t have been hard. He was an objectively great guy, but seeing the way Taehyung acted around him made you realize that your worst fears about yourself were true, and with each passing hour you felt yourself become less and less friendly. You felt ill, from the realization and from the rides. You hated amusement parks. You were always stressed enough as it is, you didn’t need the extra adrenaline, but one look at Taehyung and the downtrodden look on his face, and you knew you would keep going for him. You put on your best smile and said in a peppy voice, “Nothing, we were just talking about how we can’t wait to try the new ride.” Jimin nodded along and Taehyung cheered, “Then, let’s go!”

This was a mistake. A terrible, horrible mistake. This wasn’t a ride, it was a torture device. The twists and turns had you nauseous, your screams of terror were drowned by the pair’s shouts of enjoyment and by the time the ride stopped, you were close to passing out. When the safety belts and harnesses opened up, you jumped down and fell to the ground, dizzy and relieved to finally be on a steady surface. When Taehyung saw you collapse, he almost passed out himself from worry. After sitting down for some time and having your nerves settle down from their down rollercoaster ride, you felt well enough again to function. You wanted to call it a day and go home but you could see that Taehyung, even though he would never say it, really wanted to stay. He rarely got a whole day off like this and he’s been dying to come here for a long time. He must want to go on that ride again. While you could no more put on the “fun” front, you didn’t want to deprive him of his fun, and it’s not like the act was working anyway. So after a dozen times of telling him that you were fine, he finally went away to continue his adventure with Jimin, promising to check back on you often. Which he did… a couple of times in the first hour, but then there was no sign of him. He must have gotten distracted with the games; he had the attention span of a child. Just from looking at the rides, your nausea was beginning to set in again. You called him to tell him that you needed to get home but there was no reply. You called and texted and called again but still nothing. After another hour of silence, you caught a cab and headed home alone, convinced he’d soon realize his fault and come rushing home to find you and cuddle up.

Three hours later there was still no sign of him, and you had broken the wine out. You weren’t supposed to be drinking, especially when you were anxious. It was habit-forming or something, but you couldn’t bear the anxiety gathering in your chest like a swarm of bees, clogging up your windpipe and stinging your heart. The world was spinning too fast around you, so you laid down on the floor hoping it would slow down but all that did was make you feel like your body was being pulled in different directions. Your lungs were held down by gravity and you barely got in breaths big enough to stay alive. Taehyung must be having a blast without you to weigh him down. He had Jimin after all. God, how you hated that name. You’ve never met anyone named Jimin that wasn’t a giant pain in the ass. You hated him so much that if he was standing there in front of you right now, you would smash the wine bottle in his stupid and entertaining face. You’ll even waste alcohol for him, that’s how much he sucked. Or maybe all this anger is just smoke and mirrors meant to hide the terrified girl who is afraid of losing her best friend to someone better. Taehyung and Jimin fit together like a lock and its key, like cookies and milk, like Chandler and Joey, like any fucking thing that was made to fit something else perfectly and doesn’t tolerate a third party. Funny how you and Taehyung are the couple, yet you were always the third wheel in this arrangement. You had sensed it the moment they first interacted. You and Taehyung were together at the national museum, a trip that you had planned to make on your own but that Taehyung insisted on tagging along in, spouting some nonsense about how he can “totally” partake in your interests and that being different doesn’t mean you couldn’t do stuff together. You were so excited to hear him say that. You always thought that the things you liked were boring to him because… well, because he often told you so, but now he was making an effort to get involved in them, and you couldn’t be happier. You were always the one who had to do the stuff that he liked, not that you ever told him that, and now he was finally reciprocating. Taehyung was finally maturing. Of course, you must have been thinking of alternate universe Taehyung because your Taehyung couldn’t handle forty-five minutes of the tour before he threw a fit. When he had whined for the 6th time about how “No one gives a crap, they’re all dead anyway”, you didn’t get a chance to chastise him because your bickering was interrupted by a stranger. “I know! I’ve been contemplating breaking the glass case and impaling myself on that spear just to get a single reaction out of that monotonous monument.” A short, chubby-cheeked guy said referring to your guide, “No offense to the actual statues.” Taehyung’s laughter rang out in the quiet section and bounced off the still relics of ancient times, imparting them with a split-second touch of life before he was promptly hushed by the severe-looking and frowning guide.   “Whoops, you’ve angered it now.” Taehyung said and they both chuckled under their breaths. You scrutinized the pair as they exchanged names and started chatting amiably like two children who have just met on the playground and discovered that they both liked the same superhero. Something in your chest constricted painfully at the thought but you quickly dismissed it, choosing to try to shut up the chatty couple, “Guys, I actually want to pay attention here.” They made a face at you and started moving someplace else where they could talk. You watched their retreating forms and a heaviness settled on your heart at how easily Taehyung abandoned you. Maybe it was stupid, after all they had only just met and the bored Taehyung would’ve jumped on anything that was even slightly entertaining to escape the historical prison you loved so much, but it still hurt. Your train of despairing thoughts was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut and pounding footsteps heading for your door. The door-handle jerked furiously up and down, indicating that the person behind it was trying to come in. “____! ____, baby, open the door. I’m so sorry. Please, open the door.” You stayed silent, hoping he would think you were asleep already and leave you alone. You couldn’t face him right now. If you opened the door to him and allowed him to talk to you, you might end up doing something stupid like say how you really feel, and you didn’t want that because what if it turned out to be true? No, you couldn’t handle it. “I know you’re not sleeping. You can never sleep when you’re anxious, and I know you’re really anxious right now, and I’m the jerk who made you feel this way. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, baby, just let me see you. Let me know that you’re OK.” There was no way to trick him, he knew you too well. He never stops knocking on the door; his fists must be bruised by now. You don’t know if his knocks have gotten louder or if your reeling brain is amplifying the noise but it feels like he is pounding on your skull and you don’t think you could bear it much longer. You stumbled to the door and threw it open. “Look it’s my loving boyfriend who finally remembered my existence.” You threw your hands out and the bottle dropped from your hand and shattered on the floor, painting your legs and the carpet red, but you paid it no mind and slurred on, “The light of my life, the shine to my stars.” “Are you drunk?” Taehyung exclaimed and rushed to you, dragging you away from the glass shards. “You’re not supposed to drink. The counselor said your anxiety makes you liable for addiction. You told me you weren’t going to drink again.” “Are you disappointed in me? Did I promise you something and then went back on my word? Do you feel let down? Gee, I wonder how that feels like.” You mocked. “I trusted you, Taehyung. I knew you had the ability to hurt me more than anyone else in the world but I still opened up to you, and you betrayed me.” “Pumpkin, I know what I did was wrong but don’t you think you’re blowing things out of proportion here?“ He said, not understanding your behavior. “You forgot about me for five hours to go play with your friend.” “You said it was okay.” “You said you’ll check up on me.” You fumed. “Something could’ve happened to me. I could’ve been lying dead in a ditch somewhere.” “Don’t say that.” He shrank away as if he could physically get away from the idea. “Is it because you already had me?” “What?” Taehyung didn’t know how to respond to the strange question. “You’ve had a crush on me since preschool, right? And over the years, you must have built up this fantasy version of what it would be like to date me, a version I can never live up to, and now that you have me you’re underwhelmed by how much it doesn’t compare to your imagination. So you can’t stand being around me anymore and you spend all your time with Jimin.” You explained, going off like a mad scientist. “What? No, what are you talking about!” “Or, or maybe I was just something that you needed to get out of your system. You’ve befriended me all these years so you could have me and now that you did, you have no use for me anymore.” “OK, sweetie, you’re losing it here. That’s not it at all. I love you, I still do and I always will.” “Then what?” “What?” “You just said ‘that’s not it’, then there must be an ‘it’. What is it?” “No, no there is no it. There was never an it.” Taehyung’s babbled. If you were sober, you wouldn’t have missed the way his face paled and sweat beaded at his hairline. “It’s just… it’s because Jimin is new, and you know how friendships are always exciting and fun when they’re new, but what you and I have is so much deeper. We might not have that need to see each other all the time like with Jimin but it’s more solid and stable.” “New?” You contemplated. “Yes, exactly, new.” Taehyung engulfed you in his arms. “New…” “Yeah, see, there is nothing for you to worry about.” He tucked a hair behind your ear, which did nothing to tame the wild mane you made with your hands, and lifted your chin to make you look at him. “I got it!” You exclaimed and he jumped from the sudden shriek. “We should take a break.” “A break, why?” He sputtered, not able to keep up with your whirlwind you were putting him through. “If the reason why you’re bored of me is because we’ve known each other for a long time and we’re always together then we should take a break so you’d miss me again.” You said in a happy tone as if you’d just suggested going out for ice cream. “I’m not bored of you! I love you. This is completely ridiculous.” “Yeah, yeah, you love me whatever. I’ll just be gone for a couple of weeks.” You wave your hand dismissively and turn your back to him, heading for your room. He reaches out to stop you, “No, I didn’t agree to this!” “You’re right. You’re completely right. I shouldn’t leave, that’s stupid” You smack your head, laughing. Taehyung laughs along, thinking that you’ve come to your senses. “You should leave. If you like Jimin because he’s new then you should go and spend more time with him so he won’t be new anymore and you’ll love me again.” You shrieked, eyes going scarily wide and ran for his room. By the time he caught up to you, you already had his suitcase out and were rummaging through his closet. He tries calling your name a couple of time but you don’t acknowledge him so he shouts, startling you and making you drop the clothes you were holding. “Ugh, Tae, you scared me.” You giggle then pick the clothes right up and put them in the suitcase. He moves in front of you and corners you between himself and the bed, “Sweetie, sweetie, hey! You’re being a little cuckoo here. Let’s just calm down and go to sleep.” He speaks slowly. “We’ll take about this tomorrow when you’re sober… and not a certified lunatic.” “I can’t wait that long. I want my Taetae back.” Your grab his head to try to kiss him but you’ve lost all sense of dexterity a bottle ago and you end up smashing his nose against your forehead. “Oh fuck,” Taehyung grabs his nose, eyes watering. “I’m so sorry.” You say with an exaggerated gasp and try to touch him again. “No, it’s alright. Stay there.” He backs away from you, “Hey, I know what would make this better, a gift! I got something for you on the way here.” You eye him skeptically, “If you’re bluffing just to get me to let this go then it won’t work.” Your face splits into a stupid, drunken smile. “I love you more than any gift.” You try to kiss him but he rushes to the door. “No, really I got you something you’ll absolutely love. Wait here.” He pounds to the entrance of the apartment and you hear the sound of the door being thrown open. You wait for some time before you got bored and followed him. “Tae, you’re wasting precious tim— what is going on?“ You found Taehyung dashing back and forth erratically from the apartment to the hallway seemingly looking for something. “OK, don’t get mad at me but I lost it.” “How can you lose a gift? It must be right where you left it. It’s not like it sprouted legs and started walking around.” The mental image of a gift box with human legs walking around made your inebriated self crack up.   “It’s kind of an animate gif.” He cringes away from you, “I got a puppy.” “You what?!” “I see how you always stop to pet dogs on the street and how you gush over them so I thought getting you one would make you happy… but I guess not.” Taehyung was digging out imaginary dirt from under his nails and not looking at you directly. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. Dogs are living beings that need constant care and love. They’re not something you gift someone so they won’t be mad at you anymore. God, you are such a child.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. You were so angry you were starting to get a headache already but at least it was sobering you up. You push him out of the way and started looking for that poor dog. He must he so scared right now, alone and in such an unfamiliar place. Taehyung followed you like a second shadow, babbling any combination of sweet sentences that might get you to forgive him. “I’m sorry, pumpkin, I’m an idiot. You’ve always been the brains of this relationship, that’s why I need you. Please don’t be mad at me. I’ll take him back first thing in the morning.” “Shut up, Tae.” “No, really I fucked up and I’m—“ You clamp your hand over his mouth and hush him. You listen closely, and you hear the faint yapping sound again. It was coming from inside the apartment. You follow the sound to see that it originated from under the couch. Shinning a torch under the crack, you see the small brown-black mass of fur huddling in on itself. “Taehyung, lift the couch up.” He does what you say and you reach under it quickly and grab the puppy. “Aw, you poor little thing, did the bad, irresponsible man hurt you?” You cradled him in your arms and showered him in kisses. Taehyung kneeled next to you and patted the puppy, “Tell the nice lady that you’re fine. We were just having a little game of hide and seek you and I.” You slapped his hand off, “Don’t touch him. Haven’t you done enough?” You got up and headed for your room, Taehyung hot on your heels. “Don’t be like that, baby. I said I’m sorry.” “Did you hear that? He said he’s sorry, so everything is all better now. It doesn’t matter that he forgot about me for hours and that he lost you and put your life in danger. He said he’s sorry so it’s all okay now!” “Don’t bring the dog into this. He’s young and he doesn’t need this kind of stuff pushed on him. He’ll grow up to have issues.” “Very funny, Tae. You’re a real funny guy. You know what else is funny? Your chances of sleeping in the same bed as me this month.” “But I can’t sleep without you. I get scared.” He says referring to his childhood fear of the monsters under his bed. A fear that he quickly outgrew but has used as an excuse to continue sleeping in your bed as kids, and now he is using it to get you to go easy on him, and it’s working. “And you can’t sleep without me, not when you’re this anxious. We can take a time out and cuddle and I will play with your hair and sing you to sleep and it will all be better.” He cupped your cheek, softly caressing it and you found yourself unconsciously leaning into his touch. “No, I’m mad at you. You cuddles will feel like an iron maiden to me. An iron maiden!” You try to push him out and shut the door in his face but he was much stronger than you, especially in your current state. You grab random stuff from around your room and throw it in his direction, books and pens missing him by a wide margin. “Get out.” You scream but he just heads towards you, the closer range allowing you to get some actual hits in before he scoops you up in his arms and lays you on the bed. The moment your head touched the pillows, all strength went out of you. You were too tired to fight any longer, he would win anyway. You went to sleep that night with the puppy nuzzling into you front the front and Taehyung cuddling you from behind like his life depended on it.

Something wet and sloppy was lathering up and down your face. You backed away from the gross smell, but the moment you opened your eyes, bombs exploded inside your skull. You threw your arm over your eyes, shielding them from the assault of the much too bright light coming from the windows. Did a nuclear bomb just explode or something? The bed shifted as the warmth that was engulfing you disappeared. There was a rustling in the room before the light was mercifully cut off. More rustling ensued then the bed dipped down and someone removed your arm from over your eyes. Taehyung sat on the bed with a cup of water and a pill in his hand, “Here, take this. It’ll help with the headache.” You took them from his hand and swallowed the pill gratefully, emptying the rest of the cup to try to fight off the dehydration. Taehyung watched you cautiously, eyes and mouth wide with his signature blank stare. You cleared your throat and said, “I’m gonna go get something to feed the puppy. He must be starving.” “No, that’s okay. I fed him earlier and even cleaned up after the mess he made.” Taehyung made a disgusted face and you laughed despite yourself. He looked back at you, eyes sparkling with hope. “Then I guess there is no need for me to get out of bed.” “What about your lectures?” Taehyung asked. “I’m too tired and it’s too cozy under this blanket to leave it and go face the bad, bad world outside.” You pouted, snuggling deeper into the covers. Taehyung smiled, half happy that you were joking with him again and half nervous because he didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. You saw the struggle on his face as he contemplated whether he should stay or go. Making the decision for him, you pull him under the covers with you. “Will you stay with me?” “Of course,” He gushed, relieved. You smiled and nuzzled your forehead into his neck. He put his hand on your back, drawing wide invisible circles on it, making you hum contently. “I’m sorry.” “It’s fine. I was just emotional from the stress of the rides.” “No, I mean about not spending time with you lately.” “Tae… what is really going on?” You said in a whisper, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear you. There was a beat of silence, and then came his answer. “Nothing, I promise. There is nothing to worry about, pumpkin.” He kissed the top of your head. You turned your head up trying to look at him but you couldn’t see his face from this angle. It didn’t feel like nothing, but Taehyung never lied to your before and you weren’t about to start doubting him. “Are you okay?” Taehyung murmured. “Yeah, I am. It’s just…” You thought about just fessing up and telling him what was bothering you, but all you could think about was how pathetic it would sound to him. You always had a way of making a big deal out of the tiniest things and Taehyung was always the one keeping you grounded, but when the issue involved the very foundation of your friendship, it wasn’t as easy to just speak up. What if it just made things awkward between the both of you? You pushed it to the back of your mind and went with the next best thing. ”I’m just lonely, I guess. You’re the only real friend I have since preschool and now you have Jimin and suddenly you’re not always there around me anymore. I guess if I had someone too, I wouldn’t be feeling this bad.” You didn’t lie to him. That was the truth, but only a part of it. He pulled you closer and murmured, “You’ll find someone, pumpkin. Any person would be lucky to have you as a friend. I know I am.” Then why are you avoiding me?   Those were his words then, but when the time came that you found that friend in Kim Namjoon, Taehyung had completely changed his tune.

Author’s Note: This was pretty disappointing tbh, but hopefully the next chapter will be much better. This is a pretty short series btw so it will only have the next chapter and then the epilogue. 

FIC: Angus McDonald and the Flight of the Flying V (12/?)

[AO3 link]

They’ve come a long way, but even ten years after the world was saved, they’re still not quite where they should be. A whim, a missing painting, and a handful of near-death experiences help a flip wizard and his apprentice bridge the gap.

Taako does his best. Angus takes some risks. Introductions are made, bonds are tested, and lessons are learned — better late than never.

Taako didn't bother trying to sleep, and he certainly didn't try meditating. He waited in Angus' bedroom until he heard movement (no more Clairvoyance, he'd gotten in enough trouble with the boy tonight) and waited even longer until he heard the front door open and close. Very quietly, Taako edged open the door and poked his head out. He didn't see anyone at first, then he caught sight of Angus' telltale head of hair still poking above the back of the couch.

Magnus had told him once that you shouldn't go to bed mad. Taako certainly wasn't, but Angus might be. Why he might be was a mystery, considering how the night had gone, but it was a distinct possibility. Which meant Taako had to do what he disliked the most, and talk to someone about their feelings.

Think about it this way: if he's mad, you can sort of half-apologize and he'll forgive you, and if he's not, you get to say I told you so. No downside.

He stepped out and sauntered over to the couch. "You're welco—"

Angus' eyes were closed, and he was snoring quietly.

Taako blew out a sigh of relief, though he was a little annoyed at Silvia for skipping out on the boy before breakfast. That is, until he saw the puzzle on the table — a number of pieces had been removed and set aside, leaving a heart shape in the center.

He covered his eyes with his hand and stifled a groan. These fuckin' nerds.

Taako debated waking him, but decided against it. Instead, he returned to the bedroom to get Angus' comforter, and then gently draped it over him. Firmly ignoring the warm feeling in his chest, Taako dusted off his hands, congratulated himself on a job well done, and then went back to kick it for the night.

After a long and rejuvenating soak in the spa's hot spring, Taako laid around in a terrycloth robe for a few hours reading Fantasy Cosmo until he heard movement from outside. When he poked his head out, he found Angus, freshly showered and buttoning up a new shirt.

Welp. Time to tear off the band-aid.

"Mornin', boychik," Taako said casually, leaning on the stiff canvas doorway.

Angus didn't turn around. He finished buttoning his shirt, then glared at Taako in the mirror.

"Just because your little plan worked out doesn't make it okay," he said seriously.

"Are you still mad about that?" Taako asked innocently. "I thought time healed all wounds."

"It was less than twelve hours ago."

"So? C'mon, Ango—"

"I mean it." Angus leaned on his dresser. "Don't do that again."

Taako looked away with a groan. He realized he was fidgeting on the spot, and rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright."

"And that's a promise?"

Taako crossed his heart and held up two fingers.

"Okay then."

Angus looked away, opened a drawer and pulled out a tie. With a sigh, Taako turned to head into the spa and get dressed himself.

"Hey, Taako?"

He paused. "Yeah?"

Angus tightened his tie and smoothed it against his chest. He glanced at Taako in the mirror, and smiled.

"Thanks."

He took a vest off the top of the wardrobe and slipped it on, then left the bedroom without another word.

Taako took three steps into the spa, then proceeded to run around with his arms in the air like Jordan after he won one of his many basketball championships.

There was no time for a decent breakfast. Angus wanted to get right to work, catch up with his secretary, and pour over these onerous-looking tomes he got from the library. Taako could have stayed behind, or gone for a walk, or even gone home, but he felt compelled to stick close by. If only to make sure Angus didn't do anything he learned from his Uncle Burnsides.

They stepped inside McDonald Investigations. The secretary stood from his desk as they entered.

"Good morning, sir," Gavin said politely.

"Morning, Gav," Angus said, setting down his books and taking off his coat. "Have a good weekend?"

"Quite, sir," he said with a curt nod. "Thank you for asking. And yourself?"

The boy hung his coat and cap on the rack next to the door. Taako didn't bother.

"Not bad," said Angus with a smile. "All things considered."

"Shyeah, apart from almost getting roasted, sure, real relaxing," Taako said sardonically.

Gavin quirked an eyebrow. "Roasted, sir?"

Angus blinked and adjusted his glasses sheepishly. "Well... yeah, that did happen, huh."

"And the runaway wagon!" Taako said. "Don't forget that."

"Let's call it an 'interesting' weekend, then," Angus said diplomatically. He turned to Gavin. "Any mail?"

Gavin furrowed his brow, but quickly got back to business. "Two potential clients with an interest in your services, regarding matters less than urgent. I wrote them back that you were currently indisposed. Their names and addresses are on your desk."

"Great, Gav. Thanks. No appointments today, right?"

"No, sir."

"Good. I'm gonna be busy for a while. Let me know if there are any walk-ins."

"Of course." Gavin sat back down in his chair.

As Angus walked into his office, Taako leaned over to Gavin's desk.

"Hey, listen. About the other day. I just wanted to say..."

Gavin glanced up from his work, expression flat, but curious. Perhaps expecting an apology.

"...your hospitality could use some real work," Taako said sincerely. "Like, I shouldn't have had to ask for water. Or a straw. No no, I get it," he continued when Gavin opened his mouth to object. "You were probably really busy that day. It's cool. I just want you to know... I forgive you."

Gavin looked like he wanted to punt Taako into the sun. Taako flashed him a smug smile.

"Chin up, homie. You'll climb on up that ladder someday."

He ducked into Angus' office and shut the door behind him. Angus was sitting behind his desk, paging through a book. He looked up and glared at Taako.

"Be nice to my employee."

"I'm nice!" Taako said defensively. "Didn't you hear me forgive him?"

Angus shook his head and turned back to his work with a sigh. "I've got a lot of reading to do. If you're not going to help, at least don't be a nuisance."

"A nuisance? Me? Never!" Taako plopped down into one of the two chairs in front of the desk and propped one leg up. "I can totally help. I'll be your sounding board. Y'know, help you bat stuff around. I'm a great ideas guy."

Angus sneered a little. "As long as you do it quietly, sir, I don't mind."

"Cool." Taako reached into one of his pockets and pulled out an apple. "Just start talkin', Columbo. I'm all ears. Hee. Get it? Elf joke."

"Hilarious, sir."

Despite what the incident in Rockport might have implied, Taako was quickly learning that detective work was profoundly, upsettingly dull. Angus spent most of his time reading, skimming through passages about a million boring subjects just to find one little detail he'd jot down in his notebook. Taako was on his second apple while Angus was going through a new issue of the Neverwinter Times Gavin brought in.

"Story hasn't broken yet," Angus muttered. "Can't be much longer, though."

"Why even keep it quiet?" Taako asked, biting off the bottom of the core.

"The Museum is famous for its security. It's how they get so many donations from collectors." Angus turned the page and skimmed it. "Once word gets out that something as priceless as the Flying V was stolen, that's gonna lose them plenty of backers."

Taako took another bite, careful to avoid the seeds. "So how'd it get stolen?"

"They don't know." Angus folded the paper up and set it aside. "The guards switched shifts, and when the next guy got to the art wing, it was gone. No evidence of any kind."

"So, magic."

"Yeah, probably." Angus opened up another book and checked the contents. "Museum had a ton of mystic wards set up, but it wasn't impregnable or anything. A seventh-level magician could conceivably disable the wards, nab the painting and vanish in a matter of seconds. Especially if they knew the layout and timed it right."

Taako stuck the remaining core in his mouth and bit it off at the stem as Angus turned a page.

"Why that particular painting, though?" Angus muttered. "Why that and nothing else?"

"You tell me, Agnes," Taako said, tossing the apple stem into a bin by the door.

"I don't know yet," the boy replied, "but I've got a hunch."

"A hunch?" Taako straightened a bit in his chair. "Well, dish, bubeleh."

Angus lifted and spun his book to face Taako. There was a bunch of incomprehensibly ornate type on one page, and on the other, an illustration of a person with three different faces on their head, five arms coming out of their robes, and wings sprouting from their back.

Taako nodded slowly. "A monster did it."

"This book is from a hundred years after Flying V was painted," Angus explained. "This is who painted it. Seathe Samulkyn."

Taako leaned in and peered at the picture. "With which arm?"

"I think it's meant to be metaphorical," he said, spinning the book back around.

"You think?"

Angus shrugged helplessly. "Every single account I've read so far describes them differently. Sometimes they're an elf, sometimes a human, sometimes even a goliath or a dragonborn. The one thing that they all agree on, though, is that they were a very old and very powerful wizard."

Taako's eyebrows rose. "A wizard, huh?"

He nodded and adjusted his glasses. "They use the word 'Scholar,' but yeah, that's what it means as far as I can tell."

"So what's your hunch?"

"That the only reason a wizard powerful enough to break into the Neverwinter Museum would want to steal this painting, is because of who painted it."

Taako took a moment to consider the implications of that. Then his eyes widened.

"Oooooooh. This isn't an art heist, it's some Da Vinci Code shit!" Taako clapped his hands together and grinned. "Very nice, Ango."

Angus gave him a look and closed the book. "It's just a hunch. I don't know for sure."

"Nah, I'm sure that's it. Elven intuition tells me so." Taako tapped his temple. "It's like I always told you, boychik. Go with your gut."

The boy rested his chin in his hand. "You've never said that, sir."

"Pretty sure I did."

"Not once."

"Agree to disagree."

There was a knock at the door. Angus perked up, and Taako looked over his shoulder as it opened. Gavin poked his head in.

"Sir, there's someone here from Castle Never."

Angus' eyebrows shot up. "Sorry?"

"They say they've a message, sir. They're very insistent it be delivered personally."

"Uh." Angus stood from his seat. "Sure. Yeah. Send them in."

Gavin opened the door and stepped aside. A courier entered the room, clad in the humorless greys and blacks of Castle Never with a rich velvet longcoat trimmed in what Taako suspected was actual gold. He was impeccably groomed, and Taako had to admit he cut a reasonably dashing figure for a noble's flunky.

"Angus McDonald?" he asked, ignoring Taako completely.

Angus nodded. "Yes."

The courier reached a gloved hand into his coat and withdrew a scroll, sealed in blood-red wax. He held it out silently, and Angus took it.

"The Lord High Steward requests your presence this evening."

Taako glanced between the courier and Angus, who was staring at the scroll like it was a particularly dangerous tarantula. He looked up and seemed surprised that the courier hadn't left.

"If you're unable," the courier explained, "I can deliver your refusal to Her Lordship."

"No!" Angus said loudly. Then cleared his throat nervously and steadied himself. "I'm able. I'll be there."

The courier bowed slightly at the waist, turned on his heel, and left without another word. As soon as he was out of the lobby, Taako blew a raspberry.

"No good, pompous, stuck up—" He glanced at Angus and cocked an eyebrow. "You alright, boychik?"

Angus looked like he'd had some particularly bad shellfish. He sat down at his desk and, exceedingly gently, broke the wax seal, and unfurled the scroll.

"What's it say?" Taako asked. When Angus didn't answer, Taako frowned, pushed himself out of his chair and went to read over his shoulder.

This Precept entitles the bearer,

ANGUS MCDONALD, of MCDONALD INVESTIGATIONS,

(and whosoever would accompany him)

passage under escort into the Second Sanctum of Castle Never.

It is issued this day, the 25th of September of the year 1600,

by Castle Chamberlain Kimberly Higginbottom,

upon the order of the Lord High Steward,

KATARINA IPHIGENIA FEDOSIA BLISK

Her signature rested at the bottom of the scroll, in large and ornate calligraphy. Taako snorted.

"Real full of herself, ain't she."

Angus laid the scroll on his desk and slumped backward in his chair. He took a deep breath and blew it out.

"Oh, c'mon, Agnes," Taako said with a scoff. "It's just another rich noble lady, probably does her hair up all crazy and sticks a birdcage in it."

"Taako..." Angus pulled a hand down his face. "You remember how we saved the world? And how no one actually knows we did?"

Taako nodded. "Still kind of bitter about it, yes."

"Lady Blisk is like that, if people actually knew about it." He started counting off his fingers. "She's slain dragons, banished demons, stopped natural disasters... she's saved tens of thousands of lives through her direct intervention. And that's only the stuff I know about."

Taako leaned his elbow on the back of Angus' chair. "So what you're saying is we're on equal footing."

Angus blinked and stared off into the middle distance. "You can't come," he said, standing up and pacing to the end of the room. "You can't come, that's all there is to it."

"Oh, like hell!" Taako leaned forward, hands on his hips. "You think I'm letting you walk on in there without me? She's a suspect, right? You said it yourself!"

"I never said—"

"And the fancy invitation clearly says 'whosoever,' and correct me if I'm wrong, but that includes yours truly!"

"Taako—"

Taako walked over and slapped his hands on Angus' shoulders. He glared at the boy as seriously as he ever did.

"We're in this together, Agnes. Understand?"

For a long moment, Angus looked like he didn't know how to react. Taako could relate — he'd barely even thought through what he was saying as he said it. But when the boy had threatened to go in alone, a whole chorus in Taako's head had shouted in perfect unison, fuck that. Taako wasn't in the business of second-guessing himself.

Angus dropped his gaze for a moment, took a deep breath, and nodded. "I don't suppose I could stop you, anyway."

Taako let go of Angus and crossed his arms. "Damn right you couldn't."

"But please," he pleaded, putting his hands together. "Please do not piss off the most powerful wizard on the planet in her own castle."

Taako laughed. "Please, pumpkin," he said dismissively. "I know how these nobles do. I'll be on my best behavior. Won't even take anything that doesn't belong to me!"

Angus buried his face in his hands. "You do so little to instill confidence, sometimes, sir."

"Oh, have a little faith in cha'boy!" he said, throwing an arm around Angus' shoulders. "And I know you're under some stress, so I'll ignore that comment about the 'most powerful wizard.' Now let's go shopping!"

Angus looked up curiously. "Shopping?"

"Uh, yeah, boyo." Taako tugged at one of Angus' lapels. "I'm sure as shit not going to be seen in high society with someone dressed like this."

It was still the afternoon, so Taako had the time required to get Angus looking presentable. He dropped him off at the place that had done the tailoring for his wedding, and paid up front before Angus could argue about it. While he was being measured and fitted, Taako took his leave. He had his own Sunday best that he'd brought with him back in the Pocket Spa, but there were a couple other important things he wanted to have before they went into what was potentially an evil witch's castle.

First, an alchemist's shop. The old guy who ran the place was persnickety as all fuck, and normally Taako would have taken some amusement in tormenting him, but he was here on a mission, so he bought what he needed, and skedaddled. Then, a magic parlor along the same road. Nothing fancy here, only a few ritual components, but ever since that seventh-level barn-burner he'd been thinking that he might need to do something similar down the road.

Errands complete, Taako threw down the Pocket Spa in a secluded alley and changed into an outfit that was suitably elegant-yet-bold in that "don't fuck with me" sort of way. On impulse, he decided to strap his old knife to his lower back, largely because it made him feel better. Then he headed back to collect Angus.

The boy was waiting out front of the tailor, standing beneath an alchemical streetlamp in his brand new formalwear: black longcoat, black trousers, black vest, shiny shoes, a brilliant white shirt, and a tie in a summer sky's shade of blue. He looked uncomfortable, though how much of that was due to the situation, Taako couldn't tell.

"I feel ridiculous," Angus said, tugging at the bottom of his vest. "And what do I need these gloves for?"

"Gloves complete the look," Taako said simply, brushing off the boy's shoulders. "You're welcome, by the way."

Angus sighed. "Thank you, sir. Although, again, you didn't have to pay for this."

"Oh, yes I did, bubeleh!" Taako said knowingly. "This guy don't work for peanuts!"

"You're really not making me feel better about this," Angus said as Taako started to direct him down the street.

"Don't worry about it, Ango. You don't owe me a thing."

Angus looked up at the darkening evening sky. "Three, two, one—"

"Except undying loyalty for the rest of your natural life."

"There it is."

Taako laughed and smacked Angus' bicep with the back of his hand. "Come on, let's go meet the queen or whatever."

"Lord High Steward and Archmage."

"I said 'or whatever!'"